#sorry for the influx of Fic posts

[selfetishizing]

show me your chest on mine

loid forger/yor briar | 🔞 EXPLICIT 🔞 | 2 chapters | 9.1k words

pining, scars, mentions of war, resolved sexual tension, love confessions

An active imagination and late night contemplations.

Chapter 1 | AO3

Yor waits until she hears the click of his bedroom door before twirling in her pink pleated cocktail gown. Her skirt lifts up. Pinions sprout from her ankles. She flutters and sticks her tongue out to taste the sparkles and confetti falling from the ceiling.

What a joy life is, Yor  thinks, to be able to spend time with him!

She does this very routine of spinning on calloused toes and humming happily after every date with Loid once she has convinced herself that it’s the best date she had ever been on, and that she is close to piercing Loid’s ever-distant heart (just another inch to the left!). Though Yor was certain that tonight was going to be the night that Loid throws himself at her heels and confesses his true undying love for her, she couldn’t have been more satisfied with progress. The hours she had spent braiding and then unbraiding her hair, swiping dress after dress over her bare form in front of her reflection, and stabbing emeralds and pearls through her earlobe proved to pay off.

Yor crashes onto her duvet face first, kicking her feet and giggling into her pillow as she—as silly as it sounds— reminisces thirty minutes ago:

The date was not special. She was beautiful (so Loid told her after a quick once-over) and he was fetching (so Yor did not tell him) and they had dinner. Their relationship had progressed to the point that hand-holding did not trigger her impulse to clench her fist and launch it toward a somatic site. Tonight, her palms did not sweat in his hold—a huge development on her part. She could not say the same for Loid, who would steal glances at her and only make his inferiority to her all the more obvious. It was strange. As she got better over time at receiving lovers’ touches, Loid seemed to regress, losing the poise and suaveness that she always admired about him. Loid had become very uncool. It was dangerous to their fake marriage. It was adorable. It was infuriating. So they clinked wine glasses filled with apple juice and toasted to Anya learning to sort her light clothes from dark, another finished article page, and another file delivered to a cubicle. They shared a slice of fresh cream cake: Loid fed her a strawberry and she watched him turn into one as she wiped away the juices from her lips with the back of her hand. He was so uncool. Then, they walked home. Loid refused to spare her even a glimpse. Though it was endearing and boyish at first, she had become apprehensive. Tonight was supposed to be the night he would tell her. Where did his daring go? Yor had thought it must have been a miscalculation on her part. It must have been the dress. The plait. Or simply, it could have been the fact that he had gotten rather bored of her.  “Is this what it was like after dozens of dates with your wife?” whispered Yor in childish frustration. “You…don’t even want to look my way anymore.” Loid gazed at her—of course he would after a silly lament like that—stopping them in their tracks. Yor was pouting—this she knew by the way his brows knitted. He opened his mouth to speak before, to her dismay, looking away from her again. “It’s something like this,” he said, stare flitting from her eyes to her lips. She was too hot with embarrassment, with longing, to heed his breath on her cheek. “Though, usually by the third date, I wouldn't have to ask.” And he was near, so near that when she finally took notice of their proximity, he had only left the scent of his cologne in her hair when he pulled away just before they could touch. Loid cupped a hand behind his neck and apologized.  “I don’t know what possessed me to do that,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry, Yor. I must be getting ahead of myself.”  This time, Yor wasn’t vexed by his wayward eyes. Yor understood him. It turned out that they weren’t so different from each other; Loid was just beginning to take after her, and her, him. Yor nodded, leaving the rest to time. He had given her fodder for daydreams. The least she should do was give him grace. And they walked home, shoulders brushing every so often. Yor could have sworn she heard him exhale at each gentle thrill.

So there she had it. A near-kiss that, surely, will develop into a real kiss. The next date will seal the rest of her life—their life together. 

Loid will be kind, polite. He’ll hug her first, then tuck the errant strands of hair behind her ear. Like porcelain, he’ll cup her face in those big hands that seemed to carry the weight that she was slowly beginning to grasp. Loid will look at her with all the love stored in his heart and she'll melt there in his arms just at the smallest contact with warmth. He’ll say something sweet— You’re so pretty— and she would close her eyes, inviting him to press his lips onto hers.

The moment that they touch, Yor knows, will be glorious. Fireworks will explode. Pulses will be one. His lips will tickle hers and she’ll laugh against him. He’ll try to silence her with more kisses but she’ll just keep laughing to spite sleepless nights like tonight—nights she’d toss and turn in her bed over ruminations on their undefined relationship. There will no longer be a need for he-loves-mes and he-loves-me-nots. He will gift bouquets to cultivate in glazed hand-painted vases. She’ll keep them alive for as long as they love each other— forever— make crowns out of daisies for Anya, for Loid, twining the stalks tightly like the invisible bonds that drew them under this roof.

He will kiss her again and again until all she can taste are strawberries. Kisses will run down like thick syrup down her chin. She will wipe them away, fingers staining red, and lick them clean. His kisses will be so cloyingly sweet that she will be lulled to a pleasant sleep. And Loid will watch her slumber, waiting until she wakes up to kiss her all over again and send her back to those silly things, those wondrous daydreams.

Yor waits for that night. For now, memories will have to suffice.

The pressure of Loid’s hand on her back as he led her through crowds. (Yor unzips her dress, lets it pool at her feet. She is floating on a cloud.) His scent, strong, clean, lingering on her cheek. (She unties the cream ribbon in her braid; her hair falls down her back  in waves.) The bob of his throat as he unbuttoned the collar of shirt, loosened his tie. (She unclasps her bra. She is cold and hot at once.) The hum of his voice purring in her ear. (Yor hugs herself, leaning her profile over her shoulder as if Loid was behind her, coaxing her.) His breath, still hot on her mouth, moments before eclipse. (Yor makes sure that she is all there. She brushes the tips of her fingertips across the ridges of her arm muscles, down the contour of her sides. Yor doesn't mean to sigh when she traces the curves of her chest, holding them full in open palms.)

When she looks down at her body, she is awash in pink. In the veil of romance, shadowy hands map over the expanse of her torso, exploring unmarked territories and planting lilies. They give names to them— stunning, lovely —compliments he has uttered to her many times. His words tickle her ear and she gasps sharply, cupping her mouth immediately to swallow it back down into the pit of her belly.

Loid is all over her—his cologne, his fingertips burning her skin, his whispers caressing places most intimate. Yor, trembling, burrows  in her bed, feverish with want .

Imagination seemed to be a formidable opponent as she writhed against herself, resisting the throes of pleasure. It was wrong—yes, she knew Loid didn't deserve to be subject to her debauched fantasies. But what was she to do with all of the love given to her by Loid? What else was there to do but sprinkle it over herself—pixie dust— to somehow summon him over her so that she would no longer have to wrestle with anticipation, with loneliness? 

Yor wonders if there's a word for being close and far at the same time as she presses her thighs together, biting her knuckles to muffle her moans. She feels desire curl in her stomach so intensely that she has to lay on her side and hook a leg over a pillow, grounding her pelvis against it for purchase. Though she resigned herself to not using her hands to temper her salacious reveries, the body always finds a way to release. Her hips rock slowly at first, relenting hesitantly in her futile attempts at control. Electricity shoots from her core and strikes ripples throughout her body. She whimpers, ashamed by how desperate she had become in her pursuit of skinship—ashamed at how good it felt with just the mere thought of Loid beneath her, taking in the force of each of her thrusts and returning it tenfold. He’d make noises she had never heard before—grunts, groans, whines. Her name in long airy drawls, stretched out into song, into prayer. His urgent pleas— more!— as she fell onto him over and over again, pumping herself of all of the affection she held for him.

Loid, always so composed, so collected, crying actual tears! Crying from tension, from pain, from pleasure with every snap of Yor’s hips connecting to his own! What would it take, she wonders, for him to sob ? A whisper? A finger rubbing wedding wings and infinities on his chest? A split-kiss? Her hand caught in the silk of his hair, tugging, grasping, as she had her way with him? 

Yor, in a hazy stupor, sits up and straddles her pillow, practicing on her model. She closes her eyes and listens to everything in her thrum. She waits a moment, lets her recollections of Loid suspend from the ceiling for reference, before tentatively squeezing her heartbeat.

Her phantom lover manifests. He wraps his arms lazily around her waist and pushes her flush against him. Yor gasps and he chuckles insouciantly, sneering at her credulousness. The cold flicker of his eyes tell her everything she needs to know—that she is a wicked girl. Indelicate. He is mocking her lack of restraint. Her longing. Their languishing. 

“It’s something,” he whispers lowly, collapsing his open palms on the flesh of her buttocks. He grips. Hard. “Like this.”  

And he takes her. Again, and again, and again.

Humiliation becomes tangible and she, lust-drunk and delirious, bounces pathetically on it. Yor throws her head back and sighs his name, an incantation and repentance in a single breath. She is liquid, has melted all over the petals of her pillowcase. He plays with her, kneads her, until all strength leaches from her, until she is but a shallow imprint and damp sheets. She is nothing.

A cry of frustration, of rapture tears from her throat as the mounting pressure reaches its precipice. To have felt the frisson of dreams, only to be left unfulfilled… 

A knock at the door. “Yor?” 

Bittersweet.

Chapter 2 | AO3

Twilight can’t sleep.

Not that he sleeps most nights. If ever there's a moment left to himself, his mind will almost always run strange equations and probabilities. He visualizes these numbers as candidates moving across a politicized landscape, and Twilight would close his eyes and lay in his bed, plotting every possible outcome and how it would affect his workload, and how his workload would cut into the time reserved for his girls.

(The pawns’ movements were unpredictable. He could never get a checkmate.)

Sometimes, ghosts will visit him: it will be his mother, a woman whose face he can no longer remember. Some nights, she’ll assume the appearance of a woman he’d seen matching that description: a tailor, a baker, or a stranger he had passed on the street. It will be a comrade from the war: a boy in a uniform two times his size, rattling on knobby knees. It will be lives he has taken: suits with bullets square in the forehead, aristocrats wan from sleight-of-hand poisonings, and boys from the other side of the border—boys distinguished by the colors of their uniforms, the make of their guns. 

Twilight takes them all in stride. He welcomes them into these penitent walls, lets them stand around his bed, hanging their featureless faces over him as he wracked his brain for names, voices. 

(They never come. They never leave.)

Tonight, however, he was visited by a peony pink vision of Yor. She stands at the foot of his bed, hands politely folded in front of her skirt. The plait of her hair rested neatly on her right shoulder, ribbon star-bright under the faint glow of the waxing moon. He blinks, once, twice. Yor is still there.

Her expression is unchanging. Bordeaux eyes twinkle like jewels. Night glistens on the pout of  peach lips; Twilight blushes at the fleeting impulse that takes him. He refrains from indecency by imagining a smile there instead of his open mouth.

Outside, a magnolia branch raps on his window, on the cage of his thumping heart. Wind pushes past the jambs; white petals flutter like feathers from an angel and draw toward Yor in some ceremonial homecoming. They sway as they descend to his toes. Yor is still.

Somehow, the sight of her unsettled him more than the past. Yor, whom he was beginning to learn—every quirk and every wrinkle—was unreadable to him now. Why had it been her, he wondered, that haunted him? She was in the other room, beating, being; specters, on the other hand, were not of this world.

It does not take him long to process the absurdity in his mind. Twilight theorizes that with dusk came a certain death—the shedding of an old self for rebirth the following morning. In front of him is Yor before the midnight threshold, just as he left her. 

Twilight has the inclination to call out to her, beckon her to bed next to him so that she may rest, release back into the ether. Instead, he turns on his side, screwing his eyes shut as he remembers their walk home together, side-by-side.

He should have kissed her.

Twilight wonders about the other characters he had played in the past before—shy research assistants, cocky old-money heirs, steely accountants—and wonders if muscle and mind remembered those discarded identities at that pivotal moment of contact.

Loid Forger was confident, suave. And Yor tonight was dazzling, willing, waiting. 

Loid should have kissed her.

Twilight, pushing his pillow over his face, groans. It would have made sense. They'd gone out together so many times, held her hand in his own. He danced with her, let his fingers trail down the curve of her spine. He had let his touch there remain; he relished in knowing that Yor never thought anything of it—that it would be a moment thought to have been lost to time. But Twilight knew that quiet strokes were his to keep even long after this mission was complete.

Maybe he’s beginning to understand himself. There was selfishness in distance; as much as he pushed it down, there was hope that he'd be able to emerge as himself to Yor and Anya. No longer would he have to dote, to care under false pretenses. Yor would kiss him, learn to love him as him—whoever that is. Not Loid, nor that boy before the first bombing.  Twilight isn't so sure himself.

What he is sure of, however, is the burn of his ears, the thump-thump, thump-thump of his heart whenever she’s near. And for quite some time, he had known this: by the way he hides into himself when she gazes at him, smiles; by the way he stutters when she tilts her head and calls out a name he refuses to claim; the way he aches in bed at night just at the mere thought of her… Every facet of his being, those hidden and on display…

He was in love with Yor Briar.

It was a love so strong that he became ill with miserable desire. Though they had spent all evening together, he was tender from missing her. Morning is too long a wait. The irrational urge to leave his bed and whisk away dreams to have her under his palms, warm and requiting unlike the afterimage before him, swept over him like a spring storm. 

Twilight mutters to himself. What was he going to do? Knock on her door? Wake her up? What would be his excuse then—“Hi, sorry about earlier. I forgot to kiss you, but I remembered just now as I laid in bed thinking about you. Shall we?” Knowing Yor, she would believe every word, failing to pick up the motives underneath seemingly innocuous invitation. He wanted more than a kiss. He wanted to consume her, wholly, fully, have her always be a part of him—body and soul. 

So intense was his desire that he became feverish from longing. He curls pathetically on his side and groans, pressing his damp forehead into the heels of his palms. The central nervous system worked in strange ways. It couldn’t distinguish embarrassment or fear from excitement. From the top of the head to the toes, one’s entire body flushed from a self-induced affliction caused by memories and confused feelings. It’d cause perspiration, arrhythmia, a closing throat struggling for air. Something close to death.

Twilight could have wept from the sensations—pleasantly warm and bitterly frigid—attacking him.  Briefly, he wonders why the body worked against itself in such instances. What made nature so averse to love? What made him so averse to it?

Somehow, he gets out of bed, walks to his bedroom door. His hand is on the knob, and just before he passes through, he looks back at the vision of Yor. She faces him. A smile encourages him to go on. 

He turns his wrist, steps out. The apartment, bathed in azure, looks entirely foreign to him. The fractals of light from the window splintered onto the walls as if beamed through a prism, prophesying near-futures in imagery Twilight—learned and cunning as he was—could not make out.  What happens from this point forward will decide the rest of their lives under this roof. This he knows by the way he, like a man possessed, draws to Yor’s bedroom door. 

A home in metamorphosis: this was the decisive act that will fracture the chrysalis—the decisive act that would conceive  an entirely new man. Like the morning soon approaching, crossing over into Yor’s bedroom would shed yesterday’s Twilight, leaving it to hang on a coat rack to be destroyed along with the shifting scenery of the apartment.

Holding his breath, he primes a knuckle to knock on her door.

The rustling of sheets, then a sob.

Twilight steps back, cowardice pushing him back against a wall. He closes his eyes, sucking in hair through grit teeth as he reconsiders his foolish attempts to satiate his yearning.

You're far gone, Twilight muses. Not of this world. Up in the galaxy between two undiscovered moons amidst abandoned orbiters. You’re stranded. Alone. Maybe you were the ghost this entire time.

Far gone. Stranded. Alone. It doesn't matter. Right now, Twilight is so close. Yor is so close. Behind that door, she is there, awake, stirring, and… 

Another sob.

“Yor?”

Before he could understand the weight of rapping on her door, the name sizzling hot on his tongue, everything stops. He stands motionless, shocked he had been so brazen. Twilight tells himself that this was for the mission for the thousandth time—that the fate of the world hinged on whether or not Yor would let him in. If he could not get his affairs settled tonight, how was he going to face Yor come morning? How was he going to face her, he naively wonders, for the rest of their lives?

So he waits, though she may have begun to feign sleep. He knew it would have been more cruel to walk away and leave her to weep into the night. This time, he’ll be there for her, even if a barrier is between them. 

Yor is light on her feet. He hears the drum of her soles against the wood, faint as droplets falling from eaves right after a sunshower. Twilight remembers about her pastel gown from this evening; he imagines a fairytale ballerina behind that door practicing all five positions, stepping gracefully to and fro as she contemplated facing another unremarkable suitor.

Twilight smiles despite himself, hiding it away with a hand in the event that his fabled lover presents herself to him. Quiet as Yor was, there was no mistaking the creaking of the floor beneath her weight as she paced nervously around her room. She was just as bashful as he was. It was reassuring, endearing, considering how much she— how much he—had changed over these past few months.

Yor, whom he had always thought good-natured and gracious, pouted at him tonight. Pouted over a make-believe ex-wife. Pouted over his unfocused gaze—that it looked everywhere but her. Jealousy is a dazzling color on Yor—this, Twilight realized after seeing the way her cheeks puffed and rounded, her lips pursed and puckered—ripe for the picking.

Yor’s beauty was unquestionable. Her cuteness, however, could fell a man—wring him of all thought and color and feeling until he was all out and empty; reduce him to heartbeats when he’s by himself at night, ill with visions of her darling visage.

Maybe it was just a matter of reframing. Twilight had thought that if he gave himself to Yor, he would be lost completely. What he failed to realize was that there was the real chance of reciprocity in honesty. 

“Loid.” She peers through the tiny slit of her door, hand curved over its edge to indicate that she will not close it on him. “Hi.”

“Sorry. Were you asleep?”

Yor pauses a moment, deciding whether or not she should tell the truth. She shakes her head.

Honesty.

“Did you need something?”

“No, I—” Honesty! “I couldn't sleep either.”

Choosing honesty gets you nowhere, it seems, as Yor only receded further back into her quarters until only half of her face peeked from a narrow space. Did his response from their date make her more conscious?  Was she terrified too—of love and its rejections? Its possible requitals? 

“I was thinking about what I said tonight,” says Twilight, taking a chance. There are tremors in his throat. He persists. Despite, despite, despite. “I was thinking about you.”

The door opens slightly—an assent to a more subliminal plea. Yor rests her cheek against the edge of the frame, frantically looking for the right words to say. She settles with, “Wait here,” and scuttles back into her room, door gently clicking behind her.

Twilight can hear the swish of clothes sliding against the floor. He smiles, tickled by the thought of Yor haphazardly kicking her gown underneath her bed to tidy up for an unexpected guest. She's so kind, ponders Twilight, to think of him as someone worth neatening for. Someone of some importance to her.

Twilight coughs behind a fist, erasing the elation from his expression as Yor approaches the door again. It clicks open and she steps to the side, gesturing for him to go in.

Twilight can see her fully now: the long black wave of her hair untwined from its bow. Strands stick to the pearl of her face like tendrils of a flower, swirling spirals down to her neck, her shoulders. She looks feathered, blurred softly by starlight. Ethereal. Yor had always been charming but to have caught her in the liminal space just before morning, in this so by so room made familiar, made dear now that he has passed through it, he realized there was divinity in woman. Forward as it may be, selfish as he has become, Twilight thinks that he could gaze at her forever: Yor in her nightgown, undone by day, stripped of pretenses and dazed by the intimacy of two pulses in her secret hideout…

How cute.

Postcards from her brother flipped to their written side taped on the wall alongside Anya frescos. Family portraits in gilded frames: Briar, Forger, Briar-Forger. Jewelry and other knicknacks he had gifted her displayed proudly on her desk, her nightstand. White lace curtains swaying fitfully with the wind from an open window, each panel of fabric dancing and entwining each other like two shy lovers. Yor sitting down on the floral covers of her bed, a hand folded atop the other. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” she whispers, light as a breeze. She preoccupies herself by folding and unfolding a crocheted throw, unsure if she’d like it laid over her lap or on her pillows. He opts for distance, sitting on the red chair at her bedside, recouping his lost courage. She looks at him from beneath hooded eyelids, demure, girlish, sighing whenever their stares meet. “It’s funny. We’ve lived together all this time, and yet this is the first time you’ve really been inside my room.”

Twilight manages a chuckle, twiddling his thumbs as he takes in Yor’s quaint dwelling. The warmth of it all overtakes him and he feels tender with faint nostalgia for something he can’t quite name or remember. “It is, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t take long for vulnerability. Yor tilts her head, warming up to his comforting tone. “Is it everything you thought it’d be?”

He hums. “It’s very you.”

“Very me.” She smiles. “Hm. What’s that like?” 

