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fluentmoviequoter · 5 days ago

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Bradford Has a Princess

I used one of the amazing Tim Bradford ideas posted by @nevereclipse for this!! I hope you like it and it's along the lines of what you were thinking!☺️

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford is whipped for you, treats you with nothing but the best princess treatment, and when his fellow officers call him out on it, he realizes how he truly feels about you.

Warnings: fluff! princess treatment and Tim being a SOFTIE™

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

You blow your hair out of your face before you tug it painfully behind your ear.

“Easy,” your boyfriend mutters, reaching over carefully. He gathers your hair much gentler than you had, pulls it loosely behind your ears, and uses the hair tie he wears around his wrist to secure it. “Better?”

You hum before you say, “Thank you, Tim.”

His hand moves down your back, resting comfortably against the base. After you finish your project, you take a paper towel from the nearby roll and wipe your hands.

“Need anything else?” Tim asks.

You smile over your shoulder as you rest against Tim’s chest. He’s older than you, and though some people might frown upon your relationship, you love him, not only because of the selfless way he treats you. Tim places his arm around your shoulders, then uses his free hand to pull your hand closer to him. He traces his thumb over your knuckles, then looks at your nails as his calloused palm holds you like you are the most precious thing in his life, in the world.

“I can make you an appointment at the nail salon you like,” he offers. “Tuesday?”

Tim shifts his hands, running his fingertips up and down your palm as he smiles.

“I can wait,” you answer. “I actually saw a kit online that lets you make your own nail art. Maybe I should try that next time.”

“Send me the link.”

Tim kisses your temple, then twirls the ends of your hair around his fingers. He decides he could spend forever here and wouldn’t even care what his friends thought about it.

“Tim!” Angela calls. “We’re all going to Andre’s.”

“Actually,” he begins.

“No, you skipped out the last three times, you’re coming with.”

“No arguments,” Nyla adds. “We might even make you pay.”

Tim sighs, his shoulders dropping as he nods. He follows them out of the station and is unsurprised to see Lucy, Nolan, Aaron, and Wesley waiting in the parking lot.

“Tim, you’re coming too?” Wesley asks. “I thought you’d finally sworn off fraternization.”

“Ha ha,” Tim deadpans.

“Can I ride with you?” Aaron asks. “My car’s getting a new wrap and Wesley’s backseat is a little tight with the carseats.”

Tim doesn’t answer but doesn’t say no, so Lucy nods and encourages Aaron to go. Aaron climbs into Tim’s passenger seat and buckles his seatbelt without a word.

“Oh,” he exclaims as Tim backs out of the space. “Who’s the Dior lip gloss belong to?” He lifts the tube out of the floorboard and recognizes it as part of a set his mom has. “This is expensive, they must be missing it.”

“She knows it’s here,” Tim grumbles, extending his hand to take it.

“Your sister?” Aaron guesses as Tim places it in the center console. He sees several other items, like a scrunchie, a receipt, and powder.

“None of your business,” Tim snaps. “Why are you getting an expensive car wrapped, anyway?”

“Because I can.”

Tim and Aaron fall silent, Tim thinking about you as Aaron wonders if the others know about the woman taking up space in Tim Bradford’s truck and in his life.

During your next date night, Tim opens the door for you, then wraps his arm around your waist as you enter the restaurant. He moves to his left to stand slightly behind you as you wait to be seated, and you smile over your shoulder at him.

At your table, Tim pulls your chair out for you, but you stop before you sit when someone says his name. You turn, and Tim’s shoulders tense beneath his blazer.

“Angela,” he greets tightly. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m on a date,” she answers with a smile. She looks at you before she asks, “And you?”

You sense the tension and interrupt to introduce yourself. You provide your name and shake her hand, then look to Tim.

“My girlfriend,” he tells Angela. “We’re on a date, so…”

“I’ll ask more later then. I mean that Timothy, you have a lot to tell me.” She turns toward you again and says, “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Alone, you take Tim’s hand across the table and apologize for interrupting him and his friend. He promises that he wasn’t bothered by that and assures you that he wasn’t avoiding introducing you on purpose but was just surprised. You fall into easy conversation, as usual, and the date is over far too soon.

When the waiter leaves the check on the corner of the table, you ask, “Going Dutch?”

“Going insane if you think I’m letting you pay for a date,” Tim mumbles before speaking up to say, “My treat.”

Tim offers his blazer before you walk out into the windy Los Angeles night, and you wrap your hands around his arm as he leads you to his truck. You’ve never felt as loved and as cherished as you do with Tim Bradford.

As you enter Tim’s house, he uses your joined hands to pull you back toward him. He dips his chin, gesturing for you to sit on the couch, then lowers to the table before it. With a gentle touch, Tim runs his hands down your leg, from your knee to your ankle. After he hooks his finger under the strap of your heel, he pulls your foot up, resting your calf on his knee to unhook the small buckle against your ankle and remove your shoe. He repeats the process with the other shoe, then lays his hands on your knees and leans forward.

“Hi,” you whisper with a smile.

Tim smiles in the proximity, then runs his hands up your legs to rest on your thighs.

“I love you,” you add.

“I love you,” he replies before he moves beside you on the couch, cups the back of your neck in his hand, and pulls into a kiss that proves it.

Tim stops mid-step as he enters the roll call room the following morning. Angela and Aaron are perched atop the tables to watch him with matching looks.

“What?” Tim asks.

“You have a girlfriend,” Angela says.

“That I’m thinking you bought Dior for,” Aaron adds.

“Who are you and what did you do with Timothy Bradford?”

“Yes, I have a girlfriend, and I bought her some makeup,” Tim admits. “What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal?” Aaron repeats incredulously. “You, Tim Bradford, are whipped.”

“He took her to an expensive restaurant last night,” Angela tells Aaron without looking away from Tim. “I bet he footed the bill, too.”

“There is no reason to be discussing this at work,” Tim points out. “So, drop it.”

“Drop what?” Lucy asks from the doorway.

One word, Tim mouths to Aaron. Aaron nods, but Angela smiles. Tim knows he has no power over her, but when she changes the subject, he sighs and nods once. She��ll bring it up again when he least expects it, but for now, the ‘news’ of his ‘being whipped’ for you is contained. He isn’t ashamed of you, of course, but some things need to be private.

Immediately after walking into Tim’s house, he kisses you so hard that you can feel the sticky texture of your lip gloss as it smears from the corners of your lips and onto your chin. When he pulls back, holding you up as you blink at him, breathless, he uses his thumb to wipe away the shiny mess he made.

“I missed you too,” you say.

“I was told today that I’m whipped,” Tim replies.

You furrow your brows, and Tim taps his knuckle against your forehead and smiles as he shakes his head. You relax but hold his side as you wait for more information.

“Aaron and Angela know about you, and he told me I was whipped. I realized that he’s right.”

Terrified that Tim is about to break up with you after this realization, you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. He huffs and tugs it free.

“I am more in love with you than I ever dreamed of being capable of. So…”

Tim is clearly trying to find the right words, and you smile as you offer, “Incandescently happy?”

“Completely and incandescently happy,” he agrees. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Tim smiles, then notices he disturbed your outfit with his sudden affection. He tugs the ridden-up fabric down over your hips before dragging his fingertips along your upper arm to fix your top.

“Remember when you bought me the makeup wipes?” you ask.

Tim nods and inquires, “Do you need them?”

You try to contain your smile but fail. “No, you just proved you can take off lip gloss without them.”

Tim tugs you closer, hooks his arms under your hips, and lifts you up. You gasp in surprise before gripping his shoulders. After he carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the counter, he takes your shoes off and stands between your legs.

“Should I make dinner or are you going to keep distracting me?”

You tap your finger against your jaw and pretend to ponder the question. “That depends… will your friends still be okay with this relationship when they find out you’re a cradle robber?”

“Maybe I should give you back then.”

You pout, and Tim kisses your forehead before he turns away. He passes you a bouquet of red roses, then sets a glass of your favorite beverage beside you. It’s the response you hoped for, and after you gently place the flowers aside, you pull Tim closer by his collar and smile against his lips.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #tim bradford fluff #fem!reader #hanna writes✯#the rookie x reader #the rookie abc

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alligator-tearzz · 7 months ago

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R.I.P Van Der Linde Gang 💔 You would have loved:

(seen a few ppl do this,, if you started this definitely lmk and I’ll credit u !!)

updated to add Kieran and Sean

Dutch - Self help books, those podcasts where people give you terribly incorrect health information and claim that they’re doctors

Uncle - The massage chairs in malls, Frank Gallagher, insane reddit stories that definitely never happened, scamming disability cheques from the government

Abigail - iPhone’s share your location feature, the Parent Teacher Association, audiobooks

Arthur - Remote control racing cars (aarwh it’s a toy boat!), the catch and cook youtube videos, Cowboy Carter by Beyoncé, free healthcare mayhaps…..

John - Maury, The sassy man apocalypse on TikTok, Sitting and watching Bluey in a trance with Abigail after Jack has already gone to bed

Miss Grimshaw - Supernanny, Judge Judy, Spas, Massages, Bear Grylls probably, Bed Bath and Beyond

Sadie - Streetwear, absolutely bodying men on FPS games, Rage rooms

Charles - Axe throwing to get the frustration out, wildlife protection acts, David Attenborough, ATLA

Javier - The head massage you get when you get your hair washed at the salon, edibles, Guitar Hero, collecting vinyls

Hosea - Game shows like The Chase and Deal or No Deal, Dolly Parton probably, cruises, community libraries where you take a book and leave a book behind

Strauss - Cryptocurrency, whatsapp scams

Mary-Beth - Wattpad, Ao3, Booktok, you name it. Those fanfic movie adaptations like After, 50 shades of Grey etc, Cottagecore aesthetic, Taylor Swift, TikTok edits, Bridgerton

Tilly - Those ‘Day in the Life of’ Tiktoks, Jazz bars, Chloe x Halle, cruises as well

Karen - How To Get Away With Murder, Bottomless brunch, Reality shows with a bunch of drama like Love Island or Married at First Sight, Ru Paul’s Drag Race

Bill - Mardi Gras, Brokeback Mountain 😋, Home Depot, probably, those giant American cars that are on the verge of being trucks, Call of Duty

Pearson - Those late night infomercials that show random kitchen utensils like a garlic mincer or a nutribullet blender, Reddit, Spending money on E-Harmony, standing in the club and staring awkwardly at a woman, Dungeons and Dragons

Lenny - Online self paced university, Jordan Peele movies, Studio Ghibli movies, Noise cancelling headphones, The Last of Us

Kieran - Animal crossing, Saddle Club, the Wikihow “how to talk to girls” page, taking horrible advice from tik tok just because the person who posted it sounded trustworthy, astrology probably

Sean - Getting drunk at local football games and heckling the other team, claiming he’s not into Karen’s reality shows but then standing there watching the whole episode with his arms crossed while asking her about every single person and their drama, would most definitely be famous for yapping on Twitter, Derry Girls would be his fave show

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pretty-good-girl · 4 months ago

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forcefem x forcebutch relationship

i catch my cute little tomboy lesbian partner staring at the flannels in clothing stores, clicking a carabiner just a few too many times, eyeing up the cologne bottles at the pharmacy, and casually mention how good they would look in a blazer, how handsome they would be with cropped hair, how hot they'd be with a packer.

meanwhile, they're buying me dresses, but not normal dresses that i'd wear anyway, if there was an occasion that specifically called for it, but 50s housewife type things with frilly skirts and florals all over them to wear on a daily basis. they give me a spa package for my birthday, a salon voucher every payday, packets and packets of makeup just because they thought i'd like it.

i take them to the barbers and when the man asks them what they want, i answer for them. they sit meekly in the chair and give me a few bank notes, sending me to the nail salon across the street for a full set of acrylics.

we both have an idea of what the other one is doing, but we're both too focused on our own plan to care.

the few pairs of boxers and baggy t shirts i keep for sleeping slowly disappear, replaced with lacy negligee, and all shoes i own that aren't heels mysteriously vanish. i replace their leggings with cargo shorts, their blouses for button downs, their briefs for boxers.

we lie in bed, his head on my breast, and i run my newly buffed nails through his newly buzzed hair while i shop online for his new cock

#nsft text #nsft tumblr #nsft #text post #please #nsft concept #forcefem #forcebutch #makeover #wlw nsft #butch x femme #femme4butch #femme4masc

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bad268 · 2 years ago

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Could u write a princess of Monaco and Arthur lecrelc , I see this being written so much for Charles and none for Arthur

thank you :)

Queen of Monaco (Arthur Leclerc X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (haha we have the same mind bc I was already drafting this before you requested it)

Warnings: death of parents and brother (mentioned), google translate, the Monaco curse is affecting Arthur now and that's a warning itself bro. I am in denial about the race results today, so I made this to make me happy.

Pronouns: She/Her

W.C. 4108

Summary: The beginning of the relationship between Arthur Leclerc and the Queen of Monaco.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(@/Arthur's insta from January 29, 2023)

It was a normal day in Monaco. It was not a race week, and there were no pressing matters to attend. I had just returned to Monaco last week after attending the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in the United States, but I just received my Bachelor's degree and wanted to return home before starting my Master's. I decided to take my first semester online, so I could go home and spend time with my family.

