Tumgik
#If she were to work with Oscar Wilde
kooktrash · 7 months
Text
the art of obsession | kim taehyung
Tumblr media
summary: in a world of painters and poets, there were two college students looking for the right sort of inspiration. through devotion in your craft, you find yourself drawn to kim taehyung—a grad student painter who’s everything you’ve ever looked for in a character. his walk, his form of speech, his art, it all captivated you to the point where you wanted to recreate him in words and you begin to realize how similar the two of you really are. you share a sort of obsession in your work that seems like only each other could understand and he invites you into his world of oil paints and charcoals in hopes of drawing you on paper.
✎ genre/au: dark academia. college au. painter!taehyung x writer!y/n [afab. she/her]
✎ 17.4K words
“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” — Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë
warnings: smut. slight obsession with their work. prestigious college. tae literally takes oc to a graveyard. oc and tae dont take criticism well. unprotected intercourse. oral [f and m]. oc slobs on his knob and tae eats like it’s the last supper. missionary. side position. lowkey passionate sex. fireplace crackling. namjoon and oc used to be fwb. hints that oc and Jimin used to be fwb too. jungkook is tae’s sculpture artist bestie. jimin is oc’s ballerina bestie. namjoon is oc’s writer bestie.
Tumblr media
The smell of cigarettes was something you were fairly used to being around where you resided. You’re not sure what makes it so popular among young academics and sometimes you wonder if it’s not the need of nicotine but more so the aesthetic of it that they all seem to enjoy. It seemed to always linger in the air around campus where all the grad students would walk with their heads down and bags under their eyes as stress took over their entire being. You understand the stress but being an undergrad student yourself, you’re not sure you could understand the extent of it that they must feel. All you could really do is watch the way it slowly deteriorates their body every time they step into the library.
Maybe it’s the Literature major in you, but you never fail to try and assess each person that walks in as if you could see their entire character design and what makes them who they are. Today you got a bit lucky because despite how slow your homework had been going, your favorite case of study had just walked in wearing his usual black turtleneck tucked into a pair of loose corduroy pants. He wore a pair of rounded wire glasses that you love getting to see him in and they did wonders to conceal the eye bags you knew were there.
With this smallest hint of entertainment you’ve found through your long and boring study session with only one friend to confide in, you shut your copy of — excuse the pretentiousness — The Pictures of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, and lowered the volume on your headphones enough to be more aware of the cause of his visit today. You rarely saw him in the library and if he did happen to come by it was to check out or check in a single book on Michaelangelo or Davinci.
You were surprised by how close he seemed to have gotten to you today. The table you studied at was only a couple feet away from a book aisle he had currently walked down and now he was just a meter or so away with his head down in his book. The usual smell of smoke surrounded him and despite scrunching your nose at the smell, you chose to ignore it and study him a little further. You even went as far as to lower your headphones until they curled around your neck giving him your attention even if he didn’t know he had it.
As much of an observer as you were, you never seemed to catch on to the way his gaze would shift to you any time you weren’t looking, eyes scanning your features rather quickly as he made his own assessment. You dressed warmly today, probably due to the fact that there’s been a light rain that has been casted over the city, always seeming to linger longer where the buildings were older and all signs of urban life seemed to dissipate. You were dressed in neutral tones today that placed you perfectly with your own surroundings and if this was a painting he’s sure you would be the focal point—or maybe the single spec of bright color you wore which was in this case your powder blue headphones. He’s not sure he’s ever used that specific shade of blue in a single one of his works before but maybe he’ll look into it.
He rarely visited the library but when he did it was always a pleasant surprise to see you there. He didn’t care much to get to know you, he just found the aesthetic of it all captivating. The library was beautiful, truthfully, with its dark wood shelves and polished tile floors that echoed with each step. It was eerily quiet and it always smelled of old books and always reminded him of a cathedral. There were large stained glass windows of poets, painters, dancers, etc. the clear glass windows overlooked the large pond that covered the back of the small campus where the woods began to take over and student life decreased aside from the occasional late night college party hosted there between trees and bonfires.
“He always comes into my work for paints. I wonder why he always pays in cash.” Your friend said, suddenly appearing next to you and not messing with the printer anymore. He must’ve caught sight of Taehyung before he left and considering he worked at a supply store, it was no surprise he recognized him.
“Maybe he hates banks,” you joked, turning to Jimin with a smile. Jimin pursed his lips staring down the aisle where Taehyung had disappeared once he had his book, “Maybe cash is more aesthetically pleasing. He’s an art major, isn’t he? I say he’s too pretentious to use a plastic card—or even worse, Tap to Pay.”
At that you laughed, deciding to continue the teasing of a man you barely knew while also trying to defend him, “Do people ever get tired of throwing words around?”
“Are you referring to my use of ‘pretentious’?” Jimin asked as he moved to the other side of the counter, “I used the term correctly, it’s an adjective meaning, ‘attempting to impress by affecting greater importance and culture than is actually possessed’. His refusal to adhere to society’s technological advances is pretentious in itself. I bet he still uses No. 2 pencils as an act of defiance against mechanical pencils—if he was a writer like you he would probably be more drawn to a pen but he’s an artist and artists make mistakes that get covered up or changed.”
You couldn’t help but smirk at that, “Tell me then, Jimin, what does a ballerina use to convey words? An Arabesque?”
Jimin released a loud groan, “I hate this goddamn school.”
You watched him open his newest generation laptop and hide behind it. He knew now how little room he had to talk. You, yourself, couldn’t utter a word to disagree with him either when in your hand was a Montblanc fountain pen that cost your parents a hefty 1,500$ to get to you when you were first accepted into the school. You’re sure when the time comes for you to finish undergrad, they’ll up the price and give you one worth 4,000$—the most profound amount of proof that you did in fact strictly use pens for everything.
You would never dare mention anything revolving around the money Taehyung’s family is rumored to have because you don’t know anything about him to do so.
All you knew were the few things you’ve noticed — a couple that even made it into your journal — like the fact that he specialized in two mediums; charcoal and oil paintings. He’s a known name at the University for his work and dedication and you saw that through one of his works. It was dark and a bit twisted but it told a story and you think that’s what drew you into him before you even knew it was him.
Despite his strong presence that always seemed to draw you in, he had a gift for making himself invisible in a group setting. He never spoke up in class, never caused a fuss, he was in and out like a shadow.
At the start of the semester you were taken by surprise when you found him sitting in one of the back rows of the lecture hall to an advanced anatomy class that you’re sure you took for very different reasons. Taehyung was interested in the study of the body so he could fully understand the way the it works from the inside out. He wanted to understand how each limb moved, how fluid each bone and muscle connected, how they could contort, see where the organs go, imagine the flesh coming to life when he painted.
In literature, anatomy isn’t referring to the human body. It refers to a separation of a topic into smaller parts for detailed analysis of the work. You did not make a mistake when you chose this lecture, you too wanted to study the body for your work. You wanted to learn how fragile it really was, how it could be destroyed, how hard it was to do so. You wanted to know about which bones were weaker, which organ puncture did the most damage. You need visuals and understanding of its healing process, of the way it moved, how the nervous system worked. Once you had a better understanding of the body, you just knew that you would be able to apply all these things to your writing. You would be able to detail how your character’s body deteriorated outside and in. How the body would slowly break down, which nerves were affected, how the heart worked in that moment. It would be gruesome but intriguing enough for your readers.
Maybe you needed to write something not so dark, something that didn’t make you take courses you didn’t really need but wanted in hopes that they’ll help you understand better. You didn’t actually need to go this far to describe a couple grueling scenes but it helped.
Tumblr media
The room was silent aside from the obnoxious sound of the clock, Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…Ticking.
You stood at the front of your professor’s desk in his clustered office filled with classical literature books and awards for writing all over the shelves. His desk took up the majority of the space inside and whenever you were in here you couldn’t help but feel just a little suffocated. There were barely any words shared between the two of you, he only ever decided to truly grace you with his speech when he was critiquing and yet right now he’s been uncomfortably silent.
The silence had grown so long that you found your attention drifting toward the grandfather clock that was tucked away near the overwhelming stained glass window that overlooked the courtyard filled with wet and fallen leaves. The trees were bare and the fountain had a sculpture of a big swan with its wings spread in what looked like a dance. It always reminded you of the Swan Song, but you never knew if that was morbid of you. The idea of your University of Fine Arts decorating the campus in the black and white birds simply for decor always seemed strange to you too.
There was no way they would ever portray anything without meaning, or at least something not up for interpretation and yet every time you looked at one of the swans, you thought about the Swan Song, the way the bird’s wings were open beautifully with each detail chiseled into the stone. It looked like the swan’s final performance before its end. It wasn’t the sort of symbolism you liked to see at a school with such dedicated artists looking for a way to perfect every aspect of their work as if each one was their last.
“I like it,” your professor finally said, drawing your attention back to him in an instant, “Your writing has improved Y/n, I’m starting to really visualize the plot and I think it has a certain rawness to it that I’m not used to seeing from you.”
The corner of your lips turned upward like you wanted to smile but you wouldn’t fully allow yourself to. He hasn’t looked at you yet, his eyes stayed glued to your paper and it was clear he wasn’t done, “But it still feels stiff—well, the main character does. I can’t understand him yet, he’s just a mystery to me and not one I’m interested in unraveling. I can’t understand his depth and it’s becoming a big flaw in your writing. Everything else sounds wonderful, well articulated and with such emotion… that when I think of him all I see a huge lack of substance. He’s being drowned out by the rest and he’s supposed to be the one I follow when I read.”
You didn’t say anything as your jaw slowly clenched shut, eyes unwavering as he went on, “It’s like you have a lack of knowledge for human emotion and psychology, I’m not sure that’s something that can be easily fixed.”
“Does it make my writing bad?” You asked stiffly and he shook his head no.
“No, your writing is captivating but there’s a very huge disconnect I’m feeling from your characters,” he said, looking up at you, “It takes away the beauty of it.”
Your lips felt sewn shut as he handed you back your paper with all of his notes for you to fix and you felt like crying. You couldn’t even utter out a single word as you forced yourself not to react to his words and leave his office with your head held high.
What did he mean by disconnect? What more did he want you to do? What did you not understand about human emotion? You’re a human, what is there not to get? What else did he want from you?
These questions circled your head for what felt like an eternity, only confusing you more and more as you left for your next lecture. You spent the fifteen minute gap with your journal out jotting down every question that came to mind trying to see how you could find answers to these.
You sat alone in your row of seats waiting for other students to arrive and you took the time to brainstorm. He told you your characters lacked substance and implied that they were hard to visualize. He said that he can’t understand them, especially the lead and that he couldn’t be absorbed into a story about a character he doesn’t care for. He basically said that you lacked an understanding of emotional depth for the characters you write and therefore your stories will continue to have a disconnect until something changes. If only something could inspire you, maybe help you analyze these so-called emotions you couldn’t comprehend. You needed to remove some of the mystery around your character and really dive in on his arc, understand how he felt. How could you do that? It's not like you could fully visualize it yourself either unless you really began to study those around you more than you already do.
You sat up straighter in your seat and looked around as the lecture hall began to fill slowly. The room had a sort of ancient feel to it with long hazelnut rows of desks pressed side by side against each other in an amphitheater manner. There were diagrams and models of the human body plastered everywhere but none looked straight off of a doctor’s catalog. They looked like Davinci himself drew every skeleton in the room. It also had a small echo especially when the rain hit the wall or glass windows that sometimes tuned out the sound of talking students entering the hall.
You recognized most of the faces and the one who passed you as he went up a few rows seemed to distract you more than the others. Kim Taehyung didn’t wear glasses today but he wore a wool sweater and linen pants. There was a small splotch of gray paint on his knuckle that he hadn't seemed to notice as he swung his book bag onto the desk with a small thud, uncaring if anyone heard and ignored everyone around him.
He was similar to your character, almost. He always seemed closed off and unapproachable but behind his eyes was an aura of emotion that isn’t easily interpreted. You found yourself beginning to scribble down in your journal, just basic things you noted about him.
The lazy, bored look in his eyes that made him look tired and unamused by everything that happened around him.
Then there was his stance. He had good posture but when he sat down in his seat he leaned all the way back with his arms on the table like he was observing every person in the lecture hall, even you.
You knew this because for a second your eyes met with Taehyung’s and in that measly moment you just took in the sight of each other. Taehyung didn’t hold much expression in face but his fingers seemed to twirl his No. 2 pencil a little more intently now. He ran his gaze down from your eyes to the curve of your nose and curl of your lips. There was something about your facial features that he was delighted in studying. When you looked away and gave him a view of your side profile he leaned toward his desk more and the leather sketchbook that rested over his textbook was flipped open as he began to sketch you.
The drawing didn’t mean much to him, it was just a small doodle to pass time, his hands had to always be sketching and you happened to be his distraction today. Usually he doesn’t really pay attention to you when he’s in class, you sit far enough from each other that you never interact and when he catches you in the library you always seem lost in your own world.
He knows your name, he read your story last semester simply because it intrigued him. It was published on the school forum and won an achievement so he checked it out and it was good, your writing is intricate, or at least that’s what he thinks. He’s able to follow along to every word and not be bored or confused but with a certain degree of understanding that the reader needs to learn. There’s an aura of mystery around it, yet it was not something that he couldn’t comprehend and he thinks that’s why he was able to enjoy it.
At the end of the lecture he had three small drawings of you.
“Come on man, it won’t take long, just one drink,” Jungkook begged him for the third time in a row. Despite his friend’s darker exterior dressed in black jeans, a black tee, and a black leather jacket, he was way more outgoing. He was always trying to get Taehyung to go out for drinks or to party but he just doesn’t have the time.
“Not tonight,” Taehyung said as he opened up his pack of cigarettes and took one out, sliding it to his lips before burning the end with his lighter. He handed the pack to Jungkook who took it without question and did the same.
Jungkook released a sigh in disappointment, shaking his head a little as he said, “Whatever man, you say that every night.”
Taehyung shrugged his shoulders as he took a drag and pulled it out between his index finger and thumb, “Then get the hint.”
His friend wasn’t listening anymore, choosing instead to stare at the building in front of him, dimly lit from all the lamp posts. It was just after sunset and the only students around were probably working on assignments like Jungkook and Taehyung. Taehyung took advantage of the art room to work privately and in a bigger space while Jungkook worked in the warehouse where he could work on his new sculpture. Taehyung couldn’t understand why Jungkook cared about whatever was going on at the library till he casually looked over too.
“She looks familiar,” Jungkook said pointing to you as you walked down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. Taehyung looked too, you had a tote bag like most students around here and there was a butterfly clip in your hair but it still looked messy. Your hair was down earlier and at some point you decided to put it up and he realized now that he didn’t have a preference on how hair looks on someone. He likes the style you had earlier and the one you have now too because they enhance your features more.
“That’s Y/n,” Taehyung said casually as they went to the parking lot. Jungkook looked at him curiously before glancing back at you, “You know her?”
Taehyung didn’t have an answer for that so he didn’t give one, he just walked ahead wondering the same thing. “Let’s get a drink,” Taehyung finally gave in and Jungkook immediately cheered. “Yes! Okay, don’t worry, just one.”
Tumblr media
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder… that is what every artist has ever been taught. Taehyung has never been able to disagree with a statement more than that one. There is not beauty everywhere, it is not as inclusive as one might think and to truly understand art in the many forms it could take, one needs to understand the meaning of genuine beauty.
It’s quite terrifying in a sense, for one to be able to lose control and fall for the Dionysian seduction and view beauty for what it truly is. It is a raw and exhilarating topic that cannot be defined by just looks or words but more the freedom of life, life is beautiful in its own twisted way and to accept that definition is to be able to portray that in what you do. That’s why Taehyung’s art tends to lean toward a more dark and twisted form. When he creates art he’s not just looking at creating something nice to look at or something with a hidden meaning that no one would ever truly understand. When he creates, he wishes to express human emotion through his work—he wishes to make others feel things they’ve never felt before and that is the beauty he is chasing after.
Beauty is not a person but a feeling and when he looks at you he seems to understand that better.
It’s not just your outward attractiveness that draws him in. It’s the terrifying beauty that you radiate in your gaze, in your mannerisms, in your writing. It intrigues him and if he could put you on a canvas and unravel everything inside you — your fears, your joys, your tears — he would but till then you’re nothing but a familiar stranger that invades his mind when he least expects it.
“Taehyung, your work is beautiful,” his professor said, “Everything you create is effortlessly perfect but…”
He waited with a bated breath, already not liking where this was getting. He watched closely to the way she tilted her head in curiosity, “It’s rather dark, don’t you think? Maybe hard for interpretation an—“
“It’s not made to be interpreted by anything but the way it is,” Taehyung said boldly, “Once art is set for others to create a new meaning for it, is it ever truly art?”
“I guess I am not understanding what you mean,” she said leaning forward against her desk.
Taehyung released a sigh like this conversation with his senior was tedious, “When you look at Picasso’s work, do you think he created it for others to understand? Or was that something that people began to believe? He created art that was unconstraining to himself and his life.”
“Yes but look at Salvador Dali, the entire aspect of surrealism that he used was to unleash the power of imagination and creativity. You can’t just shut your art into a small box for the sake of aesthetic,” she said and that made him scoff, his lip curled in distaste, “And let’s look at Monet? He’s practically what started the entire idea of Impressionism.”
“What it meant to him, how he viewed it at that moment, that was all,” Taehyung said, which made the advisor release a sign, “Claude Monet once said, everyone pretends to understand his art, as if it were necessary to understand when it is only necessary to love.”
“I’m afraid this conversation will go back and forth if we continue,” she said with a huff, already irritated by the way things are going, “The exhibition is in three months, in a month I’ll connect with you on how everything is looking and give you the rundown as well is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Kim?”
Taehyung shook his head and without a goodbye he was getting up from his seat and storming out. Not even a second after the chestnut double doors shut, did he find himself reaching into the pocket of his jeans to get his pack out. The cigarette sat perfectly between his lips as he blocked one side with the hand so the wind didn’t blow his lighter out and he lit the tip, ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign just a couple feet away. He couldn’t help but mumble, “Stupid bitch,” under his breath once he finally left the building.
As he rounded the corner, something hit his chest and his free hand immediately the person steady in front of him.
Your hand was on his chest to keep from hitting him and as you looked up, your eyes widened just slightly. Taehyung didn’t say anything as he let you go, brushing against your side and moving around you to leave feeling your eyes on him. You watched him head the way you just came from and finally snapped out of it when you heard your friend call for you.
He turned to look for you seeing you already walking over to some tall and muscular guy. The guy gave you a dimpled smile as he followed after you, no longer in Taehyung’s peripheral.
“Maybe he has a point, Y/n,” Namjoon said as he walked with you to the bus stop, “If you’re struggling then maybe you should think about altering the character more.”
You shook your head in displeasure, “No, I’m not going to change him, I just need to be able to visualize his characteristics.”
Namjoon released a sigh as he pondered over what advice to give you, but came up blank, “I mean… maybe you just need some real inspiration from those around you. ”
The both of you went silent trying to find a solution and you looked up at him curiously. Namjoon would be an amazing reference for a character but he doesn’t fit the image you want him to. He was like light, he was kind hearted and charming and so unbelievably smart but that’s not how you envisioned the main character in your story. The kind of character you had in mind was supposed to act similar to… well, Taehyung. He’s supposed to be a bit mysterious, cold, not necessarily a likable character but someone they can’t help but be curious about.
“Namjoon,” you called his name and for a moment he grew hopeful to the idea that maybe you were thinking of studying him the way you do with others—even if he knew that would never happen. Instead, you came to a stop and looked up at him, “I forgot my laptop in the ffice, I’ve gotta go get it.”
His brows furrowed, looking down at your tote bag, “I’ll come wit—“
“No, you have to work, right?” You asked, already backing away from him, “I don’t want to make you late, I’ll just catch the next bus.”
Before he could argue, you were already taking off in a hurry back down the way the two of you came from. With a sigh he watched you leave wondering why he always seemed to be a couple steps behind you and never beside you. All he’s done since he met you was follow your lead in friendship and outside of it.
Even when the two of you had sex months ago it was always when you wanted and never when he did. If he even thought to ask, all you did was blow him off and then question him on if he’s seeing anyone at the moment. In the same second you would press your lips to his cheek and remind him how much you adored him even when you blew him off he always found the act of it a bit poetic.
He loved you, but it’s a love unreturned and if he wants to stay by you, it has to be with him at the back of your mind and never at the forefront.
With that understanding, he had no choice but to let you go back toward campus walking across fallen leaves and dead branches while he went to the bus alone.
Your legs had taken off before you could even decide where to go and in the end you found yourself heading back the way in which you met with Namjoon—and also the way you bumped into Taehyung. You were never much of the shy type even if it appeared that way, your friends always said you were the selective type—only choosing who to be outgoing with and even then it was rare and required a lot of work to get to you.
They had it easy, Jimin was a childhood friend and Namjoon was in the same writing department as you but that’s as far as your circle went. Well, no, there’s Yoongi too but he’s a pianist and these days he’s so busy with lessons and trips to the orchestra, you barely see him.
Like stated, you were selectively social and right now, you were choosing to find Taehyung so you could formally talk to him. It took you about ten minutes of mindlessly walking through the courtyard to locate him and when you did, you came to a halt. He was just a few feet away now, cigarette between his lips, crouched down against the wall of some historic looking building with castle-like elements and you know he saw you coming when he turned his head and looked right at you.
That was the push that had you walking toward him and saying, “Kim Taehyung?”
“Yes?” He asked, looking you up and down, eyes unable to help themselves as he looked up from your legs to your face. You wore a black fitted turtleneck underneath a brown sweater vest tucked into a black skirt. You wore long 70s style brown boots and mesh tights too. Your hair was pinned back with a hair clip and pins and your ears were lined with simple yet pretty earrings. When his gaze finally met yours, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you once more.
“My name is—“
“I know your name,” he said with a small glint in his eye, “Obviously.”
You didn’t pull away from his intense stare and watched him bring the cigarette back to his lips, “I thought it would be more appropriate to introduce myself.”
“Mm,” he exhaled looking down at the cement below his feet, flicking the end of the cigarette to let ash fall, “So what could I do for you, Y/n?”
He looked up once more and you bit your lip in thought, “If you are free, I wanted to see if you’d like to get a coffee with me.”
“I don’t like coffee,” he said, finally putting the thing out and standing up, “And it’s almost sunset.”
You blinked in surprise as he stood in front of you now but you didn’t back away, “Then we’ll just have dinner.”
“Thanks,” Taehyung swung his bag over his shoulder, “But I’m kind of busy, I’ve got somewhere to get to.”
He was already walking away to hide his look of surprise. He didn’t expect the two of you to ever really talk and he didn’t really know what to do. He ended up rejecting before he could even truly think it over. He imagined you as just a fantasy — nothing he could ever explore but that he could dream about. He just wanted to look and think about you but never know anything beyond what was on the surface—like a painting.
“And you can’t have a plus one?” You asked in your final effort to get closer to him completely unaware of what he thought of you. You watched him come to a stop, and for a moment you tried to imagine him contemplating. Taehyung turned to face you, “I’m not going anywhere fun.”
You stayed quiet as he went on, “And some might find it scary.”
