#he was saying that my book could be a movie

[whatifitis]

♡ Cursing The Daylight - LN 4 ♡

Summary: Lando hates knowing you never sleep well so when he believes he's figured out why, he makes it his mission to save his sleepy girlfriend from sleep deprivation.

Author's note: A little blurb thing I wrote at 2 am. I tried my best 😭

WC: 1045

CW: Lando being a bit dumb and the sweetest person ever, fluff

You were currently cursing the daylight, watching as a blue bird flew past your window.

Fucker 

It was yet another sleepless night in your apartment. You continued to stare at your alarm clock, waiting for it to go off, a little reminder that if you were capable of sleeping properly, you’d still have 5 more minutes of sleep. 

For most of your life, especially in recent years, you’ve never been able to get a full night's rest. You’d always end up tossing and turning for hours, as well as waking up about 7 times a night. Every day you would feel irritated and restless due to your lack of sleep. 

However, whenever you slept over at your boyfriend's house, you always managed to get a good night's sleep. You and your boyfriend, Lando, have been together for about 5 months. The first night you two had spent together, was the first time you’d been able to sleep well. You woke up bright and early and you felt amazing, like nothing could stop you. 

Over the course of your relationship, Lando came to be aware of your inability to sleep well most nights. Whenever you would sleep in your own apartment, Lando would receive mass amounts of texts from you, all about how you slept terribly and that you either needed a nap or many coffees. 

Lando, being the ever so lovely person he is, picked up on something. The only times you would get a good night's sleep, waking up and not needing to complain about anything and everything, was when you slept at his place. 

The mattress! The boy thought, she sleeps better at mine cause my mattress is fucking mint. 

Upon realizing this, Lando goes and orders the same exact mattress he has, and has it sent to yours. He thought it’d be a nice surprise for you so that you can get a goodnight sleep every night. Another plus would be that you guys are coming up on your 6 month anniversary, this counts as a gift right?, thinks Lando. 

The day Lando gets an email stating that the mattress was out for delivery, he books it to your place, wanting to be there to see your reaction to his gift and so that he could help you bring it in and set it up. 

Lando arrives at your apartment, greeted by you with a massive smile and sparkling eyes. He wastes no time in pulling you to him by your hips and wrapping his arms around your torso. As you wrap your arms around his neck you say, “As much as I love seeing you, what are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet up later tonight for movie night.”

As Lando pulls away to look at you, the postman has just arrived. “That’s why.” he says, smiling cheekily and pointing to the truck behind him. 

The both of you watch as the postman begins to unload the mattress from the vehicle, before Lando jumps in and helps the man drag the mattress to the door of your apartment. 

Whilst Lando and the man bring the mattress into your apartment, you stand there dumbfounded. 

What the actual fuck is going on? The only thing I’ve ordered to my apartment is a new book and I don’t think the book is that big? Wait, did I order the right thing?!

As soon as the box is in your living area, you confront Lando, “Lan, my love, my gorgeous boy… what the fuck?” you ask, pointing at the big ass box in your living area. 

Your Lan stands there next to the box, all but swaying as he stands and gives you the biggest smile he could plaster on his face. 

The cheeky fuck. 

“It’s a mattress!” he says as he poses next to it, adding a pose for effect. 

“A mattress?” you ask.

“A mattress.” 

After a moment of silence, where you contemplated whether to strangle him or take his credit card away from him, you ask “Why?”

“Cause, you’re always tired and you never sleep well unless you’re at my place. So I figured out why! It’s because you find my mattress to feel so much better and comfier. I even ordered the same bed sheets I have, but I got yours in green since it’s your favorite color. They should be here tomorrow though so for tonight you can spend the night with me or we can use your old sheets.” he proposes, smiling so wide it makes your heart melt from the sweetness that you don’t deserve. 

He gets you the same mattress he has in his home, for your home. 

“I sleep better at yours because you’re there. Not because of the mattress, you muppet!” you exclaim. 

You watch as Lando’s face immediately drops, “what?” he asks. He’s truly been stunned with this information, “What’d you mean it’s not because of the mattress? You mean to tell me I haven’t helped solve your sleeping issues?! I thought I was smarter than all the doctors you’ve seen for this issue!”

You can’t help but laugh at your boyfriend's statement. 

“Gorgeous, you thought that of all the doctors I’ve seen… that none of them have thought that I was sleeping on an uncomfortable mattress?” 

Lando just stood there silent, blankly staring at a wall, likely contemplating all his life choices. 

“Fuck. So, do you not want the mattress? Seems like a hassle to return.” he states as he scratches the back of his neck, wondering how he’s going to return the heavy ass box. “Wait, you sleep better when you’re around me?” he looks at you, somewhat shocked. 

You walk up to him, taking his hands in yours and making him look you in the eyes, “Gorgeous, in the time we’ve been together, we’ve slept on couches and several different mattresses. And I always sleep well no matter where or what we are sleeping on. I sleep better because I’m with you, I feel safe with you.”

“Oh… oh!” he giggles a bit. Red starts to lightly color his face, he’s blushing, “That’s nice.”

You don’t think you’ve met anyone more awkward than this man, but you love him because of that, not in spite of it. 

[fxrmuladaydreams]

angel on his shoulder: happy birthday (op81)

mean!oscar x sweet!reader

summary: oscar struggles to find the perfect gift for your birthday

notes: again, he’s not really mean, but idk what to call him now

wc: 1533

prev. part

You had somehow managed to do it, to worm your way into Oscar’s life, to make yourself a permanent part of his day. What was once passing glances had now turned into soft smiles and quiet conversations. He looked forward to seeing you everyday, to talking with you.

He started saving a seat for you whenever he ate lunch, or sitting closer to Lando during meetings, so he could sit closer to you. He longed to be at the receiving end of your smiles and laughs, and mentally cheered when he was.

Of course spending more time with you meant spending more time with Lando as well. Oscar didn’t dislike Lando, not at all, but Lando could occasionally be… a bit much. Especially when he was wiggling his eyebrows at him for simply talking with you.

He was sitting in the training room at the MTC one day, getting ready to begin his workout when he feels an arm around his shoulders. He turns to see Lando smirking down at him.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hey yourself.” Lando replies. “What are you up to?”

Oscar furrows his eyebrows and looks around the gym. “What do you think?”

Lando rolls his eyes, but smiles as he walks towards a set of weights.

“Is, uh, is Y/n coming around?” Oscar tries to sound casual, but hearing Lando snort makes his face flush.

“To stay with me while I work out? I doubt she’d be interested in that.” He scoffs. “But I bet she’d be more interested if she knew you were here too.”

“What?” Oscar spurts. “Why would she?” He can feel his face burning up.

“No reason.” Lando says, teasingly. “Hey, what are you doing for next week?”

Oscar furrows his brows. “What’s going on next week?”

“Y/n’s birthday.” Lando answers. “You didn’t know?” He turns to look at Oscar.

Oscar tries to think back, wondering if you’ve mentioned your birthday.

“Well it’s next week. I’m throwing a party for her. You can come if you want.”

Oscar nods. “Yeah, yeah I’ll be there.”

Lando grins. “Good. She’ll be glad to hear that.”

Oscar tries to hide the blush he feels spreading on his cheeks.

“I’ve already got her gift picked out and wrapped. Not by me, of course. It’d look like I was handing her a wad of paper.”

“Gift?” Oscar asks. He feels panic beginning to rise in his chest.

“Yeah, gift. It’s a birthday.” Lando laughs. “You have to get her a gift.”

“Right.” Oscar murmurs. He stands up. “I think I’m done here, for the day.” With that he walks out of the training center, gym bag slung over his shoulder, his gaze locked on the ground as he leaves.

“Didn’t even see him do anything.” Lando mumbles to himself.

Oscar spends the rest of the day wracking his brain for something, anything to get you for your birthday. He could get you jewelry? But that seems too intimate. Money? Too casual.

He sits alone while he eats his lunch, staring off into space as he eats, trying to think of something.

“Hey, Os. You okay?” You ask softly placing your food down on the table next to him.

He snaps out of his thoughts, looking at you wide-eyed.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

You laugh. “I don’t know, you’ve got this weird look on your face.”

He shakes his head. “No I don’t.”

“Okay, fine.” You laugh.

Oscar sighs, looking back at his food, but out of the corner of his eye he sees a book on your lap.

“What’s that?” He asks.

“Oh,” you smile, lifting the book to put it on the table. “It’s the book I’m reading right now.”

Oscar looks at the cover.

“It’s actually like, the tenth time I’m reading it.” You say.

Oscar snorts. “Why?”

“It’s my favorite book.” You shrug. “It’s so good. If you haven’t read it, I highly recommend it.”

Oscar hums.

“No, seriously, it would be so nice to have someone to talk to about it.” You whine. “I tried to get Lando to read it, and do you know what he said? He said ‘I’ll wait for the movie’. Can you believe that?” You ask.

Oscar laughs. “That sounds about right.” He watches as you push the book to the side to eat your lunch. “Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll see you later.”

“Oh, okay, see you.”

Oscar tries not to let the way your shoulders slump affect him. He gathers his things, and leaves you sitting there, pulling out his phone as he walks away.

After work Oscar goes to several different shops, looking for that damned book. He’s just about to give up, when he finally finds one lone copy. He keeps it tucked close to his chest as he walks to the checkout counter, as if afraid someone’s going to try to pry it from his hands.

He spends any free time he has for the week with his nose in the book. He brings it with him to the MTC, he reads it before and after work, he feels like the book becomes a part of him.

He shows up to Lando’s apartment for your party, with his gift tucked under his arm. He’d spent about an hour on picking a shirt, then another on fixing his unruly hair.

He has to admit, he’s surprised when he walks into Lando’s apartment. It’s not the bright rave lights or loud music he’d picture Lando would pick out for a party for himself, instead it’s soft warm lighting with some soft music in the background.

“I see you’ve made it.” Lando says, when he sees Oscar. “And you’ve managed to find a gift.” He smirks. “What’d you get her?”

Oscar shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Keeping it a surprise?”

Before Oscar can answer, he’s pulled into a soft hug. “Thanks for coming, Os.” He hears your voice next to his ear.

Oscar smiles, wrapping an arm around you. “Happy birthday.”

When you pull away Oscar allows himself a moment to admire you. You’re wearing a soft dress that compliments you well. He notices the small sparking stone on the necklace around your neck.

“Pretty necklace.” He says.

You lift a hand to touch the stone. “Thanks. Lando got it for me.”

Oscar feels an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. His eyes search for the brit, who has made himself scarce.

“I told him it was too much. He said it’s the least he can do for me, having to put up with him everyday.” You laugh.

Oscar gives you an unconvincing smile, awkwardly shifting the gift under his arm, the gift he’s starting to feel immensely insecure about.

