#but I just want the fucking wardrobe labeling done

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

This museum internship is gonna give me sewing calluses on my fingers more than a decade of embroidery ever did

[endereies]

GIRLY GF - CHRIS STURNIOLO

Pairing: Chris x Reader

Contains: headcanons, sfw and nsfw but they will be labeled as such

Requested?: no

Author's notes: This is just how i interpret things, not trying to offend anyone. Thanks to ana for help <3 mwah

Word Count: 1828

╰┈➤ SFW

༊*·˚ Chris knew that you loved to express yourself through fashion and accessories, so it was no surprise when your wardrobe was full of assortments of pink.

"Hey Chris, can you get me my pink lace top?" Your voiced hummed quietly as you sat at your vanity, curling your hair.

"Uhm, baby. which one?" Your body turns to see a puzzled expression on Chris's face as he stands between the doors of your wardrobe.

It's hard not to giggle as he scans through the section dedicated to the criteria you gave him.

"The one I wore when we went to the restaurant for my birthday?" A smug grin immediately falls upon him when he reaches out to grab the exact top you wanted.

༊*·˚ Chris was just as obsessed with your bows as you were, finding any excuse to subtly be near them

"Baby! I saw this cute thing online, can we try it?" Your voice sweetly fell against his ears as you spoke to him. Placing his phone on the kitchen counter, he looked up to you curiously.

"Sure. What is it?" The bright screen sunk between the two, shaking slightly with your excitement.

In front of him was a woman whose face was adorned with the same features as you. Her waist possessed the same denim skirt as you, except hers was lined with a pink ribbon which formed a bow in the center.

He wasn't about to say no to you, especially when your eyes glistened at him.

"Okay, you want me to help you?" You graciously nod in return.

"Alright, turn around for me" You instantly turn your body around so that your back is facing him and he reaches for the baby pink ribbon from your fingertips.

His face settles as his attention was on the material that he was threading through each belt loop. He tugs onto your hips which turns your body to its original direction. Your own hands try to grasp the fabric from him to form a bow but he swats them away with a giggle.

"Allow me.." This caused you to retreat your hands and allow his eager touch to create a messy bow in the center of your skirt.

"Absolutely perfect" Both of you knew he didn't mean the work he did but you look down to analyse it none the less.

"Your turn!"

༊*·˚ This man would spoil the absolute fuck out of you

One day before you go out on a date with Chris, you mumble to yourself how you ran out of your favourite vanilla scent. He notices quickly that he doesn't smell your iconic perfume as he leans in for a kiss and he questions you about it.

Once he finds out which perfume it is, he sneakily orders a new bundle of them for next day delivery. He completely disregards the price just to make his girl happy.

You open a package, the next day that's addressed to you and gasp when you come across two bottles of the perfume and a travel size container for trips. Chris would then enter the room with a proud smile on his face.

"Chris. This is like $175 per bottle.."

"Oh? Is it?" He grinned as he hugged you and was finally met with your smell from the bottles still in your hands.

༊*·˚ Chris would happily watch you do your makeup whenever he had a free moment.

"Hey are you nearly ready to go?" You rolled your eyes at his comment that had been repeated more then a few times.

"Almost!" Just as she finished with her mascara she turned to see Chris leaning against the door way. Giggles came from him as he noticed the blue tube poised between your teeth.

With a swift movement of her feet, her body spun in her chair back to her mirror and found her eyeliner.

Chris knew he was staring but it was hard to look away from the steady motions of your hand as you flicked the black tip across the edge of your eyes, perfectly lining the deep pink eyeshadow.

"Okay...and done!" A pop of your lips made you smile as you appreciated the shade of lipstick paired with the glossed which covered your lips.

You chuckle as you notice Chris's heart eyes gazing down at your face, scanning each step of makeup. His touch came to linger on your skin as his lips met yours.

"Chris! My lipstick.."

"Sorry beautiful, I can't help it, you're so pretty.." This was only followed by another dosage of blush underneath the powder.

༊*·˚ He would never let you run out of things

"Ugh.." Your attention had slipped from Chris's words as you tried your best to grasp the remaining lip gloss from the tube.

It had taken a few moments before he realised the quiet mumbles from your direction. "Baby..?"

"Uh yeah!" A silent apology spread over your face whilst the tube was pushed out the way and onto your lap. Not unnoticed by Chris.

"Anyway, i was saying th-"

He pretended to ignore your silent struggle with your lip gloss, which made you waking up to another tube all the more special.

"You have to stop doing this Chris.." As much as you wanted to argue his spending on you, it wasn't unappreciated.

"Stop treating you? Never. Besides its my favourite.."

༊*·˚ Flowers are a must

Chris was typically a little forgetful when it came to small details, so when he started to religiously buy you flowers, he kept one of his own. He'd keep this little flower on a shelf in his room by his window and checked on it when he woke up. If they ever showed signs of wiltering, a new order had been placed for the next day to arrive at your house.

You heard a knock at the door and you shrugged out of bed to open the door before the knocks repeated themselves.

In the doorway stood Chris with one of his hands behind his back.

"For you, mademoiselle.." He gave you the tulips alongside a sheepish grin on your face.

"Baby..my last ones just died." Fresh scents filled your nose when you brought the tulips to your face.

"Good thing I always come prepared."

༊*·˚ Chris will only give you princess treatment

After a party was held at Tara's place, your feet grew tired of the soles of your heels. The lack of support had worn your feet still and you sat on the edge of a chair trying anything to soothe them.

"Looks like I was right." He smugly look down at you while you consoled your feet.

"Yeah yeah..laugh it up.." You switched over your feet and started to massage your ankles before pressing the heels back to your feet.

"Stay here a second.." Before you can even respond, he has already taken off in the other directions leaving you sat in the chair.

You're left confused as he takes off and blends back in the crowd.

About 5 minutes later, before you grow impatient of waiting, Chris appears in front of you once more. However, this time he is holding a pair of your trainers. "I asked to leave them in Matt's car. I knew those heels would kill your feet."

"Oh my gosh, you do love me." He immediately pushes you back into your chair when you push your weight upwards.

"You better not doubt that." His own body leant to the tiled floor and swapped your shoes for you, gently pushing the shoe onto each foot before tying them in semi-perfect bows.

╰┈➤ NSFW

༊*·˚ The princess treatment will carry through

His lips caressed whatever inch of skin you allowed him to touch with small, peppered kisses. You giggled occasionally at the pure gentleness he gave to you.

"You're so pretty..." Chris's hand traced the sides of your hips as you playfully toyed with his hair.

His kisses grew lower and lower and his hands fell to your stomach. The muscles in your stomach flexed occasionally but with Chris massaging your skin you slowly melted to his touch.

The mattress dipped on the sides on your chest as he shifted, you own hand moving from his scalp. He scattered kisses onto your cheeks before landing on your own lips. His smile didn't go unnoticed by you and caused a sensation of butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

One of his hands continued to slide lower past your stomach and had begun to carefully trace small circles onto your inner thigh.

"How about I show you how beautiful you really are?" You sheepishly nod while holding steady eye contact.

༊*·˚ He loved to try and get you to become more open to him

It was a surprise to no one just how shy you were, in all aspects. Thankfully Chris never took this badly and did things at your own pace, yet that never stopped him from asking.

After a few minutes of kissing and light grinding from both parties, it was clear you both were getting a little worked up.

Chris's lips parted gently as he pulled away from yours, leaving a small distance between you.

"y/n..? Could we..try something today?" Compared to the previous breathes you shared, he noticed the sharpness of this one.

"Uhm..what is it..?" He noted your reluctance but he didn't shut anything down until you did.

"Remember you can always say no but..I wanted to try and eat you out today." You couldn't lie and say you weren't opposed to the idea but it was the raw vulnerability that intimidated your want. But your trust for Chris overshadowed that.

"Okay..sure." You smiled sincerely at him, your chest beating a little faster.

Let's just say that after that night it became you're favourite thing.

༊*·˚ Prioritize your needs over his

You had lost count of the minutes Chris had spent between your thighs, but you weren't complaining. His arm pushed heavily in the side of the mattress to support his weight as he focused his tongue gently. His free hand was used to keep your thighs open as you became more and more stimulated.

"Chris..so good.." Your breath was sparce. Your head was blurry, but everything was too good to pass up.

"Let me make you feel good, pretty girl..." The absence of his tongue wasn't missed for long before he dived back in.

Your jaw was constantly slacked as he refused to back away from you.

"Chris..fuck!" A cry escaped your lips as you finished on his face, a sly grin from him as he looked up towards you.

His eyes seemed doe-liked, contradicting what events just passed.

"You always do so well f'me.." When he leant in to kiss you, you were sure to taste yourself on the skin of his lips, smirking at the thought. He chose to embrace the kiss deeper rather than focus on his numbed arm from laying on it too long.

© ENDEREIES 2024

Taglist!:

@melliflws @axolotllover225 @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerslover @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @sleepysturnss @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris

[cassatelle]

I want to wear his initial (I kinda did)

Day 7 of @bucktommypositivityweek: red string of fate/soulmates 739 words Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Fluff, Red String of Fate, Sharing Clothes, Implied Sexual Content

Tommy rifled through Evan’s closet, searching for something to wear. Their date night had turned into a sleepover, and he was left with no clean clothes. He thumbed through a pile of wardrobe, hoping to find something old, something that might have stretched out enough for him to fit. His hand then landed on an worn-out LAFD T-shirt—so faded the black had turned to a dark grey, with a hole near the neckline and frayed seams at the bottom. Which looked oddly familiar.

“Evan?”

“Mm-hm?”

Tommy turned to Evan, who was still sprawled on the bed, naked. “Where did you get this?”

Evan glanced up from his phone, eyeing the shirt in Tommy’s hand. “From the firehouse, of course.  That’s my pajama, you don’t want to wear that—it got my drool and, you know, other things,” he grinned, making air quotes. “Pick something nicer, babe.”

Tommy wasn’t amused. “No, seriously,” he said, fully facing Evan now. “Where exactly did you get this?”

Evan’s brows furrowed, confused. “In my locker… Why? Is something wrong?”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. He just stared at Evan as things started to click inside his mind. “Baby… this is my shirt.”

Evan blinked, propped up as he processed Tommy’s words. “What? No way!” 

They both moved to the center of the bed. Tommy’s hand then slipped beneath the fabric, fingers seeking out the wash care label along the side seam of the shirt. He held it up to Evan. “Look, my handwriting.”

Evan’s eyes flicked between Tommy’s face and the label. His eyes widened. There, indeed, was a bold ‘TK’ marker stroke on it that somehow he had never noticed. 

“How did you end up with this?” Tommy asked, his tone mirroring Evan’s shock.

“I-I don’t know! It was my-my first few days at work, I forgot my change at home, and-and his shirt was just sitting there in my locker, so I wore it,” Evan stammered.

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up as a laugh of pure delight slipped from him. “I can’t believe this! I didn’t pack this because this shirt was so torn up,” he shook his head. “I meant to toss it out, but the surprise happened, and I guess I just forgot.”

Evan chuckled, still watching it with disbelief. What the hell? His heart warmed and head raced at the fact that he was using Tommy’s old locker the whole time. And his shirt on top of that. What the fucking hell? “Poor thing. Thankfully, I swooped in and saved it,” Evan teased.

“Well, thanks for the rescue, Mr. Firefighter,” he smiled, teased back. “But now I’m curious, though, what things have you done while wearing my shirt?” He rested his elbows on the duvet and leaned back, half-lying down, fluttered his eyelashes at Evan with a smirk on his lips.

Evan gave a cheeky grin, brushing his fingers lightly against Tommy’s cheek and jaw. “Want to find out?”

They ended up staying in bed until noon, Tommy still shirtless, Evan had slipped into the old shirt instead. He tugged at the label, tracing Tommy’s initials with his fingers. “You know, I wear this shirt a lot. Like, a lot.”

Tommy smiled, soft as he gently stroked his hand along Evan’s upper arm. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! I wore it on my stressful days, like, when I had bad calls, after I got struck by lightning, during my recovery, after the lawsuit… I’m not sure why, but this shirt just… comforts me.” He looked up at Tommy, his eyes wide and watery. “Isn’t it just so crazy that Even before I knew you, you were there for me?”

Tommy’s heart swelled. He tightened his embrace, pressing kisses to Evan’s forehead. “I’m glad. And I’m incredibly proud of you for staying strong through everything. I wish none of it had happened and will never happen again, but, I hope I can keep being there for you.”

Evan reached up to cup Tommy’s face in his hands. “Hey, you do, you already did,” he said, his voice soft. “And please, stay with me, now and in the future too.”

Tommy’s smile was warm and sincere, eyes crinkled and all. “Of course, I will,” he whispered. Their lips then brushed together in a tender, lingering kiss.

Even when they finally pulled away, Evan still looked at him with that awe in his eyes. “The universe is really funny sometimes,” he mused, “I might need to do some research on this.”

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love Will Remember {One Shot}

Title: Love Will Remember {One-Shot}

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Words: 13.5k

Warning: High Angst, Heartbreak, Fluff, PLENTY OF WORDS, Mild NSFW References, Mentions of Pregnancy, FWB Gone Wrong, PLOT HEAVY, Time Jump

Summary: You and Lewis had an agreement, nothing but sex. It was an easy agreement to adhere to but somewhere along the line things changed as did your feelings. What now?

Note: Here we are again with over 7k words.🥴 This started one way and then took an interesting turn toward the middle. I hope you enjoy this. Also, I have nothing against Chelsea.🤣

Note II: I promise to do better by Tyrone Mings in a separate fic.🤞🏽 He needs his own fic.

As always, thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~

"I knew this wasn’t a good idea even before I touched you. From the second I looked into your eyes I saw it," he dejectedly said.

"Saw what?"

"How innocent you were. So fucking innocent," he spat as if the words burned his tongue.

"We shouldn't have ever done this. I shouldn't have done this," he added.

Your heart sank which made your bottom lip tremble. What did you say to that? What could you say? The silence in the room stretched on and on. You wanted to say sorry but sorry didn't feel right. Who apologized for telling someone they loved them? Who apologized for such a pure and selfless emotion?

The longer the silence stretched with his back still to you, the more you felt pathetic and stupid. You regretted telling him. You weren't supposed to fall for him. It made no logical sense why you would in the beginning so simple fucking seemed like an easy deal.

Then you got to know him. He lowered his walls inch by inch, allowing you to see more and more of himself. You saw the loyal and loving son he was, the supportive and helpful sibling, the kind and gentle uncle, the intelligent and diligent businessman, and the sweet, passionate, and attentive lover. With all of that, it had practically happened without you knowing until it was too late.

Then the words slipped from you at probably one of the worst times when Lewis was balls deep inside you, giving you the "fall in love with me" long and deep strokes. He heard them the moment you said them, and it was evident because his entire body tensed. You'd came but you were almost sure he hadn't. Seconds later, he'd pulled out and looked at you with horror. 

"You said..."

"I know," you replied, not needing him to finish his sentence.

"Jesus," he pushed out just under his breath, but you heard it in the stark silent room.

"Look I’m sorry I couldn't control my feelings and remain cold and unfeeling like you."

Lewis spun around to face you so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash.

"Don’t. Don’t do that. It’s unfair."

You knew it but didn’t care. You were frustrated now.

"I didn’t plan this. Hell, I sure as fuck didn’t expect it and I definitely didn’t mean to tell you. I just...I--."

You didn’t know what else to say and the moment your eyes met his you could read him clear as a book. He didn't feel the same. It wasn’t something shocking. You hadn't ever expected him to feel what you did. In the sea of women he’d been with, you were so different.

Whereas they were drop-dead gorgeous and bodacious with lines of men chasing them and perfectly beaten faces at all hours of the day and a wardrobe to rival the queens of the monarchs you’d never fit that bill. You were labeled a tomboy, considered to be one of the guys because of your interest in sports, not anti-makeup but definitely inexperienced compared to your other friends. Hell, you were inexperienced in a lot of things.

You never felt like you could hold men captivated. It wasn’t until Lewis had you seen a flicker of that. He was right. You were innocent. He was the 2nd man you’d slept with in your life and even he’d had to teach you several things about pleasure. It was embarrassing in the beginning, and you were sure after a few months he’d tire of you, but 3 months passed then 6 then 9, and before you knew it a year had ticked by, and he was still steadily seeing you. You were confused, but who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Lewis sighed again, a deep, heavy, woeful sigh and you knew what he was going to say.

"We can't...I can't--. "

Just as you were going to open your mouth to stop him, his phone rang. It was an interruption you were thankful for.  You didn’t think you could stomach the words.

"Hang on," Lewis said standing in his nakedness. He picked up the phone and you took a moment to look over his body.

It would be the last time you would see it. You didn’t think you were living some fairytale or a modern version of Pretty Woman, sans the sex worker trope. You knew not to expect happily ever afters. Those were things of fiction. This was the end of your time together. He was just about to say the words.

The tattoos that decorated his back held you mesmerized. You could still feel the muscles hidden under that beautiful golden bronzed flesh. The very muscles that spoke of how much power truly resided within him. Your fingertips remembered how they danced under them. It was etched to memory by now and you knew it would be hell to forget it.

When Lewis walked to the bathroom, you snapped back to the here and now. You sat there for a few moments, grabbed a pillow, and cried into it hoping it muffled any sound you might make. You didn’t want him to see this. Not only was it embarrassing but for some reason you felt shame. You’d never thought that when you agreed to no strings attached fun with Lewis that you’d feel shame about it. Now that shame burned within you.

After allowing yourself a minute or two to cry you dried your cheeks and got up to get dressed. You’d read the room and the writings on the wall, and you knew what you had to do. You had to walk away first. Seeing his back as it got further and further away would break you. At least this way, you could retain some of your dignity.

In under 3 minutes you’d gotten dressed and gathered your things. Lewis was still in the bathroom, and you took the opening. Hesitating at the door your tears returned.

"Get a grip, Y/N."

You walked over to the notepad beside the bed and scribbled what was under the hurt you were feeling.

Lewis,

Grateful for the blessings, memories, and time we spent together, and thankful for the lesson. I’ll keep your secrets and in that you can trust. I wish you endless success and luck.

-Y/N

With that, you walked out of the suite with your head held high and back straight as your tears streamed down your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Two and ½ Years Later-

-Lewis-

"There she goes everyone. In the last 2 years, her skill have really gone into overdrive. She went from 18th in the league to 1st. Her stats rival some of the best in the sport. Here she goes setting up the goal. Her signature move is to pass it to the left while her team guards and blocks before McMullen will head butt it over for her to cut through the other team bringing it right up to the face of the goalie before she effortlessly beams it in."

"She has perfected this move and does not miss. If Chelsea has done their homework, hopefully, they have figured out a way to stop her."

"They would be the first. Somehow Y/N has made this move undefendable over the last 2 years. It really shows her grind to become this force of nature. Her teammates always say she’s first in training and the last to leave. She lives, eats, and breathes the sport and that dedication shows."

"Oh, oh here she goes! The pass! The defense by Arsenal here is incredible. This is one of their strong areas. No one is getting by which sets Y/N up to part the team on the left and here she goes!”

