#ryan gosling photo shoot
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Save me bleached-blonde Ryan Gosling, save me
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Ryan Gosling in the Photoshoot for SNL
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Tanning with a grumpy Bucky :,)
just a little somethin (it’s nothing good i just was tanning myself and felt the need to live in a little fantasy, brain barf tbh) *insert ryan gosling photo*
warnings: none, just fluff tbh like tooth rotting fluff like so cheesy you might hurl. bucky’s dialogue is in blue! also both reader and bucky being assholes to eachother is just lovey lol.
“This sucks.”
“Bucky you’re the one who wanted to tan remember?”
“Yeah but then I remembered its super hot out…. i’m sweating…. i feel gross…. i should’ve just gotten a fake tan” he says, emphasizing that he’s sweating and bothered.
“cmon beefcake, remember what happened when you did get that fake tan?”
“oh god don’t remind me of the thong sweetheart i’ll get flashbacks.”
“HA I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THAT I WAS…” you remembered the people around you and corrected yourself by lowering your voice. “you never sent me a photo in it, i would’ve had that framed and mounted.”you giggled and he rolled his eyes. “I CALL YOU NALGON FOR A REASON!” You then noticed the eyes from others around you again.
Bucky always told you not to care but you hated when people judged. Truthfully you could care less about the judgment toward you but when it came to him you became the most protective person ever, and for good reason! He was amazing with you.
“Erm, honey?”
“Yeah Buck?”
“I think you forgot to get my thighs, yknow how bad it is when they’re burnt” he smiles, using that annoying ass charm he has to try and convince you.
“nice try dude but i specifically applied the high spf lotion the first run through, you’re not due for a “”re-rub”” until the clock hits 12:40 and it’s?” you pause and check your phone, “12:38- oh damn it” your hands go to your face.
“yeah you were starting to get all nerd on me that you forgot about the time, you forget my timing is always right baby.”
“don’t even start it old man, you wanna walk down that road i’ll go the full 150 miles!” you shoot back, playfully.
“Oh yeah? and i’ll go the full 6,000 miles!”
“yeah yeah sure whatever grandpa, did you remember to take your vitamins today? oh no… i distinctly remember making you take them AND making you breakfast.”
“are you sassing me, missy?” he lowers his sunglasses and raises a brow.
oh shit. oh fuck. OH SHIT.
you look away from his eyes,
“listen, let’s say hypothetically i was joking right….”
“my ass, you’re gettin thrown in that pool next time!” he jokes.
“NO PLEASE I NEED TO TAN TOO!”
he just chuckles and intertwines your hands together and strokes your hand with his thumb, as if instinct. it’s funny because he also forgot about the re-rub after doing that.
you don’t know why but after he relaxes again with a smile on his face you remember what it took to get here with him and you almost cry. all the one on one time, respect, and understanding with how difficult you could be according to others… he just wasn’t like the rest of em so you knew from the first time you talked to him that you were both fucked, in a good way.
#bucky imagine#bucky x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes imagine#bucky fluff#bucky fic#they totally were bffs and became lovers
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I'm about halfway through La La Land. Really wanted to like it. I mean, it's a musical. I like musicals. But I didn't know much about it other than that.
Review/liveblog below the cut.
Started suspecting in the opening number that I might not like it, since the opening hinted that it would be an ode to the LA film scene. (Ooh, LA film people talking about how great LA film is--I'm not an actor, I'm not a filmmaker, hopefully this movie will have something more interesting to hook me in.)
Oh, good! It's also going to be about jazz!
Huh. Neither Emma Stone nor Ryan Gosling are very good singers. They are okay at dancing. Now, I hear that these days it's important that anybody in a musical be an actor first and the other things second. But if music and dancing are part of the storytelling, it's important that they be as strong as the acting IMO.
Okay. Now we're back to jazz. He's going to explain to her why jazz is so awesome. He takes her to a club.. Except ... Hmmm. This is uncomfortable. Why are we seeing jazz exclusively through the eyes of this white dude? We see black musicians, but they are just in the background. He plays at a club. Again, black people are furnishings. John Legend gets a line. Then he gets some more lines.
Around now this review of the first half of the movie turns into a live blog of the second half of the movie.
Yay John Legend sings. Alas it's on a stage and not part of the storytelling, but background to the storytelling. Idk I can't really watch this scene too closely because of the strobing lights.
(Aside: Where has she been getting the money to pay for the dresses, the high heels, and now the one woman show? There's a limit to how much you can put on a credit card, isn't there?)
The dialogue in this movie often feels stilted. Is this a stylistic choice?
Now they're arguing. He doesn't like the music he's been playing with John Legend, which is interesting, because it seems like he was enjoying it and she was the one who wasn't enjoying it. Is any of this real or they just like super enmeshed and codependent?
Eh I've completely divested myself emotionally from this movie. I'm going to start fast forwarding to see what happens. It's not like there's musical numbers anyway.
Photo shoot. More strobing lights.
Why do we see him perform, but we don't see her perform?
Oh look they're fighting again. Do I give a fuck? No.
I don't get it. Is it supposed to be a fun musical or A Star is Born?
We have gone half an hour without a genuine musical number.
Emma Stone is singing. This is a musical again! Too bad this song, like the others, is just so-so. (Idk maybe it was Kristin Chenoweth they would sound amazing?) I feel like this song is supposed to be the big emotional payoff for a strong storyline, but unfortunately the storyline hasn't been that strong. (I mean to be fair I have fast forwarded through like the last 20 minutes but that was because the story was already meandering and sucking.)
They break up. Unfortunately, I never bought their love story beyond the initial crush, so I don't care. (I'm not saying I don't believe that these people *could* love each other deeply. I'm saying that the story skipped over the part after the first kiss where they got to truly know each other and fall in love, so I'm not convinced of it.)
What the fuck? in the alternative "what if their lives have been perfect" montage, Ryan Gosling just waves off Keith like he's some kind of subordinate? Like, arguably one of the most talented musicians we have seen in this whole movie? Gross.
Then in the part that is an explicit visual ode to the golden age of movie musicals, when they are on that colorful soundstage resembling a cartoonish LA, I actually lose track of where Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling are mixed in with all the other dancers. That should not be possible if the correct cinematographic choices were made.
Also I think it should be illegal to market movies as romances when the characters don't end up together in the end.
So yeah I guess this movie got all the accolades because the people who give the accolades and awards see themselves in this story.
But seriously what the fuck now that I've seen this movie I feel like I've been lied to for the past six years.
#la la land#live blog#wow watches movies#racism#liveblog#spoiler alert I didn't like this movie so if you don't want to see someone not liking this movie don't read this post#white supremacy#in the sense of elevating white people's opinions of the relative worth of various forms of African-American artistic expression
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if you’re hearing VOGUE by MADONNA playing, you have to know NATHAN YOUNG (HE/HIM; CIS MAN) is near by! the FORTY-ONE year old PHOTOGRAPHER has been in denver for, like, NINE YEARS. they’re known to be quite COCKY, but being FREETHINKING seems to balance that out. or maybe it’s the fact that they resemble RYAN GOSLING. personally, i’d love to know more about them seeing as how they’ve got those DESK FULL OF EMPTY COFFEE CUPS, A CONSTANTLY BUZZING CELLPHONE, A PLAYFUL SMILE AND A WINK vibes. and maybe i’ll get my chance if i hang out around the RIVER NORTH ART DISTRICT long enough!
tw: adultery
ABOUT.
Name: Nathan Young
Nicknames: Nate
Age: Forty-one
Date of Birth: 5th November 1981
Birthplace: Manhattan, New York, USA
Current Location: Denver, Colorado, USA
Occupation: Photographer
Romantic/sexual orientation: Biromantic/bisexual
Nathan was born in Greenwich Village to Enid and Marc . They were big in the community, always doing charity work and volunteering. His father even ran for major at one point. He was expected to get involved, too, but he really wasn’t interested.
All he wanted was to take photos, so at 16 he got a part time job at Starbucks and bought all the equipment his parents refused to. The rest was history as they say.
Eventually drifted away from his parents, the relationship with his younger sisters also suffering as a result.
In his senior year he came out as bisexual and dated a guy from the hockey team for a little over six months, up until college pulled them apart anyway.
The New York Film Academy was his chosen college. He briefly dabbled in movies, but in the end decided to stick with photography, landing an internship at a major fashion magazine shadowing one of the photographers as soon as he graduated.
