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#This mini series are done with I guess
felsicveins · 5 months
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It's true, true it follows me around
Nothing to lose, lost it all anyhow
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winnie-the-monster · 2 years
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Kaleb MG and all the rest of them spent seasons not caring about Landon at all. And treating him like a sacrificial lamb. They all die and find out he's the new Ferry Man and it's all.... "oh you're the Ferry Man now. We need you to send us back to life even if it's at your expense."
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britishchick09 · 1 year
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i'm watching kscrimshaw's insta livestream and her french accent is making me realize that the rewrite trio would have those too, which is so weird to think about... even though they're french! :o
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marvellous1917 · 7 months
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Icarus Falling Far.
(Part 3)
Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader
Summary: it’s the day after giving the dangerous mobster his first tattoo, and he hasn’t contacted you yet. What a dick.
Warnings: cursing, crime, mentions of guns, stalking/harassment (brief), think that’s it.
Word count: 3.6k ish
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A/N: i had no plan to make this story into a mini-series, so if this seems a little unplanned… it is. Anyway, hope you like it my loves 😘
(This is not beta’s so any mistakes are my own)
Part 2 ⬇️:
———————
Bold is readers thoughts
Italics is Bucky's thoughts
This starts in Bucky’s POV.
———————
His home office was always the place he went to feel at peace. Ironic really, considering the dealings done within the room. The walls had seen him order his men to assassinate his rivals, to eliminate anybody that got in their way. The desk had felt the tip of the pen write extortionate contracts, sent silently to some of the cities most powerful people, the non-explicit threat sent with photos of their family’s, to reminds them what they were risking if they refused to comply. The window that felt the full strength of his prosthetic too many times to count. The hole in the floor after one of his employees managed to literally shoot himself in the foot. {guess who}
But his peace was teetering on a cliffs edge. His hands were woven into his hair, pulling to try and alleviate the headache forming. Elbows resting on his desk as his eyes stayed staring at one specific groove in the wood.
A knock at the door broke his trance and he sighed. It was a rule in the Compound that if the boss was in his office and the door was closed, you do not interrupt or enter unless there was an emergency. Only one man was brave enough to completely disregard Bucky’s rule, which had led to some… interesting situations when Bucky had girls in there with him.
“Come in,” he called, knowing the longer he waited to respond, the louder and more incessant the knocking would become.
The door opened and there was Bucky’s very own personal dumbass: Steve Rogers. The man had been a part of Bucky’s life since as long as he could remember, if-fact some of his earliest memories were with Steve; young boys playing cops and robbers together, attempting to protect Steve when he picked a fight he had no business being in- which had led to Bucky getting his ass beat as well, and scheming together about how to make sure that Simon Justin never played baseball again after pulling his sisters hair on the playground.
“Fuck me Buck, I’m not sure if today could have been anymore fucked,” Steve stated as he collapsed on to the couch, flinging his legs over one arm and resting his head in the other.
Today was a stressful fucking day.
It was the day that Bucky was making all necessary moves. Why all the problems had to pop up now, he wasn’t sure. And the kicker to this awful day? He had no time to talk to you, the girl he could not get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. You’d managed to flood his mind, memories of the kiss you shared playing over and over again.
“Did you close the door?” Bucky asked, not moving an inch.
“Yeah.”
“Good because I do not need anyone else talking to me right now,” Bucky said, his voice low and quiet, an air of danger ever-present in his tone.
“C’mon Buck, y’know you love them,” Steve responds with a dopey little smirk on his face, and he tilts his head to make eye contact with the man he calls his brother.
I hate that fuckin smile.
He softly hums his agreement and returns to inspecting the groove on his desk.
“We just gotta talk it out, figure out what the fuck is going on, then plan our next moves accordingly,” Steve says, swinging his legs back to the floor, hands clasped together, his arms leaning on his knees.
“Yeah thanks man, I didn’t think about figuring everything out, maybe I’ll give that a go now” Bucky retorts with weak sarcasm, mind too busy, replaying the events of the day.
“I can leave you alone to get lost in your head, or we can figure this shit out together. It’s your call jerk.” Steve says, tilting his head down to catch Bucky’s eye.
“Alright.”
“Stop pulling your hair jackass.” He adds.
I hate it when you do that.
Bucky drops his hands to the desk and says, “Ok let’s start this debrief with Walker.”
“Nat’s got his ass tied up in the basement for ya, he’s ready when you are.”
“Anybody looking for him?”
“One frustratingly loyal friend, but he has no idea that Johnny-boy is with us. The rest of his little fan club have no idea he’s even missing.”
“Ok, one problem down. Rumlow?” It’s the question he doesn’t want the answer to. He’d much rather spend his time thinking about you. His history with Brock Rumlow was bloody and painful, for both of them. There was only one person from his past that Bucky hadn’t dealt with, and here he was, coming back to ruin the name Bucky had made for himself.
Rumlow knew things about Bucky’s past that made him a a high security threat, but after he failed to blow himself up in an attempt to kill Bucky, he had disappeared. Bucky thought it was finally over, but the asshole popped back up about a year ago, with more power than before, making himself seemingly untouchable by Bucky’s hand.
“Currently moving like he has been, not causing too much trouble for us, though his crew are getting closer and closer to our dealings at the port.” Steve said, a slight look of digits on his face.
“Put extra hands down there for the next couple weeks, see if we can’t scare them off a little.”
“Yes boss. I’ll let them know after this.”
“The commissioner’s dealt with?” Buck asks, remembering the deviation the man had decided to make.
“Yep, send him that gift basket. He called Sam this morning and agreed to our terms.”
“Good. How’s Barton?” He asks, moving into what they class as ‘personal business’.
“Pissed, man. He wants blood for what happened, we all do.” Steve answers, the memory of seeing Clint covered in blood and bruised made his blood simmer.
“We sure it wasn’t Rumlows’ lot, or fuck even Walker?
“Walkers’ fanclub do not have the brain cells, the power, or the information to organise an attack like that, and Parker tracked Rumlow and his men, all are accounted for and have alibis. This is someone new.”
Oh for fuck’s sake. Isn’t two power hungry assholes enough.
“We haven’t found anything? No security cameras, no cell tower pings?” Bucky asks, leaning back in his chair, resting his head on the back.
“Actually, I sent Scott there this morning to check out if there was anything left there and he found something.” Steve responds, some apprehension creeping into his voice.
That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped back up and locked eyes with Steve who now stood in-front of his desk, pacing back and forth slightly.
“Care to share with the class Rogers?” His voice was hard now, his extreme dislike of not knowing all the information shining through.
Steve exhales sharply, biting his tongue to not retort and piss Bucky off more.
“He found a package tucked behind a dumpster addressed to ‘Bucky Barnes’ that had a memory stick-“
“Like a USB?” Bucky interrupted.
“- Yeah a USB-“ he gets cut off again.
“Then just say USB, calling it a ‘memory stick’ makes you sound 100 years old.”
“-oh dear god, you gonna let me finish?” Steve responds.
Bucky waved his hand at him, a sign for him to continue.
“Scott found a package addressed to you with a USB inside, we gave it to Stark ‘cos Parker was busy tracking down Rumlows crew, and he checked it out and told us it was completely normal, no virus or anything bad in it.”
“Was there anything on it?” Bucky asks, his brow furrowed.
“It..uh..has two pictures on it.” Steve said lowly.
“…of?”
“It’s probably better if I just show you.” Steve said, his tone of voice made Bucky a little nervous.
Steve took out his phone, tapped a couple of time before turning it around to give to Bucky. As soon as the latter had ahold of the phone, Steve took a full step back, which caused Bucky to raise his eyebrows in question.
“Just look.” He says in response to Bucky’s unasked question.
He looked down at the screen and almost immediately removed his left hand as to not break the phone.
Fuck. Shit.
The first picture was of the night he met you. It was taken through the window for you apartment, and clearly showed both you and Bucky, stood side by side, looking through your flash book.
“What the fuck is this?” He pushes out through gritted teeth.
“I assuming that’s the tattoo artist you told me about, the one you got a thing for?” Steve says.
The one I’m obsessed with.
When Bucky gives him a sharp nod, Steve just drops his head, suddenly fascinated with his shoes.
“Shit.” He says under his breath.
“What?” Bucky’s voice was louder now.
“Look at the next picture.” Steve says while avoiding eye contact.
Bucky looks down, his finger swiping to the next picture before he can think about it.
No. No no fuck. Not her.
The next photo was taken from inside the apartment. Inside your bedroom. It’s of you. Asleep. Completely unaware of the danger stood at the foot of your bed.
Bucky couldn’t look away, he was frozen staring at the picture. Your shorts and oversized tee had both ridden up slightly, showing how truly vulnerable you are. The clock on your table showed the time as 3:54 and showed the date.
“…this was taken this morning.”
“..yeah.”
fuck.
———————
Fuck Bucky Barnes.
The bastard hadn’t contacted you since the shop.
Bitch ass told me to keep my phone on so I wouldn’t miss his message, kept me glued to my phone like a weirdo waiting for him to call… and he didn’t. Dick.
Despite the annoyance at the very very attractive mobster, you couldn’t help wonder how he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about you too.
You’re overthinking about Bucky was interrupted by a knock at your door.
“One sec!” You shout to whoever’s there, getting up and walking to the door. The second you undo the lock, the door is being pushed into your face with a chorus of greetings.
“Come in I guess,” you say to the three who just walked in.
“Well thanks darlin, you got food?” Billy responds, already making his way to the fridge.
“Don’t fucking eat my pizza Bill, I swear I’ll kill you,” you answer, giving both Frank and Curtis a hug, letting the door close behind them.
He laughs off your threat as the others take a seat on your couch.
“Not that I don’t love you guys, but why the fuck are you here?” You ask, moving back to the arm chair in the corner and taking a seat, your phone pinging in the back ground.
“What, we can’t pop in on you whenever we want?” Frank says, leaning back in the arm of the couch, moving to put his feet in the coffee table.
“Frankie if you put your feet on my table, I’m gonna beat you with a spoon.” You call at him.
He freezes and slowly lowers his feet back to the floor.
“We just wanted to come see how you were…Frank told us about Barnes.” Curtis says, cutting into the conversation and completely dampening the mood.
God-fucking-dammit Frank.
Oh fuck do I tell them that he’s not an issue and I actually quite like him.
“Yeah are you ok sweetheart?” Billy asks and he collapses on the couch in the middle of the other boys.
“I’m fine guys, I swear, like I told Frank he’s actually not bad,” you answer, shifting uncomfortable lay in your seat due to the indecision of how much to tell them, “He was nice, polite and kind of…charming, I guess-”
“Is that why you kissed him?” Frank interrupts.
Shit, how does he know?
“-what?”
“You kissed him. Or rather he kissed you but you seemed to enjoy it.” Billy says with an annoying smirk on his face.
“How do you know that?” You ask, shock still written all over your face.
“..the security cameras, kid. You forget about those?”
Ahh fuck.
“Ahh fuck,” you say out loud.
“What the hell are you doing making out with a mobster, Y/N?” Curtis responds, looking at you with those eyes of his that show he’s not judging, just trying to understand.
“I..uh..I wasn’t-really-thinking.” You put you hands on your head, even though Curtis wasn’t judging you, the other two definitely were.
“Obviously you weren’t, he’s a goddam mobster Y/N-” Billy starts, anger in his voice, but you cut him off.
“I know that Bill, ok, I do,” you say, shifting to place your feet on the floor, “but he’s not the animal you think he is, he’s kind and considerate and he makes me feel…” happy. you cut off before the last word, wanting to keep that realisation to yourself for a little longer.
“Plus you bastards can’t be judging me for meeting the guy twice, only yourselves and the devil knows what fucked shit you three have been up to.” You almost shout.
“The fuck does that mean?” Frank answers.
“C’mon Frank I’m not stupid, you three have some shady shit in your pasts. I mean you were goddam military for fucks sake, and don’t think I don’t see the fake payments on the books at the shop-“
“Stop Y/N.” Billy cuts you off. “Stop it now.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving yours.
You were about to respond to his demand, when a knock sounded at the door.
“Told you to keep you phone on.” A dark voice calls through the door.
Oh shit. No no no not now please not now.
“Who the fuck is that?” Frank asks, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes pinned on the door. Both Billy and Curtis stand, facing the door as if waiting for it to bust off it’s hinges.
“Please all of you, shut the fuck up and don’t do anything dumb,” you answer, moving towards the door.
“Is that him?” Curtis asks.
“Didn’t I just say shut the fuck up,” you retort a little snappier, opening the door slightly.
He cut his hair, it’s looks good on him.
Bucky lowers his arm from his thwarted attempt at a second knock and says, “Is your phone broken or are you ignoring me?” The smirk on his face made your heart beat a little faster.
“Neither, I just missed your text because I have some friends over right now,” you say.
“Is that why you’re not opening the door properly? I can barley see you,” he says with a grin.
“…kinda? Ok wait..” you exit your apartment, pulling the door closed fully behind you, “long story short, they know about the k.. uh about what happened at the shop, and they know who you are and they are not happy about it.”
His eyes darken and his smirk grows wider at the almost mention of the kiss. He shifts until he’s leaning his shoulder on the wall by your door.
“Oh yeah? Doesn’t really matter what they think though, does it doll? Both you and I know how much you enjoyed it.” He says, mouth forming a cheeky grin.
Oh my god.
“Me? You’re the one who started it Bucky, seemed you enjoyed it more,” you respond, having no idea where the confidence came from.
He hums at your statement and says “Well I can admit that I did enjoy our kiss sweetheart, but I may need a little reminder of how it went, it’s been a long day you see.”
“Bucky-” you’re cut of by him stepping closer until your chests are barley touching, the new position making you tilt your head back to see him better.
“What darlin? You ok with this?” He asks slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort.
Why does he have to be so sweet.
You nod in answer to his question and he smiles. Not the terrifying grin or the cheeky smirk, but a genuine smile - one that makes him even more beautiful. Bucky raises his right arm, dragging his thumb over your lips and cupping your cheek while you stare up at him, his other hand sneaks around your back, pulling you flush to him.
“You have no idea what to do to me, do ya?” He mumbles, probably not intending for you to respond as he’s closing the gap between you. The kiss is harsh and a little messy, shocking you slightly with his apparent desperation, hands holding you tightly. He takes advantage of your shock, tracing your lips with his tongue and pushing past to deepen the kiss.
His hand drops from you face to your waist, gripping so tightly, you’re sure he’ll have left a bruise. That thought got you’re heart pumping faster, the idea that an imprint of his hands, his fingers would be left on your skin. It felt right. Bucky pushes you until your back hits the wall, hips fitting against yours almost perfectly, one leg sneaking between yours as you let a light whimper escape.
You break the kiss to get some air, leaning your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.
“Bucky, I mis-”, you didn’t get to finish the sentence before your door opens and you’re suddenly faced with three pissed off ex-marines.
-(Bucky’s P.O.V)
Bucky immediately steps back, releasing you, and straightens his posture. He looks at the men, quietly analysing them. He can tell that they either are or were military, and definitely care immensely about you, probably to the point of beating the crap out of anyone that hurt you.
The one in the middle is a frightening creature , he thinks, but the wedding band means he has something to loose, he should be less quick to anger, in theory.
The one on the right with the short buzz cut and the tense muscles reminds him of Clint, he’s ready to fight at the drop of a hat, and by the look on his face, I’m gonna be his next target.
The man on the left intrigued Bucky the most. His face is blank, showing nothing. He’s favouring one of his legs, and the other shows a bulky piece of metal at the bottom. Wonder if that’s an old military injury.
“Guys, what are you doing?” You ask, apprehension in your voice. Bucky wonders if you’re scared for them or for him.
“Oh we are gonna head out, let you have some time to really think about what we talked about.” The man in the middle says, putting emphasis on the word really.
“Frank please-”
“No it’s ok sweetheart,” Bucky bristles at the pet name the Clint wannabe says, “we’ll see you later.”
“Billy-”
“Shit, I left my phone on your table, could you get it for me?” The other says to you, cutting off your words, smiling at you to calm the stressed look on your face.
“Of course Cutis, one sec,” you respond, Turing to Bucky at the end of your sentence with a look at says please don’t make this worse.
You pass by the men and let the door fall closed behind you.
The silence is tense as the men all stare at each-other.
“So…how’s your man doing? Y’know the one that got jumped,” Billy says, smirking at Bucky.
“How do you know that?” Bucky asks as his muscles tense.
“…Y/N told us, obviously,” Billy says.
The pause was intentional, she didn’t tell them that.
“He’s fine, thanks.” Bucky responds shortly, all to aware of the lie he was just told.
The door opens just before Billy can respond, all four men going silent again.
“Here it is Curtis, guess I’ll see you guys later then,” you say, before hugging each man.
The three shoulder past Bucky as if he was just a man on the street, no care in the world that he could have them killed for that disrespect. But he lets this one slide, for her, as they’re her friends.
“Did you tell them about Clint?” He knows it was a lie but he needs to make sure his cynical brain isn’t marking it up.
“No? Why?” You answer, unaware of the turmoil occurring in Bucky’s head.
Then how the fuck do they know.
“Give me one minute doll, I forgot something at the car,” he says, “go on inside I’ll be back soon.”
“Uh.. okay.” You answer, walking back into the apartment.
He watches the door and as soon as it closes he is moving back down the stairs, hoping to catch and ask the men how they knew about Clint. Bucky normally has an reasonable explanation for everything, but this time he was stumped. He catches them outside the front door to the building, the three of them stood leaning against their car, watching the door, waiting for him to come out.
“How do you know?” He repeats his question from before, voice lower and more dangerous now.
“Y’know…that bastard has a solid right hook.” Billy says. The sentence sends red hot anger through Bucky’s blood.
It was them. But that means…
“Did you get our package?” The big one in the middle asks, Frank, she called him.
Fuck. The anger that has been burning in his veins since the second he saw those photos of you pours out of him and he immediately pulls a gun on Frank.
“Hey now that’s not smart, is it?” Curtis asks in a placating tone.
“Don’t forget about our girl up there. What’s she gonna think if you shoot me for no reason?” Frank says, unflinching staring down the barrel of Bucky’s gun.
Fuck. Fuck. These bastard are the ones threatening everything, they jumped Clint and are using you to get to him. They’re your friends and you? You have absolutely no idea.
————
Yo this took so long to do!! Hope you like my lil twisty turn at the end there 😈.
Lemme know what u think 😘
Tagged :
@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @pingpongfingfong @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @1-800-bxrnes @fandomsfallnomore @bushtail @ghostofwinter @missdarlingsb @amiets2 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianswhore @cluckityduck @shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp
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evertomorrowart · 3 months
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Best of YouTube 2023
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Yes, I did spend the first week and change of January on this. I wish I could have had it done for New Years, but too many people came out with incredible work in December, so waiting turned out for the best.
What these creators do are a huge influence on my life, I would honestly have difficulty doing what I do without them. That isn't to say that my favorites of the year are *only* on this image--It was almost impossible to narrow down my favorites. Many creators I wanted to include couldn't fit on a single page, and too many of them made more than one video I wished I could draw too!
But, to all of you, thank you for what you do. You're an inspiration.
For those who don't know, further is an explanation.
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At the bottom center is an artistic masterpiece by Defunctland: "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History." Over the last several years, Defunctland has risen from delightfully-entertaining commentary on decommissioned theme park attractions to occasionally dropping profound statements on the creation of art itself. "Journey to EPCOT Center: A Symphonic History" is worth treating like the cinematic experience it is: No second screen, you sit your ass down in front of a TV, set down the phone, and then you *watch it.* Any Disney, theme park, or independent film fan needs to pay attention to this one.
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Bottom left is Caelan Conrad with their piece "Drop the T - The Deadly Consequences of Gay Respectability Politics." While I do think they've done more visually or artistically-daring pieces before, "Drop the T" is one of the most important videos released on YouTube in today's current climate of hate. We as queer folk (and our allies) need to understand how integral every identity of the queer experience has been since the start of the Civil Rights movement (and before!). While we are not identical, we *are* inseparable, and we deserve having our real history easily accessible.
TERFs and other conservative mouthpieces need not reply. Your opinions are trash. 😘
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I cannot stop watching and rewatching this video by @patricia-taxxon, "On the Ethics of Boinking Animal People." It's not just a defense of furry fandom and its eccentricities, it's a thoughtful and passionate analysis of what the artform achieves that purely human representation can't. Patricia goes outside of her usual essay format to directly speak to the viewer about the elements that define furry media (the most succinct definition I've ever heard) and just how *human* an act loving animal cartoons really is.
As an artist who can draw furry characters, but never really got into erotic furry art, this video is a treasure. Why did I choose to have her drawn as a Ghibli character, hanging out with one of the tanukis from "Pom Poko?" Guess you'll have to watch, bruh.
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Philosophy Tube continuously puts out videos that I would put on this list--I'm not even sure that "A Man Plagiarised my Work: Women, Money, and the Nation" is the best work she released in 2023. However, this video got many conversations going between myself and my partner, and the twist on the tail end of the video shocked us both to such a degree that I had no choice.
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At the very tail end of the year, Big Joel released "Fear of Death." On his Little Joel channel, he described it as the singularly best video he's ever done, and I'm inclined to agree. However, for this illustration, I ended up repeatedly going back to a mini-series he did earlier in the year: "Three Stories at the End of the World." All three videos are deeply moving and haunting, and I was brought to tears by "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot." While it may be relatively-common knowledge that the original Gojira (Godzilla) film is horror grappling with the devastation America's rush to atomic dominance inflicted on Japan, Big Joel still manages to bring new words to the discussion. Please watch all three of the videos, but if, for some reason, you must have only one, let it be "We Must Destroy What the Bomb Cannot."
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Y'all. Let me confess something. I hate football. I hate watching it, I associate seeing it from the stadiums with some of my worst childhood experiences, I despise collegiate and professional football (as institutions that destroy bodies and offer up children at the feet of its alter as a pillar of American culture)--
I. L o a t h e. Football.
But.
F.D. Signifier could get me to watch an entire hour-plus essay on why I should at least give a passing care. AND HE DID IT. I might think "F*ck the Police," the two-parter on Black conservatism, or his essay on Black men's connection to anime might be "better" videos, but this writer did the impossible and held my limited attention span towards football long enough to make a sincere case for NFL players--and reminds us that millionaires can *in fact* be workers. That alone is testament to his skill.
Sit down and watch "The REAL Reason NFL Running Backs Aren't Getting Paid." Any good anti-capitalist owes it to themselves.
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CJ the X continuously puts out stunning, emotional videos, and can do it with the most seemingly-inconsequential starting points. A 30 second song? An incestuous commercial? Five minutes of Tangled? Sure, why not. Go destroy yourself emotionally by watching them. I'm serious. Do it.
Their video Stranger Things and the Meaning of Life manages to to remind us all why the way we react to media does, in fact, matter. Yes, even nostalgia-driven, mass-media schlock. Yes, how we interact with media matters, what it says about us matters, and we all deserve to seek out the whys.
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Folding Ideas has spent the last few years articulating exactly why so much of our modern world feels broken, and because of that his voice continuously lives rent-free in my brain. While the tricks that scam artists and grifters use to try to swindle us are never new, the advancement of technology changes the aesthetics of their performances. Portions of Folding Ideas' explanations might seem dry when going into detail of how stocks work in This is Financial Advice, but every bit of it is necessary to peel back the layers of techno-babble and jargon and make sense of the results of "Meme Stocks."
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Jessie Gender puts out nothing but bangers, her absolute unit of a video about Star Wars might be my new favorite thing ever, but none of her work hit so profoundly in 2023 than the two-parter "The Myth of 'Male Socialization'" and "The Trauma of Masculinity." There's so much about modern life that isolates and traumatizes us, and so much of it is just shrugged off as "normal." We owe it to ourselves to see the world in more vivid a color palette than we're initially given.
Panels drawn after Kate Beaton and "Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands."
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"This is Not a Video Essay" is one of the most intense and beautiful pieces of art I've ever put into my eyeballs. Why do we create? What drives us to connect?
I don't even know what else to say about the Leftist Cooks' work, it repeatedly transcends the medium and platform. Watch every single one of their videos, but especially this one.
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The likelihood you are terminally online and yet haven't heard of Hbomberguy's yearly forrays into destroying the careers of awful people is pretty slim. Just because it has millions of views doesn't mean that Hbomberguy's "Plagiarism and You(Tube)" isn't worth the hype. Too long? Shut up, it has chapters and YouTube holds your place, anyway. You think a deep dive into a handful of creators is only meaningless drama? Well, you're wrong, you wrong-opinion-haver. Plagiarism is an *everyone* problem because of the actual harm it creates--the history it erases, the labor it devalues, the art it marginalizes--which you would know if you watched "Plagiarism and You(Tube)".
Watch. The damn. Video.
In fact, watch all of them!
Thanks for reading this if you did.
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cherry-leclerc · 2 months
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method acting ☆ cl16
genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates
word count: 5.1k
cherry here!... first req that turns into a mini series and I'M SO EXCITED. the idea was perfect and i really hope you all enjoy this little story based off one of the best films :) common changes and adjustments are made for the plot but HAPPY READING
*can you guess what film it's based off of? where the title originates from?
ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five
Chapter 1
Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.
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Parents know best - at least that’s what we’re all told growing up. How about bioengineering? Cardiothoracic surgeon? Architecture? With braces and a messy fishtail, you shake your head profusely as you clutch onto your notebook. 
"No. Journalism."