It seemed like he was trying to warn you as if to let you back out of your own proposal but he wasn’t saying no and that was hopeful. You tilted your chin higher, “As long as you don’t plan on murdering me, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
That made the corners of his lips turn upward in an arrogant smirk, “Okay, Y/n, follow me.”
The walk wasn’t too far from the college but the college was already a bit on the outskirts of the city. All you saw were green, dying hills as autumn threatened to take over and it took you a second to understand where he was taking you until he was leading the way down a steep hill toward an empty and cold graveyard. It was a straight line of jagged tombstones and overgrown plant life entwined around them. There were clear dirt paths leading down row after row of old graves and a few Angel statues but nothing too bad, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.
“I told you, you might be scared,” Taehyung said as he walked parallel to the graveyard toward a tree that stood tall along the sloping hill, “But this is the best view of twilight, if you want, I could walk you back to campus.”
“No, it’s fine,” you cleared your throat deciding to walk ahead of him so you could be the one sitting upright against the tree. Taehyung dropped his backpack a few feet away from you and began getting his things out.
You didn’t question him, only observed the way he carried on like you weren’t even there. It’s not like you minded, you didn’t have any real agenda to get him to spend time with you and frankly, you felt a bit relieved to see that he wasn’t trying to figure out what you wanted. It was unspoken the way the two of you seemed to think similarly and brought out your tools.
Taehyung didn’t say anything when he flipped his sketchbook open and found a charcoal he could use as he began to sketch without much thought into it. He even made himself comfortable by lying back, using the angle of the hill to help him not lay horizontally and he bent a knee up as a sort of flat surface he could rest his book on. There was a small breeze that carried through his linen shirt and brown trousers but he wasn’t much worried about himself.
He was more worried about you, who had asked to spend time with him but had no real plan to do so. He’ll admit, when he said no it was just on reflex from all the other times he’s out right rejected others before but he only thought it over because he’s been curious of you two. When you told him you would join him for a moment he debated saying no again because this was his favorite place to be to watch the sunset but it wasn’t all that normal. He even tried to warn you and offer to take you back when you saw the graveyard but you didn’t even seem to care when you sat down. Now that he’s looking at you up close, he can see the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you scribbled in your journal, already feeling inspiration.
It’s now that Taehyung is realizing why he’s been so curious. He finds you beautiful, he’s sure he’s mentioned that before, but he finds you beautiful in an unsettling way. Just looking at you seemed to send him into a wave of emotion like you’re exactly what he’s wished to create on canvas. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands were working away to make another sketch, eyes on you as he worked.
“What are you writing in that little journal of yours?” He found himself asking after some time. The sketch was rough and yet it was so refined that there was no mistaking what it could be. It was a monochromatic sketch of you with your back against the tree, legs straight before you and your hair covering your face with the howl of the wind. Your hands looked delicate when you wrote and you looked so lost in your own work that managed to capture that same essence in his drawing.
When you first looked at him, your eyes went down to the pack of cigarettes he was now messing with and out of curiosity he raised it to you as if asking if you wanted one. Moving to sit forward, you took one and held it between your lips as he dug into his pocket for his zippo lighter, flipping it open and bringing it toward your face to light the cigarette. He watched curiously as you leaned back a little, took an inhale/exhale, and said, “I’ll tell you if you show me what you’ve been doing in that little sketchbook of yours.”
For some reason a small smile came to his face as he laid on his side using his elbow for support and reached over to hand you the sketchbook. You took it with a sense of excitement that quickly turned into disbelief as you looked at it. The back of your index finger hovered over it but never touched for fear that you would smudge it or worse—ash, and when you finally handed it back to him, wordlessly, his cold fingers brushing against sending a warm current down your arm.
At this exchange, Taehyung moved to sit up, not bothering to brush off any loose grass blades off his linen shirt and read over a short passage.
A certain coolness in his gaze that made him appear cruel.
A charming aura that seemed timeless, not modern but ancient like he was created from every classic literature known to man.
His gaze, his smile, his voice—all deep like red velvet.
The list went on, each short sentence followed by another in what one could assume was meant to describe him. He didn’t say anything either as he handed it back to you the same way you had done with his sketchbook. Neither of you were looking for critique or praise, more so acknowledgement of what the other had been doing and once you had it, it was enough.
Taehyung stared forward as the line of bright Orange finally vanished from the sky and a cool blue clouded it. The atmosphere shifted now as darkness began to swim across the sky and you both knew it was time to go. Nothing was said as you both stood up with your things and even less was brought up on your walk back to campus.
It wasn’t until you stood at the bus stop that Taehyung decided to ask, “Are you busy tomorrow?”
“No.”
He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket in his trousers followed by a pen as he scribbled something down before handing it to you, “Meet me here at 8:00pm.”
You didn’t have to say anything for Taehyung to know you would show and he left without much of a goodbye.
Tumblr media
The place you arrived to at 8:00pm on the dot wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but it wasn’t much of a surprise either—it was a warm record bar. The one thing that did seem to surprise you was Taehyung’s choice in music where he preferred jazz over classical. The bar was dimly lit only by shaded, vintage lamps and the small yellow candles near all the booze. The walls were lined with vinyls and the deep mahogany trimming gave the record bar a sort of dark academic charm to it.
When you found Taehyung he was sitting at a small round table fit for two and he had a book in hand—The Picture of Dorian Gray. He wore his usual metal wiring rounded glasses and his dirty blonde hair seemed quite soft and full of life. The dark brown sweater he wore matched well with his tan slacks and you didn’t miss the way eyes would fall on him. It was this charming, educated college boy with a rich father sort of energy that radiates off him, but also the clear look of disinterest written all over his face and it made people curious.
You debated calling his name to let him know you were here but when he looked up in time to catch you walking his way, you were aware that he had been waiting for you and checking the door every couple seconds. Taehyung didn’t shy away from taking in the sight of you in an olive green maxi dress paired with a thin white cardigan tied together at the top of your breasts and below your collarbone. You wore black boot heels this time and when you sat down in front of him he couldn’t help but look at your face now.
“You’re late,” he said as he closed his book and set it to the side. You didn’t even bother to look at the Swiss watch on your wrist as you said, “It’s 8:00, like you said.”
“Yes but what I meant was 7:55 which should have translated to 7:45,” he said annoyingly arrogant as he slid a menu toward you, “As per the rules of a first date.”
His tone was serious as was his body language and yet you could see the hint of amusement in his attempt to hide a smile. You smiled softly, setting your bag down next to you, “I was unaware this was a first date.”
“So you assumed this was the second?” Taehyung had a teasing tone now, “I, personally, would not call an evening together at the cemetery a first date.”
“I do say, I’m a bit surprised to even know you consider this a date after we barely talked at all yesterday,” you said as a waitress came over with a customer service smile. Conversation floated between you two with ease.
“Are we ready to order?”
Taehyung looked at you but you weren’t all that hungry so he ordered a single slice of pastry for the two of you to share, “Yesterday was just to enjoy and accept the presence of one another, tonight is to communicate and learn.”
Taehyung never cared much for investing time into someone he was with, usually if he ever showed any interest in someone or was short lived. He’s not sure what would happen exactly but once the excitement of pining for someone romantically wore off… he just did not care anymore. There was too much to handle and he didn’t have time for any of it—not the clinginess, the crying, the whining. God, the whining got to him.
Why do you ignore me so much?
You’re always too busy painting to notice me?
Taehyung, I just want you to spend time with me.
It was the constant whining that he hated because they just did not get that he was completely devoted to his art and nothing else mattered as much as it did. Yes… maybe the small ounce of excitement he felt helped inspire him but… well he does not need whoever he slept with anymore.
The infatuation had worn off and he’s back to being alone again but now he’s a little too curious about you. Hence, why he asked you out first and in such a haste.
“Alright,” you said, “So then tell me something small, for instance, what time did you arrive? 7:45?”
“7:30 actually,” Taehyung said as he lifted his mug of hot tea to his lips, “I had business to take care of around campus and I didn’t want to make the trip back home.”
“Well if you asked for my number I would’ve arrived sooner.”
“It takes away the romantic aspect of waiting for the other to arrive without hearing from them—maybe I’ll write you a letter instead,” he teased. You just laughed softly and asked, “I didn’t peg you as much of a romantic. And what business?”
“Nothing too important.” Taehyung said vaguely and despite your curiosity you didn’t push him to answer. The corner of his lips raised as he looked at you, looked at him and found himself saying, “But as for being a romantic? It depends on who you ask.”
You focused on what he said about that instead of what his business was and that made him happy. What he did was not that important but it was necessary after what had happened with his advisor. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around what she had told him and in the end he made and impulsive decision to gift her something that might make her see things from his point of view. Of course it was slightly biased but he believed his piece really explained his views on beauty enough for her to understand.
Taehyung delivered two paintings to her inbox earlier. The first one was a more finished painting of you, still slightly distorted and a bit dark but there was no hiding the romantic element that radiated off of it. He called it ‘Genuine Beauty’. The second painting was a distorted and bright picture of his professor with exaggerated features that weren’t pleasing to the eye and he called it, ‘Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder’.
A true sentient on what he thought of her words. He wanted to know how she would twist the grotesque image of herself into something beautiful.
“What have you been up to aside from writing me?” Taehyung asked, looking at you with interest.
“Aside from that, I’m afraid not much else,” you confessed, “I’ve been in a sort of dry spell trying to understand my character.”
“Tell me about them.”
“Well, it’s a him and he’s similar to you.”
He listened closely to each word you said, taking in the curve of your mouth when you talked and the way you gestured with your hands. He’ll admit, the character did seem very similar to him so he can understand your curiosity in him and the fact that you seemed to lose yourself in your craft didn’t go unnoticed by him. He simply nodded his head and replied with short answers when asked.
In the end, he offered the only thing he could, “Let me be your case of study then, and in return you’ll be mine.”
You smiled this time, a small arrogant smile as you said, “Will you paint me like one of your French girls?”
He understood the reference and found himself saying, “If you write me like one of the lovers in your poems.”
By the end of the night you found yourself in the back of a taxi driving straight to his place under the pretense of another drink. Conversation seemed to flow with ease between you and it ranged from Davinci to Monet, Shakespeare to Milton and whatever was in between. Even when Taehyung asked such a heavy question, you didn’t seem to struggle to find an answer.
“Do you believe in love?” He had asked as the cab stopped in front of a house similar to an upstate New York townhome. He had you by the hand helping you out of the car and held onto you as he led you up the stone path.
“I have to, I’m a writer,” you told him and he seemed to pull you into him more.
“But what is it that you believe it to be?”
The question did make you think a little bit. It’s not that you thought Taehyung had an ulterior motive in asking you such a thing; it’s not like the two of you were seriously into the idea of it but you wanted to give him the right answer—one that truly described you and your ideals.
You didn’t answer his question right away as he let you into his home which was no different than what you imagined it to be. His apartment was in an old building turned into luxury Victorian styled apartments with modern eclectic touches. It was a put-together mess of sketches and canvases littered around the place. The floor was made of a dark, polished hardwood and his furniture all seemed worn through with velvet cushions and engraved wooden trimmings. He had floor-to-ceiling bay windows with twine hanging across them and papers clipped on with laundry pins to dry. There was a warm feel to the place and it had everything to do with his dedication to earthy tones and shades of Morocco red.
There were painting supplies everywhere from scattered charcoals and cans of linseed oil for his paints. There were stacks of literature books and various art ones piled high on nearly every surface and yet it all seemed to be organized to what you could assume only he could understand. Taehyung didn’t even seem to mind the clutter as he chose instead to ask, “Red or White?”
“Red.” You responded quite simply before resuming your studying of his place, the fireplace on one wall was surrounded by canvases and books—same as the vintage bookshelf and for a moment you wondered if his bedroom looked any similar. The thought vanished quickly when you got the smallest hint of which room that might be from the open door down the hall. He had plain gray sheets on an unmade bed and the furniture in there was scarce, like he barely spent any time there and if he did it wasn’t to sleep—the bags under his eyes told you so.
“Have you thought of an answer to my question yet?” Taehyung asked, reminding you yet again of what he asked earlier. He handed you a wine glass and you took it with a nod in gratitude as he left you to find a record to play.
“I’ve had an answer all along, I just wasn’t sure how you would feel about it,” you said and you could see him smile as he moved the needle over the start of the vinyl, Nocturnes, Op 9 began to play.
“I’m not looking for anything in particular, just an insight on what you think,” he said honestly and with a small sigh you decided to tell him.
“I think love is more so… a choice than an emotion?” You finally said as you watched him take a seat on the floor near his coffee table instead of the velvet couch behind him. He motioned for you to join him, “How so?”
“Anyone can feel love at any given moment but it is fleeting,” you sat down, knees nearly touching his, “Tell me, have you ever felt in love before?”
Your question seemed to catch him off guard yet he answered as bluntly as he would regarding anything else, “Only with my paintings.”
“And that had been a choice, to continue, right?” You asked, “Love like every emotion is temporary and inconsistent. Yes, doing certain things or being with certain people might invoke these feelings but once that has dwindled it is your choice to remain in that constant state of loving something—or someone. I love writing, I always have because it is my choice. I choose to subject myself to the hardships that come with my work even at times where I think I hate it. Even at times when I choose to give up I think about the joy it brings me, the emotions that pour out of me and onto every letter and word I put down on paper. I choose to love writing, I choose to devote myself to it and I choose to put it above anything else in the world, even my own relationships.”
Taehyung could see it in your eyes how strongly you felt about it. Your answer had gone slightly off topic but he understood your reference to it in every word you spew, “So when I say I believe in love… I don’t mean it in regards to a feeling that transpires throughout inconsistently, but I mean it as a choice to continue to feel that way even when it hurts and I can’t take it any more.”
A silence seemed to drag on between you and for a moment you wondered if you said too much and sounded too stupid. Taehyung seemed to inhale and exhale at once, “Well, I do say, we have very similar ideals. I don’t think I could’ve put it into better words than a writer even if I tried.”
You couldn’t help but smile, hiding it behind your wine glass, “Maybe you’ll paint them instead.”
“Maybe, I’ll paint you instead,” Taehyung said with a pale yet serene expression like he was scared to speak his words and exhilarated by them all the same.
How could someone seem to get lost and sound so dazed when talking about writing? Did writing mean as much to you as his art did to him? Is that why there was never a need for many words to be spoken between you? Was that why he was able to enjoy your presence so long and so quickly when before you would never even speak? Was there always this underlying connection between your minds and how you viewed art and your world?
You rested your glass on the table as you took in his living room again and all its character, there was a set of paintbrushes just laying on his table and you reached for one. The wood was smooth between your fingertips as you twisted it before looking up at him with a curious gaze, “With one of these?”
Taehyung simply nodded his head watching you lift your skirt up just enough to expose a bit of leg and you brushed the art tool against your calf, “It’s soft.”
His tongue ran over his lips and he leaned forward to gently take the brush back. You were nearing an apology for taking it without asking him first but he simply scooted closer to you on the blanket he laid beneath you and placed your legs over his, skirt of your dress rising even further until he was running the brush over the curve of your knee, “I use it to blend shadows, like this.”
The brush felt soft against your skin, sending tingles down your spine as he ran it over you in circular motions, eyes on yours.
“I tried painting once,” you said as his finger slowly traded with the brush until he was softly touching you, “I wasn’t that good, I couldn’t portray the right picture.”
Taehyung just smiled as he felt you hand go over his while taking the brush back until you were tracing the curve of his wrist, “Paint with your words, and show me you’d write me, like your character.”
“He is very similar to you,” you said, “In almost every aspect and I didn’t realize that until today.”
“Mm,” Taehyung hummed in content when you lifted the brush toward the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, teasing him without realizing it. You seemed to use the brush against him without much thought of what you were doing and how it affected him. You should know, though, that the feel of his art tool against his skin would feel good to him. The soft bristles tickled his collarbone, “How would he make love?”
That seemed to catch you by surprise as you slowed your touch to look up at him. He just bit his lip, hand on your leg caressing it as he waited for your response. Without missing a beat, you said, “Slowly, starting with a sweet kiss.”
A small smirk came to his face, one that only he could pull off without looking cocky. He looked smart and pretty with his glasses and blonde hair, when he spoke he made it sound poetic and when he looked at you it felt like he was focused on whatever was beneath the surface. You watched him push his glasses up the slope of his nose and before you knew it, he was leaning closer, lithe fingers coming up to touch your chin and tilt your jaw.
Although you knew what was coming, there was no denying the small second of hesitation that coursed through you when his lips so tenderly pressed against yours, his voice low as he asked, “Like this?”
You licked your lips despite the extremely small space between yours and his and without the ounce of hesitation from earlier, your hand came up to his neck where you pulled him into you for a real kiss. It started off slowly just like the two of you knew it would but there was no denying the desire that laced throughout it. At first all that happened was your mouths moving against each other, getting used to the idea of kissing — something neither of you have done in a while. Then, it became more feverish. If possible, you seemed to move closer with your hand on his thigh to support yourself. You were on your knees leaning into him and he had a single hand against the floor to support his sitting position while the other was cupping your chin for the best angle. There was a growing intensity between your mouths, lips moving more forcefully now, saliva gradually increasing when you felt his tongue make a swiping motion against your lips.
“Or like this?” His voice had become more hoarse with need. He enjoyed feeling the way your body seemed to lean toward his and he seemed to ask, “What would he do next?”
“It’s not what he would do next,” you said as you moved without your own violation and trailed your lips along the curve of his jaw, “But what would happen to him next.”
Taehyung’s head seemed to tip back as he used both of his hands to keep him upright while you moved between his patted legs to kiss down his neck. He licked at his lips, slowly blinking at the first feel of your tongue licking his ear lobe before you sucked it into your mouth making a tingle run down his spine. Your warm breath tickling his ear made his breath bitch and it didn’t take you long to realize that you had found his weak spot. Unable to help yourself you brought your mouth back to his for a kiss that was much needier than any of the ones prior.
“Y/n,” Taehyung’s throat was dry and it made his voice raspier than usual, “Touch me more.”
The words surprised you. You didn’t take him for much of a womanizer but you didn’t think he would seem this touch starved. The last person you had slept with had been your dear friend, Namjoon, and when you realized feelings were beg bring to get involved you were to end the rendezvous that had transpired between you two in an effort to save the friendship and his feelings. You couldn’t explain why you could never see him as more than a friend—and you couldn’t explain why it was so easy to view Taehyung as something more. Your mind had been drawn to him before your body and yet it all felt the same.
You began to crawl away from him and in an effort to keep this going, he went after you with another kiss before your hand touched his chest to keep him in place. It got to the point where Taehyung wasn’t sure if it was the cashmere brown sweater he wore that made his body heat up, or if it was being too close to the fireplace but he felt himself begin to break into a sweat.
He stretched his legs out before him when he got the hint of what you wanted to do watching you shimmy down until you were nearly eye level with his pants and the evident bulge becoming more prominent with each passing second. Taehyung was not ashamed of how quickly you seemed to get to him and his body’s reaction to you. Sex was a normal thing, it was poetic and passionate if done with the right person and he hasn’t done it in a while—a long while. It was completely normal for him to release a light gasp when your hand grazed his inner thigh just inching toward his growing erection.
The two of you made eye contact once more, his lip caught between his teeth and his eyelids low in a lustful gaze that matched your own. There was a strong attraction toward each other — infatuation if you will — and you can’t say there’s romantic feelings between you but there’s no denying that there has been the underlying sexual tension that rose from a clear understanding of each other’s devotion to your work. It turns you on to know he seems to connect with your ideals.
You didn’t even realize Taehyung had moved a hand behind you until he was pulling on the back of your head to drag you back into a needy kiss. Your hands had already gone toward his slacks and you had been unzipping the front as the two of you made out once more. Taehyung’s hand fell back to the ground with a groan as you yanked at his underwear making him lift his hips enough for them to come down with his pants. A small hissing sound left his lips as his hard dick finally made its appearance, springing free of its right confines, hard enough to already angle toward his navel.
Taehyung was not ashamed by the way his stomach caved in with a deep breath at the first feel of your hand wrapping around his tip spreading the beads of precum that had already dribbled out the slit. His tongue was in your mouth, sliding against yours with you swallowing each groan he let out when you began to stroke his length slowly from base to tip. Like earlier, when you tried pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath, he was following after you to stop you from breaking apart from him.
A thin line of drool connected your mouth to his as you finally pulled back, biting down on your lip. He watched you look down at his exposed member, leaning down until you were face to face with it. His long fingers curled around your hair, slowly pushing your head down just a middle until he felt the first tender lick of your tongue along his tip. Taehyung’s entire body reacted to the way you tentatively licked his head teasingly making a small shudder travel right through him.
You have to say, Taehyung has one of the prettiest dicks you’ve ever seen and you just couldn’t help but want to savor it. It was just so pretty and you found yourself wanting to play with it some more. Your hand held onto him at his base as you ran your tongue down the side of his length lathering it in drool to aid your closed fist.
His brows scrunched together as he attempted to watch what you were doing. He could feel your hand jerking him off as you teasingly kissed up his side and tip, tongue swirling around his slit that leaked precum. He just couldn’t see you over the bulk of his sweater.
With an annoyed huffed, he released your hair to pull at his sweater with one arm as he brought it up toward his chest and tucked it under his jaw. Just as he had it fixed, a low and deep sound vibrating in his chest feeling your lips finally surround his tip, sucking gently before relaxing and taking more of him inside. You made yourself relax so you could loosen your jaw enough to accommodate his length as you began to suck him off, tongue licking along the bottom side everytime you bobbed your head up and down.
You had a firm hand on his upper thigh as the other was at his base against his pelvic bone to hold his hips down and let your mouth do all the work. His sweater slipped from under his chin making him groan as he threw his head back, “So good.”
He kept his gaze on the ceiling taking in the feel of your warm and tight mouth taking his cock so deeply. You looked up at his stomach trying to see his face but with the way his head was tilted back, you just couldn’t. All you could see was his chest rise and lower with each breathy sigh he let out, ducking his cock deeper down your throat.
Unable to help yourself, you moved your hand to his navel, feeling his breathing better and he needed to see what you looked like with his dick in your mouth.
He held the end of his sweater between his teeth as he stared down the expanse of his torso to where you laid between his legs swallowing around his cock with a dark look in your eyes that had him muffling a moan.
His hips bucked helplessly into you making you swallow more and more of his length till you couldn’t breathe properly anymore and needed to get off. The hand you still had on his dick began to stroke him, wrist flicking on each upward stroke to make your palm run along his slit while you caught your breath. You watched him in complete awe, he was so hard and his balls tightened against that you couldn’t help but lick between them.
"Fuck," the sweater made it hard to hear him as hw sank his teeth into it feeling it begin to moisten annoyingly so bur he was not going to miss the sight of you kissing below his cock to his balls.
When you finally decided to take him back in your mouth there was no slow build up, it was quick and sudden as you took him down your throat to the point where you gagged around him. The way he bit into the sweater looked like a restraint and he looked so pretty with the fire reflecting off his tan, bare chest and his blonde hair was just a knotted mess from how often he shook it.
“Y/n, you feel so good,” You were never much of a talker during sex, especially if it wasn’t genuine and just superficial dirty talk but he sounded so good moaning your name even if you couldn’t hear him properly.
There wasn’t much warning aside from the incessant moaning that fell from his lips and was swallowed in cashmere for you to know he was close. His hips bucked messily into your mouth, cock twitching with the need to just let go and when you met your mouth with your fist jerking off the rest of him… he just couldn’t take anymore.