The stadium was so loud it was impossible to make out any understandable speech.

"She is so good at intimidation, and we see it here. There's the ball she really likes to bounce it off her chest then knees and--.”

The referee blew his whistle, stopping play because of an offense by a Chelsea player. Then it happened out of nowhere.

"Ooooooh!”

The stadium echoed the sound then it all went silent. Now even a referee's yellow card could be heard dropping to the grass.

He leaped to his feet from his location in the box seats he'd bought years ago to ensure he always had a spot to watch your home games when he was home. He couldn’t see you through the huddle most of your teammates had around you while a few others brawled with the other team.

Even he knows that was a foul move. The game wasn’t even in play. It was clearly a move to take you out of the game. Everything in him wanted to run from his box down to the field but he remained there. His legs planted unable to move them. He had no right. It had been almost 3 years since you truly interacted rather than seeing each other across a room or in the audience of an award ceremony. 3 years since that night.

Long minutes passed as everyone tried to get some control over the field. Team owners tried to wrangle brawling players and medics rushed the field pushing through the huddle of your team, even some media managed to get on the field to snap pictures and capture up-close footage. It was like hell had broken loose.

With every minute that passed, he felt even more on edge. Then the ref blew his whistle and made his call.

"Serious Foul Play, number 76, Brewer. Expulsion. 2 free kicks Arsenal"

The stadium echoed with claps, cheers, and admonishment for the call. It was a good call. He watched the offender exit the field talking a lot of shit but focused on you. You were lying on your back with your head angled backward and a grimace on your face.

"Fuck! Is she okay?"

"I can't tell," Miles replied.

"Shit."

After another minute or two, you got hoisted onto the board and carried off the field. That only made him worry more. Unable to stay where he was any longer, he left the box and made his way toward the team areas. You’d had scares before in your games, but this had to be the worst one in the nearly three years he’d been watching by far.

When he got close, he watched one of your teammates take the second free kick, making nothing but net. Chelsea’s only hope was to bring it into extra time and even that would take impeccable athleticism for the remaining 8 minutes. He doubted they had it.

The clock winded down 4 minutes and still no goal had been scored by Chelsea. That was when he caught the eye of the assistant coach, a good friend of his. He waved him over and watched as he approached.

"How you doing Lewis. We didn't know you were in the house tonight."

"I'm always here, you know that. How is she?"

He sighed then shook his head.

"A few bruised ribs, mild to moderate left hamstring strain, left shoulder popped out we had to reset it and she’s complaining her chest hurts. Could be muscle strain, or tenderness or more serious pretaining to her heart.”

"Fuck!”

"Yeah. She’s playing tough but she’s gotta be in a lot of pain."

"That player should never play again!"

"Yeah. Measures will be taken. Do you want to see her? I'm sure she'd like to see you. All the times you've been here asking about her."

"No. I...I don't think that's a good idea. Like always don't tell her I was here."

He nodded then shook his hand.

"Hang out in the associate box instead of going all the way back up."

He took the offer and called his team down. Against all the odds Chelsea managed to tie the game leaving 2 minutes of gameplay for possible extra time.

"Wild. It's clear their goal was to get Y/N out of the game. They knew she was the key."

It was more than obvious, and it pissed him off more. Suddenly a whistle blew, and he watched you slow jog onto the field. Half the stadium was cheering and the others murmuring amongst each other trying to understand what was happening. He was one of the latter.

"Isn't she hurt."

"She is. What is she doing?"

He zeroed in on your face and saw you grimace. You were definitely hurt. The list of injuries he’d just been told was serious and could be made worse with you aggravating them. You huddled with your team, and he noticed the Chelsea players looking at each other clearly panicking. You broke the huddle with a combined warrior's war cry that had become a ritual and signature of your team.

You broke out in formation, and he watched as play began again. The opponents made no attempt to hide their intention--keeping you held down. They tried everything they could to intercept the balls while heavily guarding you, but the ball never touched your feet. Instead, you took all the heat of them over guarding you, testing your strength and injuries while your team scored 2 goals in one minute.

"It’s a wrap,” Miles said while fanning off toward the field.

"Pack it up!”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the commentary of Miles and Daniel together. While Chelsea had a plan, you came with your own plan, and they played right into it. Within the 15 second reprieve, he saw the pain on your face. You bent over and rested your hands on your knees and dipped your head down. He hated this.

The whistle sounded again, and play resumed. He watched the formation change on your team and the other team went back to equal guard leaving only 2 players on you. He snorted because he knew what was going to happen.

"Big mistake!”

You stood there inactive, which made the players on you watch you in confusion. They looked around unsure what to do as play continued around them. He did a quick glance at the clock noting there was under 40 seconds of play time. Your team made a run for the goal which made the players on you scramble to try to stop the goal by any means. That left you wide open. In a misdirection move the ball flew to you and you took off from midfield at top speed.

He watched your ball control in awe. By the time the other team realized their error it was too late. You were in the zone. You faked to the left breaking one of your opponents, making them slip into what must have been a painful split. You faked right and your second opponent dived for you missing completely.

You booked it to the goal as the rest of their team chased after you. When you were about 10 feet from the goal you kicked it to the right, then your teammate kneed it up and front kicked it back to you.

Everyone in the stadium was on their feet and it looked like it all moved in slow motion. You high jumped up getting major air then instead of your signature move you stuck your leg out and went for a flying bicycle side-kick. Looking tighter than the Nike check logo. Once your foot made contact he knew you had it and sure enough, the ball zipped through the air like a bullet and collided into the net signaling the end of the game and Arsenal's win clinching yet another title.

The stadium went absolutely wild. You remained laid on the field as your teammates jumped on you, cheering and celebrating another victory.

"She's a beast!"

They hoisted you up and put you on top as they passed you in the air. Though he could tell you were in pain you were all smiles. He couldn't help but smile too. He’d always loved your smile. It was the reason he always tried to make you happy just to see you smile. His heart thudded painfully and as strong as it ever had when he watched or thought of you. This had been going on for 3 years now and he was still hopelessly and painfully in love with you.

The field filled with press, the rest of the team, managers, and other personnel, and they all were in celebration mode. Your teammates let you down in front of a tall man who was smiling just as widely. He wrapped his arms around you and rested them just at your hip. It was an intimate move and just like that his hackles were up.

When he bent to your ear he watched your interaction while he wondered who he was and what he was to you. Over the years while you’d become a sensation and top player for Arsenal, you'd been able to keep your privacy and stay away from the paps. There was little to no info on you out there which meant he had no idea if there was someone in your life.

The thought that there was, made him clench his jaws though he probably had no right to the reaction. Not after he’d let you walk out and away from him nearly 3 years ago.

"Let's go."

Without waiting any longer, he turned, and a few people started pointing at him and shouting his name. Soon everyone near him was waving and cheering and calling to him. He smiled and waved back as he tried to slip out before you saw him. He shouldn’t have ever come no matter how much he missed you, no matter how much he craved having you near, and no matter how much he regretted what happened those years ago. Nothing had changed. He wasn’t any good for you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

Even now as you were sitting in your gown for the celebratory dinner hopped up on some superior pain medication you could have sworn you saw Lewis. Or the back of his hooded head. Was it really him? You didn’t know. It could have been anyone similar to his height and build wearing a hood. While your ears had picked up some murmurs in the crowd shouting his name, it could have been any Lewis.

You sighed and closed your eyes. You were being ridiculous right now. It had been almost 3 years and you were still thinking about him and looking for his face in the crowd and him in every man you encountered.

“How pathetic, Y/N. How much more do you want to suffer? Haven’t these years been enough?”

Just then, a pang of pain rippled through you that took your breath away. You threw your head back and held your breath as you tried to push through it. Perhaps the quick look-over you’d gotten during the ending part of the match wasn’t enough. Everyone had insisted that you be admitted but you knew you had to make an appearance at this dinner.

“I’ll do it after,” you groaned out to yourself.

“Y/N.”

You straightened and put on a brave face. “Ready. Let’s go.”

You stood on shaky legs and shook off the lingering pain while pleading with your body to give you a few more hours. Your job didn’t end after a win. The show must go on.

Thirty minutes later you were walking the gold carpet with the rest of your teammates smiling and being interviewed by reporters.

“Y/N!”

You approached a tall woman with gorgeous curly 4B hair that had subtle auburn streaks. The look complimented her nutmeg tone and striking features.

“Hi.”

“Hi to you. First of all, I stan you so hard! Today’s game was incredible. You were incredible. How are you? Should you be here tonight?”

You giggled. “Thank you. I uh—I appreciate you saying that. It was truly a team effort today and I’m just happy we could bring it home.”

“Can we talk about that hit?”

You shuddered remembering it and the immediate shock and pain you felt. “Uh, sure.”

“Did you see it coming?”

“No. I was focused on the goal and the plan.”

“Do you feel it was deliberate? A lot of fans and spectators are saying she had a plan to take you out of the game so it could make it easier for them to win.”

You’d heard the rumbles too. You’d had problems with Cadence Brewer for years. She’d tried taunting you for your entire career and when you’d surpassed her and any rankings she could have ever held the taunting became worse. You didn’t know what you’d done to her, but it was clear she didn’t want to be friends or even sportsman like.

“Um, I don’t know. I—I try not to go down those thought pathways. I go out there, play the sport I love with one goal in mind, to win. I really don’t focus on anyone else or their feelings toward me.”

“Well said and your skill sure speaks for itself. Are you doing okay tonight?”

“I’m doing all right, feeling not my best, sore but I’m dealing.”

“You look spectacular. Give us a spin.”

You did but it was a rather slow one. Anything more you would give away just how not your best you were feeling.

“Wow. You clean up well.”

You laughed then fanned her off.

“Thank you.”

You heard your name across the way and found your team waving you over.

“Looks like I’m needed. Thank you.”

You walked over to your team and posed for some pictures. It took another fifteen or so minutes before you made it inside and when you did, your hamstring was throbbing uncontrollably.

“If it isn’t the MVP of the night.”

You looked beside you and found Tyrone’s smiling face. You returned his smile the best you could and looked over him. He always did clean up nicely. His locks looked freshly tightened and skin glistened. He was a fine man indeed.

“You clean up nice,” you both said at the same time.

“How are you holding up?”

You bobbed your head from side to side indicating you were not great but not terrible.

“That could change in an hour though,” you added.

Tyrone held his arm out for you, and you looped it. He’d been hanging around for about 8 months now. Ever since a charity game between Aston Villa’s WFC and Arsenal’s where he’d cheered you on rather than the women’s side of his club you’d struck up a friendship. Truth be told, you couldn’t shake him. He showed up to your games when he didn’t have one, commented on your socials, constantly asked you to hang out, and even accompanied you to football events both of you needed to be at. It was nice, he was fun, and you now considered him a good friend.

Everyone on your team believed he was doing everything he could to woo you. While you couldn’t believe it, you did see some small signs he might be into you. You’d never reciprocated any of his advances because you didn’t think you could. You truly believed something inside of you was broken.

You had no interest in a repeat of what had happened to you a few years ago. You could call it once bitten, twice shy, or whatever. The facts were simple, ever since that night you’d pushed pause on anything that wasn’t football. You dedicated yourself to your training and becoming indomitable. You’d learned your lesson then and didn’t want any others.

Instead, you trained like a beast and put in all the work necessary to step your game up. In truth, you’d probably used football as a crutch and a means to forget Lewis and what your heart still felt for him. You’d even done your best to stay away from everything related to him but that had proved to be impossible. You lived in the same country, ran in the same circles and he was everywhere. You could barely walk down the street without seeing a magazine that didn’t have some coverage of him. It also didn’t help that F1 was one of two national sports of England and people truly lost their shit over him.

In the last near 3 years, his image had only gotten bigger, his fame more blinding and his alleged conquests more gorgeous. You had all the evidence needed that he didn’t give a shit about you. Within two weeks of you, he was rumored to have someone else he was giving his attention to. That was probably the worst part. You couldn’t escape the rumors.

The rumors were everywhere, and those rumors triggered some of the worst nights for you. For a long time, you couldn’t sleep because your imagination ran wild. You couldn’t do much of anything without thinking of him. Your only escape was football. At least for that you probably should thank him. You’d used him to become the monster you were today.

Arsenal management introduced you and the team to tens of people. You shook hands, smiled, posed for pictures, and mingled. Barely anyone stuck out because all the faces and names blended together after an hour. You knew this win was bolstering Arsenal’s image but when someone approached you and proposed you play during the offseason for a major off-season league it hit you that this win had catapulted you into a whole different layer in the atmosphere. You’d become bankable.

“Y/N, let me introduce you to some major players,” your assistant coach said to you just as Tyrone came up on your right side with two glasses of champagne.

“Uh, sure.”

Tyrone held his arm out to you again and you looped it. As you walked across the room you took the flute of champagne he offered and downed it.

“I love watching you work a room,” Tyrone whispered against your ear.

His lips brushed against you making you glance up at him. “I had no idea.”

“There’s a lot you have no idea about,” he replied, voice still tipped lower than ever before.

“Like what?”

His lip quirked up and he leaned closer again. “Like how irresistible I find you and how badly I’m trying to not pull you into a corner to kiss you senseless.”

Your eyes bugged. He’d finally shown his hand. Long gone were his flirty innuendos and could be, couldn’t be hints. You didn’t know what to say, all you could do was stare at him.

“Eh-em.”

You tore your eyes from Tyrone’s and looked at your assistant coach who nudged his head forward. Looking in front of you, you got the wind knocked out of your lungs for the second time in 30 seconds. Your eyes locked with Lewis’ burnt honey ones and instantly your heart thudded painfully in your chest.

“Ah!”

You gripped your chest and five men lurched forward in an attempt to console you. Before anyone could touch you, Tyrone took your hand and wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you close.

“Are you alright?”

You rubbed at your chest and took a few breaths before you nodded.

“You should have been admitted,” your assistant coach muttered.

You waved off his concern and smiled. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Tyrone cupped your cheek, bringing your face closer so he could really assess you. The gentleness in his touch and the tenderness in his eyes took you by surprise. Yeah, he’d been flirtatious before, but this was different. He’d declared intentions moments ago and suddenly these touches felt different. Your heart should have been touched, warmed at least but nothing. That wall you’d built around your heart steadfastly remained.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

You lowered Tyrone’s hand and looped yours with his before looking in front of you again. Though you tried to keep your gaze from his, your eyes still met Lewis’. His jaw was tightly clenched, eyes blazing with intensity and coldness. He looked like he was on the verge of decking someone. You were introduced to the two men flanking his left and right and then him. You had two ways to play this and decided on the path that would keep your promise from those years ago.

You smiled and held out your hand to him, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Lewis didn’t budge. He stared into your eyes as if he too were making his own decision of how to handle this moment. It felt like an eternity passed before he took your hand and shook it. Once he touched you, a static electric shock coursed through you and though it was slightly painful, it felt good though. Too good.

As you slowly shook hands, your eyes remained locked on one another as if no one else existed in this room and neither of you had anywhere else to be. Again, your heart thumped painfully against your chest cavity making you flinch. Yanking your hand away, you flexed your digits trying to shake off the feeling.

“Em, sorry. I dislocated this earlier it’s a little sore,” you appeased.

Why? You didn't know. You didn't have to explain why you wanted to keep your parts from his. You looped your arm with Tyrone's again and held tighter to him. You caught Lewis's eyes moving to your joined arms and yet again the tight clench of his jaw couldn't be missed.

How odd, you thought before you were distracted by one of the men with him addressing you.

“Amazing match, Y/N. Lewis has not been able to stop gushing about your skill and how coolly you handled yourself.”

You looked at Lewis who was still looking at yours and Tyrone's interlocked arms.

“Uh, thank you…I guess.”

“Still haven't learned how to take a compliment, huh.”

Lewis's comment caught you off guard and it must have been the case for Tyrone as well because you could feel his eyes on you. Not bothering to reply you smiled and simply shrugged.

The conversation continued with you having no way to escape. You'd often thought about the first time you spoke after the way things ended and you'd done your best to convince yourself that you were long past it and him. You were certain that you would be able to talk to him without feeling a thing.

Two and a half years had passed, but that was not the case. Being near him now made every injury you had thrice worse. The pain medication had taken 95 percent of the pain but the 5 that remained was persistent. Your body ached worse being in front of him and that one touch triggered some innate response.

So, not only were you trying to keep a brave face on so no one knew the extent of your injuries, but you were also trying to pretend like seeing Lewis again up close wasn’t affecting you. You had to pretend you'd never known what it felt like to intimately touch his flesh, or press your lips to his, or have him deep inside of you. You had to pretend like you hadn't fallen in love with an emotionally unavailable man who’d shown what he thought your worth was by letting you walk away. You had to pretend like you hadn’t made a complete fool of yourself in front of him and that he hadn't seen you at your most vulnerable and turned way.

When Tyrone came up with an excuse to get to the table, you were thankful. Visibly weaker, Tyrone held tightly to you as he led you away and as you walked away you could feel Lewis' eyes boring holes into your back. Tyrone sat you in your seat then pointed out his seat at the next table then kissed your cheek before he went to his seat.

With a little time to yourself you recalled what the man with Lewis had said.

“…Lewis has not been able to stop gushing about your skill and how coolly you handled yourself.”

How did he know how you handled yourself? You were sure that commercials would have been on during the chaos after the tackle. The only way for him to know that was if he was in the stadium. The realization hit you so hard that another strong stab of pain surged through you making you squeeze the edge of the table.

With white spots dancing behind your eyes, you counted through it and focused on keeping your breathing leveled as you tried to push any other thoughts out. When the pain subsided, you looked up and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Barely making it halfway around the room, you locked eyes with Lewis who was seated so close but so far. Story of your entire entanglement you thought to yourself. From where you sat it was easy to mistake the intense look in his eyes for concern.

Scoffing to yourself, you shrugged the thought off, deeming it ridiculous. You wouldn’t fall for that twice. Straightening your back, you played it off and finished the glass of champagne before you in one rise to your head.

The dinner progressed with conversation on all topics mainly toasts of congratulations and a plethora of photo ops. If you were feeling better perhaps you would have enjoyed yourself more but after 2 hours you were so ready to leave. Your decline had been steady.

Every time your eyes accidentally met Lewis', your heart beat painfully. Each time you had to stand and pose for a picture your hamstring furiously rebelled making you feel its wrath. Every hand you shook you instinctively reached with your right hand which aggravated your shoulder that had become increasingly tighter and tighter as time elapsed. You kept telling yourself to get through to the MVP announcement and then leave but there was too much working against you tonight.

“Everyone, thank you for taking the time to celebrate with us tonight. Here at Arsenal, we consider ourselves a family and as a family, we are always proud of each member. Strong ties, loyalty, and devotion are the principles of Arsenal.”

The room erupted into applause that took several moments to quiet.

“As we do every year we are presenting our MVP selection for this season of very high, highs and few to no lows. This team is filled with valuable players. We've been lucky to recruit the best and those bests have only gotten more and more exceptional. Although I can only give this to one woman tonight I wish I could give it to all of them.”

