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hoseoksluna · 2 months ago

Text

LIFE | jhs

pairing: military!hobi x f. reader (ft. namjoon)

genre: slow burn ; tension ; converse high trope / smut, tiny fluff

word count: 8.6k

summary: hoseok has always had a secret thing for you and once he learns you're single, he doesn't waste time and knocks on your door.

pinterest board: life / playlist: listen / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: mutual pining, hobi is a feet guy, mentions of a partner giving you a cold shoulder and silent treatment, strong tension, praise kink, petting, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, slight dd/lg, raw and rough sex, size kink.

note: SHE'S BACK. HOSEOKSLUNA IS BACCKKKKKKKK. HELLO, MY BABIES. I MISSED YOU ALLLLL SOOOO MUCH AND I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH THAT THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE IN MY YEARNING TOWARDS THE END OF MY HIATUS. fuck, this is way too hot. and i, again, had to take breaks to do something :D actually, i was inspired to write this at 4 am when i landed in my country after my vacation in dubai and got the weverse notification from hobi. :) yep. he ruined me, destroyed me, and i had to start writing. ENJOY THIS FILTHHHHHH. i missed writing abt dd/lg, too.... hehe. let me know what you think. and if you mayhappsss want part two? I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.

Hoseok, at your doorstep bringing in the moonlight before the midnight hour, was not something you quite expected to see when you heard the bell ring. You were lounging around on your couch, clothed in your new silky pajamas that you bought to heal your wounded heart a little, along with a peachy Korean face mask, a banana vape and a vanilla candle that you lit up as soon as you exited the shower. The creamy white sheet is what you were still wearing on the planes on your face when you stood there, taken aback because the man, clad in his military uniform, was certainly not your friend that visited you often.

Hoseok was a mutual friend. A friend of your best friend Karina… and a friend of your now ex-boyfriend Namjoon. A friend that hated your guts—a friend that could not stand you.

A friend that would let his eyes linger a little while longer on you upon seeing you on regular night outs and then ignore you for the rest of the event. A friend that would lock his gaze on your intertwined hand with Namjoon’s before narrowing it and scoffing in a private way that you invariably saw through.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what his deal was—it’s only that you couldn’t do anything about it. You were Namjoon’s for eight wonderful months that were splotchy with the depth of poetry. Words from his heart that would give your life meaning, keep your head up above the surface. You needed those words as you spent your whole girlhood drowning in the sea of FOMO, rowing your arms through the waves of life that never got you anywhere. Seeing the little beauty of day and night of Seoul with your friends paled in comparison with what Namjoon showed you. You always believed that your life would begin with a man by your side—you prayed for it, you waited for it and it became reality.

But it was not the reality that your body sought in the long run.

Yes, the sex was great. Significant to your mental development, especially to your female one as you truly did become a woman in his hands, letting the lush girlish version of you die in his palms. As well as the museums, the hikes, the dinner dates that let you in on the complexity of Namjoon’s intellect that you found so profound and full of beauty.

But as you nearly reached a year with him, your body began to seek more. The flowers beyond the box of your relationship with him—and you knew that those petals carried the scent of Hoseok.

He liked you. You saw it in the extremity of his purposeful ignorance towards you, in the forced hatefulness he put across, and in the distance he set as a boundary. You saw it, too, in the way he would entertain other women in the bars and glance at you every now and then to make sure you’re seeing what he wants you to see. And it excited you, his interest in you that he kept at bay.

It was a forbidden fruit that you smelt and smelt, but could never bite into—and it drove you insane. And when he got enlisted in the military, it drove you off a cliff.

Missing him made you search for him. Not in Namjoon, but in other men. Privately, in your soul. And it cost you your relationship.

Namjoon was a jealous, possessive man. He would fight with you if you looked at a guy for a beat longer than is necessary and if a half of a smile crept up upon the corner of your lips, he would give you the cold shoulder. An action that cut through you deep enough to make you bleed and you had to put a stop to it.

You thought talking to him about it like an adult would straighten the road you were walking upon, but like the intelligent man Namjoon is—he knew that what he was giving to you was no longer what you needed. He threw it back at you, using the poetry of his words, and all you could do was be honest with him. Nod your head, tell him he was right, that you were seeking something more. And what surprised you was that Namjoon wasn’t willing to go the extra mile.

He didn’t consider it. Didn’t mention it.

He nodded his head, too. And you parted your ways as friends who loved each other and lived an artistic life together.

And at that moment, a door to your mind opened and Hoseok stepped in. Made a bed, fluffed the pillows, and rested.

It seems now he has awoken. Rang your doorbell, bashed his fist against the wood and narrowed his eyes at you in his normal fashion.

An action that weaves a rhythm into that flat, bruised heart of yours.

His military jacket is slung over his arm. His two black dog tags, hung by a silver chain around his long neck, rattles as the breath of the fresh, autumn evening breezes past, scattering goosebumps along your chocolate-buttered skin. You notice, within the brief silence while you look at each other and exchange words long overdue, that his hair is way shorter. Not buzzed anymore like Namjoon showed you on Hoseok’s first day in the military six months ago, but tousled and sticking out in different directions as if he raked his fingers through the strands a million times over. Your own itch, wrapped around your vape, his beauty heightened by his evident newly-gained manliness washing over you like an icy stream of water.

You shiver, blaming it internally on the wind, and not on the lightness of the attraction that you feel sinking beneath your skin, overpowering you.

And that small movement of your body propels Hoseok to speak, at last.

“I come home to find you single,” he scoffs, his voice deep and raspy, marked possibly by his job in the military. And you feel it marking you just the same, opening windows in the house of your body for that wind to blow in and exhilarate you, help you breathe. “He’s drunk out of his mind, crawling on Jungkook’s lap and you’re here. In your pajamas with a fucking face mask on.”

Briefly, you furrow your brows, not understanding the meaning of his words. Is he bashing you for not crying your heart out? Or is he bashing his brother for doing whatever it was. Your heart turns halfway, painfully. Those days are gone—those you spent in bed while that broken muscle wept while your body used that time to repose from all the stress it went through, being in an environment it grew out of.

You sigh, weary of the recollection of that peculiar pain, and show no sight of the turbulence happening within you. “Jungkook must be happy about that.”

Hoseok chuckles, humorlessly. A chilling noise that erects your bare nipples beneath your pajama button down. Awkwardness slinks down your sternum and you shift your weight on your other foot as Hoseok deepens his gaze down on you.

Tension settles between you and you use it. You use it, wholeheartedly, as you should have all those months ago. The only thing you ever took advantage of were the touches Namjoon graced your skin with. You’d grab his hand, while Hoseok watched, and bring it underneath the table. Part your mouth, pretending he was touching a sensitive, private place while he was merely drifting his fingers along your thigh. Hoseok would gulp, but he would keep his gaze locked on yours, very much like he’s doing now. It’s the only form of intimate interaction you ever had, save for the heated debates about different things you two did not have in common.

All else remained hidden in the silence shared between you.

And it no longer shall.

If he came all the way here, unannounced, then you shall let fate, one that is enamored with your body, have her way in your life.

“If you came here to talk about him, then I’m not interested,” you say, letting go of the door and slipping off your face mask, ignoring the hurtful pinpricks along the perimeters of your heart. “If you came here for me, then the door is open.”

And with that bravery, you pivot on your heel and walk back into the living room, not expecting him to follow you and not expecting him to walk away. You let fate do her thing, and you begin to tap in the essence of the peachy face mask into your skin with quick, gentle slaps.

You toss the sheet, along with the packaging, into the trash, your hair clipped away from your face whooshing around you with your movement. Kicking off your slides, you hear them bump into something stable, and when you turn around to seek that strange sound, you see Hoseok standing by your armchair near your couch.

So he did come here for you. You tremble in a different manner, filled with sparks of excitement, and, turning around to sit on the couch, you flush, smiling happily to yourself.

But all those feelings turn to dust when Hobi kneels by the edge of your couch and fixes your home slippers. Aligns them rightly in front of you so you can comfortably slide your feet into them once you get up.

Your stomach drops and your fingertips tingle, all of your nerve endings set on blazing fire by that one act of service.

The first kind thing he’s ever done for you.

He throws his military jacket over the backrest of the armchair, where he nestles himself. Legs spread, elbows propped on his knees. His long dog tag chain swings back and forth in the sudden, atypical calmness of the atmosphere that you cannot adapt to fully. Not when your mind creates an image of that chain hanging over your face, your neck and your chest when you’re bare and ready for him, laying on your back, all for him to take.

You bite your lip, tracing the band of your sleep sock with your fingers, and Hoseok’s eyes fall to it. You quickly lift them, sheepish. Distract your mind by opening a package of eye patches and placing them on your dark circles that just won’t leave. His gaze skims over each motion, studying it, wordlessly, and you can’t take it anymore.

You can’t be the only one who’s brave this evening.

You take a puff of your vape, inhaling its sweetness, and stare right back at him. A smile, a foolish girlish smile quivers upon your lips. One that you dislike because you did grow out of it, but it seems as though the more you swallow the intensity of his shadowed, violent sea-charged energy, the more you transform back into that little girl you were.

And the process soaks your panties.

So much is said in the silence, always has been, but you can’t stand it anymore.

“You should start talking before I go to bed,” you bite, willing your smile to flatten, and Hoseok kneads his hands. His knuckles bear a faint memory of yellow bruises, veiny and strong as they are, and for a moment you wonder how far his ferocity reaches.

He showed you little of it. You know he’s capable of doing things that would change you for all eternity, give you a new form that would not wither with age.

And you yearn for it. Have yearned for it all those months without knowing that was the thing your body sought. The thing Namjoon could never give you.

Violence. Roughness. The licks of an outraged sea.

You’re a witness to it sloshing in the pools of his darkened eyes as he chews the provocation you uttered his way. And you can bet he likes the taste.

“Did he break your heart?” he asks amidst the banana-flavored smoke, his knuckles whitening for a split second as he clenches his fist before relaxing—as if the thought of Namjoon breaking your heart angers him.

It rouses you, and the way your chest lifts with each breath stimulates your stiffened nipples. The candlelight sways, casting shadows on his worn features, and you’d much rather sit on them than talk about your ex.

“Did you not hear what I said?” you spit, throwing your vape on the cushion of your couch. Hoseok’s façade splits as he smirks, dropping his gaze for a moment before lifting it back to you.

He leans back, slouching in the chair. “Answer the question.”

The sedatedness of his tone stuns you. Your heart begins to thump as well as the bundle of nerves between your folded legs. It has been too long since you had your release. Months upon months. And you’re too weak to not get carried away by these new feelings you’ve shamefully forgotten about.

The veins from his knuckles travel all the way back to his arms and your brain empties out. Too, too fucking long. You should’ve fooled around with every guy you found attractive, use them for orgasms, make the best of your womanly years, but instead you dwelled at home—in and out of your misery. And now, now it feels as though you’re a virgin, alone for the first time with an older man that enlivens your body.

And you might as well give him what he asks of you.

Sucking on your vape for a puff of bravery, you don’t blink as you stare at him through the smoke. You elongate your legs, placing them on the coffee table next to him, your toes facing his outstretched knee, and his eyes, once again, plummet to them.

“He didn’t break my heart, I broke his,” you say, your words shrouded by that white mist curling out of your mouth, and you watch as his eyes widen en route to yours.

He didn’t expect that.

Something about that satisfies you. Selfishly.

Hoseok runs the pad of his finger across his bottom lip, his head tilted to the side a little bit. “It was about time you did.”

The searing heat that rushes forward in your cheeks forces your gaze away from him, begs you to look away, but you don’t. A bead of perspiration trickles down your cleavage, one that is visible to him as you couldn’t be bothered to do all the buttons after your shower. But Hoseok’s eyes don’t flick to it. No, he can’t miss this. He can’t miss the gravity of the moment, of the spoken confirmation of the fact that what went on between the two of you for so long is real. You squeeze your thighs together, the thumping in between unbearable, and the longer you bask in his brave words, in the masculinity of his initiative, the more your own poetry begins to rise in you.

