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bradshawssugarbaby · 3 months

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God, Your Mama and Me (Jake Seresin x Reader)

A/N: told y'all I listened to country music and it inspired me. Inspired by and quotes God, Your Mama and Me by Florida Georgia Line. I'm not religious but that song gets me all heart-eye emoji every time.

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader (I'm 99% sure I kept reader GN the whole time with no mentions of appearance)

content/warnings: reference to God via the song (the line is "no one's ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me"), Jake being adorable and trying his best to be romantic but he's more awkward than he wants to be bc he doesn't do PDA, brief references to potential character death (I promise no one dies)

word count: 1.6k

Jake took you by the hand, running playfully through the sand. Coronado Beach was where he’d taken you for your first date. It was where you’d met, where you spent every free weekend, where you’d meet with his friends at The Hard Deck for drinks on Friday nights and where you’d sit and watch the planes taking off from North Island as you waited for him to come home, not knowing what each day would bring but hoping and praying he’d come home to you safe and sound every time.

For the last three years, Coronado was an integral part of your life. It was where you’d held Jake’s 35th birthday party, a spontaneous beach gathering complete with a cooler of chilled beers and a portable speaker belting out country tunes. Despite the groans from others, the music had a magical effect on the usually reserved Jake, prompting him to join in with spirited, off-key singing every time.

It was where you and Jake had shared your first kiss, where he’d first told you he loved you - a sentence he admitted he never thought he’d say to anyone, swearing up and down he’d lead the bachelor life until he either died or retired, whichever came first. He’d always claim it was because he just “wasn’t the settlin’ type”, but his friends always saw right through it.

“He’s just scared,” Bradley had assured you one day over a beer while Jake tossed darts effortless at the board a few feet out of earshot.

Reading the puzzled look on your face, Natasha hummed playfully as she sipped her drink before raising an eyebrow at you.

“He doesn’t want to settle down because he’s scared,” She and Bradley nodded in unison.

“Yeah, doesn’t wanna leave behind a war widow kinda thing,” Bradley shrugs, “You’d think it’d be me who feels that way considering my dad died when I was literally a toddler, but no, apparently it’s Blondie who’s got the commitment issues.”

The first time Jake referred to you as his girl, the usually chatty Bradley had been rendered speechless, mouth agape while Natasha had choked and sputtered on her beer as she looked wide eyed at Bradley and back at Jake. Jake shrugged it off as if it was nothing, but everyone, even you, knew it was uncharacteristic of him.

The following weekend after stunning his Navy buddies, he’d been called away to the first mission since you’d started dating. You weren’t expecting it, but you got a heartfelt, emotional goodbye from Jake, one that was genuine and raw, a side of him you’d never seen before. He’d hugged you tightly and kissed you slow and sweet, making it last, permanent on your mind in case he didn’t make it back. As he promised you he’d return, you could hear his normally velvety smooth Southern drawl crack as his voice caught in his throat.

When he came home a few weeks later, you’d greeted him with a warm embrace, and he held you tighter than he ever had before, his first true public display of affection towards you. Bradley and Natasha could be heard whispering, while Bob simply looked on smiling, knowing how in love Jake really was, watching as it mirrored Bob’s own relationship with his girlfriend.

“Jake, where are you taking me?”

You laughed as you snapped back to the present, raising an eyebrow at him as he continued to lead you across the sand. His cargo shorts were hugging his hips perfectly, golden-tanned skin from the California sun illuminated in the light of the setting sun. His green eyes were full of a child-like excitement, his signature grin plastered on his face, looking like it couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried.

“Just trust me, ok? You trust me, don’t ya, Sugar?”

“Alright, alright, I trust you.”

“Atta girl, c’mon, almost there.”

You shook your head and shot him a playful eyeroll as he continued to guide you along the shore. Your mind flashed back to when you and Jake had first slept together - instead of the playful arrogance, overwhelming confidence and cocky egotistical attitude he gave off around his friends, he was the opposite when it came to loving you. He was gentle, caring, passionate and considerate. He checked in with you, making sure you were comfortable and enjoying it. He was selfless in the way he loved you - making sure you were taken care of in all aspects before he was, and if for whatever reason, his climax came before yours, he made a point to bring you to yours by whatever means necessary.

When Jake asked you to move in with him, the look on your face was one of pure shock and disbelief, you were sure you were dreaming it. Your wide-eyed gaze and raised eyebrows were enough to make Jake laugh, shaking his head at you.

“Now that’s not how I thought you’d react, babe.”

“I’m sorry…I just…can you say it again?”

“Ask you again?”

“Yeah, please?”

“Ok, Sugar, you’re losin’ it, but sure, I want you to move in with me, that sound alright to ya? We both complain we don’t see each other enough, and well, I just feel like it’s time we do somethin’ ‘bout it, right?”

You nodded your head and simply threw your arms around him, letting Jake embrace you tightly as he kissed your cheek. He had his friends help you pack and by the end of that week, you were moved in with him, sharing the little house on base together. His Cowboys jersey hanging in the closet next to your Commanders one - your teams were bitter rivals, and Bradley, who had come from Virginia, your home state, was beyond shocked to see Jake allowing you to wear a Commanders jersey to their Sunday night football watch parties. Bradley, forced to wear a jersey for another team, pouted at Jake.

“How come when I wear my Commanders jersey, I get told to fuck off and stay outside?”

“You don’t look cute in Washington’s colours, Bradshaw,” Jake replied matter of factly as he kissed you on the cheek, leaving Bradley to pout once again.

Jake stopped in front of you, turning his body to face you, bringing you back to reality for another moment. His unwavering grin still on his face, smiling at you as if you were the only sight around him for miles. Your heart melted when he looked at you - it always did - the love he had for you was always evident on his face, his gaze full of admiration and affection for you.

Your eyes widened as Jake went down on one knee in front of you. The sounds of the waves crashing against the sandy coast echoing softly around you. The odd passerby gawking as they went for their stroll in the dusky glow of the beach as the sun began to set on Coronado. Jake beamed up at you from where he stood on bended knee, his eyes matching the seafoam that was pooling around you, inching closer and closer to where you stood.

“Darlin’, remember that date I took ya on, where you made me dance with ya on the beach, after I swore I never would? That song you made me dance to, the one by Florida Georgia Line?”

“I remember,” you said, gazing at him with tear soaked eyes.

“Sugar, you know I’m not good at this kinda stuff - it’s more Bradley’s thing, being all sentimental and shit, but I’m gonna try my damnest, ok? You know how that song goes, “Baby you know my love is never gonna run dry, never gonna come up empty, now until the day I die, unconditionally,”

Jake’s cheeks blushed a soft pink as he tried his best to carry the tune, serenading you by the oceanside, “then it’s like, “You know I’m always gonna be here for ya, no one’s ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me”? Guess that’s what I’m tryin’ to say here, no one on this earth is gonna be able to love you, or anyone else more than I do. I’m sure of it. I didn’t even think it was possible for me to love you as much as I do, but Baby, do I ever love you.”

“Jake,” you started, feeling yourself becoming breathless with excitement as he spoke.

“Babygirl, will you do me the greatest honor ever, and become Mrs. Seresin? I never thought I’d ever marry anyone, but I’d be a fool to not marry you, darlin’.”

Speechless, you nodded your head quickly, unable to make any sound other than an excited squeal of delight as he slipped the ring onto your finger. As Jake stood upright, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a loving embrace, his lips crashing against yours as he kissed you passionately.

From behind you, you could hear familiar voices cheering - you broke the kiss and turned to see Reuben, Javy, Mickey, Bradley, Natasha and Bob standing there, all beaming at you. Bradley wiped a single tear from his eye in his usual dramatic fashion, while Bob gave a proud thumbs up to Jake. A congratulatory smile formed on Natasha’s features, while Javy, Mickey and Reuben all applauded you both. You were overcome with emotion as you shared this moment with Jake and your friends.

“You all knew?”

“Of course we knew, Jake can’t keep a secret to save his life,” Natasha grinned, shrugging her shoulders.

“I get to be best man, right?” Bradley grinned as he clapped his hand onto Jake’s shoulder in a congratulatory substitute for a hug.

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nytb · 6 months

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If you were mine

Click here first <3

A dinner party leads to a hot encounter with what seems to be a master of all trades, Alexia now filled with lust and desire for more.

“Want to explain why you left in a hurry last night?" Mapi questions her captain, leaving the woman no time to rest after practice ended.

"You know, I could have just wanted to leave"

"If that were the case, Y/N wouldn't have left running after you like there was something to fix" The defender's quick wit taking a hold on the situation "Want to tell me what actually happened?" she smirked.

It wouldn't be implausible that her childhood best friend had laid it on thick on Alexia and it might have somehow backfired. Unrealistic? Yes, but implausible? No.

The midfielder took a quick glance around her, making sure that nobody else would be able to hear her confession.

"God, what didn't happen - " flashbacks from the previous night in her head, smiling from ear to ear.

"Spill it"

"So..." Alexia started "Have you ever not have had to think? Like whatever was happening was meant to happen and it's not like you don't want it to happen so you're just there - happily participating?"

"Ale, I think that you lost me"

"How about you give me another excuse to be around her and I will give you all the details" she smirked, Mapi always loved to know all the gossip, especially when she wasn't involved in it.

"Wait - around wh- " she questioned, only to realize it before finishing her question "You and Y/N?"

"Mhmhm" Alexia nodded, clearly proud of herself.

"Wait so the whole 'you need to celebrate getting a new apartment' thing was a setup?"

"You catch on quick" The midfielder laughed "Sadly, I think that your girlfriend got there first"

Mapi's gossip game was lacking.

"Tell me everything" the defender ran behind Alexia as she made her way to the locker room. The latter turned on her hips, tapping at her friend's shoulder as she punctuated every word "One. More. Excuse." she reminded Mapi of the deal she had previously offered.

It didn't take long for the defender to concoct a plan to trap her childhood best friend in Alexia's reach.

A quick pop up, that her media team would gladly encourage, at a major concert in Barcelona.

"You do know that I hate these things right?" Y/N complained, getting dressed in Mapi's guest bedroom.

"Just think that right after we will go to your favorite sushi bar" the defender, who was sitting on Y/N's temporary bed, said "And if we get real crazy we pop by a tattoo parlor and get a new design on that arm" she smirked.

Clearly Mapi was the influence quiet homebodies begs for.

"I will even skip over the fact that you called Rosalia's concert a thing" she air-quoted the last word "And you should know that that's a serious offense in my book"

Y/N broke in laughter "Sure, because you now listen to the latest music and aren't still caught on the songs your parents still listen to" she mocked.

"Again, I will let that offense slide by" the defender stated "Aren't I an amazing friend" grinning from ear to ear, only to confess the real reason they were heading to a concert.

"Just be aware that this whole thing is a setup"

"Yeah I know, my agent has been grilling me to actually show up this time"

"Oh no cutie, she's not who I'm talking about"

Y/N turned on her feet "You're telling me that you got me to renounce training days just to hook up with one of your friends - again?" This time the boxer didn't sound as happy.

"Yeah because you had such a bad time with them" Mapi mocked "But don't worry, this time I'm not the one that planned who you're meeting"

"I'm not sleeping with your girlfriend's friends Mapi" Y/N crossed her arms, now staring at her childhood friend.

"Loosen up, this is all Alexia's doing."

Y/N's face turned blank, probably thinking about her previous encounter with the Barcelona midfielder.

"Stop daydreaming" the defender threw her friend a shirt "And cover up, you're making me feel frail."

"I have asked you if you wanted to come train with me in the past" she slipped into the tight fitted shirt.

"Yeah, you still need something over that" the defender groaned "Can't have you looking like that."

"Looking like what?" Y/N complained "I always wear this sort of stuff”

"That's the problem" the defender argued "You're always making the rest of us look like potatoes, even us athletes."

"Cheer up, in a couple of years, when all this fighting thing ends I will look just like you." Y/N joked.

"Maybe I should also teach you how to be funny" the defender threw her own dig "For when you can no longer rely on looks to get women"

"I have other traits" Y/N smirked.

"And somehow I think that that's why Alexia is so adamant on seeing you again" Ingrid joined, smiling as she greeted Y/N "What about we actually get going now? I have been keeping watch on that blonde all day - and it's tiring" she joked.

Damn - no wonder Y/N hates these things, people practically glued to one another, screams coming from every direction - this must be what introverts picture hell to be.

Getting greeting and her media press appearances over and done with, Y/N made her way to her VIP gifted tickets.

Being a star with a great agency backing her was a great asset, especially for Mapi as she managed to get a free concert and an easy setup with one single phone call.

"Remind me to thank your agent"

"So you're the one that made this happen" Y/N laughed "You had me thinking that my agent thought I liked this sort of music for a hot minute."

"And what's wrong with this sort of music?" Alexia questioned, shimmying past Ingrid, aiming her question at the boxer.

"Hi, I'm Y/N and I think that I messed up again" she extended her hand out, making a clear reference at their first encounter.

"Funny" Alexia said sarcastically "You should probably get more clothes" she stated "There is nothing wrong about having those peek through every shirt you wear" the midfielder pointed at Y/N's abs "But it's getting a bit repetitive"

"Weird, I was thinking the same thing" Y/N approached Alexia, bringing her into a hug and as she reached her ear she whispered "If you were mine you wouldn't be wearing that right now".

Alexia's excuse of a tank top that barely covered any of her skin wasn't to Y/N’s liking, let alone the short booty shorts she had on - if she was trying to cover the least amount of skin possible she successfully pulled it off.

"Maybe I'll invite you when I go shopping" Y/N disguised her previous statement, allowing herself a quick glance over Alexia's figure "Or send you along my assistant to pick outfits for me" she smirked.

"You have an assistant? Let me give you my assistant's number, maybe they want to be friends" she joked, taking the opportunity to place her hand on Y/N's shoulder.

"Maybe it's me who wants her number"

The midfielder's hand flew to her own abdomen, crossing her arms like a discontented child "I liked you more when you were more action and less maybes" Alexia stated, clearly annoyed at the boxer's previous statement.

Y/N snuck into the midfielder's personal space, slightly taking hold of her hips, moving past the group but not before taking the opportunity to whisper at Alexia's ear.

"Jealousy looks good on you"

And she was off, letting everyone knew that she was on the first drink run of the night.

"What was that?" Ingrid questioned, flustered at what just happened "What actually happened between you girls?"

"A lapse in judgement" the midfielder replied, seeing that Y/N was already being wrapped by someone else's body.

Mapi, followed her captain's line of sight, sympathizing with her situation "It's probably not what it looks like" she stuck up for her childhood best friend.

"Don't" Alexia's cold statement put the defender in her place "She's literally salivating at her for goodness sake"

Y/N's return to the group had the drinks she brought along with a couple of women overshadowed, especially by the Barcelona midfielder.

"Found these two in the pit" the boxer laughed, they were also Mapi's friends.

"OMG I haven't seen you girls in forever" pure enthusiasm in her voice, greeting them euphorically.

“See? Only friends" Ingrid spoke at a tune only Alexia would hear

That probably calmed the midfielder's jealousy for a minute, but she would be damned if it were only her that would be feeling that way tonight.

Dancing with strangers, her hands travelling through another person's body, her own fully leaned into it.

Y/N was fuming.