Taehyung’s head fell back with a dry moan as the urge to cum got the best of him and he let go in your mouth. You didn’t seem to mind either, once the surprise of the suddenness had worn off, you didn’t hesitate but to try and swallow as much of the thick semen as you could, not at all bothered by the taste of it. Taehyung had to let his sweater go to breathe heavily through his parted lips as he used his elbows to sit himself up in the blanket, trying to understand what had just happened.
“Mm,” you hummed, proud of yourself for making him cum down your throat and you sat up to look at him. Taehyung met your eyes with his feeling heavy with need as he licked his dry lips before forcing himself to sit up properly so he could drag you into a deep kiss. You released a light mewl in surprise, kissing him back eagerly with his hand below your ear on your neck guiding you to angle your head one way while he went the other.
There was not a single part of him that felt bothered at the taste of himself on your tongue, if anything it only made him want you more so he could repay you for treating him so well. Once you had gotten lost in your little makeout, it was easy for you to follow his lead as he moved over you to get you to lie down in his place. The only time he pulled away from you was to finally free himself from the confines of his stupid sweaters and kick off his pants the rest of the way. It didn’t take you long to get what he wanted and you hurried to remove your cardigan feeling the straps of your dress begin to slip off your shoulders. Taehyung dragged you to him, kissing along the exposed skin of your collarbone and shoulder, hands sliding down your back till they could inch the dress down and off of you, making you take it off through the bottom so he wouldn’t have to pull away again.
Your bra and underwear were made of a thin crème colored lace that looked pretty against your complexion and soft between his fingertips as he ran his hands over your covered breasts that had been taunting him all night.
A quiet gasp left your lips due to the way his lips kissed down the valley of your breaths, soft hair tickling your neck. Taehyung’s hands held onto your sides, sliding them up to the end of your bra, feeling you arch your back into his affections until he was able to move them under your to grab at the clasp. Once he was able to unhook it, he tugged it off your arms letting you throw it to the side and dragged him into another kiss when he cupped your bare tits in his warm hands, using his thumbs to rub over your hardening nipples.
“Taehyung,” you whined softly against him, eyes on the ceiling when he began to leave love bites along your neck, traveling his wet mouth lower and lower down your stomach.
“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, making his way between your legs while his hands groped your chest loving the softness of your skin under his rough painter’s hands.
As Taehyung slipped further between your legs till his face was near your spread legs, he looked down. The lace underwear was transparent enough for him to see just a bit underneath and he could see a small shadow of slick over where your cunt should be. He tried to look up at you through his blonde fringe and you sat forward enough to brush it back, smiling as he pressed a teasing kiss against the hood of your clit over your underwear. You lied back down letting yourself relax feeling his fingers hook under the hem of your panties till he was tugging it off and move your thighs over his shoulders so he four fit snugly against you.
Taehyung didn’t waste time teasing you, he had already been so turned on that not even cumming down your throat was able to calm his raging hormones. He just wanted to have you as soon as he could, any way he could, and that meant with his tongue stiffening as he parted your folds around him before licking flatly toward your clit. A light moan left your lips as your clit immediately reacted to stimulation, a small gush of slick pushing out of your pussy with arousal. Taehyung was not inexperienced in the art of making someone cum undone on his to hue and that was becoming more and more evident with the way he made out with your cunt like it was your mouth.
“Oh my god,” you threw your head back, out of breath, as his tongue began to flick messily at your clit while hands slid further down your inner thighs until he was using his thumbs to pull your folds apart for him. You could feel your wetness begin to drip further down but he was quick to leave your clit and lap his tongue against your wet entrance where your arousal seemed to form a puddle at. With the way his thumbs kept you open, you felt everything.
Every now and then his thumb would teasingly push in just a little more than before, acting like he didn’t even notice he was doing it while he hungrily sucked on your clit, tugging it between his lips. His thumb was rubbing against your labia, pressing into it, teasing your entrance every now and then by pushing into it until he felt your legs begin to tremble around him. Unable to help himself, he got a big more rough, tonguing your clit with such effort that his head shook with eagerness, swallowing your slick and pressing his face into your cunt to taste all that you had to offer.
“Oh,” you breathed out shakily, hand sinking into his hair when he nosed at your clit, tongue joining his finger as he thrusted it into you, “I-I, oh god.”
“Mhm,” Taehyung nodded, urging you to let go of him and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Your thighs tried shutting but his head didn’t let you and instead you pressed them against him making him groan with need, eyes nearly rolling as he doubled his efforts.
Your throat became dry as you planted heavily, hips bucking against his mouth until finally you felt the knot in your stomach come undone. His motions did not miss a beat in licking everything you had to offer as your orgasm came in a wave.
“S-so, good,” you breathed out tiredly feeling your pussy walls clenching around nothing and as much as you wanted to just be done, you needed him inside you. When he came up to kiss you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you so his hard cock rutted against your wet pussy. The taste of each other on your tongues was what made it easy for you two to want to keep going without the thought of repercussions. His hand slid between your sweaty bodies to hold his cock, lining it up with your entrance, bumping into your clue as he refused to break away from the kiss.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as the two of you looked at each other with such need, such want that your lips didn’t spend too long apart from each other.
Your tongue met his just as his cock met the inside of your pussy, taking it slowly as he stroked himself with your slick to ease himself in better. His dick was rock hard, and your pussy was so fucking wet he couldn’t help but moan into your mouth as you took him in.
Taehyung has to hold onto you with a hand on your waist to keep you from sliding away from him too much as the blanket wrinkles on his wooden floor. He had his other tucked by the side of your head looking down at you lovingly as he finally began to thrust, “Tell me if it’s too much, love.”
“Mhm,” you said softly, legs falling apart even more to accommodate his as he dug his knees into the floor so he use his hips to fuck you better. A groan left his lips at the expert roll of your pelvis against his taking more and more of his length inside your tight walls.
“You make me feel so full,” you moaned gently into his ear as he dropped his head down against your neck to try and ignore the fact that your pussy around his dick without any protective layer between them felt so fucking good. You were already so close and he’s barely started. He fucked you slowly but firmly, getting himself used to being inside you and sucking on your neck, his hand left your hip to cup your breast once more and you gasped when he pinched your nipple.
“So tight,” Taehyung breathed out heavily with a single touch thrust that had your walls tightening around him, “So good for me.”
He did it again, and once again drew another moan out of you, repeating his thrusts more roughly than before until you were moaning out a string of his name.
Taehyung was well endowed and you never doubted that for even a second. He knew how to have sex, not just to fuck, but to have sex. It wasn’t just loud groans and rough thrusts. He was sensual, he kissed your neck, whispered sweet words of praise in your ear, touch your body as he fucked you almost passionately—unlike the usual guys you hook up with.
“It’s like you were made for me,” Taehyung groaned, brows scrunched together in concentration as he pulled back to sit and swing your right leg over him to press against your left until you were nearly lying on your side. He laid down next to you, curving his body against yours and lifting your leg back and held it up with his knee as he fucked you from the side. His lips were against your ear, whispering, “Just for me, like my own creation.”
“Mhm,” you hummed, “Just for you, please Taehyung, I’m so close.”
You looked straight out of a vintage erotica film. His apartment was warm due to the fireplace and comforting because of the classical music playing. The moon looked over you as you had sex, nearly love making, lying on your sides with his body cuddled into yours, fucking you with his cock while groping your breasts in his hands. You had to angle your head back and then your neck to kiss him and he swallowed your mouth with his, thrusts getting tougher as he curled around you, “Me too, love, all for you.”
“So paint me,” you moaned, fucking back against him.
For a moment he wondered if you meant on a canvas, or with his cock in your pussy, but he realized he would gladly do both if you let him. Your hand slid back to guide his hips into yours, “Cum, Taehyung, inside me, please.”
“Oh god,” a low growl left his lips as he dug his face into your hair, “Fuck, Y/n, d-don’t tempt me.”
“Do it,” your hand came up to his hair now, dragging his head toward yours until your lips met in a messy kiss, “I’m going to cum, Tae, please.”
It wasn’t a good idea. You were on the pill but he didn’t know that, all he knew was that he wasn’t wearing a condom and he wanted to fill you with so much cum that he painted you white.
“Mhm,” he moaned when you tugged on his bottom lip between your teeth and his hand pinched your hips, “Cum, Y/n, please—oh fuck.”
The only thing that came from you two was the sound of skin slapping as the urge to cum overtook you both and you were fucking like rabbits in heat. Nothing but animalistic grunts left him as he finally felt the flood of release you let go around with him with a whine of his name and before he knew it, he was cumming.
You immediately felt full with his release as it joined yours, cock pulsing inside you as he waited a moment to reel his emotions back in, sweaty forehead pressed against yours, “So good.” He hugged you closely, breathing heavily into your neck, softly kissing your skin affectionately.
It took you both some time to regain awareness of what had just happened and you lied on the fur blanket he had tossed on the floor. The fire sizzled behind you and some classical song [you were ashamed to admit you didn’t know] was playing. Taehyung seemed to be more in control of himself now and reached up to his small table in search of his pack. Once he had a cigarette between his lips, he lay back down next to you to catch his breath, pressing it to yours next.
Tumblr media
There was a sort of glow to your skin, your eyes shined with the night sky reflecting through the windows. Light came from the fire not far behind and a small dim lamp in the corner yet the moon was still casted over you two.
His eyes traced your features once more and before he knew it, he was saying something unexpected, “She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.”
Despite the way your heart seemed to stop, your brows furrowed, “What?”
Taehyung took another drag of his cigarette, “Who wrote that? ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen’ I read it somewhere… ‘With stars in her eyes’.”
Your eyes seemed to widen as you thought it over for a second. A sense of realization flooded you but even knowing you might be right, you still shyly asked, “Virgina Woolf?”
“Yes, I believe so, ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, with stars in her eyes and veils in her hair.’ I read it years ago,” Taehyung stared out at the moon through the bay windows, “Anyways, it just came to mind, and reminded me of you.”
There was a cloud of smoke drifting into nothing like they were his words being absorbed all around you. After that a silence seemed to fill the room and it was so calming in fact that you found yourself lulled to sleep against his chest.
It wasn’t until hours later when you had woken to loud noises, did you realize that he had not had the luxury of peaceful post-sex sleep.
The first thing you had noticed in your haze of sleep was the sky still blue out and the fire still crackling behind you. The second was that you still slept on the floor and Taehyung was not beside you anymore. It took you some time to realize all the noise that had woken you up was coming from him and his quick brush strokes.
Taehyung had a pair of jeans on and a smock. He didn’t even bother with a shirt, just slipped the smock over his bare chest and he sat on the floor with a pallet full of paint in his hands as he did soft strokes on his canvas. He was so focused that he didn’t seem to mind his glasses which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, lips slightly parted in concentration and eyes bouncing around his painting.
You wondered what this meant for you. You didn’t know what time it was but the way he worked so diligently didn’t even make you want to stay, what if it would bother him? You don’t want to do that and he seems to have already forgotten you were there and what you had just done. With a small sigh you looked around for all of your things, finishing getting dressed and in search of your shoes and bag.
Taehyung’s strokes were fast and agile, he didn’t even have to think of how he was painting, he was just moving mindlessly and mixing all the right colors and blending in all the right places. You took a seat on the sofa trying to put your boots back on.
“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked but his eyes never left the canvas. You could barely hear him over the sound of the record player still playing and it took you a second to know he was even talking to you.
You looked up curiously, “Um… it’s late, I should probably go, I don’t want to disturb your work.”
You were very understanding actually. There are many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night to write and you didn’t waste time on thinking of anything else while doing it so if Taehyung was the same about his painting then you didn’t want to bother him.
Taehyung pushed his glasses up with the tip of his brush as he finally looked at you, “You won’t disturb me. Stay.”
He watched as you brought your lower lip between your teeth in thought before saying, “Seriously Tae, I don’t mind leaving. You’re working, I understand.”
“But I mind,” Taehyung said in his deep voice that sounded even deeper this late with the fire in the fireplace still crackling and Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 14 playing in the background. You didn’t say anything for a moment and he ran a hand through his messy hair, a small paint streak coating a strand, “Won’t you stay, Y/n? I’ve been in a slump and right now it just hit me all at once and I think it’s because of you. Please, won’t you stay?”
“Can I watch?”
Taehyung did not hesitate to nod his head and motion for you to sit on the floor next to him so you moved quickly to do so.
By the end of the night you watched him paint until dawn with your head resting against his back adoringly. His brush strokes were hypnotizing and the way he captured the light perfectly had you in awe, especially when you realized it was a painting of you.
It inspired you the way he was so devoted to his work and it reminded you of yourself.
Your days carried on as usual after that night with Taehyung. The only differences being ones that involved him. For instance, he has called you a couple times —he’s completely against the act of texting. It’s never anything major, usually to ask how your day has been or to get coffee. There was no sign of an actual relationship but it was close to it.
Today you had your shared anatomy class and he sat next to you instead of behind you like he normally would.
You’re not very fond of the fact that he’s distracting you more than you would like him to but it’s something you can’t explain. Your pen scribbled away in your yellow page notebook with word after word just piecing together effortlessly. Taehyung was utterly fascinated by it all, sometimes you wouldn’t even look down but your pen seemed to never fully lift off the page. You filled page after page in the three hour class, eyes on the professor but nothing you wrote down had to do with what he was teaching.
Every now and then you would look over at him and your eyes would meet, he would raise a brow and you would give him a smile, before looking down to write.
“I don’t think you heard a single thing he said today,” Taehyung said once the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall side by side. From the way you stared off into space, lips moving every now and then as if mouthing silent words, he knew you weren’t listening. He doubts you meant to ignore him but clearly you seemed to be in your own world right now, just thinking about writing and writing and he gets it.
You weren’t thinking of anything else, and he knows this because he had to grab onto your waist and pull you back to keep you from walking right into the pouring rain just outside. You seemed to snap back into reality and looked around, “Did you say something?”
Taehyung was opening his umbrella for you, pulling you under it beside him, “I’ve written notes for you, you seemed a bit distracted to take them yourself today.”
Your eyes slowly widened in surprise as it finally dawned on you that you had spent the last three hours doing nothing but writing about him. You came to a sudden stop and he waited there beside you with the rain pounding on his umbrella. With a small sigh, he let go of you to rummage through his bag with his free hand and took out his notebook, “I wrote two of everything.”
“Taehyung,” you said, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he said with a shrug, “But you were so lost in your writing I didn’t want anything disturbing you. I had no problem with it, I’m a fast writer and a good listener.”
“Thank you,” you finally began to walk again now that you couldn’t bear the cold standing in one place, “I am bad at focusing on anything else when I write.”
“I understand,” he had to speak up so you could hear him over the rain, “And if you do not think I would be a bother, maybe you’ll let me watch you write more?”
“You’ll get bored,” you said as the two of you walked toward his car, a vintage Chevrolet Corvette that belonged to his grandfather.
“Watching you?” He asked, holding the door open for you, “Never.”
Your apartment was how he pictured it—books and papers scattered everywhere. You were still much neater than him but not by much, clearly the two of you focused too much on your craft that it’s completely taken over everything.
Your place was small yet spacious and well furnished with vintage chairs and mahogany bookshelves. There was a slight clutter of books upon books and dead plants that didn’t get enough sun with the curtains closed. It was warm and had your lovely scent. There was a stack of papers on a desk next to a laptop and an expensive looking typewriter.
There wasn’t much of a conversation going on between you, the last time you said something to him was when you asked him if he needed a drink. Your back was to him and he spent about an hour or so sitting alone on the daybed as he drew in his sketchbook.
After some time when you finally decided to join him, you were exhausted and physically drained. You lied down with your head on his lap looking up at him when his hand began to caress your cheek. “Taehyung.”
“Yes, my love?” He asked with his gaze meeting yours. The name just slipped and he didn’t care to take it back, only watched you curiously still waiting to hear what you would say. You blinked once, “I think I’m beginning to understand better.”
You had been writing nonstop for a long time but for the first time it felt like you finally understood your work.
There was no way to explain it but these interactions with Taehyung—your living reverie—have opened your eyes to his character and the way you wanted to write him in the first place. He was everything you had been searching for.
He leaned back, startled by the sudden way you sat up, hand around his looking at him, “You.”
“Me?” Taehyung asked with his hands on your waist, shifting you more on his lap, “You understand me?”
All it took was one nod of your head for him to be pulling you into a kiss meeting you halfway. He had a hand on your chin, angling your head opposite of his letting the kiss deepen, soon he was tracing the curve of your neck with his jaw. Every ounce of lust and greed poured out in his fingers when he touched you.
It didn’t take Jungkook long to realize something about his friend seemed different. He was used to Taehyung isolating himself when he had a wave of creativity. There would be days on end where Jungkook would call only for every call to be ignored. He would even write his friend letters but he never answered him. When he was back to normal, Taehyung would look tired like he hadn't eaten or slept in days.
Right now, Jungkook sees Taehyung but he doesn’t think Taehyung sees him. Despite sitting across from him, he wouldn’t look his way. Instead he was staring out the large windows that overlooked the courtyard
“Have you eaten?” Jungkook asked, looking up from his sketchbook. The two had been on the second floor of the library this evening studying classical art techniques. Jungkook had gotten bored and began to sketch up an idea for another sculpture while Taehyung drew someone he couldn’t recognize. His friend didn’t even so much as flinch and give any sign that he was listening.
A small scoff left his lips, “Taehyung.” With an annoyed huff, he reached for his sketchbook and watched with a confused expression, “Who is this?”
It was quite detailed despite how little time he had to draw this and Jungkook was in awe. For a second he wondered if this was original work from Taehyung, all created from his mind but as he followed Taehyung’s gaze out the window, he realized it wasn’t.
It was you.
You sat on a wooden bench facing the swan fountain and there was a book in your hands. Jungkook couldn’t make out the book but seemed to have all your attention because you stopped every now and then to highlight something then jot it down in a notebook. There were powder blue headphones on your head and you were in a red lace long sleeve top with roses embroidered on and under was a white shirt. The black skirt you wore reached below your knees with a slit on the side that exposed your boots and over it all, you had on a black coat. He’ll admit, you did look rather captivating against the dead green of the lawn and trees paired with the foggy sky from days on end of rain.
Taehyung seemed to have found his newest muse and it was all he could think about.
“Are you still interested in her?” Jungkook finally asked, catching the way a small smile seemed to fall on Taehyung’s face—something he rarely got to see despite how easily he gave them to you. Jungkook did recognize you in the drawing better once he got a good look at you. He had almost forgotten seeing you weeks ago when he was with Taehyung, but he had certainly forgotten his friend’s knowledge and curiosity of you.
“Only a little,” Taehyung said, ignoring the way Jungkook looked at him with disbelief. He was used to his friend having a sudden infatuation with a certain person but they were short lived and always ended with the poor girl crying about how cold he was—Jungkook knows because he was always there to pick up their broken pieces with a night in his bed [Taehyung never cared].
“She’s hot,” Jungkook said, half teasingly to read how his friend would feel. Taehyung merely gave him a side glance in acknowledgment but the smile he had for you had tightened as he looked back outside.
“It’s that guy again,” Jungkook pointed out as they both watched outside, “What’s his name?”
Kim Namjoon.
Taehyung was used to seeing him around throughout the years but he never had a need to pay attention to him before. Like most of those who he sees in passing they never become more than that—just a passing blur that he doesn’t care to know a single thing about. Namjoon used to be one of the ones he ignored until he heard you mention him once or twice.
“Who knows,” Taehyung said, shifting his gaze down to his sketch pad avoiding the sight of Namjoon and you now standing like you had somewhere to go.
Jungkook, the ever curious and procrastinating, kept watching you just out of sheer boredom. The library had gone dark aside from the few kerosene lamps scattered across tables but it was already getting hard to see his sketches properly so now he’s just waiting for Taehyung to finish.
Suddenly, all too suddenly that it made him jump in his seat, Taehyung was standing, shoving his things in his bag loud enough to create an echo in the cold library. Jungkook looked up at him, pencil laying limp in his hand now, “Are we done?”
Taehyung pushed his chair into the wooden table, not bothering to look back at his friend as he stormed off, “Yes.”
Not long after he watched his friend make his abrupt leave from the library… he saw him now approaching you and Namjoon.
You were blissfully unaware that you had been watching through the windows of a library as much as you were unaware of Taehyung coming up behind you as Namjoon talked. “I was thinking maybe we could go catch that new movie that just came out.”
“Oh, I was going to do some writing—You won’t believe it Joonie,” your tone changed so suddenly as you grabbed him by the arm, jerking him toward you excitedly carrying on like he hadn’t said anything, “It’s like I can’t stop writing, you wouldn’t believe how easily the words are flowing like… I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way before, Joonie.”
“That’s good, Y/n but,” Namjoon’s words slowed down as he looked behind you at the looming figure standing a few feet away. He’s never spoken a word to Kim Taehyung despite both being grad students, he only knows of him from what others have spoken and he’s very… cold. Since when did you and him begin to talk? Namjoon took your hands in his as he pulled you closer to have your attention knowing you still didn’t know who was behind you, “But it’s nice to get a break, you don’t want to overwork yourself.”
“You don’t get it, Namjoon,” you said his name instead of the affectionate nickname you’ve always called him, he couldn’t help but look at Taehyung who pretended like he wasn’t watching closely with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, “I can’t stop. I cannot stop. If I-I do, I don’t know.”
His gaze shifted behind you making you turn to look too and your eyes seemed to soften as you made eye contact with the dirty blonde you’ve been spending time with lately.
“Y/n,” Taehyung’s deep voice spoke as he stared at you two, “I thought you would be busy writing”
“I’m on my way to right now,” you said, taking a step toward him with your back to your friend, “Would you join me?”
A smile came to his face as he pushed his glasses up, “If I could paint you again.”
You stood still in thought. The first time he painted you was after you had sex for the first time when it felt warm, passionate and hungry. He never slept that night, he stayed up the entire time getting the right blends of pigment on your body as it lay on the flue blanket completely nude. You’re not sure if he knew what saying that would make you think but from the way his brow raised questioning made you think he did.
Namjoon felt his jaw clench, eyes glaring at Taehyung who didn’t even bat an eye in his direction. You looked back to Namjoon now who waited for you with a bated breath. You walked up to him making his heart face as you pressed your lips against his cheek with your softly brushing against his jaw. The kiss was tender on his face and when he looked down at you, you gave him an apologetic smile, “Will you call me?”
“Will you answer?” Namjoon asked but you weren’t beside him anymore. You were next to Taehyung who took your book bag off your shoulders and put it over his, a hand grazing your back as he talked to you but too far out of your friend’s ear shot.
“What did your friend want?” Taehyung asked.
“To see a movie but I have to finish what I’m writing before it slips my mind,” You said moving your hand to his bent arm walking alongside him, “I’ll have to catch up with him another day.”
He didn’t have anything to say to that but you could still feel his eyes on you. A part of you wanted to ignore his gaze because you find yourself at a loss for words any time he looks at you that way. It’s like he sees through you not at you and sometimes you don’t know which one is better.
There’s no denying that he likes the look of you, he finds you attractive and not just physically. You know that. You just can’t tell what he’s thinking that makes him look at you that way.
“Namjoon.”
He stood alone where you once had been beside him, just watching you leave with the art major he had no idea you were even involved with. Since when did you begin to talk to him and how did Namjoon never notice? Did you just decide that you would not be open with him anymore?
