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phoeebsbuffay · 1 year ago

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Imagine you are Hayden Christensen's closest friend from college and you help him going through his divorce. Will friendship be enough for either of you? Based on the request made by @calzone-d ...

Warnings: *long post*, drama, explicit smut, fluffy endings.

Recommendations: "Summertime Sadness", "Ride", by Lana Del Rey; “Scared to be Lonely” by Dua Lipa; “Here with me”, by the Killers; “Always” by Gavin James.

***

How it started...

You were 19 years old when you finally got the chance to study cinema at Y/C's university. An old dream you had, to be able to transmit onscreen all your ideas. Your family encouraged you to pursuit the academy of arts in order to become an actress, but you thought yourself too introspective to act.

Well, here you were when you met him. The one who was destined to remain a principal figure in your life over the years. Taking acting classes--well, you did need to study it anyway--you bumped into Hayden Christensen.

"Excuse me", he said to you, a little out of breath.."Is this the acting class with Miss H/N? I fear I am slightly late..."

You remembered finding his blue eyes the handsomest pair of eyes you ever came across with: they were intense, secretive, but friendly too, somewhat emotional. You were instantly captivated.

"Yes, it is. And you are not in the slightest late, young man, but /very/ late indeed. Come in, take your seat, I'll have you updated..."

He gives you a long gaze, relieved for being saved from a bigger trouble—and you can tell he is a freshman like you.

“My name is Y/N”, you side smirk at him.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. I am Hayden.”

You both shake hands. Something ignites within, but you think it’s because he has such a good aura…

“You are such a great actress!”, he is telling you, so many months later. “Quit with the production, you are better than me in decorating the lines.”

You grimace, which makes him laugh. The sound of his laughter is so comforting, like this call to your home.

“I don’t like this acting thing”, you dismiss his compliments nonchalantly. Today, you are in a cafeteria, celebrating the end of another semester. One more to go and you will be ready to keep up with your lives, though you and Hayden had vowed to each other never to be apart. “I feel more comfortable behind the cameras. By the way, I just had this idea!”

And then you lean to him, ready to shake him by his shoulders. He nearly chokes with his coke—but then laughing as always because your impulsiveness often brings him to laughters.

“For the love of God, woman. Do you want to see me dead before the time?”

You side smirk, silently apologizing with your puppy eyes. Hayden smiles back, before encouraging with what you had to say with only a nod. As you do, he seems to suddenly notice how nice your hair looks this day.

“I just had the greatest idea ever! I could film your audition and send to George Lucas. The Star Wars director is looking for someone of our age to portray young Anakin Skywalker. You know, before he becomes Darth Vader, of course.”

Hayden is taken aback by what you tell him. You can see the mix of sentiments that rises behind his blue eyes: insecurity, suspicious before reasoning to excitement.

“What? Are you for real, Y/N? How come did you hear about it? I mean…”

You tell him how your internship led you to it. This is how the fun begins, how both of you in fact begin your career.

You are there in every moment of his life: when Hayden has to conciliate his last semester with the filming of “Episode II: Attack of the Clones”, when he tells you that he and his on-screen romantic pair are having a thing.

He is also present at your graduation, the moment when you begin to transit to adulthood. What about it when you get yourself drunk for the very first time?

He is there too.

“I hate the taste of alcohol”, you grumble, unsure how come you are at his couch. “It aches my stomach, makes me sick.”

Hayden chuckles at how all of a suddenly you turn into these kind of discoveries after spending five years in college doing nothing but well behaving. However, due to such a strong bond you two share, he takes care of you.

“This is the moment where I tell you something you told me once: better to put out than to swallow all in.”

You raise your face, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Did you just hear yourself?!”

“Wasn’t that what you told me?”

“No!”, you laugh hard at his remark. “Oh my God, H!”

He chuckles after you.

“Well, it did make you laugh, didn’t it?”

***

• The subtle changes…

You are single again. Your ex dumped you. Coincidently, Hayden is single as well. He’s also been going through a difficult phase in his life after all the critics coming from the fans of “Star Wars”. “Episode III” of the franchise didn’t go that well and even though it’s been a year since it’s release, he’s still affected by it.

“We’ve been through so much together”, Hayden tells you one day. “We should definitely do something new for a change.”

“I agree”, you sigh. Currently unemployed, you haven’t been yourself lately either. “Any thoughts?”

“A good journey would do us well. Let us go to Scotland”, so he says, excited. “Come on, Y/N. I’ll let you drive!”

You chuckle at his old tendency to be so reckless. And you do so because you can’t refuse him anything. A bad omen you clearly ignore, of course.

“Very well. When should we do this trip?”

But why’d you bother to ask when you know the answer? Hayden smiles warmly at him.

Oh that damn smile…

“Tomorrow. I’ve already bought the tickets and booked the hotel.”

You scoff at him, offended.

“What? Why? Are you taking me for granted, Christensen? For the love of God…”

Just like that he lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder, smiling as you scream out of surprise. As he puts you down, Hayden messes with your hair, delighted when seeing he’s the reason of your amusement.

And he realizes this is a nice view to contemplate: the sight of your smile, the sound of your laughters, the joy that sparks in your eyes… Seeing you like this makes him genuinely smile in his turn and forget about his bad phase.

But he doesn’t realize that this may mean something else. Or perhaps he doesn’t want to. It’s been years now since you and him became the closest of the friends, so what if all of this is just the result of genuine admiration from one friend to the other?

Regardless, he’s going to take you with him to Scotland. And so you go with him… It is wild to consider how you are usually all straight, not doing nothing that goes out the line all the whilst Hayden is more prompted to take chances and live the present quite intently.

On that fact you blame him being very aries all the whilst you, as taurus lady, prefer to know where you are going. However, he makes life so interesting that even you, as already observed, cannot deny him anything.

So here you are now at Edinburgh.