"You think that this is funny" the boxer approached, clearly pissed but hiding it underneath the coldness of her statement "Come with me" she grabbed Alexia's wrist, taking her away from the concert.

“What!?" the midfielder crossed her arms as soon as they got to a less crowded hallway, stopping Y/N dead in her tracks.

"Don't give me attitude" the boxer warned "I will teach you how to behave" and with that statement Alexia found herself up on Y/N's shoulder as she was carried out of there.

The midfielder fought it at first, but seeing Y/N's determination, and being highly attracted at the possibilities of whatever this was leading towards, she simply closed her grip around the boxer's abdomen. Grinning from ear to ear at her previous performance, clearly over the moon that it worked.

Setting Alexia back on her feet right next to Y/N's car, the midfielder made her way to her car's bonnet, leaning against it.

"No." Y/N groaned "I'm not rewarding whatever that was."

"Oh really?" Alexia leaned backwards, resting her weight on her arms firmly placed behind herself "So what will you do?" the midfielder continued, clearly provoking Y/N, being successful at every turn "Punish me?" she smirked.

The boxer's answer was simple. She made her way to Alexia, settling herself between her legs, she pulled the midfielder by her short's waistline, getting her to stand straight.

"I clearly have a lot of things to teach you"

"What if I don't want to be taught"

"Don't lie now" Y/N whispered at the midfielder's lips "There are better things we could be doing than having this" she pointed between the pair of them "conversation"

"This is a conversation to you?"

"I would rather it not be one"

Y/N placed space between them "Get in" she ordered opening the passenger door.

"And if I don't want to?" she argued.

"I would go over there and make you want to get in"

Alexia leaned back onto the bonnet, yet another provocation. Y/N groaned.

"Have it your way" the boxer closed the door roughly, a loud echo on the underground parking filled the air.

"Don't say that I didn't warn you" Y/N groaned at Alexia's ear "I will have you begging for me to let you enter my car"

A promise that would soon be fulfilled.

The boxer pulled Alexia into a rough kiss, exploring her mouth as the midfielder reached for Y/N's shirt, pulling her even closer.

"No." Y/N stated, grabbing the Catalonian's hands away from her shirt, placing them on the car's bonnet "They stay there" she ordered.

For a while they did but as Y/N nibbled at her ear, unbuttoning the midfielder's shorts, she had no other choice than to break the command given to her.

Alexia tried her best to grab onto Y/N's hair, she wished to pull the boxer’s lips back to her mouth, but Y/N reacted quicker.

Grabbing Alexia's neck, firmly choking her she whispered into the midfielder's mouth.

"So disobedient" she started, placing Alexia's hands back on the bonnet "Let's make it easier for you" she smirked

“You move, I stop."

"No" Alexia argued back.

"I told you not to give me attitude, it wasn't a suggestion."

"Or what?"

"You wouldn't want to find that out." she warned

"Actually, I do."

That ignited a flame in Y/N, Alexia was getting what she so eagerly requested.

The boxer rose her hand, placing two fingers on Alexia's lips "Suck" she ordered and the midfielder gladly obliged "So beautiful" Y/N whispered "What a shame that you're so disobedient" she took her fingers back, lowered them into the midfielder's pants "I will teach that out of you"

"It's more fun this way" she argued back

"I will show you how untrue that is"

Y/N roughly inserted both fingers at once, no warmup this time.

"You move, I stop" she reminded Alexia the simple command she had to follow.

As Y/N expertly curled her fingers inside Alexia, bringing the midfielder into a state of pure lust, the Catalonian learned that rolling her hips - as she looked for release - was getting her nowhere, so she fought against her body's urges, at times struggling with it.

The boxer made it her mission to edge Alexia for as long as possible, ignoring every request for release that slipped the midfielder's mouth.

"More" she begged as Y/N worked her clavicle, roughly sucking on it, leaving hickeys only a few people would see.

"Say you want to get into my car."

"I want to" she whispered as she arched her back, looking for release.

"Beg."

"Please" Alexia whispered into Y/N's mouth, making the boxer stop, placing space between the both of them she walked towards the car’s passenger door “Now wasn't that easy” she opened the passenger door again.

"You're just going to leave me here and stop cold turkey on me?" Alexia was raging.

"I don't reward disobedience" Y/N stated "Now, get in."

The midfielder did just that, buttoning her shorts as she gave Y/N a death stare.

"Did I allow you to do that?" the boxer pointed at the short's button.

Alexia's death stare remained, not granting Y/N an answer.

"So disobedient"

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso fanfics #fc barcelona woso #fc barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas woso #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas

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cinnbar-bun · 4 months

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Watching Reality TV With You (Various One Piece Characters x Reader)

Characters: Zoro, Sanji, Trafalgar Law, Luffy, Perona + Mihawk, Nami, Kizaru/Borsalino, Eustass Kidd

A/n: Sorry I’m a huge fan of Real Housewives so take these silly headcanons!!!

Note: GN reader, the relationships with the character(s) and reader can be seen as platonic/romantic depending on what you prefer :) Mihawk + Perona’s relationship to each other is also not stated just for your personal preference. These are all just very silly things, don’t take this too seriously since it’s crack!

Zoro

“The hell? Why are you watching this crap? It’s not even real!”

He just sighs and grumbles about how this is dumb the whoooooole time.

Tends to sharpen his swords or try and nap while it’s on.

Until lowkey he starts peeking a bit like ‘did she just say that?’

Suddenly has opinions on it and tries to deny he’s interested but his eyes are GLUED once they start arguing and the suspenseful music is playing.

“Well, if I was her, I think I’d just kick them. Or maybe cut their car in half.”

Sanji

Opposite of Zoro. The man is probably a bigger fan than you and most likely is reading the gossip online.

It’s your weekly night hangout where he brings snacks and cozy blankets for you two to sit and enjoy while watching.

Gasps audibly and loudly.

He’s both the best and worst to talk about this with because he respects all women and he forgives them for everything, so they all get passes from him.

“Yes she may have talked badly about [name] and stole [name]’s house and maybe crashed a car. But we all do that. We need to show forgiveness. She’s having a tough time- her dress came in the wrong color.”

Law

Like Zoro, he’s very disturbed by the very prospect of reality tv.

But he’ll try. Let it be known he’s trying.

He doesn’t get interested in it but he does try to follow along so he can discuss it with you.

Not gonna lie though he’s the guy who’s focusing on their plastic surgery or illnesses.

Will literally pause the show just to examine what they may/may not have done and if the surgeon botched it up.

Imma just manifest this, he’s prolly a Terry Dubrow stan.

“Who’s your favorite Housewife so far?” “Terry.” “But… Terry isn’t-“ “It’s Terry.”

Unironically would drop a horrible quote from whichever show you’ve been watching and he’d say it so seriously that everyone’s jaw will drop and it takes him a sec for him to realize what he said.

Luffy

Imma keep this short for you- he ain’t looking.

He ain’t caring.

No thoughts.

He only cares when there’s a party and food is being served.

“Woooooah! Look at all that food!!!”

Doesn’t even recognize who is who and will just mindlessly wait for food to come on screen.

Perona + Mihawk

I’m putting this as a two for one they’re my everything <3

You and Perona are the ones who watch it lots. Perona does complain about how much they argue but she loooooves looking at the houses and clothes of the women. Makes comments about wanting to fly first class or visit the beautiful places they go to.

Mihawk is reading.

Perona is biased as hell and only defends the people that are wearing cute clothes. Otherwise? Shit list.

“Ugh! What is that dress?! It’s so hideous!” “Is that all you’re focusing on?” “I agree with (Y/n), Perona, she just had gotten into some relationship troubles with [name], so I think [name] is wrong.”

You and Perona are gasping and shocked that Mihawk 1) talked and 2) had an opinion on this???

Turns out the man had been listening the whole time (he’s quite the multitasker).

If Perona is the most biased viewer, Mihawk tries to remain objective and impartial. He's always listing out the nuances of a conversation.

“I think [name] is just jealous.” “Well, if we remember in season 4, episode 14-“

He’s a smart ass sometimes, but it’s okay, he’s our smart ass.

Perona is always enthusiastic about marathoning the shows again and watching it. She tends to do dress up requirements for watching it.

Nami

I’d hesitate to call Nami a “fan” of reality shows.

She’s aware of them, yes. Does she particularly care for it? Nah, not really.

They’re more background noise and eye candy for her.

She just likes putting them on and glancing every once in a while to gaze at the beautiful houses and trips.

“Oh that’s so expensive… imagine what you could do with all that!”

Sometimes has a fun game for herself to estimate the cost of an outfit, accessory, or house. It’s scary how accurate and detailed she can get with it.

Tends to mostly focus on fashion and get new ideas to steal- I mean, incorporate.

Doesn’t have strong opinions on the cast, but she isn’t too crazy about the louder members.

Kizaru/Borsalino

He’s heard of it, he thinks.

And, well, since you’re so into them, he’ll give it a watch.

“Oh my, these ladies are incredibly wealthy and beautiful.”

He’s not even ogling them he’s just amazed at the way they dress, behave, and/or decorate their spaces. It’s almost like being starstruck???

The guy who will pause the tv at certain scenes to point at random decorations or outfits and be like “darling, would you like that?”

He does get sad when they start to fight.

“Aw… I was just liking the party… why are they arguing now?”

His favorite cast member is your favorite one <3 he’s just a cheerleader like that, dear.

He could listen to you talk about it for hours if you wanted, and he’d be amazed by your knowledge.

“You know, if you’d like for me to have you be on a show like this, I could probably pull some strings!”

Kidd

1000000x worse than Zoro

I cannot recommend putting it on in front of him.

“The hell is this shit?! Turn it off!”

You refuse and now he’s stuck watching grown women argue over dumb things (in his mind).

Complains the ENTIIIIRRRRE time. Nonstop commenting and complaining.

Okay but he’s hooked after a bit, the drama is just too good.

But now he’s WORSE cuz he’s got OPINIONS and THEYRE ALL SHITTY!

This man is an instigator. I swear to god he’s just saying shit just to rile you up and be contrarian.

He's stanning the biggest menaces on the show.

You two will probably get into (very silly) arguments about some of the situations and people.

And unlike say, Sanji, who tries to defend a person, Eustass will just say you’re wrong and then add something unhinged to it.

“Naw you just don’t get it. If I was her, personally, I think I’d just burn their mansion down and then slash their tires.”

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kayentokk · 5 months

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Easy Peasy Sukuna Squeezey(Part 1);A Lot More Ice Cream

Pairing;Sukuna x Fem! Reader

Summary;Sukuna always knows what to do when you’re upset, but this time he thinks he’s gonna need a lot more ice cream to fix the problem.

Contains;feelings, some sadness, cheating mentions, angst kinda (not in a death way), comfort(Sukuna comfort), 🥹

wc; 1,261

A/N;uhmmm y’all I think imma make this a series. Cuz I wanna drag it out and I have more ideas for this storyline, so bear with me. And I hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Series M.list Next

The smell coming from inside was musk, and humid. You could feel it radiating through the door. You knew this was coming, hell this is what you came over here for. But it still hurts like a bitch to know your boyfriend, ex, is in the middle of sex with one of your mutual, ex, friends.

You were tipped off today by one of your ex’s friends, the only reason he told you was because quote unquote he “can give you a better time than that prick.” At the time you thought, he’s probably not wrong, maybe you’ll even take him up on the offer after this. That’s not likely though. You’re just, rightfully so, in your feelings and feeling angry about the whole situation.

You still wanted to see for yourself though, so you went to his apartment. You quietly unlocked the door and turned the knob, you just needed to know for yourself. You didn’t want to be privy or see the adulterous, disgusting act.

As if the clothes, that obviously belonged to him and his little- thing, that were in a trail leading to the bedroom weren’t enough, a loud, keening, high-pitched whine was let out. You didn’t need to see or hear anymore, that was enough.

You had tried to tried mentally prepare yourself before you got there, deciding to walk there for the commute instead of driving because you could clear your head better, but nothing prepares you for betrayal. And this was betrayal at its finest.

You placed the keys on the counter, opened the door, and slammed it shut loudly on your way out. You were hoping to startle them, but you’d be long gone before they got a clue.

You didn’t want to go home, so you didn’t. It’s not like you had anything waiting on you there, besides the memories that were once happy of you and him. And that’s just depressing.

After walking for a while, you noticed where you were headed. Sukuna’s house. It was only natural to want to go there. Sukuna is your best friend, of sorts. You guys grew up together, you went to the same schools your whole life, and your mothers were best friends. So you guys were destined to be close in some way.

You stopped yourself right across the street from his complex. All the intrusive thoughts immediately rolled in, what if he has girls over? Or he’s having a party? Or maybe he’s not home? M-maybe he doesn’t want to-

“Hey,” a gruff voice greets you.

It’s Sukuna.

He’s in his car, the windows are rolled down and the music is low so that you can hear him, he has a couple of bags in the front seat, he must have just been returning from somewhere.

“Hellooo? Earth to y/n?”

You snapped out of it, “hey,” you greet him lowly.

“Were you coming to see me?,” he asks reaching for his phone from his back pocket, “I didn’t think I got a message from you.”

“You didn’t. I didn’t know I was coming here either to be honest.”

“Oh…well, are you gonna get in or what? It’s freezing outside and you’re letting all my heat out of the window you psycho.”

It’s cold? Yeah, it is the middle of winter. You hadn’t noticed until he mentioned it. He moved the bags to the backseat without even having to get out of the car, the perks of having long arms, and you got in. It was warm, and your fingers started to defrost.

He parked the car in his designated spot, and you went to get out of the car but not before he stopped you by grabbing the hood of your coat. You turned your head and looked at him. His bright garnet eyes were piercing right through you, and you wanted to break. You wanted to crumble and cry and scream, you hate that look. Like he knows something is wrong.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong? or we jus’ not gonna talk today?”

Your lip quivers and at that small twitch Sukuna’s face drops. The normal irritated grimace that dawns his face is replaced with something else, something you’ve never seen before. It’s almost a saddening expression, it doesn’t suit Sukuna at all, you think.

In all the years you guys have been with each other, Sukuna thinks, he’s never seen you look so delicate or fragile. He’s seen you cry over getting a “boo-boo” or “ouchie” when you were small, he’s seen you cry over being reprimanded, hell he’s even seen you cry during your period, but all those things he could fix. A bandaid, a cookies and cream waffle cone, and a movie. Easy peasy, Sukuna squeezey. But a part of him felt like this ouchie would be harder to fix if he could fix it at all.

“He cheated ‘kuna,” you spoke plainly. It was harder to admit than you thought. You immediately felt repulsed from it.

He didn’t know what to say, he was in utter shock and he wanted to kill the dirty bastard. How could he? You devoted yourself to him and you cared and treated him with all the kindness in your heart. Sukuna was so enraged and he also felt….sad? This wasn’t the usual agitated feeling he got when you were upset, this was different. He knew this was different. You weren’t even crying yet, just sitting silently in pure consciousness.

You didn’t really want to talk about it if you’re being honest. Your boyfriend-ex, cheated on you. What else was there to say about it? But the silence was killing you.

“You could say something y’know,” you sniffled bringing a hand up to rub your nose. “It’s more embarrassing if you don’t,” you chuckled dryly.

