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contentloadinggg · 3 months

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January Blues - Hozier

Author’s Note: Y’all I finally did it. We’re going to pretend it’s still January so this fits. But it’s finally here 🙏. Thanks to my bestie lunaritessane Who’s input made this fic a whole lot better. I love you💚. (Literally, like their beta reading was just delicious.)

Summary: Andrew is feeling down, you make him feel better. Gender neutral!reader. (3k words)

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Smut! Smut turned weirdly poetic sometimes?. Kinda Switch!Andrew, sub vibes at the beginning, soft dom vibes later. Descriptive descriptions of Andrew’s long dick. (I have a problem)

This is a work fiction and is not a reflection of who Hozier is.

Inspired by:

“Well you cured my January Blues, yeah, you made it all alright.”

Fic under the cut💙, 18+ only, you’ve been warned.

The further Ireland dipped into the depths of winter, the more Andrew’s mood dropped. Reflecting the rainy, washed-out climate outside the frosty windows of his house. It hardly even snowed this winter, just a cold rain that somehow made his mood worse. Logically, he knew it was likely that the lack of sun on his already pale skin was what had him wallowing. But alas, no amount of tea and books seemed to make him feel any better. So that’s why he’d given up by this point. Gaze zoned out past the pages of his novel and tea now cold on the coffee table. His mind clouded like the gathering storm outside.

“Andy?”

A gentle call of his name had Andrew startled. Usually he would’ve noticed your presence by the sound of your footsteps, but he’d been too far into his head to notice.

“Yes, darling?”

He asked, the tone of his voice reflecting yours in its quiet manner.

“I’m just wondering if you’re alright? I’ve called your name a few times and you haven’t answered.”

You replied. Despite keeping your voice light, he can tell by the slight frown and the furrow of your eyebrows you’re more concerned than you're letting on. Sighing deeply with resignation, he closes the book with a soft snap and sets it aside.

“I’m just feeling… I’m not sure. Down, I suppose.”

He answers, voice tainted with melancholy. You look even more concerned. A part of him wishes he didn’t worry you over trivial things. But how could he ever resist your questioning of his well-being?

You walk over to him and sit down on the arm of the chair. Running a hand into the long curls of his hair to scratch at his scalp. He hums and closes his eyes, leaning back into your soothing touch.

“Anything I can do to help?’

You ask and he breathes out through his nose with a shake of his head.

“Not sure there’s much you can do, but… stay?”

Andrew replies, aware his tone sounds dangerously close to needy. But you only smile and nod. Sating any insecurities he has as you continue to massage his scalp.

He hums contently once more, letting his head rest against your hand. The warm light of the room throws shadows over his face and the pale lines of his neck. Shrouding the valleys in darkness and the highlights with warmth. Turning the sharpness of his cheekbones all the more prominent if that's possible.

Leaning down, you leave a few kisses over his cheekbones. The feeling of warm breath against his face forces a smile to his lips. He turns his head, capturing your lips against his. Your kiss is like a balm on his apathy, replacing it with passion. Your free hand cups the side of his face. Feeling the gentle scratch of facial hair against your palm that’s also felt on your chin. The feeling lures you closer. Pressing into the space between his and your bodies until you’re straddling one of his legs. Lost in the velvety sensation of lips and tongues against each other. You break it off first. Ignited with one simple idea.

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?”

You prompt, in a lowered, raspier voice. He looks up at you with blown pupils, green irises dark. Shining hot in the orange light from the lamp. He breathes out. Like he can’t believe you’re real. And nods eagerly.

“Please… do what you’d like.”

His breathless agreement makes you smile and melt a bit, moving his head to get access to his throat. A soft sound leaves his mouth as you kiss over the thin skin. Breath hitching when your tongue follows along the groves of his veins. He’s so goddamn sensitive. He has to hold back a few noises, the heat of your breathing brushing over his neck. Goosebumps appear over his arms. He’s becoming more and more aware of your every move.

Andrew lets out a loud groan that he quickly cuts off in embarrassment. A response to the dragging of your teeth over the base of his neck where it meets his shoulder. The skin beneath your lips flushes a pink color. You snicker in response to the noise, and he huffs in irritation.

“It’s okay, I wanna hear you. I wanna know you’re enjoying it. You sound absolutely gorgeous, but that’s no surprise.”

You murmur to him, rubbing his side to subdue his unease. You know he’s listening because the muscles relax beneath your hand. He lets out another moan as you nibble, turning the skin a pale red.

It’s not long before you’ve scattered similar-looking bites over his neck. By the time you’re getting his sweater off Andrew is breathing a little heavier, sweat building on the back of his flushed neck.

His chest stutters watching you sink to your knees in front of the armchair. Eyes hooded and darkened.

“Just lie back, baby, and I’ll cure all those blues.”

You direct, and he does as you say. His mouth is too dry to try and come up with a sassy reply to your somewhat cheesy line. Not like that would matter anyway. All thought disappears from his head when your mouth lands on his chest. Kissing, licking, sucking down his sternum. Your lips wrapping around one of his nipples has him debating whether or not to beg for mercy. Airless moans slip from his lips without time nor thought to stop them.

“Fuckin’ Hell, darling. That’s so good.”

Andrew hisses, voice rough, Irish accent thickened, words a little slurred. His hands running into your hair. Using whatever is there to try and get a grip. Large palms grasping at the back of your skull. He can’t help but pull when you tug on his nipple, forcing a quiet moan from your lips.

“Shit, sorry.”

He apologizes in a way that would sound regretful if it wasn’t husky with arousal. You laugh in response to him jerking under your mouth when you suck softly. Your way of telling him it’s okay.

After giving Andrew’s nipple a bit more attention, just to hear him whine a few more times. And then start slowly kissing down his stomach. Feeling every little twitch and breath beneath your mouth.

“Darling, please, please, stop teasing.”

There it is, the pleads for mercy. He’s practically whimpering. His voice becomes tight. A struggle for control. You grant his wish, hands moving to his belt. There’s a large bulge beneath his jeans, straining against the fabric. God, that must be uncomfortable, you can feel the heat from here.

Eventually, with a bit of moving around, you manage to pull his jeans and boxers off. Freeing his cock from the confines of his clothes. It arches up towards his stomach with a surprising stiffness, considering you haven’t even been touching him for that long. He’s decently above average in length. To the point it burns a little to take, but not ridiculously so. The tip is a deep red, swelled with a desperation to be touched.

Andrew shoots a hand from your hair to the arm of the chair. Gripping it with a hiss when he feels the brush of your breath over the sensitive skin. His cock twitches, the two prominent veins along the bottom throbbing. You decide not to make him wait any longer. Wrapping a hand around the shaft. Andrew looks down at you with hungry eyes alight with reverence, studying your every move.

“God- fucking, yes.”

Andrew gasps in pleasured relief, a moan quickly following when you start stroking the length of his shaft, giving every inch an equal amount of attention. Just barely touching the tip to tease him. To watch his cravings become unbearable. At first, he accepts the simple touch, relishing in finally having friction on his cock. However, it soon becomes too little and he starts rocking his hips into your hand, eager for more. Slender thighs flexing with the movement. Light shining over his jutting hip bones. He’s absolutely stunning from this angle, chest heaving as he squirms. A thin sheen of sweat glistening over the bridge of his nose and high cheekbones. A stark contrast to the darkness of his neatly trimmed beard.

“Babe-”

Andrew starts, his words sounding more like a gasp of breath.

“Fine, I’ll be nice.”

You relent, not wanting to torture him too much. Dragging your hand over the weeping head, Andrew moans and sinks his fingernails into the arm of the chair. His other hand cupping the back of your neck, trying his best not to grip or pull. You circle your thumb around the very tip of his cock, over the most sensitive glands. Andrew practically whimpers because of it. Legs jerking, he throws his head back. Eyes squeezed shut. Showing off all those pink love bites you left over his throat.

“Yes, just like that. Keep going.”

Andrew manages in that sweet, unsteady voice. It’s like he can’t get enough air into his lungs, caught between moaning and whining. He thrusts his hips into your hand which moves up and down the entire length of his dick. A focused attention with a twist of your wrist over the head. Andrew isn’t the only one getting impatient. You’re interested in doing much more than just a handjob.

So, when your impatience gets to be too much, you duck your head and take the tip of his cock into your mouth. Causing a high-pitched noise of surprise from the man above. There’s an even sharper noise as you press your tongue against the bottom and suck. Pulling precum from his eagerness. The tangy and sharp taste coating your tastebuds, sticking to your tongue. It fills your senses, nearly overwhelming the musky scent of Andrew’s arousal.

“Let me see your eyes, please. Look at me.”

Andrew urges, his voice higher than normal. Looking up at him, his eyes meet yours. And he responds like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his life. His lips parted, looking down at you with warmth in his eyes. His entire dick throbbing with your gaze on his.

“God, you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart.”

He gasps out. His hand letting go of the armchair and brushing the hair away from your face. So he can see all of you properly.

“So, so pretty down there.”

Andrew continues in a murmur, the pleasure of seeing you drives his ecstasy even higher. He gently moves slightly further into your mouth, hungry for more of the warm pleasure, more than what your hand is giving him. You welcome him, slowly working his cock deeper into your mouth. Jaw stretching to accommodate until it nearly aches. Your tongue cradles the underside.

He moans lowly, running fingers over your scalp. The warm and wet feeling of your mouth wrapping around his cock causes his entire body to shiver. Pleasure bolting up his spine. He nearly becomes lightheaded with the rush of blood, cheeks flushing a bright red against the paleness of the rest of his skin.

The more you take, the more difficult it is to breathe. Andrew stops you for a moment, letting you take a breath. He caresses your jaw with the backs of his fingers, helping it relax out.

“Just go slow, breathe through your nose.”

He speaks in a calmly commanding voice. Forcing you to stay in your moment of pause for a few seconds longer before letting you continue. You follow his introductions and breathe through your nose, taking measured breaths as you sink further. Until tears gather in your eyes when the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat. Pushing at your gag reflex.

A pleasured rumble sounds in Andrew’s chest. Vibrating back through your bones. He continues stroking your jaw, making sure you can take every inch.

“That’s good. You’re doing so well, baby. Start moving if you want.”

Andrew says, trying his best to keep his composure so his desire doesn’t get the better of him. It nearly does when you start moving achingly slow up and down the length of his dick. Your mouth is so consumingly tempting, hot and wet and just perfect. Both a gift and a curse. Luring Andrew to near madness with how good it feels. He’s speechless, wordless. Stuck in this version of heaven. You’ve got him absolutely hooked. Even more so when you start to move faster. Suck harder. Letting saliva drip down your chin and glisten on your skin the way it does on his cock.

“Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this. Your so skilled, so absolutely, fucking wonderful.”

He groans behind his clenched teeth. Resisting the urge to bury himself even deeper into your mouth. You struggle to move faster. Gagging on his cock when it hits your reflex. Andrew looks down at you, noticing your struggle. He gently pulls on your hair. Guiding you off his cock.

“It’s alright, let me help you, okay?”

He asks, but it’s less of a suggestion and more of a command if you want to keep going. You nod in agreement.

“Yeah, okay.”

Andrew takes a careful hold of your hair, holding your head in place as he brings his hips closer to your mouth. The tip of his cock brushes your lips, it’s so red it’s almost purple. Eager and more than ready to slip back into your mouth.

“Ready?”

He asks one more time and you answer affirmatively again. He accepts this and nudges his dick slowly past your parted lips. Guiding himself back into the heat of your mouth. It’s wet, soft and very, very hot. He waits a moment for you to get used to it once more. Before starting to move. Using your hair to move you up and down. His hips rocking forwards into your mouth. His breath hitching as he feels your teeth gaze him. His thighs clasp either side of your head, knees almost on top of your shoulders.

“That’s it, let me help you. Just like this.”

Andrew praises in a tone that does nothing to conceal how good it feels. Carefully thrusting his cock in and out of your already sore throat. You’re so sweet, letting him do this. Willing to take apart every piece of him and put it back together. It’s something only you can do for him. Yet he’s sure you could do it for anyone.

“God, that’s just right. You’re doing such a good job. You’re an angel.”

He manages, voice trembling. He rocks his hips faster. Guiding you to suck harder. Feeling every ridge moving back and forth across your tongue. The head is just barely nudging the back of your throat. Andrew is gasping, moaning above you like he’s never experienced something quite so amazing in his life. Something beyond any man’s wildest dreams.

His cock twitches in your mouth. His ecstasy reaching higher and higher. To the point his thighs are trembling, skin highlighted pink with exertion (is that how you spell it? idk). You look up at him. Admiring the way his features are painted with pleasure. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut. His long hair is messy and falling into his flushed face. There’s strands sticking to the sides of his face and neck with the thin sheen of sweat on his skin. Droplets slide down his collarbones and disappear into his sweater.

He jerks his cock a little deeper on accident. Coming closer and closer to his finish. Causing you to gag. He opens his eyes with an apology on his lip. But you grasp his hips, pulling him closer. You shove down your gag reflex so you can take him all the way. Tears gathering on your waterline. He takes the hint with widened eyes of surprise and adoration. Carefully thrusting his cock into the depths of your throat, he groans loudly with pleasure. Both hands sinking into and grabbing on your hair.

Your nose brushes his pelvis. The smell of musk filling your nose. An almost sweet, earthy scent coming from him. You make eye contact through blurry eyes. Andrew’s breath stutters, his legs tensing by the sides of your head.

“Fuck- darling, so good. I’m gonna- shit. I’m gonna cum in your mouth. Do you want that? Do you want me to cum into your mouth?”

He asks, his words broken and stuttering. Almost failing at forming a sentence entirely. You nod the best you can. Tears and spit running down your face. He moans at your agreement. Somehow feeling hotter and even more aroused by it.

Andrew thrusts his hips into your mouth. Pushing how much you can take as he chases his high. It’s not more than a minute of nearly reckless movements before he’s cumming into your mouth just as he said he would. His back arching into it as his legs shudder. He moans loudly from the bottom of his chest. His mouth hanging open. Head thrown back with his eyes rolled back into his skull. Shooting warm, thick cum into your mouth. The salty and bitter taste overwhelming your senses, but one you could taste over and over again. You groan around his cock. Causing his legs to jump as he feels the vibrations.

He pants, remaining motionless in his recovery. His brain needed a moment to recover before piecing itself back together and pulling out of your mouth. There’s a lopsided, still half-gone smile on his face as he looks down at you. Humming happily as you swallow his cum.