“I love everything that is medieval”, you tell him excitedly with a spark in your eyes that makes Hayden smile. He does like when you speak passionately about the things you are interested. “I cannot believe I took so long to come here!”

“Yeah, me neither!”

It is a good time to be alive, both of you agree. The landscape is seductive, peaceful, traits much sought after such a bad period you both went through. People too are kind, albeit reserved, but very pleasant.

Those days are being built in your memory as something great to be remembered, but perhaps there is just more that neither seem too attentive…

“Lady, one bedroom with two beds”, asks Hayden, when you got to London eventually because he, of course, is a man who plans very little—much to your distress, the woman who likes everything settled.

But this is not any hotel, but a fanciful one. The said lady looks at him pitifully.

“Mr Christensen, my apologies, but there is only a suite with one bed.”

You two blush, but Hayden somehow doesn’t mind it. This is when you realize you not only don’t mind it but you also want it…badly. Perhaps that’s why you sabotage it.

“You know what? Let’s make it for another day. Come now, Hayden. Thank you”, you blurt out, pushing him outside.

“What the hell was that?”, he frowns at you. “Y/N, what’s wrong with sharing a bed? Do you honestly think anything would happen or what?”

He doesn’t realize his words hurt you, but in truth there is more than his subtle frustration at your refusal allows him to admit. There is an unspoken rising desire between you.

And of course you have to ruin everything.

“I just… please don’t be upset! It’s because I cannot afford it and…” and you tell him the other reason for it, which appeases his anger and is more palpable than you’d care to admit: you are expecting an interview.

Hayden softens, naturally, but you know he’s changed. You hate it because you know why. There are so many things that suddenly rise in your throat but they die choked.

Somehow Hayden knows it too. But he chickens away. He hugs you instead, not willing to lose his best friend.

“I’m sorry for being such an impulsive jackass. But we did have a great time, didn’t we?”

Oh but if only you knew what waits for you back to US…

***

• The marriage

Here you are, dressed in yellow, standing as a maid in honor for the bride and groom. Your heart breaks because you realize a little too late that you are in love with your best friend.

Worse is: had you accepted to share one bed with Hayden in London, everything would be different. Yeah, you may not have gotten that job as a producer of that movie, but Hayden wouldn’t meet Rachel Bilson.

Nonetheless, here you are. Celebrating their vows, wondering if you could be there for a moment, what would be like if you were her.

“Hey, Y/Nickname!”, Hayden exclaims after the ceremony is over. He is wearing his gorgeous smile and dressed in fanciful robes, which all highlights his handsomeness. But you have learned to bury everything deep inside your heart. A secret that you’d take to your grave.

“I can’t believe you are married, Hay!”, you giggle when you greet him with a tight embrace. “I’m so happy for you! Oh my God, look how grown up you are!”

He laughs quietly.

“I know right? Who’d ever thought? The idea of marriage was hardly ever entertained for me”, so he says.

“Oh right! As I told Rachel once, I do have recollections of your drunkenness state and all that came between”, you laugh too, remembering the first time he had a hangover.

“What a time to be alive”, says Hayden in his typical good mood.

As you speak, you do seem to come to terms that if he is happy, so are you. You are at peace with it at long last. Hayden, on his turn, for a time seems to have suspected that you harbored feelings for him. But he always ignored it for the sake of your friendship. Now seeing how genuinely happy you are for him, certainly he believes it was all a thing of his head.

But why does he have a bittersweet taste of it?

“Could you introduce me to that man over there?” You nudge his sides, pointing to a handsome man that is not very far from Rachel herself.

Hayden raises an eyebrow.

“Really, now, Y/N?”

“You don’t expect me to be a nun, do you?”

He chuckles.

“Well I don’t want to see you get hurt, is all…”

Quite unwillingly, though, he leads the way. And maybe the night will not end that bad for you, after all.

***

•The divorce and the consequences…

In fact, looking back now it was really a great job pushing Hayden to introduce the guy to you because he ended up becoming your boyfriend.

This new relationship of yours, however, changed the dynamics of your friendship with Hayden for some time—but maybe it was all because he was living a different life now, becoming a father in the process.

A few years rolled upon, though, when everything started to fall apart—for you and Hayden. You found out that your new relationship was damaged because you and your boyfriend were scared to be lonely. A crisis developed to fights, to exchange of words that only broke hearts.

In the meantime, Hayden realized how long he missed his best friend. His own marriage started to fall apart, but the more it broke down, the more he needed you again.

Was it a selfish wish to have you by his side? Such questionings never reached you out due to his pride, that masked his hurt. Perhaps he was only scared to be lonely too. He could deal with it himself.

Nonetheless, destiny—the same destiny that pushed one from the other—is about to bring you two together again. One call and your night would be different.

You are single now, ready to go out that night with your girlfriends when suddenly a phone call startles you. It’s Hayden. Your heart races: he hasn’t been the one to call, and hasn’t done so for a long while.

“Hey, H. How are you? Haven’t heard of you for some time. Is everything ok?”, you ask, concerned.

There is a pause that accelerates your heart. You know he is not well. Before he answers, you immediately add:

“I’ll be in your home in a few minutes.”

“I’ll give you the new address. I’m not living with Rachel anymore: we got divorced.”

You are stunned upon those words. Now your silence leaves Hayden uncomfortable. He breaks it by saying:

“Y/Nickname? Are you there?”

“Yes, honey, I am. I’m so sorry, Hay. Please stay there… I’ll be on my way.”

He chuckles.

“Where else would I go to?”

In a matter of minutes, after requesting an Uber, you, dressed the way you are, arrive to his new home. Hayden side smirks when seeing you, though how he eyes you up and down makes you blush lightly.

“Wow, Y/N. Looking hot, aren’t you?”, he laughs when seeing the pink painting your cheeks, hugging you tight when receiving you. “Please tell me I didn’t ruin your night.”

