#like no more it’s life and everyone goes through it

[summertimesadnessirl]

No.

It's just...

There is only a tiny chance anyone will ever care that this happened and do something about it.

It can only happen if I literally die from it and then someone goes through my phone and stuff on social media to see what happened and believes it.

It was more likely before my old tumblr got deleted.

Because I had more documentation on there.

Of specific incidents as they happened like the time there was that guy outside in the middle of the night by my garbage cans when I went out to take it out smoking and saying creepy things.

But if I don't die there is absolutely no chance at all that anyone will get charged with a crime for what they did to me.

It will just be something I have to clean up.

It will require me to lie to a bunch of people and claim that it was for the best because it taught me an important lesson and led me to new opportunities, also.

I hate that shit. That's the most degrading thing about being poor. You have to tell everyone how romantic it is and how it's making you a better person. You have to beg rich people not to punish you for being unlucky.

See how grateful I am for being fucked over look I will be such a good employee I swear.

I got sexually assaulted, lied to, set up, and someone spent 4 years stalking and retraumatizing me and ruining a business I took 10 years to build and that I got lucky enough to have my dream job in and get out of debt and like... 8 tenths of the way to my dream life and they're making fun of me and telling me it's my fault. They made a fake pop star to make fun of me who is getting rich for stealing my style and my image and my life and claiming it's somehow "karma" even though I didn't steal anyone's shit. The closest I came was doing porn commentary?

And the most likely outcome when I die will be that no one cares, the police think I somehow have undiagnosed schizophrenia or had a psychotic episode, but at least I won't have to tell everyone how it's for the best and it made me a stronger better person while I beg them for another shitty low paying abusive job.

At least I can have that.

The only way to get that is to die. The only way to have any dignity or hope is to die. My only hope is that someone understands what happened and fixes it. Like on a systemic level. I know justice barely exists in the world we live in. But maybe somewhere out there, there is someone who would care enough to solve my murder.

But I tried reporting it and I tried telling people and they just tell me how crazy I am and how I should just quit and go back to being miserable and let them steal my life and get away with it.

If they want my life, the price is they have to murder me fair and square. There can be only one Eva Rinaldi.

[bvidzsoo]

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I��ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

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[astrocafecoffee]

Placements I like the most ~

Venus in Capricorn: Venus in Capricorn is known for taking life seriously, but they also have a fantastic ability to laugh at life's minor failures, particularly their own. If something goes wrong, their reaction is often more, “Well, that was expected,” followed by a chuckle. It’s like they’ve already calculated the odds of success and know that it’s okay to laugh off the imperfections.

Libra moon : When arguments or tension happen, a Libra Moon might not react immediately. They prefer to process their emotions and figure out what everyone else thinks first. By the time they express their thoughts, the conflict might already be over, and they’ll come in with, “Okay, so here’s my analysis of everything… and I think we should compromise.” Their late-but-thoughtful take is often both hilarious and surprisingly insightful.

Virgo sun:Virgo Suns can be surprisingly adventurous with food, even though they come off as practical and "healthy" eaters. They love trying out new food trends.they love recommending obscure restaurants or dishes no one else has heard of. You might not expect a Virgo Sun to be a connoisseur of anything, but food? They know their stuff.

Mercury in 10th house/mercury in Capricorn: They often have a knack for inspiring others, usually in a low-key, almost accidental way. It could be something as simple as giving you the perfect pep talk when you're stressed at work. They’ll calmly explain, “It’s all about managing expectations and breaking down the project into bite-sized pieces.” And suddenly, you feel like you can conquer the world. They don’t try to be a motivational speaker, but their logical, practical advice often has this surprising, uplifting quality. It’s kind of funny how they can turn a simple conversation into a full-on career inspiration session without even realizing they’re doing it.

Uranus in 12th house: They can heal in ways that feel totally unexpected and even a bit unusual. Whether it’s through sudden insights or unconventional methods, Uranus in the 12th house people have the power to help others break free from old patterns or traumas. They may not even realize they’re doing this at first, but they have an innate ability to help others shift their perspective in profound ways,sometimes without ever saying a word. They might just show up with an idea or suggestion that completely changes someone’s outlook on life.

Cancer moon : Cancer Moons are incredibly intuitive about people’s emotional states, but they tend to pick up on subtle, less obvious cues. They might be able to sense if someone’s having a bad day just by the tone of their voice or the way they hold themselves. However, the funny part is that they might not always verbalize their empathy. They might just quietly offer a cup of tea, a hug, or a homemade treat as their way of saying, "I get it." It’s their way of giving comfort without making a big deal out of it.

Aquarius rising/Sun : While Aquarius risings are known to be social, they do it on their own terms. You might catch them hanging out in a crowd of people but also deeply absorbed in a conversation with just one person about an entirely random topic . They can be surprisingly selective about who they connect with, preferring people who stimulate their intellect or share their unconventional interests. They might be socially active but with their own peculiar style, sometimes standing apart from the crowd but still very much part of the scene.

[chrissturnsfav]

hello!! Can you write something about rapper Chris and singer reader at the Grammys and one of them wins best album??? Love your work btw <3

⋆.˚✮ singer!reader gets her first grammy

the energy at the grammys is suffocating—cameras flashing, voices buzzing, celebrities everywhere pretending they aren’t trying to compete with each other. you don't really like events like this, even though they’re part of your life now. it's just so fucking overwhelming, so good thing chris is here.

he’s sat in a manspread beside you, wearing a sleek black suit with a black tie, jaw set like he's bored out of his mind. he taps his thumb on his knee, probably counting beats in his head.

you fidget with the sequins on your pretty mini dress, nerves tightening your chest. "i’m gonna throw up," you mutter under your breath.

chris doesn’t even blink. "nah, you ain’t," he scoffs, lightly nudging your shoulder with a smirk, his voice is calm, gravelly. "you built f'this shit, kid."

you shoot him a look, furrowing your brows with a small smirk. "that supposed to make me feel better?"

he grins, lazy and cocky. "you tell me," he shrugs.

before you can snap back, the presenter’s voice booms through the speakers. your name rings out like some surreal echo.

"and the grammy goes to..."

you freeze. the applause hits you like a wave. it’s loud, disorienting. you've just won the award for best pop song of the year. how the fuck...

your realization is interrupted when chris leans in, close enough for you to hear over the chaos. "get your ass up there."

your legs feel like jelly, but somehow you stand. the walk to the stage is a blur—faces, lights, a hundred thoughts colliding in your brain. you grip the golden statue like it might float away.

"uh," you start, voice shaky, letting out a nervous laugh, "wow. this is... wild."

"well, i didn’t prepare anything ‘cause i really didn’t think i’d be up here, so... bear with me."

there’s a soft ripple of laughter from the crowd, but you barely hear it. your eyes instinctively find chris. he’s still seated, staring at you with that sexy stupid smirk that hits you right in the chest. it’s somewhat of awe, but also pride.

you swallow hard. "i wanna just say thank you to my team, my family, everyone who’s been in my corner through all the highs and lows. i wouldn’t be here without you."

your voice steadies, warmth creeping in. "and to chris..." you pause, lips twitching into a smirk as you chuckle quietly. "thank you for always being so supportive and positive."

his brow quirks, lips curling into that signature half-smile.

"you’re annoyingly good at it most of the time," you add, a little sass creeping in.

the audience laughs. chris shakes his head like you’re ridiculous, but his grin says otherwise.

"thank you so much," you finish simply, heart full and light as you step back from the mic. "couldn't be more thankful, this truly doesn't even feel real."

the applause follows you down the stairs, but all you care about is getting back to your seat. chris is already standing, waiting.

"see? you killed that," he says, voice low and smooth.

"did i?" you tease, still catching your breath.

he leans in close, shades slipping down his nose. "told you, you ain’t built like these other girls."

you roll your eyes, trying to downplay the way your chest tightens. "you’re so fucking cocky," you snicker.

"nah, m'just right," he shrugs, the smirk on his plush lips deepening.

you laugh despite yourself, knowing damn well he’s never gonna let you forget this moment.

his smirk morphs into a soft smile, one of awe and adoration as his eyes soften. he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side and kissing the top of your head. "proud o'you, mama. knew you'd get this shit one day," he mumbles in a soft whisper against your hair.

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @mattysketchup , @coquettechris , @courta13

@chrissturnsfav ™

[luvacookie]

୨୧ say cheese.

choso kamo always gets what he wants in the end.

❥ warnings : kind of stalker choso, alcohol usage, light smut, photo taking, fem blk coded reader, intended use of lower case.