When I got back, my parents urgently began to train me for the throne even though I was not next in line. Despite having an older brother who was scheduled to become the King of Monaco after my parents, he had to serve in the military before he could move forward. They wanted to have me prepare in the event that something happened to him in battle.

I had never really been in the public eye due to my brother being the next in line. He was always the one attending meetings, trainings, and keeping up appearances. I was free to do as I pleased for the most part, but in 2015, they sent me to a training school in London. It taught the basics of monarchy and the foundations of how to run a country. It was the same one my brother attended. Even in my spare time, I found my passion in mechanical engineering and aerodynamics. It took some persuasion, but my parents allowed me to attend MIT after my graduation because they were so sure that I would not be needed. My brother is in the final stages of the training. All he needed to do was finish the last few months of military training, and then he would be crowned.

Upon my return, I learned that my mother was ill, so they wanted to get my brother crowned quickly. However, they practically had to start from square one since I was provided very minimal training in London. My father was furious, not at me, but at the situation they had been placed in. They told me the best thing I could do while they prepare the training is to memorize Monaco as it had been nearly seven years since I had been here.

I was walking down the pier, looking at all of the little shops that lined the pavement and the boats at the dock. There was a small ice cream shop, a couple of clothing stores, a few restaurants, and a salon. I realized that I had not had my hair professionally done since before college, so I thought it would be a good idea to treat myself.

“Bonjour, comment puis-je vou aider? (Hello, how can I help you?)” A lady greeted me as I stepped through the door. It was a small shop, no one else was in there, but it was cute and welcoming other than the fact that I could not remember French for the life of me.

“I’m sorry, my French is no good,” I replied sheepishly, fully prepared to leave, but the woman stopped me.

“Oh, not a problem, dear. My name is Pascale, what can I help you with?” She smiled, kindly, leading me over to one of the chairs.

“Well, I haven’t gotten my hair done in almost four years, so I think it’s time to freshen up,” I explained.

“Oh perfect, I can most certainly help with that,” She laughed, placing an apron around my shoulders. “Are you thinking about dye, highlights, trim, cutting…” She started listing more but I couldn't follow along with all of the terminology.

“Uh, probably just a trim,” I chuckled, “my parents would kill me if I showed up with short, dyed hair.”

“Not a problem at all,” she grinned and began cutting the ends, little by little, as we made small conversations. “What do you do for work?”

“I actually don’t have a job at the moment,” technically, “but I just came back from the United States. I was at MIT for the last four years, getting my bachelors in mechanical engineering and aerodynamics, and before that, I attended boarding school in London.”

“That’s interesting,” she hummed, “Sounds like you like Formula 1?”

“Not so much the races. I just like the cars,” I laughed in response. “I like learning what could make the cars better, faster, stronger, and safer, but the actual races aren't something for me. I watched one too many accidents end badly, so I can never find enjoyment in it anymore. The last race I went to was in Japan, and I lost my best friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that, dear. If you ever need to talk, I’m here,” Pascale consoled. I looked at her confused through the mirror. She just set the scissors down just as her phone got a notification. She pulled out her phone and opened the notification. It was a text message with a picture. “That is my son, Charles, and his best friend, Pierre. They’re in Formula 1. They went out karting today, and he just sent me this.”

“Oh, Charles Leclerc and Pierre Gasly! I know them,” I recognized immediately. “That’s your son?”

“Yeah, he’s always had this passion for driving, so I’m proud to see him living his dreams,” She smiled, putting her phone back, and resumed cutting my hair.

“Well, I’m proud of him too, and I don’t even know him.” I laughed.

“Maybe, if you’d ever change your mind, you could join us for a race,” Pascale offered. “Only if you’re up for it.”

“I’ll have to see, but probably not,” I declined nervously.

“It’s not a problem, dear,” She said, patting my shoulders. “But you are all done. How do you like it?”

My hair was shorter by a couple of inches, but it felt so much lighter and healthier than it did earlier today. “I love it so much, Pascale! Thank you so much! How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing, just promise you’ll think about joining us? It would do you some good to get to know more people, and you could even check out the cars before the race! If you’re not comfortable staying for the race, you can always leave. Just promise you’ll think about it before immediately rejecting it?” She pleaded.

“Fine, I’ll think about it,” I laughed, “but only because you were so persuasive!”

–

The next time I was out in the streets was nearly a week later. My time was being packed with different trainings and attending private events, but nothing public yet so as to not stir up controversy. I decided to go to a local bakery and get some tea and some food. The food in the castle just did not compare to my favorite bakery. Not by a long shot.

When I walked in, there were not a lot of people in there. It was a small shop with only two tables and a counter. There was the person behind the counter, Ella, and three people at the tables. One sat by himself and the other two occupied the second table. I approached Ella and ordered a tea and sandwich. She said she would bring it right over once it was finished, and I approached the man sitting by himself.

“Bonjour,” I greeted, my French was slowly coming back to me but not enough to carry a full conversation. The man looked up from his phone at me. He had blue eyes and shady blonde hair. He had airpods in and took one out as I approached the table. “My name is Y/n. Would it be alright if I sit with you? The other table is filled.”

“Of course,” He responded immediately, moving the bag that was hanging on the other chair to the floor. “I’m Arthur.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur. Thank you for letting me sit with you,” I laughed, taking the seat that he pulled out for me. “I really appreciate that.”

“It’s my pleasure,” He chuckled along, “It was just empty anyway.”

That was the start of an inseparable bond. It was strange having someone so close again because even though I had some friends in school, they were never as close as Arthur was. For the first couple of months, any time that was not filled with training was spent with each other. Whether it be chilling in his apartment, driving around Monaco, boat rides, and random trips around France and Italy, we were content with doing random acts of entertainment. It didn’t take long before he asked me to be his girlfriend.

One thing we knew would be difficult is the time commitments. With his recent change from Formula 3 to Formula 2 and more royal training for me, we knew it was going to be more time-consuming. That didn’t stop us, however. Tuesdays were the most random day of the week, but neither of us had any responsibilities.

One day in particular, the day before he was set to go to Australia, we were at his apartment, and I was helping him pack since he *conveniently* forgot. We had gone to get smoothies and acai bowls earlier that morning before heading to his apartment. Then, after we ate, we put on some music as background noise while we packed and conversed back and forth.

“Would you ever come to a race with me?” He asked as he pulled a couple of shirts out of his closet. “I know you didn’t have a good experience at the last one, but would you be willing to give it another time?”

“I don’t know, A. I get anxiety just knowing you’re racing,” I explained. Moving to fold the shirts he’s pulling out.

“That sound like an improvement!” He laughed, jumping over and wrapping his arms around my shoulders as I put the folded clothes in the suitcase. “When we first started talking, you said no immediately. Now, you’re saying you don’t know.”

“What can I say?” I leaned back into his embrace, “You are pretty persuasive.”

“What are the chances of you coming to the Monaco Grand Prix with me?”

“The odds are in your favor since I don’t go anywhere,” I laughed in response. He turned me around in his arms. He was pouting and had his head tilted slightly. “No, don’t do the puppy face. You know I can’t say no to that face.”

“Please?”

With a heavy sigh and a joking eye roll, I caved. I was about to vocalize my decision, but my phone started ringing. This time, my sigh was out of annoyance after seeing it was from Mila, my personal guard and trainer. “I need to answer that, but yes, I promise to go to the Monaco Grand Prix with you.”

“Of course,” He exclaimed, kissing me all over my face. “I will take care of everything. You go take the call, and I’ll finish packing in here.”

With a small smile, I walked out of his bedroom to the living room and stepped out onto the balcony before answering the phone. “Hi, Mila. What did I forget?”

“Nothing, but are you near the palace?” She responded. Just the tone of her voice made me nervous.

“Not really, I’m about 20 minutes away. Do I need to head back?”

“Yes, let me know when you get here.” And with that, she hung up. I walked back in to see Arthur with his suitcase fully packed by the door.

“I need to head home,” I started. “Something’s not right.”

“That’s fine,” He reassured, pulling me into a hug. “I’ll need to head out for my flight soon anyway, so I’ll walk you to your car.”

During the drive back, my mind wandered. Was there a meeting I missed? I couldn’t remember having anything scheduled on a Tuesday. Most meetings were on Mondays or Wednesdays and policy training sessions were Thursdays and Fridays. Maybe there was a last-minute meeting.

Pulling through the gates, I texted Mila once I parked in our car park, and a few guards were waiting for me. “Hi, what did I miss?”

“Y/n, we need to talk,” one of the guards, Chris, said, and right then, I knew things were worse than I thought. We walked through the corridors to reach one of the meeting rooms, but the only person in there was Mila. The guards immediately turned around and left the room.

“Mila-”

“Have a seat,” She cut me off, gesturing to the seat next to her. I took it hesitantly as I looked at her skeptically. “So, I’m not going to beat around the bush with this. As you know, your mother, the queen, was sick.”

“I assume she died then? That’s what this was for?” I cut her short. However, there was something on her face that said she wasn’t finished. “Okay, I’ll let you continue.”

She shook her head dismissively, “No, it’s fine, but you’re right. She passed away early this morning.”

“So my brother will be crowned when he comes back?”

“That’s the next news,” Mila paused. I encouraged her to just rip the bandaid off because I was getting impatient. “Your father went to the base to get your brother, but there was an explosion. There was a gas leak, and somehow the building they were in exploded. We’re still waiting on the details.”

“Wait, so my entire family…” I trailed off, but she knew where I was going. She just nodded solemnly as she pulled me into her side. “So that means…”

“It means you are to be the queen.”

Third POV

Ever since the Melbourne Grand Prix, Arthur has been talking about how his girlfriend was going to join him on the paddock for the Monaco Grand Prix. To say that his friends and brothers teased him would be putting it lightly. Any chance they could, they asked questions about this “girlfriend” of his that they had never heard of, and Arthur was willing to spill all of the details. On the Thursday before the Monaco Grand Prix when he was driving to the track with Charles, he accidentally let it slip that he actually had not heard from her recently. He asked Charles to check his phone to see if she had texted him recently.

“Wait, you haven't heard from her in over a month and you’re not at all worried?” Charles asked, very concerned for someone he’s never met.

“No, we’ve definitely texted recently,” Arthur responded in disbelief. When they pulled up to a red light, Charles showed him that the last message from her was April 1. “No, we’ve definitely talked.”

“Here, pull over. We’ll switch, so you can call her, and I’ll drive us the rest of the way to the track,” Charles said, already getting out of the car as soon as they were on the shoulder. He immediately dialed her number, and after a few rings, it went to voicemail. He thought about leaving her a voice message, but she was already calling him back before he could start.

“Hey, traffic is hideous, but I’m almost there,” She started her explanation. She was sitting in the backseat with a couple of guards, and Mila as her driver took them to the track. “Are you already there?”

“No, we’re not there yet,” he laughed. “Charles and I are still stuck in traffic, but we noticed that I hadn’t messaged you since the Australian Grand Prix. Thought I would call to see if you were still coming.” Charles was half listening to the conversation, but he was smiling to himself, hearing how lovestruck his younger brother sounded.

“Oh, definitely,” She chuckled. Mila nudged the girl with a knowing grin. “I’ve just been insanely busy recently, but I promised. On the bright side, I finished my training!”

“No way, I’m so proud of you, ma chéri!” Arthur cheered. Charles was a little confused as he pulled into the track, but let it go, knowing Arthur would explain it later. “Does that mean there will be a ceremony or something?”

“You could call it a ceremony, yes,” She giggled. She noticed that they were only a few blocks away from the car park of the track, so she turned her phone away toward her shoulder as she directed a question to Mila, “Could I jump out and meet up with Arthur before the race? I promise I’ll be careful, and I’ll be in the box before it starts.” Mila turned to discuss it with one of the guards who was entirely against it. “Please, I won’t leave Arthur’s side, and you know he’s trustworthy.”

“I won’t let her out of my sight, Mila!” Arthur’s voice could be heard through the phone despite it not being on speaker. She gestured to the phone at her shoulder as Mila tried to reason with the guard.

“I’ll go with you,” Mila said as she started collecting their passes and jumping out of the car that was stopped in the traffic going into the parking lot. Y/n immediately climbed out of the back, pulling her phone back up to her ear.

“Alright, Arthur, where do you want us to meet you?”

First POV

“You seem to have gotten shorter since Melbourne,” I laughed as I ran into Arthur’s arms from where he was waiting at the Dams garage.

“You’re wearing heels,” he pointed out after we pulled away. “What are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?”

“You say that like you don’t like me in heels,” I teased back.

“Ok, lovebirds,” Mila pulled our attention away from each other, “I am going to head up to our seats. Don’t tell anyone I left.”

“Your secret’s safe with me. Thank you, Mila,” I responded as she started walking away.

“You have seats?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to rely on you for the passes for Mila, so she bought us hospitality seats,” I explain. It wasn’t the whole truth, but I could not just tell him that in the open. “Is it possible to talk somewhere away from the cameras?”

“You’re not breaking up with me, right?” He immediately jumped to conclusions.

“No, no, no, no,” I quickly shut down. “Je t’aime trop pour partir, mon amour. I just want to tell you something. (I love you too much to leave, my love)”

“Je t’aime, ma belle, (I love you, my beauty)” He whispered, pulling me in for a light kiss before leading me back towards the driver’s room he shares with Ayumu. “Make yourself comfortable.”