Again everyone applauded. A few of your teammates patted your shoulder and pointed at you. It only made you more anxious. While this award wasn’t a huge deal, it was a big one. It said a lot within the sport, and it also would open you up to so many more opportunities. Not to mention anyone who got the MVP award was definitely getting a contract extension and with that extension a raise.

“So, without further ado, this woman has really gone above and beyond. She has not only enhanced her skill but has shown every football club why she deserves to be considered one of the brightest rising stars in the sport. Her stats speak for themselves and so do her moves. If you ask anyone on the team not only is she talented but she's humble. Not only a shark but a team player. Not only fierce but kind. So let me introduce this season's MVP. Y/F/N & Y/L/N!”

Shock flooded you and soon disbelief set in. As everyone around you stood and clapped, you remained seated unable to believe your name had been called. Your teammates all released a warrior's war cry as they surrounded you trying to coax you into action.

You hugged them all and smiled at others at your table then hugged Tyrone who was all smiles.

“You deserve it,” he whispered to you before he kissed your cheek.

You then made your way to the stage. You were so happy that your table was close but that happiness was short-lived when you clocked the 4 steps onto the stage. Before you could panic, you saw Lewis approach the side of the steps holding his hand out to you.

Internally, you panicked but externally you were as cool as a cucumber. You'd worked hard to cut yourself off from useless emotions and while his effect still had a relentless hold on you, you could rise above it. So, you did just that –raised above it. You slid your hand into his and ignored the electricity passing through your hand, and the way your belly flipped from the tightness of his hold, and his scent that was so familiar but so different bombarding you, and even the pain in your chest that intensified thanks to his proximity.

Each step up was slow and with each step, he was mindful of not only your dress but also your body. You noticed how he took most of your body weight on the right side as if he knew your hamstring was shredded. He also used a second hand to secure your shoulder which you'd mentioned was dislocated a few hours before so there was no added strain. When you suddenly leaned back thanks to a spasm of pain in your ribs, his arm was there bracing your back holding you in a way that brought memories to the forefront of your mind.

How did he know to do these things? Did he know the specifics of your injuries? How? Had he really been in the stadium?

Lewis walked you to the podium then stepped back so he was in the darkened part of the stage clearly trying to not steal your shine. The room continued and it took a while to quiet down still wanting to clap, cheer and warrior cry to their heart's content.

You felt a rush of pride swell through you. It had paid off. The road here hadn't been easy. You'd pushed yourself to the max and then some, sacrificed a lot, and even went through a time of depression because of everything. Now it all seemed worth it.

Once the room quieted, you gave your acceptance speech thanking everyone by name, mentioning any and everyone who had a part in making this possible today. You didn't leave anyone out and made sure they each knew how grateful you were to and for them.

When you recounted how much work you'd done in the last nearly 3 years, your emotions caught up with you. It was then the memories of you and Lewis came back, memories of the heartbreak, memories of how hard healing was, and how much you struggled to even get out of bed and make it to practice. It was also then another bite of pain hit you, this one worse than all the others. You gripped your chest and hunched over the podium as the microphone feedback rang through the room.

Your vision blurred and all sound disappeared as you struggled to catch a breath. In the blink of an eye, all you saw was light being shut off all around you until only one remained as you felt yourself falling. Rather than the pain of a hard floor, you felt strong arms. Over you, you peered into a blurry face that went in and out of focus but brought with those strong arms, a familiar feeling washed over you. One you'd felt all night. Lewis.

As the last light shuttered, you made out one final word.

“Babygirl.”

~~~~~~~~

Everything ached but also felt numb. It was a strange combination. Fluttering your eyes open you heard loud voices just a breath below a shout.

“I've got it from here. You can go.”

“Excuse you? I'm not going anywhere. You can go. Like what is your purpose here anyway? She doesn't even know you.”

A snort sounded in the room. “Trust she knows me more than she knows you.”

“How? You just met a week and a half ago.”

“Don’t worry about other people's business. Mind yours.”

“She is my business. Look just because you’re Lewis Hamilton doesn’t mean anything here.”

“And who are you mate? Some rookie footballer on a come up?”

Clatter followed then several voices.

“You both need to leave! There is no fighting in here.”

“Take it outside!”

Panic and confusion welled within you, and it only intensified when you realized you couldn’t speak. It was then you realized the long tube over your head. The machines then went insane and seconds later you were surrounded by people. To the back of the huddle, you caught a glimpse of Tyrone and Lewis but in seconds they were gone.

“Calm down, Y/N. It’s all right. You’re safe, and currently admitted to the hospital. You’ve been here for a little over a week and we had to intubate you.”

The more she spoke the more you panicked until you were struggling against them trying to get out of the bed.

“She’s panicking. Sedative.”

That was the last thing you heard before it went black all over again.

~~~~~~~~~

When your eyes opened again the room was bright—too bright. Squinting you groaned but it came out sounding more like a toad’s croak. in seconds you were flanked by the faces of your family.

“Y/N?”

Your mother gently cupped your cheeks as tears streamed down her cheeks. You opened your mouth to reply but nothing came out. You tried again and again but still, there was no sound.

“It’s okay calm down. You were intubated. It’s normal to not be able to talk for a few hours,” your father informed.

Slowly, you calmed yourself but then wondered why you were intubated. Seeing the question in your eyes, your mother responded.

“You had a collapsed lung. You should have gone straight to the hospital so they could treat it but the delay in treatment made it worse. You’re so stubborn.”

You smirked and raised your hand to wipe your mother’s cheek hoping she took it as your apology. She held your hand to her cheek and stared lovingly into your eyes. Soon the doctors came in to check you over to gauge your healing progress. As they examined you, they filled you in on every medical measure that had been taken. They seemed to know the questions you had so as they went they answered them. Thankfully, you’d make a full recovery with time and physical therapy. They didn’t see any reason why your ability to play the sport should be hindered.

An hour later, your teammates all rolled through with flowers, stuffed animals, and get-well banners and cards. They teased you about your dramatic antics with fainting while you had everyone’s attention ensuring you’d be the talk of the town for weeks if not months. You laughed but with every chuckle, your ribs fought you. When they left the doctors ordered no more visits for the day so you could get some needed rest.

You were grateful because you were downright exhausted.

The next day you woke feeling a little more like yourself, especially since you woke up with the raspy version of your voice. While it sounded like you smoked 3 packs a day it was better than nothing. By noon after your first PT appointment for your hamstring, you were in good spirits. That was when Tyrone’s face popped around the threshold holding an embarrassing bouquet of flowers.

“Hey there gorgeous.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. He approached you and then bent to kiss your cheek.

“You must have taken a bicycle kick to the face recently cause you’re blind.”

He chuckled and placed the flowers on your bedside table.

“For you.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than bad, worse than great.”

He nodded then rubbed the back of his neck. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tyrone sat in the chair beside the bed staring at you as if he had so much to say to you.

“What?”

He sighed then leaned forward. “I have feelings for you, Y/N.”

You froze.

“You had to know.”

You remained silent.

“I’ve been debating with myself for months, 8 to be specific on if I should continue pursuing you or move on. I wasn’t sure if it was me you weren’t feeling or if I wasn’t being direct enough so—I have feelings for you. I like you—a lot.”

“I love you, Lewis.”

Your words from three years ago echoed in your head. You saw the scene playing before you again and coupled with Tyrone’s confession you remained frozen in panic. It felt like you were in the same situation again.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes focused on him again and you fought to push the memories away.

“You had to know.”

“I—I didn’t. not really.”

“And now that you know? Do you—do you feel the same?”

The long stretch of your silence must have been answer enough. Tyrone blew a breath out.

“Do you feel anything for me?”

Again you couldn’t speak. Pinching the bridge of your nose you sighed.

“Wow,” Tyrone said.

“Ty, I think you’re great.”

“Aw man.”

“No. Let me finish. You’re great. You’re fun, funny, sweet, kind, giving, chivalrous and so many other things. You’re a good guy and I wish I felt the same way as you. I wish I felt. I just—I can’t.”

“Wish you felt? What does that mean? Were you just toying with me?”

“I never toyed with you and I’m sorry if that’s what you think. I’m—I’m not in any mind frame to reciprocate what you feel.”

He looked genuinely confused and just as you were going to open your mouth to say more there was a knock. Both of you turned around to see Lewis standing there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. A slew of emotions filled you, annoyance, relief, awe, hope, anger, and something that resembled happiness.

He smiled while keeping his eyes on you.

“Jasmine and Gardenias still your favorite flowers?”

“You know each other?”

“I tried to tell you, mate, now your feelings hurt.”

You watched Tyrone look between you and Lewis a few times each time his eyes got bigger and bigger.

“Wow. Wow, woooow. I see.”

“Ty, it’s not like that.”

He stood and raised his hand. “It’s all right, Y/N. I get it. I’m gonna get out of here. I hope you’re well soon Arsenal needs you.”

You stared at each other and read what he wasn’t saying with words. He was giving you an out, releasing you from any sort of obligation to reciprocate his feelings. You recognized the look in his eyes. It was the same look you had those years ago.

“Thank you, Ty.”

He nodded. “I’ll call you.”

With that he walked to the door and shoulder checked Lewis in an aggressive confrontational move. Lewis scoffed but didn’t retaliate.

“Bye Ty,” Lewis taunted.

When it was just the two of you, you registered the change in the air. Before it was filled with such high testosterone. The testosterone of a man trying to mark his territory and now it only got more pungent. Lewis approached you and with every step he took toward you, you inched backward as if he were poison itself.

Lewis placed his bouquet of flowers down in front of the one Tyrone had just brought and the heady scent of gardenias and jasmine circled you. He’d often brought you them in the past. Why did he remember your favorite flowers? With cautious eyes you watched him sit in the seat.

“How do you feel?”

You almost laughed. You hadn’t expected the first words he’d say directly to you one on one would be these. You didn’t know what you’d expected but this wasn’t it.

“Fine,” you lied.

“With a shredded hamstring, a dislocated shoulder, bruised ribs, a collapsed lung you’re fine?”

There it was. Confirmation.

“Why do you know that?”

Lewis didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared at you for such a long time it made you uncomfortable. When you realized he wasn’t going to answer you looked away.

“Thanks for the flowers, you should go.”

“Why don’t want to see me?”

“Why would I want to see you? There’s no reason for you to be here. We don’t know each other.”

“Oh come on Y/N. We know each other better than most.”

“I disagree, you know 90% of the female population just as well.”

His brow flicked up as his mouth screwed.

“Wait that was 2 years ago. What is it now 95 percent? No? 98?”

Lewis scoffed and shook his head.

“I might deserve that.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not doing this. There really is no reason to. Let’s go back to staying away from each other and ignoring the other’s existence. Please leave.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay,” Lewis began.

“Okay you’ve done that. I’m fine. On the mend will make a full recovery.”

“Y/N—.”

“Thanks for stopping by. Have a good one.”

You turned away from him looking to the left where the entire side was taken up with flowers, cards, and balloons. Lewis sighed, stood then walked to the door. You didn’t know where the anger was coming from. You thought you’d moved past that. Unable to, you looked at his back. Those years ago you didn’t think you were strong enough to watch his back as he got further and further away from you and sitting here now you remembered every feeling you had that night. You also remembered the repercussions of those feelings.

"We shouldn't have ever done this. I shouldn't have done this.”

The tears pricked your eyes, and the overwhelming feeling of loss and heartbreak consumed you. His back for further and further but before he walked through the door he paused. you pressed your palm to your mouth hoping to stifle any sound from passing. After a few moments, Lewis walked out of the room, turning right down the hall before the door closed behind him.

Once alone you waited a few moments before you allowed yourself to cry. Though you tried you couldn’t stop. The tears just kept coming until you were so worked up that your entire body felt as if it were going haywire. Suddenly, you couldn’t control yourself, you couldn’t seal yourself off from all the things you thought you’d dealt with but were now bombarding you.

You grabbed your pillow, buried your face in it and screamed until your throat burned. Then you bawled. Suddenly your door flung open and in walked Lewis.

“You’ve got me fucked up; you walked out. You left!”

You were so far down your spiral that you couldn’t stop your tears. Lewis hurried across the room to you asking a series of questions to gauge what was wrong.

“Don’t—Don’t touch—me!”

Lewis stopped right beside you respecting your wishes. “What’s wrong?”

“G—g—ge—get out!”

“No. Talk to me, Y/N.”

“Get out!”