❥ cookie for ur thoughts ? : a little choso drabble bcs im going through it and need him biblically. also ignoring that ive been missing for 9 months…

possessive ! choso who likes to poke fun at you all the time, loving to get you all riled up because it’s cute to see you with an attitude

possessive ! choso who sneaks his way into your life almost daily, some how finding away to piss you off differently every single day

possessive ! choso who tells you that it’s just a joke and to lighten up when you snap at him

“it’s not fucking funny ! is it that hard to leave me alone ?” you shout at him, your hands resting on your hips.

he raises his hands, a small smirk on his face. “i’m sorry princess, forgot how sensitive you are.”

possessive ! choso who watches as you stomp away, muttering profanity under your breath about how much you hate his stupid face

possessive ! choso who had been following your every move for longer than you could imagine, silently stalking you on your socials and even going as far to sometimes stalk you in person

possessive ! choso whose gears grind when he sees you talking to literally any other male but him, you were his after all

“your new boyfriend is cute isn’t he ?” he asks playfully, though his joking demeanour doesn’t quite match the dull look in his eyes.

you scoff, “him ? my boyfriend ? you insult me. he’s just a friend.”

“that’s why you were all fucking over him, yeah ?” he mumbles, looking off to the side somewhere.

possessive ! choso who goes to all the same social events as you because it gives him an opportunity to see you all dolled up and outside of college

possessive ! choso who sees you at a party dancing with another guy and something inside of him snaps

possessive ! choso who drags you away from the random, forcing you into a close proximity with him and him only

“what the fuck !” you shout at him, mildly intoxicated and definitely angered.

“why were you all up on that guy y/n ? you know he was just trying to get a quick fuck from you,” he says harshly, missing the way your face contorts.

you scoffed in his face. “so what, maybe i wanted a quick fuck from him too.”

possessive ! choso whose blood boils at the statement, disgusted at the thought of that creep putting his cock in you

possessive ! choso who ushers you up stairs into the nearest bedroom, locking the door behind him

possessive ! choso who kisses you roughly as soon as he gets his hands on you

“such a needy slut huh ?” he mocks you, breathing heavily whilst you whine at him for more.

“shut the fuck up and kiss me choso,” you snap, dragging him back in for a longer, more heated makeout.

he moans against your lips and pushes you on the bed, “wanted this for so long princess.”

possessive ! choso leaving dark bites all over your exposed skin, warning off anyone who dared to come near you for the rest of the night

possessive ! choso undressing you swiftly then getting his phone out of his back pocket

“smile baby, want everyone to know who you belong to,” he mumbles, angling the camera over your body.

you comply with him, giving him a sweet, innocent smile.

“fuckkkk... i’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you,” he groans, the flash highlighting all your curves.

possessive ! choso who follows through on his words, giving you the most soul-shattering orgasm of your life

possessive ! choso who sets that picture as his lock screen when he’s done so he can always stare at your beautiful body and face

[astrcmoni]

just woke up and y’all already pissing me off. i understand that everyone is still upset from the grammys last night, rightfully so, but do not make her personal sadness your comfort.

you can crash out, you can feel some type of way but don’t make it about yourself because you as an individual are not affected by this situation neither positively or negatively. none of us are.

yall do shit like that along with spreading around the images of her crying and then wonder why she doesn’t like to post shit anymore. cause yall do bullshit like that. who the fuck wants to see themselves on the internet crying after not winning a single award for their most rawest and passionate project yet, it’s already being televised live, and after the internet dragged you for your new cut and fit. nobody wants to see that.

this goes for everyone too and i really don’t care if she’s going to see it or not it’s still odd. that’s like saying ‘oh someone just shot billie’s grandpa or someone just burned her house down….make something to where we comfort her through that’…. (just an example cause this ain’t the first time i seen this bs😒)

are you going to heal her grandpa or build her a new house in real life? no, you won’t cause you can’t. like i stated earlier its perfectly okay to be upset on her behalf but this will never hit hard for you like it does her and her brother. they put their entire being, time, efforts, money and so much more into this album. as a community we need to step back, go back to your regularly scheduled program. cause these awards are not definitive to her as an artist nor as a person.

let their loss be what it is and give them the room to handle it and deal with it gracefully.

once again this goes towards everything i’ve been seeing since last night, these are just some examples, no one in specific. but if you feel like this applies to you and the shoe fits, you better wear it.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Your future was Ferrari - 1 / ?

Chapters - 1 / 2

Reupload

summary: She was finally making her dreams come true, but as the old saying goes "when it rains, it pours" and maybe the nudge Charles gave her might get her somewhere she would never find on her own.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Ferrari Engineer!Reader!

warnings: alusion to mature content.

wordcount: +3K

a/n: Reuploading this one with some minor changes because I'm actually going to write more chapters

a/n. 2: I'm creating a different and specific taglist for this series, so if you want to be tagged, let me know.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

MILD CONTENT UNDER, -16 PROCEED WITH CAUTION.

______________________________________________________________

The fireworks over the Yas Marina Circuit lit up the Abu Dhabi night sky like a kaleidoscope of dreams, each burst of color a fleeting reminder of the 2023 Formula 1 season that had just come to a close.

The air was filled with the scent of champagne, burnt rubber, and the saltiness of the Persian Gulf. The circuit transformed into a playground of celebration. Teams packed up their garages, exchanging handshakes, hugs, and promises to do it all over again next year.

But for you, this wasn’t just the end of a season—it was the beginning of something you’d spent your entire life working toward.

You stood at the entrance to one of the end-of-season parties, your fingers nervously smoothing down the wrinkles in your pants for what felt like the hundredth time. The fabric refused to cooperate, as if it, too, was mocking your attempt to look like you belonged.

“I don’t belong in this type of party,” you muttered under your breath, your inner voice dripping with sarcasm.

Oh, sure, Y/n, because a girl who spends her days elbow-deep in engine grease and data logs is totally the life of the party. What’s next? Are you going to start quoting torque specs to the drivers?

This wasn’t just any party. It was the party though. The one where the who’s who of Formula 1 gathered to toast their successes, drown their failures, and, if the rumors were true, make deals that would shape the next season.

And you had your own reason to celebrate. After years of grinding, of sleepless nights and endless sacrifices, you were finally moving to Ferrari.

The red team. The dream team. The team your father had whispered about in bedtime stories when you were just a kid.

It was surreal, and yet, here you were, standing at the edge of it all, feeling like an imposter in your own skin.

The venue was a blur of opulence—crystal chandeliers casting soft light over sleek, modern furniture, the hum of conversation punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter.

The air was alive with the clinking of glasses and the low thrum of music. Your eyes scanned the room, searching for a familiar face, someone to anchor you in this sea of glamour and fame. And just as the first tendrils of panic began to creep in, you saw him.

Charles. Your former colleague from your Alpha Romeo days. His face lit up when he spotted you, and he waved you over with that easy, confident charm that had always made him so damn likable.

“Y/n!” he called out, his voice cutting through the noise like a beacon. “You made it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it” you replied, your voice steady despite the storm of nerves raging inside you. He pulled you into a hug, and for a moment, the tension in your shoulders eased.

As the night wore on, Charles became your unofficial tour guide, introducing you to everyone he could find dressed in Ferrari red. The conversations were a mix of technical jargon and casual banter, the kind of small talk that came easily when everyone was riding the end of a season.

But beneath the surface, your mind was racing. This was your world now. These were your people. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were still on the outside looking in.

It wasn’t until Charles leaned in, a mischievous grin on his face, that the night took a turn you hadn’t seen coming.

“I dare you to go hit on Lewis,” he said, his tone light but his eyes sparkling with challenge.

You blinked at him, your brain short-circuiting for a moment. “You must be joking” you replied, your voice tinged with disbelief. But Charles’s grin only widened, and you realized he was dead serious.

“Come on” he urged, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You’ve had the biggest crush on him since forever. What’s the worst that could happen? He says no? At least you can say you took the chance.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips.

Because deep down, a part of you was curious. Lewis Hamilton wasn’t just a seven-time world champion; he was a legend, a god in the world you loved so much.

And yeah, maybe you’d had a crush on him since your late teen years, but that was before you knew better. Before you knew the stories, the rumors, the endless parade of women who had come and gone in his life.

Lewis Hamilton wasn’t the kind of man who settled down. He was the kind of man who left a trail of broken hearts in his wake. And you? You weren’t naive enough to think you’d be any different.

But you were also three drinks in.

“Screw it,” you muttered under your breath, your inner voice chiming in with a sarcastically.

Famous last words, Y/n. Famous last words.

You found Lewis near a bar, his presence commanding even in a room full of stars. He was dressed in a tailored suit that hugged his frame perfectly, his dark eyes scanning the room with an air of quiet confidence.

For a moment, you hesitated, your brain screaming at you to turn around and walk away. But then you remembered Charles’s dare, and the part of you that refused to back down took over.

“Hi” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “Are you Lewis Hamilton? Because you’ve been driving me crazy.”

Lewis turned to you, his eyebrows lifting in surprise before a slow, amused smile spread across his face. “That was actually a good one,” he said, his voice warm and rich like honey.

“Was it?” you replied, laughing despite yourself. You hadn’t expected him to actually be charmed by your cheesy pickup line, but here he was, looking at you like you were the most interesting person in the room to him.

“That, and you’re really hot” he added, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your stomach flip. His hand brushed against your waist, the touch light and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, dancing, and stolen glances. Lewis was everything you’d imagined and more—charming, witty, and disarmingly genuine.