I took a seat on one of the beanbags as Arthur sat right next to me. I took a deep breath before deciding the best way to tell him was just to say it fast. “Arthur, I need to tell you about my family.”

“Are you trying to have me meet your family already? You could meet my brothers and maman today if you want,” He rambled.

“I can meet them, but you won’t be able to meet my family. That day you left for Australia was the day I found out they passed away.” I paused looking at his reactions. He looked sorrowful as he grasped my hands and ran his thumbs across the backs of my hands. “Maman had an illness, and papa went to get my brother from the base.”

“Your brother’s in the military?” He asked.

“Was,” I answered. He looked even more confused at that before I continued. “He was serving in the military as his last stage of training. Kind of like my trainings, he had to serve in the military.”

“What kind of training did you need to do? Was this part of your degree or something?”

“No, that’s the big secret I haven’t been able to tell you,” I whispered, putting my head down as I felt guilty for not explaining this sooner.

“Anything you have to say, I will accept you either way,” He reassured me as he pulled me into his chest and kissed my head. “I understand that you have your reasons for hiding some things, so whatever this is, it is not going to stop me from loving you.”

“What if it is complex with more spotlight than you already have?” I asked, throwing my head to rest on his shoulder and looking into his blue eyes. “What if it’s a big change?”

“When we go public, it will be a big change, but I’m willing to do anything for you, ma princesse.”

“Reine, (Queen)” I whispered.

“Quoi? (What)” He responded just as fast.

“What if I told you my parents were the king and queen of Monaco? And my older brother was the prince of Monaco? And now that they’re gone, I will be the queen of Monaco? What would you do?”

He went silent for a few seconds before whispering, “Are you serious?” My silence was enough of an answer for him to jump up, pulling me with him as he starts laughing and spinning us in circles. He set me down after a couple of spins before holding me at arm's length, “I would completely understand. I mean you probably didn’t plan on taking the throne because of your brother, and you’d just come back from studying. I only tell people who need to know, and when we met, I wasn’t someone who needed to know. We haven't talked since you found out, so I could never be upset with something like that.”

“But now, if we tell people, you will be heavily scrutinized as people will see you as a potential king,” I signed, happy to know he isn’t upset with me, but still wanting him to see all sides before completely agreeing to move forward. “You’d have more on your list.”

“The only question I would have is if it would interfere with racing,” He turned serious.

“I would never let them keep you from your passions,” I laughed. “They have to respect it by order of the queen.”

“Well, then I would see no issues against continuing to be by your side, ma reine,” he chuckled with a mocking bow.

“Merci mon beau prince, (Thank you my handsome prince)” I mocked back, “now by order of the queen, go win this race.”

“And Arthur Leclerc passes Fredrik Vesti in the final turn of the race,” Crofty shouted over the radio during the final lap of the race. I was up in the hospitality seats with Mila and the guards but headed down to the pitlane a couple of laps before since I was going to be presenting the trophies. I was standing at the pit wall with Charles, Lorenzo, and Pascale, who I met (again) just before the race. “The Monaco Curse is broken for Arthur Leclerc as he wins his first Monaco Grand Prix!”

I left the pit wall to meet everyone at the podium and stopped to meet up with Mila on my way over. She and the guards escorted me through the crowds. “I’ll tell you now, one of you will need to tell Arthur not to out our relationship when I give him his trophy.”

At the podium, I stood behind the steps as Alice announces the winners. “In third place, we have Théo Pourchaire! In second place, we have Frederik Vesti! And in first place, breaking the Monaco Curse, the home favorite, Arthur Leclerc! Presenting the trophies today is the future Queen of Monaco, Y/n.”

“I’m proud of you,” I said to Arthur as I handed him the trophy.

“Merci, now if only Charles could win,” He joked, taking the trophy and posing with it.

“I’ll tell him you’re talking crap about him,” I teased back, moving away to grab the next trophy for Dams. I handed them all out and expressed my congratulations to the other two drivers before posing for the picture and immediately ducking back as I knew Arthur would try to spray me. I walked down the stairs to meet up with Charles before he heads back to Ferrari for his own race. “Arthur’s talking shit about you. You better win.”

“I’m starting sixth, so we have hope,” Charles responded as he rolled his eyes.

“Just don’t box for hards at the last lap again and you’ll be fine,” I laughed as if it were really that simple.

“Maybe I broke the curse for both of us or maybe I just had some good luck today,” Arthur said, coming up behind us and throwing his arm around my shoulders.

“Oh yeah, what good luck did you have?” Charles teased, punching Arthur into me.

