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wttcsms · 4 months ago

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if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | TWO

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn’t get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn’t just a pro soccer player, but also your ex’s rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

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pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 5.9k chapter synopsis the busier your schedule, the less time you can spend thinking about rin. the only problem is, you see something you can't unsee. nothing a bottle of tequila can't fix, right? (spoiler: tequila isn't fixing a broken heart) chapter contains partying and drinking to cope, diet culture author’s notes i have nothing to insightful to add rn, but send me any asks discussing this fic and i will have a lot to say LOL

From: [email protected] To: [USER EMAIL HIDDEN] Cc: [email protected], [email protected], [email protected], [email protected] + 3 others Subject: 6/19 — [NAME] [SURNAME] AGENDA Attachments: 📎 [6.19 AGENDA.pdf]

All —

Attached is the PDF copy of [Name]’s itinerary for today. Reminder that these times are STRICT. Stay on schedule.

Fumiko Gima

Get Outlook for IOS

Your first alarm goes off at 4:50 AM to what you assume is the noise they play on repeat in hell (By the Seaside, an Apple classic). After waking up, you roll over in your king size bed (the problem with always choosing to go big instead of just going home is the fact that when you’re all alone, the luxury of extra space just becomes empty space) to promptly hit the snooze button. You’ll allow yourself five more minutes of sleep (as a treat). When the second alarm you set up goes off at 4:53 AM (By the Seaside, once again), you scream into your pillow, and shut it off for real this time. You knew you weren’t going to give yourself the full five minutes, but it felt really good to trick yourself into believing that you would. You always start the day with this tiny disappointment; that way, no one has the privilege of being the first person to piss you off.

At 4:54 AM, you slide your feet into your Ugg slippers, readjust the loose straps of your silk camisole, and shuffle into your marble-floored bathroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes, brush your teeth with your pink electric toothbrush, and wash your face. By the time you’re done with your morning skincare, it’s 5:06 AM. You honestly can’t remember the last time you did your own makeup, but you bring your makeup bag with you anyway. If there’s downtime between shoots, you’ll post a faux-GRWM TikTok where you apply three miniscule dots of concealer on your seemingly already flawless skin and add a fresh layer of the brand new, limited edition Rhode peptide lip treatment that Hailey Bieber’s team gifted you. They also gave you twenty grand to do so, with a personal “hey girlie, would love to catch up with you one of these days!! life has been so hectic, sorry for not keeping in touch x btw, i just came out with a new shade of my…” text from Hailey herself. (You replied back with a “yessss, we need to meet up soon!! Also, LOVE LOVE LOVE the new shade omg 😍” — neither of you have any intention for planning a meet-up, and you don’t “LOVE LOVE LOVE” the new shade as much as you “LOVE LOVE LOVE” to deposit a fat check.)

You’re sliding into the backseat of the glossy black SUV parked in front of your driveway at 5:14 AM. Your chauffeur, Benji, holds open the door for you.

“Good morning, Ms. [Surname],” Benji never drops the formalities with you, except for when he’s lecturing you. Thank God he doesn’t own a smartphone; if he saw half the things Daily Mail wrote about you, his voice would be gone from scolding you so much. Even if he’s technically on your parents’ payroll and is paid to make sure you get to and from places safely, it still feels nice to have someone who cares about you enough to call you out on your shit.

The first stop is an exclusive, members-only pilates studio. If you’re home, you have to work out in the morning, no matter what. You like your routine. Out of all the things online magazines put out about you, it’s kind of embarrassing how the most accurate one is revealing how you stay “fit ‘n flawless even after going out every night.” Most people didn’t believe it. Rin got it, though. Rin would actually work out with you, when the two of your schedules aligned, and— Time to start your workout early! Nothing takes your mind off of matters more than focusing on the burn of your core and arms.

By the time you finish your private session, you’re walking out the studio with your puffy tote bag slung over your shoulders. Your body is still a bit damp from taking a quick shower but not drying off properly, and Benji drops you off at your first business stop of the day — ELLE Japan.

You smile brightly as the team of makeup artists surrounding you shower you with compliments. One of the girls brushing on your foundation tells you that you have really nice skin. When she goes in for a second layer, you almost consider rescinding the thanks you gave her.

The set is hectic, as expected. No matter how long these people have been in the industry, no matter how big the host is, something always seems to be going wrong. Apparently, there’s been a mishap over in wardrobe, and ELLE’s people are not very happy with how this is going to delay everything. With your hair and makeup done, there’s nothing for you to do besides sit down, be quiet, and look pretty.

Downtime is the last thing you want. You’re used to a busy schedule, but you convinced Fumiko to accept as many projects as possible. If you have to rank at the top of the list for celebrities who emit the most CO2, then so be it. You’ll pollute the whole damn planet if it means you won’t have a single second to be alone with your thoughts.

At 9:00 AM sharp, you go on your phone to inform your manager that the agenda is fucked. ELLE Japan is definitely going to push back this session with you for at least a good hour, which means Fumiko is going to have to explain to Your Style (the YouTube channel name for a famous fashion commentator who’s amassed nearly twenty million subscribers) why you’re going to be late for the Zoom debrief on what you two are going to talk about in an upcoming video. At 9:02 AM, you receive a text.

juli ᡣ𐭩: u know i love u

It’s two in the morning in Paris. When Juliette said she was going to visit her father, she said it was going to be a much-needed vacation — just something chill and lowkey, like going to all the designer stores and eating croissants on a balcony. Those were her exact words.

juli ᡣ𐭩: [photo attachment]

Somehow, from the neon strobe lights, bodies pressed against one another’s, and the way the image is blurry because she couldn’t get her phone to focus, it feels like Juliette’s “something chill and lowkey” morphed into club-hopping all over France. You roll your eyes with affection. You should’ve known her vacation was going to turn into this; as if Juliette would eat bread for pleasure — she’s been quoted for claiming that carbs are a necessary evil. She probably hasn’t even touched a croissant for the past week she’s been there.

juli ᡣ𐭩: showing u before TMZ posts it juli ᡣ𐭩: [video attachment] juli ᡣ𐭩: do not freak out. not worth it. juli ᡣ𐭩: ugh i knew this club sucked ass for a reason

You wait for the video to load. It’s almost as blurry and unfocused as the original image she sent, but you can tell she had to zoom in pretty hard to capture what she wanted. It’s two figures with a minimal amount of space between them. One of them is definitely a girl; she has the build of the usual French models. A thin, leggy brunette who has mastered the intricate art of Just Had Sex hair. Perfectly messy, but could never be considered sloppy. She’s wearing a sparkly, tight minidress. The fabric shimmers when the strobe lights pass by her body. The person she’s practically pressed up against is a man. Tall, lean. He’s leaning down, presumably so he can hear her better. When the video clip ends abruptly (someone bumped into Juliette, and the video ends with shaky footage and a loud “putain!”), you replay it. And replay it. And then you play it again, just for good measure.

Each time you watch the stupid video, you find something new to notice. Her red lips brushing against his ear. The way his hand hovers near her hip. The way you’re certain she’s smiling when she speaks, like the smirk of a victor. The exact same self-satisfied, smug grin you sport whenever you get a guy right where you want him. Upon every rewatch, though, one thing remains the same: you’re constantly fixated on him.

Right now, it’s two in the morning in Paris. You know that when you weren’t in this fucked up headspace you’re in right now, you’d be in bed, snuggled underneath your blankets, by 11:30 PM. You know that when you felt your best, you could be in bed, whispering in the dark to the person you felt safest with, at 10:00 PM (at the latest, because you both would have a busy day ahead and needed the rest). He likes sleeping early because he likes being well-rested.

So why the hell is Rin Itoshi at a club right now?

At 9:39 AM, ELLE Japan gets right back on track. Before your editorial shoot for a special anniversary edition of the magazine, they get you to sit down to do a video interview that they plan on posting all over their social media.

“This is a very special edition that will be coming out, and you are not only having the biggest spread dedicated to you, but you’re also going to be on the cover. Knowing this, how are you feeling right now, [Name]? This might be the most high-profile photoshoot you’ve done so far in your career, and that’s saying something. You have quite the impressive resume.”

The ring lights are shining directly in your eye. The stool they have you sitting on for this interview is uncomfortable, and you have to focus on remaining balanced. Your back is perfectly straight, and your hands are folded in your lap. You blink, and you see the video playing in your mind. You have God knows how much makeup caked on right now, and you still have a long day ahead of you. Rin is at a club right now. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl, and they’re basically grinding against each other, and he might just have forgotten all about you.

You smile brightly. At 9:40 AM in Japan, you let everyone know,

“I honestly think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been before in my life! This is a great way to establish a sort of, I guess, new era of my life and my career.”

You turn to face the camera directly, giving them a dazzling view of your pearly whites. “Not trying to rush the process or anything, but I am definitely looking forward to seeing how this will all play out in the future.”

You’re operating on autopilot for the rest of the day. The ELLE shoot wraps up close to noon. You forgo lunch, but knowing you and your tendency to skip meals, Benji refuses to start the car until you eat the lunch his wife packed for you. It’s light and refreshing — they want you to eat well, but they’re not cruel. Even if they want to bring you a feast of a nice, hot, home cooked meal, you’ll eat it out of obligation and then suffer the consequences on set when everyone asks why you’re so bloated. You don’t even taste what you’re consuming.

At 12:30 PM, you hop on the Zoom call and pretend to care about discussing matters such as the lack of personal style affecting the younger generations. Every topic is a trivial topic to you. The only thing worth dissecting is that damn video. You should’ve asked those twenty million subscribers to help you analyze that, instead of nodding along when the YouTuber starts going on a rant about how Shein and other fast fashion brands are ruining everything.

Late in the afternoon, you get another text.

kenyu: So the team wants to host a belated birthday party for me lmao. Team’s planning on having it at 10 tonight kenyu: Sending you the address right now

A party is exactly what you need right now. Endless drinks, no need for rational thinking, and you’ll be (mostly) surrounded by people who think models are all vain and vapid. No one there is going to expect a decent conversation from you, and with the state you’re in, it’s a wonder how all your sentences are even making sense.

You give Kenyu’s next message a like in response. You were expecting a club, but when you click on the address, Maps reveals that it’s residential. Rin is gallivanting around European nightclubs, and meanwhile, the best you can do are house parties. This is how the future is playing out?

At least even at your worst, people still think you’re on top of the world.