If it drags, it’s not meant for you. If it’s fast, it couldn’t wait to meet you.

And Hoseok notices. It is only when you let out a little, barely hearable sigh that his eyes do travel down to scrutinize your bodily reaction. To your nipples poking through, the shine of your sweat in between your bare breasts, to the friction you’re rubbing—the miniscule grinding movements that you make in order to alleviate yourself of the ache of desperation that you feel. And because you’re baring yourself out for him, he does the unthinkable.

He lets you see his true face, his façade collapsing at his big, sock-clad feet.

Hoseok lifts his hips, hides behind the pretense that he’s just making himself more comfortable, but in reality he did it to turn your attention to his lower region. His length, semi-hard yet still long, stands out, protruding from the camo of his pants and you’re hot, hot all over.

The thumping worsens—and you need him, all of him, to make it better.

Perceiving that he’s succeeded in his strategy by the way you just won’t stop ogling him, he blushes and hides it, in vain, with outstretched fingers spread across his face. As if he was doing his signature idol move. It’s a riveting sight to behold, a seemingly cold person growing warm from you gaping at that private part of him.

And you want more. You want to see more places of his body that are flushed. And you want it now.

“It was about time you and I talked alone, don’t you think?” you ask, following on from his previous statement. All that pining, those stolen glances, that distance—all that tension advances forward now, stronger than ever.

Hoseok can feel it, too. At your words, his manhood grows harder and his breathing quickens. He tries to stabilize it, but he fails. He fails even when he returns to his original position with his elbows propped on his knees. That chain of his swings with more momentum, teasing you, and you place your legs even closer towards him, and upon witnessing the light flash in his eyes, you realize that you teased him right back.

The man likes feet.

You draw in a sharp breath when he fists both of your feet in one hand, brushing his thumb over the tips of your toes. The first touch in this lifetime, the first time upon your new virgin body, so intimate, private; he might as well have wrapped a blanket around them with how warm his hand is, secure and trustful. Goosebumps flood your skin, bringing in the iciness that you felt when you took in his beauty against the background of the trees and the moonlight. And its beams must be stitched around his fingers because daintiness clasps you close, the notion that you’re taken care of, in good hands, descending upon you like the most delicate feather tickling you, and you let it—you let it consume you.

And you let his following question consume you just as much.

“Were you in love with him?”

It’s a question you never had the bravery to ask yourself in the two months you’ve been single, but it is here and you welcome it. You hear it whisper to you the hint of your answer and your body is smart enough, capable enough to figure it out.

No need for long nights of overthinking.

No need for long hours of listening to your heart crack.

“No, I was used to him—that’s different,” you hush out and the moon lowers herself, spilling through your windows, bathing you in a milky light that feels as welcoming, as right as your confession. And maybe, just maybe it’s the way the shining stream submerges in your neediness that drives you to be bratty. And briefly, before you do, you ponder over the fact how in your life shared with this person drives, moves forward. There’s never a still time—and you find that mesmerizing. Enough for you to simply brood in greed. “What’s it to you?”

Hoseok flinches. Parts his mouth. His chain rattles and his fingers squeeze the balls of your feet, coaxing a hum out of you that is immediately silenced by his sudden outburst.

“What’s it to me?”

There it is. Another plot point. Your heart hammers.

Hoseok lets go of your feet and you lament the absence. Stands up and towers over you, the moonshine soaking him in divine light that causes your breath to hitch in your throat. A faint layer of sweat has coasted along his hairline and settled there—and you long to swim in his bodily fluids. In the persona of his, in the tumultuous sea of the tension locked within him.

“You’re genuinely asking me this question?” he pressures, lifting your legs in order to step in between them, and the unthinkable visits you once again. He props his hands on either side of your head and those two dog tags swing in your face.

A wet patch forms in the center of your pajamas. Your breath mirrors his—hasty, deep and strained—and you can’t take it anymore.

How far into this road of bravery until the moon averts its opaque eyes away from your sin?

You arch your spine, hook your fingers on his dog tags and pull him a little closer. Breathe his air, breathe in his masculine, musky scent that intoxicates your senses to the point that there is absolutely nothing stopping you from getting dragged in the natural flow of this situation.

“Yes, Hoseok. What’s it to you?”

He pants. Glides, delicately, his fingers along your arm until he winds up at your small fist, clutching it in his as if it was his. And that warmth, you want to dip your head in it.

“I had to watch you sit in that chair and not crack a smile. Sit next to him like an obedient girl, not allowed to speak. To me,” he grunts, tightening his lips, and that anger of his seeps into you, becoming yours. “He didn’t deserve you. You’re not a pretty toy. You’re a person.”

He straightens but, panicking, you draw him right back by that chain. “Don’t fucking walk away from me.”

He seethes and you feel your essence trickling down your thigh. That sea, inching forward, you whimper. And then he spreads that warmth over the crown of your head, rubbing your hairline just once with his thumb before he peels off your eye patches that you have forgotten about.

And this is when your brows curl. This is the time that says there’s no going back.

“I talked to you. We fought, don’t you remember?”

He sweeps that digit over that soaked dark circle of yours underneath your eye. “What do you think would’ve happened to you if I talked to you nicely?”

Cold shoulder. Uncomfortable time of forced aloneness, filled with the abyss of guilt that you had done something wrong. A toy that didn’t move its lifeless limbs right by his will.

“I’ve known him for far longer than you. I know how he treats those he thinks he loves. I brushed it away with the others, but with you… I couldn’t. You were so full of life that was stuck in you because of him. Because he didn’t let you let it out. And I can’t forgive him for that.”

What life? The one you searched for all your girlhood, the one Namjoon molded with his own hands until it no longer recognized the once-familiar lines of his palm? The one that yearned for Hoseok instead?

A film of tears clouds your eyes and as hard as you try to blink them away, they linger, pooling at your waterline like sea foam. You need your vape, you need him inside you—you can’t face the mirror of the reality of that unfair treatment.

How blind you were; how Hoseok has become that guiding stick.

“Don’t forgive him,” you utter, grasping his chain tighter, drawing him even closer, making his breath tremble. The first tear that pours out leaks into the print of his thumb and at the sound of your soft cry, Hoseok topples. Kneels on the couch with your legs on either side of him and you pull, you pull him closer.

“Do you want me?” he asks—a foolish, foolish question. Presses his forehead against yours, cups your face with both hands now while his back shakes and you touch it, you drag your fingernails down those prominent muscles. And he sighs, so desperately, so tenderly. “Do you want me to let out that life in you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, sliding your hands underneath his black shirt, scratching the lowest part of his warm, warm waist before hooking your fingers on the waistband of his pants. It’s his—it always belonged to him. “Take me. Here.”

He brushes his nose against yours, your breath and his singular. “You’re so feisty.” Lips nearly touch yours and your lungs give out on you, your air coming out in pathetic staccatos that make him growl, subduedly. Muscles rigid, bundle of nerves devoutly pulsing. Please, please. “But no.”

The world implodes, the mocking shimmer of that planetary light gushing through—hand in hand with sobriety.

But Hoseok, the prince of the unthinkable, dips your head back into that darkness. Lifts you by your armpits and sets you down on his lap, his hard length against your core uprearing your need for release.

A hand sailing down your neck, your sternum, acknowledging itself with your respiration. “Don’t give it to me that easily.”

Your own cages him there, right at the apex of the fleshiness of your breasts. “Jebal, Hobi.”

Please, Hobi. You drive, in his fashion, your hips forward—ever so slightly. His eyes round at the mellow variation of his name wandering out of your mouth and wrapping around his neck, as if the gentleness you give him pains him, transforms into a noose around his vocal cords and he can’t speak.

He sighs, the noise melting into a soft, low-pitched moan. “Don’t beg me,” he croaks out, so terribly strung out. “I’m-I’m—”

You lengthen your spine, closing your mouth over that one spot on the side of his throat that you can reach, silencing him. He doesn’t need to speak—you’re fine with the tacit language of his hands. And the taste of his skin, that fucking warmth dissolving upon your tongue, you can’t help but to moan just the same against him like that, rocking your hips awfully, awfully slowly, driving him to the point of madness that he stood at the edge of for so long.

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur, tugging his hand lower to the first done button of your silky shirt and it’s him who hooks his fingers over that fabric now. You lick a stripe across the thick vein of his throat, grinding a little harder when you hear him suck in a pained breath. “I want you to feel that life in me and know it’s yours. Jebal, Hoseokie.”

He grunts, ripping you away from him. You expect his eyes to be narrowed in that typical manner of his, but they’re not. They’re soft, round and glossy, looking down at you, unblinking. A face you’ve never seen before, that feels too, too significant—and you’re not sure if you deserve to get a load of it. Of his pinkish cheeks and downturned mouth, of his fingers agonizingly sluggishly undoing the first button of your shirt.

Of his sentimentality that you never thought he was so efficient at.

The sea that has remotely stilled—but you’re still riding the lenient waves, your torso curving with each button popping off as he engraves his warmth into your cold, cold skin. And once he reaches the very last one, he stops. Holds your shirt together, squishing your breasts, waiting for you to lift your head out of the sea water.

And you do.

He inches forward, grazing his lips against yours, making you feebly cry out.

“Did you cry for him?”

Your cry prolongs, vexation splattering over your arousal, and you’ve had enough of it. You flick your eyes between his, drawing back, flattening your lips in that anger of his that seems to be still flowing in you somewhere. No more, no more Namjoon; no more talk of your past relationship. It’s over, it’s over.

“Stop fucking—”

Hoseok doesn’t relent. Sinks his fingers into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck to make you listen. “Did you cry for him?”

Your heart wept, but your eyes didn’t. The tear you shed in front of him was the only liquid emotion that spilled out of you since the day of the break up. “No.”

He blows a heavy breath of relief that oddly validates you—and light opens in your sensitive bosom. “Good girl.”

And it is now that Hoseok presses his chest, his dog tags against that light of yours and clamps his mouth down on your top lip, hoisting you a tiny bit to sit you right down on his manhood. His strong arm wraps around your back while the other floats down and curls around your bum, growling into the kiss that he deepens. And then he parts your lips with his, slipping his tongue inside, and the dam breaks between your legs—as well as the quick little whines and squeaks that begin to leak out of your mouth and into his.

The life in you throbs.

His cock hardens even more underneath you and he pushes your clit against it, his noises and yours growing louder and louder in tandem until he’s breathless, panting so vivaciously that he needs a moment. A moment to focus on the mess he’s created of you, a glowing ball of rosiness, the prettiest of all flowers—and you feel like it, being looked at like that.

“I knew you were smart,” he coos, peppering feathery kisses upon your cheek, jaw and chin, descending to the base of your neck. You moan out, fisting his shirt below his collarbones, the continuation of his validation for you nesting in your core. “That life in you will always win. No matter what.”

You believe him—in fact, there’s nothing left for you to do, but to submit, submit and submit. And it feels like entering a dream that is kind, a reality that appears to be a dream, but is better. An existence smeared with clemency, where you can be a little girl again.

“Touch it, please.”

Hoseok hums, kissing the cleft between your clavicles. Shifts forward on the couch so you can rest your spine on the backrest, your head against the wall, and he slides his palms upward from your tummy to the apex of your breasts. You whine, torturously, at the contact, and you shudder and double over when he swipes his thumbs over your still stiffened nipples, buzzing shocks of acute pleasure coursing down your body, rooting in your clit that asks for his fingers, his tongue, but he remains where he is. Transfixed, starving, ravaged.

He kneads your breasts like he kneaded his hands, with overpowering strength that quickens your blood flow, your body submitting to him and flushing like his does. A sliver of skin that your shirt exposes catches his attention—and at the sight of the flesh of your breasts spilling through, his cock twitches, his breath ragged, eyes droopy and so, so drunk. He pinches your nipples, still through that silken fabric, as if he was punishing you for causing him this unfair pain.