He worked his way up the ladder, starting with fetching coffee, basically doing everybody else's shit. It took a couple of years, but in the end he got where he wanted, finding himself being headhunted for Vogue, GQ and Vanity Fair.
At 24 he met his soon to be wife on a shoot, she was pretty new, majorly awkward and he fell for her in a big way.
It was proper whirlwind romance, in the space of a year and a half they were married and had a child. Within a couple more years their family of three became four... and then there was the dogs, too. Three of them in total. Fluffy Pomeranian's his wife was obsessed with. They set up home in the Upper East Side and could haven’t have been happier.
Up until Nathan cheated on her anyway.
Flirty in nature he was always chatting people up, just a way to get people to ‘fall in love with him’ for the benefit of the camera, but six years after he first got married, things went a little too far.
He confessed straight away and within a year they were divorced, his wife granted full custody of the children.
Deciding on a fresh start, he up and moved to Denver, setting up his own studio in the city a year later.
His daughters are Lyndsey ( 16 ) and Jessica ( 14 ), who he sees during the holidays for the most part now, the pair coming to stay in Denver with him ever since.
He’s still a flirt, something that will never change, but he’s failing pretty dramatically at getting back on the dating scene. His job is his life now, though, and a lot of his time is dedicated to that and spending time in his studio.
TIMELINE.
1984: Manhattan, New York
2005: Manhattan/Los Angeles
2014: Denver, CO
HEADCANONS.
Despite his protests in the debate over whether to get a dog or not with his ex-wife, he’s found he’s actually quite fond of them now. After spending six years having miniature breeds yapping at his heels, he chose to adopt a Doberman within a couple of months of moving to Denver.
Nathan is a keen reader and considers himself a bookworm. It’s a little known fact about him, but he adores the classics, and his favourite book is War and Peace. One day he hopes to write something himself, although knows it will probably only end up being a photography book or a pictorial of his years taking photos.
WANTED CONNECTIONS.
- two younger sisters; their relationship was strained when they were younger, but I imagine it’s something that’s improved over the years.
- ex-wife; they were together around 7 & a half years. a proper whirlwind romance that ended in disaster.
- ‘the fling’; the person he cheated on his wife with. it would have been in la in 2013 with someone who works/worked in the arts industry. ( I’ve always head-canoned that they were male, but it’s not set in stone. )
- exes pre-2008; anyone he dated in nyc (possibly la for v.short term things too) before meeting his wife at 24.
- failed dates since arriving in denver; he’s been on numerous & they’ve mostly been a disaster.
- one night stands; before & after the wife.
- people he’s photographed; either for a magazine in the past or since setting up his studio in the city.
- jogging buddies; he jogs every day, so I imagine there’s a couple of people he chooses to go with.
- good friends; those he’s close to and spends most of his time with.
- confidant/closest friend; someone he can talk to about anything and always come to when there’s a problem.
- fellow book nerds; he’s big on reading, so just people he can enthuse about literature with.
- bar buddies; those he frequents the bars with.
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Whoever directed the Ryan Gosling GQ photo shoot I owe you my life
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Some more articles where Scott is promoted, today. Again Chris is mentioned in both the articles.
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⸻ RYAN GOSLING. HE/HIM / have you ever heard of VOGUE by madonna, well, it describes NATHAN ‘NATE’ YOUNG to a tee! the forty year-old, and PHOTOGRAPHER was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say HE is more cocky or more FREETHINKING instead? anyway, they remind me of a desk filled with empty coffee cups, sunglasses hooked on his shirt front, a constantly buzzing mobile phone, a playful smile and a wink, maybe you’ll bump into them soon!
time in notting hill ; 8 years.
tw: adultery
ABOUT.
Name: Nathan Young
Nicknames: Nate
Age: Forty
Date of Birth: 5th November 1982
Birthplace: Manhattan, New York, USA
Current Location: Notting Hill, London, UK
Occupation: Photographer
Romantic/sexual orientation: Biromantic/bisexual
Nathan was born in Greenwich Village to Enid and Marc . They were big in the community, always doing charity work and volunteering. His father even ran for major at one point. He was expected to get involved, too, but he really wasn’t interested.
All he wanted was to take photos, so at 16 he got a part time job at Starbucks and bought all the equipment his parents refused to. The rest was history as they say.
Eventually drifted away from his parents, the relationship with his younger sisters also suffering as a result.
In his senior year he came out as bisexual and dated a guy from the hockey team for a little over six months, up until college pulled them apart anyway.
The New York Film Academy was his chosen college. He briefly dabbled in movies, but in the end decided to stick with photography, landing an internship at a major fashion magazine shadowing one of the photographers as soon as he graduated.
He worked his way up the ladder, starting with fetching coffee, basically doing everybody else's shit. It took a couple of years, but in the end he got where he wanted, finding himself being headhunted for Vogue, GQ and Vanity Fair.
At 24 he met his soon to be wife on a shoot, she was pretty new, majorly awkward and he fell for her in a big way.
It was proper whirlwind romance, in the space of a year and a half they were married and had a child. Within a couple more years their family of three became four... and then there was the dogs, too. Three of them in total. Fluffy Pomeranian's his wife was obsessed with. They set up home in the Upper East Side and could haven’t have been happier.
Up until Nathan cheated on her anyway.
Flirty in nature he was always chatting people up, just a way to get people to ‘fall in love with him’ for the benefit of the camera, but six years after he first got married, things went a little too far.
He confessed straight away and within a year they were divorced, his wife granted full custody of the children.
Deciding on a fresh start, he up and moved to London, setting up his own studio in the city a year later.
His daughters are Lyndsey ( 16 ) and Jessica ( 14 ), who he sees during the holidays now, the pair coming to stay in London with him ever since.
He’s still a flirt, something that will never change, but he’s failing pretty dramatically at getting back on the dating scene. His job is his life now, though, and a lot of his time is dedicated to that and spending time in his studio.
TIMELINE.
1984: Manhattan, New York
2005: Manhattan/Los Angeles
2015: Notting Hill, London
HEADCANONS.
Despite his protests in the debate over whether to get a dog or not with his ex-wife, he’s found he’s actually quite fond of them now. After spending six years having miniature breeds yapping at his heels, he chose to adopt a Doberman within a couple of months of moving to London.
Nathan is a keen reader and considers himself a bookworm. It’s a little known fact about him, but he adores the classics, and his favourite book is War and Peace. One day he hopes to write something himself, although knows it will probably only end up being a photography book or a pictorial of his years taking photos.
WANTED CONNECTIONS.
- two younger sisters; their relationship was strained when they were younger, but I imagine it’s something that’s improved over the years.
- ex-wife; they were together around 7 & a half years. a proper whirlwind romance that ended in disaster.
- ‘the fling’; the person he cheated on his wife with. it would have been in la in 2013 with someone who works/worked in the arts industry. ( I’ve always head-canoned that they were male, but it’s not set in stone. )
- exes pre-2008; anyone he dated in nyc (possibly la for v.short term things too) before meeting his wife at 24.
- failed dates since arriving in london; he’s been on numerous & they’ve mostly been a disaster.
- one night stands; before & after the wife.
- people he’s photographed; either for a magazine in the past or since setting up his studio in the city.
- jogging buddies; he jogs every day, so I imagine there’s a couple of people he chooses to go with.
- good friends; those he’s close to and spends most of his time with.
- confidant/closest friend; someone he can talk to about anything and always come to when there’s a problem.
- fellow book nerds; he’s big on reading, war and peace is actually his favourite. just people he can enthuse about literature with.
- bar buddies; those he frequents the bars with.
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We have long lived in the age of paparazzi, yet the public in general is ignorant about the reality of how these images are created. Many people believe that freewheeling photographers happen to stumble across reality TV stars working out in full makeup, or musicians walking very slowly to their cars outside five-star hotels, or soap actors frolicking in the surf in Dubai. What the public does not see: the paparazzi who go on holiday with celebrities; the agents who have paparazzi on speed dial; the paparazzi who give a cut of their income to the people they photograph.
But recent months have seen the paparazzi thrust, blinking and unwilling, into the spotlight. In the recently concluded “Wagatha Christie” libel case, text messages were submitted to the court in which Rebekah Vardy and her former agent Caroline Watt discussed tipping off the photo agency Splash News about the arrest of the footballer Danny Drinkwater, as well as arranging for a paparazzo to photograph – without their consent – a group of footballers’ partners leaving a restaurant during the 2018 World Cup. (Splash News and Backgrid are the leading photo agencies in the industry, responsible for most of the images sold into newspapers and magazines.)