“Well,” breathes Twilight, “it’s inviting. I feel like I’ve known this place my whole life in some distant past, some other life. As soon as I walked in, it was like—whoosh! ” He mimics a wave with his hand. “I’ve definitely been here before. Sat in this very chair. Had this exact conversation.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Yor titters, pivoting her body in his direction. “A man like yourself must have been in countless girls’ rooms. Mine is no different.”

Intrigued and somewhat flattered by her observations, he, unabashedly, urges her on. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re always sure of yourself and never leave anything unfinished. That’s what they call persistent, right? A trait among public enemy number one for girl parents.” She taps on her lip with a finger, seriously contemplating his question. Yor is so lovely. “And you’re handsome and pleasant to be around. There’s no doubt that you are popular with women. So surely you've seen a lot of rooms and decor… Among other things.” 

Among other things. The phrase hangs in the air, watching them with big beady yellow eyes. Yor avoids its stare, but Twilight acknowledges it, makes its acquaintance. The implication is not lost on him. Yor is no fool—a man at her door at this hour can only mean one thing. Courteously as he tries to play it, Twilight— Yor— knows he is, at the root, a debauched man. The lives he has led flow away from his  body like a river’s downstream current until he is nothing but his rudimentary person—a creature starved of heat, of friction. 

“Persistent, handsome, and popular,” Twilight drones. A corner of his lip tugs up. He cannot stop himself. “You make me sound like some mindless flirt. Is that how you see me?” 

“Of course not!” She shakes her head with such vigor that Twilight has no choice but to believe her. “I haven't the capacity to tell you even the half of it, Loid. Frankly, I think it’d be too embarrassing. But since you're here, I think you ought to know I haven't had a good night’s rest because of you.”

“Me?”

Light catches in the reflection of Yor’s eyes. She is set ablaze. Twilight, caught in her flame, can only hook a finger on the neck of his shirt, pull it forward, and throw his head back as he lets the evening air cool his sweat-sticky skin. 

“Yes,” whispers Yor, lips stained with the sanguine juice of some forbidden fruit. Twilight nearly moans. “You.”

“Shall I leave?” he asks. Twilight is at the brim and he knows with one word, one gesture from Yor, he will implode, spatter himself over discarded clothing and silken sheets. Twilight will let her devour him until he is nothing but the frame of his pathetic vessel.

Tense with affliction, Yor allows a beat of silence to decide her fate. Then, scripture pours from her mouth—“Stay”—and their future is forged, there, in the room Twilight knows his love will be made known. The apartment rearranges itself like a rune morphing ancient ruins into a palace, and Twilight gropes through the opaque dreamy mist that has clouded over his body, the maze that has manifested in the space between him and his lover. Somehow, he is beside Yor on the sanctity of her bed. He is home.

Twilight stays. More than stays. He lingers, leaves trails of himself with the pads of his fingers along the soft descent of her jaw.  They trail south, down the slope of her neck to her clavicles. He plays with the brown ribbon on her collar, wrapping it around his hand as he tugs it off. Her tiny breaths puff hot on his hands; Twilight steels himself to move more slowly, delicately.

Conscious of her blooming complexion, Yor moves to hide her face with a hand. It is quickly seized by Twilight. He guides it to her chest and intertwines their fingers from the back of her hand. He gently presses their held hands against her heartbeat, eliciting a sharp sigh from his dear darling wife. Twilight cannot help himself. He untwines from her and flits his fingers at the hem of her nightgown's skirt, hiking it up to her upper thigh. The drum of his touch on her knee is enough to make her tremble. 

“You tell me I'm persistent, but I’ve been avoiding you all this time. When I look at you, I become painfully aware of myself. I want to be perfect for you, but in truth, I’m awful.” Twilight leans his face close to hers, lips brushing the shell of her ear. I love you, he wants to confess. So simple is the phrase, succinct, raw, and yet he cannot bring himself so vulnerable. Everything comes out carnally, all wrong: “I want you so bad that I can’t think straight. That I can’t breathe.”

With the firm precision of a ceramist, she molds her palm over the hand on her knee, sliding it up the strong sculpt of her leg and curving it toward the inside of  her thigh. She applies light pressure, allowing Twilight’s imprint to cast on her body, marking herself as his.

“Show me,” she rasps with a dash of daring. Her eyes flutter shut, gentle as the bat of a hummingbird's wing. She knights her champion. 

Mesmerized by her command, Twilight kisses her sweet. Kisses her again, and again, and again, confessing with every push and pull of their lips.

He sups the nectar from her split swollen lips like a man  left to meander a landscape desolate of life—parched. Silvery syrup runs down their chins; he catches it with the flat of his tongue, licking the contour of her neck to her collarbones. Yor quivers, stifling a moan. He yanks the sleeve of her nightgown down to plant wet kisses along the round of her bare shoulder.

“Loid,” Yor sighs, turning that miserable name into something warm. Beloved. She tilts her head in his direction, the dark cape of her hair enveloping him, pressing him closer to her. He cups her face, admiring bitten lips and half-lidded rubies. 

“I’d like to see you,” Twilight pants, mouth open on the column of her throat. “May I?”

Her eyes drop, brows furrowing as she scrutinizes the shape of her existence. Twilight immediately perceives the nervous habit that unknowingly presents itself to him. In lieu of reassuring words, he kisses her on the cheek. Her lips lift, a crescent indenting where his lips had been. His admiration and affections have been sealed in wax, ripped apart, conveyed, accepted. Yor reaches out, weaves through the close-crop of his blond hair, and guides him toward her. She plants a kiss of her own square on his forehead, returning the gesture tenfold. Twilight feels a blush rise to his cheeks.

“I like you a lot, so it’s alright, I think. It’s okay,” she tells him, brushing the hair away from his face. “I trust you.” 

Yor catches sparkles from his feathered wisps in a fist and sprinkles it over herself as if it’d transform her into someone else—a lady with soft edges and milk-smooth skin that flushes pink under the lightest of touches. A lady worth standing at Twilight’s side.

Holding her breath, she pulls the top of her nightgown down past her arms. She tightly screws her eyes shut as she moves it over the mound of her chest down to her waist, refusing to see herself jut so obscenely before him. The sleeves of her nightgown fall on her bed defeatedly, lifeless arms spread out like a wraith at the mercy of Twilight’s judgment. 

Yor is a woman sculpted from clay rather than marble—this, Twilight concludes as he appreciates the jagged and raised skin scored over the expanse of her bust. Rather than subtractions, she is a composite of additions—of stories untold, of trials conquered, of countless disciplined hours. Scars never lie. As he runs his fingers over the white-marred skin stitched over the hard ripples of her abdomen, he knows hers is a shared tale of survival and of loss. Harsh light casts over her, carving dark shadows over the frayed canvas of her body. The effigy of Yor is so hauntingly, so achingly honest; it is in that moment Twilight decides that she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

He peels his shirt off in one fluid motion. Twilight looms over her, allowing her to take in the breadth of his kneeling contrapposto. His is a series of wounds cleaned and sealed with bottles of whiskey and lighter flame, stitched closed from the loose threading of a uniform. He is attrition embodied, War’s perfect soldier. Wonder, fear, and attraction swirl in her blown eyes as she reaches out to touch him. Before she can lose heart, he leans down until her nails graze his chest. Twilight shakily exhales as Yor tentatively travels forgotten paths on his flesh under her fingertips, exploring the country she was told to despise.

Twilight watches her with vague interest, mindful of the places her fingers stay and when she chooses to avert her eyes. With a swipe, Yor unseams him, and the memories he thought he had long discarded inundate him. She arrives first at the small nick on his upper bicep—the front doorstep of his childhood home. It was summer, and he was happy. School was out for break and he had excitedly run home to ask his mother permission to play with the other musketeers. A thorn from of the rosebush just outside of his front door caught in his sleeve, and blood spread through the white of his shirt like pigmented watercolor. He stayed home that afternoon. His mother cleaned his arm and sewed a garden onto the tear of his shirt.

Yor follows the long spiked pink scar carved at his right side down to his navel. He was sixteen then, newly enlisted in the army. He was fighting with a boy from the Ostanian infantry in the forest. They were all mud, sweat, gasps, and gunpowder as their bodies writhed and wriggled against each other in a desperate fight of undefined loathing. He remembers how easily the boy’s blade had sliced him as if he was nothing more than a whetstone for sharpening, and how he had thought about death as he caked clay onto his open gash. One of the greatest acts of love, Twilight came to realize, was mercy as the other boy limped away from his expiring body. 

Love and loathing. Two boys were buried in the forest.

“I haven’t made some terrible mistake, have I?” she laments, voice nearly breaking as he lays her down on the mattress, head supported by his open hand. 

Silver tears spill and pool at her clavicles. And maybe he understands. She is twenty-eight and she will never be soft. She is still grieving the woman she should have been just as Rowan is sixteen—will be sixteen forever—and Twilight grieves a childhood so short-lived. 

Flawed as they are, as they embrace, chest against chest, twin flames, Twilight feels as though he has found the missing pieces of himself in the woman splayed before him. Wrapped in the warmth of her arms, Twilight deliriously believes that the war must have been some grand and twisted conspiracy for them to meet under this roof. The intimacy of an embrace frightens him, but he cannot bring himself to part from her. Not now. Not ever. 

“We fit too well,” their lips meet, long, sweet, languid, “for it to be a mistake.” 

She mewls behind a hand as he gropes her other breast, relishing how her plushness spills between the spaces of his fingers. His hand rolls, fingers pinch as he sculpts her into the image of bliss. Twilight catches a bud in his mouth, hardening with the heat of his yearning. He releases her with a gentle pop, a shimmery string connecting his lips to her bosom.

“Where does it ache when you think of me? Here?” he asks in a low voice, licking a fat stripe along the side of her breast. His knee nudges against her core and she squirms beneath him. “Or here?” Yor’s breath hitches as she instinctively grinds down to rub herself against his leg, impatient and eager. The arch of her back against the bedsheets. The erratic roll of her lifted hips. Yor works herself on him with a fervor he had never known her to possess. Beads of sweat collect at her brow as she unrhythmically ruts on him for delicious friction. Twilight laughs quietly; he cannot contain the delight the sudden realization brings him. “Oh. You've done this by yourself before.” 

Yor blooms all the way down to the swell of her chest. She stutters as she thinks of something just as intelligent to say as Twilight smiles stupidly at her—dimples and all—flattered and pleased with himself. The words are weak, fragmented, meek, “I’ll pass away if you continue to tease me,” and she covers her face with her arms in humiliation. The smoke is practically steaming from her ears. It only encourages Twilight.

“You’re adorable,” he coaxes, taking hold of her wrists in a hand and pinning it over her head. Yor pouts, twisting beneath him as if she were completely powerless against him. Of course, she isn’t. It would be easy to break free from his hold. Twilight is much too familiar with the impact of her palm applied across his face, the high kick of her heel aimed at his chin. The danger of eliciting such a reaction from Yor entices him, and so Twilight, true to Yor's hasty description of him, persists. 

The fuzzy daze swathing her casts some lulling spell, and she relaxes as he superimposes himself over her. His desire nudges on her thigh, extracting a hum from Yor. 

“Where do you want me?” Twilight asks, words caressing the shell of her ear. As soon as he releases her, she wraps her arms around him, pulling him down flush against her, chest to chest, cheek to cheek. Profile tucked along the length of her neck, Twilight deeply breathes her in, mapping the trajectory of her day. Vanilla shampoo. Patchouli perfume. The musk of their tryst. 

“Anywhere. Everywhere." She ogles him pensively; she is all lust and,  audaciously enough, love as she submits to obscurity and anticipation. He slides down the plane of her body, nose parting her down the middle as if he were slicing her open, peeling away her skin to expose some celestial being beneath the layers of warmth. Twilight stops at her stomach and kisses the mole near her navel. Tickled, Yor giggles, abs tightening beneath him. “Well, maybe not there.” An intense heat  rushes southward; Twilight remembers patience and counts to fifty before moving between her thighs.

Dear God, Twilight thinks to himself as he tugs the skirt of her nightgown down. They move in tandem, she raises her hips up and Twilight slips it off, letting it flump onto the floor. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting. The satin of her panties were pearlescent under starlight, designed with a tiny ribbon at the top, made transparent by prurience. Something about the juxtaposition of her virginal image and the licentiousness streaked over her longing is almost enough to make Twilight come right there.

“Look at me,” he tells Yor, breath hot on her core. Lazily, she lowers her gaze, bedroom eyes scorching the sweep of his face. He does not break their stare. “Watch.”

Countless times he has looked at her face, memorized every mole and wrinkle, but tonight, it is as if something finally clicked. Chaste as she may have seemed under moonlit halation, Twilight knew by the way she gasped as he licked her clothed heat that Yor was not so different from him. How many nights has she throbbed with loneliness when he was just a few steps away? How long has she muffled his name into the abyss of her bedroom, only for it to echo back and mock her?

Yor cries his name out, cadence stuttering as he thickly laves his tongue over her slit over the translucent film of her panties. Frustratedly, Yor grips a fistful of his hair, urging him to do more. Twilight only chuckles at her impatience, shooting vibrations to every nerve ending in her body.

Twilight kisses her nether lips before pushing the fabric to the side, sticking to her like a second skin. A snapdragon in oils: pinks, reds, and purples smeared over the pale of her night-dyed complexion.

“Please”  whispers Yor. “I won’t last any longer.”

Instead of obeying his wife’s urgency, he parts her with a finger, letting her sweet slick coat his finger. He locks eyes with her as he sucks down to his knuckle, messily dragging it out of his mouth to show her just how good she tasted. Pushing her thighs up to bend her knees over his shoulder, he burrows his face into her heat, devouring lips ajar. His tongue circles around the nub of her core, flicking, teasing. Yor is reactive as ever; she shivers beneath him, toes curling as he dips one, two fingers between her petals until she clenches around him. Shyly, she rocks her hips against his hand and open jaw, attempting to finish herself on his face and fingers until she sees bright white.

“Loid, I think I—”

“No.” Twilight stops abruptly, opting to lick up the soddenness along her inner thighs and soaked fingers instead of allowing Yor to reach the precipice of her bliss. “Not yet.”

Yor is not pleased; she retaliates to his absence childishly by tossing her pillow aside, cherry lips pouting. Now that she had experienced the pleasure of his mouth on her, for him to part at that crucial moment connoted a sort of loneliness, self-loathing  Yor no longer wanted to identify with. Twilight will let her finish, she decides as she hooks a leg around his waist, whether he likes it or not.

It happens quickly. A whirl, floating sheets, and Yor straddling him. So many times he has been in this very position: there, pinned under the weight of the opposition, wine-drunk proprietresses, nepotistic heirs. And each time, he was able to maneuver the situation in his favor using tried-and-true tricks methods learned from the battlefield. Weak spots and shifting force. Flirtations and fake tears. Yet, under Yor, he felt himself enter a sort of inertness. He can only gawk as Yor shifts on top of his pelvis, her arousal staining the gray of his sweatpants. 

“Can you handle it?” he asks—challenges. It was an audacious question. Try as he might to continue  his seductive drawl, there was no denying the trembling of his words—fleeting as the flowers he’d seen drift into his bedroom. He looks at her from the shutter of his lashes, and he reminds himself that it is okay to be nervous, to not know the next steps. Yor may have been right about him laying in many girls’ bedrooms, but the crucial difference was that there was truthfulness here. He wanted this, and in allowing himself that want, he could feel the rush of those vehemently raw emotions—anxiety, rapture, adoration—coalesce in his hollow body, letting it translate without script in the pads of his fingers. With shaking hands, he cherishes her, holds her waist and embosses her onto his flesh. 

Yor dips down to claim his lips, drawn and cloying, pulling back as if she had just broken through the glass surface of a pond. Her mouth is glossy with herself, and Twilight, embarrassed by his attempts to be as titillating as possible to her, wipes her bottom lip with a thumb. The weight of her cheek leans into his palm, ink hair descending like the darkest dusk. 

Yor kisses his thumb, slips it in her mouth to show him other ways she’d like him. His heart nearly bursts at this facet of Yor. The paragon he had built of her had shattered completely in the hall of his mind, pieces repurposed to something mutable and equally beautiful. He thinks it’s something akin to those clichés—those loves-at-first-sights and meet-cutes. Twilight is falling for her all over again, and naively he thinks it will be like this for the rest of his life.

“Yor." The tone is undecipherable. He isn’t quite sure why her name had slipped from him in the first place. Maybe he was scared that she would no longer answer. To his relief, she responds in earnest, toying with the waistband of his sweats. She shoots him a look and he nods a little too ardently for his liking. Yor scoots back, allowing him to pull himself free from the constraints of his clothes.

His length, stiff with desire, points upward. To Yor, it must have looked so red and angry and intimidating by the way she blushed and averted her gaze.

“Hey,” Twilight coos, patting her leg affectionately. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I want this,” she says with the stark determination of a sergeant. How solemn. Twilight clears the chuckle that threatens to escape his throat. “I’ve just—Not with anyone. I never thought I’d get this far. I’ve had ideas about how I’d like you, and you’re here now, and that— ” her gaze drops to his groin, “that is very real. Immensely real. So real that I’m questioning whether or not I’m here with you. Are you a dream? Must I wake up now?”

It’s hopeless. He is laughing heartily now, fully-bellied and deep, as he listens to his dearest Yor babble about his hardness. “I’m real. Can’t you see what you do to me?” 

“I don’t want to disappoint you, is all.”

He holds her face in his hands, gently squishing her cheeks until her lips puckered. “I happen to find you to be the kindest, most beautiful and endearing spirit I’ve ever had the fortune of knowing. I don’t think anything you’d do would disappoint me.”

“If I fell asleep at this moment? What then? You’d be devastated.” 

“I’d tuck you in. Kiss you goodnight. I’d watch your sleeping face until sunrise,” he drones, fingers gliding through her disheveled tresses. He brings a lock to his lips and wishes for good health and good fortune.

“And if I hurt you?”

“I probably deserve it.” His hand is on the plush of her hip, grounding her lower half on his. Yor is oblivious to his plight. She sways, her heat brushing against his as she thought of another impossible scenario. He sucks in a breath, resisting the urge to take her right there. “Yor,” he begged, trying to distract Yor from her misguided train of thought.

“What if I’m actually the worst person you know? Like mean? Evil? A murderer… Or something like that.” Unknowingly, as she adjusts her seat on his lap, her folds perfectly hug the base of his length, eliciting a sharp curse from Twilight.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, throwing his head back. She rubs on him hot, so hot that he is lightheaded and sees stars stipple in the black cape of her hair. He grips his cock in his hand and positions it so that it is enmeshed between the stick of her panties and her viscid slit. 

Sex hangs thickly in the air, and Twilight, intoxicated by it, can only watch as Yor drinks in the feeling of the vehement throb of his length sliding against her. She treats it like a battle; there is nothing gentle in the way she grinds on him. The song she sings is harsh and succinct as she clamps her thighs tight around him, considerate of the fast pace she had set up for herself. Yor is fluid; every part of her body moves in ripples and waves. With every action, a reaction: a roll of her hip translates to a jiggling chest, to Twilight, mewling kittenishly, reaching to fondle her. It whets her appetite, lights a blue flame that engulfs their coupling in a single heretic pyre.

“Yeah. Just like that,” he hisses, just barely controlling his volume. Close. So pathetically, delectably close from this alone. Twilight stutters weakly at her mercy as she undoes him bit by bit.

Curiously, she strokes his cock with a finger through the cloth of her panties, causing Twilight to jerk his hips upward. Yor palms the base and presses it firmly along her slit. Her eyes roll back and her lips part in a wordless cry. Her body goes slack for a moment, creating an opening for Twilight to gain leverage over the situation. He fucks himself between her hand and her wet folds, thrusting ungracefully, erotically. Every sinful, rhythmic cant of Yor’s hips is met, and the world crashes down around him. 

“I’m close,” says Yor, riding him through her peak. They piece the negative space: she plasters herself in the outline of his body for purchase as he grips her hips tight, sure to leave a bruised afterimage in the morning. 

“I love you,” he breathes, capturing a moonbeam in her hair. The words penetrate her skin, her flesh, her bones and she is full. She is complete. So enraptured is Yor that she kisses him delicately on his cheek, imbuing new life into Twilight. He reaches for that faraway image—a billowy tableau of a girl in wedding white prancing along a meadow blooming with peonies and chrysanthemums. Twilight gazes at Yor with glassy eyes; he wonders if it’s alright for him to imagine such lovely things. She smiles warmly. He bows his head at the altar of her heart, and he weeps.

──────────⊹⊱❀⊰⊹──────────

The day starts without him.

