#just tagging whatever so that everyone sees it

[motomam1]

MOTOMAMI | welcome to formula one

series masterlist | navigation

author's note: just a little something to get me back into the game because i missed working on this!

♡ liked by 928,394 people

f1 Our longterm besties entering F1 together ✨

Starring Valeria, Oscar and Logan!

#F1 #Formula1 #BahrainGP

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user1 the 2019 rookies are getting some serious competition with these three

user2 not them leaving nyck out like he isn't a rookie as well ⤷ user3 who?

user4 i'm so hyped to see these three race against each other! ⤷ user5 only oscar and vale will race each other, logan will stay at the back ⤷ user6 that is so foul

user7 🇲🇽🇲🇽🇲🇽❤️❤️❤️

user8 f1 isn't what it used to be ⤷ user9 go cry me a river

user10 "shake ass on the podium" she's so real i loooove her

♡ liked by 456,394 people

f1 The Mercedes duo arriving in fashion to the first race weekend of the season! ⭐️

#F1 #Formula1 #BahrainGP

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user11 vale is so cute omg

user12 the fashionistas of f1

user13 everyone arriving in their boring team merch while these two really rock the paddock

user14 i just know they texted each other this morning discussing their fits

user15 f1 fashion game is SO BACK

♡ liked by 1,528,394 people

f1 Valeria makes history as the second woman to gain points in F1 🌟

Ortiz scores her first points with a solid P6!

#F1 #Formula1 #BahrainGP

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user16 THAT'S MY GIRL RIGHT THERE AAHH

user17 it's just the car ⤷ user18 whatever makes you sleep at night

user19 that eyeliner is STANDING ON BUSINESS

user20 the way i screamed out loud when she drove over the finish line!!!

user21 her dad jumping up and down and kissing toto's cheek is the most iconic moment of the weekend ⤷ user22 literally her dad is absolute goals ⤷ user23 i love her dad so much

user24 just her breathing is already making history

user25 a legend in the making! 🇲🇽🇲🇽

♡ liked by benitovelasquez, lewishamilton, yungfilly and 467,384 others

valeriaortiz celebrating that p5-p6 with selfmade tequila

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user26 only hot people driver for mercedes 💅🏻

user27 i already love lewis' and valeria's friendship so much

user28 vale looks so fun to party with!

user29 now i wanna try vale's dad's tequila ⤷ user30 ong been thinking about it ever since she mentioned it

user31 can't wait to see vale bloom further in f1

user32 she's going places for sureeee

user33 men crying and throwing up that a woman joined f1 and vale is over here enjoying some good tequila and pizza

user34 she had one decent race and her ego jumps through the roof ⤷ user35 truly embarrassing of her

tag list: @tpwkstiles @dessxoxsworld @lorarri @elliegrey2803 @inejghafawifesblog @daaiissyyyyy @viennakarma @cha-hot @saintslewis @welovediaaxx @mynameisangeloflife @peqch-pie @louvrepool @tremendousstarlighttragedy ➫ comment or leave a message in my inbox if you'd like to be added

#driver!oc #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 scenario #f1 scenarios #f1 x oc #f1 x reader #formula one scenarios #formula one scenario #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula one #formula one x oc #latina!oc #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 smau #formula one social media au #formula one instagram au #formula one smau #f1 grid x reader #f1 grid x driver!oc

[foreingersgod]

ok hiiii! i’m the anon that asked for nika! sooo maybe a fic where reader is another players sister (or best friend, whatever you think would fit) and the player brings reader to a game and reader meets nika and it’s like love at first sight? maybe not as cringy as i made it sound lol, but i hope you get what i mean!

💗💗

to requester: i saw your other request and decided i’ll do them separately so we can enjoy more nika content!

Best Friends Sister . NM

pairing: nika muhl x reader

synopsis: you tag along with your parents for your sister’s game, not knowing it would be the best decision of your life.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

paigey: are you coming tonight with mom and dad or no?

you: only if you don’t hit me with another basketball then sure

paigey: i said i was sorry, dude. you should come though, i haven’t seen you for a minute

you: yea sorry, been busy and stuff. i’ll be there!

it was rare for you to attend your sister’s games on a regular basis. as much as you loved her and wanted to support, you were slammed with work and school and friends, the whole 9 yards. plus, watching millions of girls freak out over your sister was not your idea of a good time. but you’d been missing paige lately and wanted to show your sisterly support at least a few times this season.

so there you were, sitting outside your apartment on the concrete steps of the building, waiting for your parents to pick you up for the game. clad in UCONN attire, you picked at the weeds growing in between the cracks of stone.

arriving at the stadium, you could already sense the chaos. seeing all the girls there to see your sister play, it was a weird feeling. but once you made your way closer to the court with your family, seeing how happy paige looked out there, it made you feel insanely proud.

UCONN was up by 6 and your sister was killing it. being able to see her improvement throughout the game was truly rewarding to see. you cheered and hollered for each score until the end of the game finally rolled around, UCONN secured the win.

paige celebrated with her team for a few moments, reveling in their success before making her way to where you all sat. she greeted your parents with hugs, mom kissing her on the cheek and dad patting her back. then she maneuvered to you, dabbing you up before pulling you into a hug or your own.

“you killed it out there loser,” you congratulated “glad i got to see you play tonight, i’ve missed you!”

she laughed “thanks, me too”

paige worked her way around the rest of your family, taking time to chat with everyone. then she pulled you aside, motioning for you to follow her back down to the court.

“what?” you questioned, showing up at her side.

“thought i’d introduce you to everyone, plus aaliyah hasn’t seen you in forever and has been begging to see you”

you were always close with a few a her teammates, some of them being in paige’s life for so long that they became a part of your family. aaliyah, you were especially close with. but a lot of her other, newer teammates, you had yet to meet.

when you arrived on the court, paige leading you to the team, you started to spot some familiar faces. aaliyah ran over to you the second she saw you. pulling you into a bear hug and scolding you for not visiting more often. you greeted ice, too, congratulating her on a good game. it was nice to see them all again, catching up for lost time.

while in a conversation with aaliyah about how your job was going, paige politely pulled you aside again. she dragged you through the small crowd saying “i wanna introduce you to someone, i don’t think you’ve met yet”

finally, she stopped pulling you, coming to a halt just in front of the bench seats. paige was right, some girl you didn’t recognize sat on one of the seats, wiping the sweat from her brow and catching her breathe.

“hey, nika, i wanted to introduce you to my sister, YN!” paige said over the havoc of the stadium.

she looked up upon hearing paige summon her, eyes moving from paige’s and then to yours. she caught your attention right away, and suddenly, nothing else mattered once you locked eyes with the girl.

nika, you recalled paige calling her that, was the most beautiful girl you’d seen in your entire life. you studied every feature of her face right in that moment. her hair, you could only imagine how soft it was, pulled back in a near ponytail. her rosy cheeks, flush from exhaustion and excitement. her pearly white teeth that were so bright when she smiled at you. she was perfection if it were a person.

she was examining you as well, you could tell by the ways her eyes flickered between your eyes and down to your lips (triangle method iykyk). for a faint moment, it was just the two of you, lost in each others gaze. there was something about her, you couldn’t place it, but you wished you’d never have to look away.

unfortunately for you, your day dreams were interrupted when paige spoke up, confused by the silence.

“earth to nika” she waved her hand jokingly in front of her face “did you hear me? this is YN”

her eyes painfully pulled away from yours, looking at paige in surprise “right! sorry, i think i’m still a bit light headed”

she stood up, walking towards you and extending her hand out to you “very nice to meet you, YN, i didn’t know paige had a sister!”

your throat fell dry as you took her hand, gently shaking it. her touch lingered as her fingers swept against yours “nice to meet you too! yea i’m kind of all over the place and not around much so the team hasn’t seen a lot of me recently”

she eyed you again as you spoke. she tucked loose hairs behind her ear, smirking in a sultry manner.

“i get it, life’s busy” she bit her lip just enough for you to notice “but i’d..um-i’d like to see you around more”

“yea, hopefully i can stick around for a few more games” you joked, trying to hide how flustered you were.

“i’ll count on it” she said, then turned back to paige as she fumbled around in her bag, getting ready to leave “hey i gotta go catch up with a few people, but i’ll see you tomorrow?”

paige nodded, saying her goodbyes for the evening.

“see you around, YN” nika remarked, shoulder brushing against yours slightly as she walked past you, leaning in to whisper to you “and uh, do you think that maybe…maybe i could grab your number from paige or something? only if it’s ok with you”

you nodded your head vigorously, “yea, yes that’s more than ok with me”

she nodded back, flashing those dazzling teeth at you again before rushing across the court. you turned to face paige and saw the contorted look on her face.

“what the hell was that?” she asked.

“nothing” you suppressed a smile “it’s nothing”

that night, after the excitement of the game had worn off and you were back home, you were tucked into bed about to fall asleep. your phone buzzed abruptly, cashing you to roll over and pull it from its charger. your eyes squinted shut from the bright light of the screen.

unknown: hey is this YN? it’s nika :)

you didn’t have to think twice before responding and creating her contact.

you: it is, hi nika <3

nika: sorry to text you so late, paige was…very hesitant about giving me your number lol, but i was hoping i could take you out sometime if you’d want?

you: haha she’s annoying sometimes i’m sorry!

but i would love to you out with you!

nika: great! are you free friday? maybe 6ish?

you: definitely, it’s a date <3

you couldn’t stop smiling as you texted the rest of the night. who would have thought a basketball game would have changed your life completely?

#nika muhl #nika mühl #nika muhl x reader #wcbb #wcbb x reader #uconn wbb

[highvern]

Patterns III

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: smut (18+), eventual fluff/angst

Summary: Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?

Chapter Warnings: oral (f. & m. receiving), protected sex, kissing, awkward wonwoo, jealousy, grinding/dry humping, making out, fingering (in public)

Length: 8.5k

Note: part 3 is here and now we will yearn. you can find most of the pieces i reference HERE and some are printable! thank you to everyone in @svthub for helping and @gyuswhore beta-ing

Remember: Tumblr runs on reblogs and I run on validation in the tags and comments :)

m.list + support my work

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

Wonwoo recognizes the heat of a body blanketing his before anything else. Slowly, like sands sifting through an hourglass, he wakes. Your chest sticks to his from the heat of the morning, skin on skin. Feeling comes back to his hands as they ghost along your bare spine, following the curve of your ribs, down to the soft spot above your hips and back again.

The second thing he realizes is your lips ghosting his neck.

“Morning,” he croaks through a yawn.

You hum in response, nosing along his jaw. Eyes still shut, he can see the shadow when you rise and leave the next kiss on his lips. The same rush of arousal that haunted him last night lingers. But at least this time he’s awake enough to appreciate your efforts. 

After dedicating all his energy to pleasing you, Wonwoo nearly screamed when you palmed his cock. Too tired to fuck a pretty girl? Pathetic. But with swallowed pride, he brushed away your ardent hands, and passed out before you demanded any answers.

It was the fastest he’d fallen asleep in weeks. 

Now, you seem to be making up for the lost opportunity and Wonwoo is just as eager to enjoy. 

Hands trailing the dip of your back, his mouth opens when you prod across the seam of his lips. Everything slides together easily; your leg thrown over his hip finds the mattress and the heat against the crotch of his sweatpants calls like a siren’s song. The first nudge into the seat of your ass sends dual sighs into the air. 

Wonwoo fills his palms with the swells of your ass, dragging you across his clothed length again and again until your arousal soaks through his pants. Eyes still shut, he savors the grind, slowing you with firm hands until you protest with a huff.

You indulge him as best you can. Idle touches across his chest turn the edges of Wonwoo’s mind hazy, melting his resolve until your mouthing down his neck, then his chest, and finally his caved stomach. 

The first glimpse of your visage is proof he’s still lost in the land of dreams. All Wonwoo can see is endless skin, still bare from last night. The blur without his glass does little to dim your glow. Trails of golden light peeking through the window cast a halo around your shoulders like something ethereal; as if the sunrise itself sat itself in his lap this morning and decided to greet him personally. 

But the way you suck him through the fabric of his underwear  is akin to the devil.

“Fuck,” Wonwoo gasps. His hips curl up, searching for more relief. You don’t give in easily. Instead, you favor mouthing along the outline of his bulge until you’re back at the patch of skin sitting about the waistband.

Just as he falls into the comfort of your mouth, you move it elsewhere; lips tapering over the crescent of his hip bone while your hands make quick work of the single layer confine. Each new swath of skin is documented with fingers first then your mouth. It's slow work given the position but Wonwoo lifts his hips and assists until he’s bare and moaning your name on the first touch against his length.

Even in the coolness of the morning he’s burning. Wonwoo wants. Whatever you want, he wants too. Anything you give him he’ll take. The hunger for more worsens with each tease wherever you can reach. 

His first mistake is touching you. Hair tickling his fingertips as he cups your jaw, thumb tracing the dip of your cheek as you suck him deeper. The gentle hum from the contact vibrating through his already weak willpower.

The second mistake is peeping where you lay between his legs when you come up for a breath only to find you already looking his way. 

“Good?”

Wonwoo responds with a mute nod, trembling when you smile before taking his cock back in your mouth.

Your tongue flicks against his cockhead slowly. Content to focus the heat of your mouth there, a hand sneaks to jerk off what you’re neglecting. 

A quick buck of his hips, completely unintentional, forces you to sputter.

Wonwoo scrambles to apologize, “Shit, sorry! I didn’t—oh fuck.”

The words die on his lips as you dive back in, swallowing him down the tight heat of your throat and leaving him there before pulling away with a gasp. His head digs into the pillow as you descend, taking more; Again and again and again until your nose brushes the smooth skin of his pelvis and you choke from another involuntary buck.

Eyes weighted, Wonwoo fights between wanting to watch the bob of your head and the instinct to pinch his eyes tight and feel. Your own choked hums are the siren song that pluck him apart until a hand stops your progress.

Grabbing himself on the next upstroke to prevent more torture, Wonwoo uses all his will to speak. “Wait.”