“Maybe just the future queen of Monaco.”

~~~~~

#arthur leclerc x reader #arthur leclerc #formula 2 #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #bad268 #ship268 #thing268 #arthur x reader #f2 #f1 #dams racing

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cryptidfuckery · 1 year ago

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Alex's Guide to Being the Best Ever Client at a Hair Salon

Hi my name is Alex and I've been a hairdresser for about 6 years now. Obviously over that time I've come to learn what things clients do that make me very happy to see, so here's some tips on how to be the best ever client and make your hairdresser love you to pieces!

Also please note that this is coming from a relatively independent hair stylist. My salon does not have a receptionist or assistants, just the stylists. All tips should work across most salons though.

BOOKING AND CONSULTATIONS

When calling or otherwise directly messaging a salon or stylist to book an appointment, KNOW WHEN YOU WANT TO COME IN. If you need to check your schedule, do it before or have it open before you make the call. This will speed up the booking process exponentially!

DON'T BOOK A SMALLER COLOR RPOCESS JUST TO GET IN. If you're booking online, do not choose a color process with less time just to fit in to the stylist's schedule if you actually want a longer process. By this i mean not booking a partial highlight when you actually want a full. We will not be able to accommodate you, and will either have to leave you with the shorter process or reschedule you on another day when we would actually have the time to deliver what you want.

UNDERSTAND THEIR CANCELLATION POLICY. I know they can be annoying, but let me put it this way. When you are booking with a stylist, you're not booking a service, you're booking our TIME so we can provide the service you want. If you cancel last minute or no-show, you are costing us money that we could have made back by booking other clients. Especially on big ticket services that take hours. Cancellation policies allow us to y'know... still make rent.

YOU DON'T NEED TO KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANT... BUT... Part of a stylist's job is to ask the right questions to figure out exactly what you want out of your color, style, or texture. If you don't know exactly what you want, BE READY TO ANSWER QUESTIONS AND MAKE DECISIONS. We are trying to get on the same page as you so you will leave happy.

If you are coming in for a color that is more work than just an all over color or root touch up (aka single process), please do a tiny bit of research into what you'd like. You don't need to know EVERYTHING, but for reference showing a search for "BRUNETTE WITH HIGHLIGHTS" isn't going to narrow it down as much as a search for "DARK BRUNETTE WITH NATURAL WARM HIGHLIGHTS" would. A good stylist should be able to ask the right questions to get down to what you want, but this will make it much easier and quicker.

On that note, DEAR FUCKING LORD WE LOVE PICTURES, SHOW US PICTURES. BRING US YOUR PINTREST BOARD. SHOW US THAT TIKTOK YOU SAW. It's one sure fire way for us to physically see what you're talking about, and a good starting point to then ask qualifying questions with a reference! It doesn't mean we can 100% make it happen, but it helps us get on the same page you're on and see what you're looking to achieve.

Last but not least, research your stylists! Check what they specialize in, see if you can find any of their work posted online. Finding a stylist can sometimes be like finding a therapist, you have to find the one that's right for you (both in personality and technique). Don't feel bad about switching stylists; if your old one kicks a fuss they weren't the right one for you anyway. You deserve to be taken care of by a person you're comfortable with, and who delivers the service you want to your standards.

The hair industry is. Fucking huge. There's so many of us. You can literally call and book a consultation for a cut or color without getting it done that day. You can do that at 5 different salons before deciding. If they get weird about it just say you had a bad experience with an old stylist that you'd rather not get into. There is always options for another stylist.

BEST BEHAVIOR IN THE CHAIR

#1 thing i wish i could tell my clients without being rude: phone goes away for the haircut. Color is more lax, we don't always need your head in a specific position to apply it. Hair cutting completely relies on the position of the head, especially for the perimeter length of your hair. If you are looking down at your phone the whole time, the haircut will not come out as good. We also will be asking you to move to other positions, so we need at least some of your attention. It's also so we as hair stylists aren't having to contort our body into weirder shapes to cut your hair.

To piggyback off that, it's also because of the cape. Best client thing to do is once that cape is on you, make sure it's draped fully over the arms of the chair you're in. We'll take care of the back. The cape is there to protect you from getting hair or color on yourself, but it can't work unless you are completely covered by the cape. Including arms. (I'm looking at the fucking phone again >:( )

When you are in the sink, your nose should be pointing toward the ceiling while you are being washed. This allows us to not drench your face or neck when we are washing your hairline around your face. If your nose isn't pointing toward the ceiling, ask if you are able to readjust.

Best ever tip for in the sink: if the stylist is lifting your head up to rinse the nape of your neck, do not lift your whole neck. Crane your head forward while keeping the base of your neck secure to the sink. This will help you avoid getting water down your back. Your stylist might cup their hand at your nape, just lean back into it like you were a rag doll. We don't want to get you wet, but you gotta trust us with your head at the sink.

If you wanna get an A+ as a client, watch how they fix the chair at the sink for you to get in. The clients that put their own feet up or adjust themself to the right position (after an appointment or two with them) are my loves. my life. yes babe make yourself comfortable, you're doin my job for me.

If you are looking for extra styling past a blowdry (IE: curling iron or flat iron), let us know at the beginning of the service. This can take more time or is an extra charge, so letting us know in advance can allow us to communicate that to you or make sure we have the time to provide the service you want.

And probably my best tip/hack for all my introverted or neurodivergent people nervous about having to keep up small talk. Before or after the consultation, when they inevitably ask how you are or how your day has been, repeat after me: "I've had a really long day/week and I'm looking forward to closing my eyes, relaxing, and being pampered." This will signify that YOU DON'T WANT TO TALK other than what needs to be communicated. If they press, just say work or school has been really hard and stressing you out, so you booked this to relax and have some personal quiet time. Heavy on the relax people. Then just fuckin vibe bro.

If we ever give you our number to text, ask if we cant coffee. Ouughhghgh give us a coffe we love a fucking coffefee. Or ask your stylist what their favorite treat is. Just lil things like that. It's like an extra tip for us!

FINISHING AND PAYING

So your service is done! Make sure you check it out yourself and ask for any adjustments. Remember, you're the one leaving with your hair on your head, and will have to live with it until you return to the salon. If you need something fixed or adjusted, ask! A good stylist will prompt you.

Ask how tips are accepted. You can do it during the service or at checkout, but asking is always appreciated! Not all salons allow you to tip on card, but cash will never be turned away. Venmo is also extremely common.

I work in the USA where a 20% tip is the norm. If you can't afford that, don't worry. If you can't tip at all, don't worry. We don't know you financial situation, and we are in no place to judge that. You still deserve to get the service you want. More often than not if you talk to us about it, we will absolutely be sympathetic. If your stylist kicks a fuss about a tip they get (or don't get), drop them and find someone else.

That being said... yes we like it when you tip more than 20%. Of course we do, it's more money directly to us for doing our job. But I'll be honest with you, I will go out of my way for a kind client i get along with that tips 5% the same way I'll go out of my way for a difficult client who tips 100%.

If you like us, rebook! By having an appointment already in the system you're guaranteeing a time for you to get back in. And if you can't make it, you can cancel it or reschedule. It will help your stylist's rebooking data, which can help them within the salon depending how the business is set up. Sometimes stylists have to reach a certain percentage threshold of rebooking to move up a level of prices or get a higher percentage of commission.

Last but not least, if you're chatting with your stylist after the service, be aware of two things. 1) do they have their next client waiting for them? 2) are you their last client? If either of these are true, try not to linger. We hate having to do the "Well, I've gotta get to my next client/start cleaning up to go home." This can change as you form a deeper relationship with your stylist over the years (sometimes even a friendship!), but please remember that we are at our job.

As of right now that's all I can think of. If I come up with anything else I'll reblog and add on. And please feel free to shoot me an ask if you have a question I didn't answer here, or want to know more about something I mentioned.

But finally I will leave you with this.

Yes, the hair stylist is the expert in hair. Yes, we can give you advice about your style. But here's the thing. When you walk out of the salon door, we aren't the one's dealing with your hair day to day. Even if you don't think you know a lot about hair, YOU ARE THE EXPERT ON THE HAIR ON YOUR HEAD. YOU are the expert on what you do and don't want to look like. We're the tool to get it done. Remember that!

#mmmm been a while since i made a long ass fucking post like this #hope yall like #please ask clarifying questions if you need it!#also yes this is long as fuck #i am nearly incapable of doing anything else when it comes to shit like this #also i barely proofread it so like. idk. good luck

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istarveforplatonicptnstuff · 7 months ago

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Adela as your hairdresser ✂💇‍♀️

So, idk how you end up getting a hair cut, but you're getting one for today 🥰🥰🥰 FOR FREE?!?!?! 🤯 Sis appeared out of nowhere, and you stumbled 🎢 upon a cute vintage barber shop, that convinced you 💯💯💯percent to get a haircut 🤭 You didn't know about the 🌁🌁🌁 alley incident because frankly, you DIDN'T care 😎 It was just an urban legend... Right? 😈 So anyways! You know when a hairdresser is about to SERVE 💃 When she has a BOB 👷‍♀️ on, has FACE 🥰, and looks like she came out of a Vivienne Westwood fashion show like GIRL why is the hairdresser so FINE??? 🤨🤨🤨

She greets you as soon as you enter her shop, warm smiles, the smell of flowers is what the first thing that hits your nose... 😤🌷The first thing you ask her how she gets rid of the smell of hairspray, she answers she uses the trick of using flowers which explains why you smelled flowers as soon as you went inside... By the way, SIS had you giggling 🤭 the entire interaction because of how... Gorgas (I'm sorry I don't know how to spell it 😇) she is 😍 Pookie then leads you to your seat 🪑, and of course we SAT 🧎‍♀️ since the QUEEN said so 🤩

She tells you if you have any preferences that you wanted to do to your hair... But because this was an impulsive decision... Girlie ended up having to decide HERSELF 😳 remember when they said to trust your barber? When your barber looks like this... Sign me up, I'm SAT and definitely letting her cut my hair the way she wants because I trust her with my life 😊 Adela liked the fact that you seemed to have no worries, like you were just a silly gal getting a haircut... So no mind altering for YOU 😌 Oh bestie... You are so lucky, getting a haircut, not getting mind altercations from her, sitting in that chair, meeting ADELA??? at the same time??? Girl, I am 😡 jealous, that should be ME! 😭 You be living the life 💅

Timeskip to having one of the best💄💋 makeover that changed the trajectory of your life 😲 You and Adela stayed in touch, she ended up liking you so... You get to be a part of her "mundane" life now... 😿 CRYING because again, how??? 😔 How do you do it, POOKIE?!?? So of course, you end up becoming a regular in her cozy shop, making it a habit to drop by regardless of the constant change of location. When I say you WALK, you WALKED the whole Eastside just to see her 🥰 standing on business just to see your favorite hairdresser... 😩✊

You guys exchange letters, since Adela is kind of old school, so she sends you this beautiful 🌹, amazing 😲, mind-blowing 🤯, life changing letter that you keep in your drawers because of how MAJESTIC her penmanship is... Girl you better keep them in MINT condition, if not, I'm making your house as my rob list... Though, you wonder how she does it, changing locations like my GIRL has a walking hair salon that she can just fold her place and lay it out like a tri-fold brochure, with all the itinerary PACKED 💼 Sis acts as if she is a portable barber shop on the go that can magically appear in the blink of an eye... 👁‍🗨 Oh pookie... If only you knew...

Imagine your surprise receiving a letter that she got in JAIL like... My pookie didn't do wrong! 🤐🤐🤐 This is why you read the news and listen to people, but y'know stuff was boring to read anyways and you wasn't going to listen enough because, you don't like getting told what NOT to do! 💅💅💅 I fear 😰 you ✨SLAYED✨ with the response... So, of course like any sane pookie, you visited your favorite hairdresser to show some moral support with what she was going through... 🤧🤧🤧 *Sniffles* You are such a good pookie that you're making me EMOTIONAL

You met with the chief and her adjutant, they take you to a room that you can chat with Adela, but not you tryna defend pookie while also supporting women's wrongs at the same time because you couldn't go to her cozy vintage barber shop anymore so you protest and started a petition... ONLINE. 🤓 Girl, what is you doing..??? 😧 Both the chief and adjutant thought you were a CRAZED regular of Adela, them thinking you were brainwashed as well, but you explained to them that NO, pookie can't you see I'm grieving rn??? The way that ya'll can see her often but I CANT! Speaks a lot 😢😢😢 ahh dialogue

You sat there WAITING for your fav hairdresser, thinking if she got jumped by some prisoners, because if they did, sweetie... Your going to break in jail and whoop some ass... Even though you know nothing about fighting and have zero experience as well... 😃 Girl, don't be stupid 😭 I don't want to have an early funeral to host because YA'LL died early ⚰⚰⚰ I can't give out plot armor to my pookies too much 🤪🤪🤪 so value your life, but mood 🤩 So, finally pookie arrived, her FACE card never declining, as usual 🥱 You and pookie chat about how she got in jail, with her lowkey lying for a bit because sis didn't want to worry you... 🤧🤧🤧 Sobbing rn because of how sweet she is 😔 Adela, they can never make me hate you... 🥺🥺🥺

After having a sweet conversation with her, she exits the room due to the time limit... 👿 GRR why did they have to cut off the wholesome interaction... I am TWEAKING 🤬 for you guys... The chief then enters the room, wanting to conduct an interview with you. Of course, this makes you act defensive... 🙄🙄🙄 Of your pookie Adela, but the chief assures that she wouldn't be asking questions that are inappropriate... You were ready to make her catch some fists 🤛😠 if anything happens, though you ended up detailing on how you both met and ended up becoming her regular, to which the chief detailing about Adela's reason of imprisonment, and sharing some ILLEGAL 🤫🤫🤫 information that wasn't supposed to be shared to you...

After leaving the MBCC, you began to wonder why Adela kept you around, instead of cutting off contact just like the others. Could it be that you didn't appear to be THAT troubled which is why she didn't have to want alterations towards your memories...? Either way, you are thankful that she chose to stay in touch, because you got to have some fun interactions with her, and like touch grass at the same time! Pookie... I'm looking at some of ya'll who doesn't get enough sun... 😑 Like POOKIE... Go outside! AN: I can't decide if I want to have a part two on this one, but like an angsty, hurt-comfort, with a pinch of wholesomeness type of fic about this because I wanted to expand the LOREEE and yap about her backstory as well... (Can ya'll tell that I am an Adela fan?) But lmk if ya'll want one www but me thinks I'll end up writing it regardless to satisfy my NEED for more Adela content in this app... 😿 Where are all the Adela enjoyers at when you need them? 😔

#path to nowhere x reader #path to nowhere #platonic ptn #ptn #ptn x reader #adela x reader #ptn adela

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pwr3tties · 1 year ago