But beneath the surface, you couldn’t ignore the voice in your head reminding you that this wasn’t real. Lewis Hamilton didn’t do real. He did fun, fleeting, and forgettable. And you? You were just another one.

And yet, when he leaned in before leaving to another party, his lips brushing against your cheek, as he whispered “Be ready by 14:00 tomorrow. Wear something light” you felt something shift. It was just a kiss, just a moment, but it was enough to make you wonder.

You moved to get your phone so he could put his number but he stopped dead “I don’t do phone number, love. I’ll be sure to pick you tomorrow, your hotel lobby.”

You hesitated for a moment, secrecy a huge red flag for you, but then again, it wasn’t anyone, it was Lewis and he had every reason under the sun to be like that.

When Lewis pulled up to your hotel, the sight of him behind the wheel of a sleek Mercedes, dressed in casual shorts and a t-shirt, was almost enough to make you laugh.

It was so… normal.

And yet, nothing about this situation was normal. You were about to spend the afternoon with him, a man who had been a fixture of your dreams—and your teenage bedroom wall.

The absurdity of it all wasn’t lost on you.

“Hey,” he greeted you with that easy, confident smile as you slid into the passenger seat. “Ready?”

“Still don’t know what ‘this’ is, but let’s do it” you replied, your tone light but your mind racing as you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when he flashed you that grin.

Lewis chuckled, his eyes glinting as he pulled away from the curb. “I do hope you’re just as courageous as you were last night” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Approaching me the way you did? Bold.”

You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. “Please. You’ve probably heard that line a hundred times.”

“Maybe” he admitted, glancing at you with a smirk. “But it’s not the line that matters. It’s the person.”

You snorted.

Smooth, Lewis. Real smooth.

As Lewis maneuvered through the streets, he made small talk in an attempt to break the mounting tension. His easygoing demeanor and genuine interest in getting to know you better were both disarming and endearing.

"So, have you ever done anything like this before?" Lewis asked, casting a sideways glance at you.

"Getting into a date I know nothing about, with a dude that could be potently trying to kidnap me?! Nah, this will be my first time" you mused, seeing how his features lightened the more you opened up.

"I thought skydiving would be fun."

A thoughtful pause followed before Lewis blurted out casually, like he was suggesting a trip to the grocery store

Your stomach did a backflip. Skydiving. Of course.

Because why wouldn’t Lewis Hamilton take you skydiving on a date? It was the kind of over-the-top, adrenaline-fueled gesture that screamed “Lewis” and it also happened to be exactly the kind of thing you’d always wanted to try.

“No way” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief. “For real?”

Lewis’s grin widened, and you could see the relief in his eyes. “Glad you’re onboard”

The skydiving center was a hive of noise, the air buzzing with excitement and the occasional burst of nervous laughter.

Lewis led you to the instructor, who walked you through the safety protocols with the kind of ease that only comes from years of experience. As you suited up, your mind raced with a mix of excitement and fear, but when Lewis caught your eye and gave you a reassuring nod, you felt a strange sense of calm wash over you.

Just before the jump, Lewis pulled you aside, his expression serious for the first time since you’d met him. “Are you okay with this?” he asked, his voice firm. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yeah. I can’t wait.”

As you reached the desired altitude the plane's door opened, revealing the vast expanse of the sky below. The rush of wind and the sheer height were both exhilarating and intimidating.

Locked in tandem with your instructor and Lewis paired with his, you prepared to take the leap.

And then the world around you turned into a blur of colors and sensations. The initial rush was overwhelming, but as you acclimated to the sensation of freefalling, a profound realization began to form in the back of your mind.

Upon landing safely back on solid ground, silence was all you could muster.

The gravity of the experience left you momentarily speechless, lost in thought. Noticing your quiet demeanor, Lewis approached you, his concern evident. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked softly.

"It was... intense. I'm still processing it." You hesitated, trying to find the right words. Lewis nodded, sensing there was more you weren't sharing. "Is everything okay? You seem a bit lost in thought."

At first, you brushed off his concern with a simple, "It's nothing." But Lewis gently pressed on as you got back to the car, his hands reaching for yours encouraging you to open up.

Taking a deep breath, you finally confessed, "The jump made me question how little humankind really was, how vast and boundless the world truly is."

A smile spread across Lewis's face, his features almost successfully hiding the happiness that you had gotten the point he tried to show everyone "It has a way of putting things into perspective, doesn't it?"

The drive back to your hotel was quiet, the tension palpable in the confined space of the car. The city lights began to paint fleeting shadows across Lewis's face as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow.

His tattooed hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his focus split between the road ahead and fleeting glances in your direction.

"Would you like to grab something to eat? I don't want to let you go just yet," Lewis ventured, his voice laced with a subtle reluctance, yet an underlying desire.

Your eyes met his, a playful glint shimmering in your gaze as you assessed the situation. His profile, illuminated by the soft dashboard light, was a stark reminder of his reputation and allure.

"Sure, where to, then?" you replied, your voice light and teasing, yet laced with a hint of challenge.

Lewis chuckled, his lips curling into a knowing smile, the glint in his eyes intensifying. "It’s gonna sound so pretentious, but my hotel has this amazing pasta."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you leaned back, the audacity of this man. Of course, that's where the evening was headed.

You were just another name on his list, a fleeting encounter in the grand tapestry of his life.

“Are we really going there, Lewis?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. Your mind racing with a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea.

His fingers reached out, brushing against yours that rested on the console between you, feeling the warmth and strength of his grip, a silent acknowledgment of the mutual attraction and intrigue that simmered beneath the surface.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips.

He was a force of nature, and you couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him. Even if you also knew better than to think this would end well.

“Okay” you said finally, your voice tinged with reluctant amusement. “But if this pasta isn’t the best thing I’ve ever tasted, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

Lewis’s laugh was like music, and for a moment, you forgot why you were supposed to be keeping your distance.

As he parked the car and led you towards his suite, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. The soft lighting and luxurious rooms added to the intensity of the moment.

Lewis swiped the keycard, and the door clicked open with a soft beep. He stepped aside to let you in, his hand resting lightly on the small of your back as you crossed the threshold.

The gesture was casual, almost polite, but the heat of his touch burned through the fabric of your shirt.

The suite was exactly what you’d expect from someone like Lewis—luxurious, modern, and impeccably designed. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the Abu Dhabi skyline, the city lights twinkling like stars.

But what caught your attention were the little details that made it undeniably his. A pair of timberland boots tossed carelessly on the floor, a stack of notebooks filled with scribbled notes on the coffee table, a half-empty bottle of water on the counter.

It felt like stepping into his world, and for a moment, you felt like an intruder.

“Make yourself at home,” Lewis said, his voice low and warm as he moved past you to the kitchen. “I’ll order the pasta.”

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest. 

Great, Y/n. Just great. No big deal. Just the man you’ve had a crush on since you were, what, eighteen? Totally normal.

You wandered over to the couch, your fingers brushing against the notebooks. The leather soft from holding, and you couldn’t help but wonder how many races they’d seen. How many victories. How many moments that had defined his career.

“You’re not subtle, you know” Lewis called from the kitchen, his tone teasing. “I can see you snooping from here.”

You glanced up, your throat getting dry you caught him watching you with an amused smirk. “Not snooping” you protested, your voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. “I’m just… appreciating these”

Lewis laughed, the sound rich and warm, and you felt your stomach do a little flip. “Uh-huh. Sure, you are.”

He walked over to you, his movements like a predator stalking its prey. You forced yourself to stay still, to meet his gaze head-on, even as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest.

When he reached you, he plucked the notebook from your hands and tossed them aside, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re overthinking this” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Just relax, yeah?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died on your lips when he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a gesture so tender it made your breath catch.

For a moment, you forgot how to think, how to breathe, how to do anything but stare at him.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t like the playful, teasing kisses from earlier or the night before. This was something else entirely—slow, deliberate, and so damn intense it made your knees weak.

His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer until there was no. You could feel the heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your mind a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions. 

Well, that just happened.

Lewis’s lips curved into a smirk, his eyes dark with amusement. “Told you to relax.”

You rolled your eyes, but the effect was ruined by the way your hands were still clutching the front of his shirt.

Before you could respond, he kissed you again, and this time, you didn’t hold back. Your hands slid up to reach for the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened.

It was intoxicating, the way he made you feel—like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

The sound of the doorbell ringing pulled you apart, and you both froze, eyes still closed. For a moment, neither of you moved, and then Lewis groaned, resting his forehead against yours.

“The pasta” he muttered his voice thick with frustration. “Of course.”

You laughed, the sound shaky and breathless. “You ordered it. Should probably answer the door.”

Lewis sighed, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he pulled away. “Don’t go anywhere.”

As he went to answer the door, you took a moment to catch your breath, your mind racing.

Okay, Y/n. Deep breaths. You’ve got this. Just… don’t fall for him.

When Lewis returned, carrying a tray of food, you were sitting on the couch, trying to look calm and collected. He set the tray down on the coffee table and sat beside you, his thigh brushing against yours in a way that made it hard to focus.