The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this—not again. He’d seen you fall apart those years ago and you couldn’t do it again. Two nurses rushed in asking questions about what happened but when they didn’t get any response one of them escorted Lewis out as the other tried to console you. However, nothing worked which led them to sending you into the oblivion of darkness yet again.

~~~~~~~~~

-Two Weeks Later-

The moral of the story for you had always been that while love was a pure emotion it was a weakness, and it was a weakness you couldn’t afford. The solution was to block it with everything in you. However, that was no solution at all. You pushing down your feelings, ignoring them, and practically running from the pain only ended up catching up to you. You saw that now.

The last two weeks of recovery were tough. While the pain was manageable with heavy meds you were cooped up in your house with nothing but your head as company. That meant you thought about everything all over again. You had to come to terms with the pain and face everything you’d buried from shame and embarrassment.

When the doorbell rang, you expected it to be food, so you hobbled on your crutches to the door but when you opened it, there stood Lewis.

“No.”

You attempted to slam the door, but he caught it. “Can we talk?”

“No. How did you find out where I lived?”

“Reese.”

Everything clicked then. He had been at the match and Reese was his informant. Sighing, you dipped your head and mumbled a curse.

“Please, Y/N. I think it’s 3 years overdue.”

You scoffed and the urge to smack him with your crutch filled you. He must have seen it before he raised his hands in defeat. For the first time, you saw the two bags he held.

“The unconscionable mix of Thai and sushi still your favorite?”

Just then your belly rumbled giving him the answer.

“You should consider moving, the attendant downstairs let me take your food up just because I was Lewis Hamilton.”

Rolling your eyes, you hobbled away giving him a few seconds to catch the door. If he did he did if not oh well. When you got to the living room you dropped into the seat and elevated your leg with a groan.

“You’re the only person who will eat Thai and sushi together,” Lewis said as he laid out the containers from the bags across your center table.

Slowly, you slid down to the floor then began building a bed for your thigh. Lewis approached and took over stuffing couch pillows under and around your thigh until your leg was properly elevated. Your eyes briefly met but it only lasted a few seconds. Silently, you dug into the containers and focused on piling your plate with food.

“I only bought for me. Your plant-based ass will just have to starve.”

Lewis snorted then chuckled. “It’s all good.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Your answer was short, and voice clipped and it was enough for him to get that you didn’t want to talk. You ate in silence for several minutes but soon you turned on the tv. Lewis reached for the remote and turned it off making you sigh.

“Come on. Haven’t you taken enough? Now you want to take my tv?”

“I’ve taken? Y/N. I’m lost here. You walked out. You left me in that hotel room in Mauritius. You did that.”

“Was I supposed to stay to hear words that were pointless in saying? Was I supposed to stay so you could have the upper hand? Fuck out of here Lewis.”

“The upper hand? Y/N this wasn’t a game.”

“Wasn’t it? From the beginning it was a game, and you know it. The only thing is I was the one who lost.”

“I never--.”

“Stop Lewis. What do you want?”

He groaned, rubbed his forehead as he shook his head. He looked distressed as if you were aggravating him, but he had no right.

“For the last 3 years I’ve carried so many regrets.”

“Same here.”

“Do you regret meeting me? Regret being with me?”

Looking at him you paused your chopsticks in their air. It wasn’t a hard question. You knew the answer. Was it the truth though? Was it your bitterness speaking? You broke eye contact and went back to your food.

Lewis sighed then spoke, “I regret letting you walk out that door. I regret not going after you. I regret not showing up at your place to clarify things. I regret these 3 years apart. I regret staying away. I regret not telling you the truth of matters. I regret—making you cry. I regret hurting you.”

With every bomb dropped your heart pounded louder and louder. Soon it felt like there was a herd of horses in your chest wildin' out. Keeping your eyes planted on your plate, you fought the urge to look at him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the uncertainty and hope in your eyes. You wanted to kick yourself for feeling hope.

“Well what’s done is done,” you tightly said.

“Aren’t you going to ask what I mean?”

“What’s the purpose? The answer holds no authority to me. No one can change the past and talking about it is pointless.”

“Come on Y/N,” Lewis pleaded.

“What Lewis! What! What do you want to talk about? Hm? You wanna talk about how many regrets you have? Fine. Why does it matter?”

Your explosion was from your aggravation. You knew the longer you talked about this the more pain it would cause. So what if after 3 years he was having regrets and now felt like talking. So what if he was trying to appease his conscience so he could sleep better. So what if the consequences of his bad decisions were finally catching up to him.

“It matters because I’m here and I want to make things right. I want to do right by you.”

“After 3 years?”

You laughed manically then. It sounded bitter, hell it tasted bitter.

“Hear me out—please.”

You struggled to stand and grimaced the entire time. Lewis lunged over to assist but you lurched away.

“I can manage.”

Once up, you hobbled to the kitchen on the hunt for one of the bottles of Umeshu that you stored for nights you ate Thai and Sushi. It didn’t take you long to find the gorgeous bottle that had paintings of Japanese cherry blossoms all over it. You grabbed a glass from your overhead cupboard then hobbled back to your seat. Not bothering to build a fort for your leg you filled the cordial glass you had.

“Should you be drinking if you’re on meds?”

You side-eyed him sending every bit of annoyance to him. Nodding, he backed down. Knocking the tart but sweet liquor back, you slurped and hit your hand on the table as it burned your tastebuds.

“Mmm.”

You poured another and repeated your action, then 2 more followed. You moaned again. “Mm, if I hear you out will you leave and drop this?”

Your eyes met.

“If you still want that then yes.”

You poured and knocked back one more glass then slammed it on the table. “All right. Go ahead.”

Lewis slid down to the floor with you then took your glass and poured his own drink and gulped it.

“Thought you gave it up.”

“A bit of liquid courage is needed,” he said before he took another glass full.

Lewis held the bottle with one hand and the glass with the other as the silence filled the room. With the lights dimmed only enough to give the room a very soft glow it felt like an intentional romantic setting. You almost wanted to get up and turn the lights on full glare but the hassle of getting up stopped you and you deemed it best to have whatever conversation he wanted in as little light as possible.

“When we met I wasn’t—a great guy. I had good qualities I know that, and those qualities maybe made it seem like I was a good guy, but I was about 3 things. Racing, having fun, and no attachments. I didn’t want anyone hanging onto me wanting something other than fun, laughs, and sex. It was too much. So I played around and was fully about that life. I didn’t care to keep one woman, the more the better, the more the merrier.”

You snatched your glass back and poured yourself another drink. He felt like being real, real. You drank it down and let him continue.

“I saw you across the club and I instantly thought you were gorgeous. You were the only woman there not showing an excessive amount of skin who looked like they wanted to be anywhere else. I found it—you to be such a conundrum and the longer I watched you, the more I wanted to figure you out. But as I watched you I knew I should have walked away and left you alone, but I couldn’t. I tried; God knows I did.”

He sighed then took the glass and bottle back. You nearly snorted. This was a first between you. You’d never sat and drank together. You’d done so many things together but sat and drank and bared your personal truths were not among them.

“Ah,” he hissed before he continued, “When I said that I knew this wasn’t a good idea even before I touched you, from the second I looked into your eyes I meant I always knew I’d ruin you. I knew I’d break you because apparently, that is what I do with women in my world. That is what my world does to the women around me.”

You glanced at him at that confession. All this time you thought he meant something else, something more against you, but this was against himself.

“You were so innocent, and truth be told I was drawn to that, and it was probably because I liked new things and to claim things, so I did what I knew best though I warred with myself the entire time. Somewhere deep down I didn’t want to ruin you, but I couldn’t stay away. So, things escalated and escalated. Tried as I did to keep you like all the rest, slowly you ended up being like none at all.”

You swirled your finger around the rim of the glass allowing his words to settle. Your entire interaction played in your head. The things you did together outside the bedroom, the fun you had, the conversations, the cuddling, and the soft whispers. Those memories coupled with the Umeshu had you feeling soft. Groaning, you poured another glass. You were still too sober for this.

“You ended up being someone I could talk to about more than superficial shit, someone I could unload my frustrations with the sport, annoyance with my day, someone I could open up to and share pieces of myself. I didn’t even intentionally do it, it all just—happened. it was effortless. All of a sudden I stopped seeing you as this pass time, someone to distract me from everything, someone to sate my desires and have some fun with. I saw you as more.”

As he spoke you recalled when you’d gone through those very same sentiments. It was sudden for you too. So sudden that you didn’t believe it when you recognized it. After all, he was the first man you’d fallen in love with. Even thinking it you felt silly. Lewis Hamilton was your first love. And your first heartbreak, a voice inside your head reminded.

“More and more I wanted to spend time with you, more and more I kept thinking about you, and more and more I found myself breaking my rules and going out of character. The night you—told me how you felt it resonated with me and I knew I couldn’t keep you around me anymore.”

You abandoned the glass and brought the bottle to your head.

“My world isn’t as great as everyone thinks. I knew if you were part of it you’d get eaten, chewed, and spit out. I know how ugly it gets and I wanted to save you from that. I wanted to do whatever I could to not break you. So—I let you go.”

That confession hit you in the face like it were a low hanging tree branch. Looking at him you scrunched your face.

“What?”

You scoffed but that turned to a chuckle then an alcohol-induced guffaw. The irony was too good to not laugh. Long moments passed with you laughing not only at the situation but him and yourself.

“Let me get this straight. You wanted to not break me but ended up doing that very thing?”

Again you laughed.

“Y/N,” Lewis began but you cut him off.

“How completely ridiculous. Did you think ignoring me for years and pretending I didn’t exist wouldn’t break me? Did you think that after I sat there and confessed something so personal something that made me the most vaulnerable I’ve ever been in my life only to have it be met with horror and annoyance wouldn’t break me? Did you think that after I’d fallen in love for the first time, with the world’s most unavailable man, to have that man shoot me down wouldn’t break me?”

You laughed some more as you took another swig from the plum wine bottle.

“I’m sorry,” Lewis whispered. “I made a mistake. I fucked up.”

You rolled your eyes then took another mouthful ignoring the burn on your tongue and the puckering of your glands.

“I should have gone after you. I wanted to but I couldn’t--I. I wanted to tell you--,” Lewis sighed again.

You’d never seen him like this before. He always knew the right thing to say. He always said the right thing. Lewis Hamilton was eloquent and thought quickly on his feet and gave no evidence that he’d made something up on the fly. When he spoke he always held people captivated. The man sitting adjacent to you was not that man.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

You scoffed again. There was a time when you thought hearing him apologize was what you wanted. You thought hearing those words would make you feel better but hearing them now and seeing the condition of him across from you didn’t feel any better.

“I thought I wanted your sorries, that I deserved them for how you made me feel but now—it doesn’t matter. You got your freedom that night, your days, nights, weeks, months, years. You got freedom and peace, but I got trapped and tormented. You were okay all these years. You went on with your life, went on with your conquests and party lifestyle. You went on and had great days, you slept well. I didn’t get that. I didn’t get my days or nights, or weeks or months, all this time I was trapped in this loop of heartache and shame. My world stopped and yours spun on. I wasn’t okay, I didn’t have great days or slept well, I’ve had trouble sleeping for 3 years,” you absentmindly listed.

You sighed then shook your head, “When a heart breaks it’s never an even break. You got the better end.”

You raised the bottle to your head again and managed two gulps before Lewis pulled it from you and took a few gulps of his own.

“You have no idea how wrong you are. I got freedom? Ha! I got peace? I wish! You’ve haunted me for every single day of the last 3 years. Your face, your smile, Christ almighty your smile, your voice, your touch, your scent, your laugh. Fuckin’ “ell!”

Lewis grabbed his head then slid closer to you. In your head, you moved back but in reality, you remained where you were.

“I was not okay. Yeah to everyone looking in I looked fine but what was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to go out looking how I felt inside? Was I supposed to look like I was on death’s door as I felt?”

“Yes!”

Your words slammed against all the walls in the living room giving him the first definite indication of the rage you felt deep down.

“Yes! Yes, you were supposed to do all of that. You didn’t and made me feel so small, so insignificant in your life, like the last year we’d spent together truly meant nothing at all. You moved on within 2 weeks. 2 weeks! Had me feeling like I deserved that shit, like it was my fault that I couldn’t stay in the fucked-up parameters we’d established.”

“I never said it meant nothing that you meant nothing, Y/N.”

“You never said anything. Your actions did it all. Your actions. This is just about hooking up Y/N, then you look at me so deeply so intensely that you steal my breath. I can only give you this, Y/N, then you cuddle with me for hours whispering how sweet and amazing I am. What the fuck Lewis! You played with me like a toy then had the nerve to be horrified.”

“I love you!”

Everything stopped then. Time, light, space, the universe, your heart. Everything. You snapped your head to him. His eyes were already on you, those dewy pots of melted molasses that promised so much more than forever, the eyes that looked so tortured now.

“I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you since you showed up at my house drunk out of your mind ready to dance for me. The night you gave the worst striptease in the world, the night I saw the goofy, hidden seductress you keep buried. The night you allowed yourself to be completely out of your box and just be. I fell in love with you that night, I fell so hard that I didn’t bother using a condom that night. I fell so completely that I risked it all and left it up to whatever powers that be. I let go of control that night and fell in love with you.”

Your eyes were wider than saucers at that confession. There was no way that was true. He’s lying, you kept telling yourself.

“Bullshit.”

“Hand to God. The night you told me how you felt I wanted to risk it all again, I wanted to tell you how I felt, I wanted to make every promise under the sun to you and vow you’d have me completely and openly. I wanted so fucking much that night and I almost took it all, but I couldn’t. I was—scared. I didn’t know how any of it had happened, I didn’t expect it and I sure as hell didn’t know how to accept it. I was scared I’d ruin you, scared my life, my world would ruin you, and have you hate me in the end like it had to others.”

You stared into his eyes reading him, trying to gauge the level of truth in his words. You hated that more than half of you wanted to believe him, hated that you wanted to throw everything away and wrap yourself into him and those 3 words. Tearing your eyes from his, you looked down at the bottle. A heavy tear rolled down your cheek and that was how the floodgates opened.

You sobbed silently at first then let it all out. As you cried not only did the tears fall freely, but so did all the emotions you’d bottled up. You cried your anger, fears, shame, and pain out. You couldn’t hold it anymore. It was all too much.

“I can—can—can’t do this anymore. It’s too much!”

“I’m sorry. I tried to stay away from you. I tried to keep my distance, but it’s been impossible. My heart wants you; I want you. I need you in my life, Y/N. I need to be able to look into your eyes every morning, I need to hear your voice beside me, I need to feel your skin against mine, I need to hold you close, I need to love you.”

When you felt his hand on yours you wailed louder. Everything you’d wanted to hear you’d heard tonight. Everything you’d wanted to see, you saw tonight. You’d gotten it all and you didn’t know what to do next.

“Do you still love me, Y/N?”

What a stupid question you thought but you shook your head. “I can’t.”

“Y/N--,” Lewis croaked.

“Nothing has changed.”

“Everything has changed,” Lewis countered pulling you into him so there was barely any space between your bodies. “Everything has changed.”

You scrunched your face and tried to push him away, but he relented.

“3 years too late.”

“I don’t believe that. You don’t either. You can’t. This entire time I can feel the struggle in you, I can hear it and see it. You don’t mean that.”

“Lewis--.”

“It’s never too late. I’m here. I know I was wrong; I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you and I have to put the work in for your forgiveness and to show you that you can trust me. I can do that. I want to. Your world stopped that night but mine didn’t spin on, it stopped too. All these years I’ve been trapped in this loop of regret and self-hatred, all because I wasn’t strong enough—brave enough.”

With every word, you found yourself allowing him closer and closer despite your head warring within you. It was telling you to run. When Lewis tilted your chin up your eyes met and that’s where they remained.

“Do you love me?”

More tears welled in your eyes just as you shook your head.

“You’re lying. I can see it.”

You pulled away from him and it felt like forcing superglued skin apart. When you’d managed to create some space between you, you groaned from the pain that his absence brought. Not again, you thought.

“You have to leave. Go.”

“Y/N.”

“I told you I’d let you explain, and I did, and you said you’d leave when you were done if I still wanted it.”

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes.”

Silence stretched between you again. The pain on Lewis’ face was clear but you steeled your heart that somehow had turned to melted ice.

“Please, Y/N. Don’t do this. Put me out of my misery, put yourself out of this misery.”

He held out his hand to you. “Take my hand. Take my hand and show me the way to fix this. Let me back into your arms, into your life--in your heart.”

Ooof, you thought just before you rubbed your chest. He’d found his stride; his eloquence was returning, and you would never survive it.

“Lewis--.”

You stared at his hand and what was keeping you from taking it was fear. He’d broken you before, he could easily do it again. Holding that fear you knew it would only lead you to more misery. You knew fear would never make you happy. You also know you still loved him as much as you ever did. You’d never stopped. But was it enough? Could you be happy together?

His eyes said yes, your bruised heart said yes, your head said no. Your gut and instincts had left the group chat.

Heart or head, Y/N?

~~~~~~~~~~

-Two Years Later-

“Y/N. Y/N, Y/N!”

You jogged across the field to the reporter waving your down from the middle of the field while accepting pats on the back from those you passed.

“There she is. The woman of the game. The reason Arsenal brought home another title. How does it feel?”

Your smile was wide. “It feels—incredible. I’m really happy we could pull this off. Of course it’s all thanks to these women who have my back and are so incredibly skilled.”

“Of course. What a welcome back season. Arsenal’s WFC has become the most enviable WFC thanks to the relationship you all have with one another.”

“These are my besties. We really do like each other and spend so much time together. It makes working seem like play every day.”

“So you took a year off to get yourself back into beast shape but that didn’t stop these women from bringing home the title. And We had the same results 2 years ago but under different circumstances. You stand here today without injury.”

You chuckled. “Thank God. That wasn’t fun at all.”

“You worked really hard to come back from your hamstring injury and that collapsed lung. Would you say you’re in the same shape as you were two years ago?”

“No. Absolutely not. I feel like I’m in better shape this year than last year and definitely than the last before. I’ve gone through a lot of changes within that time physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually everything, and I think it all compounded to make such a profound difference.”

“Yes, you have gone through many changes, mainly a status change. You’re no longer Y/F/N & Y/L/N. You’re now Y/F/N & Y/L/N Hamilton. Or what everyone in the club likes to tease you with, Lady Hamilton.”

You snorted and shook your head. “They sure do love to tease me.”

“Would you credit your new marriage and new husband with helping you get into what you call the best shape?”

“Umm, yeah. With every life change, there will be changes that ricochet from it and everything has been positive. A better mental and emotional state helps with a clearer mind and heart which allows you to put in the work where needed.”

“So Lewis has been helping you?”

“Absolutely. I get in the training with the team, and he helps when we’re home we do jogs, we work out in the gym. He’s been great.”

“Is he here now?”

“He’s here somewhere.”

Just then you felt arms wrap around your midsection and you couldn’t help but smile widely.

“There he is.”

Lewis peppered kisses behind your ear and along your jaw clearly ignoring the sweaty mess you currently were. He released you then turned you to him and lifted you into his arms.

“Congratulations, princess.”

“Thank you.”

His hands splayed across your ass holding you there as he spun. Before he put you down he pressed his lips to yours once, twice then a third time before he dipped his tongue into your mouth to swirl around yours.

“Mmm.”

“Eh-Em.”

You pulled from him and hid your face as the women behind you let out a warrior cry in response to your nearly NC-17 display.

“Sorry,” you said.

“I’m not. She’s my wife, I’ll kiss her whenever I want.”

The reporter giggled. “No complaints here. Tell us Lewis how proud of your wife are you?”

“So incredibly proud. She worked hard for this; they all did. I am proud of all of them.”

“Congratulations on the wedding by the way.”

“Thank you. We’re very happy,” he replied.

“Very!”

“Ever since it was revealed you were engaged everyone had one thing they kept repeating, that your kids would be sports legends with both of your genes. Any comment?”

Lewis chuckled then shrugged. “Love?”

“Guess we’ll have to wait the 7 months to find out.”

Lewis’ eyes bugged then he turned you to him. “What!?”

You smiled wide and nodded.

“You’re messing with me.”

“No.”

“Y/N. Are you serious? You’re--.”

You nodded and within seconds Lewis had you in his arms spinning around.

“Oh my god. Wow!”

Lewis laughed and walked away carrying you away from anyone who wanted a moment of your time. He couldn’t care less that the interviews were part of your job.

“For real, for real?”

“Yes. I was going to tell you tonight,” you said.

Lewis cupped your cheeks and peered so deeply into your eyes that you could feel his love in your soul.

“I love you so fucking much.”

“You better remember those words when I’ve gained 50 pounds, a double chin, a humongous ass, canckles, and an insatiable sex drive because of you and your spawn.”

Lewis snorted then pulled you closer. “50 pounds, double chin, gigantic ass, and canckles doesn’t matter you will always be the most beautiful woman I see. Hands down.”

“Oh sweet talker.

“As for that insatiable sex drive…I think I am more than capable of helping out with that.”

His smirk was filled with mischief. You shook your head.

“Babes I think that’s how we ended up here, your helping out.”

The two of you laughed as he hugged you again. Lewis’ lips pressed along your neck before he began nipping at your skin.

“You’re not so innocent anymore, huh.”

“You tell me, Sir Hamilton.”

Again he smirked before bringing his lips back to your neck. You felt his hands slide down the small of your back to your ass just before he squeezed it.

“Naw, Lady Hamilton is a pro at taking this dick.”

A soft moan escaped you before you brought his hands from your ass to his side. You tipped onto your toes and went to his ear.

“And Lady Hamilton will take all that dick and then some tonight.”

You kissed his ear then jogged off. When you’d made it a few feet away you turned back to him and blew him a kiss. Lewis smiled wide and winked at you. That one simple act turned your insides into molten lava. You made your way back to your teammates completely pumped to get through all the interviews so you could go home to your man, your first love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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Sugar

Part 2~

F!READER X PROFESSOR OC

His Info: 📔✨

part 1 2

!!MINORS DNI!!

CW: F! READER/READER HAS A VAGINA, swearing, gendered speech toward reader (LOTS of good girl), massive praise kink, spanking, imbalanced power dynamic(teacher/student), age gap, vaginal intercourse, creampie, not proof read

!!MINORS DNI!!

AN: i’m so sorry this took so long, i went through it for a min… i hope it’s still good! 🫣✨ enjoy!

~

“What the fuck?!”

“Yeah i know right?!” You said back into the phone.

“You said no tho, right?” Your best friend asked.

“…” You swallowed.

“Y/N! You said yes?! my creepo meter is seriously going off! just please say you’re sick or somethin’ on that day!” They exclaimed, practically begging.

“…”

“Y/N” they say in a motherly/fatherly tone. “You’ll tell them you can’t right?”

“O-oh! look at the time! the Griswolds downstairs made pot roast today! gotta go!”

“Y/N!!!!!—” You hang up…

“fuck…” If their alarm bells are also going off you know you should be worried… But…

You’re just not.

You fall back into your double bed, and let your phone fall out of your hand.

You can’t help it.

He turns you on…

Especially after yesterday…

You can still feel his hand ghosting over your collar bone.

A shudder passes through you again.

“Thum-Thump Thum-Thump” Your heart pounds in your head. You try to swallow but choke.

You take a second to quickly and quietly compose yourself before bringing your hand up to the intricately carved door…

The place is… immaculate. To sell it short.

Your professor must be absolutely loaded to have such an estate. You feel like you have the wrong address… But the gates opened right up when you walked toward them.

You knock once and a professional looking man answers the door.

“Master Reichsgraf!” He calls while ushering you in, taking any extra things you may be carrying to hang them in a wardrobe. “Your honored guest has arrived!”

Well… It’s the right place. You swallow hard again.

“Welcome, welcome!” he descends the large carved wooden twin staircase with an air of refinery you’ve never seen in him.

“i’m sorry my darling… there will be an… unexpected visitor tonight. She won’t be bothering us for long however.”

He leads you around the main parts of the estate for a grand tour, keeping it sufficiently entertaining, you manage to almost relax in his presence.

Grand doors, as large and as ornate as the entrance open before you, revealing a table long enough to fit at least 20 people!

“oh my-“ you’re cut off.

“i see you finally stopped dating women older than our mother, feefee.” She drew out the nickname at the end mockingly. “Though, she’s a lil rough around the edges… hmm” she hums dissatisfied.

You shrink under her tigress gaze.

Your professor leads you gently by the elbow to your seat near the head of the table.

She yoinks the fancy looking bottle of wine from in front of you, “Hmm,” she spends a second inspecting the label “You actually want to impress this girl I see. It’s a good vintage.”

“Shelly, your bottle is still in the rack” he motions toward the smaller door located toward the middle of the room.

She lazily plops the bottle back down in front of you. “Thanks Feefee,” she spins holding the doorframe and looking back still only acknowledging him, “Mother told me she’s coming back.” her mocking tone of earlier was replaced with a jarringly serious one.

“I know.” He looks over the table, and his unreadable eyes land on the wine.

She closes the door behind her.

“ah, darling,” he’s back to a cheerfully elegant disposition, “Sheila won’t be bothering us again tonight, she just wanted to greet us before moving to the guest wing. Now that that’s done, let me open the bottle!”

“Please, Y/N tell me more about yourself…”

You’ve been talking non-stop about everything and anything. He’s been nothing short of attentive…

in fact, he’s been almost too attentive.

While you speak he frequently sighs wistfully as if he is remembering event of your life with you.

“Why?” You speak barley above a whisper.

“What was that, darling?” he cocks his head.

“why me?” You let the question that’s been burning on your mind slip.

“why you indeed…” he sighs wistfully, “i wish i could give you an appropriate answer, darling.”

“then why should i believe in you? or in any of this?” you motion to your surroundings.