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hello! could you do chigiri finding out that you cancelled your hair appointment with him to go to a different stylist! just fluff! 🤭💗 THANK YOU!!

✧.* HAIR APPOINTMENT !

includes: chigiri hyoma

context: you cancelled on your boyfriend in order to continue going to your own stylist- and he is not happy

a/n: AAAH ANON THANK U SM FOR REQUESTING I hope its up to your expectations but if not just re-request (is that right?) Bald people pls ignore this bc reader has hair 😞 also hyo might be a bit ooc (occ?)

CHIGIRI - ‘you what?’

“Sweetheart, the new semester starts soon. Whatcha gonna do with your hair?” Chigiri asked over the phone as you continued your online shopping.

“Dunno, probably just going to do [whatever hairstyle you want]. Something simple, y’know?” You answered, opening Facetime once again. “Mkay. My stylist has a few open spots next week. We can go together.”

You paused, remembering that you had already booked an appointment with your stylist from middle school. “Uhh, Hyoma, I can’t. Sorry, that weekend— me and my friends are hanging out!” You chuckled, lying straight through your teeth.

“What about your hair?” He pouted, picking his phone off his bed stand. “I’ll figure something out, maybe have my mom do it, y’know?”

“Okayy, I’ll tell her to save you a spot in case you change your mind.” You hummed a yes before peppering the screen with kisses, reminding him how much you love him.

The days before the new school year crept closer, and so did your hair appointment. Driving there was quiet and quick, seeing your stylist worked close by.

Grabbing your keys and purse, you entered the store. “Hey [N. name], waiting for [stylist name]?” Nodding, the older lady led you to a seat where you waited for your hairdresser to finish with her client. Time passed, and just as you got into a chair so you could start with your hair, a familiar redhead entered the salon alongside his sister.

At first, you didn’t see the two since you were tapping away on your phone,

“Ahem.”

“Sorry, can I help you—“

The same pair of deep pink eyes you loved bore into yours as Chigiri plastered a slight smirk across his lip. “Thought you were hanging out with ‘your friends today?”

“I thought you had a hair appointment?”

“I do. That’s why I’m here.” He replied, hovering over you. “You go here?” You gasped, looking at him a bit offended.

“The way you said that sounded insulting.” He laughs, sitting across from you. “No, my sister needed me to drop her off. You, on the other hand, lied to me.” He frowned, as you sheepishly rubbed the back of your neck.

“My friends… cancelled!” You lied, although your boyfriend could see right through you. The silence was awkward as Chigiri waited for you to admit the truth.

“Fine, I lied. Happy?”

“A little.” He smirked, as your stylist came back with her equipment hand. “[Y/N], who your friend?”

“Chigiri Hyoma, nice to meet you.” He smiled, shaking hands with your hairdresser and second mom. “You too darling,”

Chigiri sat there with you until you finished with your hair then paid before dragging you off for kisses for abandoning him, but just before he could [hair stylist name] whispered over to you. “I like him [N. name]. keep him close, okay?”

“Trust me, I will.”

#pwr3tties #chigiri x reader #hyoma #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #bllk x you #chigiri x you #blue lock chigiri #chigiri imagines #pwr3tties writes #anime and manga #ooc chigiri #chigiri is such a cutie patootie

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biffhofosho · 2 months ago

Text

Hot Girls _____ | Chapter Two

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: I've had this done for days. Life is so mean not to give me the time to publish. :( Please enjoy!

Cvr | 01 | 02

It was late afternoon by the time the pair arrived at Gossamer, a boutique store in Gastown that Vi had found online. It was far hipper than any place she had ever shopped, and she would have found it too intimidating to enter if her best friend hadn’t been at her side, hands in his pockets and shrewd eyebrows up.

Everything inside was pink or black—pink walls, black racks, pink chandeliers, black couches. One wall was studded with pink neon signs with sassy sayings like “Bad Bitch” and “Flex on Your Ex” and, below them, they featured full-length mirrors and sample outfits. The racks were color-coordinated and tarted up with nothing but dresses and bodysuits, each one chicer and more daring than the last.

It was exactly the right vibe. Unfortunately, Vi brought the world’s pickiest critic.

“I know it's your personality,” grumbled Changkyun from his chair across from her dressing stall, “but would you please quit trying to floor it? Go the speed limit for once.”

Vi scowled, knuckles whitening as she gripped the hem of the current dress’s miniskirt. “What’s wrong with this one now?”

He tilted his head, his temple resting on his fist as he propped up his arm on the bolster. His tongue raced over his teeth behind his lips before he let out a slow breath. “You don’t have to show a ton of skin to be hot, Viola. I mean, okay, sure, it doesn’t hurt, but what you really have to show is confidence. I need you to start thinking about this like a fisherman.”

“Like a fisherman! What the hell does that mean? You want me in a slicker and boots?”

After twenty minutes of shooting down every damn look, Changkyun rose from his chair and approached her. Vi got the uneasy feeling that she wasn’t a fisherman at all but the bait for the sharks as he circled her, hands in his jean pockets. He sized up the gaudy royal blue chainmail fabric, the too-low cowl neck, mirrored thigh slits, and, finally, her exposed back, but his face revealed nothing as usual.

“Think about it,” he said in his low gravel. “You need the right gear for your intended catch, but you have to know what you're fishing for. This dress is a net, Viola. It's going to pull in everything, including the stuff nobody wants.”

Her best friend’s aura was always intense, but right now, his condescension took over. Viola’s bare back bristled. “What are you talking about? I saw this exact dress on a girl you took home.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay, maybe, but the one thing she had that you lack is experience.”

“Low blow, man,” Vi pouted and stacked her arms across her chest.

“I'm not talking about sex even though you're the one who said as much the other night,” he pointed out. “I'm talking about one-night stands. She knew how to pick out the bites she'd like best and throw back the ones that would disappoint or, more importantly, be dangerous. You haven’t learned those things yet.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sounds like you’re just giving yourself a backhanded compliment.”

“Viola.”

Changkyun’s stern voice penetrated the quiet salon’s air. Her hands fell limply to her side at once.

He narrowed his eyes. “You get my meaning now?”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Look, we can work our way up to this. Remember what I said. Baby steps. You don't think this was the dress that girl chose for the first time out, do you?”

“How should I know?”

“Exactly,” he said with a pleased smile. Suddenly, Changkyun turned and as he walked back to his chair, he said, “Don't get me wrong, you look incredibly hot in it.”

“Really?”

He smiled at her again, but this time, there was something different in it, and once again, Vi was reminded of that shark. “Absolutely, and if you weren't my best friend, I would one-million-percent approach you in the club, but I would be one of a hundred guys, and most of them won't see you in the dress. They'll see an opportunity—a checkbox. So until you learn how to spot the users, we’ll find you something that will make you feel hot and secure. Besides, a little mystery is good.”

“Hasn’t worked for me the last 25 years,” she quipped.

“No offense, Viola, but you are charmingly easy to read.”

“Well, I don’t like keeping secrets…”

Changkyun pressed his lips together. After a moment, he nodded. “I know. I know. But I’m not talking about keeping secrets. We’re just talking about one-night stands, right?”

“Right.”

“So you don’t need to know everything about each other. Maybe you won’t even know each other’s names. Does that bother you?”

“N-no.”

“You don’t like secrets, remember, and I won’t let you have them with me for this to work. You know that.”

Changkyun was right—this dress exposed far too much, but Vi had nowhere to retreat except behind her crossed arms. She chewed her bottom lip before she answered again, “Yeah, I know. I’m really fine with it. I guess it just hits different when you say it.”

“Okay,” he said. “Just know you can back out at any time if you need to.”

She huffed. “Is that what this is? Are you trying to make me back out of this?”

“As if I could.”

“Good,” she said, her arms at last dropping to her sides, her chest thrust out as proudly as her chin. “Because I’m not going to back down. I’m going to take this all the way.”

“Then I’ll stay by your side like I promised.”

Something about the way his chocolate eyes met hers made Vi’s heart shift in her chest. She glanced at her sandaled feet as she replied, “I know. Thanks, Kyun.”

Changkyun sighed and rubbed his palms along the armrests. “Okay, then let’s get you into something else. You need something that makes you feel hot while looking mysterious.”

She scoffed. “This is way more strategy than I thought. Fine. You pick something out for me.”

Her friend nearly did a double-take. “What?”

“You don't like anything that I've picked, so why don't you pick something? Just remember what I'm going for here. Not something I might have worn before but something I need to wear now.”

“Viola—”

“We’ll be here for another three hours if you don’t,” she warned.

With a sigh, he stood up and paced the racks, his calm eyes scanning a rainbow of mini dresses. After several minutes, he came back to the dressing room, a perfectly blank expression on his face.

“One dress? Really?” she said with an eyebrow popped.

“The dress,” he corrected.

“Cocky.” Vi was about to head into the room when she furrowed her brow. “Kyun, this is something my grandmother would wear.”

“You know I know Grandma Viv, and I love her, but nobody wants to see her in this dress.”

“Hey!” Changkyun stared at her and, finally, Vi relented. “Fine, maybe not, but come on, this is like a parka compared to what I picked.”

“And your point?”

She scowled. “I’m trying to get laid, remember? I’d wear something like this to a wedding.”

“First of all, you would not. I’ve been your date to a dozen weddings by now, and I’ve never seen you wear something like this. Second, this dress will one hundred percent get you laid. I guarantee it.”

Vi turned her gaze back down to the tangerine number in her hands. It was the same stretchy bodycon material as many of the things she’d tried on, but apart from a halter neck and some satiny ribbons at the back tie, it looked about as plain as something in this store could get. She looked back at her friend dubiously, but Changkyun was unrepentant as he returned to his chair and sat down for what he clearly considered the last outfit of their fashion show.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” she said.

“I am. Look, the color will make your skin tone shine, and the cut will flaunt your assets.”

“Which are?” she prodded with a cheeky smile.

“Your assets, Viola,” he repeated stubbornly, but his eyes slid to her curvaceous hips and thighs, and she grinned, victorious.

“Fine, I’ll take your word for it, but I still think it’s a little boring. There’s no cleavage at all, and there’s a freaking bow at the back. I’m trying to get away from cutesy, remember?”

Changkyun folded his arms in a way that smacked all too hard of an unswerving CEO. “I promise you, you will look anything but cute in it.”

“I’d better.”

“Put it on, Viola,” he ordered, and it made her mouth go dry.

She retreated behind the saloon door and reluctantly swapped her “open 24/7” dress for what she was convinced would be more “help wanted”, but after she’d shimmied the vibrant fabric over her full thighs and fuller hips and then tied the bow behind her neck, she turned toward the mirror and her jaw dropped.

Damnit. He was right.

She looked hot. She looked damn hot.

The orange did amplify the exotic warmth of her skin and, like a buttercup beneath the chin, reflected attention to her face. A little notch on the skirt she hadn’t noticed before gave a sultry window to more thigh, and though there wasn’t cleavage on display, the snug of the dress across the curves of her chest was just as provocative.

She pivoted and glanced over her shoulder to find her ass looked just as round as a tangerine itself, and her back was far more exposed than she expected, allowing the halter ribbons to sway tantalizingly against the bare flesh there.

Vi smiled at herself, once in triumph before she tested out a few other versions that ran the gamut between coy, seductive, and hungry—or perhaps they all looked the same. She’d have to practice a bit more before she was confident she was nailing the hot girl vibe.

Finally ready, she swung open the door.

“That’s the one,” her best friend said, those cat-like eyes thin and stealthy as he regarded her from his seat.

“You think?”

Before Vi could step out of the changing room, Changkyun was out of his seat and in the dressing room beside her, the door swinging shut behind him. Trapped in such a small space with her best friend made things… weird. Through the thin fabric, should could feel his body heat, and it carried with it notes of leather and vanilla. She had spent much of her life by his side, but she swore she’d never smelled his skin so clearly.

“Do you love it?” he asked.

Vi bit her lip and nodded sheepishly. “I love it.”

“Mm.”

He surprised her by grabbing her bare shoulders and whirling her around so she faced the mirror, him behind her. His sharp chin hovered near the crook of her neck as Changkyun continued, “Do me a favor.”

“Uh, okay?” she hedged.

“Close your eyes and picture the man you want to fuck.”

Her head whipped back as she readied to argue with him, and she realized too late that it all nearly ended in disaster. With his face so close, only a piece of paper could have fit in the space between their lips. Vi recoiled. He did not.

“Im Changkyun!” she scolded as she hurried to return her attention to the mirror.

“You said you’d listen to me,” he reminded matter-of-factly, and her temper evened out.

“Yeah, okay, fine.” She was all too happy to close her eyes now anyway.

“Picture him,” he said lowly. “Everything about him. Not just his looks but the kind of lover you need him to be.”

Resentfully, Vi squeezed her eyes shut. It took much longer than she expected considering she’d been fantasizing about this exact thing night after night for months, but she blamed it on Changkyun’s use of the word “lover.” Finally, though, the haze of her mind began to solidify into a silhouette. The shadow man moved closer, and though she couldn’t make out any of his features, his body began to take shape. Lean, defined, strong. There were tattoos there, though nothing specific besides the fact that there was a sheen of sweat glazing all of them from the hard work he’d been putting in to please her. His movements were confident and intentional from plenty of expertise.

A sliver of light illuminated a pair of lips. Soft. Delicious. The bow just a bit sharp to hint at how wicked they could be but the bottom fuller and smoother with the promise of the sweetest finish.

Vi licked her own lips.

“Good,” hummed Changkyun, and the ice water of reality washed away her fantasy.

“What’s the point of all this, Kyun?” she said both exasperated and desperately eager to move on.

“I want you to see how a dress like this will do more for you than those other ones from before.”

“Okay, but why?”

“When you know what you want and how to get it, you won’t settle for less. Dress for the fuck you want.”

Vi scrunched her nose. “You wouldn’t think it to look at you, but you also go from zero to eleven real quick, man.”

“You have no idea.”

Now she was scrunching her eyebrows.

“See,” Changkyun continued, directing her gaze back to herself in the mirror, “no man’s going to miss this dress even in a crowded club. Everyone knows how sweet a tangerine is, and they’re going to want a piece.”

“Man, you silver-tongued—” Vi cut herself off with a shake of her head. “Okay, yeah. Fine. I’m feeling you now.”

“Good because that dream man you just pictured? This is how you reel him in. There’s no shortage of selfish, lazy fucks out there, but you need a man who understands and appreciates a woman’s body. A dress like this will make him appreciate it. It’s a tease. He’ll have that sweet first taste, and he’ll find himself imagining what more is waiting for him. See the way it cinches your waist? It’s inviting hands to grab right here.”

His hands hovered at the first swell of her hips. Through the fabric, Vi could feel his residual heat like a steam from a mug, but Changkyun kept his distance, and after a moment, they fell back to his side.

“So, you’ve changed your mind about this dress?” he said with a smirk.

“You were right,” she admitted sulkily.

“Mm. And you were worried you’d only be cute… See, with the bow, now you’re something special to unwrap,” he said as he swung her around again, back to the mirror, his fingertips glancing across the tails of the ribbons and, inadvertently, her spine, “but if he’s too desperate to manage that, it’s a short detour to pleasure no matter where you end up.”