“Hungry?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You nodded, but your eyes were on him, not the food. “Starving.”

Lewis chuckled, his gaze darkening as he reached for a fork. He twirled a bite of pasta onto it and held it out to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Open up.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone unapologetic.

You rolled your eyes, but you opened your mouth anyway, letting him feed you the bite of pasta. It was delicious, but you barely tasted it, too focused on the way Lewis was watching you—his gaze intense, his eyes flickering from your lips to your eyes and back again.

“Good?” he asked, his voice rough.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Amazing.”

Lewis’s lips curved into a slow, satisfied smile, and you felt your stomach do a little flip. Your heart racing and your mind spinning along with it.

And then Lewis set the fork down, his eyes dark with intent. “Want more?”

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Of you. Yes.”

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Your heart raced as you met his gaze, captivated by the sincerity and respect in his eyes. Despite the playful banter, daring adventure and certainty you held that you were a hook up, Lewis's concern for your well-being was there and it shocked you for a bit.

With a shy smile, you nodded. "Yes, I'm sure," you replied, your words also echoing the desire you felt. The tension was palpable as Lewis leaned in, closing the distance between you.

The world around faded as he led you to the bed, his lips meting yours every few seconds. His hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer so you could really feel him.

As you both pulled apart, catching your breath from the intensity of the moment, a playful smirk crossed your lips, a thought crossing your mind.

"Do you have a condom?" you asked, your voice filled with anticipation. Lewis's eyes widened slightly at your forwardness, a hint of surprise flashing across his face before a confident grin replaced it. Without a word, he reached for his pack on his suitcase, pulling out a condom and holding it up for you to see.

"Of course, you'd have packs with you," you mused, your voice dripping with playful mischief and a hint of mistrust.

The allure of the moment, the intensity of the connection, and the thrill of the unexpected encounter had led you both to this point, and you, for sure, wouldn’t turn back now.

His hands found their way to your waist, lifting you effortlessly on the bed. The soft fabric of the sheets beneath you, the warmth of Lewis's embrace, and the intimacy of the moment combined to create a sense desire that was intoxicating.

He was going to be yours, if only for one night. And in that moment, there was nothing more you could wish for.

As the first light of dawn hit the curtains, the sound of running water from the shower echoed in the room. The luxurious suite was bathed in a soft glow, the remnants of past night still lingering in the air.

You stirred from your sleep, the sheets tangled around you, Lewis's scent lingering on every fabric, surface and memory. The night before played in your mind, a mix of passion, connection, and lust that had led to a whirlwind of emotions.

With a sigh, you sat up, the reality of the situation settling in. You knew that this was a fling, a one-night stand. Despite the intensity and allure, you were aware of the nature of what had happened.

Gathering your belongings quietly, ensuring that nothing was left behind, the weight of the morning, filled with the silence and anticipation of how you were about to leave, added to the bittersweet nature of the encounter.

As you slipped out of the room, the sound of the shower continued, the steam and warmth of the bathroom contrasting with the cool, early morning air. The suite was filled with what if’s and wishes, mostly yours, mainly yours.

The thrown-out pieces of clothing a reminder of something you were meant to never see again.

You brushed those feelings aside though, telling yourself that this was for the best. You had to protect your heart, guard against any attachment.

After all, Lewis Hamilton was Lewis Hamilton, a superstar in the world of Formula 1. And you were just an engineer, living out your dream but still feeling out of your league.

Surely, it meant nothing for Lewis and you would probably never see him again.

Your future was at Ferrari, somewhere he would never step foot in.

Or would he?!

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST

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[noir-lullaby]

The Spotlight is Ours Pt. 1

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Summary: Two rising Black British stars in Hollywood. One fateful night at the NAACP Image Awards. When actress Sienna Sinclair presents the award for Outstanding Actor in a Limited Series, the winner is none other than Aaron Pierre. The chemistry is instant, the banter is effortless, and the connection? Dangerous. But in an industry where everyone is watching, some things are better left unsaid… or are they?

🔸 Warnings: Heavy flirtation, mutual pining, and the start of something messy. 🔸 Author’s Note: Welcome to the beginning of a very questionable love story.

The NAACP Image Awards were in full swing, a night dedicated to celebrating Black excellence in entertainment. The grandeur of the Pasadena Civic Auditorium was amplified by the shimmering gold and deep purple stage design, and the room was alive with applause, camera flashes, and the palpable energy of some of the biggest names in Hollywood.

Seated among the nominees, Aaron Pierre adjusted the cuffs of his custom black tuxedo, keeping his expression cool despite the slight thrum of anticipation in his chest. He had been nominated for Outstanding Actor in a Limited Television Series, Special, or Movie for his role in Rebel Ridge, a project that had tested his limits as an actor and elevated his career. Winning would be monumental, but he wasn’t the type to get ahead of himself.

As he sat waiting, his attention flickered to the stage where the next presenter was being introduced.

“Please welcome, the incredibly talented, Sienna Sinclair!”

Aaron’s brows lifted slightly as he watched Sienna Sinclair glide onto the stage, radiating effortless grace and confidence. He had heard of her, of course—the Oscar-winning British actress whose career had skyrocketed after her powerful performance in a historical drama. He had seen her on magazine covers, watched her interviews in passing, but seeing her in real life was… different.

Dressed in a form-fitting, midnight-blue gown, she exuded a kind of cool, magnetic energy. And then she spoke—her London accent cutting through the air, smooth yet commanding.

“Alright, alright. Let’s get to it,” she said, flashing a teasing smile as she opened the envelope. “The nominees for Outstanding Actor in a Limited Television Series, Special, or Movie are…”

Aaron barely heard the rest of the list. His focus was on her, the way she carried herself, how her presence seemed to pull attention like gravity.

Then—

“…and the NAACP Image Award goes to—” She paused, drawing out the suspense, her dark eyes flickering toward the camera with playful mischief.

“Aaron Pierre, for Rebel Ridge!”

The crowd erupted into applause.

Aaron blinked once before allowing a slow, satisfied smile to spread across his face. He stood, adjusting his suit with ease before making his way toward the stage, dap-ups and handshakes following him on the way.

When he reached the podium, he took the award from Sienna's hands, and for a brief moment, their fingers brushed. It was subtle, fleeting, but enough to make Aaron glance up and fully take her in.

Up close, she was even more stunning.

“Congratulations,” Sienna murmured, her voice just low enough for him to hear.

“Appreciate it,” Aaron replied smoothly, his deep voice wrapping around the word in a way that made Sienna’s lips twitch slightly.

Aaron turned toward the microphone, delivering a speech that was humble, thoughtful, and reflective of his journey. He spoke about the importance of storytelling, about the shared experiences of Black British and African-American actors carving out spaces in Hollywood, about how recognition like this was both an honor and a responsibility.

“I didn’t get here alone,” he finished, his rich voice sending a hush over the room. “To every young Black actor watching, to every kid dreaming beyond what they’ve been told is possible—we are the blueprint. And the best is still yet to come.”

Thunderous applause.

Sienna clapped alongside the audience before leaning into the mic. “And on top of all that… he’s also Mufasa.”

The crowd roared with laughter, and Aaron exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

Sienna smirked at him. “Had to.”

Aaron gave her a look—amused, but also intrigued. “We’ll talk about this backstage.”

Sienna tilted her head, watching him as he walked off. “Looking forward to it.”

--

The post-win chaos was already unfolding backstage—cameras flashing, journalists waiting for quotes, production assistants ushering talent from one place to another. Aaron had barely had time to process the moment when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

“Well, well, look at you, Mr. Award Winner.”

Aaron turned.

Sienna Sinclair stood there, arms crossed, watching him with a smirk.

Aaron couldn’t help but let his gaze linger for half a second longer than necessary. “Didn’t expect to see you back here so soon.”

Sienna shrugged. “Had to personally congratulate you. You know, since I had the honor of saying your name on stage.”

Aaron nodded, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “You did say it well. Very elegant.”

Sienna raised an eyebrow. “I do everything elegantly.”

Aaron exhaled a quiet chuckle. “Not doubting it.”

She tilted her head slightly. “So… how does it feel? Winning?”

Aaron glanced down at the trophy in his hand before looking back at her. “Feels good. But I won’t lie—hearing my name come out of your mouth might’ve been the highlight of the night.”

Sienna sucked her teeth, shaking her head, though there was something in her expression—something that said she wasn’t entirely unaffected by him.

“You’re full of it,” she teased.

Aaron leaned in slightly. “Am I?”

Sienna, ever the quick-witted one, smirked. “Yeah. And I can’t believe you let me call you out in front of everyone like that.”

Aaron shook his head. “The Mufasa jingle?”

Miracle nodded. “You knew I had to bring it up.”

Aaron narrowed his eyes playfully. “You enjoyed that way too much.”

“I did,” she admitted, her smirk widening. “And let’s be real, you love it. Don’t lie, you’ve sung it to yourself at least once.”

Aaron rubbed his jaw, his expression unreadable. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

Sienna laughed, tilting her head. “It’s alright, Aaron. Aaron Pierre, that’s Mufasa—it’s got a nice ring to it.”