Knead, flick, pinch. Your noises are obnoxious, his heat in you rising and rising, and you can’t take it anymore. The drum in your clit thuds and you push him away, the pleasure too overwhelming, too good and too arousing.

And he pushes away the fabric, revealing your perky breasts. A glint settles on the edge of his irises and he gives you a coy smile before he smashes his mouth against yours, moving it in a rhythm that reflects the one in your bundle of nerves. And you grind, you grind like your life depends on it, your nipples and your pussy rubbing against him, against his icy dog tags, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. And you would come like this had he not physically ripped you away from him.

Heaving, he focuses, all over again, on the ruination he makes of you. The warmth in you flits so invitingly that you have to touch the places he did—your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. And as you do, you watch his gaze darken, you watch him nod his head, and wipe the corner of his mouth clean, catching his drool.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he rasps, following the invisible traces you left on your body. Your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. “Right here. Life. Beautiful life.” He teases your hardened nub, circling it with the pads of his fingers, sliding it between his knuckles and squeezing, his smile growing with each shudder of your chest, with each response. “It’s time to make you come and let it out, you ready? Let’s take these off.”

He tugs off your pajama pants, throws it behind his shoulder, examines the large wet stain on your panties that he coos at, raspily, petting it with his thumb—and you’re so turned on that even such faint touch like that brings you pleasure. You hold onto his arms for dear life, depending on him, trembling when the panties and the shirt are next, tossed upon the pile of your pants.

You’re bare and he’s still fully dressed. Such titillating unfairness that turns you unhinged, maddened by liveliness your body is diffused with.

Hoseok pins your legs back. Takes one hand and glides his fingers across your entire femininity, soaking them in the dew he has coaxed out of you, moaning gutturally.

“He never made you wet like this, did he?” he asks, pride dripping out of him like his masculine pheromones, and with his wet fingers he palms himself. “You don’t even have to answer that. I know. I need to taste you, baby.”

You don’t even get to fill a lungful of the stuffed, vanilla-scented air and he dives in, keeping your legs glued to your shoulders as he seizes your clit in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before he flattens his tongue all over you. He licks you like a lost man finding an oasis, humming into your heat while he tastes your personal slickness, swallowing everything he sowed. You bang your head on the wall, a numbed pang expanding all throughout your scalp by your claw clip, taking it all, moaning so loudly the whole of Seoul must be hearing you. Even Namjoon in his drunkenness, shameful that he never managed to eat you like this in the eight months you were his to consume.

Your orgasm inches to you quickly. With half-lidded eyes, you watch the candlelight create sublime, eccentric images on his back. And as if he couldn’t handle the warmth anymore, he peels himself away from you just to take off his shirt, adding it to the pile. He doesn’t let you see his muscular body—he plunges back down, tongue outstretched, flicking the muscle on your swollen clit. He pinches your thigh, your mound, your folds, whimpering onto your flesh, hurrying to close his mouth over you to suck your clit.

And within that divine suction, you come apart. The beautiful images on his back advance, fluttering on his smooth skin, and you hold him to yourself. The life in you explodes, saturating him in a dimmed, soft-hued, colorful light that he himself must be sensing because he moans, loudly, sinking his index finger inside your clenching hole. You can’t speak, you can’t breathe—you can only feel, you can only take. Your orgasm continues on, a ceaseless stream of delight untwisting in every part of your body.

And when he begins to fuck you with that finger of his and hits that good spot, your orgasm melts into another one. And this time, you can’t take it.

You shake so vivaciously that you fall off the edge of the couch, but he catches you. Hoseok unclips your hair and lays you down, propping your hips on the armrest instead and when he bends at the waist and opens his mouth, you scream out your disagreement, pushing him away.

He blinks at you, mouth sopping wet. “I wasn’t finished.”

Your oxygen is stuck in your throat, one that gets bespeckled with the beads of your dew. “Hoseokie—”

He traces it, wiping it off, holding you there. Presses his hard, clothed length against your bare pussy, rocking slowly, casting a private, affection-filled shadow with the arch of his body over yours. Hoseok kisses you once, a nasty kiss perfumed with your tangy scent, and you cry out.

“The fact you can’t take the bare minimum personally offends me. He had you all to himself and he didn’t do his job well,” he mutters, squeezing your throat once. Drags his wet hand down your sternum, grasping a hold of both of your breasts, clenching them until they flush, again, like him.

There it is, the saltiness of his sea. You yearn for the physical principle of it coating your tongue—for his cum to trickle out of the tip of it like your dew is off of his. And his words, his anger towards his best friend because of you—it heals you in a way you could never heal yourself. Another person seeing you and telling you that you deserve better, it is the most pristine form of remedy there is and you splutter on the whole beauty and compassion of it all, too weak to accept it at once.

“That’s right,” you agree, as enthusiastically as your dopeness allows you, smiling lopsidedly, heart pounding. “Go slow on me.”

He croons, squeezing his eyes. “My little girl.”

He buries his face in your neck, kissing you there, and along with the life in you—your heart explodes, too. The finality of your detransformation. Tears of joy ache in the corners of your eyes, the rawness of human fulfillment housing in you for all eternity.

He kisses his way down to your breasts. “I’ll go slow on you,” he promises, darting out his tongue and flicking it over your nub, making you tremble. He straightens and dances his fingers along your thighs—up to your knees. “Do you want to stop here?”

You shake your head. Place your feet flat on his toned stomach while you feel your dew dribble down your bum. Hoseok smiles, his mouth curving in that way of his that causes your own stomach to drop. He holds your heels, hooking his finger under the band of your socks and yanking them off.

And his grin blooms at the sight of your dusty-pink toes, an endeared look thawing his eyes. He rubs them like he did at the beginning of this journey, keeps one at his stomach while he lifts the other one to his mouth.

Your poor heart skips a beat.

“Do you want me to fuck you like a little girl like you deserves?”

He kisses the ball of your foot, doesn’t break the eye contact. Watches your mouth part in absolute astonishment and your cheeks deepen in their hue. And when he kisses it again, slower this time, it wakes you up from your stupefaction, and you lower your free foot down to his clothed cock. Hoseok groans, the sound muffled against your tootsie, shutting his eyes at the impact. Your chest flickers with a sense of pride that you made him react like that—and you want it again. You trail your toes across that length of his, but before you could reach the most sensitive part of him, he stops you.

Sucks in that pained breath of his, red all over.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

You mirror him, the idea of being capable of doing that to him pleasuring you. You leak onto the couch. Your blood boils.

“That’s so hot.”

He chuckles, anchoring your foot upon his heart, tapping it with your big toe. “It’s because you have my heart.”

Your body ceases all work, as well as time. Even the candlelight pauses its dance, concentrating its caressing radiance on that chain of his.

And you don’t think as you scurry onto your knees and embrace him, his dog tags no longer icy. He plants his nose into your hair, inhaling you, sealing you into the hug with both of his arms. Your heart reaches its own towards his and they cling to each other, too.

And you’re not afraid to reciprocate his feelings—they’re as clear to you as that very luminescence of the vanilla candle.

“You have me,” you whisper into his ear, his body not quivering but stable, safe. “You have my life. It’s more of a treasure than my heart.”

He had you the moment he so evidently disapproved of your past relationship. He had you the moment he was curious to see if you were jealous when he was entertaining other women. He had you the moment he purposefully put a distance between you and him because he didn’t want you to get hurt by Namjoon.

You just didn’t know it yet, not until clarity arose in front of you in the form of his honesty.

Hoseok kisses your own ear, lingers there. “I want both.”

“Then, have it.”

And he kisses your forehead. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.”

You can see in the ivory mist of his eyes that he means it—and so you tug off his military belt as you begin to pepper kisses down the column of his neck because he deserves it, because he cares for you, because he came to you as soon as he heard that you were single. And when you reach those dog tags, the words of his title imprinting themselves onto the surface of your lips, you clasp his cock in your hand. Too big for your small fist, too warm for you to handle—

“Lay back down.”

You bite into the flesh right above that first steel pendant while keeping your eyes locked on his. “Yes, Sergeant.”

Hoseok curses. Wrings a sharp gasp out of you when he pulls on your hair, giving you a nasty kiss full of tongue. “Don’t call me that when I need to be gentle with you,” he scolds, sucking on your bottom lip to make it better and you disintegrate. “Right now I would bend you over this couch and fuck you until Sergeant and Sir was all you knew, but I can’t do that. Not when you’re not used to me yet.”

Yes, the promise of the sea—you convulse from head to toe, pining after it.

“I want that so bad.”

He nods, marking you on your neck. You whimper and he groans in response. “And I’ll give it to you, you just need to be good now. Lay down.”

You comply, but you take him with you—grabbing him by that chain as you arch your back on the couch. He lets you, grins at you like the utmost sunshine, but that expression of delight breaks when a certain realization dawns upon him.

“I didn’t bring any condoms.”

You huff out a soft noise. “Good. I want you to come all over me.”

Hoseok hangs his head low, sighing, on all fours above you. His chain swings, drawing the memory of this very night on your breasts. He looks up at you from this position, his eyes thin slits that cause you to clench around nothing.

“I’ll give you a big load.”

You beam like the purest angel, in spite of the context. “Yes, please.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes back, his façade cracking, and he beams just the same, his mouth widening in the shape of a heart that moves through you. He kisses you deeply, a long peck that breaks you down into a putty, and when he withdraws, you can still see that smile plastered on his glowing face.

“Good girl. Such good manners.”

And with that praise, he sheathes himself inside you. You both gasp in union, entering a paradise no other human will ever witness in the afterlife. He stretches you out, slowly, careful not to hurt you as he waits it out, petting your hair in the meantime.

“I can feel you stretching around me, fuck. You’re so warm, so tight for me,” he rasps, panting, that smile trembling on his lips as he tries to keep it together. He straightens, pinches your nipple and you feel yourself accommodating him quicker at that sudden electricity of pleasure, at the sight of his toned body and that chain. The shine of sweat, the dance of the candlelight, the width of his shoulders and carmine chest as it heaves in desperate hums and groans. You could come just from that—and the sensation is so dizzying that your eyes droop. Hoseok notices, grappling the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Stay with me, baby, you can take this. I’m gonna make you feel so good and you’re gonna come on this cock.”

Those hums of his cruise all the way to your mouth as he sinks that encouragement into it, kissing you deeply, pinning your hands back above your head and sliding his fingers into a celestial intertwinement with yours. They throb within you, those words of his, where they disperse all around, helping you believe that you truly can take the whole manliness of him. Your mind spins, the pressure of your shared atmosphere ringing in your ears, and he knows, he knows that you’re ready for him.

“I’m gonna start moving now. Talk to me, baby. Tell me everything you’re feeling as I fuck you,” he murmurs, unsheathing himself a tiny bit before he curls his hips forward and upwards, creating a languid, spine-tingling rhythm that replicates the waves of his sea. They slosh to and fro with every slow stroke and he kisses your good spot with the tip of his cock. Your eyes flutter open and close, rolling like those waves, but you can still see the way his jaw is clenched, his gums on full show as he seethes in his self-control, the flush of his neck and the flexing of his abdomen that you can’t help but to touch in your otherworldly daze. He stares down at you, intensely, narrows his eyelids and furrows his brows when he feels your touch, and you discover that the spot, where his V-lines lead to your antidote, is one of uttermost sensitivity.

He moans, burying himself deep in you, and stopping there. Mound to mound, soul to soul.

“Fuck, baby, you just know where all my spots are, don’t you?” he asks, his voice so terribly strained, torso doubled over, and you grin.

“I think I was born already knowing them,” you flirt and Hoseok pounds into you for it—a singular thrust that scrambles all your brain cells. Your smile falls, your brows crunch, your throat utters such whiny noise that he himself grunts at the sound of it, and when you lift yourself onto your elbows to see his length driving in and out of you, he pushes you right down by your throat, kissing you hard enough that it hurts.

And he alleviates the lip lock by licking over your tongue, toying with it—all while he, little by little, picks up the rhythm, fucking into you with a force that coaxes your rawest moans out of you.