Vi imagined for a split second that her best friend’s fingertip had grazed the back of her thigh where the hem hugged beneath her ass, but she knew that had to be a byproduct of the image he’d painted. After all, Changkyun had always been good with words, especially for the kind of sultry music he wrote.

“So we’re done here?” he prompted.

“Yeah, teach.”

“Perfect. Now, take it off.”

It wasn't like the order he had given her to put it on. This—this was quiet… breathy…

Eager.

But when he spoke again, he added flippantly, “I want to get going.”

Vi crashed back down to earth like a payload of bricks. “Fine, then get out.”

She shoved her friend bodily through the door and let out a heavy breath the second she had the space back to herself. She hadn’t realized how heavy and close the air was until she was alone again.

Fast as she could, Vi dressed back in her shorts and oversized hoodie and returned with the orange dress on her arm.

“Okay, okay, we’re done,” she said.

“Actually, not just yet,” corrected Changkyun.

She popped a lush eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t even want to do this part. What else is there?”

He hummed. “I want you to start thinking 4D.”

“As in ‘four dicks’?”

“Jesus, Viola. I mean dimensions. Four dimensions.”

“Well, I don’t know! After all that ‘dream lover’ talk or whatever, I wasn’t sure what channel we were on.”

“Your dream fuckboy has four dicks?” Changkyun asked with a smirk.

“Oh, shut up. I’m eager, but I’m not that greedy. What the hell does four dimensions mean anyway?”

“There's a beauty store around the corner. I'll show you.”

Vi bought the dress, both associates eyeing her and her friend suspiciously, and the realization that they assumed something had happened in the changing room made her wince, but if Changkyun noticed, he didn't acknowledge it.

He took her bag and headed out the front door with her in tow. Her best friend was rarely chatty—usually he left the course of conversation up to her—but Vi had run out of things to talk about. Though it had always been the point of this mission, her mind was fixed on the fantasy Changkyun had ruthlessly conjured, and she couldn't unstick it.

She was so busy riding that sweaty, shadowy tattooed man that she ran right into her best friend's back as he stopped.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Sorry. Daydreaming.”

He studied her for a second before he shifted his attention to the sleek display featuring a rainbow of bottles in the window. “We're here.”

“Hey, this place is fancy,” Vi observed as she looked up at the black-and-white Parisian awning over a gilded double door. “How did you know about it?”

“I buy my cologne here. Here's your next lesson: if you want to be a lure, make yourself a sensory experience.”

“A sensory experience? And you call me a nerd.”

“That means it’s not just visuals, Viola. Your smell, your skin, your—” Changkyun stopped. His lips mashed together as he considered, but after a rough swallow, he continued, “—your taste… this is what will ensure you have the best time because he’ll work harder for you because he’ll want to.”

Vi quirked a brow. “Damn, Kyun. Sometimes it sucks that you're my best friend.”

“It does?”

“Hell yeah. Otherwise, I’d be all over you.”

While Vi fiddled with a few bottles, Changkyun watched her. After a minute, he blurted, “Viola—”

“Can I help you two find anything?” An elegant blonde woman sidled up behind them with a polished smile that twisted into something much more seductive when her eyes caught Changkyun’s face. “Oh, it’s you. Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon. How are you?”

He nodded and gave the other woman a polite smile. “Good, thanks. We’re all good.”

The associate’s smile faltered as she glanced to his companion before she echoed his polite nod and retreated behind the register.

Vi leaned up to her friend's ear and whispered, “Do I spy the next Mrs. One-night-only? Am I going to get to study the master in the wild up close? Ooh, I feel like Steve Irwin.”

“You know my rules,” he replied as he picked up a bottle and idly sniffed it.

Oh yeah, she thought. No familiar faces. No sleepovers. No repeats. How could she forget, especially after her disastrous go at Henry?

Changkyun had a lot of rules for his personal life and perfectly logical reasons for most of them. He wasn't shy about sharing them either. In fact, he laid them out for every woman he'd been with so there were fewer misunderstandings when their time was up. The only thing he refused to explain was why Vi had never seen him with a girlfriend—their entire lives. She had probed plenty of times, but the only thing he'd ever said on the matter was “There's no point.”

Unsatisfied, Vi said, “What if you ran into her at a club first and then saw her here?”

“If I did, you know I’d have to stop using this store.”

“Man, Kyun, I forget how strict you can be sometimes. Am I expected to do that, too?”

“These my rules, Viola. I don’t expect you to follow them the way I do, but you should consider some of your own. If you want to stay unattached, you need rules and the determination to stick to them.”

“You’re right. But I’m not letting some guy run me out of a store I like.”

Changkyun hummed. “That’s my girl.”

Vi returned her attention to the shelves and, more specifically, the price tags underneath. “Oh, man, these are expensive.”

“Real perfumes are,” he replied. “Don’t worry about it just yet, okay?”

“Guess my Vicki Secrets Honeysuckle Apricot body mist isn't cutting it anymore. What's wrong with my signature scent?”

“Nothing,” he assured. “It's perfect for making a man fall in love with you, but that's not what we're going for, is it?”

“Falling in love? Hell no.”

Changkyun smiled that special tight smile, the one that always told her he was holding something back, but it also meant that even if Vi asked, he wasn't going to tell her what it was.

Instead, she directed her attention to the array of glass bottles spaced far enough apart that it drew the eye one by one. Each bottle was an experience, though she expected that came with the price tag. Some were faceted like jewels and others were shaped elaborately like high heels or hearts or even hot air balloons. “Okay, so what is my cheap ass looking at here?”

“Think of the bottles the same way you thought of your clothing,” said Changkyun. “They give you a hint of what’s inside. Dark and seductive. Bright and lively. Deep and powerful. Let your eyes guide you the same as they will in a club.”

Vi looked up and down the rows where four bottles caught her attention. She wanted to grab the quirkier sculpture bottles, but she remembered her best friend’s lessons from the dress shop, and she decided she needed to think more sophisticated. She went for bottles of ruby and sapphire, black and gold, and she lined them up in front of her.

“Okay, now what?” she asked.

Changkyun appraised her choices, though his face didn’t reveal whether she’d done a good job or not. He reached down the line to little cotton strips propped up in a dish and grabbed several. He chose the ruby bottle first and brought the nozzle close to the strip as he said, “We'll spray them on some paper first to see if you like them.”

A quick spritz and then a brief fan of the paper in the air, and he offered it to Vi. Before it even got to her nose, she scowled.

“I don’t like it,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Ugh, it stinks?”

Changkyun shook his head. “No, what’s the note that you don’t like?”

“Kyun, I live my life in fruity body sprays. What do I know about this?”

He glowered at her. “Too flowery? Too powdery? Too masculine?”

“No. It smells like an old lady.”

Changkyun brought the paper to his nose now and breathed. His eyes rolled back as he considered before he said, “Mm, hints of iris and amber and definitely some rose. You’re right, it’s not the scent for you.”

It was Vi’s turn to glower at her friend. “You know, you really know how to flex without looking like it.”

They tried the sapphire bottle next, but this time Vi was clear on why she didn’t like it.

“Too flowery,” she blurted as she recoiled and rubbed her nose.

Changkyun smiled. “You’re a quick learner.”

Unfortunately, neither of the next two bottles were a fit either, and Vi was startling to feel a little defeated. If the goal was for her to be able to make the right picks to reel in the right guys, she was failing miserably, first at the clothing and now at the scents. All her planning showed how little she really knew about the waters into which she was trying to dip a toe.

“You’re doing fine, Viola,” Kyun said, reading her instantly. “It’s not a test. It’s a new experience. You can’t get it wrong. You can just learn from it.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Her best friend studied her furrowed brow and, when she didn’t shake herself out of her funk, he suggested, “How about this? I’ll pick three scents that I think might suit you, and you tell me what you think.”

At this, Vi perked up. Curiosity overwhelmed her as she wondered how Changkyun could possibly sum her up in a fragrance. Only he would propose such a thing.

“Yeah, okay,” she said. “Bring it on.”

He nodded and headed down the row and then another and, in a blink, came back with three bottles as though he knew exactly which ones to grab.

She squinted at him. “That didn’t take very long.”

“Just try them,” he said dismissively.

Vi stared at him a minute longer, but he wasn’t budging and her curiosity was only increasing. She crinkled her broad nose and relented.

The first bottle was shaped like a poison apple, and after a quick spritz, her eyebrows raised. “Okay… Yeah, I actually like this one. It’s got some fruity notes. You know I like those.”

“I do,” Changkyun said with a smile.

“What is that I’m smelling? It’s sweet.”

“Vanilla. That’s a favorite scent for a lot of men.”

Vi bit her lip. “Tasty. I dig that.”

“Leave the paper there for a minute while you try the next. It’ll give the scent a little time to unfold. A good perfume changes over time.”

“Damn, okay, Mr. Nose. I’ll come back. Now, what’s this one?” She picked up a much less dramatic rectangular bottle in a translucent cherry red. It wasn’t one she would have picked up herself, but on first spray, the burst of cherry and almond hit her immediately, and she hurried for a second whiff. “Oh, this one smells delicious! But it’s not like my usual fruity stuff.”

Changkyun nodded. “This one’s darker. That’s the liquor in it.”

“Ooh, yeah? I like that. The guys will want to take a bite.”

Her friend didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. Another whiff of the paper, and this one had definitely moved to the top of the list for now.

“Give it another minute,” he said and reached for a bowl of coffee beans sitting nearby. “Smell this.”

Vi popped an eyebrow. “Why?”

“It resets the nose. It’s easy to get the smells confused after a while.”

She shrugged and huffed the beans only to find it didn’t smell nearly as strong as she expected, but on second sniff, the coffee scent came through clearer.

“Ready?” Changkyun asked, and she nodded.

The last bottle he’d chosen was shaped like a diamond laying on its side. The black bow and smoky liquid inside gave Vi speakeasy vibes, and something about her drew her in from first sight. She sprayed a fresh paper strip, but she could smell it before she even brought it to her nose.

“Wow. Okay, wow.”

In a rare flash of brightness, Changkyun leaned forward and beamed from ear to ear. “You like it?”

“A lot! Definitely feels like nighttime. Maybe it’s ‘cause of the coffee beans, but I smell coffee in there somewhere. And there’s lots of fruits, too. And flower? Rose maybe? Okay, I don’t know what I’m talking about, but it’s super sexy.”

“Mm. If you want to know if it's a good match, you have to apply it to your skin though,” he said. “Fragrances wear differently on skin. It may smell good on paper, but there’s only one way to know if it will smell the same on you.”

Her friend grabbed her wrist and lifted it up, turning it over in his hand so the back of hers rested in the palm of his, his tan fingers curling around her toffee skin. Changkyun grabbed the bottle, the sultry liquid sloshing inside the glass facets, and he spritzed briefly across her pulse point.

“Give it a minute to dry down,” he instructed.

The first few seconds ticked by quickly, but somehow the next ticked by slower and slower, as though time itself had been trapped in molasses. Maybe it was because she was eager to smell her skin. Maybe it was because Changkyun was still cradling her hand and he’d never done such a thing before, and it was new.

In fact, today, things just felt a little weird between them. Most likely, it was the strain of their mentor/mentee relationship. They’d never had a dynamic like that before; not to mention, Vi had been out of school for several years now, so she hadn’t really planned for assignments and exams and, well, obvious failures of both this late in her life. It was more stress than she’d anticipated, even if her mentor was the person she trusted most.

But Changkyun remained just as unbothered as he usually looked. When he judged the time right, he raised her wrist to his nose and inhaled. Vi waited for him to comment, but he said nothing. Instead, he pushed her hand back toward her and said, “Here. What do you think?”

He guided her wrist to her nose this time, and she breathed in deeply, once, then twice. She closed her eyes and breathed in a third time.

Suddenly, she wasn’t in a store at all, but a crowded club. Strobe lights winked, skirts rolled up thighs, steam wafted off rolling bodies. It was intense, warm, and incredibly intimate all at once.

“Mm,” she murmured, “there’s the fruit and the rose again, but there’s something deeper. Reminds me of something from college. Incense, maybe?”

He hummed. “Patchouli I’d guess, yeah. I’m getting a lot of creamy caramel, too.”

Something about the way he said it made Vi’s brain flatline same as it had in the changing room when he was coaching her. This was the hardest she’d worked on anything since college. No wonder she was stressed out.

She sniffed her skin again and scowled. “You think it's a little strong for me?”

Changkyun stared at her. “Viola, you can pull off anything you want to. You just have to want to. A fragrance like this will give you that aura of confidence that you want.”

“You think?”

“If you let it,” he insisted. “Do you like it?”

“I do.” She paused. “Do you think guys will like it?”

“Without a doubt, but it’s important you love it, too. Just make sure it doesn’t give you a headache. You come first, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Changkyun narrowed his eyes. “I mean it, Viola. Deep-ending things can drown you.”

“I know, Kyun.”

Vi sniffed her wrist again and smiled. She smelled powerful and alluring, and she felt it, too. Her best friend was right. At the end of the day, this was about her and the woman she wanted to be, and she’d never been more grateful to have a man like Changkyun in her corner to remind her of that.

“But it's only for night time, okay?” he said abruptly, and it jerked her out of her thoughts. His back was to her as he returned the other bottles to their sections, though he said over his shoulder, “Don't go wearing that to work.”

Vi laughed. “Why not?”

“Just… don't.”

“Okay fine, man of mystery,” she agreed with a smile.

“Again with the sass,” he scolded. “I’m not trying to be mysterious, you know. I thought I was being pretty transparent.”

“Nothing about you is transparent, Kyun.”

He returned his attention to her long enough to study her face, and then he let out a sigh. He held the bottle in his hand, his thumb polishing one of the facets as he said, “This perfume? It's a love spell. Cast it wisely.”

“I thought we were avoiding love?”

“Different kind of love,” he clarified. “This kind only lasts as long as this scent does.”

“Sounds like you've got a new song in the making,” she teased.

But he remained serious as said, “Don’t waste it on your coworkers.”

With that, Changkyun turned toward the register and the lengthy blonde waiting behind it, who perked the second he headed toward her. Vi hurried to catch up, and when she got there, the associate was already in the back fetching a fresh bottle.

His card was already out of his wallet as he said, “I’ll buy it for you.”

“No, Kyun,” she said waving her hands, “you don’t need to—”

“You weren't expecting to buy it, so I'm not going to make you.”

“But I already owed you dinner to thank you for today.”

“You can take me out another night this week.”

Vi’s eyebrows scrunched. “What about band practice?”

“It’s not every night. Besides, I have to eat, right? You could just swing by one of the nights. The guys would like to see you, too.”

“Okay, fine. I can bring Chicken Box for them,” she suggested.

“And what about for me?” he said with an uncharacteristic pout.

Vi laughed. “All these years, and I’ve rarely seen you jealous. It looks cute on you.”

“I wasn’t going for cute,” he retorted. “I was going for hot.”

She snarled and gave her best friend a shove to his shoulders. “You ass. Maybe I’ll just feed your friends, and I won’t bring you anything at all now.”

“Fine,” he said, hands on his hips as he leaned in with a smug smile. “Then you’ll owe me a private dinner later.”

“Fine,” she responded just as childishly.

For a minute, they stared each other down like it was high noon in the Old West, but Vi broke first, the corner of her lips twitching, and then her best friend followed until they were both laughing as the saleswoman returned.