Twilight wakes to skittering and an indented pillow at his side. Laughter rings throughout the apartment, crescendoing and decrescendoing as Anya chases Bond down the hall. Blearily, he watches as Yor walks into her bedroom with a towel around her neck. She is glowing, floating.

Should have woken up earlier, Twilight muses. He blushes when his motive surfaces. He pretends to be slumbering, pulling the covers to his nose when vignettes of the night before trickle into his sleep-laden body. 

Yor had already caught him. She sits at his side and caresses his cheek with a cool finger. “Good morning.”

“Woke up late,” he mutters timidly, refusing to look at the magenta peeking from the neckline of her shirt. 

She laughs. “Yeah. But that’s okay. I’ve got Anya all packed and ready to go.”

“Were you waiting for me?”

Yor shakes her head. “I’ve got things under control. It looked like you needed the rest anyway.”

Twilight tilts his head and she’s there, cuddling his side, head slotted in his shoulder, watching their unspoken feelings come alive. He lets out a contented breath. With that one exhale, he expels a rush of colors that splash into his monochrome world. Everything is dyed a pastel orange. Yor’s skin blushes candy apples as she waits patiently. Waits for an answer, a disaster. Waits for him to say the word, make a move.

“I think I’ll call in sick today. Replenish my energy,” says Twilight. He hugs her head close, cheek nuzzling her forehead. “You know, you’ve kinda got a fever running.”

Yor smacks a hand on her face. “Do I?” 

“We should both stay home. Take care of each other.”

"But I feel fine.” She is so clueless. Twilight wants to kiss her sore.

His head is spinning glittery gold, unraveling and twining their bodies together. Her bedroom is made into their own slice of paradise. Bluebirds are chirping. Church bells are ringing. Samba hearts are pulsating. Their shadows are dancing on the walls. They’re laying in their makeshift linen reeds, woven together, embracing.  

Should he snap a picture? Stick-and-poke it onto his bicep under arrow hearts? Stitch it into the breast of his shirt where it can never get lost? 

Cute. Too immature for the feelings Yor is making him feel.

Pretty. Too naive for the way Yor slowly beams and flushes when the message finally registers.

"Hey. Marry me?" he asks, kissing the top of her head.

"Silly. We're already married!"

"I'll marry you a hundred more times. Honeymoons every morning. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Or maybe we could share a room."

It’s her mirth, the crinkles of his eye and the rose flush of her cheeks. Her arms that always hold him— that never let go. It’s her big heart. her smile, her laughter, her kindness, her off-beat humor, her love for life. Love for others. Love for him.

What a joy it is to live alongside her.

[pygmi-says-hi]

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you’re really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it’s only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they’re bleeding. stop with the ‘i didn’t even feel it’ yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it’s really gushin’, other times it’s a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it’s slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain’t that articulate. even if they’re mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that’s ur trope - or a secret, it’s gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they’re gonna feel fine. until….bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 110F. no 'oh no his fever is 120F!! ahhh!“ no his fever is 0F because he’s fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it’s a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

seizures (severe)

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

ALSO about fevers - they absolutely can cause hallucinations. Sometimes these alter memory and future memory processing. they're scary shit guys.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

ALSO I FORGOT LEMME ADD ON:

YOU DIE AT 85F

sorry I forgot. at that point for a sustained period of time you're too cold to survive.

pt 2

also please stop traumadumping in the notes/tags, that's not the point of this post. it's really upsetting to see on my feed, so i'm muting the notifs for this post. if you have a question about this post, dm me, but i don't want a constant influx of traumatic stories. xox

[shurisasthmaticgf]

the curls are curling: lando norris x black social media influencer fem! reader

summary: the secret behind why his curls have been consistently looking perfect is revealed.

authors note: i am still very new to formula one so please don't jump me if there is some slight inaccuracies. i did my best to look things up if i wasn't sure about them. this fic isn't based off of any grand prix in particular either. also, this is a work of fiction meaning it's not REAL so please remember that as well! constructive feedback is heavily encouraged and very appreciated 🫶🏽

heat pooled through the open windows of the house as you ran around to try and get yourself ready for the long day ahead. you woke up an hour ago to give yourself two hours to get ready because today was a race weekend. usually, you only needed about an hour to get you and your boyfriend out the door but today you'd gotten up earlier to film a vlog.

the whole social media influencer thing was still fairly new for you, only having started to consistently vlog and post a few months ago. before you'd started dating lando you were posting here and there about your day to day as a university student and intern for a large company in the city. every so often one of your videos got a couple hundred thousand views but you didn't really mind that your other content only got a few likes...that was just how tiktok's algorithm worked.

once you graduated from university and your internship ended you didn't have much to vlog about until you decided to film a race weekend and post it. what you didn't expect was the video to get millions of views and likes overnight. a massive influx of fans followed but you didn't really pay too much mind to the number, this was just something you liked to do and people also liked to watch. with time you ended up opening a youtube channel where you posted longer vlogs and other videos, and tiktok became a place where you posted 1-3 minute clips of your longer videos. one thing you never really did was center your entire vlog around your boyfriend. sure, lando was the entire reason you ended up at races but you were also your own person...that and lando was oddly camera shy when it came to your vlogs so he often wanted you to edit him out if he happened to end up in the frame.

which is how you ended up in your bedroom with your tripod pointed the camera directly at you. you smiled widely, hoping that it masked the fact that you were nearly half asleep, "good morning everyone! it's race day and i'm gonna be taking you along with me. everyone's been asking for a longer race day vlog so i'm here to give you all what you want. first lets get into the fit- these pajamas were sent to me from Brooks Avenue, if you like them you can use the code Y/N for a little discount on your purchase!" you backed up to show off your pink and green pajamas that would have definitely cost an arm an a leg if they hadn't come in a PR package. the matching pink and green satin bonnet on your head slowly slipped down your forehead leaving you to push it back up with an annoyed huff. you explained to the camera once more, "okay and first i'm gonna brush my teeth then do my skincare routine...he's in the shower right now so the lens might get fogged up, sorry in advance." you knocked on the bathroom door to let your boyfriend know you were coming in before pulling your skincare products out of your travel bag. quickly you brushed your teeth with until you felt like you'd gotten rid of every trace of morning breath.

just as you finished your skincare routine, the shower turned off and you slipped out of the bathroom. while lando finished in the bathroom you sat back down at the vanity and situated the camera back in front of you. slowly you slipped the bonnet from your head and untied the silk scarf under it, letting the large twists in your hair fall against your shoulders. to the camera you explained, "it's gonna be really hot today so i'm just gonna pull the twists back with a ribbon and call it a day i think." you pulled a jar of edge control and a brush from your bag and began styling your baby hairs, effortlessly into swirls and swoops. a laugh fell past your lips as you admitted, "honestly the only reason i still do this is so my forehead looks slightly less...megamind-esque in pictures." when you finished you tied another scarf messily around your hairline and began gathering your twists into a ponytail to secure it with a holder and ribbon.

the bathroom door opened and lando walked back into your room, fully dressed but his button down left wide open exposing his bare torso. in his hands he held a blow dryer and two bottles, one leave in conditioner and a gel you'd bought for him a few weeks ago. you finished tying the bow around your ponytail then took the two bottles from him and plugged the blow dryer into the wall. a hand gently pulled on your hand and you looked up to see sleepy smile grace his lips, "good morning, beautiful." you drew closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him pull you in by the waist. his head nuzzled into your shoulder as your hand found the back of his head, stroking his hair softly with your fingers you murmured, "hi baby." you could feel the shy smile he wore against your shoulder until you pulled away from him. you pulled a robe from the back of the door and told him, "put this on." he knew most of the reason was so he didn't stain his shirt with hair products but another part of it had to be the fact that his shirt was wide open.

lando sat in front of the camera and you laughed at how awkward he looked compared to normal. you prompted, "baby, say hi to everyone. they ask for you all the time." he stiffly waved a hand in front of the camera and you sighed, "i don't know why you act so funny around my camera but everyone else it's fine." he mumbled a soft, "because it's you..." but only the mic on the camera caught it. he sat on the bench in front of you and slightly leaned back into your body before letting his eyes flutter shut.

meanwhile you showed the leave in conditioner to the camera, "this is the kinky curly knot today leave in-" despite his eyes being shut lando let out a small laugh and you asked, "what?" he mumbled cheekily, "kinky." you let out a exasperated sigh, "oh god you're like a child...anyways i was saying, i put a little of this in his hair but not too much just a tiny amount to add moisture." squeezing the leave in conditioner into your palm then applying it to his hair you hummed along to a sza song that ran through your head. the gentle work of your fingers running along his scalp nearly lulled lando back to sleep. you worked through his hair with a practiced ease, adding product and coaxing the curls atop his head to take perfect shape. not wanting to disturb his peace, you silently showed the matching brand's curling custard and then applied that lightly to his hair. once you'd finished you turned on the blow dryer, accidentally jump scaring your boyfriend under you. a soft melodic laugh fell past your lips and one hand fell to his shoulder before you leant down and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, "my bad babe." the camera didn't miss the way he leaned into your touch, pushing his cheek closer to you with his shoulders dropping further in relaxation.

not even half an hour later you were done and the light brown curls on his head were perfectly defined. you wiped your hands on the hand towel you'd slung over your shoulder earlier and laughed when you realized your boyfriend literally fell asleep. you gently cupped under his chin and pressed another kiss to his cheek. just above a whisper you mumbled, "all done, bubs. " he opened his eyes and smiled while you mused, “my pretty boy.” his cheeks flushed slightly, “thank you” and you brushed a few curls into place before looking at his reflection, "of course." he stood up and pulled you out of the frame to gave you a quick kiss before going downstairs where you'd meet him when you finished getting dressed.

the white and navy blue floral sundress you wore was both nice and simple enough to wear for today. simple gold jewelry and a pair of white sandals finished off your look and you grabbed the camera to show your reflection in the full length mirror on the wall, "all dressed so i'm gonna go meet lando downstairs and i'll see you all a little bit later!" you stopped recording and went downstairs to find your boyfriend sitting and ready to go, his cheeks burning pink when he laid eyes on you. a subtle fluttering erupted in your stomach at the familiar gaze, the one that made you feel like the only girl in the world.

*extra*

you scrolled through your social media accounts, something you never really did if you didn't have to. the first thing that came to your attention was the flood of pictures and comments that were about your boyfriend's hair. for the past few races you'd been doing his hair and more and more fans were noticing it looked better than normal. honestly, you found it amusing that people were bringing it up and so much at that, so you decided to add to the conversation just a bit:

fans reactions to recent vlog upload:

[chaotic-birds]

be with you || j.pt

Jason wakes up in the middle of the night and you're not there.

🌙 Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader (gn)

🌙 Genres/AUs: Fluff, (emotional) hurt/comfort, established relationship

🌙 Warning(s): mention of kidnapping

🌙 Word Count: 1.1k

🌙 Author's Note: I have so many Jason Todd fic ideas 😵‍💫 For now, I decided to just write this. I normally don't post such short fics, but I want to get used to doing so. Sometimes I just wanna write without thinking of intensive plots 😪 That being said, please enjoy this little fluff piece! Sometimes, we just need some fluff in our lives. Also, this is my first Jason fic after a few years so… �� (im a lil nervous)

masterlist

When Jason turns to his other side to pull you against him, his eyes fly open.

Your side of the bed is empty.

And cold.

Which means it’s been a while since you left.

You left.

Did you leave or did someone take you?

Jason’s distressed eyes scan the bedroom. There’s no sign of a struggle. Plus, he would at least hope he’d wake up to the commotion if something like that happened.

But if you didn’t get kidnapped, where did you go?

Worry fills his chest and his heart pumps faster at the influx of questions in his head.

All the doubt about whether he’s making you happy clouds his mind. Had he said something yesterday that had upset you? Are you not happy with him anymore? Did someone better come into your life?

Jason groans and rakes his hands through his hair, tugging roughly at the ends to feel something other than uneasiness.

His hands fall to his sides when he sees your belongings at your vanity.

That’s a good sign, right? Maybe you didn’t leave him after all.

Jason slides off the bed and heads out of the bedroom.

“Babe?” he calls.

There’s no answer.

He wanders to the bathroom. Empty.

He goes to the living room. Empty.

Finally, he goes to your home office.

You’re sat in your chair with your headset on, fingers clacking against the keyboard.

The heavyweight he had put on his shoulders instantly lifted. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He takes three large steps before he encloses his arms around you from behind.

You yelp, jumping and hitting your head against his jaw.

He grunts at having bit the inside of his cheek in the process.

Although your arms are glued to your sides, you tilt your head and lift a hand as high as it can go to remove your headset.

“Jay?” you question. “Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”

He shakes his head and nuzzles his face against your neck more.

You lax in his arms, rubbing along his forearms and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Why are you awake then?” you wonder after a while.

“You weren’t in bed,” he mumbles.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I forgot I had to finish something for work.”

“But it’s half past three. Can’t it wait?”

“Sadly, no,” you sigh.

Carefully, you try to pull apart his arms to free yourself. Jason refuses to let you do so.

“Baby,” you laugh softly when he holds you tighter. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be done in a bit.”

“No,” he grumbles.

Knowing he won’t give up, at least not easily, you nod. “Alright then. Should I bring in another chair for you?”

Jason shakes his head and finally lets go. He slides your chair back slightly and sinks to the floor in front of you.

Your legs part when he makes a home between them, wrapping his arms around your hips and resting his head on top of your thigh.

“Comfy?” you ask with a small smile, slightly amused.

He simply hums and closes his eyes.

Your gaze lingers on him before you focus on your work once more. You hurry more now, wanting to get back to bed with Jason.

A few minutes have passed when Jason speaks again.

“I-I thought you left me,” he whispers.

Your hands pause in their movement.

“Oh Jace,” you begin gently and place a hand against his cheek.

His eyes flutter open at your touch. His blue eyes are filled with worry and fear.

“I would never leave you.”

His eyes move between yours, trying to find a reason not to believe you. There’s that rotten side of him that tells him he doesn’t deserve to have company. That it’s inevitable for him to be alone.

“Unless you want me to,” you add.

He shakes his head aggressively. “Don’t say that.”

You smile softly at him. “Then it’s a done deal. You’re mine until the end of time.”

Jason cracks a small smile at your words, lifting his head.

“I like the sound of that,” he says.

Your grin grows. “I do too.”

Jason leans up, and you meet him halfway for a tender kiss.

“I’ve still got more to do. You want to go to bed now?” you ask once you pull away.

“Nope, I’m staying,” he replies, resting his head back on your leg.

His tone sounds lighter now, making your heart warm. Although you love all sides of Jason, this may be your favorite one.

Happy. Soft. Vulnerable.

After forty more minutes, you finally finish.

Jason has fallen asleep and has filled the room with his light snores. Some of his hair lays on his face, some of it slightly ruffled from sleeping in the bed earlier.

Cute.

You bring a hand to his hair, carding your fingers through his soft locks. You scratch at his scalp gently to wake him.

His eyes open, drooping and groggily.

“I’m done, let’s go to bed now,” you say.

He nods and slowly stands up from the floor. He sways a little on tired legs.

“Come on, sleepy head,” you tease lightly and grab his hand.

He lets you guide him back to the bedroom. You sit him down on the edge then gesture in the direction of the bathroom.

“I need to pee; you gonna come with me or will you stay here?” you question.

Jason frowns but nods. “If you take longer than five minutes, I’m coming in.”

You laugh and kiss the crown of his head. “If you say so.”

You know he’s being honest so you rush. Luckily, you make it in time for him not to come get you.

Jason hasn’t moved from when you left. He’s staring at the doorway, feet thumping rhythmically against the floor.

“You’re so needy tonight,” you observe and climb into bed. Jason scoots back until he’s beside you.

“I just miss you,” he sighs, pulling you against him like he originally wanted to do.

You lean back against his chest to feel him more.

“I’ve missed you too, Jay,” you reply.

There's been a rise in crime lately, which resulted in Jason being out in the field more than usual. However, it feels as if there’s a break and you and Jason are making the most of it. You’re sure he will be summoned again soon.

Jason snuggles your body more—if possible—and kisses the back of your head.

“We’re so sleeping in today,” he mumbles, a slight groan accompanying his words.

You giggle. “I can’t protest that.”

“Hm, good,” he says. “Goodnight, baby.”

Smiling, you echo, “Goodnight, Jay.”

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[vettelsdarling]

Pleaseeeeee do a Lando x normal!reader ig au I really need this🧡

𝐈 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

Lissie note… I’m honestly surprised that nobody has requested this until you did! Sorry for the delay, by the way!!! I go in order of who requested first, so it took a little while to get to yours. I love this idea though, thank youuu xx

Few things to note:

Reader is a senior college student.

Lando and reader have been dating for almost a year (since 2020) and are soft launching

There will be time skips from post to post

Time spans from late 2021 to late 2022 (meaning they’ve been dating for 2 yrs over the span of the fic)

Pairing: Lando Norris x Normal!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight cursing(?), bunch of fluff

landonorris

Liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, danielricciardo and 863,921 others

landonorris Took a picture of me, so I took a picture of you… sorta.

View all comments

maxverstappen1 So this is why you didn’t have time for some sim…

Liked by landonorris

user1 WHAT IS THAT CAPTION

user2 The two shadows😭😭😭

user3 Have you guys ever wondered that he might have friends?

user2 There’s no way that’s a case of “oh this is my best friend”

user4 Tbh I agree💀 It looks like he’s soft launching

user5 Not Lando soft launching rn😭

user6 Is this the first mention of her?

user5 Yeah it is

user7 wdym “her” it might not be his girlfriend…

user8 um it definitely is.

landonorris

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, mclaren and 648,221 others

landonorris On my way back to you✈️

view all comments

danielricciardo She’s going to love it when the flowers are all withered from the trip

landonorris She’ll appreciate the sentiment

user1 The roses…

user2 the caption…

user3 I know who it is. If anyone wants the proof dm me

user4 Can you drop it plsss

user5 Oh my goooosh whoever she is, she’s so lucky😭😭😭

user6 I love Danny in the comments💀

wagsf1

3,729 likes

wagsf1 News!!! Lando’s girlfriend is on Instagram! Sadly private though…

View all comments

user1 But there’s no @???

user2 you can just search her name and her account appears but she’s private so she probably won’t accept it if you request

user3 omg new wag alert!!!

user4 I can’t wait to see her paddock outfitssss

user5 I’ve never seen her on the paddock before though? Either they JUST started dating or she doesn’t go…

user6 Yeah, agreed. Based off her acc, I think she’s too busy with college anyway..?

user5 Oh yeah that too

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, francisca.cgomes, charlottesiine and 1,389 others

yourusername Never expected the huge influx of follow requests after being outed, but the fan base is appreciated xx

View all comments

yourusername Okay, wow, I did not expect so many likes… am I famous now or something?

landonorris Yes

yourusername Oh wow! I’m so famous that THE Lando Norris commented?

francisca.cgomes Finally public gorgeoussss❤️

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

user1 That sarcasm? I love her already😭

user2 Agreed😭😭

user3 Wtaf she’s actually so pretty

user4 Honestly would LOVE to see her at the races

user5 Based off her wit, I’d say Lando is pretty lucky

user6 WHAT !! You’re literally SO gorgeous?!

user7 What kind of voodoo did Lando perform to find her😭

user8 idk but he has to teach me

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 836,228 others

landonorris Had the audacity to still be asleep when I arrived at her dorm. Made it up to me with cinnamon rolls though. She loves late night walks… kind of like a cat?

View all comments

yourusername Did you just call me… a cat?

landonorris How else would I describe you

yourusername A very hard working college student

landonorris I think I’ll stick to “little kid who loves running into the road”

yourusername In my defense, those roads are empty at night.

user1 I love the banter between them😭😭😭

user2 They really remind me of an old married couple💀😭

user3 Okay but she actually seems so sweet

user4 I go to nyu and can confirm that she’s an angel

user3 ???

user4 She takes part in a lot of volunteer projects to help animals and stuff

user3 omgggg Lando got himself a literal saint😭

user5 If she doesn’t appear in the paddock soon, I don’t want it

user6 I second thissss

user7 Honestly I don’t care about all the young tweens screaming and crying over a parasocial relationship. These two were literally MADE FOR EACH OTHER

user8 Lando pls invite her to the paddock

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, mclaren and 34,893 others

Tagged: landonorris

yourusername In the third picture, I asked him to pose and this is what came out. Thoroughly disappointed with this model. 2/10 would not book again.