“You can’t handle my tongue and I can’t handle it when you flirt with me,” he scoffs, smacking his mouth as he turns his head, claiming your mouth, claiming you. “God, I wanna destroy you so bad.”

Your cry is cut out by another savage thrust and you claw at that sensitive spot of his, inciting him to do it again and again. “I’m yours to destroy.”

He pauses, the crown of his cock teasing the beginning of your heat. Sweat drips down his temple and he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that makes your heart twitch in absolute sensuality and relish.

“Say that again.”

Your breath hitches. “I’m yours to destroy.”

Hoseok curses, driving into you all the way. You whine out, clenching your fists, feeling every ridge and every vein of his cock glide forwards and backwards along your walls. And by tensing your body and focusing on the delight he’s gracing your body with, the build-up of your orgasm announces its presence.

“Fuck, Hobi, you feel so good,” you cry, gripping his forearms as he begins to hold your waist steady. He jackhammers into you so viciously that your vision scatters with a creamy hue of ivory, moaning in ragged staccatos that influence you so much that you naturally imitate them, fading into him, becoming one.

“Whose are you?” he growls without interfering with the gracefulness of his sadism, moving back only an inch before slamming back into you, bruising your cervix—and you lose all brain cells, the synapses blanking out.

But only one thing is clear.

“I’m yours.”

And the following snap of his hips drives you out of this world and out of this universe. The gravity keeps your muscles tense, confining your pleasure and the closeness of your orgasm within. The ringing grows in volume and you’re on the cusp.

Hoseok is, too, because he begins to beg.

“Please, please, baby. Come for me. I’m so fucking close for you. Please, I’m gonna come all over you.”

And with a scream that vibrates through the walls of your living room, you comply. Your core grips him, your skin prickles and you levitate—your back arches off the couch, aching to be closer to him, and Hoseok whines.

Pulls out, straddles you, and fist-fucks his shaft with frantic, frenzied motions. Covers you with ropes and ropes of his cum that ripple on your stomach, your sternum and your breasts as you drift in and out of consciousness. Warm, warm essence of his masculinity that is warmer than the rest of him.

Blood-hot.

And you feel as though you deserved every drop.

Deserved to see the beauty of his orgasm. The flush of his lower regions, especially. The sight you longed to see.

Hoseok lets go of his manhood, his hand shiny and wet, though he’s still hard, reaching the beginning of your parting lungs with how big he is. Bigger than Namjoon, bigger than anyone you ever dated. Their names wither in your mind, decomposing. And they lose all meaning.

They cease to exist.

You’re not his best friend’s ex. You’re not anyone’s ex—

“Look at how little you are,” Hoseok comments, interrupting the surge of your maddened thoughts. He smears the puddle of cum on your stomach that his cock can reach and your pussy flutters in constant motions that ask for him again. “So little under me and all mine, aren’t you?”

His avowal brings a fresh dose of oxygen into your lungs and you breathe it in. Want to breathe it in for the rest of your life with him.

But Hoseok doesn’t stop there. Once you agree with him by the nod of your head and a dopey, gratified grin that casts an affirming light on him, he bends over you, his fists on either side of your head.

“I’ll show you what true possessiveness looks like. The world will burn if it hurts you and if people say one bad word to you, it will be the last one they ever said. But they will talk to you and you will talk to them. You will learn about this life of yours. What it holds, what it looks like. And I’ll be standing beside you and I’ll watch over you. Learn it, live it with you.”

He rubs your forehead with his thumb in a fond gesture. Looks at you with a mute meaning that touches your heart and crawls inside before he kisses you, relaxes his lips against yours, and kisses you again.

Again and again.

Again in the shower. Again in your bed when you’re riding him, tasting the life he let out of you, because you blazed up with desire after you washed his body. And the sex is quiet, smothered with those kisses until your mouth and his is numb.

And again throughout the years you acknowledge yourself with that life and realize that you understand it more profoundly and clearly in the process of getting to know Hoseok than this world.

Hoseok is that life.

And you kiss him and whisper those words onto his mouth when you marry him at the altar, years and years later, connecting your life and his forever.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hoseokkie-caeks, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

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ariaste · 4 months ago

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Hello, published author here who just noticed a thing in the s3 teaser that may help us to determine the timeline:

This is not an ARC. ARCs, aka "Advance Review Copies" or "Advance Reader Copies" are sent out in advance of the publication of a book in order for magazines/newspapers/whoever (and these days, online book influencers) to review it, and for booksellers to have a chance to read it so they can order copies for their store and hand-sell it better on publication day. ARCs usually go out around 3-4 months before publication.

ARCs are also sometimes called "advance uncorrected proofs" because they usually haven't been through copyedits yet (aka typo-finding and punctuation-checking). ARCs are always clearly marked on the front cover as what they are, to make it harder for people to sell them online and so that bookstores don't accidentally put them out as merchandise.

We know that the IWTV team knows this becaaaaause, from the end of s2e8:

*THAT'S* an ARC. You can see how it says so all over, both "advance reader's copy" and "advance uncorrected proof". It's also a paperback (as ARCs usually are) rather than the hardback that Lestat is holding -- all very typical and correct.

And here is a finished copy. And we know exactly how far after publication it is, because:

Daniel also gives a shout out to a "book fair" and Atlanta, which I take to mean the Decatur Book Festival, which takes place in October. So that means the book would have been published in June -- nice timing! Get all that good Pride Month promo for this gay-ass vampire memoir. So far we are nailing the Expected Publishing Industry Timeline And Behaviors.

So the only thing I can tell you definitively about what this means is that Louis got that ARC probably in February, aka around eight fucking months ago at the end of s2, and still hasn't even skimmed it, and that is HILARIOUS of him. not a shred of guilt on him about it either. (if you get a print ARC (as opposed to an e-ARC) and you don't even read it, it is polite to be a little embarrassed about that. not my personal best friend Louis DPDL tho.)

As for whether Daniel is a vampire during the s3 trailer -- the thing we are all clamoring to know -- I have two possible ways the timeline could be working, given the publishing industry stuff:

OPTION 1: Louis leaves Dubai -> Goes to New Orleans for Depression Hovel reunion, refuses to get back together with Lestat -> Lestat "I will woo him back with a Song, just like last time. ok that didn't work I'LL GO BIGGER. that didn't work. BIGGER" Lioncourt starts his rockstar career as a Gotta Get My Man Back tantrum -> Daniel finishes the manuscript, delivers it to his publisher, and sends an ARC to Louis (February) -> Book is published, bestseller (June) -> Daniel (who was turned at some unknown point) goes on TV about it (October) -> famous currently-bestselling journalist gets in touch with up-and-coming rockstar to get his side of the story -> Lestat has a mental breakdown on camera about how Louis is not even paying attention to all the albums he is recording, hurtful, tragic, heartbreaking

OPTION 2: Daniel DEFINITELY got out of Dubai alive -> [all of the above up to "Daniel sends an ARC to Louis"] -> book is getting great reviews -> already-famous Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist gets in contact with up-and-coming rockstar to do the sequel even before the book is out (slightly odd publishing choice but when you have two Pulitzers, the rules are different, so it's not implausible) -> Daniel gets his finished copies of the book (which brings us to probably May at the earliest; you don't usually get your finished copies more than a month in advance) and has one on set for interviewing Lestat -> Lestat has his sexy little rockstar breakdown on camera -> Daniel is human for interviewing Lestat but gets turned by Armand somewhere in the five-month span between finished copies arriving in May and his TV interview in October.

Option 1 gives the show writers a little more timeline wiggle room, which can be useful, but Option 2 is more Dramatic and builds extra tension if Daniel is trying to do this interview while not having a good time with his Parkinson's. Either way Louis is just out here not answering anybody's phone calls or reading the lovely ARC he was so thoughtfully sent bc he's busy redecorating his house.

THAT SAID, please take all of this with a grain of salt, i have been losing my mind over the s3 trailer and i may have missed something

this has been your war correspondent a report from the publishing industry. thank you and goodnight

#iwtv #amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #iwtv s3

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cuntylouis · 5 months ago

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2.07 made it more clear than ever that everyone in the story (except perhaps Madeleine) views Claudia as a symbol for something rather than really seeing her. The scene where Louis is dragging Claudia on the floor like a doll begging Lestat to look at their 'beautiful little daughter' is both heartbreaking and deeply unsettling. This young girl who Louis doesn't even know is given the impossible weight of being everything to Louis; his light and redemption, replacement for his sister, fulfilling his longing to have children and to take care of something, his friend and confidante, fixing his relationship with Lestat, proving that living as a vampire could be worth it, giving him happiness and purpose. She called Louis an angel and saw something good and beautiful in him when Louis himself felt there was none, so Louis desperately hopes that he can be her savior and she can be his.

For Lestat she's something that keeps Louis tied to him, and to the world and vampirism and existence itself. He spitefully tells Claudia to come home and make Louis happy - because it's her purpose. Lestat sees himself in Claudia and detests it, but as he says he also sees his best vampiric self in her and is proud of it. Louis and Lestat both love Claudia deeply but i think they also see her as a living physical symbol of their eternal connection to each other, their union and its breakdown, and all their shame and guilt. In the modern day Louis' house in Dubai is like a mausoleum built for the memory of Claudia - and himself.

In Paris she's forced to assume the role of a little girl over and over again, the audience loving her but only the image of her that doesn't really exist. To the coven she ends up meaning everything they despise and on her last day she's completely dehumanized. In the book Armand says "I never loved her. I didn't know how", and i think that's reflected in the show too. I don't think Armand felt much toward Claudia other than resentment and something almost like fear, and that's what allows him to kill her with such coldness. Claudia is a living obstacle to his relationship with Louis, and like Lestat i think he's uncomfortable with seeing himself and his trauma and pain in Claudia.

But i think above all Armand too sees her as the embodiment of the connection and love between Louis and Lestat. I think Armand views Claudia first and foremost as Lestat's child and an extension of him, particularly obvious from the scene where he calls her Claudia de Lioncourt, and he's reminded of Lestat every time he looks at her. It doesn't matter if Claudia was going to leave with Madeleine, even if she and Louis never met again. As long as Claudia exists Louis will never be fully his, because he's connected to Lestat through her and thus belongs to Lestat. Claudia must be destroyed so that connection can be severed

#i've seen many people wondering why armand wants to kill claudia in the show when she doesn't pose a threat to his relationship with louis #but i really think that for armand it's that simple that he thinks her mere existence is a threat #because she's a symbol for something he hates and fears #iwtv #iwtv spoilers #iwtvposting

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hellotailor · 2 months ago

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"This apartment initially suggests a familiar brand of modern wealth, echoing the ominous minimalism of American Psycho or Leigh Whannell’s Invisible Man. As an avowed capitalist, the 145-year-old former pimp Louis has reshaped himself into a 21st century business tycoon. With its boxy black couches and acreage of smooth, empty floors, his living room has all the warmth of an aircraft hangar.

Yet the more time we spend here, the more juicy details we begin to notice. Production designer Mara LePere-Schloop has spoken about her desire to disrupt the “generic” minimalism of the super-rich, creating a home that speaks to different facets of Louis and Armand’s shared life.

Certain rooms are windowless and tomb-like, reflecting the couple’s undead nature and sensitivity to sunlight. Meanwhile the airy corridors and layered archways combine the architecture of ancient Dubai with the confusion of an Escher drawing."

I published an analysis of IWTV's Dubai penthouse, exploring what its architecture and furnishings say about Louis and Armand's relationship. Some of this material is probably familiar to fans who have spent a lot of discussing the show's production design (or have read some of my previous design posts), but I figured I should share this here anyway!

#interview with the vampire #iwtv #production design #louis de pointe du lac #armand #iwtv meta

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sssilverstoned · 11 months ago

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spinback season ꩜ ln4

type: instagram/twitter au

It's your birthday, Lando would never miss it.

lily said: final part of this! i've got some drafts going on full length fics so i am excited to finish those up soon. thank you all for the warm welcome :)

part 1 part 2

yoursister posted a story 28 seconds ago...

yourusername posted a story 1 minute ago...

yourbestfriend posted a story 4 minutes ago...