“Do you want to go sit somewhere?” You ask him. “Lando invited all of these people, but I don’t think I know half of them.” You laugh.

Oscar nods, following you as you lead him to the balcony.

You each take a seat, looking out at the sun setting over Monaco. He can’t help but admire you. The sun makes you practically glow, your eyes quite literally sparkle.

“Thanks for coming, really.” You break the silence. “I appreciate what Lando’s done, but I can’t help but feel a bit… out of place.”

Oscar hums. He holds out his gift to you, figuring it’d be better to deal with the embarrassment of you thinking it’s lame out here alone, rather than inside surrounded by people.

He watches as you tear open the gift, a confused look spreading across your face as you see what it is.

“It’s my book…” You say, holding the same book you showed him at the beginning of the week, though this copy is clearly newer. “Thanks Oscar.” You say, trying to hide your disappointment.

“Open it.”

You look at him confused again. “I swear if you cut a hole in my favorite book-“

“Just open it.” He cuts you off with a smile.

You slowly open it, flipping through the first few pages, the title page, the acknowledgment, the table of contents, until you get to the first actual page of the book.

Inside, surrounding the text in the book are little notes and doodles, scrawled in messy handwriting. You flip through the pages to see them everywhere.

“You annotated it?” You ask softly.

Oscar nods. “I read it this week. I figured it would be nice for you to have someone to talk to about it.” He says. He takes a deep breath. “Look, I know it’s not great-“

“I love it.” You cut him off.

“You do?”

You nod. You had copies upon copies of this book, paperbacks, hardcovers, special editions, sprayed edges, but none of them compared to the one in your hands. The one Oscar took the time to read, then write out all of his own thoughts for you. It felt like you were holding a piece of him in your arms.

“Yeah, I love it. Thank you.” You murmur, pulling him into a hug.

Oscar feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders as he wraps his arms around you. He smiles to himself, feeling like he’s successfully planted himself in your heart now.

[1d1195]

Chances

~5k words

From Me: It's been about 2 minutes since my last love at first sight story so I figured that was long enough for another one. Just a silly little thing.

Warnings: A tiny bit of smut. Also she's shorter than Harry (only relevant for 20 seconds, max). Other than that, should be fluff fluff fluff.

Summary: Airports are gross, overpriced, and extremely anxiety-inducing. She hates being there.

But it's also where she sits with a really cute guy who makes her feel like she's flying from the moment she looks at him and before takeoff even begins.

What was it about airports that were so romantic? Everyone knew how gross they were. A petri dish of diseases on every surface. Overpriced food and drinks. Not to mention the exorbitant price of books and magazines. Almost everyone passing through was stressed with worry about missing their flight, losing their bag, losing their kid, or personal items. She was one of them. Even with an hour and half cushion she was worried it would take off or something while she was going to get a coffee.

Which was perhaps why she didn’t notice where she chose to sit at her gate. All that anxiety festering and building in her that only the relief of flopping into one of the seats near an outlet would release. She put her coffee in the little cup holder, tucked her bag beneath her feet and placed the overpriced book on her lap.

Someone called out for another person making her head tip up at the noise.

It was fate. Destiny. Whatever corny thing a romance writer would say it was. But there were only so many places her eyes could fall, and they happened to land on him.

What was it about making eye contact with a guy her age at the airport that made her feel like she was in a Hallmark movie? He gave her a polite smile. One that was downright pretty. Too pretty to be on a man's lips and one that made her heart skip a beat.

Hence why she was thinking about the romanticism of the airport in the first place.

She sincerely hoped she returned his kind smile because at the very least she didn’t want to be rude. But it was all a matter of seconds; this little romance novel scene she was playing out. Her cheeks felt warm with a rush of blood to her skin before she dropped her gaze back to her book. She had to. If she didn’t, she was going to do something crazy like profess how taken she was with him after meeting those stunning green eyes for half a second like the love at first sight she saw in movies.

But was that his gaze she felt heating up her skin? She refused to look up, but the words of her novel blurred together, and she could only think about how blue was one of her favorite colors growing up but green might have kicked that right out of the top spot in that moment.

*

Their flight was delayed which stressed her out beyond comprehension. It wasn’t even that long but if she didn’t have somewhere to be when she landed, she would have felt a lot better. She swore she was the last person to board the plane, and it only fueled her anxiety further.

But if it weren’t for the delay, her being last, or the fact that she was going to miss the rehearsal dinner for her friend’s wedding, the anxiety of seeing the hot guy from the gate was sitting next to her empty seat was surely going to give her a heart attack at the ripe age of her late twenties.

She felt her cheeks burning in recognition as he smiled again at her. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

That pretty face that was going to haunt her dreams for a lifetime. “Are you 12A?” He asked. The window seat, fortunately. His voice was warm and gentle.

“Yeah, sorry,” she bit her lip.

He chuckled standing in the aisle to get out of her way so she could get settled. “S’nothing t’apologize for.”

“I’m sure you thought you were going to have the row to yourself,” she sighed and placed her oversized purse on her seat so she could stow her carryon above her head.

“Allow me,” he offered and hoisted the bag to the storage space as if she hadn’t crammed a week’s worth of clothes and shoes inside it for only a long weekend. “S’okay. S’not a big plane. They said it was full.”

Stupid airports and their romantic goggles.

“Thank you,” she said gratefully and slipped into their row.

She noted all of his items were ready: a book tucked into the seat back compartment, a bottle of water stowed there as well, and his phone and headphones that he pulled from his pocket and placed on the tray once he was seated again. She fiddled with her bag, pulling out the items she wanted tucked into the spaces she had easy access to as well. Most importantly, she grabbed the travel package of disinfectant wipes to clean off her little home away from home for the next few hours.

“Oh, that’s a smart idea,” he smirked admiring her tidiness.

“I think Covid taught me that airplanes are one of the most disgusting places on the planet.”

He chuckled. “I suppose s’fair,” he nodded in agreement. “D’you have an extra one?” He asked. She nodded and held the little package out to her row-mate. He took two and repeated her routine to clean. The air vent, the tray table, the belt buckle and arm rest. He used the second to wipe down his headphones, phone, and book with a quick swipe. She held out a little sandwich bag she used for trash while on the plane. “Y’must fly a lot,” he smirked at her preparedness.

“Used to,” she took a deep breath. “I still get kind of nervous.”

“Honestly, would think y’were not human if y’didn’t get nervous.”

The announcements were being made and she focused on the flight attendants and their safety demonstration. Well, tried to. The man beside her was so handsome it was like he demanded to be stared at; it was hard not to comply to such a silent request. He looked effortlessly comfortable and so attractive it was unfair. But maybe it was those stupid airport goggles making her fall in love with someone relatively close to her age and perhaps he was only a little hot.

But as he reached for the air vent again, his sweatshirt sleeve slid down his wrist so that her eyes darted to his forearm and landed on the tattoo on the inside of his arm. It wasn’t even something she would qualify as a sexy tattoo, but it was there. As it appeared in her vision, all her dignity, self-respect, and thought of him being only a little hot, flew right out the window.

Stupid men.

The plane jolted a little as it started its take-off, making her gasp and she gripped the armrest tight. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as it settled into its rhythm. The final announcement that the ascent was going to begin came through the speaker and the plane got quiet as it always did at that time. “Hey, love?”

It was pathetic she recognized his voice already. Pathetic that she was going to respond to the little pet name. They had barely spoken. But the two little words were soft and sexy. In a gentle kind of way. She peeked out of one eye to glance at him. She swallowed thickly around the nerves. “Uh... yeah?”

“I can hold your hand, if y’want. S’just a tight grip y’got on m’arm,” it was so gentle. He didn’t even sound annoyed or pained. She gasped again, released his arm from her goddamn death grip, and covered her mouth. How fucking embarrassing. She didn’t even notice.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“No, s’fine,” he assured her, his smile was so kind. Like she was a wounded bird that he found after it flew into the window. “Here,” he offered pulling her hand from her mouth and laced their fingers together. “M’not a fan of takeoff either,” he explained giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

Did he feel how perfectly their hands fit together? Or did she imagine it? These airplane goggles were thick as hell. She was fucked when she got off the plane and never saw him again. They were silent during the remainder of the ascent and once the bell signaled that they could unbuckle, the pilot announced they were at cruising altitude, Harry gave her hand a squeeze again before releasing it.

“Thank you,” the sincerity in his voice made her blush and she was glad it was dark on the plane and the flight would remain dark. Because if she had to see how pretty his face was for the whole flight, she wasn’t going to make it. It was unfair that someone so handsome was seated next to her and she would never see him again. Someone who was thanking her for holding her hand. After she tried to rip his arm hair out.

Did his hand feel cold? Her hand felt cold. It was so ridiculous she just wanted to scream.

She had the worst luck.

*

Harry had the best luck. The pretty girl from the gate was in the same row as him. He got to hold her hand. The flight was only five or so hours long and the thought of it being delayed was miserable. But there she was looking so unbelievably beautiful.

There’s a REALLY pretty girl at my gate. He texted Mitch the second he saw her.

You better not be creepy. Sarah says there’s NOTHING worse than a guy being creepy at the airport.

I’m not going to make my soulmate uncomfortable. I’m just going to ask her every question that pops into my head to get to know her, and then ask how many kids she wants to have with me.

...Best of luck to her.

I’m probably not even going to talk to her :( She looks busy and what are the chances she’ll be sitting next to me? There’s no way I have that kind of luck.

But Harry did have that luck it seemed. The pretty girl was tucked into their row against the window, her head resting against the side of the plane. She was clean, organized, and adorable. He liked how she spoke to the flight attendant. Like she was a hinderance by being a passenger. It was sweet and he admired her kindness and thoughtfulness. She was so grateful when Harry handed her the little bag of pretzels and the drink she got.

“Reading something good?” She asked quietly.

Harry smiled and held it out to her so she could read the back cover. “Something m’sister recommended.”

She intently read the words on the back and nodded. “I think I’m going to add it to my never-ending list.”

God, he wanted to say he could give it to her when he was finished. But he was never going to see her again. So maybe he didn’t have the luck he hoped he did. “How ‘bout you?”

“Um...” she smiled. “It’s nothing... intelligent. It’s a brain-rotting romance thing. I don’t know, I like to read trashy stuff on the plane. Take my mind off it and everything else.”

“I see,” he didn’t ask Gemma a lot of questions, but he knew that meant it was filled with spicy romantic scenes that he could only dream about with someone as pretty as her. But that would be what Sarah called creepy, so he pushed that thought away quickly. “M’not a huge e-book person.”