You slap his shoulder playfully, eyes rolling at his drama.

“Don’t say bullshit to me, Christensen. I just wish I knew it properly before. I hope you don’t mind me looking like this.”

“You have always been a distraction to my eyes”, he teases you, pleased to see nothing has really changed between the two of you. “We need some wine, it’s not really a warming night, I suppose.”

As you look into his new apartment, he promptly gets the best wine to serve you. Without your knowledge, Hayden’s eyes follow your moves: noticing your y/c hair is now on your shoulders, how vivid your eyes are, remaining as observing and curious as before.

He cannot help admiring you physically too: though this is a cold night and you are dressed accordingly, when you drop your black coat on his coach, he sees your warming blouse shows some skin.

Indeed, Y/N, looking as hot and beautiful as always. Such is his thought.

He never really told you but Rachel was jealous of you. According to her, she could see you harbored feelings for him and part of her feared Hayden would correspond. Nonsense, he’d tell her.

But now, was she really so wrong? Yet, another and more important question he asks himself is: how could have he let go of you? Not only about matters of sentimentalism, but you’ve been an important piece of his life.

Seeing you back hurts his heart because he now sees the stupidity in letting go of you. He wishes he could have asked you to wait for him, to never let go of you. But this is such a state of complex selfishness that he quiets his internal riot and puts a smile on his lips when bringing the two of you the best wine he has, aware you prefer the sweet ones.

“I was admiring your new apartment”, you tell him, smiling in thanks as he passes you a full glass. “Whoa, looks like we are having a full drinking night, aren’t we? Christensen, I am not that young anymore. Not sure I am prepared to have a full hangover again.”

Hayden cracks loud and the sound of his laughters makes your heart skip a beat. Nothing feels different, you think, pleased.

“I’m bringing us something to eat, silly head. Besides I’ve always taken care of you, right?”

“That is true”, you agree. “But what are we having to eat today?”

“Always hungry, eh?”, he teases you.

You shrug playfully before saying:

“What can I do? I am a Taurus, you know it!”

He rolls his eyes, laughing loud again at your remarks—and that sound has always made your heart race, hasn’t it?

“Not with that astrology nonsense again!”

You slap his arm playfully before joining him in chuckles.

“Always with that astrology nonsense, silly.”

It is not until pizza is brought to you that the serious conversation is finally there.

“So what happened, Hayden?”, you ask him softly.

He sighs heavily, avoiding your gaze. He is silent, but you are patient, giving some time, for which he appreciates it.

“How often do we fall for the idea our minds make of the person?”, says he, sounding frustrated. “Not rarely we come to romantic ideas of marriage that break before the crude reality, you know? It’s not just about being different, Y/N, it’s… the commitment, I suppose, in making everything right. Turns out we had very different ideas of making it right.”

“I’m sorry, Hay. I really am”, you speak gently, taking his hand to yours, realizing how broken he is makes your heart sensitive to his pain.

He appreciates it, but when feeling your skin against him, Hayden is remembered the days before he met Rachel. The way he made you smile, the jokes that brought him to laughters. How easily it was to be around you, how you softened him. He, who was never a sentimental man, hugged you more times than he realized.

But Hayden sweeps away such memories.

“I am too. But I am fine now”, he shrugs. “I mean, not entirely recovered, but better than being broken.”

“Take your time, it’s the best you can do. How long has it been going on?”

Hayden hesitates but says:

“Six months.”

Your eyes go wide and your voice comes louder than expected:

“YOU HAVE GONE THROUGH A DIVORCE SIX MONTHS AGO?”

At least he has the decency to blush.

“Hayden! How could you keep me in secret for such a long time?!”

You’d remove his hand but Hayden doesn’t let you to. Pulling you to his side, he says, almost in a tone of desperation:

“I thought I could handle this by myself”, he explains. “I really didn’t want to bother you…”

Perhaps it’s the wine, but your tongue runs loose with words that have long been choked in your throat.

“And what am I to you? A second option, a plan B that didn’t work out? You’ve kicked me out of your life, Hayden. You’ve never called me to ask me if I was doing ok!”

He gives you a painful look that makes you regret instantly of what you said. You’d think he let go of you and a fight would come—this happened once when both of you were drunk, though by then you were both silly and immature.

“I’ve got a war in my mind for a long while”, he exclaims, holding your wrist and he pulls you even closer to him. “I was fucking stupid, I screwed it, I know. But never would I kick you out of my heart, Y/N! And I… I’m sorry I was fucking blinded by my pain. But only because I feared to hurt you.”

You await for his burst to end, very familiar with his intensity—but when his blue eyes search for yours, your soul is denuded.

Oh fuck.

“I stepped away because he was a douchebag”, he proceeds. “You deserved better than such a man, Y/N. I’ve heard of his doings but I couldn’t reach you out when… when I was in the mid of a crisis myself.”

“You’ve always been too shut in yourself to let others in”, you sigh. “But what relation is there with the fact I was in a relationship?”

“You deserved better”, he says with greeted teeth, holding your face with his hands, both of you barely noticing how your bodies have been dancing dangerously close to each other. “You are still slow after all this time?”

You are shocked, perplexed by his words. You freeze. Hayden smiles slowly at your reaction.

“I feel it everywhere, nothing scares me anymore. I won’t let you go. Now now, not ever. Fuck, I married the wrong person. Heaven has always been my favourite place on Earth when I was with you.”

“You have always been the best”, you mumble incoherently.

Just like that your lips clash against his. In between fervent kisses, where he pulls you to his lap, no reason is admitted. Not anymore.

“I’ve missed you, Y/Nickname”, he groans against your lips. “Like the sun misses the moon.”

“Always the romantic”, you chew his bottom lip as your hands run over his hair, pulling it gently. “Don’t want your memories anymore. Fuck, Christensen, you took so long.”