“Wait?” you huff.

Your tongue sneaks across the tip of his cock, lapping at the leaking slit with determination. Sticky on the next stroke, Wonwoo fucks himself into your mouth involuntarily. 

“Come up here.”

“Don’t wanna,” you complain around a mouth full of dick before he can stop you.

Wonwoo pulls you off again, this time with a firmer hand and a glare he hopes silences your objections. Then, with the most pathetic sincerity he can muster, “Please?”

“Are you begging?” you goad. “Or asking?”

He doesn’t have the bandwidth for games right now. There’s a serious risk he’ll come in your mouth if you keep it up. The urge too lives in the back of his mind, haunting him since the first night you begged him to fuck your throat. But right now, after a night of denying himself the simple pleasure of burying his cock inside you, he needs more.

“Whichever will let me fuck you.”

“Say it again.”

Wonwoo chokes at the first attempt to satisfy your request. You're nasty. Licking at his cock again, undeterred by his hand preventing your greed from fully consuming him. But it’s not enough to stop you. You slip your tongue over the valleys of his knuckles, between his fingers. The wet heat of your mouth surrounds his thumb as you lash against it just to get another taste.

“What was that?” you whisper into his thigh, focusing your attention on his hip, nipping until he’s sure there will be a bruise in the shape of your mouth.

“Please let me fuck you.”

You fall to the side, scrambling for the bedside table for what he assumes is a condom. All of your back, your ass and thighs, left on display and Wonwoo takes advantage. Fingers following your curves, squeeze the supple swell of your rear until your breath stutters and your hips arch. He doesn’t stop there. Lips find your shoulder, trailing up until he can nip at your ear and his hand curves around between your thighs.

Fingers slipping through the mess, your head falls lip while Wonwoo repays your early morning favor. A ghost across your clit that sends you rocking back into his cock. “God,” you whimper as the heel of Wonwoo’s palm grinds harder. “Wonwoo.”

The sound of his name rasped on your tongue makes him hot. Wonwoo could finger you like this for the rest of morning if you let him; teeth bruising your neck, cock sandwiched between your ass and his stomach, the subtle friction enough for him to cum if he didn’t need you so badly.

But you won’t have it.

You push off his grip, turning until you’re face to face for another kiss that's too dirty for the early hour; generous with affection like you’ve got all morning to cover him in it. It’s the perfect distraction as you roll the latex down his length, and plant yourself in his lap.

It’s deep. Deep enough he feels the punch in his own gut as he splits you in half. You focus on his neck after a grunt breaks the kiss, overloading his senses. A few experimental swivels of your hips force his own to rise, keeping himself as deep as possible.

Riled from your mouth, Wonwoo is already on the precipice of finishing. Even through the condom he can feel the delicious heat of your walls clamped on his cock. The trickle of your pleased sighs into his ears don’t help either.

“Fuck, fuck, shit,” Wonwoo bites.

He tries to swallow back the rush of want, focusing on getting you caught up to where he clings so desperately to sanity. Gripping your waist, hands rough enough he’ll apologize later, Wonwoo uses the leverage to fuck roughly. One hand focuses a messy rhythm across your clit. 

But it's no use. Thighs rushing up, Wonwoo’s end hits before he can warn you. You scramble for purchase from the rough jerking threatening to dislodge you and in the chaos you end up pinned to his chest as he cums.

All you can do is blink. Wonwoo stares back, hair matted to his forehead, pinked skin peeking through the sweaty locks, eyes rounded with his own shock. 

“Well,” you pant, rolling to the side. “That's flattering.” 

The stickiness between your thighs still burns hot; unfulfilled by such a quick ending. But he’s earned it after last night. Goosebumps flicker across your body from the cool air as you stare at the ceiling and clear the morning fog from your brain.

“Sorry, I’ve nev—”

You swat at his side. “It’s okay. Promise.”

Wonwoo’s quick enough to snatch it, fingers intertwining and preventing you from poking him in the ribs again. Laying side by side, shoulder to shoulder, your eyes slip shut. You pretend to ignore the way he moves over you, flattening his body atop yours. 

A kiss on your collarbone, another between your breasts. His mouth trails to your nipple, sucking until you squirm before moving to give the other one the same treatment of teeth and tongue. It barely eclipses the feeling of his thumb searching between your thighs.

He descends lower when you start shaking. Lips blazing across your stomach and hips, lazy like there’s all the time in the world. Nerves short circuiting, you arching everything he has to offer; until his mouth replaces the hand between your thighs. 

It’s slower than last night. Wonwoo savors the taste of you, tracing all the parts that make your vision blur with shocking ease. You encourage him to focus in the right spots with a hand knotted in the base of his hair, thighs crushing to the sides of his face when he delivers exactly what you need.

A wiggle of his tongue on your clit distracts from the fingers sinking inside; one before he adds a second. Not as satisfying as his cock but the bend and curl with the right rhythm for your hips to buck.

He isn’t goading or punishing. None of the usual quips that accompany him between your legs spill from his mouth. When you grind up into his face he flattens his tongue and lets you; when you tell him to give you more he does, a third finger joins the mix as he sucks your clit until you cry.

“Just like that, fuck I—” you choke. “Wonwoo, please, don’t stop.” You hump his face, feet planted on the bed for more power as you pull tight across his mouth. 

A last rough curl of his fingers across your walls breaks the dam. Eyes rolling back, you savor the feel of him bullying your insides until everything explodes in flashes of white. Wonwoo does right and keeps playing with you until pushed away but not before sneaking a last lick to your bundle of nerves just to watch you shake.

Wonwoo rises with a cocky smirk before dropping back into your chest. He nuzzles down into the cradle of your throat, face still wet but you don’t have half the mind to complain. You don’t have any mind at all from the wet kisses he paints into your skin.

Sleep comes easily; carried by the lull of calming breaths and the waves still flooding your system.

The second time you wake up, Wonwoo is still asleep across the bed. It makes slipping away to the bathroom for clean up easier, but your eyes continue to glance at him as you move across the room for a fresh set of clothes. His back faces you so only the mangle of hair at the crown of his skull and the broad expanse of shoulders are exposed. The memory of the morning after your first hook up plays in your mind. Embarrassment, anxiety, the rush to be anywhere but his bed. 

Now it’s the lazy weight of an early orgasm and a good night’s sleep. If the afternoon wasn’t booked, you’d be sorely tempted to lay back down and sleep the day away next to him.

A fast shower wakes you enough that fatigue can’t seduce you back beneath the sheets. The first time in weeks you aren’t plagued by racing thoughts, mind blissfully empty as you wash away the remnants of a satisfying morning. You leave the bathroom dressed and prepared for the mess waiting in the rest of the apartment. 

Fishing your phone out of the trail of discarded clothes from the night, you see a litany of messages waiting to greet you. But only one catches your attention. 

Em: tickets for the new exhibit are at willcall! I got an extra in case lisa wanted to come

Wonwoo’s voice makes you jump. “Big plans for today?” 

You watch him wince out of the corner of your eye as he rounds the corner of the hallway, dressed in the new pair of sweats you left on the corner of the bed before leaving, chest still bare.His hair is more of a mess than what you left him with, and he bounces from one foot to the other. Good to know you’re not the only one out of their depth. 

Rather than stand idle, you race to keep your hands busy in an effort to fend off the awkwardness. 

“Ugh, yeah.” You pop bread into the toaster. Two slices, just in case. “My friend got me tickets to this new exhibit at the museum downtown.” 

He moves for his phone on the couch scrolling through messages from the evening. “Oh, cool.” 

You hum agreement into your coffee cup. 

The silence of the kitchen is stifling. Not ten minutes ago you curled up in bed with him but without the guise of sex there doesn’t seem to be anything tying you together. The pop of the toaster almost sends your coffee cup flying.

“It's, um, a really cool exhibit. She’s been curating it for the past two years.” You say while putting together a sham of breakfast. “It’s the first exhibit they’ve let her do solo.”

“Impressive.”

“Yeah.” You wince. “I’m gonna get dressed so…”

“Yeah.”

Mirroring last night, you shuffle to the reprieve of your bedroom. Locked in, the crumpled sheets of your bed pointedly stare at you; the scene of the crime. If you look too closely there's traces of the dip in the mattress where you both fell together. 

But you won’t look because the suffocating tension in your chest is bad enough without reliving the past hour. From tangled in a lover's embrace to the inability to look each other in the eye. 

You dress quickly. Warm enough to fight off the rain beginning peppering against your window and the winds that will no doubt come with it. In the mirror you still look fucked. The unmistakable glow of a morning on the right side of the bed; puffy lips, warm cheeks, and eyes glassy no matter how much you blink. There’s nothing to be done about that though so you grab your bag and return to the living room to deal with your guest.

The back of Wonwoo’s head sits over the couch. Slumped back like he’s given up in his fight against bad luck and ready to accept whatever fate the universe bestows.

“All good?” you ask, grabbing the now cooled mug. 

A hand scrubs down his face, “Landlord can’t come until this evening.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine, I’ll just go hangout at some coffee shop or whatever.”

He looks pathetic. Like last night in the hallway soaked to the bone. Unfortunately, you’ve got a soft spot for pathetic things with glasses and broad shoulders.

The words are in the air before you can bite them back. “You can come with me if you want.” 

New tension fills the space. It curls around Wonwoo’s shoulders, slipping into that place in your stomach that’s suffered all morning. He turns slowly, failing to hide the shock that finds its way in the corner of his mouth.

Staring at one another, both surprised at the offer hanging in the air, it’s Wonwoo who speaks first.

“I don’t really have clothes for a museum.”

A true enough excuse. His clothes still sit in the washer from last night and the collection of wrinkled shirts and sweats sitting in the closet will get you killed; or worse, laughed at. There’s only one person who might have clothes in the apartment that would make the cut. 

“Mingyu might have some clothes here. But if you’d rather not, that's fine.”

“Uh,” Wonwoo blinks. “Then sure, I’ll go.”

Abandoning the cup on the counter, you journey down the hall. Beyond the door to your room, then Amina’s and finally the last one. You step into Lisa’s room and dial her number. She picks up the call on the second ring.

“Helloooo?” She sings. Ears straining, you can hear Mingyu’s mumbling somewhere in the background.

You wade closer to the dresser on the far wall before responding. “Hey, does Mingyu have clothes here?”

After years of living together and sharing clothes, you know the first few drawers house nothing you wish to see. But rather than spend hours digging through the massive collection she’s amassed, you wait for an answer as you slide open one of the safer ones.

“Why? Are you planning to go as him for Halloween?”

Wedging the devices between your shoulder and cheek, you move to the next drawer containing more Lisa sized clothes and less Mingyu sized ones. 

“Um, Wonwoo-is-here-and-needs-clothes.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Lisa pauses before screaming. “He’s there?” The volume makes you wince, dropping your phone as she continues to babble like a lunatic on the other side. 

“What did you do? Rip his clothes off? I knew you were a little minx.” She hums.

“I didn’t—” you sputter. “He got locked out last night and stayed here. Did Mingyu check his phone?”

“He dropped his phone in the lake yesterday and it isn’t working. So you and Wonwoo didn’t have sex?”

Choking on the directness, you change the subject. “Anyway! Does Mingyu have clothes he can borrow or not?”

“You did! Was it on the couch? The kitchen?”

“We’re not freaks like you and your boyfriend”

“Oh so there's a ‘we’ now?” Lisa asks like a shark smelling blood. 

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” she sings. “Mingyu’s clothes are in the bottom drawer.”

Shutting the current drawer and dropping on your knees, you mumble. “Thank you.”

“Have fun on your date!”

“Drown.”

“Love you too.”

The line goes dead as you dig out a pile of shirts and pants. Mingyu nearly has his name on the lease next to Lisa so it’s no surprise he’s got half his closet here. Not that you mind since the nights Mingyu stays over come with a morning of homemade breakfast and a clean kitchen. If Lisa and Mingyu ever break up you’d consider kicking her out to let him move in. 

You return to the living room with a stack of options cradled in your arms.

“Here,” you say, shoving them into Wonwoo’s chest. “We’ve gotta leave in like ten minutes if we want to make it on time.”

Wonwoo emerges from the bathroom with two minutes to spare. Mingyu’s clothes are too big for him but it works. A sweater you could only describe as “meet the parents” hangs off his shoulders, tucked in at the waist. You try not to ogle but he looks good; too good considering you know what lies underneath.

“Ready?” he asks, breaking your trance.

“Yep. C’mon.”

The car ride downtown gives Wonwoo plenty of material to strike up conversation but he falls flat every time his mouth opens. Luckily, you’re more than willing to fill the silence and he’s grateful. 

He tries not to dwell on the fact this feels suspiciously like a date. Not just the sequence of events but the fact when you stopped for another coffee he immediately grabbed his empty pocket for the black leather wallet still on his kitchen counter. Or how he steps ahead to hold open the door when you reach the imposing white marble building downtown.

It doesn’t matter what it all feels like because Wonwoo doesn’t date. Not for lack of interest but some things in the world don’t work out and one of them is his love life. Further proof was the pained expression on your face when you invited him here; like you would have taken back the invitation in a second if you weren’t so polite.

“So what's the exhibit again?” he asks to fill the silence of the line at will call.

Today is a busy day for the museum. Students mill about between different groups. Couples young and old mixed between families. What do you two look like to them? A couple? Two friends that have seen each other naked but can’t manage a conversation afterwards? The idea has Wonwoo increasing the distance between you.

“Ugh, ‘Love: Immortal.’ It’s—”

“A collection of love, in all its forms.” Someone announces from behind.

A woman with dark hair approaches, obviously familiar to you from the way you greet each other. Wonwoo feels a fresh wave of discomfort at the way she cuts her eyes his way and then back to yours. Surprisingly, the way you shake your head makes him deflate.

“Alright, c’mon. Lots to see.” 

She drags you two to the front, flashing a smile at the security guard before walking through without hassle. 