Sukuna, however, didn’t find it funny. Nothing about this was funny. And it was becoming apparent to him, that he’d need a lot more ice cream.

What do you want him to say though? If he told you he’d kill him that wouldn’t solve the issue or lessen your hurt, If he acts out of character and said sorry you’d just think he’s taking pity on you and he knows you hate that.

So Sukuna does what he knows best, he “ignores” it. When you were both in your adolescent stage and you were mad at him about something harsh that he probably said that’s what he did.

He’d still talk to you even if you were ignoring him, which pissed him the hell off by the way, he’d do anything you wanted. And eventually you’d forget why you were mad at him in the first place, it was his way of apologizing. That was the only way he knew how to treat you without you feeling like he’s pitying you.

So he turns off the car, gets out, grabs the bags he put in the back seat, and when he sees you’re still in the car he gives you a nod and says, “come on, we don’t want you to freeze do we?” And you smile, it’s only a fragment of what it normally is, but you smile. And Sukuna feels relief, of course if you wanted to talk about it he’d listen. But right now, it’s freezing outside and he doesn’t think a car is the right place to have that conversation. All the people passing by while you’re hyperventilating and crying over your jerk of an ex is not exactly what you want to happen either.

So you follow him into the apartment.

@/cafekitsune for the divider

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audhd-nightwing · 7 months

Text

batfam as new girl quotes

steph: where are you, tim? this place is fancy and i don’t know which fork to kill myself with.

***

dick (16 y/o): i’ll take you through the whole thing. i’ll be like your guide.

jason (13 y/o): like gandalf through middle-earth?

dick: ok, first of all, let’s take the Lord of the Rings references and put them in a deep, dark cave where no one will ever find them.

jason: except smeagol. he lives in a cave.

***

tim: you text me “happy monday.” what am i supposed to do with that?

damian: oh, i don’t know. maybe have a happy monday?

(he’s trying to be nice)

***

jason: would you consider us adorable?

dick: no! we’re adult men.

dick: we’re cute.

***

cass: you always see the worst in people.

damian: yeah, because people are the worst!

***

steph: i mean, bruce, we love you, but…

steph: but you’re not a man of the people.

bruce: of course i’m not a man of the people. i’m above the people.

***

cass: we’re a family. families talk about things.

jason: no, families ignore things until they go away.

***

new parent bruce: dick, do you want to go to sleep?

9 y/o dick: no way.

bruce: if you do, i’ll write you a check for $6,000.

***

duke: what are you doing in here?

tim: eating cookies and avoiding confrontation.

(in the bathroom at a gala)

***

steph: jason, come on, that’s like the president and the vice president not being best friends.

jason: they’re not best friends.

steph: come on. everybody knows they’re best friends.

***

dick: i’m in love!

damian: titus, clear my schedule. i need a word with our brother.

***

steph: duke, those shoes are not brown! they’re green!

duke: you guys are idiots! they’re as brown as money.

cass: what color is kermit the frog?

duke: brown! he’s a brown frog.

tim: duke! you’re color blind, dude.

***

bruce: darn it! has anyone seen my croquet cleats?

***

tim: hey guys, do you think i’m a good person?

steph: you’re a terrible person. it’s hilarious.

***

dick: i’m very quick on my… uh…

jason: did you just forget the word ‘feet’?

dick: feet, yeah.

(he’s been awake for 72 hours without sleep)

***

duke: i can’t believe i didn’t notice this before but damian, you are legitimately crazy.

damian: i think we’re all a little bit crazy, don’t you, thomas?

duke: no, i mean, you’re like aging ballerina, child chess prodigy, professional magician crazy.

damian: it’s my grandfather’s fault.

duke: yeah okay fair enough

***

tim: if i was doing something stupid, you definitely would be involved.

dick: yeah, you’re damn right i would be. and i would probably be there to make it even stupider.

***

bruce: has anyone seen my good pea coat?

***

steph: i brake for birds. i rock a lot of polka dots. i have touched glitter in the last 24 hours!

steph: and that doesn’t mean i’m not smart and tough and strong.

***

jason: are you insane, bruce? we’re not ready.

jason: that’s like taking a musical from rehearsals straight to broadway. you got to workshop it first.

(pushing the theatre kid jason agenda)

***

dick: you realize i say goodnight to you every night and you never say goodnight back?

dick: what is the problem, jason? do you not want me to have a good night?

jason: oh my god you’re so overdramatic

***

tim: please don’t mistake my measured blank tone for calmness, as i am filled with waters of rage.

(he’s at a gala)

***

bruce: damn it! i can’t find my driving moccasins anywhere!

***

duke: what a dumb idea.

duke: do it.

(he is an enabler)

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writingjourney · 4 months

Text

don't ask me about secondo ever or you will hear me rambling out a whole character analysis for two hours because I am DEDICATED to this man, he is my wife.

EDIT – Okay you did it.

Some SFW Secondo HCs:

had to deal with the highest expectations out of the brothers, being older than Terzo and a lot younger than Primo it was clear that his Papacy would be of importance and Nihil expected him to excel while not necessarily providing the necessary guidance (especially when Terzo turned out to be more rebellious in nature)

being Nihil’s “favorite” did not come with all the benefits one might suspect, no more attention, no more love or care, only more work and pressure within the clergy

outside of the family many people never realised how he suffered from this neglect and exploitation and therefore do not perceive his trauma as that, often mistake his character for being cold/aloof when really he is just masking extremely hard and trying to appear unaffected and professional

while he was prepared for his future role, he quickly realised that his needs weren’t of importance, only his work and his rise within the clergy and so he learned that it is better not to ask and appear weak (so they don’t consider him unfitting)

while Primo did the best he could to replace their absent father, the clergy’s demands on the future Papa never allowed him to be quite the father figure that he wished he could be for his younger brothers – Secondo had to learn fast how to take care of himself and how to protect his younger brother from the clergy’s influences

despite detesting the clergy’s inner mechanisms, Secondo is a man of duty and has accepted that he was put on this path in Lucifer’s name

just before and after becoming Papa he quickly learned that bringing in own ideas just leads to dismissal and that being Papa made him a vessel for the ideals of the clergy which he grew to detest (“I’m a marionette”), also quickly learned that it is wiser not to rebel against them

this made him worried for Terzo who already had a lot of plans for his own Papacy that weren’t in line with the clergy’s agenda

through it all he found a lot of solace in his faith, is the most spiritual out of all the Papas with a special fondness for the modern symbolism of Baphomet that represents balance and wholeness (“And he's as macho as he is connected to the softer, more feminine part of himself” X), something that means a lot to him who is caught in a lot of turbulent emotions, this spirituality and also his high level of literacy is pretty evident in his music

therefore: best spiritual guide/advisor out of all the Papas, knows the right quotes and the right words to provide comfort and reassurance to bring you back on your path, way more empathetic than people give him credit for based on his cool demeanour, even though he is someone who quietly reassures you and uses a more reason based approach

because of all of this he has grown to be a very measured man who will always weigh reason and emotions against each other, rarely will you see him lose his temper on the outside, being in control of his emotions is important to him because that way he can have a sense of power he lacked when he was younger (also means he cannot let loose and relax easily, this man is TENSE and his shoulders hate him for it)

if someone wrongs him that person will get the cold shoulder and honestly, being the object of his scorn is worse, disappointing him is worse than his anger and he never forgets anything, this man has a whole drawer of receipts

doesn’t hate anyone as much as himself, the top spot is however taken by his neglectful, uncaring father who never knew how to act like a parent

if he does lose his temper it will usually not be on behalf of himself but someone else he truly cares about (his brothers, his lover, his protégés etc) and even so his anger is not the loud, yelling or violent kind but the kind that sends chills down your spine (his looks alone can kill and he finds the perfect sharp words to hurt you)

soft-spoken (not quite as much as Primo though), very calculated and minimalist in what he shows on the outside but his words usually hit where and how they’re supposed to (just listen to his voice on Infest and some of his speeches on stage, it’s quiet and haunting)

very much a quality over quantity sort of person – good food, good drinks, nice clothes he can wear for a long time, simple luxuries that go a long way and add to his comfort

big earth sign energy when it comes to his habits, works hard, has high expectations, good with money, particular about how he does things but generous with those he loves

good luck trying to get this man to open to up to you, he will not overshare and you have to pry every bit of more intimate personal information out of him, especially about his childhood

however, he is a very willing and patient teacher if you want to learn about his special interests or happen to sit in one of his classes, especially if you show potential and interest

self-sabotages a lot, especially when it comes to romantic relationships, for flings he avoids anything too intimate which extends to his preferred sex positions as well as kissing, when he notices he could really like someone he will find reasons why it doesn’t work (commitment issues), scared to be hurt and also scared to inflict pain and false hopes on someone else

when he does fall for someone and overcomes his fears he is the most loyal and supportive partner, you will be surprised by how loving and gentle he is with you, by how romantic he is (not in the cheesy way but in that soft, caring way who wants to love forever), pays close attention to your needs and preferences and never forgets anything

love languages: shows love with acts of service, gift giving and also quality time, likes to receive physical touch (loves to cuddle but is hesitant to initiate, would never admit how much he loves kisses to his face and hand holding but you can tell after some time), quality time and words of affirmation (so many times until he finally believes them)

#i have a five page HC document #i am not joking #secondo headcanons #papa emeritus ii headcanons #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus ii #secondo #secondo emeritus #secondo hc

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awkwardauthorwrites · 1 year

Text

Wildest Dreams - Epilogue

Word Count: 2k

Themes: an unbelievable about of fluff

Summary: Set two years after the reunion, and Y/N and Sebastian are (finally) getting married

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL. All characters are aged up and around 27/28 years old. Quote in bold italics is not mine. It’s from the film Corpse Bride and I love it too much to pass on using it.

Find Part One here and Part Two here

Two Years Later

Sebastian stood by the fountain at the north entrance of Hogwarts castle and couldn’t help but think of the last time he had been here - how it felt like he couldn’t get Y/N out of there fast enough. It was a stark parallel to the present, where he shuffled between his feet with nervous energy and willed her to move a little faster so that he could finally see her. When he approached Headmaster Black about getting married in the gardens he had half expected the man to laugh in his face and reject him. Instead, he clapped him on the shoulder and agreed without a second thought, muttering about how it would do wonders for the image of the school if the Hero of Hogwarts chose to return there for the most important day of her life. Sebastian itched to shake him off and find a different venue instead, but he knew Y/N wanted nothing more than to get married in the first place she had truly called home, and so he begrudgingly thanked his old Headmaster and informed him of their plans.

They had decided to get married in the summer, partially so they wouldn’t disturb any students, but also because it offered them the best weather for their outdoor ceremony. They would have both much preferred a winter wedding so they could see the grounds covered in snow, but decided it would be easier (and warmer) to get married earlier in the year so they didn’t have to worry about constantly casting warming charms. Sebastian had to admit, the summer flowers added a beautiful touch to the whole affair, his eyes darting over the different array of colours in the gardens around him.

“Stop moving so much,” Ominous nudged him gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

“You’re nervous?” Sebastian laughed and nudged his friend and brother back. “I’m so sorry for putting you out on my wedding day.”

“Apology accepted.” Ominis smirked at him, his head tilting to the side slightly as the guests in front of them talked amongst themselves. Sebastian began to fiddle with his cufflinks as he watched their guests arrive and take their seats, nodding in greeting to those who caught his eye. “You seem jumpier than usual, are you alright?”

“I can’t wait to see her.”

“I remember that feeling.” He smiled softly to himself as he remembered his own wedding day with Anne, how anxious he had been as he waited for her arrival. He would have much preferred to run away and elope as opposed to having all the attention on them both, but he knew she wanted a proper ceremony and he wanted to do things right by her. “We should be starting soon. Are you ready?”

“I was ready the day she said yes.”

“You’re not going to burst into song, are you?”

“Shut up, you prick.” The pair laughed as the music that was playing quietly in the background swelled and a hush fell over the guests. The officiant walked over to Sebastian and Ominis, a large smile on his face as he shook both of their hands and they waited for the bridal party.

Sebastian watched with bated breath as the doors to the castle swung open right as the enchanted instruments started to play the bridal march. The guests stood and turned to watch Anne walk out first, gently leading both of her twins down the aisle. Arabella threw flower petals at random intervals while Alexander clung to his mothers skirts, a toothy grin coming over the toddler’s face as he noticed both his father and his uncle waiting at the other end of the aisle. Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh as Alexander wrapped his arms around his knees while Arabella ran for her father, the rest of the flower petals forgotten. He scooped his nephew into a hug and pressed a kiss to his chubby cheek before passing him off to Anne who gave his arm a gentle squeeze before standing on the other end of the altar.

Poppy and Imelda came out next, both of them looking beautiful in their bridesmaid dresses, with the former giving Sebastian an encouraging smile as the latter sent him a glare and mimed that she was watching him. He chuckled and pulled both of the girls in for a hug before they joined Anne, muttering to Imelda about how he knew she was secretly pleased they had finally decided to tie the knot. She flicked his shoulder, but there was an obvious smile on her face as she stood by Anne and Poppy. The music swelled and went quiet for a few moments before picking up again softly as Y/N appeared in the doorway.

Sebastian felt all the breath leave his lungs as she came into view and he unconsciously pressed a hand to his chest as she caught his eye and gave him a heart stopping smile. He felt his eyes burn as she started to walk towards him slowly and willed the music to play faster so she could reach him quicker and he could take her in his arms. Y/N had always been the most beautiful girl he had ever seen - even back when he had first met her - but the words did not do her justice in that moment as she practically floated down the aisle towards him.

“Breathe, Sebastian.” Ominis nudged him gently and he took in a shaky breath and quickly reached up to brush away a tear before it could escape. He couldn’t look away from her even if he wanted to. He would never be able to put into words how absolutely ethereal she looked, her white dress almost glowing in the afternoon sun. Y/N (finally) neared him and took his hand and Sebastian was hit with a sudden moment of realisation at just how lucky he was. He was so much closer to spending the rest of his life with his best friend and he couldn’t wait.

“Hey, you.” Y/N smiled shyly at him as she took her place by his side, his hand clutching onto hers tightly. Her gaze softened as she noticed the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes and reached up to brush them away gently. “Good tears, I hope?”

“Merlin, yes.” Sebastian breathed, his voice cracking slightly due to his emotions. “The best.” He resisted the urge to tug her against him and kiss her like they weren’t surrounded by their friends and family, and instead settled on standing a little closer than necessary and pressing his lips to her knuckles softly. “You are stunning.”

“Look who’s talking.” Y/N’s gaze ran over his suit appreciatively and his grip on her hand tightened fractionally as he remembered that they needed to get married first before he could whisk her away and have his way with her. He was vaguely aware of the officiant starting the ceremony, sharing anecdotes about love and friendship that he couldn’t pay attention to as he stared at the woman standing in front of him. He didn’t know what he had done in a past life to deserve her, but he would spend every day of the rest of his life - the rest of their lives - showing her just how much she meant to him.

“I love you,” he mouthed the words, his lips twitching into a smile as he watched her flush delicately.

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.” He frowned playfully and shook his head as she continued to stare at him with pure adoration on her features.