“darling, my infatuation may be simple at face value, but I assure you it is depthless. nothing i could tell you could possibly bring the right words forth to explain it properly.”

Your cheeks darken a shade… You didn’t expect him to feel so serious about you…

“Why don’t we play a game?” he stands.

“o-kay”

“Good girl~” he hummed. He pulls you away from the table and reaches around you to clear a space.

He takes your hand and helps you onto the table.

“Here,” He fills your wine glass to the brim, and hands it to you. he leans into your ear, “Don’t spill this,” he plants an open mouth kiss to your neck.

“Ah!” you jump and spill wine onto your chest.

“Tsk, already? I just said don’t spill it…” he didn’t sound disappointed, instead his voice sounds much hungrier, as he plants more and more kisses against your neck. Your professors hands now traveling up your body.

You feel him pull the sleeves of your dress down your arms, exposing your top half.

you’re squeezing the glass between your bosom, your eyes are shut tight and your breathing is haggard.

His tongue finds your perked up bud and he starts to lick light swirls around it. His fingers on your other one mirroring the movement between pinches.

The heat inside you is becoming unbearable, you lean back and spill more wine on yourself, it’s cold as it’s seeping into your panties.

“mmm” you moan, his free hand caresses up your leg all the way to your sex. His fingers tease you through the fabric barrier while his thumb supplies ample pressure to your clit.

“Looks like you need to be punished. You spilled so much wine,” He smiles, and takes the glass, then sets it down on the table beside you.

“p-punished?” You squeak.

First, he starts to remove his suit jacket, then his tie, finally onto his button up shirt.

“what kind of professor would i be if i didn’t teach you new things?” He licks his lips, “flip over.” He commands.

He steps back just barely enough to give you room to move.

Shoes gently click against the wood floor as you slip down off the table.

“Such a good girl…” He hums in approval, “But, even good girls make mistakes.” His hands lightly travel downward, tickling the backs of your legs. “We must always learn to correct them.”

Hands rake back up to your bottom, stopping before falling off of you, all to come back with a sharp *Slap!* You gasp.

Open palmed hands caress you as he pulls your skirt up, setting the bunched up fabric on your lower back.

He applies more consistent pressure, kneading circles into your soft flesh with his thumbs. You moan.

“What are we going to do?” he asks.

“About what?”

*Smack!*

“Not the answer I’m looking for, and I know you can do this. What do we do when we make mistakes?” He asks a slightly different question.

“I…Don’t know-I”

*Smack!*

“Incorrect again. It’s okay, that’s what i’m here for. To help you learn. Now, What do we do when we make mistakes?”

“We f-fix them?”

You flinch. but no slap comes.

“My good girl, i’m so proud of you. We fix them, correct, darling.” He gently massages the tender area of skin on your rump.

Making him pleased with you is making the heat really build back up between your thighs.

You really are such a good girl.

Your eyes sting… Has anyone been proud of you before?

“Oh my! my, my, my, good girl.” absolute awe drips from his voice, sticky and sweet like honey.

Your body is shaking with anticipation. “I-I am!” you say excitedly. If you had a tail it would be wagging.

“Yes! You are! Now that we’ve properly punished you and corrected your mistake, what do we do with this? hmm?” Fingers gently kiss your opening.

Your legs spread on their own, and you whimper.

“What would you like, darling?” he leans over you, his voice in your ear and his hard bulge prodding against you.

“would you p-put it in me?” You pause to swallow hard, “P-please”

“Since you did such a good job today, I think i will, Y/N.” He puts his hand on top of your head, and you feel compelled to rub against it.

You are unaware the effect this has on him, his heart pounds for you.

A gentle caress under your chin is all it takes him to lure your face to his.

Lips press to yours, and a tongue soon gently pokes and asks for entry.

Like lava you melt in a dizzying amount of pleasure.

You don’t even notice him lining up with you until he’s sliding forward and back between your folds.

“Ahh!”

With the kiss broken, your eyes roll back forward.

Such a hot thing down there teasing your entrance before sliding over your clit.

It’s burning you up.

A hand hooks under your leg from behind the knee and lifts it onto the table.

His long cock slides with more pressure now on the way back to your entrance.

You bite your lip, the knot in your core tightening.

Pressure and anticipation align with the plush head pushing open your hole until-

*POP*

He’s in.

You sigh out all your air, a shuddering moan escaping with it all.

“O-Oh,” as your breathing out, he pushes further in.

“You’re such a good girl, opening up for me,” He pats your head again.

Whimpers fall from your lips as he’s slowly stretching and cooing you.

“You’re doing so well, darling.”

He’s so proud of you, truly, he’s in awe. Your pussy squeezes him with every praise he caresses your mind with.

Soon he’s bottomed out, the way that your legs are grants him access to the deepest parts of you.

It’s hard to breathe, he’s so long, so warm you strain out a small moan.

Slowly, he pulls back out and you can breathe again.

Hips press back against your ass, and air escapes your lungs.

He’s pulling out and pushing back in, and the intense stretch soon makes way for pleasure, and as soon as your moans fall more freer, he knows.

Picking up some speed but still he manages to fuck you languidly, his dick feels like it goes on forever inside you. It’s so impossibly long.

and he really knows how to use it.

As he pushes in he pushes down, and as he pulls out he pushes up. Every millimeter of your insides rubbed by his burning dick.

You feel on fire, your leg is unsteady on the ground, and your toes are tingling.

A hand pats your head and you come out of your already dazed state, “hmmm?”

“You really are my perfect girl,” he coos.

You tighten, the sensation of holding him in place feels so good, a moan leaves you weakly.

He forces himself in deeper, and manages to pull out.

a puff of air near your ear makes you shudder, “such a perfectly good girl, squeezing me in so tightly,” he groans.

You bite your lip.

“Do you want my cum inside you that badly?”

You nod.

He manages to flip you over on the table without fully separating from you, now you sit on the edge, your legs bent and spread for him. You feel more exposed now and a little shy…

“perfect girl,” his fingers find your clit and start to rub vigorously, as he pushes as far in as he can.

You feel so hot.

You forget your worries and let go.

Your arms wobble and strain to hold you up.

Soon after your core is ready to pop,

whimpers and gasps fall from your pretty lips.

He starts thrusting again and you snap, falling back onto the table.

Wine spills into your hair now, but you don’t care.

He uses your spent body as a flesh light to finish and soon your next orgasm is building again.

You reach down to grab him for purchase, your body and the table bouncing.

Your moans turn to almost panicked screams, you’re so sensitive.

“P-please!”

He speeds up, his hips slapping you, and his fingers start spinning on you again.

Stars interrupt your eyes.

One last slam inside you and you feel hot ropes spill inside you.

Such fullness that you’ve only ever dreamed of sends you into euphoria.

You squeeze harder, milking him for all he’s worth.

Your body is so hot you cum with crashing force and pry his still vigorously moving hand off of you.

He’s smiling at you, and relents.

“can i pull out now?”

You’re out of breath, and your voice falls weakly, “okay…”

cum spills onto the table edge as he does, his softening dick feels like it takes forever to pull out of you fully. a moan escapes you again as he passes over those sensitive spots one last time, making your legs twitch and bounce.

Clinking and shuffling of fine chinas is heard, and the rumble of your professor climbing onto the table next to you surrounds you as you’re catching your breath.

After he’s joined you, he cups your face in his big hand and you turn to nuzzle into it, practically purring.

To him you might as well be.

His warmth finds the rest of your body and covers you easily.

Eventually he slides off softly, and carries your sleepy form wrapped in the table cloth for temporary warmth, to his chambers to retire until the morning.

“Precious girl” his whisper enters your sleep addled brain gently, you smile feeling perfectly warm and content.

[dreamy625]

Total rock star - ficlet

Sometimes good things happen to Steve in January

Content: There’s one period-appropriate slur (not used aggressively)

Words: 985

-----------------------------

January 1978

Steve frowned at himself in the mirror over the sink, wishing he didn’t look as nervous as he felt. He’d cut himself twice while shaving, his hands were shaking that much. He patted at the one that was still bleeding with a piece of toilet paper. Great first impression that’ll be, blood all over the place! His hair was also a disaster; he’d washed it the night before, as it took so long to dry, but it had gone fluffy, and smooshed up on one side where he’d slept on it. The perm was great, just what he’d wanted, but it did tend to end up looking like a dandelion if he didn’t put the right stuff on it. He wet his hands and tried to smooth down the bump; how did girls manage this so much better, he wondered? He wiped his hands on his jeans then, regretting it, turned and craned his head to check he hadn’t got shaving foam or toothpaste or anything on them. Phew, all clean still. The jeans were newly washed, so he’d had to lie on the floor to get the zip done up. He hoped they’d loosen up a bit on the way into town so that he’d be able to sit down without wincing. 

The reminder of where he was going made his stomach lurch again, and he took a deep breath to quell the incipient nausea. NOT an audition, he reminded himself. Just a rehearsal, just hanging out. But still he’d practised those Zepp songs he planned to oh-so-casually trot out for hours every night this past week. He knew he was good. Quite good. Not bad. Fuck, what if I’m terrible and everybody laughs? Another deep breath. It’s fine, if it’s awful I’ll just leave. I don’t have to see any of them ever again. I’ll just never go in the common room, or the canteen, or the Limit, or the Wapentake… Stop it! Forcefully he pushed himself away from the sink and headed back to his room to finish getting dressed. 

He picked up the t-shirt laid out on the bed and pulled it carefully over his head, trying not to make the fluff situation any worse. From the three shirts he’d tried on - black, white, and the blue one with the Gibson logo on it - he’d eventually settled on the white one. It was the perfect fit, sitting just above the waist of the jeans. He’d rolled the sleeves, and carefully removed the size 10 label* (girls’ clothes being the only way he’d found to get that cropped length without taking the scissors to it, which just ended up in a frayed mess). Oh he’d nearly died of embarrassment sidling into the ladieswear department of BhS that first time. Rock stars like Bowie and Marc Bolan might wear women’s clothes, and that was probably fine down in London, but if anyone from the factory saw him within 50 feet of a dress shop he’d be branded a poofter for life. With long hair and minimal interest in football, he was on dangerous ground as it was. ‘It’s for my sister’ he’d mumbled unprompted to the disinterested cashier, who most likely didn’t give a toss what he did with it as long as he paid his £2.50.

Originally he’d planned on wearing his leather jacket, but when he’d put it on, it didn’t look right. It was a good jacket, and had been a generous present, all the grandparents clubbing together, for his sixteenth birthday. But it was brown and that was already starting to look a bit old-fashioned, a bit ‘too seventies’ even while they were still in that decade. If he ever made any money out of this music lark, the first thing he’d buy, no, the second, after a better guitar, would be a black leather jacket. The denim jacket was too small on purpose, but really too small even for that. That’s what happened when you bought things from the market without trying them on. With the oil stains from helping Dad fix the car, it had reached the perfect degree of scruffiness though.

He opened the wardrobe and examined the complete look, front and side, in the mirror on the back of the door. It had ended up sort of Thin Lizzy-meets-Status Quo-meets-The Ramones; he wasn’t sure that was a good thing, but it was the best he could manage on an apprentice’s wage. 

“Hullo, Steve Clark, pleased to meet you,” he greeted his reflection. Well that would work if I was meeting someone’s grandma. 

“Hi. Name’s Steve. I play guitar.” God, what a wanker!

“Hey, I’m Steve. Do I play? No, I just carried this all the way here for the exercise.” 

Fucksake, why can’t I just be normal? Better just keep my mouth shut unless someone asks me a question. He attempted a laid-back, friendly smile at the mirror. It came out more of a grimace.

“Stephen! You’re going to miss the bus if you don’t get a move on.”

“Just coming, Mam!” he called back.

Quickly, he added white socks to the ensemble; the finishing touch, white clogs, waited in the hall where he’d cleaned them last night. With a final desperate pull at his fringe, he turned his back on the mirror, picked up his guitar case, and dashed downstairs. 

“Oh Stephen, are you not putting a coat over that? You’ll catch your death.”

“Doesn’t go with the outfit. Don’t worry, I’ll be inside most of the time, I’ll be fine.”

“And don’t be too late back - remember you’re on earlies again tomorrow.” 

“I won’t. I’m sure the rest of the guys have to go to work too.”

“Have fun, love.”

“Thanks, Mam.”

The door banged shut behind him as he bounced down the steps and set off at a trot for the bus stop at the bottom of the hill.

-----------------------------

* A UK size 10 in 1978 would be approximately equivalent to a modern US size 4. He’s a skinny minnie! 

Author’s note: Everytime I hear Joe describe meeting Steve for the first time, I think of how nervous he must have been, and how much effort he would have put into that ‘total rock star’ look

[angie-long-legs]

I wasn't there when the hotel was built, but I have to assume that the stay and food are free, because Princess Charlie intended to help people that are trapped in abusive workplaces get by without having to rely on their abusive job. And you've got a wardrobe. So not showing up at Valentino's studios and not getting paid by him does not equate to lack of the essentials.

And there is also the alternative of not going back to Valentino and utilize the time you have (that you'd normally spent filming) in a different, safer workplace and use that as your new source of income. You're a capable person, there's tons of other jobs you could get.

And you can use the time away from Valentino to get his pheromone out of your system for good. Heck, being high on party drugs is actually safer than being hooked on his stuff, all things considered. If you're gonna give up on one of those, start by giving up on Valentino, and then move on to the other stuff, if that helps you. It's not the safest way or the way the experts recommend but I'm no expert, so take what I'm about to say with a pinch of salt, but you could use cocaine or pot or [I don't know a third drug to name] to distract yourself from the struggle of going cold turkey with that absolute bitch's pheromone.

And after you've been clean from Valentino for a year and some, get a new room in a new floor at the hotel, have Niffty clean out the old one and your friends can help move you in, to eliminate the temptation of setting up a hiding place for a secret stash.

It's much, much, much, much easier said than done. It can take years. I know that and I know I probably sound hypocritical or as if I'm playing it down, but I promise I'm not. I understand how hard that shit can be. But you have a support system. You've got friends and a lover that are right there, willing and able to spend hours, days, weeks on end by your side (and no! You're not "burdening" them, they're probably dying to help you out!) and you're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. If you set your mind to it, realistically, there's nothing stopping you but yourself.

The urge to fight back on this matter was beginning to wear Angel down, the stranger's well-intentioned suggestions grating on his patience. Did they really think it was that easy? Did they think that if it were that simple, Angel wouldn't have done it already? It was one thing to be misunderstood, but to be belittled simultaneously? It was only as the spider opened his mouth, a barbed retort at the ready, that the stranger came out with their little disclaimer.

His eyes fell heavy to his feet. They weren't belittling him - they were trying to help. It didn't make their advice feel any less frustrating, but it did make him think twice about lashing out. This person, someone he didn't even know, wanted the best for him.

It was more than he deserved.

"Honey, I'm a porn star," he eventually responded, bitter and scathing. "Gettin' anotha job when yer famous in this industry don't exactly come with safe on the label."

The thick, red smoke had penetrated Angel's thoughts before he had time to register it's presence, memories of the moth's manipulation clouding the foreground of his mind. Telling him that no one else would put up with his bitch fits, that other directors wouldn't be half as lenient as Val was with him. They'd tear you apart, Angelito. You don't know how good you have it.

Arms pulled around himself, the actor sighed wearily. "Trust me: I'm betta' off with Val."

You were a street whore when I took you in, and I made you a star. And this is the thanks I get? The constant whining and complaining, and now, you think you can just leave? Oh, baby, no one out there would do what I did for you. You wouldn't last a fucking night. I know you, amorcito, I made you. Without me, you're nothing.

"Betta' the devil ya know, ain't it?"

[moosekateer13]

Chapter 3: Can I See You?

2  months  later

Walker Set

Y/N's P.O.V

Jared and I have been casually dating since that night. Not ready to put a label on it yet. We are waiting to see where it goes. We are not in a hurry.

I go to find Jared in his trailer. He's fast asleep. The sound of my footsteps startles him. He instantly wakes up. His face is bright red. 

Hmm, I wonder what he was dreaming about before he woke up.

Jared runs off to shower without saying a word.

Jared's P.O.V

God that dream felt so real. I can almost taste her on my tongue. Then she just shows up. I shouldn't have run off, but I really needed that cold shower. 

My mind wanders off to that dream

I tear her dress and the rest of the clothes to pieces since she's done the same to my shirt.

"I know we said I wanted to wait but I can't anymore." She mumbled against my lips.

Me neither. 

Filling her in one go. Y/N and I have lost how many orgasms we've had and how much time has gone by. We take turns changing positions. Not caring that we are fucking against the wall inside my trailer. Which is also unlocked.

My cum washed down the drain along with the suds. I should apologize to her for taking off without a word. I hope she doesn't hate me for running off on her.

Y/N's P.O.V

Jared finally returns after his abrupt shower. He's in nothing but a towel.

Jared's face slightly flushed at the realization I've been waiting for him

 Then it dawns on me why he left. He needed a cold shower.

He starts to remove his towel forgetting I'm there again

"I'll give you some privacy.”  I said as I carefully stepped outside of his trailer. 

It's not that I don't want to be more intimate with Jared but we haven't even labeled things yet. I prefer to not rush into things now. Having Emery taught me the meaning of patience before she was born. I used to jump into things.

Jared spins me around with a worried look in his multi-spectrum hazel eyes. He's thinking he messed things up already.

I reach up and gently touch his face.

Silently reassuring him he didn't. Jared leans into my touch. A look of relief spreads across his face.  

Our moment gets interrupted by Jensen telling us it's time to get ready for today. He's directing the episode this week.

We head off to hair and makeup.

I finally got to read over the script. I feel the heat rise in my cheeks in response to the scene we have today. It's rather intimate. It looks like I'll be the one needing a cold shower soon.

Going into the wardrobe today is nerve-wracking. It feels like my heart is going to beat out of my chest.

I take deep breaths in and then out.

Nothing will mentally prepare me for this scene though.

And action

The squeal of my truck tires and the sound of my engine breaking down stops me from getting home. There's a big tornado coming, and I wanted to get home before it happened.

I find myself just outside the Walker's ranch.

Not knowing them too well. I do the only thing I can think of to knock on the guesthouse. I pray Cordell will let me stay there till everything is safe.

His multi-spectrum hazel eyes meet my Y/E/C. Cordell doesn't say a word he just ushers me inside.

"I hope it's okay I'm staying here if not. I can go find somewhere else to stay.

"Nonsense darlin' it isn't safe for anyone to stay out there. Stay as long as you like.” 

Nothing we can do but wait out the storm. We are getting to know each other. Cordell seems to be really interested in my career as a D.A. I tell him about this weird case which ends up being just a hit-and-run in the end. It was much simpler than we thought it was.

Cordell surprises me and kisses me lightly. I pull him closer and eagerly return the kiss. Things got heated, and I found myself on top of Cordell completely naked. It feels uncomfortable at first since it is my first time. I feel him spill right into me realizing. I completely forgot to use protection. The hours have passed by and we eventually doze off.

Jensen yelling cut pulls me out of the scene. I rush to redress because I'm in desperate need of a cold shower.