“Why didn’t I listen to my mom?” Groaning, you rub your tired hands all over your face as your roommate stares back, bewildered by your sudden frustration. 
“You’re telling me doing open heart surgery would have been better than writing an article?”
Aiming a pencil at her, you gasp as you cover your mouth and she squints her brown eyes at you. “I am so sorry!” Running up, you hug her desperately. “I’m just stressed, I’m stressed, I’m stressed!” You pull away. “I’m stressed.”
Amelia chuckles as she sits down on a stool, pointing for you to do the same. “You, my serial killer friend, need a break.” You frown at her choice of words. If I take a break then I’m going to get fired. She smiles brightly. “You won’t though.”
You can distinctively pinpoint the moment a ripped up journal turned into a laptop. It was senior year of highschool and you finally had the courage to confront your parents and tell them that you, if fact, were not joking about your bachelors in journalism.
"Darling, how will you make a living out of something like that?"
For a moment, her words had you second guessing your choices. Could she be onto something? Know something perhaps you don’t? The older, the wiser, no? 
But you had already applied - it was done. So you tipped your head firmly, clicked your tongue against your straight teeth, and smiled.
"I’ll find a way."
You moan softly as you hit your forehead with the palm of your hand. “What I would give to just be an elementary school teacher…Grading papers, cute kids-”
“Shit everywhere, tantrums, headaches, signs of early aging - oh God - receding hairline!” Amelia pales as she scrunches her nose in disgust. “Nightmare.” The blonde reaches for your hands, intertwining her fingers into yours. “But this is your dream, it’s what you're good at. Don’t let a little writer's block scare you away.”
-
“Goodness gracious! Are you alright?” Lucy’s southern accent surprises you as you fix your crutches. The older lady had been working at the famous magazine company since you can remember, always a cheerful receptionist. Loud, too. 
You wince. “Oh, you know…clumsy me?” 
"Eleanor is never going to let me take a vacation. I would have to die first."
Amelia’s eyes twinkle deviously. 
"Then that’s what we’ll do."
"Die?"
“It’s okay, I could open it myself,” you yelp as Lucy swings the door to your boss’ office. Let me, she insists as she pushes you in. Tumbling, you hurry to fix your posture as you nervously giggle, beady eyes staring back at your rude interruption. “I had no idea you were in the middle of a meeting.”
Eleanor and a crowded room all look you up and down before she sighs. “You’re already here, what is it that you need?” You shudder at her cold tone.
“I- uh- I mean, if it’s possible, I was t-thinking I could maybe get a m-m-month off?”
Oh no, someone whispers as they catch the editor-in-cheifs face change. Your stomach drops. Or not, I’m fine! The gray haired lady stands up as she tauntingly makes her way over, circling you like a hungry lion. “And why do you need a month off?”
“Doctor’s orders?”
She hums, analyzing your casted leg and left arm. “I’m sure you can type with your right hand. Off you go.” You blink. Once she takes a seat, she narrows her eyes again. “I said you can go.”
“Of course. Have a nice day.”
"She’s going to see right through me," you repeat for the millionth time as Amelia's boyfriend, Roman, works on the fake casts. 
She groans. "With that attitude she will! Get it together. You have to stand your ground and don't dare walk out of that office without a month off."
Terrified of your best friend, you nod. "Thank you again for this future doc, hope you don’t get fired."
He pales. "The things we do for the people we love, am I right?" Amelia blushes.
Letting out a shaky breath, you brace yourself before tripping and falling straight onto your back. The whole room gasps in shock as Eleanor stares back with a bored expression. Shit, are you okay? Peeking with one eye, you catch Grayson - Eleanor’s son - staring back with a helpful hand. 
He had always been nice to you, bringing you coffee whenever he was around. Sometimes he even helped you brainstorm new ideas. Your heart rate accelerates as you struggle to get up. Mother, she can’t be working in this condition. She huffs as she waves her hand in dismissal, Dior bracelets clicking against one another. 
A month. That’s it.
“Thank you,” you whisper as he helps you into your overly priced Uber. He tilts his head, slowly tracing your features.
“You're lying, aren’t you?” He signals at your poorly done cast. 
“I c-can explain-”
He laughs. “Your secret's safe with me.” Reaching over, he buckles you. Your breath hitches. “Enjoy your time off. I’ll be waiting for you.”
-
“I’ll be waiting for you!” You swoon as you retell your embarrassing story to the cozy couple who cuddle on the couch like proud parents. 
Amelia claps. “He’s the one! I feel it!” Roman scoffs. Settle down, daydreamers. Your friend slaps his hand. “Debbie Downer.” You giggle as she wiggles her eyebrows. “So…what are you going to do now that you're free?”
You tap your chin. “Um, probably write.”
Her smile falls. “This is the whole reason we even did any of this! For you to not think and just enjoy yourself!” 
Her boyfriend nods, floppy hair bouncing up and down. “Yeah, I didn’t go through all that,” he signals to the casts that lay by the doorway, “Just for you to lay around doing what you always do.” He stands up to grab an apple. “Travel, I’m serious.”
-
Amalfi Coast. It called you poor in seven different languages as you tug your suitcase into your AirBnB. Amelia and Roman had sat through 8 hours of planning everything, detail and safety included. 
"Oh, click that one!" Roman tsks his tongue as his fingers slide against the keypad. The blonde beams. "That’s perfect!"
"Perfectly out of my range," you sigh as you slap it shut. "I’ll die homeless if I stay there." The couple share a silent look before returning their attention.
"Well, we were thinking… " the brunette starts before your friend cuts him off, jumping up and down on his lap. He groans. 
"Sorry, honey, but anyways, we’ll pay for it!" Your jaw drops as you wave your finger, shutting down the idea.
"There’s no way I’m going to let you guys do that-"
"Okay, maybe not all, but at least a good chunk of it," she butts in as Roman stays with a soft smile. "Isn’t that right? " He nods.
"Take it as an early birthday present," he adds. Your chest tightens at their kind gesture.
"That’s still a lot of money." You grow light headed.
"Then no birthday presents for two years," Amelia squeaks as she grabs your hands over the coffee table. "Just don’t say no, you need this." You debate inside your head for a few minutes before letting out a shaky breath.
"No birthday presents for the rest of my life and we have ourselves a deal."
Which is how you landed in one the most beautiful homes you think you will ever see in your entire life. You can’t even pretend to try and fit in because everything seems to make your eyes pop out of their sockets. 
After a bit of unpacking, your sweet tooth gets the best out of you as you grab your purse and head out the door. You can’t help but take pictures at almost everything you see, but everyone was doing the same so there couldn’t be too much judgment. Paying for your lemon sorbet, you hum constantly as you stare into the ocean. The breeze was warm, but not obnoxiously so. The rocks underneath you tickle slightly as you get comfortable. 
Then you hear it, light snores. Startled, you turn over as you catch a man sleeping, arm laying over his stomach. You think about maybe moving location but when he releases soft whimpers, you find yourself growing sympathetic. What if he was in trouble? You couldn’t let a person die if they were three feet away from you. Hesitantly, you crawl your way over as you tap his leg.
“Ciao,” you say, but you can only catch his nose scrunching up since he had a hat laying over him, covering his mysterious features. Biting down on your lip, you dig your finger harder. “Ciaooo.” Sitting up abruptly, he groans, shoulder bumping against your cone. You yelp before pouting at your treat melting all over the surface. 
“Oh merda, colpa mia,” he apologizes as soon as he notices your gloomy mood. “Posso comprartene un altro se vuoi, ti prometto che non sono un serial killer-” Like a cat being bathed, you jump up high as you create a large distance. 
“Serial killer?” you squeal. He catches onto your accent swiftly as he waved his hands in defense. 
“I’m not! I’m not!” You eyed him suspiciously, chest heaving heavily. “I was offering to buy you another cone and saying that I’m not a sick serial killer, that’s all…” He signals to your desert. “I feel bad.”
Releasing a soft breath of relief, you smile politely. “Don’t worry about it. I was just trying to see if you were okay, you were kind of…” You theatrically twitch as he chuckles. Your cheeks burn up at the sound. 
“I’m fine, thank you.” A beat. “Sort of.” Softly narrowed eyes stare back at him. Do you need anything? He winces at the bright sun. “I feel a bit sick, if I’m being honest.” He zigzags a bit before falling straight into the rocks, painful grunts following. You shriek as you run over, flipping him onto his back.
“Holy fuck, holy fuck.” Other than a cut up lip, he’s fine, but he groans like there’s no tomorrow. Rightfully so, you start panicking as you dab his bottom lip with the hem of your shirt, then you remove his hat.
“Don’t!” But you’re already tossing it over your shoulder as you analyze his bruised up cheek. 
Green eyes look into yours as you stop breathing. His eyes are sensitive, like some sort of past soulmate, if you believe in that type of bullshit. His hair is rusty brown, long strands hitting up to his lashes. His nose is slightly pointy and it’s worse that they’ve always been your favorite kind. Lip swollen from his clumsiness, but a natural pink. Freckles and moles sprinkle along his face. 
Scooting away, he raises finger over his lips, cryptically telling you to hush. Confused, you lay your palm against his cheekbone. “You need to see a doctor.” Now he becomes visibly bewildered as he cocks his head to the side. You don’t know who I am? Flushed, you extend your hand, introducing yourself. “And you are?”
The brunette lets out an unhinged laugh as his large hand swallows yours. “Charles, I- I m-my name is Charles.” Dimples pop up from how wide he’s smiling, and that almost leaves you gasping for air. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Then he grabs his head in discomfort. “Seriously though, you need to see a doctor.” No, he starts. You roll your eyes. “Fine, a medico or whatever you want to call it.” Helping him up, he leans against you as you wheeze.
“I’m perfectly fine, I just need to sleep.” He pants against your head, catching a whiff of your shampoo scent. “Pretty,” he mumbles. You blush harder. “Do you think you can take me to the nearest hotel?”
“I don’t know if that's such a good idea,” you mutter. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but I don’t know you at all.” He shyly nods before removing his arm away from your figure, and all of a sudden it’s cold. 
“I get it, don’t worry.” The green eyed boy waves goodbye before stumbling away. 
You have always been a bit of a people pleaser, one of your many flaws. Amelia and Roman had always called you out on it, stopping you from making stupid decisions.
But Amelia and Roman weren't here.
“Wait.” Charles turns around, loopy eyes squinting at your blurry physique. Making your way over, you take his arm and place it over you. “You can stay with me, I’m just up that hill.”
-
“You can’t be helping out boujee vagrants,” your friends scold you over the phone as you grimace. “Why would you do that?”
You nibble on your painted nail. “I felt bad…” 
Roman snickers before coming into frame. “What if he’s some kind of maniac?” Like a child, you shake your head.
“He said he wasn’t!”
The couple groan at your naiveness. “Boy, let’s just trust everyone we meet then!” The blonde pushes her face directly onto the screen. “You need to slap him awake and kick him out.” 
But there was something so peaceful and homey about the way Charles was sleeping, covered like a butterfly in a cocoon. His chest rises up and down as he occasionally reaches for the other pillow, bringing towards his chest. With one last glaze, you leave the bedroom.
“I can’t do that to him. He was in really bad shape, you should have seen him.”
God can’t even help her, Roman grunts before strolling away. Amelia sighs. “Listen, I know you’re just being a good person, but you don’t even know this guy. We just want you to be safe.” I know, you mumble, chewing on your hoodie’s string. She tips her head. “Let him stay the night if you want, but tomorrow, he leaves. I’m not playing around.”
“Tomorrow,” you reassure her before hanging up. 
-
He had slept for a day and a half and you were starting to get worried but after contemplating throwing his body over the balcony, he was stretching like a newborn baby. “That was the best nap I’ve had in years.” You chuckle awkwardly at the stranger.
“That was most definitely not a nap.” 
He smiles. “Did you sleep well?”
“So good,” you respond quickly and he would have settled with that if it weren’t for your dark under eyes.
“Shit, you haven’t slept?” 
“I did, I promise!” Green eyes reflect intently as you crumble. “Okay, I didn’t, but it was only for two days.” Two? You cringe. “There was just one bed and I didn’t know whether you were-” You trail off. 
“Wasn’t what?”
Maroon paints your cheekbones. “A psycho killer…” You can tell he’s offended by the way he rubs the tip of his nose, as if he’s trying to ease the tension.
“I’m not the Monster of Florence or anything like that,” he mutters as you begin to apologize, watching as he sits far enough away just in case you feel the need to bolt out the door. “But I understand why you don’t trust me. We don’t know each other…So, why don’t we work on that?”
It takes about an hour for him to tell you what he considers the basics about his entire persona, and you rant about your upbringing. He frowns.
“That must have sucked. Not having parents who believe in you.” You flinch at his truthful words.
“I think they’re starting to get it,” you pathetically try but even he can see right through your weak excuse. Focusing your attention onto your twiddling thumbs, you exhale. “How did your parents react when you told them you wanted to be a mechanic?”
The Monegasque seems stunned for a nanosecond before munching on a blueberry and crossing his arms. “Their only priority was for me to be happy and doing what I love.” You smile sadly.
“Are you happy? Do you love it?”
“It’s my favorite thing in the world.” 
You feel a giggle bubbling inside your throat with the way he speaks about his job, but then you’d be doing the exact same thing that others do to you. He coughs. “So tell me, you really faked an injury?”
Your stomach hurts from how much Charles was making you laugh and before either of you knew it, the sun had set. “Did we really just waste an entire day?” 
“I don’t see it as wasting my day. I really like talking to you.”
Forcing yourself to look away, you untuck your legs from underneath your butt. “Wanna grab something to eat?”
There’s a comfortable silence that lingers between you both as you walk the busy streets of Amalfi. “Do you really need to wear a beanie? It’s burning hot.” Looking around, he shrugs and continues walking. 
You settled on sharing a plate of pasta since it was almost bedtime and neither of you weren't that hungry. “Good, right?” he questions the moment you shut your eyes about the delicious taste. You hum. 
“Free orgasm right here.”
Choking on his food, he quickly takes a sip of water as you smack his back. “I think I’m good now,” he squeaks as you smile timidly. You can feel the way he judges you as you devour your fair share, but you can’t help it. Connecting your gaze to his, he looks away as he drops his fork against the fancy plate. “Thank you for letting me stay the night.”
“Oh. Yeah, no problem.”
The brunette chews on his bottom lip. “It was nice getting to know you, really.” You blink back dazed as he continues. “I hope you enjoy the rest of your trip.”
“You’re leaving?” Even your inquiry shocks you as he smiles back warmly. I don’t want to interrupt. You’re looking for peace, remember? Trying to think of a quick enough excuse, you say, “Having someone to keep me company doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. I-I mean if you’re not busy.”
Under the table, you were crossing your fingers as he took in your offer. The brunette nods. “I guess it could be fun.”
-
“You did the right thing,” Amelia congratulates you the next time you call her. “Rather be safe than sorry.” 
Just then, Charles walks in with a bag of peaches, grinning proudly as he makes his way over. “Agreed. Listen Amelia, I have to go. Adventure awaits! Tell Roman that I miss him! Talk to you later!” Hanging up, you greet your roommate. Awkwardly, he passes you the juicy fruit. 
“Friend back home?” You hum, biting down. Taking a bite of his own, he bows his head. “You miss your boyfriend?” You stop chewing.
“Boyfriend? Oh, you mean Roman?” He clenches his jaw, then relaxes. You cackle loudly. “He’s my best friend's boyfriend,” you clarify. “We’re close - all of us.” 
“Oh.” Tossing the seed away, he rises up to his full height. “Wanna see something cool?”
-
“You got insurance?” you joke as he covers your eyes, leading you mysteriously. You’re not going to get hurt or die if that’s what you’re worried about. You giggle. Okay, we’re here. Removing his hands, you take a minute to adjust your eyesight. “What the fu-”
“Cool, right?”
You scoff. “Cool? This is beautiful.” Running over to the cherry red Ferrari, you reach out before turning back to the 26 year old. He nods. Delicately, you brush your hand against the leather seats. “Where did you get this?” 
“I know a guy.”
“Mafia leader?” 
“Ha-ha,” he mocks as he unlocks it, going in to open the door. “Hop in.”
Humid wind sends your hair flying as you let out loud shrieks from the speed. You don’t know how he found such an isolated spot, but you don’t ask questions with how much you enjoy the thrill. “Again, again!” you cheer as he does professional donuts. The car comes to a halt as you fling forward and he stays as straight as can be. 
“How about I teach you?”
“Okay, put the car in gear.” Following instructions, you listen attentively. “Turn the wheel and floor it, but make sure to be alert and keep your foot on the brake just in case.” Swinging harshly, you let out a scream. “It’s okay, try again.”
After a while, you still couldn’t get it down and your frustration was starting to show. But he was patient, spilling out different versions of advice. Twist sharply. Biting on your bottom lip, you huff before trying again. His words circle your mind as you drive the Ferrari straight ahead before turning the wheel and pressing down on the gas. Your adrenaline picks up when you realize what you had just done.
“That was perfect!” Raising his hand out for a high five, you squeal as you smack it hard. He hisses, but you’re on a roll. 
“Hold on, Charles, you're in for a ride.”
Though his car is moving fast, the Monegasque feels as if he’s stuck in slow motion as he admires the way you control the Ferrari. He'd be lying if he said he didn’t find any of this attractive. It took you a while, sure, but your determination got to him as he kept his eyes trained on you, peeking over at you where you sat mumbling the steps over and over. Arms maneuvering the wheel flawlessly, knotted hair fanning your face. Stepping on the break, he barely has a moment to react before he slams right onto the dashboard. You wince.
“I should have warned you, crap! But you were doing so good! Your head would not move an inch.” Admiration paints your voice. Embarrassed, he rubs his temple.
“I got a bit distracted, but I’m fine.”
“Okay,” you mumble skeptically. Honking the prancing horse, you turn to him with a Cheshire Cat grin. “How about a drink, professor? My treat.”
-
“What’s the occasion?” the bartender asks as he fills two glasses of whiskey. I can do donuts now, you brag. His brows raise up in shock. “That’s impressive. It takes a good person to teach you.”
“It does, but lucky for me, I got it.” Discreetly you point over at Charles who sits with yet another baseball hat. “He’s pretty great.” The man's face drops as he leans against the table, getting closer to you.
“I’d say so! That’s Charles Leclerc.” Flabbergasted as to how he knows his name, you take the two drinks and raise them up as a silent thank you. “Free drinks on me if you need anymore, amore!”
On the way back to the small table, you ponder on the weird encounter. Had they met before? Perhaps Charles had fixed his car or something along the lines. Grazie, the Monegasque smiles as he takes a sip of the cool drink. You do the same, wide eyes shining at the taste. “Holy crap, this is good.” Swallowing the rest of the golden liquid, you signal at the bartender for the rest of the bottle. Nodding, he brings it over as Charles lowers his head, green eyes trained on his lap.
“It’s somehow sweet,” you narrate as you serve yourself another. “More?” He shakes his head, wavy hair following his movement. It’s the Italian charm. You hum against your cup. “Must be. Tastes like paradise.”
It’s safe to say that you were obsessed the minute you started growing tipsy. Squinting at the squawking girl who was pouring her heart out on the stage, microphone in hand, you snap your fingers loudly, jumping up. That. I want to do that! Your travel buddy chuckles. “You do?” 
“Of course I do. Plus, my voice is all warmed up.” Massaging your throat, you march over at the little old lady who plays the tarnished piano. “Potrei cantare dopo?” She nods kindly before wrapping up the song. I have another one in me, the girl yelps as her friends pull her off stage. 
“Oh great, a drunk removed for another drunk,” someone shouts out when you stumble on stage. 
“Hey. Blame the delicious drinks!” Flipping through the book, you narrow your eyes. “This one,” you cheer excitedly as you whisper into her ear. She beams. No one ever asks for that one! Practicing against the keys, she nods as you twirl your way back on stage. 
All eyes are on you as you play with the hem of your mini dress. Normally, you’d be a nervous wreck, and maybe the liquor helped, but you weren’t afraid of making a fool out of yourself. 
“You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere.” Soft keys echo through the small bar - for sure a guitar would have been better, but something about the familiar instrument makes Charles feel cozy as he listens to your voice. It isn’t perfect - you were drunk after all - but it was enough to make everyone listen closely like you were some divine object. 
Swaying, with you smiling sheepishly as you move your eyes through the crowd of strangers, and you’re glad the green eyed boy isn’t one of them. Is it fast enough so we can fly away? The brunette  grins at you as you spin in your dress, ponytail fluttering like grass in the gentle breeze. 
“So I remember we were driving, driving in your car. Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk. City lights lay out before us, and your arm felt nice wrapped ‘round my shoulder.”
There is some sort of unexplainable shift inside of you as you feel yourself sober up with his intense stare. His brows are drawn softly, listening to your sweet voice, as if you would disintegrate and never be seen or heard of again. A click - you just clicked.
“And I had a feeling that I belonged. I had a feeling I could be someone.”
-
Kicking the door wide open, Charles carries you in as he settles you on the bed. You flop around like a fish out their tank for good measure, then pout, bare feet pressing up against his clothed abs. He halts. “I need to change…take off all my makeup...” All of it, you mouth, droopy eyes struggling to stay open. 
“I can get you what you need.” Last time he dug through a girl's suitcase, on a mission to find all her essentials, he had a girlfriend. Pushing away his thoughts, he jogs back over to your limp body. “Okay, here you-” 
Curled up like a rolly polly, you breath gently as you sleep. The 26 year old isn’t too surprised, but rather confused. Does he just leave you now? Pacing the room, he nibbled down on his nails as he weighed his options. He could let you sleep peacefully and possibly get a beating in the morning for leaving you to rot with all the nastiness or he could get it done quick - not look twice - and maybe still get a beating.
“I’ll be fast,” he mutters to himself as he grabs your makeup wipes. He tries to be as ginger about it, a cool towel erasing your light makeup. As soon as you scrunch your face up like a baby rabbit, he stops and rushes away. Good enough.
Now comes the complicated part. Slip the dress off, change her into her jammies. Easy peasy. But the more he thinks about it, the more he’s unsure. One night with your outside clothes won’t kill you. 
“Take it off, Charles, please,” you grumble as you tug on your dress. His Adam's Apple bobs up and down with panic as he nods to himself. Green eyes flicker the room before they land on his t-shirt. Oversized - would cover you whole - fast. 
As if he’s being chased down by the police, he runs over and in a quick motion, slides your dress off before tugging his shirt over your head, dropping your passed out body onto the bed and throwing the duvets over you. Grazie, you murmur from underneath as he sighs.
“Don’t mention it.”
-
“Fucking hell,” you groan, clearly feeling the awful hangover. After promising to never drink again, you rub your eyes as you yawn, focus becoming drawn to the black shirt. Your stomach drops. No, no, no. Hurrying to look for your phone, you quickly unlock it before freezing.
Who is Charlz Leclerk? You can’t even recall when you must've searched this up, but Google definitely understood your investigation.
"Tell me, Nico," you pout as you take a sip of your whiskey as you wait for Charles to come out of the bathroom. "How do you know my friend's name?"
He beams excitedly. “Amore! He’s…” Blinking harshly, you try your best to listen and read his lips as he makes funny hand gestures. For a second, you swore he was swerving an invisible car. Waving his hand, he laughs. "Look him up."
Monegasque racing driver; Formula One; Currently racing for Scuderia Ferrari. 
“What?” you whisper as you throw your phone away, eyeing it like the plague. No. Charles was a mechanic - a mechanic, for god sakes. 
“Oh good, you’re awake.” He tosses you a paper bag. “It’s a sandwich. Eat.”
How can he even look at you and act like everything is okay? Did he do anything wrong? No, not really, but why would he keep this from you? You’re surprised to find yourself feeling hurt by his secretive actions as he stares back innocently. 
“Is it not good?” he questions when you chomp down sadly. It is, you reassure with a mouthful. “Hey, I was thinking we could go for a swim. The weather is nice out.”
“Mhmm,” you respond meekly. “Is it okay if I meet you there? I-I was thinking I could rinse my body first.” 
The brunette nods. “I can wait for you.”
“No!” You blush at your eager tone. “We’ll just meet up.” Okay? Grabbing his things and yours, he strolls out the door, but not before gifting you a small wink. Call me if you get lost. “Asshole!” you cry out as he chuckles, slamming the door behind him.
In a matter of seconds, you’re already dialing work. “Lucy! Is Eleanor there?” Sweetheart, how are you? How’s the leg? The arm? Do you need me to- “I’m fine. Can you connect me to Eleanor, it’s urgent.” The older lady giggles as she switches you over. 
“This better be good.”
Clearing your throat, you fiddle with the hem of his shirt. “I have an exclusive.” 
Eleanor’s rich and elegant voice scoffs. “What about your arm?”
“Like you said,” you hum. “I still got my right one."
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btsgotjams27 · 8 months
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things you don't know | jjk
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summary: it’s been seven years since you last saw the boy that broke your heart. after moving back home, you try everything you can to avoid seeing him around town, but destiny has a wicked way of doing the opposite.
✨ title: things you don't know | one shot ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader | ✨ rating: M/17+ ✨ genre/au: angst | ex best friends!au | ✨ word count: 4.3k ✨ warnings: language, drinking, light kisses, miscommunication, reader jokes about unaliving her other best friend, mentions of throwing up ✨ prompt: “i thought i’d never see you again” ✨ a/n: heyoooo. so this is loosely based off a friendship i had in high school and in case you're wondering (irl) i haven't seen this man in over 17 years (oh gawd i'm old). anyway, thank you to @shina913 for being my beta.