Neither of them could believe this day was finally here. If anyone had told Sebastian and Y/N when they first met all those years ago that they would be standing where it all started, surrounded by their loved ones, both of them would have blushed and stuttered in protest; but here they were, and Sebastian could think of nowhere else in the world he would rather be. He always thought his favourite version of Y/N would be her first thing in the morning, and that had been true from the very first moment he had woken with her in his arms two years ago up until that exact moment. Nothing would ever compare to how completely and utterly captivating she was, looking like his own personal divine being.

“...Sebastian?” Y/N muttered his name, a coy smile playing on her face.

“Sorry. I’m here,” he offered the officiant a sheepish smile and shrugged one of his shoulders while tilting his head in Y/N’s direction as if to say, can you blame me? “Could you repeat that, please?”

“Do you, Sebastian Sallow, take Y/N Y/L/N to be your wife? To - ”

“I do.” The minister, as well as their audience, laughed as Sebastian interrupted with a cheeky smile on his face as he glanced at Y/N. He had waited so long for this moment and now that it was here he just wanted to skip forward to the most important part. He knew he should be a little more patient and show some restraint, but had been waiting for this for longer than he would ever admit. He wanted to be able to finally call Y/N his wife.

“Very well, then.” The preacher turned to Y/N, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “And do you, Y/N Y/L/N, take Sebastian Sallow to be your husband? To live together in matrimony, to love, honour, comfort and to keep in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.” A tear slipped down Y/N’s face as she took in the look of pure devotion on Sebastian’s face. She had never been more sure of a decision in her entire life.

“You each have a ring for the other,” the officiant looked between the pair, taking note of both of their living smiles and unshed tears. “These are placed on each other’s fingers as a visible sign of the vows which you have taken today which have bound you both together as husband and wife. I hope they always remind you of your promise and love for each other.” He looked over at Sebastian, who in turn took the ring from Ominis’ outstretched hand. He thought his hands would shake during this part, but they remained steady as he slipped the ring on Y/N’s finger, his heart thumping in his chest as he did so.

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” He brushed a stray tear from Y/N’s face and gently kissed the piece of jewellery before letting her turn to Anne so she could get his ring.

“With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine.” She repeated the vow back to him, her voice wavering slightly as she slid the wedding band onto his ring finger, the metal gleaming in the afternoon sun.

“I’ve been told you have both been through many adventures together, but let us begin this one with a kiss. I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

Sebastian was already tugging Y/N towards him before the words were finished, both of his hands resting on her waist as he dipped down to press his lips to hers. He thought his heart was about to beat out of his chest as she wound her hands up to the back of his head and pulled him in closer, the crowd fading out of his mind as he held onto her tightly. Imelda whistled loudly as their kiss lasted long enough to be indecent and Y/N broke away to laugh, her face flushing as Sebastian tried to chase her lips and pull her back into another kiss. She grinned at him and pressed a sweet, chaste peck on his lips.

“How do you feel about being a married man, Mr Sallow?”

“You’ve made me the happiest man in the world, Mrs Sallow.”

#sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x y/n #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x slytherin!reader #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x fem!reader #hogwarts game #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts legacy #awkwardauthor #awkwardauthorwrites #awkwardauthormasterlist

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 1 year

Text

don't hold hands, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You're fucking your ex-boyfriend's ex-best friend. You also now own a condo with him and owning this condo has made you house-poor. Yeah, it's not the usual love story and it's not going to be one. Not until you paint the walls black, that is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mostly conversations and feels tbh; minor smut (fem reader, marking / scratching, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU; guitarist!music producer!Yoongi x novelist!reader - fwb / roommates-to-lovers

just a story about two people who shouldn't fall in love falling in love, I have plenty of nasty smut so this is a different beat for ya lmao

“Is it fun being tortured?”

“Not really, no.”

It wasn’t fair to be this critical but, as long as you didn’t let these words travel outside this room, it was fine, right? At least, you kept telling yourself that. Delusion at its finest.

“It’s so stupid that people enjoy sticking their nose in drama that doesn’t involve them only because their lives are too boring to have any,” you sighed, tossing your phone across your desk, letting it skid into a pile of post-its covered in scrawled notes. “All because I deleted some photos.”

Notifications were now blocked.

“Some people mistake privilege with right.”

You glared at your phone even though the contents were the offender and not the device. Rolled your eyes, knowing you would be coming back to a shitstorm, but you couldn’t take it anymore. There had to be a limit. And the voice beside you had been telling you to put the damn thing down and stop deleting comments one by one, but the stubborn ram in you thought you could just headbutt through the bullshit.

And that imagery was gonna end there, thank you very much.

Your forehead found the palm of your hand and you sighed again, suddenly feeling the weight.

“I’m never doing that again.”

“You don’t have to.”

Minutes passed.

Silence never felt so serene.

Then it was cut through by steady, slow acoustic guitar, the notes drifting out from behind you. It almost made you feel more guilty. Almost. How fucked was that? You, sitting here right now, staring at nearly bare walls and a table covered in notes and your trusty laptop, almost feeling guilty for the guy that had backed out of the joint loan for this condo in the city that you didn’t even fuckin’ want, but you had been too far into the process to not lose a whole lotta money and too angry to let yourself lose.

How ironic, feeling guilty for the guy who cheated on you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” was the guitar player’s response. “And you shouldn’t be either. For anything.”

You knew you shouldn’t apologize. It just felt like the thing to do, because you hadn’t been wholly right either and, even if you weren’t more in the wrong, you were still wrong, and wasn’t that fucked, putting levels of blame on a situation that, at the end of the day, was all said and done and left everybody bitter and full of scars.

The shitty part was everyone was on your case now and blaming you.

This was what you got for dating the lead singer of a punk band that skyrocketed to popularity on social media. Looked all elegant dark romance on TikTok and Instagram, just screaming and hate-fucking behind closed doors. Constant content to cover up the toxicity. And maybe it was your fault too, letting it get to your head that maybe you really were the beautiful, mysterious muse that the followers painted you out to be. You glossed over red flags – late nights, drugs and drinking, sleeping in rooms of girls that called themselves fans – all part of the industry. Nothing happened. Honest. But the greatest mistake was letting him tag you on Instagram. How cool was it that you were an author?

This bastard.

Not only had you given him some of your best quotes for his lyrics, but now you couldn’t publish those words as your own because this bastard would fuckin’ sue you for plagiarizing.

The guitar continued behind you, on the mattress on the floor.

So, not only were you getting crucified on social media at the moment because he had called you a backhanded bitch in his Instagram stories but also because you had deleted all photos of him on your profile and said fucking nothing. Silence to be polite and all that. He cheated on you, he was leaving you for some whore you had plenty of suspicions about, and, worst of all, he waited until you and him were finalizing the down payment for this expensive-ass-fuck high-rise condo – that money was out of your own pocket, not his, how convenient – and backed out of the loan for the mortgage. His reasoning?

You cheated on him first.

Hello?

With his former guitarist.

Hello?

Your ex-boyfriend had fired his former guitarist ages ago because you and him had gotten too friendly.

Alright, man.

You liked the guy, sure. Talked to him when he was in the studio and found you had a lot in common. Plus, he was crazy talented. Made most of the melodies, self-produced a lot of the songs for the band so they could save money, even contributed to lyric writing so they didn’t have to spend on that either. He even had a good voice, although sadly the band rarely used it. Your art of words paired with his knowledge of music made some viral hits. But then tensions rose between him and your ex when they started butting heads for no reason (there was a reason and it was ugly jealousy). Then arguments rose between you and your ex, but instead of breaking up, you buried yourself into writing your next novel to let the situation cool off.

Sigh, okay, call a spade a spade.

You were avoiding the confrontation.

He fired his guitarist and got a new one.

Then things were good.

Until they weren’t.

Of course, they weren’t. You didn’t solve shit, and he was fucking every girl that threw themselves at him behind your back. Good thing you had strict rules about condoms, otherwise you would probably have some lasting consequences right now. So, when the ground cracked and split apart from under you, what did you do?

Yup, this was the part that made you no better.

You found that former guitarist and fucked him.

Word travelled around. Word also travelled around that somehow you got someone to be part of that insane loan you got talked into. And, oh, shit, did things get messy once a certain someone knew who it was.

But here you were.

Feeling guilty.

You probably couldn’t publish for at least six months to a year because, harrowingly, your demographic was young adult – you had even relied on social media for self-marketing, fuck – and the half of a novel you had now had to be scrapped considering that so many of the quotes were now distressed in dark venues by the lips of an egomaniacal dick that you allowed into your pussy far too many times. Once was already too many.

Fuck.

You didn’t even want to live in the city.

It’ll be so much easier for me to get bigger opportunities. Don’t be a selfish bitch and only think about yourself.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to throw your laptop into the wall and break it into smithereens, but you didn’t because this piece of technology was currently your only chance of making money. Fuck. Me. Always talking about himself like he was only important member of the band, even though it was the other guys who wrote most of the music and lyrics. No one sided with you, obviously. This was their job and technically not their romance. They were sympathetic but not empathetic to the point of jeopardizing their jobs. Obviously, you hadn’t signed any contracts for royalties or credit. This was supposed to be your soulmate.

Soulmates weren’t so generous to give you pennies.

You’re being greedy and self-important. Oh, so you’re only in the relationship for the money? I’ll give you money once we make it big. Once we get it all, I’ll buy you everything you want. But you gotta help me out now. We’re starving artists, ya know?

You should have asked your parents for monetary help, but you didn’t. Your pride didn’t want to hear the told-you-so speeches for dating a guy they didn’t choose for you. You also didn’t want the arranged marriage appointments back in your life either.

So.

Trapped in white walls, post-its of false starts, and impending doom.

Dramatic, but you were a writer.

“Come here and sit down with me.”

Some part of you didn’t want to face him. It was really dumb. He was your new roommate now. You were fucking him when you were too sad to avoid it, and it was pretty obvious he knew. You were living off his money. Sure, he only paid for half the rent but then food mysteriously appeared in the fridge, bathroom necessities were stocked when they were running low, cleaning supplies neatly sorted into the closet, and all that other shit. None of that wholesale stuff either, but the nicer things normal households could afford.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that you cried into the soap during your shower last night.

All because you finally acknowledged it wasn’t one of those shitty bars that made skin feel like plastic but actually fragrant lathering liquid that you could put on the dense, not-falling-apart-in-one-use loofah that you hadn’t bought. You would have been satisfied with cutting coupons and living on the dregs of the bare minimum, but someone cared enough to not let you do that, and you currently couldn’t do anything to contribute and probably couldn’t for a while.

And that made you feel undeserving.

Maybe you were only fucking him because that was all you could offer.

Pathetic.

The guitarist called your name softly.

Like a beaten dog, you got up and sat down beside Min Yoongi.

He continued to play a melody you didn’t know on his black acoustic guitar. He hadn’t moved in all his instruments and equipment yet. You had told him he could have the whole living room for his studio. He had asked if you were sure and you responded that you were sure that you weren’t going to have anybody over ever so, unless he wanted a living room space, you didn’t want one.

“Shit always happens, you know,” the deep voice reminded you.

“This happening was of my own doing and now I’ve ruined my own life,” you muttered, bitter over a boy and hating that you were bitter over a boy.

A small chuckle. “You have to admit you had help.”

Stupid boy.

“Can’t be helped. Humans are animals of regret.”

It stung to regret.

The guitar playing stopped and now you were met with silence.

Don’t cry.

But it was so tiring to be angry. So easy to be sad. So easy to think, my fault, for being swept up in what he was but not who he was, for believing that you knew what was best when clearly it wasn’t, for being spiteful on purpose. For avoiding looking at Yoongi in the face because you were too ashamed to acknowledge what was going on here.

For being too afraid to ask what he thought of it.

“I regretted not stealing you from him sooner. Thought you were too fuckable for that loser from the first day we met.”

A strange feeling.

Skin prickling, glancing the that pale hand of graceful, callused fingers simply resting on the neck of that guitar, not looking at Yoongi’s face even though you knew it quite well in profile.

“That’s one way to make me feel better,” you replied.

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. Just being honest,” he replied, tapping his fingertips on the wood. “You are ten times too talented and a hundred times too pretty for a guy like that.”

You twitched. “Are you shitting on my standards?”

“Back then? Yeah, I am.” A calm hum, setting aside his guitar and placing his elbows on his sweatpants-covered knees, charcoal gray and worn. “Pretty clear you went full desperado for a guy that didn’t deserve it. Also, he ain’t hot shit like he thinks he is.”

Ow and what the fuck. “Fuck off.”

You felt movement and tracked his hand raising, spinning a finger around his temple. A brief glance and the details sank in. Long, windswept black waves, light cream skin, pointed gaze directed forward and not at you, pensive slight frown of pink lips. You looked away again, past his loose white t-shirt and to your hands.

You used to be proud of them.

They used to be able to type prose like no other.

Now they were twisted in an oversized, olive-green sweatshirt that you picked up from the sale bin of the convenience store for dirt cheap and they didn’t write jack shit.

You also hated olive-green.

Nothing personal. It just wasn’t your color.

“You’re a psycho bitch to put up with him,” Yoongi commented.

He wasn’t wrong. “I’m a psycho bitch all the time.”

“Yeah, and I don’t date crazy.”

You thought you would feel insulted, but you were past the point of caring. Also, there was something about the way his calm voice said it. Like he knew what he was doing. Huh. That was a silly thing to think. Of course, Yoongi knew what he was doing. He did it. He let you in his studio when you tracked it down and camped out until he showed up. He had listened to your psychobabble and didn’t back away when you pinned him to the wall.

This wasn’t dating.

“At least, I thought I didn’t,” Yoongi added, not touching you.

He fucked you too. He wasn’t a starfish in bed, that was for sure.

“I wanted to get back at him too, you know,” that deep, hazy voice murmured beside you. “That bastard turned my friends against me, stole my mixes, and cut out all my connections. Made me start from the ground up, alone.”

Yeah, you did know that. You helped badmouth Yoongi. In the name of love.

Shit.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

Ouch.

“And you shouldn’t be, ‘cause what’s done is done and being sorry isn’t going to change anything.”

You untwisted your hands from each other, realizing your knuckles were white from anxiousness, and relaxed them on your bare knees. Best you could, anyway.

“Yeah,” was the best response you had. This fucking boy ruined your life and stole your eloquence too, apparently. Motherfucker. “You’re right.”

Neither you or Yoongi said anything.

Minutes passed.

Another night in the condo and both of you were sitting on a mattress with a single blanket, deflated pillows, and a box of condoms on the floor.

You touched his forearm the same time his hand moved to grip your thigh.

And then it was the don’t-look-him-in-the-eyes challenge, and he was doing the exact same thing, eyes averted, black hair over them, lips grazing your jaw. Breath against your ear. Hot. His neck under your lips, flexed, fair skin with remnants of bruises, and your teeth sank in, making new ones, listening to his hiss and feeling his hands slide under your sweatshirt. Weighted palms and blunt nails. Digging in.

“Harder.”

He scratched you up as you climbed into his lap, tasting flesh.

Those firm hands gripped your hips and forced them down. Grinding. Softness to growing hardness, unhooking your bra, hands all over like you had lost your mind, your thighs squeezing his sides, yanking his shirt collar down and licking up his collarbone, dripping spit, shivering as you saw it glisten over his marred skin.