Meanwhile, the public mania for paparazzi shots continues to grow. In January, the pop star and beauty entrepreneur Rihanna announced her pregnancy with a set of staged photographs showing her walking with her boyfriend, the rapper A$AP Rocky, in Harlem, New York City. In March, the internet went into a paroxysm of nostalgia when Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck recreated a scene from Lopez’s 2002’s music video Jenny from the Block for the benefit of a conveniently positioned photographer with a long-lens camera. In June, Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling were snapped looking like a nightmare in neon while filming the much-awaited Barbie film on Venice Beach, Los Angeles.
“I think a lot of people are quite dumb to how it works,” says the Manchester-based paparazzo Aaron Parfitt. “People think we are scumbags hanging out of trees. But these celebrities are ringing us.” He estimates that 80% of his shots are set up in advance. “I’ve been on holiday with celebrities,” says Parfitt, 22. “Most of them are reality stars. We go to Spain, shoot six bikini sets and stick them out throughout the month.”
A culture of omertà prevails. “No one wants to talk about it,” says Malin Andersson, a 29-year-old influencer and mental health podcaster from Bedfordshire. “But I have done it. I openly admit to that.” After leaving Love Island in 2016, she routinely posed for arranged shots. “It was so fucking weird,” she says. “I’d pretend to be on my phone. I felt so awkward doing it. But then it became a norm.”
Fellow Love Island alumna Rachel Finni, 30, remembers the moment she was inculcated into this secret practice. She was having dinner with a minor celebrity, having just left the show. “He said: ‘I am going to text the pap guy.’” Finni was confused. “He said: ‘Honey, paps only come if you call them!” Over the next few months, she routinely let paparazzi know her plans. “Seeing yourself in the papers and magazines every other day is the most incredible feeling,” she says.
Finni and Andersson are not alone. “When you come off Love Island, you have a year to cash in until the next season,” says Jesal Parshotam, 32, a paparazzo who works in London and LA. “The people who make it are the ones who are regularly appearing on MailOnline. Love Islandpeople go out to be photographed. They have their guy.”
It is not only lower-tier stars who contact paparazzi routinely. “Kim Kardashian has a unique relationship with the paparazzi,” says Emily Rose, whose pop culture podcast It’s Become a Whole Thing dissects the relationship between celebrities and paparazzi. Kardashian has admitted to seeking out paparazzi when she was up-and-coming; she is understood to work with favoured photographers.
Rihanna has a close relationship with the paparazzo Miles Digg, who shot her pregnancy reveal photos. “He is trusted,” says Parshotam. “She’s worked with him for over 10 years. If we’re in a crowd of 10 photographers, I’ve seen her stop and hug him.”
Whether A-lister or otherwise, the reason that celebrities notify paparazzi of their whereabouts is the same. “It’s an exposure game,” says Chad Teixeira, the chairman of the celebrity PR firm Daddy the Agency. “It’s about keeping relevant.” Teixeira often contacts paparazzi on behalf of his clients. “What everyone has to remember is that everyone is just doing their job,” says Teixeira. “Celebrities need paps to promote their profiles. Papers need celebrities to earn an income. One can’t exist without the other.”
For lower-tier celebrities, being papped regularly helps them to increase their social media following and secure brand work. Higher-tier celebrities are papped while on promotional tours for their latest project. “A common trope is famous people who are usually fairly reclusive suddenly being photographed every day canoodling with their new love, who happens to be a co-star in their movie,” says Rose. Other times, paparazzi are used to rehabilitate a celebrity’s public image after a controversy. “I know one high-profile footballer who’d had an affair,” says Parshotam. “He organised pictures of him holding hands with his family, to take the heat off the story.”
If the public has a basic understanding of paparazzi, it goes something like this: paparazzi are the cruel men, usually bald, who hounded Britney Spears to a breakdown. “I was definitely a part of that,” says 53-year-old Giles Harrison, an industry veteran who lives in LA. “That was one of the darker times in the industry.” As such, paparazzi are commonly despised. “We’re hated more than traffic wardens,” says Jaimie Harris, 31, a paparazzo turned picture editor from Essex. “People used to shout at me: ‘You killed Princess Diana!’” In her decade-long career, Harris saw much reprehensible behaviour. “High-speed chases,” she says. “All of us would go through red lights.”
The period 2004 to 2016 was a “golden era”, Harrison says. “That’s when we were making more money than we knew what to do with.” His company generated about $1.5m annually in picture sales. In the UK, the Leveson inquiry heard evidence in 2011 from witnesses including Sienna Miller, who said she was spat at and verbally abused by photographers, and JK Rowling, who said that paparazzi targeted her daughter’s primary school. But most paparazzi insist that the bad old days of Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Charlotte Church et al being taunted and harassed are in the past. “When people think of paparazzi, they think of that Britney Spears gold rush era,” says Parshotam. “But that photography was disgusting and doesn’t exist any more. We are all against it.”
With the advent of social media, margins have been squeezed. Newspapers and magazines are less willing to pay for photographs when they can lift them from Instagram for free. Celebrities unhappy about being papped can upload an image of themselves on to social media, killing the value of a paparazzi photograph. While photo sets of rarely spotted A-listers still sell for tens of thousands of pounds, mostly paparazzi make no more than a few hundred pounds at a time. “I know so many people who are giving it up or struggling,” says Harris.
Because there is less money at stake, paparazzi have calmed down. “It’s not the feeding frenzy it once was,” says Harrison. “When people can get tens of thousands of dollars for a shot, it can make people bloodthirsty.” That is not to say that intrusive behaviour does not take place. While Parshotam says he wouldn’t take someone’s photo if they asked him not to, Parfitt and Harris have done so. “I think if you’re following someone, doing covert pictures out and about, that’s fair game, even if they don’t know you are there,” says Harris. “That’s what paps are there to do. We’re there to take pictures.”
Many A-listers have reached an accommodation with the people who take their images. “Celebrities understand the benefits of it now,” says Parshotam. Harrison agrees. “It’s a lot less adversarial. As much as people overtly seem to dislike the paparazzi and the product, behind the scenes, people like it and embrace it.” This is not to say that all A-listers call the paparazzi on themselves. As a rule of thumb, the more famous someone is, the less likely they are to do this, although there are high-profile exceptions.
But when celebrities are spotted in public, most don’t mind having their photos taken, says Parshotam. “The other day, I photographed [the American model] Hailey Bieber,” says Parshotam. “I asked if it was OK to take some pictures and she said: ‘Give me a minute.’ When she was ready, I took them. I made sure there were none of her looking bad, none with her eyes closed.”
The A-listers who aren’t OK with paparazzi? Adele. Prince Harry. David Beckham. Woman-of-the-moment Coleen Rooney varies, says Parfitt. “If you get her on a good day, she doesn’t mind,” he says. “On a bad day, she tells you to fuck off.” Those who want to avoid being papped know to avoid notorious celebrity hangouts such as Carbone in New York or Chiltern Firehouse in London. “The people who want to be seen will be seen,” says Harris.
By contrast, celebrities desperate to stay newsworthy may resort to degrading antics. In 2016, Parfitt photographed a former Big Brother contestant posing naked on Blackpool beach. “She messaged me on Twitter and said: ‘I have an idea. What if I go skinnydipping on Blackpool Beach?’” he says. “I picked her up and she went on the beach and started stripping off and rolling around in the sand.” The images went viral. “She loved them. It got her back in the press, put it that way.”
But other celebrities grow tired of the hamster wheel. “You’d be going to events just to get papped,” says Andersson. “That’s how sad it was. And so was everyone else. The next day, you’d look at the Mail to see if you were on there and you’d feel inadequate if you weren’t.” When flashes start to illuminate other, fresher talents, the sense of loss can be crushing. “Seeing myself in the Mail gave me validation, but it was empty validation. Because the article would drop down in five minutes and you’d want the next one. It becomes a bit of an addiction and you start chasing it more.”
The issue with inviting paparazzi to photograph your life, says Finni, is that you start to think of everyaspect of your life, even your darkest moments, as monetisable moments. “You see people who have gone through traumatic events who are in the Mail the next day,” she says. “You think: you’re going through something so disturbing, but you called someone to come to take a picture of you?Where do you lose the sense of value of your own privacy? What message are you giving out to people who follow in your footsteps, in terms of stepping into the spotlight?” Andersson and Finni no longer arrange paparazzi shots. “It doesn’t do anything for me, but to remind people I exist,” says Finni. “And how does it benefit me to remind people I exist? It’s so empty.”