Liked by alpinegoss, paddocktea, and 53,805 others

f1gossipcentral submission from a fan today in dubai:

y/n and lando in the club in dubai tonight!!!!! based on her post at a meal with a guy i thought she was with someone new, but it was 1000000% lando. they're still so in love, everything seemed so back to normal!!!! her best friend, sister, and other friends were in the section with them, it was so lovely to see!

user1 WHAT THE HELL?

user2 Oh I just know I missed a damn chapter

user3 YNLANDO TRUTHERS RISEEEEEE

user5 broke up just to be right back together...they just like us

user6: get back with your ex when the opportunity presents itself? yeah those my twins fr

user7 ok but in all seriousness, i hope everything's alright with them now

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Liked by landonorris, yourmom, and 36,938 others

yourbestfriend My heart outside my body is 25! So much to celebrate, so let's do it forever. To so many more y/n/n!

yourmom Pretty girls!!! Keep having all of the fun

yourusername Where would I be without you :')

yoursister not hungover, more stable financially, with much more closet space yourbestfriend fair enough across the board

user1 She's such a good friend to her

user2 lando in the likes...don't start

user3 they're childhood friends, no? she played matchmaker for them user4 this gives me hope user5 commoners talking amongst themselves booooring

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Liked by lilymhe, kyliejenner, and 2,166,968 others

tagged: lando.jpg

yourusername Quarter of a century on this planet and a lot of joy to show for it! Grateful for the people who make me, me. Here's to getting a bit older, wiser, and lotssssss of martinis

emmachamberlain happy birthday y/n! see you soon!

user1 LANDO.JPG?

matildadjerf Mwah! The prettiest bday girl

user2 This is crazy how are they all this pretty

user3 minding your business, being a girl's girl, and loving your man user4 her man is the photo cred on this photo so you might be right

user5 "the people who make me, me" babygirl you don't even gotta name names just let us know when he takes your last name

danielricciardo Dawww they grow up so fast

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Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 1,682,938 others

landonorris The day you were born is my favorite holiday. I love everything about you, from the way you scrunch your nose when you eat something sour, to the way you wake up extra early on saturday's to get your favorite flowers from the farmer's market. You've been there for all my best memories, my hardest times, and through it all, I'm most thankful to be loved by you, y/n. 25 looks perfect on you.

user1 so mom and dad made up? lets mf go

user2 jaw on the floor knees on the pavement eyes bugged out my head at this you two are insane especially you

yourusername Thank you for dancing with me even when I step on your nice shoes

carlossainz55 be honest he cannot dance alex_albon at all

user3: I prayed on this btw yall are welcome

user4: Okay spin back! lemme text my ex real quick

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#formula 1 imagine #f1 instagram edit #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #social media au

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lumi-nescentt · 1 year ago

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And When I Break It's In A Million Pieces

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

Warnings: kinda angsty, reader overworking herself, arguing and someone fainting

Words: 3.8k

Summary: Oscar can understand how important exams are to his girlfriend but he can't stand to see her overworking herself and this close to breaking down without trying to comfort her.

A/N: it was supposed to be a cute oscar one shot but I guess midterms kicked my ass so I had to make Oscar do what I would have loved someone to do for me.

Now that I'm done writing this I'll start on the requests :)

Oscar had been away on the last triple header of the season and as much as he loved racing and how good the car felt lately, he missed his girlfriend and couldn't wait to see her again.

She usually came with him as often as she could, but she had been drowning in homework lately so she had chosen to stay home and work a little extra to make sure she stayed up to date. Oscar didn’t mind, or at least he tried not to show it because he knew how bad she already felt for missing some of his best results in F1.

The Australian knew how hard the girl was on herself and how she tended to forget to take care of herself when she got engrossed in her studies so he thought coming back as early as possible from the British Grand Prix was the best thing he could do.

Flying from London to Melbourne felt like one of the longest trips Oscar ever had to endure and it was only worse because he was all alone. Usually he either had Lando, Logan or his girlfriend to entertain him during layovers and on the flight itself, but now as he sat on the first plane taking him from London to Qatar, Oscar felt bored to death.

He had chosen the earliest flight possible on Monday and that had been one that took off at 3pm so he wasn’t even tired enough to sleep. He had already watched a movie while waiting in front of the gate so he was honestly starting to run out of ideas on how to entertain himself.

He considered paying for wifi access to try and chat with his girlfriend for a second but then realised that he had decided to plan his comeback in secret so she had no idea he was coming back. In the end, Oscar still paid for it just so he could play 8 ball with Logan and joke around with Lando.

His two friends entertained him for a few hours, but when he landed in Qatar, they both had stuff to do so he was left all alone again. He had nothing to do during the layover in Dubai, so walking around the entire terminal at the slowest pace possible seemed like a good enough idea for the 2 hours he had to wait before boarding again.

To say the 13 hours flight to Melbourne had been long was an understatement. It had only been made worse since he couldn’t sleep, so Oscar had watched the entirety of the Lord of the Rings trilogy and still had found time to be bored once he was done. By the time he finally arrived in front of the apartment he shared with his girlfriend, it was almost 1am and he hadn’t slept in 30 hours now.

All he wanted to do was crash on his bed and cuddle against her but when he opened the door as quietly as he could, the first thing he saw was his girlfriend sitting on a barstool, hunched over her laptop on the counter. She had her headphones on and the volume was so loud Oscar could hear the song playing very clearly from where he was standing in the doorway.

After taking off his shoes and dropping his suitcase in a corner, he slowly made his way over, trying his best not to startle the girl. She was so engrossed in whatever she was reading that even with Oscar standing right next to her, her focus was still on her computer. She only flinched and snapped back to reality when Oscar delicately removed her headphones and put them next to her now empty coffee cup.

-“ Oscar ? What– How ? You were supposed to stay in Europe until the break.” she stuttered, too tired to understand how her boyfriend was standing in front of her

-“ Surprise !” Oscar smiled softly as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “ I missed you too much to wait an entire month so I decided to come spend the week here.”

-“ I don't know what to say, wow.”

-“ Oh God, was it a bad idea ? I don’t want to intrude if you had plans, baby. I can ask my parents if I can stay at theirs instead if you want me out of your hair while you study.”

-“ No no, it’s a good surprise, I just didn’t expect it, that’s all. It’s our flat so of course I want you to stay with me.” she quickly clarified, burying her head in the crook of his neck and tightening her arms around him

-“ Ok good, I got scared I was bothering you for a second.” he answered, placing a soft kiss on the top of her head

-“ Don’t say that Osc, you could never bother me. I’m always happy to see your pretty face in real life.”

-“ So you think I’m pretty ?” the Australian asked with a proud grin

-“ Of course I do, pretty boy. Now as much as I’d love to keep this lovely flirting going, you must be exhausted so why don’t you get ready for bed and I’ll join you in a bit ?”

-“ That sounds great, I’ll go shower and then we can cuddle because I can definitely feel the drop of temperature between here and the UK.”

-“ It’s not even that cold but I won’t say no to that.” she smiled before turning back to her homework.

Oscar didn’t really know how long he stayed under the warm spray of the shower but judging by the amount of steam that was now filling the bathroom, he assumed he stayed for a little while. Since he took his time, he fully expected to find his girlfriend dozing off under the covers but when he reached the bedroom, the bed was still untouched.

Gathering the remaining energy he had, Oscar dragged himself to the kitchen where she was still in the position he left her in. Her headphones were back on at a lower volume and she was now frowning and holding her head between her hands, seemingly trying to make sense of what she was reading.

-“ Are you coming to bed soon ?” Oscar asked seeing the time on her laptop

-“ Yeah, of course. Just give me a minute, I’ll meet you there.” she answered without looking at him

-“ Baby, it’s almost 3am. You need to sleep as much as I do.”

-“ I know, I’m coming. Don’t wait up, you must be knackered.” she tried, squeezing the hand he had put on her shoulder to reassure him

-“ I want to sleep next to you. I’ll wait for you to finish what you’re doing. How long is this going to take you ?”

-“ I don’t know, you shouldn’t stay awake for me. I promise I’ll cuddle you as soon as I’m in bed, you won’t even realise I’m not here at first.”

-“ That’s not true, I always notice so will you come ? Please ?”

-“ You’re lucky you’re cute and that I love you because I really need to finish this paper.” she finally caved in with a sigh, closing her laptop to face her boyfriend who was sleepily smiling at her

-“ I love you too, now come. I can tell you’re exhausted too.”

Oscar linked their hands together and walked towards their bedroom, handing her one of his shirts as he stripped down to his boxer before hurriedly getting under the covers. At the sight of her cold boyfriend all cosy under the blankets, the girl couldn’t help but chuckle before she joined him and let him wrap his arms around her, resting her head against his chest and falling asleep to the comforting sound of his steady heartbeat.

When Oscar woke up at 7am a few hours later, he brought his arm closer to the rest of his body, hoping to steal some of his girlfriend’s body warmth but his arm closed on nothing. With his eyes still closed, he patted her side of the bed, simply thinking she had rolled away from him but all he touched were the empty bed sheets. He would have assumed she had just gone to the bathroom if it wasn’t from how cold her side was.

As hard as he wanted to tell her to come back to bed, Oscar wasn’t fully awake and he didn’t really think there was something he could do so he let himself fall back asleep for a few hours. When he opened his eyes again, finally feeling rested enough to figure out where she had gone, he was still alone in their empty bed.

He made his way to the living room, secretly hoping she’d be all curled up on the sofa and had only moved there because he was snoring too loud but it was just as empty as their bed. Not liking where he thought this was going, Oscar went to the kitchen where his girlfriend was exactly in the same position he had found her hours earlier.

Without saying a word, Oscar wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled his face in her neck like he knew she liked. When the only acknowledgement he got was a low hum without even a smile or a look towards him, he decided to try something else. He slowly turned his head and started kissing her neck tenderly, which always got her attention usually because she was never one to pass on getting some physical affection from him. He was so sure it was going to work that when she finally breathed in before talking, Oscar couldn’t stop the smile creeping on his face.

-“ Not now baby, please.” she brushed him off softly, without even looking at him

-“ Oh, okay. Sorry.” Oscar muttered, feeling his face flush from a wave of embarrassment he couldn’t stop

He quickly escaped to the opposite corner of the kitchen, getting busy with making breakfast to forget about the uneasy feeling coursing through his veins. It took him 15 minutes of meddling around before everything was ready and before he was ready to try to get her attention again.

This time, Oscar planted himself next to his girlfriend and put a coffee cup and a full plate with eggs and toast right next to her laptop before poking her shoulder with his finger to get her full attention.

-“ Hello there, I made you breakfast.” he half smiled

-“ Hi baby, that’s really sweet of you. Thank you.” she returned the smile, cupping his face with her hands before planting a soft kiss on his lips and turning back towards her homework

-“ I was wondering if you wanted to have breakfast together in the living room, maybe ?”

-“ I’m sorry Osc. I really need to study but don’t let me stop you, I know you love to eat there.”

-“ Yeah, sure.” he started out loud before mumbling to himself as he exited the room “I don’t know what I was expecting.”

After his very lonely breakfast in front of a TV show he didn’t even want to watch, Oscar popped his head into the kitchen to see if she was done working. When he saw that she was still very focused on what she was doing, he decided to do something to occupy himself until she was finally free. He got dressed and yelled that he was going for a run before finally going outside.

When he came back a little less than an hour later, Oscar was determined to spend some time with her so he hurriedly went to the bathroom to shower before eventually stealing her away from her homework.

Once he was finally done, it was time for lunch and he was feeling like ordering so, while still looking at his phone, he went towards the kitchen and called her.

-“ I’m gonna order food, what do you feel like eating ?”

He waited a little bit for an answer but nothing came back so he walked a little closer and tried again.

-“ Baby ? Are you not hungry ?”

Getting worried from the clear silence he was met with, Oscar walked in the kitchen but, to his surprise, he couldn’t see her.