“You’re so amazing, baby.”

Andrew compliments breathlessly. Moving his hands to cup your cheeks and brush the tears away.

“I’m so, so proud of you. Come on, get off your knees.”

The tenderness of his voice is so beautiful. His actions even more so, helping you up off the floor. And positioning you on one of his thighs.

“Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough with you?”

He questions, his worries calming when you shake your head. Still recovering yourself.

“Good… can I return the favor?”

Thank you so much for reading my first fic 🫶, any constructive criticism is appreciated. I’m going to go do the school work I’ve been procrastinating over to do this instead now. Hopefully, the next fic won’t take over a month to write and I’ll be more active.

-Thad 💚

#fanfiction #andrew hozier byrne #Andrew Hozier Byrne x reader #Hozier x reader #smut #fluff #rpf #I wrote this with one hand #if you know what I mean #Andrew is a sexy little shit #Spotify #Hozier smut

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catslvrr · 5 months

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broken thread

pham hanni x fem!reader | one shot

Synopsis: Your whole life, you had been waiting for the red loop to appear on your ring finger. The string leads straight to your soulmate, you had heard. You weren’t really expecting your soulmate to literally cut ties on the first day of getting it. And you definitely weren’t expecting to meet her months later at your university library.

Contains: cursing

Playlist

Your favorite color had always been red — a rich and blazing red.

You learned from an early age that it was the color of love. The color of the string that would wrap around your ring finger one day, and lead you straight to your soulmate.

You spent countless days pestering your parents to retell the story of when they first received their string, the story of how they first met, the story of how they fell in love. You would watch them send teasing smiles to each other as they fought over who fell first, and see their eyes gleam with fondness as they reminisced about their younger days.

They would tuck you in bed with goodnight kisses after sharing little tidbits of their love story, and you would fall asleep with a smile on your face, comforted by the fact that you would one day find your own soulmate — someone who would love you unconditionally.

The first time you saw the red string in action, from someone other than your parents, was in the first year of high school. A girl from your class had rocked up to school one day, waving around her hand to flaunt the red loop that had appeared around her finger, the first to do so.

That was the telltale sign that she had found her soulmate: everyone could see the loop, and only she could see the string that led her to them.

(Getting the loop didn’t mean that you would immediately find your soulmate, though. You had heard from your parents that it was different for everyone. It could be mere days, or it could take weeks, months, sometimes even years after receiving the loop to meet your soulmate face to face.)

News traveled around fast. By second period, it was all everyone talked about. Students rushed to the girl during the break, eager to see it in person, as if to confirm that this concept was tangible and real.

You didn’t have to see for yourself. The look on the girl’s face was enough for you, glowing with ardor and pride. And it was not only the girl who was left eager at the prospect of a soulmate after this. This day planted a seed of hope in everyone, their own expectations and fervor beginning to grow and flourish.

It’s so nice, you had thought to yourself at the time as you absentmindedly drew a red line that looped around your whole page, that everyone is so excited for love.

And you loved love, too. How could you not, when it was in everything you saw growing up? It was in the mornings when you would wake up unusually early, and peek outside your room to see your parents conversing in hushed tones over some coffee, the sunlight just barely spilling through the curtains to tenderly greet them.

It was in the tooth-rotting sweetness of the candy your cousins would secretly buy for you without your parents’ knowledge, along with the bandaids to cover your scraped knees when you rode your bike together.

It was in the way you and your friends would bring extra servings of your snacks or lunch to share with and ‘trade’ together.

It was everywhere, a constant and certainty, there for you to give and take at your will, and that’s what you loved about love.

As years went by, more and more students burst through the school gates brandishing their red loops, and more and more couples began popping up. Valentine’s Day at school was always sweet to see — the school would decorate the hallways with red threads and balloons, and students sent heart lollipops and roses to their lovers or friends.

By the time you reached your senior years, your ring finger was still bare. Your friends and family always reassured you that your time would come, and friends who hadn’t received the loop yet would lament and rant about their anxiety. You weren’t too worried, though. Love is patient and so you figured you should be too.

It was a few weeks after graduation when you finally received your red loop. You woke up in the afternoon to the disruptive revving of a car that zoomed past your house.

(You had been waking up later these days, enjoying the last taste of freedom before the start of university.)

You stayed up late last night, suddenly feeling the motivation to perform a surgical deep clean of your room. You enjoyed doing this every few months to give yourself peace of mind. It was bittersweet to look back at your past exams and the old notes you took, reminiscing the endless hours you spent hunched over your desk.

You were about to drift back to sleep when you felt a slight itch on your ring finger, and instinctively went to scratch it. Then, you realized what that meant, and quickly sat up to investigate.

There it was, in all its glory: a red loop around your finger. The string that extended it passed through your walls. You leaned in closer to inspect it — it seemed like a real string, like what you would find on a spool. You could see the little threads that it was made of. But when you tried to touch it, it would just pass through your fingers.

You sat there for a few minutes, letting the reality sink in. You were overwhelmed with emotions, the good kind, and your cheeks started to hurt because you were smiling too hard.

You didn’t feel any different, didn’t feel suddenly whole or complete, and you didn’t expect to. You were just content that there was someone out there to share your love with. Though, there was that small sense of relief in the way your shoulders relaxed.

(There was always a small margin of error with soulmates; you had heard of it through whispered rumors and seen it in the fine print of your research. The selfish part of you was glad that it wasn’t you.)

Your hands wouldn’t stop trembling, even when you got out of bed to brush your teeth. You couldn’t help but begin to fantasize about who your soulmate would be — what they would look like, what their personality was like, if the two of you would click straight away.

Just as you finished washing up and began to make your way to the kitchen, you winced as you felt an unexpected sharp tug on your ring finger. Your hand felt like it was burning. Cradling your wrist up towards you, you noticed what was wrong.

What was once a red string that carried your love beyond these walls, to wherever your soulmate was, was now cut short, frayed at the edges. Its color had faded, as if lifeless, now a pale pink.

Oh. Maybe you spoke too soon.

You stood there for a while, in the hallway, in denial. Hadn’t it only been a few minutes? When your mom made her way to your room to check up on you, she saw your stricken face first. Her eyebrows knitted, mouth open and about to ask what was wrong. Then, she saw the string, or a lack thereof.

She didn’t say anything, only pulling you into her arms, the arms that once engulfed you as she told you everything she knew about soulmates. You let the tears run down your face.

You never thought that love could be pain, but you were feeling it now, and you didn’t know how to make it stop. Each gasping breath after the sobs that wracked through your body should have been breaths that your soulmate would’ve taken away.

You bit your lip so as to no longer make a sound, and you were biting so hard that it bled the red you once thought meant love.

You felt empty for the next few days. There was an almost imperceptible lighter feeling to your ring finger now, and you felt bare.

The loop was still there, and the sight of it that had once brought joy, now only gave you sorrow that you would’ve never thought to associate with soulmates.

You cried until your eyes were bloodshot red, and you imagined that your tears would stain the pink loop, if it could be stained — soaked with your tears so that it darkened, and maybe it would be closer to the red you love.

It was as if the universe was mocking you. Everyone knew how much you loved the idea of soulmates, how badly you were waiting for the day to get your loop (even though you tried to hide it).

But we always want what we can’t have. And you thought that the world was cruel, for letting you just have a taste of soulmates, only for it to be ripped away from you not even an hour later.

Or perhaps you should blame your soulmate for being selfish and entitled enough to deny both of you the gift that is love. You wonder if you would actually say that to them if you ever met face to face.

(You wouldn’t. You have a feeling that you’d love them regardless.)

It was stupid, being heartbroken over someone you had never met. But you had spent so much of your life waiting and hoping, that the disappointment was stifling, like the string had wrapped itself tightly around you, leaving you no room to breathe. Maybe it was your fault for being too idealistic.

The worst part was that there would not be any closure. But perhaps this fate was better than being rejected upon the first meeting. It hurt all the same, anyway.

You kept yourself occupied as best as you could, which manifested itself into more of just holing yourself up in your room, listening to sad music and cleaning away your thoughts.

Eventually, you forced yourself out of hiding and faced the music. The pitiful looks and words of comfort from friends and family felt more burdening than anything, but you knew they meant well.

You took it day by day, learning to slowly chisel off the bitterness that had engraved itself onto you. You didn’t want to become someone your past self would’ve hated.

Romantic love may not be on the table for you anymore, but there was still plenty of love to go around. And that was what you would tell yourself to move on. You had to move on, because time doesn’t wait for anyone.

The good news was that the start of university was not too long after, which gave you something to focus on rather than the gaping hole that your would-be-soulmate left.

University was a big change, but you were never one to be unnerved by change. The hardest part was finding where all the lecture halls and rooms were on campus, but other than that, you had successfully cemented yourself into uni life among hundreds of other students.

Faster than you could process, you settled into a comfortable rhythm: taking public transport to get to uni, attending lectures and tutorials, rotting away in the library to complete your weekly exercises, going home to sleep, then doing it all over again.

At least you didn’t have classes every day.

Ignoring the relentless workload, the freedom and flexibility that university offered in comparison to high school was a breath of fresh air.

You enjoyed romanticizing the train rides to university, getting lost in the scenery passing by with your Airpods on. Grabbing a coffee early in the morning, feeling as if you were an adult now. Feeling insignificant under the towering skyscrapers that the city boasted.

It was lonely though. With a fresh set of classmates every semester, it felt harder than ever to make friends. Your high school friends had branched out to different universities, and the ones that went to the same one as you, were busy with adapting to the new lifestyle.

You still met up from time to time, of course, but it wasn’t the same as seeing each other every day in high school.

So yes, it was incredibly lonely. It didn’t help that all you could see around you was the bright red of everyone’s loop, a reminder of what you lost.

You were in your zone, catching up on a lecture via recording and making notes, when the opening of a door startled you.

You looked up to see a girl who, despite her short stature, still exuded an intimidating vibe. You took out your Airpods.

“I booked this room.”

“Oh,” you frowned. You were so sure that you booked this room. You always did, this same room, on Wednesday, every week. “I thought I booked it, but maybe there was an error with the system.”

You started to pack up, the air painstakingly awkward as the stranger stood there and watched you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured.

You struggled under her scrutiny, fumbling over your pens and pencils as you internally berated yourself for not verifying the booking.

“You booked it?” She said after a while. (You were still packing up.) You felt small under her gaze, only nodding in response.

“Don’t worry about it then,” she mumbled, plopping herself on a chair. “We can share.”

“Oh.” Your hand that was stuffing your stationery into your backpack froze. “Are you sure?”

The stranger grunted and waved her hand dismissively. She then folded her arms on the table, leaning her forehead on it. You took that as a sign of the conversation ending.

You hesitantly sat back down and put in your Airpods again. You spent the rest of the time studying, occasionally glancing at the sleeping stranger. You were slightly concerned, more curious if anything.

It was around three hours later when she stirred back to life. You watched her out of the corner of your eye. She puffed her cheeks out as she ran her fingers through her hair, proceeding to check her phone before setting it down on the table.

She rested her chin on her folded arms, diverting her sole attention to you. You quickly averted your eyes back to your laptop screen, feeling her burning stare.

You suffered under her gaze for a few more minutes that seemed to drag itself out before you mustered up the courage to look back up.

Out of habit, you looked at her ring finger. It was something you had been meaning to stop. You wouldn’t want people staring at yours, but you couldn’t help yourself.

To your shock, her loop was also a pale pink. You hadn’t met someone else who also had a pink loop yet.

She noticed your fixated gaze. “Yeah. No soulmate for me.”

“Sorry,” you hastily said, sitting up straight. “I didn’t mean to look-”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

You bit your lip and showed her your ring finger. “No, really, I wasn’t judging. I’m the same.”

For the first time since meeting her, you seemed to pique her interest. She smiled as she leaned back, a mix of pride and dryness. You couldn’t really pinpoint it. “I cut mine. How about you?”

You wavered for a split second, but quickly shook the thought off. It’s just a coincidence. You tried to play it off. “Me too.”

“Really?” She tilted her head, still skeptical. “Why?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Didn’t feel right, you know. I wasn’t ready.”

She let out a sigh of relief. “God, finally someone that gets it. Everyone’s so obsessed with soulmates, I can’t stand it.”

“I know right,” you laughed awkwardly. Your response only seemed to spur her on.

“Soulmates are such a scam. Love should be a choice. Some stupid string shouldn’t dictate who I love,” she muttered, drumming her fingers on the table.

You nodded slowly. It sounded personal to her. You had never really seen it like that, but you could understand where she was coming from.

Maybe the pain I felt from the cut string was the same pain my soulmate felt when they got the string.

You weren’t sure how to feel about this. You didn’t have much time to dwell on it though, because the stranger spoke again.

“I’m Hanni.”

You were expecting a follow-up question, but realized she was waiting for a response. You promptly introduced yourself, although quite clumsily, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“You almost done with studying?” Hanni asked, kicking her feet on the table. You were pretty sure that was against the rules, but she didn’t seem to care.

“Kind of?”

“What do you study anyway?” You kept your eyes trained on your laptop while she kept hers on you.

“Actuarial studies.”

A whistle. “Damn. You must be crazy.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely something,” you scratched your nape before continuing meekly. “How about you?”

“Nothing,” Hanni closed her eyes, arms behind her head as she teetered the chair back. This left you on edge, you were scared she would fall. “Took a gap year.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what do you do with all the time?”

“Whatever I want. Which basically means nothing.”

“Cool,” you nodded stiffly. You were about to end the conversation there, but realized,

“Wait,” you furrowed your eyebrows. “So what are you doing at a uni library?”

She cracked an eye open for a second before smirking. You found this immensely attractive. “Is it not open to the public?”

“It is,” you backtracked. “Sorry-”

Hanni suddenly stood up and stretched. “I’m just messing with you. Most of the time, I come here to take a nap. Sometimes I meet up with my friends though.”

Not giving you any time to respond, she continued. “I’m gonna head out.”

“Oh,” you said, again. That was all you could say really, you weren’t the best with strangers. “Okay.”

Hanni stuffed her phone in her pocket as she shuffled towards the door, putting on her headphones again. You flexed your wrist before continuing to write down lecture notes.

“Hey.”

Hanni hovered at the door, hand on the doorframe. “We both like booking this room. You don’t mind sharing from now on, right?”