Everyone in this ecosystem is required to perform a complicated charade. Celebrities pretend they haven’t contacted paparazzi; photographers accept the public’s dislike as a necessary price for doing their job. “I’ve had people walking past going: ‘Leave them alone!’” says Parfitt. “And I’m thinking: they rang me to shoot these pictures. But celebrities can’t be seen to be working with paps. So they have to say: ‘It’s fine – I’m used to it.’” They partake in this unholy dance because it is considered unforgivably gauche to seek fame, rather than to stumble upon it en route to another destination. “We hold our hands up and say: ‘It’s set up,’” says Harris. “It’s the celebrities themselves who are embarrassed about it.”
The public partakes in this collective denial, too. As much as we heckle paparazzi in the street and pontificate about the invasion of privacy, we consume these images voraciously. Indeed, the market wouldn’t exist without customers. Harris says: “People moan: ‘Leave them alone!’ but they’re the ones looking at the pictures.”
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So, I just found out about the Barbie movie with Margot Robbie being a real thing. A bit of a surprise on my end. When I first saw the promo pics with Ryan gosling, I just thought Ryan gosling was doing a funny photo shoot for a clothing line dressed up as Ken. But nope. It’s a real live-action Barbie movie. Premise even sounds fun.
#barbie movie 2023#margot robbie#it’s seriously going to be very interesting the more info about it comes out
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Pick up from Daycare
This imagine will be told from the POV of a black woman married to Ryan Gosling. If you do not wish to read this, please skip to the next imagine. For those who stayed, thank you and enjoy.
Trigger warning: Harassment
"Just park right here."
He pulls into the parking spot. He was about to go pick up Carter from daycare. This was his first day there, and Ryan wore a face mask and glasses when he dropped him off. Now, because you had a family photo shoot after this, his face was bare.
"I'll grab him. Do you have his diaper bag?"
He turns around and grabs his bag from behind your chair.
"Right here."
"Okay, I'll be right back."
"I'll be here, missing my princess."
"So sappy, but I love it."
You climb out the car and shut the door. You quickly walk to the front door. You knock on the
"Hi, I'm here to pick up Carter."
"Carter?"
"Yes, Carter y/l/n."
(You and Ryan decided to use your last name, so wherever he went, he wouldn't be defined as Ryan Gosling's son.)
"Are you sure that's the correct child?"
"Are you saying I'm not his mother?"
"You said it, not me."
"Can you please find my son?"
"I know exactly where he is, bit I'm not giving him to you."
While arguing with the teacher, you feel a tugging on your dress.
"Hi, little man."
You picked him up as he babbled and shook the toy in your face. The teacher tried to take him from you.
"Give him here!"
Carter started crying as he was being pulled two different directions by his mother and his teacher. Another lady came over and took him from you both.
"Ladies, what seems to be the problem?"
"This is my son, and she refuses to let me sign him out. She thinks that just because I'm black and he is light skinned that he isn't mine."
"She's lying. He looks nothing like her. Maybe we have another Carter in the class."
"You know what? My husband and his father are outside in the car. How about I go get him then come back?"
"Yeah, you do that."
'I'm about to slap this bitch.'
"Don't be rude. Yes, please. Let's just get this whole situation solved so everyone can have a nice afternoon."
You step outside and make your way to his car. You get in and start to cry.
"What's wrong? What happened? Why are you crying?" He questioned.
"I, they, Carter,"
"Come on."
He turned the car off and helped you out. He took your hand and walked inside the daycare.
"Hi, sorry to be blunt, but my wife just left here in tears, and I want to know why."
"Oh my god!"
"Ryan Gosling?"
"Yeah, I am he. Now why did my wife juat leave here crying?"
You point to the lady who was holding your child. You then wipe your eyes.
"She won't let me sign out, Carter. She pretty much told me that he's too light to be mine."
He walks over and takes Carter from the woman.
"Carter, my handsome man."
He then hands you, Carter.
"Go ahead to the car. I'll deal with this."
You squeeze his hand before exiting the building. You get back to the car before you hear him slightly yelling.
-
"That is my wife. She was in labor for over 48 hours with her child. For you to tell a grown woman that the child he is picking up is apparently too light to be hers is very disrespectful. You have done nothing but disregard her feelings since being here, and you. To accuse my wife, a mother, and a black woman of not having this child is something else. I want you to realize that interracial love exists. Couples aren't just white and white or black and black. You need a performance evaluation, but never mind that I am pulling my son out of this center."
"No, please, he is a wonderful little boy!"
"No, you only want him here because you want to see myself. I won't be here most days. I said, pull his file."
"You heard the man. You get the file since you disrespected his wife."
"Thank you, and by the way, my wife has a name. She isn't just Ryan Gosling's wife, she isn't Y/n."
-
You watch as Ryan walks outside with a file in his hand.
"Come on, let's go."
You sit back, with Carter in your arms.
"Ryan wait!"
He hops into the drivers seat and takes off.
"Ryan, wait, I'm still holding Carter!"
After hearing his name the second time, he looks over at you clutching your son to your chest. He finally slows down and pulls over. You get out then hook Carter in his seat. He gets out and hugs you.
"Are you okay?" You ask him as he pulls away from the hug.
"I'm pissed off. How could they do that? Just be okay with treating anyone like that?"
"I don't know, but thank you for speaking up for me."
"Anytime princess, I'm always going to defend you."
He holds you then kisses your forehead.
"I'm always going to defend and protect my family."
"Come on, we still have a photo shoot to make."
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Come on Barbie, let’s go down memory lane!
A year prior to the release of Barbie, behind the scenes images were posted of Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling on the Venice Beach Boardwalk in neon pink and yellow roller-skates and a 1980s workout gear. Underneath the photo was a description labelled, ‘Margot Robbie and Ryan Gosling shooting Barbie in Venice Beach, Los Angeles’. My first reaction was, ‘they’re actually making a live-action Barbie movie?’ My second reaction was more of an internal, innate feeling. I felt a faint smile creep up on me and a rush of warmth cover my body like an old, knitted blanket. I knew somewhere, hidden away, the six-year-old version of myself was running around our tiny apartment, squealing in a high-pitched voice and racing to her pink-infused room to pull out her favourite Barbie. (Pink-infused meaning if it wasn’t pink, it didn’t go in my room. This was a household, known fact).
When the long-anticipated movie finally came out in Australia on the 20th July 2023, I avoided social media platforms (TikTok) like the plague, eager to walk into that cinema with no expectations; no pre-conceived narrative. Just the hope that it would make six-year-old Amber smile. I told myself I was going because Greta Gerwig had directed it, and the two protagonists were actors I admired and had enjoyed most, if not all, of their previous work. I’m 24 years old now; Barbies are silly, overpriced and childish. All they represented to me was a time where life felt infinite, sparkly and pink. When you could dream about growing up to be a mermaid and it felt rational. But life didn’t feel infinite anymore, and you stopped dreaming a long time ago.
Low and behold, 10 minutes in, I was grinning like a Cheshire cat. It was ridiculous! Barbie was pouring juice out of an empty carton and drinking the empty cup of juice! She was walking on her tip toes and getting into her electric Corvette Restomod from her dream house roof! But the most ridiculous concept out of all of the above was that it made sense. It was like being transported to la la land where up was down and left was right. But I had been here before. In fact, I knew it like the back of my hand. It felt like home.
But Barbie wasn’t just a feel-good movie. It was a punch in the gut. It was the soft, outspoken, a bit naïve, hopeful, happy six-year-old version of myself meeting the anxious, insecure, male-validated, reserved 24-year-old version and thinking ‘What happened?’ This blog is dedicated to everything Barbie represents to the women in Hollywood, the women in our homes, and the women in the mirror. It’s a letter of apology to the little girl I let down who had big dreams and a bigger heart, and it’s my own way of finding my way back to her.