“They’re good for travel,” she smiled. “I love bookstores, and I think I could build a whole house out of the books I have or want to buy. But traveling... it’s nice to have something compact. But I bought a book at the convenience store before we left. Which is so dumb because the mark up is like an extra ten dollars and I could have gotten it for free on this thing but the Wi-Fi is a bit of a problem sometimes, like I can’t get my new book to—” She paused as Harry listened intently. It was so disarming listening to her talk about books and her e-reader. It was adorable. Her eyes, even in the faint glow from the emergency airplane lights, were lit with excitement. “I’m rambling, I’m sorry.”

“No!” He frowned, shaking his head hurriedly. He immediately missed the excitement in her eyes. “Y’weren’t. I never thought ‘bout how the traveling is easier with it. I had t’forgo a whole outfit t’get m’books in m’bag.”

She smiled and sipped her drink. “I always do that. Except I’m sure you felt how heavy my bag was, I didn’t do it this time. I told myself I wasn’t going to overpack and I just couldn’t do it.”

“M’sister has a hard time with it too.”

“It’s impossible, I think. Especially for an event, you know?”

Was Harry still smiling? He couldn’t stop smiling. She just had this air about her. The air between them was vibrating and it wasn’t because of turbulence. She had to feel it, right? Harry couldn’t be imagining this electric feeling that was pulsing between them. They were just sitting there, staring at each other.

“Can I say something crazy?” He asked.

“Crazy? Are you planning on murdering me?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I jus’...” he paused and scanned her face memorizing the moment wondering how on earth he could meet her again. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to have a plane ride back with her. But there couldn’t be that much good luck. “This is a bit...” he trailed off and he chuckled. His face was only inches from hers. She bit her lip.

“Yeah... it is.”

“S’crazy, right?”

She nodded. “It is,” she whispered back.

“Hi,” he said quietly, a smile growing on his face.

“Hi,” she giggled.

*

When the plane began its descent, he held her hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze. It made her stomach flutter. As they left their little row, her heart hammered in her chest. How unfair it was that she would never see him again. He grabbed her bag from the compartment above and he walked with her all the way to baggage claim. They chatted a little more. Smiling and giggling. She didn’t even realize he was still holding her hand.

At least the airport goggles were working both ways it seemed.

“You let me go on and on about overpacking and you checked a bag?” He smirked, grabbed her hand again and led her toward the rideshare pickup spot. “Can I say something crazy?”

“Are y’planning on murdering me?” He asked.

“You felt it right?”

“Felt what?” The smile melted off her face and she dropped his hand like it burned her. “Whoa, hey,” he laughed and snagged it quick into his again. “S’bad joke,” he brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly. “Course I felt it.”

She looked at her feet. The seconds felt like hours as she looked for something to say. “I don’t know where to go from here,” she frowned looking back at him.

“Yeah...” He sighed. “It’s...” he sighed. There was so much he wanted to say. So much she wanted to tell him. They needed more time, more space.

She wanted to live on that plane.

Harry wanted to stay at that airport.

She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him. It was crazy. Outlandish. Ridiculous. She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing his skin. He smiled on her mouth making her want to melt. His hand found her lower back, pulled her closer because in just sneakers she couldn’t reach his lips completely. With her firmly in his embrace, he nipped at her lower lip. It was so sinful she shivered.

The honking interrupted their moment, pulling each other apart. “I have to go,” she whispered looking at the Uber that matched the license plate listed on her phone.

“I know.”

“Hi,” she whispered with a quiet laugh.

“Hi.”

“It was... really nice meeting you,” her smile was so goddamn pretty it was going to make Harry cry.

“It was nice meeting you, love,” he answered. Safely tucked her into the back of the cab. She unrolled the window.

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Harry,” he said.

“Harry,” she repeated. “Nice meeting you, Harry.”

*

“You have outdone yourself,” she smiled as she turned. The woman before her had a stunning smile, her hair half pinned, her white silk pajamas shimmering in the light. “They’re stunning.”

“You’re one to talk, I’d give you a hug but I don’t want to mess anything up,” she wrinkled her nose. “You love them?” She asked.

“I love them. They might upstage me.”

“I sincerely doubt it. You look stunning already.”

“Do you hate me for not making you a bridesmaid?”

“God, no,” she shook her head. “I’m more of a behind the scenes kind of person anyway. If you need anything today, I’m your girl,” she promised. “I was too far away,” she shrugged.

“Don’t remind me,” she frowned. “These flowers are the things of dreams. You are the best,” she sighed dreamily. “Can I see my bouquet?” Her frown quickly turned into a smile again. “I’ve been dreaming about it.”

She went to the bucket that was at the edge of what would be the ceremony floor and pulled the bouquet from it. She felt so proud and happy with the arrangement she made for one of her long-time best friends. “Seph,” she smiled. “You look beautiful,” she reminded her.

Persephone grinned admiring the bouquet. “You’re incredible... How was your flight? Other than delayed?”

“It was...” she tried to think about anything but the color green. “Good.”

“Oh?” Seph’s perfectly plucked eyebrow arched suspiciously “How good? Did you join the mile high club?”

“Oh my God, Persephone, of course not.”

“Well, you don’t say good like that if he’s not cute.”

A slight pause as she looked at the ceiling and then back at her friend. “He was really cute.”

“You’re a walking Hallmark movie.”

“That’s literally how I felt.” They giggled then she sighed thinking about the kiss she shared with a stranger. It was so unlike her to get all in a twist about a guy she just met. This wasn’t normal. It was like she was still in the airport. There were so many things they didn’t talk about. So many things she didn’t know about him and never would. It was unfair and yet she couldn’t stop herself from feeling like she was still flying. Shaking her head, she turned to her friend once more. “Alright, I have to finish these flower arrangements. Not sure if you know this, but there’s a wedding happening here tonight.”

“Sorry about your airplane man, babe,” Seph squeezed her shoulder.

“Hey, no frowns. It’s your wedding day,” she turned back to the table she was working on before her friend’s interruption. “I think some moments are meant to just... exist in that moment.”

*

Harry had thought about only three things that day. Breathing, cake, and of course the beautiful girl he met on the plane.

You KISSED her?! Sarah asked.

I know... I’ve never met anyone like her.

That’s a real bummer, Harry, honestly. It was and Sarah was right. At first, he was joking, but now he was certain she was his soulmate, and he just let her go. But what choice did he have? Yes, there was the feeling of his heart beating faster. The excitement of making her laugh. But there was the calmness, the tranquility of being beside her. Holding her hand.

Maybe it was morbid, but Harry was certain he was looking for someone to hold his hand if the plane were to go down and maybe that’s what a soulmate really was.

It was easy. Easy to talk to her, make her laugh. It was easy to get to know her and he didn’t even know anything about her. He didn’t know where she was from, what she did, where she was going, but he just knew that she was his and he let her go. There were too many variables. Too many things he couldn’t control.

“Harry, you almost done?”

“Jus’ putting the finishing touches,” he mumbled.

“We’re going to be late!”

“They won’t start without us,” he rolled his eyes.

“If there is a speck of—”

“I’m clean, I’m clean,” he shook his head, coming to the other room and brushing his hands along his coat. “Let’s get married, yeah?”

*

The maid of honor talked about how lucky the pair of them were to find one another. How there were an infinite number of opportunities for them to not have met but there was this special moment destined for each other. Where Persephone would walk into the library to sit in her favorite study spot and if she wasn’t so superstitious she would have just found another table.

But instead, she walked right up to the table, told her future husband he was in her spot, and she was preparing for an exam, and she wouldn’t let him use her favorite seat.

The best man spoke about how he was actually destined to be with the groom for forever and ever which made the entire place laugh.

But talk of luck and destiny just made her feel miserable on the inside. If she asked for his number or where he lived, it would be hours from where she lived. She would be devastated. A kiss was a good ending to her little story. That would suffice.

Maybe he already had a girlfriend. That would work too. Something to make her feel like a horrible person and lessen the blow that her soulmate was somewhere out there never to be seen again. Harry was just a guy that held her hand on a plane and talked about books with her for hours so she wouldn’t be scared. Someone that split his snacks with her even though she didn’t know him.

No. She couldn’t think about him. She had to stop thinking about him. It wasn’t good for her brain or her heart.

It was a beautiful ceremony. That’s what she needed to focus on. Persephone was a gorgeous bride and the event was just... perfect. “I think I’ve given your name and number to just about every single woman here,” Seph said sliding into a seat beside her and kissed her cheek.

She laughed. “Well thank you,” she smiled. “Let me see,” she held her hand out for the one with her new jewelry and she admired the pretty diamond that glimmered alongside the new band of diamonds below it. “Everything is beautiful.”

“This place is beautiful because of you. Just like you said.”

“Oh... it was beautiful before. I just added to it.”

“I didn’t see it though. It’s a bargain if you can envision it like this. I seriously wouldn’t have picked it without you saying you’d do the flowers,” Seph explained. “You saw so much more than I did.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think there’s a place on earth that doesn’t benefit from flowers.”

“Well, thank you,” she squeezed her hand. “I wouldn’t be having a wonderful day without you. I know it was a lot to travel out here and—”

“No, no. Don’t even. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Flowers or no flowers.”

Persephone grinned. “Well... in other news... do you see anyone as cute as your airplane man? Lerone has a lot of single friends.”

She smirked and shook her head. “No offense, Seph, but there is no one that’s going to be as cute as my airplane guy.”

“No one?”

Her head snapped up to the voice that she had already planned on dreaming about for the rest of her life. Her eyes met the same green gaze she had the pleasure of looking at for five hours while chatting about books and whispering about nothing of importance (but it all seemed important at the time). There was no way. She didn’t have this kind of luck. If there was a squeaky carriage at the grocery store she was sure to pick it. There was no way that—

“Hi Harry!” Persephone smiled. “Do you two know each other?”

“Something like that,” Harry stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Hi,” Harry grinned at her.

She cleared her throat, adrenaline flowing through her body. “Hi,” she whispered breathlessly.

“Harry baked our cake. He went to school with Lerone.”

“Oh,” she swallowed.

“And I heard y’did all the work with these pretty flowers,” Harry smiled.

“She’s like the flower queen,” Persephone giggled.

“I see.”

There was a pause while they stared at each other. Harry grinning like a madman, he was sure. But she was stunning. A floral dress draped her body, her hair half pinned up. She was so pretty. Somehow even prettier than the way she looked on the airplane and Harry was certain she could never be prettier than the moment she sat next to him.

“Hi,” she laughed.

“Hi,” he chuckled.

“Of all the gin joints.”

Harry took a seat beside her. Persephone had moved onto the next table and yet, she hadn’t even noticed. “I haven’t stopped thinking ‘bout you, love,” he grabbed her hand. “Been thinking ‘bout the plane, y’e-reader, and that earth-shattering kiss.”

Her cheeks heated up and Harry reached out to brush his thumb on her cheek. “This is insane,” she whispered.