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✨ mini-series masterlist ✨
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You were a fool to believe nothing could tear you and your best friend apart. Just like in the movies you'd watch for hours, you realized you were not the main character; he was. You were only part of the supporting cast, the best friend–not the one he wanted. Someone else had been occupying his mind, his thoughts, and you guessed you weren't privy to know all of him.
You wondered if you became the villain in his story. Were you the other woman? How could you have known if he never told you? He was your best friend. The one you shared everything with–your hopes, dreams, and even the dumbest little details of your life.
And maybe you expected too much. Maybe you had built a world of sunshine and rainbows and believed no storms could ever weather through. Maybe you cared too much, thinking he felt the same.
But at long last, you had become the girl jealous of Josie–the person who took away your best friend.
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The city you lived in had grown vastly the last time you were here. Multiple lanes were added to the highways, and fields of land were cleared out for new homes, shops, and restaurants to try. Though the only thing on your mind was not bumping into him.
His was the only face you didn't want to run into in a city that felt familiar and unfamiliar. It felt silly. You're a grown woman with a car and an apartment–had bills to pay, and running into one person shouldn't haunt you as it did.
You might have done some detective work, going through old high school friends lists on Facebook and Instagram, lurking to see if he would show up. But as you suspected, he didn't exist on social media, so your chances of seeing him increased in your weird little mind.
The old hangout places were on your no-go list. Remember, you're trying to avoid him. He has not been on your mind every waking second, minute and hour. You weren't wondering how he was doing or if he was okay. He didn't deserve to occupy your mind, take all your energy.
But if you were to bump into him, you had a monologue ready to tell him how he had fucked up your mind, spiked all your insecurities, and hoped he and his stupid little girlfriend lived unhappily ever after. He deserved that, at least.
"Did you see Lillie's Instagram post? The one where a bunch of them were out celebrating Josie's birthday?" Lana asked, sipping on her iced vanilla latte. Lana was another high school best friend who didn't stomp all over your heart.
And regarding Lillie's post, it was hard not to see it when everyone you knew was tagged. Some things never change, you guessed. The same circle of friends, the same drama, the same gossip, but then again, you were sitting with one of your oldest friends.
"Yeah, I saw it."
And you also noticed how Jungkook wasn't in any photos. After doing your detective research and scouring through the internet. He was a ghost, not even showing up in tagged photos. You were hoping to get a glimpse of him in the background, but you hadn't seen a picture of him in years, so you had no idea if he had grown into that big 'ol nose of his or if he had gotten those piercings and tattoos he's always wanted. There was no trace of this man, not even in Josie's pictures.
Last you heard, they were still together, and you always rolled your eyes hard, remembering what Jeon Jungkook did to you. Didn't even have the fucking balls to say it to your face, but in a letter instead.
You suspected it was all Josie's fault. Probably afraid you'd steal him away, or he'd prefer to hang out with you. And you understood, he wasn't your boyfriend or anything, just a friend. Ex-best friend, that is. So you supposed any girl that did like Jungkook would be intimidated by your friendship.
"Have you seen Jungkook at all?"
Lana knew what went down–dropping you like a fly, like you didn't exist. She had teased you like a madwoman because you were crushing hard on his friend, Jimin, and somehow ended up befriending Jungkook.
"Nope," you said flatly.
"So, you know how we always talk about Jungkook being untraceable? I think I found him," she said, pulling out her phone.
Your jaw clenched before huffing out a breath. Lana liked to poke the bear when it came to Jungkook. You knew it wasn't intentional, and there was a part that held onto those painful memories because you weren't over what he did to you. Countless nights of questions and if you could've done anything to save your friendship. Wondering what you did wrong and why he picked Josie instead of you. You thought he had feelings and just didn’t want to act on it.
Lana slid the phone over, her two fingers zooming in on a brightened photo. "It's definitely Jungkook," she pointed to a figure in the background.
You narrowed your eyes as she moved the photo around. Your heart skipped a beat. You'd recognize that nose anywhere. It was him. He wasn't a ghost. There was actual evidence that he existed.
"I searched for more photos, but nothing else came up."
You chuckled. "Of course not. Jeon Jungkook doesn't exist on social media. It was never his thing anyway. It was always Josie who liked the attention."
"As a couple, they make no sense to me. What does he see in her anyway?" Lana pondered, sucking up the last of her latte.
Josie was popular and pretty and did every extracurricular activity known to man. Jungkook was quite the opposite: introverted, kept to himself, played games day and night, yet somehow they still ended up together.
"I don't know. Maybe she has a great personality or something," you answered.
She had everything and could’ve had anyone in the senior class, and something always bothered you about their relationship. You just couldn’t put your finger on it.
Lana could see your despair and decided to change the subject. "What are you doing tonight? Jimin is having a small party and was super excited when I told him you moved back."
You narrowed your eyes, your lips thinned. "What are we? In high school again?"
"Come on, babe. It'll be just like old times. I'll even pick you up. I know you hate driving."
It's only been a week since you've moved back. You didn't even know where all of your cute clothes were. "I have nothing to wear." It was the best excuse you could come up with at the moment.
"I got you. Don't worry about it!"
Fuck—you should've opted for a different excuse.
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"I thought you said this was a small party," you said, wearing a dress that was barely covering your ass. You'd get Lana back for putting you in the tightest dress.
"Trust me, this is small." Lana hooked her arm with yours, dragging you to the kitchen, where Jimin poured several soju bottles and sodas into a pitcher. It was quite the concoction.
“How can he afford this place?” you whispered as you stared at the fancy marbled island and large commercial refrigerator.
Lana shrugged. “I don’t think he lives by himself. Probably has roommates or something.”
"Ladies! You're here!" Jimin squealed, setting down the soju bottle. He hugged Lana before greeting you warmly. "Oh—it's so good to see you!" He wrapped his arms around you, moving you from side to side, digging his chin into your shoulder.
"It's good to see you too, Jimin. You're, um, still quite the host." His parties were all the rage in high school, and now that you look back, you're unsure what you saw in Jimin. He was a good guy, a great dancer, but he partied too much for your taste. Maybe you were shallow and just liked him for his looks.
"I have a reputation to uphold." He wiggled his eyebrows, handing you a shot glass. "I call this little drink 'Soju Sunrise.'" He held his glass, waiting for you to clink it against his.
"Here goes nothing." The glasses clack together, and the mixed liquids go down your throat as smooth as silk. Surprisingly, the cocktail is rather tasty, and you hold out your glass for another round.
"Yes! That's my girl!"
After multiple rounds of Jimin's Soju Sunrise, your body loosened up along with your tongue, being quite the chatterbox to everyone hanging around. The alcohol coursing through your veins made catching up with old friends less dull. Though you wish you could've had a sign plastered to you stating your job, why you were back, and what you've been up to. It would've made your life simpler.
As you exited the bathroom, Lana immediately pulled you into an empty bedroom, closing the door behind her.
"What the fuck, Lana?"
"He's here!" she exclaimed out of breath.
"Who?" Confusion sets on your face.
“He-who-must-not-be-named!”
"Voldemort?" You raised a brow, pouting your lips together.
She struck your head. You scowled, rubbing the spot. Still confused, you think back to the crowded room.
A lightbulb finally goes off. You blame the Soju Sunrise for making you an airhead. "You've got to be kidding me."
"She's here too."
Oh, how you'd rather be clawing your eyes out right now. It would hurt less than facing Jungkook and Josie after all these years.
You had your little monologue prepared and ready to go, but you didn't think you'd have to recite it. Did you even remember what you wanted to say?
You looked around the room and sprinted when you saw a window. Your hands fumbled with the lock, but it was too hard to open.
"What are you doing?" Lana asked, her eyebrows knitted together, watching you struggle.
"I'm gonna climb out the window." It was the only sensible thing to do.
"You're so fucking dramatic."
"It's the only way to avoid them."
Lana grabbed your arms and made you look at her. "You are a grown-ass woman. Put on your big girl panties and walk out that door with your head held high."
"But I don't wanna," you pout. "And I'm wearing granny panties." You lowered your head, staring at your dress, picturing the blush-colored panties with a little bow on the front.
"Granny panties with this dress?"
"What? I couldn't find other ones and I like full coverage." Curse you for not unpacking like you should've been doing.
"Would've been better if you went commando."
"Lana! I have some dignity."
"Do you, though? You won't even leave this room and face the one person who broke your heart."
"Thanks, Lana," you said flatly.
"You're welcome!" she smiled, shaking your body. "Come on. You can do this. I believe in you." You rolled your eyes, staring blankly at her. She scanned you from head to toe, then back up to your chest. "Sweetie, we gotta make sure your tits are stunning." She dragged down the top of the dress, ensuring the swells of your breasts were peeking through.
"Lana, I'm not trying to seduce the guy." Okay—maybe you developed a crush on him, but it's not like you were going to make a move, he had a girlfriend for fuck’s sake.
"Yeah, who cares? We're trying to make Josie jealous."
"This is so high school," you comment, digging through your purse for your lipstick.
"Your point is?" Lana blinked.
You huffed. Okay—fine. If this were the only time you'd see Jeon Jungkook and Kim Josie, then fuck it. You could pretend everything was great for five minutes. Your hand went underneath your dress, tugging off your granny panties and tossing them on the ground.
"Holy shit—going commando too?" Lana squealed and clapped excitedly.
Hiking your dress up just a smidge, you were ready to smile and lie through whatever this dreaded conversation would bring up, probably old feelings of hurt and regret.
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You hooked your arm through Lana's, with your shoulders back and head held high. This was it. After all this time, you would face the son-of-a-bitch who broke your heart and the cruel witch who took him away.
You had class—at least, you hoped you did. So, you'd play it cool, be calm and collected. Pretend like you had your shit together.
That is until you turned the corner and immediately spotted them snuggled up in the corner. Josie looked like a lovesick puppy all over him. Jungkook, not so much.
You clutched Lana's arm tighter and came to a halt. You repeated your short monologue in your brain from the bedroom to the living room, but it was as if your mind had wiped everything and your brain's connectors were short-circuiting.
Your eyes glistened as you watched the two. Josie sat on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, kissing him. Your lower lip quivered, and your stomach sank. You weren't sure if you needed to hurl because of them or because of the soju. Perhaps both.
Jungkook pulled away from her grasp, seemingly annoyed by her show of affection. As soon as he turned away from her, his eyes landed on you.
You flashed a small smile and a wave of your hand. Who knew seeing Jungkook would make you feel the complete opposite of the narrative you had created? In your head, he was a heartless best friend who left you for a wicked witch, but here he was in the flesh and was just that big-nosed, doe-eyed boy whom you shared everything with. You missed him so much and wanted to catch up on life like no time had passed.
Lana turned to you. "Hey, what happened to the bad bitch persona? Aren't you gonna tell him off?"
"I'm so stupid, Lana. I can't do this." So much anger had been building up within the last seven years, but underneath that anger was just a girl who was heartbroken.
Lana nudged you in the ribs. You two watched as he pushed Josie off his lap, causing her to frown. You attempted to let go, but she pulled you in as Jungkook beelined toward you.
"Oh, my god! Jeon Jungkook in the flesh?" Lana said in a dramatic tone. "You do exist! I can't believe it. Well, I'm going to find myself another drink! Have fun catching up with your bestie!" She punched Jungkook's shoulder hard, and he scowled and flinched, massaging the spot.
You pressed your lips together, unsure what to say to him. It's been seven years since you last saw him. Once you graduated from high school, you were out of each other's hair. You were off to college a few hours away, and he stayed in town to attend a local university.
Jungkook cut off all forms of communication. It was like your friendship ceased to exist, which hurt you the most. The last thing you received from him was a measly little letter explaining that he was with Josie and that she didn't want you coming in between their relationship.
You couldn't understand why Jungkook couldn't just talk to you. Josie was never mentioned in conversations, nor did you see him with her, so it felt out of left field. If Jungkook told you he liked someone, you'd never stand in the way of his happiness. You thought he knew you better than that, but maybe you were wrong. Maybe you didn't know each other at all.
"I thought I'd never see you again," Jungkook said, the corners of his mouth curving into a warm smile.
You only paid attention to the glow-up Jungkook had. He did get the lip piercings he wanted, along with the tattoos. You could see them peeking through underneath his gray hoodie hanging off his shoulder. The white tank top defined his taut chest, letting you know he liked to work out. His damp hair curled in all the right places against the nape of his neck and his forehead. The silver chain adorning his neck looked pretty enough to tug on.
"You look great, by the way," Jungkook added, breaking you out of your daze.
"Oh, thanks. So do you." You manage to squeak out finally; then you remember how provocative you looked in your dress compared to sweet, innocent, looking Josie in her pink floral sundress, who was making their way toward you.
"Jungkook, can we please get a drink?" Josie whined, giving you the once over before latching onto Jungkook like the leech she was.
"You remember—"
Josie interrupted, "Yeah–don't remind me. Can we go?"
Josie stormed off toward the kitchen, leaving you and Jungkook behind. Did he have any say in their relationship, or did she tug him around like a puppy on a short leash?
You're stunned but not surprised by her remark. Once a bitch, always a bitch.
Turning your attention back to him, you realize you have nothing to say. The scars from this friendship were carved deeply into your heart; not even the monologue you rehearsed could dissipate the pain he caused.
"I—I gotta go," you said, taking off toward the bedroom because you couldn't fucking leave your underwear on a random stranger's floor. You had to save whatever dignity you had left.
"Wait—" He tried to grab your attention and followed you, walking through the hallway toward a room. He watched you go from one end of the room to the other, searching for something. "What are you doing in my room?"
You straighten your posture, slowly turning to him. "This is your room?"
"Yeah, Jimin and I share this place along with another friend.”
Oh, now you were going to fucking kill Lana. She knew. She must have! That's why she wanted to bring you here. And out of all the rooms, you had to pick Jeon Jungkook’s to leave your underwear in?
"Great," you said in exasperation. You turned back around in search of your panties. "Where the fuck is it?" It could only be in so many places.
"Where's what?"
You got down on your hands and knees, tugging your dress down, looking underneath the bed for your granny panties. "Nothing," you grumbled. "Fuck it. Forget it." You stood, walking past Jungkook. He could have your underwear as a keepsake, you suppose.
"Hey—" He gripped your arm. "Come on. This is how you greet me after all this time?"
You scoffed, glaring at him. "You're fucking kidding me, right? You're lucky I'm even speaking to you. You don't even deserve that."
He lets go of your arm. "We kind of ended on a sour note, but it wasn't my fault."
He couldn't see it, but smoke was fuming from your ears, and you wished your death glare could burn through him and maybe even through Josie. How fucking dare he put all the blame on you? And for what exactly? You might add that you did nothing but be his friend, and he ghosted you like you meant nothing to him.
"So it's my fault?" You assumed he was placing the blame on you. "How is it my fault? Please enlighten me, Jungkook."
He quieted down, cowering his head.
"You showed up holding hands with Josie, then proceeded to not talk to me like a human being and instead wrote me a fucking letter like the coward you are. A letter, for fucks sake. You could've had the common decency to say it to my face."
You walked out of language class, and there they were, hand in hand as you idly watched from behind. And he didn’t even hand you the letter. He had stuffed it in your locker.
Your words took him aback. His recount of how everything went down was different from yours. "I'm sorry," he said. His eyes flicked to yours before looking away.
"Well, it's too fucking late for apologies."
Jungkook called out to you, and you didn't look back, storming away from him. You passed by Lana, telling her you were leaving and that you'd talk to her later.
You ran out the front door, stopping at the sidewalk's edge, remembering that Lana drove. "Fuck," you grumbled, pulling out your phone to grab an Uber.
You were stupid to think Jeon Jungkook wouldn't affect you after all these years. Maybe it's because you haven't dealt with feeling abandoned by him. Maybe you wished you did more for your friendship. Whatever the reason, you knew moving back wasn't a good idea because you’d have to deal with this.
"Hey!" Jungkook called out. You looked over your shoulder and continued walking. He ran in front of you to grab your attention. "Can you talk to me?" he asked, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.
"Why don't you fucking write me a letter? Since you're so good at that," you mocked as you shuffled around him. He was a shitty writer who could barely pass Creative Writing without your help.
"That's not fair."
You scoffed, stopping in your tracks to turn back to him. "Run back to your little girlfriend. Don’t you have to get her approval first before talking to me?"
"She's not my girlfriend."
You tut. "Yeah–okay." That was hard to believe, considering she was all over him.
"She's not. We haven't been together for a while now," Jungkook explained.
"You looked pretty cozy earlier."
Jungkook looks at the ground, kicking around an invisible rock. "It's complicated."
"That's great, Jungkook, but I really don't want to hear about your relationship problems. Good luck with Josie and in life. You two deserve each other." You pulled out your phone to see if the Uber was arriving.
Crossing your arms, you walked back toward Jimin's place. You wish you pinned the pick-up location somewhere else, but you'd have to endure his presence longer.
Jungkook followed, giving you some space, stopping when you did. His eyes raked over you. His dimple appeared and disappeared as he licked his lips and chewed on the inside of his cheek.
"When you got your acceptance letter to college, and you decided you were leaving, you didn't bother to ask about what I thought," he said, hands still in his pocket, staring at the ground. Your eyes flickered to him before looking away. He softly chuckled, "I thought to myself, what would I do without my best friend? I had nothing going for me, didn't even know what I wanted to do—still don't know what I want to do. And as much as you make me out to be the bad guy in your story, there are a lot of things you don't know."
You turned away from him as your eyes began to well up. You didn't want to cry before him, rehashing things from so long ago. You let out a shaky breath, trying to contain your emotions.
"Why didn't you say anything?" you asked, using the back of your hand to wipe away the snot threatening to fall.
He shrugged. "I don't know. I would never want to keep you from something that made you happy," he admitted.
You were always open with each other, so you're unsure why this one thing made it seem like he couldn't be honest with you.
"Tell me one thing."
Jungkook hummed.
"Why didn't you tell me about Josie?" It was the one question that lingered since you received his letter.
His lips thinned. "Honestly?" You nodded. "It all happened so quickly. Jimin was throwing a party that night when you told me about going off to college, and I was in my head, overthinking everything. And Josie was there, being sweet and comforting me, and I don't know what came over me. I just kissed her to make myself feel better. Then, the next day at school, she took my hand and told everyone we were together."
"So, let me get this straight? I told you I'm going off to college. You get upset, kiss Josie because you were mad about me leaving, and then end up in a relationship with her?"
"Well, when you put it that way, it sounds ridiculous."
You turned to him, hitting him across the chest several times. He held his hands up to block you. "Because Jeon Jungkook, it is ridiculous! God–you're such—a—" you groaned. "Do you know how much you hurt me? We could've avoided all this if you had just talked to me. Life could've been different for us. You could've come with me, and then we could've been together."
"Together?" He stared at you with his starry brown eyes.
"Yes, you dummy! I liked you, if you couldn't tell. I was going to tell you, but then you and Josie happened, and well, you know how the rest of the story goes."
You closed your eyes and let out a long-awaited breath. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders, getting all this out in the open. You weren't expecting Jungkook to do anything to make you feel better, but at least he could hear what you wanted to say after all these years.
Your uber pulled up and you opened the door, holding onto it as you looked at Jungkook. A glimpse of the boy you once knew still lingered in his eyes. If you could go back and do it all over again, you would've fought harder for him, fought for what the two of you had. It was too precious of a friendship to let go just like that. Unfortunately, life didn't work that way.
There were no forms of time travel or alternate dimensions where the two of you could've lived happily ever after, and there were only the choices you made here and now.
"Bye, Jungkook."
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✨ read part two | read part three ✨
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1K notes · View notes
eliosty · 5 months
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Satoru Gojo x M! Reader ||Phone Privileges||
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Requests are open!!! Fem aligned DNI TW: Gojo's abs, slighty suggestive Pronouns: He/Him
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Shoko sighed, exhausted from hearing her co-worker whine all day about his boyfriend. “Gojo, if you miss him so much, go visit him…” She pinched the bridge of her nose and grumbled. “But, he’s busy! He’s gonna hit me again if i disturb his-” Before he got the chance to finish his sentence, he was interrupted with the sound of his phone ringing. And just like that, he shot up from his seat from the very comfy chair to his phone.
Without even having to look at the number calling (because he had set a very specific ringtone for your number), he answered. “Hey Toru!” The sound of your voice just made the grin on his face widen even more. “What can I do for you sugar?” His smooth voice teased through the phone. You chuckled from the other side of the phone, “Mon amour, could you help me pick up a takeout order after work? I’ll send you the address over text m’kay?” Satoro quickly agreed and blew you a kiss. “Alright, thank Toru, I’ll see you tonight. Love you” You quickly gave your phone a peck, as if you were giving Satoru a kiss on his lips. 
He hung up, and Satoru was practically glowing. Anyone who would be passing by would be absolutely blinded by the rayonning light beaming from Satoru. Shoko was convinced that she saw flowers blooming and floating  around him as well. “Well, you’re seeing your loverboy tonight, happy now?” Satoru only nodded his head like an excited puppy.
.
.
.
Satoru looked down at his phone, the time read ‘6:21PM’. Your order from the restaurant was to be picked up at 6:30. The Chinese restaurant was finally in Satoru’s view. He looked back down at the address you had sent him earlier to double check he was in the right place. “Should be here..” He looked up at the building that stood in front of him. He pushed open its doors and stepped right in. Almost instantly, all eyes were on him, it wasn’t everyday that the people inside the restaurant would see a 6’3” man with a strange blindfold on his face and with spiky snowy white hair walk in.
He went to the bathroom after the waiter told him that your order would be ready in 10 minutes. Taking advantage of the free time, he went to the bathroom. Stepping into the washroom, the first thing he did was lift his work shirt, which exposed his well chiselled and toned upper body. Snapping a few quick pics, he sent you over 12 pictures of his abs within the span of 3 minutes.
Your phone’s notifications went off for the 12th time in the span of 3 minutes by now. “God who the hell is spamming my notifs?!” You groaned and pushed back from your work desk and slid with the chair all the way to your phone. You snatched it from its stand and opened up your messages which brought you to Satoru’s messages. Confused at the number of pictures he’s sent you. Not thinking too much about it, you simply clicked them open. 
You were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend’s thirst trap worthy pictures. Your face was heating up and you could really feel it. In a panic, you threw your phone across the room. “AAAAAGH” With a flustered face you hid your face in your hands. “I should revoke his phone privileges…” You groaned into your hands. Almost on cue, you heard your apartment door open.
“Baby∼, did y’a like the pictures I sent y’a?” He walked into your office with a wide smirk on his face. “Toru…This is the 7th time you’ve done this this week..” You looked up to him with a flushed face. “Well, how about I recreate each picture for y’a?” “Excuse me? Toru, what are you talking ab-” With that, a half naked Satoru pinned you down onto your desk. “T-Toru?...ngh…AARGHHHH” 
Guess not even Satoru Gojo’s infinity can save him the wrath of his lover’s bewilderment since he ended up, again with a slap to the back of the head.
Word count: 689
Low key might just make a mini series just solely about Gojo atp
I am so devastated, GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE
505 notes · View notes
gretavangroupie · 2 months
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Errant
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Word count: 16.0k
Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader
Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Fighting, Name Calling, Toxic Themes and Behavior, Allusions to Cheating, Jealousy, Anger, Gaslighting. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Slight Masochism, Slight Humiliation Kink, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.
A/N: Hey! Welcome back for the third installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Josh's story! This may not be everyones cup of tea, so make sure you read the warnings! There's only one left now, and we can't wait to share Jake's story with you! See you real soon!
JOSH POV
You sit on the exam table, gently swinging your feet as the doctor scribbles on his prescription pad. The paper underneath you crinkles, your clammy hands getting stuck to it. 
“It’s looking like the perforation is healing, but I’m going to give you some antibiotics and ear drops. You’ll take the antibiotics for 10 days and the drops for 5.” He tears off the prescription and hands it to you. “Just be sure you aren’t drinking and you avoid getting any water in or around your ears.”
You scrunch up your nose when you hear the pointed reminder not to drink. 
“Thank you, doc. I’ll be on my best behavior.” You joke, hopping down from the table. Your sneakers squeak as you stick the landing. 
Navigating through the back halls of the ENT practice, you follow the signs that direct you to the check-out. It’s eerily quiet as you walk through the waiting room and out of the front doors. The sun nearly blinds you when you get outside, so you lift your hand to block it out while you search for your girlfriend’s car. 
Spotting her a few rows into the parking lot, you walk in her direction, knocking softly on the window once you’re close enough. She unlocks the door and you slip inside, the car next to her parked a little too close. She sighs, shifting from park to drive while you buckle your seatbelt.
“How was it?” she asks, her enthusiasm lacking. You look over at her as she cranes her neck to check that the way is clear before she pulls out of her parking spot.
“Well, it was fine.” You take a deep breath before continuing. “I have to take antibiotics and put in ear drops for a few days, so you might have to help me with that. I can keep taking the pain meds that the doctor I originally saw prescribed, but the pain should subside as I heal.” 
She nods, keeping the radio volume low. The only time she doesn’t sing in the car is when she’s upset, and you know the song currently playing is one of her favorites. So, you seal your fate and ask the dreaded question in every relationship.
“What’s wrong?” 
She huffs and thinks for a moment before she answers. 
“You know it’s Valentine’s day, right?” 