View all comments

landonorris You put me on the spot.

yourusername Untrue

maxverstappen1 He should delete his jpg account and leave the photography to you

yourusername right?

user1 I love her wtf😭😭

user2 Hey girlie when are you leaving him for me🙏

user3 Relatable

user4 The caption💀

user5 If this isn’t my future relationship, I don’t want it

user6 so real

user7 The second pic??? So she was at the race?

user8 It was probably on a weekday and not the actual weekend

user7 but why would she go during the week and not on the weekend?

user8 She was probably too busy otherwise?

user9 I love their dynamic so much ughhh

user10 They literally have so much chemistry

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 836,227 others

Tagged: yourusername

landonorris She finally graduated🎉 Had to celebrate accordingly. Congratulations, babe❤️

View all comments

yourusername Why thank you very much, good sir

landonorris Anything for you, my fair lady

maxverstappen1 This means we’ll see you in the paddock @ yourusername

yourusername You bet

user1 AHHHH THIS MEANS WE CAN SEE HER PADDOCK FITSSSS

user2 I can’t wait for the pics of her with the other wags

user3 She’ll look amazing in papaya colours🧡

user4 NYU GRAD?? Lando really got someone smart AND gorgeous

user5 I can’t wait for her to join the weekendsss

yourusername

Liked by landonorris, lilymhe, mclaren and 187,378 others

Tagged: landonorris, lilymhe

yourusername Finally got the opportunity to stay for the actual races. These last few ones have been amazing. Also got to be with my favourite person more often❤️

View all comments

landonorris I’m happy I get to be with you more often too❤️

yourusername ???

landonorris ?

lilymhe @ landonorris By favourite person, she meant me

yourusername Exactly

landonorris can’t believe this

Liked by yourusername

user1 GORGEOUS

user2 She’s an actual goddess wtaf

user3 Why do I love her paddock fits so much?!

user4 Well, I know who my new fav wag is!!!

user5 I’m actually still kinda curious how long they’ve been dating for

user6 Probably a couple of months before the first soft launch?

user7 Lily and her against Lando in the comments😭😭😭

user8 Pleaseee😭

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 736,923 others

Tagged: yourusername

landonorris For two years, I have had the incredible pleasure of being yours. You’ve shown me how to enjoy all the simple things in life, and I couldn’t be more grateful. You’ve truly captured my heart and I will be yours so long as I breathe. Happy 2 years. I love you.

View all comments

yourusername I love you too❤️

Liked by landonorris

mclaren Our favourite paddock couple!

maxverstappen1 congrats guys!

danielricciardo Congrats!!!

lewishamilton You guys are great together, congrats on the 2 years

francisca.cgomes AMAZING❤️ Congrats you two💕💕

yourusername ❤️❤️

lilymhe You guys are so incredibly cute together, congratulationsssss🫶

yourusername 🫶🫶

user1 wait… TWO WHOLE YEARS?!

user2 This was so unexpected😭

user3 Aww this is so sweet🥹

user4 Istg if they don’t get married😭😭😭

user5 Literally. They better.

user6 fav couple on the grid🧡

user7 The fact that they can be best friends and be in love? I want it so bad😭❤️

user8 Never would’ve thought they managed to date for a whole year without anyone noticing, but that just makes this so much sweeter❤️

𝗤𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁!

𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗮 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲, 𝘀𝗼 𝗜'𝘃𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗺𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲!

𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗮 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁, 𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗮𝘀𝗸𝘀: 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗶𝗰. 𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂'𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝗹𝘀𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗲!

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝘀𝗸. 𝗜'𝗺 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝘆 𝘁𝗼 𝗮𝗱𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂! :)

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

©vettelsdarling

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

[hazbinshusk]

heyyy ^^ i love your work and i was wanting to request some blitz smut where blitz and fem! reader has angry sex? like he pisses her off, she pisses him off, and then they like start fucking 😭 idk i love angry sex

hi! this one has been in my askbox for like over a month and I swear, it's been one I've been kicking around for almost that long, it just came in with an influx of heaps of blitz requests and I haven't had the chance to work on it. Sorry!

BUT, now I'm making headway and it should be the next fic I publish :)

I can't give an exact day because between going back to work and still being sick, I'm not sure how much energy I'll have to write in the evenings, but here's a sneak peek until it's posted (and maybe any feedback I get on this will help motivate me to push through the need to nap lol). Thank you for being so patient anon!

“Motherfucker, that’s hot,” Blitzø growls, wrapping a hand around your throat and pulling your back against his chest. You turn your head and his mouth meets yours in a messy, torrid kiss, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You whine into it, breath catching as his other hand comes up to clutch at your breast, squeezing the flesh roughly. You’re sitting on his lap, skirt pulled up around your waist, underwear gone. Blitzø has his tail wrapped possessively around your stomach, keeping you against him, and his hand comes down to scratch claws over the flesh that curves between the bands of his tail. They leave lines of red against your skin – claiming marks. “Do it again.” You nod obediently, eagerly, rolling your hips slowly over his lap. It grinds your soaking, naked cunt over the bulge of his erection, still trapped in the confines of his pants. Blitzø snarls at the feeling of it, hand tightening around your throat enough that your breath catches and your eyes roll back. “Needy little slut,” he hisses in your ear, pinching your nipple, hard. “Fuck, you feel so good.” “Uhn… Blitz…” you moan, eyes squeezed closed, as his fingers lift your skirt further and rubs at your clit. “Fuck… Fuck, I wanna cum…”

[aechii]

₍⁠₍ OF LOVE AND FASHiON ₎⁠₎

A/N ?! last fic for the day booooo 😥 i dont know if i will be able to post any tmrrw, but i hope i can. anyways enjoy my lovelies

p.s. there's a little written part in this but it's abt 500-600 words

-

-

[y/n]'s heart's racing. every palpitation hammers against her chest with much force, so much so that her full-upon-entry water has decreased to less than half left in just 30 minutes. the heat still fused with the air, but as the sun begins to sleep, it loses its energy, leaving a cool undercurrent that presses into the skin of all the attendees. she's so glad about the cooler weather, finding it completely unfathomable how she would've coped if the heat joined tham at night as well.

but the man seated beside her crashes all of her composure, and her body begins to feel hot and strangled.

she hasn't seen such a visually blessed male specimen in all the years of her living, and the fact that his body was so close to hers because of the crammed seating made matters worse. she can't think, breathe or concentrate on the influx of dressed models that come and go non-stop.

"you look disgusted."

the voice comes from right beside her, and her head whips around, startled. the man that has enraptured her entire conscience smiles goofily at her, and her heart wavers.

"what? me?"

"yes," he chuckles softly, "you."

his eyes turn back to the show before them, yet he continues speaking before [y/n] can justify herself, "i don't blame you, though. some of the outfits are... questionable."

his facial expressions are priceless, and [y/n] falls into a bout of laughter, "you're sick!"

he looks on seriously, eyes flashing with extreme judgement, "i'm not lying! how does anyone find pairing a skirt and baggy trousers aesthetic?"

the combination, that [y/n] had, most likely, missed from being consumed by her thoughts, makes her grimace, "yeah, that wasn't a good look at all."

he turns back to face her and, god, he stares so intently that she has to look away.

"speaking of outfits, what brand you wearing? 'cause i know it's not lv for sure, i'm not seeing any," he thinks of the right words, "over exposure of the logo."

"that's one way to put it," [y/n] snickers, looking down at her outfit, "i made it all myself... apart from the shoes of course."

the boy is taken aback, mouth agape and eyes wide, "no way!"

she begins to feel flustered by his reaction and just smiles.

"that's so cool, honestly. i would take more pride in that than wearing a slutted out luxury brand."

"slutted out?" [y/n] can't believe her ears; he's going to kill her, she's sure.

"how the hell did you come up that?!"

the boy purses his lips, looking smug, "i'm just that amazing."

"you're delusional."

he pretends to think for a moment, "delusional enough to think i'd get your number?"

[y/n]'s eyebrows shot up, "you want... my number?"

he doesn't hesitate to nod, "i don't think i'll be leaving without it."

jobe, who had been painfully listening in on their conversation, decides to make himself apparent, "don't do it, you'll regret it."

she turns around, coming face to face with a younger boy who looks almost identical to the one she had been speaking with for the past 15 minutes.

"you two brothers?"

the older one responds, "yeah, he's a cockblock though, don't listen to him."

"cockblock? jude, i'm trying to save her life!"

ah, so that's his name.

"clear off, jobe," he rolls his eyes, turning back to the girl sitting beside him, "sorry about that- so, your number?"

"don't do it!"

and much to his dismay, she does.

-

y/n_l/n

liked by judebellingham and 23,899 others

y/n_l/n paris photo dump !! met some cool ass people there lowkey

view comments...

judebellingham was lovely meeting you, such a vibe 😆

y/n_l/n you too!! <3

yfn__ best time of my life honestly

y/n_l/n paris at night is a sight to see

user1 you look GORGEOUS

user2 i really missed pfw just a day after i left france </3

user3 JUDE????

user4 I'M ACTUALLY SO SHOCKED

user5 😮

user6 WE FOUND HERRRRR

user7 and jude beat me to it already 😐

-

-

-

judebellingham

liked by y/n_l/n and 899,231 others

judebellingham ❤🇫🇷

view comments...

y/n_l/n love the after party candid, send it to me plz xx + tell jobe i'm sorry but not sorry

judebellingham you look so pretty in it ofc + he'll see it anyways xx y/n_l/n @/judebellingham stop plz 😭🛑 jobebellingham @/y/n_l/n buy me croissaints and maybe i'll forgive you

jadonsancho freshh 🔥

user1 who's that girl in the last pic????

user2 someone who he met at the lv show, got her number and everthingggg 😭

user3 AND SHE KNOWS JOBE TOO? that's my chance stripped unrightfully away from me </3

user4 icel, she's gorgeous AAAAA

user5 this is my 13th reason

[fangirlingfromdownunder]

A Sweet Mishap - Chapter 1

Pairing - Jensen Ackles x Reader 

A/N: Long time no post! Sorry for the lengthy hiatus! If you read my Christmas Advent stories then you may be familiar with this story already, however, I've been working hard to turn it into a longer fic and as such a few things have changed (including the POV, hence the reposts). I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you want me to start a taglist for this fic.

A Sweet Mishap Masterlist | Main Masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The Christmas pay is great, but dealing with the influx of customers – everyone in a rush to get their Christmas shopping and preparations finished – sucks. I’m well into the morning rush having made to my best estimate near a hundred coffees in just a few hours. I’m already exhausted and sick of people; many of whom have short tempers due to needing their daily caffeine hit ASAP. Somewhere around the 30th coffee I burnt my hand on the steamer and it has been in pain since, but I need the money so I ignore it and push on. Not that I’d have time to dwell on the pain even if I wanted to; the orders just keep piling up. 

Peppermint Mocha Latte with extra whipped cream and crushed candy canes.

Gingerbread Latte with a sprinkle of cinnamon on top.

Chestnut Praline Frappuccino with caramel drizzle.

White Chocolate Peppermint Hot Chocolate with marshmallows.

Winter Wonderland White Hot Chocolate with white chocolate syrup.

Almond Joy Latte with coconut and almond flavours.

And so on and so on into oblivion. Maybe it’s my fault for choosing to work in a cafe that prides itself on its range of festive flavours. But despite the exhaustion, I serve every drink with a smile and never-dwindling love for the holidays. 

My steady pace and rhythm are jolted by my coworker getting into my personal space. “Come on, (Y/N)! It’s time to switch, I can’t keep weaving through these crowds with hot drinks and dishes! I need space! Please!”

I add the finishing touches to the drink I’m currently working on and then nod at her. “Fine. I’ll deliver this one and go from there. Just start from the next hot chocolate there,” I nod at the list of order notes stuck on the metal shelf above the coffee machine as I carefully lift the full mug off the bench. 

She nods enthusiastically, pulls a new, clean mug off the stack and gets started. I take the fancy hot chocolate out to table 5 as per the order card. My coworker and I fall into perfect harmony quickly. She makes drinks and I deliver them seamlessly until a tall, well-built guy comes bursting through the doors straight in front of my well-worn path causing me to dump an entire Peppermint Mocha Latte on him. The mug and saucer shatter on the tiles by his feet as my hands immediately cover my mouth to hide my embarrassment. But the shock quickly wears off as I jump into action, gathering napkins to wipe the mess while I apologise profusely. I don’t even look up at his face as I continue to attempt to clean out the stain. 

“I am so so sorry! Whatever you want is on the house, I’ll cover it all. New shirt and jacket even. It’s all on me. I am so sorry, sir,” I ramble as I continue dabbing at the mess. 

Noticing everyone’s eyes on the two of you and customers starting to get restless, he wraps his hands around my wrists to make me stop and look at him properly. “It’s no problem, really. It’s all good. I wanted a reason to buy a new shirt anyway.”

“Please, at least let me get you a coffee to go then.”

“To go?” He questions.

“Yeah, so you can go change.”

“But you did such a good job cleaning me up.” A blush sneaks onto my cheeks at his words. I hear my coworker calling from behind the counter. “Sounds like you need to get back. Just surprise me with something when you get your break. But make sure you’re the one that makes and delivers it,” he says with a wink as he releases his grip on my wrists. 

I quickly compose myself as I rush over to grab a broom and mop to clean up the mess as my coworker attempts to manage the impatient customers. 

After about half an hour, the morning rush finally starts to die down and the afternoon shift arrives for handover. I finish adding some whipped cream, chocolate powder and marshmallows on top of the white and milk chocolate peppermint mocha lattes and then untie my dirty apron. Thanking my coworkers I take the two festive mugs to the table in the corner where the now dry man is waiting patiently reading a newspaper. I place them down carefully on the table causing him to look up.

“I was starting to think you forgot,” he says.

“You kidding me? I still feel so bad, but it gets so busy here during the holidays.”

He takes a sip of the drink closest to him and then says, “I can see why. I’m used to straight black coffee, but I can get on board with this.”

As I go to take a sip from the other mug, a bright flash from outside the window causes me to spill my drink all over the table and myself. Looking in the direction of the flash, the man jumps into action. He passes me some napkins and stands up.

“That’s my fault. Should’a known word would get out if I stayed here this long. That’s my fault,” he says apologetically.

I dab at my now, evenmore stained shirt and say, “I guess now we’re even.”

He slides a coaster across the table with a few more napkins. “I’m so sorry.”

He shrugs his jacket on and walks away. After a second, I regain my senses and go to call out and stop him but the door’s already closing behind him. I look down at the coaster and see a phone number written in neat handwriting. With a sigh, I slip it into my pocket and smile.

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

Baby It's You (Teen!John Lennon x Teen!Female!Reader)

A/N: Hello! Yes, I'm alive, and yes, I know I haven't posted anything original on this blog in over 3 years, but that's gonna change!

Thank you all for sticking around so long, my life did a 180 about a month or so ago and now I can get back to one of the things I love doing most: giving you all some juicy fanfiction to enjoy!

I've had an influx of enthusiastic followers and readers on my last oneshot ask for more writing, and I will be delivering! I have upcoming Paul and George oneshots underway; but first, I think it's time we show John a little love!

P.S. we'll probably consider this an AU fic since John went to private school, and he is going to school with the reader in this one. Sorry for the lack of authenticity in advance!

Summary: Your friend, John, invites you to the first Fair of the year with the intentions of evolving some spontaneous behaviour within you. You find just the thing there to prove to John just how daring and fun you could be-- and then things go sideways.

WARNINGS: This has been sitting in my notes FOREVER so I wouldn't be surprised if there were typos.

Also, there is a heteronormative behaviour in this fic because of the time it was set in, but I want to disclaim that LOVE IS LOVE and I, in no way, support heteronormative/ anti LGBTQ+ behaviour. Love who you want to love; just be happy doing so<3

Also Also, she is a LONG one like the other oneshot, so I advise you read this when you've got some time on your hands!

Swearing is almost a certainty at this point, but no really mature themes, so a T rating is probably enough for this one.

It was a hot Friday afternoon, at the very end of the school year; and there were hundreds of telltale signs:

The teacher was well over his curriculum and he sat at his desk reading a book in silence, student-made work was no longer strewn about on the walls, the classroom was humid even with everyone fanning themselves and each other; and the students...

You could tell the students were just dying to get home for the summer.

There were five minutes left on the clock, and you sat at your desk packing your things away. You spent the last hour doodling, but you wanted to be ready to take off as soon as the bell sounded.

As you zipped your bag up, you saw a little flash of white in your peripheral, and when you glanced back at the surface of your desk, you noticed a folded piece of paper-- a note!

You looked around briefly, but no one indicated to you where to pass it, so it had to have been for you.

And if the note was for you, then there was only one person it could have been from.

You unraveled the little piece of paper, revealing the question the paper possessed.

"Fair? Tonight? -yours truly"

That evening in particular, the local fair was going to erect itself in the biggest park in town, and everyone at school was going to be there. What better way to blow off steam at the end of a long year of hard work?

You shook your head at his pathetic complimentary close, your eyes rolling to the back of your head so far they almost didn't come back.

The bell rang, and before you could even consider doing anything else with the note, everyone took off out the door, as did you, knowing fully well "yours truly" was going to be waiting for you at your locker.

As you rounded the corner to the hallway your locker was in, you finally caught glimpse of him. He was leaning against it with his arms crossed, one leg over the other as his eyes wandered the other students for your face; and when your eyes locked, his expressionless mouth couldn't help but tighten upwards.

Perhaps his smile was out of kindness, but it was most likely because he was a jokester, and quite frankly couldn't get enough of teasing you.

And now his target was spotted.

He opened his mouth to speak, but you spoke first. "You know how much I hate how you sign these off, right?"

You presented the note in hand adjacent to your head as your face displayed a disapproving cringe, cheeks pink in mild humiliation.

"John, I only ever get notes written from you, so the flowery signoff is unnecessary," you put the note down, pointing at him with a frown.

"That note-passing was so open! You know if the teacher ever caught something like that, he'd make me read it out loud to the class, surely you know I'd die on the spot, and then my ghost will haunt you until you died too!"

His smile only grew wider at your words, almost as if he'd been betting with himself what your response to all of this was going to be.

"Also, you're not even in my last class," you rambled on, "so how you managed to have it smuggled in beats me."

"Oh, come on, y/n, you know you'd love all the attention you'd get out of something like that," he gestured to the paper, and you shook your head before crumpling it into a ball in your hand and tossing it at his head, to which it bounced off, and then was immediately trampled on as other students hurried down the hallway.

The both of you weren't strangers; you frequented playdates with John as children, and then you went to school together, so you basically watched each other grow up. John, for as long as you'd known him, usually displayed confident and sometimes mischievous behaviour towards others that typically you'd find unappealing for a man to display.

"People thinking I'm with you? That is not the kind of attention I'm after."

Not that you ever found John appealing, in any way. He was your buddy; you tolerated his behaviour. That being said, over the years he started lightening up on the harsher jokes with you, opting for more of a platonic flirt more than anything else, finding it was a less harmless way to poke fun at you.

"And the Fair, John? Really?"

The boy shrugged his hands up to defend his suggestion. "What's so bad about the Fair?!"

You rolled your combination into your locker, and he shifted out of the way so you could get into it better once you got it unlocked.

"Nothing's wrong with going to the Fair. Going to the Fair with you on the other hand..." you tisked at him before reaching into your locker to retrieve what binders and books you had left in there. John never used his locker, so he was just waiting on you.

You tossed your bag up over your shoulder once you shoved your books inside, and before John could interject with an if, and, or but, you put your hand up to silence him.

"You left me lost in that fun house--"

"But that was literally ten ago, y/n!"

"Doesn't mean I'm over it!"

You took the lead towards the exit doors, and John followed suit, searching for the right words to convince you to go with him.

"If you go with me tonight, I'll try to win you a stuffed animal,"

"We're doing bribery now, are we?" You smirked, reaching out for the doors and pushing through until both you and John were outside, standing under the sun. It was nice for once for the sun to have been out from behind the clouds.

"Look, you're just always hanging out with your girlies, and I've got my mates, but they're all going to the fair with other people tonight," John started as you both headed to the sidewalk and began to make your way to your place.

"We never really do spontaneous things anymore, just you and I. And, I don't know, growing up a little might have had something to do with it... but it doesn't mean I'm not still your friend, though. I wanna do things with you."

You took John's words into consideration. One thing you really liked about John was that he was passionate, and poetic. You'd seen this reflected in some of his writing before, and he often discussed with you how much he liked music, and how he dreamed that his poems could very well one day soon become songs...

Now, it's not like he spoke the way he wrote, but his thoughts translated to words so quickly and effortlessly, and he, as a speaker, really made you think twice about what he said because he sounded so sure when he spoke.

"... I suppose we have been distant in terms of having fun. I know I won't be able to win an argument with you that studying every other night together is considered 'fun', even though I think otherwise."

You and John both rounded left down the next street, which happened to be where you lived; the benefits of living a block away from school. Your house was coming up, meaning this conversation had to end soon.