Maybe life without a man dragging you down and invading your space is for the best. After all, once you got done with all your professional obligations, it’s only eight at night. You’re used to going out with whatever makeup they did for you on set at your last shoot of the day, which is a shame. You have shelves full of makeup that’s been sent to you by different brands, and one of these nights, you plan on just messing around at your vanity.

You like living alone, you decide. You can leave all the lights on if you want, and no one complains about it hurting their eyes. You have full control of the thermostat. You don’t have to fight for counter space in the bathroom. Plus, no one can see how you’re living.

At 9:13 PM, you’re sprawled on the cool marble floor of your bathroom (squeaky clean thanks to the housekeeper you have come once a week), and instead of rewatching that dreadful video and subsequently crying, you had a quick retail therapy session. Your new Prada heels should be coming within the next two days.

You don’t get Benji to drive you. Nobody bats an eye at a rich girl having a driver, but it does seem kind of weird to have him drop you off at a party as if you're a tween girl getting taken to the mall. If the house is owned by one of Yukimiya’s teammates, surely it won’t be too awkward if you had to leave it there because you got too drunk to drive yourself back home?

Because — no offense to Yuki, you’re happy he’s getting another birthday celebration — the whole point of even going to this party is to get fucked up. You already know that Juliette had a point — if not TMZ, then at least Daily Mail will be all over Rin and that girl in the club. If that gets leaked, then you might as well have your own headline to combat his. Sure, lately you’ve been out partying, but that was with other models so it doesn’t raise too many eyebrows. Rin being caught at a club is basically him hard launching the breakup. You need to raise some speculation on your side of things, too.

you: can you get someone to pick up my car from this address tomorrow morning? you: please :)

When you see three dots appear, you smile for real. You can practically hear her sigh and see the shake of her head.

Fumiko Gima: Yes. Fumiko Gima: Be safe.

Aw, maybe your manager does have a heart. Right before you can send her a heart, she adds:

Fumiko Gima: Don’t stay out too late. You have your first shoot at 8 AM.

This is the message you give a heart reaction to. Maybe everything really is just business with her.

You suppose you can’t fault Fumiko for always seeming cold. She’s your manager, not your best friend.

In this industry, her honesty is refreshing. You normally find this to be the case, but you really feel it now when you step into the mansion and hear a cacophony of laughter swarming you from all sides. At every turn, there’s a celebrity with a drink in hand. Everyone’s leaning towards each other, as if they’re so captivated with the other’s words.

You see an actor leading a stumbling model up the spiral staircase. To your side, you see a baseball player chatting up the daughter of one of the baseball league’s board members. Upstairs, someone’s probably snorting a line off Yukimiya’s teammate’s bathroom counter. There are only three reasons why people in your social circle attend these parties: to get fucked, to get fucked up, or to make business deals. Considering the fact that you’ve been here for nearly five minutes and have yet to see a birthday cake — or the belated birthday boy himself — you’re pretty sure everyone here has lot the damn plot for the original celebration.

When you venture some more, you end up in the massive backyard. Some people are drunkenly making out in the pool, some people are watching them, and in a table in the corner, you spot a group of girls giggling and cheering as they all do shots. Perfect. This is exactly where you need to be.

One’s a model; you’ve seen her on a couple pages you flipped through in Harper’s Bazaar. You go up to the table and give her a bright smile.

“Hey, girl! Or should I say Miss Bazaar?” You greet her like how you think people would tease a friend. She’s not your friend; you don’t even know her name. You know she knows your name — everyone here does. And it’s because of the fact that everyone knows you that she lights up when she realizes you’re speaking to her.

A photo op with you guarantees that even if the headline coming out tomorrow is centered on you, she’ll still be in the frame. Daily Mail will add a caption naming everybody from left to right, and she’s planning on being the one captured right next to you.

“[Name]!” She squeals, giving you a quick side hug. “How have you been?”

All your friends, the grand total of exactly two people, know how you’ve been. You grin, pointing to the bottle of tequila they have on their table.

“After how this day has been, I honestly just need a shot.” You play it off like a joke, and as someone pours you one, you add, “Or maybe like five.” They all giggle before throwing back the tequila straight. They might think you’re joking, but this table full of strangers are the first people you’ve been honest with all day.

At 12:15 AM, they aren’t strangers anymore. In fact, you think they might be your best friends in the whole world. You don’t know the lyrics to the rap song blaring through the bass boosted speakers, but you’re laughing as you take another shot. The Harper’s Bazaar girl is doing another shot with you, but she has her phone in her other hand. She makes sure that the both of you are in the frame together, and a second later, she’s tagging you in an Instagram story you don’t bother to view. You’re not even following her.

“Okay, so out of all the guys here, who looks the most fuckable?” One of the girls leans on the table for support as she asks this question. You can’t help but notice how glittery her lipgloss is. Wow, even after all the shots she’s taken, there’s no transfer. Impressive. “I say Theo Sachs.”

“Who the fuck is Theo Sachs?” Harper’s Bazaar asks, and the whole entire table giggles. Honestly, at parties like these, laughing comes easy. In fact, you’re giggling right with them, even though you also have no fucking clue who Theo is. There’s just something so freeing in tequila-induced joy.

“Um, the host of this party?” Glittery Lipgloss says. “Oh my God, girl, he’s like, one of the players for Bastard.”

“The fuck is Bastard?” Another girl asks, adjusting her blue minidress.

“The soccer team!” Glittery Lipgloss is too drunk to be fed up, but you’re sure she would be rolling her eyes if she could.

“I didn’t know we had soccer players here. I only saw baseball players.” Blue Minidress frowns, before adding, “I would totally fuck one of the baseball boys, though. No preference whatsoever. Matter of fact, I could take the whole team.”

Harper’s Bazaar laughs. “What about you, [Name]? Who are you taking home tonight?”

Before you can think of something to say, Glittery Lipgloss groans. “Oh my God, she has a boyfriend.” She looks at you for confirmation. You don’t give her any, but thankfully Blue Minidress has her own insight to add to this conversation.

“So what the fuck does that have to do with her question? [Name], who are you taking home tonight?”

Nobody. Out of every party you’ve gone to this past month, you went back home, completely and utterly alone each and every time. It’s not even because nobody offered — they have — but because no matter how lonely you may get or feel, you don’t like strangers in your space. It took you three months of dating Rin to let him into the penthouse you were originally staying in, and that was with you being in love with him.

Once again, you’re saved from answering when someone behind you goes, “[Name]?”

You turn around, only to come face to face with Yoichi Isagi. On second thought, maybe this isn’t the rescue you thought it was. Drunk You can’t hold back your frown when you see him. He’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and chinos. He looks perfectly business casual and could pass off as an off-the-clock investment banker instead of the world class athlete you’ve heard he is. Then you let out a little snort of laughter, which only makes him look more confused. You don’t want to tell him that it’s kind of funny how normal he looks.

Not in a bad way. You’re surrounded by models for practically the whole day. Looking unattainably hot or having ethereal beauty is the one non-negotiable job requirement. Even Rin, with his stupidly long lower lashes and impossibly high cheekbones and his pretty boy resting sulking face, is serving standards some male models can’t achieve. Isagi looks like the type of guy you would have a crush on if the two of you were completely normal and attended regular high school together.

But that’s not the reality you’re living in. Right now, you’re getting drunk with girls you don’t know, and every night, you’re making headlines. He’s a professional athlete that everyone at this table would gladly fuck just for a chance to be declared social media’s favorite WAG of the Week. The both of you could have your pick of anyone at this party, but you refuse to let anyone in, and you think Isagi might be one of those intense athletes who only care about their sport.

If that’s the case, he’s doing every girl a favor by not pretending he can commit to anything but soccer. You know someone who could use a few pointers.

“Hi,” you mumble, and then you want to slap yourself because why the fuck are you acting like you’re nervous? But for some reason, you feel like you're a kid caught with their grimy hand in the cookie jar, like you’re doing something wrong.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Well, it’s Kenny’s birthday party. Of course, I’d be here.” You cross your arms against your chest, feeling like you have something to prove. Before Yukimiya became his teammate, Kenyu was your friend first. Like, real friend, not just someone you leave supportive comments on their Instagram post type of friend.

Isagi actually smiles when he hears that. “Funny. I think everyone but Yukimiya actually wants to be here.”

You sober up a bit when you hear that. “Yeah, I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Not that you looked very hard. The minute you found this table of girls, you didn’t bother exploring the rest of the mansion.

“He was upstairs with some of the guys. You know that he, uh, doesn’t really like these types of parties.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“You don’t seem like the type to like these parties either.” If he was anyone else, you’d be saying this to flirt. You’re honestly not sure what your intention behind this comment was, either. You’re too drunk to decide if you wanted it to be an insult (some way to defend Yukimiya’s behavior?) or just you trying to make conversation for once (you’re not normally one for small talk).

“Caught me.” Isagi smiles easily. From now and thinking back to Yukimiya’s birthday lunch, Isagi is rarely not smiling. You wonder if he means it. Surrounded by people who only let you drink with them because being seen with you elevates their own status, you decide that the answer to that is a probably not. “I was about to head out before I thought I saw you, and I wanted to come by and…” For a second, he pauses to choose the right words to say. “Just wanted to see if it really was you.”

“Well, you saw me. Guess your business is done here.” Then you swiftly turn your back to him, as if to abruptly end the conversation. Instead, you’re drunker than you realize, and your heel ends up being wedged deeper into the grass than you expected, and you lose your balance. You think you might fall, which would be so embarrassing, but maybe not as embarrassing as what actually ends up happening.

What actually ends up happening is that Isagi is quick to wrap his arm around your abdomen, pulling you close to him as he attempts to keep you steady and upright. The girls looked shocked, but then they burst into another round of giggles, and since you’re not joining in the laughter, all you can think about is how annoying they are. You squirm around in his grasp, ignoring the whiff of fresh laundry you get from being all up in his personal space (not by choice!!!; he’s the one that pulled you in, after all!), and he releases you.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks you. It’s hard to glare at him when he looks so genuinely concerned.

“Never better.”

“Do you have a ride home?”

What does it matter to you? Is what you want to say.

“I’ll call an Uber.” You lie, hoping that this will end the conversation once and for all. Seriously, Isagi just killed the whole vibe of the party for you. You want to go back to drinking.