As soon Vi’s perfume was bagged, Changkyun paid the bill and nodded toward the door. “Come on, let’s get going.”

“Kyun, no more, okay? I don’t know how other people do this much shopping. I’m exhausted.”

“So am I. Now, I’m just hungry.”

At this, Vi perked. “Good. What do you want to eat? The ramen shop Hoseok’s always rambling about is a couple blocks down if you want, or we can get some Vietnamese or Indian. It’s my thanks to you, so it’s your call, but nothing too greasy if you don’t want me falling asleep at the table.”

“Ramen’s good.”

Though Vi was decidedly more extroverted than Changkyun, she loved their easy silences, especially ones like this one. They strolled down the sidewalk under breeze-shaken maples, cars ebbing and flowing like the English Bay. The sun was warm between the skyscrapers, and nearby, silverware clinked in cafes. Sometimes, she would randomly lose her walking partner only to find him stopped somewhere behind her, squinting through storefront displays at Balenciaga or Burberry. Changkyun never said why, but she like to imagine he was dreaming about what he would buy if he made it big with his music someday. He'd always had expensive taste though he rarely splurged.

They stopped at an intersection a block away from the restaurant when a car pulled to a stop at the light, blasting some club pop remix as the driver and passenger scream-sang the lyrics, and a light bulb lit in Vi’s head.

“Hey, that reminds me,” she blurted as she swiveled to face her friend. “What’s the timeline on this mentorship because Tara texted me this flyer that on Wednesday, there’s this DJ—”

Her friend shook his head swiftly. “Wednesday? Viola, no. You’re not ready. You’re nowhere near ready.”

“Not ready? Kyun, we’ve got the bait,” she said as she waggled both handfuls of bags. “Now, we just need a fishing hole.”

“Look, do you just want sex or do you want good sex?”

“Obviously the good stuff…”

“Then pump the brakes,” he said, exasperated. “I feel like you’re not listening to a word I say.”

“That’s not true. I’ve listened to at least five of them,” she replied with a smirk, and Changkyun rolled his eyes.

Just then, her phone rang, and she groped through her hoodie pockets for it. She didn’t have the number in her contacts, but she could have sworn she’d seen it before, so she answered.

“Hello, is this Viola Flowers?” said a rich baritone on the other end.

“Yeah, this is. Who’s this?”

“Oh, hello. This is Son Hyunwoo, from your room. Oh, apologies,” he said immediately. “I mean, I’m the one who looked at renting your spare room.”

Vi pulled to a stop, a big smile on her face. Changkyun stopped, too, watching her with squinted eyes.

“Oh, hey, yeah! I was just talking about you last night,” she said, and her friend tipped his head like a cat unraveling a curious sound. “I’m glad you called. I thought it over, and, yeah, the room’s yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Hyunwoo asked.

“I mean, Minhyuk tried his best to ruin it for you, but if you help me keep his unannounced visits to a minimum, we’re on.”

“I think I can manage that. That’s exactly why I need to move out of his townhome actually. He thinks he’s the lord of the land. I have no room in my life for it.”

Hyunwoo’s tone was so even and serious, it took Vi a lot longer to process his words, and when she did, she brightened. “Was that—was that a pun?”

“I just mean some time apart is meant to be,” Hyunwoo continued unflinchingly. “I need a new sublease on life.”

“I guess it’s not normal wear and tear on your nerves, huh?” Vi prompted, and she could hear the man on the other of the line let out a short, friendly laugh, which made her burst out laughing. She bit her lip to temper her laughter before she trumpeted, “I knew it! It was a terrible pun! And then another? And another? Wow. Just wow. Bad puns are my life blood, but some people don’t really appreciate them.”

She cast a pointed side-eye to her friend, though Changkyun was decidedly unamused. In fact, something about his naturally sharp body lines looked cold and wicked as the steel of a blade.

Vi forced her attention back to her caller and said, “It’s nice to meet another aficionado for the craft of world play. So, you still want to rent the room, right?”

“I do,” Hyunwoo said. “My lease goes through the end of the month here, and I know last time we talked, I said I wouldn’t know if I could even move to the end of the month, but now I’d need to be out by then. Is that okay if it’s a month sooner than I expected?”

“Sooner’s better for me anyway,” she replied.

“Good then. If you have a sublease, can you email it to me so I can review it?”

And he’s responsible to boot? Vi thought to herself, relieved. This was a huge step up from her last disaster of a roomie.

“I’ll send it over when I get home,” she said, and her eyes narrowed. Changkyun had out-paced her now by half a block, hands in his pockets, iris tattoo flexing restlessly. “Hey, Hyunwoo, I’m out right now, so I’ll message you later once I’ve sent the lease, okay?”

“Sounds good. Have a nice day,” said the older man. He had a way of saying things as though he were twenty years older than she was instead of just five.

They said their goodbyes, and Vi jogged lightly to catch up with her best friend, who had already pulled up at the entrance to the noodle shop.

“Okay,” Changkyun said when she got there.

Her brows pinched. “Okay what?”

“Okay, let’s go to this thing on Wednesday.”

Vi dropped her bags to hug her best friend. “Really? Hell yes! Thanks, Kyun.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he mumbled as she crushed him in her embrace. “We're going to have to work through a lot between now and then to get you ready for the real thing, and I’m warning you upfront that you will not be ready by Wednesday, but we'll go and at least practice.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds good,” she said as she let him go.

“But we're only doing it if you commit to it this week. We've got a lot to cover, so we'll have to meet up most nights.”

“I can do that, but can you? What about your practices?”

“We can work around them.”

“Yay!” Vi squeaked and then quickly tempered when she remembered the whole purpose of today. “I mean, yeah, sure, sounds good.”

Her friend popped one cool eyebrow.

“We can use my place while it’s still just mine,” she suggested as breezed by him into the restaurant. “Oh, yeah, that reminds me. Hyunwoo said he'd take the room. Sounds like he’ll actually start moving stuff in toward the end of the month.”

“That’s faster than you thought,” said Changkyun. “Didn’t you say he wouldn’t even know if he could move before the end of the month, and now, he’s already moving in?”

“Yeah, but at least that means I won’t have to pay the full rent again next month. My bank account will be happy.”

He hummed and returned his attention to the menu.

After they’d ordered, Vi asked, “So what do you want to cover this week?”

“Priority is safety. It always is,” Changkyun replied immediately.

“Of course,” she said though her annoyance was clear in her voice.

Her friend watched her carefully. “I know that's not the fun stuff, but we have to do it, Viola.”

“You sound like my dad,” she pouted. “But there's lots of other fun stuff on my list.”

“I know, and I'm sure you have it all organized in order of importance.”

Vi squinted at him. “Sass is my thing, not yours.”

“Is it sass if it’s factual? I’ll bet you have it typed up in your phone notepad, too.”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. How’s that for mystery?” she said coyly. Changkyun raised a brow, and she sighed as she pulled out her phone again. It only took her a second to pull up her “hot girl” list, and she read, “We’ve covered the clothes and accessories. I won’t need you for the other day-of prep, so I guess what’s left is logistics and technique.”

“Technique?” he asked through a slurp of noodles.

“You know, the sexy eyes and dancing and dirty talk stuff.”

Changkyun choked and thumped his chest with his fist before he gulped down some water. After he recovered from his cough, he said, “You expect me to teach you how to dirty talk?”

“I didn’t say that. You asked what’s left. I’m telling you. I’m not going to make this weird for you. I’ll just learn some lines from porn.”

Thankfully, this time, his chopsticks were halfway to his mouth, and he was spared a second round of choking.

“Please don’t,” he said. “I don’t want you picking up insane or bad habits.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? You know this is not my wheelhouse, and I want to learn. I don’t want to embarrass myself.”

Changkyun smiled at her in his gentle way, his soft parentheses dimples bracketing it. “I understand, but what’s wrong with just trying a few new things at a time? If it’s a little awkward, so what? It happens. Sex isn’t perfect, Viola. Embarrassing stuff happens. Bad dirty talk isn’t a big deal compared to some of the stuff I’ve seen.”

At this prompt, Vi propped both elbows up on the table and set her chin on her fists. With big eyes, she asked, “Really? Like what?”

He frowned lightly and looked down at their food. “I don’t know if this is—”

“Come on, man, you can’t start a thought like that and not finish it. Make me feel better.”

“Fine,” he relented but lowered his voice. “One girl sneezed right into my mouth when she was riding me.”

Vi reeled back, barely missing knocking over her bowl as she cringed. “Oh my god!”

“And another was deepthroating me, gagged herself, and threw up on me.”

“That’s possible?” she squealed.

“Shit happens,” he said with a shrug.

“New fear unlocked, holy shit.”

Changkyun shook his head. “It was messy, yeah, and kind of gross, sure, but I still got them off before they went home.”

“Are you serious?” she gaped. “How are you so calm about that? I’d die. I’d probably never attempt sex again.”

“Like I said, shit happens. They were working hard for me. I had to make them feel better.”

“I swear to god, Kyun, there’s no other man like you.”

“You’d be surprised what a guy can forgive for the sake of sex.”

Vi deflated. “If there’s anything to make me want to stick to your code to the letter, it’s this. I could never see a guy again if I threw up on him. Catch me under a river rock, bye.”

Changkyun resumed his soup slurping as though he hadn’t just traumatized his best friend for life, leaving her to gnaw on the edge of her lip.

“Food’s getting cold,” he nudged as he took another drink.

“I’ll never eat again,” she swore.

“Hot girls eat well, come on.”

“I can’t stand you and your cool guy schtick. Okay, fine,” she said twirling some noodles into a bite. “So this week, I guess I’ll let you be safety officer first, and then maybe you can point out some hot girl dances moves at the DJ thing? You can be my living mirror.”

“Living mirror?” he echoed.

“Yeah, you know. You can reflect my successes and failures. Point out stuff other girls are doing and then give me tips when I try.”

“If that’s what you want.”

Vi nodded as she gulped down a bite.

“And what about the dirty talk lessons?” he asked.

At this, she pursed her lips. “I’m really not trying to overstep your good will, man. There’s, like, Cosmo articles and shit, I’m sure.”

Changkyun laid his chopsticks across his bowl and narrowed his eyes at her. “No, Viola, I know you. If I don't help you, you'll help yourself, and I don't need you shouting ‘Choke me, daddy’ to a stranger.”

It was Vi’s turn to choke. She banged her fist against her collar bone and downed her entire glass of water.

“Shut up,” she hissed, eyes scouring the restaurant. It wasn’t too busy, but that only made it feel that much louder. “I’m not trying to ruin everyone’s meals.”

“Then I suggest you accept my help.”

Vi glowered at him. “All this time, I didn’t realize you were a blackmailer at heart.”

“Comes in handy in the bedroom, too,” he added.

“I have so much to learn, sempai.”

Changkyun smiled that secretive smile once more. His voice dropped in octave as he promised, “Good because there’s so much I want to teach you.”

#monsta x smut #changkyun smut #multichapter #hot girls blank #slow burn #best friends to lovers #romance #third person

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flojouno · 1 month ago

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now i’m thinking about hair. i never had black friends growing up. didn’t have a black classmate until freshman of high school, then moved to a different school with no black students in sophomore year. hell i didn’t even have black online friends. now i have more black online friends (i don’t leave the house so black irls is tricky) and even THEN im not very close to them.

so my experience with my blackness has been centered by my family. my dads side is the worst cause my grandma hated black hair (given she grew up when our hair was called nappy and messy). she always complained when i wore it naturally. insulted me and constantly questioned when i’d get it “fixed”. my mom is from the islands so she appreciates it. she doesn’t understand how americans do their afros tho (she kinda just wets the hair and add oil and call it a day. no shaping or anything). i think my sister and cousin are the only ones who know how to take care of our hair! they both keep theirs really short.

i really like color and longer hair. i despise wearing wigs and weaves aren’t for me. it’s either dying my natural hair or braided extensions/other styles like locs or twists etc. i prolly do have more options but my mom does my hair.

it’s so fascinating to think about how other people get their hair done. friends always tell me about how they got their hair cut, dyed and fixed up in salons and barbers. it’s so fascinating and it’s like. a few hour process!! or less!! mine is like a whole weekend thing. never is a one day thing. never. cut the braids shorter, take the braids out, detangle then wash well, and prepare to braid. that alone takes most the day for me. plus my mom does it alone 9/10 of the time. she works on her feet all day so she needs more breaks, we don’t have good spots to have us both sitting while she does it, and taking out my own hair is awful and nearly impossible. do you know how tiring it is to fiddle with the top of your head for hours? that’s a whole workout right there! i can only do so much!

by the time my hair is washed and detangled again i’m exhausted. so is my mom. we usually continue it for the next day. preparing my hair and then braiding. i never learned to braid when i was younger so learning now isn’t ideal on my own head. but my mom and sister help which im so grateful for. i used to be so tender headed when i was little but my mom stopped yanking my hair as hard and now i can handle it better. a lot of my memories are sitting in the chair in front of my mom, me sleeping or on my laptop/listening to music on my phone, while my mom watches her shows. i have thick tight curls and my hair is getting longer each time i take out my braids (which is good since my hair had grown super slow my whole life. i blame all the relaxing and straightening). so getting each braid in is hell.

of course it’s also being braided with the fake hair. whatever color i wanted, and now im getting more creative with the styles! making bangs or putting beads or leaving the ends open or braiding all the way down with charms and stuff. it’s the best way i can do to express myself! it’s my hair! it takes time and effort and work to get my hair done. i’m stuck with it for a while so i better like how it ends! having my hair braided makes my life so much easier, especially since i’ve had depression since 10 years old. it’s been a struggle to take care of myself at all, so having the huge HUGE possibility of my hair getting knotted and matted and dirty was also right around the corner. braiding has been my savior.

not sure what this post is but i like talking about my hair :3 don’t get a lot of chances too. i never realized how much my hair means to me.

#yeah #it’s 4am rn i’m just thinking a lot #flojouno #text #black hair #also learning to draw my hair has been AWFUL growing up #no easily accessible tutorials #if you didn’t have straight or wavy or curly you were fucked #tight curls? you better run cause no one’s helping you #braids? locs? good fucking luck #i’m happy there’s more resources now! plus there’s custom brushes!#also the different hairstyles you can do with black hair is amazing #i just never understand how other cultures take these hairstyles and act weird #like yeah they look cool but they mean something to us #it’s not a simple aesthetic thing.#anyways yeah i should go back to sleep gnnnn #4c hair

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salti-thelatediagnosedautist · 2 years ago

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Autism and haircuts support post

Being autistic and getting a hair cut, or even, going to a salon, is such a uniquely terrifying experience.

Not only are we facing many sensory struggles, but we are also facing many social struggles.

Some of the sensory issues from a haircut can be:

The sound of the scissors and/or razor buzzing.

The feeling of hair down your neck.

Wearing that weird cape thing and towels.

Your hair being washed/wet.

Sitting in front of a mirror.

Bright lights.

Lots of ambient noise around you.

Someone else having to touch/tug, stretch out/brush and dry your hair.

Some of the social struggles include:

Having to explain the hair cut you want.

Having to call to book an appointment.