“This is not a game, I swear”, he breaks the kiss to pursuit your skin, his tongue already on your neck as his hands hold your hips, making you feel his rigid pants.

“Oh Lord. My worst sin is to never be able to refuse you anything”, you hate how wine makes you speak your mind.

Raising his head to watch you intently, he messes with your hair before holding your chin, drawing you closer to him.

Oh that intensity that involves one to the other!

“Then make me a sinner too for giving you all that you deserve.”

You crawl over him, you know you do, when your tongue pursuits his, one pairs the other rhythmically, perfectly. And then he lies you there on the couch, hands already working to remove your pants.

His eyes are set on yours like that of a hunter about to capture his prey. He knows you are on fire and that he is the gasoline. You lean partly to remove his shirt, hands all over him. You gasp when feeling his muscles under your touch and you want more, but…

“Patience, Y/Nickname”, his voice is husky and domineering when laying you down again.

“Yes, Master”, you giggle softly, in such a state that makes you both smile to the other.

And just like that his hands find way to your thighs, gently parting before inserting one right there in your feminine parts, not really taking away your panties for such.

“Oh, God!” You moan sensually, enjoying his eyes on you as he works wonderfully on you. “This is better than I thought!”

“Is it?”, he groans softly in your ear. “How long have you been thinking about it, dear one?”

“For a long while! God knows how much…”, another moan breaks you, earning him a smirk. “Hayden…”

“Yeah?”

“I fucked him thinking about you”, you admit.

His eyes dart, his body shakes lightly with desire. Slowly moving on top of you, his moves increase intently, watching you with desire.

“Damned be you for never speaking your thoughts to me”, he lifts your blouse gently but you help him removing it. As he starts to kiss your neck down to your chest, your legs begin to get heavy at his tenderness. “You should have spoken it to me…”

“Never had I the courage to do so”, you moan, enjoying having his hand over your neck lightly as he bites down your bra, slowly removing it with his mouth.

“For you should. It would have spared us some time. I fucked her thinking of you too”, he admits it drunkly before burying his lips to your nipple, much to your delight.

Hayden ruins you and it’s better than you could have thought. You want him to yourself, to make him unspeakable things but it’s difficult to do or say anything when his lips are so occupied with each nipple, twirling his tongue around it, sucking and biting it.

The sounds in his living room go louder each time. You are brought to heaven, and only then you take control of yourself again.

“Hayden…”, you barely speak when he finishes with you.

You both are a puddle of mess when you, nude, sit over his lap. You share a drunk look, one filled with the darkest desires for so long muffled, now brought to light.

“Yes, babe?” He kisses your shoulders, groaning as you rub yourself against his hardness. “Will you forgive me for such a behavior?”

His words are barely heard when his head is thrown back because your skillful hands find way to his pants and remove it so soon.

You glance at his manhood, impressed by how it is when it’s this hard under your touch.

“You don’t deserve forgiveness”, you giggle softly as you start rubbing it, enjoying to feel the drip of it. “You should be punished.”

He holds back a gasp at your words. Now eyeing you, interested in your upcoming moves. And when you slide to your knees…

“Babe…”

“Yeah?”

One glance. Unspoken words fill the air. And you take with his mouth at long last, not stopping until you have it all down your throat.

“For God’s sake!”, he gasps. “I can’t wait any longer to have you with me!”

All gentleness is left aside when he helps you settle on his lips and he slides inside you. To feel him throbbing like this, going so hard in you makes you arch your back.

“This feels so good!”

His hands move down your back as his lips pursuit your skin, licking and taking every bit of you—though he does know how much you enjoy when he takes his time around your nipples, which he does graciously.

But it’s not until his eyes meet yours, sealing your lips as much as you seal your bodies together, that all is at long last truly consumed….

***

• Nowadays

In a sober state, everything is better appreciated. Hayden watches as you gleefully prepare breakfast. There is nothing but genuinely love in his eyes.

What had started as an explosion of sentiments for so long kept in secret has now flown to what should have always been: a genuine relationship. From friends to lovers. From lovers to something better.

He smiles, not now missing the lateness of his realization that you have always been the love of his life. He stands and moves to behind you, holding you close and smelling your scent as you prepare him some eggs.

“What? I’ve been sensing your eyes over me”, you giggle like a little girl. “Don’t get me weak again, Christensen. This is so not you.”

He turns you at him and holds your face between his hands.

“I love you, Y/Nickname.”

Hayden smiles wide when seeing a blush painting your cheeks. And he beams when you tell him the same.

“I love you too, H. Though I fear I love you more.”

“That is not true”, he protests in between laughters.

But before you fall into that old cliche you and him enjoy in secret intimacy, breakfast is ready. As you two enjoy that morning moment, it doesn’t strike as how many years have passed before you two achieved it at long last.

“I have news to tell”, says Hayden with a bright smile on his lips.

You rest your chin over your hands and say:

“Well? Tell me at once.”

He appreciates all the love that comes from you. The way you look at him, how genuinely you listen and help him in every moment, how kind you always are, how sincere you speak your heart out. So many virtues and even your flaws he appreciates.

There is so much love between the lines and out of them too.

“I was asked to play Anakin Skywalker again.”

And how fantastic you are as his soon to be wife when you jump in his arms excited with his news.

“That is awesome, my darling! I’m so happy for you!”

“A better start than I could have thought”, he admits, pulling you to sit on his lap.

“You deserve it all”, you brush your lips against his. “I love you, my heart.”

“I love you, my soul”, he whispers back.

And this is the ending you deserve.

***

•Epilogue…

When you show up dressed in red—from your full lips to your body—Hayden feels something rise in his chest.

“My God, you look gorgeous, Y/N…”, so he says mischievously when you show up after leaving him waiting for 30 minutes. “It was worth the time…”

You giggle, blushing lightly after all this time. Your hair is loose wavily, put on side as you wear the necklace and earrings Hayden gifted you in your birthday.