You tapped your pen on the desk to relieve your hand of its shakiness. “Yeah. I don’t mind.”

Hanni nodded. “I’ll see you next week.”

“See you…” You mumbled, but she had already walked out. You watched her leave. That initial gut feeling started to die down.

Hanni was someone you wouldn’t necessarily consider a friend in the first few weeks of knowing her. She was consistent though, you’ll give her that, always showing up to the same library room just to sleep for a solid 3 to 4 hours every Wednesday without fail.

So the conversations between you two were minimal. Not that you minded. But there was just something pulling you toward her, maybe it was her assertive nature and the way she carried herself with confidence, the complete opposite of you, or maybe it was the fact that she was very pretty.

Despite her being asleep most of the time, there was a subtle sense of tranquility that she brought — the idea that the two of you were in the same boat; you knew she wouldn’t walk on eggshells around the topic of soulmates around you. You liked that.

(It had been months since the incident. You thought your friends and family would’ve moved on by now, hell, even you have, but the way they tread lightly around you about soulmates was like opening old wounds.

It made you feel as if you were weak. As if you were a defect. You knew this wasn’t true. There was more to life than soulmates. This is what you had to learn.)

Before you knew it, two months had passed since your first meeting. Time flies when uni completely bombards you with assignments. It was just another ordinary Wednesday when Hanni decided to strike up a conversation.

“Hey.”

Hanni flung a pencil in your direction. It had only been ten minutes since she entered the room.

(It was your pencil. You had no idea how she got a hold of it.)

You barely had time to dodge before taking out your Airpods, slightly annoyed, but mostly perplexed.

“Do you do anything other than study?”

“Obviously…”

She still seemed dubious. “What do you like? Any hobbies?”

You paused.

“I like astronomy?” You said it as more of a question than a statement.

Hanni’s eyebrows furrowed. “Like signs and shit?”

“No,” you laughed softly. “That’s astrology. I mean, you know, space and all that.”

Hanni didn’t reply. You hoped that it was because of indifference, rather than judgment. You didn’t know why you cared anyway. You continued on with your work.

She spoke again a few minutes later. “What do you listen to?”

You took out your Airpods again. Usually, this would be irritating, but these seemingly trivial conversations and small talk somehow wormed their way up to be the highlight of your week.

“Um…” You trailed off. “How am I meant to show you?”

Hanni hummed in thought for a moment. “Do you use Spotify?”

You nodded. She grabbed your phone, pushed it in your face so it would unlock, and started tapping and doing who knows what. You just sat there, appalled by her brazenness.

She handed your phone back to you with a proud smile. “There. Our Spotify’s should be synced now.”

You don’t know why your face started to heat up. Something about listening to music together felt so intimate. Like you were opening a window into your soul.

“Are you sure you want to listen along?” You mumbled. “You might not like my taste in music…”

“I’m sure,” Hanni insisted. “It’s a good way to get to know a person.”

She stretched before settling comfortably into a familiar position, arms folded on the table. She motioned for you to put your Airpods in as she put her headphones back on, before dropping her forehead on her arms. “Wake me up when you’re done studying.”

You took a glance at the pale pink loop on her finger before focusing back on your work.

The sun was beginning to set by the time you finished, the sky painted with an array of vivid yellows and oranges.

You cracked your knuckles as you quietly started to pack up, observing a sleeping Hanni. If you strained your ears, you could hear faint snores, which you found quite endearing. You thought that Hanni was much cuter when she was asleep, a stark contrast to her usual brooding demeanor. Too cute that you almost didn’t wake her up, but guilt would eat you alive if you didn’t.

You cautiously poked her shoulder. “Hanni?”

It took a few more pokes until she blearily opened her eyes, grumbling under her breath. You retracted your hand as if she would bite. “You told me to wake you up…”

You suppressed a smile at the sight of a bright red mark on her forehead. “What time is it?”

“Just about to hit 7. I’m gonna head home.”

Just as you turned to leave, Hanni somehow got out of the chair in the blink of an eye and grabbed you. “Wait.”

You swiveled back around in confusion. She rested her headphones around her neck before stuffing her hands in her pocket. “Do you need to get home urgently?”

You shook your head.

“Okay,” Hanni said simply. “Let’s go.”

You wanted to ask “Go where?”, but Hanni brushed past you and was already walking out the door. You bit your lip. Surely you could spare an hour or two, just for today. You hurriedly adjusted your backpack on your shoulder before jogging to catch up to her.

Your hands were clammy for the entire walk. The sky continued to grow darker, and all the lessons of stranger danger that your parents had taught you were flashing in your head. Maybe it was a bit stupid to blindly follow someone you had barely talked to and only known for a few months or so. Well, if Hanni ended up kidnapping or killing you, at least you died to someone pretty.

Before your thoughts could derail further, Hanni finally stopped walking. Your legs were starting to ache. The last time you got this much cardio in was when you were running late for class in high school.

You took a few seconds to absorb your surroundings. It was a small lake, the water still as it reflected the last remnants of the sunset. It was secluded — you didn’t see or hear any other signs of life besides the inevitable chirping and buzzing of random insects. Hanni seated herself on a small grassy hill that faced the water, patting the space next to her as a signal for you to sit as well.

She leaned back and rested her head against the grass as she closed her eyes. You sat down awkwardly and set your weight on your backpack, just staring at her. Is she asleep again?

“Pretty, right?” She suddenly asked. Okay, not asleep. “I come here to think a lot.”

You gently tugged her hoodie over her head. She didn’t even flinch. You didn’t want bugs to crawl into her hair. “What do you think about?”

You were caught off guard by her deflection. “How do you think your soulmate is doing?”

“What?”

“You cut off your string, right? How do you think they’re doing?”

“Oh,” you tensed. “I’m not too sure. I hope they’re okay, wherever they are.”

Hanni hummed. “You’re awfully nice.”

You hesitated before asking the pressing question on your mind. “Do you really hate the idea of soulmates that much? What if you met them?”

“I wouldn’t say hate,” Hanni clicked her tongue. “I don't really know how to explain it, but I want everything to be my choice, you know? I don’t believe in things like fate. I just happen to meet people, and I choose who I want to stay and who I want to love.”

She shifted before continuing. “And I’ve seen what the string can do. People get too attached to the idea of soulmates, but sometimes they never end up meeting them and are left heartbroken, or their soulmate turns out to be a terrible person. So what good is it, really?”

You bit your cheek as you reflected on her words. Your instinct was telling you that there was more to the story, but it wasn’t your place to ask.

“And I don’t know what I’d do if I ever met my soulmate. I wouldn’t even know it’s them, first of all. But I guess if they’re a decent person, we could start off as friends.”

Hanni finished off with a sigh. “Anyway, enough of my rant. Can you spot any constellations? Or whatever astronomy entails.”

You stared at the sky. You could see the faint twinkling of stars if you tried hard enough. The wonders of light pollution.

“I actually don’t know much about astronomy,” you answered sheepishly. “I just remember having a space phase in, like, 4th grade. And so now I just remember random facts about space and find everything about it pretty.”

Hanni opened her eyes and turned to face you. “Tell me one.”

You pursed your lip in thought for a second, racking your brain. “Magellan was the first teddy bear in space in 1995. It even got a special astronaut suit. Very charming fella.”

You showed her a picture of it on your phone with a stupid smile. You felt your face warm up as Hanni chuckled at the photo, eyes crinkling. Ah. Her smile is so cute.

You cleared your throat to alleviate your fluster. “How about you? What are you into?”

“Nothing special,” she shrugged. “Music and games. Do you play games?”

“Not really,” you admitted. “I remember illegally downloading the Sims and never playing it after my Sim randomly died from a kitchen fire.”

Hanni cracked a smile. “Happens to the best of us.”

"By the way," you said curiously. "Did you learn a lot from my music taste?"

"I did actually," she smirked with arrogance. "You seem to be the sentimental type. A romantic."

"Huh," you blinked.

"You don't need to say anything," she continued smugly. "I already know I'm right."

The buzzing of your phone cut the conversation short. Your mother was calling.

“Oh no,” you winced as you slowly got up. “I lost track of time. I should get going.”

It looked like she wanted to say something, but chose not to. “See you.”

“Don’t you have places to be?”

She flicked her gaze from the lake to you, one that was unexpectedly intense. “Yeah. But I’ll stay here for a bit longer.”

“Okay,” you lingered there for a few seconds. “Stay safe.”

You started making your way home, oddly feeling content.

As more months passed by, the lake became a spot of solace for the two of you, meeting there regularly when either of you felt like talking (mostly Hanni). It was a bit hard at first, getting used to spontaneous hangouts (usually you enjoyed the comfort and stability of routine), but Hanni’s presence was a big help. You learned a lot from her, and especially admired her self-assurance.

You cherished these times as it was an opportunity to learn more about Hanni. Like the fact that she worked at the cafe on campus, despite hating coffee.

(You wondered how you never saw her.)

And the fact that she had performed for her high school talent show and ended up being the grand winner. And the fact that she once slept through the night at the library, and then woke up to the blinding light of a security guard’s flashlight shining in her face.

The more you got to know her, the more your feelings for her grew. Which you found to be quite problematic, because you were such a firm believer of soulmates all your life. Although there was that minuscule possibility that Hanni was your soulmate, you felt as though you were betraying your soulmate by falling for someone else.

Surely, it was free real estate. Your soulmate was the one who cut the string after all. To be honest, they probably don’t care at all. You don’t know why you were creating such a fuss about it. It was your inner guilt clawing at you. Didn't liking someone who wasn't your soulmate debunk the idea of soulmates itself?

You thought about what Hanni would say. You could hear her voice in your head: Love is a choice. Soulmates shouldn’t determine who you love. As much as it conflicted with you, every time you woke up to the thought of her, you found yourself agreeing with her more and more.

You also started to like the pale pink loop on your finger more and more.

“Hey.”

You sat cross-legged on familiar ground, picking at the grass. Hanni hadn’t come to the library today, which left you embarrassingly worried, but she had texted you to meet at the lake around 15 minutes ago. The two of you exchanged contact information the week after the first lake hangout. The two of you didn’t text though. That was, until today. “What are you doing here?”

Hanni’s eyes were closed, as usual. She seemed to ponder a lot. You always wondered what was on her mind. “Thinking.”

“And you called me here because…?”

“Figured you needed a break.” The corner of her lips tugged up. You let out a small smile too. Behind her nonchalant tone and nature, she was surprisingly sweet.

“What are you thinking about this time?”

“You.”

“Me?” You sputtered. “What about me?”

Hanni let out a breath. “My bad. I should be more specific. I’m thinking about my feelings for you.”

Luckily her eyes were still closed, because your face was turning red at an alarming pace.

“Really?” You squeaked. “And what are those feelings?”

“Good feelings. Something that could grow into love, I think.” She opened her eyes to meet yours.

“Oh,” you said. “...I may share those feelings.”

She closed her eyes again, a satisfied smile on her face. “Good. We’re dating now.”

You blinked in astonishment.

“It’s that easy?” You muttered to yourself. “I thought after getting my string cut, I’d never find love again.”

Hanni abruptly sat up. “What?”

You blanched at her cold tone. “What?”

“You didn’t cut your string?”

Shit. The air became tense, her anger palpable. Your hands tightened around a patch of grass. You bit your lip in shame. “...I’m sorry.”

“When?”

You looked at her in confusion.

“When was it cut?” She asked, exasperated.

“December,” you murmured, your throat clogging up. “The 4th of December.”

“Fuck!” She turned away. “That’s when I cut mine.”

Oh. She stood up and started pacing around in circles, running her hand through her hair in what you thought to be frustration. There was a whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest — fear, guilt, regret, but also joy, as crazy as it sounded.

Hanni was your soulmate. You had to repeat that to yourself internally to really process it. Of course it would be her. Who else would it be?

You pulled yourself back to reality. Reality being a very distressed Hanni who would blow up and ghost you if you didn’t do something.

“Why did you lie?” You hated how you could hear the raspiness in her voice.

You desperately tried to explain yourself. “I panicked the first time we met. But I never thought to tell you after that because I thought you would hate me for believing in soulmates."

“I’m not that spiteful. It wouldn’t have mattered to me if you believed in soulmates.”

“But we wouldn’t be where we are now,” you reasoned, your voice raw. “We started talking because we bonded over the fact that we both cut our strings.”

“Look at where we’re at now,” Hanni bitterly muttered. “I feel like our relationship is a lie.”

“It’s not,” you stammered. “This doesn’t have to change anything.”

Hanni whipped her head around with a glare. “Of course it changes everything!”

Her eyes softened when you flinched at the harshness of her voice. “Look, it’s just that I genuinely thought that I could finally be loved without either of us being bound by a stupid string.”

You plucked out another strand of grass. “There’s another reason, isn’t there? Of why you hate soulmates so much.”

She stopped walking back and forth. “Yeah.”

“Might as well air everything out, right?” You offered a wry smile.

Silence. You thought that this was the end, but she sat down, a bit further from you than before, and spoke again. “Long story short: I was in love. She was in love with me too. A year into the relationship, she got her string. She didn’t tell me. She just broke up with me and blocked me on everything. Found out days later when one of my friends told me about her new relationship with her soulmate.”

You wanted to reach out and grab her hand to comfort her, but that would have probably just made her hate you more.

“I’m sorry,” you swallowed, an ache in your chest. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“Now that I know we’re soulmates, how do I know if any of our feelings are true? What if this whole relationship, from when we first met to now, was all because of ‘fate’?” Hanni said in a flurry, aggressively ripping out grass. “How much of my feelings are really mine?”

You flattened your hands in the grass to stop them from trembling. “I don’t know. But if we both like each other despite not knowing that we’re soulmates, and even after the fact that our string is cut, doesn’t that mean something? That this was our choice?”

Another pause. You held your breath.

“I need some time to think,” Hanni closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. “You should get going.”

You shakily stood up and took one last glance at her before turning around to leave, your voice small. “Stay safe.”

You didn’t see Hanni for the next two weeks. She didn’t turn up to the library, and you didn’t expect her to. You still felt a pang of disappointment regardless.

The revelation that Hanni was your soulmate weighed heavily in your mind. But that wasn’t the main issue. It was Hanni’s reaction to the fact that created an uneasy feeling in your chest. You found humor in the way that the thread that binded you together ended up being the thread that unraveled everything.