“Benefits of knowing the head curator.” She turns to Wonwoo with a spark in his eye he recognizes from his interactions with Lisa. “Who are you?”

“Wonwoo.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Em, I’m sure you’ve heard nothing about me.”

You huff dramatically but the beginnings of a smile form on your lips. 

“Y/N told me you’re in charge of the exhibit.”

“Wow, so you have heard of me! I like him better than the other one already.”

You turn to ice immediately. Shoulders tense, eyes burning. Wonwoo can only assume she means Seungcheol. He knows the barest details of the break up; he didn’t bother asking for information on something that wasn’t his business. Seungcheol didn’t like Wonwoo and he can’t say he was too fond of the older man in the few instances they interacted. Mingyu’s birthday party last year was the most recent time Wonwoo saw him and the entire night he couldn’t believe no one was feeling the same exasperation at turning every story into one about himself. 

At least someone seems to feel the same way.

“The exhibit?” you grit. 

Em leads you through the small crowds funneling towards the main room, to a closed off wing of the museum with several signs warning “EMPLOYEES ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT.” Thick blue velvet curtains obscure the room beyond the final arch but she bats them aside and ushers you two through the opening before tossing them closed once more. 

Frames fill the walls, evenly spaced with meticulous precision. Photographs in black in white, large canvases full of color. Across the floor, sculptures dominate the spaces; marble, bronze, one that looks like white sand from where Wonwoo stands.

“Well, you two have fun. I have to do some finishing touches on the brochures for tomorrow's benefactor showing.”

And like that he’s alone with you again.

At least this time he has the excuse of submersing himself in art. It isn’t something he has vast knowledge of but it’ll help dull the edge he still feels in your presence. 

The first sculpture looks straight out of an Italian vacation catalog. Pure marble, dramatic and imposing as it greets you two. It’s impressive; the detail, the skill. Wonwoo may not understand what he’s looking at but he can admire people blessed with the talent to create it. 

Warm sunlight pours in from the sky light, painting the figures in glowing buttery gold. The woman appears to be reaching up for the winged man, desperate, wanting. Her face is hidden but the man’s is angelic and serene.

A metal card sprouts from the ground at the foot of the statue.

Antonio Canova, “Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss.”

You split to circle the statue, taking in the smooth marble from all angles. Concentration bleeds across your brows, turning them into a soft scowl. Instead of staring, Wonwoo floats to the opposite wall, coming face to face with what might as well be a painting of the way you woke him hours ago. 

Two lovers, curled in the sheets, share a passionate kiss frozen in time. It hollows Wonwoo’s stomach to think someone from decades ago could paint something so familiar. Capture a moment he took for granted in a second only to have it replay in his face.

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, In Bed, The Kiss. 

Whoever this Henri guy is, Wonwoo doesn’t like him.

“What do you think?” you ask from his side.

Startling from your voice, Wonwoo is at a lose for words. “It’s…nice?”

“Nice?”

Scrambling for an explanation to the lie he decides on the obvious, “Like the colors and stuff.”

“Huh.” 

He can’t help but feel he’s failed some kind of test. That something greater rode on his analysis of such a stifling painting.

“It looks like that one dude— Monet?”

“That dude Monet?” You snort. “He founded the impressionist movement so you’re not too far off.”

You’re already moving on to the next area when the initial sting of disappointment wears off. 

More paintings, all lovers clutching in passionate embraces dot along the walls. Some are sequenced to tell a story. Some painfully longing, others with surprisingly obvious eagerness.

Wonwoo finds you again parked in front of one of the darker canvases. Your figure shields the entire image from view but it's okay. He finds himself observing the way your head tilts to the side, like the two hooded figures are the most interesting puzzle you’ve ever faced. It pulls Wonwoo in like a magnet, he wants to see what you see. Understand what makes it so fascinating even if he doesn't get it himself.

René Magritte, The Lovers.

Suffocating is the first thing Wonwoo can think of. Unsettling, scared. A litany of descriptions he’s felt looking at the other works around the room but this one leaves him reeling. He moves on before you can ask him how he feels. 

Wonwoo doesn’t understand art, but apparently it understands him.

More pieces, cacophonies of colors and textures, swirls blending scenes into dreamlike scenes. Photos of couples, man and woman, woman and woman, man and man; all wrapped in embraces or staring fondly across the expanse.

Wonwoo works the way you came and you cover all the works he’s pretended to look at. The next time you collide in front of a dark painting near the end of the exhibit hall. 

Edvard Munch, The Kiss.

“What do you think?” Wonwoo asks this time.

You stare at the canvas a moment longer before responding. “It’s one of my favorites so I can’t be unbiased.”

“Promise I won’t tell anyone.”

A conspiratory smile, there and gone in a flash, makes his heart squeeze.

“Munch was supposedly pretty ambivalent to love, at least that's what some people think, but I feel like this and his other paintings show the opposite. It feels jealous? The two people You see other people blend together seamlessly and it feels that's what he wants. If you saw Kissing by the Window I think it’d be more obvious. If you look at any of his other work you’d see he wasn’t ambivalent to anything.”

“Anything I’d know?”

“The Scream?”

“Wait, really? Like The Scream?”

“Yeah, it was a few years before he painted this but he painted couples kissing since before that.”

“Huh.”

“What do you think?”

“Now that you say that, it feels like I’m watching my friends make out at a party.”

Dual shudders wrack your bodies, no doubt picturing your roommates.

Searching for a distraction, Wonwoo approaches the last piece of the collection. A dark bronze statue; two lovers, a man and woman, sit naked, wrapped in each other's arms. The placard on the floor reads: Auguste Rodin, The Kiss (Le Baiser). 

Even though there's no movement, the desire is clear. It reminds him of this morning. How you sat in his lap, twisted in his embrace while he worked you up. For the first time, Wonwoo understands art. If he had the talent to immortalize the way you glow under his hands he’d do it. 

The realization leaves his ears ringing, heart beating in a flurry. 

Luckily, the only thing at the end of the hall is a photobooth. The sign next to it advertises the photos are free and the museum’s social media to share the pictures. You’re already making a beeline for the curtained side when Wonwoo decides to follow.

You scoot to the far edge of the seat, assuming he’s right behind. There's just enough room for him to fit in but the heat of your side into Wonwoo makes him sweat.

“Alright so we just press this and—oh!”

A flash of bright white startles you both as the machine quickly catches both of your startled expressions. The next one also catches you both off guard and so does the next. Wonwoo barely manages to smile in the last picture.

Peeking out from the curtain, he catches the strip of film falling into the dispenser tray and collects it for you both to inspect.

Surprise captured in blurry black and white photocards. Your mouth hangs open in almost all of them. Wonwoo’s eyes are shut in three of the four. As expected the final picture is the best but that's not much given the mess of the first three.

“Oh my god, you can see up your nose.” You cackle, fingers pointing at the second picture where Wonwoo’s barely a few inches from the camera. 

He can’t argue. Instead he laughs too and points out how you’re crossed eyed in the third picture. You both howl with amused delight at the collection of silly expressions. And just when it’s under control, one of you snorts and starts laughing again until you're both breathless.

“Okay, okay. Let’s do a real one now.” 

Settling in, you both wiggle next to each other to get comfortable despite the lack of space. Wonwoo’s arm finds its way around your waist simply because there's nowhere else for it to go. Same for your hand on his thigh as you lean forward and press the button again. 

You're still too close to the camera lens when the first picture flashes but manage to lean back in time for the second. 

“Now a silly one.”

You both move at the same time, heads colliding. Wonwoo jumps back, head hitting the hardwood wall behind him. The camera flashed again while stars danced in his vision. Like something in a movie, his eyes meet yours. Humor melts into something more serious. The urge to kiss you, to feel your lips against his, not from some primitive hunger but a different sort of long he felt all morning. 

“You guys found the photo booth?” Em’s voice calls from beyond the curtain.

Wonwoo tries to hide his disappointment but you mirror it clear as day before he ducks out of the booth.

After your not-date with Wonwoo, you cherish the peace soon to be shattered that evening. Your roommates integrate you when they return from their trips. Amina first, pretending she has no knowledge of the unexpected guest until Lisa arrives an hour later. Her suitcase sits forgotten at the door, diving into a good cop bad cop routine over bags of takeout. 

“Okay, so you hook up the night before, go to a lovers exhibit at an art museum the next day, get lunch afterwards, and you still don’t think it's a date?” Amina asks in disbelief.

“Nope.” You pop the ‘P’ for extra emphasis while dividing the steaming take out between three plates. The events of the early morning are one of the few details you kept secret. Mostly to preserve Wonwoo’s pride but also to keep more evidence from building your roommates’ case.

Lisa chews through her noodles. “Did he think it was a date?”

“No.” Maybe. What if he did? Wonwoo didn’t say anything, didn’t attempt to hold your hand like some might on a date, didn’t flirt with you or stand too close. The only thing to suggest otherwise was the almost kiss in the photobooth that didn't really count at all. He needed to kill time before being let back in his apartment and you were sympathetic enough to help. 

But the strip of film, with blurry captures of you mid-sentence and Wonwoo’s shocked face, remains a secret, tucked under a pile of books on the shelf in your room. Another moment you feel protective of. Want it to exist away from prying eyes, just between you two after what was definitely not a date in an exhibit full of romantic paintings and sculptures. 

The second strip of film is with Wonwoo. You watched him from the corner of your eye as he scooped it up while you focused your attention elsewhere. Anywhere that would keep away the idiotic warmth attempting to bloom in your chest.

“Mingyu said Wonwoo wouldn’t talk about it so maybe your right.”

“How is your boyfriend just as nosey as you?” Amina asks through her own mouthful of chicken.

“Hey! Mingyu is definitely the bigger gossip in our relationship.”

“Steep competition.” You snicker, joined by your other roommate when Lisa chucks a fortune cookie.

“Anyway,” Lisa claps. “You and lover boy should figure out if you’re dating now.”

“We’re not dating."

Another week passes in a blink; the same nonsense with work, roommates, and friends. But you can’t shake the feeling something has changed between you and Wonwoo. His endearingly awkward attempt at small talk over text didn’t help. Assuring you Mingyu put him under a microscope when he got home, random drivel about his work day, even asking more about some of the artists you showed him in the other exhibits at the museum.

But you aren’t dating Wonwoo. That’s the key fact. You aren’t in a relationship and you’re both free to do whatever you want with whoever you want. It’s the mantra you repeat in your head over and over as you watch another girl flirt with him at the bar over the rim of your drink. 

She’s pretty. Pretty enough you can’t find a way to fault him for entertaining her while waiting for the next round. Confident too, tossing her head back as his mouth moves to respond to her quip. Nothing he said could be that funny. But she laughs wildly nonetheless and Wonwoo eats it up. One of her hands finds his arm, claws digging into claim him for the night.

Your buzz turns to a boil, fueled by alcohol and the green-eyed monster whispering in your ear. Wonwoo came with you. Technically not a lie because you arrived together with the rest of your group after meeting at his and Mingyu’s apartment. But Wonwoo hovered near you, his hand slipping further up your bare thigh as the night progressed. The unnamed woman can do whatever she wants because Wonwoo is at the bar to get you a drink. And it’s you he’ll sit back down next to. Or that’s what you tell yourself.

The details of Wonwoo’s face are indiscernible; if he’s smiling at her awkwardly, or laughing at her jokes, or looking at her with the same hungry expression you’ve been on the receiving end of. Granted the bar is dark and bodies crush in on all sides, obscuring your view to the point you try and peer around them without shame to watch the show. But she steps closer and Wonwoo isn’t stepping away.

Rather than continue your own torture through watching the display, your drunk brain forces your body to take action. The bar gets closer as you weave between the crowd with grace or shouldering through drunk partiers who pretend not to hear you ask for space. 

Just enough space remains between Wonwoo’s body and the redhead for you to slide between them.

“Hi,” you smile with false sweetness.

Wonwoo doesn’t seem shocked as he smiles back after a beat. “Hi.”

“Um, excuse you?” the woman scoffs behind you. “We were talking.”

You don’t even need to speak before Wonwoo plucks the cup full of ice and lime wedges out of your grasp, passing one of the new drinks the bartender slides his way. Once he has his own, you’re led away while whatever-her-name-is stomps her foot in the background. 

The dance floor bleeds out into the rest of the club but Wonwoo wedges you both deep enough that the walls of bodies all around offer some sort of privacy. Not that anyone is paying mind to another pair crammed close together, you two are simply one in dozens.

Chest to chest, the pulse of music lulls you into blind numbness beyond the warmth of his thigh between your own. The drag of muscle against your core with each sway. Firm hands guide your hips, teasing under the edge of your top before dipping back down. Your hands are far more teasing; one knotting in his hair, pulling until you can feel the rumble in his throat where the other rakes across. 

Wonwoo focuses his own taunts across your face. A kiss to the corner of your mouth, your cheek, chin, temple, ear. Everywhere you want to feel him but not where you need him. The smirk of his lips against your jaw, a cruel mock at the way your hips buck eagerly from some light petting, sends a new wave of chills down your spine.

It's nothing worse than anyone else is doing but you feel naked. More exposed when you find his mouth against your own, tongue scorching between your teeth, dragging across your own to spread you thin. All you can think about is where he’s touching you, how easily he could dip his hand up the back of your skirt and find evidence of arousal in spades. 

The bass dips to something slower, vibrating deep in your bones and any concerns for the public eye dissipates with it. You don’t know the song. It doesn’t matter if you did because the motions of your hips follow Wonwoo’s until you turn around. He doesn’t miss a beat when you turn and glue your back to his chest; hard against the seat of ass with his palm spread across your stomach to keep you firm against the next grind.

Wonwoo’s hand follows the heat of your thigh up and up and up until only the short hemmed skirt stands in the way. Skin glowing under the attention, you wiggle further back into his chest until he takes the chance. Wonwoo lets the sway of the music do the work, fingertips flat to the seam of your panties providing enough friction to drive you wild.

It’s too dark to see below your shoulders, let alone for anyone else to see where his hand works, but the risk of getting caught scorches your nerves. 