Clothes coming off, thrown aside. Guitar sliding to the hardwood floor as bodies tumbled. Your hands on his chest, your hard nipples pressed into the sheets as Yoongi slipped his hand into your hair and shoved your head down. Mouth open, tongue curling around. Moan striking the air, echoing in the nothingness.

Hard, hot, now wet.

Up, down, hitting the back of your throat, unable to choke in the adrenaline of lust, in need, in desire for pain, rubbing your tongue all over as Yoongi face-fucked you hard and fast, thick cock swelling in your mouth, your lips grazing the swollen head and making him shudder, saliva slipping down your chin that was smacking into his balls.

Was it shameful that you were good at it?

Sex solved nothing but you sure had a lot of it as if it did.

A sharp gasp and salty cum filled your throat, drinking, swallowing with effort and the burning sensation of your locked jaw, maintaining the soft tightness. Tongue tracing the contours, keeping him hard, hearing the rip of a foil packet above your head.

You hadn’t even realized that Yoongi had let go of your hair, letting you lick him all over at your own pace.

“What position?” Yoongi panted, husky and breathless in the mostly empty bedroom.

Mattress, chair, desk, laptop. Oh, and guitar.

Bodies on the floor.

You didn’t say anything.

You just turned around and slid down, elbows on the bed, knees spread, ass up.

“Alright then.”

You bit your lower lip.

You almost turned your head, almost looked back, just to check, right, just to check he was okay with it, and then strong hands gripped your hips, lifting them, sliding in, condom on and stretching you out right away, his knees pushing your knees apart and forcing you to arch your back for the angle.

No chance to look back.

You gasped, gripping the sheets, blinded by pleasure and the fading resonance of pain.

Hard.

Deep.

You pushing back, deep not deep enough, hitting your preferred depth and letting your eyelids flutter, veins burning with the repeated ecstasy. One of your hands lifted and reached back, squeezing his hand on your hip, and the grip became tighter, fingertips digging in, smacking his hips into your ass, and your body threatened to throw him back, carnal power meeting his every thrust, clenching around his hard length, and you could hear Yoongi growl your name, low and deep and voracious.

Somehow, his name fell from your lips too.

Rough and sinful, no better than an animal.

His nails dug into your back and dragged down, burning lines into your skin.

Your head tipped back and you moaned, a clear, shameless sound that would become familiar to this ceiling. Pooling wildfire, tightening muscles, wasted nectar sticky between joined thighs, surge after shivering surge of orgasmic apex stinging your veins as you barely registered Yoongi’s shudder and blissful groan, feeling the pulse inside you made than hearing the sound.

The rush of blood roaring in your ears was far too loud for you to hear anything.

Your face felt hot, so hot.

Gripping the sheets, twisting them, pulling them off the edge of the bed.

This moment.

Very few things were as intense and exigent as an orgasm. Fleeting, but a violently memorable. Pure nothingness of soaring high. You chased it. Again. And again. And again, your fingers tangled in Yoongi’s dark hair, pulling it over his face but he didn’t look at you anyway, eyes closed and teeth trapping his lower lip, breath trapped in his chest, driving his hips into yours again and again.

You both kept going until the limits were reached.

The darkness willingly swallowed you up.

Min Yoongi always considered himself a rational person, which was precisely why he found himself entangled in the break-up between his former best friend and the only woman he ever considered committing a felony for.

Yeah.

He also didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was still way too hot for that idiot though.

His eyes could communicate well enough with his dick. The short skirt and exposed thighs didn’t really help either. Still, Yoongi had let it be. Respect was keeping his distance despite racing heartbeat and keeping calm despite shaking hands. He got used to it once the late-night talks about music and wordplay became a regular thing. Sometimes they talked about general life and were surprised on how well they aligned. Still, she never spoke poorly about her then-boyfriend even though there was plenty to talk about.

Scorched earth was their sacred ground.

It was painful to witness.

Yoongi regretted valuing the friendship, mostly because it didn’t mean jack shit at the end of the day. He regretted believing in the elegant, age-old saying.

Bros before hoes.

Tch.

But mostly, Yoongi regretted pretending like nothing was wrong.

He would see the pain in her expression and not say anything. Watch her pack it all away and greet him with warmth that he didn’t deserve because he had a racing heart and shaking hands every time they met. He would watch his former best friend disappear into hotel rooms without explanation and Yoongi knew damn well it wasn’t right, but he kept his mouth shut because he was a coward, something he figured out later.

He could have washed his hands clean of that shitshow, but instead his hands had held her shaking shoulders and watched her struggle not to cry on that cold night.

Yoongi considered himself a rational person, but never a good one.

Too many ways to judge, and her lips had already connected with his as soon as his shoulder blades hit the wall. He didn’t stop it. Maybe it was bitterness. Vengeance. Hate.

No, it wasn’t any of that, actually.

He didn’t know exactly what but, in that moment, Yoongi knew that he would murder that asshole if he saw his former best friend’s face right then, ready to commit a felony all because those beautiful eyes couldn’t look at him, closing instead to blink back the tears that bastard didn’t deserve.

That meant something, all right.

He knew it could take a long time. He knew it would almost certainly be hopeless. He knew he would probably end up with a broken heart and broke as hell. He knew it was a bad idea and he knew it was going to tear him up, this spiral, but when he found himself looking up to the ceilings of these mostly empty rooms, this condo he now half-owed with the woman that was formerly his best friend’s girlfriend, and Yoongi found he didn’t know and he didn’t care what the future held.

She had trouble sleeping.

Less trouble after exhausting themselves.

He had trouble sleeping too, but that was because he was staring at the ceiling and wondering just how rational he really was. One hand behind his head, under the pillow. The other resting on the blanket, on the curve of her hip, feeling the steady hum of her breathing.

She never cried in front of him.

He knew she did cry, because he heard her in the bathroom sometimes. But never in front of him. Showed anger, yes, but never acted helpless even though it was perfectly reasonable to feel that way after everything that happened. Living on the least for his sake, even to the point of skipping meals and spending all her time trying to write, trying to get back to her livelihood, trying to get past all the false starts. Personally, Yoongi felt that she should give up for now and heal herself, but he also knew how it felt to feel stubborn and useless.

Hah.

It was weird, being so close and yet so far away.

He felt it most in the nighttime, even though that was when he was closest to her.

He was never going to be the same. He knew that. He already wasn’t, surprising himself with his own recklessness, and for what? He didn’t even know what she was capable of reciprocating after receiving all those scars. Didn’t even know if he was the right one, if he was better or worse, if…

If he was believing in something that wasn’t there.

Yoongi closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Livid.

It was weird. Feeling it. In the past, you buried it, numb, and promptly lived in delusion. But now you could feel it. What was more, you let yourself feel it. There wasn’t anything to stop you except for the occasional mental peanut gallery of you’re a bad person if you feel jealousy, but anger could overtake anything if you let it.

You stared at the scene before you, several meters away.

Seething.

It felt good.

Mostly because it was honest.

It surprised you. You hadn’t expected to feel anything. Sad, maybe. You had already been cheated on, so naturally you assumed the cycle would begin anew, just with less promises and in the gray area of uncertainty. But, no, instead of being distraught and delusional, you felt maddeningly, viciously, nearly on-the-edge of making a fist and dislocating Min Yoongi’s jaw from his skull because he was speaking to a female-presenting human at the entrance of the building that housed his and others’ music studios.

Did you lack context? Yes.

Would that get you arrested? Yeah, probably.

Would that probably not get your laid anymore and label you as an unhinged psychopath? Without a doubt.

But would it feel good?

Don’t know.

You had never punched someone before, although maybe you should have practiced on your ex-boyfriend. He was probably a more deserving candidate. In any case, you remained frozen in perplexation at your willingness for violence because you were pretty sure your… relations… with Yoongi were nothing more than a lonely bitch and a spiteful silver tongue executing revenge, so the amount of fucks you should give about Yoongi speaking to any human being – other than the obvious health and safety precautions – should be zero.

None.

Basket of fucks empty.

And yet.

Clearly wasn’t since you were mentally calculating the angle and force for jaw dislocation while having zero experience in doing so. In any sort of non-virtual manner, that is.

Hm.

Your hands were firmly in the pockets of your black cargo pants. The hip ones, although you had plenty of choice. You kept them there for the safety of passerby or, maybe deep down, yourself. This caused your jacket to fall open, the outlines of the sew-on patches and thick, bunched-up black denim crowding the space between your forearm and waist, your black cropped tank exposed to the chill evening air. You used to wear a plethora of band t-shirts, but, well, those were probably in a landfill or rotting in a secondhand shop.

You figured you would be cold. Unsurprisingly, the anger kept you warm.

Huh.

You thought about turning around and just straight up leaving, petty and picturesque of course, and then Yoongi seemed to sense your projected violence, looking up from the conversation. Dark waves over his cheeks, striking body line, backing away, hiding his eyes for a moment, not that you could see them that well from this distance. You twitched.

The girl reached out.

Yoongi simply bowed, out of reach, and pushed the glass door open.

Honestly, her role in this moment was so miniscule that you completely ignored whatever she did or possibly could have said to Yoongi’s retreating back. Sharpened gaze, and then he crossed the street with the crowd, walking past oblivious bystanders who may or may not become the harrowed audience of the next thirty seconds.

He stopped before you. Bomber jacket, white shirt, black track pants. Monochrome elegance.

You looked up at him, saying nothing.

Over one shoulder was his usual guitar bag that held said instrument and his yellow notepad sticking out of the pocket. He used it to jot down whatever came to him. You almost said something. Almost. Then you remembered that if this, this between you and Min Yoongi, if this was supposed to be nothing, then weren’t you supposed to do nothing but voice your casual annoyance for making you wait rather than, well.

Admit insecurity?

You looked away quickly.

No, it did not matter how reasonable it was, you didn’t like knowing that somehow you had been weakened by an ex-boyfriend, barely a man, no, a mere locust at best, so it was better to not say anything and accept that this was–

“Sorry, I got caught up with the staff about ending my lease.”

Compromised.

You didn’t look at him. “What?”

“Gonna end my lease this month and move my studio stuff to the condo. I can’t afford both.”

He had told you this already. It had been your idea. You already knew you were overreacting to a situation that you created in your head rather than reality. And, yet, the best your mind would allow was uh huh, a plausible explanation, sarcasm included.

“Ah. Right,” was your sharp, mildly frigid reply.

“I can’t read your mind.”

Do you intend to be exhausting?

Your mental peanut gallery was super annoying.

You breathed in. Cool, crisp air. The sound of cars and people bustling in and out of stores. You breathed in again. Did you really intend to be exhausting, irrational, and, worst of all, dishonest? Really, after all that had happened? After getting here, standing here, arriving to pick up Yoongi at his request to do the grocery shopping together?

You turned back to look right into black-brown, piercing orbs.

“I just realized that I have the ability to be jealous,” you exhaled, draining your lungs. “It’s unpleasant and not nearly as delightfully pivotal as the media makes it out to be.”

Something fluttered in those orbs.

Or maybe it was the wind catching his bangs, drifting black strands over his eyes shadowed by dark circles.

Yoongi half-smiled.

“Makes for good songwriting material though.”

There was an air of helplessness to his words. A tone you couldn’t define, except for the understanding, which left you both baffled and with a sense of guilt. There were emotions in that barely-there smirk on those familiar lips. Relief. Maybe a slight bit of shame. A shadow of guilt too. You realized people were glancing at you and him as they walked past, wondering why you both were at a standstill on the sidewalk. Yoongi seemed to not notice them or care.

You pulled your hands out of your pockets.

“Come on. We should go before it gets dark.”

Before you noticed it, your hand was rising.

You pulled it back, but not fast enough.

Yoongi’s free hand reached out and grasped around yours, strong fingers enclosing. Sliding up, calluses on your palm. Your hand lowered, slowly, your eyes moving in the opposite direction. Lips parting. His hand was colder than yours.

You stared at Yoongi.

He looked back, expression unreadable.

“I don’t hold hands,” you said, suddenly breathless.

You tightened your grip.

“Neither do I,” Yoongi replied, taking a step, on the cusp of walking past you, his hand around yours. “I simply just don’t like the idea of yours getting cold when I can do something about it.”

Previously, when you held hands, it was always with a purpose of showing public affection. The look-how-real-this-is-because-there-are-clear-witnesses show. Front row tickets nobody asked for. But this.

This.

You blinked hard and the sting was inside.

The sting of wasted time.

Your name in that raspy, soft voice. Familiar. You looked up, not saying anything and hoping the eye contact was enough. All Yoongi did was smile lightly and tug your hand.

“Let’s get take-out and shop tomorrow. We have plenty of time to eat healthier.”

“You can cry in front of me.”

Min Yoongi heard her breath hitch and still.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by. It was the dead of night. Or maybe one could call it the time when honesty came to life, if the conditions were right. He knew this time well usually with a drink in his hand, but this time he was laying on his side with bruises of bites and carnal memories lingering on his fingertips.

“I wasn’t crying.”

Her voice was thick and strained from trying to keep it even. Her moment of jealousy had happened days ago. He had recognized it right away. Call it personal experience. He also recognized that she didn’t like to feel that way. It was obvious from her torn yet furious expression. It confirmed a lot of things for him. Still, she seemed pleased to help him move and set up his things in the bedroom. They found the living room to be a bit too echoey due to the large space so they switched the two, pulling the mattress to the living room and setting up his equipment in the center of what was formerly the bedroom.

He told her to paint the condo.

She had mentioned in passing that someday she would like to paint her entire living space black. Not this place, because he owned it too, and you probably think I’m crazy for wanting a dark space, huh, Yoongi? He asked her, why wait? No one lives forever. We’re just passing through.

She had given him a weird look.

We own this condo. Paint it.

There were cans of black paint waiting.

Yoongi had intended to go visit his family over the weekend. His parents and his brother who had recently been promoted to head chef at the classy restaurant he worked at. Someone in the family needed to have prestige. Well, that was his own personal feeling. Surprisingly at this point his parents had even up on telling him to get a higher-paying job. They told him to simply be happy.

And get married.

Yeah, about that.

He was still trying to get used to the music producer thing, for fuck’s sake.

“Are you afraid I won’t understand?” Yoongi let himself say, not turning around yet.

Sometimes, people didn’t want you to see them weak. He could understand that.

Call it personal experience.

A shuddering sigh. Deep breaths. Words bogged down, drained.

“I can only be so pathetic before I lose my mind recalling the past,” she mumbled. He felt her weight deepen on her side of the bed, as if she was trying to melt into the mattress. “I made things hard for myself. For you. It’s pointless to cry about it anyway. In the end, it only makes me look ungrateful.”

Yoongi thought about it.

“It’s true that you probably shouldn’t have involved me.”

He shifted, laying on his back now.

“But I’m not a good person either. I agreed, after all,” he murmured, his skin tingling with bruises and carnal memories. “Hm, to be honest, he was always a dick though, from high school till now. Always will be, I fear.”

“You’re easygoing enough not to be affected by his asshole behavior.”

“Not my job to change people. I leave that to parents and clueless fools.”

A pensive silence. Surprisingly not an irritated one. She seemed to accept it.

“Why did you become his friend?” she asked, staring at the ceiling with him.

“We just happened to like the same thing. Music.”