You cried for the first few nights, because you knew it was all your fault. It was like reliving that day in December all over again. At least you got some form of closure though — an explanation as to why your string was cut. But eventually, you accepted the fact that if this was to work out, you would both have to make a deliberate choice.

Your choice being to wait, and Hanni's being to forgive. You once believed love was all about fate, but after meeting Hanni, you learned that it was about choice, too.

You carried on with your routine as usual, but Hanni’s absence followed you wherever you went. The library room felt emptier, quieter. You just hoped that she was okay, wherever she was.

Was it selfish of you to be celebrating the fact that Hanni was your soulmate, when she clearly resented it? Your feelings for her didn’t change, they were the same before and after the realization that you were soulmates. Again, you hoped she would come to the same conclusion too, and still feel the same.

You didn't try to reach out to her or to find her working on campus. She needed the time and space, and you promised yourself you would wait for her.

The next time you met was not planned. It was a Wednesday, like always, and you had just finished a grueling 3-hour study session. The sky was particularly pink today, and it reminded you of Hanni. You found that a lot of things would remind you of her these days. You missed her greatly.

You decided to go to the lake. You lay down on the grass, closing your eyes. Doing this made you feel closer to Hanni somehow. Your mind meandered and you could imagine her here, doing the exact same thing. The solitude of the lake brought some temporary peace to your restlessness.

You got lost in your thoughts for the next hour before you heard the sound of footsteps, steadily growing louder and louder. Fear ran through your veins before you relaxed at the sound of Hanni’s voice.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you replied, voice hoarse. You kept your eyes closed. You didn't think you could handle Hanni’s gaze for this conversation. You felt her sit down next to you, her hand brushing against yours. You tried to ignore the goosebumps that followed and the heat radiating off her body.

It was silent for the next few minutes. After a bit, you opened your mouth to speak, but Hanni beat you to it.

“Did you really not know we were soulmates?”

“No,” you confessed. “I knew there was a small possibility, but I thought it was too good to be true.”

You swallowed as there was no response. “...How are you feeling?”

You heard her sigh. “Confused.”

“Can I tell you what my parents said when I asked them for advice?” You asked tentatively.

Hanni made a small noise of approval.

“They told me that the string doesn’t mean you don’t have a choice. The two can coexist. They said there are plenty of people who meet their soulmates, but choose to be friends. And that they can still end up in a happy relationship with someone else.”

You gave yourself time to breathe before continuing. "I know that what happened in the past hurt you. But, don't let that define your view on soulmates. I think love is choice as much as it is fate."

“Thank you,” she breathed out after a while. “I think I realized that in the past two weeks, but I’m just stubborn.”

“And just to be clear,” you started slowly. “I still would have feelings for you. Soulmate or not.”

You felt the weight of the world fall off your shoulders as she replied, “Me too.”

“Hanni,” you bit your lip to stop a growing smile as you tested the waters. “Are we still dating like you said?”

Your smile only widened as you heard her laugh. “That didn’t count.”

Your ears perked up as the sound of Hanni shuffling around filled the air.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Just keep your eyes closed.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you felt something wrap around your ring finger, but your doubt quickly washed away as you recognized her movement. You waited for her to finish before opening your eyes.

You looked down to see a very real, tangible pink string connecting your ring finger to hers. You grinned as you tugged on it. This was infinitely better than the red string.

“Now it’s official,” Hanni huffed, turning away to look at the lake with the tip of her ears colored pink.

Your heart was full, it felt as though it could erupt at any given moment. “Thank you for choosing me.”

Hanni smiled softly. “And thank you to the string for leading us to each other.”

The two of you watched the sun dip below the horizon, bathing in the soft pink and purple hues.

You think that pink is definitely your favorite color now, though red would always be a close second.

("...There's no more secrets between us right?"

"No," you quietly chuckled. "That's all I have. You?"

"I..." Hanni cleared her throat. "Remember the first time we met? I actually didn't book the room."

You almost broke your neck from how fast you whipped your head to face her. "What?"

There was a guilty smile on her face. "Usually, I just storm into a random room and say that to kick people out. People just believe me and leave."

"Wow," you said in disbelief. Of course Hanni would do something like that. "So why did you let me stay?"

"To be honest, you were kind of pissing me off because of how long you were taking to pack up, and I just wanted to sleep," she admitted sheepishly. "But, let's just say that it was fate."

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. "Right. Fate.")

#newjeans x reader #newjeans fanfic #newjeans fic #pham hanni x reader #hanni pham x reader

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nonstoplover · 1 year

Text

flashes of silver ~ lewis hamilton (lh44)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary: with the annual fia gala coming up, lewis decides to do something as a kind of thank you to his hard-working team, and invites one of the girls working for mercedes as his plus one.

words: 3.4K

warnings: cheesy fluffy stuff; a possible age gap if you squint your eyes but nothing actually mentioned; probably not accurately written shop scene (if you can't tell, i've never been in any fancy shop lol)

a/n: i had a dream. one simple dream that pulled me out of the past few months' writer's block. it was a bit of a struggle though to kinda get back into writing rhythm but whatever. i needed to get this out of my system before i go mad. first lh44 fic also!

please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!

"I don't have any dress that's good enough for a gala," she shakes her head ferociously, her eyes not leaving the man standing before her. She still can't fight the small voice in her head telling her that it's just a joke. A prank, probably for the team's social media pages. Why else would he approach her with something so ridiculous?

Under her curious, cautious gaze, Lewis just reaches into his pocket, and without breaking eye contact for a single second, pulls his card out and places it on the desk in front of her. "Go buy yourself something then. You deserve it anyway."

All words leave her mind, it's like her vocabulary has been completely erased. The only thing she can do is allow her eyes to widen in sync with her lips, as she tries to comprehend what she's just heard.

"Come on, take it," he encourages with a small smile.

When she still doesn't move an inch, the man playfully sighs, extending his arm to grab the card once more. With his other hand, he reaches even further, under the desktop to take hold of her hand resting on her lap. A gentle but still dynamic movement later he's pried her fingers open and placed the card in her palm. His own fingers stay there, flesh to flesh, for a second longer, before closing her fist around the plastic and retreating his touch.

As the air-conditioned, cool air hits the back of her hand again, (y/n) wakes from her trance. Her eyes flash up and down a couple times, from the driver to the card and back again. "I can't spend your money. I won't spend your money."

"I have more than enough, it's okay."

"That doesn't change what I said."

"(y/n), please. I already told the entire media team that I'm taking you. I told even Toto." Lewis presses his hands against the wooden surface and leans against it for support as he continues to stand at her desk.

The way he keeps on insisting this for the past five minutes makes her start to wonder that maybe, just maybe, he actually means it, and this is not a joke.

"Why?"

He can still hear the disbelief in her voice, and has to control himself not to roll his eyes as he giggles. "I already told you like twice since I came here."

"But it doesn't make sense. I mean, I get it, you wanna give something back to the team for their hard work or whatever, but why don't you take literally anyone else than me?"

"You're next in line," he shrugs.

Why do his eyes always have to be so kind and so lovely and so heartwarming and so–, she stops herself before she spirals down that rabbit hole again.

"You've been working here for years, having my back all the time, and so I figured it would be a nice thank you, from me to you."

"You know, an actual thank you would be sufficient," she smiles lightly up at him after a second of silent ponder – the first crack in her indevout façade, and the first tiny wave of relief in his body.

"Okay, you know what?" Lewis pauses, waiting until her eyes flash with pure curiosity, all caution forgotten. "We're going dress shopping together. Right now."

(y/n) lets out a chuckle that comes to an abrupt stop when she sees him hold his hand out, palm up and open, obviously waiting. For her. He means it.

"I'm working," her mind says the first response it can come up with – earning an imaginary slap when she actually realises what she's just said.

(y/f/n) would kill me if she heard this, she thinks with certain memories of her avid LH44 fan best friend appearing in her mind. Who in her right mind would find an excuse to say no to an offer like this from Lewis Hamilton himself?

"I'm sure your boss will understand if you tell him who you were with and why," he chuckles, the sound making the tips of her fingers tingle and her heart flutter.

"Oh, right," (y/n) lets out a laugh, cheeks turning red in slight embarrassment as her eyes flicker down to the keyboard sitting in front of her. Her boss, Toto Wolff definitely wouldn't mind if he already agreed to this crazy plan previously.

"So, you coming?" Lewis wiggles his fingers, gathering the girl's attention. She slowly raises her head, mentally preparing herself for what she's about to do, then as if the world has abruptly changed to slow motion, (y/n) watches her free hand move up and a long second later arrive into his still waiting palm.

Just in time with his fingers tightening momentarily around hers, she can hear her own laughter jingle loud. Is this a dream?

"You're beautiful," Lewis greets her as the chauffeur closes the car door behind her, his smile creating wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – something she's always found absolutely adorable.

"Thanks," she mumbles in response, struggling to keep eye contact when she notices the intense look in his gaze.

"Maybe you could give me your stylist's number."

Upon hearing this, (y/n) can't help but glance at the driver sitting next to her, lips curling into a wide grin, exactly how he wanted. "I don't know, I'd have to ask him first to see if he agreed," she answers and they let out a giggle at the same time, both of them remembering that one afternoon a few days back.

"We really shouldn't go in here," (y/n) stops short on the pavement, her heels pressing down on the asphalt.

"We really should, though," Lewis grabs her hand without even glancing her way, pulling the girl behind him right into the shop.

"Lewis!" she hisses, stumbling in her steps as she rushes to keep up with his relentless pace. "One dress here costs more money than all I've ever earned."

"Then it's good that I already told you I'm paying," comes his immediate, somewhat deadpan reply.

He doesn't stop and doesn't let go of her hand, not until she's in the spacious changing room in the back of the extremely fancy dress shop, along with a mountain of colourful, unambiguously expensive materials. "I'll be out here waiting," he announces, then leaves her with the shop assistant, drawing the heavy, thick curtain closed behind him.

What feels like a million dresses later, the young woman helping her dress lets out an approving gasp, loud enough that even Lewis can hear it from the other side, as he's scrolling on social media sitting in the almost overly comfortable armchair, the sound piquing his interest. With one firm push to her shoulder, the woman twirls (y/n) around until she comes face to face with the huge mirror.

The silver silk is still rippling around her legs from the sudden movement, reflecting the light and thereby making her practically shine. It's modest, with thin straps on her shoulders and the neckline not too revealing, a monochrome, bright silver dress – and (y/n) has to admit to herself that the material tightly hugging her torso is the most magical thing her skin has ever touched. She feels almost royal in it.

For the first time since they've arrived in the shop, she doesn't feel like a clown and all ridiculous when the curtain gets pulled back and Lewis raises his head to catch a glance at her. Her skin tingles and heart flutters as his eyes move down and then up again on her body just like they did several times in the past hour or so – but the nervous feeling finally gets replaced with something new, something exciting.

One simple, consenting inclination of the man's head in an upright motion, and time speeds up. The next couple minutes go by in a blur, and by the time she at last emerges from the changing room for the final time, now in her original clothes – that feel almost painfully too ordinary after the magnificent dress – Lewis has already arranged everything, and is simply waiting for her at the counter.

(y/n) thinks about the excitement she felt when she woke up in the morning, knowing that in a few hours, her dress will be delivered and she can feel the smooth, cool silk wrap around her body once more.

Now she allows her eyes to truly take in the man next to her, curiosity getting the best of her as she shamelessly checks him out. He refused to let her know what he's going to wear, only making her a promise that they're going to match. Now his body is wrapped in a suit, one that's seemingly made from the same silver silk that she has on, with something white peaking out from under it – but (y/n)'s just unable to look away from the suit itself, not even for a second. She can't help but think about how regal he looks, how he's so easily going to outshine anyone in the room. How the two of them are going to shine together. Silver, like the team they both work for. Like the Silver Arrows.

"Like it?" His voice breaks her out of her trance, and she blinks the thoughts away, hoping the makeup the girl Lewis was kind enough to arrange for her applied some time earlier effectively hides the flushed colour of her cheeks.

She nods. "You look amazing. As always," she adds, almost as an afterthought, eliciting the famous giggle from his lips, and thereby sending the flutters in her whole body into overdrive.

"We look amazing, love," he smiles, momentarily reaching over to squeeze her hand that's laying on top of her thigh, and she has to focus with all she has not to reveal in any way the effect him calling her that has had on her.

How on Earth did I get into this situation?, she wonders, eyes frantically searching for the familiar sight of Lewis in the crowd of people.

As soon as he's left her side, people flocked her like predacious birds. Not just some people, no. People who've been waiting to catch her alone ever since they arrived. People whose work includes creating drama with made up stories and rumours all too often. Journalists.

(y/n) sees no way out as they keep trying to make conversation with her, their questions whizzingly filling her ears and mind.

"Are you his girlfriend?"

"How long have you been dating?"

"It must be serious if he took you to a gala like this, is it?"

"How can someone like Sir Lewis Hamilton, dream of millions of women, who could have anyone he wanted, choose someone like you, plain, and really, a nobody?"

This is the question the driver hearswhen he gets back from the counter offering drinks, a glass each in his hands. His eyes widen, realising his mistake of leaving her alone even for only such a short time. He should've known better. He should've expected journalists here, who would come up with their theories, just because his plus one to this event is a woman they've never seen, at least definitely not with him before. He just assumed – mistakenly, as he can now see – that to a high prestige event like this, such vultures won't get invited.

This is the question that makes his mind cloud with anger. How could any person in their right mind say this to someone, anyone, but especially to such a gorgeous young woman that she is. Without a second thought, he pushes care out the window and behaves on instinct. With a softly spoken pardon, he pushes his way through the group of journalists, stepping up to her side. Even in his slightly foggy state of mind he can see – or more likely feel –the way her shoulder drop a little, relief obviously coursing through her veins finally as she moves just an inch closer to his body. Seeking for protection.

His arm moves next, on its own accord really, as he hands her one of the drinks he's brought, then using his now free hand to snake it around her waist, pulling her tight into his side. All this happens in one short second, and in the next one, he's turning his head to press a soft but lingering kiss on her temple.

Then, as if he's just remembered the gathering of people around them, looks away from her once more, searching non-stop with his eyes until he finds that one journalist who said the final question before his arrival, his stare turning cold and almost deadly. He can faintly hear the girl next to him stutter to get an answer out, but precede her with one simple sentence aimed mainly at that person his eyes are still trained on.

"You mean, how could someone like me get a woman so breathtaking as her, right?"