Hot smokey air blurs your vision when you lean back to whisper an offer too good to refuse. The bar is on the same long street as his apartment, a quick walk to fuck in the comfort of a mattress. But as your eyes slip open to tempt him, Wonwoo is already looking at something far across the club. 

Following his line of sight, you find your ex-boyfriend crowded in a booth, surrounded on all sides by familiar faces who became strangers in the aftermath of the breakup. Seungcheol isn’t looking at you because he’s in deep with some blonde; arm around her shoulder and chin tipped back. The same moves he used to get you.

But Seungcheol can’t be here because he’s halfway across the country. He wasn’t coming back. That’s what he said. He wasn’t coming back yet he’s sitting less than fifty feet away. 

Your eyes finally manage to work again, scanning the others at the table and finding his best friend. Of course he’d come back for Jeonghan’s birthday. 

It’s Jeonghan who looks at you first, not Seungcheol. His eyes drag above your head, where he must spot Wonwoo’s face given the way he fails to conceal a second of shock before looking away. Jeonghan leans towards Seungcheol’s ear and you don’t stay to guess what he’s saying.

The bar is too crowded, the music too loud. Too many people jostling you side to side while you navigate towards the hallway leading towards the bathroom. It’s dark, a few couples pressed against the walls; some chatting, others… reenacting what’s happening on the dancefloor.

Thankfully the bathroom is empty. After locking the door, you catch a glimpse in the mirror. Skin flushed with sweat, hands trembling, and heart racing. How much is due to dancing after a few rounds and what can be attributed to the anxiety of an unexpected run in with your ex is unclear. The coolness of a wet paper towel against your skin helps wash away some of the mess.

Pacing in a tight circle, you burn a rut into the floor.

You won’t be upset. You won’t. You aren’t. Whatever you had with Seungcheol is long over. Thoughts of him, rose colored memories, were nothing but the past. They didn’t bring the same misery as before, the longing to have him back or for a different reality. But your body refuses to have the same reaction now that he’s back in orbit.

A firm knock against the door startles you. 

“Um– someone’s in here.”

“It’s me.”

Not Lisa. Not Amina. You unlock the door to find Wonwoo peering back. His eyes widen behind the frames of his glass as he eyes your state in the new lighting. 

“Sorry, I’m—” you sniffle, cut off by the comfort of Wonwoo’s chest.

It’s awkward, arms pinned under his own and your nose jammed against his collar bone. You’ve never hugged Wonwoo, or seen him hug anyone else for that matter. But he’s trying. 

The rhythm of his heart calms your own. On instinct, your arms circle the narrow part of his waist, melting into the weight of his hold. All the worries dull around the edges, softened with Wonwoo here; his face pressed into the crown of your head.

“Wanna leave?” he asks.

Nodding into his collar bone, you inhale the smell of his cologne. Sweat and beer and smoke from the bar also seep in but you hold tight anyway; cling to the comfort of his scent until you feel lighter.

Another knock at the door breaks you apart, but Wonwoo keeps you close with a squeeze.

“Occupied,” Wonwoo responds.

You imagine what the person beyond the door will think when you exit. Eyes glazed, shirts wrinkled, even Wonwoo’s hair is a mess from your fingers constant tugging earlier. Maybe you’d care less if the night wasn’t interrupted unexpectedly. But now you just want to run home and sleep.

This time when you step away, Wonwoo lets you. “Good?”

“Better,” you respond. 

Ushering you out the door, you quickly find the person who knocked.

Seungcheol leans against the far wall, arms crossed in front of his chest. The massive silver watch he insisted on wearing staring you down. He looks exactly the same as the day he left albeit more inebriated. Face tinged pink, shirt wrinkled at the collar. The light pouring out from the bathroom highlights the smudge of lipstick on his throat. 

And he’s staring Wonwoo down like he wants a fight.

He quirks an eyebrow. “So this is what you’ve been up to?”

The ability to speak evades you. What’s there to say? The first words you hear from him in months and the situation doesn’t paint a friendly light.

“Ya’ know, she let me fuck her in there too.”

Wonwoo stiffs at your back. It’s a half truth. Seungcheol wouldn’t fuck you in the bathroom after you asked but he left you suck him off. You don’t argue. The details won’t make you look any better. You doubt Wonwoo wants to hear it. Not after being so close to fingering you on the dance floor for everyone to see.

It’s embarrassing. You heat in the face once again but ignore the bait. Instead, you snag Wonwoo’s hand and pull him away. He fights for a second, a hesitant tug backwards while he sizes up the older man. If they want to fight, you aren’t going to play witness.

Wonwoo stays as you leave. Down the hallway, past the bar, and out the exit as quick as you came. Only the bouncer stands outside the bar in the chilly night, bidding you farewell as you follow the sidewalk home. 

The cold sobers up whatever alcohol remains in your system before freezing you down to your bones. Rain lingers in the air, on the edge of falling so you pick up the pace. It’s a long walk but not an unwelcome one. Plenty of people fill the streets, pouring in and out from other bars or restaurants open to the late night crowd. Hopefully they’ve all had a better night than you.

A crack of thunder announces the sky’s descent. Fat raindrops soak you to the bone before you can dodge under an awning. Everyone scatters like ants, swarming for any safe haven available. Puddles the size of swimming pools flood the sidewalk; cars rip up waves to douse the unfortunate souls close to the curb. 

It’s the kind of rain where the clouds fall all at once. Waves of thunder split in half from bolts of lightning. Raindrops bounce from the ground, sent sideways by the wind to soak your shoes. The pounding sound deafens everything else but not the embarrassment clouding around. All you want to do is get home, lie down, and forget everything in a tub of ice cream. 

You thought you wouldn’t care about seeing Seungcheol after your break. Sure the brief shock would settle in but after that there wouldn’t be anything else. No hard feelings, no feelings at all. But the reality of these things is always worse than the way they play out in your head. 

Seungcheol with a new girl like he’s done it a million times since your break up. Seungcheol wrapped in someone else’s arms, covered in someone else’s lipstick, without a glance your direction. 

The more you think, the more you realize it isn’t seeing Seungcheol that freaked you out. Because you’ve been hanging around Wonwoo, spending nights wrapped in his arms, almost kissing him without the excuse of sex afterwards. 

It’s having Wonwoo there to witness Seungcheol acting like an asshole. That he practically called you a slut to Wonwoo’s face, treating you like some object in their weird dislike for each other. It’s also the embarrassment that you dated Seungcheol to begin with. And how before you spotted Seungcheol you didn’t care about anything beyond where your body ended and Wonwoo’s began. All you wanted was to spend the night with him.

“Here,” a familiar voice rumbles next to you.

Wonwoo forces his jacket around your shoulders. Too tempted by the warm dryness, you accept without objection. The comforting scent of his cologne tickles your nose and you fit the urge to press into the collar for more. Instead you pull it tighter around your frame and watch the storm rage on. 

“My place is on the next block.” Wonwoo says. “You can wait there until the rain stops.”

This time when you grab his hand, Wonwoo follows. 

What Seungcheol said, what he implied, boiled Wonwoo’s blood. It wasn’t his business. It wasn’t anyone’s business. Maybe Wonwoo was jealous of what Seungcheol said, the power he still clearly had on you.

He hated that after you walked away Seungcheol’s eyes followed you down the hallway; the cocky expression on his face say ‘I won’ like you were a pawn in some fucked up game. In a way, Seungcheol had won. You scurried away like like being around Wonwoo was some sort of crime, leaving him to face the older man.

Wonwoo hadn’t take the bait. He was more concerned about where you’d end up in such a frazzled state that he only hesitated for a second rather than beating the crap out of your ex.

But right now, instead of dwelling on those unwanted feelings, Wonwoo focuses on not freezing to death in the storm. He sprints alongside you, kicking up more water that only serves to soak you both further. You take turns pulling each other under awnings and into doorways. A car passes by and sends a wave that splashes him in the face, knocking his glasses askew.

One glance at your face, shock pulling his features wide, sends you into a fit. 

Hands on your knees, you keel over in laughter. Shoulders shaking, belly clenched cackling that confuses Wonwoo more than anything else tonight. More and more rain falls around you as you hunch over to catch your breath, only to choke on more shrill giggles.

Wonwoo starts shakes too. From the cold mostly. But then his head kicks back and he laughs at the ridiculousness with you. At the way you sway on unsteady feet, unable to breathe. At the utter insanity of the night you’ve shared together.

You fall into his arms, propping each other up the remaining distance to his apartment. Occasionally chirps break through; Wonwoo collapses, pulling you with him or vice versa teetering back and forth like a pair of drunk fools.

The metal of his front door is familiar once again but Wonwoo cages you against with new warmth in his chest. He could kiss you. He wants to kiss you, but he also want to stand here and laugh like kids sharing some silly secret for hours. 

Settling for a quick peck against your chin, Wonwoo smiles again as your lips chase him. It squeezes something deep in his chest until it hurts. The corners of your own mouth strain along with his, warm pain because Wonwoo thinks he might like you. 

More than a hookup. More than some casual fling that will dissolve in the next few months. Wonwoo likes you.

As he opens the door, ushering you inside and pulling off your soaked top, he really hopes you like him too.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @lovelyhachi @sliceofwoozi @dokyeomkyeom @cheolism

Series Taglist: @aaniag @sdoulc @wonvsmile @jeonwonwooscutie @wonrangwoo @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @yogurttea @4cheezflatbred @fragmentof-indifference @p-dwiddle @icedearlgreytea @cottoncheol @hoshiskimchi @listxn @kwonshiho @kyeomofhearts @beananacake

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#ksmutsociety #kvanity #svthub #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo smut #wonwoo #wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fanfic #svt smut #🫡 highvern

[brucewaynehater101]

Okay, you know that hc where Tim Reincarnates as The Trash of the Bat Family? It got me thinking of him scamming and making the "Real League of Assassins". He integrates Pru, Z and Owens early, makes them his people (or assassins disguised as servants).

"Where's the coffee?"

Owens, pouring chamomile tea, "We're all out of coffee, Sir."

"Energy drinks?"

Pru, throwing a trash bag away. "All gone too, Sir."

He integrates Kon before he experiences the SA with Tana Moon and other ladies, and Kon becomes his bodyguard.

"Are we doing something bad?"

"Oh, we're doing something veeeeery bad. To Lex Luthor."

Tim rescuing Damian.

"You're Damian Al Ghul Wayne. You're an Al Ghul and a Wayne. You can do whatever you want. I'm not taking care of you."

Damian, not trusting this lying bastard, secretly follows him around. Tim knows Damian is, and begrudgingly just accepts Damian into his fold until he reaches Gotham again.

"If you die, Timothy, I will dominate the world, kill everyone, and then myself."

I love these additions so much!!!

The "Real League of Assassins" is such a petty name, and I live for it. Just Tim as a kid and his little League of Assassins (depending on how far back he went into the past and how soon he aquires the OG best assassin squad). It would be double hilarious if his "Real League of Assassins" doesn't actually kill anyone, but I also respect Tim's right to commit murder however he deems fit. I like to imagine how mad Ra's would get at the name.

Part of Tim's asshole cover comes from Pru. There's two ways this can go. One, Pru is her complete self in front of everyone (she will break someone's nose no matter their price tag). This causes major scandals and issues for Tim cause how could he hire someone who behaves like that? Or Two, Pru is creepily pleasant and respectful around other company, and Tim continues to act like usual around her. This causes people to pity Pru for having such a horrible boss.

I also live for Bodyguard Kon AUs. You know the two of them are playing a "I know your sickly Victorian child looking ass can beat me up, but I will pretend I don't know this until you tell me why" with a "please stop saving me from every small things because I know you know a sunburn isn't going to kill me." It's dealer's choice on how soon Kon finds out about Tim's vigilante gig. Also, if Kon is a bodyguard in this, is he also Superboy or the equivalent? Does he become a superhero once he finds out about Tim's heroism? There's no way Kon would stick around Tim if he believed the persona Tim kept up.

Cue Tim accidentally forming the YJ again, but this time it's hidden from the JL radars and is a closely guarded secret.

As far as Damian, I absolutely love that quote you included. It's so Damian coded and I live for him threatening to take over the world. I also want to see Tim's reaction and how concerned he is over Damian threatening to kill himself. As an older brother, he legit could care less about Damian managing to kill the entire world. It's Damian wanting to die that scares him.

As far as the AU, Tim is trying so hard to distance himself from the Waynes that his dumbass shouldn't have picked up Damian in person. He was probably too anxious to leave it to someone else, but now he has a tiny suspicious assassin who reluctantly became fond of him.

There's a few different ways this can play out.

One, Tim picks up Damian in his vigilante costume and never unmasks to Damian. The little tot starts to think of this vigilante as maybe a brother before being given to Bruce (angst of abandonment tied with identity shenanigans. How soon does Damian realize that Timothy "Trash" Drake is the one to save him from the League?).

Two, Tim starts off with his secret identity in tact but reveals himself while traveling back. They bond, Damian is left at Bruce's, and, to the surprise of literally all the Waynes, the kid is seen constantly talking to the complete jerk Timothy Drake. Damian is actually nicer to this douchebag stranger than he is to some of his family members. What's equally shocking is how kind Tim is to Damian. Tim hasn't been cruel to children before, but he hasn't gone out of his way to be nice either. This cues investigations into Tim by the batfam.

Three, Damian refuses to go live with his dad and sticks around Tim when they return to Gotham. Depending on when Tim rescues Damian, Tim's fake uncle adopts Damian, and they become brothers legally. When Bruce finds out Damian is his son, he doesn't take the excuse, "I found him on the streets!" from Tim seriously.

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #dc au #damian wayne #kon el #dc prudence #thank you for the ask!!!! #y'all remember to be careful when adding romantic relationships to time travel #timkon is cute but the age difference (even though Tim's body regresses) could get spooky here

[corruptedcaps]

Bitchy Besties: part 2

In the car ride over Tanya gabbed about everyone in high school and all their dirty little secrets. Kate couldn’t believe the insight she was gaining about the other students she had known for years. Tanya even spilled the beans on her best friends.