“I’m lucky you decided to become his friend.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I’m lucky that somehow he managed to bamboozle a hot and clever girl, two things he’s obviously not.”

She almost laughed. Almost.

“Who the fuck uses the word bamboozle?”

“You had to admit you were bamboozled, because you sure as hell weren’t dick-drunk.”

“Oh? You think you’re that good, huh?”

“No, I just know he’s that much worse.”

The faintest of chuckles.

“You… You get better every time,” she admitted. “I think I just caught you off guard the first time.”

“Firstly, I don’t like wasting time and, secondly, I had given up for a while before…” I met you. “Romance seemed like an expensive, worthless distraction when I could be using that time and money trying to push the band forward,” he pivoted, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Then that went to shit.”

“Sorry.”

Automatic.

He chuckled darkly. “I’m confident I got the better deal.”

A trembling pause.

“Why do you think that?”

He reached over and placed his palm on the top of her head, lacing his fingers in her hair. Messing it up.

“Tell me the truth. Was he good at sex?”

A burst of laughter. “Really? Alright. No, he wasn’t. He sucked. Thought he was a piston of a muscle car instead of a human being. Oh, and once he fell asleep on top of me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Turned his head and forced hers to turn as well.

She was smiling.

Yoongi found his chest tight and breath shallow.

“And you didn’t leave him then… why?” he pressed.

She winced, albeit playfully. “I yelled at him. A lot. I don’t know, maybe he was tired.”

“Not an excuse.”

“I know, I know…” Sigh. “I… I didn’t want to believe I made the wrong choice.” Her eyes shifted, but her body was still turned to face his. “I… It made my entire family angry, dating him. Especially my parents. They would never forgive me and hold it over my head forever. I had to make it work. I thought, if only I worked hard enough…” Another heavy breath, squeezing her eyes tightly. “I know it was pride, but I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could do anything. Bad choices? Maybe. But they were mine. I don’t want my life decided by what is best for me. If I suffer for it, those are my consequences.”

Her eyes opened, but barely.

Yoongi kept his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.

“I… I feel like shit because now you’re stuck in my mistakes,” she breathed.

He liked to touch her hair. It felt comforting.

“You know what your problem is?”

She glared under lashes and dared him.

Undeterred, he continued. “You blame yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened.”

A disapproving frown. “Hah?”

He tapped her forehead. “You think it’ll bother me if you cry, but what truly bothers me is that you cry alone.” Pushed back the strands, and now he was closer, sharing breath. “You think I’m stuck in your mistakes. Mistakes don’t inherently have only negative consequences. They almost always exist in a gray area.”

“I... I know that,” she grumbled, face against his chest.

“I did say you were clever.”

A drifting, drowsy silence.

“I’m not clever,” she whispered to his skin, pulling her body closer. “I just like you.”

Yoongi felt himself losing to sleep.

“I’ve always liked you, since the moment I saw you,” he muttered into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if he said it at all.

“Ah? Yes? Sorry about that. Oh, yes, uh, I’m painting. Everything. Yes, I’ll be sure the keep the windows open. Thank you.”

You closed the front door of the condo. Well. You had expected nervousness, but somehow the conversation between you and the downstairs neighbor had been very calm. Apparently, he worked from home and wasn’t expecting the loud crash of the ladder from your unit.

In your defense, you hadn’t expected it either.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been on the ladder, only trying to figure out how to set it up. It was one of those compact ones that saved space but required some innovative thinking to get the taller height you needed. One crash and a YouTube video later, the ladder was now secure, and then came the knock on the front door.

The thoughts flew by – I don’t belong here, I can’t do this alone, they’re going to scold me and I haven’t even done the upper half yet – but the guy just seemed curious and confused. Didn’t even comment on your awkward outfit of navy boys’ basketball shorts and ill-fitted gray sports bra. Both on super sale. You were still wearing your bra because of the incorrect size, so the gray blob was bordering on ugly-ass tank top.

Look.

Some people had clothing they didn’t care about to paint in and some people had to dive in sale bins because they left behind most of their wardrobe and, with the clothes, their bad memories.

That was the intent.

Things rarely go as intended.

For instance, you thought you were going to feel imposter syndrome for a neighbor knowing that you were painting your own goddamn walls. You turned away from the door after you locked it, frowning. That’s right. Like it or not, bad decisions and minus an ex-boyfriend later, these were your walls. You looked up, out the large, floor-to-ceiling living room windows, and saw the sunlight sparkle over the sprawling city, walls painted half-black and half white surrounding you, and you could say that you never wanted to be here, but.

It was a sick view.

We own this condo. Paint it.

Your muscles were sore from the repeated swiping motion of the paint roller, but there was still this inexplicable energy coursing through you.

“What if it doesn’t look good?” you had asked Yoongi.

He had shrugged. “Then we paint it again.”

“It’ll be dark.”

“Wow, really? I thought black was supposed to be bright and cheerful,” was the sarcastic quip. “Just believe you have good taste and paint the damn walls.”

This condo was an investment that made you poor.

That was the truth you needed to face.

You have good taste.

You scrunched your face slightly as you remembered Yoongi’s facial expression. Was he… praising you or himself? You squinted. This guy. Picked up the paint roller again and saturated it with ink black, making crispy crinkly sounds as you shuffled over the plastic. Good taste. Well, that was relative, wasn’t it? Everything was at the end of the day. You climbed onto the ladder and began the repetitive, monotone motion once more but at a higher elevation. You should have put your music back on. Your phone was on the plastic-covered mattress and you were not about to go back down until you finished this section or ran out of paint. This was going to be a long process, but you had several days and too much time as Yoongi had already left to visit his family.

Now you were alone with a lot of paint and mind-numbing fumes.

Shit, you should have opened the window.

You would have to paint a second coat anyway. Who cared if the first coat was shitty?

Sigh.

Climbing down and doing your due diligence before returning to your post.

You had forgotten once again to put your music back on. Hah. Well, that was fine; you had yourself. You didn’t mind being alone. Heh, sometimes it was better to be alone. You continued rolling away, hardworking in the consistent rhythm. Thinking about it now, this might have been the first time in a long time that you were okay with being alone. Before, you had felt guilty whenever you weren’t thinking about your relationship. Huh. Odd. Was it some kind of mental self-reassurance when you knew something was off? It was hard to tell, but possible.

Everything was off about that relationship. You just had too much pride to admit it.

You sighed, climbing back down to reload.

Wait a second. Was this why there was that wider step towards the top of the ladder? You poured some more paint in the tray and carried it up with you. Oh shit. Wow. Innovation. You coughed and went back to a different patch of wall. No one saw that. See, perks of being alone.

Well, you didn’t hate Yoongi being here.

You stopped painting.

You didn’t just think that.

You went back to painting. Shut up, nagging feeling. You furiously painted on, ignoring your soreness, telling that little voice in your head to shut up, because there were plenty of reasons not to think stuff like that. Firstly, you weren’t ready to think stuff like that. And what if it was only hopeful transference rather than genuine feeling? Asshole or not, your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal of trust was not something so easily overcome. It wasn’t fair to Yoongi either, pretending to like him if you weren’t sure.

You liked Yoongi before you broke up, too.

Wasn’t that fucked up?

You sighed and came back down, careful to scoot the ladder without spilling and causing a mess. Back up and at it. Of course, it was fucked up. And you knew it was, which might have been why you let it get that bad. Might? Was why you let it get that bad. Two hypocrites were meant for each other. You huffed, puffing your cheeks. It wasn’t enough to hold the ticking grenade; you had needed confirmation it was a, in fact, a bomb.

Maybe even hoping it would end you.

It didn’t.

For some reason, you thought Yoongi could see that in you.

Damn, he’s really living in your system, hm?

You frowned.

Your phone rang.

You almost jumped, startled at the sudden sound of an old song you used to enjoy. Back when you were a teenager, and the memories came back as you climbed down. A kid who just really liked rock’n’roll, and parents who did not, but that kid didn’t care, annoyingly setting it as her ringtone on her shitty flip phone. Couldn’t you be her again? Before you had time to ponder, you checked your hands for paint and picked up your phone, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Did you eat?”

You blinked, sitting down on the crinkly plastic upon hearing that deep, raspy voice. “Uh, no. I was gonna stop by the convenience store when the first coat was done.”

“No, you weren’t. You were gonna skip a meal,” Min Yoongi tutted. “Because you don’t want to be a nuisance and use the money I had left you.”

Damn. He knew you, all right.

“If I forget, I forget,” you grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, pick up the food order from the front desk when it comes. They told me about thirty minutes.”

“You don’t have to order food for me. I’m not a kid,” you hissed.

“It’s the pho spot you like and if I don’t put food in front of you, you won’t eat. You intend to do all that hard work without some fuel?” A pause. You made a disapproving noise. “And I know you’re not a kid. By the way, what’s your waist measurement?”

You remained a grump. “Why?”

“I’m here, so I’m going to buy you some clothes.”

“Don’t buy me clothes. Don’t spend money–”

“You need things,” Yoongi cut you off. “Unless you want to come with me? You don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it and you know it,” you snapped back. “It’s not worth–”

“Of course, it isn’t. It’s vain and silly and superficial. And I’m still going to buy you things, so tell me your waist measurement.”

“Yoongi, this is your hard-earned money,” you puffed out, exasperated.

“Yeah, and I make money to provide you with a good life because I think you are the most important person to me. So, do you want me to guess with my hands or are you going to meet me halfway?”

Dead silence.

He called your name, softly.

You told him in centimeters.

“Got it. Don’t forget to check the front desk in thirty minutes.”

“I love you.”

His hair was stuck to his face due to sweat. “What?”

“I said I love you,” she said, staring right at him, their chests shuddering from exertion.

Yoongi couldn’t believe it, but also he wasn’t surprised. The room still smelled faintly like paint. The windows still had no curtains or blinds. They were still fucking on the mattress in the center of the living room and he was holding the used condom when she said I love you.

The walls and ceiling were all black, covering them in darkness as the city below glimmered with light.

“I love you,” was his reply.

It startled him, the suddenness of his response. He knew he did. Of course, he did, and he turned away quickly, making his way to the kitchen and throwing away the condom, skin tingling, cheeks aflame, and he was startled by the feeling that remained. He hadn’t expected those words to come out of her mouth even though he was sure of his own feelings. Yoongi had resigned himself to not hear it from her lips. He also didn’t need to hear it to know that it was true.

He saw her head to the bathroom.

Time was funny sometimes.

Suddenly they were both staring at each other on the mattress, the usual ritual completed, and the moment suspended.

“You didn’t have to say it,” he finally said. “For my sake.”

“I didn’t.” Her hair curled over her shoulder, caressing her curves. “I said it for my sake.”

Blankets and pillows and questions.

“I wondered about the validity of it,” she admitted to him. “Been wrong before and all that. Might still be wrong. So, I said it just to see if I regretted it.”

“Ah.”

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Do you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

He half-smiled. How very simple yet complicated. He understood. “All the paint fumes really got to your head, huh?”

She looked up at him and he realized with a start that she, too, was half-smiling.

He reached out, smoothing her hair.

“You have a pretty face, Yoongi,” she teased, eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it would be too cliché, you and me,” she continued and the tone was different now, softer and more serious. “I thought you would get tired.”

She meant, of me.

He had thought this was cliché too. Cliché didn’t mean worthless though. His hand fell, and rested over hers without a second thought. Warm and against the sheets. “If I felt that way, I would have stopped speaking to you long ago. You could take care of yourself too.” Not safely, but could. “Except for money.”

She smirked.

“So you’re saying I need a suga daddy.”

Yoongi twitched.

“Part of me wanted to sell the condo as soon as possible,” she went on, casually glossing over the comment. “But the realtor said it would be a bad idea. I wouldn’t have any buyers without a minimum of six months or a year. Too many superstitions. Part of me thought I should…”

She looked up to the ceiling.

It was a high-rise, after all.

“All the reasons to move here were his. More convenient, better opportunities, owning rather than renting for the investment… I believed in it, more than myself.”

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t because all those things had benefitted him already. He didn’t only agree to move in help her out. He was still a working music producer. But she didn’t seem to be saying it to condone him.

“I didn’t really think this place was mine until I painted the walls.”

Yoongi thought he should at least confess this part. “That’s why I told you to paint them.”

A small laugh. “You don’t like it, huh?”

“Don’t you remember the walls of the old studio were dark gray? That was my doing. I always resented the last place I rented because they didn’t let me paint the walls.”

“Ah… He painted over the gray.”

“I bet he did.”

They had fallen to the bed now, side by side.

“I didn’t think this would work out,” she breathed.

“I thought it might,” he hummed.

“Why?”

“You’re hot and clever and I wanted you from the first day I saw you.”

A warm chuckle. “Just like that?”

“Well, you had to give me a chance. Couldn’t make the first move due to the circumstances.”

“It was a convoluted and confusing one.”

“Eh, life’s unfair.”

“Your husband already paid.”

Your what?

“What?”

The cashier waved you away. You shuffled back, dazed, seeing Min Yoongi emerge from the bathroom in the corner of the restaurant, tucking a bit of his long black hair behind his ears and finding you in front of him.

“The cashier just called you my husband,” you declared.

He shrugged.

“Surprise.”

You blinked at him.

Patrons chatted and laughed as if this was a normal day. The music was horrendous covers of cheesy 2000’s pop. It was very strange, but the pho was good and well-priced, which was why Yoongi and you came here often after his meetings with music companies. Popular talent was in high demand.

He ticked his head to your outfit. “I know you like this dress I bought you, but you’ve left your coat at the table.”

“Oh, shit.”

“You’ve been scatterbrained ever since you started writing again.”

“Shut up.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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redclercs · 11 months

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DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

x. what a shame she's fucked in the head.

— the one where they tell you what your word is worth.

❝𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦❞ —𝘛𝘢𝘺𝘭𝘰𝘳 𝘚𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘵, 𝘊𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘵.

warnings: abuse downplay, bashing towards taylor swift (i obviously adore her pls don't come for me haha), online bullying, new york inaccuracies, corny taylor references per usual, etc. 2k words + articles

in my head there's a mix of begin again and cornelia street playing as background music.

masterlist ✢ next

NO one likes a mad woman, but not for the reasons Taylor Swift made you believe in the lyrics of her 2020 song. Although we are definitely afraid y/n might get 'more crazy'.

Honestly, who gave her the right to speak like that about Aidan Kim? As it turns out, the three-year relationships she willingly stayed on was a 'dead-end' one, and Aidan "abused" (and I cannot stress the quotations enough) her through several stages of their shared time.

Well, I call bullshit.

How is it that after Aidan Kim helped her build whatever she has going on that people call a 'career' she wasn't bothered about being told 'how to look and how to act' (direct quote from her own video, by the way).

Breaking up with your sneaky link and calling him your friend won't save what you did before, y/n, it's the oldes trick in the book. Everything she said in her Youtube video, one I regretfully watched despite the knowledge that I won't get those 45 minutes of my life back, is rehearsed and calculated and just tried to paint the real victims in a bad light.

Playing the victim worked for Taylor Swift in 2009, 2017, 2019... but we surely won't let it happen again, right folks? y/n needs a new tactic to crawl back from the hell, because we're not believing anything that comes out of her mouth anymore.

It's true what they say, an untalented actress makes an untalented liar.