A beat passes when no one speaks, when no one seems to dare even to breathe, then he continues, his stare finally moving back to (y/n), gaze softening. "Because to be honest even I don't know, still looking for an answer."

Lewis smiles, sweet as ever, as if nothing like that death stare has just happened, before lifting the glass in his hand to take a sip. As the alcohol swirls around his tongue, a sudden thought pops in his mind, and within a second, he's reaching out, and with the backs of his fingers he touches her jaw, to make her turn her head towards him gently. Then, like nothing is more natural than this, he leans in and presses a kiss on her lips. To try and make what he's said even more believable.

The prior couple seconds have already left (y/n) completely bemused and speechless, but this one action of his tops them all. Her heart nearly jumps out of her chest, and she can feel her eyes being extremely wide from the surprise she's feeling, his words being on constant replay in her ears. As her mind slowly catches up to her and realises what he's most probably playing at, she pulls herself together to play her part, not wanting to ruin the act and thereby making a fool out of him – meaning simply melting into his kiss, which is really not that hard, to be frank.

As he pulls away, Lewis gazes at her a little longer than he was necessarily supposed to, then with a simple, murmured excuse us to the journalists and with his hand leaving her waist only to intertwine their fingers, he pulls her away from the spot. He keeps on moving until he's pulled her into an empty corridor, not stopping until he makes sure they are fully alone – leaving that one journalist to stand in shame, while the others can't help but think slyly about what the reason behind his hurried exit with his girlfriend could be.

In line with his abrupt stop, he drops her hand immediately, turning towards her in one swift motion with an unexpected shy, apologising look in his eyes. Before she can gather her thoughts and say anything, his voice already rings out in-between the walls of the corridor. "I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable – and I truly hope I didn't – and I definitely did not just use this situation for my own gains, to get some juicy stories of me in the papers or whatever, and I will never step over these boundaries again, I just wanted to stop that bullshit that journalist has started."

Thoughts finally start to make sense in her head again, but before she can get a word out, he rambles on. "And I want you to know that what they told was completely wrong. I meant it, what I said back there, word for word. Well, except the part about me getting you since obviously we're nothing like that, but I just wanted you to know that it's the truth."

He would probably keep on talking if it wasn't for her hand gently being placed on his forearm. (y/n) smiles up at him as echos of his last, firmly stated sentence still faintly ring out. "Lewis, it's okay." The driver stops and takes a breath. "You didn't have to do it though, it's not your job to... protect me from anything, especially not from what random people say."

"I know, but I wanted to. Couldn't bear it if I knew you lived on with these words in your head about yourself," Lewis replies with a small smile finally once more gracing his face.

Her eyes break the eye contact as they move down to inspect her shoes, her cheeks suddenly feeling quite hot. "Thank you. It was very lovely of you."

When he doesn't say anything, she takes a deep breath, and with that, looks back up again only to find him wordlessly watching her. Her glance flickers to his lips, noticing some residue of her lipstick smeared around his skin there. With eyes widening, she's fast to reach up and wipe it off, mumbling under her breath something about the deep red colour.

Those heavy brown eyes of his don't leave her face, following her every movement, and the same thoughts come back to his mind that he was thinking right after that very kiss. As if she could read his mind, she continues speaking, now a little louder, braver. "Especially the kiss," she says, though with an even darker red shade colouring her cheeks. "You definitely didn't have to do that, it was believable enough without it."

Lewis thinks for a second, eyes focused on her lips for a moment longer – something that she just catches when she finishes wiping the residue off –, then his glance moves further up her face to stare into her eyes, with an abrupt seriousness and determination gleaming on his face.

"And what if I say that it wasn't a part of that whole play pretend? Not really."

Her breath catches in her throat as her mind scrambles to comprehend his words and what he could possibly imply with them. "What do you mean?" she mumbles in the end, the tips of her fingers starting to itch in their sudden shaky state.

"What if I say I wanted to kiss you in that moment?"

Lewis takes a long second to pause, in which he examines her reaction carefully to know if he should continue or not. He looks all around her face, searching for clues – and easily finding them. In how her eyes sparkle in a way he's never seen them shine before, how her cheeks are flushed bright pink, how her lips slightly open in shock but their corners are curling up into the beginnings of a smile.

He decides he can safely continue.

"What if I say I want to kiss you in this moment?"

Her fingers twitch, her heart skips a beat. In that same second, his fingers reach out to grab hers, pulling them to his chest, only to press them down right there immediately. Through the cold to the touch silk, she can clearly feel his heart beating in a rapid rhythm, almost equalling hers.

(y/n) lets her eyes follow their hands, momentarily mesmerised by how beautifully their skins blend into the other, through the cracks in-between his fingers that are nearly covering all of hers. Then her glance moves higher, right to his lips, before slowly, eventually arriving to his eyes. She doesn't find it in herself to speak, doesn't trust her lips and her voice to be able to say what she truly feels and means, and so only moves her head in the tiniest of nods, careful not to break eye contact.

Lewis has been attentively waiting for her response for several long seconds now, being ready for whatever it might be. When it comes, he jumps on the opportunity like there's no tomorrow, like he's scared she might change her mind if he waits a second longer, and catches her lips with his own in a single movement, once more in the past five minutes, but this time with much more meaning to it.

notes: oh god the way i pictured this so vividly in my head following nothing but a freaking dream my mind came up with... ever since then i couldn't get it out of my head. i know i didn't do it justice with how i've written it, but honestly? i just needed to write it down before i go crazy. (and to think that i'm not even that crazy of a lewis fan... what this could've been if i was?!)

my masterlist | my f1 masterlist

taglist: formulapierre

if anyone wanted an idea about the dress i had in mind while writing:

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hermesmyplatonicbeloved · 6 months

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An Analysis of Percy/Annabeth's Life Aspirations

What do you think Percy/Annabeth would look like as adults?Let's look at their ambitions and ideas of what their "ideal" life as an adult looks like.

Let's break down what Annabeth and Percy's characterizations and what they actually want to do with their lives:

Annabeth.

Annabeth's has always wanted to be a hero. She loves going on quests, gaining glory and being victorious. She's Athena's daughter; she welcomes the challenge and revels in the victory. All throughout PJO we see Annabeth being one of the main driving forces pulling Percy into the greek world. She's never going to want to stop. We see this many times after PJO, when Jason asked Annabeth to go with him, the only reason why she said no was because she was looking for Percy. Right after the Titan War ended and they got the new great prophecy, Annabeth was immediately on it and trying to figure out what it meant. She wanted to be part of it.

As long as Annabeth lives, she'll want to go on quests. This is how Athena (via imposing expectations at a distance) and Chiron raised her. This is what she wants. This is who she is, as a person.

Percy.

Percy has never wanted to be a hero. He never wanted to be a half blood (it's literally the first line of the first book, written in Percy's voice at 19 years old). After the Titan War, he tells the reader that he's done with quests, with the war, with prophecies. He hears the next great prophecy and says "that's a problem for future generations." He leaves camp half blood and doesn't look back, instead planning a normal, human life in Manhattan.

Of course that's ruined by Hera's kidnapping but what's interesting about that second great prophecy is that all the seven demigods chose to be part of it aside from Percy. Percy was dumped in NR and was on a quest the very next day. When he gets back to NR, a few days later the Argo II arrives and Percy is forced to flee on the boat as one of the seven. He spends the rest of the quest missing his mom, eating blue food and questioning if he's actually going to survive and return home. He's not in it for the glory, or for the gods. He was quite literally brainwashed and manipulated by Hera and the others into going. His mental state got so bad that he attempted suicide mid-quest.

To remind everyone: Percy wasn't raised a hero. Sally went to great lengths to keep Percy away from camp half blood until the last possible moment. After a single summer, she asks him to return home, and he does everytime. Yes, he loves camp, but his home is in the mortal world. He has only spent about 4 summers at camp/on quests: that's 8 months total. After finding out his parentage, Percy chose to spent roughly 3 years and 4 months in the mortal world and 8 months in the greek world. He has a clear preference.

To summarize:

Annabeth wants to spend her life going on quests, going on quests and getting challenges and glory. Percy does not want to go on any more quests - he wants to settle down with a family in the mortal world (Manhattan) and live as peacefully as he can.

See the conflict there? They want the exact opposite thing.

This becomes very evident in cotg. Percy is pulled into yet another quest - he needs recommendation letters from the gods to go to New Rome University.

What's interesting about this is that Percy doesn't actually want to go to school. It's literally the first page of the book, he's asking Poseidon to write him a letter excusing him from school. He doesnt even know what he wants to study. He hasnt even looked at New Rome's programs (from what I remember).

So why does he want to go?

Annabeth. She is the only thing pushing him to go. Percy has a good life in Manhattan - his family is there: his mom, Paul, his little soon to be little sister (and Percy clearly states that he wants to be there to see her grow up - starting with changing diapers) and camp half blood. It's where he wants to be. Percy just got back from a severely traumatic year - being kidnapped, in a coma, falling into hell and fighting another war. His mental state was so bad he attempted suicide. He's tired. He finally got back to his safe space, his home, his mom (please remember this boy just turned 17 years old - he still desperately needs his mother). Its less than 2 months and Annabeth is already urging him to go on more quests to go to New Rome with her.

Remember what we just established about their characterizations? Annabeth will never stop wanting to go on quests, and will thrive in the mythology world while Percy wants to stay in Manhattan in the mortal world and do no quests? Yeah. Prime example right there in cotg.

So Percy goes to NRU for Annabeth. It's not what he wants - not the lifestyle he wants, but he loves her and the idea of losing her terrifies him so much that he'd rather go to hell than see her die so he goes.

But eventually his other desires for a normal peaceful life will catch up with him. Annabeth will inevitably be offered another quest, and she'll say yes so Percy will say yes to keep her safe and he'll constantly be doing exactly what he doesn't want to do: more quests. More fighting. More killing. More doing the gods' dirty work. And eventually, it will make him miserable. Maybe to the point of suicide again.

So one of two things will happen:

One: Percy says nothing. Doesn't tell Annabeth how he feels (which he doesnt do at all in PJO, HoO), and runs himself into the ground and maybe attempts suicide again. Maybe he succeeds this time. Maybe he doesn't. But it's a miserable life that - other than having Annabeth - he doesn't want. Has never wanted.

Two: Percy stands up for himself and tells Annabeth that he doesn't want to do anymore quests, that he's done doing shit for the gods. However, Percy would never be okay letting Annabeth go on quest without him watching his back, so this would turn into Percy asking Annabeth to stop going on quests, stop doing things for the gods and to stop seeking challenges and pride. I don't know if Annabeth would ever agree to that, but even if she does it's just a bad because now she's giving up her dreams, her life for Percy. She'd be miserable.

Its a lose-lose situation. Neither of them will be happy together long-term. They want the opposite things. Their dreams and aspirations are directly opposites. They don't make a good long term couple. They shouldn't be together post-war, as adults.

Thank you for sticking around to the end of my TED-talk.

...

This post was inspired by cotg and a post I've seen floating around saying that Percy is perfect for Annabeth because she's ambitious and he has no ambitions and I hate it. It's a bad take imo that doesn't actually account for their actual characterizations and ambitions- only a romantized version that hides percabeth's flaws.

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fatuismooches · 8 months

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dottore brainrot hit me right in the middle of my poetry class so I'm making it everyone else's problem

dottore with a poet s/o. he's a logical man, he doesn't go into the arts, let alone decipher and examine them. would challenge dottore to decipher their poems. he's STRUGGLING bc how was he supposed to know that "the running water loves the land that hugs it" was meant to represent his hugs?? sometimes the segments can hear him muttering to himself and reading the poem aloud over and over again. but when he figures it out?? he melts(internally) bc it's just so sweet. 100% would support his partner's art

OH YM GOSHHH I FREAKING LOVE THIS. As someone who always adored writing but sucked at poetry like THIS IS SO CUTE BDWQHDWJ ILY FOR THIS ANON (Nah fr though... Dottore probably handed all the literature homework over to you to do for him in the Akademiya because he couldn't be bothered or interested enough in stuff like that 😭)

But even all these years later he still claims to be able to understand it if he tried (lies) so you decide to whip up your own poem to put him to the test. He easily accepts the challenge with his usual confident grin because how hard could it possibly be? He deals in complicated ancient texts relating to science, math, and all these other matters. Surely he can figure out a poem. (He turns out to be wrong. So so wrong.) For such a smart man he couldn't seem to interpret the hidden feelings, or the metaphors and poetic devices used in these poems or writings as quickly as he thought he would. He's POURING over every word, every punctuation mark, stanzas, line breaks, everything trying to understand what's going on. There are literally whole notes, underlining, circling, and more scribbled around the poem. And you thought you made it pretty easy too... of course your poem would be about your love for him!

Despite how much it looks like he's suffering trying to understand what's going on, it's enjoyable to Dottore. Like a stress relief. He knows he's not the easiest person to be around so he wants to understand you and your hobbies too... although he isn't adept at them at all. After a dozen pages of brainstorming he finally reaches a conclusion and he just gets so excited and cocky, like how he does when he finally makes a breakthrough in his research. Dottore will come up to you with his confident smirk again and tell you in plain words what exactly you want. Acting as if you didn't make his brain short-circuit a few times.

"The running water loves the land that hugs it" was meant to represent his hugs??" IS SO SO CUTE IM EVAPORATINGGG AHHH

#smooches talks #dottore love notes <3 #funny enough ive been writing poems lately for class as well 😭#my favorite kinds are ones that rhyme🚶‍♀️#the segments want some poems too :(

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cure-orchid · 3 months

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So I know the show recently ended, but I ended up binging through TGAMM and loved it! The Ghost Friends are all mood and the Mollie ship is adorable. Then I learned about the Chairman Ollie arc for the scrapped third season and IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SO COOL TO SEE!

I ended up writing down how I would imagine the story arc going down, and I headcanon that several of the planned season 3 eps (minus the ones that would clash with the finale) happened between JVTHM and The End (Ollie knowing about the wraith memory loss and how he says it could have hinted that it already occurred.)

My Chairman Ollie plotline: It starts with what was outlined in the already written scripts, and Ollie keeps spending more and more time in the Ghost World rather than on Earth. He’s becoming a little more forgetful as the episodes pass and has noticeable headaches. Things like his parents having a Root Beer Bar or the plot of the latest Country Pumpkin movie seem to surprise him when he should already know about them.