“Don’t be silly. Have they arrived yet?”

The occasion is to celebrate Hayden and Ewan’s series “Kenobi”. Hayden’s aforementioned friend said he was going to pick them up in a limo so they’d go all together.

“They are about to… which leaves us a few minutes”, he places right behind you, holding your waist tightly.

“Hayden… It took me some time to get properly dressed. Besides, I…” you get lost at your words when he starts kissing your neck and his hands move up and down your back.

“What are you trying to say?”

Hayden smirks, enjoying the effect he has over you. It’s been some good years since you got together, but even now he manages to get you speechless.

“I…”

Your mind goes blank when he turns you to the mirror and see the naughty look that rests in those blue eyes. His hands move to your breasts, playing with your nipples before slowly exposing them.

“Hayden… they are….” You moan softly, struggling to keep your composure.

He turns you now against the wall of your bathroom, mouth dropping to your full chest all the whilst his hands move to your thighs.

“Hmm”, he sings softly, humming against your skin. “Hot as hell, wife.”

You try not to fall from your heels.

“Hayden!” You cry out when his fingers find all the way to you.

“You get your man on knees every single time. Getting me overzealous, uh?”, he smirks when going to his knees. “All wet for me, honey? Let me taste you thus…”

You are almost ruined as he does so, his tongue in you the way you want him to. You forget yourself, forget the reason why this expensive gown you bought three months ago was quite difficult to dress—precisely why you’d want to tell him by the end of the night.

You forget your state, you forget you should be checking time before your friends arrive. There is nothing to remember as he fucks you with his tongue deliciously until you are about to come undone…

Just like that he lifts your thighs and before you complain, he slides his manhood within, fucking you slowly and pleasantly.

“Oh God!” You scream but he has to quiet your sounds, especially because… the bell is rang.

“That was quick”, he manages to say breathlessly as he rushes to keep himself recomposed.

You giggle, suddenly shy as you do the same.

“Indeed…”

Hayden finds you adorable and peppers kisses around your face.

“They can wait a little. I thought you wanted to say something… you know, before…”

You two share a giggle and he smiles when you bury your face in his shoulder.

“I… I am pregnant, H.”

He hugs you closer. What a night, what a life with you is. Hayden Christensen could not have been any happier…

#star wars #star wars imagine #imagine star wars #Hayden Christensen #Anakin Skywalker #darth vader #Hayden Christensen smut #hayden christensen x y/n #Hayden Christensen x female reader

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randomvarious · 2 months ago

Text

Today's compilation:

Women & Songs 4 2000 Adult Alternative / Singer-Songwriter / Pop / Adult Contemporary / Dance-Pop / R&B / Country-Pop

Me, sitting in a packed boardroom in the Canadian offices of Warner Elektra Atlantic in ~1997:

"OK, OK, hold on, hold on, wait..."

*closes eyes and lightly pinches bridge of nose with thumb and index finger*

"I just got this brilliant fuckin' idea."

*takes an enormous bong rip and then exhales while gathering thoughts*

"OK, so, y'know, like...people...they love women, right? But another thing that they also love is songs too, right? So, like...see if you can follow me here...what if, like, we took women, but then, like, what if we also took songs...and then, like, what if we somehow managed to...put them both together...?!? 🤔🤯"

*The CEO of the company takes the stubby cigar from his mouth and places it in his ashtray. He then removes his glasses, gently places them on the table, and rubs his eyes a few times as he carefully mulls over what I've just said. He then gets up out of his seat while a grin starts to form on his face, and proceeds to clap slowly, with each successive clap coming more quickly than the previous one, which then leads to a universal round of applause and standing ovation from everyone else in the room. The CEO then pulls me aside and says the following into my ear...*

"See, RV, this is why we're paying you the big bucks."

*He shakes my hand vigorously and then proceeds to give me a million dollars 😀*

---

Y'know, I've posted *a lot* about *a lot* of different compilations over the years, but the first installment in Canada's Women & Songs series is one that's probably going to stick with me until the day that I die; not because it presents a terrific encapsulation of the female singer-songwriter boom of the mid-to-late 90s—which it so totally does—but because of the plainly awful and absurdly low effort that went into both naming and packaging it. It's like, you'd think it was being put out by someone who had just decided to invest in a CD burner and then sell their own bootleg releases that'd been comprised of songs that they'd downloaded off of Napster or something; but no—this shit *actually* came from the greenbacked behemoth that was WARNER ELEKTRA ATLANTIC instead! And for whatever reason, the folks there *really* couldn't be bothered to spare a few more bucks or literally thirty seconds to come up with something that was even a little slightly better than Women & Songs and these atrocious album covers. It's really all just so ridiculous when you think about it, and because of that, it's also very unforgettable as well.

But anyhoo, just like its first volume, this fourth one from the series is really nothing short of excellent too, as it provides a fantastic and diverse array of female-led gems that had specifically been lighting up the Canadian charts in some capacity dating back to 1996. We've got superstar divas like Janet Jackson, Toni Braxton, Tina Turner, Madonna, and Whitney Houston; we've got the country-pop stylings of Faith Hill and LeAnn Rimes; we've got summer romcom staple "Breathless" by The Corrs, one of the single-greatest radio pop songs of the 90s in Natalie Imbruglia's version of "Torn"—believe it or not, she was actually, like, the fourth person to record and release that song—we've got Tracy Chapman, Veruca Salt's Nina Gordon on a well-translated adult alternative tip (anyone else remember "Volcano Girls"?), teen poppers All Saints, and we've also got Dido's "Here With Me," which was co-produced by none other than the great Rick Nowels, a guy whose own exploits have somewhat quietly managed to enrich the careers of so many other female pop stars too, from Stevie Nicks, to Belinda Carlisle, to Celine Dion, to Adele, to Alessia Cara, to Dua Lipa, to Lykke Li, to FKA Twigs, to Madonna, and Lana Del Rey 😯.