“Oh. Yeah, I guess it is.” You’ve never put much stock in the holiday and you didn’t think she did either. The last two years, you hadn’t ever done more than get her some flowers or chocolates delivered, mostly because you weren’t around.
“I just… I don’t know, it’s the first one we’ve been able to spend together and we’re spending the day going to the doctor and the pharmacy…”
“Oh, so you’re mad that you had to bring me to the doctor?” you ask, a little defensive now. 
“That’s not what I’m saying, Josh. I’m just saying I wish we were doing more than running errands.” She speaks curtly to you, and honestly, it’s a little condescending.
“It’s a made up holiday anyway. I’ve never bought into all the hearts and candy and bullshit. I didn’t think you did either.” You rest your head on your hand, looking out the window as she drives a little too fast down the freeway.
“It’s not about that. You’re not getting it.” she snaps, her tone whiny and frustrated.
“Listen. I had my assistant send you chocolate covered strawberries to your office. I don’t really know what else you want from me.” you bite back. You’ve had enough of this argument and want to be home already so you can take something for your pain and try to get some rest. 
“I didn’t even know that, seeing as I had to call out and use a sick day to take you to the doctor.” she says, and you feel your scalp get hot, your temper flaring.
“So you are mad you had to bring me to the doctor.” 
“I just don’t understand what a ruptured eardrum has to do with driving!” she says, her voice raising a bit. “You didn’t take your pain meds this morning so you technically would have been fine to drive… I just don’t appreciate that I had to use my PTO on Valentine’s day and all I’m doing is driving Miss Daisy.” 
“I don’t know if you realize this, but I’m in a lot of fucking pain.” you grit out, and she scoffs a laugh.
“Yeah. I’ve heard.” 
You know you’re about to lose it, so you close your eyes for a moment, gathering your composure. Unfortunately, she just keeps going.
“I thought I was going to spend my Valentine’s day getting bitten and scratched by your brother’s awful fucking cat, but now that you’re all home, I get to spend my evening dealing with you while you’re miserable and in pain, and I’m not sure which is worse.” 
“You act like I’m home on some vacation… I have a work function tomorrow even if I’m not out at the shows, so–”
“Are you kidding me?! You somehow have MORE obligations now that you’re home? I guess I’m the fool for thinking we would have more than a few hours to spend together.” She cuts the wheel and turns sharply into your driveway. You grab the handle of the door and grumble under your breath at the way she’s driving like a maniac.
“Look, it’s not like I asked to go. Jake and Danny did the last one, so now Sam and I are stuck going tomorrow. It’s supposed to be nice. It’s a fancy thing, dinner and drinks. I figured you would be my date.” 
You watch her turn off the car and think for a moment, the word “date” appealing to her a little bit, which is exactly what you had hoped.
“Come on. I missed you and I feel like shit and you’re… you’re all prickly. Can’t we just have a nice night in? I’ll make it up to you. I just want to take a nap.”
She seems to be thinking about it as she gets out of the car. You unbuckle your seatbelt and follow suit, walking around to her side and reaching for her hand. Tugging her closer, you wrap your other arm around her shoulders and kiss her on the side of her head with some force. 
“Okay, okay…” she relents, leaning in to you. 
“I love you. You’re still my Valentine, right?” you ask, nuzzling your nose into her hair and squeezing her tighter. It works up a little giggle out of her, which means you’re in the clear. 
“I guess so. You didn’t even ask me.” 
You squeeze her again, this time digging your fingertips into her sides to tickle another laugh out of her. 
“It was on the card that came with the strawberries, obviously.” you quip, peppering her cheek and neck in kisses while she continues to soften up. 
“Oh, get out of here. Go take your damn nap.” she says with a smile, turning you by the shoulders towards the house and pushing gently. 
HER POV
You hear the soft padding of feet upstairs and the whip of the flat sheet as your bed is remade, pulling your attention away from your computer screen as you send off emails. The sun is set now, the room cast in darkness, and you figure Josh has slept off the fatigue that was a result of his medications. You gently close your computer, setting it next to you on the couch as you hear his feet walking slowly down the stairs. You turn to lay eyes on him, looking a little worse for wear in his low slung joggers, but still glowing as usual. 
“Hey baby, you feel any better?” you ask, resting your chin on the back of the fluffy leather couch cushion. 
“No. Not really, but it’s fine.” he pauses, reaching the landing and walking up to the back of the couch. He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time, “You want to get ready, we can go grab dinner?” he asks, running a hand over his messy curls. 
“I would love to, but are you sure you want to?” you ask, a little surprised that he actually wants to go out. 
“Yeah, I have to eat with these antibiotics.” he says, pushing off the couch, and heading into the kitchen. “How long do you need to get ready?”
“Um, I don’t know, twenty minutes or so?” you answer, standing quickly and grabbing your phone from the coffee table. 
“Alright, I’ll be up there to change in a minute.”
You take the stairs two at a time, rounding the corner into your bedroom, and dashing into the closet. You finger through your hangers searching for the perfect outfit, the idea not occurring to you that you’d need one since he wasn’t even supposed to be home for Valentine’s day this year. 
You pull a dark burgundy top from the hanger, the thick sweater material perfect for the cold snap that has swept over Nashville this week. You pull your t-shirt over your head and put it on while reaching for a pair of dark wash jeans. After shimmying into the denim pants, you find a pair of heels, kicking off your socks and securing the buckle at your ankle. 
You make a mad dash into the bathroom, doing a quick version of your normal make up and running a curling iron through your hair. You’re spraying your wrist with his favorite perfume just as you see him walk past the bathroom door and into the closet. You can hear him changing clothes, grabbing his coat and pulling it over his arms as he steps into the bathroom and meets your gaze in the mirror. 
“Wow, uh, you know it’s freezing out, right? Actually, colder than freezing.” he says, adjusting his sleeves. 
“Yeah, I’ll grab my coat from the closet down stairs, no big deal.” you answer, walking towards him and shutting off the bathroom light. 
“You sure you want to wear heels?” he asks, as he ushers you downstairs, a lilt in his voice.
You open the coat closet, grabbing your jacket and pulling it over your arms. “Yeah, why not?”
He throws his hands up, “Just asking…”
You grab your purse from the kitchen counter, following his lead out to the car. He makes a point to open your car door, shutting it behind you before skittering across the front of the car to join you. 
With the turn of his keys, his Jeep roars to life, his fingers quickly pressing the buttons to turn on the heat. He puts the car in reverse, backing up enough to turn around in the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath his tires. He lays his hand over top of yours on your thigh, clasping your hand in his. He licks over his lips and turns to look at you. 
“Hey,” he pauses, waiting until he has your attention. You let your eyes meet his, before he refocuses on the road. “I’m sorry about earlier… I just have a short fuse when I’m in pain. Thank you for taking me today, and thanks for taking care of me.”
“Oh, it’s– it’s okay, I know you don’t feel good. Don’t worry about it, baby. We’re here now, right?” you say, offering him a lopsided smile.
He pats your thigh as he drives down the road, leading you into town as he mouths the words to the songs playing through the speakers. Your heart flutters as you look at him, your head tilting back to rest on the headrest, just happy to be with him, and happy that he changed his mind about doing something tonight. 
You’re quickly pulled from your daydreams as he whips the car into the parking lot of Phil’s Tavern, a local spot that is not exactly known for its phenomenal cuisine, sitting a whopping 5 minutes away from your home. You sit up a little straighter, making sure you’re seeing this right, and that he really is parking the car. 
“Phil’s…” you question, turning to look at him. 
“...Yeah? Did you want something else…?” he asks, as if annoyed you’d question his decision.
“You said– You– I thought we were going to dinner, not picking up sandwiches from the fucking neighborhood bar?!” you shout. 
“I’m not getting a sandwich. I’m getting soup. You can get whatever you want.” he says, pulling his keys from the ignition, and opening his door. 
A huff leaves your mouth as your jaw hangs slack, watching in shock as he shuts the door behind himself and makes his way to yours. He opens yours and offers you a hand to step down, but you’re still sitting in shock that this is his idea of a romantic Valentine’s day date. 
“Josh…” you admonish, looking down at your heels and sweater. 
“What? I asked you if you wanted to wear that and you said yes!” he says, shrugging his shoulders.
“Yeah! I didn’t think we were going to fucking Phil’s, Josh! It’s Valentine’s Day! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t a lot of cars in the parking lot?!”
He clicks his tongue, and looks around. “Perfect, then we have the place to ourselves.”
Your eyes close on their own and you take a deep breath to keep yourself from having a meltdown. You grab your purse from the floorboard and grab his hand, stepping out of the car and snatching it away from him as soon as your feet hit the gravel.
He shuts the door behind you and locks the car, the two of you walking quickly into the dimly lit bar and grill. You walk up to the counter to order, watching as the bartender throws back a shot with the guys at the end of the bar. You catch his attention and he rushes over to the order counter pulling a pen out of his pocket. “What can I get ‘cha?”
“Hey man, can we uh– I’ll take the soup of the day, whatever it is is fine.” 
“It’s ahh, it’s Chicken Tortilla.” he answers. 
“Yeah, that’s great, thanks.” he answers, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “Babe?” he murmurs, wanting you to order. 
“Okay, I’ll do a Cuban, extra pickles.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. 
He nods, “Outta Cuban bread, sorry sweets.” 
“Okay I’ll do the Italian then.” you concede, watching him scribble it down on the notepad.
“You want that hot or cold?” he asks. 
“Hot.”
“Think our press is down, but I can check.” he says, turning to shout towards the kitchen.
“It’s down, is cold fine?” he asks, him and Josh both staring at you. 
“Fuck.” you mutter under your breath. “Yes, fine.”
“$17.97.” he says, ringing the service bell for the staff. Josh swipes his card through the card reader and puts it back into his wallet, placing it back in his pocket before thanking the man at the counter. 
“Oh shit, I didn’t tell him it’s to go. You don’t care if we take it home, right? It’s a little loud in here.” he doesn't give you a chance to answer before stepping back up to the window.
You pull your phone from your purse, opening Instagram to mindlessly scroll while you wait for your food, seeing story after story of the dates your friends are on, fueling your rage all the more. You didn’t care that you weren’t at a fancy restaurant. You didn’t care that you were having a sandwich. You cared that he seemingly didn’t care about how you were feeling. That it was just any other old day to him, simply because he didn’t subscribe to the holiday. But that didn’t mean you didn’t. You tried to see the bright side, that he was home, and that you were at least together, even if he was in a sour mood.
He steps back over to you, pulling his own phone from his pocket and sending a few texts. You can’t help but notice how carefree he is, completely unbothered and oblivious to how you’re feeling as you stand right next to him.  
“You wanna watch a movie or something when we get back?” he asks, putting his phone in his jacket pocket. 
“What movie?” you ask, raising a brow.
“I don’t know, a documentary? We can find something, I’ll probably fall asleep watching it anyways.”
You huff out a laugh, “Of course. Yeah, whatever you want Josh.”
“What’s your deal tonight, Y/N, Jesus…”
You feel your blood boiling beneath your skin and just as you are about to unleash, the order bell rings and a brown paper bag is placed on the counter. Josh steps up and grabs it, pulling his car keys from his pocket and heading for the door, leaving you to follow behind him.
He pulls into the driveway rapidly, rocks flying as he throws the car into park. Shutting off the engine he pulls his keys from the ignition and grabs the brown paper bag from the center console. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll start the fireplace.”
You huff as you step out of the car, making your way up the walkway, pulling the sleeves of your coat over your hands. He unlocks the front door and places the to-go bag on the kitchen counter on his way to the living room.  
You take off your coat and hang it in the closet, pulling your foot up to release the buckles of your heels, letting you drop back down to your normal height. You can hear him mumbling in the living room, clearly having a hard time getting the fire lit. You walk into the kitchen grabbing a bottle of red wine off the top of the fridge, and searching around the junk drawer for the corkscrew. It’s no time at all before you’re popping the cork out of the bottle and pouring the Merlot into a bulbous green colored wine glass. 
He joins you in the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink before looking over at you, starting to take the first sip of your wine. “Really? You’re serious…”
“Serious, what? About this glass of wine? Yeah, I am.” you quip, swallowing down the first sip.
“You’re really gonna drink my favorite wine, right in front of me when you know I can’t have any? What are you playing at tonight, Y/N?” he seethes, pulling his plastic container of soup from the bag.
“What am I playing at? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that just because you can’t drink, meant that I had to follow suit! My mistake!” you shout, setting the glass down on the marble countertop maybe a little more forcefully than you should have. 
He shakes his head trying to rid the nasty thoughts you know are swirling around up there as he pulls a spoon from the utensil drawer. “Whatever, I’m gonna take this to the couch.”
You grab a plate from the cabinet in front of you, unwrapping your sandwich and placing it on the plate. You look over and see him tinkering with the TV remote, no doubt queueing up something the two of you have watched, studied, and rewatched a hundred times. You grab your wine glass and your plate and join him in the living room, setting your items on the coffee table before sitting at the opposite end of the couch. 
The tension in the air is thick, neither of you wanting to say anything for fear of it turning into yet another argument. So instead, he presses play on the remote, and as suspected, ‘Kubrick by Kubrick’ begins to play for the 77th time in this household.
“Josh, really…” you whine, your shoulders slumping in defeat. 
“I don’t want to get too invested in anything, I’m gonna pass out as soon as I finish this soup.” he answers, turning up the volume to effectively silence you.  
“Can’t we watch something, I don’t know… With a plot? With a shred of romance? That we haven’t seen a hundred times?” you barter, talking over the intro music.
“Can’t you just let me enjoy being home for once?” he snaps, pressing pause on the remote.
Your eyes dial in on his, and almost poetically, you’re positive he can see the reflection of the flames in the fireplace dancing across your infuriated eyes.
“For once…” you breathe, biting your tongue.  “Sure, sure. You uh– you just enjoy yourself, okay? I would hate to ruin your time at home with my presence.” you say, standing up from the couch with your wine glass in hand, leaving your sandwich laying there as you bound up the stairs. 
Before you even reach the top you hear the music blare back to life, and the slurping of the soup from his spoon. If you had a bedroom door you would slam it but fucking of course, you don’t.
You place your wine glass on your nightstand before walking into your closet ridding yourself of the wasted outfit. You pull a slinky black satin slip from your pajama drawer, dropping it over your bare body before padding back out to the bedroom to close the curtains. 
You draw back the fluffy flax colored duvet, thinking of nothing but positively melting into your olive green linen sheets; a Christmas splurge the two of you decided you couldn’t live without. Sinking down into the feather pillows you let out a sigh, finding yourself exactly where you expected to be tonight, before you ever knew Josh was coming home for a few days.
You settle in with your glass of wine and your kindle, reading love stories of men, who at this point, you were sure didn’t really exist. An hour or so later, when the wine was long gone, and the house had grown quiet you heard the front door lock, and the flick of the light switches downstairs. You switched off your lamp, hoping to avoid any further conversation for the night, placing your tablet on the nightstand and pulling the sheets up over your shoulders. 
His footfall is light as he pads up the wooden stairs, rounding the corner hesitantly as he catches sight of you in the bed. He slides his hand down the wall as he enters the room, walking quietly into the bathroom and shutting the door. You can hear the sink running and the sound of him tossing his clothes into the hamper as you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep.
It’s not long until you hear the door open and feel the dip in the bed as he slides in behind you, a  gentle sigh leaving his lips as he sinks into the sheets. You feel the brush of his knuckles as they glide up your spine. “I know you’re not asleep, my love…”
Knowing you’re caught, you turn softly to your back, “No, you don’t know. I could have been.”
A soft smile forms on his lips, a few misplaced curls falling over his forehead, “Not true. I know you fall asleep with your arms over your head every single night. And in the middle of the bed. You never sleep on your side of the bed.”
“Well maybe I want to tonight.” you quip, rolling back to your side and repositioning the sheets.
“Come on baby, don’t be like that.” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist. He pulls you towards him, his obviously nude body conforming to yours. You can feel him, hard against your back and you push away from him. 
“Josh…” you scold. 
“What, baby…” he asks, running his hand along the curve of your waist. “I miss you…”
“You didn’t an hour ago!” you sneer.
“Yes I did! I miss you all the time! Every single day I’m away from you. That’s why you moved in, remember? So I could spend every day with you when I’m home?” he pauses, “Every night like this?”
“Josh, I just– Tonight was… Well the entire day, really, was rough. I’m not exactly in a romantic mood at the moment.” you answer.
“Well that’s okay, you can just blow me instead.” he says, more of a demand than a question, his lips brushing against your shoulder. 
“Oh can I?! How generous of you to offer that to me! What a privilege!” you mock. “You really have earned it, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself!” you scorn, reaching for his hand and shoving it towards his dick. “Try that instead!”
“Goddamn you’re being such a bitch!” he seethes, throwing the duvet off of himself and snatching his phone from the nightstand. 
“Yeah! Happy Valentine’s day to you too, Josh!” you spit one last time as you watch him pull on a pair of boxers. He smooths his hand over his face and runs his tongue under his lips, looking at you one more time before stomping his way down the stairs. 
JOSH POV
It took you approximately fourteen seconds after you said it to know you fucked up. It took you two more seconds to realize there was no coming back from it, at least that’s what you deduced as you tossed and turned on the living room couch all night. You spent those sleepless hours racking your brain for ways you could fix this. You were a dick, admittedly, in pain or not, and she in no way deserved the way you treated her.
You pulled your sore body up from the couch, tossing the throw blanket over the arm as you made your way up the stairs. She was still sleeping, sprawled across the middle of the bed with your pillow hugged to her face. You wished you could take back what you said. You wished you had taken her somewhere nicer than Phil’s. You should have known that when you saw her in heels and smelled your favorite perfume. She dressed up for you. But you couldn’t see past your own selfish needs. You only cared about yourself and what you wanted. 
You kicked yourself the entire time you spent under the spray of the shower, knowing that of the three sporadic days you would spend at home with her, you’d let one go completely to shit. Then tonight, you’d spend the whole night schmoozing with label executives, where she would willingly stand in your shadow until it was time to go home. 
Unless…
A smile spread across your face as you formulated your plan, and as you shut off the water and wrapped a towel around your waist you hoped and prayed it would work. 
You rap your knuckles against the old wooden front door, peeking through the glass to see if there is any movement inside. It’s nearly noon and you know he’s in there, but whether or not he’s awake is the question. You shove your hands into your pockets, the cold air whipping through the porch a little too harshly for your liking. 
You hear his footsteps bounding down the stairs and you see him appear through the glass, a strange look on his face as he opens the door. 
“If you’re on my doorstep, you want something that a text wouldn’t cover.” he says, raising a brow.
“Can I not come visit my twin?” you ask, pushing past him into his warm house.
“No, I think your last words to me when we left the airport were ‘Fuck off, don’t call me, I’ll see you in three days’, but I could be mistaken.” he says, shutting the front door. 
“Listen…” you counter, flopping yourself down onto his couch with a huff.
He stands across the living room with his hands on his hips and a small smile on his lips. There’s something different about him, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Almost like a little bit of life has been breathed into him. 
“Why do you look different…” you ask, the intrusive thought pushing through.
“I don’t.” he says, putting his hands on his hips. His eyes flick up to the window behind you, before looking back at you. 
You cut your eyes at him, you can tell he’s not telling the truth but you let it go because you have more important issues to deal with. 
“I need a favor.” you say, cutting right to the chase. 
He raises his eyebrows signaling for you to continue. 
“I need you to go to this event tonight in my place, I–”
“No.” he shouts, cutting you off. 
“Jake, please. Y/N and I got in a huge fight and I have to make it up to her and I can’t if I have to go to this fucking thing tonight.” you explain, giving him the shortened version. 
“No. Actually, my answer is not only no, but fuck no.” Jake stood with his arms crossed across his chest. You let your head flop back onto his couch, a groan leaving your chest. 
“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t fucking dire.” You plead. “I fucked up, and I have to make it right. Please Jake…”
“Jesus Christ, it’s Thanksgiving all over again. You know Josh, if you and Y/N didn’t fight like this every other day, I might be more willing to consider it. One day you’re gonna fuck around and lose her for good.” he says, shaking his head and rubbing his hand over his chin. “Hold on, you two fought on Valentine’s day? Fuckin’ poetic. What did you do, buy the wrong flowers? The wrong chocolates?”
“No, I… Didn’t get her flowers.” you mumble, hoping he didn’t hear you. 
“Okay, so no flowers. Did you take her out to dinner or something?” he asks, tilting his head.
“No, I mean, well, kind of.” you mumble again. “Didn’t really think about it.”
“Where did you take her Josh.” he demands, crossing his arms again. 
“We went to Phil’s…And got…To-go…” you answer, realizing again as you say it out loud how bad it sounds. 
“The fucking sandwich place Josh, you’re kidding me…” he spits, starting to pace around the room. 
“Don’t act all high and mighty Jacob, you sat home alone...” you retort, knowing this isn’t helping your case.
He lifts his finger to you, pointing at you with a scowl, “Fuck you. Also, it sounds like she was justified. Didn’t she take you to the doctor yesterday? Hasn’t she been catering to your ass since we’ve been back?”
“Yeah.” you answer. 
“And you didn’t plan a single thing at all…” he confirms. 
“Correct.” you say, over enunciating the ‘T’.
“Asshole.”
“Okay, so you agree, I fucked up and need to fix this.” you say, gesturing with your hands. “So go to the event tonight in my place and let me smooth things over with Y/N tonight.”
“Sorry, but I can’t. I have plans.” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. 
“Plans?! With who? You don’t leave your house!” you shout, seeing a blur of black fur and claws tear across the living room. “Jesus, I always forget you have that thing.”
“Yeah, I’m not keeping it.” he says, shaking his head. “And it’s none of your business. You’re going to that event. The label doesn’t care if you’re in a fight with your girlfriend. They are expecting you, and you are who they’re gonna get. Plus, Sam will be there so you don’t have to do all the talking. Take her with you, lay it on thick, and take her home. Things will blow over like they always do and you’ll be back to your 2AM facetime gushy bullshit in no time.”
“Fuck…” you sigh, laying down across his couch. “I just don’t think it’s gonna go that way. This was a bigger fight than usual.” you say, feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out to see your timer flashing, indicating it is time for your next dose of antibiotics. 
You reach into your other pocket, pulling out the loose pill, and grabbing the glass of water you assume to be Jake’s from the coffee table. You swallow down the pill as he watches in contempt, checking the time on his phone. 
“Do you need anything else?” he asks, pacing around his living room. 
“No. Guess fuckin’ not. What are you getting into today?” you ask, relaxing back into the cushions. 
“I have… some errands to run. And a few other things.” he says, dismissively. 
“Errands and a few other things? Who the fuck are you…” you ask, stretching your legs out on to the coffee table.
“I was about to take a shower, are you staying or going?” he asks, and as you lay your head back on the couch your eyes start to feel heavy.
“Just gonna rest my eyes for a minute.” you answer, getting more comfortable. 
“Goddamnit, Josh… Okay, but you’re leaving when I do.”
The sound of the front door closing is what wakes you, and as you come to you see Jake standing in front of you with grocery bags, clearly back from his errands. 
“Well, good morning.” he says, his tone a little snipped. 
“Shit, what time is it?” you ask, pulling your phone from your pocket and checking the time. Fuck. 
“Yeah, time for you to go the fuck home and get ready.” he says, making his way into the kitchen. 
“Alright, I’m outta here, good luck with your… plans…” you smirk, making your way to the door. 
“Don’t need luck, but sounds like you do. Fix it, Josh.” he says, pushing you out the front door and slamming it behind you. 
HER POV
As you leave the house, you think back on how many hours it’s been since you spoke to Josh. He popped into the bedroom when he got home and let you know that you had to leave by 6 to get to the event on time, but you don’t really count that as a conversation. You hadn’t actually exchanged words since your argument before bed. 
The two of you sit in complete silence as he drives, the radio turned down so low it’s barely audible. You hold your jacket close around you, unable to shake the chill from the awful cold snap plaguing Nashville. 
As you arrive, Josh quickly gets out of his Jeep, jogging around to your door to open it and offer you a hand to step out. You accept it, begrudgingly, and steady yourself on the asphalt. You opted for smaller heels tonight, a little scorned from the night before. You look at him and see his slightly forced smile under the streetlight. He’s in his favorite brown suit, his hair in perfect curls, three tiny, metallic dots painted on the apples of his cheeks. He looks sinfully good, and if you weren’t so upset with him, you’d kiss him square on the lips.
“I know you don’t want to be here. Just… at least try to smile in the pictures, okay?” He says, a hopeful lilt to his voice. 
You give him a little side-eye before starting to walk towards the front doors of the venue. He catches up with you after locking the car, his hand landing on your upper back as he ushers you into the front door he’s holding open for you.
The two of you wait in line for the coat check, your eyes scanning the lobby for anyone you may know. You don’t recognize anyone, so you shuffle ahead in line and keep your coat pulled tight around you. Once you’re a bit further up in line, almost to the front, you hear a familiar voice. 
“Heeeeey guys!” 
Sam’s arms wrap around both of you from behind, pulling you into a forced group hug. He unintentionally cuts the entire coat check line to stand with you and Josh.
“Hi Sammy,” you mumble, giving him a halfhearted smile. He looks to Josh, who forces a grin, his nose scrunching up in a way that makes it clear to Sam that the two of you aren’t getting along. It’s nothing new to Sam, so he shrugs it off. 
The line moves again and you’re finally at the front. A friendly young girl is standing behind the podium at the entry to the closet, a few guys running back and forth to take coats and put them in their assigned spots. She offers the three of you a smile as she looks down and tears a tab in half. 