"Y/n, of the two of us, it's you who needs to be more spontaneous. Just say yes and come with me tonight."

At this point, you and John had slowed to a stop and were standing at the end of the driveway, facing one another as you pondered whether tonight was going to be spent inside reading and listening to music, or stimulated by exciting noises and lights while you stuffed your face with Carnival delicacies and treats.

"... If I say yes, will I still get my stuffed animal?" You already knew the response as the smile returned to John's face.

You and John made it to the Fair for 6:30, and it was already full of life; children on the rides screaming their heads off, friends competing in mini games like Ring Toss and Balloon Darts, and the smell of popcorn and candy floss swirled through the air.

As you looked around at all of the rides available, you barely noticed John going out of his way to buy tickets for both you and him for the night. When he returned to you, he tried to see if you were looking at a particular ride. "Anything catching your eye?"

"I feel like they have different stuff this year. Like, that one must be new," you pointed to a group a different rides that you'd never seen before. "Let's look around, and if anything looks interesting enough, I say we go for it."

John bought you enough tickets for you both to ride everything anyways, but you two had all night, and nowhere to be the next day, so you agreed to start at one end of the fair, and work your way through it.

The first ride that caught the attention of either one of yous were the Tea Cups.

"Remember the one time I threw up on you on that ride?" You asked John with a little smile, to which he replied without a beat,

"And then I threw up on you and caused a chain reaction with all of the other kids on the ride?"

You both laughed and cringed at the rather unpleasant memory before John kindly took your elbow and pulled you towards the ride gently, knowing full well that your matured stomachs would be able to handle it now, and your moving feet indicated you weren't objecting the idea of getting on.

"We gotta start the fun somewhere, Love. After you," John presented four tickets to the ride operator, and you chose your favourite colour cup to climb into.

"If you just don't spin the cup, we'll make it out of here safe," you warned John with a joking wagging finger, and he saluted to you respectfully as he closed the hatch to the cup and took a seat next to you.

"Don't worry, we won't meet the same fate as last," he grabbed the wheel at the centre of the cup as if to indicate he was going to steady it the whole time, and you were excited to see how well he'd do; and even more excited to make fun of him when he did a bad job.

The ride shot to life, and as the cups began dancing around in different patterns, you watched in amusement as John tried his very hardest to keep the cup from spinning; his attention sometimes turning to you, and he watched as your hair whipped around your smiling face as the ride threw the both of you around.

Your beating heart was building up adrenaline as the ride spun on. You suddenly threw your hands overtop of John's, and his eyes shot up to you, hands going slack on the wheel, and you took that moment to whip the cup around as hard as you could, the world becoming a blur around you, and your energy within escaping in a bound of squeals and giggles.

John couldn't help but join in, your laughter was contagious, and the excitement he felt seeing you having fun made his heart ache a little, but in a good way.

The ride was over much sooner than the either of you would have liked, the both of you combing your fingers through your hair to appear more presentable as your tea cup came to a complete stop. John opened the door for you, and you both continued on on wobbly legs to see what else the Fair had to offer.

After a few carnival games and slow, paced rides, you finally grab John by the wrist after he suggests doing something you'd rather do later so he didn't take off too far.

"I think we should do the Ferris Wheel, John," You dropped his wrist and pointed to the ride in the distance behind him, his eyes following your gaze to it.

"Come along, then," it was now his turn to grab your wrist, and lead you along.

That was one unspoken rule you had with John: he never held your hand. You weren't sure why, and you didn't really care-- you didn't want to hold his hand. You just always settled on the idea John was really committed to the joke about not wanting to get Cooties; and honestly, you respected his devotion to the joke.

Your wait in line to ride the Ferris Wheel was a short one, and your chest filled with excitement yet again as you and John took your seats and the ride operator strapped you in.

As the ride filled with other people, you and John slowly made your way to the very top of the ride, allowing yourselves to take in the view of the Fair that seemed to stretch forever.

"We really should have done this first so we could have seen everything all at once," you said, peering down at some of the unrecognizable stands and rides surrounding you both. One in particular caught your eye, and it was in the shape of a space ship from those cartoons depicting the future.

"We definitely have to check that one out," you pointed to it, and John nodded his head in agreement.

"It seems to be right by the games and food. We'll grab some candy while we're in the area."

"And...?"

"And I'll win you that prize, yeah yeah yeah, I know what I promised."

The Ferris Wheel then took off, and you and John savoured the ride, watching the sun slowly fall towards the horizon, the most beautiful colours painted across the sky.

"I'm glad you convince me to come with you, Johnny. I'm having loads of fun. Thank you," you didn't shout, just loud enough that John could hear, and he smiled at you.

"Like I said, if anyone needs to be more spontaneous, it's you. If I can fix that in any way, I'll take the chance," you smiled back at his words, turning your full attention back to the sky as the ride began to slow, knowing this moment, like everything else, was going to come to an end.

You and John were on a mission to get over to the space ship, passing by a bunch of other rides and games you pointed to and indicated aloud along the way that they were on your To-Do list that evening.

As you approached what you two initially thought was a ride, you discovered that the rocket was actually just a still building. There were two lines entering the ship, and there were a few people in each line.

One of the Fair Staff was walking by, and John stopped him before he went too far. "Hey, what's this one all about?"

"Cosmic Hearts is a matchmaking activity we just added! You're matched with someone of your preference in the other line anonymously, and you both enter the rocket. You spend two minutes in the dark together, and then you leave together when the doors open, revealing who you've matched with. You can also think of it as a two-way Kissing Booth."

The staff member looked at the both of you before adding on slowly, "established couples usually don't use that one..."

"Oh, you must be mistaken, we're not--" John couldn't even correct the guy before he was walking away again. You looked from John, back to the metal space ship. The guys standing in line weren't bad looking at all.

"... I wouldn't mind spending two minutes in the dark with any of them," you thought aloud, noticing that each person in line had at least one unique physical attractive quality.

"Yeah, well I'd be worried they'd be touchy with you. In the dark and all," John huffed, shaking his head at the picture he painted himself, and you bursted out laughing.

"What, so you're my chaperone now? Going in there is knowing full well you're going to have hands all over you. Maybe I want to be squeezed up a little, Johnny, is there any harm in that?"

"I mean," John's face flushed a rosy pink before shutting his eyes and shaking his head again, as if that was going to stop his imagination from doing what an imagination does.

"That's.. not something I want to picture."

"Well look, you don't have to anymore," you took John's arm and pulled him towards one of the game stalls close by. "But you do have to try to win me that stuffed bear. We all know that's what I came for in the first place."

The distraction you set up was a good one. The game you brought John to was pretty much just Balloon Darts but forest- themed. You watched as John tried his very best to aim his darts, but he just couldn't quite seem to make the mark for that bear.

The fifth round came and went, and John was still slapping more tickets down. You knew it didn't help that John was legally blind and flat-out refused to wear his glasses, but you weren't about to start an argument with him over that.

After John used up the rest of his darts from that round, he looked over at you with frustration and he sighed. "Look, I might just need a quick break," John took the tickets from inside his pocket, and placed them in your hand.

"I'm running to the loo, it's just on the other side of the park, just hang out here, play a round... or four... and see if you're a better shot than me,"

"I'm always a better shot than you, Lenny," you called to him as he disappeared in the crowd, waving back to you as if to acknowledge your cocky response.

You went to turn back to the game, but something stopped you. You took a quick glance over your shoulder, and eyed the lineup at the rocket ship. You couldn't believe how good looking the people in the lineup were, you could only imagine what the mystery people in the second line looked like.

And then John's words from earlier became apparent in your head, statement ringing in your ears.

"Y/n, of the two of us, it's you who needs to be more spontaneous."

You furrowed your brow as you thought about this decision you were about to make. The closest lineup to you wasn't long at all, and before you knew it, your feet were pretty much walking themselves up to the line.

There was a girl about your age doing the matching for your line, and she met your gaze after letting the next person in. She grinned, and approached you.

"Hello! Welcome to Cosmic Hearts, do you know how we work?"

"Sort of... I just don't know how the matches are made."

"Oh, it's no worries, we do that all for you! We only really take the girl's request for preference types, and then we match accordingly from the other line. Is there something in particular you want about your match? Looks? Behaviour?"

You raised an interested eyebrow, skeptical about how accurate your preferences would be in terms of the match.

That being said, it was just an elaborate kissing booth, it's not like you were using the stall to find the love of your life-- no, you were looking to prove to John that you could be daring, that you weren't as boring as he maybe thought.

"Look, girl-to-girl here, I trust your judgement in choosing me a good-looking guy..." your voice tapered off for a moment before you added, " I just might want someone who doesn't seem too overconfident."

The Match Girl smiled wide, and gestured toward the door to the spaceship with her hand, pushing it open to let you in. You were the next girl in line, and the boys in the lineup watched as you took a deep breath and moved in.

As you walked toward the threshold of the dark room, Match Girl filled you in on the instructions.

"The other side of the curtain will be your 'contact area', only walk through when you hear the other door close; that'll mean he's inside as well. You'll have two minutes alone together, at which point we will open the central door and let you both out"

Your heart began to quicken. It didn't really occur to you until now that you were about to make out with a complete stranger in the dark, and leave that spaceship hand-in-hand just to prove to John wrong about you lacking in as much fun as he thought.

But this impulsive plan of yours also excited you a lot.

Maybe by the end of the night, you'd be leaving with a boyfriend, and telling John that you told him so.

You took your final step into the rocket, and your heart pounded against your ribcage as it all went dark.

After about thirty seconds of silence, you heard some shuffling from the other side of the curtain, and then a simple, "your two minutes start now," from the staff.

Your heart was beating so loud, you could hear the blood flowing in your ears. Your remaining senses enhanced, provided your lack of vision, and you followed the wall to the right with your hand, past the curtain, and you could feel an immediate change in temperature in the room.

You were much warmer now, hyper-aware of the fact that you were sharing body-heat with whoever the staff matched you with. You had to relay it in your head a few times what this actually meant for you. It meant that the stranger in this room with you was going to get to know you quite intimately in a pretty short amount of time.

This made you think a moment or two about the other party in this situation: The Stranger. What was his story? Was he dared to jump in line by his buddies to get some action? Maybe his story is that he just wanted to have his first kiss to get it just done and over with, or maybe he, like yourself, was just doing it for the Hell of it.

Whatever the reason, you felt you owed it to them to give them a decent snogging.

Your hand continued to drift along the wall before your thumb bumped into another hand. You gasped quietly, knowing you were close to the stranger, just not exactly sure of where abouts until now.

You lifted your hand off the wall at the same time as him, and as to not lose you, he made sure to reach out and take your hand in his gently, seeming more like an offer than a demand, which you took, admittedly rather nervously, especially when his other hand reached out to grab the other hand at your side.

Something was just so thrilling picturing so many renditions of handsome young men in your head, mixing and matching what he looked like based on what you could feel. His hands were larger than yours, and his fingers were calloused.

He played guitar, or bass, or something, and you knew this because John played, and you remember him telling you once that the strings were really hard on the hands, and you could just tell by looking at his hands that he wasn't joking.

You just thought the feeling was such a contrast against your own hands, which were soft and untouched, and you were sure with the way this guy was running his thumbs over your palms, and the pads of your fingers, he was admiring the contrast as well.

You almost wanted to say something to him about it, but he had you stuck in a trance, especially when he let your hands go for a moment to gently feel up your arms for your shoulders. You tried your best not to be too reactive, but you couldn't help the goosebumps trailing after his touch.

His hands moved up, and you felt his fingertips graze the crooks of your neck and then up under your jaw.

Neither of you spoke, this moment too intimate for the silence to break. You and he breathed so shallow, it was hard to even believe there was someone in the room with you.

But there was, and his fingers traced your jawline slowly, one hand deviating up to cradle the back of your head while the other gently traced around your chin.

Your lips parted, your own hands reaching out for his waist so you had some idea of where he was in front of you. Your fingers found his jacket, and as you tightened your hands around the leather, you felt him move a little closer as his thumb finally found its way to your bottom lip.

You felt his breath on your face, and you held your own, squeezing your eyes shut when you realized they had been wide open the whole time.

And finally, after what seemed like too long, his thumb disappeared and he replaced it with his own lips.

The kiss was soft, and not pushy at all, but you were tense like a rock under his touch from how nervous you actually were, and you just kept still.

He pulled away for a moment, and you could feel your face burning. That was not the kind of note you were going to leave on. Whoever this was, he had clearly gotten your attention, and you needed to return the favour.

Your one hand moved up his chest, over his collarbone and around his neck to pull him back down towards you. Your lips came together again, and you felt him melt into your embrace after an unsure second, hands dropping down to snake around your waist and pull you flush against him.

You sighed against his mouth, and he pushed his tongue past your lips, all of your past worries melting away. You were in heaven, so drunk on intimacy that you forgot what you were even doing in there in the first place. You tried pulling him even closer by the jacket, to which he responded by slowly backing you against the wall, one of his hands dropping to your hip, and the other returning to the back of your head like before.

Your hand behind his neck slipped up into his hair, and he moaned gently when you tightened your fingers up in the strands and pulled a little.

"Yes, Baby..." the words tumbled from his mouth lowly, and you felt a chill shoot right up your spine; you immediately froze up, lips separating as the realization hit you. You felt like you were going to faint.

"John?!" Your question was short, but clear, and you felt your suspicions were all too correct when you felt all of his muscles tense up as well at the sound of your voice.

"...Y/n?!" His voice cracked, body frozen in place like a statue. As were you, grip still tight in his hair and on his jacket.

You were speechless-- you couldn't believe the one you just spent the last minute and a half or so with-- the one with whom you spent the most intimate experience in your entire life-- was John.

The gentle touching, the embracing of the heavy silence, the patient behaviour, the soft kissing, the respect of your boundaries, and the feeling of wanting more-- it was all John.

This was the first time in your life you had ever experienced John in a situation where he didn't have the words he needed to speak at his disposal.

But to be fair, neither did you. What would anyone do in a situation like this?

It became all the more real for the both of you a moment later when the doors opened up, the lights around the rocket ship lighting John's face for you to see, and your face for him. You both sported embarrassing shades of red on your cheeks, and John's mouth just hung open in perpetual shock as he took in the fact that it was you.

After a second, you both came back down to earth, and your hands came zipping off each other so fast, John scratching his head nervously and giving you space from the wall, and you folding your arms over your chest and gripping your biceps tightly with your fingers.

You couldn't even look John in the eye, nor could he with you, let alone speak. You walked out the door, John at your side. The Match Girl waited by the bottom of the ramp, grinning ear-to-ear. If only she'd known.

"Pretty good-looking, huh?" She nudged to you with a wink, and you could feel your face grow hotter as you glanced over to John. You made brief eye-contact, and you cast your eyes straight to the ground when it happened.

You were thinking things about John you never would have before had it not been for that stupid snog box.

"Yes," was all you could say, nodding for the most part and squeaking out a soft thank you to her before you turned on your heel, and beelined straight for the women's room, rushing out to John that you were running to the loo without looking back at him.

You were too focused on finding some cold water to splash in your face, and a quiet space to figure out what to do in this situation; the lights and sounds had your head just spinning, and it was too difficult to concentrate.

The women's room was quiet enough, and when you felt you'd splashed enough water in your face, you went and sat in one of the stalls for a while to break down the situation that just happened, and what you were going to do to fix it.

John was your friend. There was no way you were going to let something like this drive a wedge between you, especially if you just had to explain yourselves. You had your reasons going in there, as did he.

You were just hoping this could be something you could both look back on in the future and laugh.

You took a few sobering deep breaths before leaving the women's room. You rounded the corner, not quite sure where to begin looking for John, but you found you didn't have to go far when a rather familiar set of fingers took hold of your own as soon as you stopped.

You glanced over your shoulder and there he was. He'd been waiting for you the whole time.

And now he was holding your hand.

That's new.

"... Can we talk?" you spoke simultaneously, and you both smiled a little. John still couldn't seem to hold your gaze for too long without needing to tear his eyes away and resort to looking at his shoes, yet he still held a firm grip on your hand.

You'd never seen him like this before. It was sobering to see him without so much confidence.

"Where did you wanna talk? Nowhere's really private here."

"... Did you just wanna get outta here?" As soon as the words left his mouth, your shoulders lowered in relief. You both definitely had enough excitement for the night, and when you nodded your head sheepishly, John gave your hand a little squeeze, gestured you to come with him with his head, and you both headed for the Fair exit.

Your stroll down the town streets were quiet. Nothing was said between you two for the first little while, your strides were slow, your destination was unknown, and your hands were still clasped together. You took in the night air, for the sun had dropped below the horizon while you were in the spaceship, and the temperatures were lower.

You weren't too sure yet how John felt about all of that night's events so far, and what he thought of you. Clearly, based on the fact that his hand was still in yours, some opinion of his had changed.

Was he comfortable holding your hand now knowing it was you who shared such an intimate moment with him? Or was he maybe wanting to break off this friendship with you all because of tonight, and hand-holding was the only way he could think to comfort you?

At one point, John's fingers unraveled from yours, and you both slowed to a stop. He shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders before you pushed your arms up into the sleeves. John tried looking you in the eye again, and he swallowed nervously, face going red yet again.

"John, we need to talk about what happened."

"I know."

You took his hand this time, and guided him to the curb, sitting down together. Your fingers left his, and you both planted your hands at the curb at your sides.

There was silence for a moment as the memories of what happened back at the Fair resurfaced in your minds, what you were both feeling for each other, physically and emotionally, in your literal moments of blissful ignorance...

"Okay. I'm just going to put this out there right now. John, I had absolutely no idea that they matched me with you, or that you were even in line, for that matter." You sighed before continuing on, feeling the creep of warmth washing over your face yet again.

"I jumped in line impulsively when you left because I figured if you came back and you saw me leaving the rocket with a guy, I could prove to you tonight that I can be just as spontaneous and daring and fun as you."

You could see the gears turning in John's head when you finished saying your part, and after a second of putting the pieces together, his eyes widened, and then this wide smile spread right across his face, and, to your utter relief, he started laughing.

And it sounded so different compared to all of the other times he laughed around you. You couldn't quite place exactly what was different this time, but you found it to be more melodic than usual; more genuine. It was like music to your ears.

"I uh, I jumped in line for kind of the same reason." You raised a confused eyebrow, so John elaborated a little more, smile faltering a little as he cleared things up.

"Let me explain; If you saw me leaving the rocket with a girl, I was hoping I could convince you to do something tonight a little out of your comfort zone, like I did with that."

There was your Pièce De Résistance: John's reason for being in there all along was to teach you to live a little. And you were simply in there to live.

"Not that I wanted to see you specifically go through with the spaceship and getting felt up the wrong way, per se, but I just..."

John's words trailed off, and you could tell he was struggling to find words again. So, he decided to take this conversation in another direction.

"Okay, look, y/n, I don't want you to be under the impression that I think you're no fun. It's just not true. I adore you. There's just something about seeing you at the peak of excitement that makes me feel warm inside, like a child. I see this in moments you doubt yourself, but you still take that chance and you come out successful in the end, shining with confidence. I wanted to see you tonight with that same glow. And I would have if I hadn't have made fun in the first place that you were such a bore, so I'm sorry."

John dropped his head down after he finished speaking, and you looked at him for a moment, blinking once before reaching out to rub his back.

"Johnny, there is nothing to be sorry about." He turned his gaze to look at you, and you took some long pauses between your sentences. John was patient, eyes watching your face, and hanging onto every word you said.

"Of all the people I could have ended up with in that rocket tonight, I don't think you have any idea just how grateful I am that it was you in there with me, and not some stranger."

You didn't think you could keep it inside forever just what you thought about John's kissing, but you didn't think you'd give up fifteen minutes after the situation, either.

"John, I've kissed boys before, that's no secret between us; but what is is that I've never kissed a boy the way I kissed you tonight, and the attention you were giving back to me, I thought I nearly fell for you in there, and I had no clue it was even you," you laughed a little, the words feeling funny in your mouth, especially when they were for John's ears, only. Those words elicited red faces from the both of you.

"... I never thought I'd ever be nervous looking you in the eye, but to be quite honest, all that comes to mind when I see your face right now is the bubbling of excitement in my chest, and the feel of my legs going wobbly. God, John, would I be crazy to say I want you to kiss me like that all over again?"

You figured if you didn't throw the opportunity out there, you just might lose the chance to experience what you felt again, even if it meant just one last time in your life. But when John remained silent for longer than you hoped, your confidence began to falter. Perhaps John wasn't so comfortable with you anymore.

"... Would I be crazy?" You asked again, this time just above a whisper. John was the kind of person you expected to laugh something like this off. Perhaps he'd tease you for a moment, but ultimately tell you it was no big deal before gently rejecting you.