-“ y/n ? If this is a joke, it’s not that funny. Where are you ?” he asked, feeling his heart beat a little faster

He knew she hadn’t gone out because both her keys and her car were still there so he went around the counter to go look into the laundry room when his eyes fell on something on the floor. Seeing his girlfriend laying down on the floor made his blood rush fast in his veins and he immediately kneeled down next to her and wrapped her hand in his.

-“ y/n, baby can you hear me ?” he tried again “ I’m going to put your feet on my lap, okay ? I’m not letting go of your hand, if you hear me just squeeze it.” Oscar explained, praying that he’d feel her grip tighten around his fingers

He felt the faintest squeeze but he wasn’t sure if he had imagined it or not so he tried again.

-“ Can you squeeze my hand again, please ?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper from how scared he was until he felt a clear squeeze “ Atta girl, you’re doing great.”

Oscar felt his breathing slowly go back to normal as his girlfriend slowly gained back consciousness. He was still a bit shaken up but seeing her eyes fluttering open and feeling the constant squeezes of her hand on his was reassuring him. He waited a little more before asking her questions, not wanting to overwhelm her.

-“ Do you remember what happened ?”

-“ I don’t know, I was just standing up to get another coffee and then I started feeling dizzy so I tried to call you but I don’t know if anything came out.”

-“ Ok well at least you remember, you scared me to death there sweetheart.”

-“ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” she apologised, mortified that he had seen her like this

-“ Hey, none of that. Don’t apologise, I’m glad I came back in time to find you. I would’ve hated for you to be all alone here when you fainted.” he reassured her, bringing her closer to him

-“ What do you mean came back ? When did you go out ?”

-“ I told you I was going for a run but I guess you were so focused on what you were doing you didn’t hear me. Next time I’ll make sure that you hear me.”

-“ It’s fine, you don’t have to.”

-“ I know but I want to. Now let’s get you something to eat, you didn’t even eat breakfast so you must be starving.” he stated, pointing at the plate he had made her a few hours earlier, still untouched on the counter

-“ I’m not really hungry actually.” she whispered, looking at her feet

- “ You have to eat something baby. I’ll just order something from your favourite restaurant and you can just eat however much you can, does that sound good ?”

-“ Yeah sure, thank you Osc.”

Oscar didn’t answer and instead just placed a kiss on the side of her head before standing up and picking his phone that he had left on the counter to get the food. While they waited for it to arrive, Oscar sent her to shower so she could relax a little before eating. Before leaving her be, he convinced her to let the door slightly open so she could yell if she felt dizzy again so he could also relax.

He always stayed within earshots of the bathroom as he got busy around the flat until the delivery guy arrived. Oscar wanted it to be quick but the guy recognised him and wanted to take a picture with him. Oscar wouldn’t have minded the picture if the guy also didn’t seem to want to become his friend and didn’t talk for what felt like ages. Oscar didn’t know how to make him stop without sounding rude so he just waited until he was finally done before hurrying back to his girlfriend.

He expected her to either still be in the shower or to be waiting for him in the living room, resting like they had talked about after she fainted but she was the most stubborn person Oscar knew. That’s why he wasn’t exactly surprised when he found her back to her studying spot with her headphones only wearing one of his mclaren hoodies.

-“ I thought we said no more studying for today ?” Oscar scolded her gently

-“ I know but I can’t just stop like that. I need to finish this part and then I can rest for a few hours.”

-“ Baby you fainted, that means your body is exhausted and you shouldn’t put yourself through this.”

-“ I don’t have a choice, Oscar. The exam is coming up and I need to finish this paper too. I can’t just decide to take the day off because my stupid body decided to betray me.” she spat in one breath, feeling her heartbeat quicken just thinking of the ton of stuff she still had to do

-“ Alright, just breathe please. You can definitely afford to rest for today. I know you and I know you’re capable of doing what you have left before the due date. Just come lie down with me for a bit while we eat.”

-“ You don’t know that for sure. I can’t afford to take such a risk.”

-“ Baby, please.” he pleaded, feeling how she was getting more worked up by the second

-“ I said no, Oscar !” she said through gritted teeth, trying not to raise her voice

-“ Why can’t you just slow down for a second ? What’s the worst that can happen if you let go a little.”

-“ Slow down ? That’s rich coming from you mister always running around the entire globe to drive at 300kph.” she cringed at how high pitched her voice was getting

-“ You know that’s not what I meant, y/n.”

-“ Then what did you mean because I clearly don’t get why you’re getting in my way here.”

-“ I only meant that you’re going to tire yourself out over some homework and that it can’t be healthy.”

-“ I’m sorry ? Some homework ?!” she scoffed loudly “ This is the last class I need to have my diploma, if I fail it, I can say goodbye to my dream job. Don’t belittle what I do because you don’t understand it.”

-“ That’s not how I meant it, y/n. I’m just worried about you.”

-“ I didn’t ask you to be, in fact I didn’t even ask you to be here. You were supposed to be away doing your stupid job while I was here studying on my own but no you just had to come back and tempt me with ideas of relaxing and hanging out with you when you know I can’t. I can’t just decide to go away and take a break because I miss my partner. Some of us have real jobs and they can’t run away whenever they want to, Oscar.” she finally lost it, her eyes filling with tears as she realised what she had said

-“ Wow, hum alright. I think I’m just going to go outside for a bit.” Oscar muttered, grabbing his car keys and turning around as quickly as he could

As soon as she heard the door close, y/n broke down crying in the middle of the room. She hadn’t meant to snap at him, she knew he just cared about her and most of all, she didn’t think anything she said was true.

She knew how hard Oscar had worked to get to where he was now and she was so proud of how far he had come. She loved that he was able to do something he loved as his job and how he always made time in his busy schedule to either fly her to where he was staying or fly back home to see her.

In all honesty, she had been missing him so much lately and all she wanted to was take a break and seek comfort in his arms but she couldn’t help the anxiety and the guilt that kicked in whenever she stopped studying even for a second. She had been staying up late and waking up at the crack of dawn for a week now, studying as much as she could before she had to attend classes. She barely had time to eat and she couldn’t remember the last time she had a decent meal.

The mere thought of having hurt Oscar was filling her with guilt and she wished there was something she could do to take it back. She was so tired of feeling like this and right now it felt like she had pushed away the only person she wanted to comfort her.

When Oscar opened the door half an hour later, he didn’t expect his girlfriend to come running to the door and then stop in her tracks the moment her eyes met his. She tried to open her mouth but tears started falling again and she was struggling to take a full breath. The sight tore Oscar’s hurt and he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her head against his chest.

-“ It’s okay, baby. Just let go, I’m here.” he whispered, tracing circles on her back

-“ I’m sorry, Oscar. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean what I said. I–”

-“ I know, it’s okay. It’s already forgotten.”

-“ It’s not okay. You didn’t deserve to hear that.” she sniffled, looking at him in the eyes “ I love what you do and I’m really happy you’re here. I’m sorry if I made you feel like it wasn’t the case. It’s no excuse but I’m frankly exhausted and you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

-“ Thank you for apologising. It’s forgiven and I promise you I’m not mad or anything.”

-“ You’re sure ?”

-“ Yes, I wasn’t mad earlier. I was a bit hurt and I knew you needed time to calm down before we could have a discussion so I just went to the store to buy brownies and ice cream.”

-“ That’s so sweet, Oscar, stop.” she said, feeling her voice shake slightly

-“ I was thinking we could take a proper break and eat in front of a movie. Then if you still want to work, I could help you study and after that we could take a bath ? How does that sound ?”

-“ I love you so much.”

-“ Is that a yes ?” Oscar teased, smiling as he heard her laugh

-“ Yes it is.” she said, as he grabbed her hand and guided her towards the living room where the food was still waiting for them

-“ y/n ?”

-“ yes ?”

-“ I love you too.”

-“ I know, now come here.” she smiled again, wrapping her arms behind his neck before pulling him down to kiss him properly

Oscar hadn’t been sure of it at first but coming back home was the best choice he ever made for the both of them. They missed each other too much to wait a whole month to be together when they needed the other’s presence that badly.

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #f1 #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fandom #f1 scenario #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n

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equatortravel · 9 days ago

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La Perle Dubai Show: Tickets, Schedule & Experience | Equator Travel

Discover La Perle Dubai show at Al Habtoor City with Equator Travels. Get tickets, check schedule, and experience one of the best shows in Dubai. Book your La Perle tickets now for an unforgettable entertainment experience.

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verimuru · 8 months ago

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Red on Maroon A 16-page IWTV (2022) fancomic about the vampire Armand and journalist Daniel Molloy visiting the Mark Rothko retrospective in 2024 Paris. Content mentions & warnings: The comic depicts Daniel’s internalized ableism. Rothko’s suicide is acknowledged but not discussed in detail. There’s angst, talk about kink and lots of fluff. Louis is mentioned as well as Daniel’s daughters. Marius is not named but is hinted at. The comic is set up in post-Dubai-interview time and based on my knowledge about s1 of AMC’s IWTV with sprinkles of book canon. Some notes about the comic below:

As with my last comic, I am not a native English speaker, so I hope you keep that in mind when reading <3 trying my best here meow meow

The Rothko retrospective can be visited until 2nd of April of 2024 in Louis Vuitton Foundation. I visited the place in January, so the comic’s surroundings are a mix of memories and some image searches, but in no way fully accurate. Since visiting Paris next week is probably not an option for most people, the foundation has a very cool free app, where you can listen to an audio guide about Rothko and paintings in the exhibition. I mostly used their app as a source for this comic, so in case you want to learn more, go here: https://www.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/en/events/mark-rothko

I listened to a lot of Morton Feldman’s Rothko Chapel -album while making this. So put it in playing in the background if you’re into that sort of thing. Link to the playlist on youtube

Since I am Finnish and I found out that one of LVF’s first exhibition had some Finnish painter’s work, ofc I had to include them… Page 14 has Schjerfbeck’s “Dancing Shoes” and Gallen-Kallela’s “Kullervo Cursing”.

Ok finally some headcanon stuff: in my head, while writing this comic, I imagined Daniel having accepted the dark gift from Armand, but both of them wanting him to live as a human as long as possible to enjoy the benefits of a… mortal body. :’D Since, you know, vampirism is forever anyway, so why not enjoy the variety of bodily fluids, body heat, aches and weirdness of aging? While having a chronic illness is shitty, his life is not, and while his disability marginalizes him, there’s a perspective there, a person living and enjoying things, allowed to take space and feel his thoughts develop from these changes (that also affect over 6 million people around the world with Parkinson’s).

After finishing the comic I am not so sure if Daniel is going to be turned into a vampire after all. So your guesses are as good as mine, would love to hear your suggestions, hehe!

I wish we knew more about Daniel’s daughters! I just came up with something here because I wanted to draw them and wanted to see their dynamics as a family.

I have now read the Devil’s Minion part from Queen of the Damned as a separate short story and appreciate the TV show’s changes to Daniel even more. I can’t wait for S2…..