“Can I take your coat, sir?” she asks Josh as you start to shrug your own off your shoulders.
“Ohoho, trying to get me out of my clothes, young lady? I just walked in the door!” he says, like he’s some sort of comedian. You roll your eyes so hard you think they may fall out of your head and fold your coat over your arm. She laughs, her cheeks turning pink as she accepts your coat instead. She dutifully hands the coat to the boy behind her, then offers the other half of the ticket up, between you and Josh for either to grab it.
“And now you’re trying to give me your number?” he jokes with a charismatic grin, seeing the number 107 on your ticket. She lets out a shameless giggle at that one and you can’t help but shake your head and walk away, uninterested in hearing any more of his god awful jokes. You arrived in a terrible mood and he’s already managed to make your night worse.
Passing through the entrance to the cocktail hour, you grab a glass of champagne and thank the server. Taking a big sip, you look behind you and see Sam and Josh approaching, Josh talking animatedly with his hands to Sam, but Sam is looking straight ahead. At you. 
His eyes scan over your figure- you’re in a champagne satin mini-dress. The cowl neckline is loose, but the waist pulls in due to the lace-up back. The shimmery color is brought to life under the light right above where you’re standing. Sam isn’t listening to a single word Josh is saying, just nodding and staring at you from a distance as his steps slow. 
It’s then that you cook up a terrible idea, if not the worst you’ve ever had. If Josh wants to treat you like he doesn’t care about you and put more romantic energy into the coat check girl than he’s shown you in days, you may as well give him a taste of his own medicine. Right?
Sam eventually pulls his eyes away from your body, nodding cluelessly at Josh. He can’t help it and looks back at you again, but this time, Josh’s gaze follows his. You sip your champagne, ignoring the way Josh’s eyebrows raise in surprise as his neck cranes forward slightly. You can read his lips as he says, “Jesus Christ.” and look away without giving him a reaction. 
The two of them make their way over to the high top cocktail table you’ve claimed as your own. Josh clears his throat and musters up the courage to speak to you. His voice sounds like it might crack. 
“I’ve never seen that dress. Where’d you get it?” he asks, giving you another once-over now that he’s closer.
“You sent it to me while you were in Paris for my birthday.” you answer dryly. “Or was that your assistant too?” 
He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, realizing he’s just dug himself a little bit deeper. 
“Come to think of it, Josh, have you ever bought me a gift yourself? Or do you just send the people that work for you on errands to ship me fancy baubles to keep me quiet and occupied while you’re away?” 
He steps a little closer to you, lowering his voice. 
“Do we have to do this here?” he pleads. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember. You look beautiful. Okay? Let me go get you a drink. What do you want?” 
You cut your eyes to Sam, who seems to be trying to occupy himself by staring up at the ceiling. Letting out a big sigh, you mumble back a tired, “Champagne,” to Josh. 
He nods and walks off, heading for the bar. In the meantime, you look at Sam, who’s giving you a nervous smile. 
“Sorry. It’s been… a rough few days.” You confess. “This ear thing has turned him into a jackass.” 
“Oh, yeah. He complained the whole way home.” Sam says, commiserating. 
“So it’s not just me?!” You laugh, Sam joining you. 
“No no. Not just you.”
You notice Josh is on his way back and decide to test the waters. Reaching forward, you step closer to Sam and adjust the collar of his shirt under his suit jacket, your touch lingering as you let your hand brush down the front of his chest before tugging his jacket into place and pulling your hands back to yourself. You’re in close proximity, so you look up at him with a little bat of your eyelashes. 
“Oh. Thank you!” He says, a little caught off guard, but he’s Sam, and he’s friendly, and you know he’s going to let you get away with it. 
Josh appears and somehow squeezes his arm between you and Sam, placing your champagne on the table. He’s noticed the mischievous glint in your eye and it’s game on. 
The event starts to pick up, more and more people roping Josh into conversations. It’s obvious that he’s the more recognizable of the two brothers there tonight, so you find yourself left standing with Sam on more than a few occasions. 
“Did you trim your hair?” You ask him, reaching out to twirl the end of his shiny brown locks around your finger. He chuckles softly, feeling a little bashful. Josh is at your side but deep in conversation with a man you’ve never seen in your life.
“Yeeaaaaah, I did, it was getting a little unruly. Just trying to keep it healthy. I’m surprised you noticed.” 
“Of course I noticed, Sammy. Some people may not notice you. But I always do.” Your voice is syrupy sweet. You feel a nudge from the other side of you and Josh is clearly eavesdropping, his brain working overtime as he nods at the gentleman talking his ear off while also listening to you and Sam. Sam doesn’t notice and gives you a soft laugh, shrugging. His cheeks are tinted a little pink. He’s too easy. 
“Why don’t we go find our table for dinner, hm?” Josh suggests, cutting his conversation short, which is just not in his character. You finish your last sip of champagne and leave your glass on the table. 
“You heard him. C’mon, Sammy boy.” 
You reach for his arm, linking it with yours. Josh gives you a look, but you usher him forward with a dismissive gesture. He glowers at you before walking toward the seating chart to see that the three of you are at table six. Sam follows along, his hand in his pocket as you hold on to his forearm. 
You settle into the chair between Sam and Josh. You opt for the chicken when the caterers come around, and both Sam and Josh go for the fish. There are a few speeches that go on before your plates arrive, so you sit politely and listen, Josh’s back to you as the speakers present. Since Sam is behind you, there are a few points where you turn around to laugh with him about something the presenter says. Josh stays facing forward, effectively blocking the two of you out. 
As your plates are delivered, everyone starts to eat, the table occasionally chattering, but it’s mostly quiet as some music plays. 
“How’s the chicken?” Josh asks, trying to make small talk. You take a bite, nodding. 
“Really good. And the fish?” You ask politely, but you don’t really care. 
“Delicious. Do you want a bite?” He asks, gesturing to his plate with his utensils. 
“Oh, no. No thanks.” You reply, turning away. He shrugs and goes back to eating his dinner, sipping his water.
“Do you wanna try a bite of the chicken, Sammy?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. You give him a soft smile as he nods, swallowing his bite.
Cutting a piece, you lift your fork towards Sam and he instinctively opens his mouth. Your other hand comes up under his chin to make sure he doesn’t get any sauce on his jacket. He accepts the bite from your fork and chews, nodding. 
“Oh, that’s really good. I should have gotten that.” He says, talking with his mouth full. It’s then that the stranger next to Sam interjects. 
“How long have you two been together?” She says, a nosey but well meaning woman. Josh nearly chokes on his dinner, pulling his cloth napkin up to his mouth as he coughs. It’s such a distraction that you don’t hear what Sam says to her. 
Once Josh stops coughing, he looks at you with a subtle anger behind his eyes. 
“Can you stop? I get it. You made your point.” Josh grumbles through gritted teeth. You feign innocence, blinking at him with bullshit doe eyes. 
“What point, Josh?” 
“You’re flirting with my brother so blatantly that strangers think you’re dating. What the fuck am I supposed to do, just sit here and let it happen?” 
Sam, realizing tensions are high, starts to stand up. 
“I’m gonna go get some air…” he says, departing from the table like it’s on fire. 
“I’m not flirting with him. I’m just being nice to him. You remember what that is, right? Being nice?” You say with an attitude, tilting your head as you wait for an answer. 
“Cut it out.” He tenses his jaw and his mouth barely moves as he scolds you like you’re some kind of dog. 
“Fuck you, Josh.” You’re not putting up with it for another second, so you push away from the table, grab your drink, and head in the direction Sam went. 
As you sneak through the crowds and the bar lines, you check to see if Josh is following you, but he’s still seated at the table. You see Sam through the glass doors, standing under a tent that’s doing little to nothing to stop the wind, smoking a cigarette. Gently pressing against the push bar, you slip outside and approach him tentatively. 
It’s quiet between the two of you as he gives you a smile that’s more of a grimace, though you know him and know that it’s not his intention. 
“Two wrongs don’t make a right, you know that, right?” He says, giving you a knowing smirk as he exhales some smoke. You sigh, kicking at a pebble beneath your feet. You hold your glass of champagne with both hands, your thumb nervously running along the side of it. 
“I feel like I do. But sometimes I can’t help myself.” You peer up at him, a coy smile spreading across your face. He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 
“You two are a match made in hell,” he starts, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. “But I can’t imagine him with anyone else.” 
You roll your eyes. Lately you’ve been feeling like Josh doesn’t even want to be with you anymore, but it’s not like you would have time to even discuss splitting up in person, since he’s hardly around long enough. Instead of divulging any of that to Sam, you lift your head and step closer. 
“Can I have a drag of that?” You ask, giving him a mischievous smirk. 
“Oh, I don’t know about that. You know how he is.” Sam says, well aware that the only thing Josh thinks it’s okay to smoke is not cigarettes. 
“Just one.” You bargain, looking out at the parking lot for a moment, then up at him with doe eyes. He can’t help but smile at you in return. 
“Don’t even touch it. He’ll smell it on your hands.” He jokes, turning it around in his fingers and holding it towards you. You tilt up your chin, smiling sweetly before he moves it closer to your pouty, glossy lips. Your eyes close gently and you start to inhale. 
Within seconds, it’s pulled from your lips, and all you hear is Sam’s thick Michigan accent as he whines, “OWWWW!” your eyes shooting open. 
“I will break every bone in your fuckin’ hand if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, Samuel.” Josh threatens, suddenly outside with the two of you on the patio. Sam grabs the cigarette from his restrained hand with his free one, dropping it to the ground and stepping on it with wide eyes. 
Josh pushes his arm towards him as he lets it go and Sam nearly trips over himself, mumbling a startled, “Jesus Christ.” before adjusting his suit jacket and heading for the door.  
“And you.” Josh is positively seething, as he steps up to you. “What am I going to do with you, hm?”
You nervously step backwards, leaning onto the railing behind you as he cages you in. “Josh, I’m–”
“Oh, it’s a little late for that, don't you think? I fucking warned you, Y/N.” His hand grips into your elbow, yanking your forward and dragging you behind him as you make your way back inside the building. “Get your fucking coat and meet me at the front door.” he says, releasing you as you enter back into the large crowd. 
You walk back over to your table, collecting your bag and your champagne before rushing over towards the coat check. You hand the same girl your ticket stub, and you anxiously sip your champagne as you wait. You may have pushed him too far this time. Seconds later she returns with your coat, and you take it with a smile, pulling it over your arms and making your way to the front door. 
Josh is waiting, chewing a piece of gum a little harsher than necessary. His jaw is hard set and his cheeks are pink and you know this does not bode well for you. As you approach him he offers a small wave and a smile to someone behind you, before letting his eyes drift back to yours, full of fury, the tension returning to his body. 
“Oh, so you can listen.” he says, yanking the large glass door open, both of you being hit with the cold outside air. You step out the door and begin the walk to the car, clutching your jacket close to your body. Your teeth chatter as the wind hits you, your whole body shivering. 
“What, are you cold in that slutty little dress?” he asks, walking a little too quickly for you to keep up with him. “Seemed just fine on the patio with Sam. Suck it up and keep walking.”
He turns his head looking back at you as you try to drink down the rest of your champagne. He reaches for the glass, ripping it from your hand and tossing it into the bushes. You hear the glass shatter and you’re a little taken aback. You’ve never seen him this mad before, and you hate that you kinda like it. 
“Josh!” you shout, you cheeks heating at his aggressiveness, and you think the alcohol in your system is to blame for that. 
“What has gotten into you, Y/N?! You think– You think you can just go around acting like a little slut at my work events? With my fucking brother? Do you know how that looks!?” he shouts, as you round the corner, steadily approaching the car. He is still chewing the gum too hard, hoping it will relieve some of the tension pulsing through his body.  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Josh, I think the pain meds are making you crazy.” you scoff, completely brushing off his accusations, even though he is completely right. 
“Oh, fuck offff…It’s not the pain meds, it’s you! You’re making me fucking crazy! Running around like a little trollop just to make me irate for sport!” he yells, his midwestern accent peeking out in his anger. 
He reaches for the door handle, yanking it open to let you step in, regardless of how angry he currently is. As you position yourself in the seat you turn to look at him, ready to deliver another snarky comment but as you open your mouth he cuts his eyes and slams the car door closed. You huff and fasten your seatbelt as he joins you on the other side. 
He starts the car and peels out of the parking spot, spinning the tires as he pulls out onto the main road. Your hands grasp at the door handle for stability, his expression unwavering as he continues to blow down the backstreets of downtown Nashville. 
“Josh, I–”
“No. Silence. Don’t say another fucking word until I speak to you first. Got it?” he snaps, the fury is thick in his voice. 
You cross your arms over your chest, debating whether or not to taunt him further. As if he can hear your thoughts he turns to you, speaking through clenched teeth. 
“Not. A. Fucking. Word.”
The rest of the drive home was spent in silence, and you could tell he was compiling his list of your transgressions. You knew that the second the front door shut behind you he was going to unleash every bit of it on you, and to be quite honest, you couldn’t wait.
Once he tears recklessly up the driveway, he kills the engine and the headlights. Throwing open the door, he slams it behind him and makes his way around to the passenger side. Despite his burning anger, he’s still insistent on opening your door for you. He offers you a hand and when you take it, you feel how warm he is to the touch. Hopping down to the ground, he lets you steady yourself, then tugs your hand so you’re forced to walk in front of him. He lets go once he knows you’ve gotten the hint and start off wobbling through the gravel in your heels like a baby deer as he locks the car. 
You wait next to the front door, knowing Josh has his keys and you opted to leave yours at home to save space in your clutch. He ignores you, his jaw still working overtime on the probably stale gum in his mouth, turning the key in the lock and pushing into the house. He leaves the door open for you to follow him in, so you do, shutting it gently as you slip off your heels. 
He tosses his keys onto the dining table and you watch as they slide to a halt as he rids himself of his suit coat, tossing it over the back of a chair. You make a move towards the closet, ready to hang your own coat but as you walk he steps in front of you, snatching the thick black fabric from your hands to throw it over the same chair. He stares at you with a hardened jaw, his face and ears red as he prepares for his onslaught, and as a small grin turns up the corner of your lips you see his anger tip the scales to catastrophic. 
“I don’t know why you’re so worked up, Josh. If I didn’t know any better I would say you’re acting a bit jealous. Or threatened, maybe?” you pause, tapping your finger to your chin. “Yeah, I think threatened is the right word. Are you nervous little Sammy is gonna steal your spotlight and your girl?”
“Steal my spotlight?” he responds, scoffing. It’s clear you hit a nerve there. “You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut. Especially when it comes to things you know nothing about.”
“I know how many people were bumping elbows with him tonight, talking about his upcoming projects, barely even asking about the album. He’s got his own career now.” you double down, narrowing your eyes at him, twisting the knife. He steps closer to you, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. You know he’s about to lay into you for that.
“You should be grateful I even let you tag along to these fucking things.” he snaps, his voice raising. “You know, there’s a hell of a lot you should be grateful for, now that I think of it. Do you know how easy it would be for me to find a nice, quiet girl who waits patiently for me to come home and doesn’t spend every waking moment reminding me of my shortcomings?” 
You don’t like the direction he’s taking this, and you’re realizing you may have pushed him a little too far. 
“I could go down the line and pick any one I wanted, but I still come home to you. And this is what I have to put up with?” 
“So do it then! Go ahead and take your pick!” you shout, throwing your hands in the air. His cheeks grow red, and his eyes narrow. 
“But you won’t, will you Josh... Because you know that not a single one of them will stick around once they find out how you really are. When they find themselves home alone night after night. When you don’t speak to them for days at a time when you’re writing or on the road. When you miss their birthday… and every major holiday for that matter. When they find out that your idea of love and romance is having your assistant buy hush gifts you can’t be bothered to choose yourself. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one texting me from your phone, too!”
He slams his fist down on the dining table, his keys rattling against the wood. “That is not true, and you know it!”
“But it is, and you know who puts up with it? Me, because I love you. And I can promise that you’ll be hard pressed to find someone else who is willing to deal with all of that.”
“Dare me?” he challenges, wincing slightly as the pressure builds in his ear. 
“I don’t know Josh, is that what you want? Wouldn’t say I’d be surprised with how you’ve been acting lately.” you say, pushing away from the kitchen table and walking further into the house. 
“How I’ve been acting lately?” he scoffs, following after you, hot on your heels.
“Yeah! Like I’m such a burden to bear. Like you’d rather I wasn’t here. I’m practically your glorified assistant, or arm candy when you feel like dragging me along.”
You start to climb the stairs toward your bedroom, needing to get out of your dress and away from him. Unfortunately, Josh isn’t one to ever let you have the last word, and he starts bounding up the staircase after you.
“Is that what this is about? You’re still mad you had to bring me to the doctor? God forbid I ask you to do something besides complain and spend my money. I needed your help, because if you haven’t noticed, something pretty serious happened to me, but for some reason you won’t stop giving me a hard fucking time about it!” That comment about the money stops you in your tracks, leaving you glaring down at him on the step below you. 
“It’s not about your money and it’s not about me having to help you. It’s about you not giving a shit about how I feel and blowing me off when I try to tell you. All I want is for you to care! Have we grown so far apart that seeing me upset doesn’t even phase you anymore?”
Josh runs his tongue over his teeth as he tries to conjure up a response. He steps up so he’s on the landing with you, a little bit of silence settling over you both.
“And you thought…” he starts, looking out the window behind you for a moment, then back to your eyes. “You thought the way to get me to care… was to behave like a little slut?”
The energy suddenly shifts between you. You know that in the silence, he must have had a realization that he’s not meeting your needs. You feel your mouth go a little dry and you take a step backwards, reaching to hold on to the railing. 
“I–”
“You know what I think…” he says, moving closer, caging you in with his arms. “I think that I’ve been gone too long…” his breath is hot on your cheeks. “I think you’re due for an attitude adjustment.”
Your breath catches in your throat as you grip into the bannister. You swallow nervously, as his hand moves to meet your satin covered waist. “Yeah, I think I need to remind you just how good you have it, don’t I sweetheart?”
The words are there, swirling through your head but as his eyes peer into yours, nothing seems to come out. 
“S’matter, baby? Nothin’ to say suddenly? No smart ass remarks? I’m right, aren’t I? You need me to fuck some sense into you?” he growls, his fingers gripping into the curve of your waist. He nods his head in the direction of your bedroom, a crooked smirk on his face. 
“Go ahead and take off your earrings, baby. Get out of that unbecoming little dress and wait for me on the bed.” he says softly, rubbing a thumb over the apple of your cheek before walking off and locking himself in the bathroom. 
The cocktail of emotions your brain is floating in has you dizzy. You want to be angry at him, but you’re starting to feel a little embarrassed as you think back on how you acted at dinner. Part of you wants to cry, his harsh words hitting you where he knew it would hurt, but another is so turned on by the way he just flipped the switch on the entire emotionally charged exchange.
You shuffle into your shared bedroom, sitting gingerly at your vanity and taking off all of your jewelry. As you take off your rings, you stare at the earrings and necklace in your porcelain dish, remembering when he had gifted each piece to you. Maybe it’s not that he doesn’t care how long or how often he’s away…he just doesn’t know how to make it better. So he sends you trinkets from wherever he visits, reminding you that you’re on his mind. Your heart lurches as you realize that maybe all he wanted while he was away from home was a quiet dinner with you, his love, at Phil’s, and that’s why he didn’t take you out to an expensive steakhouse where you would undoubtedly sit awkwardly across from each other and make conversation. He wanted comfort. He wanted what he knows no other woman can give him. 
You hear the water start to run, which zaps you back into the moment. Standing from the velvet upholstered stool, you head for the walk-in closet and try to reach for the zipper on your dress. You can’t exactly get to it, stretching to try and pinch the zipper between your fingers. The bathroom door opens and you whip your head around, knowing he’s going to come looking for you. 
It’s only seconds before you feel his warm hands gliding across your hips, no doubt knowing you need his help with the zipper. Perhaps that’s why he purchased the dress to begin with. Knowing he would be the one to help you take it off. He moves your hair, laying it all to one side of your neck before pressing his lips to your skin. His fingers pinch the small zipper as he slides it down, letting the silk dress flutter down around your ankles. 
“Tell me you know that I love you.” he breathes, his lips brushing against your neck.
“I know you love me.” you answer, breathless as your chest heaves. 
His hands slide around to your bare stomach, pulling your body back until you’re flush with his own. “Now, tell me you’ll remember that.”
“I’ll remember.” you whisper, feeling him long and hard as he rests against your back. 
He grabs your hips and spins you around to face him, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “Good, because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”
A gasp leaves your chest as your eyes meet his, dark and blown out. He drags his thumb over your lips, smearing the remnants of your pink lipstick across your chin. “Now get on the bed like I told you the first time.”
Reluctantly pulling away from him, you make your way back into the bedroom, kneeling on the bed, sitting on your heels. You nervously cover your chest with your hands, the room feeling a little cold all of the sudden. He steps into the room, his hand lingering on the doorframe. 
“Move your hands,” he says, his voice quiet but stern. “You wanted the entire dinner table to see them. Why can’t I?”
Your cheeks burn red as you lower your hands to your lap. He approaches, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he’s appraising you.
“He didn’t touch you, did he?” he asks, pushing your hair behind your ear. “My brother?” 
You quickly start to shake your head. Maybe a little too quickly. You watch him with careful eyes as he lets his hand gently graze your throat, then move further down, the gears in his head turning.
“I bet you wanted him to, though…” he adds, pinching at your nipple teasingly, wanting a reaction. You take in a sharp breath between your teeth.
“No.” you say defensively.
“You like Sam because he’s so sweet. He cares. That’s what you want, right? Someone to wipe away your tears when you cry about meaningless shit? You know that’s his specialty.” 
“I don’t like Sam. I just wanted–”
“Save it.” Josh snaps, grabbing harshly at your cheeks to shut you up. He stares at you for a moment before placing a gentle kiss to your squished lips. He pulls away quickly, but doesn’t release his grip on your cheeks.
“If you want to act like a little whore, I’m going to treat you like one. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll tell you.”
He pushes you backwards as he releases his hand, landing you in the pile of soft feather pillows behind you. He stands up from the bed, shimmying off his boxers before crawling back onto the bed in front of you. His eyes meet yours and for a second there is a softness there, almost as if he is asking if you’re okay with this. You offer him a subtle nod before he lowers his head and begins to drag his nose up the length of your leg.
“Did you have fun tonight, flitting around the place, drink in hand, practically begging to be fucked in the bathroom? Hm? Is that what you wanted?” he asks, pressing a hot kiss to the inside of your thigh. 
You squirm beneath him as the filthy words leave his angelic lips. “Did you want him to take you away and fuck your stupid little brains out? Answer me.”
“No.” you reply, desperate to feel his lips on your body. “I… I wanted…” you stammer, your bravery leaving you with every shaky breath. He places an open mouthed kiss to your mound, but freezes once your words trail off.
“You never stop talking, but now you’re at a loss for words? Fucking say it, Y/N.” 
“I wanted you!” you cry out, your head falling back onto your pillow, a heavy sigh leaving your chest. He squeezes the softness of your thigh before he speaks.
“And you really thought that would work?” he asks, nipping at your soft skin, chuckling quietly. “You’re dumber than I thought.”  
You feel your skin grow hot at his words, your hips jerking upwards on their own accord.
“You like that, don’t you? You like it when I call you my stupid little girl?” he asks, sucking a mark into your thigh. “My dumb little brat?”
A whine leaves your chest as you feel his tongue slowly start to slide through your folds. 
He pulls away from you, “Ah, ah… Be quiet, remember? I know it’s hard for you to do as you’re told, but if I have to remind you again you aren’t going to like what happens.”
You stifle your moan and move your hips as his hands hold you in place, his tongue reconnecting with your core as he makes slow, languid laps against you. “Did I leave this pretty pussy too long? Does she miss me and need my attention?” 
He moves his hands to let his thumbs spread you further, swirling his tongue over your clit. “I think she misses me so bad that it’s got you acting crazy, my love.” His lips suction against you, sucking you into his mouth with a lewd slurp. His hands slide up to your hips, pulling you closer to his face. His tongue grazes your entrance, dipping in just long enough to tease you. He presses a kiss to your clit before pulling away again. 
“You must be crazy if you think my brother could do even half of what I do to you. No one, no one, treats this pussy like I do. Worships this pussy like I do.”
“Josh…” you whine, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it. 
You feel a sharp flick to your clit and you cry out, your body jumping in response.
“I told you that you wouldn’t like it.” he says, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit, as if to soothe the pain he inflicted. You feel a rush of warmth at your core, your body responding positively to his actions. 
“Oh, baby, fuck…” he groans, sliding his fingers thorough the wetness. “But you do like it. You love it.” He pauses, locking eyes with you. “Answer me.”
“I–Yes…” you breathe, feeling his smile against your core. 
“My dirty, sweet, baby likes a little pain with her pleasure.” he growls, sliding a finger inside of you. You clench around it, desperate for more. “Yeah? More? You want two or three?” he asks, his eyes flicking to yours. 
“T-Three.” you beg, breathless as you feel him slide in two more. 
His lips find your clit again, suckling the sensitive nub into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it again and again as his fingers work you from the inside. The pressure is growing and you know you’re close. He must feel you fluttering around him, so he pulls his fingers and mouth away from you quicker than you can blink. 
“Nu-uh. Not until I say so, and I do believe I’d like to get mine first tonight... You know, for my troubles.”