Instead, his silence indicated something much different. His eyes darted to your lips for a moment, a hand reaching up to hold the back of your head gently as he glanced up into your eyes.

"Love, if you think you're crazy for thinking that, then what I'm thinking must make me completely mad."

Your heart pounded against your ribcage, and John decided not to waste any more time in reconnecting your lips.

At first it was a little strange, his mouth on yours, but it wasn't in any way unpleasant. You found yourself, before long, snaking your arms around John's shoulders as you pulled him ever closer, your chests now flush as he tilted his head to the side to deepen the kiss. You hummed at the contact, but John had to pull away soon after to catch a breath, but he kept your chests flush so he could feel your heartbeat.

The contrast of kissing him knowing full well who he was still didn't change the respect in his movements, and the gentleness of his kisses.

When your eyes met again, you couldn't help but smile nervously at him, biting down on your lip as you noticed his cheeks glowed pink.

"Wow," you sighed.

"I'll say," he responded, one corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk as the pad of his thumb drew invisible patterns from your cheekbone down your jaw.

That's when your smile began to fall slowly, and John noticed this as he was going to dive in for another kiss.

"What's the matter, Love?"

"... I think I like this too much. I think I like you too much," you said bluntly. The more you and John indulged in what you both physically wanted, the more you realized what you were putting on the line.

"... And is that a problem?" John asked you gently, and you raised your eyebrow, pulling away a little more from the embrace.

"It's a problem because this puts our friendship at risk, John. Every time our lips touch, the harder it is to look at you platonically."

"Then don't look at me platonically anymore," His suggestion was so effortless as you felt his other hand reach up to play with your hair.

"... I never expected tonight to go the way it did. But y/n, the more I think about a situation where it was anyone but me in that rocket with you, the more jealous I'm becoming... The more grateful I am that it was me, too."

John took another moment to bask in the silence before clearing his throat, and looking you right in the eyes.

"My eyes are wider than they've ever been before, and my mind is so clear. Why don't we try dating?" He suggested after a moment of deciding whether to ask in the first place.

"Dating?!" You paused. "John, if anything were to happen to what we have..."

"I know you're scared, y/n. So am I. But... I also believe this can be the beginning of something really great."

John let the hand in your hair drop to his shoulder where one of your hands rested. He gave your fingers a squeeze before he raised your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

"We already kind of go on dates, and now that kissing and hand holding is on the list of things we're comfortable with, we might as well just put a label on it."

John paused for a moment. "It's not like we have to scream it from the rooftops unless you wanted to. But... after tonight, it would be a treat to be able to walk around with my arm 'round your waist and proudly announce to the world that you're mine."

That comment of his made you bite back a toothy grin, but your red face really emphasized how his words made you feel. You were expecting a teasing jab from John, but, surprisingly, nothing came. Just hopeful eyes awaiting your response.

"If you're so confident we'll flourish romantically... then I'm with you, Johnny. We'll give it a go. But under one condition!"

John looked at you expectantly.

"You win me that damned stuffed animal tomorrow night, Lenny."

Now it was John's turn to grin, his arms curling around your body and pulling you into a warm embrace as he mumbled "deal" into your ear.

You were once again surrounded by leather, the crisp night air, the single dim beam of light from the streetlamp, and the faintest scent of whatever John's body wash was.

But most of all, you we're surrounded by young love.

You finally supposed that by the end of the night, you did end up leaving with a boyfriend, and telling John that you told him so.

You just had no clue you could kill two birds with one stone the way you had.

---------------------------------------

A/A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed this! I've had it in the works for LITERALLY four years now, and I am just SO glad it can be out in the world now.

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give me love | zhang hao

⇢ pairing: zhang hao x reader

⇢ warnings: friends to lovers, college au, slight angst, fluff, explicit language, mentions of alcohol

⇢ word count: 9.06k

⇢ synopsis: you unexpectedly meet someone at a party who was also on sober friend duty, and soon you were desperate for him to give you the same love you felt for him.

⇢ notes: this is one of my most beloved works and i thought it would be really fitting to hao! i know i said in my initial post that i wouldn't typically post lengthy fics, but this one is definitely one of my few exceptions. i hope you enjoy!

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i.

you certainly did not think you would be starting your sophomore year of college at a party your best friend, gyuvin, was throwing in his apartment to “start off the year right.”

yet, here you were.

you’d been long forgotten about the moment a massive influx of people showed up to gyuvin’s front door. it’s not like you really cared, though, because he was definitely the social butterfly of the two of you and you were more than fine being crammed on one of the bean bag chairs in the corner of his living room. it’s not like you didn’t want to watch people drunkenly make out on the couch in front of you, anyway. definitely not. 

you’d been nursing the same drink gyuvin handed you five minutes before people began to arrive for the past hour, hoping to god you could find something interesting to look at in the liquid to keep yourself occupied, considering you had been ransacked by boredom the entire time the party had been going on. 

truthfully, you wanted to either bash your head into the wall or you wanted to go back to your own apartment and crawl into your bed with your laptop and a show on the television. you would never admit that to gyuvin though, because you knew that he was happy to have you at every party he threw whether he actually spent time with you or not. you didn’t have the heart to leave until you were able to make sure he was in bed and his apartment was semi-picked up after everyone bid their - always slurred, by the way - farewells.

you could have sworn even thinking gyuvin’s name seemed to lure him to you sometimes, because the brunette was calling out your name over the music, a goofy smile on his lips and his arm slung around a boy that you’d never met before. said boy looked extremely uncomfortable as well, and you felt painfully sorry for him as the pair approached you.

“y/n!” gyuvin exclaimed, a small giggle emitting from him. you rose to your feet and practically pried your very wasted best friend off of the poor boy he was clinging onto with an apologetic smile.

“i love you!” 

gyuvin crushed you in a hug that made it impossibly hard for you to breathe. you grunted in surprise, patting him on the back, “i love you too, gyu.”

he turned to face the other boy, his smile never leaving his face as he stuck his hand out and said, “this is zhang hao, he’s hanbin’s sober friend, just like you’re mine! i figured you two could sit and talk or something. you always look like you want to die whenever you’re at one of my-” he cut himself off mid-sentence, “oh! hao, this is my best friend, y/n!”

each and every syllable that left gyuvin’s mouth was almost impossible for anyone to make out, but you’d grown so accustomed to how he spoke when he was drunk that you could understand everything he was trying to say. you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at him, slipping out of his arms enough to reach down to your drink that was shoved beside your bean bag chair. you held out the cup to gyuvin and patted him on the shoulder, telling him to search for hanbin and that you would be in the same exact spot if he needed you for anything else. 

“i take it you deal with him like this a lot?” the boy finally asked, though you jumped at his words because you had pretty much forgotten he was watching that entire scene unfold in front of him.

you turned to face him, your gaze finally meeting his without a drunk gyuvin between the two of you. you only smiled, “yeah, gotta make sure he doesn’t manage to get himself arrested. or hurt. it really just depends on the night.”

“i feel that one,” he laughed, “hanbin is almost always the exact same way.”

by now you had taken your spot back on the bean bag chair, motioning for zhang hao to inhabit the open one next to it if he wanted to. he sat down next to you, both of you angled in such a way you were able to talk face to face, “i’m surprised we haven’t met yet, to be completely honest. i see hanbin at these parties every time gyuvin hosts one.”

zhang hao nodded, “me too. he drags me to every single one even if i practically beg him not to. he’s a menace.”

you laughed at his choice of words for his friend, “same, but i’m pretty much legally obligated to attend them all otherwise i’ll get my head ripped off. i get ignored the entire time anyway so i’m always stuck here hoping my phone won’t die.”

the awkward beginning of your conversation quickly faded away as you got more comfortable with each other. you learned that zhang hao was majoring in music education with the hopes of being able to work with children across korea and hopefully internationally someday. you’d informed him that you were majoring in film production and hoped to someday take part in filming and editing music videos for groups across the country.

everything flowed so easily between the two of you, from what you hoped to get out of your future careers to what you each thought was arguably the best ben & jerry’s ice cream flavor to whether or not you thought water was wet. your night was pleasantly filled with giggles and newly formed jokes, much different from your typical experience at one of gyuvin’s infamous parties. 

you had been talking for so long that you almost didn’t realize how quickly the time was ticking by until the amount of people in the apartment started to lessen and before you knew it, the only people who were left were you, gyuvin, zhang hao, and hanbin. you rose from your seat, grateful to finally be able to stretch your limbs without the fear of tripping someone and getting alcohol spilled all over you. you and the brown haired boy next to you made your way over to your friends who were clinging onto each other for dear life and giggling like no tomorrow. you cleared your throat, “i think it’s time to get you to bed, gyu.”

“but i’m not tired yet,” he pouted, his brows furrowed in annoyance at your sudden demand for him to leave the embrace he was currently engulfed in. you sighed, “come on, dude, it’s three in the morning and i’m tired.”

gyuvin reluctantly detangled himself from hanbin and wrapped his arms around you instead, though this time you accepted him with open arms in hopes of making your time easier. you glanced over at zhang hao, who was struggling just as much as you to even get hanbin out of the house. you couldn’t help the lighthearted laugh, “you guys can stay here tonight if you want.”

visible relief washed over zhang hao, “really?” 

“yeah, i think both of them are too out of it to really notice anyway.”

you tilted your head to the side, indicating that gyuvin’s room was just down the hallway. zhang followed in behind you as you pushed the door open, revealing gyuvin’s spotless living space - which was starkly different to the rest of his house - and the plush bed that was shoved up against the wall farthest from you. gyuvin gleefully laughed, bounding toward the mattress with a wide grin as he flopped down onto the comforter and pillows.

you closed your eyes, trying like hell to grip onto the little bit of sanity you had left, and took a deep breath through your nose. gyuvin looked up from his spot on the bed, his bottom lip now jutted out and his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. 

“fuck,” you muttered under breath, gaining the attention of zhang hao, who was trying to suppress the grin tugging at his lips and who was having it a lot easier than you were right now. hanbin was practically already asleep while he was standing up.

the universe was almost always kind to you when it came to gyuvin being trashed. he almost always cooperated with you when you tried to get him in bed, albeit he was clingy beyond belief, and he never, ever pitched a fight with you. being eternally grateful for that was something you hoped carried through the wind because if the world hadn’t been so kind, you would be put through hell more often than you would like to be. sometimes your gratitude wasn’t enough.

your biggest pet peeve was when gyuvin cried while he was drunk. it was almost impossible to get him to calm down and he usually wailed at the top of his lungs like a child would after falling off their bike. the look he was giving you now told you everything you needed to know about how the next twenty minutes of your time was going to play out.

you scrambled over to the boy, cupping either side of his cheeks. you were going to try your best to prevent this from happening, “what’s wrong?”

“why don’t you ever have fun at my parties?” his voice quivered. 

no, you thought to yourself, please, for the love of all things good, don’t do this to me right now.

“gyu,” you started, “i do have fun at your parties. you’re just never around me enough to see me having fun because you’re with your other friends.”

his lip quivered slightly, and as he blinked, the first tears of the night began rolling down his cheeks, “then how come you always hide in a corner and sulk?”

“because i never had any friends at these parties other than you and hanbin, so i had nobody to talk to,” you see more tears stream down his cheeks. you quickly spat out, “but look! i have a friend now and he’ll be able to keep me company whenever you can’t!”

you threw your arm out toward zhang hao, who gave gyuvin a small wave and a reassuring smile, “i’ll make sure they don’t sulk anymore!”

gyuvin sniffled and wiped at his tears with the sleeve of his sweater, nodding at your words. you pushed some of his hair out of his face and wiped his tears, “are you ready to sleep now?”

“yeah,” he grumbled, pulling the covers back and crawling underneath them, his frown slowly turning into a smile, “i love you, y/n.”

“i love you too. now get some rest, okay?” you waved zhang hao over, who practically drug hanbin to the bed and tucked him in beside gyuvin. the two were asleep the moment their heads hit the pillows. 

you breathed a sigh of relief and followed zhang hao back to the main part of the house, making sure to close the door quietly behind you. you could barely hear the chuckle he gave you, “that was a close one, huh?”

you began picking up some of the litter around the couch, “close is an understatement. when he cries it’s the worst.” you shoved the rest of the forgotten cups and various other garbage off to the side with your foot and pulled the couch out, revealing a thin mattress and creaky frame that you had grown accustomed to seeing as gyuvin refused to get a new one. he was attached to it, he would always say, he couldn’t bear the thought of parting with it. you gave zhang hao a look, “this is all we have for sleeping options, sadly.”

“that’s okay,” he reassured you, “it’s better than the floor at least.”

you went to the storage closet by the front door of the apartment and pulled out a pillow and a blanket for each of you, tossing zhang hao his share and making your way over to the bed. exhaustion was starting to catch up to you the more the night drug on, the heaviness you felt in all of your limbs was a telltale sign of that. you made sure to turn off the lamp in the living room before you crawled into the bed next to zhang hao, a blush creeping onto your cheeks out of embarrassment. you had never felt more grateful for the darkness that blanketed gyuvin’s apartment.

as if on cue, zhang hao remarked, “i definitely didn’t think i would be sharing a bed with someone i just met when i agreed to come to this party.” 

“i was just about to say the same thing,” you said, “leave it to gyuvin to cause the weirdest things to happen.”

the two of you stayed up for a while longer, talking about anything and everything. you told stories from your high school days and freshman year of college, laughing at each other’s misfortunes and bonding over some of the weirdest experiences you’d had. talking to zhang hao came so naturally to you, it almost felt as if you couldn’t stop. soon, however, sleep was starting to overcome your body.

the last thing you remember was feeling content in the warmth that radiated off the boy next to you.

ii.

“kim gyuvin, i swear to fucking god i’m gonna kill you!” you screeched, scrambling to grab your things off of the table in front of you before anything was soaked in the hot coffee he spilled. 

this is most definitely not what you signed up for when you decided to drop by the library to do homework and visit gyuvin on his break at work. there was a coffee shop tucked into the corner of the library, which was where he worked, and he stopped by to bring you a dose of caffeine to help you fly through the many assignments that had bombarded you. he had lost his grip on the coffee cup and somehow managed to practically throw it at you, resulting in your most recent panic and the burning hot liquid to be seeping through the front of your t-shirt. 

“y/n, will you calm down?” the boy hissed, “you’re causing people to stare. besides, it’s not even that bad.”

you scowled at him, shaking all of your loose notes in front of his face, “says the one who’s graphic design notes aren’t in jeopardy and the one who didn’t get a single drop of it on him.”

one of the librarians was kind enough to bring you some of the cleaning supplies they had stored in a closet behind the desk. you smiled at her, muttering a quick apology before you attempted to soak up as much of the coffee as you could. gyuvin couldn’t suppress the smile he was adorning and he made sure to take all of your things from the table so they didn’t get harmed by his mess either.

“i don’t think it’s very funny.”

“you’re right, my dear best friend,” gyuvin retorted, “it’s hilarious.”

by now you had finished cleaning up the table, a mound of dripping paper towels now inhabiting your hands. you hurried over to the nearest trash can and let them fall inside of it with a plop, opting to just wipe your hands on your shirt since it was already stained. there wasn’t much more damage that could be done to it anyway.

as you neared your table once more, gyuvin was beginning to walk away from it. he gave a quick hug, “i have to go, my break is over and my boss is going to kill me if i’m late clocking back in again.”

“you owe me a new coffee and a new shirt, asshole.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. i’ll see you later, okay?” with that, gyuvin was practically sprinting back to the cafe. you couldn’t help but laugh at him; he deserved to get chewed out. he ruined a perfectly good shirt.

you sat back down in your chair, pulling your notes out once more in an attempt to get this stupid project taken care of. it had really dampened your mood when the professor announced you had to make a detailed infographic over a topic that he assigned to you, which made it that much harder because you were given one that you could care less about. to top it all off, you now had no coffee and a damp shirt. 

you heaved a frustrated sigh. you could only hope that this project would go well and your day would get better than it was going, because you'd had enough embarrassment in the past ten minutes to last yourself a lifetime. 

“rough day?” you could hear a person’s voice to the right side of you, which caused you to visibly jump in surprise. you turned to face the owner, only to be greeted with the beaming smile of zhang hao. you hadn’t seen him since the party a few days ago, but the two of you had texted nonstop almost every single day since he left gyuvin’s apartment with a very hungover hanbin. you returned his grin, “you don’t even know the half of it. i take it you saw all of that?”

“it was kind of hard not to. it’s not everyday someone’s yelling profanities in the middle of the library,” he admitted with a chuckle. 

you turned red at his remark. if you didn’t feel an ungodly amount of embarrassment before, you sure did now, especially knowing this all unraveled right in front of your new friend. you buried your face in your hands, “i’m gonna stab gyuvin someday. mark my words.”

zhang hao’s eyes flitted to your shirt, a look of sympathy flashing across his gaze while he sat down in the chair across from you. he quickly took his hoodie off of his body, holding it out to you, “here, go change into this.”

“are you sure?” you asked, your eyes wide at his offer. he only smiled, pushing it further into your direction until you finally took it from his grasp. you thanked him before making your way to the bathroom.

you weren’t sure if it was the way he seemed to go pink when he was handing you his hoodie or if it was the fact that you had it in the first place that made your heart flutter in your chest, but irregardless, it was still happening and you weren’t sure what to make of it. sure, you’d definitely grown fond of the boy in the short few days you’d been talking to him, but you didn’t think it was enough to cause you to feel the way you did right now.

you pushed into the empty bathroom and entered the stall furthest from the door, not wanting to risk the chance of someone trying to barge in while you had your shirt off. the walls were covered in countless messages written by people over the course of the years; obscenities, phone numbers, and _+_ written in the middle of poorly drawn hearts. your university clearly didn’t check the bathrooms regularly enough, or they simply did not care about what was written on them. you wouldn’t be shocked either, if you were completely honest. it was rare enough that the university apartments even had decent heat in the winter, god forbid they’re asked to keep their bathrooms looking nice.

you peeled your shirt off, grimacing at how gross it truly felt clinging to your skin until it was completely off your body. gyuvin definitely owed you a new shirt - though you were positive he owed you a lot more than just that; your dignity, perhaps? you made the attempt to fold it as neatly as you could, but there was only so much you could do when it was in the condition it was. 

you now grabbed the soft cotton sweatshirt from the hook on the door, smiling fondly before you slipped it over your head. it still had every last bit of zhang hao’s warmth inside of it, which was a nice change from the cold air hitting your wet skin. it smelled faintly of vanilla and laundry soap, just what you would have expected from zhang hao. simple scents for someone who seemed like a simple guy. 

feeling much better than you did just moments prior, you smiled to yourself and left the stall. you caught a glimpse in the mirror of how the hoodie seemed to fit you nicely you before you left the bathroom and cursed yourself for blushing so easily. it’s just because i’m embarrassed, you thought. 

by the time you got back to your spot, zhang hao was already hunched over a textbook, his hand scribbling notes down on the paper beside him. he only looked up when you pushed your chair back and plopped down, shoving your shirt into one of the empty pockets in your backpack, “thank you for letting me borrow this, i feel a lot better.”

zhang hao was thankful that you didn’t see him nervously swallow, “it’s no problem, anything for a friend.”

a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as you both delved back into your work. you kept finding yourself getting distracted by every little thing, whether it be someone coughing or your interest in anything but the task in front of you. soon your mind was wandering further than you hoped for it to, your project shoved to the side and your eyes trained on the same part of your laptop screen. you mentally cursed yourself out for daydreaming so much; you never meant to, it just happened. more often than you’d like to admit, but still.

little did you know, it caught the interest of zhang hao and made him smile to himself as he continued reading the words printed on the glossy pages in front of him. 

a couple hours later, you found yourself in one of the dining facilities with zhang hao, the both of you scarfing down your food like it was the last meal you would ever be able to eat. studying made you guys hungry, you told yourselves, you deserved it. zhang hao was the one who suggested you grab a bite to eat after all the hard work that you guys - mostly him, that is - did within the time at the library.

“i usually have time to actually eat lunch only on mondays and wednesdays. any other time, i have to get something from the grab and go portion of the dining facilities,” the brown haired boy informed you, his cheeks puffed out from the chicken he was currently working on chewing, “so i’m glad you got coffee spilled on you today. i have a buddy to eat with.”

“that’s usually when i’m free too!” you exclaimed, a grin lighting up your face, “maybe we can make it a part of our routine to eat together?”