“But I thought you didn’t do Ubers.” When Isagi calls you out on your bullshit, you soften momentarily. You almost forgot that he heard about your weird thing of having strangers know your home address. Then, you go back to giving him the cold shoulder. Sometimes, it’s a warm and gooey feeling to be known. Right now, you want to drown your sorrows in tequila and be showered with fake affection by girls who probably don’t even like you sober. You didn’t come to this party to be known. You came here for revenge.

(You’re not going to acknowledge how drinking your sadness away isn’t necessarily showing up Rin, but for nearly an hour straight, you hadn’t thought about him, and that’s good enough.)

When you have no response to that (wit doesn’t come easy when you’re in the condition you’re in right now), Isagi looks at you imploringly.

“Let me take you home.”

You shake your head childishly, almost saying nuh-uh. “Just because you don’t like this party doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m staying right here.”

He finally frowns. “Fine. I’ll wait for you to finish up here, then I’ll take you home.”

“I’m with my friends right now. Leave me alone.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Which friend is going to make sure you get home safely? Yukimiya already left early.” Despite the two of you not knowing what the other is thinking, you both give wry smiles about that statement for the same reason. The party is still going on strong, despite the guest of honor not wanting to show his face and leaving early.

“These are my best friends.” You gesture to the trio of girls you know nothing about, besides the fact that they can keep up with your drinking habits. They all smile at Isagi, who waves back before turning his attention back to you.

“Really?” He asks. “What’re their names again?”

No one has anything to say to that, especially you. When the silence gets too awkward, Isagi clears his throat and also puts his foot down.

“I’m taking you home, [Name].”

You look at the trio of strangers you just spent hours with. Harper’s Bazaar shrugs, and the other two look away. The sting of not knowing who they are, despite them obviously having enough notoriety to be invited, makes your “best friends” not your friends anymore. Whatever.

“Fine.” You grumble, following Isagi to his car.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Is what he asks you as he signals to make a turn. The clicking of the turn signal is the only thing that fills the silence in the car.

No.

Sometimes, it’s fun in the moment, but that’s only when you’re drunk enough to trick yourself into thinking you’re having a good time. You’re more like Yukimiya (and — gross — Isagi) than they know; the whole “It Girl dominates the party scene” vibe you’ve got going on… It’s just bullshit that your PR team mixes together to get people talking. The high of being adored by everyone in a room vanishes almost immediately the minute you go home and wash off your makeup. In the bright lights of your bathroom, you stare at the sad, lonely girl in the mirror. It’s too dark outside for you to see anything out the window, but you lean your head against the cool glass, and before you know it, you’re waking up…

To Isagi groping you?

You’re groggy and confused and trying to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes, but Yoichi Isagi is definitely all up on you. You’re shocked, honestly. He looks like such a sweet guy! No wonder he was so pushy in getting you home.

He’s holding you in some awkward side hug, and he’s patting down your waist, trying to slip his fingers through the fabric of your dress, and finally, because he must be a novice-level pervert who doesn’t know the first thing about female anatomy, you speak up.

“Gross! You can’t even feel up a girl properly! No wonder you take advantage of drunk, vulnerable girls!”

“Ah!” He jerks back, shocked that you’re awake. Serves the pervert right. He should be backing up. You took a month of kickboxing classes (your modeling agency thought it would be the next big thing, since all the Victoria Secret models kickbox — they were wrong). “I-I wasn’t feeling you up!”

“Then why were your hands all over me?”

“I was looking for your key! You were asleep, and you looked like you needed it, so I just carried you to your door, but it’s locked.”

Oh. Likely story. You’re not letting him off the hook just yet.

“Obviously my front door would be locked, dumbass. Who doesn’t lock their house?” You point to the perfectly trimmed hedges by your door. “Key’s in the bushes.”

Since you’re making no moves to get down on your knees and rifle through the bushes, Isagi sighs and does it himself. When he holds up the key, you nod in thanks, take it, and then proceed to unlock the door using your fingerprint.

He blinks. “What?”

“What?” You repeat back, innocently.

“You didn’t even need the key to unlock the door!”

“Yes, Isagi. Modern technology is something, isn’t it?” And because you feel kind of bad, you offer him the chance to wash up before driving back.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Isagi says from the kitchen sink. You’re sitting on a stool by the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing bad.” He clarifies. “It’s just… Rin’s a pretty private person. We always wondered what his girlfriend must be like. Sorry.” He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands. “Ex-girlfriend, I guess.”

“How do you know that?” You’ve been racking your brain, wondering if Yuki spilled your secret accidentally. Or — even worse — Rin himself confirmed it. Rin never even told anyone explicitly that the two of you were dating, so it’s not plausible that he would go blab about the breakup.

“Well, I didn’t really know for sure until I drove you home that first time.” He admits. “I just thought you made a weird face when I mentioned Rin during lunch, and then you started acting funny afterwards. Just had a hunch, that’s all.”

Great. So, Isagi, who’s basically a stranger to you, could read you to filth. Is there anyone else that you haven’t been fooling? How embarrassing. Being perceived sucks.

You don’t say anything else. You can hear Isagi mumbling about something, and you make a half-hearted noise in reply, but you’re sleepy and drunk and coming to the realization that you can’t keep fooling everyone around for long. There’s no point in dancing around the topic of your breakup. It’s getting tiring, anyway.

It is pretty exhausting to be pining after someone who’s not coming back.

Because that’s why you’re trying so hard to keep the breakup a secret. Partly for pride, but mostly because… You’re hoping that after learning everything there is to know about you, Rin Itoshi wouldn’t go so far to cut you so deeply by leaving you. Right? He understood your level of loneliness like no one else, and he related to it. For the first time in both of your lives, the two of you suddenly found the right person to fill in all the empty spaces.

And then he left, and the emptiness just continues to grow in infinite amounts.

You groan as you move around, only to find that you’re moving on top of your bed. You’re tucked into your sheets, and your hair is splayed across your pillow. You turn your head and see a shadowy figure exiting out your bedroom door.

“You’re leaving, too?”

Your throat is dry, and the words come out small. You hate this feeling of hopelessness and vulnerability, and the figure pauses in his steps.

He hushes you gently. “You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long night.”

“Fine. Don’t stay. I don’t care.” You burrow yourself further into your blankets.

“Do you really want me to stay?”

At one in the morning, covered in the darkness of your bedroom, you turn every shadow into Rin Itoshi. You don’t know what you mumble in response, but you know that whatever you said, it’s directed towards him.

#yoichi isagi x reader #yoichi isagi x you #isagi x reader #one shot #fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #smau #series: if you feel like falling

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year ago

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The Golden Ratio - Part One

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Derogatory language, angst, mentions of parental death, mentions of infidelity. Word count: ~4.5k

Chapter summary: Her relationship strains under the pressure of long distance, though she has her classmate, Michael, to help distract from the worst of it.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She is sweaty and exasperated as she drags her suitcase over the cobbles of Holywell Street. One of the already precariously wonky wheels had finally given up the ghost and broken off as she’d dragged it up the stairs of Oxford train station, making the fifteen minute walk to her accommodation more tiring than it needed to be.

But she was here, finally. Oxford University.

Her dad had sold the car to make sure she had money to live on until her student loan and maintenance grant had been paid to her. He didn’t want her taking a part time job to make ends meet, she’d worked hard to earn her place here, her focus should be on her studies. Coming from a low income family meant she had qualified for the maximum amount for both maintenance loan and grant, but her first set of application forms had been misplaced by Student Finance, so she’d had to send in a second set, meaning there would be a delay with her first payment.

An unfortunate consequence of her dad not having a car is that she’d had to get the train to London Victoria, a tube to Paddington, then another train to Oxford. But it is not the fact that she is seemingly the only student whose parents aren’t obstructing the pavements with their cars in order to drop them off that makes her feel like an outcast, there is something deeper, more sinister feeling.

She sees it as she struggles to get her bag across the lawn of the Halls, people grouped in little clusters, as though they’ve been friends forever. They dress in Juicy Couture velour tracksuit bottoms and brand name Ugg Boots, while she wears her mum’s old Dr. Martens and a tartan skirt she’d bought in a charity shop for one pound fifty. She doesn’t fit in. She feels she may as well wear the word “poor” across her forehead like a scarlet letter.

Having checked in at the Porters’ Lodge and been given directions to the accommodation, it’s lonely as she unpacks her things, her room feeling empty and quiet. The only sounds are muffled talking and laughter coming through the closed window from outside. She feels lonelier still when she pulls out the framed photo of her and Rich. They’re both smiling, his arms wrapped around her waist as she leans her head against his. It had felt like their relationship would last forever when that picture was taken. That seemed like much less of a possibility over the last couple of weeks.

She had met Rich at the beginning of sixth form. Having attended Chatham Grammar School for Girls, she had decided to stay on there to do her A levels. The mathematics department was decent, and she had heard Russell Group universities were more likely to consider applications that came from grammar schools. Rich had transferred over from Robert Napier School. Where she was shy, quiet and reserved, he was lively, outgoing and sociable. His zest for life had shone a bright light on an existence that was, for her, otherwise dull and grey.

They were an unlikely pairing. She was logical, analytical and studied maths and physics. Rich was creative, free spirited and guided by emotion. He studied art and music. They had been together for two years and she had thought he was the one. But then it came time for UCAS applications, and where she had applied to Oxford, Cambridge and York, Rich had applied to Leeds, Brighton and Glasgow. It seemed that no matter where they were accepted, they were destined to be apart.

When she had received an unconditional offer from Oxford she had been elated, however, the crushing devastation upon hearing Rich had been accepted into The Glasgow School of Art with a conditional offer had quickly dulled her excitement.

She had never felt like an outsider or a loner when she was with Rich. Basking in his sunny disposition had felt effortless, she never felt alone. He was going to take all of that away, and she was unsure of how to cope with it.

“We’ll make it work long distance, don’t worry,” he’d told her, and she’d believed him.

But then he had actually gone to Glasgow. Fresher’s week in Glasgow started a week earlier than it did in Oxford, so Rich had moved away first. It didn’t take long for the texts and phone calls to dry up into nothing. She had heard from him once in the last few days.

She sighs as she slides up the screen of her beaten up Nokia. Still nothing. She had text to let him know she was leaving for Oxford today and he couldn’t even be bothered to reply. She knows it’s his first week at university and he’s likely busy and having fun, but how was long distance going to work if they never actually spoke to each other?