But because the Canadian music industry itself has a natural inclination to insularly market and promote a lot of the country's very own artists, there's also a showcase of some really talented women on here whose names you probably wouldn't recognize unless you were Canadian yourself; and that's a bit of a shame, because Pickering, Ontario's own Sarah Slean, for instance, really brings it with a beautifully woven and rich tapestry called "High," which first appeared on her independently released debut album, Blue Parade, in 1998. Trust me when I say this: if you really love all those singing-songwriting ladies of the 90s, like Fiona Apple, Sarah McLachlan, Natalie Merchant, Paula Cole, Jewel, Tori Amos, etc., you're gonna wanna hear this Sarah Slean song as well, because while it's definitely in a similar vein to all of those women, it's also pretty uniquely wonderful too 👍.

And speaking of Sarahs, I usually don't go for classical crossover-type fare, but Sarah Brightman's rendition of Procol Harum's "A Whiter Shade of Pale" here is especially lovely. It's a highly effective combination of her own soprano, a lush arrangement of orchestral strings, and an unexpected infusion of a contemporarily cinematic trip hop-type of drum beat that really manages to satisfyingly bring the whole thing together. Awesome, and dare I say, (le) epic, stuff.

And I can't leave here without briefly marveling over Whitney Houston's "My Love Is Your Love" too, which Wyclef Jean and his frequent collaborator Jerry Duplessis lent their own subdued Fugees production style to back in 1999. Such a beautiful collaboration with that one, the likes of which I'm not sure that we've ever really heard anything similar to since. Maybe my favorite song on this entire album 😊.

So, in conclusion, women and songs are both great on their own, but once again, as the wea conglomerate has shown us, when you actually decide to combine 'em, it can really yield something special. And I know it's kind of a wild concept that might be a bit difficult to grasp at first, but I think if you give this thing a shot, you'll be able to hear a lot of the mid-90s-to-y2k greatness that came as a result of this purely abstract, out-of-the-box thinking. A bunch of quality music on here, and with some focus specifically put on Canada too, but just make sure to do yourself a favor and skip over the totally uninspired opening that is Madonna's cover of Don McLean's "American Pie," because that thing is BAD.

Highlights:

Faith Hill - "Breathe" The Corrs - "Breathless" Chantal Kreviazuk - "Before You" Janet Jackson - "Together Again" Natalie Imbruglia - "Torn" Tracy Chapman - "Telling Stories" All Saints - "Pure Shores" Toni Braxton - "You're Making Me High" Dido - "Here With Me" Nina Gordon - "Tonight and the Rest of My Life" LeAnn Rimes - "How Do I Live" Tara MacLean - "If I Fall" Whitney Houston - "My Love Is Your Love" Sarah Slean - "High" Sarah Brightman - "A Whiter Shade of Pale"

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perfctvelvet · 2 years ago

Text

Something Over Nothing

Zendaya/Reader

Content: ex-lovers, angst, implied cheating, smut, oral, thigh humping. 18+ only!!!

Author's note: Planning to post the Dua fic later this week! Also working on a series idea for patreon, but I'm not 100% sure about it. Anyway, enjoy!

“I don’t want to make this any more confusing than it already is.”

“How is it confusing? I think everyone would understand that we’re giving this another shot. And, if someone asks, we can just say we were taking a break.”

Y/n sighs in frustration. Zendaya has a gleam in her eyes, showing off her ardent optimism. She is 100% all in this, but Y/n isn’t sure what ‘this’ is. Yes, Zendaya was becoming present in her life again after months of not being together, but Y/n struggles to see where that equals their relationship rekindling; if anything she thought they were closer on the path to just being friends. There has never been any discussion of what they have — that is something Y/n is trying to avoid.

“That’s not a good idea,” is all she says, much to Zendaya’s frustration.

It’s going to take a while for her to budge, especially with the way things ended between them. It took her some time to simply even talk to her ex-girlfriend. Zendaya is at their once-shared apartment almost everyday now. Sometimes she cooks breakfast or dinner. She sometimes even sleeps in the same bed as Y/n when they’re both too tired after fucking each other. The lines were blurring and it’s because Y/n is allowing it which leads Zendaya to believe they’re in a better place.

Zendaya had made her favorite meal last night. The warmth between the two of them last night left her feeling hopeful about amending things. They felt like a couple in love again. She was even further emboldened to think that when Y/n invited her into her bedroom that night. There wasn’t that familiar lustful look in her eyes, instead she was inviting her in because she simply just wanted to be with her. It made Zendaya feel missed and loved. If she knew that it wasn’t a sign of them headed in a favorable direction then maybe she would’ve declined and just fell asleep on the couch.

“You never wanna talk about this! Everyone thinks something is up. My parents are asking about us — my friends too. And every time they ask I have no clue what to say to them.”

Zendaya gets real solemn and quiet, running her hand over her tired face as she sighs. Y/n has never, ever made this easy. She hates to call Y/n difficult, but it frustrates Zendaya how she’s constantly ignoring the obvious.

“Does everything we do mean nothing?” She continues.

Y/n scoffs as she begins to feel a little cornered. This is a topic Zendaya can go on and on about for hours, but Y/n struggles to entertain it.

She’s not using Zendaya like she may be implying. It’s just hard when she feels the pressure (and it’s not just coming from Zendaya) of trying to get back together. Things were very tumultuous at one point, and just because they’re both doing better now doesn’t mean she’s ready to just jump back in. Y/n can admit that she enjoys her company and still has deep feelings for her, but it’s hard when deep hurt also exists inside of her.

“It’s not just about sex. Not to sound like I have a big head, but there are plenty of people I can just sleep with.”

“Well you’re giving me whiplash! You know how I feel about you, and sex complicates things.”