“yeah, i’d love that!”

iii.

you kept up with your plans that you made with your friend for the past month now. every monday and wednesday out of the week you ventured to different dining facilities scattered across campus. each time you were filled with delicious food and pleasant conversation, but you couldn’t help but feel yourself start to get anxious. 

you were developing feelings for zhang hao.

they had hit you like a truck, completely uninvited, though you had been suppressing them for longer than you would ever admit to yourself. it had been at one of gyuvin’s parties when zhang hao helped you with cleaning up the mess around the house for the nth time since the semester started. 

“we always find ourselves in this situation, huh?” he’d remarked, “i wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, though.”

you had to stop yourself from dropping a solo cup full of beer all over the floor in gyuvin’s kitchen. you instantly felt your cheeks heat up, turning away from him so he couldn’t see you; there was no reason for you to look like a tomato in his presence. 

you mentally screamed at yourself. it was the simplest of statements, but nonetheless it ignited a whirlwind of feeling inside of you that you hadn’t been able to figure out. you wanted to slap yourself to get it out of your head that you were just friends. nothing more, nothing less. friends.

“i wouldn’t want it to be, either.”

the moment you brought it up to gyuvin, he wouldn’t let you live it down. his best friend had a crush, whether you wanted to admit it or not, and he was determined to play matchmaker. many hits to his arm and a few choice words later, the brunette was swearing he would keep his nose out of it. besides, you knew that zhang hao meant it in the most friendly way possible. there was absolutely no way that he felt the same way as you, so there was really no need to dwell on it. surely you would get over it. right?

wrong.

you were now sprawled out on the couch with your head in gyuvin’s lap, your eyes closed, as he threaded his fingers through your hair. you’d finally broke down and admitted you had a crush, but you were almost positive it would go nowhere. sighing, you said, “i don’t know what to do, gyu. i know he doesn’t feel the same, so telling him will only ruin our friendship, and i like having him in my life.”

“you don’t know what his thought process is, dummy,” gyuvin snorted, “for all you know, he could be madly in love with you.”

“i highly doubt that,” your eyes were now open and were looking up at your best friend, who seemed to be deep in thought. he was silent for a while. too silent, might you add, because the boy hardly ever knew when to shut up. sometimes it was both a blessing and curse.

finally, he said, “maybe you should suggest playing truth or dare at the party this saturday. maybe i can even force you two to join if you’re too scared.”

now it was your turn to be deep in thought. you had been venturing out a little more at gyuvin’s parties lately, though zhang hao was always by your side. it wouldn’t hurt to at least see if he wanted to play, though you knew you would be too scared to even think about asking him. you sighed in defeat, “i don’t know… it seems like a good idea, but what would we even be asked to do if we picked dare?”

“you’re overthinking this,” gyuvin stated, giving your forehead a harsh flick.

“okay, mr. i can never make up my fucking mind about anything,” you countered, though you knew he was right, “can i trust you with this?”

gyuvin held his hand over his heart, mock offense clear due to his wide eyes and parted lips, “how dare you think i would do something irrational. shame on you.”

“i’m serious, gyu.”

his joking demeanor soon abided and now his face held a serious, more concerned look, “of course you can trust me. i’m not going to make you guys do anything like seven minutes in heaven or something stupid.”

you hoped you were making the right decision.

iv.

to say you felt like you were going to throw up was an understatement. saturday had rolled around far too quickly for your liking and you desperately wanted to go back to the beginning of the week. maybe you were making the wrong decision. maybe playing truth or dare was the worst idea you could ever make. 

“hello? earth to y/n?” coming to your senses, you’d realized that people had begun to show up little by little, hanbin and zhang hao being some of the first to arrive. you felt your heart flip in your chest the moment you made eye contact with him, but managed to keep yourself composed. 

you offered a small laugh, “sorry, i must have been daydreaming again.”

the group surrounding you chimed in with their own laughs, but you felt even more scared now that zhang hao was standing right in front of you. there was no turning back now, you supposed. 

gyuvin was able to read you like a book, because the next thing you knew, he was shoving a red solo cup into your hand as well as zhang hao’s and sending you away without much thought. you took your spots on your usual bean bag chairs in the corner, looking over to see gyuvin letting even more people into his house upon hearing their knocks. 

“you think he’s ever going to stop throwing these parties someday?” zhang hao inquired, snagging your attention from the door that was far too interesting to you. 

you chuckled, “doubt it. he lives and breathes for these parties. it’s a way for him to de-stress.”

before you knew it, you were falling into your normal conversation with him once more. the reason you were so anxious faded into the back of your mind the moment zhang hao started showing you pictures and videos of his dog. things were always so comfortable with him. you cursed him for causing you to feel as if nothing else really mattered whenever you were around him. 

the music thumping almost completely drowned out the rest of the chaos going on in other various parts of the house. you’d finished your drink for once - though you blamed that solely on the fact that he smiled at you and you forgot how to function - and you were feeling relatively good about the night. 

gyuvin finally bounded over to you, and much to your surprise, he wasn’t totally trashed, “guys, come on, we’re playing truth or dare! it’s about time you actually play a game, yeah?”

you swallowed harshly, turning to gauge zhang hao’s reaction. he merely shrugged, rising from his spot and offering you his hand. you took it, hope to god that he wasn’t able to feel the insane amount of sweat you had accumulated within the few short moments of all of this. gyuvin was surprised to see zhang hao give in so easily, as were you.

you followed gyuvin into his spare room, which he used for an office, and sat down in the few open spots left in the circle. you were able to recognize a few people you went shared classes with, like seok matthew and park gunwook, as well as a few other unfamiliar faces. you felt relief to feel gyuvin sit down next to you and see hanbin make his way into the room as well.

the circle was rather large and you hoped you wouldn’t manage to embarrass yourself in front of everyone. gyuvin was quick to get the game started, asking you a harmless truth question to start out with. the game continued on, not getting too interesting within the first few rounds. the most anyone had to do was take their shirt off, which you honestly expected considering you were at a party and people had alcohol coursing through their veins. 

“truth or dare, hao?” gunwook asked, now beginning what felt like the millionth round of the game. hao sat there for a moment, contemplating his options before finally stating, “dare.”

gunwook looked over at you and smirked. mischief lurked behind his dark eyes, his plump lips parting to say, “i dare you to kiss y/n.”

the lump residing in your throat made itself known within mere seconds of the words being spoken. gyuvin tensed up next to you, indicating that this is definitely not how he expected the game to go. you were frozen, at a standstill, really. zhang hao’s eyes met with your own and you could tell he was having an inner debate.

“i mean, we’re just friends, right? no harm, no foul?” 

you could feel your heart sink in your chest. just friends. nothing more, nothing less. it wasn’t like you expected anything less from the universe, so you just decided to give in. you nodded, “right.”

you knew gyuvin was going to chew you out for this. you knew that you were going to beat yourself up every single day for it. but did that stop you from letting him come over to your side of the circle, squatting in front of you, and pressing his lips against yours? absolutely not.

kissing him was almost indescribable. it was the first time you had kissed someone and actually felt something. you leaned lightly into him, having to suppress a sad whine when he pulled away just as quickly as he kissed you. he gave you a small, close-lipped smile before he settled back down in his spot next to hanbin once more. 

you swore you could feel yourself breaking. 

gyuvin was able to rub small circles in your back without anyone noticing. it was the thing he always did when he knew you were upset, whether you showed it visibly or not. he could feel the sadness radiating off of you in waves and he hated it. he hated it because he internally blamed himself for this. he was the reason why you were hurting. if he hadn’t suggested this, you wouldn’t be feeling what he knew you were. 

the game continued on and you were able to put on a front better than you expected. your laughs even seemed believable. but if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted nothing more to crawl into your bed and cry for the rest of the night. 

which, you were able to do, except the crying part. the moment your head hit your pillows after the long night you had, you just didn’t have it in you to cry. instead, you spent the entire week wallowing in your own self-pity. you’d given zhang hao the excuse of feeling under the weather to avoid even being in his presence at all. you needed to figure yourself and your feelings out.

that proved to be a lot more difficult than it sounded, though.

even though you were in bed, either trying to grasp the little motivation you had left to do your assignments or stuffing your face with ice cream - it was a good coping mechanism, you told yourself - your mind was still riddled with thoughts of that night. with how right it felt to have his lips against yours, or how badly you wanted him to swoop back in for another kiss the moment he pulled away. you hated being like this, you really did, but for some reason you just couldn’t get yourself out of your funk.

“how long has it been since you talked to him?” gyuvin asked through the speaker of your phone, which was laying flat on your chest as you stared up at the ceiling above your bed. 

you sighed, reluctant to answer his question, “if you mean in person, at the party on saturday. over text, then on monday. i made up an excuse to get out of lunch with him this week.”

you were greeted with radio silence on gyuvin’s end. if that was anything to go by, it certainly was never a good sign. it meant he was either scheming something or he was about to start yelling at you, though you weren’t sure which of the two was worse. 

“gyu?” you finally decided to break said silence, hoping he would respond, but there was absolutely no movement or sound from his end. not even the soft whirr of his fan could be heard, which gave away the fact that he muted his mic.

it was uncommon for gyuvin to burst into your apartment like he owned the place, but it still caught you off guard every single time. your bedroom door swung open, your best friend standing between the frame for a moment before he charged to your bed and ripped all of the blankets from your body. you let out a yelp of surprise, scrambling to move away from his death grip as quickly as you could. 

“what the fuck!”

“you,” gyuvin gripped onto your shoulders tightly, forcing you to look him in the eyes, “are going to get your ass into the shower and make yourself look presentable. and then you’re going to see if zhang hao wants to get dinner tonight. i’m sick of seeing you wallow in self-pity.”

he earned a groan of annoyance from you, “i don’t exactly want to see him, gyuvin. I’m worried things are going to be awkward between us.”

“you still care about him, don’t you?”

“yes.”

“you were also the one to tell me you enjoyed having him in your life, correct?”

“i forgot about that, but yes.”

“then you’re going to dinner and you’re going to continue to be friends with him,” gyuvin stated matter-of-factly. he was practically dragging you out of bed at this point, shoving your body toward your bathroom. 

you softly sighed. you supposed he was right, but you would never admit that. zhang hao was still important to you and you’d rather be friendzoned by him a million times than lose him entirely. you flipped the bathroom light on, only to almost turn it off after seeing your reflection. you did look pretty bad, so maybe dressing up a bit and finally seeing zhang hao would make you feel a little better.

“where’s your phone?”

you squinted at gyuvin, “why do you need it?”

“because i’m going to cover for you and make the plans while you’re in the bath.”

you told him where it was and shut the bathroom door as he left, quickly discarding your clothes and stepping into your shower. the water felt nice running over your body, all of your worries and concerns washing away with it. maybe this was the better option, staying friends with zhang hao. everything still stung, but you were willing to deal with it. you had been giving the boy the cold shoulder as of late and you felt extremely guilty about it because it was you being selfish above everything else. he didn’t even know he upset you, so it wasn’t exactly fair for you to hold a grudge against him. 

you quickly finished your shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel around your body and your head, walking into your room with a content sigh. gyuvin was sat cross-legged on his bed, presumably playing a game on his phone as you picked up your own to check the damage he may have caused in your conversation with zhang hao.

[you] hey, sorry for not texting much this week. i was feeling super sick but i’m better now! do you wanna get dinner or something and catch up?

[hao] i thought you were mad at me, to be honest. it’s a relief to know you weren’t. dinner sounds good though! does 6:30 work?

[you] yep, sounds good! maybe we can order pizza at my place and watch a movie?

[hao] sure! i can’t wait :)

“thank you, gyu,” you said, “i really don’t know what i would do without you.”

“i know. now get ready, okay? i’m gonna head out and let you do your thing.”

he gave you a hug and left your apartment a lot less violently than he came in, which caused a small chuckle to slip past your lips. you had only an hour or so until zhang hao was supposed to come over, so you opted for a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt adorning your college’s logo across the front of it. you looked at least a little more put together than you did not even an hour prior, so you were happy with the turn out, even if it was a bit minimal.

the minutes until zhang hao’s arrival ticked by painfully slow, even after you occupied yourself with ordering the pizza and pulling up the movie he had texted you about that he wanted to watch. soon, however, there was a light knock on your door and you were sent into a mini heart attack from the sudden break in silence. 

you padded to the door, greeting the boy with a bright smile. you had to admit, seeing him in the flesh felt a lot better than you expected. however, the moment he pulled your body into a hug, you could feel the gears turning in your head. you pushed them away the best you could, “i’m glad you were able to come!”

“me too, lunch has been pretty lonely this week without you,” zhang hao replied, pulling away from the hug and giving you one of his beautiful smiles. butterflies went off in your stomach. 

guilt now riddled your entire body. the thought of zhang hao having to eat alone on your designated days of the week made you feel a pang of sadness, especially since you were the one to cancel your plans. you really just needed to get over yourself; in the long run, your crush on him didn’t matter as much as seeing him smile did.

the pizza was delivered shortly after his arrival, and the two you dug in, filling your bellies and your cheeks more than you probably should have. he filled you in on what his crazy psychology professor had done during the week and you were able to easily lie and say you spent most of your time sleeping. things were finally feeling normal with him and you were hoping it would stay that way, that your feelings would be kept at bay. however, there was a voice in the back of your mind that was nagging at you to say something to him, anything.

you sighed softly, “hey, can we talk, you know, about truth or dare game?” not exactly what you wanted to say, but it was definitely too late to take it back.

zhang hao was quiet, turning his head to face you with a look you couldn’t quite read. you were just now taking note of how pretty his eyes were and how his hair was styled a bit differently than it normally was, a sliver of his forehead on display. he looked insanely good today, not that he didn’t everyday, but you were definitely swooning more than you wanted to admit. you blinked, slowly, finally ripping your gaze away from his.

“yeah, about that,” he started, “i just wanted to apologize for it. i wasn’t really thinking and didn’t realize it would take such a toll on you. i should have asked first.”

“It’s not that i was uncomfortable, i was just mainly worried about how our friendship would be affected,” you replied, your words holding the truth to them. you knew you would like his answer, but you got it anyway.

“nothing has to change or be awkward, yeah? we can just put it past us and carry on as friends like normal.” 

your week of sulking and your talk with gyuvin had prepared you for accepting that, so it was easy to nod your head and say, “that sounds perfect.”

but little did you know, zhang hao was freaking out just as much as you were.

he’d beat himself up for even spitting out the words “just friends” saturday night, and he surely was for emphasizing it again. he took every word that hanbin lashed out on him, trying his best not to fight, because he knew he deserved it. he basically friendzoned himself before you could and it clung onto his every waking thought when he left gyuvin’s apartment that night. 

a million thoughts raced across his mind, much like yours; did he mess up your friendship forever? did you even want to talk to him anymore? how were you feeling after everything unraveled?

after your conversation, he had no doubt in his mind that you didn’t hold any ill feelings toward him. sitting next to you on your floor, eyes trained on the television, he couldn’t help but feel like an even bigger idiot. surely he was overthinking everything because you certainly seemed fine. you acted as you normally did, cracking jokes left and right and listening intently to his every word when he was telling you a story. 

he still felt the same fluttering in his chest that he’d had from the very first time he met you. he sighed, deciding to focus his attention back on the movie instead of dwelling on something he knew was definitely not true now.

the moment your head lulled to the side and landed on his shoulder, your eyes closed and soft breathing the only sounds he was able to hear from you, he nearly melted. he hoped that this isn’t something he would think about for the next week straight, but he knew deep in his heart that he would.

because when it came to you, he couldn’t seem to get his mind to shut off.

v.

who was zhang hao?

he was the other sober friend you made at gyuvin’s start of the year party. he was your lunch date every monday and wednesday in various locations of campus depending on how the two of you were feeling. he was someone you found yourself turning to when you were having a bad week and gyuvin was unable to be there for you. he was the friend that made sure you took frequent breaks into the hours you put in studying for tests and working on projects. he was a friend you would cherish for the rest of your life.

and he was the friend you had undoubtedly fallen in love with.

you’d accepted your fate of unrequited love a long time ago. long after you admitted your crush on him to yourself and gyuvin. long after you knew you would be friendzoned for the rest of your time knowing him. you were okay with loving him in silence. it made you feel a lot better that he at least loved you enough as a friend. 

the two of you spent a lot more time together as the semester passed by and soon finals week was rolling around. your stress levels were high and you were grumpier than you ever wanted to be, especially to poor gyuvin. he always tried his best to distract you from your work long enough to make your sour mood lessen, which you were eternally grateful for, but sometimes the boy got on your nerves.

it wasn’t like he meant to, and you appreciated him all the more for at least attempting his luck, but he really just didn’t know when to shut his mouth while you were in the middle of trying to perfect some of the fonts and layout of information on yet another infographic you had to complete for your graphic design class as your final project. you eventually asked him to, for the love of god, shut up, and he sealed his lips for the rest of the night. 

you were nearing the end of finals week and gyuvin was expected to pull a double three days out of the week at work to cater to the caffeine deprived students going to the cafe to drown their sorrows in espresso and cold brew, so he was out of commission once you turned in your last assignment for the semester. 

you decided to shoot zhang hao a text and ask how things were going on his end, and once he replied and said that he was finally free from the chains of hell, you suggested hitting up your favorite convenience store to get snacks and celebrate a successful semester. he was at the front door of your apartment within mere minutes.

the clothes that adorned his body were nothing special. just a pair of black sweatpants, the same gray hoodie he let you borrow when gyuvin spilled coffee all over you, and a white baseball cap to hide his hair - which you knew him well enough to know that it was a mess. though it was a simple look, it was something that was wholeheartedly zhang hao.

the two of you practically ran out to his car out of excitement, feeling relief wash over you at the realization that you didn’t have to worry about more assignments for a good month and a half. you were the first to check out with your things and you told zhang hao you would be waiting outside for him whenever he was done. 

he came out with nearly two plastic bags full of his favorite snacks and drinks five minutes later, only to see you standing on the edge of the sidewalk with your eyes staring out into the vacant parking lot, your head spinning a million miles a minute. 

“y/n?” zhang hao murmured softly, his fingers reaching out to touch your arm gently, “is everything okay?”

“yeah, my mind is just wandering again, you know how i can get sometimes,” you replied, finally tearing your gaze away from the peeling sticker on one the gas pumps. you looked up at him with a tired smile.

he peered down at you with a soft grin curling on the end of his lips. your stomach twisted at the sight, more so than it had before he showed up to your apartment. the more time you spent with him, the more your feelings for him felt amplified by a thousand.

he always had that effect on you. 

“what were you thinking about? you ought to let me take a trip on one of your little mind adventures sometime,” his words were careful as his eyes searched yours, “but only if you want to, of course.”

a small silence clung to the chilly air of the night, the cheap tube lights above your heads flickering and caressing his facial features in the most beautiful way you could ever imagine. you decided to throw caution to the wind and be honest with him. you didn’t feel like yourself the entire time you were speaking. 

“i was thinking about you, hao,” you muttered, poking his arm playfully all while still managing to keep your gaze locked with his. 

he appeared taken aback by your sudden statement, confusion blooming across his features as he inquired, “thinking… good things about me? or did i do something wrong?”

you felt panic rise in your throat, hurriedly saying, “god, no, it’s nothing bad i promise. i would tell you if that were the case.”

zhang hao nodded, his lips swiping over his chapped lips in an attempt to distract himself from the confusion he felt at his words. nice going, idiot, you thought to yourself, now you really screwed this up. you sighed, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly as you looked down at your feet, taking the time to kick a loose rock before you finally questioned, “we’re good friends, right?”

you didn’t dare look up to see his answer to your question because you already knew he was nodding his head in reply, enforcing the friendzone for the final time he needed to in order for you to truly lose hope. your heart felt incredibly heavy at his response even if you knew that would be the answer. however, you didn’t expect the next few sentences he said next, “if you want us to be friends, of course. if not, that’s okay too.”

you really, really needed to stop ruining things. there was an obvious shift in his tone and you finally looked up to gauge his expression, but it was unreadable. it seemed he was fighting something with himself, but the frustrated sigh he let out didn’t give you much time to think about it, “that wasn’t meant to come out the way it did, i’m sorry.”

you cocked your head to the side in confusion, letting him continue to talk as he parted his lips, “i really do want to be considerate of your feelings and i want to stay friends with you in any way possible, but i’m not sure if i can keep this bottled up anymore.” you felt anxiety instantly begin to bubble in your stomach as he shuffled his feet nervously in front of him. 

“i like you,y/n. i have since the very first night we met and had to share the horrible pull out couch at gyuvin’s apartment, and i’m sorry. you obviously don’t have to reciprocate my feelings, it’s just that i wanted to get this off my chest and felt like now was the right time. i don’t know why, but it did.” 

you stood in shock, the snack bag in your hand almost falling from your grasp. you felt as if you were floating on cloud nine, your far fetched dreams of zhang hao liking you back singing in your ears as his words rang over and over again in your mind. you couldn’t help the bright smile that creeped onto your lips, your eyes sparkling brighter than the prettiest stars zhang hao had ever seen.