By Lia Yim

Victoria Presley is worried about best friend's y/n y/ln's well-being after the actress 'completely ghosted her' since moving back to New York.

"One day we were fine and the next, she had packed her bags and left my house," Presley said in an exclusive interview with iNTouch. "I'm not going to lie, I was deeply hurt by her actions. I offered her my home as a safe haven and she left without explanation."

y/n had been living in Victorias Los Angeles home since mid-February until this month when she returned to her infamous SoHo apartment, one she shared with Aidan Kim until their breakup.

"I can find it in my heart to forgive her, of course," 'Vic', as she's known on social media, added. "Right now, I just want my best friend back. I want the y/n I've known for years and not this person she became since Matilde Bassi and Charles Leclerc inserted themselves in her life."

Victoria Presley, the founder and CEO of Presley Beauty, is the daughter of Luke Presley and Claire Walker and has been in the influencing business for a few years now.

"If y/n ends up reading this, I want her to know that I will support her decisions but not in the way her new 'friends' are doing. I just want what's best for her."

SEE ALSO:

→ Vic Presley on having to start from zero: "I'm not a nepobaby!"

→ A look inside y/n's SoHo apartment, the one Aidan Kim paid for.

→ Is Charles Leclerc's career going downhill thanks to y/n?

By Beatrice Mann

With y/n y/ln's latest controversy, the whole world has turned their backs on the actress. But, is it really that bad? Or is it just because she's a woman in the business?

The online community's hottest topic is y/n's Youtube video where she speaks on her relationship with Aidan Kim, her friendship with Charles Leclerc and, most importantly, how all of this has affected her career. And I want to tell you all, y/n is right.

If the roles were reversed, Aidan Kim would be thriving on a newly unlocked 'Heartbreaker' persona and y/n would still be constantly humiliated for not being 'wife material'.

I believe y/n deserves much better than what she's getting. The woman admitted she escaped a relationship where her partner LAUGHED at her and manipulated her actions for his comfort. And people are still siding with the man? Seriously, people, use your brains and dig up your morals!

The only thing we're communicating to younger generations by constantly doubting women's words and putting them in the spotlight for standing up for themselves, is that only men's words are worth something.

June 14th, Manhattan, New York.

It isn't much of a surprise when Charles calls you while you're trying to get your Moka pot to work that morning. It's your third attempt at it and the previous mornings you've left it alone with tears in your eyes to walk down the street and get Starbucks coffee. You might be a little too attached to that coffee maker.

Charles got to New York city the previous night, and reminded you that you promised to show him around more than once. You intended to keep your promise, thinking you would have more time before the day came.

But as you walk to the restaurant where you decided to meet him, you can't help but think how exciting it is that you get to show the city you love so much to Charles. And just like that morning in Monaco, you can't help but remind yourself that this is a friendly get-together.

Charles has slowly, but surely, become one of your closest friends in the middle of the frenzy that your life is. With your ex-best friend saying you walked out on her and your failed fiancé insisting that it was you, who acted like a 'total psychopath' towards the end of your relationship, you have more fingers than people you can count on.

You watch him carefully as he smooths the napkin on his legs twice and then drops in on the table again, fidgeting with the loose threads in the corner.

Your wristwatch says it's 10:00 am, which is the exact time you agreed to meet. You wonder how long he's been waiting if there's an empty cup of coffee in front of him.

"You know, it's also rude to be too early for a meeting," you say as a form of greeting once you approach the table.

This startles him enough to drop the napkin on his lap again, proceeding to scramble to return it to the table before pushing his chair out to get up.

You chuckle, but before you can say you were joking, Charles is engulfing you in a hug. Your stomach flutters because of the way he holds the back of your head with his palm. It feels like you're being reunited after months instead of just two weeks. Time doesn't feel real sometimes, you would know.

"Soleil!" he says excitedly, putting his hands on your shoulders. "It's so good to see you,"

"It's nice to see you too, Charlie."

There's the nickname again. You've tried not to think too hard about it. Is it a European thing to call your friends that? When you asked him about it the last time he called before taking his flight to New York, his response was a simple 'it suits you'.

Charles pulls your chair for you and grabs your purse to place it on the empty chair between you two. He grabs his napkin again, pulling one last time on a thread before smoothing it down and forgetting about it.

"How are you?" Charles asks, a bright smile on his face. It falters in a barely perceptible way because he doesn't want to give you bad thoughts, which seem to come automatically every time the question is asked.

"Well, I'm okay," you assure in a soothing tone, "Still looking for jobs. And you?"

"Alright. Lots of work in the simulator and I'm hoping this is a good weekend,"

"Are you sure you'll be okay getting to Montreal tomorrow?" you smile at the waitress that approaches your table, "Can I have some coffee, please?"

"Of course," Charles assures, with a gesture of his hand. He's getting to Montreal at seven in the morning and running straight to his motorhome. "There's time for everything."

"What do you want to do, then?"

You don't want to exhaust him by showing him around New York, he has a long weekend ahead. To be honest, you really wonder what compelled him to make this stop instead of going straight to Canada. Sure you had talked about him coming to New York, eventually. Not a day before he had to start his Grand Prix weekend.

"Anything you want us to do," he replies, the single-dimpled smile on his face. "I'm open to anything."

"MoMA? Central Park? Something not so touristy?" you suggest, before thanking the waitress as she places a hot cup of coffee on the table.

"Just show me the places you like, y/n, don't stress about it." Charles laughs, eyes returning to the open menu in front of him. "I only care about hanging out with you."

"Thanks," is all you manage to say as you sip the scalding coffee, you do your best not to wince as it burns your tongue and down your throat. "Let's do it then."

"So, what do you think? Everything you expected and more?"

You're taking a walk in Central Park after Charles agreed to see the Alice in Wonderland statue. It's a warm morning in New York and although you haven't been walking around for that long, Charles seems content enough with what he's seen.

"It's very... you," Charles replies, and you're sure he means it as a compliment, but New York can be really ugly too. "In a good way!" he adds when he sees your expression.

"Thank you, Charlie." you laugh again. It's easy being with Charles, laughing with sincerity and really being in what's happening in the moment.

You didn't lie when you said you weren't afraid of speaking up anymore, but the dread of actually doing it is inevitable. Your words are being twisted and marked as false because Aidan is far 'more loved' than you are. Not to mention Victoria's interview about your lack of reciprocity to her humble feelings

You're still thinking about suing her. But it hurts to know that she was your best friend a week ago.

A few people stop you both to ask for pictures and autographs on the back of phone cases. A few of them ignore you, others smile politely at Charles before asking him to take their picture with you.

"I'm really polishing my photographing skills," Charles jokes as you walk away from a group of young girls who gush about how much they wish they could dress like you.

"Sorry if it bothers you," you whisper, looking at him only from the corner of your eye.

"Of course not, y/n. They ask nicely, and you're okay with it." he shrugs.

There was one time when a teenager, around fourteen or fifteeen, asked Aidan if he could please take a picture of her and yourself. It was an innocent question, she had already acknowledged him as 'that guy from Star-5' and how he'd been in Supercut with you.

But just by the way you saw his expression change, you told the girl a selfie was a better option, you would hold the phone yourself if she was okay with it.

You didn't hear the end of it for the rest of night. Aidan berated your career for the first time of many, saying it was frankly offensive that he’d been treated that way. It didn't matter that you told him the girl was barely a teen and she hadn't been rude. Still, he was more famous than you, he didn't deserve to be made felt like the opposite.

"What are you thinking?" Charles asks, touching your shoulder gently to make you pause your walk.

You really don't want to admit you were thinking about your ex-boyfriend. Not that it matters, Charles knows you think about Aidan often in a mostly negative light, but it feels weird to say it here. So you shrug and sigh. "I wish I thought of nothing, to be honest."

Charles squeezes your shoulder in a half hug. He doesn't push your boundaries, although he wishes he knew what was actually going through your mind.

─────────

It's when you two are having dinner in a restaurant in SoHo that Charles asks the question that has been eating him away since he landed in New York the previous night.

"Do you want to come to Canada with me?"

"Am I not blacklisted from the paddock?" you tease, although Elix is gone. You wonder if Ferrari people blame you a little bit for their sponsor dropping them.

"Absolutely not," Charles frowns, "And you would be my guest, you get to be in the Ferrari Suite like always."

"Thank you, Charlie–"

Charles tries not to seem disappointed as he waits for the 'but' to follow, so he drinks from his wine.

"—but I have some back to back things to do this weekend," you do regret not being able to make it, you loved the few Grand Prix you were able to attend and you would love to see Carlos too. But you have booked a few interviews with people who, more than anything want to consume gossip, but have disguised it as 'letting you tell your truth in more depth'. You cannot back down from what you started.

"That's okay," he assures with a quick wink. "You know you can come to races whenever you want to, though, right?"

"I can?" you raise both eyebrows and Charles rolls his eyes. "The benefits of having a Ferrari driver as a friend. I should have befriended you sooner."

"Very funny," he says as he hides his smile behind his glass of wine again. "Do I get invited to the Red Carpets?"

"You kind of befriended me at the downfall of my career. It's going to take a while for you to be on a Red Carpet."

Charles clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "You're only just getting started, soleil. Don't say that."

You hope he's right, because you have castings lined-up for next week too and you don't want to call him, or Mati, or your mom, crying about how unwanted you feel.

You shrug, drinking from your own wine.

"I'm being serious, y/n," Charles' tone is stern for a moment, yet not aggressive. "You have a lot of wonderful things to do in the future."

"Yeah, thanks." you dislike yourself for ruining the mood yet again, but Charles isn't bothered as he smiles at you once again.

"I mean it,"

He does, and so does Mati, and your mom. You are bound for great things, although they're taking time to find you right now.

"I know. Thank you Charlie, you're very kind. I hope you have a good race this weekend."

Charles huffs. "Yes, me too. Wish me luck?"

"I feel like I jinx you more than help you, Charlie."

"You didn't wish me luck in Spain, look how that went," he fakes a shudder and you snort. You hated every minute spent in Spain after FP3.

"Good luck, you'll do great." You pat the hand that he keeps on top of the table a couple times and before you can take your hand back, he grabs it, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Your heart races and you take a deep, sharp breath, like that would help it go back to normal. You have tried not to overanalyze everything about today, from the way Charles looked to the words he said, to the way your body responded to it. You don't want to go down that specific spiral.

"Thanks for stopping by," you take your hand back and keep it busy with your almost empty glass of wine. The alcohol has turned your cheeks warm. "You really want to see New York, huh?"

"I really wanted to see you," Charles replies, nonchalantly.

And you know you'll be spiraling, despite your best efforts.

─── team principal radio: ❝thanks for reading! also thank you so so so much because last chapter got to 1k+ interactions and i was beyond shocked!! it means a lot that you're enjoying delicate!♡❞

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984 notes · View notes

venusgirltarot · 10 months

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What Would An Album About You Sound Like?

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, envision the person you are thinking of and then choose the pile(s) you feel most drawn to.

Pile One

Ahhh okay this is so cute. Im going to try to explain this as best as I can, Pile 1. So this seems like a concept album. The idea of the album (not the sound but idea ya know) reminds me of “Melodrama” by Lorde. I’ll leave a quote here for a better description but it’s like a concept album about a single night

“Melodrama is described as a loose concept album that explores the theme of solitude, in the framework of a single house party with the events and moods that entail it”

The album about you is similar in the sense that it’s a “loose concept album” but it’s about the writer seeing you. It’s like you’re at this party that the songwriter is also at and they’re obsessed from the moment they lay eyes on you. You’re like this beautiful unobtainable being to them and they want to get to know you so bad but they just can’t seem to talk to you. This could also progress to a one night stand that never progresses to more because of a lack of communication to this album is going through the writer meeting you and watching you throughout the night and then goes into their regrets and what they wish they would have said to you the next day, if that makes sense.

They see you at a party and think you’re so beautiful but can’t seem to find the words to tell you that. I keep hearing “I like the way my bedsheets look on your body” from “hello!” By role model. (I believe that’s the right song but lmk if it’s wrong so I can fix it!) and I keep being reminded of this musician on TikTok “Chappell Roan” and their song “Red Wine Supernova” I think that’s similar to what this album would sound like and it also fits the aesthetic. I highly recommend you listen to this song because it fits your album so perfectly. I tried to find a lyric that resonates the best to include but they all work so well that I couldn’t choose.

Despite this entire album being about only you and just one night leading into the next morning, it’s still so diverse (I hope that makes sense) like you’d think there’s only so many songs you could write about a 12ish hour time frame and one person but this writer has endless things to say about you and the night you met them. I could see one song having a feature and it’s later in the album somewhere between tracks 7-12 or so. The aesthetic of the album is very neon lights, the dance floor on prom night after everything has died down and people are starting to go home, slow, melodramatic and just really pretty. Again, I highly recommend you check out “Red Wine Supernova” because it fits so well.

Track list:

1. Pretty

2. Blooming

3. missing you

4. Shinning Eyes

5. Dying Slow

6. Party Streamers

7. Old Fashioned (Feat. Another Artist)

8. Starlight

9. Nova’s Surprise

10. Sunset

11. morning after

12. You

Pile Two

Pile two, your album sounds like one written by Hozier, Noah Kahan or The Lumineers. It reminds me a lot of “Angela” by The Lumineers. Specifically the lyric “Angela, spent your whole life running away” and “vacancy, hotel room, lost in me, lost in you” it also reminds me of Ethel Cain in the sense that it’s a concept album about running away and starting a new life (but not as dark as ethel’s and with a much better outcome than she got. I heard “success story” it’s about leaving behind a difficult past and moving forward. There’s hope for the future in these songs, remembrance of the past and healing trauma. It’s a beautiful album with a good balance of different emotions. I could see this album coming with a short film or a series of music videos that piece together to tell a store. Similar to “III” by the Lumineers.

I keep hearing a few snippets from the deluxe version of “Stick Season” (that will be out June 9th 👀) like “Medicate meditate swear your soul to Jesus / Throw a punch fall in love give yourself a reason” or “we ain’t angry at you love, you’re the greatest thing we’ve lost” it’s such a beautiful album with so much soul and emotion.

I could see this album getting an acoustic live version that artists do sometimes like “Album, live from Wherever” you know? This album has very unique and catchy lyrics that stick with people, the type of lyrics people take and sell on things in their Etsy shop or use as a quote in their yearbook or put in their instagram bio. It almost feels like poetry. I also heard “escapism” this is the type of music that paints a picture and takes you somewhere else. This album will kind of chronologically tell a story about you moving forward and healing from trauma and finding a peaceful ending. Ending with a song like “Angelia”

Track list

1. movement

2. Adelaide’s Interlude

3. mother

4. farmhouse

5. leave me behind

6. baby blue

7. mustang

8. you’re gonna go far

9. more than this

10. peace

11. at your own pace

12. growing pains

13. at last

Pile Three

I feel like this album has a soft rock sort of sound? Like hozier with a rockier edge if that makes sense? It reminds me of the way hozier sings about love. He sings about a very deep and impactful love and his writing his like poetry and I think that’s what an album about you would sound like. I think this album could be about the writer/musician fighting feelings for you because they’re focused on career or are just concerned about the outcome of the relationship. They might have a fear of falling or something.