Having to participate in small talk with a stranger, where you are trapped for a long time.

Having to wait for your hair cut in a waiting room with other people.

Being exposed in a vulnerable state, with lots of people walking by and looking through the window.

Not understanding the internal culture and vibes of the hair-dressing industry and the internal culture within specific salons.

It can also aggravate agoraphobia and just general anxiety issues in other ways:

Being in a new place.

Meeting new people.

An unfamiliar process.

Being in a big, white, spacious room like a hospital room.

Tips for hair/grooming business to be more accessible:

Have your process detailed out on your website.

Have examples of haircuts to choose from.

Offer at-home services, or have a sensory friendly chair (with lower lighting, fidget toys, a choice in small talk or silence).

Ask for consent at every new step (are you ready for me to touch your hair? Are you ready for me to spray your hair?)

Offer breaks! It’s hard for a client to ask for a break.

Have online booking available to avoid phone calls.

Don’t play music, or keep it at a lower level.

Don’t have open windows where strangers can look in.

Offer if they want the cape or just a towel.

Offer to let clients do certain parts of the process (brushing out knots, spraying the water on, etc.)

Have disposable ear plugs and sunglasses available.

Tips for making your trip as an autistic person easier:

See if you can book an appointment through their social media (message on instagram or facebook)

Bring fidget toys/sensory aids.

Let the salon know ahead of time your sensory/social needs and preferences.

Bring a friend if possible!

Brush and wash your hair yourself before an appointment.

I hope this helps!

#autism advice #autism #asd #autism spectrum disorder #haircuts #neurodivergent #OC #autism help #accessibility #autism awareness #autism acceptance #autistic adults #neurodivergent adults

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tripleaxelrose · 2 years ago

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Welp... new story! Enjoy!

One Shot #6: To-Do List

1. Get a new lipstick.

She stands at the counter, looking in the mirror. Saying goodbye to the French girl. Under the fluorescent store lights.

When she starts to cry, the salesgirl comes over.

“Ma’am, are you OK?”

“No,” she says softly, gazing back at her own reflection. The red is such a nice color. An emblem of the life she wanted. Her and Romain living in Paris. Her at a cafe with an espresso and a notebook in front of her on the little round table. Her with her hair grown long down her back, its natural mousy brown dyed the same color as the coffee — a kind of richness there. And the red lipstick. Raspberries. She looked at photos of Marion Cotillard online.

“I need something different,” she says to the salesgirl. She runs a hand across her cheeks, brushing away the tears. The salesgirl hands her a tissue.

She goes home with a tiny bag, the thing inside it wrapped in tissue paper and ribbon. So expensive for something so small, its black case gleaming like a jewel.

“Trust me,” says the salesgirl.

She does not quite understand the logic. It’s the same color as her lips, almost. It’s so expensive for something so small.

She wants to be the French girl again, wants raspberries. Wants to be dreaming in that cafe. At home, she tosses the tiny bag in a corner and does not think about it again for a week.

When she wears it to the rink for the first time, Adam takes her chin in one hand and inspects her. He gives a brusque nod of approval.

“This is the beginning,” he says.

When she steps on the ice, Nathan is there. (Nathan is always there.) He tosses her a lopsided smile. “You look different,” he says.

She keeps looking in the mirror. She does not see it.

2. Fix your highlights.

She sleeps and sleeps. She uses an eye mask, earplugs. Blocks out the world. Because when she’s not sleeping, it feels like, she’s crying. On the ice. At the grocery store.

She makes the appointment because Adam will not stop hounding her. Because she doesn’t want to hear it anymore.

In the chair, she stares in the mirror again. Always her own face. The dark circles standing out on her skin despite all the sleep.

The lipstick is growing on her, though. She’s started wearing it more, keeps it in her purse instead of stuffed away in her dresser drawer with her socks.

“Can I take all of this off?”

The stylist is talking to her and she is only half listening. But she snaps to attention when she realizes, sees the fistful of hair that the woman is gripping in one hand.

All that. Eight inches of hair? Nine. A year of growing it out, maybe two. Almost as long as her whole engagement. So much work, endless maintenance and conditioning. Constantly pinning it back and braiding it into compliance and smoothing down the flyaways.

“Take all of it,” she says, not realizing that she has decided until she says the words.

She walks out of the salon looking not quite like a blonde and not quite like a brunette, her unruly river of hair cropped to her shoulders, the ends blunt, well-behaved. Somehow, she seems both lighter and more adult. She feels free.

In the car, she inspects it in the little mirror behind the sun shade. She reaches into her glove compartment, draws out a bobby pin that she splits open with her teeth. She pins back one side by her temple, feeling more like herself.

At the rink, she sees Nathan before she sees Adam. She is lacing up her skates when he saunters in, late as usual.

“Hey supermodel,” he singsongs to her as he passes. “Looking fresh.”

“Oh shut up,” she says, flinging a towel at him. But she senses something in his gaze, the way it lingers for an instant longer than usual.

Adam’s gaze lingers too, but in a totally different way. He says nothing. She sees the tears bloom in his eyes and suddenly they’re both gasping for breath, trying to calm their sobs.

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” he says, gathering himself. He gives her shoulder a squeeze, nudges her toward the ice. She has the best practice she’s had in months.

3. Get a new program.

She grows tired of being ethereal. Of rhinestones. Of being cute. She does not feel cute. She feels shipwrecked. She feels like the woman who sits down after practice and binges episodes of Breaking Bad with an open bag of Pirate Booty on her lap, her dog curled up on the opposite side of the couch.

She feels like the woman who sporadically panic-texts Nathan at all hours, the thoughts vague and incomplete.

Right boot is wonky can you look tmrw

Watching The Prestige do you think the machine works I dont

Lutz arm position. Don’t trust Adam - need a second opinion

Step sq feels corny, y/n?

This LV purse is too $$$ but am buying anyway. Tell me not to buy it.

Nvmnd bought it.

He takes too long to answer, the typing bubble appearing and disappearing multiple times beside his name before he finally sends something back.

Finally, it is Adam who makes an executive decision. He watches her after a run through of her free skate. She’s quiet, arms folded.

“We’re canning this program.”

“What? That was fine.”

“Exactly. You need something else.”

They work together on it. There is a new song, one about heartbreak, a romance shattered. A new costume, not so far off from the new lipstick shade — a mood more than a color, a sky under storm clouds. No embellishments. Not a single sequin.

Between her and Adam — and Nathan, who weighs in only when he’s asked, sometimes in response to the midnight texts — they figure out the movement. Long arcing sequences from one end of the rink to the other. She feels it in her bones. It is not like anything she’s ever done.

At first, she cries every time she runs through it. Then she stops. Adam does not give much feedback but puts his arms around her instead.

“Good girl,” he says. “Good girl,” in a soothing voice she has heard before. She uses it to speak to her dog.

Nathan does not say much about the program. She sees him when the music starts. He is watching or not watching, maybe out the corner of one eye. But by the time she poses on the last note, her heart pounding in her chest, he is gone.

4. Nathan.

It’s not Adam’s idea, exactly. But he does not discourage her.

At first, she thinks, she knows, that she will never kiss anyone again. She will never fall in love again. She will never stop crying. Her mother will never stop calling her twice a day to ask how she’s doing. There will never be a single morning for the rest of her life that she will not reach across the mattress for him and find nothing but cool, empty space. She will never stop aching for him.

And then something changes.

The pandemic comes for all of them. That’s one thing. It shuts them away in their apartments and closes the rink and cancels all the big competitions.

But this is not what changes.

When they all start to emerge after the initial terror, slowly, faces covered, still afraid, they bind into tiny groups for safety. And somehow, without even discussing it, the tiny group becomes her and Nathan.

They share ice time and workout time. They take drugstore tests until their noses bleed. They watch movies at each other’s apartments after practice. On weekends, they drive up and down the Pacific Coast Highway in his car, windows down, music blaring. In Del Mar, they run on the beach and debate which ending of Pretty in Pink is better. (She supports Blaine. He roots for Duckie against the odds.) They stop at Long Beach and walk to the lighthouse, masks looped around their wrists, not saying much at all.

Two weeks before Nationals, they are home on a warm day, just beyond the rink parking lot on a patch of grass. They do lunges while Adam barks at them, counting off reps, and her eyes wander to the backs of Nathan’s legs in his shorts, the strong cords of muscle moving under smooth skin. And she feels it all at once, the wetness blossoming between her thighs, the heat burning on her cheeks.

She stops doing lunges and walks away, her back to both of them. Nathan shouts after her but keeps going. Adam does not break the count.

She scolds herself. She’s lonely. She’s isolated. The pandemic has been hard. He’s her friend. They are friends.

That night, Adam pours her a giant glass of pinot gris at his apartment.

“You know, it’s not a terrible idea,” he says, his expression serious. He would not dare joke about this. “It might be nice. A soft place to land.”

She’s known for so long, and she is not stupid. She feels the way Nathan’s eyes follow her, noticed it even when she was a teenager and later, when she was engaged. She sees the way he reacts when she competes. She has gone straight from the Kiss and Cry into his arms and felt his nervous heart so many times, whether he was embracing her to congratulate or console her. Despite everything — her boyfriends, her fiancé, his occasional girlfriend — It has always been the two of them.

Around Nationals, they test and quarantine and isolate. They walk around in two masks apiece, terrified of having their competition chances derailed by the virus. They even keep their distance from each other, paranoid about exposure from anywhere, worried they might infect each other, let something slip into their tiny group.

He wins and no one is surprised. She wins and everyone is surprised.

Her head spins. Coming out of the Kiss and Cry, she catches Nathan’s eye for an instant but is whisked away. The TV network wants an interview. A USFS rep wants to speak with her. Fans give her flowers and take photos. She feels lightheaded at the medal ceremony, the gold heavy around her neck. Coming off the ice, Adam puts his arms around her she wonders if she will break. She doesn’t.

It’s late when she gets back to her hotel room, lays the flowers and the medal side by side on the dresser, unzips her team jacket. She wipes off the new lipstick with a tissue. She is about the run the water for a shower when she hears the knock. She doesn’t have to check the peep hole.

“Ah, sorry,” he says, raking a hand through the tangle of unruly curls at his temple. “Do you want me to get a mask?”

“No. We’ve taken like thirty tests since Wednesday.”

He looks a little sheepish, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He jams them into the pockets of his sweats. He calls her “champ,” which makes her laugh. He says “fellow Olympian” in a way that makes it sound like he’s making fun of the idea — how huge and serious it sounds — but she can tell that he’s proud and excited. The light dances in his eyes. They rest on her face and then skitter away.

When she steps out of the room toward him, he does not flinch. He does not step backwards or dodge her. She prepares herself for all of these possibilities, just in case, because she knows that in spite of everything, her heart is still healing.

She knows it will happen, that she will not lose her nerve, when his hands move to her waist, when she can feel the press of his fingertips through her clothes. But she waits anyway, giving him a minute. Maybe she’s giving herself a minute, too. She presses the palms of her hands against his chest and they sway for a moment, one foot to the other, getting their bearings.

“This is the part where you should tell me to stop if you want me to,” she says.

“I’m not going to tell you to stop,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

The way that she has planned this in her head, the kiss will not be a big deal. It’s a kind of experiment, she tells herself. If her recent experience with men has taught her anything, it’s that her eyes can play tricks. And other parts of her body cannot be fully trusted either.

She tells herself that this kiss in particular does not need to mean anything. It does not need to be repeated. It does not need to be discussed, if Nathan doesn’t want to discuss it. It doesn’t need to be the beginning of anything or the end of anything. It is, despite the abyss of a feeling swirling under her ribcage, just a kiss.

And for an instant, when she tips her head to one side presses her lips to his — gentle, a little tentative, both of their mouths determined to stay closed — all of her level-headed reasoning works. This is totally fine, she thinks. I am totally fine.

But when his hands leave her waist and glide over the small of her back, pressing her closer against him, she stops thinking. One of her hands finds its way to his strong back while the other does what he did a moment earlier, as though he showed her where and how. She lets her fingers touch his curls.

Maybe it is the sudden urgency of his touch that shuts off her busy brain. Maybe it is that she feels delirious, caught between the rock-hard plane of his abdomen and the softness of his lips. Maybe it is that she feels herself responding to him in turn in ways that he surely can feel and ways that he can’t. And maybe it is that her ex does not enter her mind even once.

She stops him for only one reason, though. Because she knows exactly what she is about to do, what to ask him for. And her body might be ready — racing a hundred miles ahead, her joints loosening and her breath getting faster — but her head is not.

She feels her breath come back all at once, as though she’s made it to the surface after a long time underwater.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Never say that again,” she gasps, her grip on him tightening, furious. “Not about that, anyway.”

She kisses him once, twice more, fast and urgent. He looks like he’s been underwater too, and more winded than after any of his free programs. She brushes a stray tendril off his forehead with the back of her hand and he catches it, presses his lips against her knuckles.

“I should go,” she says.

“I know,” he says. He doesn’t let her go. His hands stay where they are. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

“I guess if you want to talk, that works too,” she says softly, her lips against the sensitive skin just below his ear. She feels the reaction bolt through his body then, too, his sharp exhale. So she’s not alone in this, then. It’s the two of them. As always.

When they release each other, say their goodnights, it takes too long. There is giggling. By the time she finds her way back into the room, she feels lightheaded. The sensation of his lips stays on her skin. Her body feels as though it’s humming and too-warm.

She cranks the air conditioning. She runs the shower as hot as it will go. She uses her new color-protecting shampoo on her honey-gold highlights. The shampoo is too expensive and she has to carry it everywhere with her now, which annoys her. She has to always check a bag.

When her hands move against her own skin, she thinks, I’m not going to think of Nathan. I’m absolutely not. She does.

As the orgasm blooms against her fingers, her body bucking forward under the water, she feels light, her feet barely touching the tile. The waves of it course through her, as though she is expelling years of history in seconds. It leaves her gasping, her tears indistinguishable from the water gushing around her, her sadness indistinguishable from the giddy sense of wonder that replaces it. It leaves her spent, her limbs heavy, ready to crawl under the sheets.

She blow dries her hair and sleeps an empty, dreamless sleep. When her eyes open the next morning, she remembers first that she is a champion. And second, she remembers him.

#nathan x mariah #chenbell #my fic #figure skating fic

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