Aaron exhaled a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You know, it’s unfair how much pleasure you’re getting out of this.”

“Oh, trust me, I could get pleasure out of a lot more than that.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened slightly, the air between them shifting from playful to something heavier.

Sienna’s eyes held his, dark and teasing. “But I’ll let you enjoy your win first.”

Aaron huffed a laugh, nodding. “So generous of you.”

She smirked. “You’re welcome.”

The moment stretched just a second longer than necessary—his gaze still locked with hers, her breath just a little deeper.

From across the backstage area, a production assistant called out to Sienna, signaling that she was needed elsewhere.

She exhaled, shaking her head as she took a step back. “Well, Mufasa, I’ll see you around.”

Aaron tilted his head slightly, watching as she turned and walked away, her presence lingering even after she disappeared from sight.

“Yeah,” he murmured to himself, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “You will.”

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

Oh my god, sorry I’m late was so cute??????

How about a Drabble to go with that from the proposal? They’re chasing a storm and everything is like always. And they’re just standing watching the storm in the distance, the wind whipping around them and he looks at her and just knows he wants to marry her so he goes just down on one knee and asks her. (It also makes an epic video for the channel and gets millions of views lmao)

“The Fans Are Going To Love This!”

Twisters Masterlist (this piece can be read as a prequel to “Sorry, I’m Late,” but it doesn’t have to be)

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader

Summary: Watching a distant storm together, Tyler decides he’s done waiting to ask a very important question.

Author’s Note: I just realised this now makes two Twisters fics I’ve written involving a proposal. Oops! Oh well. 😇 This is (so far) my last fluffy request before delving into some angst. But I absolutely LOVED this idea! The picture came so clearly to me, I just had to give it life. (Yes, it was heavily inspired by Tyler watching Kate in that absolute beauty of a scene… shhhh. 🤫)

Warnings: Fluff (like usual lately, lol). Reader is described as having hair long enough to blow in the wind. I think that’s it!

Word Count: 738 (send help, it was supposed to be a drabble. 💀)

———————————————————————————

Swirling grey storm clouds accumulate in the distance, thunder rumbling through the earth. Sweeping winds blow your hair wildly about your face, and Tyler is captivated.

No surprise, really. He’s been captivated by you since the first time he saw you, striding up to the team in the middle of a crowded parking lot, thermos and backpack in hand, asking to join them on a chase.

The exhilaration radiating from you at the end of that day was intoxicating, warmed further by the beers everyone had thrown back in a seedy bar a mile from the motel.

Walking you to your room, Tyler debated whether or not to say something—anything—about you joining the team more indefinitely.

He was just about to speak when your lips crashed onto his.

And the rest, they say, is history.

Your gasp drags him away from his musings. “It’s beautiful,” you murmur, camera up to your eyes, finger clicking rapidly.

Tyler smiles, taking in the sight of you before him.

He couldn’t agree more.

Sunlight frames your body like a halo, the angel come down to earth he’d always wanted, but never felt he deserved.

Affection warms his heart at the thought. Now’s the time.

“Tyler!” You cry, shouting over your shoulder, camera still pressed to your face. “Tyler, do you see—“ But your voice dies on the wind the second you turn around.

There’s a rustle from the RV behind him. Then, a gasped “Oh my God!”

Knee digging into the gravel, tiny black box cradled in his hands, Tyler watches as the shock on your face slowly drains away to disbelief.

“No… Tyler, you can’t—I don’t—“

Tears form a defense in your eyes, and you blink, battling them away.

Your name drifts off his lips, vulnerable like a prayer, his heart shaking like a leaf within his chest. Blown by the very winds around them.

He should list your strengths, your attributes, every miniscule detail he adores about you. Hell, at the very least he should use your full name. But instead, the only words to leave his lips are a desperate, “I love you. Baby, I’ve loved you since the first time I laid eyes on you. I knew then, and I know now… you’re the storm I want to chase for the rest of my life.” He fumbles with the box, revealing the small, elegant diamond Boone and Dexter had helped him pick out months ago. “Will—” his throat tightens, anxiety pounding in his blood. “Sweetheart, will you marry me?”

Your tears breach the barrier, cresting and rolling in fat droplets down your cheeks. Tyler watches as your lips tremble, mouth attempting to form words without a sound. Finally, the word he’s been holding his breath for since that first night in a seedy, run-down bar, drinks flowing and tongues wagging. The word he’s on one knee for now, praying will leave your mouth.

“Yes.”

It’s so quiet, barely audible over the ever-increasing winds. But the look on your face tells Tyler everything he needs to know.

Sweet ecstasy of relief floods his entire body.

“Yeah?” he questions, just to be sure.

A wide grin splits across your face, and you step closer, arms snaking around his shoulders.

“Tyler Owens,” you lean in close, lips inches away from his own, until he’s breathing your breath. “If you’re the last storm I chase for the rest of my life, I’ll die the happiest woman in the world.”

He pulls you into a kiss, your lips soft and supple beneath his. Your fingers tangle in the ends of his hair.

Whooping and hollering startles you both out of the kiss, the rest of the Wranglers descending like vultures. They talk over themselves, tripping over their tongues.

“It’s about time, T! What took you so long?” Dani.

“Congratulations! I dibs maid of honour!” Lily.

“The fans are going to love this!” Boone, stepping closer to the two of you, camera in hand.

Tyler turns to him, the lens now pointed directly in his face. You shift in his arms, waving shyly to the fans. A blush the colour of a dying sunset rises starkly on your cheeks.

“You think so, Boone?” Tyler grins, cheekily. Then, without thinking, he’s grabbing your chin, slowly descending into a long, deep kiss, pulling the ring out of the box and slipping it on your finger to the whoops and cheers of the rest of the gang.

[samuraiwife]

七海健人

Nanami Kento

pairing: husband! nanami kento x wife! reader

Nanami is literally addicted to your nipples. Your swollen nipples are what makes him incredibly satisfied. It's as if this is the part he fulfils as your husband. Everyone knows that Nanami is a very family orientated person who has “almost” conservative views (as long as they meet your needs, of course). A man goes to work, brings home money and satisfies his wife. And the woman, on the other hand, she... God, for him, she has already done everything that is necessary and not necessary.

The fire that will always warm his cold body. The light that will break through the darkness in his eyes. The future he so deserves. A family.

He really wants to have a family with you. Like in those propaganda flyers about a large family. A man who can support and love his family. A beautiful wife who is the joy and support of her husband. And children who bathe in this idyll. So seeing you with your round tummy and swollen breasts full of mother's milk was a blessing in disguise for him. Even before you were pregnant, he never left your breasts alone. He always paid the most attention to them during your lovemaking. He lightly bit them, leaving beautiful specks that looked like pink rose petals. He licked them and then breathed his warm breath on them, making them lightly tickle. It was as if he was trying to smell the combination of his saliva and your future milk (which will feed your children in the future, just the thought of it made him cum). And his favourite cherry on top was your nipples. He would bite, pulled in by the cheek, gnaw, tickle the pink bead with the tip of his tongue, lick, suck, pinch, squeeze with his lips, pull. The redder and more swollen they became, the more lustful his gaze became. He couldn't stop himself.

“Mhh...mhh...Ken...please...stop, it's really hard for me down there” - you moaned when your husband had been playing (eating) with your breasts for 20 minutes.

“Now, darling, just give me one more minute, please”-again, like five minutes ago, Nanami repeated his line like a broken record.

“Gods, they are beautiful”,- Kento whispered in a hazy voice, pinching your nipple between two fingers. You could already tell that cumming on your flushed breasts was the greatest pleasure of his life.

“Yes, that's it, this is where it belongs”

He will make sure to check if your nipples are still sensitive and swollen the next morning and throughout the day. For example, in the morning when you put a cup of coffee on the table for him. With a completely casual face, he will pull back the fabric of your robe, run his fingertips over them, feel the softness of your buds, and He will return to breakfast. You may reproach him for such tactless, behaviour, but he will simply reply that he was only checking something that should always be there. He'll also ask you to send him photos of your breasts during his work shift. And don't even think about sending him a repeated old photo, he won't fall for it and will reveal your ridiculous trick in a second. You will have a serious conversation at home. Of course, he has a folder on his phone where he stores all the photos you send him of this kind.

Also, Nanami could never imagine that your breasts could ever get even more beautiful than they are (you're already perfect for him). But, oh gods, something happens to him, when he sees your breast milk-enlarged boobs for the first time. Short circuit and white noise.

He starts buying you the most vulgar bras. Even if he thought some of them were ridiculous and absurd, on your breast they are a work of art. Lying on your breast has doubled in pleasure. Now, during sex, his head is bent almost only over your breast. Watching them sway so smoothly and stay soft, no matter how hard he tried to drive his soul into yours.