He’s missed a few dates with Molly and slipping on schoolwork so she takes an episode trying to talk to him at school but he keeps getting pulled away to fix something as the Chairman. The episode would really drive in how his human memories are failing even when he reconnects with his body and there’s a whole musical number on how Molly feels he’s growing distant. She finally catches up to him in the end and he looks partway between normal and being an empty shell(his hair is even losing the swoop!). She asks him out for ice cream but then we get a wham line “Sure, but… who are you?” Molly’s heart literally breaks as she discovers Ollie has lost all memory of her. He excuses himself and leaves Molly crying with Scratch and Libby coming to console her.

Next episode the remaining Ghost Friends are trying to figure out what’s wrong with him when June comes to Molly’s house trying not to panic. Ollie’s shell came home yesterday but not his wraith and he’s still not back. Molly, Libby and Darryl go to the Chen’s while Scratch goes to the Ghost World to see what’s keeping him. He finds Ollie still obsessively trying to engoodify the Ghost World and his orange glow is much more faded. Worse, when Scratch calls him by his name he asks who Ollie is. Libby manages to discover a page in her pop-up book that was stuck to another and reveals wraiths can lose their memories the longer they spend away from their body and without the will to live they cannot fully rejoin the two halves. Scratch arrives and with all they know they make a plan. Molly, Scratch and the Chen’s go to the Ghost World while Darryl and Libby keep an eye on their bodies. They get to Ollie and he doesn’t recognize anyone but Scratch, but has no emotional attachment to him. Big musical number as they all try to help Ollie remember but it doesn’t work. Everyone is devastated and it seems like Ollie might be gone forever.

Molly doesn’t give up, she pulls down his hood and cups his face, (this is where the drawing is) telling Ollie that she loves him and gives him their first kiss. Her yellow sparks course through him and his orange glow regains it’s color… and he regains his memories. When they pull away, Olly says her name and he’s pulled into a group hug as he says everyone’s names. He leaves the robe and hurries back into his body. A few hours later it’s just him, Molly and Scratch when the ghost council arrives. I haven’t come up with what happens to the robe but Ollie does relinquish his title as chairman and Scratch pulls the council away. Now alone, Ollie didn’t get to say it back in the ghost world, but he loves Molly too. They have another kiss and lean their foreheads together afterwards… and then Scratch comes back complaining that they already sucked faces once today already.

Here’s the thing, I won’t be personally writing this into a fanfic myself, mainly because I’ve already used the ‘true loves kiss restores boyfriends memories’ for another fic and I don’t wanna repeat myself but that is exactly how I imagine the Chairman Ollie arc concluding. I am still sharing the plot I came up with and anyone is free to use it as long as they let me know so I can read it.

Also bonus doodles:

#the ghost and molly mcgee #tgamm #mollie #molliver #Molly McGee #ollie chen #scratch mcgee #I can’t believe I cried harder at this finale than I did at The Owl House or SVTFOE #my art

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queenie-blackthorn · 11 months

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nothing sets me crying more than reading the teasers for the wicked powers/the black volume of the dead, so why not overanalyze them and wish for death in the process (i got all of them from the page on fandom)

❗️spoilers ahead ❗️

he kissed each finger, and with each one of them spoken a word. five kisses, five words. his last.

no 🫶🫶 (im hoping this is a flashback gurl plz i hope its not the ‘lightwood death in each series’ thing coming after my life)

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"oh, god, the lovebirds," magnus said, pulling the pillow off his face. "i hate happy couples."

this could be anything tbh but prolly gonna be in tbvotd

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belatedly, she realized something else. "do you... have anything?"

he didnt seem to have recovered from her last comment. "but do you mean - wait, do i have what?"

she slitted her eyes at him. "something important."

"like what? the phone number for the white house?" a moment later, under her withering glare, realization dawned. "oh." his was the expression of someone who has run out of gas in the middle of the desert, miles from help. "i..."

there are literally zero names in this one but i think its gonna be smth w dru and jaime (maybe the eternidad ??) but i swear if it turns out to be a joke imma flip a table

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"what if i just love you? what if i love you but i never touch you or talk about it, what would happen then?"

i think this might happen after a conversation between kit and ty where either kit says “its too dangerous to love me” or “i dont love you” and then ty replies w this

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"well, its a bit ironic, isnt it?"

"what do you mean?"

"all that effort to convince you i wasnt in love with you, and here i am, dying in your arms."

this is gonna kill me i just know it, but i have a feeling its gonna be kit saying the first and third lines and hes talking to ty, and then i can imagine it saying “dont say that,” ty said furiously

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his face crumpled. "he hates me," he said. "all i do is love him, but he hates me, he just hates me, i dont know why."

clearly gonna be ty talking about kit (to either livvy or dru ???)

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there was nothing less sexy than an angry-looking cat on your bed.

okay this is 100% magnus’s pov in tbvotd 💀💀

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"actually, its short for maximum lightwood," said magnus. "as in the most amount of lightwood you can have."

… no comment. actually, yea i do have smth to say. i love magnus.

—————————

"no one who loved you would want you to sacrifice your own happiness."

if we’re going by the thing where kit doesnt want ty to love him for his safety, then someone is gonna say this to kit for sure

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alec was beginning to understand how the slings and arrows of fortune and history had shaped magnus and made him what he was. it was a delightful sort of discovery, as getting to know magnus always had been. magnus was probably the one person in the world who'd never bored him.

im craving more malec scenes please dear god

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"i was thinking about monogrammed towels," said isabelle.

"my name is going to be simon lewis lovelace lightwood," said simon. "no monogrammed towels."

first off, i forgot that simon wants to take isabelles last name

second, his initials are technically S.L.L.L oh my lord

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it was late, and someone was trying to break into the high warlock of brooklyn’s apartment.

magnus bane, the high warlock in question, felt this behavior was rash and foolish. he’d been passed out on his still-made bed, too exhausted to slip under the burgundy and emerald sheets, or even take off his robe, when he heard the noise of his window sliding open. he was grateful for the robe. he felt it would be demoralizing to face housebreakers in nothing but silk pajama bottoms.

also, the housebreakers had done nothing to deserve such a sight.

seeing magnus bane in nothing but silk pajama bottoms is the stuff of dreams

jokes (even tho i meant it with full seriousness) aside, this is definitely gonna be the opening lines of tbvotd. if it turns out to not be, i will never show my face in public again because of how sure i am right now

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1d1195 · 1 year

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Zipper Extra I

I wanted to save this particular little blurb for a later date, but I wanted to post something now. I hope you enjoy!

It takes place after this of course: Zipper, within their first year of dating.

There are no warnings that I can see.

True to his word, he forgot her birthday. She kind of thought it was okay that he did—at least he warned her. But he was also right that it was mind-bogglingly irritating. She knew it was marked on his calendar. He drew a heart around the number on his desk calendar and she found that utterly sweet. It wasn’t entirely his fault either—he had a huge case he was working on, and it monopolized most of the week leading up to her day and then some. Any spare moment they had together within the last month was spent checking Harry’s arguments and working through pages of files.

It hurt a bit still—but she was prepared at least.

Instead of going out on her birthday, she sat in her apartment watching a trashy Hallmark movie eating ice cream and responding to plenty of birthday messages.

Gemma was the one that texted Harry.

At first it was a host of punctuated speech bubbles.

Harry.

Harry Goddamit.

HARRY

HONESTLY

I CANNOT BeLiEvE YOU

HARRY ANSWER YOUR PHONE GODDAMIT

Jesus, Harry! Do you know what today is? There were several angry emojis that followed.

Harry was still at the office debriefing his latest meeting to himself and analyzing more of this case. He honestly couldn't tell anyone why he looked at his phone in that moment. He rarely did when he had a big case like this. Gemma went unanswered most oftentimes, unless she called him—but after the fifth vibration on his desk, he couldn’t help but look.

His eyebrows pinched together reading her words. They didn't click at first. It was like he wasn't understanding the language. Surely she wasn't mad at him. Glancing at his calendar he gasped at the heart-shaped number. “FUCK,” he said out loud.

Shit, shit, shit! He responded.

You’re an idiot, Harry. She’s literally watching a movie all by herself. More angry emojis.

Harry felt sick.

Don’t mess this up! I LOVE her.

Harry dropped all of his work, it was as good as it was going to get for tonight and he would be back in the morning on a Saturday before he knew it. Harry raced to the grocery store as it was closing getting a bouquet and card while the workers grumbled at him. In the checkout line, he added a single KitKat to his order.

Outside he signed the card and then hurried to her apartment building. He caught the door as someone left and he took the stairs two at a time to her floor. Knocking quickly on her door, he barely caught his breath.

“Baby,” he whispered anxiously when the door opened.

“Hi,” she giggled at her breathless boyfriend.

“Kitten, m’so sorry,” he said hurrying through the door. He made himself at home in her kitchen finding a vase under the sink and began trimming the bottom of the flowers before adding the flower food to the water.

“For what?” She tilted her head at him curiously. He warned her!—she couldn’t be mad. She wasn’t mad. If he was going to further prove his word, he would make it up to her another day and honestly, she couldn’t wait to see what he would do. Even if he didn't do something grand, she would still forgive him. He was busy and he warned her. Despite it being her birthday, he felt the burning need to shake her. He huffed at her. “You warned me that you would forget!”

“You shouldn’t settle for that,” he grumbled angrily looking at the window across her apartment. He was mad he wasted the evening cooped up at the office, unknowingly forgetting her.

“I’m confused. Do you want me to be mad at you?”

“You literally are the most infuriating person I know.”

She giggled. “Fine, I’m mad at you.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Harry,” she sighed. “It’s okay.” Harry didn’t want her to be mad, but he didn’t want her to settle for his stupidity. It wasn’t fair to her. She deserved the world and he hated that he constantly had to remind her—she should expect everything good and wonderful, like it belonged to her. It was exactly the reason he pushed all his feelings away. He wanted to be the best for her because that was what she deserved.

Harry felt like a horrible person. He strongly considered breaking up with her solely so she could find someone better. It was almost too much. His hands fiddling with the stems of the flowers while the wheels in his head spun about when an appropriate time to break up would be—certainly not on her birthday. But then she had a really important client visit on Monday...Valentine’s Day would be here before he knew it and so then—

Harry settled the vase on her counter and was ready to start another bout of the argument. His mind weighed his options again of just ripping the band aid off now. More of a reason she could fully hate him—what asshole breaks up with the woman of their dreams on her birthday? He couldn’t break up with her. He loved her so much—always, there wasn’t any denying it anymore. He couldn’t leave her if he wanted to. She bit her lip looking at the roses. “You got me flowers,” she said softly as if she only just really noticed.

“Honestly, kitten. I could shake you,” he shook his head quickly and sounded utterly exasperated. They weren’t even good roses—they were from a grocery store, and they were probably going to last all on the inside of twenty-four hours. “Of all the things I could do the moment I remembered—”

“No guy has ever gotten me flowers before,” she interrupted quickly gazing at them as if they were the most beautiful flowers on earth. As if they appeared from thin air.

Harry stopped his embittered rant he was about to begin and finally looked at the sweet girl: she wasn't wearing a lavish birthday outfit for a night on the town nor was she in her beautifully professional attire. Instead she looked cozy beyond belief in leggings and an oversized shirt that had sleeves that nearly reached her fingertips. She looked so fragile and small and beautiful in the middle of her darkened kitchen—just the soft light from her TV and end table lamp illuminating her. “What?” He asked quietly, nearly whispered the surprised breath out. Surely, he misheard her. That guy she dated for a year had to have gotten her flowers—there was an anniversary involved, Valentine’s Day, fuck she got her undergraduate degree in that time! There were prom dates in school. The weddings of friends she attended with a date. The men that were brave enough to ask her out when they met her, they had to have gotten her a floral arrangement just in thanks for talking to them...that’s what she deserved!

“My mom and dad are the only ones who’ve ever gotten me flowers,” she said and reached out and delicately pinched a petal between her fingers and enjoyed how soft and velvety it felt. Her face softened more as she looked at the bouquet.

Harry exhaled deeply. He forgot about breaking up with her. That was by far the stupidest idea he had ever had anyway. “Oh,” he murmured. Harry spent a lot of his life talking. He talked to clients, he talked to juries, he talked to his family and friends. Harry wasn’t someone who was at a loss for words—almost ever. But hearing how no one who’s ever even remotely cared about this poor, sweet girl outside of her family has never sent her flowers in her 27 years of life... Harry was speechless.

“That was really sweet,” she said still touching the petals of the flowers—as if she was checking to see if they were still there. “They’re beautiful,” the admiration was thick in her voice. “Thank you,” she whispered. Harry realized she was serious in her gratitude.

Harry could have cried that she was grateful for his last-minute gift. He told himself for a month he wasn’t going to forget. This was her birthday. He couldn’t forget. His brain was spinning with ideas for what he could do to make this better. He wasn’t even going to accept her thank you for the sub-par flowers. “Do you want to do anything, m’love?” He asked finally. “I’ll make any call I have to,” he promised.

“No, m’just glad you’re here,” she said sheepishly. “Could we snuggle while I finish my movie? And order some pizza?”

“Is that all you want?” Harry felt like this was the lamest, most terrible birthday she could have had.

“Well, a kiss would be pretty nice as well.”

He smiled, albeit a bit tiredly at her silly request. Shaking his head as he cupped her face. “You’re so stupid,” he said softly. Of all the things she could have asked for in that moment.

She grinned. “S’not very nice of you to say that after you forgot my birthday.”

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes and kissed her so sweetly and deeply she could feel it in her toes.

When she arrived at her office on Monday—after a flurry of birthday celebrations all weekend long, no less—she found easily fifty vases of flowers lining the window shelf behind her desk. She wrinkled her nose and felt tears prick her eyes. She walked along the near forest of flowers that was her office and bit her lip as she admired all the different bouquets.

Harry wasn’t in the office yet—he had an early court hearing and wouldn’t be back for a while. She wondered when he did this. There was a note on her desk when she turned to settle her belongings down. It was handwritten by Harry, and she wanted to frame it so she could treasure it forever and gaze at it for the rest of her life.

You deserve flowers every single day, my angel

I love you, always

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genericpuff · 11 months

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Rachel "Retcon" Smythe Strikes Again!

Okay, so I've been seeing pictures of Volume 4 of Lore Olympus floating around, and people are ALREADY FINDING RETCONS.