Despite the loftiness of the dining hall, it feels stuffy as she moves through it later that evening, taking a seat at a long table crowded with other students. She had hoped that the Fresher’s welcome dinner would be an opportunity to make friends, but everyone seems to be deep in conversation already. The chatter hums loudly like white noise, until it comes to a sudden stop.

“FUCKIN’ ASK ME A SUM THEN!”

She turns, mouth agape, to look at the pair of boys sitting a few places up from her. One is darked haired and seems nervous and uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly in his seat. The other is blonde, an angry, intense expression on his face, shadows cast across it from the lamplight on the table, as he stares in wide eyed anticipation. It was him who had shouted, clearly.

“Four hundred and twenty three times seventy eight,” the dark haired boy asks quietly.

Instantly his friend replies, without missing a beat, “thirty two thousand, nine hundred and ninety four.”

Involuntarily her eyes widen in surprise. She sits there and does the calculation in her head, though much more slowly than he had.

Carry the two, eight times two is sixteen, plus two is eighteen, carry the one…he’s right. How is it possible that he came to that answer so quickly?

When her gaze lifts he is looking at her, observing her doing the working out in her head. He holds her stare, a smirk curving the corners of his mouth. He knows she knows he is right, and it’s clear he feels smug about it.

Quickly looking away, she reaches for her water glass, wanting something, anything, to distract her. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel uneasy.

God, I hope I don’t have any classes with him.

She holds her timetable for the week in her hands as she moves her way through the corridors towards the lecture hall the following morning. The first week looks to be fairly light touch, with an introductory lecture for each of the courses; algebra, analysis, probability and statistics, geometry, dynamics and multivariable calculus. Today is the introduction to analysis, and she is excited to study under the tutelage of Professor Helen Byrne. Her research focuses on the development and analysis of mathematical and computational models that describe biomedical systems, with particular application to the growth and treatment of solid tumours, wound healing and tissue engineering. Professor Byrne is someone she has admired within the field for as long as she can remember, and she is very much looking forward to her tutorials with her.

Her excitement fades when she enters the lecture hall and immediately sees the angry guy from the previous evening.

Just my luck.

The only available seat is next to him, so she sits down, dropping her bag to the floor by her feet.

A hand extends out towards her in her peripheral vision, taking her by surprise and she turns in her seat towards it, shrinking back slightly.

He seems utterly unperturbed by her reaction, keeping his arm extended. “I’m Michael Gavey.”

She blinks, regaining her composure as she leans forward, shaking his hand and introducing herself in return. His palm is clammy against her own, and she can still feel it there even after having let go and wiped her hand on her jeans.

“I saw you last night,” he says matter of factly, pulling his arm back and resting his elbow on the desk in front of him.

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a tight smile, nodding, “so you and your mate…is that like a party trick or something?”

“No, no party trick,” he says with a demure smile. “I’m a genius.”

She forces herself to laugh politely, assuming he’s making a joke, but she stops, her brow furrowing slightly when she sees he doesn’t share in the humour. He’s being serious.

Opening her mouth to ask a follow up question, she’s interrupted as Professor Byrne sweeps into the room. Her and Michael both face forward in their seats as she introduces herself to the class.

Over the next hour they are given an introduction to the course and what to expect in their first year, including an overview of the papers they will need to write and examinations that will be sat. She pays rapt attention, scribbling furious notes, until the lecture begins to wrap up.

“As it’s the first week, I will go easy on assignment setting,” Professor Byrne tells them all, “but there will be an assignment nonetheless.”

A loud, collective groan echoes around the lecture hall. Her and Michael are the only two not to join in.

“Now, now, settle down,” she chastises, “it’ll be fun. I’m sure you’re all aware of the Fibonacci Sequence, a series of numbers where each number is the sum of the two preceding numbers. Mathematically we can describe this as–”

She turns and scrawls xn= xn-1 + xn-2 on the chalkboard, before facing the students again.

“--I’d like you all to find an example of the Fibonacci Sequence in real life and present it back to the class during next week’s lecture. You’re to work in pairs, so buddy up, and see you all next week.”

Professor Byrne places the chalk back on the desk before striding back out of the lecture hall. The room is instantly a buzz with chatter, as people move between seats to find a partner.

She stays rooted in place, suddenly wishing Rich was here. It’s in moments like these that he flourishes, allowing her to take a backseat as he effortlessly navigates them through social interactions. Instead, she is alone and the space around her feels bigger and scarier with every moment that passes.

It’s only when she turns her head that she notices Michael has yet to move too. Gathering all the courage she can muster, she clears her throat and speaks to him.

“So…er…did you wanna partner up for this thing then?”

“I don’t like to work with others,” he says matter of factly, keeping his gaze fixed ahead.

“I’m not exactly thrilled about it either,” she says with a sigh, “but for this assignment we have to.”

“You’ve picked me because I’m a genius. You’ll expect me to do all the work while you get pissed with your mates.”

He fixes her with an accusatory stare, and she feels the heat of anger prickle her skin.

“Haven’t got any mates,” she mutters darkly.

He observes her for a few moments, elbow propped on the desk, jaw resting against his fist, and she fidgets self consciously in her seat. No wonder the other boy from last night had looked so uncomfortable. It feels like he’s studying her.

“Let’s go to the library,” he says simply, standing and picking up his bag.

“So, you’re a genius?” She asks, opening her notebook once they’re seated opposite each other at a table in the library, nervously tapping her pencil against the page.

“Hmm,” Michael nods, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger, “I don’t even like maths, really. I can just…do it. Anything. In my head.”

She’s struck by how blunt he is, sucking in a breath as she considers what to say next. There is something so disarming about him, she gets the sense he’s analysing her every word and action.

“Right,” she begins, “so, er, for this assignment I was thinking about how Leonardo Fibonacci used rabbits to prove his theory. One hundred and forty four pairs of rabbits can be produced from a single pair of rabbits in a year, based on the sequence.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Michael replies with a sigh.

“What?” She asks irritably, annoyed by his dismissal.

“What are you expecting us to do, go to a pet shop and buy rabbits? We’ve only got a week to do the assignment, we need to be more practical.”

She rolls her eyes. “I was using that as an example, not saying we do that exactly! Come on then, genius, what’s your suggestion?”

“Spirals,” he says with a slight shrug. He leans across, placing the tips of his fingers on her notebook and sliding it towards himself, before picking up her pencil. “There is a special relationship between the Fibonacci numbers and the Golden Ratio, a ration that describes when a line is divided into two parts and the longer part - A - divided by the smaller part - B - is equal to the sum of A + B divided by A, which both equal one point six one eight. This is represented by the Greek letter,” he stops to scribble a φ on the pad. “The ratio of any two successive Fibonacci Numbers approximates the Golden Ratio value.” He stops again, scrawling 1.6180339887 on the page. The bigger the pair of Fibonacci numbers, the closer the approximation. From there, we can calculate what's called the golden spiral, or a logarithmic spiral whose growth factor equals the golden ratio.”

She is stunned into a silence for a moment, a combination of his audacity to simply take her belongings, and awe at the rapidity with which his mind works. Collecting herself, she blinks a few times, looking up into his eyes.

They’re so blue.

“So…er…how do you propose we present this data back to the class?”

“A simple table is sufficient, look–”

His hand moves rapidly over the page, a complete table there on the paper when he drops the pencil into the gutter of the notebook and sits back in his chair.

“We present that,” he tells her, his eyes fixed on the page. “Using the values of the sequence as the edge length of squares arranged in the table, a spiral is generated.”

She leans over, sliding the notebook back to her side of the table, marvelling silently at his work. He is fascinating to watch. He’s right, he can just do maths.

“It’s good,” she says, eye flitting up to meet his, “solid. But it’s fucking boring.”

This time it’s his turn to be annoyed. “What?” He asks, eyes narrowing.

“Everyone is going to present something like this, because it’s easy,” she explains, “Don’t you want to stand out to Professor Byrne? We should do something outside of the box.”

“Hmm. Go on then, what are you thinking?” He rests his cheek against his fist, leaning against the table as he stares at her.

She feels herself grow warm under his scrutiny.

Does he always have to be so bloody intense?

“There are loads of examples of Fibonacci numbers appearing in nature. We could look for some? Flowers, perhaps.”

“I’ve got hayfever,” Michael states simply.

She sighs.

Of course you do.

“Then we’ll get you some Piriton! Come on, there are studies that show seed heads, pinecones, fruits and vegetables all displaying spiral patterns that when counted express Fibonacci numbers. This fits perfectly with the brief of the assignment and will leave a lasting impression.”

He moves his hand away from his face, resting his arm flat on the table and quietly drumming his fingers against it for a few moments. “Alright then,” he finally concedes.

“Great,” she grins excitedly, tearing out a page from her notebook and writing on it hurriedly. “Here’s my number, so we can meet up to work on it, and also my Hotmail address, in case MSN works better for you.”

He huffs through his nose as he takes the paper from her, a soft laugh escaping him. “The countess at hotmail dot co dot uk,” he reads with amusement, “very droll.”

“Shut up,” she grins back, “I made that in secondary school. Thought it was funny.”

Back in her room that evening, she’s excited to see she has a text from Rich, finally.

Hope ur enjoying it. Having so much fun here!

She sighs, throwing her phone down on the bed side table. No kisses, not even an “I love you”.

Watching out of the window, she sees the giggling groups of students making their way out into town, readying themselves to spend the night drinking, making friends and having fun. Just like Rich is doing, not giving her a second thought, while she stays cooped up in her room without a friend in the world.

Suspicion nags at her, so she turns on her laptop, loading up MySpace. Rich takes number one place on her top eight friends, and she clicks on his profile. It looks much the same as it always does, but she decides to snoop further, clicking into his friends list. She can see he has recently friended a girl named Sophie.

Sophie is pretty, bright pink streaks in her hair, and a nose ring. Exactly Rich’s type. Her most recently uploaded photos are of groups of people, clearly all taken during Fresher’s week. A pit forms in her stomach as she sees that in almost all of them Sophie and Rich have their arms around each other. Worse still, Rich occupies space eight in Sophie’s top friends.

She closes the browser, blinking back tears. Surely, she is just being paranoid. They’re just friends. Friends have photos together, and it was normal that he would make new ones when he went away to uni.

Opening MSN Messenger, she hovers over Rich’s username. Unsurprisingly, he’s offline, he always is these days. She smiles when an add request from [email protected] pops up. Of course he’d have Tau, the mathematical constant, in his Hotmail address. She clicks accept and he immediately appears in her online contacts. Looks like he isn’t out tonight either.