“Jimin,” Namjoon looked at his friend, a bit stunned, “Hey.”
The ballerina watched after you alongside him now as he asked, “Y/n is leaving with Taehyung?”
“Are they together?” Namjoon asked suddenly, “Did you know?”
Jimin shook his head no, “Not exactly, I mean, Y/n never hid the fact that she had a thing for Taehyung, I’m just surprised to see them leave together. Y/n never told me they began to talk.”
Namjoon bit his lip nervously, “You don’t think they’ll date or anything, do you? This just seems sudden.”
He looked to his friend for some comfort but all Jimin did was shrug his shoulders and say, “I don’t know, you know Y/n doesn’t really date and neither does he, they’re always too focused on writing or painting to think about anything else. Who knows, they might just work out because of how similar they are.”
“Yeah but…” Namjoon was trying to find words to say but nothing came to mind. Maybe he was just being bitter… he’s been your friend for years. He’s always been there for you anytime you needed him without question. You were attracted to him enough to sleep with him but was that all it was ever going to be? You won’t see him as more than just a friend but then Kim Taehyung comes along and suddenly you have no problem walking away from Namjoon to go with him?
Jimin looked at his friend apologetically, he sympathized with him. He’s known you for longer than Namjoon has and he’s been through this exact same thing before too. There was a time when he thought you and him were the closest until Namjoon came along and suddenly you spent all your time with him instead. Now Namjoon is experiencing what Jimin did but this time because of Taehyung and he feels bad for that.
“Look, I’m going to be honest,” Jimin tried to work out what he was going to say so it didn’t come off badly, “I think, Y/n loves the idea of Taehyung on paper… how she can write or create him like she’s done with you and I in the past. I think maybe it’s nothing past something superficial but at the same time…”
“At the same time,” Jimin repeated himself with a bated breath, “I see a lot of similarities between them especially when it comes to putting their work first and maybe that’s something they seem to understand about each other that we don’t.”
Namjoon didn’t get it.
So was it not that you two had feelings for each other?
Was it not that you might love each other?
Was it just that you two understood each other?
He doesn’t get it. Now, Namjoon might not understand your obsession with perfecting every aspect of your writing… but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you. He loved you a lot—more than he assumes Taehyung could love you.
It’s not like it’s a secret, Namjoon has always been open about the way he felt about you so why did you choose someone else? All because he couldn’t understand you the way Taehyung might? Is it because he can’t just look at you and know what you need the way Taehyung can?
Is it because he doesn’t spend hours missing sleep or eating just so he could obsess over his work too?
How could Taehyung possibly understand you more than he does?
::.
okokok this was kinda long but I’m sorry, blonde Taehyung as an art major was doing it for me 🫶this was a romance but also not necessarily bc the focus isn’t entirely on their relationship 🤒neither one of them are supposed to be super likable so if you hate them and the way oc did Joon and Jimin dirty i get it 🫡but they just genuinely do not think about anything but their craft.
permanent taglist: @notmyfaultbutours @rerefundslocals @fandems @sugaluvmyg @guvgguk @kimyishin @libra04 @kooromiwrld @classycreationcupcake-blog @alwaysdreamingnotsleeping @cherrymonlightt @nikkiordonez12 @asking4-sanity @thvlover @saweetspoiled @uwu2rawr @shaybts-blog @babycandy111 @tearyjjeon @joons-uparupa @jeonninja @yellowcupid08 @02010802faves @knudsenheggedel @skzthinker @unnatae @aurorthi @beautywine @95ene @taekookstata @lilliankoo @shescharlie @annenakamura @lesoleile @burnahtsw @babybella337 @kooloveys @ku-ku @chaelvrx @minnie-mouser22 @Imeneghd @whoa-jo @evajeonsworld @marvelbun @sunnikthv v @kochycooky @heyhowyoudoin3 @acielelyseen @giselleswifeee @jeonjk25 @ilikeitlikethatt @bangmechanpls @lvr2seok @badbyeyoongi @jaerisdiction @watermelonjuice15 @artmsmaid @xyahrinx @angeleen777 @jooniesxbby @brillantdarling
2K notes · View notes
f1byjessie · 2 months
Text
HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.
love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.
( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )
━━ part three.
“Are you sure this is gonna work?” You look down at the post. The photos, carefully taken a few nights ago while getting ready for a dinner gala you’d been brought along to as Sophia’s plus one, are pretty. She and you had scrolled and sorted and scrolled and sorted some more trying to pick the perfect ones, and then you’d written and rewritten the caption more times than you could count before finally settling on something vague but faintly implicit.
You study it for a moment longer, then look back up to your friend.
She smirks. “Trust me. It'll work. I got an ex-boyfriend to come crawling back begging for another chance by making him think I was already moving on.”
“It just seems… mean,” you murmur, frowning. You want Oscar to like you— you want it a lot— but you're not sure if this is the way you want to go about it. “Isn’t this just manipulating him?”
Sophia sighs and falls back onto the bed beside you. She gives you a look, gestures down to your phone, and then curls around your shoulder so she can peer down at the screen. “It’s not a soft launch. There’s no guy. The caption doesn’t mention anyone. If he gets the impression that you’re with someone else, then that’s on him.”
You trust her, of course, but this is Oscar. You’ve known him for years. He’s your brother’s best friend, and for the longest time, he was the closest thing you had to a best friend too. As twins, anything Logan did you tended to do with him— soccer, swimming, biking. You even had shared birthday parties growing up. Karting was the first real thing he’d done on his own, but even then you’d always been close by, and that meant you’d always been close by to Oscar too.
Like she can sense your continued hesitation, Sophia speaks up again. “If you post that, and he doesn’t react, then that’s that. You don’t have to do it again.”
“I just— I don’t know.” You worry your lip between your teeth. “I just don’t think it’s the type of thing that he’d go for. He’s, you know, polite like that, I guess? If he thought I was taken, or moving on, or something, then he’d respect that and wouldn’t bother me.”
The silence hangs in the room. She’s still leaning against you, one hand rubbing your shoulder comfortingly and the other hugging you into her. When you stand, she lets you go easily, watching as you begin to pace the length of your bedroom, phone clenched tightly in your hands.
When you finally come to a halt in the corner farthest from the bed, you turn and meet her gaze shyly, “What if he stops ‘maybe’ having feelings for me because he thinks I'm taken? Or, what if he thinks I’m not interested and so he doesn’t ever bring it up?”
“Then you take one for the team and you tell him,” she shrugs. “Woman up and admit that the entire time you were out in that fancy dress of yours with those roses, you’d wished it was him who had gotten them for you and you’d wanted it to be him you were getting dressed up for.”
You look back down to your phone.
You’ve never done this before— boys, at least. The chase. Europe hadn’t been a very easy place to live— not with a schedule that made keeping friends virtually impossible, let alone a boyfriend. When you moved back to the United States, you were focused more on your career, prioritizing yourself over anything else.
You’d been single for so long that you hadn’t been in any hurry to change things, but now the lack of experience is making you nervous. Apart from movies and books and the borderline horror stories Sophia has told you about her own disastrous love life, you don’t know the first thing about dating.
“Y/N, is this about Oscar or something else?”
You look up, still biting at your lip. “What if we break up and I’ve ruined a friendship?”
Sophia raises an eyebrow, “Is he the kind of guy that would throw away a friendship because things didn’t work out?”
“I don’t know! That’s the problem! I wanna say no, that he’d be totally fine and we would be able to pretend like nothing happened and go back to how we were before it all, but I can’t,” you cross the room and lower yourself onto the bed again. “Context matters too. What if it’s a really messy breakup and we can never look at each other the same? What if he does something so unforgivable that it ruins his friendship with my brother? Logan worked hard to make friends and this first season was rough for him. He’s the only American driver on the grid, and they weren’t exactly welcoming. But Oscar was there for him and I would never forgive myself if I did something to ruin that.”
“What could Oscar do that would be so unforgivable it would ruin a friendship?”
You fall back onto the mattress. “I don’t know that either! Realistically he wouldn’t do anything because that’s just who he is— he’s like the nicest most genuinely sweet guy I’ve ever met. But I’m not a fortune teller! I can’t look into the future and know that he won’t get tired of me and go find some other girl, or, I don’t know.”
You can feel tears burning at the back of your eyes and wipe at them harshly.
Sophia notices and lays down beside you, pulling you into her side again. She runs her fingers through your hair and lets you compose yourself a bit more before she speaks up again. When she does, it’s— “You’re so afraid of the worst-case scenario that you aren’t even letting yourself take the chance. Sometimes you just gotta leap before you look and believe that you’ll land on solid ground.”
“I hate when you get philosophical on me,” you murmur, a soft laugh slipping past your lips.
She sits back up and rolls her eyes, but there’s a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Puh-lease. As if you’d ever get anything done without my wizened words of advice.”
You sniffle and wipe the last remnants of tears from your eyes, then sit up with her and look back down at your phone. The unfinished post still stares back up at you.
“What if I just—” you delete the caption for the umpteenth time and let your fingers dance across the screen, “—say this instead?”
Sophia leans over your shoulder, reads the new caption, pauses, and purses her lips. She reads it again, hums, and then breaks out into a grin. An incredulous laugh slips out and she turns to you with shining eyes. “You’re a damn genius! I knew you were worried over nothing. You just gotta stop getting into your head so much.”
INSTAGRAM.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by logansargeant, landonorris, and 12,827 others
yourusername honey, i’m still free. take a chance on me.
view all 7,631 comments
user WHAT???
user IS THIS A SOFT LAUNCH???
↳ user she’s literally saying she’s still free?? why would she say that if this is a soft launch?? 😭😭
logansargeant should’ve taken me with you 😒
↳ yourusername logie we both know you hate black tie events
user girl idk how you can do it i’d be spilling out of that dress with one wrong turn
user THE ROSES?? THE BABY’S BREATH?? I’M SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS
landonorris slay girl queen boss
↳ yourusername lando… what…
↳ landonorris i’m in my supportive era 😌💅 you should try it sometime
user i NEED to know where that dress is from omg
user oh to be a young rich and beautiful socialite
user not to be delulu but there’s a surprising lack of op81 in these comments 👀
INSTAGRAM.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 429,868 others
oscarpiastri it’s summer somewhere right?
view all 1,021 comments
landonorris hm this caption seems familiar 🤨 i wonder what it could be referencing 🤔
user GOOD LUCK IN 2024 OSCAR 🧡🧡🧡
user wishing this were me rn
user i’m too delulu for this rn 😭
↳ user i’m waiting for y/n to show up in these comments
↳ user did they have a fight or smth??? they haven’t commented on each other’s last few posts
user gosh that’s the dream rn
When you answer the unknown number, on your way back to your room with a tub of ice cream and a plan to eat away your disappointment at the failure of Sophia’s plan, the last thing you expect is to hear Lando Norris of all people on the other end. There’s no greeting, no introduction, just an immediate— “Yeah, so, I’m gonna need you to fill me in on the sitch.”
For a brief moment, all you can do is stand there in the hallway with your phone pressed to your ear, wondering if this is real. You’ve had maybe a few brief conversations with Lando throughout your various visits to the paddock across the season, and though he was very nice and polite, and all of your interactions were friendly, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself friends. Certainly not “swap numbers and call one another” type of friends, either. Your most recent socializing has been strictly confined to the comment sections of Instagram posts.
“Hello? Y/N?”
You clear your throat, “Sorry. What?”
“The sitch? Situation? That’s an American slang word, I thought you knew that.” He says it so matter-of-factly. As if that’s the only thing you could be even remotely confused about in this whole interaction.
“No,” you answer, shaking your head as if it’ll somehow straighten out the spinning of your mind. “I know what the word means, Lando. I’m just wondering why you of all people are calling me right now? How’d you even get my number?”
You can hear music and voices on the other end of the line, muffled and distant, and then a door opens and closes and the extra noise is gone. Lando takes a deep breath and sighs, “If you must know, I got it from Alex, who got it from Lily, who got it from you. So, you know, transitive property means technically I got it from you, too.”
“I’m gonna choose to ignore how wrong all of that is,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose as you continue down the hall and eventually slip into your room, shutting the door quietly behind you.
You do recall giving your number to Lily, and the two of you have shared a few messages since the end of the season— mostly typical check-ins and catching up with the happenings of your individual lives. Occasionally she sends you recipes she thinks you’d like, and you do the same. You knew she’d given it to Alex because she’d asked you first if that was okay, and all Alex had sent was a brief well-wishes when Williams had confirmed Logan’s re-signing, accompanied by a short message that Lily was looking forward to seeing you in the paddock again.
Ignoring all of that, however, you focus on the matter at hand. “Why are you calling? Isn’t it crazy late in Monaco right now?”
He hums. “I’m the slightest bit tipsy, but I cannot take it anymore. If I see one more caption with underlying subtext like this is a forbidden romance in a period drama I am going to, quite frankly, lose my mind. I need you to explain to me what in the fuck is going on between you and Oscar.”
You pause, and then you groan. “Oh my God.”
“Yes, ‘oh my God’ indeed. Now please explain.”
You heave a sigh, because you know he isn’t going to drop this, but you also know that if anyone could help you more than Sophia, it’s probably Lando. He’s Oscar’s teammate, and at the very least, if you can’t talk to Logan, you can talk to the only other person who probably knows him just as well.
“It’s a long story,” you mumble, curling up in your bed.
He makes a sound, like a scoff. “Okay? I have plenty of time.”
So you start from the beginning. Between spoonfuls of chocolate ice cream, you detail how it all started because of a message of condolence, how that had led to a rendezvous for drinks, and how that had led even further to him kissing you in the car as he’d dropped you off at your hotel.
He’s silent up until you mention that Oscar hadn’t acknowledged the kiss at all afterward, and then he makes an affronted noise and mutters something under his breath about stupid guys and heads in asses.
You admit that part of it was your own fault, that you hadn’t attempted to communicate either because you’d been afraid of the reaction and potentially the rejection, but that you’d been kicking yourself ever since for missing out on being able to talk face to face about things when you’d had the chance.
It all culminates in you explaining your current situation, and you tell him about your talk with Sophia and then your friend’s self-proclaimed mastermind plan, which had failed spectacularly when Oscar hadn’t even seen the post.
When you’re finished, there’s a moment of silence before he bursts into laughter.
You flush red in embarrassment and hug the tub of ice cream closer to your chest, feeling miserable and ashamed, but also like you deserve it all anyway. The tub isn’t freezing cold anymore, but the chill still seeps in through your shirt faintly, and it’s comforting against the heated blush.
“Sorry,” he says when his cackling has died down to chuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you. I actually do want to help. I genuinely can’t take one more post with a caption that’s all thinly veiled pining.”
You pause, fiddle with your spoon for a moment, and then hesitantly ask— “Do you know if he likes me?”
Lando goes quiet, and then he hums and admits that he doesn’t. “But,” he adds quickly, “just because I don’t have total confirmation doesn’t mean it isn’t basically obvious. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I know Oscar.”
You sigh, “But how are you going to help? You can’t just ask.”
“I don’t need to,” he answers, like you’re crazy for thinking he’d do something like that. “I’ve got a plan.”
Great. You run a hand down your face and try to stay optimistic. Another plan.
━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry
━━ a/n: a bit more writing heavy this part, and a bit longer because of it, but i'm proud of how it turned out! we're finally getting somewhere, and now we've got lando joining the team. genuinely had so much fun writing him, so i'm excited to feature him in future parts!
493 notes · View notes
cutielando · 4 months
Text
cute ~ oscar piastri
Tumblr media
Summary: You and Oscar are titled the cutest couple on the entire grid. Some of the cutest moments between you and Oscar that made you worthy of the title.
Words: 1k+
Other works: my masterlist
♡♡♡♡♡
First appearance at the paddock as a couple
Looking all around you at the busy paddock, you were in absolute awe.
You had been used to the Formula 2 lifestyle, being with Oscar ever since his karting days and attending as many races as you possibly could.
But Formula 1 was an entirely different thing. This was a whole other world than what you were used to.
"Are you okay?" Oscar asked once he saw how you kept looking all around you.
"This is wow" you mumbled, squeezing his hand that was holding yours and hugging his bicep to keep close to him.
"Quite the upgrade, right?" he asked, kissing the side of your head sweetly.
You nodded, still looking starstruck at the whole paddock around you.
Even after you got to the McLaren garage and Oscar spoke to his engineers and introduced everyone to you, you were still stuck to his side, leaning your head against his shoulder and hugging his bicep close to you.
"You're so cute" you would hear multiple engineers say in your direction, making you blush and try to hide your face in Oscar's hoodie.
Unbeknownst to you, fans had caught the cute little interactions between you two, making the internet go wild over how cute you were.
Slowly but surely becoming the favorite grid couple.
♡♡♡♡♡
First appearance in a McLaren video
You didn't know how he had convinced you to participate.
You had never been one for the attention and the cameras and everything, but you learned how to live with it because it was part of Oscar's life.
However, you always opted out of being in videos you didn't have to be in.
That all changed when McLaren proposed to Oscar that they get the two of you in a video playing a couple's game. It took some convincing on Oscar's part, but here you were in front of the camera, your palms sweating profusely.
"Hey, we don't have to do this if you don't want to" Oscar whispered once he noticed how terrified you truly looked.
Seeing his gentle and worried face made you relax slightly, shaking your head.
"I'm fine. This could be fun" you said, putting your hand over his in reassurance.
He looked at you for a moment longer and nodded his head, leaning in to peck your lips quickly before settling in his chair next to you.
"Hello everybody. I'm Oscar and this is my girlfriend Y/N and we're going to be doing a couple's quiz today!" Oscar excitedly started the video and you just smiled and waved at the camera.
"Don't mind Y/N, she is just a little camera shy" Lando commented from behind the camera, making you blush immediately.
"Moving on. Question number 1, how did you two meet? Y/N, wanna answer?" Oscar asked as he looked ar you gently.
You nodded and cleared your throat, shifting in your chair to sit more comfortably.
"We met back when we were kids, our families were friends. We lost contact when he left home to pursue his racing career and met again when he came home after winning his Formula 3 championship and the rest is kind of history" you said, looking back at Oscar who nodded.
"Question number 2, how do you cope with traveling so much and being away from home?" you asked, looking at your boyfriend.
"It's hard, to be honest. Being away from home for so many months and occasionally only flying back for the holidays, not seeing our families as much as we would like to, the jet lag is horrible. I think Y/N being with me helps a lot, she always helps me balance things out and adapt quickly, plus I always I feel at home wherever I'm with her, so that is definitely a plus" Oscar took your hand in his and kissed me, making you blush once again.
Questions and questions later, you finally ended the video and released a breath you didn't realize you had been holding.
"How do you feel?" Oscar asked you once you were out of the camera shot.
"I'm okay, it was more fun than I thought it was going to be" you confessed, wrapping your arms around his waist.
"Thanks for agreeing to do this with me" he said and leaned down to kiss your lips and then bury his head in the crook of your neck.
After the video was uploaded, the internet absolutely exploded with how cute they found you guys, how perfect you two seemed for each other, edits over edits tagging you and your boyfriend.
♡♡♡♡♡
Celebrating his first Sprint Win in Qatar
Watching the Qatar Sprint had you on the edge of your seat. You've always known how talented Oscar was, but now was the time he would prove it.
He had been leading the Sprint for the majority of the race and it was drawing to a close, your boyfriend still in the lead.
The whole McLaren garage was buzzing with excitement seeing both of their drivers potentially on pole, already starting celebrations before the race even ended.
From the moment Oscar passed the checkered flag first, everything was a blur.
You were screaming and jumping in happiness, hugging both of his parents like it was your last day on Earth.
Once he parked his car and got out of it, you didn't even let him take off his helmet or gloves before you jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.
"I'm so proud of you, my pretty boy" you told him, burying your face in his shoulder.
"I did it for you" he said back, squeezing you just as tightly.
As you stood there in the middle of the paddock wrapped in each other's arms, everyone around you stopped to admire you.
The amount of love that the two of you shared couldn't be denied, it was very obvious how in love you were with one another and how pure it was.
His parents were standing a distance behind you, watching the sweet interaction with smiles on their face.
They had always cared immensely for Oscar being as he was their only son, and seeing you take such good care of him, loving him, traveling with him and being by his side through his entire career made them feel proud.
It was safe to say that you became the fan favorite grid couple.
Tumblr media
comments and re-blogs help us grow!
much appreciated!!
JOIN MY TAG LIST HERE
REQUEST HERE
785 notes · View notes
norrisleclercf1 · 4 months
Note
I was having street racer lando thoughts because it might be my favourite thing ever
okay so I think he'd be the biggest asshole going until his girlfriend is there
like, the street racer community would lowkey fear him because he'll do whatever with little regard for his own safety (which is why he's the best street racer out there)
But when his girlfriend turns up I bet he'd be the softest person
especially if girlfriend isn't in the community
and i bet he'd never want her in the community because he doesn't want her doing something that dangerous
fast driver with everyone else, safest driver with girlfriend
except for late night drives when she wants him to go fast
idk i'm procrastinating and thinking about street racer lando trying to get me to do my uni work
*SCREECHING CAUSE MY BABY IS HERE!*
Lando keeps his head down as he glares at everyone walking past his car. You were sitting in the passenger giggling with Oscar and Daniel. They were sweet guys who watched you when Lando had to be, well Lando
He hated that you were here. Everyone could see you and the wrong person staring at you too long would have him flipping his lid. Daniel giggles and kisses your cheek which has Lando standing up quickly.
"Baby, we're going." He growls, glaring at Daniel who pays his old race buddy no mind. The only one who could mind him was Carlos and you, he was putty for you two.
You wave off the others as Lando reeves the engine. He pulls off, driving slowly but not to slow as he heads back to the apartment. "Lan?" He hums moving his free hand from the arm rest to your thigh, loving the warmth.
"Can you drive fast? Pretty please?" Lando chuckles, but groans when he feels your hand on your crotch, hating and loving the way he reacts to you. "Baby, you're in the car with me." He hates driving fast with you next to him, he was excellent, 20 of the best of the best. But with you next to him, he questions his skills.
"Pretty please?" You lean over the arm rest and get close to his ear. "I'll suck you off as a thank you," You whisper and giggle when he groans loudly, twitching in your palm. "Fucking brat," You squeal when you the force of him hitting the gas sends you back.
Lando smiles, feeling so at rest when you laugh. It wasn't your polite laugh, but the one that sends him wild. Picturing you laughing like that in the future, maybe when he asks you to marry him. He sees his entire future in that laugh.
401 notes · View notes
cobragardens · 3 months
Text
Aziraphale's Ring Is a Queer Symbol
In a previous post I hold forth about the symbolism of the lion rampant on the escutcheon of Aziraphale's signet ring. The upshot is that the golden lion is used by Heaven as a symbol of its threat and its merciless, murderous corporate culture, and I argue that in S3 Aziraphale must subvert this stamp of Heavenly ownership and symbolically redefine the golden lion by summoning the courage to be soft.
Tumblr media
Now I've learned some new stuff about how signet rings are worn. Come, sistren, and get nerdy with me.
Aziraphale's ring is one of several we see angels wearing in Good Omens. Here in an indispensably useful post, @indigovigilance lists the known rings of Show Omens angels and those rings' qualities and placement. Note how of the angels who have rings, everyone except Saraqael and Aziraphale wear their rings on their LEFT pinky fingers. There's a reason for this.