A huff leaves your chest as you look at him, sitting back up to rest on his heels. 
“You know baby, I think I’m feelin’ a little reckless tonight...I’m thinkin’ maybe we skip the condom, what do you say?”
Your eyes widen in surprise, Josh always having been completely adamant that you use protection. Always. Despite being on birth control. You can count the number of times you’ve gone without a condom on one hand over the three years you’ve been together. 
“Are–Are you sure?” you ask.
“Yeah, I think you need the full effect… need to really feel me so you can remember your place. Remember why you count down the days until I come home.” he says, fisting his base. 
“Although,” he says thoughtfully before pausing. “… if I’m going to fuck you like a whore, I’m gonna have to wear one. Standard procedure, you understand…” he mumbles, reaching over to his nightstand and pulling a silver foil package from the drawer. You feel your heart drop as he rips it out of the package and effectively rips the opportunity away from you. A quiet, disappointed whine leaves your throat.
He clicks his tongue as he watches your face drop, “Aw, what is it? Did you want my cock?” he asks, a smug grin on his face. “If you behaved yourself I probably would have given you what you wanted. It’s a shame, really.”
“Please…” you whine, hoping he doesn’t notice the tears in the corners of your eyes. 
“Oh she’s begging for it. God, you really are so sweet when you want to be.” he says, rolling the condom over his cock. 
“Josh come on, please!” it’s a pathetic whine as it leaves your mouth, but you don’t care.
His hand collides with the side of your hip, a loud smack ringing through the room. “Don’t be a little brat. You’ll take what you’re given.”
A whimper leaves your lips as the sting sets in. “That hu—”
“What? Hurt? That’s typically the point, love.” Your hips jerk up towards him, his abs peeking through as he leans towards you. “Now, do you understand?”
You nod your head as he lowers his, pressing his lips to yours. His perfect heart shaped lips capture yours, his tongue pressing into your mouth with fervor. Your hands come up to wrap around his waist, his skin soft and smooth beneath your hands. You feel his muscles tense under your touch as he ruts his hips, dragging himself against you, the sound of the latex audible as you try to angle yourself so he’ll slip inside you.
“So impatient…” he chides, sucking his teeth as he hovers his lips just above yours. He decides to take mercy on you, letting himself start to slide inside with ease. You cup his cheek, kissing him tenderly, a silent thank you. You feel the heat building in your abdomen again, half the battle won after the way he edged you previously. 
“Does that feel good, sweet thing?” he asks, pushing in to the hilt before slowly pulling out again. “You gonna settle down now that you’re feeling nice and full?” he asks, and you respond with a shake of your head. “No?” he questions, surprised. He fucks into you slowly, deeply. You feel every inch of him that you’ve missed… but it’s not the same.
“No…I wanted you to take it off…” you whine. He shakes his head, a little chuckle leaving him.
“You’re in no place to make demands. I’m gonna get mine, toss it in the trash, and leave you wishing it was dripping down your thigh. And if you’re smart, you’ll say thank you.”
You feel yourself clench around him at his cruel words, making him smirk. So he carries on, picking up his pace as he grips into the softness of your thighs.
“But you’re not, are you?” he taunts, lowering his head to kiss and suck at your collarbone. “Can’t be if you pretended to be interested in my idiot brother. You’re mine. What do I have to do to get it to stick in that little brain of yours?” 
You whisper his name, closing your eyes as your cheeks turn pink, his insults both embarrassing you and bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 
“I told you I’m getting mine first. Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns, his palm landing on the pillow next to your head as he rests his weight and increases his range of motion. As he moves faster, his thrusts become more brutal as he starts to knock the wind out of you. It’s getting harder to keep yourself from losing it, your thighs starting to quiver.
He feels it, because he always does, but you can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t want to stop. He curses breathlessly and pulls out, his hand leaving your hip and moving down to stroke himself, but he lets out a grunt and pushes up to sit on his heels, looking down at himself.
“...Fuck.”
He wraps his arm under your thigh and tugs you closer, urgently, and sheathes himself inside so quickly you cry out.
“Oh, baby. You feel like fucking velvet.” he moans, his head falling back, his moans bouncing off the ceiling. When he pulls back, something feels… different. “Looks like you got what you wanted after all…”
He sits back again and pulls out of you, resting his hands on his thighs as he takes a deep breath like he needs to get himself under control. Sitting up on your elbows, you look down at him between your thighs to see the condom has not just broken, but torn. It’s more than halfway down his shaft, which explains why he felt so slick and warm inside you.
“Oh…” you say softly, your lips parting. You stare at him above you, his chest rising and falling, his eyes heavy as they lock onto yours. He lifts one hand, motioning you forward with two fingers, and you know exactly what he wants. 
“On your knees.”
You don’t hesitate to roll onto your side and stand from the bed, dropping to your knees with your hands in your lap. He watches as you go, waiting until you’re in position to stand himself and approach, raking his hand through your hair almost affectionately. You keep your eyes on him, the way he’s hard and straining against the useless condom.
“Does being on your knees hurt, little slut? Or is that right where you belong?” he asks, resting the tip of his cock against your lips. “Open.” 
You stick out your tongue, dragging it against the bottom of his tip.
“More.” he demands, pushing his hips forward. You open your mouth wider as you move to reach up and touch him, but he immediately tells you, “No.”
Your eyes look up at him, brows furrowing in curiosity as you question silently whether or not he’s going to take the condom off.
It’s sudden and shocking when he answers your question, grabbing the back of your head and shoving himself in deep. You feel him against your tongue, tasting the lube and feeling the latex on the front end of your tongue. 
He starts to thrust so quickly, you reach for his thighs to try and push him back. He doesn’t seem to care, almost relishing in your struggle, his fist tightening in your hair. As a gag works its way up your throat, he pulls you off of him, gasping for air, saliva dripping down your chin and neck. 
“How’s it taste, baby?” he asks, tugging your hair, making you look up at him through bleary eyes, trying to catch your breath. As you open your mouth to answer, he fists himself, shoving himself back into your mouth. You gag immediately and he pulls out, your mouth open as you try to breathe. He doesn’t let you, though, grabbing your jaw and spitting directly into your open mouth. 
“You better think twice before you complain.” 
You snap your jaw shut, swallowing thickly, your eyes popping back open to look up at him in shock. He gives you a crooked smile, pleased with the way he’s managed to throw you off. It only encourages him as you look up at him with wide eyes and try to catch your breath. He quirks a single brow, then runs his tongue over his teeth. 
“Nothing to say?” he asks, challenging you. You shake your head once.
He pushes the head of himself back inside your mouth, then spits again, making you flinch as it lands on your cheek. You squeeze your eyes closed, intending to hollow out your cheeks and suck, but he pulls himself out with a pop and drags his cock through the spit on your face, chuckling. 
“You’re starting to smarten up.” he mumbles. “Little brat.”
He taps the tip of his cock harshly against your lips and you can see the wheels spinning in his head as he plans his next move. “Back on the bed, all fours.” he says, snapping his fingers and pointing to the center of the bed.
You immediately pull yourself from your aching knees and scramble onto the bed, positioning yourself on all fours, just as instructed. You feel the bed dip behind you and you turn your head, seeing the remnants of the condom still intact around him. He makes no effort to remove it, wearing it like a trophy as his hands find your hips. His left hand slides up the curve of your back before pressing a palm to your spine, a silent order to arch a little further. 
“You’re trembling. You want it so bad don’t you…” he growls, his tip brushing against your entrance. “Want to feel my nice warm cock inside you…Nothing but me and you…You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby…”
“Yes.” you breathe, almost a whisper.
“I shouldn’t…I should put a new one on right now.” he says, the clench of his jaw audible. 
He thrusts himself inside of you, the barrier of latex gone between the two of you, letting you feel every ripple and vein of his perfect cock inside of you. It nearly takes your breath away as his hips slam into you. A groan leaves his chest as his hands grip into your hips, and you can feel his hot breath on your back.
His hips crash violently into yours, his pillow soft tip grazing your cervix with every stroke. He’s struggling to keep his composure, it's evident with his erratic breathing and the stuttering of his hips. 
You clench around him, a whimper falling from his lips in response, briefly breaking the facade he’s chosen for the evening. “Fuck, Y/N… I– I fucking hate you. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”
A pang shoots through your chest, you feel the tension in your stomach start to build as you flutter around him. “I hate that I can’t live without you. I hate how much I love you. You–I can’t deny you anything…Not ever…” he pauses, his chest heaving. “Can’t you see that?”
“Josh…” you beg through panting breaths. 
“Not yet, you’re gonna wait. Wait until I say, yeah? Can you wait like my good girl?” he says, struggling to stave off his own release. 
“I– I can’t…” you whine. 
“You will.” he demands, punctuating his sentence with his hips. “Fuck, you feel so good, swear to god I’m gonna– fuck…”
“Josh please, please!” you beg, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 
“My little slut begging to cum, oh you’re a fucking vision… My angel…” he pauses, sliding his hand around your waist and pinching your nipple between his fingers. You tighten around him and you hear him hiss in response. “Oh goddamn, you’re not a fucking angel though, are you… You’re straight from hell.”
His hips start to falter, and you can tell he’s close. You turn your head to look at him, his hair wild and sweaty against his temples, his jaw hanging slack as he watches himself fuck you. His eyes flick up to meet yours, they are dark and his pupils are wide as a slight smile turns his lips. 
“I know I said I was going to get mine first, but you’ve been such a good girl for me. Go on, cum baby. Cum right on my cock, wanna feel you give yourself to me.” he says, nodding his head. 
His permission throws you right up into the sky, your release washing over you so forcefully that your arms give out below you, sending you tumbling into the sheets. His hands hold you up as he continues to fuck you through it, curses and praise falling from his swollen pink lips. 
As if your bliss fueled his own, you feel him pull your hips back firmly against him, a groan exploding from his chest once he can’t hold on any longer. You feel his cock twitching, his release beginning to spill inside of you as your name falls from his lips. You clench around him and he rapidly pulls out of you, fisting his cock as his cum continues to spill, painting hot white streams across your back. 
The room is quiet, just the sounds of the two of you attempting to catch your breath. His hand slides up over the curve of your ass, his fingertips catching a drip of his cum before it falls to the sheets below you. His hand reaches around smearing his fingers across your lips, and you can hear him snickering as he leaves his release behind. “A much better shade on you, darling.”
With a smack of your ass you feel him step off of the bed, padding towards the bathroom. “Stay there, don’t move. I don’t want a mess on the sheets.”
You stay put, frozen as you lean down on your elbows and rest your chin in your palm. He comes back out of the bathroom a moment later in his robe and saunters to the stairs. You hear his footsteps slowly descending the steps, the occasional squeak indicating how far away he is. 
You figure he’s heading to get you a towel from the dryer, so you just sigh and bide your time, feeling the wetness on your back start to get a little cold as the air moves through the room. In the silence, you hear a cabinet opening… then a cup being placed on the counter. Your lips part in shock as you realize he’s downstairs making a drink while he leaves you here, messy and exposed. The cherry on top of the punishment he’s dealt you this evening.
It’s a good, long while before he comes back up the stairs, again, at a leisurely pace. He softly pads across the room, then steps into your line of sight, putting a mug down on the nightstand. He made himself a cup of tea? 
You sigh, looking at him flatly, a little tired of the game at this point. He steps into the bathroom again, this time reemerging with a warm, wet towel. He approaches the bed and kneels over you, gently wiping you clean as silence settles over you both.
“I made you some tea. In case I was a little rough on your throat.” he says quietly. “I figured I owe you a drink after throwing yours into the bushes.” His tone conveys that he’s remorseful, his voice back to its unique, charming timbre. “Listen, I didn’t mean to get so… worked up. You were right when you said I was threatened by Sam, and I just kind of lost control.” 
You hum softly, resting your head on the pillow and looking at him over your shoulder, your eyes soft and tired.
“I’m sorry I pushed you that far…” you say quietly, your voice hoarse. He tosses the towel towards the hamper, standing from the bed. He leans down and places a kiss to your temple as you lay all the way down, just as your back starts to hurt.
You hear him opening your dresser drawer and soon enough he’s back at your side, placing a set of silky, cream colored pajamas and a pair of underwear near your head. He kneels at your bedside, resting his head on the bed to look at you where you lay.
“I picked these out for you when we were in Glasgow. There was this little boutique near the hotel that caught my eye. It was after dinner one night and I tried to call you but the time difference was making a mess of things…I couldn’t get ahold of you and I was just feeling lonely… so I took a walk and decided to pop in. I saw them and thought of you immediately. Thought of how they’d feel when I got back home and in bed with you.” he confesses, petting your hair the whole time he speaks. There’s almost a sadness to this story that makes guilt bubble up in your chest. You accused him of never calling, rarely thinking of you, and sending his assistant off to buy you meaningless gifts. The thought of him hand picking it for you while he was feeling lonely thousands of miles away breaks your heart.  
“I’m sorry I said all that stuff. About the gifts. That was admittedly pretty awful of me.” you squeak out, feeling ashamed of the way you acted and who you painted him to be. “I’ve been really hard on you.”
“Hard on me?” he asks, a breathy laugh rumbling through him.
“I just… I haven’t been really considerate about your ear and the stress you’re under and I think I’ve been feeling neglected in a way, so instead of trying to fix it, it was just easier to put all of the blame on you and lose sight of the sacrifices you make for me every day. For us.” 
He shakes his head, unwilling to let you accept all the blame. “I haven’t exactly made things easy on you…” he says, his voice a little small. “I think–no, I know I can do more. I will do more. I fucked up yesterday baby, and I’m sorry. I should have planned something nice. You deserve that. And I’m sorry about tonight, fuck, I’m just sorry for all of it. I love you and I need you and I’m just really, really sorry.”
He stands from his place on the side of the bed, watching you as you slide into your silky pajamas. He tosses his robe to your vanity chair and joins you on the other side of the bed, pulling back the linen sheets and sliding in next to you. 
“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I was a brat, and I’m sorry I used Sam to get under your skin. I just– I wanted your attention…and I know it was stupid and immature… I just needed to know you still cared, even just a little bit. I wanted to see it.” you pause, looking into his dark brown eyes. 
“And last night, you just wanted a night in and I was…less than agreeable. I wish we could do it over. You just wanted your comfort food and your favorite movie, home alone with me…but I couldn’t see that. I know you’re hurting. I know you’re doing your best and I’m sorry I was ungrateful. I’m happy that you were even home. I’m happy I can take care of you while you’re here.” you say, moving closer to him in the middle of the bed. “I missed you last night…”
He props himself up on his elbow, his cheeks still a little pink from earlier, and in the dim light of the lamp he is glowing. “I missed you too baby, I knew I fucked up before I even got out of the room. I should have never said that to you. Not ever. Can you forgive me?” he asks, letting his free hand slide across the sheets and grab yours. 
“Can you forgive me?” you ask, letting your glassy eyes meet his.
“Baby…” the word is a breath from his lips. You reach for him as he wraps his arms around you. You cradle his head in the crook of your neck as he breathes you in and you know all is forgiven between the two of you. You scratch his scalp and pet his velvety shaved sides, holding him close enough that you can feel his heart beating. 
“Can I make you that soup you like tomorrow? With the kale and the carrots…” you ask, a whisper against his temple. You feel him nod, a small hum leaving his chest. 
“And I still have that sourdough starter that Jake gave us… I can make some bread with it? Does that sound good?” you ask, feeling his grip on you tighten. 
“Oh my god, that starter. Have you been feeding it like he said!? I completely forgot!” he gasps.
You laugh hard enough that it shakes your chest, “Of course I have. He would be so sad if I let it die.”
You feel his body relax against you again, “Do you know how much I love you?” he asks, turning his head to face you. 
You feel your skin blush as he looks at you, his eyes full of adoration. “A lot?”
“More than that.” he smiles, his cheek dimple peeking out just a touch. You can hardly stop yourself from pressing your lips to it, your favorite thing. 
“I love you, alot.” you reply, peppering his face with kisses. 
“But there is something that I want to talk to you about…” he says, his voice growing a little more serious. 
“W-what?” you ask nervously, pulling away just a little. 
“I know you’ve been so excited about coming to Spain in a few weeks…And I’ve really been looking forward to it too…” he starts, and you feel your heart drop. Is it canceled? Does he not want you to come?
“Yeah…” you breathe, anxious to hear what he’s about to say.
“So, you know it’s been a long time since we’ve toured over there, and our normal coordinator isn’t able to make it, so we are using a secondary coordinator…It really throws a wrench into everything. Things are going to be really shaky those first few days with the jet lag and all of that. I just– I know that it’s gonna be super crazy, and I feel like we probably won’t be able to spend much time together while we get the tour stuff sorted out.” he pauses, and you feel your eyes well with tears. “I just don’t want you to come and feel ignored...”
“So I’m not–” 
His face softens as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, “So, I went ahead and booked us flights to go a whole week early, just me and you. Found us a quiet little place on the water right outside of Barcelona. It has a big open porch and a giant bed. It’s so beautiful and I know you’re going to love it. We can do whatever you want, just you and I.” He kisses your forehead before he continues. 
“And before you ask, yes, your boss already knows. I wanted to surprise you when we left, but I figured you would be suspicious that the rest of the guys wouldn’t be with us in the airport. I was planning to tell you tonight when we got home, but we saw what happened…” he smiles, his eyes positively sparkling. “So, how does that sound, my love? Will you come with me?”
Tears rush to your eyes. You were so prepared to be disappointed again that they were already on their way and this sealed the deal.
“That sounds so perfect,” you manage to squeak out as he wipes away an errant tear sliding down towards your pillow. When he pulls you in for a tender kiss, you can feel him smiling against your lips. “My coworkers are going to kill me for going on a two week vacation during tax season…”
“I’m sure they’ll be okay.” he says, brushing it off with a soft laugh. “They probably ate your strawberries yesterday, so you can call it even.” You suck your teeth at that, lips parting in shock.
“They better not have! I’m out for one day and the wolves descend?”
“I’m sure they’ll be there waiting for you Monday.” He soothes, pulling the sheets and comforter up higher over the both of you, pulling you in close as his little spoon. “But just in case… Maybe we can get some melting chocolate at the store tomorrow and make our own for dessert?” he mumbles softly. 
“Oh, I’d love that…” you say, pleasantly surprised at his effort already. He holds you tight, nuzzling into your hair. His hands are soft and warm as they sneak up under the silky pajamas, a comforting touch after so many nights spent in this bed alone.
“It’s a date, my love.” 
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It’s good news for everyone with birthdays between October 23 and November 21, because the Enchanterium zodiac Scorpio doll has been released in the form of an alien cheerleader!
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Here’s the concept designs, and Alex and Barb decided to go with the hair bun option so we’ll be seeing a lot of neon. Are you ready?
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“When I found Wydowna Spider in our stash I knew she would be a perfect candidate for both Scorpio and the alien prompt. We bought her a million years ago and never used it because she’s a rare doll in our country, and I’m always scared of using these rare dolls for customization because I know some collectors would love to have them. But I guess I don’t care that much because I’m going to use her anyway.”
“Cheerleading is not really a thing in Poland because we also don’t really have sports in our schools the same way it’s done in the US. So the only reference I have is watching tv shows like Glee and that one big Netflix documentary series we all watched in lockdown.”
“I am cutting out what I have prepared for myself, but I didn’t think it through, and if it doesn’t work out, I’ll be in trouble, because I don’t have any more of this material. But today I decided that I will believe in myself.”
“She already has six arms, and that’s pretty out of this world, but I want her to have pincers like the scorpion that she is. … You may be wondering where the second part of the pincer is. She can’t pinch if there’s only one. Aha I have prepared nightmare fuel because I’m going to use monster high hands.”
“I didn’t even notice I do it (gradient) in every design but recently we got a comment saying they look like a set of characters because of their individuality and gradients, and I was like ‘oh no is gradient a defining feature of Enchanterium style that’s so 2010.’”
“Usually scorpions have 2-12 eyes so of course we’re making 12. Like is there another option?”
“It’s now finally time to stand up to our demons and take care of the hairstyle.”
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I’m glad Barb and Alex are leaning into the zodiac high theme, I think it’s such an interesting concept that works since the doll bases are all monster high. I’d totally watch an animated mini series about these characters. Plus it’s fun to think up roles for all the dolls they’ve already made! My favorite part of this doll is a tie between the scorpion claws and the six thousand decorative pins in the doll’s head. What’s yours?
If you liked this video consider subscribing to the Enchanterium YouTube channel! 💚💙💖
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kquil · 7 months
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🍪 : cookie with Remus and giving their baby a bath. Like sitting in the tub together and bathing the baby 😭💕
A/N : here's the final installment of this mini series! i hope you darlings enjoy!
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“What the?” Remus exclaims as you suddenly enter with nothing but a towel wrapped around you and your naked son held up against your hip. 
“Da!” little Alfie squeals in delight at the sight of his father and immediately reaches his arms out to him. At the sight of your son’s tiny hands making grabbing motions at Remus, you promptly comply and hand him over to your husband. As Alfie immediately takes to the water and splashes about, disturbing your husband’s peace and stretching an amused grin across his lips, you rummage around to get out a few of Alfie’s bath toys. You settle with a classic yellow rubber duck, a blue spurting whale and a little floating plastic boat. 
Remus watches as you place the toys in the bath before unwrapping the towel around you and hanging it up. As your husband helps your son sink (for the little bubbles) and unsink his little boat (to do it over again - for the bubbles), you slip into the water on the other side of the tub with another plastic boat in your hands. 
“Alfie look~” you steal his attention in the midst of him hitting the plastic boat against the surface of the water over and over again. Once you have his full attention, you let your little boat sail peacefully across your side of the tub with a gentle push. Observing your actions, your son mimics what you do before clapping and looking up at you for approval, “well done Alfie~” you praise gently, watching fondly as your son smiles with a giggle before turning to your husband with the same look. 
“Good job, Al,” Remus muses in his deep, soothing voice. In his father’s hold, Alfie attempts to climb up Remus’s chest and does so with the help of your husband’s supporting hands against his sides, “what are you up to buddy?”
“Da! Da!” Alfie calls.
“That’s me,” you smile at their adorable interaction and sigh in relief. This was the right choice. Remus had been quite exhausted after the full moon a few days ago, even when the boys came over to transform with him as animagi, you can tell that the recent transformation took a lot out of him. He’s been so exhausted and lethargic recently that he couldn't bear you and Alfie catching sight of him outside your usual check ups and meal deliveries. But you and Alfie missed him dearly, he had been so fussy without his father, so this was your attempt at finally confronting Remus of his horrible avoidance habit without actually confronting him. It was then when Alfie placed a small hand over the uneven texture of a scar across Remus’s cheek. Of course your son is smart, even from a young age — he is Remus’s afterall. 
“What a smartie pants,” you coo, inching forward to kneel in between Remus’s legs as you bring up a hand to lovingly stroke back his hair, “just like his father,”
Tears surface in Remus’s eyes as he sees pure, unadulterated love filling your eyes and the guilt of it all makes his chest tighten. It’s almost too much to bear and he makes the mistake of looking at his son again, who coos happily in his arms, gently patting at his scar with a smile, “I’m ashamed…” I should trust you more by now…
“Don’t be Rem,” you kiss his temple sweetly, “Alfie and I just missed you so much, didn’t we, hon?” you ask softly, giggling at the look Alfie gives you after seeing how you kissed your husband. It’s the look he usually gives you when he wants a kiss too so you lean down and comply with your son’s silent plea. With a kiss on his tiny button nose, he instantly became a giggling mess. 
“I missed you too…” Remus smiles and kisses Alfie’s forehead before leaning forward to capture your lips in a kiss as well. It would have been a long, love-filled kiss if it weren’t for your son attacking you with a spray of water using his Whale toy. 
“I guess he just missed being a nuisance huh?” Remus says in amusement and raises his giggling son out of the water to blow raspberries against his plush belly.   
“He gets that from you~” you tease and Remus smirks, all too proud of his origins as a Marauder, causing havoc throughout Hogwarts. 
“He’ll be sure to get a pretty lady in the future then,” Remus hums thoughtfully as Alfie takes his whale toy and sinks it into the water, watching in awe at the bubbles that surface above it. 
“Why’s that?” 
“Because causing trouble got me you and you’re the prettiest lady around,”
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1K MILESTONE EVENT | NAVI.
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huramuna · 4 months
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wine red, tears gold - chapter 1.
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king aegon II x baratheon ofc
a 'what if aegon didn't get poisoned and the greens technically won the dance but at what cost' au. basically aegon, alicent, otto and jaehaera are the only greens alive. and larys i guess. someone get rid of this guy.
word count: 4.6k
aegon wasn't as badly injured from Rook's Rest like in canon in this AU, he has a few burn scars near his torso but wasn't crippled / bedridden.
this is for my 100 followers poll. it was supposed to be a oneshot but will be a mini series in 3 or 4 parts. this is my first time writing aegon and it will also be somewhat of a character study.
thank you for 100 followers and everyone who participated in the poll. love <3 thank you @randomdragonfires for beta reading, mwah mwah.
content: smut (specifics below cut), canon typical misogyny, canon typical violence, angst, fluff, arranged marriage, touch-staved aegon, aegon isn't a r*pist in this au but he is still a bad person and has his vices, ofc and aegon need to go to therapy together, justice for jaehaera, awkward sex, kind of a slow burn
its been so long - the living tombstone • nobody - mitski
chapter specific warnings: awkward sex, p in v, virginity loss
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Every day felt like a new restraint, a new button added to the collar choking around Aegon’s neck. He had done it– he had freed the realm of the false queen, his half-sister– and lost almost everything to do so. When did it end? When did he get to relax and run the realm as he saw fit, since they so intended to have them at the helm. He wore the conqueror’s crown, wielded his sword and bore his name and yet he couldn’t do as the conqueror actually did. Rule. He felt more like a dog than a dragon these days; but that was just a pattern in his life. They wanted him when they needed him and he was to shoulder their burdens as eldest son.