Double clicking his username, she chuckles to herself upon seeing his display picture is of Pythagoras. Such a dweeb.

“Want to work on our assignment tomorrow?” She types to him.

Barely a few seconds pass before she sees him typing back. “Yes. When?”

“We could meet at the Water Meadow at lunch time?”

“See you then.”

Straight to the point, no idle chit chat. She shakes her head and closes the messenger window, though finds herself strangely excited by the thought of seeing him tomorrow. She reasons that it’s because Michael is the closest thing she has had to a friend since arriving at Oxford.

She visits the nearby Tesco Express the following day, buying a meal deal for each of them and a packet of hayfever tablets for Michael. She has no idea of what Michael even likes, so plays it safe by buying a bottle of Oasis, a Crunchie bar and a ham and cheese sandwich for them both.

At precisely noon, Michael stands at the entrance to the Water Meadow waiting for her. She smiles as she looks at his t-shirt; maroon with a diagram of a circle on a gradient with a downwards acceleration of 9.81 meters per second, with the slogan “that’s how I roll”. A mechanics pun.

“Like your shirt,” she says as she approaches him.

He grins. “Thought you might, considering your email address.”

She averts her gaze. There is something about the fact that he’d thought of her when he’d chosen what to wear today that makes her tummy flutter.

Stop it. You’ve got Rich. Michael’s weird!

“I got you some hayfever tablets,” she tells him as they start to walk along the pathway that’s flanked by green space on either side. “Do you wanna have lunch first and then start looking for flowers?”

They settle, cross legged on the grass, Michael already having taken one of the tablets, chased with half a bottle of Oasis, and she spreads out the food between them.

She watches in fascination as his eyes widen at the sight of the Crunchie bars, snatching one up and tearing off the wrapper. Her mouth falls open slightly as she sees him hold it sideways, biting into it from the side, before devouring each of the pieces it inevitably breaks into.

“You like Crunchie bars then?” She asks, a little grossed out, but curious nonetheless.

He swallows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Mother didn’t allow me to have sweets growing up, bad for your teeth, she said.”

She nods, a feeling over pity replacing the disgust that had roiled her stomach just seconds ago.

“So, is it your mum that pushed you into studying maths?” She asks, fiddling with the lid of her drink bottle.

“Sort of,” he says. “Mother never married, but she wanted a child. She used a sperm donor - a physicist, apparently - and was artificially inseminated to have me. She was thrilled when I showed a natural aptitude for maths, and has always encouraged me. It’s why I do it, why I accepted the scholarship, to make her proud. She’s been through so much to have me, it’s the least I owe her.”

Her face falls, a feeling of sadness overwhelming her, making her heart ache for Michael. There is something so tragic about the fact that he has lived his entire life adhering to the expectations of the person who had created him for their own selfish want of a child.

“What about you then?” He asks. “The bank of mummy and daddy paying for you to be here?”

She shakes her head. “I earned my place, just like you did, with straight As, though I don’t have a scholarship. Have had to take out loans to cover the cost. It’s just me and dad since mum passed away.”

“Oh,” Michael says, blinking rapidly, obviously surprised. “Apologies, I’d assumed a pretty girl like you would be the same as the rest of the vapid cunts studying here, if you can call it studying.”

She hums in acknowledgement, considering his words, turning her own Crunchie bar around in her fingers, focusing on the way the foil wrapper slides against her skin. His compliment makes her heart beat more rapidly, even if it is backhanded. “Like I said yesterday, I’ve got no mates. It was always Rich that was better at that sort of thing.”

“Rich?” Michael asks curiously, cocking his head.

“My boyfriend. He’s at uni in Glasgow.”

“Three hundred and sixty two point nine miles,” Michael states simply.

“Pardon?”

“That’s the distance between Oxford and Glasgow,” he explains, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “How are you planning to make a relationship work with that sort of distance?”

“We’re doing long distance,” she argues, feeling herself growing defensive, scowling at him.

“Yeah, I bet that’s gonna work out great,” he scoffs, eyes widening, clearly mocking her.

“The Glasgow School of Art was the best choice for Rich to study what he wants to,” she retorts.

A grin spreads across his face. “Art?! I suppose you should be grateful he’s hundreds of miles away then, he sounds like a moron.”

She huffs, hurriedly shoving her things back into her bag. “Let’s just look for these fucking flowers and get this over with.”

The pair work for the rest of the afternoon in silence, the atmosphere is tense and angry, but they are productive nevertheless, settling on a patch of sunflowers to use for the assignment.

They look at the spirals of seeds in the center of the sunflowers and observe patterns curving left and right. Counting these spirals, their total is a Fibonacci number. They then divide the spirals into those pointed left and right to get two consecutive Fibonacci numbers.

Cutting down a couple of sunflower heads to use as examples, Michael also makes a diagram in his notes for them to present with their findings.

She feels satisfied by the time they part ways, but an uneasy feeling has settled over her that has dread gnawing into her gut as she thinks about Michael’s criticism of her and Rich’s long distance relationship.

Unsurprised to see she has no missed calls or texts from him when she goes back to her room, she opens up her laptop and logs back onto MySpace. This time when she looks at Rich’s profile her blood runs cold as she sees that Sophie now occupies space number three in his top friends. He’d had time to log on and change the position of a girl he’d met a couple of weeks ago, but couldn’t be bothered to send her a single message?

Before she can stop herself, she’s pulling out her phone and calling his number. She doesn’t care if this wastes all of her credit, she needs answers.

It rings for ages, and she anticipates being sent to voicemail, until he eventually answers, sounding breathless and distracted.

“H-hello?”

“Rich, it’s me,” she says quietly.

There’s a pause before he answers. “Oh…how’s my little nerd? Everything okay?”

She ignores the familiarity, keeping her tone neutral. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to be honest with me.”

Not giving him an opportunity to respond, she pushes on. “Has something happened between you and this Sophie girl I’ve seen you on Myspace with?”

Another pause, except this time she hears him inhale a deep breath. “I was going to tell you when we came home for Christmas break. It felt wrong to break up with you over the phone.”

It feels as though the bottom of her world has been ripped away, her heart twisting painfully as her vision blurs with tears. She swallows thickly, anger bubbling alongside her devastation, so that her tone is venomous when she replies “So, you were just gonna keep stringing me along for two months, so you could look like a good guy?!”

“Babe, no, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I just–”

“You’re a piece of shit,” she cuts him off, “fuck you!”

She hangs up, chucking her phone down onto the bed, and immediately bursts into tears, holding her head in her hands as hot tears stream down her face, her shoulders shaking as her nose grows snotty.

Two years. Two fucking years and he’d chucked it all away for someone he’d known for two weeks.

She walks towards the sink in her room, looking into the mirror and sighing at her reflection. Her eyes are red and puffy, she looks a mess. Splashing cold water onto her face to rid herself of the worst of it, she then flops down onto her bed, opening her laptop.

Immediately she is met with her MSN chat window with Michael from the previous evening. He’s online.

Without thinking, she types out a message to him.

“Do you have any alcohol?”

Within seconds he’s typing a response.

“Would you like me to have alcohol?”

Chapter two || Series masterlist

#michael gavey x reader #michael gavey x you #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey smut #michael gavey angst #michael gavey #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #ewan mitchell #saltburn #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fanfic #michael gavey fan fic #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fan fic #saltburn fanfic

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crazymadpassionatelove · 8 months ago

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Cool Fiancè

Notes: 18+ sex mentioned

Special shout-out to @ab4eva and her fabulous editing skills! This is the second installment in my cool girl saga. Read Part 1 here

---

Five Things to know about Austin Butler’s New Fiance ::

Although his reps couldn't be reached for comment, sources close to the Elvis actor confirm he has popped the question to his mysterious lady love!

Butler and the stunning brunette were recently spotted at the iconic Les Puces market in Paris last Friday, and she seemed to be sporting a new accessory. Austin was dressed in a black leather jacket, a white v neck tee, and black moto boots. She was clad in a classic trench coat and vintage Dior kitten heels as she kept her head down and let the winner lead the way. His face was mostly obscured by aviator sunglasses, but his smile was very apparent according to onlookers. “Austin was holding her hand and pointing out jewelry at different booths. They were very friendly with local vendors and Austin ended up buying her a gold charm bracelet. He told the dealer the bracelet was a momento to celebrate their recent engagement,” a fellow American tourist overheard. The twosome reportedly spent the prior week soaking in the city of lights and meeting with the YSL fashion house. Austin was recently tapped as the brand's newest ambassador.

Since returning stateside paparazzi pics have finally surfaced and revealed a closer look at that ring. Montana based indie jeweler Jada Kaye has been revealed as the designer of that serious sparkler. The 5 carat, flawless emerald-cut emerald is set in solid gold and flanked by two white diamonds on either side. Inside sources told Elle Magazine that Kaye and Butler worked closely together to craft the one of a kind creation. There's even rumored to be an inscription on the inside that's significant to the couple and the ring is estimated to cost a cool $100,000. Austin's fiancè was photographed heading into a ballet studio yesterday wearing pink tights, a pink leotard, Ugg boots, and of course that ring. Her curly dark brown hair was slicked back into a bun and she seemed to be sporting a pair of the actor's sunglasses.

Here's everything you need to know about the future Mrs. Austin Butler;

She's from New England —

A, as she's known, was born in Rhode Island. She grew up splitting her time between Rhode Island and Kennebunkport, Maine. Her teenage years were spent working the local Del’s lemonade truck, former neighbors say. She attended the Rhode Island School of Design after high school but never graduated.

She and Austin met via her former job –

Whilst working at the New York location of Vibrant Vintage, A, served as the fashion archives buyer. She also happened to be on hand when Butler visited the store. Supposedly she helped him find the perfect pair of leather boots, and the rest is history. Things clearly moved quickly between the two lovebirds, with A relocating to Los Angeles not long after. According to Vibrant Vintage, she is no longer employed there but “remains a close friend and consultant,” says their PR team.

She's a hit with his friends –

She organized a birthday party for her man’s co-star and close friend, Callum Turner. Turner posted an Instagram story showing off a fairly large garden party celebration and a “homemade blueberry glaze cake” according to the post. “Huge thanks to Austin's lovely lady xx” accompanied the video footage. She and Austin were also seen dining with his other Masters of the Air co-star, Nate Mann, while in Paris recently.