The way Y/n clings onto her and cries her name while she’s fucking her allutes to there being emotions attached to sex together. Y/n is gorgeous so she could easily find someone else to see or fuck, but she’s deliberately choosing to spend time with Zendaya and sleeps with her. That has to mean something.

It means something, but Y/n isn’t ready to jump into the deep end of the pool. She’s much more comfortable letting Zendaya slowly slip back into her life. She was becoming a part of her daily routine again; making breakfast in the morning, sometimes stopping by her job for lunch, and helping her unwind in the evening. The way she lifts the small burdens off her shoulders is much more appreciated than the grand declarations of love.

“I want to give us another shot,” Zendaya admits something everyone, including Y/n, in the entire world already knows. “You still mean so much to me.”

Y/n sighs in frustration. She wonders how Zendaya must feel about having to beg for this. She feels bad because she knows it must hurt to be shut out like this. However, she’s putting herself first — and she is telling herself to take it slow.

“I just don’t want to rush into things, and I won’t. That’s where I stand and I’m not moving on it.”

Although her words would sound like rejection to others, to Zendaya it sounded like a second chance is still being considered. That means something to her.

“Okay,” she says slowly as if accepting. “Okay,” she says again.

So, where do they go from here? Continue to act like they’re together again like they have been doing for the last month or so? Or will Y/n eventually go back to icing her out?

“Well, Y/n,” she hesitates for a split second. Her mouth gets dry, knowing her next words could ruin everything. “I won’t stick around forever…I can’t.”

Zendaya has never used herself as leverage with Y/n, it was usually the other way around. Y/n was stunned by the shift of tone in her voice, nearly putting everything into perspective. Even if she means what she says (she doesn’t though), Y/n realizes that the thought of not having Zendaya around makes her heart race. She’s been linked with other women before, but she never took is seriously because she always came around despite them no longer being together. Y/n honestly doesn’t believe Zendaya will stop coming around, but the threat scares her. Zendaya could very well give up on trying to rekindle a relationship with her and it would be absolutely devastating for both of them. Having Zendaya follow her around like a little puppy was fun — she can’t lie — however, she truly loves her presence being around. She’s too stubborn to admit it, but Y/n loves her being around. Zendaya has changed since they're relationship ended and while some of her new habits are new to her, she doesn’t mind them.

“You don’t mean that,” Y/n says weakly. She hopes to the high heavens that she really doesn’t mean that.

“Maybe I do.”

Zendaya’s voice is also weak. They’re both two liars who want each other very badly.

Zendaya can understand Y/n’s hesitation to want to jump back into a relationship with her. She has been a bit eager which she can admit. It’s hard for her to discern what is real and fake; she’s not good at simply just hooking up.

“But you’re the one who wants to keep trying, you said it yourself.”

“I did, but something has to give, Y/n. This isn’t fair to either of us. I don’t want to lay down with you knowing it’s not going anywhere. You make me feel good and not just physically. I just want you to see that this still means something to me.”

Y/n didn’t intend for the conversation to go this far. Zendaya is always willing to spill her feelings though and she figures this has been bubbling under the surface for a while. All she can offer her ex is a “sorry,” but she isn’t exactly sure what she is sorry for. Zendaya accepts it anyway and gets up to go get started on dinner. Y/n really doesn’t want to be alone right now, but she is unsure how to approach it.

She follows her into the kitchen about fit minutes later. She rests against the corner just watching Zendaya where she looks distracted. The guilt is starting to sink in. All of the homemade meals she’s been eating lately were made by her ex. Zendaya always said she knew how busy Y/n was and always made sure she had something to eat after work.

“Z,” Y/n’s voice almost cracks as she speaks. Her skin grows hot in embarrassment of both her weakness and why she’s standing in the kitchen’s entrance. Zendaya turns around and looks at her with an unreadable look on her face until it becomes one of shock when Y/n says sorry again. “I don’t want to fight with you. I wanted to have a normal day with you.”

A normal day with each other.

A “normal day” for them is Y/n coming home and then spending the first 30 minutes pretending there isn’t any sexual tension between them before they cave. She just wanted today to be the same. Zendaya feels a little guilty for throwing their day off by pressing her with uncomfortable questions. So she’ll be the one to make sure the day ends like a “normal day.”

Y/n understands what’s happening when Zendaya turns the stove top off and approaches her. Their argument seems so trivial when she raps her arms around Y/n’s waist and presses their lips together. She always had a way to make Y/n melt, which always pissed Y/n off. Zendaya’s soft eyes, warm embrace, and loving touch always pissed her off. She wanted to be strong enough to withstand the affection, but it was nearly impossible.

“Y/n,” she moans her name as if she’s touched her yet. Y/n is aware of the effect she has on Zendaya, she has used it to her advantage many times before.

Y/n feels herself being lifted up and she makes things quick by hopping onto the kitchen counter. The kissing intensifies as Zendaya leans into her. Her back meets the wall causing her to groan into her mouth. The vibration drives Zendaya crazy. The existing frustration is taken out in this bruising kiss.

“You taste so sweet,” Zendaya moans before kissing Y/n again. No candy she’s had as a kid could compare to this. Zendaya can’t think of the last time she has wanted someone so bad.

The day has been so long and Y/n is just so tired of fighting. She gives into her desires, what her body craves, and her ex-girlfriend’s touch.

Her legs get thrown over Zendaya’s shoulders, and her face between her thighs heats her up. She can feel her breathing against her covered sex. Zendaya feels privileged that she’s allowed this. She kisses Y/n’s bare thigh once and then again for good luck. Her hands grip the underside of her pretty thighs.

“I’m so lucky,” she whispers, voice muffled by Y/n’s thighs, but Y/n moans regardless.

Y/n bucks her hips which causes Zendaya’s nose to press into her clit. She likes when Y/n is this eager for her because she’s always willing to oblige. Soon her panties are on the floor and her wet tongue is pressed flat against Y/n’s clit. She cries out as Zendaya spoils her sensitive nub. She thinks the kitchen might break if she grips it any harder.