Since the medieval period in Britain and Germany, and from there in the U.S., signet rings have been bestowed by professional associations as a sign of membership, particularly at the upper end of society: trade guilds, colleges, hospitals, the Church(es), noble families, and societies like the Freemasons all issue(d) signet rings to some of their members. The traditional placement for signet rings of show professional affiliation is the left pinky finger.
In fact, as it was not socially acceptable in or past the Victorian era for men to wear rings on more than one finger, men who wore signet rings and wedding rings both would have their wedding rings sized to fit the pinky finger below the signet. If a ring had to be moved to preserve masculinity, it wasn't the pinky ring that was going anywhere. Family signets can be worn on any of a number of fingers, but since the Victorian period the men of the British Royal Family (who are from Germany) have been especial sticklers about wearing their signets on their left pinky fingers as well.
So. If you're British and you have a signet ring that's meant to indicate professional affiliation, you wear it on your left pinky.
But Aziraphale wears his signet ring on his RIGHT hand.
Before I offer my opinion on what that means, here's some more fun background on the history and significance of pinky rings in Anglo-American culture:
The Victorian period was when pinky rings started to become associated with queerness.
Tumblr media
As fellow members of the Hundred Guineas Club, Oscar Wilde and Aziraphale would likely have been acquaintances.
Tumblr media
According to Wikipedia (ibid.):
"During the Victorian era, both single men and women uninterested in pursuing marriage could wear a ring on the little finger of their left hand."
This quickly expanded to a pinky ring on either hand. Here's Wikipedia's picture of farmer and philanthropist Caroline Rose Foster in 1917, the Edwardian era, wearing a pinky ring on her right hand:
Tumblr media
Do you smell a euphemism in "uninterested in pursuing marriage"? I do!
By midcentury--so only 30 years after Ms Foster up there--American and British queers, both men and women, were using signet pinky rings specifically to signal queerness to each other.
"For gay men in the 1950’s and 60’s, a way of signaling to others was through the wearing of a signet ring on the pinkie finger."
"During the 1950’s and 60’s signet rings were worn to signify membership of the gay community; both lesbians and homosexual men wore such rings."
The pinky rings @indigovigilance points out Maggie wears may mean she's an angel; they also match her midcentury lesbian style. Devious of the costumers to give her pinky rings on both hands rather than commit to one or the other.
Tumblr media
Screenshot by @indigovigilance
To review, there are three reasons a person in Anglo-American culture might wear a pinky ring:
They just feel like it--This can be any kind of ring and can be worn on either hand or both
Professional affiliation--This is a signet ring worn on the left pinky finger
To signal queerness--This is a signet ring and can be worn on either pinky finger
Aziraphale has worn a signet ring on his RIGHT pinky finger at least since he repaired the Eastern "Gate" in the Wall of Eden, so I'm not suggesting that he adopted the 20th-century pinky signet trend to signal his queerness (although as a clockably 'gay' 'man,' Soho fixture, and member of the Hundred Guineas Club, he may well have started it). What I am suggesting is that Aziraphale has been given a ring by Heaven that Heaven intends him to use to show his professional affiliation, but as with the flaming sword he gives away, Aziraphale doesn't use the ring for its intended purpose. By wearing the ring on his right hand, Aziraphale removes the option of interpreting it as a symbol of his professional affiliation with Heaven and renders it strictly a personal ornament. He subverts a symbol of Heavenly menace into an object of beauty and queerness.
I mean queerness in both senses. If a human takes any symbolic notice of his ring, they'll note the signet is on his right hand and conclude Aziraphale is gay. If another angel takes any notice of it, they'll conclude Aziraphale is a bit odd--that he doesn't pay attention to the finer points of how to fit in with the archangels, doesn't do things like other angels do.
In conclusion, pinky signet rings as a queer signal are just the fucking coolest and I vote we bring them back immediately.
375 notes · View notes
renthony · 1 year
Text
My entire philosophy in analyzing media has been influenced by one (1) single event in my past, and that is this:
In my junior English class in high school, we all had to write a lengthy in-depth research paper on a work of classic literature. We were given a list of possible books to pick from. (It's not relevant to this story, but I picked 1984.)
The student who picked The Picture of Dorian Gray got a poor grade on her final paper, and picked an argument with the teacher over it during class.
The teacher told her that her paper was bad because she somehow wrote a ten-page paper about Oscar Wilde without ever once mentioning that he was queer, which meant she had a limited scope of his entire body of work, and her analysis was perfunctory and limited.
She argued with the teacher in front of the class that being gay didn't mean anything and that it "wasn't relevant," and he had to explain to this fundamentalist Southern Baptist teenage girl that, yes, honey, Oscar Wilde being so outwardly flamboyantly queer that he was put on trial adds a significant amount of context that she willfully chose to ignore and strip out of her paper.
So yeah.
2K notes · View notes
our-lady-of-haymakers · 4 months
Text
My primary yuri hot take is that Bloom Into You's relative popularity has led people, especially those new to the genre, to approach it solely through the lens of "good representation", which is kinda the worst way to think about it. Like, if you're reading this ardent, earnest story about two repressed teenagers drowning in a sea of fractured identities internalized and imposed over the course of short lives expected desperately to become something very soon, and your main reaction is to gasp every time they do something impulsive or foolish and declare, "Whoa, the Ideal Lesbian, Duchess of Respectability, Sapphic to the power of Plato, would never do that!", I feel like you've fundamentally misunderstood something about queerness.
On the other hand, I've also seen so many people recommending Bloom Into You as "not like the other yuri" and framing it as the only text in the genre that rises above some imagined juvenility or degeneracy or cowardice that other yuri works supposedly have, and like, nope. I haven't even read all of Nakatani Nio's work, and from what little I have, you can still tell she's deeply invested in the genre. She's written everything from burning toxic yuri to self-insert doujin yuri, and some of YagaKimi's best segments are the ones where fermenting desires and old shadows spring forth wild enough to submerge everything else and transform bodies in the shape of a yearning or memory. We need to rescue Nakatani and YagaKimi from the Yuri Oscars podium and return them to the wildlands of the losers and freaks where they were meant to freely roam.
199 notes · View notes
knoxic · 4 months
Text
A kiss may ruin a human life.
Oscar Wilde
-Masterlist- part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4
wc: 3k
warnings: usual cm things? angst, Aaron being horny again but I doubt that's an issue
a/n: I actually wrote smut in this part but it got so big I had to cut off lmao
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Time passed strangely.
The car ride to the station was weird and silent, the elevator was too small, a couple officers looked at you weirdly but you never felt more relieved to be in a police station as you were now. Missing person records were scattered all over the place, set up specifically for your team, the door to the room the BAU had been using was left open, the round table in the middle was surrounded by maps and pictures of possible suspects.
"Oh, hello!" so focused on getting away from Aaron you had failed to realize Derek was watching you since you stepped out of the elevator, "What took you so long, honey?"
"Look who's talking, you are always at least 10 minutes late."
"That's because I got things to do" he smirked and even dared a wink "But you... Are always on time, I got curious that's all."
Opting to answer with a slight slap on his muscled arm, you left him and went to search for some coffee, the constant change in emotions left you dizzy with a foggy brain, your stomach grumbling did not help.
The embarrassing noise it made reminding you that those peanuts you ate for dinner are not actually meant to fill your stomach. Coffee was already being brewed despite not having many officers working this late, you supposed it was probably one of your teammates. There were some packages of food next to an old box of pizza and some napkins, nasty.
A sudden husky voice from the entrance door echoed inside the small room, the speed in which you lifted your head made your tense neck hurt.
"JJ is getting us something to eat, well, something better than..." with 'better' he meant healthier, there was barely any food in there and the only things that were edible did not really seem edible. With a hand gesture he pointed to the package in your hand, to be honest you had picked it up just to try and figure out what it was, not exactly meaning to eat it.
"Good, she always knows what we want." throwing the package back to where it sat before, you leaned on the counter trying to look unaffected, over the years you had mastered the art of having no facial expression, yet, you couldn't hide from the person standing in front of you.
...
He noticed the way you stepped out of the elevator, your head being held high even if your mind seemed to be elsewhere, the minute you two spent side by side in that tiny space seemed to have made your confidence slip. Heading to the meeting room to see Dave he walked past you and Morgan talking, he couldn't hear what was said before but the smirk on Derek's face told him enough-
"That's because I got things to do." spoke that teasing voice he was so familiarized with, making him stop, "But you... Are always on time, I got curious that's all." turning back, he saw the way you glared at the guy, tired and unfocused but with a hint of the flame that always showed when you were being teased, your mouth opened and closed but no words came out, your hand raising slowly to give the man's arm a weak slap, making your way around Derek your feet dragged you towards the kitchen.
His heart felt lighter and his lungs could finally take a deep breath. He knew the relationship you maintained with the team was at maximum, friendship. You were strictly professional and barely ever laughed at the dumb jokes and acts Derek and Emily pulled, holding back your own dumb remarks for an off work time, he had caught a glimpse of it once. At the time he wasn't aware how deep in he was for you so it didn't really affect him the way you threw you body at Emily from laughing too hard, or the way Derek always kept his hands on you, a simple trick to make people think you were unavailable and to keep creepy men away from you, he used that with Garcia too. Unfortunately for Aaron, it worked so well that it even kept himself away from you.
Following you was a decision his heart made and his mind didn't argue with. After what happened tonight he could use some caffeine to keep himself sane, the words you two exchanged seemed to have been said yesterday and not 45 minutes ago.
His phone, which he had found strangely under his go bag, now tucked into his left pocket buzzed twice, the walk to the kitchen was rather small so he stopped to check the messages. Both of them being from JJ and he could already guess what they said.
"Hotch!"
'Don't let anyone eat yet, I'll get us something.' paired with a winking emoji. Good, he didn't think anyone would eat the food here anyway.
He was wrong.
Seeing you with a 'snack' on your hand made his eyebrows go up and the sides of his mouth pull down, you wouldn't... "JJ is getting us something to eat, well, something better than..." his mouth worked fast, you hadn't acknowledged his presence, the slip on your expression when you looked up made him cringe at himself, you looked frightened before staring at him like a blank wall.
He heard your voice and saw your mouth moving but paid no attention to what was being said. He was focused on the way your body leaned on the counter and the way you tried so hard to keep a straight face.
Not knowing what he was supposed to say, he only nodded and walked over to the coffee machine right beside you. Grabbing two cups and filling them without saying anything, you kept watching him, he was close enough that his arm brushed yours a couple times.
"Did you talk to Rossi yet?" your voice was almost a whisper.
"No, not yet." he pushed one of the cups in your direction before mirroring your position against the counter. "Did Derek say anything?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.
"About the case?" he nodded. "No."
"What did he say then?" Oh my god, Aaron.
You laughed, a sarcastic laugh with no actual humor behind.
"Why would I tell you?" you grabbed the cup and left the kitchen.
...
"We thought he was only taking girls, right? But we were wrong, I asked Garcia to take a look at other bodies found in the area because I was sure I had seen something similar. Two young boys were taken a few weeks ago, few days in between and were found dead after three days too. I had seen their pictures and something clicked. The unsub has a type! People who look innocent and small, in general someone who look defenseless you know?" He took some time to place all of the victims pictures on the table.
"We profiled that he was impulsive," his messy hair and fumbling fingers made him look like a crazy magician. "But actually, he's extremely cautious and calculated." his rambling went on for what felt like hours.
"Reid!"
"Sorry, Hotch!" he took a deep breath, "What I'm trying to say is, he's smart. He plans everything twice before acting. He chooses the victims based on their relationship with their partners, all of them had abusive boyfriends, one of the boys was married to a woman twenty years older than him, not that age means anything! But they apparently started dating when he had just turned eighteen..."
"How did we not see that they were all in a abusive relationship?" Emily sounded surprised because normally, relationships is one of the first things to be checked.
"We did." Aaron sighed. "But toxic relationships are unfortunately common enough that we just... ignored it."
"So, what do we do now?" you asked. On the way to the police station you were excited to hear what Spence had figured out, now feeling what was about to come did not ease your anxiety.
"I think some of us are going to have a date tomorrow" damn Dave and his teasing.
"Fortunately not me." Emily said while raising both hands, "I flirted with a psycho last time, I deserve a little break."
"All of them had dark hair..." You could see how JJ was relieved, she was almost always pretty much like the victims, blonde and innocent looking.
"I am too old."
"Oh, now you think you're old?"
"Don't push it, Emily." Dave rolled his eyes before turning to you. "I think you should go, you look innocent and young, dark haired and small."
"Ok, I'll go. Who am I dating?"
"I could go." bless Emily.
"I thought you were taking a break? I'll go, I'm strong and intimidating." Derek ignored her.
"Yeah I think you'd be good at it, considering you basically gaslight all your girlfriends into breaking up with you." Emily laughed.
Aaron was strangely quiet. after you walked into the room and stood behind a chair, he had taken a place right beside you. If you didn't profile people for a living, you'd think nothing of it, but you knew he did it for a deeper reason. Everybody knew you two were sharing a room, and everyone had the tendency to stand close to whoever they roomed with, you two were no different. If he chose a place far away from you like he wanted to, it would be too obvious something had happened.
"I think it's funny how none of us considered Reid." You said. "Maybe we could ask that rookie to help?" you could hear a sigh coming from your side right after the words left your mouth.
"He almost cried when Dave gave him a lesson on how to handle the victims parents, you think he can play your toxic boyfriend?" His voice was slightly raised and the word 'boyfriend' had a mocking tone. From where you were looking at him you could also see Emily and JJ exchanging a look. "I'll do it." Nobody questioned him.
The next couple hours were spent planning and then you two were being sent back to the hotel. In a few hours, after the sun came up, you would probably be going out to pick some clothes, and after that you'd be rehearsing your role. While Aaron would be acting like a complete asshole, you couldn't help but feel some butterflies in your stomach. Fake dating Aaron Hotchner was the closest you'd be to the real thing and if it wasn't for a mission, you would certainly be making the most of it.
When you got inside the room the first thing you did was take your sneakers off and find the shorts you were wearing earlier, going straight to the bathroom to change. You brushed your teeth again and went back intending to ignore Aaron, unfortunately for you, he was sitting on your bed facing the bathroom.
"Can we talk?"
"Now you want to talk? Now?" You weren't yelling, yet.
"Listen, tomorrow it's going to be just me and you alone, I thought it would be best if we talk now."
"I actually think the opposite." you walked to your bed and threw your clothes above your bag, there'll be time to fold it later. "You are going to act like an asshole anyway so if we just continue like this you won't have to pretend." you were now facing him from the end of the bed, he was still in the same position but his neck was bent in a weird way to look at you.
"What do you mean I won't have to pretend?" he raised his voice and turned a leg to rest above the bed. "You actually think I would be like all those fucking idiots?"
"No, I'm just saying it would be easier to not have to pretend this fucking awkward thing between us." if he was raising his voice then you could too, and you did.
"How do you expect me to treat you poorly when I know we're already on bad terms?"
"Aaron, you already did treat me poorly, and in front of everyone! You doubted my profile skills, you questioned my methods in front of other officers, you brushed off my theories so many times even when everyone believed them... You have been toxic, playing a toxic boyfriend won't be so hard for you."
He didn't know you felt that way, he always thought so highly of you that sometimes he felt like he needed to brush a few things off. He got lost.
"I didn't know you felt that way."
"Why would you?" he didn't answer. "You realize the BAU is not a normal unit right?" Now he looked like he was expecting you to finish talking, "Normally, we do have to trust each other and have a certain connection, but we don't always get treated like family. Sometimes we don't even like some coworkers, for a couple units I've been in we didn't even talk outside work. The BAU makes you feel special, like you actually add something to the team that no one else has. You are a big part of the team, and a big part of why I felt special... but for a while now you make me feel like I'm fucking dumb and useless."
From and outsiders perspective, you two looked broken.
"I am so sorry you felt that way."
There wasn't any answer from you, your arms were crossed tightly over your chest. Your eyes weren't meeting his but from what he could see they were teary too.
"I always trusted you, to the point where Dave asked if I was giving you special treatment on purpose. I wasn't. You have always been a good agent and an even better profiler. Your work is impeccable but as a unit chief I couldn't give you the treatment I would like to give. At some point I got scared that I would slip and compliment you too much, when we first started interacting outside work I noticed how much I actually liked you as a friend, and I had to put a stop to it before it got too far. Except I was late and went too far, I liked you too much already and I didn't know how to stop being so nice to you so I just started pushing you away. So many stories from Derek breaking up with his girlfriends gave me an idea and I hated having to do that, always hated hearing him tell me how he manipulated them just so he wouldn't be the bad boyfriend, but it worked. I see now I should've never done that and I am so sorry I made you feel the way you felt."
"Feel."
"Sorry?"
"Feel. You said felt but I still feel."
"I'm sorry."
"Yeah, thanks."
There was this weird silence in the room, not as weird as the other ones were but still uncomfortable.
"This is probably not the best time to say this but-"
"Oh my god! What are you doing? We finally communicated!" you groaned while dropping your head into your hands.
"-I think I'm in love with you..."
"What the hell happened with 'not sure we should act on it' bullshit you pulled out earlier?" you were sure you two would've woken the people sleeping on the rooms close to yours, thankfully they were all too busy working in a police department now.
"We acted on it anyway! We're not fucking but we acted like a married couple fighting today!" and the 'not fucking' part also contributes. He stood up but didn't get any closer to you.
"And whose fault is that?"
"What? What did I do?"
"Aaron, what the fuck? First you told me you liked me and then you just brushed me off when I said I liked you back. You didn't let me leave the room and pulled a move like I was a teenager and you were the parent taking my phone off, then later you just pretended nothing happened but looked so fucking jealous that I talked to Derek."
"Okay, it's my fault! I'm sorry, but I already told you, I like you and Derek is a fucking threat to anyone!"
"I told you I like you back, you idiot! Derek is not a threat for you!"
"What did you call me?"
"Idiot. Is that the only thing you paid attention to?"
"No..."
Oh my god...
"Are you-" no way.
"Yeah..." he whispered.
"You liked being called idiot?"
He was hard. His left hand making a move to adjust his pants, a tent making itself bigger. He looked embarrassed, his cheeks were getting red and he couldn't look you in the eye.
"No, I like you."
"You can't just do this, you know?" your head was pounding and you raised a hand to apply pressure with your thumb and index finger to both sides of it. In merely a few hours you had gone through so many emotions and now you could even feel a certain warmth on your lower belly. "You make me confused."
"I am sorry and I want to fix it." he was stepping closer to you now, "Please, let me?"
"I'm not confused in a sexual way, I find you extremely hot and all that. I'm confused in a way that I need you to explain your actions and feelings because I feel like there's more to it than you told me." your eyes were still closed and you only opened them when you felt his hands touching both of your arms.
"I will, I promise. But I can't handle this anymore."
"Aaron..."
His toes were touching yours from how close he had gotten, his hands kept moving up and down your arms, occasionally squeezing your flesh. He was so close, his touches warmed up your skin, his ragged breath fanned your face. You couldn't, you shouldn't... But he was so tempting and you were tired of holding back.
Tumblr media
Taglist: @mrs-ssa-hotch @emobabeyy
206 notes · View notes
vivwritesfics · 4 months
Note
Poly!Landoscar where they’re on winter break and reader takes them to her home town which is super snowing, ski/snowboard village type vibe? (I’ve got Colorado in my head for some reason🤣) Maybe she’s got a really big family and they all share a cabin for a holiday in the winter?
Tumblr media
Making my way through blurb requests tonight (don't be surprised if this is the only one I end up doing)
Tumblr media
Snow. It didn't often snow in England, where Lando spent a lot of his Christmases before he met his partners. It didn't snow where Oscar was from, either.
So, when Y/Ns family invited the boys up to the family cabin in Denver, they jumped at the chance. A snow day was exactly what they needed this Christmas.
With the length of the flight, Y/N, Lando, and Oscar decided it best to spend at least two weeks up there. A week with Y/N's family and a week in the cabin.
During their week in Y/N's home, the three of them shared Y/N childhood bed. It was a squeeze for the three of them, who were used to one of those bigger than normal beds. But it was cosy and comfortable in the cold climate that the boys weren't used to.
Lando and Oscar were like kids out in the snow. Lando threw snowballs as Oscar tried his best to build a snowman (but Lando kept aiming for the snowman, hitting the head off of the body). When Oscar was finish, Y/N came out with a spare hat and scarf. She wrapped it around the snowman, standing back to admire Oscar's work.
On the second week on their holiday, the throuple, along with Y/N's parents, set off for their holiday cabin. Y/N's siblings and families were to meet them their. Her brother and her sister both had families of their own, partners they had married and a gaggle of kids each.
Y/N had warned Lando and Oscar about the gaggle of kids on the drive up. "They are wild, feral demons," she said, driving behind her parents. "Don't let them bully you, okay? Because, you show one sign of weakness, and they'll be on you."
"Should we be scared?" Asked Oscar. When Y/N drove (which wasn't very often, only when they were in the states for insurance reasons), Lando would be in the passenger seat and Oscar would be in the back. If it was Oscar driving, Y/N was beside him and Lando was in the back. And, if it was Lando, Oscar was in the front with him.
"Terrified, more like," Y/N answered as the cabin came into view.
The cabin was a part of one of those skiing villages. It was owned by the entire family, Y/N's parents, aunt and uncles on both sides. They just had to stay coordinated enough to ensure it was being evenly shared.
Y/N parked up beside her parents. "Game plan is we settle in and hit the slopes," she said and pushed open the car door.
The boys grabbed their things from the back of the car. They didn't let Y/N carry anything as she led them into the cabin, following her parents.
When they got inside, Y/N's parents were stood in the foyer. "We've been thinking," said Y/N's mother as the boys set their things down, "that, because there are three of you, you guys should get the master bedroom."
Y/N's brows furrowed. "Are you sure?" She asked them.
With his jaw clenched, Y/N's father nodded his head. "Just remember, we'll be in the room next door," he said, staring past her, at Lando and Oscar.
After they unpacked their things, Y/N took the boys skiing. They started on the easiest slope, since Lando and Oscar didn't have as much skiing experience. They had some, but not a lot.
Once the skiing was done, Y/N took Lando and Oscar to the café in the skiing village. She'd been going there since she was a kid, most of the staff being friends she knew from high school.
After ordering three rounds of hot chocolate, Y/N joined the boys by the window. As she sat down, they were by the window, watching as the snow fell. "This is amazing," Lando muttered as he cupped his hand around his hot chocolate.
***
Y/N's siblings had arrived that evening. It had taken the kids three hours to break Lando and Oscar.
Y/N and her siblings had all been ice skating since they were children. The sisters had played hockey while growing up and now the kids did the same.
As soon as they'd met Lando and Oscar, the kids had been trying their best to get them to take them skating. It didn't matter that they couldn't skate, but it was what the kids wanted. They'd been screaming, jumping up and down on the sofa as they screamed at Lando and Oscar.
And then the boys agreed.
The kids settled down for the night, with the promise of going skating the next day.
The skating... wasn't going well. Lando and Oscar were like bambi on the ice, with the kids skating circles around them. They were tripped up, falling flat on the facing several times.
Y/N's laugher wasn't helping. She stood on the side lines, watching and high fiving the kids as the skated past her.