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NATHAN YOUNG our ryan gosling is looking for his EX-WIFE/MOTHER OF HIS CHILDREN, with the face of any suitable female fc, and in the age range of 37-40. if you’re interested and want more details please contact HEATHER at @oftatteredwings ( is necessary )
tw: adultery.
they met around 15 years ago at a photo shoot in central park, new york. he was working as the photographer, she was working as a make-up artist or wardrobe assistant, something like that, but it was one of her first assignments. he described her as awkward, but irresistible, at the time. they had a very cliché relationship, falling head over heels in love very quickly, on their way to a wedding within six months. the wedding plans were forced to come to an abrupt halt, however, when she fell pregnant. it went ahead eventually, just nine months later, with a baby in a lacy dress by their sides. lyndsey young was born in late 2009 and was the turning point in both of their lives.
the pair were married for 6 years, moving to the upper east side during that time, having another child (jessica, who is now 12), and taking on 3 yappy dogs. nathan wasn’t around anywhere as much as he should have been, always working and missing out on those important moments in their daughter’s lives. he didn’t doubt that she resented him for that as time went on. and when he found himself distracted by work and pretty faces, he strayed, something that came to ruin their marriage. he had to tell her almost immediately, not able to live with the guilt.
they were divorced within the year and shortly after that, nathan moved away to london to start afresh — lyndsey and jessica stayed with your character after she was granted full custody.
since then they’ve worked tirelessly to get to a good place again, something they are now very much at. the girls have been travelling back and forth to london for holidays for a couple of years. it’s up to you how long your character’s been in london now and the reason for deciding to make the move.
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Chicago Fire Season 3 Episode 9 Recap: What the Truck?
Things for personal for some of our favorite firefighters on Chicago Fire Season 3 Episode 9. And not necessarily in a good way. If you are looking forward to translate this content, contact Translation Agencies UK
Called to the scene of a semi-truck accident, the tension between Dawson and Casey reached a boiling point after the former disobeyed an order by the latter.
This was the first time the couple has had trouble transitioning from their home life to the office life, as the lines have now started to blur. Was Dawson right? Did she save the day ? Yes.
But Casey can’t make it look as if he’s giving her special treatment. And she must show him the respect he deserves as her boss.
At least Dawson wanted to talk about the issue, however. She gets points for that move… and Casey gets the same points deducted for becoming so closed off.
Elsewhere, watch Chicago Fire online and see how the series teased us with the possibility of Mills and Dawson rekindling their romance. Or just their friendship? For Casey fans, let’s hope it’s the latter.
On the flip relationship side, Severide and Brittany shared many tender moments this week. The former isn’t like Casey. He can easily open up and discuss his feelings. With Brittany by his side, Severide finally visited the Academy headquarters and saw Shay’s bridge.
Perhaps he can now start to heal and move on?
Severide’s honesty prompted Brittany to share her own story, as she finally revealed she was behind the wheel during the car crash that killed her sister. Not exactly a shock, but still a nice scene between the couple.
Finally, Mills has things to worry about that don’t include romance of any kind. He recognized he’s being tailed by Mr. Lullo toward the end of the hour and finally grew as frightened as he ought to be about this situation.
Eva Mendes on First-Time Motherhood: It’s Exhausting!
For the first time since becoming a first-time mother, Eva Mendes is speaking out in depth about the experience.
The actress, who gave birth to a daughter named Esmeralda in mid-September, recently sat down with online publication The Violet Files and didn’t bring up the topic of her famous baby daddy, Ryan Gosling.
But Mendes did speak on the overall struggles of caring for a tiny person’s life at all times.
“I’m completely exhausted,” the star said, joking: “I thought my wild nights were over but these are some of the wildest nights I’ve ever had.”
Mendes said she is yet to hire a nanny because she believes “part of being a mother” is going through the “struggle of not being able to sleep and not knowing what I’m doing and really going through it with her and battling out those nights.”
Fans, meanwhile, have been wondering for awhile about the origin of Esmeralda. How did Mendes and Gosling arrive at that name?
“We both love the Esmeralda character from the Victor Hugo novel The Hunchback of Notre Dame and just think it’s a beautiful name,” explained. “Her middle is Amada, which was my grandmother’s name. It means ‘beloved’ in Spanish.”
That’s beautiful.
Aside from now acting as a parent, Mendes said she has starting to think like one.
“I consider how my own actions now will seem to her later on,” she said. “For instance, with the Violet Grey photo shoot, I thought, ‘Is this something that she’s going to be proud of?’ The idea that I would ever embarrass her is really heartbreaking for me.”
Why do we doubt that Kim Kardashian ever thought in such a way?
Did you like Internet Reacts in Horror to #GoslingBaby? If so, please share:Get more content like this delivered to your inbox for FREE:
As you can tell, Mendes is having a somewhat difficult time adjusting to her new, vital role.
But she knows it’s nothing compared to what her child is going through.
“I’ve learned that it’s way harder to be a baby,” she quipped. “Everything is a struggle for her. For instance, I haven’t thrown up since the ‘90s and she’s thrown up twice since we started this interview. Motherhood is cake compared to what it’s like to be a baby.”
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Damn these premiere photos of the Gray Man cast look so awkward together, I wonder if that got to do with the rumor that Chris Evans and Ryan Gosling hate each other like these two apparently didn't shoot the poster together but instead they shot in different places and got their heads photoshopped together.
Oh is that the tea? I hadn't heard of this but I'm here for some petty celeb beef.
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almost. (m) jjk.
not yet, almost, right now
pairing. jungkook x reader
genre. fluff, baby angst, smut
word count. 6.4k
warnings. two idiots!!, pining, masturbation (m. and f.), use of vibrator, accidental voyeurism?, more feelings come to light!!
summary. jungkook tries to be the best wingman he could be in your new venture after your breakup. he could do it, right?
note. part two of not yet, some more feelings are exposed, please don’t hate oc she is but a pendeja that doesn’t see the obvious feelings jungkook has but she has good intentions i promise<3 there will most likely be a final part,,if you guys are into it lmao okie bye
The cool summer breeze flows around you as you’re sitting under the shade, eyes focused on the chaos of runny yolk and hashbrowns that is your breakfast. Jungkook on the other hand, is focused on you. His signature yellow shades block out the sun reflecting from passing cars, concealing his eyes just enough for you to not see him blatantly staring at you while you stuff your face.
The charmed smile he has falters slightly when you look directly at him, hashbrown lingering by your lip as you repeat his name. “Sorry, what?”
Your brows come together as you smile at his zoned out state, something you had grown fond of in the years of knowing him, always enjoying the small dazed look that graced his face whenever he was lost in his thoughts. His lips push out slightly in question, curious eyes wondering just what you could have been asking him.
“I was saying that I think I’m giving up on crushes and love.” You say it so easily, mind made up as you grin at him before continuing to shovel hashbrowns into your mouth, only pausing to take a sip of your iced coffee.
Jungkook tries his best to seem unaffected, nodding along in interest as he takes a steady bite of his own food. “Really?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, taking a look around at the people surrounding you: friends having breakfast together and snapping photos, couples feeding each other food with smiles on their faces, a lone man with his dog perched on the seat across from his while he worked on his computer. You briefly wonder if all of them, even the dog, have better luck with love than you do.
“I think I’m cursed,” you continue. “All of my exes have been assholes, and I’ve always been too blind to see it until it’s over and I’m left crying over Ryan Gosling and Rachel McAdams.”
“Maybe you’re just looking for love in the wrong places,” Jungkook shrugs, internally screaming because he’s who you should be looking at if you wanted love.
Not to toot his own horn, but Jungkook liked to think he was a good guy, a great boyfriend even. His previous track record of relationships could attest to that, all of them ending on mutual terms, still friendly and civil with each other. He’s almost certain if there was a Yelp page for him it would be at least 4.5 stars with comments raving about how great he is, even little anecdotal touches about how he always gave away his hoodies or offered to cook breakfast.
He was a god damn catch, why couldn’t you see that?
“Maybe prince charming is a lot closer than you think,” he grumbles out, stabbing his omelette with a little more force than necessary, fork clanking against the plate. And when you gasp in realization he freezes, slowly looking back up at you and seeing the way your eyes widen.
“Wait, maybe you’re right!” Your hand shoots across the table, gripping onto his forearm and it sends a shock throughout him, skin tingling at your touch. “You know that coffee shop below our building? That cute barista always puts a heart next to my name. Do you think I should ask for his number?”
Jungkook blinks once, slowly twirls his fork in his hand and blinks again before staring up at the sky, mentally asking why he couldn’t just go out and say it. “Hm, I don’t think you should.“
With a defeated sigh you retract your hand, slumping back into your seat and grabbing your iced coffee once more, stirring the straw and ice around as you nod. “True. What if he feels obligated to give it to me just because he doesn’t want to get fired in case I go all Karen on his ass.”
That wasn’t why Jungkook had said not to, but sure, that works too, so he hums along.
“I bet he draws hearts on all the other girls cups too.” You huff, playfully wiping a tear under your eye with a smile.