Kate figured Tanya saw Kayleigh as more of a peer than some beta follower like the rest of Tanya’s friends. Despite despising Tanya, Kate found it somewhat rewarding having her bully so enamoured with her.

Tanya brought her around to all the bougie stores and they tried on outfit after outfit and the two were having a genuinely good time together. Kate had never worn so many tight and revealing outfits but she had to admit that they all looked great on her.

Finishing up with a trip to the nail salon, they both got a matching set of new press on's. As the beautician worked, Kate entertained her bully with fabricated stories of her life, who thankfully seemed to eat it up. Some stories were just things Kate remembered Tanya had done but she tweaked certain details to be more ‘Kayleigh’-like, whatever that had come to mean.

Posing for a selfie together, the two girls proudly showed off their new nails.

“This is going to blow up on socials babe, two hawt bitches like us. What’s your handle so I can tag you?” Tanya asked.

Kate started to panic, a girl like Kayleigh would certain have more social media than anyone else but Kate had never bothered. She had to think of an excuse.

“Oh I don’t have any. Well not anymore anyway. Remember the cyber bullying I told you I was doing before? Well my parents made me delete everything, otherwise they weren’t going to fund my trip to Paris.” Kayleigh said sounding genuinely pissed at her fabricated parents.

“Well did you go to Paris?” Tanya asked.

“Eh yeah, remember I told you about the hot French guy I fucked there?” Kayleigh replied.

“Then the statute of limitations are up.” Tanya said grabbing Kayleigh’s phone from her hand before she could be stopped. Tanya was like a pro quickly setting up new accounts for Kayleigh. In 60 seconds flat she handed the phone back.

“Now to tag you in this gorgeous pic of us. Annnnnd posted. You’ll be royalty in this town before the end of the day. So naturally I gave you the handle QueenKayleigh. No need to thank me. Don’t you love it?” Tanya said with a gleeful smirk.

Kaleigh pulled up the post of the two of them and saw the caption read “Hanging with my new BFF @QueenKayleigh, add her now! She’s the real deal.” Kayleigh stared for a long time at ‘BFF’. She had never had a best friend before, it felt kind of nice even if it was Tanya. Speaking of which she realized that Tanya had been waiting for an answer.

“Oh babes this is amazing, we look like twins don’t we?” Kayleigh said to a waiting Tanya who beamed at her.

“Totes! A pair of bitchy babes. Oh looks like you’re blowing up already.” Tanya said as Kayleigh’s phone started a waterfall of chimes. Kayleigh looked down at her phone and sat a barrage of likes, comments and follow requests. It was kind of overwhelming but satisfying to see so many people give her attention.

Comments such as ‘dammmmmn! Who’s the new hottie?’, ‘queens!’, and ‘omg, instant follow!’ were quickly going to her head, she did look stunning after all. Each chime was like an endorphin hit.

“Thanks hun, this will help me jump the social ladder to the top, where sexy babes like us belong. Assuming I pick your school.” Kayleigh said with a natural bitchy purr.

“I hope you choose to come to our school babe, it’s a dump for sure but together the two of us would be unstoppable together. The names Kayleigh and Tanya will make all the losers shudder and all the boys hard. Speaking of which I think I see one checking you out right now.” Tanya said nodding over to a handsome guy sitting in the food court.

Kayleigh looked over to see a handsome college aged guy smiling at her. It had taken her years to attract the meagre attention of Cory and now the hottest guy she had ever seen was checking her out. She remembered the Evie stories and tried to picture what the girls in those stories would do. Standing up she turned and gave Tanya a wink and strode confidently over to the guy.

“Hey hot stuff, were you going to stare at me all day or were you going to ask me out?” She said with a tilt of her head and a sly smile. The guy seemed taken aback by the forwardness but quickly gained his composure.

“Eh yes of course I’d love too. How’s Saturday?” He asked. Kayleigh felt a power over him that she had never felt before. His eyes drank her in and he seemed eager to please. He wanted her and he would do anything she asked. She had to test it out. Remembering how Tanya snatched her phone from her, Kayleigh quickly took the guy’s phone from his hand and started to type.

“No. You’ll pick me up Friday, 9pm, got it? Here, you’re following me on Insta now. DM later for my address.” She said playfully as she handed his phone back to him.

Tanya couldn’t tell what they were talking about from where she sat but could see Kayleigh had the guy wrapped around her little finger. Kayleigh seemed to be having fun, giggling, touching his arm, playing with her hair.

“See you Friday Lucas, and don’t be late.” Kayleigh said wrapping up their flirtation finally. With a cheeky smile, she turned on her heel and strutted away. She felt his eyes on her butt and made sure he had plenty of time to take it all in.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Lucas shouted after her.

“Oh babes you’re such a baddie. He’s gorgeous. What did you two talk about?” Tanya asked eager to hear.

“We’ve got a date on Friday.” Kayleigh said with a nonchalance tone.

“Oh girl you work fast, I’m so jelly. I should have pounced on him first.” Tanya said with a smirk back to her.

“Oh you misunderstand me babe, when I say ‘we’ I mean you, me, him and his frat brother. They’re taking us to a club. Maybe we can swap at some point during the night, if you’re that keen on him.” Kayleigh said grinning as Tanya listened, her mouth open.

“Kayleigh, where have you been my whole life? You’re the baddest bitch ever.” Tanya said suddenly hugging Kayleigh.

The whole act seemed to momentarily dislodge Kate from what she was doing and stand back mentally from it all. Only yesterday Tanya was bullying her and she was an outcast and now she was suddenly her best friend with plans of a double date that she had orchestrated! What was she doing? The whole scenario was bizarre and she realized that this wasn’t her, she needed to wrap this up and fast.

“You ok babe?” Tanya said noticing something off.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Just been a long day.” Kaleigh said feigning a yawn.

“Yeah for real, let me drive you home.” Tanya said but Kate suddenly panicked. Tanya couldn’t see where she lived plus she needed to retrieve her clothes still.

"No my parents are expecting to pick me up at the school so you can drop me back there." Kayleigh said already getting up.

The drive back to the school was quieter than the ride to the mall. Kate was deep in thought, her mind at war with itself. Tanya continued to gossip but Kate wasn't taking it all in like before.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drop you home babe?" Tanya asked, sensing something still off about her new friend as she got out of the car.

"No I'm perfect hun, it will give me time to think about my choices." Kayleigh said with a smile.

"Well you know what I hope you choose, this school could use Kayleigh and so could I. See ya later!" Tanya said returning the smile and speeding off. Kate stood in front of the school unsure what to do next.

To be concluded...

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #self corruption

[vodika-vibes]

It's My Choice

Summary: Echo is in recovery at a GAR medical facility on Coruscant after being assumed KIA. You want to see him, more than anything, and you hope he knows that he's your choice.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 1190

Warnings: reader is described as having hair long enough to style, and as a supermodel.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: So I had an idea, and I decided to run with it. It might not flow well, simply because I'm very sick and have been for the last two days, but I'm happy with it. (Also, pardon any typos/grammar errors, I typed this while not wearing my eyes.)

You lean back in the hard, uncomfortable chair of the GAR medical facility, your gaze drifting to the ceiling as you wait for an update on Echo. The chairs really are terrible, but then the clones were never meant to have worried family you suppose.

Jokes on them. Echo has you.

You allow the back of your head to thump against the wall behind you and you stretch your legs out in front of you and cross your ankles.

You've been here for almost 12 hours now.

Fives contacted you as soon as the Resolute landed on Coruscant and informed you that Echo was alive and was being treated for his injuries here. He mentioned that you didn't have to come, but clearly he's lost his damned mind.

As if you'd be anywhere else.

Of course, you probably should have taken the time to make sure that you fixed your hair and washed the extreme make-up off…and changed out of the six inch stilettos you had been forced into for work today.

But, whatever. Echo's alive. Nothing else matters.

Even if your agent has been blowing up your com for the last six hours. And even if General Skywalker has been side-eyeing you like he thinks you're trespassing. 

Your comma chimes again, and you absently lift it over your head to read the message. And then promptly deleted it. Your agent will just have to deal.

A door at the end of the hall opens, and you tilt your head to the side, before you sit up straight as Fives steps into the hall and walks over to you.

He takes in your carefully styled hair —artfully tousled, your stylist called it— the dark make-up, and the impossibly high stilettos and he huffs out a laugh, “You come here right from a shoot?”

“Echo’s more important than any photo shoot. Besides, I had already finished when you called.” You reply as you kick your heels off and scramble to your feet, “Can I see him?”

Fives smiles at you, “Yeah. Follow me.” He waits for you to scoop your heels, and your bag, off the ground before he starts walking, “I should warn you…he looks bad.” Fives says quietly as he stops next to the door.

You lift your chin and glare at him, “Contrary to what you, and apparently everyone else, believes. I'm not dating Echo because of his pretty face.”

“Okay, okay. Sheathe your claws, kitten. I just wanted to warn you.” Some of the offended tension drains from your shoulders, you didn’t mean to snap at him, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone made an assumption about you and your choice to have a relationship with Echo.

Fives opens the door and moves to the side to let you into the room, and your breath catches when you see him.

Like Fives said, he looks bad. Thin, too thin by far, and so pale. The prosthetics and cybernetics are new, but honestly, you’re only bothered by them because you’re sure that they must have hurt.

“Echo,” You step into the room, and set your heels and your bag in a chair, before you move closer to his side. There are tears in your eyes, but they’re happy tears, “Welcome home.”

Echo blinks at you, twice, and then he slowly slides up in the hospital bed, “Cyar’ika…when…how did you know I was here?”

“Fives commed me and told me. I’ve been sitting out there for hours.” You look around and then huff out a sigh, before dumping your stuff on the floor and moving the chair next to the bed. You lightly take his prosthetic in your hand, a scomp, rather than a hand.

You hope that it was his choice, rather than one made for him. 

He tenses, but he doesn’t pull away from you, “You didn’t have to.”

You smile at him, “Echo. You’re here, and you’re alive. Where else would I be?”

His gaze flickers across your face, and then over to the heels lying on the floor, “Well, judging by the height of those heels, a photoshoot.”

“Not half as important as you.” You reply dismissively.

He shifts and slowly sits up, properly, before reaching out and pressing his flesh hand against your cheek, “Cyar’ika…” Echo hesitates, and then flashes a wry, self-deprecating smile, “I don’t think I’m pretty enough for you.”

You bite your tongue to stem your immediate, and loud, disagreement. Instead you reach up and press your hand over his, rubbing your cheek against his hand. “Why would you say that?”

“Why-? Cyare. Look at me!”

“I am looking.”

“Then I shouldn’t have to explain-”

“Would you like to know what I see when I look at you, Echo?”

“Not really.” You tilt your head, and he sighs, “Tell me.”

“The man who, after meeting me, an actual supermodel, invited me to go to a bookstore with him.” Echo flushes, and it’s obvious due to how pale he is, “A man who overheard me mentioning to my agent that I was worried that I wasn’t going to be able to meet my favorite author and made sure that I arrived on time.” Your smile widens, “A man who learned who my favorite author was, simply so he could read the books too, so he’d have something to talk about with me.”

Echo averts his gaze, “We talked all night.” He murmurs.

“We did. And I got in so much trouble the next morning because I had dark circles under my eyes, and you got in trouble because you were late to formation…but we did the exact same thing three nights later.”

Echo laughs softly, “I thought Rex’s head was going to explode.” He admits.

You release his scomp hand and reach up to press your hand against his cheek, ���I see the man I fell in love with. The man who looks at me and sees more than the dumb supermodel that everyone expects me to be.” You scan his face, almost anxiously, “And I’m hoping he still loves me.”

He looks at you, something soft in his gaze, “You still want me-?”

“Always. Forever. Until the stars go cold.”

“Your agent is not going to approve.” Echo warns as he lightly tugs you off the chair and onto the edge of the bed.

“I cannot emphasize enough how little I care about my agent’s opinion.” You admit quietly, “If I have to choose, I know who my choice will be.”

Echo exhales slowly, and slowly tugs you in until your forehead lightly bumps against his, “I love you.” He whispers, “I never stopped loving you. Even when I could barely remember anything, I still remembered your smile and the smell of your lotion and the feel of your skin under my fingers.”

“Charmer.” You whisper.

“Mean every word.” Echo whispers right back, and then he tugs you once more and catches your lips in a kiss that’s soft and loving enough that it nearly brings you to tears.

You have your Echo back. He might look a little different, but he’s here and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

#star wars #tcw #arc trooper echo x reader #echo x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #star wars au #the au part is that Fives is alive #and palpatine was shot by Fox and Fives

[mrswarnerxo]

❪ ✦ ❫ grayson’s morning routine.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: grayson hawthorne x fem!reader.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: grayson hawthorne has a long routine for the morning; but his half-asleep-willing-girlfriend will make it all better.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: fluff, pet names, sleepy, female reader, forehead kisses, waking up early, swimming (are those even warnings?), use of Y/N, softie grayson (?)

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 1073

𝐀/𝐍: bro reader is me. also idk i saw this on a fanfic or like a headcanon with grayson but i forgot who made it?? TRLL ME WHO IT IS SO I COULD KNOW AND TAG THEM GRAHGG??

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃: ✓

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: @reminiscentreader @nqds @never-enough-novels @ilyiwdtpyiwmyhmtkys @evaswarner @sc11vb @sophiesonlinediary @starrynightsxo @f4iry-bell @his-littlefox @viivdle

grayson hawthorne has a strict morning routine. wake up at 5 to swim, swim until the others wake up, take a shower, get dressed, get coffee, and do whatever grayson does.

now, having a girlfriend who hates mornings, though, makes his routine have some… holes in it. though, whenever she said she wanted to do it with him, he couldn’t lie that he was happy with it.