“I know,” he agreed.

“I don’t have luck like this,” she explained. “I’m the kind of person that has their luggage get lost. Or my coat will snag on the doorknob. If I didn’t want to be paired with someone in a group project in high school, I could guarantee I was going to be in their group.”

“Y’think it’s lucky you’re meeting me?” He practically wiggled his eyebrows. Trying to sound egotistical but all it did was make her fall harder for him.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Well...yeah,” she swallowed. “I mean... what else am I supposed to call it?”

“It doesn’t have t’be luck. Can jus’ be meeting you.”

“I don’t think it works that way for me.”

“Can I dance with you?” He asked.

“I’m not very good and I think there’s a good chance I’ll step on your toes and—”

Harry was already helping her stand and tugging her to the dance floor. She did step on his toes, not hard, but her quiet “sorry” was lost on Harry. It felt perfect to hold her in his arms. One hand in his, her other at the back of his neck, his free hand on the small of her back. They fit like puzzle pieces. “A florist, hmm?” He hummed right by her ear.

“A baker?” She replied.

He chuckled. “What are the chances?”

*

“D’you have any idea how good y’look?” He groaned. She was in just a T-shirt. Harry’s T-shirt. He propped his head in his hand as he looked at her laying in his bed. His finger skimming just below the hem of the shirt. It barely touched her thighs and the only thing that stood in his way was a scrap of fabric she called underwear.

She giggled. “Back at you.”

“This is insane,” he smiled and pressed his lips to hers.

“It is,” she whispered.

If all her bad luck had been to make this weekend happen, she was forever grateful. This was worth it. Harry was worth it. “When’s your flight?”

“Quarter of five. When’s yours?”

“The same, of course.”

She smiled and tucked her face into his chest. “How far away are you from my shop?”

“Only ‘bout a half hour drive,” he told her. “Why?”

“Just... wondering.”

“Jus’ want t’know how much time and distance is between you and a toe-curling orgasm?”

“Don’t be crass.”

“I wasn’t talking ‘bout you,” he peppered a line of kisses down the side of her face and along her neck, down the curve of her shoulder, even when the T-shirt got in the way. “You are so pretty,” he mumbled pulling at his shirt to touch her soft skin and curves. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so pretty.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

“No, I’d remember you,” he smiled pressing his lips to her collarbone. He pulled the shirt off her and he brushed his thumbs across her nipples softly. Making them perk up more than they already were with the cold air from the room and no barrier between her. “Definitely remember this,” he mumbled into her skin.

“I have to pack,” she whispered but her voice was air and her resolve wasn’t there.

“Put it in m’checked bag,” his lips were occupied by one of her nipples making it extremely difficult for her to concentrate. “Jus’ shove everything in there. Then s’a promise I’ll see y’after we land.”

Her heart fluttered. “You want to see me again?”

He popped his head up from licking at her like she was candy. The air was even chillier against the sensitive skin without Harry’s warm mouth wrapped around her. “M’sorry, was I not clear?”

She smirked. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about airport goggles.”

“Airport goggles?” He repeated.

“I have really bad luck, Harry. I just worry that the idea of me in an airport because I’m roughly your age... or like, you know airplane food is a real thing? Not just a joke? Something about the altitude messing with your tastebuds or something. So maybe this is all an illusion, is what I’m saying. Maybe I am really unlucky because when we get back to our real life we won’t have airport goggles and—”

“Kitten,” he chuckled and rubbed his thumb across her lip. “Shh,” he whispered and pressed a soft kiss on her mouth.

“I’m just saying—”

“I know,” he rolled his eyes. “I hear you. But m’telling you, there’s no such thing as airport goggles. Even if there are, m’never taking them off.”

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[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

love languages ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

hp boys x reader (harry potter, ron weasley, fred weasley, draco malfoy, cedric diggory, remus lupin, sirius black, james potter, tom riddle) backtrack: inspiration: my post for pjo (here) that has the same concept

harry potter

giving: acts of service

harry always fights to protect those he loves, lest we forget the battle in the department of mysteries to “save” sirius, and even those he could not care less about (ahem draco). he’s self sacrificing, literally walking to his own death in the last book to save everyone else. and on a day to day basis, he goes out of his way to include or be nice to everyone, especially those who don’t really have friends, like luna or neville. he’s less about grand gestures and sappy love, instead preferring to care for his loved ones in practical ways.

receiving: words of affirmation

before harry went to hogwarts and met his friends, he literally received no love. petunia, vernon, and dudley would emotionally and physically abuse him. for that reason, I think harry would really appreciate someone praising him or just simply saying an “I appreciate you” or even “I love you”. also for that reason, I think physical touch might be a receiving love language for harry too.

ron weasley

giving: acts of service

oh gosh here we go, I already know there’s going to be so many “acts of service” guys on here. ron’s one of the most loyal people in the series, he’s always there for his friends and he is super selfless and protective of them. curse the movies for taking away his moment where he stands up on a broken leg to protect harry from a literal serial killer (well not really, but they didn’t know it at the time). he’s not the most, uh, articulate should we say, but he always helps his friends out.

receiving: words of affirmation

growing up in a family as big as his, ron got cast aside a lot. I mean, his literal deepest desire was to be noticed by others and not be overshadowed. and deep down he definitely knew that his family loved him, it was just kind of hard to see sometimes since his parents’ and siblings’ attention was always so divided. (side note, as an only child I could not imagine being in a family of ron’s size; one of my best friends has two sisters and she’s one of the nicest people I know, and I definitely think there’s a correlation) so if someone were to finally notice him and genuinely love him for who he is and tell him that, it would make him so happy. finally, he’s enough as he is. finally, he feels like someone loves him.

fred weasley

giving: quality time

quality time and acts of service are the big ones for fred. he’s willing to put himself into dangerous situations during the war (rip fred weasley, you deserved better) and the battle of seven potters. besides that, he thrives on bringing people together and making connections. he’s super friendly to everyone, a classic jokester, and he shows his love through the time he spends around people, especially george. they were always together. it hurts that they can't be anymore.

receiving: quality time

fred spent like all of his time with george when they were first starting weasleys’ wizard wheezes. granted, that was because starting a business takes a lot of time and effort, but it shows how fred is willing to spend time focusing on his passions. that led me to think he’d find it super important to spend time with his loved ones, and he would want his partner to spend a lot of time with him too. he uses humor as a defense mechanism and a coping mechanism, but deep down he knows that the war is actually dangerous and will have real consequences, such as bill getting mauled or george losing an ear. (or, you know, FRED LOSING HIS LIFE.) so he treasures every little moment with his loved ones.

draco malfoy

giving: acts of service

thinking about this was actually really hard. draco’s such a cold person, and he’s never shown love; all his selfless actions can be chalked up to fear and having no choice. so I had to look at when and why he married astoria. and this meant dipping into the cursed child, which I’ve never read fully but have read enough to be able to say I hate it and I don’t accept it. he truly did love astoria, even when his relationship with his parents suffered because of it. he became a better person because of astoria--miss  girl really said “I can fix him”. he even went so far as to disregard his father’s wishes when he wanted to let the malfoy line die with him. so I think when he really does find someone he loves, draco can be a pretty selfless person.

receiving: words of affirmation

gosh, just how much do people suck up to him? he was treated like a king in his early hogwarts years, and he loved it. I think the deeper reason is that he grew up without a ton of verbal affection from his family, so that’s something he craves from other places--a partner, or peers. the first time he hears an “I love you”, he’d be absolutely shocked and maybe turn cold or shut down. after some time and patience from both of you, he’d slowly begin to accept praise or loving words. if he’s feeling brave, he may even reciprocate them. only when it’s in the middle of the night and he’s pretty sure you’re asleep, though.

cedric diggory

giving: quality time

cedric spent a lot of time with cho when they were together; they would always go on dates and spend a lot of time together in between classes. it shows how much he values spending time with his loved ones. another giving love language of his is definitely quality time, because cedric is 100% a giver. he tipped harry off about the golden egg. he wanted harry to take the cup when they were in the maze. he’s just such a nice guy.

receiving: physical touch

this is for two reasons. one because I want it to be, and two because did you see his face when rita skeeter ruffled his hair in the movie? the guy was not having it, but I bet if the right person did it he’d be all blushy and smiley. also when harry went to the courtyard to tell him about the dragons, he was literally laying in his friend’s lap. and I can’t remember correctly, but wasn’t it said that he and cho would constantly hold hands? yeah. enough said.

remus lupin

giving: acts of service

remus does so much for others. he was one of the best defense against the dark arts professors for a reason. and even if his competition wasn’t so poor, I’m sure he would’ve been just as popular. he’s a natural mentor and caregiver, always there for others and sometimes neglecting his own needs because of it. he engages with his students on a personal level, especially harry, and he is always willing to put himself in danger for others, as seen in the battle of seven potters and the battle of hogwarts.

receiving: words of affirmation

this and quality time. for quality time, he spent a lot of time with his friends in school, and he spent a lot of time with harry when he was the datda professor. this time really helped grow his relationships and helped him feel close to his newfound family. as for words of affirmation, I think it’s obvious; as a kid, he never really had friends, and as a result he secretly yearns for encouragement and emotional support. kind words and whispered promises that everything will be okay. that is how remus lupin feels loved.

sirius black

giving: quality time

sirius spent so much time with his friends when he was young. he had a really rocky relationship with his family, so he gave all of his love to his friends. he and james were practically inseparable, they had such a nice connection. on top of that, after barely any human interaction for twelve whole years in azkaban, he treasures every single moment he has with his loved ones. it’s like every time he and his partner are together, he looks at them and can hardly believe this is real. but it is real. he’s out of azkaban, he’s free, and he has such an amazing partner to spend the rest of his life with. that’s decades! (I can’t with sirius’s death, I--no. he did not die.)

receiving: words of affirmation

sirius spent his childhood and adult life being rejected and ridiculed. that’s got to hurt, especially when he was literally in azkaban for something he didn’t do. he was so deprived of love and general human interaction for twelve years that I imagine he’d initially be kind of awkward or even scared when his partner first shows him love through praise or verbal affection. after a while though, he’d warm up and hopefully show that youthful, happy side of him again. also, he’d probably be big on quality time, since he got none of it at all during his azkaban years.

james potter

giving: words of affirmation

ah, finally someone who’s not acts of service or quality time! at this point I think maybe it’s just me. james is teasing and playful with his words; he’s very vocal about his affection and appreciation for his friends and loved ones. he did, after all, ask lily out pretty much every time he saw her. not at all like remus, who is a love letters and secret admirer kind of guy.

receiving: words of affirmation

james loved hearing praise and support. especially when he was in school. fuel his ego. that’s it.

tom riddle

giving: words of affirmation

I don’t think voldemort could physically feel love. I sometimes wonder if tom riddle and voldemort were different people, and honestly that’s a can of worms I don’t want to get into right now. I believe there’s some sort of theory that he can’t feel love because he was conceived while his dad was under a love potion? I have no idea. the important thing is that we all know how good tom riddle was at manipulating people. flattery gets you nowhere, they say, well clearly not if you’re tom marvolo riddle, because flattery got him everywhere. so he would use words to flatter people and show his admiration or appreciation of them, but was any of it actually real? I doubt it.

receiving: words of affirmation

honestly kind of the same deal with draco, but he's a lot worse. he wants to be treated like a king--scratch that, he wants to be treated like a god. he craves affirmation for his greatness and abilities. all his followers praise him endlessly, calling him “my lord” and sucking up to him. he also wanted his ideologies to be affirmed and supported by others. let’s face it, words of affirmation were just another way for him to prove to himself that he’s the greatest.

just a heads up guys, I'm so tired as I'm writing this so it was unedited

divider by @enchanthings

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[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Can you do the Moon Boys with a reader who has a massive amount of knowledge about true crime and how various criminals often behave and common MOs of killers. I'm a criminal psychology major who's working to be a criminal profiler, so I tend to have a lot of knowledge like this. But people always find it weird that I know all these things and joke about why i might know all of these things.