While I'm in the shower. A knock interrupts me. I quickly grab my robe.

It's my friend Holy Jensen's wife. Her dark hair is put up in a ponytail usually she leaves it down. She’s also wearing a green dress. It must be date night for her and Jensen today.

"Come on Y/N when are you and Jared going to have sex? I can feel the energy between you and saw it in that scene. You guys were one step away from making a real baby." Holy teased.

I feel the heat rising in my cheeks at her remarks.

"You know I want to take it slow. It's the first time I've felt this passionate about someone.” I replied 

She rolls her eyes at my remark.

She and Jensen weren't slow at all right after their first date. They gave into their desires for each other they'd been holding in for 5 years during their first date. That is also the night they conceived their now  8-year-old daughter Lara. Lara is the youngest of Jensen’s kids he already had three kids with his ex-wife Danneel: Justice, Arrow and Zepplin.

I shove Holy out the door so I can get dressed. I quickly lock it. As long as I've known her she's always planning something. If I left her alone in my trailer, she'd probably go get Jared and lock him in here with me. It's not that I don't want to spend time with him. I'm not ready for that step yet. She needs to learn how to respect boundaries. 

After getting dressed I picked up my stuff to go home. A chime from my phone halts me from exiting the trailer. It's from Jared. He wants to take me out for dinner. I quickly sent a GIF reply with Sam saying yes in response. He always wants to try new things. I wonder where he is taking me today.

It's 7:00 when Jared comes to pick me up from my house.  

We arrived at the restaurant. It's a new one that just recently opened the Golden Phoenix and Dragon. 

He knows how much I like Chinese food. I even made it for him once.

After Jared pulls the chair out for me once the server shows us to our table.

He takes the liberty of ordering for me: Chinese chow mein, Fried rice, chicken balls, jadoo chicken wings and Beef Ho Fun.

It's a lot for just two people but we can always have the leftovers for dinner tomorrow.

"Jared you are just the sweetest remembering one of my favorite meals. You've outdone yourself." I said with a smile.

"Anything for my girl. I'm glad you like it." Jared replied.

My heart skips a beat at the mention of him calling me his. We have yet to label things but him saying that confirms that we are official now.

The server gives us tapioca dessert soup after all meals for dessert. It takes me back to my childhood having this at the end.

Jared ordered a few more dishes while I was in the bathroom. He mentions he wanted to get dinner for Em. Jared texted her earlier and she said she hadn't eaten yet. So we are heading over to Jeff's to drop it off to her. Bless his heart he's just the sweetest Jared can see she is part of the package deal when it comes to me. I'm slowly falling in love with him. I can feel it. Maybe he just might be the one.

Chapter 4:

[linklethehistorian]

Total Eclipse (1995) — A Movie Review by linklethehistorian (Post 4/4)

(Continuation of review placed under the cut for length and spoilers; proceed at your own risk.)

The Takeaway

Having watched this film somewhere upwards of about forty times upon reaching this section of the review (and still likely about to watch it just one time more afterward, in order to gather the clip compilations mentioned earlier and check for any possible errors in my writings here), the one thing that I can say with absolute confidence is that Total Eclipse (1995) is a pretty mixed bag of both good and bad elements.

On the one hand, the cast, the vast majority of the acting, the sets and filming locations, the wardrobes, the music, the chosen color palette, and at times even the quality of the dialogue for the film are all extremely excellent, but on the other, the pacing suffers greatly, the types and timings of the scene transitions are often extremely disorienting or just plain appear unpolished, the timeline of events is often vague at best, and the writing, when it’s not showing off its high points, is otherwise extremely awkward and unnatural, absurdly edgy merely for the sake of it, or just plain unbearably bad.

Most notable and important of all, though — at least, to me — and what makes me personally label it as a “bad movie” despite that I have admittedly enjoyed some other films and different story-driven media much less, is its conscious decision to go far above and beyond the standard “based on a true story” statement to tell us that everything within it is, in fact, 100% real and accurate to the life stories of those portrayed within and taken directly from their letters and poetry, only to then get so much of it so abysmally wrong that at times it is deeply difficult and disorienting to follow even for someone who has dedicated years of their life to studying Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine’s history in multiple languages.

There were numerous times while watching and writing about this film that I had to turn back to several of my many different notes and sources just to make doubly sure that I wasn’t going crazy for thinking, “hey, that’s not how [event] happened, right?” because the movie doubled down so much on that particular wrong narrative that it bordered on gaslighting — if such a thing was possible for a film to achieve.

…And I have to be honest: I don’t get it. Outside of the theory I have already posited before about wanting to move heaven and Earth to give the film what it deems a happier and more romantic end, I truly don’t understand why it was even necessary to go to such lengths when, in reality, the original, genuine version of the events they are claiming to portray were actually much more interesting than whatever the movie’s interpretation had going on with it.

The most tragic thing about this film being so awful is that it had every opportunity not to be; not only did it have everything going for it in terms of talents, but the premise itself was genuinely great. The true life stories of Verlaine and Rimbaud and their affair are extremely fascinating, dark, intense, and dramatic subjects that would lend themselves more than extraordinarily well to a movie on the big screen — at least if done correctly, with great care taken towards accurately representing those it involves, but the writers here instead decided that it was more important to rewrite and ‘dramatize’ those events and the causes behind them than to care if it was a fair and respectful portrayal.

If this was a completely fictional story about fictional people, then it would be different; I would still personally find it vomit-inducing and creepy, and thus very much not for me as an individual, if it romanticized abuse and demonized a victim while painting the main offender in a pitiful light, but as long as none of it was real, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal — just one of the many fucked up pieces of media that exist out there in the world for those who look for and want it.

But this isn’t fiction; this is supposedly meant to tell a real life story about real life people who actually genuinely lived on this planet at one point just like you or I, and despite this particular movie having become practically impossible to find through any safe and reputable source in very recent years, I have unfortunately legitimately encountered many people whose formative opinions on Paul and Arthur were largely based in one way or another on this film and the very untrustworthy things it alleges — which is honestly the main reason I decided to write this review in the first place: to use my acquired knowledge to clear the air of continued misinformation as much as possible.

…Then again, you do get to see Leonardo DiCaprio pretending to be a dead poet who is pretending to be a dog or a goat at least a few times within this movie, so maybe it all evens out in the end. …I’m kidding, of course — about it evening out, anyway; you do actually get to see that, and David Thewlis pretends to be a goat too, briefly.

In all seriousness, if you don’t care about any of the above historical inaccuracies, and you’re just here to see your favorite actors, or you’re looking for a movie that’s really good at making you feel uncomfortable, then you’ll probably actually get a good amount of enjoyment out of Total Eclipse. …Or if you’re looking for a good second-hand embarrassment simulator — you’d get a lot of that out of this film, too.

Even in spite of everything I’ve said in this section — and the fact that every time I watch it I feel my soul slowly draining out of my body while I sit like a deer in the headlights — it’s not like I can stay away from this film for whatever reason, either; it feels like I make the very inadvisable decision to make the journey over to my preferred website of choice and try to watch it at least every other month even when I’m not writing a review, so…yeah, I’m not really one to talk badly about its watchability.

Anyway, that’s my review of Total Eclipse (1995). If you made it to the end of this, congratulations!!! — …Or…my sympathies; whichever may be most fitting. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a great day that is hopefully not haunted by the mental image of Arthur Rimbaud barking and panting in a mirror or crawling around in a field bleating.

[Click here for Part 0: Preamble]

[Click here for Part 1: The Good]

[Click here for Part 2: The Bad]

[arieswrites2023]

Entry 16

Jason and I got a lot done yesterday. My drawers are organized and labelled, the bedroom closet has been cleaned out, and a lot of things have been moved to storage. I even switched out my fall/winter wardrobe out for my spring/summer wardrobe. Oh! I also got all the laundry done (7 loads of it).

I had more planned to do, however, I had so many sore muscles AND I somehow managed to sprain my wrist. The worst part about it is that it is my dominant hand. It hurts to write, to game, to text, etc. It hurts to do just about anything. But this is not the only thing I want to write about...

I had the strangest dream last night. I am actually 100% sure that I had a dream about what my future has in store for me. In this dream, Jason and I were still together, and our son Leo had to be at least five or six years of age. We had just bought our first house. A nice single story 2-bedroom Italian Villa styled house. The house had a garage with the only entrance to a roofed outdoor patio. On this patio stood desk with paperwork on it. The back wall had a bookshelf filled with files. The two bedrooms were in the back of the house, across the hall from one another. The kitchen, dining room, and living room were all in the front of the house. I do not remember if the house had a yard, though. I had to assume it had to, with Leo in the picture. That, or there is a park nearby.

The only thing is this...I do not currently have a job, which means I currently have no income. Jason works for Amazon, but even that cannot pay our rent. If that dream last night was about our future, I really need to get a move on with finding a job, or finally finish and publish my book.

Of course, that would take dedication; writing always does. Not to mention how much my wrist will hurt. Just writing this hurts. I want this future for us. For me, Jason, and Leo. This is a good future. A strong future. This would be good for us. For all of us. What is better about it? We are close to my family. That means Leo will have a genuine chance to know them. I want this future. I really fucking want this future. This is a good future.

[rissouu]

playing with fire, toji fushiguro!

+ synopsis: you make the mistake of pissing the wrong fushiguro off in public.

+ note: we’re gonna pretend they’re all fucking friends for the sake of this.. okay?? toji is toxic in this ngl, and baby let me just warn you.. second hand embarrassment at the end.

you and toji hadn’t been exclusive yet, and any chance he got, he’d remind you of it. to him, you were nothing but a toy, nothing but something for him to use and toss away whenever he pleased, yet here he was pissed off at all the attention you were getting.

both of you had been at a dinner gathering with his friends and co workers — of course you were forced to go as usual. he didn’t want to put a label on what you guys had and yet here he was acting like he was your significant other?

“you look so lovely in your dress y/n, sadly you’re here with toji..” gojo spoke, purposely trying to rile his friend up like old times. you wondered if you should thank him or not, but it was a compliment after all. it would be rude not to say thank you.. right?

you reluctantly smiled before replying in such a small tone, gojo almost couldn’t hear you. “thanks so much, i really appreciate it.” you tried to ignore the death glare toji was sending the both of you, but it was hard to do so when his hand crept beneath the table and pinched your thigh.

“gojo, shut up. and please, learn how to be respectful” nanami groaned, grabbing his handkerchief from his back pocket and using it to wipe away any bits of food left on his mouth.

gojo waved him off before looking back in toji’s direction, only to be met with the same scowl as before. “boy you have gots to chill! y’know i’m only fuckin’ around.”

toji rolled his eyes at the man’s cocky way of apologizing — he was clearly still annoyed. annoyed with the way his friend dared to flirt with you— right in front of his face, and you had the audacity to flirt back— right in front of his fucking face. though all you did was say thank you, he still saw it as flirting.

at this point you could tell he was steaming with rage. it wasn’t hard to figure it out with the way his hand was spread flat across your thigh, harshly squeezing your skin.

his grip on you becoming more painful by the second, but surprisingly pleasurable as well. he didn’t miss the small glances you and his other friend— geto, would share with eachother, the slight giggles and side conversations the two of you had while he was forced sat back and watched.

he’d been holding his tongue all fucking night. he allowed you to flirt with gojo, allowed you to have conversations with geto, shit, he even allowed you to wear the most revealing dress in your wardrobe, causing all eyes to be on you.

even nanami glanced at you with lustful eyes here and there, and that wasn’t even in his character. you were just so beautiful, anyone could see that. that’s exactly why he was done fucking around.

a part of him knew his once cold heart was falling for you, and you knew it as well, it’s the reason you never gave up on him. even when there were times he got distant. you just wished he would show some emotion towards you, and stop ignoring the feelings he clearly had.

the black haired man pretended to engage in his friend’s conversations while faking smiles here and there. he needed to make sure no eyes were on him for what he had planned next.

once he was sure his friends were too distracted in their own conversations, he slowly turned his head in the direction of your ear.

you could feel his breath all over your cheekbone and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on..

“you’ve been playing with me all fuckin’ evening, need i remind you who this belongs to?” he asked, bringing his hand that rested on your thigh up to your— no, his soaking pussy.

the three men in front of you were completely oblivious to what was being displayed right in front of their eyes. they were too caught up in their conversations to give a damn what the two of you had going on.

“i swear, it’s like you love pissin’ me off. fuck.. you’re fuckin’ soaked. you like making daddy upset, mhm?” he whispered softly before pulling your panties to the side, forcing his fingers in circles around your throbbing clit.

you gasped— gripping onto the arm he had resting on your thigh, “t-toji wait, not here, please” you whimpered, using all your strength to push his hand away, little did you know it did nothing but add on to his fire.

“nuh uh, move ya fuckin’ hand baby. you wanted to tuck around, right? let me show you somethin’” he chuckled, glancing up to see his friends still intrigued in their conversation.

“p-please, we’ll get caught” you whined, knowing your body wouldn’t be able to hold out for much longer. sooner or later you were going to start giving in, and you were never one to conceal your moans.

“that’s the plan mama. i want people to watch me finger my girl’s pretty little pussy, maybe then they’ll know you’re mine.” was all he said before slipping his finger past your folds and into your gummy walls.

you leaned your head into his shoulder in an attempt to muffle your moans. his suited jacket soaked them up pretty well thankfully, no one could hear you but him.

“can you take one more for me baby? gonna fill my pussy up good with these fingers.” he asked softly, as your pussy clenched around his finger once more, giving him all the confirmation he needed. with that he added another one of his fingers to join the other inside of your tight walls.

he made sure to curve his fingers at the angle you loved most, knowing how quick it could make you go dumb. that’s why he always aimed for it, he didn’t even need your help finding it anymore.

“t..toji oh my g..gosh. it’s too much, im almost—“ you exclaimed, biting into his suit and clenching your eyes shut as he slipped a third finger in. he made sure to leave a small kiss on your forehead because even though this was technically a punishment, he still wanted to reward you for taking him so well.

“shh it’s okay princess, you’re doing so good for me. just let it out. give daddy all that shit” his mouth was once again towards your ear, ready to talk you through it like always.

as soon as you heard his words and the way his voice boomed through your ear, you couldn’t hold back any longer.

with a slight lift of your hips, you were now cumming around his fingers while his free hand pressed on your lower stomach— something he usually did to make you squirt… but surely he wouldn’t do that here? well, that’s what you thought.

your face scrunched up when you felt something else coming, and it wasn’t like the orgasm you’d just had. this feeling was awfully familiar.. you were about to squirt.

“hell no toji! you better stop doing tha-“ you tried to smack his hand away.. but you were too late. the familiar feeling only got stronger, especially with the way toji wasn’t letting up anytime soon.

a pit formed in your stomach and with one more push, he had you exactly where he wanted you. you couldn’t keep quiet for any longer, and the sound of you squirting echoed throughout the entire table. well, that’s what it felt like to you.

luckily you guys rented the restaurant out, so it was only the five of you. you’d much rather embarrass yourself in front of them than anyone else.

toji let out a low chuckle, still having the audacity to play with your clit after everything he’s done. “bet you’ll stop testing me now, huh?”

bonus. (the trio’s reactions)

gojo snapped his neck over at the sound of liquid spilling, at first he thought it was someone’s drink.. but he put the pieces together as soon as he saw you.

his face was full of disbelief, and he couldn’t help but to comment. “oh my goodness, you two are some nasty little fucks!”

his outburst caught the attention of geto, and he too paused his conversation to see what all the commotion was about. it didn’t take him long to figure it out.. with one look at your facial expression, he already knew what was going on. “and here i was thinking that poor girl was innocent..”

similar to geto, nanami got nosy and wanted to be included into the mix as well. but unlike the others it took him a little longer to figure out what was going on. poor guy was jerking his neck back and forth through out the whole restaurant, trying to find who they were talking about.

but once he finally caught on, he couldn’t suppress the sigh that fell from his lips. in this moment he felt like a disappointed dad, watching you adjust yourself before beating toji’s ass.

“well this is just a damn shame. trust, i won’t be attending a dinner with you dumb asses ever again”

©rissouu 2024

[frogsandfries]

Well that was obnoxious

I should've just stayed exclusively on mobile, but my phone is seriously dying and I want to blather about my actually better-than-expected progress this evening. I got to page thirty-four on Canva, which was all I had edited the apostrophes and quotation marks. I've already done something like ten new pages of this cleanup; that's really going to be the biggest drive.

The book punch is on its way in the next few weeks, and I ordered some *impressive eyebrow wiggle* tiny paper origami cranes for the bookmarks for Manacled! I'm going to try to spend this next few weeks typesetting Mirror.

I bought some red ribbon for Apple Pie--I bought a bone folder! Book corners, a five-ended cat tunnel, and a silverware organizer! I'm probably going to crack at some point in the next two weeks or so and buy yet another pack of paper.

I'm actually half-trying to find if there's a better paper I'm "supposed" to be using? And since I'm basically out of adhesive (except for the methcel???), I also went to find a new adhesive that's better for bookbinding.

You'll never fucking believe.

First, they still make Yes Paste--I gave my barely used, almost at least ten-year-old jar to my friend because she scrapbooks. Who knows how old it was when it was handed along to me, and still usable at the point at which I shared it.

Second, you better goddamn believe I'm slapping down nearly thirty bucks for about sixteen ounces of that shit. It'll last a million years.

Third, for those of you, like me and formerly not in the know, Yes Paste is kinda fucking amazing like. It's weird. So it's almost a solid gel. I'm not entirely positive how it's supposed to be applied. The few times I used it, I think I used my finger. I couldn't really think of how else to use it at the time without being destructive (I didn't have any disposable plastic cards on me at the time). I would recommend an old plastic card or, more formally, a rubber squeegee. It would be to thick and heavy to use a regular paint brush, but perhaps one of those plasticky "disposable" ones from Michaels? With the cheap metal handles?

Another cool thing about Yes Paste is, it's not wet!! Which makes it amazing to use on paper, because the paper won't warp.

I don't remember how it dries, but I feel like I remember it drying sticky; not sure if there were specific instructions for that, but I don't think I read the label on the jar.

Anyway, I do of course already have plans for my portion of next paycheck. I probably had plans for every check from the time I moved in till idk man, probably September or October, at the earliest. I needed storage for all the stuff that's been stuck in these totes I used to move. I want to revenge purchase this tree bookshelf (or a couple). My ex can't stop me and only made me want it more by saying they hated it. Some laptop accessories would not be amiss. I'm still waiting anxiously for a good opportunity to get a new soda machine.

Then I remembered that I need to start adding a couple of items to my wardrobe at least a month, if not every paycheck for a while. Soooooo......... Yeah. Then I added this bookbinding hobby to my roster for at least a few months here and there. Surely I'll get my fill after a while, like with the graphic novel, where I still pick at it here at there, waiting for some kind of trigger to throw me back in. Oh well, I needed to shake up my hobbies for a while. Don't forget also slowly gathering tools and materials for paper-making (just imagine using my leftover scraps of fabric from these fanfic books on my recycled paper sketchbooks--ooooooh).