His grandsire kept breathing down his neck to secure another wife, another heir, another alliance brokered with another pompous house. 
“Listen to me, Aegon,” Otto began, his fingers laced together as he sat at his desk. He had summoned Aegon to the Tower of the Hand– he was summoning the King, rather than the King summoning him. Somehow, his council had let Otto weasel his way back into the position of Hand, Aegon’s mother in tears, pleading for it. There wasn’t anyone else fit for the job since Criston had died– and he was never really fit for it anyhow. “We must move quickly to provide you with a new wife. The realm won’t remain stable if we tarry in producing an heir for the throne.”
Aegon sat in the seat across from him, feeling more like a child than a King. He twisted the signet ring on his pinky finger. “It’s too soon. It would be an insult to Helaena.” he replied, not looking up at Otto. Helaena had only passed a few moons earlier and the wound was still fresh for all of them. Aegon never loved her like a wife– how could he, they were too different, too young– but he cared deeply for her as his sister and the mother of his children. Even thinking about taking another wife this soon felt like a betrayal. He would be like his father then.
A small huff and a rustling of papers was heard– Aegon was still too distracted by his signet ring, the thin light filtering through the half drawn blinds, causing a small glint off of the bronzed metal. He didn’t want to look up to see the expression on his grandsire’s face, he knew it was one of disappointment. Aegon couldn’t remember the last time that someone hadn’t looked at him with contempt, disappointment, melancholy. 
“You must understand. You have a duty to the realm–” 
“Fucking duty– don’t speak to me of it. I’ve done my duty for enough lifetimes. I let you put me on the throne and usurp my sister and look where that’s gotten us? Everyone is fucking dead, Otto. Jaehaerys, Maelor, Helaena, Aemond,” he paused for a moment, lifting his head up to meet the Hand’s gaze head on, “Rhaenyra, Rhaenys, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey– do I need to proceed? The majority of our bloodline is wiped out because of you and your ambition.”
Otto snorted, standing up from his desk slowly. He grabbed a decanter of wine, pouring them both a goblet. “You misunderstand. Everything I’ve done has been… for our family’s legacy– for the realm,” he placed the glass stopped back into the carafe, “Don’t you dare act as if I am not hurting for the loss of family– but war is war, boy. People die. It is unfortunate that… the ones close to us did. But we can’t live with our head in the clouds any longer, there is a realm to run and the crown comes with responsibilities. A wife and heir are one of those paramount responsibilities.”
“I have an heir. I still have one remaining child– Jaehaera is my heir. I deem it.” he spoke quickly, staring at the goblet of wine. He had reduced his intake of alcohol since the war ended– but the need for it was always there, always aching. He suddenly felt parched. Giving Otto a haughty stare, he took a sip from the glass, feeling his muscles instantly relax.
“Don’t be daft– have you so quickly forgotten what happened when the King last named a female heir?”
“It wasn’t that Rhaenyra was a woman, Otto. People would’ve learned to adjust if…” Aegon took another sip, clearing his throat, “If she hadn’t been infatuated with her freak of an uncle, you would’ve been able to control her easier, hm? It's always been you and mother behind the crown these past two decades– not me, nor my father.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Otto griped back, gripping his glass, “Don’t speak of things you know nothing about. Rhaenyra–” he stopped, taking a breath, “Rhaenyra is dead. They’re all dead, you’re right. But there is still the whole of the Seven Kingdoms requiring a leader, especially now. A leader with a united front with a queen and babe. I won’t argue further on this matter.”
Aegon acquiesced. He would rather deal with Otto’s venomous viper tongue talking him into things he didn’t want to do now instead of his mother visiting him hours later in hysterics– he couldn’t bear it. Alicent was more of a mess now than ever. “Fine. I leave this in your very capable hands,” he stood up, swiping the whole jug of wine, “At least find me a pretty one.”
She was plain, unbelievably plain. Long, curled brown hair desperately in need of a trim, a poorly tailored dress that needed to be more fitted at the waist, stature too small and unremarkable to stand up to anyone of importance. Oh, and picked cuticles, the spots of red eking out from her nail beds. Mayhaps she and his mother would get along just jolly, then. She was to be his prospective wife and bear him more heirs. He wanted to shove it back in the council’s face and say he has an heir, his only living child, Jaehaera. Melancholy and withdrawn as she was, she was his heir.
The council disagreed, allowing Borros Baratheon to shove his last unwed daughter at him like a piece of meat that no one wanted.
Her eyes wafted up to glance at him, every move of hers uncertain, cautious. She was so deathly aware of each minute gesture, her posture having to be adjusted to straighten every few minutes. 
Lyanna Baratheon wasn’t of prominent knowledge and reputation like her sisters, aptly named ‘the Four Storms’ – she didn’t remind Aegon at all of a stag or a doe, but rather something more diminutive and easily killed, like a prey animal. Mayhaps a rabbit– it would be an apt description, as she had giant eyes, brown –almost black– in their hue, a shiny glaze over them as she stared at the ground. Every so often, their eyes would meet, brown to violet, and she would look apt as Aegon thought she was.
A rabbit begging for its life.
Borros Baratheon stood beside her, murmuring something into her ear. He was a boorish oaf of a man who couldn’t even read– Aegon wasn’t the brightest star in the sky when it came to matters of literature, that’d always been his brother’s realm, but atleast he could fucking read. He thought it quite hysterical that his house sigil was that of a Stag when Lord Borros reminded him more of a boar. Mayhaps he should change it. 
As he continued to whisper to his daughter, her expression went from sordid to panicked, then back to sordid. She wasn’t very good at masking her emotions– she would need to learn if she were to survive at the Keep. The tips of her fingers twitched slightly and she was obviously holding herself back from tearing into her nail beds. 
“Lord Borros,” Aegon broke the tension, “Perhaps I should show your daughter around the gardens while you speak with my grandsire. We have the most beautiful gardens here and I’d imagine that Storm’s End wouldn’t have something quite as grand,” he glazed over Borros’ blank stare, “due to the storms, of course.” 
Lord Baratheon adjusted his doublet, which was far too small for him— did the Stormlands not have a proper fucking tailor? — and nodded, “Yes, that would be amicable. It would do some good to familiarize yourself with one another before the wedding in a week’s time.” 
Aegon’s throat felt parched. He knew that they were speeding things along but he didn’t anticipate it to be this fast. Grabbing a bottle of wine from a nearby servant, he descended back to Lyanna, intent on whisking her away as quickly as possible. Not because he found her particularly interesting, rather the opposite, but he needed an excuse to get out of the room. The insistent thrum of his pulse in his neck was all too loud. His arm looped under Lyanna’s, “Come, my lady,” he hummed, trying to seem like he was somewhat collected and kingly and not on the edge of chugging the entire carafe of wine and smashing it over the next poor fucker’s head. “To the gardens.” 
He practically strung along the poor girl, who hurriedly agreed and tried her best to keep up. “Y-yes, your grace,” she mewled, her feet tapping on the ground at irregular rhythms as she hung onto Aegon’s arm, bouncing against the stone walkway toward the gardens, “King’s Landing is… very beautiful, my king– your subject must be very pleased.”
As they descended the cobbled steps down to the garden, Aegon eyed her warily, “Did your father tell you to say that?”
“N-no, not exactly–” 
“He did. Anyone with half of a brain and a working nose knows that this accursed city smells of shit. You shouldn’t lie, my lady. You’re quite bad at it,” he took a small breath as he looked at her expression– the poor thing was on the verge of tears. “You will get better in time,” he continued with a slightly softer tone, “This Keep is full of great liars and you don’t seem… too much like your father. I am sure you will pick up quickly. How old are you?”
“Nineteen, your grace.” 
Aegon resisted giving a derisive snort, instead uncorking the wine bottle and tossing the stopper into the grass, “You’re quite young, then,” he took a swig, feeling the bitter tasting liquid coat his mouth, “All the better for heirs. Or so I’m sure that we’ve both been told.” 
In truth, some would consider her a bit late in age to be married– but Aegon didn’t care as long as he wasn’t robbing the cradle like his father did to his mother, or Daemon to Rhaenyra. He was twenty-six himself and tried to remember what he was like when he was nineteen; he couldn’t exactly pinpoint an exact memory. It was mostly a blur.
“I am… hopeful to provide you with many healthy heirs, my king,” she replied, her words sounding rehearsed. She is as poor of an actress as she is a liar, then. She paused for a moment, looking at her hands, “I… do not wish to replace the late queen, her grace, Helaena– I merely wish to fulfill my duty to the realm and my family– I am terribly… sorry to hear about Helaena, my king. As well as your prince brothers. War is a terrible thing.”
Aegon blinked profusely a few times. Her words after her pause sounded genuine– mayhaps she is capable of thinking for herself. She seemed… softhearted, even if a bit naive. He regarded the bottle in his hand for a moment, swishing it around. No one had really apologized to him for his losses– the enumerable amount of them he’s gone through these past few years. They all bowed their heads and wouldn’t meet his gaze, as if their blood was all on his hands. Mayhaps it was. He swallowed, his mouth pursed in a thin line, “... War is indeed a terrible thing, my lady.”
They walked for a few hours around the garden, talking about various things. Aegon still found her quite boring and uninteresting to look at– she wasn’t ugly by any means, and could be considered pretty, but she was just so terribly plain that it bored him to tears. Her speech was all faux and he tried to eek out any genuineness to her words through different subjects– all to no avail. It seemed the sore subject of Aegon’s family was the only thing to break her from her carefully crafted script.
Eventually, they parted ways– for the better, he thought. She was a fine match, a fine age, a fine vessel for his seed to produce a royal heir and whatever other innocuous thing his grandsire needed from him. 
What a terribly dreadful life he’s let himself sink into.
That night, he drained two bottles of Dornish Red, falling much into the same state of mind he had when he was nineteen. Wandering to the Street of Silk, he whored and drank himself into a state of sloven mania.
In the midst of his drunken ramblings, he wondered if he could ever find someone who would truly love him or if his opportunity had already passed.
– 
The wedding followed in the timeline that Borros and Otto had set– as quickly as possible. The council dipped into the coffers to make it happen, it was to be an extravagant event, a new beginning for the realm. Artisans, fine bakers and cooks were all hired to make the wedding a facet, stringing up red, green, yellow and black banners, making dozens of delicate pastries and even cooking six turduckens to line the tables.
It was all lavish and opulent– and Lyanna could not feel more out of place. The past week at the Keep had been a whirlwind of planning, gown fittings, flower picking. Her sisters were there in attendance, speaking up more than she on what to pick. It was fine with her, as she couldn’t bring herself to care for it. The gaudiness of it all made her feel ill. 
She had only met with Aegon the one time, the first time. Lyanna felt she made a terrible impression— she was so nervous that day that she’d vomited twice that morning, all while her father screamed at her to get it right, to say exactly as he told her to. For the most part, she had done just that— played the perfect little puppet for him and said all those empty words that meant nothing. 
She was meant to see Aegon at least three more times before the wedding, as there were a few dinners arranged between their two families. He had been absent for all, his mother citing that he was unable to attend for various reasons but nothing overtly specific.
Alicent Hightower was a nice lady— she was warm to Lyanna, talking to her at the dinners when no one else had bothered. She was the person who Lyanna felt most comfortable with in the Keep and was grateful that she was to be her good-mother. Alicent was a bit frayed at the ends from the loss of her other children; she was haunted, her eyes constantly red-rimmed and murmuring prayers under her breath. 
The morning of the wedding, Lyanna was summoned to Alicent’s solar to get ready. 
She knocked on the door, “Your grace— it’s Lyanna.”
“Come in, my dear,” she called out, a maid opening the door to let her in. “How are you feeling this morn?” Alicent was perched on the settee when Lyanna came in, and immediately rushed over to her, taking the young girl’s hands in hers. 
“Quite nervous,” Lyanna responded, her hands quivering ever so slightly, even under the warm touch of Alicent. “May I speak plainly, your grace?” 
“Of course,” she ushered Lyanna to the loveseat and had the maid pour them both tea, then promptly shooed her out. “It’s just us now, speak your mind, sweetling.” 
“I-I am afraid that… Aegon will not like me. I fear I didn’t make a good first impression— he seemed quite bored of me.” 
Alicent took a sip of her tea, giving a small sigh. “I will do you the favor of not sugarcoating words and speak plainly like you have done with me. Aegon will not like you,” she pursed her lips into a thin line, twisting the signet ring on her finger, “Aegon is a creature of debauchery and sin— and you are a good, pious girl. You are like oil and water.” her brown eyes met Lyanna’s, her expression softening. The two women had a fast camaraderie, praying together each morning in the Sept. “You… may not love him, or even like him— but there is a duty upon you to fulfill. It is a burden we carry as women, my dear. We are always behest to the men in our lives,” she stopped, her eyes glazing over with a far-away look, “I don’t mean to be discouraging. You are a… good hearted young woman and I believe you can channel that into something positive as the Queen.” 
Lyanna felt her stomach quivering at Alicent’s words, her skin flushing. “I… appreciate your plain speech, your grace. I just… do not wish to displease him.”
Alicent’s mouth twitched at each end as if she were mulling something over. “It will be hard to please him, my dear. You are nothing like the women that usually please him,” she wiped a hand down her face, “You remind me so much of myself, Lyanna. Pushed into something you are… ill-suited for. You’re a sweet and kindhearted girl and I don’t wish for you to tear yourself apart on the inside and feel as if you’re not good enough for him– you are, you are too good for him, too pure, too-” Alicent took a measured breath, “You are not what he wants and you never will be, my dear. It will do you well to know that now rather than years later. There is always someone else in their eyes– women like you and I do what we can. I pray you will find things that keep you happy.”
Lyanna picked up her tea cup with trembling hands, taking a sip. There seemed to be more to Alicent’s words than them just being about Aegon– but she didn’t want to push it. Dipping her head, she thanked her good-mother-to-be once more.
– 
“Wake up, wake up!” a voice boomed, rousing Aegon from his haze as a carafe of cold water was poured on him. The girl latched to his cock like a leech let out a shrill scream and scrambled away.
“Fucking hell– who the fuck?” Aegon slurred, blinking profusely half a dozen times before his vision came into focus. It was one of the Kingsguard, one more behest to his grandsire than him– and his grandsire, Otto, who had the now empty container of water in hand.
“Wake up, you ingrate,” Otto growled, grabbing his grandson by his collar, hoisting him up onto his feet, smacking his cheek gently. “Your wedding is in two hours and you’re passed out in a whorehouse. You’re the king, for the Seven’s sake– I thought you left this debauchery behind, atleast have your whores at the keep instead of being in these pits of sin.” 
“You can put a number of different hats on a bear, you know,” Aegon slumped against the wall, “Many kinds of hats; a hood, a felted dante, a linen coif, a cowl, a straw hat, a jester’s garb– heh, that’d be quite funny–” 
“Is there a point to your drunken babbling, Aegon?”
“Yes, ah– you can put many types of hats on a bear and change its look but at the end of the day, its still just a fucking bear,” he straightened out his stained tunic, “Point being– you can stick a crown on my head, put a sword in my hand and put me through a war to keep me on that fucking throne but guess what, grandsire, I am still just a bear at the end of the day.”
Otto stared at him, brow furrowed. “You aren’t a bear, you’re a dragon and a king, so act like it. You are getting married in two hours and you look like a sloven mess. You’re lucky that Borros is as blind for power and recognition as he is or he would take his daughter back to Storm’s End and you’ll be stuck with the next best choice.” 
“That boring rube of a girl was my best choice? I must be fucked, then, either way.”
Otto and his Kingsguard dog dragged Aegon back to the keep, and observed while maids scrubbed him clean, red and raw. He was put in a nicely fit green suit, his House cloak strapped to his shoulders. It was a whirlwind of events that led up to the doors of the Sept being opened and Aegon ushered in.
His stomach churned and he felt sixteen again, forced to wed his sister. He remembered being hardly conscious throughout the ceremony, fumbling over his cloak and practically smothering Helaena in it.
He looked down the aisle at Lyanna, who was dressed in a pale yellow dress with long, flowing sleeves. She had a high collar with black lining and antler embroidery all over the garment. It was actually well fitted this time, likely thanks to his mother, and it turned out she actually had a figure, with plush hips and a well-endowed chest. Her brown hair was half up, half down with an assortment of intricate braids– it reminded him of how Rhaenyra used to wear her hair and he wondered who thought to style it like that, and he wondered if he was the only one who noticed.
As he walked down the aisle, he saw his mother in the front row– she was crying, thumbing a pendant in the shape of a Seven Pointed Star. 
The ceremony was a blur to him, as he put the cloak over her shoulders and sealed their union with a kiss– a chaste one. She tasted like lavender tea. As he pulled back, he noticed that her eyes were rimmed with tears, and he felt the familiar sting of tears in his own eyes.
The feast was much the same, as he drank himself into a numbing stupor. He only had one moment of clarity, as some of the rowdy guests began to poke and prod at Lyanna, talking about the bedding ceremony. She looked visibly uncomfortable, picking at her nail beds under the table. Something about the sight of her discomfort and pain stirred something in Aegon that he couldn’t name– maybe he was feeling sentimental from the alcohol, but a surge of possessiveness flowed through him. He wasn’t known to be possessive, much the opposite in fact. But the egregious actions of these men pawing at his wife– their fucking queen, mind them– making disgusting insinuations. If she were a whore, it’d be different– but she was so… innocent, so coerced in all of this just as he was, it felt wrong. 
Aegon snapped, slamming his cup down, “There won’t be any fucking bedding ceremony,” he growled, “My wife and I will be retiring to our chambers– alone. And if… any one of you lays another paw on her, you will lose it.”
Lyanna stared at Aegon, those huge brown eyes wide. Her lips were parted slightly as he once again strung her along the halls to his– no, their– chambers. She was shaking.
Once in their chambers, he let go of her, uncorking another bottle of wine and taking a swig. “I presume you think that this is where I will fuck you, hm? Stick my prick in you and make an heir and we will all live happily ever after like a child’s storybook.”
Lyanna stared down at her feet. “It… it would be… the duty of husband and wife to consummate–”
“Fuck duty! I’m not going to fuck some weepy eyed maiden because my old fuck grandsire said so. I don’t have need of you in that way.”
Her hands were trembling as she unlaced the back of her dress, her movements autonomous– she was doing what she thought she should be doing in this situation. She began to undress, slipping her gown off and leaving her in her silken shift, which didn’t leave much to the imagination. The sight of her body, soft, stirred something within him for a moment, like a spark trying to ignite kindling.
“We don’t have to do this, Lyanna,” he murmured, using her name for the first time. He put down the wine bottle. “We can wait.”
“N-no! Please, I want to– please,” Lyanna whispered, practically pleading for it, as if she wanted to get it over with. “Please.”
Aegon rubbed a hand down his face. “Get on the bed then. Lie on your stomach.”
She did as she was told, laying flat on the bed on her stomach. She clutched some pillows as a lifeline.
He knew he should warm her up, he knew that they should want to touch one another, he should want to see her face– but he didn’t. He couldn’t bear to look at her face, or touch her for longer than was necessary. He barely shimmied down his trousers before he began poking at her entrance with a half-hard cock, partially trying to give her a moment to get used to the sensations, and partially trying to find where he was supposed to stick it– he knew, of course, he’d fucked his way through King’s Landing and then some, but he hadn’t fucked many maidens, and especially not when he was blind drunk.
Eventually, he hit home and slid into her, his movements slow at first. He could hear her whimpers and knew they weren’t of pleasure. It reminded him of his wedding night with Helaena where they’d both cried– all the memories of that night came flooding back, causing him to falter.
Lyanna looked back at him, her eyes puffy and red, “I-Is it over?” 
Aegon swallowed sharply, cringing as he stared at her. The moment of arousal he had– purely from stimulation alone– was gone now, his half-hard erection deflating completely. “Fuck– yes, it’s over.” he didn’t have the heart to tell her that it in fact had hardly started before it was over– and not in the good way. He pulled out of her, taking in a deep breath as he walked to the water basin and soaked a cloth with warm water, offering it to her. “Wipe yourself– it will help with the… pain… and blood.” 
She took the cloth, wiping away the remnants of their half-fulfilled consummation. “I-I’m… sorry,” Lyanna whispered, sniffling, “I know I am not what you want.” 
His mouth was pulled into a thin line as he turned away. “You’re right. You aren’t.”
They fell into bed next to each other and Aegon’s mind was swimming as he tried to sleep. He didn’t know what he wanted. He never wanted any of this– he just wanted to be a kid again with no responsibilities, with all of his siblings, even Rhaenyra– he would’ve… he would’ve been nicer to all of them, he wouldn’t of picked on Aemond, he would’ve gotten to know Rhaenyra better, he would’ve played with Helaena’s bugs, he would’ve taught Daeron all of the secrets of the castle. He would’ve told his grandsire to fuck off when they were to crown him and had Sunfyre char him to a crisp and given the crown to Rhaenyra.
He would’ve been loved then.
He just wanted to be loved.
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agendabymooner · 4 months
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pocketful of sunshine || dr3 scenario
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dad!daniel ricciardo x mom!ofc (måneskin member!ofc)
POSSIBLE EXTENSION TO HERE COMES THE SUN
Summary: Dark curls, wide smiles, clinginess — Beau Ricciardo, the birthday boy, checked off the list of things that made him the Alpha Tauri driver Daniel’s mini me and the Måneskin bassist Lester was the one to confirm that.
Content warning: WHOLESOME FLUFF, brief Italian dialogue + translation, mentions Lando Norris x OFC (Nicola), zoo trip + an Irwin appearing, Dad!Danny loves his boy so much I might cry, too much fluff, frowny and happy baby, nicknames (‘little par’ = see this fic for reference)
Note: My body is on an all time low rn but I’ve had this in my draft for a while so… enjoy xx
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“Danny~ what’s taking you so—“ Lester Ricciardo abruptly stopped herself from saying anything more as her eyes were trained on her husband and son. 
It was as if they were caught in the act, both Daniel and Beau Ricciardo’s eyes widening after chatting amongst themselves over the pair of shoes that Daniel had put on the one year old. 
Well… it was more like Daniel was doing the talking while Beau would provide an input or two— a series of babblings that no one really understood. Apparently, putting on Beau’s shoes took longer than expected Lester had to check and see what they were on. 
“Wh- mio caro, it’s almost— eleven,” Lester told Daniel with a baffled voice. “The zoo staff will come looking for us if we don’t head there soon.” 
“Yeah, we’re done here, look at him,” Daniel presented Beau to his wife with a beam. “Handsome boy, no?” 
Lester’s frown softened when she laid her eyes on her son. This little being that once grew inside her body was bigger now and she hated it so much.
Beau Ricciardo was supposed to stay a baby, and it wasn’t as if she could fault him for growing so much. She just wished he didn’t grow this fast. 
Beau’s big smile, despite being small, lightened up her world as much as Daniel’s grin and cheeky comments did. He was so much like Daniel.
“Very handsome indeed,” Lester grinned after Beau’s smile widened at the sight of his Mum. “You’re a very handsome boy, bambino. Vorrei che tu non dovessi crescere così velocemente. Credo di poter incolpare tuo padre per questo, eh?” I wish you didn’t have to grow this fast. I guess I can blame your father for this, eh?
It was as if Beau could easily grasp the Italian words that escaped his mother’s mouth as he nodded eagerly. 
Daniel laughed heartily at his boy’s response and picked him up, allowing Beau to cling to him. “A smart boy, too. My little bilingual boy,” Daniel praised, giving a peck on his son’s cheek. “Only problem is— are your Zia Cola and Zio Lando ready?” 
Now, both Daniel and Lester loved Lando Norris dearly — as if he was family already (god bless his relationship with Lester’s sister and all that) but they both loathed how late he could get on certain occasions. If he was to do that on this occasion— during his godson Beau’s birthday trip to the Australia Zoo — then God only knew what Lester could do to him. He might get strangled or he might be able to get away from it but Lester would aim for the former. 
“Oh mio dio,” Lester swore beneath her breath, her face etching with annoyance before she sighed. “Let’s just leave them— we’re going to be late.”
“I’ll call them,” Daniel told his wife, a smile still resting on his face as he said, “You have to relax—“
“Danny—“
“Beau is one today, my darling,” Daniel grinned, eyes widening as a warning as he said, “We can’t be cranky on such a happy day! That right, bud? Can you say ‘sì’, Beau-Bear?” 
“Sì!” Beau followed suit, raising his arms up to express his excitement and happiness. If only Beau wasn’t Lester’s adorable baby, his infuriatingly adorable smile would’ve led her to pinch his cheeks hard enough for him to cry.
“See?” Daniel gave Lester a reassuring smile before he reached over to kiss her on the forehead, “Happy day, Lori. Your son is growing big like his Daddy and we gotta be happy about it.”
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It wasn’t every day someone got to say that they’d spent their first birthday in a zoo with an Irwin. It was Beau Ricciardo’s lucky day, perhaps. Not that he knew; he was only one. 