“Please, Ken-too, this is too much,”- you whimpered, out of hyperstimulation and incredible sensitivity. You've been bent in a not-so-romantic marriage press. Kento grinds his cock against your soaked walls. You can feel the mixture of your substances sliding down your flushed thighs, and Nanami's balls are beating against them in an ungentle manner. But Kento's hands are not on your hips, but on your soft, firm, sweat-shiny tits. It's a beautiful sight for him. Your reddened, swollen nipples with incredibly sensitive beads from which, under the pressure of his rough hand, a thin trickle of your milk flows out. Fuck, he's getting even harder. He licks off this small amount of substance and starts to literally milk you with his mouth. You try to tear his head away from you, but he doesn't care now, at this moment, you are giving him a real reason to exist.

“Oh, no, no, darling, you have to take care of your tired husband, so feed him like the good hostess you are,”- Nanami replies, as if he were a dog in heat. He takes your nipples in his mouth again and pulls your cheeks in.

“Fuck, darling, you're a fucking goddess, a goddess of prosperity, my goddess, my goddess, my woman....mgh”- the shameless slurps that fly from his lips are mixed with even more obscene sounds of your hips hitting,

“Kento....Kent...if you keep going like this...ah... there will be nothing left for the child.. ah!”- you try to enlighten his mind, whimpering in frustration. In response to your request, you only hear a dark, mocking snort.

“Is my wife going to run out of milk? Pfft, don't be ridiculous. My wife is too kind to let her children starve, is that right?”- he pinched your bead with a sarcastic smile, squeezing a squeaky moan out of you.- “I'm asking again, is that right?”

The only thing you can do is meow meaninglessly and try to remember how to breathe.

“Yes, yes, yes, I will, will, uhh... eh, yes.. yes... Will be good wife.... yours, ahh”

Kento took your chin firmly and hissed directly into your lips: “More precisely”

“Your pretty mommy~”

And it's the fucking truth

[fandomgeeknerd]

ok so there's a lot of words and thoughts so it's under the spoiler

so i imagine the movie like this

the start: stone is very sad and depressed we see mourning and grief and somewhere along the way he thinks abt what he could have done to prevent it, the main thing that he remembers is sonic and his friends and thinks if he never let them into the crab this would have never happened and so plots revenge against them bc Gerlad is already dead and cut to stone building metal sonic.

cut to sonic at the end of the movie, we get to re-see sonic getting ambushed by the metal sonics and amy saving him, they talk obviously and tbh i didn't think abt anything right here so lets skip a bit

the middle: stone's causing chaos cus at this point they figured out it was stone (i was thinking something along the lines of tails going to check up on stone and inadvertently figures out stone's the villain and sneaks out of the newly repaired crab in horror but um spoiler alert stone saw tails figuring out he's the villain but idk). They have a mini battle that leaves stone retreating, after that but not right after shadow comes back with news that robotnik is alive and that we have to save him and they do, at the same time maddie decides to take matters into her own hands to figure out why he's doing this and also goes over to check on agent stone and tldr stone wants revenge bc sonic and his friends got the love of his life killed and he knows the doctor sacrificed himself but he still wants revenge and maddie is able to go home safe and sound bc she's good at acting normal

before the end: after making sure robotnik is ok they tell him stone is going crazy and robotnik doesn't believe them at first until they share stories and proof and then robotnik is like "oh shit! we gotta stop this!" (no one has brought up that he's in love with robotnik and the doctor thinks stone wants revenge bc he's his boss not bc he loves him) and there's a cool getting ready and prepared montage with tom, maddie, sonic, shadow, amy, tails, knuckles and robotnik

the end: there's not really much to it just as they see each other when getting ready to fight (i haven't thought much abt the 'how is stone gonna get revenge' aspect) stone sees robotnik and gets more angry bc he thinks they somehow cloned robotnik to get him to calm down but he sees right through it (even tho stone's completely wrong). They fight and he FINALLY lets slip (in front of the real robotnik mind you) that he's doing this bc they killed his doctor the love of his life AND HOW DARE THEY MAKE A CHEAP IMATATION, robotnik doesn't have time to process that stone loves him bc they keep fighting, eventually it looks like sonic and the gang won't win until robotnik makes it very clear that it's him the REAL him and that he's ALIVE (i was thinking something only the real robotnik and stone would know) and everything stops and a tearful but happy reunion ensues and the badniks make the heart eyes at them, stone says sorry to everyone and robotnik, robotnik says sorry and he loves stone too. Everything returns to normal with shadow beginning to live with stone and the doctor and at this point the doctor and stone are tired, and they want to stop going after sonic and his friends and they do and get to be slightly friends with them and tom and maddie and yayyyyy happy ending

the post credit scene: if there's other sonic villains besides robotnik one of them appear with sinister music in tow

i believe this would be the best course of action for sonic 4 it just feels like it goes full circle and snice apparently, they're willing to go full mcu for the sonic movie franchise i've heard this'll be great to do

SEGA AND PARAMOUNT

MAKE AGENT STONE THE BIG BAD OF SONIC 4

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[anomaliex]

Bad Kids (partially shameless projection) queer identity headcanons be upon ye

Notable that I think culturally literally anything that is not human has different ideas of gender than us. Some are very close to the point it hardly matters in a discussion like this (like elves and dwarves. It's mostly the same but I do think most elves are what humans consider to be feminine because they have a different idea of masculinity ((grace)). Or like, most dwarves seem masculine to humans for the simple reason that they all tend to have beards. Stuff like that.), but the further away you get from being hey pretty close to what a human is (like orcs or goblins) the further you stray from human understanding of how things work.

What if being intersex is way more common in a race of people, the concept of gender immediately becomes either way looser and less important or important with completely different values. Also I work under the assumption that whatever counts as "humanoids" (which is a very human-centric term but I like to think that's just because our POV is from a language that is inherently human) is a mammal and will generally have two sexes. But like, there's organisms with more or less than that, and in a fantasy world there's absolutely societies of intelligent species with similar characteristics. Imagine a weird hand wave, not relevant to this specific discussion as the bad kids are all human-shaped but it's something I find interesting. What would gender be like in that society if they had it at all? Living somewhere where that concept isn't really a thing (or at least not a thing in the way we understand it to be) sounds kinda awesome.

That said. Solace is a society mostly shaped by human standards and everyone who lives there somewhat conforms to them; and anyone who grows up there is probably socialised accordingly. Also Gorgug is adopted and doesn't seem all that connected to his roots and Riz is a third gen immigrant who doesn't get to see his extended family all that much. What I'm saying is everything I just said hardly matters in the context of the Bad Kids. Yeah. I just wanted to say it. I'm. I'm autistic. Thanks for reading my word vomit you're a real one for sticking through this far here's what I actually wanted to say.

Kristen. Obviously a lesbian. she/her and calls herself a woman but ultimately doesn't really. Care that much? About gender? And would not mind being referred to with masculine terms, it's more a matter of being afab so that's what she's going with.

Adaine I think has experimented with she/they pronouns. Often times she feels like her perception of life goes far beyond whatever societal constructs influence the present and she does not feel particularly attached to the idea of womanhood. I think she's aro spec but probably allosexual? Develops interest in all that a bit later than her friends and even then it's not. The same. She thinks guys are attractive, maybe girls sometimes, but doesn't actually feel inclined to do anything about that? Isn't looking to get into relationships or anything but yeah.

Riz is aroace because yeah. Personally I think oriented aroace because Baron being masc-ish does mean something to me, so he doesn't necessarily say it / find it relevant for other people to know but Riz personally IDs as gay + aroace. He does think some guys are attractive he's just sex repulsed lmao. I think he's the flavour of aroace where he'd happily engage in deep emotional bonds he just really doesn't understand what the fuck romantic feelings are supposed to be and how it'd be different than just loving his best friend(s) truly so much and is discomforted by the societal expectations and restrictions around the concept of "dating". ALSO about gender he's a he and its whatever. Does not care. Gender apathetic in the way Kristen is.

Gorgug isn't particularly attached to any labels, I think. He just likes who he likes, which is several people sometimes because he's also polyam. I think his lax view of his own inherent queerness has a lot to do with how open (and also inherently queer) his parents are. He just never really thought about it. Hit puberty and started thinking guys are hot and went okay this is not in any way special I'm way more worried about my favourite emo band breaking up rn. The only reason he ever came out to his friends was because he asked them for advice on how to bring up that he's polyam with Zelda (who I think was super cool with that and honestly from what we know that might be culturally normal to her), he does not consider it to be particularly noteworthy. Gorgug is similarly not particularly concerned about gender. I think he goes by any pronouns but also doesn't bring that up unless someone asks because he truly does not care or think it's a big deal.

Fabian's entire general person-ness feels queer to me idk. Bisexual and polyamorous. Probably aro-spec but he needs more time to figure that one out. Exclusively finds himself interested in women who are taller than him, this has nothing to do with being queer I just wanted to note that. He's the only one of the Bad Kids where I want to confidently say yeah this is a he/him man and he feels both comfortable in and connected to his masculinity. He ventures into gender nonconformity (starts with painting his nails, then make up, maybe a skirt when he's chilling at mordred manor) more and more as he gets older and more comfortable, I think, but that kind of only reaffirms to him that he's a man and loves being a man? Idk lol. Also for the record this is nonconformity in the context of Solace. For (high-)elven standards he's not like hypermasc dude bro but he's a pretty "manly" guy. Fallinel is like twink nation idk what to tell you. Now whether he's cis or not is a different question, while I personally think he is I do make a little mental cheer every time someone makes him trans.