Anyway, I can only expand within the bounds of my habit, so eventually the spending will need to stop. I only need so many dishes and kitchen accessories, bookshelves (okay, you think the limits of my container are going to help my bookbinding obsession???), clothes.......

[peachyteabuck]

This is a very long reflection post so read if you want to. It’s very word vomity though so watch out

I’m doing an no-buy year, which has quickly morphed into a low-buy year. I’m 21, my partner is 22, and we’re still coming into our own. How can we do a no-buy year when our essentials include measuring spoons and stuff for work? I’m still building my wardrobe. They’re still building theirs. It’s not possible to stave off all buying, in all honesty. However, the low-buy year is going well. Rocket Money is the tool we’re using to keep track of spending. The app isn’t perfect (I’m a freelancer, so keeping track of my income is a nightmare) and i make a lot of purchases that I just charge them 1/2 for, so I’m not sure how much of the spending is accurate. But i think it’s going well. The issue is it takes a lot of time. So much fucking time. To plan out grocery lists and crock pot meals and lunches and strategically buying wardrobe choices. It also sucks when I buy pants for example and they just don’t fucking fit. I want to be body neutral, and appreciate my body for all that it can do, but it’s hard when I try to express that via my dollars and it blows back in my face. Even big bud press pants have their issues, and theyre the only pants i wear regularly

I’m started to realizing i can’t have everything i want in terms of what i want to do. There literally is not enough time. Every day i finish 99% of what i want to leaves me physically wrecked. My brain cannot fit that much stuff in it. I can’t read the books I want because i want to give them time/attention and i just fucking can’t. I hate delegating tasks and asking for help, and when my PCP tried to send me to collections i literally begged my mom to help me. I’m glad she/my stepmom were able to, but that was such a massive blow. Hyper independence is a fucking joke, which sucks.

I need to write more. It makes me feel better. I have commissions to finish. But writing fills me with dread because i hate everything I write. I just want to write and finish things but I literally fucking cannot. I remember watching some lawyer’s expertise talk on a video platform my mom paid for and he was like “writers write despite everything.” I literally can’t fucking do that. I think everyone thinks i have more time than I do. The principal for the school im student teaching at wants to put me in the substitute system so I can work “on my off days.” The 2.5 days I’m not in the classroom i am either at work or in class. Im in student government. I volunteer. What fucking off days. The weekend?? When you’re not open?? BFFR. Idk how I’m going to make up the two snow days we had. Lying, probably. Idk if this is sustainable but i don’t know what my other option is. Everything is too expensive.

I need to buy a pill holder for my Ritalin/caffeine pills/pain killers. I just need to find one with labels bc im an idiot.

The little stuff keeps falling through the cracks and becoming big stuff. I think i need to make a notion page where I track how often things actually take and rate their energy usage bc this is becoming a problem. I just cannot girlboss and work nonstop for 12 hours. My brain literally cannot handle that.

I need to sleep more. But to do that i need to do enough “non-necessary things” to give my brain a break.

I really need my Ritalin back. I was not super regulated to begin with, but the Ritalin helped so fucking much. I could get everything done and sleep at a reasonable time bc my brain was sufficiently worn out in all areas. Im self medicating with caffeine rn but Jesus Christ i want my meds back.

Anyway. My goals for February are to track expenses weekly (sun-sat) and do daily habits in my notebook and not notion bc i constantly forget to do that shit. We’ll see. I wish i was better at this stuff & i wish i was more forgiving with myself & i wish i didn’t feel the need to be The Best all of the time.

[harringtonspolaroids]

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐩𝐭. 𝟕 | 𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐞

a/n: about time i finally posted this! i lowkey hate the ending but when do i not. also i am so here for the karen wheeler slander.

word count: 4363

warnings: smoking, mentions of sex, mentions of billy’s abuse, a ton of cursing, mentions of self doubt and self hatred (it’s light tho), physical fighting, mentions of blood, cuts and bruises, this is not proofread its midnight goodbye

read: part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

You felt eyes on you as you walked over to your locker. There were always eyes on you, but today they felt especially malicious. You didn’t doubt that Billy had already told his ‘friends’ he was going out with you in an attempt to prevent them from going near you, but that had brought the worst evil known to mankind upon you. Jealous teenage girls. 

You always knew people were jealous of you, whether it was from your stunning looks, your wealth, or your wardrobe, but no girl had ever been that desperate to take a guy from you. Hell even when you dated Steve no one really gave a damn. But now even the girls in your own clique were giving you the dreaded side eye. 

Nancy was walking down the hall, laughing at something Jonathan said. You walked right over to them, pulling Nancy away, “Sorry Johnny boy, I need her for a sec.”

Nancy started to complain and you quickly shut her up, “Do people know me and Billy are going out?”

“What? No, I’m sure you’re just paranoid. I mean when I-”

“You didn’t go blabbing to anyone did you?”

“God, Y/N what type of person do you think I am? I am so not a gossip.”

You sighed as you stopped over to your locker, Nancy resting her head against the one next to yours.

“Either way, why do you mind? You like him, why don’t you want people to know about it? He is your boyfriend right-” 

At the mention of the word “boyfriend” you accidentally slammed your finger on the cold metal. 

“He is not my- we’re just…”

“Dating?”

“Exactly! But we’re not- that.”

“If you say so. Are we done now? I don’t want to leave Jonathan alone for too long. We’re making plans for-”

“Fine, go” you smiled as you waved Nancy off, watching her speed walk to find Byers.  

Just as you started taking books out of your locker, you felt a pair of strong arms turn you around.

You gently slapped Billy’s arm around your waist, “God, B, not here, not in public.”

“How come?”

“Did you tell anyone we were… you know…”

“Fucking?”

You sighed, “Yeah.”

“I may have accidentally said something to Harrington. And Hagan. And pretty much anyone who was near me in the locker rooms.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane, you can’t go around telling people that we- we’re not- if you didn’t want to put a label on it no one else has to know about us. Can’t we just keep it private, for now at least.”

“Why? You’re still my girl.”

“As long as we aren’t official then I am not your girl.”

“Look, I just may have mentioned we’ve been hooking up because Harrington was talking shit.”

“I doubt Steve would ever-”

“Let me make it up to you. I’ll do whatever you want.” Billy’s voice trailed off as he let his eyes bore into yours. 

You weighed the idea around for a bit. 

One on hand if you let this one go, Billy would think he could do whatever he wanted. On the other side, you did have a couple of ideas that would be very fun for you. Your mind was already running with images of what could happen, with him doing whatever you wanted. It was either your self respect or a mind blowing evening. 

“Fine. You can come over at 8.”

You could always convince him to not be a dick later. 

“Great, I’ll see you then.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You repositioned the glasses of manhattan’s that were sitting on your bedroom's coffee table, taking care to make sure they looked just perfect in the candle lit area. You smoothed your french tipped hands over your seafoam green silk dressing gown. It was one you had chosen for the very occasion and you felt absolutely gorgeous in it, ready for whatever apology Billy would choose to deliver, hopefully one he would perform on his knees. 

You took one last look around your room, seeing how the candles you had lit made your normally, white satin sheets, glow into a warmer hue, one that matched your eyeshadow. You walked over to your mirror that was strategically placed in front of your bed, and wiped away a stain of god knows what. 

Now it was perfect. You only had to wait. 

15 minutes. That’s how late Billy was. You knew he could be careless and lose track of time, but he never was irresponsible with you. That’s when you heard the phone ring. You immediately scurried over to answer, admittedly a bit embarrassed at your desperation to hear Billy. 

The phone rang for a couple seconds before Billy answered.

“Hey, I uh, just wanted to let you know that I can’t do tonight. Sorry.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? B, I spent all night getting everything ready for us. What’s so important that you just had to cancel on me?”

“My step sister. My dad’s getting on my ass about it. Apparently she and her little group of friends ran off to god knows where and now I’m getting in trouble for it. It’s so fucking stupid. She's twelve. I shouldn’t be expected to care for her, she’s old enough to do whatever the hell she wants. It’s not my responsibility and but now I have-”

“Billy.” You interjected his rant, “What do you have to do?”

“I have to find out where she is and get her home. But I don’t have any idea where she is.”

“Well maybe I could help.”

“Y/N, as nice as that is, you don’t need to help me. I can handle it on my own.”

“But the point is, you don’t need to handle it on your own. That’s what I’m here for. Can’t you just accept my help?”

The two of you stood in silence for a moment.

“I’ll be there in 10.”

You heard the line go dead, and as much as you resisted it, you felt a small smile grow on your face. Even though your plans for the night were ruined, at least you could spend time with him. You sped over to your closet changing quickly into something casual, as you let your mind think over where Max could possibly be. 

This was going to be a long night.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

“What else is left?”

You looked at the notepad that you had suggested on taking, one with a list of potential addresses of where Max could be at.

“Only places left are Nance’s and-”, you groaned, “Byers.”

“Which one’s closer?”

You looked over at Billy, who’s knuckles were practically turning white from his grip on the steering wheel.

“Nancy’s. It’s a left from here.”

Billy nodded and turned in silence. For reasons unbeknownst to you, he was in a much less chatty mood than usual. You figured he was annoyed about getting grounded and having to spend the evening on a wild goose chase to find his step sister instead of spending it with you. You didn’t press it. 

When he had first pulled up to your driveway, his eyes had been twinged with red, like he had been crying. You also didn’t press that issue, knowing how it would make him feel.

Instead you just watched the view of suburbia, as you pulled closer the neighborhood you knew belonged to the Wheelers.

Billy spoke to you as he parked, “You’re staying here. I’m asking this time.”

“Why?”

“You take too long. Jesus, you spent like an hour talking to that Henderson woman.”

“It’s not my fault she was bored and I was polite. I so did not want to be talking to her”

“I’ll finish this up faster than you, trust me. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can both get home.”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes as you watched him leave and knock on the door. 

You turned back to pay attention to the radio, ignoring whatever he was doing. You skipped through the stations until you found one that didn’t annoy you with the screeching of guitars, and concentrated on your attire. 

It wasn’t until the songs were beginning to get on your nerves that you finally decided to focus on what Billy was doing, and thank god you did.

Nancy’s mother was delighting in the attention Billy was no doubt showering her with. You knew both you and Billy had very similar tactics when it came to convincing people. You both used sex. However, this was a situation in which it should not be applied. It was totally like if you were all over Nancy’s dad. Gross.

You opened the passengers door and increased your normal walking pace to reach Billy, wrapping an arm around him the moment you got to him.

“OMG, Mrs. Wheeler, long time no see!”

“I’m sorry, have we met before?”

What a bitch. You had stayed over at Nancy’s at least 100 times and now she had the audacity to pretend she didn’t know you.

“We have! Both me and Billy are in Nance’s grade and I’ve hung out with Nancy for like a year now. It’s okay though! You must have totally forgotten, with all your household duties and chores and kids and whatnot. Don’t worry, it’s a completely normal part of aging. It happens to everyone who's on the verge of senility.”

You heard Billy cough to cover up a laugh that almost escaped him.

“Anyways,” you drawled, “me and Billy here, are looking for B’s sister, Max. She’s just a really spunky redhead girl and we are both just worried sick about her.” You lowered your voice to a pouty whisper as you moved closer to her, making sure that Billy wouldn’t overhear, “Maxine almost feels like… a younger sister in law to me, y’know. So I am just… fearing for her and her safety.”

You pulled back, leaning back into Billy’s touch, especially his hand that had now found its place resting against your waist. 

The woman let out a laugh, trying to relive the tension in the air.

“Well Billy, I think your step sister might be at the Byer’s. She was with my Mike and they told me they were heading there. Good luck.”

And with a quick squeeze to Billy’s hand, Karen swiftly closed the door and left you and Billy standing there. The moment you heard the door lock, you pushed Billy away and headed straight to the car, not even wanting to look at him.

“What’s with you? Don’t tell me you got jealous.”

“I am not jealous!” You snapped. 

Billy was laughing, “Are you sure? Because what I just saw happen back there seemed pretty jeal-”

“Oh my god can you just forget about it!  I just thought that it was fucking weird for you two to be hitting on each other- and even weirder she was into it.”

“I wasn’t flirting, it's called getting what you want Y/N. You should know that better than everyone.”

You rolled your eyes and moved Billy’s hand away from crawling up your thigh. 

“The point is your my-” Your voice trailed off and you silently cringed as you realized what you had almost said.

“I’m your what?”

“You know.” You turned to look out the window, but Billy moved his hand to your jaw forcing you to look at him. 

“No, I think I want to hear you say it.”

You were sure you looked like an idiot. “I don’t think I want to,” you whispered.

“I do. Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

You felt like you could scream. Billy could be very upfront about what he wanted, but it was never like this.

You weren’t good with words so you just did what you did best. Make a move. Quickly closing the gap between you, you kissed him, feeling him smile against you. 

“So, we’re official?”

Billy nodded and you reached for his hand holding it. It felt nice to finally put a label on it. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

“Do not get out of the car.” That was the only thing Billy had told you. It was going to be quick. He was going to get Max, and leave. In your opinion, telling a middle schooler that you needed to go home should not take more than a minute. You were impatiently tapping your foot against the floor of the Camaro, anxiously waiting for your boyfriend. Boyfriend. You liked being able to call him your boyfriend. 

It was getting cold in the car, Billy refusing to leave the heat on because it would “waste gas” and you were getting annoyed. It shouldn’t take this long and it was making you suspect the worst. You couldn’t even look towards the house due to your stupid sugestion of parking farther away. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You opened the door, exiting the car, when you heard the sound of yelling and general clatter coming from inside the Byer’s house.

Running as fast as you could with 2 inch heels, you slammed the door of the old house open. Billy and Steve were fighting and the group of kids there, some who you didn’t recognize were screaming at Steve to win. You had no clue how it started, but you had to get involved. Moving over to Billy’s side, trying to make your voice drown out the sounds of others you yelled at him, and Steve to stop, but the two boys were so caught up in each other it seemed like everyone else was invisible. You pulled on the sleeve of Billy’s shirt so hard it almost tore, Billy pausing for a moment to look at you. You took advantage of the pause and let go of him, moving quickly over to Steve slapping him.

“What the fuck-”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You looked back and forth between the two boys, “This wasn’t supposed to-” 

Max was holding a needle in Billy’s neck, sending him straight to the floor. The poor girl looked stressed out of her mind. You stayed silent as you watched her grab a baseball bat with nails stuck in it, as she hovered over Billy, raising the bat.

“From here on out, you leave me and my friends alone. Do you understand?”

“Screw you.”

God he was an idiot. 

“Say you understand! Say it. Say it!” Max screamed as she brought the bat down between his legs, narrowly missing his groin.

“I understand.” Billy finally said.

Max ripped out the bat out of the carpeted floor and threw it to the side. You immediately ran over to Steve in the kitchen, who looked the worst out of the two, and tried to tend to his cut lip and bruised face. 

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”  You asked as you wet a towel that was resting against the sink.

“Don’t help me. I don’t need or want your help.”

“Steve, I'm your friend. Now shut up and let me fix this-”

Steve grabbed your hand and pushed it away. “No! You are not my friend. What, you think you can just use me for one of your fucked up games and then act like we’re cool? I still haven’t forgotten about the party or the way you treated me like shit. And now? Why did you have to get in the fight-”

“I did it so that he would stop, you knew he wouldn’t finish until you were practically-”

“-I genuinely thought you cared about me.”

“Steve please.”

Steve shook his head and groggily moved out of your reach. “I can clean myself up or Dustin can or someone else. But I want it to be anyone else but you. Don’t talk to me.”

Steve walked with some difficulty, towards Nancy’s little brother and a curly haired boy who looked like he was trying to seem like he hadn’t overheard your squabble.

You rolled your eyes and moved over to Billy and Max, not feeling that worried about Steve. It would all blow over later, he was just pissed now, but he’d get over it quickly, right?

“Can you help me move him over to the couch?” You asked Max.

The redhead nodded and with her help, you were able to drag Billy onto the couch.

“You know, he was only here because he got into some shit with his dad at home, right? He was worried.”

“You know about Neil?” Max looked suspicious.

“Yeah, he told me he was all frustrated-”

“I got it.” She seemed like she knew something that you didn’t but you chose to ignore it. “It still doesn’t give him the right to be an asshole. He almost killed Steve-”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration-”

“He attacked Lucas for no reason-”

“Who?”

Max pointed towards a boy who was helping the other two kids bring Steve outside.

“Max, you are absolutely right. It’s not a good excuse and he shouldn’t have done that, but you have to try to understand where he’s coming from.”

“I have tried. And just because you’re the girl he's choosing for the week doesn’t mean you get to lecture me. You don’t even know me! Now if you excuse me, I have to go help Steve and the rest of the guys. I’ll be back before he wakes up.”

“How long is that supposed to be?”

“Two hours? I don’t know.” The girl shrugged and ran out the door, presumably trailing behind Steve, Mike, Lucas, and probably Dustin. 

You shook your head, not only was Steve mad at you, so was Billy’s little sister. Great. You moved over to sit on the couch, moving a piece of hair out of Billy’s face. His nose was bleeding and so was his lip but it wasn’t even half as bad as Harrington’s. You figured you couldn’t really do anything but wait for the drug to wear off, so you might as well take advantage of the situation. You looked for a broom in the kitchen, and started sweeping away. The floor was covered in shards of broken glass and you did not want Mrs. Byer’s to find out that a fight had broken out. You also noticed that the fridge was stuck closed. You didn’t touch it after seeing some strange liquid pooling at the bottom. 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

The low hum of the tv had practically lulled you to sleep, your head resting against the front of the couch. It wasn’t until you heard Billy groaning and shuffling on the makeshift bed that you woke up. Stretching your arm’s you turned to look at Billy.

“You feeling better?”

With half hooded eyes, Billy shook his head to look at you. “What happened?”

You stood up to sit next to Billy, “Max said you went after her friend, Lucas. Then you got in a pretty big fight with Steve. That was really wrong of you Billy.”

“I know, I know, I just don’t wanna be like him.”

“Like who?”

“Like that… fucking asshole.”

You moved closer to him, moving his face to look towards yours.

Billy finally met your eyes. “Like my dad. He’s such a jerk and… I’m just so tired of it.”

“But that doesn’t mean you get to attack people for no reason. Especially Max’s friend or Steve. Lucas is a middle schooler B.”

“God, it wasn’t even that big of a deal. I went through worse and I wasn’t even his fuckin’ age.”

You chewed on your lip. You had wanted Billy to open up with you and now he had, and you felt awkward. He had clearly never told anyone this and he was high on drugs. What if he got mad at you? Or what if he thought you were getting too close? Hell, what if you were the one that felt like that. You had never been this emotionally involved with anyone, not Steve or Nancy or your other childhood friends. You weren’t even this close to your parents.

You could just stop this. Let him tire himself out by talking and then leave. Or you could stay, like he had that night. You chose the latter. Something in you pulled you to this boy and you wouldn’t leave. You chose to not fail him like others clearly had. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m such a mess.”

You sighed deeply, “No you are not.”

“Yeah I am. I don’t even know why the hell you even agreed to go out with me in the first place. Or why you’re even here. You should be out with Harrington or someone better.”