“I’ve actually—“
“You know what I—“
You both freeze mid sentence, Jungkook’s cheeks tinted a light pink as he stutters on his words, wide eyes staring at you as if he had caught himself before you cut him off. But as you’re about to tell him to go on, he waves you off and urges you to speak first.
“I was just gonna say that maybe I should go through that wild phase people usually go through after breakups.”
He sets his silverware down on the plate and sips his water, giving you an odd look. “Wild phase? Like you wanna dye your hair red and get bangs?”
“No,” you cackle, ruffling a hand through your own hair as you picture yourself with that combination. “I should just go out and hook up with people. I feel like I’ve either been in a relationship or entirely single, so it could be fun right?”
“Uh, maybe...” he trails off, rolling his lips together in thought, not exactly fond of hearing you say that when he had felt the confession about to roll off his tongue. He takes a slow breath, trying to see this from a neutral point, the point of a supportive friend wanting to help you get over a breakup.
“How do you go about it?”
“Me?” he chokes, pointing at his chest as if there was magically some other person you could be addressing.
“Yes, you. Need I remind you, we share a wall between our beds.” You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face shows that you’re speaking of this lightly, not entirely annoyed by the fact that you had heard Jungkook during his own fair share of hook ups.
He’s not ashamed of it, but considering he never really brought up being able to hear you, he thought you’d pretend to never hear him. It wasn’t too often that he had a girl over, the number of hookups only increasing after you got with Hajoon and loosely cut ties with Jungkook. But from what you had heard—and seen thanks to your nosey self looking through peep holes once they left—it was very rarely the same girl.
So to you, Jungkook was a pro at the art of hookups.
“Right, sorry,” he grimaces, a sheepish smile on his lips as he wonders just how many times his activities kept you up at night.
“It’s fine, consider us even.” A teasing laugh follows your statement, enjoying the flustered look on his face, how his cheeks get even darker in embarrassment. Jungkook was used to the two of you talking like this, neither of you having a filter especially when it came to sexual aspects, but he hadn’t had a conversation like this since before you got with Hajoon. It would take some getting used to again.
“So, give me the tips. Where do you find people?”
Jungkook leans back into his chair, arms stretching out on either side of him, short sleeves of his black tee bunching up and revealing more of his tattoos and the rippling of his muscles. With a small laugh he rakes his hand through his fluffy hair, giving you a small smile. “Honestly? Anywhere. I’ve gotten girl’s numbers at the gym and at coffee shops, but bars are the best bet for something quick.”
“Ugh, fuck you and your pretty privilege.”
“What?” he guffaws, smiling wide and showing you his adorable smile as he laughs loudly, not caring about the attention he draws to your table. He doesn’t even realize how the table full of girls is now trying to discreetly stare at him, because his eyes are on you. You see it though, and it further proves your point. “What the hell is pretty privilege?”
Your wild hands gesture towards him, a look of disbelief on your face as you do so. “You! Of course girls line up to hand you their number, have you seen yourself? Pretty privilege,” you jab your fork at him in time with your final words, a smirk on your glossy lips.
Jungkook feels his confidence grow at your casual compliment, tongue prodding at his cheek as he stares down at his food, trying not to smile too hard. You thought he was pretty, that was a win in his book.
“C’mon,” he teases, foot gently nudging your leg underneath the table. “You could totally score someone's number. Plus there's always apps if you just wanna test the water.”
You give your plate a contemplated stare, “Sure, how hard could it be?”
Admittedly, the answer to that question was: not hard at all. You had met all your previous boyfriends in person, through mutual friends or shared classes back in college, never once dipping your toe into the world of Tinder or Bumble. Who knew all it would take was a couple of selfies and the strategic body shot to have boys circling around you like some new-age, slightly filthier version of rapunzel.
Jungkook knew though, not at all shocked by how quickly you get a match the following day when he’s at your place. His eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, helping you beat a level in your favorite game that you had been stuck on. But the second you gasp as if you’ve won the lottery, he pauses the game entirely and gives you an odd look.
“What?”
His answer comes in the form of your phone thrusted in his direction, lit up screen displaying your profile picture and the one of the boy you had just matched with. Jung Hoseok. Jungkook’s eyes narrow as he reads the name, trying to remember it in case he somehow had a friend in common that knew all the dirt on him.
He has a similar pair of yellow shades on his own head, thicker black rims around them and a charming smile on his face. Jungkook chuckles to himself. Yellow shades? How original.
“What do I say?” you question, eyes looking nervous as you wiggle the phone in his face. The small white bar beneath your match urges you to start a conversation, and coming up with the right words to say makes you overthink it all.
“Just say hi and tack on some cute emoji. It’s not that hard,” he laughs, pushing the phone back at you. Jungkook knew you could start the message off any way you wanted and this Jung Hoseok would eat it right up. How could he not, the alluring smile in your profile photo would draw anyone in.
“Okay, I did it.” Your phone is instantly locked and chucked aside in an attempt to be forgotten, choosing to grab the remote out of Jungkook’s hands for another distraction. It only lasts a brief second before you’re killed by the boss Jungkook was trying to defeat.
“Really?” Jungkook huffs, yanking the remote back into his hands, needing a distraction himself. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that you were searching for a fuck buddy while he sat beside you. How crazy would it be if he suggested being your fuck buddy, offered to help you through this so called wild phase you were searching for.
No. That’s not what he wants.
Would he enjoy it? Sure. But he could already imagine how much worse his heart would hurt if his feelings came to light and yours were non-existent. That is if you’d even agree to it.
“Relax, he’s probably thinking of what to reply.”
You make a noise of disagreement, fingers itching to unlock your device to see if it was true, slowly inching towards it until you finally grab it and go back onto the app. Jungkook just chuckles as he goes back to helping you with your game, not wanting to look at you as you giggle at your device. He could already imagine what this guy was telling you for you to turn into a giddy mess not even two minutes in.
He tunes it all out, eyes focused on the screen, fingers gripping the remote with a little more force than needed. His concentration helps him though, finally passing the level you’ve been stuck on for the past two weeks.
“You’re welcome,” he sighs, making a show of stretching out and sending you a smile, having it falter slightly when he sees your eyes still focused on the screen of your phone. With a frown he looks back at the television, saving the game before turning it off altogether.
Once he gets up from the couch, making his way over to the media console to store the remotes, is when you look up at him. “You’re right, this is easy!”
Jungkook doesn’t feel the usual pride that comes with being right, but the cheerful look on your face prevents him from feeling salty. Coming back towards the couch, he sits beside you once more, facing you as he rests his elbow on the back cushion to lean on. “Told you so.”
He keeps that same smile on his face as you mention how quick Hoseok was to ask you out on a date, even as you bring up the fact that this date would be at his place, and Jungkook could decipher netflix and chill any way some greasy boy tried to conceal it.
“I hope he knows I don’t want anything serious,” you mumble, chewing on your fingernail as you scroll through the messages.
Jungkook could almost laugh at how blissfully unaware you were of the piranha infested water that was the great sea of Tinder. Of course this yellow sunglass wearing wannabe version of him knows you don’t want anything serious, why else would he be so quick to invite you over with the cheeky excuse to watch movies.
All he can do is shrug as he stares at you, lips pressed together in an effort to not say something that would totally ruin everything. Instead, Jungkook does everything he can to be the best version of a wingman you could get. He tells you the ins and outs of hookups, how you should definitely not text him the minute you leave his place and tell him you had fun, don’t talk about anything super personal involving family or your work, and if he doesn’t offer to go down on you but expects a blowjob he’s a loser.
It’s solid advice that you mentally jot down, subjecting him to further questions your mind comes up with and even asking him for help on an outfit via text the night of your hangout with Jung Hoseok.
Jungkook stares at the photos for a little too long if he’s being honest. They weren’t spectacular selfies that you had taken much effort for, their sole purpose being showing off the outfit, but the way you look so focused as you snapped the shot had him zooming into your face and smiling like an idiot. When you double text him with a long line of question marks he snaps out of it, deciding on the second option you picked of mom jeans and a cropped shirt. Cute and casual, and definitely something Jungkook preferred, but he’d never tell you that.
When you finally text him a thumbs up and tell him you’re on your way out he just hearts the message before locking his device and trudging to the living room. It’s not often that he wallows in self pity, spacing those days out so far he barely remembers them. But they usually went exactly like this, ordering a large meat lovers pizza with extra cheese, drinking far too many Mike’s hard lemonade—because despite how much they made his stomach hurt they were tasty so he didn’t care—and binge watching his comfort show: Modern Family.