“are you sure you want to wake up with me tomorrow, love?” he asks, looking at you nervously. you grin at him. “yeah, i’m sure. plus, i’m tired of not waking up with you in bed, so…” you trail off.

grayson lifts an eyebrow before sighing. “okay, but if you’re too tired to, just tell me and you could go back to bed, okay?”

“i know, don’t worry!”

now, you know that he wakes up early. but you never knew how early.

“love,” grayson says as he lightly shakes your shoulders. you groan tiredly, turning on your side. “Y/N, you said you wanted to wake up with me.”

“yeah, but i never knew how early…” you mumble, your eyes still closed. he chuckles lightly. “you said you wanted to, right?”

“mhm.”

“then come on.”

sighing, you blink your eyes open before rubbing the sleep from your eyes. you look up at the blond above you and hum.

you wrap your arms around his neck and close your eyes again. “‘cmon, pick me up,” you mumble, digging your face in his neck. grayson tries to hide his smile as he puts a hand behind the small of your back and picks you up with him.

you wrap your legs around him as he walks to the walk-in closet and sets you down again.

you yawn, rubbing your eyes as grayson gets out his swimming trunks and your bathing suit. “do you want to swim with me?” he asks, looking up at you from his crouching position.

you shrug and say i don’t know with your mouth closed. he rolls his eyes at you, amused as he takes the swimming clothes.

you watch him as he takes his swimming trunks and walks into the restroom with them. you frown. you’ve already seen everything, why does he need to change in the bathroom?

but, you suppose that him sleeping without a shirt is a reward itself already. even though the reason why, was a whole nother conversation that you two already had.

soon, he comes back out with his swimming trunks on and you grab your swimming suit and walk into the restroom.

you tiredly—slowly—change into your swimming suit, the feeling of the fabric against your dry skin making you feel weird. of course, it’ll feel better once you're wet, but still.

you toss your dirty clothes on the wall, where a piece of it opens and takes the clothes before closing again.

you snort and roll your eyes. rich people. walking back out, you see grayson making his bed with two towels on his shoulder and if you were any other person, you’d find this weird, cleaning while he’s in his swimming trunks.

if you were any other person.

he spots you walking out and straightens his back, offering his hand to you. smiling—still tired, surprisingly—you take his hand.

he smiles back and takes you out of his room and to the swimming pool. he swims until everyone else wakes up, he told you. you wonder how long that exactly takes.

all of the rooms are still dark as he makes it to the swimming pool, sliding open the see-through door.

still holding your hand, he steps outside and to one of the pool chairs, putting down the towels on top of it.

you hum and sit on the chair, bringing your legs to your chest.

“do you want to stay here?” grayson asks, lifting an eyebrow at you. you nod at him. “i’ll go in later,” you say, making him form a little smile at you.

he was never one to smile, but he always does when he’s with you. it brings toy joy; especially when it’s a full-blown smile, one of those rare ones.

you watch as he gets into the pool and begins to swim, going from the end of the pool to the other end of the pool, swimming in laps.

you watch how his back muscles move as he moves his arms, his biceps flexing. you blink and look away from him before he can see you staring.

even though you two are official now, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed whenever he caught you staring at him.

especially in situations like this one.

it was a little while later when you got up from your chair and stepped to the edge of the pool. grayson glanced at you sitting down, before making his way to you.

he’s over there before you even got your feet in the water, putting his hands on either side of your thighs. you put your hands on top of his own and lean down, kissing his wet forehead.

he wraps his arms around your hips and puts his head on top of your chest, making you wrap your arms around his wet neck.

“do you want to come in now?” he asks, his words slightly muffled from your chest. “yeah,” you hum, moving your legs back and forth in the water, both beside his hips.

he nods and trails his hands down to your bottom, pulling you towards him before he backs away from the ledge, bringing you with him.

you squeal as you wrap your legs and arms around him, the cold water making you freeze. “it’s freezing!” you exclaim, squeezing your eyes shut. “jesus—how are you not cold, gray?”

he chuckles and kisses your forehead. “i’ve gotten used to it, flower.”

a few moments later after swimming, kissing, and hugging, avery walks out with jameson by his side.

“stop flirting and come eat. breakfast is ready,” jameson says, smirking at his brother. grayson glares at him and slowly brings you down from where you were.

you had tried to see how long he could not breathe from underwater, but of course, he had to try to impress you and was under there longer than he should have.

of course, he didn’t tell you that, though. after all, he needs to beat you in the pool games tomorrow—which, of course, he’ll never admit to liking.

#books #fanfic #fanfiction #grayson hawthorne #grayson #hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #grayson x reader #grayson hawthorne x reader #x reader #the inheritance games #the hawthorne legacy #the final gambit #the inheritance trilogy #grayson x y/n #grayson hawthorne x y/n #grayson hawthorne x fem!reader #grayson hawthorne x fem!y/n #grason x fem!y/n #grayson x fem!reader #belles fanfictions💋

[natalyarose]

𝑅𝑒𝒻𝓁𝑒𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝒶𝓇𝓉… (𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜, 𝒮𝓊𝓃 𝒾𝓃 𝐵𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒾!)

~ This is a bit of a personal one lol, maybe I'm getting a little too comfy on tumblr- but hey, I like it here and I'm very grateful for everyone who's taken an interest in whatever I have to say :)

~ tagging this on Nakshatra tumblr because I feel like this reflection perfectly encapsulates Venus Nakshatras and is very aligned with the Sun moving into Bharani, the birth of Venus among the Nakshatras

// warning, cringe and angsty lmao

I have such an odd relationship with my artistic process. Unconventional? Stubborn. Sometimes just straight up bad lol.

I want to create beautiful, meaningful things, yet I have this sort of extreme resistance to being perfect or professionalism (however, somehow perfectionism and such a ruthless self-antagonism for not being 'enough' at the same time..).

It's almost like I purposely sabotage my art by intentionally leaving in mistakes, or leaving it somewhat dishevelled in protest of perfection. In hopes that the beauty and artistry still manages to shine through to the right people.

I guess it's also this thing where I feel like the imperfection makes art more unique, more exclusive- more personal & dearly held to the people who do find the beauty in it that I initially wanted to communicate. But, there is a difference between artsy, grungy, rawness and... just being crap, lazy, unrefined, undisciplined. (I'd never refer to someone else's work in this way but myself... mann).

Knowing full well that my artistic creation likely 'needs work', is not a finished product and will very likely be criticised for its' imperfection, I still have the overwhelming urge to go ahead and share it with the world/post it. In all of its' messy (again, maybe just straight up bad lol) glory. Then I wonder why I'm not gaining the traction I want haha. When I inevitably receive criticism, I get so hurt by it, I beat myself up and it eats at me to the point that I can't sleep at night, I'm up reciting the criticisms in my head and weaving them into my very own nightmare!

I don't understand why I do this to myself lmao. Later on after posting & putting myself out there, I hear that imperfection in the song, I hear those vocal parts I stubbornly left in and didn't want to redo, I see the dodgy brush strokes I refused to fix up in the name of authenticity, and I cringe. In fact, I feel such a deep shame for it all that I take everything down out of embarrassment. Even though it was fully my decision to put up something amateur sounding and imperfect.

Maybe it's something like the weight of desire for perfection is too much, so I just go 'to hell with it!'.

It's like an endless cycle for me, and I realise that over the years, if I'd just left things up online and was more patient with myself, I'd probably have cultivated a following of some sort by now, or maybe used peoples' criticisms to improve the art to a greater extent. I mean, there are people who have mentioned to me when they notice the art is imperfect and needs work, but there are just as many lovely people who have gone totally out of their way to express deep appreciation for the music/art I've put out and enjoyed it.

Here's my 'theory' as to why I do this to myself: when I create art, I don't just want to make pretty things, though I want that too. I want to be loved, and FELT. I want to bring people to this raw, vulnerable place in my heart where my ideas emerge from. I want to be loved not in spite of the imperfections, but alongside them, all encompassing.

I don't want to have to be perfect, have $1000 worth of equipment, hours and hours of recording time trying to 'get it right' in order to be understood and deemed beautiful. I don't want to show off how perfect or skilled I am either, I want to make people feel something. I want it natural.

r a w.

I kinda enjoy for art to be unfinished and slightly unpalatable on purpose.

Maybe it's a bit of entitlement on my part, expecting that even if I do a mediocre job, people will still enjoy it and see my 'talents'/message.

Truth be told though, that's how I love other people, how I enjoy others' art as well, it's not just something with me.

When I listen to artists I love, I adore seeing something beautiful, yet somehow messy and jarring. A sort of underground-esque, 'wild feminine' creation. It evokes that much more feeling and passion that something designed to be perfect just lacks to me.

I can't get into a lot of bands that are considered 'objectively good' by many people because they just sound too perfect to me- There's a lot of times I come across artists that sound technically good, very clean but my heart just can't get into it. I find myself listening and thinking 'I wish this was recorded on a toaster', or 'I wish there was a more rough sound to the vocals' lol, I crave the rawness & intimacy that imperfection and roughness lends.

Ugh, it all creates such an internal conflict- like I want my art to be seen, to be loved yet I somewhat reject things it takes for the art to be considered objectively good & well rounded.

The harsh reality might just be that just because I see the beauty in imperfection, just because I know I've got this personal, very niche vision of what 'good' sounds like/looks like in my mind, that doesn't mean other people are going to find value in the same things.

Of course, maybe all of this is just pretentious excuses & my own self-hatred manifested (I don't actively hate myself, I try to be much kinder to myself these days but yknow)

Anyway, I realised that it's the start of Bharani season in galactic centre mid-mula Ayanamsa today & I think this write up really aligns with that.

Thankyou for reading lol.. again, a bit of an angsty personal thing but maybe it could be relevant to someone, if y'all wanna know what Venusian artistic angst looks like in real time lmao 🖤🥀

#nakshatras #astrology #music #artist #aesthetic #vedic astro observations #venus

[abarbaricyalp]

Written for the @sambuckylibrary Anniversary Event! Y'all don't even know how many of these "no-power" stories I started for this prompt. Instead I hunkered down and finished one of my favorite (and oldest) WIPs (What is the life of a writer, if not creating four WIPs for every one finished?)

CW: blood and injury There is also glib discussion of limb loss by Bucky throughout.

Yeah the title is from that one poster. You know the one.

Hanging In There 🐱

Bucky Barnes was very good at free climbing. (Yes, even with the prosthetic arm, thank you very much, terrible-gym-trainer.) Mostly because he'd taken up free climbing after he was situated with the arm. It had become his ongoing PT and his proof of freedom. Once he'd gone a few months without flattening himself on the gym floor, everyone in his life (so, his sister Becca and his best friend Steve) finally left him alone when he was doing other things. So long as he could scale rock walls, he could do his own grocery shopping.

He got as much of a kick out of watching people's reactions to him climb with a prosthesis as he did from watching them finally work up the courage to tentatively ask if he lost his arm climbing. His answer changed depending on what mood he was in or the elevation he'd stopped at if he was outside. "Sure, it got caught in a rock shift. I had to cut it off with a pocket knife." "Yeah, I put my hand in a hole and got bitten by some poisonous reptile. Lost the whole thing." "Actually I fell off a cliff and ripped the whole thing off when I tried to get some purchase on the way down." He'd lost it in the line of duty overseas, but nosy people always managed to miss the dog tags around his neck.

The point was, Bucky was really good at free climbing. He'd been doing it for years now. He thought he knew his body better now than he did when he joined up with the military in the first place.

This was all his cat's fault.

No, that wasn't fair. This was all some other cat's fault. Some street cat rascal had gotten Alpine pregnant and Bucky was just trying to see who it was. Plus maybe figure out who was so irresponsible to let their cat roam. And, no. Alpine getting out to meet with this cat Casanova was not the same thing as someone being irresponsible because she slipped out the window by knocking the plastic accordion of the window AC unit out of the way. Bucky hadn't let her out. He was not an intentionally irresponsible cat dad. He was just a new cat dad. Who even knew he’d have to cat-proof window units?

He'd been watching her ever since he'd found out she was pregnant. He fully planned on following her to whatever back alley she met Tom O'Malley in. When Alpine had climbed out his window and perched on the wide railing of his balcony, he'd figured she was going to jump down the fire escape to the ground and carry on. Instead, she walked across the narrow decorative ledge of his building and he...

Well, he followed on instinct. That was the plan, right? Follow his cat to the culprit?

He could not stress how much he wasn't thinking in the moment. 

The building wasn't that tall. He was on the fourth floor and the bottom floor was only a half floor. Still, Bucky wasn't imagining the wind tugging at his clothes as he crept along the narrow ledge after Alpine, who was not doing anything to wait for Bucky.

"Al," he hissed, making a small jump from the end of one apartment's ledge to the next. He knew his neighbor and hoped she wasn't home. She wasn't usually but his luck was not cooperating today. "Al, get back here. You had your fun night. I'm over this."

Bucky skirted across the neighbor's balcony and onto the next ledge. This one was a little different, wider but more broken up into pieces. More like a rock wall. The only problem was that there were no decorative pieces at hand level. And he wasn't wearing his prosthetic arm. If he missed a step or one of these bricks gave way, he was definitely falling.

Alpine gracefully jumped down a floor, using a drain pipe to launch herself sideways onto someone's balcony.

"Alpine!" Bucky called with a new wave of frustration. The balcony was close enough that Bucky could probably make the jump. It would be mostly falling anyway. He could land on the railing and stumble his way forward.

The only problem would be that he'd definitely alert whoever was in the apartment and he wasn't sure he'd be able to talk, or climb, his way out of that conversation. He crept closer to the other balcony, eyeing the drop and wishing he'd worn better shoes. He was just as liable to break an ankle as he was to miss the balcony.

Alpine pawed at the sliding door of the balcony and a black-and-white cat appeared on the other side of it, used its head to nudge the door open. Alpine and the cat rubbed heads and then disappeared into the apartment together.

"Are you kidding me?" Bucky asked the wind. 

He looked down at the street below, thankful they weren't on the busy side of the building. Then again, that meant it was less likely someone would see him flatten himself and therefore less likely someone would call for help.