I think it would be interesting to hear your take on how Marc, Steven, and Jake would react towards a partner who's basically a true crime and criminal psych encyclopedia. Maybe having someone like that helps them hunt down bad guys better.

Ooo this is such an interesting idea!

Moon Knight Boys x gn!Reader • Rating: 18 + pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • buy me a coffee? • ask-travaganza masterlist •

Warnings: Murder, Khonshu, hit of sexy times, not beta read, please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 405

Steven Grant

Thinks it’s super interesting. I know I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again - Steven loves listening to people who are passionate about a subject, doesn’t matter what that subject is. If you’re interested in it, he’s interested. 

Definitely will ask your opinion about Ancient Egyptian murders.

Asks you to teach him some of your expertise so that he can help him figure out some of the drives/mindsets of the people Khonshu sends them after.

Makes a whole space in the shelves in the flat for you to store papers and books.

Will watch true crime shows with you if you want and complain with you about any inaccuracy.

Marc Spector

Playfully calls you morbid.

But listens to true crime podcasts all the time, doesn’t tell Steven or Jake about it, but finds some of them quite soothing for some reason. He doesn’t want to think about why in too much detail, but he’s pretty sure it’s to do with hearing how awful some people truly have been and that what he’s done under the direction of Khonshu (basically getting rid of these people) isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Doesn’t want you to help them on anything Moon Knight related, “that’s what he’s for.” *Gestures vaguely in Khonshu’s direction*.

Khonshu calls your work, “Interesting.” And Marc nearly throws hands.

Steven fronts only to tell Khonshu that he will find a banishing spell for the flat so that the god can’t step foot in there if he keeps this behaviour up. 

Jake Lockley

Basically gets you to do criminal profiles for him. But doesn’t like for you to be out in the action if you have no training. 

(Even if you do have training he’s a bit unenthusiastic. “I have the suit, amor, yes? Why don’t you get a suit from another god and then we’ll talk.” Marc: “Do NOT do that.” Jake (100% teasing): “They could be Ra��s, then we’d have a sun and moon thing going on.” Marc is about to burst a blood vessel.)

Ask you to analyse horror movie characters for him. Is very serious when you ask and utterly delighted when you do.

Threatens Khonshu very quietly if he brings you up when Marc and Steven aren’t around.

Has a bit of a thing for you explaining things to him and has to fight with himself not to jump your bones most of the time.

Thank you for reading!

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[sabine-smitten-obviously]

And now i don´t need S3 anymore ...

and you need to read this wonderful fanfic:

A lighthouse burning by @books-and-omens

What it is about:

In good weather, one can see the lighthouse at the Rock from the shore: a dot on the horizon, a distant star flashing red and white and red again. It’s been dark for a fortnight, of course—ever since the incident that every newspaper had breathlessly written about, that the paper-boys on the corners had shouted themselves hoarse over. This is where Aziraphale is headed: it is his duty, after all, to find out what happened, to make sure that the beacon can be safely lit once again. He does not expect Crowley to follow him to the windswept isle, to the lonely lighthouse at what could just as well be the edge of the world. Crowley follows him anyway.

What i like about it:

👻It´s a ghost story, it´s spooky and it´s a mystery. It´s the 19th century and dark. And it is set at a lighthouse. All my favorite boxes - check!

🩷The plot - incredibly clever written and it took me quite long to at least have a guess what is really going on. It doesn´t say in the tags so i won´t say any more about it, because it probably would kill the mystery.

🩷The angst - it is layered and comes on 2 different levels, at least for me. Will they make it? (Yes, it is a safe read for all our broken hearts.)

🩷It is rated mature and has some very tender moments.

Most beloved quote ❤️

You remember them, he thought. You remember them, just as I do, and you care. You´ve kept your own watch for six thousand years.

What i really took away from this one:

Crowley remembers so many places, where he met Aziraphale throughout the centuries, its a treasure to read it.

And i realised - no matter how many episodes S3 would have, we would never be able to catch up with 6000 years. It doesn´t matter if we see 90 minutes or 360. It will never be enough.

It will always be up to our minds to imagine what they have seen. The places they have visited. The events they have observed?

That was a very healing thought for me and i can gladly take at least the big finale now being a movie (better than nothing, ey?).

Reading is not an option, its a must.

[jbaileyfansite]

Vanity Fair Interview for the Hollywood Issue (2024)

In the last 13 months or so, Jonathan Bailey has carried on a secret gay love affair in McCarthy-era Washington, performed cunnilingus in a Regency England manor, rendered teenage boys speechless with a pop-philosophy lecture, and danced through life in a prince’s bedazzled breeches. This coming summer, he’s fleeing dinosaurs.

That would be in, respectively: Fellow Travelers, Bridgerton, Heartstopper, Wicked, and Jurassic World Rebirth. But even if he’s just pretended to do all those things, it’s understandable why Bailey is, right now, pinking his nose at a villa in Puglia.

“It is just so dreamy to be able to chill out,” he says via Zoom. “The cortisol levels have depleted.”

Playing Fiyero in Wicked was a dream come true for Bailey, who at one point in our conversation fantasizes about going to a Broadway rave with his castmates—he refers to Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo as simply “the girls”—and dancing to techno remixes of Wicked tracks, like “Defying Gravity,” under pulsating green lasers.

After filming the two-part movie with the girls, he’s nabbed an Emmy nod for Fellow Travelers and started a charity, the Shameless Fund, to uplift the LGBTQ+ community he’s proud to be a part of.

We’re thrilled to have Bailey as part of our 2025 Hollywood Issue. Here, he shares his thoughts on being a change agent in Hollywood, how he chooses roles, and the secret talent that he wishes he’d kept a secret.

Vanity Fair: What a run! How are you feeling?

Jonathan Bailey: I’m very much enjoying my holiday. But the girls started rehearsing Wicked, what, two and a half years ago? I think people assume that I haven’t had any breaks, but I have. Also, we had the strike right in the middle. What was crazy is going from Fellow Travelers to Wicked, just insane.

The Wicked movie is so close to the stage show that if you’re a big fan, you’re not going to be like, “Well, I can’t believe they…” It hews so closely, how could you complain there? But that flip. Are you a secret tumbler?

I remember I’d flown back from Canada and then I was filming Bridgerton. I met the girls then, and they were well and truly underway. I remember going to the dressing rooms, and theirs were pink and green and were just spilling into the hallway. And mine was just an interrogation room with nothing.

But I did spend the whole day with [choreographer] Chris Scott and went from Chris Scott to see [musical writer] Stephen Schwartz, and it was just, for me, boot camp days. You just lean on the amazing choreographers and obviously [director] Jon M. Chu’s vision. So when it came to the beginning of “Dancing Through Life,” I felt like it had to be sort of a flair and sort of performative, but hopefully in a way that was just with abandon and not arrogance. I did gymnastics growing up and I did dancing. I was the only boy within a whatever-mile radius. And because I was a boy and I was dancing, whenever the Royal Shakespeare Company wanted to cast someone, they called. It was dancing that got me into acting. And in dance school—not school, but a hobby club—they had acrobatics, which I was obsessed with. So I had, and still do have, a very bendy back, as shown in Wicked.

I’m a big fan of Heartstopper, the books and then the show; I loved the comic. Was that something that you sought out, or they were like, “Hey, we need someone who’s so handsome that he sends multiple people into a crisis”?

I sort of wedged myself into that part. I was so moved by the series and also the graphic novel.

And, of course, doing Bridgerton—it’s funny what comes with doing a lot of press, and suddenly there’s a lot that people want to know about you, and there’s a lot that’s asked of you that, obviously, in any other industry, you wouldn’t have to talk about. So I was hyperaware of the complexities and nuances of how I felt about myself being a gay man, let alone a gay actor, and suddenly finding success in playing a straight part and talking about that. Heartstopper seems to allow people to feel catharsis and to feel a sort of melancholic sort of nostalgia for what could have been. I was feeling all of those things anyway. And [executive producer] Patrick Walters is really good friends with Josh Cole, who produced Crashing, so it is all a bit of a small world.

I love the cast. I think they’re brilliant. I remember seeing all of them speak to their own experiences and being like, My God, they’re so erudite and grounded and thoughtful and kind and compassionate in their answers. I would be really proud of myself if I could be a part of that as my younger self. Everyone above the age of 40 should be forced to watch it.

Do you think that Hollywood is more open to risk than it used to be? So many of these projects wouldn’t have existed 10 years ago.

Yeah. And with huge budgets and [the] trusting of Universal and Donna Langley and Peter Cramer, obviously they just got the right people, with Marc Platt, and they took their time. That’s the common denominator between these things: Fellow Travelers took 10 years to percolate and run its way in his genius, genial brain, and then four years to commission. Wicked, I think they’ve been trying to make a film of it for over 10 years. With Jurassic as well, this time they’re going back to David Koepp, the original writer of the original film, and Gareth [Edwards] is shooting on film.

I’m going to crack on with the work and I’m just incredibly excited for opportunities. I do think that as long as the work is good, anyone should be able to do the job. And I think that’s what’s changed. I obviously did not imagine myself in this sort of career, so that must be a sign of progress.

Do you get recognized out and about a lot? You’re in all these properties now that have such intense fan bases.

It’s funny—obviously, you do get recognized, but the Bridgerton of it all is really interesting, because it’s one thing to be on a show that is national, but I feel like I was more recognized outside of the UK than in the UK. It takes time to adjust to, it really does. It’s not an easy thing, but it also is amazing.