My sincerest thanks to @anaid-queen for being a test audience, my informant and such a cheerleader the past week <3<3<3

Hope you enjoy xoxo

SORRY I POSTED THE WRONG IMAGE FILES FIRST WAHHH I had to repost ;_;

#armandaniel #verimuru art #iwtv #amc iwtv #iwtv fanart #daniel molloy #armand the vampire #the vampire armand #tvc #old man daniel #daniel x armand #iwtv 2022 #iwtv fancomic #the devils minion #armand #interview with the vampire

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giuseppe-yuki · 2 months ago

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Zhou looks like someone who would have a shih tzu shfter as a so and she would be from the royal family

mmm, that’s such a cute idea! i feel like they would be perfect for each other, since shih tzus are known to be really playful, sweet, and sometimes shy dogs, goes well with zhou’s personality. however, both would not hesitate to defend each other, like the day they first met.

pictures credits from pinterest :)

zhou guanyu x shih tzu!royal!reader

as a member of the royal family, there were certain expectations of you. royal members were supposed to be public, but not too public. they were supposed to dress fashionable, but in a modest way. they were supposed to attend charity dinners and galas, but not too many. they also were supposed to have hobbies and talents, but respectable ones.

honestly, you thought everything was a little too much. you tried your best to follow your parent’s rules, but you genuinely felt like wearing something a little more revealing or posting about a trip you had with friends would not make you any less of a good future ruler. you liked fun, and it didn’t felt fair that all your friends were busy jetting off to England and Dubai and clubbing every night when you stuck in your palace, as so not to ruin your public image.

so, unbeknownst to your mother and father, who were busy signing off on documents and giving supportive speeches, you would sneak out of the castle and bribe your private jet pilot to fly you to different “fun” places. one of the top spots you often frequented was milan or paris for fashion week.

sneaking into a runway show wasn’t very hard. the first step was the security, which you had down after much practice slipping through. shifting into your shih tzu form, you padded your way through the legs of the security guards, who let you through with a pat on the head. they always assumed you were the pampered little pet of one of the guests, which you did not hesitate to take advantage of.

the second part was avoiding the paparazzi section. luckily for you, everybody was dressed in couture, with fringes, sequins, mesh, and leather everywhere you looked. nobody even gave you a second glance when you strolled past, now dressed to the nines in a similarly fashionable outfit. you hurriedly take a random seat as the show begins, and tall, slender models strut on the stage show off the newest looks for chanel, prada, and dior. the way the fabric is draped, the colors, and the textures spin in your mind, chasing away all your worries of being a royal. why worry about your multiple language and speech writing classes when you can be swept up in the blinding lights and pretty patterns?

faster than you can realize, the show ends with a polished group of individuals that you assume to be the head designers that come out and wave a few times. overhead, the dimmed lights flash on, temporarily blinding you.

now was time for the hardest part, getting out of the show. the scraggle of paparazzi that you easily maneuvered through were now vultures, waiting to snatch up a noteworthy and reputable guest to drill questions about their outfit and their thoughts about the show. you knew that if you got caught by some reporter for elle, vogue, or some gossip magazine, you would never hear the end of it from your mother.

skirting around what looks to be like kylie jenner and gigi hadid, you make a run for it past the “pit” area of paparazzi. you weave through the crowd, even taking cover behind the icon adriana lima to avoid a reporter that you swear was looking straight at you.

you breathe a sigh of relief when you reach the exit, about to pull out your phone to send for your driver to take you back to your jet, when a hand yanks you backward.

yelping, you stagger backward to find a rather elderly but stylish old man look at you up and down.

”sweetheart,” he drawls out, sending you a suggestive smile. “you must have been one of the models up there on that stage! you’re too beautiful to not have been. whaddya say you come home with me, huh?”

still in shock, you can only stutter out incomprehensibly. while you had a few close calls with interviewers, you never had a person outright ask to take you home.

the man, as if not seeing your furrowed brows and defensive posture, continues to hold your wrist roughly. he flashes you a wad of cash in his pocket, and raises his eyebrow, as if that would easily convince you to go to his mansion wherever he lived.

before you have a chance to respond to his rather rude assumption, an impeccably dressed young man firmly yanks the older man’s hand off of your wrist.

you dash behind your savior, hiding behind the soft material of his black suit with red embellishments.

“who do you think you are?” offending elderly man snaps, annoyed. “i was talking to this young lady right here. you had no right to yank my hand like that!”

the kind man squares up. “i’m her boyfriend,” he says unwavering. “and as her boyfriend, i suggest you back away. if you didn’t want someone to yank your hand maybe you shouldn’t touch other people with them approving first!” he says to the other man, gesturing over to your cowering figure behind him.

“oh yeah?” the aged man says, “well y-“

suddenly, a look of familiarity crosses his face, a look you know full well from years of being recognized on the street.

“hey! wait a minute! aren’t you that little princess from…where was it? from that little country…” he exclaims, moving closer.

“no!” you immediately say, cutting him off. “i’m not!”

the man next to you, seeing your alarm, cuts the wrinkled old man from coming forward anymore. “okay, i need to you to stop right there. i told you that she is my girlfriend so please just leave us alone.”

he shoots you a silent look, and when you nod, he clutches your hand and bolts off with you.

you basically sag in relief when escape the situation, profusely thanking the man, who you find out is named zhou.

as a thank you, you head into the nearest coffee shop and buy him a giant cup of coffee and a cake pop (which you end up eating, because he says that he’s on a ’diet’ for his sport or something like that).

when you slide into a half-hidden booth at the back of the coffee shop with zhou, having temporarily postponed your jet back to your country, you partly cover your face with your hand just in case any lurking paparazzi or fans walk into the store. he swirls his cup of coffee in his hand, one eyebrow raised at your attempted ways to hide your face.

“i don’t mean to pry, but what was that about you being a princess back there?”

“call me your knight in shining armor!” zhou says, jokingly.

you groan into your hands. “why is that the first thing you say after i reveal this top-secret information?”

he shrugs, a grin on his face. “hey, i thought that joke was pretty funny.”

you roll your eyes, but chuckle lightly, watching as zhou sends you an exaggerated wink from across the table. behind him, you notice the quickly darkening sky. without noticing, you had chatted with your savior for over two hours, about the most random topics. perhaps this was the freedom your non-royal friends felt, being able to go into public whenever they wanted and to chat up a perfect stranger. unfortunately, your parents had a gala planned that night, for some obscure sport event that was taking place in your country. if they asked someone to fetch you to get ready, they were bound to find out that you were in a whole different part of the country, and they would probably give you hell about it.

when he sees the frown on your face, he tilts his head. “somewhere to go?” he asks, slowly gathering his empty coffee cup and used napkins.

“yeah…,” you reply sadly. “duty calls.”

zhou checks his watch, and a look of shock crosses his face. “oh shoot- i have somewhere to be as well.”

“oh!” you say, awkwardly standing up. “i guess that worked out.”

he nods, and politely walks you out the coffee shop, making sure to hold the door open for you. when your personal driver arrives in his secretive-looking car, complete with tinted windows and bulletproof doors, you wave goodbye to zhou. “thanks for…everything, i guess,” you remark. “an extra big thank you for pretending to be my boyfriend too,” you laugh.

“not a problem!” he responds, giving you a smile. he slips a red handkerchief into your hand (’can’t leave the princess without a gift,’ he had said) before shutting your car door gently. the last that you see of him is his dark hair and fancy black suit with red embellishments as he climbs into an expensive-looking car that you hadn’t noticed on the side of the street.

when you arrive back in your country, and your driver drops you off at the palace from the airport, you practically flee towards your wing of the massive house, hand still clutching zhou’s red handkerchief.

your makeup and dressing team usher you in, squeeze you into a beautiful outfit, and place a glittering tiara in your hair just as your mother walks into your spacious dressing room.

she nods approvingly when she sees your prim appearance, a similar tiara glistening in her hair.

“hello, mother,” you wave, the makeup lady still brushing powder on your nose.

“hi!” she exclaims. sending you a wave back. "you look beautiful, honey,” she compliments, giving you a hug and a kiss. she turns you around, admiring the way the materials flows nicely around you, when she sees you holding on to the piece of red cloth. she sends you a weird look, but clears her throat. “anyways, i just wanted to come in and let you know that we are leaving soon,” she states.

hurriedly, you shove the handkerchief into your mini purse and hold it behind your back as you nod your head profusely. “mhm! okay, i will go to the front in a bit!”

you are enjoying a plate of rather tasty noodles, and tuning out a speaker talking about some racing team called alfa romero, when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

”hello, princess!” someone whispers into your ear.

you jerk back, fully expecting that weird old man from the fashion show to be standing behind you. instead, in front of you, stands zhou.

”what the fuck??” you say, bewildered. “what are you doing here??”

”are princess allowed to cuss?” he asks, scrunching his brows.

you cast your plate of noodles aside, and cross your arms in front of you. “no, answer my question first!”

he scratches his head. “well…if you haven’t noticed, i’m kind of a formula 1 racing driver, and this is kind of my team..."

he points to the stage, which has a pretty obvious blown-up picture of his face next to another man with a cool-looking mullet.

your cheeks flush red. as if it couldn’t get worse, you notice that his suit has a big pin with the alfa romero logo pinned to it, which matched the racing car that was placed in the middle of the gala room. next to it sat a large plaque that had his name and the number 24 carved in thick black font.

“um…okay, so i might have just made that connection,” you mumble.

zhou laughs. “no worries. what are the chances that we meet again, though?”

half an hour later, you both find yourself in the gardens next to grand hall hosting the event, drunk and giggling on champagne. the bubbly alcohol made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. or maybe it was zhou?

you both rave about the looks at the outfits at the runway show earlier that day, about zhou’s racing career, about your daily escapades, and about every topic you can possibly think of. you think you laugh more than you ever have in years, being stuck in the palace to just study all day. caught up in your conversation, you don’t notice a certain elderly old man stumble through the bushes.

he spots the pair of you before you both spot him.

“you!” he growls out, stumbling towards the fountain that you were sitting on the edge of.

your eyes widen to the size of saucers, spotting the old man flattening the trimmed grass with each step he takes toward you.

zhou sobers up almost immediately, again placing himself in between you and the offending subject.

“can you just leave her alone?” he exclaims, using one hand to hold him back from taking another step. “i don’t even know how you got here, but you really have to get out.”

the elderly man snaps. “oh i know all about you, guanyu zhou! i am a prime investor in alfa romero, but i’m greatly reconsidering putting my hard-earned money somewhere else in light of your egregious behavior!”

with surprising strength, he shoves zhou, causing him to fall backwards, almost hitting his head on the stone of the fountain.

you gasp. without thinking clearly about the consequences, you shift into your dog form and launch your small form straight at the old man. going crazy, you bite down on his hand and yank as hard as you can. ha! you think. this will teach him for hurting others!

when zhou recovers from his second shock of the day, he hurriedly grabs you off of the old man, who quickly hobbles away, nursing his hurt hand while yelling obscenities.

zhou gently sets you on the ground, giving you a small circle of space to calm down.

you shift back, and sit on the edge of the of the water fountain like nothing had happened.

“wow, the gall of that man!” you note, shaking your head.

ignoring your comment, zhou buts in. “wait. let’s just pause and digest what just happened. was there anything else you wanted to tell me other than the fact that you are a princess and you can shapeshift?” zhou asks.

shrugging, you shake your head. “erm… no. i think that’s about it!”

i hope i did your prompt justice :)

#anais talks🎙#f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 rpf fic #f1 imagine #zhou guanyu x y/n #zhou guanyu x reader #zhou guanyu x you #💬

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nalyra-dreaming · 3 months ago

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So, in that 2x04 argument transcription I'm debating Armand's "... and more and more of them.... they got through" as to whether that's in context of where Louis makes a jab about calling Lestat (as in, Armand making calls to Lestat when Louis was not around?), or if Armand is perhaps referencing Louis' buried memories. How are you interpreting that part?

A little bit of both is my gut feeling (if that transcript is, indeed, accurate).

Like... I do think it's mostly memories of Lestat coming through, of their time... and especially of what Louis is then suppressing - or what is suppressed for him.

Given 2x05 starts with a wholly different relationship scene it stands to reason imho that Armand "tinkered" again, after this. Buried the memories again, after.

Louis taunting Armand there is very interesting though. I mean, we see in 2x05 that Louis knew Armand called Lestat... several times. And if the transcript is correct then that thought is always on the back-burner of Louis' mind. But what Louis says there is the same thing that actually happens when he is talking to "Dreamstat" there - "Lestat" is hyping him up, coddling him, tells him what he wants/then needs to hear... and it makes me wonder if "Dreamstat" wasn't a LOT more present in Dubai, too. I mean, we see him later. But what if that is what Armand is actively suppressing there.

We saw Louis holding open the door for "Dreamstat" in Paris. He was talking to "thin air" as well, the hallucination of "Lestat" so real to him he probably talked "in reality" to him as well. Felt him.