They've (supposedly ) got matching ink –

An unnamed employee at the iconic Bang Bang tattoo in NYC has said that Austin and A made a late night visit to the tattoo studio. Where exactly are the said-to-be matching minimalistic tattoos? Reportedly, Austin was inked on his left hip and A on her inner left thigh.

Old fashioned love letters are her thing -

Notably social media shy, Austin and A have taken up the lost art of handwritten love notes. Sources exclusively say that custom monogrammed stationery was crafted for the duo whilst Austin was filming in England. The hand pressed, vintage inspired paper bears a unique coat of arms style symbol with intertwining letter A’s and two sparrows (Fun fact! Sparrows mate for life and always find their way back, no matter how far they fly). While separated, the couple often writes letters to one another, even having the letters sent via jet instead of mail for privacy reasons!

_______

Suddenly one morning articles begin to pour in about your engagement. It catches you off guard, that ring akin to a skating rink has been sitting pretty on your hand for a bit now. The engagement had happened so naturally as everything with the two of you seems to. In the early morning hours while his swollen, rock hard member thrusts into you repeatedly you begin to awaken. On your side, his teeth clamp down on your shoulder as his finger twirls round the curls at the nape of your neck.

His gasps and needy groans tickle your ear. “Couldn't help myself..”, he shudders as you suddenly clamp down around him, barely able to register it all. You stretch and arch, allowing him the room and space to take what he needs. It is his after all. His teeth and pillowy soft lips mark your shoulder blades and when you reach down to where the two of you are joined, you feel his very full balls. Your newly manicured fingers tease and tug the best you can, scrunched up like some sort of acrobat. “Ugh, ugh…baby… you're gonna make me -”. Then he does. Hot, viscous, cream floods you and makes you sigh in a contented whimper. “Thanks darlin’,” he pets your head and you close your eyes dreamily. That is until you hear him rustling around in the bedside table next to him.

You cock open an eye, figuring he's looking for smokes or even the book he had been reading late last night. Your hands are stretched above your head, gripping a pillow. The perfect position for him to suddenly slip the most gorgeous piece of jewelry you've ever seen onto your finger. When your eyes shoot open and you jump up, he's lying there grinning that smile that makes you weak at the knees. “Will you be my wife?” As if your answer would be anything but yes, please Daddy. You smother him in kisses, straddling him and giggling. It's the perfect moment, the perfect proposal. You were never one to want a fireworks display or heaven forbid, those ridiculous and wasteful walls of flowers other celebrities seem to have for every occasion. This private, simple moment is everything you could ask for.

You feel the sudden urge to take him in your mouth despite him just finishing. With your head hanging off the side of the bed, you take him down your throat. Choking and gagging, you really give it your all. Fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see the way his lip curls and his eyes slam shut. Talking is always your thing. This time, though, he's sputtering and rasping words of utter devotion and love. Promises to worship your body until the day he dies. My perfect, perfect wife. Soon you can't be sure if the tears are from his cock down your throat, or his beautiful words. Maybe both. Those pretty boy fingers twist and tug on your nipples and then crawl lower and flick that special spot. The only fireworks you enjoy happen, twice for you actually. He's so dutiful and charming, when you're done pulling yourself back together and fixing your hair, he's handing you a surprise glass of champagne. What a way to mark the occasion.

You decline a proper press announcement. Phone and FaceTime calls follow to those who truly matter to you both - your families, both absolutely thrilled. Then Baz, Cal, The Presley's, everyone can't stop gushing about how perfect you are for each other. That ring, oh how sweet he designed it himself. You come up with a family-appropriate story to describe the proposal and the evening that followed, conveniently leaving out the mind-blowing sex the two of you have all over the house and in the hot tub. Why do things feel so different now that you're engaged? You can't get over the way the light hits the ring as you stroke him and something in that dirty girl heart of yours feels like it's really, truly, official when you have to clean his cum off the stone.

He's due back to set for some reshoots a few days later and of course you follow. Bringing throw pillows from your living room to spruce up his trailer and plotting out how to plan the most private, under the radar wedding possible while you lounge in his trailer in a cute little dress you sew yourself from vintage scarves bought in London. Your newest hobby, that and the ballet classes. He yammers on and on about wanting to sneak in and see you dance. You're sure it's just the tights and leotards spurring his interest though, let's be real. The paparazzi are as relentless as ever, but head down with big sunglasses helps keep the chaos at bay.

You visit Disney World, a whole crew, the two of you, your families, friends with their little ones. Thankfully Disney security is familiar with celebrity guests and you can actually let your guard down for once. Which is good, because seeing Austin chase after your friend's newly toddling little ones makes your stomach flip flop with joy. You make a mental note to expedite the wedding plans, he makes it known that he's chomping at the bit to be a father. When you visit Main Street, you decide a pair of new Mickey ears are in order. Gold stitching with Mrs. Butler is what you finally decide on after Austin's encouragement, his hand on your lower back as you walk miles and miles around the park with hands full of churros and cotton candy. Sure, some overzealous fans snap cell phone pics of you with your ears and immediately post them to those ridiculous Austin fan blogs who've now decided you are the evil villain in his story. You won't allow them to burst your Disney bubble though. Your fairytale is just beginning after all.

#ashley finally writes #Cool Girl #Cool Fiance #austin butler #austin x reader #austin butler au #austin butler imagine #elvis presley #austin elvis imagine #austin elvis x reader #lana del ray aesthetic #cool girl #Priscilla #elvis x reader #austin butler fic #austin butler smut #elvis smut

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dreamgrlarchive · 2 years ago

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The Prissy Girl Look

MY aesthetic of girly imagery and elements like fur detailing, pink, rhinestones and mature bougie elements like diamanté details, cheetah prints, form fitting clothing, etc; my lifestyle of traditionally girly activities like beauty routines, decorating, journaling, etc.; just choosing to be an overall black glitzy barbie.

my signatures ❤︎︎

"my signature is medium length pink/nude gel nails, french tip toes, a silk pressed blowout, Chanel Chance Eau Tendre, hoop earrings, long lashes and glossy pink lips."

hoop earrings

rhinestoned lettering

hello kitty charms

heart shaped charms

miu miu framed glasses

silk pressed hair

half up half down ponytails

french tip or pink mani pedis

lace, fur trims, silk

anything sparkly

louis vuitton handbags

victoria’s secret iconic stripe

leopard print

color palette ❤︎︎

PINK PINK PINK! nearly everything i own is PINK! most of my clothes are black. and i fill in the gaps with other neutral colors. my bedroom is full of black and pink. my inspo was a victoria’s secret dressing room. often i wear lots of neutral or black, with extremely cutesy pink accessories like hair bows or purses, and sparkly jewelry.

my staples ❤︎︎

fashion

louis vuitton alma bb

ted baker arycon bags

louis vuitton neverfull pm

ugg boots

tote bags

victoria’s secret stripe totes

hello kitty charm necklace

beauty

mac cosmetics

pin straight silk presses

shimmer pigments

velcro roller curls

essentials

hello kitty mirror

hello kitty phone case

pink + cheetah print hydrojug

pink tumbler

juicy couture stationery

fuzzy pens

fragrance

burberry her

chanel chance eau tendre

armani my way intense

victoria’s secret bombshell in orginal, seduction, and passion

so as my staples demonstrate, i prefer statement accessories rather than clothing. i love the minimalistic and sleek look of basic pieces with a super girly accessory.

core elements ❤︎︎

victoria’s secret angels

video vixens

boudoir aesthetics

sex kitten aura

light hints of off duty ballerina

barbie body, bratz face

Branding Yourself + Beauty Binder 101

#the prissy girl agenda #branding #aesthetic #my posts #me #my signature look

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kittysdiary · 1 year ago

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Kitty’s Guide to Fall/Winter 2023

You’ve all LOVED my season guides so it’s only fair that I continue the tradition and make a fall/winter guide for 2023! In this guide I’ll be going over important topics that will outline what the kitty energy is going to be for the cold + cozy season. This guide will give you a month to prep for a bombshell fall/winter! 🍂🥧🎀

Kitty Energy This Fall/Winter

For this coming season I’m definitely going for that off duty supermodel look. Bombshell curls, doe eyed lash extensions, brown lipglosses and warm toned neutral eyeshadows with a pop of glitter. Layered looks are a must for these up and coming cold months. This years color palette will range from pink, cream, browns and dark denim.

Beauty

Pressed matte powders

Charlotte Tilbury + Patrick Ta are the makeup brand vibes for this up and coming season

Brown lip liners and neutral pink glosses

Long + fluffed lashes. Go for lashes with that seductive cat eye look!

New body butters, face creams, hand creams and face masks that draw in moisture. Weather change can cause dryness + irritation so focusing on products that hydrate is a must!!

French tip nails + toes

Fragrances with warm notes. Ex.) vanilla, cinnamon, spices + cashmere.

Valentino Donna Born in Roma Intense, Dior Poison & Mugler Alien Goddess.

Bellami hair extensions

Hair colors -> blonde, chestnut, deep chocolate brown + jet black.

Messy buns, high ponytails, curtain bangs + sleek styles.

Fashion

Fur coats + fur details that give off trophy wife energy.

Sterling sliver and pretty gold accessories

Bow details

Victoria Secret silk pajama sets + slippers

La Perla and Agent Provocateur lingerie pieces

Tote bags or top handle bags. Find bags with lots of space so you can fill it with travel sized lotion, moisturizer and hand sanitizer.

Knitted cashmere sweaters with a turtleneck to look elegant and cozy.

Velour tracksuits

Fuzzy lounge wear sets + lounge cardigans to wear around the house.

Ear muffs

Pearl + diamond statement pieces

Fluffy slippers

Pink, cream, brown, black + dark denim.

Cheetah and leopard print staple pieces

Small + thick gold hoops

Gloves with a fur trim

Ankle boots + luxurious high heels. Flats for busy days when you’re on your feet like at work.

Essentials

Booked spa, hair and nail appointments

Cozy comforter + blankets

Car maintenance

Snow boots

Invest in bubble bath soaps, bath salts + candles for a relaxing night in.

Buy new calendars, planners + stationary.

Purchase new dishes, silverware and mugs for holiday hosting.