And then she got onto the rink. "Osc, grab a hold of Lando," she said as she grabbed Lando's hand. Oscar placed his hands on his shoulders as Y/N began skating backwards, pulling them along. She was constantly looking around, keeping an eye on her nieces and nephews.
They managed to trip her up once, with her, Lando and Oscar falling into one pile. But they didn't mind, the three of them erupting into giggles. "Kind of the best snow day ever, right?" She asked and leaned forward to kiss Lando.
She kissed Oscar, too, the kids behind them letting out a series of 'ew's.
369 notes · View notes
willalove75 · 7 months
Note
Keeley and Rebecca would gossip at lunch about Roy and Reader . Especially after seeing them workout together , reader has tattoos . Maybe they go on a double date or with Jack ? Some banter , teasing . Rebecca KNOWS what gets reader going 😳🔥
Yessss!! Love this request so much! Sorry I took literally FOREVER to get to it💕
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Minors DNI
Tags: flirty, teasing
A/n: Holy shit it's been a MINUTE since I've done a Rebecca fic! I'm going to be trying to do a better job at responding to the Rebecca requests that have been in my inbox for months. I'm so sorry it's taken so long to get through them!
Tumblr media
Rebecca and Keeley walk through the halls of AFC Richmond together as they're on their way to lunch. They make their way through the locker room in search of you. Rebecca knocks on Ted's office door and walks in.
"Well howdy boss! Keeley! What are you two rascals up to?"
"Good afternoon Ted." Rebecca says. "Have you seen y/n? I thought she would be in here."
"Ah, I think I saw her and Roy head into the gym a little while ago."
"Of course that's where they are." Keeley says with a playful eyeroll.
The duo head to the gym and lo and behold, there you were. You were doing bench presses and Roy was your spotter.
Rebecca's breath hitches in her chest when she sees you. Her eyes rake over your body, your legs spread on either side of the bench, the little arch in your back, the tight white tank top you had on - you must have pulled your work shirt off. She was practically drooling over the way your muscles flexed when you brought the bar down to your chest and pushed it back up. The tattoos covering your arms were glistening with a thin layer of sweat and it made her heart skip a beat. You didn't even know she was standing there and you were already driving her crazy. It was baffling to Rebecca that someone had such an effect on her.
"Hi babe!" Keeley says as she trots over to Roy and kisses him on the cheek.
As you bring the bar back down to your chest you hear Keeley and look over and see Rebecca practically gawking at you. You flash her a quick smirk before Roy brings you back to reality.
"You're not done yet." He growls. "Four more. For every second you stare at her I'm adding two more."
You quickly refocus and bang out the last four reps before Roy helps you rerack the bar. Using it as leverage, you pull yourself up into a sitting position and look back over at Rebecca who's strutting her way over to you.
"Hey babe." You say.
"Hello my love." She says, leaning down to give you a kiss on the cheek.
"What are you guys doing here?"
"Well we were going to invite you to lunch, but it looks like you're rather preoccupied at the moment." Rebecca says.
You look over at Roy who lets out a low growl letting you know he's not finished kicking your ass yet.
"I'm sorry baby, but it looks like Oscar the Grouch here isn't done torturing me just yet."
"You asked for this." He deadpans.
"It's okay my love, we'll get lunch another time." She says.
"Okay lets go! I'm so hungry I could fuck a horse!" Keeley says.
You, Rebecca, and Roy all look at Keeley.
"Don't you mean 'eat a horse?'" You ask.
"Nope. Bye babe!" She says before kissing Roy and heading towards the door. "Lets go Rebecca!"
You shake your head at her and Rebecca looks down at you. Looking up at her like this does things to you and she knows it. She tries to do it as often as she can and it drives you wild. She bends forward and subtly squeezes her breasts together so you get the best view of her cleavage since you can see right down the front of her shirt. You can feel your cheeks turn red and it's not from working out. Rebecca cups under your chin and pulls you in for a kiss.
When she pulls away and you open your eyes you're met with a beautiful pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you. Your heart stutters in your chest and she gives you a little smirk.
"I'll see you later, love." Is all she says before turning around and walking away. She sways her hips a little as she walks away and you develop an ache between your legs.
After she leaves you drag your hands down your face and groan.
"That woman will be the death of me."
Roy snickers at you and you shoot him a look.
"You chose that punishment. I have no sympathy. Lets go, you have two more sets to finish and then I'm throwing you in the ice tub." You groan in protest. "After that little, whatever the fuck that was, you're gonna need it."
At lunch Rebecca and Keeley are seated at a table and they go over the menu after placing their drink orders. Rebecca is chewing on her bottom lip as she looks over the menu and Keeley giggles at her.
"What?" Rebecca asks.
"You."
"What about me?"
"She really got you flustered by just existing, didn't she?" Rebecca rolls her eyes at Keeley and looks back at the menu. "Oh come on! I saw the way you were looking at her and how you practically eye fucked her in front of the entire team!"
"Keeley Jones! I did no such thing!"
"Oh yes you did and you know it!"
"I wasn't eye fucking her, just, playfully flirting."
"Yeah, okay. Anyway, we should go on a double date, we haven't done that in ages!"
"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Friday night?"
"Perfect."
Friday night rolls around and you and Rebecca and dressed and off to your double date with Roy and Keeley. Her driver drops you off at the restaurant and Keeley and Roy pull up right after you. After exchanging hello's the four of you head inside and are lead to your table. Drinks and orders are placed and the conversation starts to pick up.
"So how do you think the boys are going to do at next weeks match?" Rebecca asks Roy.
"They better kick their fucking asses." He says.
"How's Isaac's injury?" Keeley asks you.
"He should be fine to play next week. Luckily he didn't tear anything in his knee so I worked on him throughout the week to try and strengthen it so he should be good to go." You say.
"Well that's a relief." Rebecca says.
You go to speak but your words die on your lips when you feel a foot drag up your leg. Looking across the table at Rebecca, she's resting her chin in her hand and looking at you as if she's not teasing the shit out of you right now.
"Are you okay, love?" She asks.
"Yup. All good." You say as you take a sip of your drink.
Her foot climbs higher and pushes your legs apart a little and you try to not choke on your drink. Thank god Roy and Keeley started talking about something else so they don't see you struggling.
The waitress comes over with your food and you feel Rebecca's foot pull away and a wave of relief washes over you. The four of you start eating and just as you're about to take a bite her foot begins stroking your leg again. Looking at Rebecca she has a smirk on her face and you watch as she slowly brings her fork to her mouth and wraps her lips around it before pulling it away. You take a sip of water when you feel your face flushing. This woman can breathe in your direction and immediately fluster you.
"So how has working out with Roy been?" Keeley asks you,
"It's been really good, he's been kicking my ass."
"You needed it." He says.
"Okay, listen-"
"That wasn't a question."
"Such a prick." You laugh.
"Why have you been working out so much, love?" Rebecca asks.
"I don't know, I like it. Especially since I have full access to a gym at work I mean, why not?"
"You have certainly gotten stronger over the last few weeks." She says as she reaches across the table and squeezes your bicep. She's subtle about it but you can feel her drag her nails across your skin as she pulls away.
"Thanks." You sputter and try to cover it with a sip of your drink.
Throughout dinner Rebecca keeps catching your eye, maintaining eye contact when she takes a bite of her food, watching you squirm when her foot grazes the inside of your thigh. She drives you crazy the entire night.
The waitress brings out dessert and Rebecca maintains eye contact with you once more as she takes a scoop of her dessert and eats it.
"Here." She says. "Try it."
Rebecca picks up a spoonful and reaches across the table and feeds you. She slips the spoon between your lips painfully slow and pulls it out at the same pace, not once breaking eye contact. You let out a small moan and try to play it off as if you're moaning about the dessert. Keeley and Roy don't seem to notice but Rebecca's eyes flash with lust for a moment.
She reaches across the table again and drags her thumb across your bottom lip, wiping away some of the dessert left behind.
By the end of the night you're squirming, the heat between your legs is damn near unbearable and she knows it.
You say your goodbyes to Keeley and Roy and climb into the car. Rebecca pushes the button to pull up the privacy divider between the front and back seats of the car and looks at you with lust in her eyes. You try and make a move but she stops you pinning you back against the seat. A pathetic moan leaves your lips and she smirks.
"What's the matter, love?" She says as her lips ghost the shell of your ear.
"Rebecca." You pant.
"Yes love?" She asks before placing soft, open mouthed kisses on your neck. "What's the matter? Got you all worked up?"
"Yes." You groan.
"So easy to fluster."
"Please."
Rebecca cups your core and presses her fingers against your soaked panties.
"All this for me?" You nod your head.
She pulls her hand away and you whine.
"Don't worry my love, when we get home I'll have you whining for all of the best reasons."
233 notes · View notes
mikashisus · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
Family Line
”suffering is a terrible fire; it either purifies or destroys.”
— oscar wilde
Tumblr media
summary: Chief Justice Neuvillette doesn’t quite understand human emotions. His daughter is the complete opposite, a girl who feels a little too much all at once.
And suddenly, all of Fontaine is experiencing her pain.
pairing: (platonic) father!neuvillette & daughter!reader
content warnings: mentions of su!cide, su!cide attempts, character death
other disclaimers: neuvillette being a bad father but hes trying his best, egeria mentions, mc is fontaine’s it girl, furina trying to act like an older sister but failing, mc is a demigod, mc is half dragon
Tumblr media
wc: 2.4k
author's notes: was listening to ‘dead mom’ from the beetlejuice soundtrack and immediately thought to write something based off of it. also based off of family line by conan gray.
trigger warning for su!cide mentions and death mentions. please stay safe!
cross-posted on ao3, written before the events of 4.2!!
Tumblr media
All you knew about your mother was that she died in a freak accident 500 years ago. At that time, you were only ten years old.
Ten years too young in your father’s eyes and ten years too old in your mother’s.
Your mother would constantly tell you how honest and wise you were for your age, even going as far as to joke that you would become the new god of wisdom one day. Of course, those were all jokes, and your mother was all lies.
But… there was no denying that you missed her more than anything. She was your safe haven, your shelter, your rock.
As a child, you had a multitude of tantrums. Of course, tantrums were normal in children, but you were special. Your mood swings would decide the weather in Fontaine, which mostly consisted of a downpour followed by incredibly thick fog. Demigod children were not at all common, and your mother knew that. She also knew why the weather was decided by your mood.
She did her best to calm you, sing you a lullaby so that you’d fall asleep and forget about why you were upset. That’s why she was your rock. She stabilized you, knew how to keep your mood under wraps so that you would spare the Fontainian people from another day of pouring rain.
As for your father, he wasn’t in the picture much. Not until your mother passed, that is. You always knew that they weren’t the type to co-parent— that there weren’t really any deep feelings present between them.
Love was trivial to them. You always wondered why they had even gotten together in the first place if they didn’t feel any love towards each other. But you never asked… because, at the time, you were a child and you knew they wouldn’t answer because of that reason alone.
Now, you were old enough to hear the answer. Sadly, your mother was dead, so you couldn’t hear her answer. But your father was alive… and unfortunately for you, he wasn’t a talker. He preferred to leave you in the dark about most things, not seeing a reason to tell you about them if they did not concern you.
And that’s where the problem began.
Your father was emotionless. You often thought of him as a statue. Unfeeling, uncaring, still, and pensive. There was nothing behind those slitted eyes. No trace of sympathy, no trace of remorse. His voice was stern and commanding in the courtroom, and authoritative when it came to you.
Eventually, the rough sound of his voice had become a sound you loathed to hear.
You often wondered why your mother chose him of all people to have a child with. He wasn’t father material, and he definitely did not act like one towards you… but he did take care of the melusines. And that made you angry beyond repair.
You were his own flesh and blood. His only daughter, his pride and joy. Why did he pay you no mind, yet set all of his work aside to aid a melusine? Jealousy burned hot and red through your veins.
Your father was no father at all, and you refused to regard him as such. When a Fontainian you met in the streets would greet you, they’d immediately reduce you down to the “Chief Justice’s Daughter,” a title you loathed greatly. They wouldn’t call you by your name, and it made you all the more angry.
Eventually, you had enough of hearing that name, and refused to leave the Palais Mermonia. If the people would not respect you, then you would not come out to greet them. You stayed locked up in your room for decades, refusing to leave, and not even answering the door when Lady Furina herself came to visit you.
Soon, the people of Fontaine had forgotten what you looked like, but they still told your tale. The tale of a beautiful girl that looked to be in her early twenties, with hair that fell neatly along her shoulders and held the grace and elegance of a princess. A girl that dressed like a princess too, with big blue ballgowns and flowy gold dresses that sparkled in the sun. Jewelry on every wrist, the finest golden earrings, and authentic pearl necklaces. Plump lips laced with lipgloss and eyelashes naturally long and fluttery.
The people loved you… even if they did not see you as more than the Chief Justice’s daughter. You were not your own person. All the smiles you wore for the people were fake. All those dresses you wore were just for show. They didn’t know that you and your father did not speak regularly, and they did not know that your relationship with him was rocky like a raging sea.
It did not help that the two of you were polar opposites. He was a man of little words and even littler emotion. And you, his daughter, were the complete opposite. You felt a little too much all at once— as if a dam was being broken.
Now, you stood in his office, listening as he discussed cordial matters with Lady Furina— who just so happened to be your older sister… your older half sister. Your family was complicated.
Your sister with whom you did not mesh well with ended her meeting with a dramatic sentiment, something not so different from how she usually presented herself. As she passed you, her heterochromatic eyes met yours briefly, before the doors to the office slammed shut behind her.
Now it was only you and your father left in the room. The ticking of the clock on the opposite wall seemed to grow louder each second that the two of you sat in silence. Tension hung thickly in the air, and you were waiting quite impatiently for him to break it.
Finally, after about five minutes of a pen scratching on paper, your father looked up to meet your eyes. You instinctively shrank under his gaze; the piercing, slitted pupils made you uneasy whenever you stared at them for too long. He folded his gloved hands neatly on the table and let out a sigh before he spoke.
“Your mother’s death wasn’t just hard on you, (name).”
You rolled your eyes in annoyance. Not this talk again. You’ve had this talk with him many a times before, but all of those times, you refused to hear what he had to say. The subject was touchy for you, and he had known that… yet he continued to bring it up.
“It was hard to recover from—“
“You’re such a liar,” you couldn’t help but spit out, the words finally being said after centuries of you holding them back. “You never cared about mom. You never cared about me— you don’t care about me.” The accusation was harsh, you knew that, but you stood by what you said.
Neuvillette stared at you in shock and disbelief— the most emotion you’ve seen on him in your whole life. You were inclined to believe that maybe he had actually cared… but that thought was fleeting, just like his incredulous expression.
“You know very well that that isn’t true,” he spoke in a whisper, his tone defensive. “I cared deeply for your mother… I care deeply for you. You out of everyone should believe that—“
“How can I when you were never in my life until she passed?” you hissed, feeling the sting of tears at the corners of your eyes. Eyes that resembled his much too closely. You always hated your eyes because of that common similarity. It was why you couldn’t look in mirrors. “You didn’t even make an effort as a father. In fact, you’re hardly even a father at all.”
It seemed as if your words had struck a chord within him, as the look in Neuvillette’s eyes suddenly turned to one of hurt, with an underlying guilt present. He opened his mouth as if to defend himself, but closed it a moment later.
You were undoubtedly right. He hadn’t done a thing. He hadn’t acted like a father at all— hadn’t even tried. Instead, he tended to his duties as Chief Justice and left the parenting to your older sister, who tried her best to raise you, but you wanted nothing to do with her whatsoever.
“…I suppose you’re right.” He sounded defeated.
You held no remorse. You got up and began to leave, fed up with both this conversation, and his bullshit.
“(name)—”
You ignored him as you slammed the door to his office shut and rushed upstairs to your room, where you collapsed onto your bed and let the tears flow.
As you cried, a downpour began outside your window. It was raining again… courtesy of both you and your father’s collective sadness. You had known for a long time why it rained when he was feeling down, and why it happened to you as well.
The secret behind your father’s origins was well known to you. Your mother had told you the story when you were very young. Neuvillette was a dragon— a dragon sovereign to be specific. One of Teyvat’s original lifeforms.
And you, as his daughter, had the power of such a strong elemental lifeform coursing through your veins. As a result of such inherited power, it rained when you cried.
Lifting your head to gaze out the window at the sour weather, you caught a glimpse of the picture sitting on your nightstand. An old, old portrait drawn of you, your mother (Egeria), Focalors, and Neuvillette. The whole family.
Rage burned hot in your veins, and you shot up from your bed to retrieve the portrait. Without thinking, you threw it to the floor and stomped on it, letting your emotions get the better of you. The rain outside got worse, speeding up into a thunderstorm as you threw open the doors to your balcony.
The bloodcurdling, painful scream that erupted from the back of your throat went unheard amidst the downpour, and you couldn’t care less about your soaked gown. Grasping onto the railing, you hung your head.
“I miss you so much, mom… and father doesn’t care. I wish you were here— I wish I could speak to you…” you screwed your eyes shut, a few centuries’ worth of memories flooding through your mind.
Everything, all of it, made you so undeniably frustrated and upset. You missed your mother, you missed her soothing voice and comforting lullabies. You missed the way she’d tuck you in at night and tell you tales of creatures of the deep. You missed her cooking and the way she’d spoil you with sweet treats. You missed her kind heart and playful nature, the way she’d chase you down the hall and swoop you up into her arms and twirl you around. You missed the fancy balls she’d hold for your birthday, each one more impressive and extravagant than the last. You missed the way she treated her people with the utmost love and care, and how she always told you to treat humans with complete kindness and compassion.
And most importantly, you missed being her daughter.
You almost slipped as you climbed onto the railing, thoughts of your mother still running rampant in your mind.
“I want to join you, mother…”
Without thinking again, you took a step, and your body felt weightless… but only for a second. You felt a tug on your arm; something was stopping you from falling.
As you looked up and met eyes with your savior, you broke down into another fit of sobs. Focalors was holding onto you for dear life, her hands trembling and her eyes holding a terrified look. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words died on her tongue because of her fear.
Fear of losing you.
Another hand joined the fray, the blurry outline of Neuvillette appearing in your vision. You shook your head, attempting to pry your arm from their clutches. At your movement, Neuvillette rushed forward in one fast motion, grabbing onto you with both hands.
With a successful effort, the two of them pulled you back onto the balcony, with which you sat blankly for a few minutes. There was a deep ringing in your ears as your mind felt foggy. Had you really almost…
Focalors pounced onto you almost immediately, her heart pounding against her chest as she shook with tears of her own. Her hold on you was so tight, making it hard for you to breathe. It hadn’t registered in her mind just yet that she had almost just lost a sister.
Once it did, she hugged you tighter and cried into your shoulder.
Neuvillette stared down at the two of you, horror still laced in his slitted pupils as he gave you some space. As soon as you met his gaze, tears of his own began to flow down his cheeks.
You didn’t want to believe that the man you had known to show no emotion was currently crying, and so instead, you blamed it on the rain. Yes… it was just the rain falling down his face.
He leapt forward to capture you both in a tight hug, his soft sobs sounding like loud hammering in your ears.
“I’m sorry I failed you both,” he muttered in between cries, screwing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realize how badly I’ve treated you… I hope you will forgive me one day.”
He hugged you both tighter, and as you made eye contact with Focalors and heard the fast beating of your father’s heart against your ear, you broke down into another fit of sobs.
You clung onto him like a life vest, letting out 500 years worth of pent up sadness and anger. You’ve longed for the day your father would show you any type of affection. And now, you were finally receiving it.
“Forgive me, my daughters,” he muttered again, kissing your forehead and then Focalors’. “I will be better. I will make up for lost time… I promise.”
As he vowed to be a better father, you suddenly felt as if your mother’s arms were wrapping around you in a warm embrace again, and the downpour of rain suddenly felt comforting rather than stinging.
Your mother’s soft voice entered your ears, her words but a whisper among the hollering rain.
Everything will be okay.
Tumblr media
author’s notes: i might go back and add more onto this another time, but i think this’ll do for now.
furina is the mc’s half sister, and therefore is not blood related to neuvillette, but he still considers her his daughter regardless.
pls lmk what u thought of this & if u’d like for me to make this into a multi-chapter fic with a better outline. i love receiving comments on my works!
masterlist!
77 notes · View notes
theliliesofwatersedge · 11 months
Text
Lily and Regulus headcannons
- It all began when Regulus skipped a year in potions and was partnered with Lily.
- They didn’t talk much at first. Lily, for one, was afraid of Regulus sharing the same views on blood status as his family whilst Regulus feared Lily would see him as nothing more than his last name. 
- Within a month, however, Lily started smuggling muggle books for Regulus to read (he loved all of them.)
- From then forth they were like a house on fire. 
- Lily told Regulus about her family and her relationship with her sister. In return, Regulus confessed how much he missed Sirius and longed to join him.
- It wasn’t until Lily saw the scars on Regulus’ body and how sudden sound gave him a violent shiver that she realised he had it just as bad as Sirius did.
- Remus soon started joining them in their “secret library” meetings, where they either splurged on Oscar Wilde and Virginia Woolf or gossiped their way through the day.
- Lily figured there was something between Regulus and James but couldn’t figure it out until she walked in on them making out in the Astromony Tower.
- After that she was their number one shipper and helped keep their relationship a secret (for both Regulus and James’ sake)
- Regulus would secretly hex anyone who called her (or anyone) a mudblood
- Regulus would vent and be sappy about James to lily for hours and in return Lily would tease the living shit out of James. 
- Regulus made sure to introduce Lily and Pandora (although he was a little stubborn because of how protective he is of both, he loves their relationship and how much they work together)
381 notes · View notes
f1byjessie · 2 months
Text
HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81.
love is a wild ride, and logan sargeant's sister is about to find this out the hard way.
( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )
━━ part four.
INSTAGRAM.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by logansargeant, landonorris, and 24,727 others
yourusername here’s a sneak peek of the photos from a shoot me and my beloved did for hermès! i’m so honored to get to work with so many skilled and talented people! none of this would’ve been possible without them
view all 1,981 comments
user these are stunning!! 😍❤️
user I MISSED THE RIDING CONTENT
user genuinely had no idea y/n was a rider
↳ user no fr cuz the sargeants are all athletes in some way it’s crazy!!
↳ user i think she just rides casually now 🤔 but she used to compete when they were in europe
logansargeant do i get to brag and say my sister modeled for hermes now?
↳ yourusername there’s plenty of other brands i’ve modeled for that you could brag about 💀 and it was technically my horse that modeled
landonorris ok so are you gonna take me for a ride sometime?
↳ yourusername only if you promise to do the same
↳ user WAIT HOLD ON WE'VE MISSED SOME CHAPTERS
↳ user is y/n not with oscar???
↳ user this bitch is homie hopping the mclaren boys 😒😒
You have barely enough time to respond to the knocking— or rather pounding— on your door before it's being flung open and Logan, looking very much the part of an angry brother, barges in.
“Is it true?” He asks in lieu of a greeting.
“‘Hi, Y/N,’” you begin sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “‘So good to see you, Y/N. Sorry for barging in, Y/N. Can I have a moment of your time, Y/N?’ Why of course, dearest brother of mine. What can I do for you?”