Fig. They/she/it. She struggles with the disconnect she feels between her and the girl she thought she was a lot and it sucks, but eventually it does lead them to reexamine how they see themself and their identity and stuff. I think she eventually comes to the conclusion that yeah she has some attachment to femininity but ultimately exists in a space beyond the binary. Which is cool. Idk what label Fig would use, if any at all, but maybe something loose like genderqueer.

I know it's very commonly accepted that she's bisexual but like. Honestly. I think that was comphet. I think Fig is a lesbian who had some of the most horrendous comphet imaginable. None of their interest in those (concerningly) older men was genuine and it was all pretending to be someone else to get something and she isn't even sure why she wants that something that she can't quite place. And even though it longs so badly for the validation and confirmation that it's fitting into whatever role it is Fig is trying to emulate, she doesn't ever actually dare to get "serious". That's not actually what she wants. Uncomfortable and deeply concerning desperation for sexuality from a teenage girl who probably isn't a girl and certainly isn't actually interested in any of the men she's pursuing, and is so scared of just having to exist as herself deep down is such a real experience and if d20 wasn't a comedy show this could be the most visceral arc.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 136 (Twists and Turns)

The next morning, Heather woke to a fresh blanket of spring snow (must be Canada 😂). She was hit with another bout of nausea, and stunned by news that one of her vet techs, Rico Garrison, had been unceremoniously culled killed in a shock drowning accident in Dachshund's Creek. This left her down a tech and about to commit to a months-long rebuild of Buttercup Pet Clinic.

Despite the unseasonably snowy holiday and feeling less than stellar, Heather had to go to work to cover Rico's appointments. She felt horrible for her best tech, Kaori Hayashi, who had been dating Rico since late winter. They were even expecting a child, which meant Heather would soon lose Kaori to maternity leave, too. At least Thaddeus, her most recent hire, could help pick up the slack, but this was undoubtedly a tragic setback.

Despite the unseasonal snowfall, J Huntington came in with his dog, Archimedes, thanking Heather for her advice over working with Landgraab Corp. "I signed the contract to give them the company. They'll take care of straightening out George's books, and for the first time, my guys will get healthcare, so everyone's on board with the change."

Heather forced a smile. She didn't care much for things that would please Nancy Landgraab, but she knew a strong presence at the docks was important after everything they'd been through over winter. "I'm happy for you," she said, and it wasn't a total lie.

She returned home in mid-afternoon, finding her younger sister back from Henford in the living room. "Hey Hazel! How was Easter dinner?"

"It was great." She fiddled with the hem of her jacket as she sat on the sofa. "I'm sorry I got upset with you while you were away. I was freaking out about all the marriage talk, but I shouldn't have put that on you."

"It's okay," said Heather. "I'm not upset, but I couldn't tell you what you should do. What if I had said no?" (That option won the poll, by the way!)

"I would've been more upset," she admitted. "I'm not ready to marry again right now, but I want to be with her for a long time."

"Did you talk to Suri?"

"I did. She said she's been feeling like she needs to hold on to the important people in her life since she lost her aunt so suddenly, and I totally understand what she's going through. But it's too soon to get married. We want to live together first - just the two of us."

"Here in Brindleton Bay?"

Hazel nodded. "I like working with Alex Goth, and the deal's almost done for her to buy the Salty Paw. She said when the owners found out her grandmother was Clara Bjergsen they did their own renovations and upped the price, but once a deal goes through, I'll move in with her in the small apartment over the bar."

"There's an apartment over the bar?"

"Not much of one, but we're going to try to turn it into something nice."

"I'm happy for you, Hazel. And I'm happy you handled this so maturely with Suri."

"You didn't think I could, did you."

"I hoped you would."

"Are you sure you guys won't miss me when I'm gone?"

"The Salty Paw's only about fifteen blocks away."

They laughed together and Hazel smiled. "Thanks for everything, sis. You're the best."

Heather still wasn't feeling great as she tried to get a few chores done around the house. She'd started to feel like she was fighting off an infection; it was time to see a doctor, so she left Conrad at home with Lavender to visit her gynecologist.

But she came home in a daze, stunned by the doctor's diagnosis. She found Conrad and Lavender upstairs, chatting as Lavender tried to bargain for another story. "When you're five, we'll talk about a later bedtime, but until then, that's now. Time to get into your pajamas." Conrad's attention turned when Heather shut the bedroom door behind her. "Hey! What did the doctor say?"

Heather sighed. "Well, I have a UTI. But that, the nausea, the fatigue...they have nothing to do with the spider bite."

Conrad's face fell. "What's up? You're okay...right?"

"I'm pregnant. About seven weeks."

She smiled as his expression flipped from concern to ecstatic joy. "Heather, that's incredible!"

Lavender glanced at her parents with confusion. "What's pregnen?"

"It means you're going to have a baby brother or sister."

Lavender still wasn't sure what they meant. "I have a brother awreddy. Can it be sister?"

"We don't choose, sweet girl."

"I hope it's a sister!"

After tucking Lavender into bed they settled onto the sofa for a comfortable night in, but their movie was interrupted when Heather's phone rang. She checked the call display before she connected the call. "Malcolm? What's going on? Is Ash there?"

The line was quiet for a long time. Too long, and Heather felt the phone start to shake in her hand. Finally, she heard Malcolm take a breath.

"Heather...I...It's...Ash is missing. H-he's been kidnapped." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Sorry I buried the baby news, but I didn't have enough content to make a whole other post and I set myself another arbitrary deadline to get to a certain point in the story by a certain date. And Heather was supposed to learn she was pregnant later than this, but the mod-generated UTI sent her to the gynecologist and she/we found out earlier than planned. No offense to this very wanted baby but ASH IS MISSING!!

NOTE 2: @purplesimmer455 the way I couldn't react with the excitement I wanted to your meme share on Sunday knowing I paid homage to it in this very post ("What's pregnen?") and didn't want to give the truth away yet! 😅 Shout out to @matchalovertrait who also guessed this, and @changingplumbob who I think was thinking it when she asked why Ash's room had bunk beds! I made up a small fib about repurposing the tiny nursery space, but actually I still need it for the new nooboo!

NOTE 3: On one hand, it's very sad that Rico was culled when he's expecting a baby. On another hand, this is a setback on my likely-fruitless search for a five-star rating because now I have to train up a new tech! Tragic!!

WCIF Phone Poses: Unexpected Phone Call by @starrysimsie and Shocked News by @simmireen. I used @nataliaauditore-blog's iPhone 11 accessory in both poses.

[literary-illuminati]

2025 Book Review #5 Daisy Jones and the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

This was a book recommended by a friend an absolute eternity ago which I finally got around to reading, having long since forgotten any of its selling points or interesting qualities which might have accompanied the recommendation. Going in blind, I quite enjoyed the book as I read it, finished it feeling it had ended somewhat anticlimactically, and have grown a bit more sour on it as I thought about it to write this review. It’s not a bad book – still a fun, easy read! - but I’m not sure it’s really much more than that.

The book is structured as an oral history – or maybe the transcript of a documentary – about the titular band, a musical phenomenon that set the world on fire for a moment in the late ‘70s before dramatically breaking up halfway through the tour after releasing one of the best albums of the decade. Aside from bits of narration and scene-setting at the start of each chapter (and one conversation in the climax) the documentarian is invisible, and the story is entirely told through quotes from members of the band, associates and hangers-on, or just critics and writers on the period, as they’re interviewed thirty years and change later in the 2010s.

In the abstract, I adore this. I love unreliable narration, and Rashmoon-esque scenes where we get mutually exclusive versions of the same conflict from different perspective. Properly packaged, I am an incredibly easy mark for messy self-destructive codependency and melodrama. Thanks to some peculiar media taste on my parent’s part, I even have enduring fondness for the whole, I don’t know, heroic age of rock&roll? And the whole mass of accompanying narratives and tropes that you get buried in talking about music in the 60s-through-early-80s. And it’s not that the book doesn’t deliver on any of that, exactly – it’s not at all poorly executed, it knows what it’s trying to do. It’s just-

It feels like this is a book about a fictional band because it would be impossible to make such a morally simple, happy and redemptive story about any of the actual bands that clearly inspired it without seeming like Jenkins was getting paid to whitewash someone. It’s not that there isn’t mess, exactly, but it comes across like a born again Christian giving lurid descriptions of their debauched and sinful former life. There’s sex and drugs galore, but the worst person in the entire book is just a shitty deadbeat boyfriend. The entire main thrust of the book is building up an unacknowledged love triangle between Daisy, Billie and Camilla – actually quite compelling! And then it finally reaches a head, is cleanly and simply resolved in the most boringly conventional way, and the story jumps thirty years ahead to a ‘where are they now’. Where is the toxicity, the mess, the unforgivable betrayals everyone has to ignore so they can get on stage together, the fortune-destroying legal battles over the rights to the band’s legacy once it all falls apart? You finish the book feeling like Charlie Brown trying to kick a football.