Do you have any secret talents? You already said that flipping is your party trick.

Yeah, I think that, and I was going to say dexterous toes…

What do you do with them?

…. but I would regret that, so I didn’t say it.

But then you did. What can you do with them that makes you so sure they’re dexterous?

Nothing about this goes well...I just remember entertaining my sisters by being able to pick things up with my toes, but like a monkey. But we probably don’t need to put that in writing.

Physical therapists, I’m sure, hail you.

I did ballet for ages, and I’ve only as an adult found out I’ve got very flat feet. Doing Fiyero, I learned that. And the physio one day walked in because my knees were twanging, and across the room he went, “You got flat feet.”

Your big secret: flat feet.

Yeah, that’s my party trick as well.

Revealed. Do you consider yourself to be a rule follower or a rule breaker? Are you afraid of getting in trouble?

I’m not a rule breaker, I just don’t really adhere. Do you know what I mean? If someone says, don’t do that, I won’t not do it. Probably people would always have said I was probably quite naughty.

You have a philanthropy, the Shameless Fund. Can you tell me about what inspired you to start that?

I’ve always found it is impossible to talk about this without sounding like an asshole, but it’s something that I do think about: opportunities for other people. And I also see where there’s an abundance of energy, whether that be money or creative, that could be siphoned off into other areas.

With the Shameless Fund particularly, there were certain commercial opportunities that were coming my way that I just wasn’t interested in because they just didn’t feel right, or I didn’t want to be stepping into [them]. I’m hoping next year we’re going to start giving out grants, in 2025.

Whom will the grants be going to?

Well, we’ve got three that we are certain on, nonprofits and charities that work internationally and locally in the UK for areas of the LGBT+ community, to educate and elevate. Hopefully, we’ll get to a point where we can offer smaller nonprofits a platform.

The three weeks after Bridgerton came out, there were so many requests from charities that I found it so upsetting and distressing because I wanted to do all of them. “Can you come to this thing, or can you speak, or can you send a shoe, or could you send a bag? Could you sign a script?” So this is also a way where you can work with multiple groups, become a bit of a patron.

Is there anyone who you feel reached back and helped you along in your career too?

Theater directors massively. Ian McKellen was wildly amazing, and I did King Lear with him. He was one of the first people to come to see me when I did Cock on the West End, and we went for a drink afterwards. He was so clear about how it might play out, and should it play out that way, what to be excited about and what to be aware of. I couldn’t wish for a better role model.

Source

[wolfiemcwolferson]

"watching a movie or show that they know they're interested in" for piarles ofc :)))

Well.

Part two of this....

It's selfish.

It's completely and totally selfish.

Ferrari lines up a list of people they've vetted and approved and Charles smiles at them and says no to each and every one until they throw their hands up and ask him what he wants - who he wants.

The phone call is probably all of five minutes of Charles talking too fast and Pierre humming any second that Charles is not speaking, but he agrees at the end of it and Charles promises him the money will be good, and then he feels bad about it for a whole ten days.

Because Pierre is proud of the life he clawed out for himself after and he has a lot of pride in his job and it's never been about the money, but Charles knows that it will be nice for Pierre to not worry about things so much...and also it's selfish.

Charles doesn't see him enough - talk to him enough - and maybe it's ridiculous or childish that he is 27 and still fully in love with someone that has no idea and will never love him back, but he thinks he deserves to be a little selfish after last season.

Pierre returns the signed contract and Charles spends the two weeks before their arranged pre-season training camp trying to make everything perfect.

He has so many opinions about the branded Ferrari gear that they send for Pierre, he ends up ordering some himself in the designs and sizes he wants.

Charles gets in an honest to god shouting match with the hotel because they tell him they have no adjoining rooms when Charles knows that's not true, and Joris looks at him so sharply that Charles goes to his room to hide and when he comes back out, Joris has booked them a house.

He triple checks with the rental company that they have all of Pierre's listed foods that he wants to incorporate into Charles' diet and he downloads roughly 280 hours of US American sitcoms because that used to be the way Pierre liked to unwind.

Charles has no idea if he still likes that because the last two years...well, the last two years have been about Charles.

Charles losing the championship, Charles in the bad car, Charles dealing with an injury.

And when Pierre would come to a race, it was about Charles. When Charles would call Pierre, it was about Charles.

That's why it's so selfish. Because this is still about Charles.

He has nothing to offer Pierre except for a little bit of money and paddock passes for all of his brothers at any race they want and 280 hours of various sitcoms that hopefully will be a balm for Pierre after a turbulent flight or a long triple header or Charles being a little shit in the gym because he's tired.

my flight got cancelled, Pierre texts as Charles is googling where he can buy Season 1 of that one show with the lesser Chris from those Marvel movies. I can hop on one to nice tonight instead? get on the jet with you tomorrow? let me know

yes, Charles texts back faster than he ever has, I am just downloading sitcoms for you

Pierre doesn't text back for a long time. For so long that Charles is considering using that silly unsend option in imessage, but finally he responds.

I think I am the one meant to be taking care of you this season? but thank you, cha and then there's a screenshot of his new flight that lands in six hours

Charles is trying to determine if he can go get him - if he can risk going to get him, or maybe Joris, he could work that out, surely. He could work that out.

I am looking forward to watching sitcoms with you on planes

It's not much - it's hardly anything. But, Charles is looking forward to the long season with many planes and a lot of Pierre.

[skateordiebitch]

BALCONY BLUES || D.F. x reader

summary: you and dominic are neighbors. you like to read books on your balcony, he likes to smoke cigarettes. you like quiet nights in, he likes to throw parties. but, as they say... opposites attract.

there's a little more than just neighborly affection brewing.

word count: 4.6k (damn)

me when i sit on my balcony and daydream....... that's how this story was born. and honestly i love it it's so cute. oh, to have a dominic fike stare at me from his balcony. anyways, enjoy! i only have like two more requests to do, so pls feel free to send moreeee <3

When you moved to California, you were looking forward to the quiet. Your apartment was modest, tucked into a complex that overlooked the ocean, with a small balcony you’d already claimed as your reading spot. 

You’d imagined peaceful weekends spent with a book and the distant crash of waves. 

It was exactly what you’d hoped for—except for one small complication: your neighbor, Dominic.

He was the opposite of what you were aiming for with your calm, coastal move. He had this habit of throwing loud parties every weekend, the music thumping through the walls and spilling out onto his balcony, the place he seemed to live when he was home. 

You noticed him on your first day, leaned back against the railing, a cigarette in hand, looking every bit like he owned the place.

And while you were trying your best to ignore him, you couldn’t quite deny the strange spark of interest you felt every time he looked your way. 

The two of you didn’t speak at first, not beyond the nods and the polite “hey” when you’d cross paths. Still, you felt his presence, especially in the evenings when you’d be on your balcony, tucked into a chair with your latest book, and he’d be out there too, leaning over the railing and occasionally glancing over.

He didn’t try to hide it either. 

Dominic looked at you openly, sometimes with the faintest hint of a smirk, like he was waiting for you to call him out. But you never did. 

You just kept reading, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

One night, when his usual party music pulsed into your living room, you sighed and headed out to your balcony, hoping for a quiet escape. 

But of course, there he was, leaning against the railing, cigarette dangling from his fingers, his eyes catching yours the moment you stepped outside.

"Well, hello, new neighbor," he said, flashing a grin. "What brings you to our quiet little paradise?"

You looked around, taking in the party remnants still strewn across his balcony—a few empty bottles, a speaker, a crumpled shirt tossed over a chair. The place screamed not quiet. You quirked a brow, a little smirk forming. 

"Quiet, huh?"

He laughed, unbothered by the observation. "What, you don’t like a little excitement?"

"Excitement’s fine. But I’m more of a ‘book and movie’ person than a ‘dancing til' midnight’ one," you replied, holding up the novel you’d brought out with you.

He leaned on the railing, flicking ash from his cigarette, clearly intrigued. "Let me guess, you’re one of those mysterious types, huh? All books, all quiet moments." He nodded toward your book, lips twisting into a teasing smile. "How romantic."

You rolled your eyes. "And you’re what? The loud, overconfident neighbor I have to put up with?"

He held his hands up, feigning innocence. "Hey, don’t judge me yet. I’ve been known to read, too, you know. Once or twice."

“Oh really?” you shot back, holding back a laugh. “What’s the last book you read?”

He laughed again, a little sheepish. “Alright, maybe it’s been a while. But if you’re up for sharing, maybe I could get into reading again.”

You scoffed. “I’d bet you’d fall asleep halfway through.”

“That a challenge?” His eyebrows lifted playfully. “Because I don’t back down from those. Trust me, new neighbor.”

—

From that night on, you fell into a routine. 

Most evenings, you’d come out with a book, and like clockwork, Dominic would make his way onto his balcony too. Sometimes he’d chat with you, other times he’d just sit there, stealing glances when he thought you weren’t looking. 

And little by little, you found yourself looking forward to those evenings—the way his voice drifted over, soft in the night air, and the way his laughter made your pulse quicken just a bit.

His weekend parties became something you learned to live with, even if they did get under your skin sometimes. 

But every now and then, in the middle of a particularly loud song or a burst of laughter from his friends, you’d catch him looking at you across the balcony, like he was daring you to join in.

—

Then one afternoon, you were lost in a book on your balcony when you heard a knock at your door. Surprised, you opened it to find Dominic standing there, hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his face.

“I noticed you’re not at your usual spot,” he said, nodding toward his own balcony. “Figured you might be taking a break from the whole… ‘reading alone’ thing.”

“Maybe,” you replied, crossing your arms. “And you decided to do what? Invite me to a party?”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Actually, no. I was thinking of taking a walk down by the beach. Thought you might want to come along.”

You hesitated. He could be loud and a little obnoxious, and part of you still wanted that peaceful, book-filled weekend. But there was another part of you—a part that was curious, intrigued by the casual confidence with which he invited you out.

“Alright,” you said, trying not to smile too widely. “A walk. But if you bring out the speakers, I’m going back inside.”

He grinned, a spark of surprise in his eyes as he stepped back to let you grab your jacket. The walk to the beach was quiet, the two of you falling into a rhythm as the sun dipped lower in the sky. 

The silence was nice, comfortable in a way that you hadn’t expected, and by the time you reached the water, you found yourself relaxing around him.

“This is your spot, isn’t it?” he said, nodding toward the waves.

You glanced at him, surprised. “What makes you think that?”

“I’ve seen you down here a few times,” he admitted, his gaze steady, his tone quieter than usual. “You look… at home here.”

“Guess I do,” you said, shrugging. “I moved here for the quiet. Thought California would be, I don’t know… peaceful.”

He laughed. “… And then you got me as a neighbor. Must feel like a curse sometimes.”