Most notably so far, some added panels in the Hades and Apollo confrontation that happens outside Artemis' house (when Persephone steals Apollo's lyre) in Episode 81.

This is the original scene, for anyone who needs a refresher:

Aaaand here are the panels that were added.

(all pictures of Volume 4 are courtesy @iwannagutyou on IG!!! thank you for giving me permission to use these! <3)

First of all, the art. It's so noticeably bad. You can tell Rachel has completely lost her ability to draw these characters in the S1 style, I'm fairly certain she took the panel of Hades from the old version and just copy pasted it to try and get around it (look at the posing) but it's incredibly obvious looking at that third panel that LO is not and can never be what it was back in 2017-2019. Those first two panels seem like they were copy pasted from the previous ones, which is just sad if those are the lengths she has to go to to come even close to replicating the older style.

Now, this just might be due to camera translation, it could very well look better IRL, but the colors just look so incredibly desaturated and the lines blurred out, to the point that people are doing double takes over whether or not panels have been directly changed - they haven't been, they've just been so sucked dry of their colors that they look off enough to cast suspicion.

If anything it's a harsh reminder that LO has kinda always had art problems, especially with its lazy humor and stupid meme faces.

Of course, to be fair, color loss can happen in print, but seeing how slapped together these books tend to be, I wouldn't be surprised if they just didn't put in the effort to convert the page art to CMYK or at least tinker with the saturation in editing some more to ensure it would come out more vibrant in print.

Now. Excuse me while I go on a bit of a crackpot rant here. Newbie puff pals beware, because this is gonna get dicey and you're about to learn where my tinfoil-hat rep comes from but I just have to talk about it.

Back to the added Apollo panels, where Persephone asks Hades not to hurt him and he looks nervous before she says "I just want him to leave".

Maybe it's just me, but it's a little weird that THESE are the panels they decided they needed to add. It's weird that she's asking Hades not to hurt Apollo when she's about to break into his car and steal his lyre just a few moments later. It's weird that the implication seems to be that she's referring to Hades' act of violence towards Tori... but Persephone doesn't know that's happened yet. So this feels like an unnecessary retcon that's doing more harm than good.

But I feel like the timing of this is kinda messed up as well, as this book released just days after the release of the last FP episode in which Apollo has his 'side' of the assault story told through his perspective, which is often considered a HUGE no-no in writing assault stories because it often comes with the implication that it's asking for empathy from the audience. We already know Apollo is delusional, we already know he thinks him and Persephone are meant to be despite her constant rejection of him, we didn't need a flashback from his own warped perspective explaining that very thing, the only purpose to do such a thing this late in the game would be to try and get the audience to 'connect' with him (it's giving S3 Bryce from 13 Reasons Why vibes). Now we have this scene of Persephone asking Hades not to hurt him (despite the structure of the episode being literally fine before, this change wasn't needed) getting snuck into the physical book release just a couple days after the newest FP tried to present Apollo in an empathetic light (and let me tell you, that's a whole essay and a half that I'll be getting into eventually).

Shit, if I wanted to get REAL Pepe Sylvia with it, I might say that hypothetically, the whole point of the random Leuce abuse episode - despite Persephone having no way of knowing what she attempted as Hades hadn't told her and she wasn't there to see it and we weren't shown her overhearing them in any way - and the following episode that was mostly padding of Hades and Persephone having sex - no consequences or follow-up whatsoever to the Leuce scene - was just to pad out the episode release schedule and buy time until the book came out so that Rachel could release that Apollo POV episode right before the book came out and revealed those new added scenes of Persephone asking Hades not to hurt Apollo, in what could be a sly artificial attempt at minimizing the SA plot so Rachel can finally just brush aside the one major plot point she regretted writing the most. After all, it wouldn't be the first time Rachel's controlled the pace of her comic to release certain moments at certain times that line up with IRL events.

But, y'know. I'm gonna quit on that thought while I'm ahead because it's probably making my credibility meter drop into the red. My ADHD has been real bad lately and it's really starting to show LMAO All ima say is that IDK who Rachel thinks she's fooling here, this kind of shit is stupid easy to fact check when the digital version of the comic is available online to read.

To end on a much funnier and lighter note, remember how Rachel tried to retcon the Demeter/Hera/Hestia relationship by changing the line "I miss my sisters" to "I miss my friends"? Well, there was one panel that had been missed in the webtoons version that still refers to them as sisters. You can still find this unedited line in Episode 78.

And uh. They forgot to fix it again for the book.

It's permanent now. That's permanent marker. It would have cost them nothing to find this in the webtoon version and fix it before it got sent to the book editors. Now it's gonna cost them thousands because the book editors didn't bother (or know) to check.

There's also this... weird shit going on with the speech bubbles. Like, they're REALLY FUCKING OVERDOING IT with the speech bubble outlines. I don't know who made this choice but it was a bad one. Gross. Don't do that. It looks so cheap.

But let's be real, at this point I feel like the book editors are just outright sabotaging Rachel because who the fuck calls themselves a professional when they do this shit-

Oh, and there's no bonus episode, just sketches. Which is fine. But it makes me chuckle to think that Rachel just didn't have time in her already razor-thin buffer to draw up a new episode to pass off as "cut content".

#i'm fired for that whole conspiracy bit aren't i #can you blame me when the wedding was lined up with valentine's day and dio's birth was lined up with mother's day #i swear to christ rachel does this on purpose it's so unhinged #just write a story #it doesn't make your comic 'deep' to line it up with real world dates that aren't gonna matter in 3 weeks anyways when they go up for free #it's just so unnecessary and pointless to do #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

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vidjausers-fable · 4 months

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PenPals(Veneer x OC)Chapter 4

Previous chapter

Author’s Note: This is a more Avery-centered chapter, so I hope you enjoy getting to know this character more! Thank you again to my best friend @tinalbion for beta reading for me! Here’s more fanart of Velvet, Veneer, and yes, even Avery.

How would one describe their work without sounding insane? Avery didn’t know, even though she’d been working at that stupid rink close to five years. She was on her thirty minute lunch in the staff lounge, her skates off and under the table at her feet. In front of her, she had a slice of pizza and a soda, with a pen and notepad. She found herself taking notes of things she wanted to tell Veneer throughout the day and used those notes to write to him in the evening. She wanted to make sure that her letters were full of content, whether it be photos or just daily updates. Never once did she want a letter to lack any content, especially since Samson put a lot of effort into writing her back. Sometimes she would get pages of letters and sketches.

For about a month now, they had been sending letters back and forth. Avery felt herself grow closer with the male, yet too shy to ask if she could visit in person. If anyone asked her a few years ago where she imagined herself, she would have not answered with: Oh yeah, I’m sending letters back and forth with someone who was close to going to prison!

It just made her feel less lonely, after losing her one and only friend. Her best friend too. She knew that she had to get back out there eventually, to learn to trust others again and make friends, but it was hard when someone screwed you over as hard as Rebel Rivers did to her. She still felt hurt that one moment they were roommates, and the next second she was quite literally drained of all her money and kicked to the curb. Would it be weird to ask a coworker to go out and do something? What could they even do: go to another nasty joint or go bowling at another cheesy diner?

Absent-mindedly, she allowed her foot to fidget with her skates, rolling them back and forth, though she made sure not to let them roll too far away. She didn’t know what else to write to Samson without sounding as though she was one who constantly complained about their situation. But truly, at her work, she felt lonely, and at home, she felt isolated.

From the other side of the staff lounge, one of Avery’s coworkers watched her silently mope.

What Avery didn’t know was that her coworkers had noticed this loneliness. One did. This one in particular was Gracie, who had been there the longest after Avery, and knew that Avery had been on her own since a young age. Gracie was only a few years older, but she felt as though Avery somehow was more mature than her, and isolated. She didn’t know why, however, but felt like she could possibly work up the courage to reach out and see if Avery wanted to open up to her at a later time. She would have reached out to Avery sooner, but it felt as though that once she finished cleaning up the kitchen for the night, Avery was already gone before she could ask. Gracie was one of the preppers and line cooks while Avery skated and waited tables, which made it hard to get her to slow down, and their breaks hardly aligned with one another. But today would be different, she promised herself. She told herself that she would ask Avery tonight to come with her to the club tomorrow. She knew both of their schedules and that both of them had the day off tomorrow.

It was now or never.

Gracie calculated that Avery had about seven minutes left on her break, same as Gracie herself. Her palms were sweaty. She was nervous that she would be rejected. Now was the best time to do it, if she really would ask Avery tonight.

Stumbling over to the blonde in the booth, Gracie approached Avery. To her, Avery was beautiful and had her own unique style with the pink strip in her hair and the fishnets she wore under her uniform skirt. Gracie wished she had her confidence.

Despite being standoffish, Avery always smiled at her coworkers, so Gracie wasn’t any different. Avery smiled up at her as she approached. “Hey Grace, what’s up?” Avery asked, flipping the paper she was writing over, then sat up straighter.

Gracie scratched the back of her neck. “Sorry if I’m asking on such late notice, but if you’re not busy would you like to come clubbing with my boyfriend and me tomorrow night?” The question came out in stumbled words, so Gracie hoped that they were understandable to Avery, “I just realized that we’ve been working together for two years and we’ve never even stayed over extra for a drink or anything. It felt wrong to me in a way.” She smiled timidly.

Avery blinked up at her coworker in shock. Gracie was…sort of like her. Gracie kept to herself at work, though once when Avery was working, she had waited at her coworker’s table when she was out for some friends, and seemed to be a social butterfly then. Avery still treated her with kindness outside of work.

Avery stared up at the dark-skinned girl and admired how pretty she was with her curly dark black hair she had to keep pinned up and hidden while on the job. It was hard to believe that she even stuck around at a cook job when she could be out there and be a model or something.

“I don’t see why not,” Avery replied, smiling at her, “I’m off and if I take another shift, I would be doing TOO much overtime. So yeah, that sounds fun. Do you want to make plans to maybe do our hair together and makeup? I also have a couple dresses I could wear. I’ll bring them over.” Watching Gracie’s bright brown eyes wide when she answered did make her feel happier in a way, “I could come over, or you could come over to my place.”

Gracie nearly bounced off the floor. Avery wouldn’t realize that she had just opened Pandora’s jar. “OMG, that would be amazing!” She clapped her hands in excitement, “You can come over to my place, I have all KINDS of makeup to share with you. Just text me through my personal number. Can I write it down?” she pointed to the piece of paper that Avery’s hand had remained on top of the entire time.

Avery looked at it and handed it over hesitantly, “Yeah, sure.” She watched carefully as Gracie wrote her number out, and made sure she didn’t flip the page. She was a bit anxious for others to find out she was sending letters to someone who had been arrested.

“Text me tonight so I can text you my address ASAP! I don’t have anything going on, so I’ll be back at home with my boyfriend. Feel free to come over any time! This is going to be so much fun.” Gracie giggled, “Oh, we only have a minute left of our break! We should get back to work. It’ll help make time pass for the rest of the night!” She turned on the ball of her feet and rushed back into the kitchen. She stopped for a moment to look back at Avery, “Don’t forget to text me!” And then she was gone.

That wasn’t so bad… Gracie thought to herself, Avery is actually an interesting person. I shouldn’t have judged her so quickly. With that thought, she returned to her work.

Avery didn’t personally mind being a couple minutes late returning and took her time to slip back into her skates, sliding her notepad into her uniform apron. She chuckled quietly to herself at the encounter with Gracie. She didn’t realize Gracie had so much energy in her. Though she had to think to herself for a moment—Gracie had been so nervous about approaching her? Did Avery give off that vibe…? Was she just that unapproachable to others?

Shaking off some creeping thoughts, Avery skated back into the room, where her shift was as normal for the rest of the night. When she returned home, she was almost too tired to shower but did anyway because she did not want her bed to smell like grease. So, she took a long hot shower, taking her time to wash the smell off herself before she went to bed, not even adding to Samson’s letter for the night, too exhausted from her long shift. She did make sure to text Gracie before she passed out.

When Avery awoke, she was more sore than usual. Honestly, she was considering texting Gracie to cancel. The longer she lay there in bed, teetering back and forth, the more she began to think about the day. She had already promised her coworker to go out for the night, and she didn’t like the thought of chickening out and then facing Gracie at work the next day. Plus, it would probably do her good to get out to somewhere that wasn’t the grocery store. This soreness would pass.

But did she really want to face the Boom Box again? After what had happened with Velvet and Veneer, and now her own personal trauma of having her own art stolen, that place seemed almost…traumatic for her now. Even if nothing remotely traumatic happened to her in it.

Avery released a long breath. “Okay, stop thinking or you’ll start to spiral. Let’s get up and do something,” she encouraged herself and stood, stretching her long limbs above her head. If her body could make cracking sounds, then it would have.

Avery checked the time. It was only 9am. She sent a text to Gracie, seeing that she had texted her address late last night, probably around the time when they both got home. I just got up. Going to get ready. Do you want breakfast while I’m getting some? There, that seemed friendly, right?

Gracie texted back immediately, making Avery wonder if she was staring at her phone the entire morning, waiting for Avery to text. Yes pls! A coffee and a burrito if possible! ^0^

Will do! How do you like your coffee? After texting, she set her phone aside to brush her hair and look at herself in the mirror. She ran her fingers over the pink strip in her hair, seeing that it didn’t look as glossy as usual. Was your natural hair color supposed to fade this early? She brushed her teeth and then tended to her pets.

“Sorry guys, I can’t let you out today. I’ll be out all day. But here’s some extra treats to hold you over until then.” She took them out of their pen and allowed them to eat the snacks in her lap. When they were done, she put them back and returned to her phone. She picked it off her kitchen counter and checked to see if Gracie had answered her text. She had, so Avery made a mental note to her coffee order.

Avery’s fingers acted out of instinct, and she found herself looking up Samson on her phone. When no name popped up, she realized that she was about to text a man’s number that she didn’t even have—but a number she realized she desperately wanted. This made her blush to herself before she went and looked for Samson’s letter where she had started but not quite finished yet. She wanted to finish writing to him, but she didn’t want to keep Gracie waiting.

“I’ll finish you tomorrow morning before work,” she promised to Samson as if he was right in front of her, then set the letter down on the kitchen island where she did most of her writing.

Avery took her bag and headed out the door after she dressed. Today she was in a black t-shirt and pink skirt with fishnets. She had brought with her a dress or two for the club, though wondered if Gracie would make them go out shopping for some together. She secretly hoped not.