As he continued to grow, his interest in animals became increasingly apparent. It was one of those things that Lester made sure he knew about, seeing as she spent her free time watching endless National Geographic documentaries about whatever. 
Her free time, or rather a maternal leave from her band and some time away from the media, was time spent with her son.
She knew that Beau wasn’t going to be little forever. She could freely stay at home in comparison to Daniel, seeing as she created her own schedule and built her band from the ground up with her friends. Her job wasn’t as demanding as Daniel’s, and perhaps that was why Daniel wished to retire from racing after Beau was born. 
The Formula One driver wasn’t able to see his son as much as his wife would, and every minute spent on the track was a minute that prevented him from becoming the best Daddy to Beau.
He never truly pointed that out to his wife, but Lester wasn’t blind and had immediately expressed that his career was what would eventually lead Beau to his successes; after all, they’ve got a future world champion in their hands. 
But for now, that future world champion was just spending his time with an Irwin at the Australia Zoo. Beau’s gaze never left the zookeeper as Robert Irwin continued to tell a story about the koala that clung to him.
Lester peered down at her son and caught him staring, making her chuckle quietly and nudge her husband. She gestured to the boy in her arms as Daniel looked down, now giggling as well. Nobody seemed to have caught the laughter shared between the two but Beau as the one-year-old snapped out of his thoughts and looked up to his mother. 
“Ha un accento diverso, no, il mio piccolo? Diverso come papà?” He’s got a different accent, no, my little one? Different like Daddy’s? Lester asked in a murmur, peppering her son’s face with kisses before she continued to listen to Robert. 
“…And she is extremely clingy. She loves physical affection so would anybody like to come say hi to her?” Robert offered. “Mrs. Ricciardo, perhaps? Would you like to give her some love?” 
Lester giggled, “I’ll watch from afar. I’ve got a koala in here myself!” Everybody laughed at the joke, grinning at the boy who continued to attach himself to Lester. “He’s quite clingy as well, too. Much like his Daddy, right, piccolino?” 
Beau’s curious eyes eventually led him to reach out to the koala, slightly pulling himself away from Lester as his fingers managed to reach for the fur of the animal. Sadly, his biggest enemy right now was the ground that was waiting for him to fall and Lester’s arms that kept him in one place. 
He grunted and squirmed in Lester’s arms. Beau’s curious expression turned sour before he exclaimed in frustration, “Ma!” 
“No need to get angry, lad,” Daniel’s typical happy voice dropped an octave, his fatherly voice correcting his son’s behaviour. But Lester’s slight smile had him laughing quietly; they both couldn’t help that Beau’s struggle was adorable. 
“Oh, d’ya wanna hold her… I’m sorry, what's his name?” Robert asked the people around him before repeating their answer, “Beau? D’ya want to say hi? C’mon, then lad. Would anybody like to hold Lily to get her close to Beau?” 
“I’ll do it,” Daniel volunteered, finding himself grinning at the mammal in his arms as the koala was shifted from Robert’s hold to his. 
A photographer, one that was hired for Ricciardo's private zoo trip, had angled to take photos of Daniel and the koala. He then shifted around to take some photos of Beau as the toddler cautiously approached the animal. 
When his tiny hand started to caress the fur of the animal, the koala had then nuzzled her face to his hand with a content expression.
Beau looked up to his mother with an amazed look, his mouth forming an ‘O’ shape before turning to his father who, too, shared the same surprised look as him. 
Daniel then asked, “What do you think, Beau-Bear?” 
Beau turned back to his mother and then his relatives before giggling, patting the koala on the head once more as he grinned endlessly. Lester could really die at the sight of Beau and Daniel smiling.
So much like his father, indeed.
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“Beau, Beau— look at Daddy,” the boy glanced at his father before giggling hysterically, hiding at his mother’s chest as Daniel pulled a goofy face. 
“A giggly one, ain’t ya?” Lando grinned at Beau, reaching out to Beau and tickling the boy lightly. 
“His dad is literally the colour yellow,” Lester’s sister, Nicola, laughed quietly. “Go figures, Lando.” 
Lester continued to wrap her arms around the boy as Beau nuzzled closer, her tattooed hand reaching out to massage his dark curls as his face contently cuddled against her skin. 
“Look at ‘im,” Daniel cooed quietly, reaching out to rub Beau’s back. “Such a momma’s boy, ain’t you, mate?” 
“All he wants is cuddle,” Lester rolled her eyes playfully, her wedding band glimmering under the sun as she continued to play with Beau’s hair. “Cuddle from me. Sound familiar?” 
“Oh, hundred percent,” Daniel joked, “that’s all his Daddy, a’ight. You’re also Daddy’s son, aren’t you?” 
Beau ignored everyone, only cuddling with Lester as he quietly rested on her lap. 
“And now he’s ignoring everyone, too— a true Ricciardo, is what he is,” Lando giggled, poking Beau lightly on the side. “Little par, are you becoming like Daddy? You clingy boy.” 
Beau sat straight for a moment, offering his godfather a scowl before resting back on Lester’s chest. 
The couple gave each other a look before laughing quietly. 
“That was a very Daniel thing for him to do,” Lester grinned. “Look at you and act so cranky? Oh my~”
“He’s so mean when he’s sleepy,” Lando’s mouth gaped open, looking at Nicola with bewilderment.
“Oh now that’s his Mum,” Daniel laughed, “you should see ‘er when she wants to stay in bed.” 
“Yeah but out of all the things he could’ve gotten from me, that shouldn’t be one of them,” Lester huffed quietly, nuzzling Beau closer. Then she spoke to her baby, “Bambino— Beau, vuoi vedere un canguro o un orso?” Do you want to see a kangaroo or a bear? She asked, making the boy look at her with a curious expression as he tilted his head. 
Lester sighed. Right, she thought, she hadn’t taught him Italian just yet. 
Nicola, Beau’s aunt and Lester’s youngest sister, repeated the question for the boy, “Which one do you want to see? Kangaroos or bears?”
Beau babbled, making the adults nod. They didn’t really know what he was saying, yet they nodded as if they knew what he wanted. 
“So, see some joeys then?” 
“Mm- no,” Beau said, his partial Italian accent thickening for a brief moment after hearing his aunt speak in that accent. Both Daniel and Lester knew that even if he was to grow up in Australia, Beau was going to have an Italian accent. After all, his Mama’s accent was as thick as it could be and she had family and friends from Italy. 
But Lando couldn’t help but laugh at the accent that escaped Beau’s mouth as he grinned playfully at the boy, “No? What a cute little accent you have, little par. Oh my god~”
“Alright we get it, he’s Italian,” Daniel rolled his eyes.
“No! But did you not hear him say ‘no’ like that before?” Lando almost fell over laughing, not even noticing the toddler as Beau scowled at his godfather. 
Beau’s reactions, despite being a little sunshine like his Daddy Daniel, were copies of Lester’s usual annoyed expression. 
Daniel first made this joke when Beau’s uncle Mateo met him for the first time— when Beau unwittingly scowled when Mateo spoke to him in Italian about moving the baby to Italy with him. 
Nobody gets this reaction from Beau Ricciardo most of the time. Unless, of course, they happened to be his Uncles Scott, Lando and Mateo. And of course, unless they happened to be Beau’s grandfathers Joe and Giacomo. Oh, and Daniel’s nephew Isaac was another usual victim of the ‘Lester stink eye’ despite hanging around most of the time. 
“Stop making fun of the lad, Lando,” Daniel cackled, “look at ‘im, he literally hates you right now.” 
Then Beau added, “Mmm— ba!”
“Argumentative point, Beau, but I’ll take it,” Lando stopped laughing and wiped his tear away. “Fine, I’m sorry for teasing ya, little par.”
“Mm- blav- do~“ Beau continued to frown. 
Lester and Daniel could cry at the sight of their little man. He was the cutest thing to have ever existed. They wouldn’t trade him for the world. 
But Lester was more in love than Daniel was. After all, Beau Lauda Ricciardo was his dad’s little carbon copy.
From the dark curls, dark eyes and cheeky grin— it was safe to say that Beau was Daniel’s little boy indeed. Not even her signature annoyed look could stop her from thinking that her son was, too, an epitome of sunshine and the colour yellow.
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♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen
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gingiesworld · 6 months
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Obsessions (6/6)
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Wanda Maximoff x Rogers Fem Reader
Warnings : angst. Fluff.
Taglist: @sytoran @ginnsbaker @gb12d @lifespectator @natashamaximoff-69 @wizardofstories @canvascoloredin
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5
18+ MINORS DNI
AN: I have decided to leave it here so I may do a sequel series to this. Showing how Y/N and Wanda's friendship grows before turning into something more. Might be more than a mini series like this though :)
Wanda remained true to her word, she stuck by Y/N's side. Even as she watched her from afar as Y/N had to greet all of Peggy's family and friends.
"You really care for her." Sharon stated as she joined Wanda. The two had met briefly as Y/N shared Peggy's last moments.
"I do." Wanda admitted.
"Have you ever thought of telling her?" Sharon questioned as Wanda sighed.
"She knows now how I feel but that is a whole new story." Wanda chuckled as Sharon observed the woman beside her. "I had done some things that I am not proud of, I broke promises to her and abandoned her when I should have just been honest with her and myself."
"I'm sure it will all work out fine." Sharon told her. "Y/N can be stubborn, just like Aunt Peggy." She turned to watch as Y/N took a deep breath before heading outside. "Just give her time." Sharon told Wanda as she noticed her about to follow. "She needs time alone too."
"I can't leave her." Wanda told her as Sharon gave her a gentle smile.
"Y/N prefers to mourn alone, she kept to herself while she was mourning Uncle Steve." Sharon told her. "Smothering her will only push her further away."
"So you know about everything." Wanda stated as Sharon nodded.
"I do." She confirmed. "Y/N is my only cousin and I want to be there for her. So I became someone she could talk to about everything. So I know from the moment you abandoned her to the summer she read your letter."
"Why don't you hate me?" Wanda questioned as Sharon chuckled.
"I wanted to." She told her. "Believe me, but it seems that the two of you have your own bullshit you need to work through, and I have known how she looks at you, ever since you were kids." Sharon turned to see Y/N re-enter the room and head straight for the bar. "She has always loved you more than anyone would think is possible, but she is afraid."
"Why?" Wanda questioned as Sharon finished her drink.
"That isn't really for me to say." She told her before heading to the bar herself. Wanda decided to head out for some fresh air, remembering all of the times Y/N had helped her growing up, all the ways she would gaze at her intensely as they would hold a conversation.
"I thought you left." Y/N spoke up from beside her, Wanda watched as Y/N lit up a cigarette.
"I didn't know you smoked." Wanda told her as Y/N smirked.
"There is a lot about me you don't know about Wanda." Y/N told her as she blew the smoke away from Wanda. "The Y/N you knew was a dumb kid who believed in other people and friendships. Since then, I have somewhat decided it isn't really worth letting your walls down for someone to come in and break you."
"Is that why you're so cold with me?" Wanda asked her confidently. "You think I am going to leave you?"
"You did before!" Y/N told her angrily. "So what's to say that you aren't going to do it again."
"Me!" Wanda yelled at her. "I am not leaving! I am not making that same mistake again!"
"Why?" Y/N questioned. "Why should I believe you?"
"Because I am in love with you!" Wanda screamed, her breathing rapidly as her heartbeat fast in her chest.
"You have to be joking." Y/N chuckled dryly. "This is some sick joke of yours."
"No." Wanda shook her head. "I am in love with you Y/N. I guess on some level I knew all along and I was scared. I was afraid of what everyone would say about me. My parents, Pietro, my friends and peers." She took a deep breath as Y/N really listened to her for the first time. "I was jealous of all of those girls who had you. I was obsessed even. I followed your social media under a fake account. All of the pictures you posted of your artwork, or landscapes of places you visited. Even pictures with Christine Palmer and other girls. I kept track of you and your activities."
"You stalked me?" Y/N asked her with a look of disgust on her face.
"No!" Wanda yelled.
"So is that what this is? You came here to be with me and see my mom before she passed, is this you stalking me?" Y/N questioned as Sharon stood by and watched the two argue.
"No!" Wanda told her. "I wanted to be here for you when you needed someone the most."
"I can't believe this." Y/N stepped away as Wanda's tears started to fall. "I." She shook her head as she looked at her cousin. "I need to go. I can't be here." She pointed at Wanda. "I want your things out of my room before midnight." With that she left as Sharon approached Wanda.
"She'll come around." Sharon told her. "She is just going through a lot right now and her emotions are everywhere."
"No she won't." Wanda whispered as she wiped her eyes. "I've truly lost her. I have lost my chance with her." Wanda soon followed Y/N, but made her way to the hotel. Booking the next flight back to New Jersey, ignoring the feeling of dread in her stomach.
When Y/N had returned to the hotel, Sharon was sitting on the bed, turning to face Y/N as she walked inside.
"She's gone." Sharon told her. "Just like you wanted."
"Good." Y/N mumbled as she took off her jacket.
"She is trying Y/N." Sharon told her. "Maybe you should just try and forgive her, be friends again."
"I am sick and tired of hearing those words from everyone!" Y/N yelled as she slammed her hand on the vanity table. "I have heard it since I first started college from people who don't understand the shit I went through because of her!"
"Y/N." Sharon tried as Y/N shook her head.
"You don't understand Sharon." Y/N told her, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I loved her. I was in love with her and she broke my heart. No, she shattered my heart when she broke her promises. Many promises and I can't go through that pain again. I just can't."
"So you're just going to be alone for the rest of your life?" Sharon questioned as Y/N sighed.
"No." Y/N told her. "I am going to keep myself guarded for the rest of my life."
When Wanda's plane had landed, Pietro was there waiting for her, a sad smile on his face as he noticed his twins' defeated demeanor.
"I'm sorry Wanda." He told her softly as he took her bag from her.
"It's ok." She shrugged as the two left the airport. "I guess I deserve it really."
"No Wanda." Pietro tried as they approached his car.
"I do." Wanda told him firmly. "I abandoned her when I promised I wouldn't. I was jealous and vindictive. I was an ass all through high school and well, Y/N is gone." She looked out of the window. "Because of me." Pietro remained silent as he drove, leaving Wanda to think about things that have happened over the years.
As the years passed, Wanda had taken over her parent's cafè, her parents wanted to retire and travel for a while. Wanda had remained single as she threw herself into work. Little did she know that Y/N had returned, renting her own apartment.
Everyday Wanda saw the Impala drive by the cafè, but she thought it was her mind playing tricks. Especially since she thought about Y/N everyday since they parted ways. Thinking about where she is? Is she married? Does she have children? Every question remained unanswered until Wanda was about to close up the cafè. Seeing a figure in the door, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she recognised the eyes. The eyes she had longed to look into after all of the years.
"Y/N?" She questioned as she let her in.
"I uh." Y/N stumbled on her words. "I was out, clearing my head and this was the first place that came to my mind."
"Do you want a coffee?" Wanda asked as she locked the door and put her bag and coat down.
"I actually need to talk to you. Apologise for the way I acted years ago." Y/N told her as Wanda took a deep breath.
"I'll make some tea." She told her as she retreated behind the counter. Getting two to go cups and boiling the kettle. "Where have you been?"
"I stayed in England for a year." Y/N told her as Wanda filled the cups. "Then I went back to college for my last year."
"That was six years ago, Y/N." Wanda stated as Y/N nodded. "Where have you been after college?"
"Around I guess." She shrugged as Wanda brought the tea over. "I was around South America for a while. Then Europe and Eastern Europe."
"How long have you been home for?" Wanda questioned as Y/N sighed.
"A year." She told her. "I bought myself a studio apartment, just big enough for me and my artwork."
"So you still draw?" She asked as Y/N nodded with a bright smile.
"I do." She smiled. "I managed to make a comic, with the help of a new writer."
"That's amazing." Wanda beamed as Y/N nodded.
"It's not popular so you probably haven't heard of it." Y/N shrugged as Wanda shook her head.
"Actually." Wanda stood up and went under the counter, holding up a small comic. "When I saw your name, I had to buy it."
"Wow." She smiled as she looked over the pages. "Thank you." She whispered as Wanda reached for her hand.
"I know these past eight years we haven't been in contact, but I never stopped supporting you." Wanda told her. "Hell, I was gutted when you closed down your instagram, I had no one to stalk." The two laughed as Y/N took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry for how I acted after my mom's funeral." Y/N started, shaking her head as Wanda tried to cut in. "I was a bitch. A ginormous bitch and I shouldn't have taken it out on you the way I did. You flew to England to be with me. You helped me from the moment you arrived and I fucking hurt you that day." She looked at Wanda, her eyes filled with guilt and self hatred. "I remember the look on your face. Even after you confessed your feelings, some part of me in that moment wanted to kiss you, right then but the anger, grief and all of those years of pain thought otherwise and I couldn't stop myself."
"I deserved it Y/N." Wanda whispered as Y/N shook her head no. "I did. I made your life a living hell because I couldn't get over my own insecurities."
"Shall we just start again?" Y/N questioned with a small smile. "You know, get to know each other as the people we are now?"
"I would like that." Wanda smiled.
"Hi, I'm Y/N Rogers." Y/N smiled goofily as Wanda giggled.
"Wanda Maximoff." She returned as she shook Y/N's hand in a playful manner. The two ready to start a new adventure and forgetting everything in the past.
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cerberusxt · 10 months
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Warhammer 40k & Age of Sigmar – Trans Pride series !
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My other big pride project, with the pride marine series ! The goal here is to paint one representative for each of the Warhammer40k and Age of Sigmar universes faction using the Trans Pride flag color scheme.
I’ve already done 11 factions (12 to be exact, the Ork I finished lately isn’t on the group picture yet).
Pictured above, from left to right :
Banshee (Nightaunt – AOS)
Horrmagaunt (Tyranids – W40k)
Spiritseer (Eldar – W40k)
Drone (Tau – W40k)
Cadian Castellan (Astra Militarum – W40k)
Reiver Space Marine (Adeptus Astartes – W40k)
Royal Warden (Necron – W40k)
Plague Marine (Death Guard – W40k)
Palatine (Adepta Sororita – W40k
Skitarii Marshall (Adeptus Mechanicus – W40k)
Xandria Azurebolt (Stormcast – AOS)
And a Warboss in Mega Armour I will post here later, probably.
Project Origins
For those who are wondering why I started this project, it’s pretty simple.
Everything started with a single model (obviously), the Horrmagaunt. I was trying to find an interesting gift idea for a close friend and, remembering that friend love the Tyrannids, I thought of painting them a little bugger. Since I wanted that gift to be even more personal, I decided to use colors that would be really meaningful to them, the trans pride flag colors. It was a first, since, up until that moment, I almost exclusively painted classic schemes (imperial Fists, blood angels, salamanders, etc...).
Here was the result :
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As you can see, my goal when translating flag colors on a mini isn’t to reproduce the flag 1 for 1, but to evoke it as naturally and logically as possible.
To be perfectly honest, when I started that little gift, I wasn’t entirely convinced the result would be all that great. After all, it was first and foremost more about the meaning behind the colors than anything else. But oooooooh boy was I wrong because, as the kids says, « that shit slaps yo » or something. I don’t know, I’m not a kid anymore !!
But one thing was certain, I fell in love with that scheme and couldn’t wait painting it again.
So, that’s what I did, that time with a Space Marine seeing those are my personal favorites. And once again, I was really pleased with the end result :
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Also look at them, being best friend forever, woooooh !
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You can easily guess what’s next. I simply had to try that scheme on basically everything, so I started the project of doing it on every faction !
Hell, I had so much fun painting such an unusual scheme, and having to find ways to integrate it logically on a mini, that it's the reason I started another project in parallel, the pride marine one, to try and see if the other pride flag schemes would work as well as the trans pride flag (guess what : not a single one of the scheme I tried disappointed me, even if I have favorites).
Anyway, if you want to try that scheme on your minis and need some inspiration / guidance, here is the recipe I use for the 3 main colors of the flag. Have fun !
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toppersjeep · 3 months
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I’ll Take Him - Carlos Sainz X Charles Leclerc X Reader ( a mini series)
Masterlist ||Chapter 2 || Chapter 3
Summary: You are a race engineer for Ferrari and sister of George Russell . For years you’ve worked side by side with Charles and now Carlos. You’ve been in love with Charles for years. But he’s never noticed that. He’s always been with someone else besides you despite the flirting between you two. But someone else wants your attention and that someone is Carlos. I guess if you can’t have Charles you’ll take his teammate then.
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y/nrussell✔️
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I don’t know caption it something silly - Carlos
- tagged carlossainz55
Liked by 1.4 million
carlossainz55✔️: 🙄 listen I didn’t mean that
y/nrussell✔️: carlossainz55 to be fair you didn’t help much otherwise
carmenmmundt✔️: hard launch ?? 😍😍 finally
y/nrussell✔️: carmenmmundt for the people ofc carm
carlossainz55✔️: got a boyfriend?? asking for a friend
y/nrussell✔️: carlossainz55 yes hes pretty handsome 🌶️
y/nfan: oh my god my parents!! so cute
charlesfan16: was anyone else expecting the boyfriend to be Charles or no ??
f1fan: charlesfan16 I was sure they were dating with all the flirting but Carlos and Y/N are so cute
charlesleclerc✔️: well to be fair he did say “something silly” so
y/nrussell✔️: charlesleclerc Exactly Charlie 🙏🏻
georgerussell63✔️: don’t let her annoy you too much Carlos cause she’s very annoying
carlossainz55✔️: georgerussell63 she doesn’t annoy me that much and she’s cute so it makes up for it.
charlesxsainz: your telling me that she’s dating Carlos ???
landonorris✔️: finally I’ve been waiting patiently for this post
ferrari✔️: our spicy pepper and talented engineer a beautiful love story 🌶️❤️
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Your POV
“You busy” Carlos said placing a hand on my shoulder. “Yes I have to go over the stats from the last race” I said looking at my computer. “That’s so boring amour” Carlos said. “I know it’s not as exciting as driving the car” I said jokingly.
“So do you want me to bring you anything food or coffee” he said kissing my cheek. “You’re distracting me” I said. “But I thought I was your favorite distraction” Carlos said.
“Sometimes yes” I said. “Hey guys” Charles said. “Hey” I said. “You uh busy Y/N” Charles said. “She’s very busy apparently” Carlos said I rolled my eyes. “Yeah a little” I said. “I’ll come back later then it’s fine” Charles said leaving.
“Okay then” I said. “What was that about” Carlos asked. “No idea” I said. “So when you’re done do you wanna grab food” Carlos said. “Absolutely” I said kissing him. “Good just text me I’ll let you be” Carlos said leaving the room.
As soon as I finished my work. I went to go find Carlos. But ran into Charles. Making me drop my folders.
“I’m sorry I was running” Charles said picking them up. “Got a hot date or something” I said he laughed. “Ah no not tonight but” he began to say. “But what” I said he handed me my folders. “I think tomorrow I do” Charles said. “That’s nice” I said. “Yeah so you and Carlos” Charles said.
“Yeah he kinda asked me out months ago” I said smiling. “I knew he had a thing for you” Charles said I smiled. “It feels nice to be public finally” I said. “I bet I just hope he treats you well you deserve that” Charles said.
“He does” I said. “Well he’s lucky to have you any guy would be” Charles said. “I uh better go find Carlos” I said. “Yeah I got a meeting anyway see you later” Charles said walking away.
Later…
Carlos and I spent the evening at his apartment. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what Charles said earlier. That I deserve to be treated well. Even with Carlos I can’t keep my mind off charles.
“What are you thinking about” Carlos said. “Umm..just work” I said. “You need to just relax for a night” Carlos said hugging me from behind. “Oh do I” I said. “Yes enough work talk” Carlos said.
“You are very right” I said he kissed me. “Have I ever told you that..” he began to say. I looked into his brown eyes. “What Carlos” I said cupping his cheek. “I’m falling in love with you” Carlos said.
And there it was the L word. Love. But did he really mean those words. It felt right in the moment. But why couldn’t I say it back to him. I just froze looking at him. I felt like I didn’t deserve those words. Especially when I was thinking about someone else.
“I .. just wanted you to know that I love you” Carlos said. I smiled. “I don’t know what to say” I said. “You don’t have to say anything back” Carlos said softly. “You just surprised me” I said. He walked away.
“I mean I know that I’m in love with you so I needed to say it” Carlos said. “I’m gonna grab some wine do you want some” I said. “I.. think I’ll just head to bed we have a long day tomorrow” Carlos said going into his room.
I couldn’t help but feel like I upset him. Did he want me to say it back?? I mean I do love him. But not in the way that he wants.
“Okay I’ll just head home” I said. “You don’t have to” Carlos said from his room. “No no I should” I said leaving. I went back to my place. I felt like I made a mistake by leaving him there.
I then heard a knock on my door. I got up from my couch to answer it.
“Hey.. I feel like I scared you so” Carlos said holding roses. “Carlos no you didn’t” I said. “I didn’t like you leaving all upset so I …
I then kissed him. Just tell him what he wants to hear.
“I love you too” I said he smiled and kissed me. “Yeah” he said. “Yes” I said. “Can I come in” Carlos said I smiled. “Of course” I said. “So movie night” Carlos said . “Yes but none of your boring movies please” I said. “My love they aren’t boring but alright” Carlos said.
“And thank you I’ll put these in a vase” I said taking the roses. “I hope you like them” Carlos said. I put them in a vase. “I always love them especially from you” I said. “Alright I’ll grab the snacks” Carlos said. “And I’ll get the movie going” I said.
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