“Sometimes,” you teased, though your smile softened as he looked at you. “But… maybe not all the time.”

The moment stretched out, your heart fluttering as his gaze held yours. 

He was different in this quiet, sunset-lit setting, his usual confidence tempered by something softer, more thoughtful. And for the first time, you felt like you were seeing him—really seeing him—beyond the parties and the noise.

From that day on, the dynamic between you shifted. 

He’d come out onto his balcony when you were reading, asking about your latest book or bringing you coffee on lazy Sunday mornings. Sometimes you’d go for another walk along the shore, talking about everything and nothing as the sun set around you.

The weeks slipped by, and soon enough, you were finding reasons to spend more and more time with him. 

He’d come over for impromptu dinners, always bringing some wild story or teasing comment. Sometimes, you’d even venture onto his balcony, sitting with him in the aftermath of his parties, listening to him ramble about his friends or music or whatever he was passionate about that night.

—

Dominic had a way of showing up unannounced, and you never minded. 

His knock on the door was always followed by that grin of his—half apologetic, half mischievous—like he’d just had an idea to make the night more interesting. 

And every time, you’d find yourself saying yes to whatever spontaneous plan he had, even if it was just an impromptu dinner.

He was leaning against your doorframe when you opened it one evening, a takeout bag in hand, his eyes alight with excitement.

“Hey, I brought Chinese. And I have a crazy story about Reed at the bar last night, and I swear he’s convinced he’s been haunted by a ghost for three days. It’s a mess."

You laughed, stepping aside to let him in. "You’re really the only person I know who could make a simple dinner into an event."

"That’s because I’m here for the drama," he said with a wink, strolling into your apartment as if it was his second home, which, at this point, it practically was.

Dinner was a laid-back affair, the two of you perched on the couch, tossing back takeout containers and halfheartedly watching a movie you weren’t really paying attention to. 

Most of the time, it was like that with Dominic—more about the company than the activity. 

You barely noticed when the food ran out or the movie ended. You were too caught up in his stories, his hands gesturing wildly as he described whatever outrageous thing had happened to him that day. 

At one point, you had to pause him mid-story. "Wait," you interrupted, smirking. "You’re telling me Reed thinks a ghost followed him home from a Halloween party last year?"

He nodded, eyes wide with mock seriousness. "He was practically in tears. I swear, he won’t leave his apartment alone now. I had to convince him the ghost probably has better things to do than haunt a guy who wears socks with sandals."

You burst into laughter, and Dominic joined in, his carefree chuckle filling the room like it always did. 

The next few minutes passed in comfortable silence, with only the sound of music softly playing from the speakers. 

You leaned back on the couch, your feet tucked underneath you, and found yourself staring at Dominic. 

It wasn’t the first time you’d noticed how effortlessly attractive he was, but tonight, it hit you in a different way. His scruffy hair was falling into his eyes, and his lips—those damn lips—had a playful smirk that made you wonder how you hadn’t kissed him yet. 

But you couldn't quite figure out why you hadn’t. It was complicated, like everything with Dominic always seemed to be.

You cleared your throat, brushing away the thought. 

"You know," you said, pulling your legs up onto the couch, "I didn’t expect you to be one for spontaneous dinners. I thought you were more of the ‘grab a burger on the way home’ kind of guy."

Dominic grinned, stretching his arm along the back of the couch casually. "I am," he said, "but sometimes it's nice to get out of my own head. And when I can’t convince my friends to have dinner with me, I come to you." His gaze softened for a moment, and his voice dropped slightly. "You’re the only person who doesn’t look at me like I’m the chaos walking through the door."

Your heart did a little flip at his words. "I like the chaos," you replied, your voice quieter than before.

Dominic tilted his head, studying you with a mixture of curiosity and something deeper, something he didn’t usually let slip in front of others. 

But before either of you could say anything more, he pushed up from the couch, grabbing his jacket and the empty food containers. 

"I think I’m gonna head to my balcony," he said casually, giving you a sideways glance. "Wanna join? It's not exactly a party, but... it's the best view in the building."

You nodded, feeling an involuntary smile tug at your lips. "Yeah, sure. I’ll be out in a second."

The balcony was quieter than usual tonight—no party chaos, no loud music or chattering voices. Just the sound of distant cars and the occasional crash of waves from the beach below. 

Dominic leaned against the railing, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he stared out at the city lights. You stood beside him, your arms crossed over your chest, just watching him, feeling that familiar tension settle between you.

"You know," he said suddenly, his voice breaking the comfortable silence, "I love this view. But I think I might like it more when you're out here with me." 

His words were soft, genuine, and for a moment, he wasn’t Dominic, the wild party host. He was just a guy, caught in the same quiet moment you were.

You raised an eyebrow, not sure if he was joking or serious, but the look in his eyes was so sincere it made your chest tighten. "You’re full of surprises, you know that?"

He laughed, exhaling a puff of smoke and brushing it aside. "I try to be. Life’s better when you’re unpredictable."

"Yeah, but," you added with a teasing smile, "you’re the only one who doesn’t have a filter. Makes things interesting."

He turned to face you, his posture relaxed but his expression more serious now, as if he was carefully choosing his words. "It’s easy with you. You don’t try to make sense of everything I do. You just let me be... me."

You felt your heart race a little faster, his words hitting somewhere deeper than you expected. You nodded, suddenly feeling vulnerable under the weight of his gaze. "I think that's what I like most about you."

The silence stretched between you, but this time it didn’t feel awkward. It felt... right.

Dominic took one last drag from his cigarette and dropped it into the ashtray. Then he took a step closer to you, his eyes searching yours. "I don’t say it much, but I’m glad you’re here," he said softly.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle in your chest. "Me too."

The night stretched on in a haze of quiet conversation and stolen glances. 

And as you sat together on his balcony, you knew this wasn’t just another casual hangout—it was something more. Something you weren’t quite ready to label, but couldn’t deny was happening between the two of you. 

Slowly, but surely.

—

And then on one Friday, you’d just settled into a new novel when Dominic leaned over, his elbows resting on the railing. "So, big plans for the weekend?" he asked, flashing that familiar smile.

You shrugged. "Same as always. Just me, my book, and TV.”

He feigned shock. "No wild plans? No... secret parties in there?" He nodded toward your apartment, his voice teasing.

"Some of us enjoy a peaceful life," you shot back. "Not everyone throws ragers every Friday night."

"Ouch. You wound me," he said, placing a dramatic hand over his heart. "But, hey, just for the record, tonight’s party’s invitation-only. But I could make an exception."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Sorry to disappoint. I don’t think I’d fit in with your crowd."

"Oh, I don’t know," he said, a twinkle in his eye. "You might surprise yourself."

“I haven’t been to a party in ages, Dom,” You say, watching him spark with even more excitement.

“Perfect! Then you’re coming to mine.”

—

You had no intention of actually attending Dominic's party. 

But somehow, your friends that were invited had convinced you to tag along, and now you were here, tucked against a wall in his dimly lit apartment.

Watching the lively crowd fill every corner of his place, music pulsed through the walls, echoing off the high ceilings, and the familiar scent of Dominic’s cologne mingled with the laughter and voices all around.

You were handed three shots of tequila, back to back, and now permanently glued to the corner, away from the chaos. 

You hadn’t even expected Dominic to notice you were here, but just as you were starting to wonder where he was, you felt a hand gently press against the small of your back. 

You turned, and there he was—his grin wide, his eyes lighting up the moment they met yours.

"Well, look who finally made it to one of my parties," he said, leaning close so you could hear him over the music. His voice was low, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. "And here I thought you were all talk about being ‘too quiet’ for nights like this."

You laughed, rolling your eyes. "I’m just here to make sure your guests don’t destroy the building!”

"Oh, so you’re keeping an eye on me, huh?" His hand lingered on your back, his fingers tracing small circles there. His touch was warm, grounding in a way that felt electric and impossible to ignore. "You’re cute when you’re pretending not to have fun."

You smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Who says I’m pretending?"

He hands you another shot as he pours himself another one; And from the looks of it, he’s had way more than you. 

“Cheers! To… whatever we got going on here,” He says, as you raise the shot glass.

“To whatever we got going on,” The two of you laugh as you feel that god-awful stinging sensation travel down your throat.

“This is the most I’ve drank in a long time!” You giggle, “I forgot how fun this is!”

“Mhm, so maybe you should come to these more often, then.”

“Maybe…” You say as you watch him stare into your eyes and then looking at you, up and down, “Stop staring at me!” You laugh.

He chuckled, slipping his other hand around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. “It’s so hard to not stare you when you look this good.”

Your face flushed under his gaze, the teasing glint in his eye sending a shiver through you. 

“I thought you wouldn’t even notice my existence at these things,” you replied, trying to sound nonchalant even as your pulse quickened.

“Oh, trust me. I always notice you,” he murmured, his voice lower now, meant just for you. His eyes were intense, his gaze tracing your face, lingering on your lips before he met your eyes again. “And tonight? You’re making it really hard not to.”

You swallowed, suddenly aware of the minimal space between you and Dominic. 

It was thrilling, that tension lingering in the air, as if the two of you were the only people in the room. And then he leaned closer, his voice a soft murmur near your ear.

"Can I get you another drink? Or would that just give me another excuse to stay by your side?"

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him. "Maybe that’s what I was hoping for."

A look of surprise flickered across his face, and then his lips pulled into a smirk, clearly delighted by your response. 

He didn’t move away as his hand slid down to rest at your waist, his thumb brushing against your hip. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ll show you a good time.”

Your eyes met his, daring him. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

Something shifted in his expression then, a flicker of heat, of something more. 

His hand on your waist tightened slightly, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel his warmth seeping into you. 

The room, the crowd, everything else seemed to fade into the background as he looked down at you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smile that was equal parts flirtatious and dangerous.

He dipped his head, brushing his lips close to your ear. “You know, I was starting to think you’d never come to one of these,” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “But now that you’re here… I don’t think I’ll let you out of my sight.”

You let out a breathy laugh, trying to keep your cool despite the way he was looking at you. “I thought you had a hundred guests to entertain.”

“Oh, I do.” He flashed you a grin, leaning in closer. “But none of them are you.”

His hands slipped around your waist, guiding you into the flow of the party. 

He kept you close, weaving through the crowd with a protective edge, and you couldn’t help but notice the way other people glanced over, curiosity and maybe even a little envy in their eyes. 

Dominic, however, didn’t seem to care about anyone else—he only had eyes for you.

He led you out to the balcony, where the cool night air hit your skin and gave you both a moment to breathe. He leaned against the railing, his gaze never leaving you as you looked out at the city lights. 

You turned to face him, realizing how close you still were. He didn’t back up, didn’t pull away. 

His hand brushed your cheek, and there was something softer in his eyes, something that made your heart skip a beat. 