But even as he sulks on his couch, practically sinking into the cushions with horrible posture and a slice of pizza resting on his chest, he can’t find it in himself to chuckle at Cam and Mitch’s usual banter. He’s too busy thinking about which movie you’re currently watching, if you were watching it. Who’s Jungkook kidding though, you were totally getting your guts rearranged right now.
Taking an aggressive bite out of the crust he frowns and raises the volume up on his television, attempting to drown the mocking voice in his head calling him a loser for not admitting to his feelings. He knew this, knew he should have said something when he wanted to at breakfast, but Jungkook was afraid that if he confessed as you were talking about hooking up, that you’d see him as taking advantage of a situation instead of being genuine. I mean who wouldn’t? You say you want something casual and suddenly he’s spilling his heart out and you’re supposed to believe he’s not some pig trying to butter you up. He didn’t want to get labeled as a creepy neighbor after the good times you’ve had.
“So stupid,” he grumbles to himself as he takes another swig, the last drops of the alcohol hitting his tongue with a tangy aftertaste. As he sits up to place the empty bottle onto his coffee table his muscles ache, neck stiff from the unfortunate position it had been subjected to for the last three hours. With a small huff he’s rolling his shoulders, reaching for his discarded phone to see the time—and also check if you’d sent him some SOS text—but he finds nothing besides the bright numbers indicating that it was nearing midnight.
In true pity party day fashion, he doesn’t even bother cleaning up after his mess, just tossing the dirty dishes into the sink to be washed tomorrow when he would force himself to be in a better mood. Instead, he grabs a water and his phone and waddles into his bedroom.
The moonlight illuminates the space enough for him to keep the light switch off, undressing from his crumb covered sweats and shirt, choosing to remain in his boxers as he slipped under the cold duvet. The sheets feel fresh against his hot cheeks, flush from the alcohol, cooling him down and making his body relax.
Jungkook knows he should sleep, needing to be up early tomorrow for work, but he can’t stop his mind from wandering into dangerous territory. His buzzed brain has no qualms imagining exactly what you were doing right now, wondering if you’d be the type to act shy at a guy’s house for the first time, if you’d initiate the first move or not. Jungkook had only seen it up close once under the flash of strobe lights and the haze of alcohol, but he can still picture the soft smile on your face before you go in for a kiss, and he grumbles under his breath when he realizes that he wouldn’t be the one kissing you tonight.
What he doesn’t know, is that you wouldn’t be the one getting kissed tonight either. The Jung Hoseok you had perceived through Tinder, assuming he was all casual and DTF with his netflix and chill suggestion, had been anything but. What you thought would be a steamy night, ended up becoming a nice dinner and comedy watched, morphing into some version of game night where you discovered he was a little too competitive than you were used to. The only action you got was a kiss to your cheek as he walked you to your car and a promise for another date. A promise you would not be keeping.
So as Jungkook lays in bed while his thoughts turn into some fantasy of you moaning out his name, you shuffle into your bedroom and slip into your pajamas with a defeated sigh. You had already texted your best friend telling her what a bust tonight had been, deciding to just tell Jungkook all about it tomorrow because you knew he was most likely fast asleep now. And as you settle under your own covers, inches away from Jungkook with only a wall seperating you, you decide to just call it a night and pretend it never happened.
Just as you shut your eyes, nuzzling into your pillow, you hear the first moan come from behind the wall. A small cry of despair escapes you as you bury your face into your sheets, tugging them up and over your head to block the sound of Jungkook getting some action the same night you had been left high and dry. Of course he would, assuming you’d be getting the same treatment at your date's place, why wouldn’t he take advantage of your absence and not have to muffle his partner’s moans the way he usually did.
You’re just going to ignore it, until you hear a moan that sounds strangely like your own name. Maybe it's wishful thinking on your part, your horny brain deciding to pretend that Jungkook was calling for you instead of whoever he was with. It might be a little wrong for you to have that fantasy of your neighbor, but you aren’t blind. He’s hot, and adorably sweet, the perfect package for any girl he tried to swoon. And judging by the cries you’ve heard of lucky girls prior, you know he was good in bed.
You’re just desperate now. That’s the excuse you tell yourself as you slowly settle onto your back, feeling your body warm up when you focus on his muffled groans, desperate and needy. As your hand slowly slides down your shirt, you shut your eyes, biting down onto your lip to muffle any sound you could make when your fingers slip underneath your pants and past your underwear.
Jungkook on the other hand doesn’t care about his volume. His boxers are tugged down his thighs, knees bent as he slowly ruts into his sticky palm. His hand is tacky with the lube he had messily squirted on, thick cock glistening in the light coming in from his window. He can’t look away from it, mouth dropped open as he groans, imagining it was your hand tightly wrapped around him, your spit covering his cock instead of that strawberry flavored lube.
“Ah fuck,” he moans, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back onto his soft pillows when his thumb rubs along his slit. It continues to leak beads of precum, quickly wiped away to join the mess on his cock when his hand slides back down and squeezes along his base.
You hear that loud and clear, and when the female voice you’re expecting never follows, you realize he must be taking care of himself. It makes you feel a little less guilty now as your fingers trail along your slit, collecting the slick coating your folds before you softly circle your clit. A choked gasp fills the air at the small sensation, your body already wired after having expected to get some action tonight; it totally had nothing to do with your hot neighbor jacking off inches away from you.
With your eyes fluttering shut, you strain your ears to make out any other noise, muffling your own groans with a hand pressed against your mouth. The bed creaks lightly underneath you as you roll your hips into your hand, getting into a smooth rhythm that makes your body buzz.
Slowly, your imagination runs wild, and you wonder just what Jungkook was thinking of as he did this. Was he watching some porn as he did it, using his own filthy thoughts to push himself to ecstacy, or was this just something he needed to do to be able to sleep?
“Shit, so good,” he groans out, voice raspy, but you can sense his desperation through the drywall. It’s what has you sinking a single digit into your drenched entrance, biting down onto your lower lip when you feel the glide of your walls as you start to thrust into yourself, easing in another and mewling at the slight stretch.
Jungkook would absolutely give his left leg to know what your pussy felt like, he didn’t even care how disgusting he sounded by admitting that to himself, it was true. Blame it on the hard lemonade that made his stomach ache and his mind unfiltered, but he could almost visualize how you’d look above him, could practically feel the warmth of your core wrapped around him, dripping down his length as he fucked into you.
He knows you’re loud in bed, never being one to conceal your cries of pleasure and he would die happy to hear his name come out of your mouth as you creamed his cock. But for now, his hand would have to do.
His lids feel too heavy, jaw slack as the pleasure flows through his body. The wet squelch of his palm fills the room, mingling with his pants and groans, air growing thick around him. It’s been a while since Jungkook had jacked off, and even longer since he’d been able to do it shamelessly in bed without the fear of you hearing him, but now that he thought you were gone he can’t find it in himself to cover his mouth or groan into his pillows like he usually did.
The pent up frustration fogs up his mind, cranks the lust up to 11 until his free hand is gripping his sheets beside him, bed frame creaking as his thrusts speed up. The thuds of his headboard hitting the wall come from behind you, a choked moan blending in with it, and it has you scrambling for your bedside drawer.
The pajamas you wear get yanked off your legs and tossed aside after you grab your trusty vibrator, settling onto your back once more with huff. All it takes is a press of a button for the device to come to life, buzzing in your hand as you trail it up your thighs. A gasp escapes you when you pass it over your mound, brushing against your clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through you.
“Oh my god,” you whimper when you finally press the vibrating head directly onto your sensitive clit, legs spreading further apart as you increase the intensity. You could clearly hear the raise in Jungkook’s moans, and that's when the first irrational thought pops into your mind.
How easy would it be for you to head over to his place and deal with both of your problems. Surely Jungkook wouldn’t have an issue with you offering to suck his dick, wouldn’t mind letting you sink down onto him if it was just a friendly favor.
The little devil on your shoulder tells you it would be mutually beneficial, urging you to get up and walk to Jungkook’s with the vibrator still in your hand, but you can’t. This alone felt like enough of a dirty secret, a secret you’d have absolutely no problem keeping because although you feel slightly ashamed, you couldn’t deny how turned on you are.
The flashes of all the times you’ve heard Jungkook with other people play in your mind, the screams of his name that he tried to muffle, pleas for him to go faster, the resounding smack of his palm on flesh that always left you wide eyed when you heard it. And you start to wonder if maybe you’d be into that, the feeling of his large tattooed hand connecting with your ass, gently tapping against your cheek for you to open up for his cock.