However, the last card I pulled was the 10 of cups so the outcome is very good. I feel like this album is coming from a reflective place like this is after yourself and your spouse have settled down and had kids or pets or whatever you would like and your partner is looking back at your relationship from the very beginning up until now and writing about it.

I keep hearing “I’m in love with an emo girl” I don’t think this is what the album will sound like but maybe that’s your aesthetic/vibe? This might just be conformation for you. I also keep hearing that Shania Twain song “you’re still the one” this is the kind of album that fans would dissect like narrow down the time you met your person and talk about every lyric and how that lyric relates to you and your relationship etc. this album talks about how devoted and in love with you your person is but also talks about the (I heard “trials and tribulations”) it took for you two to get there so it may include religious reference. Like religion by Lana Del Rey or Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift where there’s this slight aspect of religion/devotion to your partner.

You hear a lot about how you have to actively choose your partner everyday to make a long term relationship work and this album would definitely delve into that a little. It could also be produced by you and your partner’s mutual friends or people who have been there since the beginning or very early in in your relationship. I think this would be a longer album and there’s definitely 18+ songs on there 👀

Track list

1. October

2. Cosmic

3. Full Moon

4. Bourbon Street

5. She’s All Over Me

6. Starla

7. The Empress

8. Diamond Eyes

9. Find More of Me

10. Dreamscape

11. Escapades

12. Midnight

13. You’re All I Need

14. Mirror

15. Apartment 32

16. Deep End

17. Eternity

#free tarot readings #free readings #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarot reader #spirituality #tarotcommunity #tarot related #paid readings #tarot #love tarot reading

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flowerandblood · 6 months

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The Prince and The Fox (3)

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, mention of sexual abuse, violence, trauma ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, toxic ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned. Aemond + Evans Series Moodboard

This is my first story that has its own playlist, but yes! Get in the mood! Story Music Playlist. Song used in this chapter: Don't Bring Me Down by Electric Light Orchestra.

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

From that day on, they both took off their earphones when they stood together at the bus stop. Her presence had apparently stopped being awkward for him and he had become addicted to listening to Kajagoogoo, although he admitted it reluctantly.

"They have a terrible band name, but that bass is fucking awesome. They got really into my head and it's good to listen to them in the background while doing something else at the same time." He muttered, without looking at her, scrolling something on his phone.

She knew this was his way of distracting himself from the stress of the conversation, that he wasn't good at it and pretended to be indifferent, his lips tightened.

Since the whole thing reached the headmaster of the school the matter became very serious and Cregan was not laughing anymore. The headmaster became very concerned about the whole situation and even though it was not the school where the sexual abuse took place, bullying did.

On the corridor cameras, Cregan could be seen knocking her over by propping her up with his leg, as one of his buddies scratched the word 'liar' with his key on her locker.

Although these were not crimes for which you could go to jail, the principal invited her to an interview accompanied by the school psychologist. The headmaster asked her if she wanted someone to accompany her during this talk and she said without thinking: Aemond.

She surprised him when she asked him to go with her to his office, he was the only one to witness it all and she was afraid to be there alone. He just nodded and answered nothing, clicking something on his phone, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

They went there together.

The director approached the matter with understanding and quoted to her what he had heard the day before from Aemond.

"Your colleague told me that he witnessed the incident and that there is video footage of what happened. I also know that Cregan's classmates nag you a lot because they prefer to believe him. The psychologist and I thought that, if you agree, we would give his class some shock therapy and show them the part of the video that shows him hurting you.

Of course, we will only do this if you agree, however, we believe that if Mr Stark loses his credibility, you will regain your composure and be able to focus on your education rather than the unpleasant incidents you continue to face from them. We know that the footage shows nothing of which you would be ashamed, nor of course your exposed body." He concluded, glancing uncertainly at the lady psychologist.

She didn't know what to say, she could feel her heart pounding hard.

"Think it over calmly. It's just a suggestion and you don't have to do it. We want to help you and we know it's hard for you." Said the psychologist in a soft, calm voice.

She looked apprehensively at Aemond, who was staring at her out of the corner of his eye with his lips tightened, himself clearly not sure what he was thinking.

"It's your decision. You don't have to do it. But I think this bugger deserves it. He walks around the school like a king, he thinks you don't have the guts to show it. That you'll be embarrassed when he's the one who should be ashamed of himself." He said lowly, and she thought with pain that he was right.

Why should he spread rumours about her, lie that she wanted this?

"Fine." She mumbled, the headmaster sighed quietly.

"Do you want to be there when we show them this?" He asked lowly, and she shook her head quickly.

"No."

She delivered an excerpt of the video to the director that next day. He and the lady psychologist watched it to make sure that the video would not portray her in a negative light and make matters worse, but what they saw left no illusions.

She knew that the headmaster would go to Cregan's class with the psychologist at their advisory class and throughout the day she felt like she was going to die, her whole body was trembling, she hadn't eaten anything and she was cold.

As she sat during one of the breaks outside the classroom, staring dully at the floor Aemond sat down next to her and sighed, taking out of his pocket her favourite chocolate bar, Milkyway, which he must have bought from the school vending machine. She looked at him gratefully and shook her head.

"Have you eaten anything today?" He asked lowly and she shook her head again, lowering her gaze.

"I won't swallow anything. My stomach has been hurting since this morning."

"Hmm."

They sat side by side like that, their shoulders and knees touching, not speaking until the bell rang announcing that the break was over.

They sat down to their benches, the teacher came in, but she couldn't concentrate on what he was saying, terrified.

Everyone was watching it now.

She covered her face with her hands, thinking that she had made a mistake, that it would get worse.

However, to her surprise, as she walked out of the classroom she was approached by several people from his class who had also thrown unpleasant comments at her earlier, including his buddy, who shouted to her and Aemond at the time whether they were going to go fuck.

They stood for a moment as if they didn't know what to say.

"Hi. We saw the video. I…fuck." Said the boy, scratching his brow with his thumb, pale, embarrassed, horrified. "I…I really believed him. I swear to you I would never have suspected he was capable of such a thing. When I watched you pull away from him and he wouldn't let you go…fuck, a red light should have lit up in my head earlier as he said he was going to fuck you, but I thought, I don't know, that's what you want, that you're into him, not that…"

He stammered, all red, she could see he was barely holding back tears. He shrugged his shoulders.

"And yet I acted like a stupid piece of shit to you. Then, after all of that. I believed my mate, I thought I knew him." He said without looking at her, his other colleagues nodding.

"We're ashamed. He walked around talking about it as if nothing had happened, as if it was just your imagination. He cried in class as the principal came in and said what he was going to show us. I think he realised he was going to lose a lot of friends."

She looked at them all with her heart beating hard, scared and ashamed at the same time, not knowing what she should say to them.

Most of all, however, she felt relieved.

They had finally left her alone.

If she could consider that something good had come out of all this, it was certainly her relationship with Aemond. They only talked on the bus or while waiting for him at the bus stop, usually about school, teachers, homework, or music.

He played her songs on his earphones when she asked him if he could recommend something new to her, however, he always listened to Kajagoogoo with her on the way to school.

She liked the fact that this had already become their routine, something they shared, proof that they had established a bond, this time unforced, desired from both sides.

She found to her surprise that he was actually a very sensitive, calm man.

She really liked him.

Helaena was very concerned about all that had happened, and wrote to her often to find out how she was feeling. She didn't want to impose on her and didn't visit her at home.

However, one day she asked if she would like to stay with her for the night and sleep in her room, talk about everything that was on her mind and then watch Shrek together or another cartoon they loved as children.

She thought it was a good idea.

She arrived at the appointed time in the evening, Alicent opened the door, smiling warmly and embracing her.

Since the situation with Cregan it seemed that their families had become closer, her parents were extremely grateful to Aemond for what he had done and always greeted him when they saw him on the street or in the shop, embarrassing him.

She saw Helaena run out from over her shoulder and wave to her, holding two bags of their favourite Chips and a carton of orange juice.

Walking towards the stairs she swallowed loudly as she saw the exit to the garden, feeling an unpleasant tightening in her pit and a cold sweat on her back.

She squealed when suddenly Vhagar ran out at them from upstairs, wagging her tail and barking, happy that they had a visitor, almost knocking her over.

"Vhagar!" She heard his impatient, low voice. "Come back here! Immediately."

Vhagar ran up to him, looking at him with her big, pleading black eyes, and he sighed as he stroked her fur. She smiled at him as she passed him, they threw each other a brief, shy 'hi' before she disappeared with Helaena into her room.

Although she didn't want to at first, she felt she had to get it out of her, that she couldn't take it anymore, that it was poisoning her from the inside.

They were both sitting in their pyjamas, T-shirts and shorts on her carpet, a bowl full of crisps and two glasses full of juice between them.

"At first when he touched my thigh I thought − gee, maybe he really likes me that much that he can't stop, I don't know. I felt, I sensed something was wrong and I'm mad that I didn't push him away then! I went outside with him because I thought maybe I don't know, he wants to sit with me in an embrace, stroke me, hold my hand, kiss me. And when he slipped his hand under my dress, when he squeezed me, when he wouldn't let me move or pull away I felt…" She stammered, feeling her voice break, her throat tighten, tears gather in her eyes.

"…God, I just felt that I was very afraid of him, that it was very bad and terrible, that I didn't want it, that he was hurting me, that it was such a bad touch, I don't know how to describe it." She mumbled, Helaena looking at her with her lips slightly parted, her eyebrows arched in pain, her light hair tied up in a bun.

"It felt like I couldn't breathe, it felt like I wanted to scream, like someone was skinning me, it's this feeling of sudden panic, but also something else, like deep in your lower abdomen, this all-consuming fear and terror, like the air is stuck in your throat and you can't catch your breath." She muttered quickly, shaking her head, refusing to let the tears flow, her lips tightening.

"I don't know how he can think it's nothing. To live with the fact that I asked him to stop and he didn't." She shrugged her shoulders, Helaena got up and sat beside her, embracing her, letting her lie on her thighs.

She burst into tears when she started to stroke her head, when she told her that it wasn't her fault and that no one blamed her, that just because she hadn't pushed him away at first didn't mean he had the right to do what he did, that he had done it deliberately and premeditatedly, that no meant no.

She shuddered and lifted her gaze when she heard movement near her room, as if someone had moved out of place, and then the quiet sound of a door opening and closing.

Was he listening to what she was talking about? Was he eavesdropping on them?

She pressed her lips together, lowering her head, feeling ashamed.

She said she would go to the toilet to bring herself to order, but in fact she went to his door, hearing from it the song he had shown her a few days before, 'Don't Bring Me Down' played by the Electric Light Orchestra.

She knocked loudly and heard that after a moment the music quieted, someone's footsteps on the other side.

He opened the door and looked at her in surprise, involuntarily glancing down at her bare legs and then at her face again, swallowing loudly.

"Were you eavesdropping?" She asked reproachfully.

He pressed his lips together, looking away.

"Yeah. I'm sorry." He said low with sincere regret. "I wanted to know how you were feeling. How you're coping with it."

"Can't you just ask me?" She said regretfully, looking at him with her eyebrows arched in pain, feeling the tears under her eyelids again, emotionally unhinged from what she had recounted.

He looked at her surprised, she could see that he was uncomfortable. He let out a loud breath.

"I'm not good at this. At talking. I didn't know if I should ask. Whether it was the right thing to do. I don't know what more I could say." He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, looking everywhere but at her.

"You can ask me anything you want. I trust you." She said softly, and he swallowed loudly, as if for some reason her words caused him pain, as if he wanted to say something more, as if he had something on the tip of his tongue.

She waited patiently for him to pull himself together, for him to think through what he wanted to say. He looked at her.

"I hated you all these years. I hated you because I saw you as a person who does everything for show. For show you baked me cakes to make you feel good about yourself, for show you came here and apologised to me, always loud, always first everywhere, you always had to have your opinion about everything." He said low and fast, and she felt the cold sweat on her back and the frighteningly strong pounding of her heart as she looked at him in disbelief.

"When I heard what Cregan said to his mates I thought I should warn you. To say: be careful, he's planning something more, he's talking about you to his mates as if you were an object. But I didn't. Because I didn't like you." He muttered and she saw his lower lip tremble, his healthy eye red, his breath hitched.

"If I told you, it wouldn't have happened. Do you know how I have you saved on my phone?" He asked in a trembling voice, a single tear running down his cheek.

"Foxy."

She felt tear after tear begin to run down her face, she drew in air loudly feeling tightness in her throat, she felt like someone was tearing her heart from the inside out, a strange, broken sound came from her chest.

"Please, hug me." She mumbled so pitifully that his face contorted in a grimace of pain and regret, he pulled her to him instantly and she clamped her hands on the material of his Tshirt, sobbing loudly, his arms wrapped around her tightly on each side.

"− I'm sorry −" He muttered in a low, hoarse, breaking voice. "− I'm sorry −"

She lifted her gaze to him, trying to catch her breath, and he lowered his head to look at her, their faces almost touching, their hot breaths surrounding their skin.

She felt something strange looking at him so closely, she thought he had a lovely eye colour, that he had fine cheekbones, a pleasing nose and forehead. Something changed in his gaze when he noticed that she glanced at his lips and found them surprisingly full, they looked soft, slightly parted in his accelerated breathing.

She felt his body tense up, felt his fingers clench tighter on her back. All she could hear was the loud pounding of her heart and their breaths, nothing more.

"− wanna kiss? −" She heard him whisper, as if it was a kind of casual proposal, as if he was asking her if she felt like eating something or going for a walk.

She swallowed loudly, glancing at him again, and simply nodded.

She didn't have time to take another breath and his warm, soft lips were already on hers, she felt his hand on the back of her neck which drew her close, making his job easier, he sighed as if with some kind of relief.

She had never suspected that kisses were so wet and sticky, so noisy, but she didn't want him to stop, so she stroked his scarred cheek with her hand, closing her eyes, mimicking his movements, brushing her lips against his with a loud click.

She tightened her second hand in his short, light hair, feeling the heat in her lower abdomen, feeling the pulsation between her thighs, his lips wonderfully soft, moist and firm, he brushed and sucked her fleshy skin, their breaths loud and drawn out.

"− fuck −" He growled out between one loud click of saliva and the next, panting along with her, their kisses increasingly deep, intimate, passionate and wet.

They pulled away from each other suddenly, breathing as if they had run a marathon, looking at each other in disbelief.

"− I − are you all right? −" He mumbled, his healthy eye wide open in panic.

She just nodded, feeling that she looked just like him. She moved away from him and he let her go immediately, running his hand over his mouth and chin in a gesture of disbelief.

"− I − fuck −" He muttered and they both gasped when they heard the sound of the door opening, Helaena leaned her head out, clearly worried that she hadn't been back for so long.

"− are you okay? −" She asked loudly, surprised, and she nodded, looking up at him with her heart pounding like mad, swallowing hard.

"− y-yes − I − I am coming −" She muttered and ran towards her, Helaena smiled at her and closed the door behind her.

She said she had already found Shrek online on her laptop and everything was ready to watch. She smiled and sat down on her bed next to her, trying to focus on what she was seeing, but her thoughts, as well as her heart, were with someone else, a few rooms away.

They kissed.

Good God.

An excellent start to a friendly relationship indeed.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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