There were not many times in his climbing journey that he felt the need to leap from one spot to the other. Sure, the occasional shift a foot or so to a different grip hold, but not like this. He braced his feet against the ledge, testing his weight out and shifting it forward.

He leapt without thinking about it anymore than that.

When he crashed through the balcony, his brain was very confused about what happened. He'd hit something solid. He was still falling. His knee ached. His other knee was in his face. Something was soaking through his sock and shoes.

He realized his forearm was flat against the balcony and he tried to lift himself up, out of the hole he’d put in the wooden floor. But he couldn’t make his legs follow commands, couldn’t free the one stuck on the wood, being held up at an odd angle by his jeans, couldn’t swing the other one back to make momentum. Then the pain really set in, along with some panic. Bucky couldn't right himself, couldn't sit, could barely move, all of which meant he couldn't take stock of what was happening around him. His leg hurt. The pain was soaking into his brain until he couldn't think about anything else.

Then, to add insult to injury, the most beautiful man Bucky had ever seen came running out the door to the balcony and almost tripped over him. The cats followed him out. Alpine, the traitor, didn't even look concerned. 

"What the hell?" his neighbor asked. Belatedly, Bucky saw the baseball bat in his hand. And, like, one that had been used in the field of play and left no comforting possibility that the man wouldn't actually use it on him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Well, right now, I'm just hanging out," Bucky answered without knowing where the sarcasm came from since most of his brain was focused on the terror that he was about to lose his leg too.

"Are you trying to break in?" the man asked and curled his fingers around the bat again.

"Me, rob you?" Bucky asked in disbelief. "That's my cat that you're clearly trying to steal," he argued with a nod to Alpine. "And your terrible Tom got her pregnant on top of it!"

"That's your cat?" the man asked. "Do you ever pay attention to her? She's here all the time. I posted ‘Found: Cat’ posters downstairs and didn't get a response."

"You did not!" Bucky snapped. "Can you just..." He gestured to the fact that he was continually slipping further through the hole he'd crashed through in the balcony. Or...no. He did this. He crashed a hole through someone's balcony. Could this day get any worse?

The man tossed the bat inside and the cats disappeared after the noise to investigate. He kneeled beside Bucky, holding onto his elbow and maneuvering Bucky around to peer through the hole.

"Your leg is pretty torn up," he warned. "I think it's best if I just call for an ambulance. I don't want to agitate any wounds. I have gauze but not extra blood."

It took Bucky too long to realize that was a joke. Hopefully. "Come on, man. Just help me up. I'll be fine."

"You are literally dripping blood onto the next balcony," the man insisted. And then he seemed to realize his hand was flat on Bucky's ribs and not on his left arm. He blanched and his wide eyes met Bucky's.

"Don't worry," Bucky assured. "It was missing before I jumped. It disappeared on me earlier."

To his credit, the neighbor's shock switched to vaguely irked in a single breath and without any follow up questions. He looked at Bucky's leg again and heaved out a long suffering sigh before disappearing into the apartment again.

Alpine and her paramour took the man's place in the doorway, watching Bucky with a pitying and disdainful look, respectively. "This is your fault," Bucky told Alpine. Or maybe the black and white cat. Really, it was that cat's fault.

The neighbor came back with an armful of supplies, including some really nice 2x4s that he laid across the balcony, balancing them on the unimpaired metal frame. He also had a medical kit that needed a duffle bag to be lugged around.

"Were you military?" Bucky asked.

The neighbor startled a little and his fingers passed over what Bucky could assume was an insignia patch on the other side of the bag. "Yeah, Air Force. Pararescue. Sam, by the way. You?"

"Army. Bucky," Bucky said. "Not in that order."

"Explains the whole--" Sam gestured to his left side.

"Well, if you figured that out on your own, how am I supposed to test out my new stories on you?"

Sam shook his head as he laid out a variety of supplies just inside the threshold of his apartment. "You and my partner would've gotten along. He had this scar on his face. Dog bite when he was a kid. But he made up stories all the livelong day about it."

"You get tired of the truth eventually," Bucky explained. "It's never good enough for anyone anyway."

Sam glanced over at him, brown eyes a little calculating for a moment. But he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he got his hands on Bucky's ribs again. "You need to help me here. I don't have a lot of leverage and we're gonna be fighting against the splintered boards."

Bucky nodded and braced his forearm against one of the boards Sam had brought out. Despite his concerns, Sam was just about strong enough to pull Bucky free on his own, which was both mortifying and also incredibly hot. Pieces of the balcony clattered to the one below as Bucky pulled his legs up behind him.

The pain started as soon as he was sure he was safely on the 2x4s. He hissed and reached for his knee like he could stave off the pain signals that way.

"Do you mind if I cut your jeans away?" Sam asked. "Just the legs. You can keep your modesty."

"I have no dignity left, so go for it," Bucky sighed. He leaned back against the railing of the balcony and watched Sam carefully cut through his favorite jeans. His leg was a gross, bloody mess but it didn't make Bucky flinch and Sam didn't flinch either. He imagined they’d both seen much worse.

"You should go to the hospital," Sam repeated as he cleared some blood away. He had nice fingers, Bucky realized, instead of listening to his admonishments. They were almost long enough to wrap around Bucky's calf and he was so sure with his movements as he wiped Bucky's leg down with a concentrate of alcohol that was definitely higher than what they sold at the bodega. His nails were maintained, but still a little dirty and rough from work. Like the rest of him: just effortlessly endearing and gorgeous.

"Why do you have random pieces of wood in your apartment?" he asked finally as Sam began to wrap bandages around his knee.

Sam looked down at his temporary floor. "I was going to redo the balcony. So, thanks for this, I guess.”

Bucky gave a lazy kind of wave and then dropped his arm over his eyes. “This isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my day either. I can help you with repairs. Pay for whatever else you need.”

“That’s more helpful than the maintenance guys have been,” Sam said. “I told them all this wood was rotten.”

“Yeah, you shoulda seen how long it took them to come look at my sink drain. I was scooping it out and pouring it down the shower for months,” Bucky agreed.

Sam groaned in sympathy, but didn’t look up from where he was now searching for large splinters. He had eyelashes longer than Bucky’s forearm, it seemed like. And cheekbones that were made to be seen from this angle. Of all the balconies in New York that he could’ve crashed on, why did he have to embarrass himself in front of a model?

Nah, even better than a model. Real and handsome and touchable.

“Wait, did you say partner?” Bucky asked suddenly.

Sam’s long eyelashes fluttered as he looked up and graced Bucky with those eyes again. “What? I didn’t say anything”

“No, earlier. You said your partner has a scar on their face.”

“Oh. Yeah. Riley,” Sam said and closed up a little bit.

“Are they going to be mad that there’s a stranger stuck in your balcony?”

“You’re not stuck anymore,” Sam pointed out. “I just don’t want you to bleed in my apartment.” He ran another cloth soaked with alcohol across Bucky’s leg and then pulled out a huge roll of gauze. “Riley was my flight partner in the Air Force. I mean. He was my partner-partner too. But I don’t think he’s gonna have much to say about you breaking the balcony.”

“Oh. You broke up,” Bucky surmised. “I just thought… The way you talked about him so easily… Sorry,” he added.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him but just gestured for Bucky to hold the edge of the gauze against his leg and proceeded to give Bucky the tightest, most fine wrapped bandages of Bucky’s life. They hadn’t done this well with bandages after he lost his arm. 

“God, you were like rescue-pararescue,” Bucky said, like an idiot. What did that even mean. “I mean, we all got triage training, but you’re actually good at it.”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “Yeah, it was part of the job,” he agreed. He tapped off the gauze and then stood, making sure to step inside his apartment before letting himself sit back on his full weight.

Bucky leaned back a little and stared up at him. This was a fantastic angle. 

“Come on, give me your hand,” he said, offering his down to Bucky. “Gotta get you off the balcony before my downstairs neighbor really starts to wonder what’s going on.”

Bucky took Sam’s hand and let him pull him to his feet, hopping over off the balcony to the apartment flooring. Only, as soon as he put his weight on his unhurt leg, that leg entirely went out from him. He fell against Sam’s chest and both he and Sam reached for the couch behind them to keep from falling over. The couch scooted back another inch, but it held steady after.

Bucky stared at Sam’s mouth because he was at the exact right level for it. But Sam was staring at him too, dark eyes wide, breath warm over Bucky’s face. His hand was on Bucky’s waist.

“Uh…I think I hurt my ankle too,” Bucky offered.

Sam took half a step backwards, scooting the couch again to do so, and helped Bucky find his unstable footing. Bucky balanced on one foot and his toes. Then Sam sank down to one knee and Bucky basically lost all coherent brain function entirely. He lifted Bucky’s pant leg and then sucked in a breath so sharply, the air whistled through the gap in his front teeth.

“Yeah, man. I think you broke it,” he confirmed. “You really need to go to the hospital.”

Bucky groaned and hobbled around Sam to lean on his couch. “It really looks that bad?”

“Are you attached to these shoes?” he asked.

“Yeah, kinda. Why?” They were just Vans, but he hated spending money on shoes (unless they were good boots, or dance shoes).

“Because your shoe may need to be cut off with the way the ankle’s swelling.”

Bucky dropped his head back and groaned like that was going to solve anything. It didn’t really matter. He’d seen how messy the other one had gotten from the blood, so it’s not like he was keeping this pair anyway. When he lifted his head again, Sam was standing there, looking like he was waiting on Bucky for something.

Bucky put on his best pathetic wet cat eyes. “Any chance you drive?” he asked. “I really don’t want to call an ambulance. You know VA insurance doesn’t cover shit.”

Sam’s eyebrow rose. “A man ruins my balcony, bleeds all over my things, accuses my cat of getting his cat pregnant–in fact, accuses me of stealing his cat–and now he wants to ask a favor after I stopped him from bleeding out or falling to his further grisly demise,” he summarized.

“A man will take you out to dinner?” Bucky offered. “As many times as you like?”

Sam stared at him for a moment longer before he relented. “I have discerning tastes,” he warned. “It’s gonna take a while for you to find a place that’s good enough.”

Bucky read directly into that and he grinned, triumphant. “Well, I have very good tastes,” he said. “But I’m gonna start off shitty just to keep you coming back.”

Sam rolled his beautiful eyes, but he was smiling and if Bucky liked his face before, he really loved it when he was smiling. “I’ll take you to the hospital, but don’t expect me to sit there and wait.”

“I think you should,” Bucky tempted. As he watched Sam gather his keys–and, fuck, Bucky’s door was locked and his keys were inside, he was going to have to call Steve to bring the extra–he limped to the door. The promise of Sam coming behind him was enough to keep the pain from taking up too many of his thoughts. Sam was firmly entrenched there.

“Why’s that?” Sam asked. He opened the door for Bucky and ushered him out.

“Because when they ask me what happened and I tell them I fell for the most beautiful man in the world, I’m gonna need the proof.”

“Oh my God,” Sam groaned, rolling his eyes again and smiling even brighter. “I should’ve checked you for a concussion. Lemme make sure your pupils aren't actually heart-shaped right now.”

“This is a perfectly normal reaction to fate literally throwing you into my life,” Bucky defended.

“Fate threw you into mine,” Sam corrected. “You’re the one who fell out of the sky like an omen.”

“An omen?” Bucky asked, affronted. “An angel.”

“Definitely not.”

They waited for the elevator in silence for a few seconds, Bucky leaning on Sam’s side to take some weight off of his leg. Then, just as the elevator dinged its approach, Sam said, “By the way, you're wrong about my cat. He's been fixed for years. Some other cat got your cat pregnant."

Bucky almost missed the elevator as he stared at Sam, who had stepped into it, in shock. Sam caught the door and Bucky quickly followed him in. “This was all for nothing? Why was she in your apartment?”

“I told you, she comes all the time. I think she likes Fig’s food. Besides,” Sam nudged an elbow into Bucky’s side. “I wouldn’t say it was for nothing.”

“‘Cause we met each other?” Bucky finished for him with a pleased grin. “Givin’ me all the warm and fuzzies, Sam.”

“Nah, ‘cause now I’ve got a reason to finally start on my balcony. And some volunteer guilt labor too.” He clapped a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and hit the button for the garage level. “We’ll see about anything else fate might have gifted us later.”

Who knew, Bucky wondered, that fate was a cat.

#sambucky #bucky barnes #sam wilson #captain america #sambucky fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier #writing #tfatws

[fallenangelics]

I'll Meet You On The Battlefield

PAIRING | Adam/Lucifer Magne | Morningstar

WORD COUNT | 1189

SUMMARY | Against Lucifer's better judgment, he finds himself in Adam's bed once a year. Trying to turn the tables, he invites Adam down to a hot day in Hell.

RATING | Teen And Up Audiences

WARNING/TAG(S) | No Archive Warnings Apply, Friends With Benefits, Morning After, Forbidden Relationship

A/N | @rubra-wav created the beautiful banner below so go check out their content since they have some amazing stuff.

EVENTS | @eclipsingbingo | Unhealthy Comping Mechanisms | @fandombingo | Lucifer | @multifandom-flash | No Longer With Us | Ungreatfu; Bastard | Phone Call From The Dead | @fandom-free-bingo | You're Hopeless

AO3 LINK | Read Here

Lucifer shifted in his bed, his body aching as his bearings slowly came back to him. It wasn’t often that he found himself in this state, nor did he normally wake up this early but something about sneaking into Heaven to hook up with the First Man seemed to set off some alarm bells. 

He wasn’t sure why he allowed himself to be talked into this. Again.

But every year the day before the Extermination Adam would call Lucifer in for a meeting. Though Adam would never by choice make a meeting unless it was to gloat in Lucifer’s face then it was being mandated by one of the Seraphins, Lucifer would always agree to meet up with him and see what he had to say, even if he already knew where their future conversation was going.

When he’d arrive at Heaven’s Embassy and make his way to whatever room they were having a meeting in, ignoring the paperwork as he went, he’d find Adam munching on a fresh plate of ribs as he waited. Unlike any official meetings, Lute wasn't there, leaving the two of them completely alone and unwatched. 