That fantasy is like the first ember needed to start the fire inside of you, spreading uncontrollably until you’re bucking into your vibrator, teeth biting down on your lip to keep any potential moans of his name from slipping out.
“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, the same fire burning within him. Maybe your minds are linked telepathically, his thoughts gravitating to the same filthy fantasy you had. Jungkook was very much an ass man, knowing very well how good your butt looked in jeans from how often he stared at it, he could only imagine how good it would look as he fucked you from behind. Picturing the way it would bounce back from the force of his thrusts, eyes glued to the way you’d soak his cock, mimicking the tightness of your walls with a firm grip of his palm.
Jungkook can sense his orgasm approaching, leaves his chest feeling tight as he pants, legs gliding along his sheets for leverage to continue fucking into his hand. You’re not far off either, vibrator set to the highest setting you can practically feel your bones rattling, free hand slipped under your shirt as you pinch at your pebbled nipples. You’re both on the brink of falling over the edge, the same question playing in your mind: where would you want Jungkook to cum?
As his moans get breathier, whiny in a way you’d never imagine them to be, you mentally decide that you’d want him to cum inside of you, wanting to see the way his cute face would twist up in pleasure as he filled you up. Jungkook hopes you would, throwing all responsible thinking aside for that sweet moment of ecstasy and the mental picture is enough to finally push him over.
“Ah shit, baby,” he cries out in his room—thankfully having half the mind to not cry out your name as he came—eyes rolling back as his cock twitches in his palm, ribbons of cum splashing onto his stomach and chest. The warmth hits his skin, more droplets continuing to leak out as his palm milks his orgasm, stomach hiccuping and back arching from the stimulation.
The choked moan is what has your own orgasm washing over you, your palm slapping over your mouth so hard you know you’ll feel the ache later but you don’t care. A muffled gasp blends with the buzzing of your toy, thighs tensing up as your body tingles and writhes around on your sheets.
The only thing you can think of is Jungkook, the charming smile he’d give you when he listened to you rant about anything, his annoying habit of rolling up his sleeves to show off his muscles, the cute scowl on his face whenever you managed to beat him at Mario Kart, and the soft feeling of his alcohol coated lips on yours. It leaves you feeling warm as your orgasm flows through you, lying limp on the bed as you mewl at the sensitivity.
When you realize your thoughts have strayed from ‘pure sexy Jungkook fantasyland’, and switched over to ‘Jeon Jungkook your adorable neighbor’, your eyes go wide, finger immediately going to turn off the vibrator. In your haste to shut it off, you click the wrong button, changing the pulsing settings and nearly screaming when the device starts to buzz erratically against your overly sensitive clit.
With a strained gasp you yank it away from yourself, turn it off and throw it aside, horribly miscalculating the size of your bed and watching in horror as it lands on the floor with a loud thud. The complete silence from both sides makes the noise sound deafening, and all you can do is sit on your bed, half naked, and hope Jungkook is still too busy basking in his post orgasm bliss to hear the bang.
Although the blood is still pumping in his ears, he heard the thud clearly. His heart stops in his chest as he lays there, too scared to breathe in case he’d somehow make too much noise, suddenly afraid of being too loud after he had just made a show of himself. Jungkook slowly sits himself up, grimacing at the stickiness on his stomach before pressing his ear against his headboard to try to hear anything else.
All you want to do is yank the covers over yourself and go to sleep, pretend your horrendous date and your dirty thoughts about your friend never happened. The sobering mentality that comes after an orgasm settles into you, leaving you staring at the floor with a crease between your brows as you wonder what the hell came over you.
When Jungkook hears nothing else, he sighs in relief, hauling himself out of bed to grab another pair of underwear before entering his bathroom to clean up. As he stares at his own reflection in the mirror, he frowns at how pathetic he feels. The throbbing headache of his earlier drinks is already starting to kick in, body now sweaty from exertion, stomach covered in his cum.
“Such a loser,” he grumbles out, grabbing a wad of tissues to wipe away the mess on his skin before walking back out. Here he was, getting off to the thought of you, while you were out having your post-breakup wild phase.
His hands grab his phone as he reaches his nightstand, flopping back onto the bed and unlocking the device. It’s now one in the morning, and you still hadn’t text him, which either meant you were having the time of your life, or Jungkook had to track down this Jung Hoseok. The slightly protective side of him won’t allow him to sleep until he hears back from you, fingers already typing out a message and hitting send.
Jungkook 1:23am : you safe or am i gonna have to go all Liam Neeson on this guy?
When your phone vibrates on your nightstand you gasp, grabbing it before it could make any more noise. Seeing Jungkook’s name flash on the screen makes your blood run cold, already imagining what the text could be: calling you dirty for getting off on him, making fun of you, telling you to come ove—no stop that.
Finally mustering up the courage, you open it up, a small laugh spilling out as you read his message, relief flooding through you as you realize that meant he thought you were still with Hoseok.
Y/N 1:26am : oh yeah, you gonna show him your very particular set of skills? lol
Y/N 1:26am : i just got home though
Y/N 1:26am : like right now
Y/N 1:26am : still sitting in my living room
Y/N 1:27am : haha
He laughs at your string of texts, something you hear as he settles into bed. Jungkook ebbs away the small feeling of jealousy in his chest, trying to see the silver lining of this. You weren’t rushing to tell him anything about your date which meant it either went so good you wanted to keep it to yourself, or it was subpar and you wouldn’t be seeing this yellow sunglass wearing copycat again.
Jungkook 1:29am : glad you got home safe, goodnight y/n!
Sending back a goodnight text, you lock your phone and slide deeper into bed, pulling the sheets up to your chin as you stare at the ceiling. You already know the only thing you’ll be dreaming about is your cute neighbor with a bunny smile and body proportions that contradicted it. And as Jungkook lays in bed, wondering if he’ll have to push the crush aside, you’re barely coming to terms with the fact that the small glowing feeling that came with being around him might be something else.
Every single one of your interactions gets rewinded and played back like a seamless montage, remembering just how many almost moments there was between you. The way his eyes would flash down to your lips whenever you playfully argued on your couch, hands yanking the remotes from his in a game of tug of war that left you way too close in the heat of the moment. How he’d let you braid his hair anytime you found a new youtube tutorial, his starry eyes staring at you with so much adoration it made your stomach flip, brushing it off as love for a friend.
Then came the jokes from your friends, constantly teasing you about Jungkook, playfully saying they would try to sleep with him just because they liked the scowl on your face, and how quickly you tried to play it off. How the sweet old lady from the convenience store downstairs always assumed you were dating when you came in together, the low jab she sent when you walked in with Hajoon and she said she preferred you with Jungkook. That argument had been one of the ones that left him bolting out of your apartment with a nasty slam of the door, spewing nasty words at you, calling you blind for not seeing it and dumb for acting like you had no idea what he was talking about.
And for the first time, you come to the sudden realization that Hajoon was right. His deep set insecurities about Jungkook had stemmed from scraps of the truth, not just from him but from you too. The amount of times you’d find a way to slide Jungkook’s name into a conversation about anything, telling him funny stories about him, too lost in thought to see that while you were giggling as you reminisce, he was staring at you in disbelief.
The final thought that makes you want a blackhole to swallow you up, comes in the form of you, grabbing Jungkook’s face before planting a kiss on his unsuspecting lips at the club. You want to scream into your pillow as you recall it, how he had almost leaned back in to kiss you again before you had sobered him up with your dumb question rooted in revenge.
“Oh my god, I’m such a bitch.” you whimper. Subjecting Jungkook to be your wingman, jokingly telling him he should be your fake boyfriend more often, asking him for tips with hook ups. If everyone else could see it but you, he probably thought you were purposely friendzoning him.
The guilt piles on top of you as you start to piece together every moment that flew over your head, only making you bury yourself deeper into your sheets. It makes your heart twist, taking note of how Jungkook was always so quick to put a smile on his face despite how naive you were to it all, wondering if maybe it was too late to try to make something of this now. How many times could you call Jungkook ‘bro’ and treat him like you didn’t see him romantically, before he decided there was no hope for him anymore.
So as you force yourself to sleep, nerves and uncertainty weighing heavy on your mind, Jungkook snores away as he dreams of the almost moments that could have been.
#heartsforbts#btswritingcafe#btsghostie#bangtansorciere#bangtaninn#ficswithluv#btscreatorscorner#jungkook smut#jeongguk smut#bts smut#jungkook angst#jeon jungkook#bts fics#new
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