There was a coffee shop near the bus stop that Avery often visited on the days she went grocery shopping. She went ahead and got their coffees and two burritos before making sure that they were wrapped up nicely in a bag and secured. Sometimes the roads in Mount Rageous were crazy fast and tossed you back and forth, and Avery didn’t want to start this day with coffee all over herself or her dresses.

The ride took about fifteen minutes, and sure enough, the bus was fast, tossing Avery around in the back. Had she not needed to bring so much with her, she would have just skated and saved herself the aches and pains in her arms and legs. She pulled the brake for the bus driver when she neared the street that Gracie had texted her and then stood. When she exited the bus, she immediately texted Gracie, Hey I just got off the bus and I’m close. Do you think that you could step outside so I can see where you’re at?

There had been no response back immediately, though very did see the seen marker pop up under the text almost instantly. Her face was still buried in her phone when she heard someone call her name, “AVERY! I’M OVER HERE!”

Avery looked side to side but saw no one. All there were, was the apartments stretching down from both left and right.

“I MEAN UP HERE!”

Avery then looked up and saw Gracie standing on a fourth story balcony. She was waving her hand back and forth erratically while smiling. She cupped her mouth when she called out, “CUT THROUGH THE BUILDING IN THE CENTER AND I’LL MEET YOU DOWNSTAIRS!”

“Okay!” Avery called out but not nearly as loud as Gracie, so she wasn’t sure if her coworker had heard her. Gracie smiled anyway and disappeared back into her apartment.

As she had been told, Avery cut through the center of the apartments, where there were stairs, and waited in case that was where she was supposed to be. Sure enough, she heard the loud tapping of frantic shoes before Gracie made an appearance. She was wearing shorts, a white hoodie that had rabbit ears coming off the top of it, and house slippers. It was strange to see her outside of her work uniform.

“Good morning!” Gracie said excitingly, greeting Avery by kissing both her cheeks. It was a bit of a greeting that was too far into Avery’s bubble, but she didn’t voice that. Gracie immediately took the food out of her hands, making Avery’s load lighter. “We only have to go up one flight of stairs to the lobby, and then we can go into the elevator.”

Avery smiled and teased, “Thank god. You scared me for a moment when I saw you on the fourth floor. I’m on the third floor in my apartment, and our elevator breaks often.”

Gracie giggles, “You should move here then. The maintenance here is pretty fabulous!”

Avery thought to herself, If I could only afford it. Gracie and I work the same job, but she also has her boyfriend to help pitch in for rent…

“Oh shoot, I forgot to ask if your boyfriend wanted anything for breakfast.”

Gracie scoffed playfully and waved her hand, “Psh, don’t worry about him. He can fend for yourself. Thank you SO much for breakfast, it smells so good! Where did you get it?”

Avery followed Gracie up the stairs and to the elevator, “There’s this coffee shop kinda in the center of my apartments. It’s an amazing hang out place, and the food and coffee is—and don’t tell the boss—so much better than at the diner. I go there every other week, if not every week. It’s called the Truffle Tower ironically. Maybe the two of us can go together after work one day.”

“I would SO love that!” Gracie squeaked and pressed the button to the fourth floor, continuing to talk as the elevator went up, “My boyfriend is home but he won’t bother us. I told him to play video games all morning if he had to. I’m so excited to have a girls day out!” She tried not to jump while they were in the elevator, but once they stepped out she leaped for joy, unable to contain herself.

This made Avery laugh and snort, “Are you SURE you need this coffee? You’re bouncing off the walls!” she teased.

Gracie was too pumped to stop bouncing, even as they made it to her door. There was a doormat in front that said, Only come in if you have my delivery. “Gods yes, I’ll need more bean juice if you want to keep this party in motion! Oh, here’s my place.” She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Upon stepping inside, Avery was greeted with an apartment that was luxurious compared to hers. The walls were light blue and the furniture had a gray, blue, or black modern tone to them. She could see the balcony with glass sliding doors, where Gracie had called out to her earlier. Avery almost gasped out loud.

What Avery was almost greeted with was a tall male with dark blue hair and pale skin. He was wearing a hoodie and boxer briefs, and was also in the middle of eating cereal messily.

“TROY! I TOLD YOU TO GET DRESSED, WE HAVE A GUEST OVER!” Gracie screamed and grabbed an orange off the counter, throwing it at him.

Troy laughed and grabbed the orange with one hand, the other still wrapped around his bowl, “I’m not starving myself for you, woman! Fine, I’m going!” He took the orange and the bowl and disappeared into one of the rooms, closing the door.

Gracie released a dramatic sigh, and for a moment she seemed to calm down, “Sorry about that. He doesn’t like to listen to the words I say!” She scoffs and takes Avery to her kitchen island. It was much longer and had a better countertop than Avery’s back at home. “Let’s eat here before I starve myself. Do you want anything back for breakfast?” she asked calmly as she took out the burrito box and the coffee labeled with her name.

Avery returned the smile and shook her head, “No way. I asked because it’s a treat from me.” She took her own coffee and removed the protective top that prevented spills and dove it, “I forgot to ask what meat you wanted on your burrito, so I hope sausage was okay. I got bacon for myself in case you didn’t like it.”

“Sausage was a fine choice! Thank you again!”

As they ate, it was silent, but only for a moment before Gracie began to speak again, “I’m really excited to go clubbing tonight. I heard that there’s going to be something exciting going on at the Boom Box tonight. Have you seen it on the news?”

Avery tried not to pale. Luckily her pink skin never seemed to lose much color, “No. I guess I haven’t lately. What’s going on?”

“I’m not quite sure yet…But I heard that it’s going to be AMAZING! It’s a surprise but it’s being announced tonight. I’m thrilled you’re going. It gets lonely with two people, especially when the other person wants to go do something else. With you and my boyfriend, there will always be someone there! Have you been clubbing at the Boom Box before?”

Avery tried not to hesitate, but her words faltered for a moment, “Oh, yeah. Once or twice. But I haven’t since I started picking up evening and double shifts.”

Gracie pouted her bottom lip, “That sucks. I see you working your ass off all the time. You deserve some time to rest.”

Avery shrugged it off, “I guess I’m just trying to save up some extra money.”

“But aren’t you burnt out or something?”

“Yeah, a bit, but at least I’m getting numbers saved up in my bank account.”

Gracie crossed her arms as she scoffed, “That won’t do you well, Avery! You’ll work yourself into a grave at this point. From now on, you and I are going to have some more girl time. Got it?”

Avery chuckled, not arguing with her coworker, though she worried that this wouldn’t work out. “Alright, alright. We’ll see how tonight goes, and go from there.”

Gracie agreed and then the two finished off their food. Avery went into the kitchen and washed the grease from her hands. “Where’s your trash?”

“It’s under the sink, but I’ve got it!” Gracie insisted and took their breakfast trash, throwing it away for them. “I see you brought some dresses. Can I see them?” she asked excitingly,

“Sure, I wasn’t sure what to bring really. I don’t have many dresses, but I dug out a couple. It’s been a while since I wore them though.”

Avery pulled out three dresses. There was a silky black one that reached her knees, and a blue one that had a low V line with a window in the back as well. It was the third dress that caught Gracie’s attention, however—it was a neon pink latex dress. The color was the same as the pink strip in her hair. The moment that Avery lifted it, Gracie covered her mouth and gasped, “Oh my god, try that one on, I think that one’s perfect!”

Avery blushed and held the dress. She looked down at it. Indeed it had been a while since she had worn this particular dress. In fact, it was probably a year at most? The last time she had was when she was at a Velvet and Vene…a…a concert. Yeah. How could she have forgotten? She had the sudden urge to shove this dress into the toilet and flush it until it was gone, but she couldn’t let Gracie know that she was upset. Instead, she smiled and nodded, “Yeah, of course. Where’s your bathroom?”

Gracie pointed to a door to the left, “That one. While you’re getting dressed, I’m going to get my makeup out. I already know the perfect look for you!”

Avery disappeared into the bathroom and changed into the pink dress. She hesitated to look at herself in the mirror but smiled when she did. The dress still fit her perfectly. It was a tube top that reached her midthigh. It wasn’t too short or too long. It also didn’t squeeze her, which surprised her considering she worked in such a greasy place. Her neck looked exposed, however, so she wished she had grabbed some of her jewelry to help her not feel as naked. With some fishnets and her long black boots, her outfit would be complete! Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad wearing this dress again.

Avery didn’t know what to expect when she stepped out of the bathroom. Gracie was seated on her couch and gasped the moment she saw her, her jaw nearly hitting the floor. “Oh. My. God. AVERY, YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL!” She almost cried, “Do you have shoes to go with it?!”

“I have my knee-high black boots since they could go with any of the dresses, and I plan on wearing my fishnets. I was wondering if you had a spare necklace I could borrow? I totally forgot how exposed this dress makes me feel right here.” She touched her neck.

“Girl, I was thinking the same THING! We’ll look for something before we leave okay? Now, tell me, which makeup style do you prefer…” Gracie motioned for Avery to sit down next to her.

Together, the two spent the morning and afternoon prepping for the evening to come. They watched a show together, and when it was closer to time, Gracie did their makeup. Avery had a glittery pink eyeshadow along with some black that smudged all around her eye. She also had lip gloss that made her lips look sparkly but didn’t take away from the masterpiece that was her eyes. Gracie chose something more teal. Her outfit was a teal crop top and skirt that could have been one dress had Gracie not wanted to show off her midriff. She also wore teal makeup to match. Her top lip was black while her bottom was the same blue as her dress. The two looked ready for the club, and Avery felt ready for it too.

After a small fit between Gracie and Troy, the two were soon out the door. Gracie was glued to Avery’s side the entire time, hugging her arm, as Troy walked behind him. Gracie happily chatted the entire time, even through the bus trip to the Boom Box.

Standing outside the Boom Box made Avery’s knees feel weak. Though the real nerves hit her the moment she passed the bouncer and stepped into the club. The lights blasted the colors of the rainbows and the combination of the others screaming along with music made it nearly impossible to hear Gracie despite the girl speaking directly into her ear.

Avery stood in the middle of the Boom Box now, but she recalled the familiar excitement she felt when she had gone to see Velvet and Veneer for the first time. She stood in the loud, crowded room now, but her mind was elsewhere, further away into the reaches of her memory. This brought Avery back so many months ago. Maybe even a year? Back when Rivers and her were rising to the top. Until they suddenly weren’t. Velvet and Veneer had hit the charts and hit them hard enough that it nearly knocked River off the charts. Avery believed that was the reason Rivers turned on her—when she realized Avery didn’t want to do more to rise back to the top. That’s why Rivers had stolen her work.

Staring at the stage, she saw Veneer and Velvet performing. She really did feel like she was living a sweet dream listening to them.

Avery was at the front of the crowd, her hands in the air reaching for the popstars. She was in the VIP crowd, screaming in pure joy. She swore Veneer turned toward her and winked, making her feel butterflies in her stomach and a blush in her cheeks. This was pure bliss, she had noticed him!

Sweet Dreams continued to play through the club, and even with the crowd joining in on the fun of singing, the twin’s voices carried the most. Velvet’s voice rang the loudest, and Avery wished that she could hear Veneer more. He was her favorite out of the two, though she never would admit it out loud since everyone else seemed to be Velvet fans.

“Alright, Mount Rageons!” Velvet held the microphone to her lips, her voice blaring over the music as it died down, “We’re so appreciative of our fans that we decided to give you all a gift. From us!” She grabbed some shirts and started to throw some out into the crowd. When someone caught the shirt, the fan screamed loudly.

When Veneer grabbed t-shirts of his own, that’s why Avery’s stomach dropped. She screamed as loud as she could and threw her hands into the air, trying to reach as far into the air as she could. For a moment, she swore he looked at her, flashing a charming smile her way. She wasn’t imagining it. They made eye contact. Veneer took one of the shirts and tossed them her way. Avery nearly climbed over the crowd to catch it. Some people tugged on it, but she refused to let it go. She threw it over her body before anyone could snatch it from her. The shirt was a fluorescent neon green, which glowed in the dark. It was completely unique! Holding it and wearing it almost made her cry. She pulled it over her pink dress and hugged it tight.

“I LOVE YOU VENEER!!” She screamed, cheering for her favorite idol.

Veneer winked, “I love you too!”

Avery nearly fainted on the spot. He noticed her!

Velvet took the front again, her brother falling behind as always. She looked over to the crowd as if they were her puppets and called out, “Whoever caught the t-shirts get backstage passes to meet my brother and me PERSONALLY! We look forward to seeing you all!” She blew kisses to the crowd, “Goodnight everyone!”

Avery’s jaw fell open, and her knees became weak. She was about to faint for real. Holding onto that shirt felt more like a priority than anything. She couldn’t let anyone steal it from her! She pushed through the crowd and found the twin’s bodyguards, who were intimidating.

“I…I have a pass.” She pointed to her shirt nervously. Her heart was beating faster the more she thought of the two, but specifically Veneer.

The guards leaned in closer and observed the shirt closer before they parted the way, allowing Avery to squeeze past her. One of the guards followed her down the hallway.

“To the door to the left,” he said from behind her, making her jump. The closer she came to the door, and soon her hand was on it. She was about to meet the people who inspired her the most…

Avery snapped out of it. She had been so out of it that she didn’t remember where she was or what she was going. Something felt wrong. When Avery looked up to the stage, she noticed her. A beautiful woman with a sparkling blue dress and pure white hair that touched her waist. Rebel Rivers. She was on the stage with small creatures on her shoulders. They were Trolls…?

Everyone quieted for Rivers as she called out to the crowd, “Brozone and I are happy to announce our collaboration and celebration of smaller artists with our Battle of the Bands! Brozone and I will open with some banging music before we ourselves will become judges. MAKE SURE TO COME BACK NEXT MONTH AND SIGN UP STARTING TODAY! The first ten people to sign up get autographs from Brozone and me! Cheers, my loves!” She blew a kiss to the crowd, and everyone screamed their approval.

Everyone except Avery.

This had been what Gracie was talking about earlier in the day. A special announcement.

Avery felt as though she was about to cry. She couldn’t breathe. Remembering everything upset her, and now Rivers was in the same room as her. When Gracie was preoccupied with her boyfriend, she slipped out of the Boom Box, her legs heavy as she dragged them. The wind felt cold against her cheeks as she cried to herself. She shouldn’t have come tonight.

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