“No I shouldn’t. Steve doesn’t make me happy.”

“And I do?” Billy scoffed, as if the idea of him not being a total nightmare to someone was absurd.

“Yeah you do. You’re fun when you aren’t trying to be a major dick. I also just…” You trailed off realizing what you were about to say to him. “Really like you.”

“You mean that?”

“ ‘Course I do.”

You pulled away from him and sat further away, staring at the television. You needed to tell him how you really felt. Even though it could backfire, at least he was a little out of it. He’d probably forget.

“And I even think I might love you.” You kept your eyes glued to the monitor, not wanting to look at Billy’s face in case you messed up. “And I know you probably think that you don’t deserve to be loved but you do, and you like to keep up these ridiculous walls and you like to pretend like you don’t care about anyone when you and I both know damn well you care about me. Just like I care about you.”

You felt Billy shift on the creaky old couch and you could feel him placing his hand on yours.

“Wow.”

You let out an empty laugh. “Yeah.”

“So you love me?”

“Guess I do Hargrove.”

“That’s a big thing to say.”

“Trust me, I know. I don’t think I’ve ever told any guy that.”

“Does that mean I’m your first?”

You turned to look at Billy, a smile growing on his face to match yours. Only he could make a joke at a time like this. “I think it does.”

“Then, I guess you’re my first too.”

Billy kissed you, much differently than the way the two of you normally kissed. It was soft, gentle, and meaningful. 

When he separated from you, he finally said the three words you had been dying to hear him say. “I love you.”

You rested your forehead against his, squeezing his hand.

The sound of the door opening made the two of you jump apart.

“What’s going on here?” 

You and Billy stared at the woman who you presumed to be Jonathan’s mom. Max was standing next to her, her arms crossed.

You immediately stood up and walked to the older woman, turning on your charming persona. “Mrs. Byer’s I am so so sorry for the mess- Steve was here and he got into a small argument with Billy and there was a bit of a mess, but I cleaned it up. Like I said I am so sorry-”

“Oh don’t worry about it honey. I’m sure it was all just a… misunderstanding.” Mrs. Byers gave you a warm smile, one you rarely saw on adults. “Max said she knew the two of you and you were supposed to drop her off, is that right?” 

Billy finally got off from his place on the couch and walked over to you. “Yeah we’re both supposed to take her home.”

“Great! So you two can get going now, I’m the one who’s sorry for rushing you two it’s just- I already have Will and Jonathan waiting in the car so, I’m a in a bit of a hurry-”

“No- No it’s totally okay Mrs. Byers-” You started.

“Please call me Joyce-”

“We are the ones who were intruding.” Joyce seemed too nice for her own good. At least she was better than some of the other parent’s you’d met.

“I’m gonna take Max to the car-” Billy nodded to you and Max to confirm his actions.

“Don’t forget, I’m the one who’s driving.” 

Billy and Max made their way to the camaro and with the quickest (a five minute) goodbye possible, you finally left the Byer’s house.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

“Remember to call me tomorrow!”

“I know, okay?”

Billy gave you a quick peck on the lips as he walked to the front door of the Mayfield-Hargrove residence. Max lingered behind for a moment.

“Could I tell you something?”

You tried to appear nicer to the red-head girl, still feeling a little attacked from your quarrel earlier. “Sure.”

“I have no clue what you and Billy are doing, but whatever it is it’s working.”

“Excuse me?”

“He told me sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him apologize to a real breathing person before.” 

“Oh.” You were a little shocked at the apparent rareness of his forgiveness. Billy had apologized to you several times. “That’s a good thing right?”

“Duh. Maybe you’re not so bad.” Max opened the door of the sports car, before giving you one last farewell, “Hope you’re the one that sticks around.”

And with that you watched as Billy and Max entered their house.

You drove off in Billy’s beloved sports car, taking time to think about what had happened tonight. 

You were Billy’s girlfriend. You had told him you loved him and he had said it back. He was seemingly trying to fix his relationships. 

But on the other hand, you had gotten into a terrible fight with Steve. 

At least there were more pro’s to the night.

You parked Billy’s car in your driveway carefully. You had refused to let him drop you off home first, so you planned to just drive by in the morning tomorrow and give it to him.

You breathed in the smell of smoke that stained the car. It was another thing that Billy had let take control of, even if it was small. 

You really did love that boy. 

[ghostcookieturner]

so...you're taking requests 😏

what do you think about some headcanons or smth with må(or thomas) x fashiondesigner!reader

❣

yes yes big apologies for me doing this 5 months after you sent it lol

word count:<1000

tw: swearing, light mention of stress

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DAMIANO DAVID

ok so first he will watch you for hours while you stitch, sew, crochet, knit, etc.

eventually will want to learn the basics of creating these clothes

ends up wearing a lot of what your label produces

“rest your hands, amore, you’ve been working all day”

will contribute ideas when you have none

def gives you motivation to continue what you love

did i mention he loves to wear what you make?

-

ETHAN TORCHIO

oh my god now if this isn’t his dream

will most definitely wear your label

in fact his closet will be mostly your label

massages your hands every now and then when you’re stressed

critiques your works

respectfully of course

we love our respectful king

anyway

hangs out with you whenever you have to do a long boring project

gives you ideas for your projects

when he’s on the road/busy, he pays for mani pedis

always tells you how proud he is of what you’ve done

-

THOMAS RAGGI

absolute fucking simp for your work

will sit and just listen to the hum of your sewing machine while you work

“Cara signora, your fingers are so blistered”

will also do hand massages because we love a soft boy

knows a little about fashion designing himself

makes good pointers and helps with releases and advertising

there’s probably only 3 pieces in his wardrobe that’s not your label

keeps you motivated

-

Victoria De Angelis

very similar to thomas, a fucking simp for your work

probably makes her pasty’s out of ur scraps lmao

strokes your hair while your sewing

all of her wardrobe is your label

makes it clear everywhere that she is the significant other of a world class fashion designer

always puts lotion and rubs your hands every night

also does ur nails hehe

always gives suggestions and feedback

loves to help

~~~~~~~~~~~~

aaaaaand that’s about it. sorry it sucks lol i’m a little rusty.

send in more requests lovelies! check my master list to see who i write for!!! bye bye friends!!!!

[hermannsthumb]

I was thinking, when you've got some time, I always see the first meeting being ruined mostly due to Newt. Think we could see something where it's more Hermann's doing it goes bad?

was talking w newtability on twitter about hermann accidentally messing things up by being a nervous gay disaster, please enjoy some nerds having communication issues in celebration of me being done graduate school

-----------------------------------

Newt arrives at the cafe approximately five minutes before he's due to meet the love of his life there.

That's kind of dramatic. Okay: Newt is pretty sure that Hermann is the love of his life, even if they haven't done the whole in person meeting thing before, like, right now, immediately, but it's probably better to hold off on those sort of labels until he can be sure (it's bad to get his hopes up or whatever). Newt's stomach has been a mess of butterflies and weird, tight nerves since he woke up in his hotel room that morning to a reminder email from Hermann about their scheduled coffee date, because like, my God, Hermann sent a reminder email, Hermann was looking forward to meeting him, probably. Newt spent a whole hour picking out an outfit (an impressive accomplishment, considering he packed exactly two pairs of jeans and three t-shirts in his carry-on), two bathing and shaving and attempting to flatten down (and then gel up) his mess of bedhead into something halfway decent. He printed out twelve of Hermann's emails with the shitty PC in the hotel lobby and he would've printed out more if an irate older lady hadn't snapped at him about how she needed look up directions to an art museum. Why did he do that? Who brings print out emails to a casual coffee date between friends? Could the older lady not just use a smartphone GPS or something?

The emails are in his messenger bag, and Newt sticks his hand under the flap to briefly run his fingers across the paper. Smooth and cool to the touch. It's strangely relaxing: Hermann's words on the paper, Hermann's words under his skin, enthusing about how he can't wait to pick Newt's brain about his most recent article over a friendly cup of coffee. Friendly! Hermann was Newt's friend. Newt never thought he had friends, because he's frankly kind of annoying, but apparently Hermann didn't get that memo. That's another reason why he needs to stop being so weird about things, like, immediately—Hermann being his Best Friend is way more important than him being the love of Newt's life. Well, kind of. Newt just doesn't want to fuck this up and lose a best friend before they can ever consider will-they-won't-theying into more amorous territory, is what he means.

Two minutes to go. Newt wonders if Hermann's already inside, or if he should wait out on the sidewalk for him. They may not have met in person before, but Newt's seen a worrying amount of pictures of the guy, and he doesn't think Hermann will be too hard to miss: weird, wide frog mouth, neatly kept dark hair, polished cane, wardrobe of a schoolmaster who died from consumption before photography was invented. General sensibilities of one too, probably. Hermann can seem a little stodgy and stiff-lipped in their correspondence sometimes, especially when Newt deigns to tease him about things, and Newt still can't decide if he's just really committed to being a British stereotype or if he's just shy. He hopes it's the latter. Newt can work with shy. Shy is kind of cute, actually.

He pats his hair nervously in his reflection in the glass of a cafe window, and then tugs at t-shirt. He chose his outfit badly: he didn't notice until now how wrinkled his shirt (some stupid freebie with a shark on it he got from a marine biology conference he gave a paper at in undergrad) is from being crammed in a suitcase for a day, or how ill-fitting the jeans (which have, like, way too many holes in them anyway) have become on him. One of the belt loops is torn, too, probably caught on a door handle at some point, and he knows that there's not a chance Hermann will miss that. He could always zip up his leather jacket to hide his various fashion faux pas, but he thinks that might make him look even weirder. It's weird that he's wearing it in the first place—it's, like, 80 degrees out, and he's already kinda sweating.

Newt's phone buzzes insistently at him—the alarm he set for their meeting time. No sign of Hermann out here, which means he must be inside already, which is really what Newt should have expected. Stodgy and stiff-lipped Hermann would have gotten them a table an hour ago, and probably already placed an order for a drink he knew Newt would like. The Hermann of Newt's stupid daydream fantasies would, anyway. (That Hermann is such a romantic.)

He pokes at his hair one more time before he takes a deep breath and pushes open the door. The bell tinkles overhead. There's no great, dramatic, sweeping romantic moment: Newt's eyes don't fall on Hermann as soon as Hermann (hearing the bell) happens to look up eagerly towards the door, having been sitting here in perfect agony waiting for Newt, and he doesn't rush forward to Newt and pull him into a romantic embrace and hand him flowers and a box of vegan chocolates. There's no secret pre-arranged code they decided to use, either, no red roses tucked into shirt lapels or specifically hued shirts to indicate that the guy in librarian glasses and a sweatervest is Newt's guy in librarian glasses and a sweatervest. Hermann doesn't even notice Newt, actually, even though Newt notices Hermann. (There's no mistaking that froggy mouth or those mascara-dark eyelashes.)

This is most likely because Hermann seems to be waging a war against an extremely large, and extremely fresh-looking, dark stain on his neat white button-down, an overturned mug on the cramped table steadily dripping more coffee onto the cafe floor and splattering Hermann's saddle shoes.

Newt's breath catches in his throat. He thinks, briefly, if he were a cartoon character, there would probably be little hearts floating around his head, and he might start floating over to Hermann or some shit. Neither happens, but he is so distracted by Hermann's weird beauty that he almost trips over his untied shoelaces.

"Damn it all," Hermann seems to mutter, and tosses his damp handkerchief down to the floor in a fit of obvious fury. It lands with a wet splat in the coffee puddle. And then he looks up towards the door. Newt watches his eyebrows leap up his creased forehead, his mouth fall open in a wide O, his cheeks go a shade of red visible even from here. He fumbles for his cane and pushes himself to his feet clumsily; then he freezes, like he can't decide why he did that, and then—very slowly—waves at Newt. "I spilled something," he says, loudly, and then snaps his mouth shut, his blush spreading to his ears.

Oh, god, what an accent. (He's so much posher than Newt expected. Like a stupid period piece come to life. He knows the second he hears Hermann say his name, he's done for.) Several heads swivel in Newt's direction. Newt hurries to the table quickly, unable to fight the beam spreading across his face, and immediately seizes Hermann's hand in a wild handshake. A handshake seems like the thing to do—the thing to give your fancy, posh, old-fashioned penpal. Newt shakes it, over and over, and Hermann shakes back, and Newt beams, and Hermann stares at him with a look akin to indigestion. He smells overwhelmingly like coffee and mothballs. He's a few inches taller than Newt (not like it's hard). He swallows thickly a few times before he finally opens his mouth. "I spilled...something," he repeats, much more calmly.

"I saw," Newt says with a laugh. His anxiety is melting fast: Hermann is just a guy. Hermann isn't scary or intimidating or anything, and he's not a shining, polished, beacon of perfection either (even if he is posh), he's a weird, awkward, anxious guy just like Newt, and this is all gonna go okay. They can be weird, awkward, anxious guys together. "You didn't burn yourself, right?"

Hermann gives a stiff jerk of his head that Newt takes to mean no. His jaw is set so rigidly it looks almost painful. "I've ordered you a—tea," he says. "It—it should be ready soon. I think." He furrows his brow at Newt. "Do you like tea? I thought I ought to order you something, and it seemed—"

"Tea is great," Newt says. "Tea is perfect. Um, you mind if I sit down? I walked here from my hotel, and—"

Hermann drops Newt's hand like he's been shocked and gives another stiff jerk of his head, and, still smiling, Newt drops into the empty chair opposite Hermann. Hermann follows a moment later. Another droplet of coffee drips down to the pool on the floor below, right as Hermann puts his shoe in it. "Dr. Newt," Hermann finally says, and his eyes widen before he quickly corrects, "Er. I mean—Newton. Or. Dr. Geiszler. I'm a pleasure to meet you at last. It's. It's a pleasure. I—bugger." He glances at the front door of the cafe, like he's debating making a break for it, then back at Newt; he takes a deep breath. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Dr. Geiszler," he says. "I can't imagine you have any idea how long I've waited for this moment."

"Haha, sick," Newt says, which is a dumb thing to say, but he thought it sounded cool in the heat of the moment and might set Hermann at ease. Hermann stares at him blankly, so he has a feeling it does the opposite. "Um, yeah," he says instead, "it's really cool to meet you too. I hope you weren't waiting too long."

"Only a few hours," Hermnan says.

Newt laughs again. Hermann does not. "Oh," Newt says, quickly closing his mouth. He's serious. "You're...punctual. That's also, like, cool."

"Thank you," Hermann says.

He gives Newt a strange, unpracticed twist of a smile, like he's so used to frowning that he's forgotten how to do anything else. Newt's heart thuds furiously in his chest. He wonders if Hermann would let him hold his hand—or he wonders what Hermann would do if Newt gripped him by the coffee-stained front of his shirt and hauled him in for a kiss, right here, in front of a dozen other college students and business guys typing away on laptops. Hermann's hair is different than it had been in the last picture he sent Newt, shorter and buzzed (mostly) tight around his ears. Undercut kinda thing. No, that's being kind, it's a bowlcut that reeks of DIY (uneven, choppy in parts, and absolutely nothing that anyone would pay good money for) and Newt knows it. He wouldn't be surprised if Hermann did it in his hotel room mirror an hour before he got here, because that's exactly what Newt was considering doing in his own hotel room. Nerves. "New haircut?" Newt says.

"Er," Hermann says, hunching in on himself, and Newt knows for certain now that it's a DIY job. "...Yes." He grazes his palm against the buzzed back of his head. "...Do you like it?"

Absolutely not. Well, Newt wouldn't be caught dead with it, but maybe it's kind of charming on Hermann? No, it's, like, pretty bad. "Tooootally," Newt says, and because he can't think of anything else to do, gives him a thumbs up.

Hermann's face falls—Newt wasn't as convincing as he hoped—and he looks down at his lap, where he's tugging insistently at the cuff of his blazer. It's tweed and well-loved, missing the second button, with a brown elbow patch sewed patchily into the right side. Newt has a feeling that it's the blazer he wears to all his conferences, or anywhere requiring a little bit of familiarity in the face of discomfort; Newt's wearing his leather jacket today for the same reason. "Hermann," Newt says. "Look, I—" He inches a hand across the table towards Hermann's, but before he can so much as make it halfway, a tray of at least six different teacups is being dropped down in front of him.

"Okay, so, there's earl grey," their server says, reading from a small notepad, "peach green, oolong—"

"Er," Hermann says, and, as the server slides each off the tray before heading back behind the counter, Newt pretends like he was reaching for the napkin dispenser all along and grabs a fistful (and if Hermann noticed it's a feint, he doesn't say anything), "yes, Dr. Newton—Newton—as I might have mentioned, I wasn't quite sure what you wanted, and—I thought it safest to acquire a variety."

"Oh," Newt says. "Um. Cool. That's awesome, Hermann, so thoughtful of you"

He selects a cup at random, which turns out to be something called pomegranate passion according to the paper ticket stuck under the plate, and begins loosely twining the teabag string around his finger. He should just come out and say it already—that his working hypothesis is that Hermann is the love of his life, that he's been daydreaming about amending my penpal, Hermann to my boyfriend, Hermann for at least a year now, and that he wants to ruffle Hermann's terrible hair and kiss him silly. That Hermann has no need to be nervous around him, not now, not ever. May as well just jump right into it. "So, Hermann," he says. Hermann begins worrying at his wide lower lip, his eyes fixed on Newt's untouched cup of tea, and Newt takes a hurried sip before asking "Um, I was wondering—you don't have to answer if you don't want—like, are you seeing anyone?"

The tea's burned his tongue a little, and it's sweeter than what Newt would normally like. He powers through a mouthful so he doesn't hurt Hermann's feelings again. "Seeing anyone?" Hermann echoes.

"Like," Newt says, "as in, dating."

Another faux pas. Apparently. Newt seems to be full of them today. Hermann seems almost distraught at the question, staring at Newt in obvious bewilderment, and actually ripping a thread from the fraying seam of his blazer cuff. "Oh," he says, and begins stammering, "well—I'd thought, Newton—I'd assumed—should I not have?"

"Not have what?" Newt says. He tries again. "I was just asking, because if you're not seeing anyone, then that makes two of us. Kinda funny. Like, a funny coincidence, I mean." He rips the paper tag off the teabag and folds it in half. "Since we're here, together, and everything."

He's not sure how Hermann could possibly misinterpret that, except that Hermann does, suddenly rubbing at the fuzzy side of his new undercut, mouth twisting down, and saying (the last thing Newt expected to hear), "You think it looks foolish."

Newt blinks at Hermann. "Foolish? Uh—no, dude, why...? What are we talking about?"

"You think I'm foolish," Hermann says, his voice wavering.

"No, no," Newt says. "Look—"

But Hermann snags his cane with a fumbling hand and pushes himself to his feet. He doesn't look angry, like Newt kinda thought he would be, but embarrassed, like Newt's just spent ten minutes dressing him down about how wrong and stupid his research is or something. The coffee stain on his button-up has almost dried. "I have," Hermann says, looking towards the front door, "a—a prior engagement. I'd forgotten. I really must be going, Newton."

He flees from the coffee shop, leaving Newt to wonder what, exactly, he's done wrong.