Holiday decor

Thick tights, leggings, leg warmers + undershirts

Uggs

Thermo cups

Cold/flu medicine

Umbrella

Tea + tea brewer

Lip balm

#my post #tips #fall/winter 2023 #kitty’s guide

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glitterphilosophy · 11 days ago

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Reasons why I would not have survived in 2014

Okay, so listen. I know all of us girls, me included, wish more than anything that we were teens during the 2013-15 girlblogger era. I'm 18, so in 2014 I was literally 7, and I never got the opportunity to be a Tumblr girl then, so I'm living my 2014 dream now! However, although i think I'm made for the 2014 life- living and breathing Tumblr, spending my days reading magazines and wearing cute pjs, pink everything and Victorias Secret, being my best most girly princess self- there are some things nowadays that I could so not live without! This post is to remind all the Tumblr girls how lucky we are to be here in 2025 (the new 2015) xx

1. Disney Plus- Disney Plus was only released in 2019! My favourite thing to do in the evenings is sit with a face mask and watch an old Disney movie. True Tumblr girls are obsessed with Disney, they were really missing out in 2014!

2. The bow trend- There are so many options for girly girls nowadays, I love that everything is covered in bows!

3. Stanley cups- Yall can hate all you want- I love my reusable water bottle. Mine isn't a Stanley, its another brand thats leakproof, with a metal straw and lid (and its way cuter imo), its baby pink and keeps my water cold for hours, I love it! I take it everywhere with me, it makes me feel so put together and like such a girly girl.

4. Skincare options- Tell me why abrasive sugar scrubs were normalised for the FACE in 2014? Everytime I watch old videos I am traumatized by their skincare routines, I honestly wonder what those girls look like now 😭 Even though I find the packaging kind of ugly, Byoma has done wonders for my skin, something I struggled with for so long! I couldn't live without clean skincare and my gua sha, honestly.

5. Clean girl makeup- 2010s makeup had its moment, and its beautiful, but matte makeup doesn't suit me at ALL. Some makeup I see thats insanely dewy or with loads of blush I don't love, but overall I much prefer a less heavy look with more cream products- those block brows were not doing me ANY favors.

6. Charlotte Tilbury- Kind of following on from the last point, there is something so VS angel about Charlotte Tilbury makeup. The packaging, the products, I'm OBSESSED. I love keeping my skin looking like skin, while still being cute!

7. Vogue Beauty Secrets- I don't know when these started, but the oldest ones I've watched are from like 2019. Theres nothing better than watching Vogue Beauty Secrets while getting ready in the morning!

8. Music- Don't get me started! Although I adore music from 2014 and before, 2016-19 was really where its at for me. I couldn't live without Thank U, Next, and some of my fav Taylor Swift songs only came out last year! Sometimes I just need to blast Brat to get through my day, and thats ok!

9. Ugg dupes- You can get them ANYWHERE, in so many styles too! I love my platform fluffy uggs and my ultra mini black ones as much as my regular real uggs, I would never have been able to afford so many options in 2014!

10. Heatless curls- My HOLY GRAIL. Was this a thing in 2014? I honestly don't know! I would not cope without my heatless curls set, not using heat on my hair has made it so healthy, and I look put together from the minute I get out of bed with basically no effort!

💐

#led fog light for 2013 honda accord #2013 girly #girl blogger #rosy blog #girly #dream girl #2013 aesthetic #girlblogger #2014 tumblr #girlblogging

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saintwrld · 2 years ago

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Akulaleki

Akulaleki - there's no sleep/ I've got no sleep

summary: in which reader takes Shuri to groove in South Africa, for Shuri to better understand reader's love for music and randomly dancing around the lab.

mood of the one shot: fun, comedic

warnings: party girl!reader, confused but excited!shuri, cussing (in both english and zulu), just super fun vibes and a lot of brand names bc i'm a fashion gyal and i like things 🤚🏽, (rich le$bean things 🥂)

translations: haibo - literally can’t explain this one, it’s like a sound of shock, bathong - another sound of shock (it’s got different meanings), ngiyeza - i’m coming, voetsek- fuck off (in afrikaans), nawe- you too, wavula icircle - she opened a dance circle, mntanasekhaya - sibling (not direct meaning), majivane - dancer (in a celebratory way), hawema! waletha undlukulu - oh my goodness! she brought royalty!, yoh - damn (kinda), chommie- friend (in afrikaans), ugirl uyakuthanda - the girl loves you.

inspired by: akulaleki - sun-el musician, samthing soweto ft. shasha

taglist: @pinkwright @zayswriting @inmyheadimobsessed @verachii @quintessencewrites @axailslink @shurismainbxtch @laurensmabel1 @heejayy @generallysapphic @vixentheplanet @abenomeiiii

(major love for you guys!)

a/n: this is for my party people!!! this is dedicated to all of you amazing people who are reading this. basically this one shot is gonna show you what it's like to party with South Africans. Groove is like the club but more fun 🕺🏽. reader will be South African (hope you don't mind!) and i'm excited to write as a sa party gyal myself 😝🫡. you'll also see a lot of south african celebs mentioned btw.

side note: are there a lot of translations? yes but the more you know 🫶🏽

With your ugg boots barely making a sound on the lab floors, you approach your girlfriend with her back turned away from you and the soft sounds of rnb playing in the background. It was quite a peaceful scene playing out in front of you. Scientists were working together on new projects and Shuri was sitting down, that's what shocked you most.

You stood behind her trying to peak at what she was busy with and it seemed as if she hadn't noticed you yet. "I can practically hear your heartbeat from here, my love." She remarked, making you groan as she turned around to face you. Her outfit was simple, a plain figure hugging sweatsuit with sneakers and because the outfit is on your girlfriend, it made you swoon.

"What if I wanted to surprise you?" You raised your eyebrow at her and she chuckled. "You'd obviously have to try harder, duh." Shuri rolled her eyes jokingly as you lightly shoved her.

"How's your day going? Can't watch the housewives without you." You asked, sitting on the empty seat next to Shuri. She lightly sighed and pointed to the formulae in her lab notebook. "First off, you watch two episodes every week and leave me behind so, shh. Second, these formulas are coming together and I'll start these projects in a week or two." Shuri said, closing the notebook and holding your hand that was situated on your lap.

"Oh so what? There's a real housewives of biochemistry that you're probably watching without me, huh?" You mocked, acting offended by her first comment. "Wouldn't you like to know?" She replied sarcastically, causing you to roll your eyes with a smile on your face.

Shuri looked at the table and grabbed a few loose kimoyo beads before beginning to work on them. "Now there has to be a reason for my lovely girlfriend to visit me on a Monday." She mentioned, causing you to fake gasp. "Haibo! Can I not visit my girl in her lab?" You asked, placing your hands on your hips and tapping your foot.

She ignored your antics and stood up to her sand table with you following close behind. "Just to talk about housewives? There's no way you drove all the way here just for that. What's on your mind, sthandwa sam'?" She snickered, seeing you drop your shoulders in defeat.

"I drove the Cullinan so it was a leisurely ride." You muttered, looking anywhere but your girlfriend's eyes. She gently grabbed your chin to focus your attention on her. Her eyes were warm, looking at you as if you held her entire world in your hands. Gaining up the courage to even ask this was eating at you and she could clearly see.

"It's going to sound bad but I wanna go home." Your sentence made Shuri confused. "But you just came from there-" "No, I mean my home country. Just for a few days." You cut her off, holding both her hands. On Shuri's side, her heart broke a little because that meant you were leaving her side for a few days.

"No no no, don't be sad! I wasn't done. I want you to come with me. Last time we were there, it was just a quick visit but this time, we're gonna have fun." You smiled at her and she looked at you in surprise. You and Shuri have different meanings for the word 'fun'. Hers would be driving around the city with you or relaxing with you on vacation, just listening to soft music and just loving each other.

You, on the hand, loved fun which included not chilling on a beach in Turks and Caicos. Back home, it was party time all the time, mainly because of the genre 'Amapiano' taking over the country and the world. Because of your love for dancing and your country's music, you would go to groove with your friends regularly, resulting in you becoming famous just for having fun and that's when you made friends with all of the South African artists. Being famous along with your many artist friends came with perks such as travelling, getting into anywhere free and a lot of love from your fellow south africans.

Whilst travelling to Chicago just for funsies, that's where you met Shuri. She was leaning against a cool car and saw you from afar, dancing with your friends to a song she couldn't exactly recognise. When Riri had eventually come out of the pizza shop, she was curious to what had gotten Shuri's attention. Riri recognised you from instagram on multiple people's stories. Riri being Riri, helped Shuri get over her anxiety of talking to you and went over to one of your friends, immediately gaining your attention.

Your curious eyes fell on Shuri, which you couldn't fully recognise because of her shades, and you went up to her only to be shyly greeted by the princess of Wakanda. You initiated the conversation and it formed a new friendship. After a few dates, she was no longer shy and asked you to be her girlfriend. After a few soft launch posts, you finally went public with her, gaining even more fame for dating a royal. For the past few months, you've been living in Wakanda and enjoying your peace but lately, you've missed your partying and your friends.

"If I say yes, will we just spend a week there?" She questioned, already making you smile bright. You nodded. "You already packed your bags, haven't you?" She sighed, removing her hands from yours and placing them on her hips. You back away from her, ready to make your exit before she says anything.

"We leave at 2 pm and I need to get a new suitcase for clothes for when we're shopping that side. Love you, bye!" You exclaimed, making a run for it while Shuri looked at you lovingly as you ran into the elevator. The other scientists looked at you two in adoration but truth be told, it was an everyday experience for them.

You hopped into your car after getting to the secret parking lot, feeling your phone buzz with a text.

panther bae

I love you too

y_n

liked by ririwiliams, champagnepapi and 694,637 others

y_n home 💫

view comments

uncle_waffles you are the moment

↳ y_n love you loads 🥹

user pls tell me you're coming back to sa

↳ y_n yup!

anok.yai you're so beautiful

↳ y_n guys, she called me beautiful 😝

kehlani is it party time??

↳ y_n it's party timeeeee!!

coachella_randy majivane is coming back? 🥹

↳ y_n literally just to dance with you my love

ayrastarr my moms are so pretty

↳ y_n Ayra, my child 🫂 (literally a year older than her)

flolikethis you are very much missed this side ma'am 🤨

↳ y_n i miss the three musketeers too

user i wonder if she's coming back with shuri

user my crush ( i told my village about us )

user pls we have so many new dances now. are you ready?

↳ y_n already learned them. i'm always ready for a good time 🫡

user ARE WE PARTYING WITH THE PANTHER?!

↳ y_n bathong 😭

kekepalmer and WHEN am I seeing you and partying with you again, Mrs Udaku?