Logan doesn’t seem amused by your antics, though. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth is pinched into a frustrated frown, and his hands are clenched into fists at his sides. He’s in his running clothes, and there’s still sweat keeping his hair plastered to his forehead, which gives you the impression that whatever he’s asking about had been deemed important enough that he couldn’t even be bothered to shower and change before confronting you about it.
You wonder, briefly, if his new trainer is downstairs in the living room or if he’s gone home already. You almost ask about it just to piss him off even more, but he looks genuinely serious and you’ve— mostly— grown past the years of purposefully picking on him to get a reaction.
Instead, you sit up further in bed and look at him expectantly, prompting him with a wave of your hand to elaborate.
“Are you dating Lando Norris?”
The question, and the sincerity with which it’s asked, startles a laugh out of you. The flash of hurt in your brother’s eyes, however, forces you to bite back the immediate retort. Logan isn’t asking to be a dick, you remind yourself.
Before you answer, you pull your legs up to your body and pat at the now free space in front of you.
He purses his lips, but eventually, he closes the door— softer than how he’d opened it— and moves to sit on the edge of your mattress. For a moment, as he looks at you, he doesn’t look like the nearly 23-year-old that he is. When you were younger, he’d come into your room and talk about his races, what all he did wrong, and what new things he was going to try next time, and the young man that sits before you now reminds you a lot of that little boy.
“No,” you answer him simply. “I’m not dating Lando. He and I are just friends.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “But do you want to date him?”
You shake your head and sigh, before grabbing your phone off the bedside table and pulling up the brief text conversation you had with Lando last night after he’d tipsily called you. There’s a frankly obscene amount of typos and more emojis interspersed throughout than you thought a guy like him would use, but the majority of it is all the details of his supposedly foolproof plan.
You take a deep breath, weigh the consequences of your actions for a split moment before throwing caution to the wind, and turning the screen to face Logan.
“I don’t want to date Lando,” you admit. “I want to date Oscar, and he’s helping me.”
Logan’s silent, and you pray that it’s just because he’s too busy reading through the messages to focus on reacting to what you’ve said. But the silence stretches on, and on, and on, and suddenly you regret saying anything. Maybe you should’ve just agreed and said it was Lando all along—
“I know Oscar better than Lando,” Logan suddenly says. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t just ask for my help.”
It’s your turn to be silent now. You open your mouth, close it, open it again, and close it again. You probably look like a fish, but you’re so taken aback by what he’s said that it doesn’t even matter.
“You’re not, like, mad?” You pull your phone back and let the screen fall dark, eyes focused on Logan.
He looks at you like you’re dumb, or like you’ve actually turned into the fish you were momentarily mimicking. He shakes his head— “Why would I be mad? Oscar is, like, the only driver I’d want you to date.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“I mean, the others are all nice, don’t get me wrong,” he clarifies. “I’m sure they’re all very good partners, and I bet Lando would be an amazing boyfriend. Probably. But I know Oscar. I trust him more than I trust the others because I know for a fact that he’s a genuinely good guy. That first year that we met him, he asked me what your favorite color was to make sure his mom knit you a hat that you would like.”
“That was years ago, Logan…” you trail off.
He shrugs. “So? It’s not like he’s changed that much. When we were still at Prema, and you went through that vegetarian phase, I caught him once looking up restaurants that have vegetarian options so that you could eat with us when we went out to celebrate.”
You glance down, avoiding Logan’s eyes. Picking at a loose thread at the bottom of your shirt, you say, “That was still years ago.”
“What about all the flirting in the comments,” he asks.
You shrug. You’re not even sure yourself. The way Sophia and Lando had explained things to you, it had certainly seemed like flirting, but the lack of his presence on your posts as of late has made you reconsider your initial beliefs and now you’re not sure what to think.
Realistically, all of this could probably be solved if you just texted him and asked— womaned up, as Sophia would say, and confronted him about your feelings. But there’s still that underlying fear of rejection, and you would never be able to live down the mortification if you did something so bold and had your confidence thrown back in your face.
“So you’re just gonna play pretend with Lando and hope Oscar gets jealous and does something about it?” He sounds genuinely confused. “Isn’t that… mean?”
“That’s what I said!” You exclaim, burying your head in your hands with an exasperated groan. “But Lando and Sophia are so adamant that it’ll work, and they have more relationship experience than I do. I don’t wanna manipulate him at all, but I don’t know what else to do to get his attention again other than talking with him, and I think I might actually throw myself into the ocean if I have to do that.”
Logan’s face scrunches up, “‘Again?’”
You purse your lips and awkwardly shrug as if that’s a good enough answer, but his silent stare persists, so you heave a sigh and fall backward against your pillows, glaring miserably up at your ceiling. “We kissed. Once. In Bahrain.”
He stands from your bed suddenly, pulling your gaze back onto him. His hands are on his hips, his brows are still furrowed and his mouth is still turned downward ever so slightly, but he looks less upset and more determined than anything.
“I’m gonna go get cleaned up. Be ready in thirty minutes,” he says. “We’re going out.”
INSTAGRAM.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 102,161 others
tagged: yourusername
logansargeant sometimes it’s just you and your sister against the world, and sometimes that means last-minute trips to the beach to remind yourself that it isn’t all that bad
view all 3,612 comments
yourusername you didn’t really give me much choice tbh 🙄
↳ logansargeant yea ok well someone in this family has to have a sense of spontaneity 🙄
user wholesome sibling content is what’s keeping me going fr
user i’m so happy we’ll be getting more of y/n in the paddock in 2024!! 💙💙💙
landonorris is twin telepathy real?
↳ logansargeant totally
↳ landonorris you’re messing with me no it’s not
↳ yourusername it absolutely is that’s why me and logan are always on the same page
↳ landonorris fuck that’s so cool
user i’m ugly crying the fact that they’re twins makes them built-in best friends i can’t do this rn 😭😭
user the sargeant twins are keeping us fed this winter break
INSTAGRAM.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by logansargeant, alex_albon, and 19,347 others
tagged: logansargeant
yourusername sometimes self-care is sunsets and petty gossiping with your brother 
view all 913 comments
logansargeant emphasis on the petty
↳ yourusername obviously
user girl idk how you can stand how cold the water is rn
↳ user i mean they kinda grew up in europe so maybe they’re used to it
user i wish i had a brother to gossip with 😫😫
user i NEED to know who they talk shit about PLS
alex_albon hopefully the east coast is having better weather than the west coast 🥲
↳ yourusername sunny skies as far as the eye can see 😌
user I’M REALLY WATCHING THESE TWO LIVE MY DREAM RN
INSTAGRAM.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 339,701 others
oscarpiastri ☀️.
comments have been disabled
━━ tags: @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl
━━ a/n: we're going places! i'm very excited for what's in store with the next part! beyond that, though, i am seriously so thankful for how nice everyone has been with this. the reception was so much nicer than i ever could've anticipated, and i'm very excited to keep writing more!
497 notes · View notes
everythingne · 2 months
Text
out of the woods (ls2) - ch3
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
After Dhanishka's first race, media goes quite wild. Logan is forced into an unexpected ultimatum. Charles is on damage control, Alex and Oscar help.
logan sargeant x ferrari!oc
fc: iffat marash
warnings/notes: sexual comments, demeaning reporter, blackmailing/threatening, misogyny, logan and charles povs very briefly to sort of carry the story here, blink and you miss it 'marketing ploy' crossover, very long chapter, buckle in kids.
(chapter two) (chapter four)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
When asked how they know Dhanishka Dubey, most people will say Trident's 'crashgate' incident that broke F2 headlines in 2021.
While that moment is what most people know Dubey from, it might be what split two drivers apart, and what led to her career in Formula One under Ferrari this season.
Sargeant and Dubey have been noted to have been friendly since as early as their karting days in the 2010s, with photo evidence of a friendship blooming around 2017-18 when both were racing for Formula Renault.
It's believed by most fans the two started dating around that time. Some marking the start of their relationship as the day of Dubey's win over Sargeant that year, while some say they started dating even earlier.
While the speculation of when the pair dated is fuzzy, a hard date of December 13th, 2021 marks the end of the relationship. A Tweet from that day posted by Sargeant, which was retweeted by Dubey, being the only public note of their relationship that was not in sparse live interviews from their racing days.
Tumblr media
On December 11th, 2021, Sargeant lost the P2 position in the F2 Championship to Dubey after being forced to retire mid-race due to damage sustained when Dubey's teammate Viscaal rear-ended him during turn three of the lap. Sargeant ended the season P3, beaten out by Dubey and the 2021 champion, Piastri.
During an investigation conducted by the FIA, a Trident engineer revealed hidden documents about the planned accident between Viscaal and Sargeant. While Trident was investigated further, the P2 position was bounced between Sergeant and Dubey before it was determined Dubey personally had nothing to do with the plan. She was allowed to keep her pole position.
This accident is what led to the breakup of the couple, and many fans note Dubey also negatively changed a lot from her last day with Trident in 2021 to her F1 debut this season with Ferrari. Dubey was a shock, as most fans expected to have Albon or Leclerc's brother Arthur as the second driver for Ferrari this season with both being better fit for the team.
Leclerc spoke with Sky News after the race in Bahrain, "[Dubey] is a force to be reckoned with this season, she's coming in here with something to prove, and I think she's shown that already tonight [...] There's a lot at stake for her, I think she's going to continue to surprise us."
Vasseur paired Leclerc and Dubey based on similar driving styles, with fans believing Dubey would be a support to her teammate. Although it will not be easy for Dubey to cement herself among the greats, as she's already under FIA investigation.
During one lap, at turn three, the FIA suspected Sargeant had actually pushed Dubey outside of track limits before she recovered. The FIA is still working on their decision of either letting Dubey keep her podium, or giving the proper points to Norris who was in P4.
While no decision has been made yet, many fans have taken to Twitter to discuss their feelings about the situation.
Tumblr media
Many fans have speculated this was done purposefully by the FIA on behalf of Williams as 'payback' for Ferrari signing Dubey. Many fans of Sargeants believe Dubey's signing was done deliberately to get back at the American driver for knocking Ferrari out of the top five positions last season by two points he gained at the last race.
Other fans believe it's simply improper etiquette for the FIA to not charge Dubey with the fine they knew of for around four hours before the fine settled in.
Regardless of opinion, it's the decision of the FIA alone on whether or not Dubey will lose her first podium of her F1 career.
written by Anthony Davis
Tumblr media
dhanishkadubey added to her story!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Charles is laying in the sun, the boat motor humming as we come to an idle. Arthur and Lorenzo are bickering, Pascale just whacking her sons with the fan in her hand and waving them over to help pass out lunches.
Charles and I still haven't spoken about Logan.
I had spoken sparsely to Logan in the few weeks that had passed, anyways. We avoided each other like the plague, like if we got to close we'd irreversibly fuck up and not be able to get out of it. Which, I guess was better than actively feuding. He'd apologized for the FIA trying to take my podium away, promised he hadn't done it on purpose. I never thought he had. But I guess he didn't want me to think he was getting back at me for Trident's stupidity.
We were so lucky no one had seen that drunk makeout in the hall, something I still thought of late at night when thinking through all my mistakes.
Charles eyes me in the shade, the book of poems my sister had gifted me right before leaving home making my stomach sick. I'd bookmarked one page, imagining the feeling of Logan's hands on my waist when I'd read it.
'he only whispers i love you when he slips his hands down the waistband of your pants.'
But was that what we were? Or was it what the media would destine us to be if they ever, ever, found out? I wanted to love Logan Sargeant, as impossible as it was in my head. I wanted nothing more than to fall irreversibly in love with him again, to slot back in like I never left, but my own fear held me back. How did I know if he liked me back the same way? The way that makes you feel so light when they are nearby? The way that would make me give him anything.
It felt weak, to admit how much I loved him, so I blamed ovulation hormones with a grimace on my face as I flipped to a new page.
"What is that face for?" Charles finally says, sitting up and rolling to the side to be next to me. I contemplate bothering my teammate with my fucked up love life and go to close the book when Charles slips a thumb into the pages to stop it from moving in the breeze. I swallow and watch him mumble the words.
"I agree with it." He says simply, eyes glancing to the side under his sunglasses before he takes the book from me and drops it in my bag, "and we should talk about that night."
"I was drunk," I counter, "and you have no room to talk about shit relationships."
"I might not have room, but," Charles sits up so he can properly sit next to me on the little shaded bed, "I know men, I know, I am one of the 'red flag' guys, as much as I'm trying to get over that now... and I wanna help you."
"We were drunk, there's still weird feelings there, we made out and then have barely spoken since." I shrug, "If you and Daniel weren't there, it probably would've been a hook up or something similar."
"Gross thought." Charles comments and I can't help the laugh that bubbles out of my lips but it dims when Charles continues talking, "You still love him, don't you?"
"I do." I groan into my hands, "Which is so dumb, because he only loves me back when he's drunk or tipsy."
"Do you know that for certain?" Charles hums and I pause, eyes flickering over to him with a confused furrow of my eyebrows.
"What?"
"Do you know, with a hundred percent certainty, that he only loves you when he's got alcohol in his system? Or is he just bold enough with it to actually do something about the way he feels?"
The boat rocks, Pascale handing us lunches and I make sure to thank her as I tear my eyes away from Charles for a moment. I hear Arthur and his girlfriend laughing behind us, Lorenzo's fiance napping against his chest as he lays on another shady part of the deck and I swallow. Love is all around me, it always has been, platonic and romantic, and it makes my stomach sick.
"No." I whisper and Charles shrugs and nods, rolling to the side.
"So either you do something about it, figure out if he actually wants something or is just leading you on." Charles takes a sip of his drink and then uses it to motion to me, the water on the outside of the cup cold as it flicks against my leg, "and if he's just fucking with you, let me know and I'll like... I dunno, crash into him or punch him."
I laugh, but nod. Swallowing past the guilt of knowing I had led Logan on too, I could've stopped his advances a thousand times over but never did. Pascale sends me a soft smile and hands me a drink she promises is extra strong. I let the gross taste of the vodka wash down my worries.
I'll be fine. It's fine.
"Also, the FIA called Vasseur." Charles hums through a bite of his salad, "They're keeping you in P3. Congratulations."
I nod with a tiny smile even if I don’t feel any level of satisfaction from knowing that, "I hate how remiscent it was of Trident."
"I know." Charles finished off his drink and stood up, “which, maybe your paranoia is rubbing off on me, but I felt like that was purposeful.”
“Assuming Vasseur argued the point that they knew about the violation for four hours before giving me a fine, yeah, that’s shady as hell.” I sigh, relaxing back into my seat as Charles nods as he disappears around the corner. Arthur leans over my seat to steal a bit of my salad and I mock stab him with my fork.
“How is F1, since you stole my spot?” he teases and I shrug, giving him a confident smirk I know is mostly for show.
“Other than everyone still acting like I’m with Trident? It’s been good.” I say, taking a sip of my drink and wincing at just how strong it actually is. Arthur nods, and whatever he said is lost over my head as Charles comes back and waves his brother away, saying I need peace on this boat and he’s not helping. As the two brothers bicker, I laugh, and post a photo of the poem in my book.
Fuck PR for a moment. I loved being petty.
Tumblr media
vogueuk made a new post!
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
liked by charlesleclerc, logansargeant, anyadubey, and 769k others...
vogueuk: "Every day I push 500% harder than any of those men, and I will never be praised half as much as them." Dhanishka Dubey, the first female driver to get a podium finish--on her first race no less, reflects on how media treatment and past mistakes have changed the way she views herself as a top F1 driver.
photographed and written by @ opheliapiastri
dhanishkadubey: thank you so much vogue and thank u a billion times ophie for this <3!!
oscarpiastri: THE f1 crossover of all time
user1: omg oscar’s sister works for vogue??
oaklynnpiastri: motherrr (and my sister.)
user2: DHANISHKA UR HOT!!!!!!
user3: i’m actually in love with her. i need her in a way that is NOT halal. get out of my way logan.
⤷ user5: ‘IN A WAY THAT IS NOT HALAL’ 😭😭😭
landonorris: ophie and dhanishka would actually be a dangerous duo
⤷ opheliapiastri: nah you and olivia are bad enough
⤷ maxverstappen: lando stay out of my garage challenge
⤷ oliviapiastri: my drivers being nice to my boyfriend challenge
⤷ danielricciardo: no get his papaya ass outta rbr ❤️
⤷ landonorris: danny i thought we had something 💔💔
user5: DHANISHKA HOLY FUCK
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Dhanishka Dubey is the first woman in Formula One in three decades, and it comes at a cost. Every celebration for her is bogged down by the weight of being shamed her for her past in F2 and simply for her biology. With a long history from karting to moving up the Formula racing ladder, Dubey has the same if not more experience than some of her peers.
But despite that, she's always going to be seen as an outsider.
"It's extremely isolating," Dubey exclusively tells me and Vogue in her sparsely decorated drivers room after her podium in Bahrain, her home race. She's soaked with sweat and champagne, but her waterproof eyeliner and mascara don't smudge. A hint of what she calls a 'craved connection to her femininity' in the masculine world of racing. Dubey's pulling her hair into a braid, running a brush custom painted by her mother with Ferrari's logo with clear inspiration from her Indian roots and she says to me, "Being a woman in this industry, every day I push 500% harder than any of those men, and I will never be praised half as much as them."
Dubey credits her teammate and mentor Charles Leclerc and friend Daniel Ricciardo for making the transition a lot easier for her. Leclerc was one of the people to pull her into Formula One, recommending her to Ferrari. Ricciardo shares a nickname— Danny, which led the two to becoming friends before Dubey was even announced to be in F1.
But despite having two friends before getting into F1, Dubey still feels isolated. Not from her fellow drivers, who she says have welcomed her with open arms, but from the media.
“Everyone still links me back to Trident. I have been blamed for years for causing Logan that P2 position. It’s something that’s been held over my head since I was seventeen."
Dubey is of course referencing the 'crashgate' incident that happened in December of 2021. The accident, planned by ex-Trident Team Principal Henry Davis, had her teammate Viscaal crash into then HWA pilot Logan Sargeant on one of the final turns of the race. This accident, which also took out low-placing Viscaal, caused Sargeant to lose any chance of knocking Dubey out of the P2 position. The drivers were separated by five points, meaning Sargeant did have a chance to overtake her in the championships that year.
Despite the plan being for Dubey's benefit, the Trident team did confirm she was completely unaware. Davis and the head analyst at the time, Alexandre Auclair, being cited as the ones to come up with, and execute the plan with Viscaal. When interviewed by the FIA, Viscaal played voice recordings where he was threatened by Davis to knock Sargeant out "or else." Viscaal himself apologized to both Sargeant and Dubey, who both are now on completely fine terms with him.
As soon as the investigation was complete Davis and Auclair were fired with Trident being fined around£150.000 for the damages done to HWA's car and the hospital payments for both Sargeant and Viscaal.
With a past that haunts her, Dubey has turned inside herself to stay safe. She cites her treatment at Trident for turning her into the stone cold driver many people have immediately related to Kimi Räikkönen.
"Having a team plan behind your back to harm someone you love, just to keep you in the spot you yourself fought for tooth and nail completely undermines any achievement you would've gotten. If they stripped me of everything after that race, I would've felt the same level of devastation." Dubey speaks with a level of eloquence I haven't encountered much with Formula One drivers. She’s poised and perfect, a soft smile gracing the lips she recoats with her favorite lipstick--Valentino's shade 22R. A gift from her ex years back, and one she claims nostalgia keeps her coming back to, "I turned in on myself and became cold because that was the only way to be safe. It still is. I keep most things to my chest, I don't like sharing about myself unless I feel like I'm safe to do so. It took probably three months for me to open up to Charles about anything despite his insistence."
After the tragedy with Trident, Dhanishka moved to drive for Prema and worked with Ferrari's Drivers Academy alongside Arthur Leclerc. A move she cites helped her transition into F1. Her present in racing, is as she says with a soft laugh into her water bottles straw, "Messy at best."
"Ferrari has been a dream. They welcomed me in and made me feel right at home. Same with the drivers, each and every single one of them on the grid has been so kind. I would love to stay here, to compete alongside these guys for as long as possible. This is a good group."
Dubey already has started her season with fifteen points, and many are expecting her to challenge Verstappen for the championship title. Dubey herself says, "Max is a great challenge and I love racing with him, however, I think Ferrari will have an easier challenge knocking Red Bull out of the Constructors Championship. I can't say for certain what Charles and I have in store for this season, but with a car that got a perfect crash test, we're not going to be easy on anyone."
When I wish Dubey the best for this season, her smile is lined with 22R and she gives me a tight hug before she whisks away in a cloud of Dior's J'Adore and Valentino's Born in Roma. Louboutins clicking along the concrete floors of Ferrari's garage, her little black dress, custom made by an Armani Tailor is tucked under her large Ferrari jacket. It's cold in Bahrain tonight, and Dubey dazzles brighter than any lights we stand under.
written by Ophelia Piastri.
Tumblr media
If this guy doesn’t shut his mouth, Logan might just hit him. The cameras haven't even started rolling yet, and this guy thinks he has the audacity to say a lot of shit about how Dhanishka wasn't a good racer and was trying to bait Logan into saying some sort of quote he could horrible misconstrue into some sort of misogynistic hate rant. This reporter, Anthony Davis or whatever, really seemed to have some vendetta against Dhanishka for no damn reason.
It’s been a while since he’d spoken to Dhanishka. Hell, Australia had come and gone with an Oscar P1 by sheer happenstances and maybe a fuck up by Red Bull. They'd gotten drunk, but steered clear this time. For Logan's benefit, as he'd told both Oscar (who, that night, was far too drunk to remember anything going on) and Alex (who was moderately tipsy) to keep him the hell away. It ended up being Charles sending him nasty side eyes that kept him barred back. He wasn't sure what the Ferrari teammates had spoken about but he was glad for the silent memo. He'd meant to message her, to meet up when they were both home, but Dhanishka still lived in Bahrain and he was in London. It would be virtually impossible to meet up in person outside racing weekends, and then he felt too bad to ask.
Or maybe he was just afraid. But that was for him to figure out later.
Miami is hot in May, and it burns into his skin as he narrows his eyes at the reporter in front of him who grins.
“I mean she’s eye candy for all the drivers, right?” The guy says and Logan clicks his tongue and rolls his neck out. He’s so close to clocking this guy. This is every comment thats been said. Complete undermines to Dhanishka's abilities as a driver, equating her to nothing more than some sort of... paddock bunny.
When Logan looks through the reporter with the most dead stare he can muster, trying to look completely unimpressed rather than pissed, the guy clicks him tongue almost like an echo of Logan. Then he opens his stupid mouth to spit, "Logan, don't you think it's a bit odd how well she's performed this season?"
"Dhanishka's an excellent driver." Logan replies, calm and calculated in his tone, "I'm not at all surprised she's bested a lot of us immediately."
"But someone who is as feminine as her shouldn't be able to handle this sport, surely." The man grins, but when Logan doesn't bite the apple he dangles in front of him, the man lowers his mic and steps closer. Logan almost backs up, not wanting anything to do with this guy, eyes searching for Alex or literally anyone who can whisk him away when the man's tone drips with venom.
“C’mon, surely you think so if that hallway in Bahrain is anything to go by?”
Logan's heart drops to his stomach. Or even further. Maybe it goes all the way through the ground, through the core of the Earth, and out the other side. It's probably shot off to the farthest edge of the fucking universe. His blood is ice, his skin is red from the mix of heat and embarrassment, and his eyes finally finally meet the reporters. The camera is still low, still not showing this moment, and Logan doesn't get it.