"You truly are full of surprises, you know that?" he murmured, his thumb tracing lightly over your cheekbone.

"I could say— have said— the same about you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, caught between a smile and something more. The playful banter was gone now, replaced by a feeling that felt so much heavier, more real.

He tilted his head, his gaze dropping to your lips, and then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and soft, yet brimming with restrained intensity. 

His hand slipped around to the back of your neck, holding you close, and you melted into him, your fingers curling into his shirt as he deepened the kiss, each moment igniting something new between you.

When he finally pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath, his hand still tangled in your hair. 

"I knew this would be bad for me,” he murmured, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers over his chest. "Then why did you invite me?"

"Because I like you too much to watch you from a distance,” he whispered, his voice warm with laughter as he brought you close again, kissing you with a hunger that felt like the beginning of something neither of you could deny anymore.

The kiss lingered between you, each soft press of his lips against yours a reminder of how close you had become, how suddenly everything seemed to shift. 

Your heart pounded in your chest, the noise of the party still thumping faintly in the distance, but here, in this quiet moment on the balcony, it was as though time had stopped. 

Dominic pulled back slightly, his breath warm on your lips as he whispered, "I didn’t expect this to happen tonight… but I’m not complaining."

You blinked up at him, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "Neither am I," you murmured, your voice almost a breathless laugh.

He ran his thumb gently over your lower lip, his eyes studying you with that mix of curiosity and desire that made your pulse race again. "You know, I think I’ve been waiting for this longer than I realized."

You tilted your head, searching his gaze for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. Just raw, unfiltered honesty. "For me?" you asked, not fully believing it.

His smile was small but undeniably sincere. "Yeah. You’ve always had a way of keeping me on my toes," he admitted. His hand slid down to yours, intertwining your fingers with his. "I’ve wanted to see what would happen if we were ever this close."

And there it was—he hadn’t been hiding anything, hadn’t been pretending. There was no act, no facade; it was just the two of you, standing on a balcony, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air.

"I didn’t think you’d want to be this close," you replied quietly, your thumb tracing the lines of his hand. 

"Why’s that?" His brow furrowed slightly, and there was a hint of playful challenge in his tone.

You shrugged, feeling the vulnerability of the moment. "You’re Dominic. You’re cool and you throw these annoying parties. You don’t seem like the type to chase something… real."

He gave a soft laugh, pulling you just a little closer, his body brushing against yours in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. "And what does that mean? You think I’m just some guy who doesn’t know what he wants?"

Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the teasing disappeared, replaced by something more earnest. "No. I just think you’re used to people coming onto you, not the other way around."

Dominic’s gaze softened, and he let out a quiet sigh. "Maybe I’m not as good at playing it cool as I want everyone to think."

You raised an eyebrow at that. "So what does that make me? Your secret weakness?"

He grinned, the playful edge returning to his voice. "Maybe. But if I’m being honest, I think it’s more than that."

The way he said it, with so much confidence, made your chest tighten. 

There was something about him tonight, something different from the confident, aloof Dominic everyone else saw. In this moment, he was just a guy, a guy who wanted something from you, something more than just the usual game he played.

"Do you want to go back inside?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You didn’t know why, but the thought of being back in the crowded apartment suddenly felt less appealing, the contrast between the chaotic party and the quiet intimacy of the moment stark.

Dominic’s lips quirked into a half-smile, the heat in his gaze never leaving you. "I think I’d rather stay out here… unless you want to change your mind."

"No," you said quickly, shaking your head. "I’m more than fine out here."

He leaned in again, pressing his forehead against yours, and for a moment, the only sound was the quiet rustle of the night air and the distant murmur of the party. 

"Good," he said softly. "Because I’m not done with you yet."

You felt your heart skip a beat, not from fear, but from something that was beginning to feel like anticipation, something that held more weight than just the chemistry between you. 

Maybe it wasn’t just the kiss or the way his touch made you feel, but the realization that something was beginning to take root here, between you and him.

Dominic's hand still rested against your waist, his thumb lightly grazing your skin as he studied you. "You know, I’m not usually this... honest. But with you, I can’t help it." 

You looked up at him, your gaze softening. "Maybe I’m starting to feel the same way."

He smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips. "I’m glad. Because I think we’ve both been pretending long enough."

You laughed lightly, unable to hide the way your heart was racing. "Pretending, huh? Well, now that we’ve admitted it, what do we do next?"

Dominic’s eyes darkened slightly, a shift in his demeanor as he tilted his head, his gaze lingering on your lips again. "Next? We stop pretending."

And with that, he kissed you again, deeper this time, with none of the hesitations or uncertainties that had been there before.

The world outside the balcony faded completely, and all you could feel was the heat of his kiss, the press of his body against yours, and the undeniable pull between you two.

It was clear now—there was no turning back. 

The night, the party, the teasing, the banter… it was all just a prelude to this. To the moment when everything shifted and you both let go of the distance you’d been keeping between you.

Dominic pulled away just enough to look at you, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. "You’re trouble," he murmured.

"Right back at you," you replied, your voice breathless, your heart still racing.

He laughed softly, and for the first time that night, it wasn’t just a playful sound—it was full of something real, something meaningful.

The rest of the world could wait.

[twstfanblog]

So, thinking about how you said to the Twilight anon that Vil would want to read the books to understand Bella's thought processes better, Yuu would have to explain the influence of Stephanie Meyer's religion on the themes of the books and also how it influences the thought processes of different characters (Edward's whole reluctance to turn Bella because he didn't want to "damn her soul", or the facts that Carlisle was the son of a clergyman who got turned and is now a doctor because he believes it's his only way to repent for "becoming a monster", for some examples.) I also feel like Yuu would have to explain organized religion in broad terms, simply because I'm not sure if Twisted Wonderland has organized religion??? (I haven't really seen anything that states for certain that there are organized religions in TW anyway.) Sorry for rambling in your askbox, I just read that and these were some of the first thoughts I had once I read that Vil would want to read the Twilight series lol. Also, I feel like Rook would be intrigued by that one vampire in the first movie whose whole power is that he is a peak hunter/tracker. You know, the one that bites Bella in her old ballet studio and that the Cullens murder which basically causes the rest of the series to happen? I don't remember his name right now, so I hope you know which one I'm thinking of, lol. I feel like Rook would find him interesting until he realizes that he's basically cheating during a hunt, for lack of better words. Anyhow, I wrote all this to say that I love your work and I'm sorry for the long-ass message in your asks lol.

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR LONG ASKS!!! I love talking to you guys and the long asks gives me plenty to chew on and they make me happy!!!

I have it mostly planned for my main story fic, but Yuu does tell mainly Ace and Deuce about various religions from their home world. Yuu is a half practicing worshipper of Li Nezha, so one of the first things she did to make Ramshakle feel more like home is put up an altar to him. Religion isn't something Yuu would focus most on, but she'd give context when she can if anyone ever asked.

Vil would have even more questions because honestly, yes, the AUTHOR is a Mormon, but is Bella? Does Bella even have a religious standpoint? How is it we're with this main character for four books and he has almost no deeper idea about her as a person past 'Love Edward (and Jacob sometimes when the plot demands it)' and that she's clumsy and just REALLY wants to get fucked by said man.

I'm on the fence about Rook liking James. if only because we just get TOLD he's the best tracker/hunter but nothing really...shows that he is? The only thing we really see is that he realizes the other Cullens are wearing Bella's clothes which makes sense because there were three of them running around in her clothes at mach speed. From there it's just following the SINGLE TRAIL leading out of town and it was easy as fuck to find her. If anything the most impressive thing he does is track down Bella's old home address in Phoniex, break-in, and steal old home videos to lure Bella to the dance studio. Basically finding a personalized bird whistle to lure her in.

(Rook: Impressive, but I can also do the same thing.

Vil:

Yuu: That's only mildly concerning that you said that with such confidence...)

Vil is just...TIRED when Bella goes to the dance studio saying NOTHING to Alice and Jasper and how they don't...notice??? Vil scrolling on his phone reading through the book 'Why the FUCK is she going???'

I...love Twilight...but I look at it and just...'Why are we doing this??? Bella look me in the eyes and tell me why this was your first choice of action...' I could lovingly beat Twilight with a shovel all day long.

[ex1ledbrethren]

the amount of people that cannot fathom the fact i dont want to make a stupid amount of money, i just want to be able to live, is both a little concerning and not surprising at all

[bythepen98]

Severus 🐍

Aside from Harry and Hermione, he is arguably the next character whose pov I read about the most (gen or ship wise). Can't help that he's too interesting of a character for me to ignore when written right.

[wafflinglumos]

if you consider Hermione in the films a Mary sue consider yourself an opp

[yuridovewing]

like guys i promise im aware blossomfall is meant to be a glass child. i just think she’s a poorly written one lmao

[cloverskentwells]

thinking about serial killer's daughter clove again! can you imagine the vibes though like.

her dad was supposed to go into a hunger games but then didn't and he tried to live a relatively normal life with like a wife and kids and everything, had three sons on purpose and then an accident baby (clove) like ten years after the third son. one day he allegedly goes mad and kills a bunch of people at the quarry where he works in some vicious murder spree and peacekeepers chase him down and shoot him dead right in front of six year old clove.

her brothers are all grown adults/gone and the mom doesn't want to deal with a grieving traumatised child by herself so she sends clove off to the academy and then disappears to one of the other towns. clove's brothers have either relocated far away or just can't afford to take her in so she gets to live in the academy dorms. then clove spends years getting bullied and teased about her loser deadbeat serial killer dad who couldn't get into a games so she puts on this creepy image to protect herself and becomes so good at knife throwing that it gets her a highly coveted spot in the games.

she plays up the father's daughter image/her inherited sadism and it kind of stopped being an act somewhere along the way. she does obviously have emotions and feelings though, in fact one of the reasons clove grows fond of her district partner is because he deeply respects her and doesn't belittle/harass/tease her about her past or act like her father's actions define her, and he's terrified of her but in an admiring and sweet way instead of genuinely being repulsed by her like most of her peers were around her.

[runningatypufullspeed]

WOULD YOU GUYS LIKE TO SEE MY FUGLY UGLY ASS ALLEGORY OF THE CAVE X FAHRENHEIT 451 CROSSOVER DRAWING THAT I WAS FORCED TO DO FOR SCHOOL….. ITS SO UGLY AND MONTAG IS

WHITE.

AND THE HOUNDS ARE DISGUSTING THE COLORING IS SO SHITTY AND MILDRED …. Well ok she looks alright kindof but the COLORING ….. SKETCH WAS BETTER but do you guys. Do you still want to see it…….,,,,,,

ALSO NO OFFENSE TO WHITE PEOPLE PLEASE I LOVE YOU GUYS 🫶😁👍 within reason