After Adam’s ego dropped a notch or two temporarily, courtesy of Lucifer, a one-way portal opens for him leading straight to Adam’s room. It was always a risk choosing to go through it and breach Heaven’s walls. It was almost as if there was a disturbance in the air that everyone could feel when Lucifer was there. He still went through that portal every time.

Miraculously, these invites only started after Lilith had run away, leaving Lucifer to his sorrows and to rule Hell by himself. Almost as if Adam had been waiting for this moment since he stole his first wife, maybe even before then. 

None of that mattered though, not when he was once again tangled in someone else's bedsheets with an aching backside. He was getting ready to dress himself before creating a portal of his own to take him home. That’s how most of these occurrences ended unless, of course, Adam woke up before him and either kicked him straight back to Hell since he was too pumped for the Extermination to spare much time on Lucifer or was ready for another round, bothering Lucifer until he was fired up enough. 

Today was different though. As he pushed himself up in the bed, the pearly white sheets fell from his bare chest and pooled in his lap. Lucifer was ready to go about his day just like any other, the heavy snoring of Adam ringing next to him as he was about to get up when an arm slithered its way around his waist, pulling him in. 

Not expecting the sudden hold, Lucifer let out a soft hiss as he was tugged down. Even in his sleep, Adam was as demanding as ever, moulding Lucifer to fit his perfect image of a pillow as he was pushed onto his back and Adam’s head made its way onto his chest. 

Lucifer dared to attempt to wiggle his way out of Adam’s hold, one of his hands shoving against his brown hair while the other tried prying his arm off from around his waist. He could easily snap himself out of Adam’s hold with the angelic power he still possessed though he didn’t attempt to, rather admitting defeat then putting further effort into his escape. All he got for his efforts was a drawn-out groan from Adam as he slowly woke up and more prodding.

“Let me go, you oaf,” Lucifer murmured softly to the waking Adam, the hand that had previously been trying to shove Adam’s head away now running through his hair. Though he hadn’t been let go, he was able to wake Adam up, keeping him awake would be another task in itself. His words seemed to not affect Adam as he slowly lifted his head, resting his chin on Lucifer’s chest so he could stare up at him through tired eyes.

“You weren’t saying that last night,” Adam mumbled, eyes slipping shut as he leaned his head into Lucifer’s hand, a sly smile stretching its way onto his face. A frown etched its way onto Lucifer’s face at his words, tugging Adam’s hair a bit harsher than it was necessary, pulling another groan from him. “I don’t need to be ready for hours, I’m sure you can stay a little longer.”

“Hm, that may be the case for you but if you’ve forgotten I’m the King of Hell,” Lucifer reminded Adam and though he had been neglecting his duties as of late, it didn’t mean he could let them completely slip from his grasp. “Now if you would let go of me so I could return to Hell that would be much appreciated.”

“You’re so ungrateful,” Adam muttered though there was a smile on his face. Trying to bury that smile, Adam planted his face into Lucifer’s chest, holding him down with his weight. His next words were spoken into Lucifer’s skin, the muffled vibrations sending tingles through his body, “I go through all this trouble to bring you up here and you can’t even bother to spend a few more hours with me.”

“Maybe you should come down to Hell for a change,” Lucifer suggested, his hands returning to running through Adam’s hair. He had thought about suggesting the idea for a few years now. Though they only met up once a year, it was a grand hassle to do so as Lucifer’s presence alone could be sensed by most of the higher-ups in Heaven, how they hadn’t caught them yet was beyond him. But if Adam was to come to Hell no one would bat an eye.

“And be subjected to the bummer vibe down there?” He rhetorically asked, head snapping up to scoff at Lucifer so the fallen angel could see how just grossed out he was by the idea. Lucifer merely rolled his eyes at Adam’s words, expecting such an answer. “Hell no.”

“I’m just saying it would be easier for you to come down there,” Lucifer shrugged it off as the suggestion was a silly idea, which he at first had thought it was but with every passing year he was brought up here it seemed it could actually work out. “Especially if you wanted to hold some… private meetings.”

Adam’s eyes narrowed as he took Lucifer’s words into consideration. Just by that look alone, Lucifer knew that his words had struck something in Adam’s brain, making him think upon the possibilities they had.

“Maybe,” Adam slowly said, hesitation behind the single word.

No matter though as a smile graced Lucifer’s face before he flipped the two of them over, Adam landed beneath his small frame with an exhaled huff. “Good to know you’re taking this fling seriously but I do have to part ways now. Call me if you ever want to make the trip down.”

There was a small blip as Lucifer and all of his belongings flashed out of existence, leaving Adam stranded on his back and a tent slowly growing in the blankets.

#hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #lucifer x adam #adam x lucifer #adamsapple #ao3fic #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic #hazbin hotel fanfiction #eclipsingbingo #eclipsing bingo #multifandom flash #fandom bingo #fandom free bingo: wbn edition #fandom free bingo

[reblogandlikes]

Dipped a toe and snooped in the pro IC and Co. tag just for shits and giggles and it's crazy how so many can't seem to comprehend general criticism of the acotar books and will call people or stans of other characters abusive and idiots and whatever else for simply being a stan of (name character) but do not see the total hypocrisy in their own faves. The abusive nature of their faves. The favoritism towards their faves. The manipulation both from and of their faves.

Many resfuse to see how all over the place SJM writing generally is and I find it hilarious how when it's stated that SJM retcon blatantly to fit the 1st person narrative of the book it's bullshit people and antis are hating for no reason, but as soon as it comes to ACOSF it's lies pandering to pro Nesta despite the story being written in 3rd person from both Nesta and Cassian's POV. I'm sorry, your fave Rhysand has always been a dick. They'd take everything in first books as gospel, but the moment it's Nesta's or even Bryce’s, it's not true? It's biased. It doesn't count.

Hmm...odd

I don't like ACOSF. The story wasn't about healing, but beating a character down into submission and as a Nesta stan, I still critique it because...I can and I will. Cassian can go fall down those stairs and give the usefulness of his wings to Emerie.

If they want to read the books blindly, go ahead, but don't get mad when others actually internalise and think about the messages being spoken. Everyone digest media differently, and that's OK. I personally like reading about ambiguous and indepth characters. Not a fan of being told how to feel and what to think. The ability to ready between the lines and pick up things that aren't in big neon writing is preferable. SJM has the capability, generally, which from what I've seen, is why TOG is far better recieved, even with the criticism.

They say if we hate Rhysand or Feyre so much, why keep reading? Well, at this fucking point, we're all too deep in this shit show to stop. Call it morbid curiosity. These books have made me a masochist.

If you're an anti blog, keep doing your thing. If you're a pro blog, same thing. Who cares? We find our communities and have fun talking shit. But the unnecessary harsh name calling over something supposedly "not that deep" is wild.

#sjm critical #acotar #acowar #acomaf #acofas #acosf #anti rhysand #anti ic #anti feysand #pro nesta #pro tamlin #pro eris vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #jurian #queen vassa #feyre acheron #elain archeron #anti #pro #reading comprehension #critical #stan culture #wtf sjm #acotar critical

[pbpsbff]

happy 1 year of r&r :)

i know it's a lil cringe to like. celebrate the birthday of a series on ao3 but r&r is literally my child. my baby. i birthed this series. and you all signed up for this when u started reading my fics thank u

soooooooo thank u guys for all the support i've received over r&r i know it's hard to stay a consistent reader when my posting schedule is entirely non existent but i am so grateful for everyone who's stuck around this long and been with me for this journey (calling it a journey because a year ago i did not have any sort of overarching plot in mind and now we're 17? 18? fics deep and so many things have happened and i'm usually just as surprised as my readers) it's rlly u guys that have kept me going this long

ANYWAY. i rewrote this like 500 times cause i hate being like. overly sappy on this account because it's way funnier to act like a celebrity with a huge ego, but real talk i am so proud of everything i've done w this series & what it's become in the past year

i've been posting my writing online since i was like 10, so we're going on almost 9 years now and i don't think i've ever ever ever received as much support for something as i have for r&r and something about that is soooo special to me??? idk it's just so nice to see a completely self indulgent series become so loved by others, especially since the only other fics i had up before gmm&m were a little more on the "i'm gonna write what seems popular right now" side???

like shoutout to everyone who was here before/around when i started the series because my account was so empty like. 2 fics and one gets updated every 6 months. r&r pulled me out of the trench i fear. it also cured me of my very horrible disease that makes me delete all my fics after 9 months and then completely disappear from a fandom so everyone say thank you r&r

but yeah idk where i'm going with this i'm very grateful for r&r and all the friends i've made and people i've met through it because i was very lonely before i rejoined tumblr and r&r was like. 90% of the reason i made my account

AND SPEAKING OF FRIENDS. thank u to

@spidergrotto & @sapoteylx for being the first ppl i met on here to openly talk about and support r&r which i thought was so so cool even if you guys have become my haters in the past few months i've known you :/ thank u r&r nation u keep me humble and miserable (and i am very thankful for our friendship i think some aspects of r&r would be very different if we'd never met)

& ao3 user classactical because you've been here since like. a month or two into the series i think and i always always always look forward to your comments because i feel like if you comment, i did a good job on the fic LOL thank u for sticking around for so long, even if ao3 has been actively working against you for a whiiiiile

there's a lot more i want to say and a lot of people i want to mention but that would take a very long time and i always feel weird tagging a lot of people in posts so just know if u read r&r we are kissing rn. or high fiving idk whatever floats ur boat i guess

but yeah anyway tl:dr happy birthday r&r i'm very proud of this series & very thankful for everyone who has read any part of it ever u guys are so cool and hot and have amazing taste and i'm taking your kudos and bookmarks etc. as you swearing your allegiance to me and promising me your undying support no matter what (legally binding btw) thank u guys

#r&r tease #ough i cannot believe r&r is a year old #happy birthday r&r you are my favorite child #gonna go post that fic now #or in like 10 minutes #idk i haven't edited anything #stay tuned

[aroaceacacia]

as a general point of etiquette i dont really think it's appropriate or helpful to make comments about hermitcraft when other mcyt communities are going through scandals or anything else of the sort. and i think people should not do that

#yes it is a stable long term mcyt staple thats stayed pretty clean compared to other mcyt niches. however. #it just puts hc on a pedestal #and it also assumes everyone is even INTERESTED in hc! not everyone is drawn to that style of entertainment #and also.! its just massively inappropriate when we r discussing things like sa or labor violations or whatever else #to make comments about sticking with hc or how others should too #it is so common on this platform to see comments or tags like this and it is so frustrating #it trivializes the strife that other communities are going through i think #bearvocalizations

[disconnected-dragon]

yknow I really didn't think it was possible to make me angrier at JK Rowling but then I found out she wrote a book abt an autistic person being sucked into a cult (that's totally not an analogy for trans people what you talking abt) because they just can't possibly know what's good for them, they need their fathers to come and hire private investigators to get them out of a cult. And in the book autistic people are referred to by the r slur and called "a bit simple".

I didn't think it was possible for me to hate this paternalistic, honeyed head-patting, self-righteous, hate-driven HAG of a woman more than I did but fuck me here we are.

#terfs dont fucking touch #anti gender critical #anti radfem #not to toot my own horn or whatever but when midsommar came out i legit had a 'oh my god is anyone seeing this?' momen #because everyone was talking abt how it was a 'happy ending' for dani like she didnt just get inducted into a violent cult #but heyyyyyyy thats just me what do i know #its not like im the owner of this brain or anything #OBVIOUSLY a british terf that lives in a FUCKING CASTLE and has NEVER MET ME EVER IN HER LIFE knows me better then i know myself :))))))) #anti gc #trans rights #ableism tw #tw ableist language #i hate jk rowling i hate her i hate her i hate her so muchhhhhhh #anti jkr #fuck jkr #had to edit the tags because i realized 'jk rowling' attracted terfs and i dont fucking want that noise #im already fucking angry im not taking being talked down to because im autistic

[front-facing-pokemon]

#HEEEERE'S THE BIGGUN #everyone knows this guy from being the mailman in rescue team. and good on 'im for doing the job that no one else can #it's your game‚ pelipper! woooo!! cheering. clapping‚ even #see remember in wingull's tags when i was talking about it not having one thing it's super memorable for? pelipper is the beak. that bill #or whatever it is. is it a beak or a bill #it's a kangaroo pouch is what it is. for holding Mail……… #i'm trying out the new post editor for this one. normally i use the “legacy post editor” or whatever they call it but i'm trying the new on #just for fun. and i'm not sure how i feel about it #it's kinda objectively better but the font for tags is way bigger. on the old one i could kinda intuit when i'm abt to hit the character li #it. ← like that. but here i can't quite tell. bc it makes it look like tags are able to be way longer bc it wraps twice instead of just onc #because the font is so big. it's like better. it's more readable and it plays nice with my theme. but i dunnoooooo #tumblr users are notoriously averse to change and i suppose i'm basically the same way #this isn't about pelipper. here's pelipper. enjoy pelipper #pelipper

[canon-gabriel-quotes]

Hey everyone, since tumblr is dead set on running itself into the ground I have made 2 backups! One on Twitter (ew. I know.) and one on Bluesky.

Left is Twitter. Right is Bluesky.

I AM NOT LEAVING TUMBLR BTW!

At least not as of now. These are just backup accounts and will remain mostly inactive unless I need them. I might throw a couple of posts on there but it won’t be anything I haven’t already posted here!

Because of the nature of those platforms I will most likely have to upload everything as videos and add the needed links and transcription in replies. This would be a lot more work so let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

#and yes I turned off the AI scrapping shit #but AI companies do whatever they want #and tumblr is just after money #not adding any of the filtering tags to this cause it’s important #might reblog a couple of times as well #just to make sure everyone sees it #this is also here in the event tumblr ever randomly decides to ban me or some shit #so you know where to find me #im also on YouTube. username is @huh0069