If this guy, whoever he was, wanted to catch Logan's reaction, why weren't they recording?
"I don't know what you're talking about." Logan keeps his voice flat, mimicking the tone he held earlier, and the man sighs. He tells Logan that his 'secret is safe with me.' and when he lifts an arm in expression, Logan catches the mans name written onto the bright orange tape on the side of his mic.
Anthony Davis.
"Oh, you're joking." Logan finds himself saying before he can even think to censor, "You're Henry Davis' brother."
"That I am." Anthony steps closer, "So either you give me what I want, or I happily send those photos over to my friend at People."
Logan can't think. Suddenly it's like every single decision he ever made is miniscule compared to this. His and Dhanishka's reputations sit on the line of whatever he's about to say, and he finds the world sits with baited breath. Even the trees stop rustling in the wind.
"What do you want?" He asks, immediately jumping to defend Dhanishka. He always had.
"Just a story, just a tidbit from you about what it was like to date someone whose built like a Victoria's Secret Angel." The man licks his teeth and Logan, one again and a bit weakly, resists the urge to deck him.
"The truth? Or some twisted story you decide the narrative of?" Logan asks and Anthony shakes his head.
"The truth, Logan."
He curses internally, but does what he can to save face.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
DAVIS: Today I'm with Logan Sargeant of Williams, currently standing in P6, how are you feeling about Miami?
SARGEANT: Good, good. I've got high hopes today, the engineers have been working extremely hard to fix some of the issues we've been seeing so far and I trust they did well.
DAVIS: Good to hear, improvements are always good. You are currently only four points behind Dhanishka, how does that feel?
SARGEANT: Hah, well, she's been giving me a run for my money since we were young so I can't say I'm too surprised to be right behind her again.
DAVIS: Now, getting a little personal here so I apologize, but in the past you and Dhanishka dated, how was that?
SARGEANT: God, mate, uhm... [pause] well, pardon me for thinking this is a bit too personal. All I'll say is we were kids, y'know? Young love, it was really a beautiful thing. I don't think I'll ever regret a moment in our relationship, everything was just perfect.
DAVIS: Yeah?
SARGEANT: Yeah... uhm, we were really close friends before we dated, so everything just sort of naturally clicked into place.
DAVIS: and how about now, is Logan Sargeant back on the market?
SARGEANT: [laughing] Don't count me in just yet.
DAVIS: Ah, still holding your heart close?
SARGEANT: Well, theres only one person whose been able to hold it and I have never loved someone the way I loved her and-- God, I've said too much.
DAVIS: [Laughing] No worries, I also see Alex waving you over so it was nice speaking with you Logan!
SARGEANT: Yes, of course, my pleasure!
Tumblr media
Charles is sprinting through the pit lane. Which, isn't a huge surprise, but it is when he's stopping at every person he sees to ask if they've seen Dhanishka. Max is immediately shouting into Red Bull asking, and no one knows. Charles grabs Carlos by the wrist, who points down the lane towards Ferrari's garage. When he passes Logan, he keeps his head ducked. He can deal with him later, he doesn't have time for this. Alex calls after Charles, saying they passed Dhanishka heading towards Ferrari.
Charles meets Logan's eyes and sees something more than just regret. Almost like fear, a trepidation rolling across his skin.
'He's gonna fear me a lot more if he doesn't leave Dhanishka the fuck alone,' Charles decides, but thanks Alex sharply before taking off again.
It's Danny who saw her duck into the Ferrari paddock in tears, and Charles is so thankful he could kiss the guy, but settles for a slap on the shoulder and a hasty thank you instead. He ducks under something, slips past two engineers, and nearly shoves an analyst out of his way. He misses them all telling him to stop, to give Dhanishka air, and just opens her drivers room door.
He thanks the gods above for his reflexes when Dhanishka throws a tennis ball at his head.
"Well this is hardly helping." Charles shuts the door once he's inside, looking around the usually pristine drivers room to instead find it a mess. The season had just started and he knew what had thrown her off so badly. Charles had seen the pictures on Twitter. He knew someone had decided to photograph someone in a vulnerable state and blast it online months after it had happened.
He was literally fuming so badly he wouldn't be surprised if his hair started to smoke out of his sheer frustration.
Hands gently taking Dhanishka's wrists, he settled her down on her PT bed, her anger falling into the form of heaving sobs he knows hurt. She refuses to curl into his side, but keeps hitting his chest with a tight fist. Through tears she choked out angry laments in what he assumes is a mix of all the languages she knows. He picks up on bits and pieces, and what he gets confuses him.
"That damn reporter...Davis--Of course that... Logan should've never spoken to him, you know that?! ... I hate him!"
"Dhanishka, I barely understand you when you speak and cry as is. You gotta throw me a bone here." Charles sighs and Dhanishka rips her box of tissues out of his hand and dots her cheeks with far more aggression than is necessary. He won't be surprised if she has little irritated marks on her face after.
"Anthony Davis, the reporter who interviewed Logan? He's Henry's brother, the old Trident Team Principal?" Dhanishka wipes under her eyes, "and Logan was so nice in the interview but I just know there was some ulterior motive to talk to him! He only asked him about me! Like Anthony was trying--"
"--Woah woah, okay, slow down." Charles grabs her wrists once more and Dhanishka sniffles and her watery eyes meet Charles' panicked ones. Theres more to the story here, more he doesn't know, and he struggles to figure out how exactly to handle this.
So he just bites the bullet and asks, "What interview? I thought this was about the pictures?"
Dhanishka feels her stomach drop, "what pictures?"
And at perfect timing, Dhanishka's phone lights up with a call from Oscar.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Charles is sitting suffocatingly close to me. Alex is leaned against the wall on the phone with someone from his PR team while Oscar sits besides Logan. We all look exhausted, worse for wear, and I can't believe the season that was supposed to be my big start had already crumbled so quickly.
"Well, PRs gonna handle it." Alex's voice chimes as he makes his way over to the couch and tosses Logan's phone back to him. Logan sets it face down next to mine, his plain black case in sharp contrast to my bright red one.
"How so?" I ask, trying to keep any sense of dread from my tone. I have to be optimistic that this will be solved or else I'm going to start spiraling. And no one here will enjoy that.
"Blackmail," Alex hums, and when me and Charles send him sharply confused looks he stammers out an explaination, "No, no, it was blackmail. They're gonna go after Davis' brother under the assumption it was done as foul play to get back at you, Dhanishka. Anthony Davis also literally blackmailed Logan into that interview."
I look over at Logan who's sat silent this whole time. I feel Charles' eyes rest on my face as I shift and lean closer, my knuckle gently tapping against Logan's to get him to look up. When he does, I find theres no normal laughter and light in his eyes, every crease and wrinkle I'm used to seeing on his face is completely gone. Replaced with some sort of stone cold man.
This wasn't Logan. This was me, mirrored in him in the worst way.
"Is that true?" I ask Logan. He just nods, then leans back to adjust the way he's sitting. I sit back against Charles, feeling his body heat through my thin work jacket. I knew he was trying to be some sort of comforting presence behind me but somehow he just felt overbearing. Though, I'd rather feel overwhelmed by support than abandoned, so I lean into it.
"He told me if I didn't do that interview and give him what he wanted, he was gonna release the photos to People Magazine." Logan runs a hand through his hair and I can see the stress in his expression as his eyes fall to mine briefly, then he looks away, "I knew I could control what he knew, so I did the interview. He released the photos to a F1 blog instead."
The room is quiet with his admission and I groan out an irritated laugh as I try to soothe the headache that wants to start thrumming behind my eyes, "wallahi—you should've gone to PR immediately after!”
"He did,” Oscar defends Logan, crossing one leg over the other and sending me a look that reads 'cool it' even though he knows this isn't nearly as tense as I can get, "but that interview isn't the problem. The photos are."
"We can't erase them, they've probably been shared a hundred times over by now." I complain and Charles hums in agreement. We sit in silence for a few moment before Alex is the one to sigh and pitch forward, waving his phone in the air before setting it down on the table.
"I didn't want to suggest this, 'cause it's not my business what y'all plan to do, but... Dhanishka, no one sees your face in those photos. Even if brightened up." Alex looks over at me, then looks at Logan who starts to shake his head, but Alex has already continued speaking, "PR suggested we either say it wasn't you... or you and Logan confirm to be dating again."
"But before you decide anything about this, you two need to figure out what the hell is actually going on between you." Charles butts in, and I expect both Oscar and Alex to decline, to just suggest lying and saying it was someone else.
But all three of them stand and nod. Almost like they'd fucking planned to do this.
"We'll be in the next room over." Oscar hums, looking between me and Logan for a few moments. Charles squeezes my shoulder as he passes and I know it’s a mix of support and his way of telling me to actually talk to Logan. The silence just about swallows us whole. There’s not much to say here, and so I just watch Logan with a nervous look before he runs a hand through his hair and groans. Was that his new nervous tick?
“I don’t wanna hurt you.” He starts as he looks at me from across the table our couches are separated by, “I already did once and I regret it every day. I shouldn’t have assumed you had anything to do with that crash, I should’ve let you explain.”
“Don’t apologize for the past.” I say sharply between his sentences and he pauses, like I’ve cut off this whole big speech in his head, so I keep going, “You hurt me, yeah, you did. I can live with that. What I need from you is what you’re going to do now, what your plan is for us now.”
“If I told you I was on board, that I want to try again, would you let me?” He asks after a moment. His voice is so raw, so nervous, and suddenly I’m transported back to Renault all those years ago.
Logan had approached me once my teammate had slipped off, I was wiping my face down with a cloth when he’d nervously introduced himself and congratulated me.
“I know who you are,” I had laughed, watching as the tension drained from his body and a tiny dorky grin grew across his face. A face still loosing his baby fat. Both of us so young. He’d stammered, blushing hard before he held out an original generation iPhone with Instagram up. The old Polaroid themed icon and original blue bottom bar staring at me as it sat on the search section.
“I wanna keep in touch, maybe talk about racing—or other stuff.” He’d said, “only if you want to.”
I had laughed and nodded, taking his phone and plugging in my information with a tiny peaceful grin. His grin grew twice in size and he thanked me before his Mom had come to pull him back to his garage, moments later my own mother doing the same.
That night, he texted asking if we could meet up before the race to get lunch.
‘Like a date ??’ I had texted, sitting on the floor in the bathroom while I waited for the hotel shower to warm up. I felt butterflies in my stomach as I awaited his reply, and then it came.
‘yeah :D!!!’
I squealed and showed my mom, who had laughed and told me to get ready. And that little date at a shitty race track food cart was still my favorite first date ever, because it was the only one that was genuinely love. I had tried dating after Logan, but never loved those guys, and he had shown me so much love even back then.
And now he sat in front of me, that same shy smile on his lips as he twirled his phone in his hands out of nervous habit.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” I say softly, and try to ignore the way butterflies float in my stomach and my arms go all tingly and my cheeks hurt from the wide smile that pokes at them, “but we have to take it slow, be genuine. Not just some sloppy hallway make out, no friends with benefits, a genuine real thing you aren’t stringing me along with. Okay?”
“I can do that.” Logan nods sharply, “Yes. Yeah I—I can do that.”
And as we sit awkwardly apart, it feels like that little first date.
“And this always my intention, even when drunk.” Logan says, the silence between us being broken by his confession, “and we still have a lot to talk about and such, but I figured I should at least give you that closure. I was never going to use you.”
I nod, a tiny smile poking at my lips, “thank you for that. It was… oddly reassuring.”
“I’m glad.” Logan laughs, nodding to himself, “Really glad.”
Tumblr media
dhanishkadubey made a new post!
Tumblr media
liked by oscarpiastri, charlesleclerc, logansargeant and 514k others...
dhanishkadubey: 22R
tagged: logansargeant
comments have been disabled for this post!
Tumblr media
@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia
75 notes · View notes
thefearedashantis · 2 months
Text
Part Time Cupid (pt.1)
Part Time Cupid (Pt .1)
Pairing: Roommate! Sirius Black x Fem! Reader
Summary: When Reader's attempts at finding love fall short, she turns to her roommate, Sirius Black, for assistance. As Sirius offers his unique perspective and charm to help her navigate the complexities of romance, unexpected feelings begin to emerge between them, blurring the lines between friendship and something more.
Word count: 2.2K
Warnings: possibly body shaming
It’s freezing outside.  Meandering somewhere below twenty, but not enough bite to be single digits. Despite the frosty breeze that slithers through your coat, you’re sweating. Feet cemented to the worn welcome mat in front of your apartment door. Forehead smushed against said doors wooden surface, hand still raised and poised to slot your key into the lock.
That was before your remaining dregs of energy sputtered out, forcing you to stop and take a quick moment to collect yourself. Allow the sweaty sheen glistening over every inch of your skin to dry before going inside where you could make out the muddled noises of your roommate and his friends in the kitchen. Well, they were your friends as well you suppose. But they’ll always be more so his.
If you went in the way you were now they’d be quick to realize you’d walked home. A good twenty minutes scurrying along streets in the part of town you were least familiar with. Looking over your shoulder at every little noise.
When you went inside, you’d have to relinquish your sadness. Split it up and dole it out in sizeable portions for each to carry for you. Which seemed sweet in theory, that the boys would be so willing to shoulder your burdens with you, but not this time. You wanted to hoard this particular melancholy to yourself. Just stew in it for a few minutes longer as if your walk hadn’t allowed for enough self-pity.
You’d never regarded yourself as a particularly interesting person. Not exceptionally pretty nor smart nor charming. You enjoyed staying home on weekends with a good book. Brewing pots of tea around the clock. Binge watching shows with entirely too many seasons and napping when the weather was poorly. You collected special additions of Oscar Wilde' works. Liked baking cookies at three in the morning when the city was asleep. Disliked doctors’ appointments. Unremarkable people get used to fading into the background. It’s how you went nearly your entire school career without much complaint on your lack of new relationships. Platonic and romantic alike.
The only reason you knew the people you did were through childhood connections. Being neighbours’ way back when. Having your parents arrange playdates for you despite knowing you’d scare the other children off. Brandishing bugs from your garden, showing off your double joints or ignoring them entirely. Only one had stood the test of your disposition and had rung you into his circle ever since. You never felt inclined to leave it. Why sit alone every day when you could plop quietly between people who shone brighter than you could ever hope for. Though you didn’t earn them yourself you cherished them as if you had. Prayed even a smidge of their polish would rub off on you in some way. To prove yourself deserving. And here you were six years after graduation living with that steadfast friend. Two next door and another only a block away. Still utterly dull.
This had been your first date in ages. Not for lack of trying. You just simply had no natural gravitation when it came to people. It took five times the average effort on your part to catch someone’s attention let alone keep it. You’d even taken a word of advice and downloaded a few dating apps. Conversations were so much easier to start and carry online, people in the comments vowed. You made your first match. A guy named Frank. Talked with him for a few weeks. Allowed your stomach to flip when he finally asked you on a date. A date you took great care in preparing for. Buying a new dress, religiously watching makeup tutorials, shaving, plucking, buffing. Practicing questions in case conversation slowed. Even eating less the days leading up to save your appetite.
All for it to turn out like this.
You should’ve known better when he was an hour late. The shame you’d felt sitting there waiting while the server cast you pitiful looks still had you clinching your jaw 'til you tasted copper. When he came bustling in wearing attire far too casual for the lavish restaurant he had been adamant on going to. No apology or excuse given.
Still, you smiled it off. At least he’d shown up at all. You’ve been stood up on numerous occasions. Everything was fine for a while after that. Nice even. When he made you laugh with a clever quip or had your heart skipping a beat when his leg brushed yours under the table.
Until it was time to order and he was placing one in your stead before you could even pick up the menu. A salad, dressing on the side, with lemon water. A well-done steak for him, rum and coke. If he wasn’t texting, he was talking about himself. A completely one-sided rant you had no space to interject. When he did rope you in it was to comment on your appearance. You didn’t look how he was expecting, profile photo a tad misleading.
Sure, the picture was a year old. Your hair was dyed but that was the only change as far as you could tell. It was your favourite picture of yourself. One of very few. 
You’d picked at your salad. Ordered no dessert despite desperately wanting to. Fished out your card when asked to split the bill. He’d tried to kiss you on the way out, lead you to his car, but you’d breezed by him and started your trek home.
Could that have possibly been the same person you’ve been texting? The one who would send you photos of his cat and reply attentively while you talked about your day even if you’d done absolutely nothing.
Now here you were, frozen to the door. Enjoying your sorrow to the staticky crackle of the overhead lighting. Fighting back the burn in your throat when your heeled feet begin to ache. The style of your hair yanking on your nerves. Dress constricting, makeup like cake smeared on your face.
You’re so hungry.
“Oh, you’re back earlier than expected!”
Without missing a beat you’re straightening up, shoving down your blues and twirling around with a smile.
It’s James, ambling up the stairs with pizza boxes under his arm. Apparently, he’d run out to grab them not too long ago because it’s faster than delivery.
He’s crowding you immediately. Squeezing you in a quick side hug as was his customary greeting, no matter how little time you’d been apart. All height and curls and warmth. He doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss and makes use of your key abandoned in the lock. Shoving the door open and ushering you inside. “Look who I found!”
You were half right at least. Remus and Sirius are in the kitchen, seated at the table with bits of a puzzle strewn out before them.
Remus looks up with a grin “Little early for you, no?”
The clock above the fridge reads half past nine. How long were they expecting you to be out?
“What did you guys get up to?” you ask, evading the question. You step out of your heels and almost whine at the feeling of cool tile.
Your roommate, Sirius, drags his attention from the pastime then. His wavy pitch hair is pulled up into a tuff on top of his head.  His chin nestled into the palm of his hand while long pale fingers tap away aimlessly at a lightly freckled cheek. Nails neatly trimmed and painted a shimmery black polish.
He crinkles his nose at you “Well, I wanted to do a puzzle, but Moonie and Prongs were against it.”
James steps around you to put the pizzas on the kitchen counter and fish out some plates. “We’re doing your stupid puzzle are we not?”
“Yet you’ve spent more time complaining than actually finding pieces.”
Remus shakes his head with a heavy sigh “You always get annoyed if we don’t start with the edges.”
 Sirius ignores this, “How was your date? What was his name again?”
“Francis?” Remus supplies.
 “No, no, I think it was Farley.”
You’ve hung up your coat, moving to the table. There are no more seats and you don’t want to steal James’ so you hop up onto the cabinet behind Sirius instead. Still close enough for you to press your squashed toes into the base of his spine. Also strategically chosen so he couldn’t see your face throughout their interrogation. “Frank, his name was Frank. And it was good. He was really nice.”
“When’s the next?”
There would be no next.
You force a breezy laugh, “I don’t wanna get too ahead of myself.”
“Ahead of yourself. Did you look in the mirror before walking out that door?” Sirius chides, rummaging through some flipped pieces.
“You did look beautiful.” Remus has gotten up to inspect the pizzas. One Hawaiian, one Meat lovers from the looks of it. He opts for meat lovers, taking a plate from James’ extended hand and unabashedly piling on slices. “I wouldn’t have been able to wait till the end of the date before asking when I could see you again.” 
“You okay?”
You hadn’t noticed when Sirius turned around. But here he is. Face mere inches from your bare thighs as he gazes up at you with a notch between his brows. Did you not look okay?
You smooth the wrinkle out with your thumb “Yeah just a little tired.”
He relaxes a tad, but the concern is still evident at the edges of the dazzling smile he bestows you with “You can tell us about it tomorrow if you want. We’ll be quiet so you can sleep”
James glances over with a look that screams ‘no promises’, red sauce rimming his lips.
“No, its fine. I want to sit with you all for a while.”
“You sure?” And it’s only when he takes your hand and lowers his voice to barely a whisper that you realize you are shaking a little. A minute tremble that racks your entire form “Your hands are cold.”
“Sorry” You don’t know what you’re apologizing for.
Sirius is frowning now. Alarm bells probably ringing off in his head despite your best effort to act normal. You were never a very good liar. “Do you want a slice love?” he asks. The question echoes where he speaks it into your cupped hands. Blowing warm breath onto them and rubbing furiously 'til they tingle.
You do, but the mere idea of having to bite, chew and swallow is exhausting. You just want to curl up in your bed and sleep. The faster you shut your eyes the sooner Franks voice would stop swirling around in your head. 
Misleading.
“No thank you.”
Sirius opens his mouth to speak again when your bubble of quiet is suddenly broken by James’ excited cheer “Corner piece!” He all but slams the bit into its slot.
Remus reminds the other boy to use his inside voice with a fond chuckle. Then his attention is back on you “Where’d he take you?”
You pull your hands away from Sirius, pointedly avoiding his gaze until he turned back to the table “That fancy place in the square where all the waiters have the same haircut.” 
“No way, they’re so expensive! Lily and I have been wanting to go for ages.” James again, speaking as if you weren’t mere inches away from him.
“You guys would enjoy it. They have a four-page dessert menu”
It takes two hours to finish the puzzle. James and Remus more so joking around while you and Sirius pour over it. They grill you for more details on your outing to which you reply with the vaguest yet most upbeat answers you could manage.  The boys stick around for a little while longer discussing some horror movie they wanted to see in theatres before returning to their own apartment unit slightly after midnight. A feeling of relief floods your chest when you shut and lock the door behind them. Finally free to retire from this day after you help Sirius clean up. The two of you make quick work. Wiping the counters. Packing away the puzzle. Washing the dishes and dumping the empty pizza boxes.
You turn to go to your room with a mumbled goodnight but your roommate has other ideas. Tears prickle your eyes when a firm grasp wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.  Sirius guides you back gently into his body, trapping your head under his chin when you shudder. His skin is scolding against yours, rubbing clumsily up and down your spine.
“I’ve known you before you could pronounce your r’s properly,” he mutters into your hair “I’m sorry it didn’t go how you wanted.”
You try to pull away but he won’t allow it. Exasperated by his persistence you grab hold of his sides, gripping them tighter than necessary “It was fine Siri.”
“Alright.”
He holds you hostage there in the dark kitchen until your heartrate begins to slow and your eyes begin to droop, slouching more of your weight onto him with every passing second. He guides you to your bedroom and leaves you to your own devices with another quick squeeze.
You slump into bed without changing or removing your makeup. Something you’ll probably regret later. Sleep evades you however. Instead, you lay there staring at your profile photo. Analysing it. Looking for the differences. When the sun begins to peek through your blinds come morning you finally reach the conclusion that maybe you’ve put on a little weight.
57 notes · View notes
centuriespast · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
Princess Troubetzkoy (Amelie Rives) (1863–1945) Violet Manners (1856–1937)
Amélie Louise Rives (1863–1945) novelist, poet, painter and playwright was born in Virginia, USA, the goddaughter of Civil War general Robert E. Lee. Her troubled and scandalous first marriage to a descendent of the Astor family took her to Europe where she met such literary luminaries as Oscar Wilde and Henry James. Her most famous novel was 'The Quick or the Dead', but many of her works were officially banned.
Four months after her divorce in 1896, Amélie remarried the Russian Prince Pierre Troubetzkoy, an artist and an aristocrat, after Oscar Wilde introduced them in London.
Russell-Cotes Art Gallery & Museum
137 notes · View notes