“i... like you too?” your words moved slower than you ever expected them to, but they felt good to finally say out loud, “i’ve had too many mental breakdowns on gyuvin over it because i was so afraid of ruining the relationship we already had, so that’s why i didn’t say anything.”

zhang hao’s entire face lit up, and the silent second in between your confessions slipped effortlessly into small bits of laughter before the boy was pulling your body close to his, your arms instinctively wrapping around his waist and his chin rested comfortably on top of your head, “here i was getting all worked up over this for absolutely nothing,” he chuckled, “i’m so glad you feel the same, though.”

“me too,” you replied with a content sigh.

it hadn’t been the dramatic kind of confession you’d see in a movie. it was just zhang hao and his warm heart and kind words in the middle of a chilly, stressful night. it was more than enough to make you feel a euphoria you never had, and not too much to make you sick of the feeling.

however, you were sure that it was enough to make you love him just a little bit more.

[greenerteacups]

Hey GTC, I have always been such a fan of your Tumblr and your engagement with the fandom. However I must say that as of late, the questions you’re being asked most often are essentially variants of “Will X happen?” or “Will Y character do Z like in the book?” or even, “I’m noticing Theme A, will it continue in future chapters?”

A significant element of the fun that you’ve created for Lionheart readers is that we don’t know which elements and events of the JKR texts you’ll preserve untouched and which you’ll turn into the sixth and seventh year Lionheart storylines. I adore making my guesses to which parts of canon you’ll play with and which parts you’ll completely and utterly upend. Unfortunately, questions that ask about canon events in books 5-7 ruin so much of the fun.

Historically, you’ve used the Ask box to provide us with analyses of your own work and characterizations, but I feel as if recently you are often indulging questions about books 5, 6, and 7. I hate to say it, but I even feel that your answers veer into spoiler territory. I used to lurk your Tumblr incessantly, but since I’ve started to see this influx in predictive questions these past couple weeks, I’ve been avoiding the app.

It’s such a gift that we get to engage with your work on such a vibrant epistolary and interactive space as your Tumblr. I know that you can’t control what fans ask, but I humbly request that you please consider refusing to answer questions that ask you to ponder future events. Thank you for your tender care to everyone in the fandom. ❤️‍🔥🦁🧡

Hey, what's up, dude. I hear you. Sorry about that.

The problem is that the line between spoilers and not spoilers is totally subjective, and the line between "spoilers that are fine" and "spoilers that bother me" is also totally subjective. I don't know where you are on it, but we probably don't line up, and that's okay. I just don't know how I'd begin to sort out questions that one person considers "too much" from what someone else just thinks is fun analysis. My hard rules are as follows: I don't answer any questions about future ships, events, or arcs (and I get a lot). I haven't revealed anything that I would be unhappy to discover in a Tumblr askbox instead of a fic itself. True, I've dropped teaser/trailer stuff for 6 and 7, but to be honest, even looking over the stuff I've posted recently — I hate to say it, but I disagree with you. It isn't spoilers. Not to me, anyway.

But that's just me! There's no right or wrong answer here, it's just a coordination problem of how we can both cultivate social media experiences that make us happy. For instance: I like answering questions about my fic. It makes me happy to talk to people who want to know what happens. It encourages me and gets me excited to write about it, and I don't believe that any of the content on my Tumblr spoils what's going to happen. I don't really want to stop doing that, so I'm not going to. If that means you and other readers whose spoiler thresholds are below mine can't engage with my Tumblr, that's a natural consequence of us having different attitudes about media, and it was bound to happen. I'm sorry that that's the case, but it would bring me much more grief for you to injure your reading experience than it would for you to avoid my (largely irrelevant) e-journal full of random metatext. I love my fic, and I love my readers, you most certainly included; I do not, candidly speaking, love my Tumblr account. And for what it's worth, I absolutely do not think anything I've written on here is worth diminishing your experience of a story you enjoy. It wouldn't jive with my philosophy of literature and art.

So here's what I got: I'll continue tagging spoilers about past and current events as [#lionheart spoilers], and if a question makes reference to events not published, I'll use the tag [#prognosticating]. That way you can block the tag, and other readers can enjoy content that fits under their threshold of non-spoilerism. If our thresholds still don't line up, then I think the only solution may really be to block the [#lionheart spoilers] tag altogether. That's probably not the answer you're looking for, but it's the best I can do.

[sefusian]

FINALLY A SNEAKPEEK FOR MY TWOSHOT YAYYYY

RAHHHHH i’m finally making progress w my fic that is too many months due 😭 id link the google docs but i wanna keep the actual wip private for now so ill just post what i have here for now :,)

(working) synopsis: marvin has a dream about still being stuck in his old life, married to trina. whizzer comforts him back to consciousness.

tw: detailed description of a panic attack, thoughts of d34th/su!c!dal ideation

— start under the cut —

It had been an exhausting day at work for Marvin. Because of the sudden influx of people quitting, he had to take on an extra workload to maintain productivity. On top of the headache of sitting through Black Friday traffic, Marvin was more than eager to finally return home to relax with his lover.

He sighed as he pushed open the front door, shrugging his jacket off.

“Babe, I’m-”

Upon entering his home, he instantly realized that it was very different but also…very familiar. It wasn’t until his eyes fell upon the wooden mezuzah that the fear finally settled in.

”Honey, are you home?”

Marvin’s blood ran cold when he heard his wife’s sickeningly sweet voice call out from deeper within. He could only hope that she thought it was Mendel at the door, but something about the all too familiar lilt in her voice told him otherwise. Despite this, something compelled him to continue into the house towards the kitchen where Trina was carelessly making dinner. Marvin could feel his palms start to get uncomfortably clammy and a gut-wrenching feeling building that he hated all too much - sensations he’d never miss at all. And when Trina spun around to greet him, sporting that overly fond look that made his head spin and heart pound in all the wrong ways, he wished he couldn’t remember any of it at all.

“Sorry, Marvin, but dinner will just be in a bit. But I could prepare some tea in the meantime,” Trina dusted her hands on the front of her apron, smiling sweetly at him as she tucked a loose curl behind her ear. When she went to peck him on the cheek, Marvin could feel the sickening pit in his stomach grow significantly larger. 

He thought he’d yell at her, push her away, spite her and tell her how much of a failure of a wife she was for not having dinner on time.

But all he wanted at that moment was to get out. Be out.

Out of this room, out of this house, and back into his car to drive away.

Away to his real house, his real lover.

But yet he stayed, stuck in her kitchen with his feet practically bolted to the ground. The powerlessness and lack of control felt so paralyzing, suffocating him further.

Why was he here?

Marvin started to panic.

Why couldn’t he move?

“Where’s…” Marvin panted out.

Why couldn’t he breathe?

“Where’s Whizzer?”

“Whizzer?” Trina furrowed her brows in confusion as she played with her ring. Marvin couldn’t bear to see it again. “Like your friend, Whizzer Brown?” She mused, and Marvin could see his vision start to blur. All he could do was nod weakly, “I’m not quite sure, darling. You know we aren’t that well-acquainted with each other yet. Maybe you could give him a call to see if he’s home?”

And as if by a miracle, Marvin could move again. So, he immediately jumped on the chance to finally rush out of the kitchen, away from Trina’s nauseating, womanly presence, to the landline mounted on the wall - he distinctly remembered visiting it frequently to call Whizzer everytime Trina was out or asleep. He hastily dialed the number to their apartment, anxiously wrapping the cord around his finger and tugging at it. In the corner of his eye, he could see Trina carrying out their freshly-made dinner to the table, setting it up neatly as she always had before, when they were still together: still okay, still normal. When she was done, he could see her eyeing him cautiously, taking on a worried stance by her seat as he kept trying to find a connection, alas to no avail. His breath started to quicken as fast as the error tone on the phone.

What the fuck was happening? And where was Whizzer?

His fingers trembled as he continued desperately trying to get out of this confusing, terrifying wrench back to his old life - the sick game he thought he was truly well and done with.

The light treading of Trina’s feet were heard as loud as the incessant and aggravating ticking of the clock hanging above Marvin. He tensed as she brushed a soft hand down his shoulder, barely hearing whatever she was saying over the sound of his heart practically beating out of his chest. At one point he could feel his stomach drop and the iciness of his fingertips grow colder as he realized that oh - he was on the floor. The chill only ran further through his entire body as the phone, still hanging off its cord, continued to beep loudly beside his ear. Marvin desperately tried to catch his breath using his entire chest. The nausea was rapidly building up to the point where he just wanted to throw up, or just anything.

No, no, no, no.

“Marvin.”

He clasped his hands over his ears, painfully digging the heels of his palms against his temples. No more.

”Marvin.”

Fat tears rolled down his face, a violent cry rupturing from his throat and puking all over his senses. His fingers yanked at disheveled curls and tugged harshly, pulling and pulling until the pounding in his head grew unbearable.

“Marvin.”

He screamed at the clutch on his arm and thrashed around frantically to escape its incoming embrace. The scorching feeling of compassion and care rotting deep into his skin.

Out now.

He wanted out.

NOW.

“Marvin?”

Marvin scratched at its clothed chest, pushing against it ferociously and wishing its ribs would crack and shatter all over his arms. Decorate it a pretty mess. Just like him. But he wasn’t pretty. He just wanted the red to spill all over him and hold him - a horrible, awful mess. Engulf him enough to drown him in its horrific, comforting depths where there was no seizure to be had. Not a giddy moment to last.

Not anymore.

The arms that held him tightly drew one of its hands to play with the beautiful, scruffy mess on Marvin’s head. He could feel it scratch his scalp oh so lovingly, and Marvin wanted to die. The moment was so beautiful it made him want to die. He’d be happy to die right then and there. He’d be happy to die in fear’s comforting embrace. He’d be happy to die with-

“Marvin, baby. Shhh. It’s okay.”

When Marvin looked up from the little nook he was tucked in, he didn’t see the smiling face of a woman he couldn’t love. Instead, warm, loving brown eyes met his own dull, dingy blue, and all comfort he felt in that moment instantly dissolved, now replaced with pure embarrassment. Marvin quickly scrambled out of his lover’s arms until his back slammed into something short and solid. He looked down and realized that he wasn’t on the floor anymore.

How did he get on the couch?

—

slow but steady progress guys !!!! pls like, reblog, or comment if u liked this so far. having others engage in my work is rlly helpful because its good incentive for me to continue (and im still a little self-conscious abt showing my writing to others) ty 👉👈

[thighzp]

Kinktober day 31 - FREE FOR ALL! * puppy play & intox kink

little pet | Henry is having one of his bad days and Alex knows of two ways to bring him back

FAM. I LIVED BITCH. I POSTED EVERY SINGLE DAY OF KINKTOBER. I'll save the sappy message for the end, and for now give you some warnings

they smoke weed and engage in puppy play okay? if you're not into either of those things, sorry for your loss. but once upon a time i wrote a little fic called 'man's best friend' and I've been dying to do another pet play since then. and i think a high, pliant, supplicant henry just sounds lovely. so that's what this is :)

~

listen chat, I really thought I would crap out on at least ONE day this month. but I wrote and posted EVERY. GODDAMN. DAY! and can I just say I'm so fuckin proud of myself?!?! it was truly a challenge, some days I feel like i reeeaaally phoned it in, but never once did y'all make me feel that way. i felt the love on every single fic, and i know those of you who have commented every single day. THANK YOU from the bottom of my little praise kink heart. now idk what to do with all this praise kink energy since you will NOT see me writing for a while lmfao. promise I'll be back though, as I have many, MANY ideas that didn't fit with kinktober that i will soon be itching to write. LOVE Y'ALL!!!

p.s. thank you to Alex @redlipstickandglitter for letting me whine and complain on the days i didn't feel motivated or inspired, and thank you to both her and Dani @firstprincehornyramblings for the constant influx of ideas and hype. y'all are some real ones <3

[chillicoded]

°•. INTRO! .•°

Hi, I'm Olive! Welcome to my blog! :))

°•. ON THIS BLOG... .•°

This blog is F1-centric but I will probably reblog stuff about my other interests from time to time, and around April-May you can probably expect a massive influx of yap about Eurovision lol

This blog will mainly just be me yapping about my opinions on F1 stuff, and I also plan on making YouTube videos to yap even more but we'll see how that goes. But I'm also into photography so I might post random dumps of photos I'm proud of, and I'm also trying to get back into art so you might eventually see me posting fan art! I'm ALSO working on a F1 DBH AU/crossover fic, but I am very much a plotter and a perfectionist when it comes to writing so I wouldn't expect to see anything of that anytime soon :')

Please note as well that this is my first time using Tumblr so I'm kinda figuring this all out as I go along!

°•. ABOUT ME! .•°

Age: 18 Pronouns: it/they preferred, but any are fine! Country: UK 🇬🇧 Sign: Taurus ♉ Interests: F1, DPS, Eurovision, Minecraft, osu! + a bunch of other random stuff lol Hobbies: Photography, drawing (kinda), reading (also kinda)

I'm currently at uni so if I ever go inactive for ages it's probably because I'm working on some assignment I left to the last minute :')

Also I love misusing grammar for dramatic effect, I pinkie promise I know how to do good grammars I just choose not to !!

°•. F1 STUFF .•°

First race: Singapore '23 (mentally I am still there) Top 3 current drivers: Carlos Sainz, Oscar Piastri, Franco Colapinto Top 3 retired drivers: Seb Vettel, Kimi Räikkönen, Nico Rosberg Top 3 tracks: COTA, Brazil, Singapore

I can't bring myself to support teams anymore to be honest :') was a McLaren supporter but they screwed up the WDC so hard I just can't even with them at this point smh

On that note I was Not backing Lando for the WDC. I'm SORRY I just think it's insane that a driver with 3 career wins could've been world champion. SUE ME.

I also have several opinions about Hungary '24 that I will make an entire post about at some point but long story short, it should Not have played out like that and I will never forgive McLaren .

I'm always happy to yap about anything F1 related or debate/discuss opinions (respectfully!!) so if you want to share your thoughts or hear my thoughts on something, drop an ask !!

[skzoologist]

My mooties

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⤐ @dmnksrt - One of my irl best friends, you guys can thank her for so much, because she is my number 1 fan and keeps cheering me on. Without her, I wouldn't have written this much. She's a victim of accidentally being converted into a kpop fan, purely because I was also dragged into the fandom. Even though she stans another group and man (Suga), we still ramble to each other for hours easily. Once she gathers the courage to post her own fanfics, you can be sure I'll be there to support her immediately. Her brain is wonderful, just like her, I wouldn't hesitate to commit arson for her sake. Her tag is 'my Darling', no, we aren't dating, in case any of Nat's anons come here asking that.

⤐ @nerenbe - Well well well, if it isn't my menace herself. This lil gremlin is the sole reason I am in this fandom altogether, since she just kept singing 'Star lost' while we were in the Christmas market in the year 2023. I guess this is what I get for dragging her into so many animes and manhwas, haha. She isn't really active here, but know that she loves to murder me with pics and memes of my bias and wrecker. Truly, she lives up to her nickname.

⤐ @shetherocket - The last of my irl best friends, the poor one who isn't in the kpop fandom and has no idea wtf I am saying to her, ever. It's really funny actually, as she just nods as I speak, no clue about anything. But she likes Felix! Loves his softness and sunshine self, so I sometimes spam her with him lmao. I am never going to be sorry for that :D

⤐ @thightswideforhanin - First ever person to loudly admit Bae wrecked her, and hard. I always enjoy her reblogs, she was one of the first ever active members of my blog.

⤐ @michelle4eve - A shy follower of mine who gathered enough courage to speak to me, and would you look at that, we speak more regularly now :) She's very sweet, which is why I just call her my Sunshine.

⤐ @jinnie-ret - Jinnie-ret, Jinnie-ret, the person who started it all. She was the first skz writer who noticed me and decided to raid my blog, quite literally. She recommended my work on her blog and I got a big influx of people, making me breach the 100 followers threshold. I still can't believe she'd followed me back, when I've been her silent follower for months by that point. While we don't speak a lot, as she is busy, I know she's very welcoming and kind (also my brit mum, because she decided to adopt me lmao).

⤐ @atinyniki - Niki, my precious little pocket pookie who just loves to pester me and absolutely shower me in love, no matter how hard I keep pushing it away (this is the norm for me and my friends). She's absolutely sweet and so strong, I look up to her in that sense to this very day. We easily start gushing about ATEEZ or my husky puppies for a good while, or even start planning some gut-wrenching fics together xD I am so happy she wrote to me, even if she keeps insisting I am cute, falsely.

⤐ @writingforstraykids - Nat, my talented menace! I love her art, oh my god, I cannot wait for her to draw more, even if that is a year later or more. And her soft thoughts? Hell yes! She's the one who usually gets to see my own random thoughts about the boys (hence our collab), because she's my mootie and they get VIP services :) I am forever afraid she's gonna do what my menace does and send me pics of the boys... I would straight up die on the spot.

⤐ @cheesemonky - Leisel! While we don't talk a lot (timezone differences and my depressed, anxious self), she's cute and so supportive. I just know if we would talk more, our chat would be filled with rambles and thoughts about TXT, haha.

⤐ @yangbbokari - Mumu, the chaos child. We didn't get to know each other well yet, but she loves to say random shit and cause mayham xD Very maknae line coded.

⤐ @lilmisssona - Sona, my sweet sonata, who is so sweet and supportive of me despite barely knowing me, it gives me diabetes. I already love her works, her AUs are very interesting. She also loves my two puppies, and I am only glad to provide her with photos and videos of them.

⤐ @minholing - Jenny, my lil biologist sprout. While she left, I will await her return here. Who knows, maybe by then I'll be able to accept her hugs more easily.

⤐ @kimistorm - We don't really talk, but we occasionally tag each other in some games. Her works are really nice and sweet, I wouldn't be surprised if she is like that too.

⤐ @miuracha - Miu, the legend amongst us. I haven't really gathered the courage to talk to her yet, but I do know she is an absolute sweetheart who only deserves the best. I hope life finally gives her a break, and very soon.

⤐ @silverstarburst - Silver, my star and guardian wolf, thanks to her protective nature over her friends. Our friendship started with her tagging me in a Jisung photoset, completely unprompted. That was a sign, so true that we now regularly talk here or on discord. Bless her and her gif/photo sets.

⤐ @galaxycatdrawz - A very active moot of Nat, someone who gave me even more meme ideas when I started memeing Nat, being the menace he is. Thus, he shall be named my official meme partner. While we don't talk regularly, that doesn't mean he isn't fun to be around.

⤐ @thatonedemigodfromseoul We haven't really talked a lot so far, but that is how it is when you just meet someone.

⤐ @dean-a-mean-tae Ah, yes, sweet Ronnie, who likes to sing my praises, even though I am average at best. No, please, don't look at me like that guys, I'm sorry- We have this mouse and cat game where we compliment the other in an endless cycle. Also let me tell you, when I first saw that they mentioned me, saying how good my silly fics are, I just sat in front of my screen like a confused and emotional dumbass. Definitely will remember that day for a good while, haha. I look forward to getting to know them better, if life allows it.

If I didn't tag you here, that either means I am way too nervous to do so (you're probably a big writer blog), or I just straight up forgot with my smooth, pea-sized brain. Please do reach out to me, I assure you I didn't mean to somehow offend you.

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[subzeroparade]

(With a recent influx of followers, I figured it was long past time to do a proper pinned/intro post).

This blog is: 99% my hedonistic Soulsborne posting (mostly ER and BB), with occasional OCs.

I am: Lolo (they/them). Art historian by trade, based in France. I arrange words as a profession and paint, sloppily but gleefully, as a hobby.  Art: An overview of my portfolio can be found here

AO3: I post as aurillium. I write significantly better than I draw. 

Some more things I've been asked under the cut ->

Do you offer commissions? Not at the moment, but I sometimes draw requests left in my inbox if they’re clever enough to make me LOL.

Do you beta/edit fic? My DMs are open atm - but I’m a nasty and demanding editor 💖 

What’s your art process? A mess lmao. Rambling semi-relevant post on that here.

What’s your writing process? All my ideas come while musing in the shower, so I run out, soaking wet, to write down what my brain has dictated :) 

Can I ask about [x]: Ask away - lore or otherwise - and sorry I may take ages to answer because I like to embellish my replies with doodles or wips. 

You can use my work as a pfp/header with credit but please don’t repost or tag my work as your OCs. Otherwise, please go ahead and yell in the tags, it’s my absolute favourite thing and I cherish every single one.  

ヽ(◉‿◉)ノ