↳ y_n now Keke 😭

After an hour long flight, it landed in the yard of your previous home before moving to Wakanda. Using the Royal Talon jet was a much better option in terms of safety for Shuri. With Aneka grabbing your suitcases and Ayo grabbing Shuri's, they placed them on the doorstep, waiting for you to open up.

The door clicked and it opened wide, taking in the sight of the home and all its memories. The many nights of Shuri always surprising you at your doorstep, showering her with love and affection that you missed over the times you hadn't seen her. When finished with her missions, she would often go straight to your house just to be in your presence. You had fallen in love with her and she had completely fallen for you. Uttering the words "my heart is yours and it will be yours till the end of time" during one of your cuddle sessions.

Seeing the house clean hadn't surprised you much as Shuri had programmed nanotech into the walls and rooms to keep the house clean for however long you weren't there. You didn't question how she did it but you greatly appreciated it.

In your peripheral view, you could see her yawn. "You wanna take a nap before we get ready?" You asked her, making your way to hug her which she greatly returned. You could feel her settle her head onto your shoulder and stay there for a while. You shook her a little but she didn't move. Is she really sleeping while standing? Her breathing became a bit slower and that's when your suspicions were confirmed. Using all the strength you had, you lifted her up by her legs and resting her on your shoulder. As much as Shuri was lean and literally looked like she was floating while walking, the panther was heavy and you were struggling to carry her up the stairs. You heard her giggle as her head was facing your backside.

"Shuri, leave my ass alone." You warned. "Baby, it's literally in my face, what am I supposed to do?" She shrieked, barely speaking because she was laughing.

After a few seconds, she kept quiet and you were curious as you were still struggling to get to your room. Next thing you know, you felt a sting on your ass.

"Shuri!"

Standing at your mirror in your closet, you observed your outfit and you were having a struggle choosing which shoe matched. Walking out the closet to find Shuri and ask for her opinion, you halted and almost fell to your knees. You knew Shuri had style but you didn't expect for her to wear any outfits you bought her.

The outfit had showcased her in a new light for you and you never wanted this Shuri to leave. In the mirror, she observed herself, adjusting her black tight fitting crop top along with her black black cargo pants. She had on the green Louis Vuitton varsity jacket with green low dunks to keep up the theme of her outfit. Her midsection was not fully exposed, showing off her petite figure. Her Kimoyo beads and earrings stayed on but extra accessories were added, such as a diamond encrusted cuban link you gifted her, a cartier love bracelet (that you both wore) and prada sunglasses.

She acknowledged you through the mirror and gave you a smirk, seeing your reaction to her outfit. Eyes raking over your body, she beckoned you over to the mirror, taking a step back so that you could stand in front of her. Stepping in front of her, Shuri wrapped her arms around your waist, looking at you through the mirror. Feeling her breath fan over your neck gave you shivers down your spine, her hands slowly moving towards your hips and staying there, pulling your body against her.

"Sthandwa, you look so good. Can I please show you how much I appreciate your outfit?" She said through kisses gliding from your ear onto your neck, feeling the coldness of her grill as she landed an open mouthed kiss on your burning skin. Her right hand moving from your hip, inching closer to the hem of your skirt and grabbing the flesh of your thigh. She was clearly enjoying watching you unravel at the slightest touches from her. As much as you seemed to be the confident one in the relationship, when it came to pleasure, Shuri made sure to show you a good time.

Knowing that you two would be late to your own welcome back party, you held onto Shuri's wrist and giggled when she groaned out load. "After the party and many years after that, I'm all yours. But for tonight, I wanna show you what it's like here and I promise. We can do that thing you like when we come back." You turned around to face her and tried your best to convince her by flashing a smile at her.

She looked at you a little while longer before eventually letting up, making you give her a quick hug and run to the closet to get your shoes. Looking back at her, you noticed her flashing the grill to herself in the mirror, clearly feeling herself.

What a night it's going to be.

Stepping out of the car to which Shuri kindly opened your door for you, you greeted by the small crowd of photographers of the club and fans who were waiting for you to show. They just had no idea that the Princess of Wakanda would also show up. Greeting everyone on your way to the entrance of the club, you held Shuri's ring clad hand and literally felt the ground vibrate because of the music from inside.

Hearing your favourite genre of music brought warmth to heart, especially when the people were celebrating you, You were buzzing at the thought of being back in your element, dancing with your close friends, being by the dance floor and showing off choreography on the dance floor and usually you did all this without a drop of alcohol in your body.

The security had been tightened tonight because of the amount of status within the club. The capacity was apparently at its maximum tonight which was a little off putting to you but Shuri assured you of your safety, reminding of you of the Dora that had eyes everywhere plus she was literally the Black Panther.

The bodyguards at the entrance were alerted of your arrival and immediately opened the doors for you two, hearing the dj announce you and Shuri's arrival which made club goers cheer, eventually turning into screams at the sight of you two.

Shuri had definitely undermined your fame in your home country. She always knew that you were well known across the world but to see people cheering as if Beyoncé just showed up. Shuri herself hadn't really acknowledged her fame as she's always busy but to be up front with it was a different experience.

A sparkle girl came up to you two, completely starstruck and she led you two to the vip section, a large upstairs section over looking the huge club. You greeted the crowd from the balcony who excitedly greeted you back, phones pointed at you as you blew kisses to them.

Walking back to your booth, you sat next to Shuri who looked at a kid in a candy store. "You always give the best surprises, my love." She said. "What do you mean?" You looked at her confused. Placing her hand on top of yours, "Just how you seem introverted in Wakanda but the minute you stepped foot in here, you were a different person." She commented.

Leaning closer to her as the music became louder, "Looks like we both have superpowers." You smiled which she reciprocated. You two stare at each other a little longer until you were interrupted by the sound of your friends entering the vip section as well. The first one to spot you was your best long distance friend, Lihle, better known as Uncle Waffles.

"My favourite couple ever!" She shouted, walking closer to you two. Her pink hair matching with the strobe lights of the club as her distressed denim set made a statement. You two stood up to greet her with open arms. Shuri had only met Waffles so she was familiar towards her however she would be meeting your other friends today.

"You don't mind if I sit here? It's a bit hectic down there." She gestured to the crowd beginning to fill up the capacity.

"No, you're okay." Shuri answered for the both of you. After a few minutes of catching up with Waffles, a few more of your friends came to greet the two of you. Shuri's social battery was fueling up, making her more excited for the night ahead of her. Seeing her like this, all comfortable and chatty with your friends, made you really happy.

"Y/n! It's almost time for my set. Do you wanna be by the dj booth with me?" Waffles called to you. She could see you were itching to be on the dance floor, fucking shit up. A larger smile beamed across your face as you nodded. "As if I would ever say no." You expressed, grabbing her awaiting hand.

Looking at Shuri, she was in deep chats with your other friends, laughing her ass off at their terrible jokes. She was okay. Seeing the wide smile on her face made you smile. Feeling yourself being dragged by Waffles made you laugh. "Okay, ngiyeza!"

Dancing to your friend's set behind the dj booth was too fun, especially because it was like you two were synced. The crowd went crazy when you two went onto the mini stage in front of the dj booth to show the choreo for the particular song playing. As the djs switched, your friend Daliwonga (and apparently Shuri’s new best friend besides Riri) came up to perform. “Ah mntanasekhaya!” He greeted you warmly as you were still behind the dj booth. “How are things going? Just to let you know, I’m besties with your wife. You didn’t tell me she was this funny, funnier than me even.” He smiled, getting his mic ready.

“Please, everyone’s funnier than you, Dali.” You rolled your eyes to which he deadpanned. “Voetsek.” He kissed his teeth making you laugh. “Nawe. Please don’t fall from the stage.” You walked down from the stage with him giving you the finger.

An hour later, you're still cutting it up with Waffles on the dance floor with your other friend, Randy, joining in on the fun. "Hawema! Waletha undlukulu!" Randy exclaimed once you pointed out that you were here with Shuri.

"We're so happy that you're back, chommie. Life was beginning to be boring so when I heard that majivane was visiting, you know I had to show up for my girl." Randy smiled, making you hug him just for his words. "Yoh, ugirl uyakuthanda." Your friend Kamo Mphela commented with a smile on your face as some of your friends stood by you on the dance floor.

You looked up to the balcony only to see Shuri peering down at you with the most loving eyes. You send back an innocent wink at the woman but she doesn't react. She knows how you get when you tease her in public.

The dj's had switched and now all your favourite Amapiano songs were playing. Some of the songs were oldies while a few were brand new. Immediately running to the dance floor, you barely realised that a large crowd formed around you in the shape of a circle. People filming you from all different directions, chanting ‘wa vula icircle!’ which you were sure was going to trend the next day. After dancing with a few supporters of yours, you smelt Shuri's scent next to you, with her surprising the people around her.

"Come, let's dance." She smirked, causing you to look at her otherwise. You knew Shuri to be the swaying type of girl, if she wants to get a little wild, she'll add a whine to the mix. The dancing in Wakanda was extremely different to that of South Africa. Usually at groove, the aim is not to sweat but because you made this your living, you gotta give the people what they want.

"Are you sure? It's a fast song." You questioned, hearing the beat drop nearing closer and closer. "I've had my lessons." She smirked once again. The best finally drops and it was if Shuri had been dancing her whole life. She knew the choreos you would practice were hard but she didn't mind learning them for you.

The crowd was hyping you and Shuri up, eating up the dance moves. However the night was still young.

Hearing the birds chirp by your bedroom window, you picked your head up, slightly opening your eyes and feeling the heaviness of your eyelids. You looked to Shuri who was laying face down in the pillow, wearing the same outfit as last night and so were you.

Feeling for your phone on the nightstand, you grabbed it and stood up to stretch and open the curtains. The sudden light in the room caused you and Shuri to groan out. "Sthandwa, please come back to bed." Shuri's voice muffled because of the pillow as she felt for your body in the bed.

"I'm hungry and I'm craving iKota." You croaked out, clearing your throat. "You're craving what?" She questioned, sitting up slowly. "A kota. It's an uncut loaf of bread filled with chunky fries and sauce. They add other things as well." You explained, walking into the bathroom to get a proper look at yourself and what a sight. Your wig disheveled while your makeup tried its best to stick it out.

"Okay let's get ready to get that abomination because I'm also hungry." She got up from the bed to stretch as well.

"Not too much on my food now, babe." You joked.

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