Daniel's "Are you schizophrenic Louis?" was very much on point I think though I don't think it's a permanent actual mental illness for Louis.

It's more a... retreat, a representation of Louis' state of mind, a place that Armand can suppress the memories of, but cannot actually suppress, because "Dreamstat" comes from a place of longing and actual truth, from deep within Louis (source):.

“The thing that I love about Dream-stat is that it’s Louis’ idealized version. It’s the version of Lestat, or of their relationship that you never got to see really in Season 1. It’s the quieter side of their relationship,” Anderson explains. “They’re hanging out! They’re best friends. It’s a narcissistic version of that because he’s also a manifestation of Louis’ own feelings about things. But I think there is also quite a big element of friendship, companionship. It’s something that Louis missed. Lestat did see him. Lestat knows him probably better than anyone.”

I think that the jab, the accusation of "do you think I need to be hyped up", and the comments about Lestat and the memories all come from the same place, namely Armand not understanding that... Louis actually does want to be coddled. Hyped up. Cared for. Because... Louis wants his cigarette lit when he takes one. He wants support when he asks for it. He wants an honest opinion when he asks for it, or an emotional buffer when he needs that. He wants the money when he wants to buy the Fairplay Saloon. And so on. He wants to be cared for within his own agency.

(And Lestat often fulfilled his requests, even to turning Claudia, as we saw.)

But Louis does not want to be cared for the way Armand does it for the most part, which is actually taking his agency. Armand cares for Louis doing what he thinks best.

Armand literally "protects Louis from himself", which is something he states within the show. By taking the memories away, too. By tinkering with Louis' behavior. By putting whole phrases and words into Louis' mind.

I think what "breaks through" might be discrepancies. Things that don't fit. Louis is clever, he must notice. Daniel is a lifeline, that Louis needs to cast while keeping Armand "under control" ... somehow. Which is why he falls back into the power play there, imho.

Which is why "Rashid" happens at all I think.

Because, and I know I keep coming back to this scene, but this is Louis' face when Armand reveals himself in 1x07:

Yeah. Happy is something else. This is trepidation.

He knew it would get really difficult now (to break through). And he was right! Armand tried real hard to uphold the status quo - and almost succeeded, too.

#nancydrewwouldnever #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire #louis de pointe du lac #armand #daniel molloy #fight #loumand fight #2x04 #rashid #dreamstat

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alienpossession · 10 months ago

Text

Prologue of my own take for this alien story by @apushforfolly

A little bit connected to @fullfriendnerdpurse story because imagine how convenient that he used the guy I planned to use on one of his alien story, and I linked it to my early caption too that you'll find later below. Kudos to @cleanstatevessels for bugging me consistently (LOL) to fulfill my promise

Sander van Broek is a Dutch fitness model and businessman. He's a rather established name in the fitness industry and that caused him to frequently fly all over the globe for fitness expo and bodybuilding meet where he will meet old friends, build new business and personal network or sometimes speak as a panel for his experience. Due to that, Dubai become a very sensible choice of residence for him because it's practically a global hub nowadays, and he's more than lucky to have some people he knows that can show him good places to rent

Sander knew Andrei from a couple years ago as fellow fitness enthusiast. They were cordial at first, but similar type of jokes and life mindset eventually bonded the two men and they've been close friends ever since. Andrei conveniently also worked as a realtor, guess his easy-going personality and charming look proven to be helpful to close deals with the rich and wealthy. Not to mention that he's a polyglot, capable to speak Romanian (his native tongue), Spanish (his girlfriend's native tongue and still part of broader Romance language), French, Russian (language spoken by his boss in the real estate firm), English and Arabic, making him probably a great asset to attract international clientele. All the places he shown were remarkable and located in great spots, but Sander felt the prices to be a bit steep.

"Crazy view, eh? This place gets both of the best sight, and the way this room perfectly captured the sunrise and sunset, perfect righr?"

"Certainly yeah. But again, this is like the 5th place you shown me to be above my budget. I have money, but I don't think I wanna blow it for rent,"

"No worries, price is pretty much negotiable, you know. Let's talk about it while drinking in my office, shall we? We're done looking anyway,"

"How negotiable are we talking about here?"

"You'll be surprised," said Andrei with a smirk, grabbing his Ferrari key and ready to leave the unit with Sander following him closely right behind him

When they arrived in the towering glass skyscraper, Sander cannot help but look upward until his eyes blinded by the sun. Dutch might be the tallest people on Earth, but there's no such tall building in the Netherlands, that's for sure. Andrei tossed his key to the valet and strut to the lobby with confidence in his step, everyone seemed to know him just by looking at him. Well, not like you can ignore a presence like Andrei anyway, he just demanded such attention to every spaces he walked into. As the elevator flies through the floor, he just hummed casually while Sander still marveled at the whole bunch of floors they passed through and how far they are already from the ground within seconds. As the elevator dings at the 66th floor, it opens to a short hallway with lobby in the end of it. The two receptionist greeted Andrei and Sander warmly and as he stepped through the lobby area, the door behind him closed

"That's just the way it is. Don't be afraid hahah,"

"Just surprised on how loud it was, that's all,"

"Okay, you go to the 2nd room after you take left, okay? I'll be there in a sec, gotta talk to boss,"

"Sure thing,"

"Oh, and by the way, what do you want to drink?"

"Anything is fine actually. Just don't get me too drunk, we're still talking about apartment,"

"Okay, as you wished. Just wait for a sec, okay?"

"Sure bro,"

So Sander fidgeted rather awkwardly in the dimly-lit room all by himself, waiting for Andrei to come back. So that's the boss? Piotr something? Sander saw a glimpse of a man with traditional white Arab headdress, the guy is massive and he seemed like a rather stern boss. Is that guy the Russian's counterpart? He's pretty sure he heard Andrei said his boss is Russian, but that one clearly seemed like an Arab and he's pretty sure he read that "Piotr" is the one written in the gold plaque attached to the slightly opened door earlier

---

"Frankie, how's Piotr doing?"

"Still not awake and no response from his body, my Prince. Just very tense and excessively sweating. Probably the slug still trying to wrestle the control over," said the nerd from a hidden office suite right behind the bookshelves within the CEO room

"You see, Andrei? I told you, some of these guys are just not that easy to be taken over. It's beginner's luck that you got someone as massive as him as your vessel," said the Prince from his chair

"Well, clearly Piotr was not easy to be taken over. For starter, he doesn't even understand what the fuck you are saying since he only speaks Russian and here you are prancing as an Arabic prince, and two, I told you I'll take care of him. He trusted Andrei, trust means easier takeover as they won't raise their guard or being too defensive,"

"Show me then. I see you bring a fella earlier. Show me how much "trust" will help you take that guy over. I check his profile, seemed interesting,"

"Pffft, you're underestimating me, Prince Hamid. You see......*take a bottle of wine from one of the small cellar in the CEO room* *take his shorts down* *painted the glass with his black slug* it won't even take more than 5 minutes and he'll be under my control. You'll give that body up to me and the chain of command, including the fate of that dweeb, if I can prove it to you how well my method works," Andrei said as he poured the red wine into the slug-stained glass. The slug camouflaged itself by changing its color and texture to match the wine's depth of color. Mere seconds later and it seemed like it's always been red wine and nothing else ever added there.

"And if you failed?" the prince smirked

"I'll let that nerdy friend of yours used me as he pleased," Andrei hissed while looking at the nerd with disgusted look as the nerd tended to his passed out boss

"Deal. I'm inside a Prince for a reason, young man. I know what I'm doing,"

"Yeah, he's in the middle of a climax when you shot yourself into his asshole. It's not like he can fight you, he's spent. And you got that nerd helping you. Me getting inside of Andrei might be luck, but the rest of those folks you met, the people I takeover, all taken over smoothly because they never thought their own realtor turned out to be something out of this world and all of those process were hella smoother than my first takeover of this stud," Andrei said as he wipes the remnant of the cum-slug in his piss slit with his fingers, give it a delightful lick before putting on his pants back. He then strut to his office to seal the whole deal with his so-called "friend" while the Prince followed him with some distance.

----

"Hey there, sorry. Searched for some of the documents first and talked with the boss about work," said Andrei as he barged into the room where Sander already waited for him

"That's okay, is that for me?" Sander asked, his eyes eyeing the glass of wine Andrei held alongside the bottle and some papers in his other hand

"Oh yeah, for you. Sorry about that," said Andrei, a little bit forgetful about his sole goal as he played Andrei a bit too realistic sometimes while he handed over the wine glass

But instead of directly drinking it, Sander just simply put the glass on the table, which trigger raised eyebrow from Andrei

"You don't want to drink first?"

"Oh no, let's hear first about those units, and maybe if we reached a deal, I'll drink,"

"Ahh....okay *internally cursing Sander*. If that's what you want. So, basically, you can get those units with half of their prices, max,"

"What? Half?! That's so great, how the hell that happened?"

"I told them you're going to be a long-term tenant and with your job, they probably won't have to worry about the payment and all. Just basically convinced them, you know,"

"Are you playing with me right now? Is there something I have to do for them or anything? Half is crazy, bro,"

"No, I'm serious. But yeah, they wanted something. Nothing nefarious or anything, the owner of the last unit just wanted you to help by personally training their son," Andrei said, trying to hide his grin from Sander by turning his back to him and acting busy in his table

"Really? That simple? Huh well, cheers to that then," he said, instantly taking a gulp of the wine in one go due to his excitement

Not even 5 seconds later, the glass dropped to the floor as Sander's body instantly having a massive seizure. His eyes fluttered and mouth foaming like crazy as his body wriggled like a seaweed, flailing here and there purely moved by the spasm of his own body. The Prince steps into the room with his timer recorded 0:25 seconds left. Upon witnessing the state of the man he saw walked earlier, he smirked because there's no way this guy would be back to normal within seconds! But, in a plot twist the Prince didn't see coming, Sander instantly groaned when the timer left 0:08 seconds as he then stabilized and start taking normal, paused breath.

"You thought I'll fail, huh?"

The Prince just seethed in anger. The timer stops at 0:02 seconds, but promise is a promise so a black, oil-like slug gets out from the Prince's ear and then slide off to the floor. It purred upon meeting another slug that came from inside Andrei's body before heading to their respective new vessel. As both men cracked their neck upon the alien entering their brain, Sander murmured

"This guy really didn't see it coming. He simply thought he's going to die or something, that's all what I gathered from his final memory. The burst almost caused his clothes to torn apart by the way, he really likes tight clothing," He said while trying to assess and fix his tight shirt that enveloped his muscular virile form

"Well, the rest of his memories will be accessible to you for the next couple hours so you can lounge around if you want. But yeah, as I said, the owner of the unit wanted you to train their eldest son. Of course the owner is also one of us, but I guess he has that attachment issue to his human vessel or something, some of the team are watching him closely to ensure that he can serve in full capacity or else we will just abandon that old fit man. But in the meantime, I'm the one tasked to ensure we also convert his eldest son. He's based in UK, but he'll move to Dubai in the next few weeks. Since I'm no longer Andrei, you'll do the job alongside Sander, is that clear?" said the alien formerly inside Andrei that now comfortably reside inside the authoritative Prince

Both Sander and Andrei just nodded and said "okay" slowly, one still trying to adjust to a new life with a vessel and the other one still dejected that he just lost a nobility's physique. But not like any of them can say no, they understand that their mission is important to the cause.

"And now, I'm going to leave this premise and contacted HQ for update about our changes. And, let's not try to make my father's suspicious that his youngest Prince went missing for long period of time with no possible info on his whereabouts, don't want to make that old man worried sick. Let's update each other's progress a month from now, hopefully by then you two and Piotr plus the nerd have more progress in branching out, I'm the Prince after all, yall report to me,"

----

"So Mike, how do you like this condo? Your father told us to take good care of it for you. Or you want to look at some spaces to rent on your own?" said Andrei and Sander to the oblivious Mike, not knowing the fate that awaits him.....

#alien possession #male possession #alien expansion #alien takeover #alien transference #male puppet #dubai alien

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