This might be a problem of me setting my expectations too high, but up until the halfway point it does feel like it was building up to something appropriately nuclear. Instead, it peaked with Billie (and, despite the book’s name and cover art, in a narrative sense he really is the main character of the book) hits rock bottom and goes to rehab so he can be a good father for his daughters and husband to his wife. A truly mind-numbing fraction of the book from there is dedicated to singing the praises of the redemptive power of the reproductive nuclear family and an advertisement for going to rehab and learning self-control before drugs ruin your life. I spent two hundred pages waiting for it all to be groundwork for juicy, bitter dramatic irony, but no – just sincere, straightforward themes of the work. Hideous.

There is one rather hostile reading of the book that works? It’s revealed at the book’s climax that the diegetic framer and compiler of this oral history is Julia, Billie and Camilla’s daughter, and she is creating this project when her mother rather abruptly dies. And you know? This story is exactly what you might expect from an entertainment industry nepo baby asking her parents and a bunch of family friends (including who everyone assumed to be The Other Woman) about her parent’s romance and relationship and putting it all together into a deeply mediocre documentary that will kickstart her career entirely thanks to all the juicy stories from last generation’s superstars. But I am on the one hand really pretty sure this is not even close to the intended read of the story, and on the other still leaves you only reading the deeply mediocre documentary with no access whatsoever to the more interesting story underneath it. Decent conceit for fanfiction, I guess?

The identity of the diegetic narrator is also the justification for how shamelessly the story plays favourites with which band members to focus on – of course her parents and their relationship will be the central focus of the whole piece, of course her uncle and his girlfriend will get second-string status, of course the rest of the band will basically exist to provide colour commentary and throw peanuts (if that). A disparity the story itself draws enough attention to it, honestly, goes from charming to eyeroll inducing when it never actually does anything with it.

The story very much wants to be About gender and feminism, and (going by the discussion questions I glanced at while skimming through the reader’s guide section at the back of the book) is proud of it. Which isn’t really unjustified – it really does have a decent number of different female characters with their own developed personalities and prominent roles in the narrative. It does the thing I kind of hate where by happy coincidence all of them (even the ones on opposite ends of a romantic triangle) end up liking each other whenever they interact, but that’s just kind of a piece with the book not really letting anyone be a proper piece of shit. It is however very funny that the only black-coded character in the entire story is literally in the narrative to be Daisy’s longsuffering and supportive best friend there to provide a bit of maternal influence and talk sense into her when she really needs it.

But yes, decent airport read I suppose? Fun for a lazy day if you enjoy the premise, but not really worth seeking out otherwise.

[forever-and-whats-left]

Babbling on About Phantom AUs I'll Never Finish

1. The Selkie AU

My darling, my favorite—the selkie AU. I never finished the concept because:

A. I can’t finish what I write for shit. B. The concept kept turning too dark for my liking.

I love Phantom AUs that don’t shy away from how awful Erik can be, but I hate when he’s, well... y’know. And selkie lore doesn’t help—nudity, literal kidnapping, borderline born sexy yesterday tropes. I love Christine too much to put her through that. So, for now, Selkie Christine remains strictly an aesthetic.

2. Multiverse Madness Bullshit

You have no idea the mashups that are possible. Most “multiverse” Phantom stories just focus on the Eriks meeting each other. But I want everyone to meet. I want absolute chaos. I want them to take turns brutally beating up Rat Erik.

There’s an actual plot behind this, so bear with me.

Christine, now in the modern day, is haunted by visions of her past lives. But instead of being wistful or romantic about it, she goes full Home Alone—booby traps, pepper spray, the works. Meanwhile, Erik is getting the same visions, but instead of spiraling, he’s actually... okay? Turns out, being kissed by the girl who redeems you—even in dreams—does wonders for your mental health. Therapy? Self-improvement? Erik is thriving. He even plans to leave Christine alone.

Until the dreams start affecting the real world.

I know it’s corny, but I don’t care. I’m freeeeee.

3. My Darkest AU: Christine’s Ghost

This one is bleak—Christine succeeds in ending her own life, leaving Erik haunted. I have two versions:

The really dark one: Erik suppresses his guilt, but Christine’s ghost won’t let him forget. She haunts him violently, forcing him to face what he’s done.

The (marginally) lighter one: Out of remorse, Erik gives Christine proper burial rites. Still tragic, but more about sorrow than outright horror.

ANYWAY! Comment your phantom AUs below! I really love fix-its or AUs more than any other genre of fic. Why? Because it allows me to experience the same story millions of times over.

[emilylawsons]

HI I’M BACK AND I FINISHED SEASON 3 AND I HAVE THOUGHTS™️

Newsreader spoilers under the cut

Okay first: THE NEWSREADER IS ONE OF THE GREATEST TREASURES TO GRACE TELEVISION AND IT DELIVERED ON EVERYTHING

ANYWAY…

The open ending as far as Helen and Dale goes—my shipper heart is a little sad we didn’t get a more explicitly romantic ending for them BUT these two have so much healing to do, and it starts with being exactly where they are. Finding peace and happiness as individuals before they give themselves to any relationship. And I think, no matter what any fan was hoping for, they can take this ending and decide how it goes for them. (Also the loving way Helen spoke to him and looked at him while she was talking to him off air. 🥹) They’re both exactly where they need to be and in their element, and that’s what the audience has been rooting for since day one.

THE PARALLELS AND CONNECTIONS TO THE FIRST EPISODE IN THE LAST ONE. Dale singing Kyrie in the car. Helen taking Dale home and talking care of him and “coming up with a plan.” Fucking brilliant.

Helen’s journey this whole season—getting a diagnosis and coming to grips with it. Being resistant at first but coming around and COMMITTING to getting better even when it’s hard and she hates it—frickin’ facing the place where she was locked up and endured additional trauma. She truly came into her own, and I’m just continuously blown away by Anna Torv and how, in every single project she does, she puts so much care and thoughtfulness into how she portrays her characters and the difficult situations they face. And she’s just a fucking incredible actress. THE SCENE IN 3.03 AFTER SHE GOT HER DIAGNOSIS AND CALLED DALE BROKE ME. I don’t think anyone else could have portrayed Helen. I just don’t. And Helen’s arc was all the more satisfying because the writers/creators decided to trust their talent and make her just as much a part of the creative process.

And Dale…oh my boy Dale. Sam frickin’ Reid the actor you are. Dale’s character arc has to be one of the most intense and challenging I’ve ever seen on TV, and Sam probably had the hardest job. Dale’s breakdown? OH MY GOD. We always knew Dale needed to break. He would have to be driven to the brink to be human again. And, just like with Anna as Helen, there was no one more qualified to bring Dale Jennings to life. Holy shit. Incredible, meaty, deep storytelling happens when you have creatives with a vision and actors they’re on the same page with. Sam got it from day one, and he saw it through to the end.

But Helen and Dale, stars of the show they are, are not the only incredible arcs we got to see. THE SATISFACTION OF WATCHING LINDSAY CUNNINGHAM GET KICKED OUT ON HIS ASS AND DENNIS SITTING IN HIS SEAT. The stuff of legends. And not just Dennis getting his moment (which we absolutely saw coming after he clocked Lindsay last season), but JEAN FUCKING PASCOE yelling at him from across the newsroom. I clapped. I cheered. And you know, I even cheered a bit for Evelyn Walters in all of it. She’s out for herself and still doesn’t get it (and Geoff was far from a victim), but she stood when it counted. She took action on one good thing. And watching them all collectively work together to get Lindsay what he deserved? Delicious.

And then we’ve got my girl Noelene who also went through The Most™️ oh… She’s got so much to figure out about standing up for herself and what she wants, and Rob’s got so much growing to do to be a better husband and father. But she did stand up for herself. She stopped being afraid to tell people how she felt and what she needed. She called Rob out on his racist tendencies and opened up to him about her work/motherhood balance, and she called out Helen for using her like everyone else and overworking her, and they both listened. She has hope ahead of her, and it was beautiful to see.

A few other small notes:

The whole Dale/Kay dynamic was so strange, but it needed to happen. Her constant comparisons of him and Geoff helped fuel his necessary fall. And it served to show what a terrible place Dale was in.

Cheryl got married!!! Good for her 🩷

Fuck Bill, and congrats to Helen for being like “I’m not gonna be punished because I didn’t wanna fuck you”

Tim gets a well deserved love and happy ending!!!

I’m really happy they brought back Linus. What a treasure.

Overall, as sad as I am to see this show go, they delivered on all counts. Everything they said they would be, they were. Every arc, satisfying. Just so beautifully and masterfully done, and with love by everyone involved. 18 episodes of perfection. And if Michael Lucas and Emma Freeman ever produce another show together and hire Anna Torv and/or Sam Reid or any of the wonderful-across-the-board cast? I will get my VPN’s worth as an American and be there for it.