Her clit rolls against her tongue before she takes it into her mouth.

“Oh my god!” Y/n’s voice cracks as she whines.

The pleasure Zendaya brings her is something she’ll never get over. She almost thrashes around from the overloading of her senses. The sound of her ex-girlfriend’s lips smacking against her pussy makes her want to cry. She’s so good at paying attention to detail, licking her in the way Y/n loves until she hears that strangled “baby, baby, baby…”

Y/n is embarrassingly close to cumming on Zendaya’s tongue. She’s sure she could go for longer like the energizer bunny, but Y/n already feels ready to tap out. Despite the death grip on her, her thighs tremble beyond control.

Zendaya’s grip slips from her thighs so two of her fingers can push into her. Her pussy engulfs her in wet warmth, making Zendaya moan. She looks up at Y/n, a gleam in her eyes, and tells Y/n not to cum just yet. Y/n throws her head back and lets out a frustrated groan. Zendaya’s fingers are hitting just the right spot; how could she not cum when it feels this good?

“You were desperate for it,” Zendaya teases. She likes seeing Y/n squirm, especially after she tried to put a wall between them. “Throw a fit when this is all you wanted.”

Her walls keep sucking Zendaya’s fingers in, making it a challenge to pump them in and out of her. Y/n’s needy body is so fun to watch as she withers away under her ex’s power.

“It’s okay baby, you can cum for me now.”

Zendaya’s ability to read her body irks Y/n to no end, but all she cares about is having her permission to cum. She gets over being embarrassed about it feeling “too soon” to cum and lets go. Zendaya kisses her thigh as Y/n creams on her fingers. Arousal seeps out through any tight space it can manage to. It feels so obscene to watch it happen up close. Zendaya leans in and licks the exposed parts of her fingers, and Y/n’s clit in the process. Y/n shivers from the feeling.

“Good girl,” Zendaya coos. Her gingers slide out and she admires how messy Y/n is, “you look so pretty like this. This pussy cums so much for me.”

Y/n was embarrassed, but it’s true. Just because they haven’t been together in a while doesn’t mean Zendaya forgot how to play her body. She remembers every single thing that sets her off. Her thighs tremble and she tries to shut them, but fails because of Zendaya’s body placed between her legs.

“Z,” she whines. She’s out of breath, but she knows Zendaya wants more out of her.

“I know baby,” she kisses her inner thigh again. “I know it’s too much, but you can take it. I love you so much, you’re such a good girl.”

Zendaya stands up, ready to press herself against Y/n, but not before unbuttoning her shirt. Underneath is a familiar white tank top. It looks like any regular tank top, but Y/n notices the shad near the shoulder which is evidence of a time when she got too carried away. She can never help herself when Zendaya is feverishly going down on her, or filling her up to the point she feels like she’s being split in half. When it just feels too good, all Y/n can do is whine for her.

“Too much,” she cries, yet she’s opening her legs again.

Zendaya’s embrace is soothing but her body is so close to Y/n’s that it has her riled up. Her comment about it being ‘too much’ begins to sound like a lie when she starts gyrating her hips. Her pussy was looking for pleasure again, so Zendaya gave it to her. She pulls Y/n close to the edge and places her leg between her thigh. Y/n instantly begins to grind against her; humping wildly. She reaches her hand down between them and begins to rub her through her pants. Her movements are sloppy and uncoordinated, but she wants to make Zendaya feel good too.

The two engage in a sloppy dance of admiration. Y/n can’t help but feel a little guilty about letting this happen. She’s strong until the very last minute where she destroys her own boundaries just for a taste of pleasure.

She would’ve suffocated in it if it wasn't for the obnoxious ringer interrupting the two of them. She whines embarrassingly loud when Zendaya pulls her leg away and she Y/n no longer feels any pressure on her clit.

“Shit.”

Zendaya is just as annoyed as Y/n when she realizes that the ringing is coming from her back pocket. She doesn’t want to answer, but with a sigh she reaches into her back pocket to see who is interrupting them. She hoped it was just someone a part of her team or a family member she wouldn’t mind sending to voicemail. However, the name on the screen made her heart race, and she knew she couldn’t miss it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Her tone changes completely causing Y/n to become curious. She has heard Zendaya talk on the phone with family, friends, and manager so many times before that she knows what the distinction is. The way she answered the phone is reminiscent of a time where their relationship was something new.

Y/n can hear the voice on the other side of the phone, but she can’t quite make out what they’re saying. Zendaya’s face is hard to read which just agitates her even more. The feeling in the pit of her stomach makes her feel dizzy and nauseous.

“No, no, I didn’t forget I just got caught up with something.”

Something.

Zendaya had to turn away from Y/n as she spoke on the phone. She was desperate to end the call, knowing that she was in the wrong, but she was stuck. She won’t be able to face Y/n once she ends the call.

“Okay…okay…sounds good…I’ll see you soon.”

Neither of them look at each other. Y/n hops off the counter and pulls down her skirt. She feels like someone’s mistress, but it isn’t fair. She was here first, and she always will be here.

“Y/n-“

“It’s okay. You can go.”

Y/n doesn’t turn around to face her which makes Zendaya feel even worse. It’s truly both of their faults for getting themselves into this mess and playing this game, but Zendaya can’t help but feel like she bears most of the burden. She shouldn’t be seeing anyone else while trying to figure things out with Y/n.

Nothing else is said between the two as Zendaya gathers her things and Y/n lets her out the front. She’ll be back tomorrow, Y/n is sure of it, but she hopes that they can both get their shit together by then.

#zendaya/reader #smut

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scenetocause · 2 years ago

Note

Idk about you but I would sure like Norris / Fewtrell / Kodric to be given the emptyhalf words.

ok i guess

"You're unbelievable," Lando's laughing but he's like - it's the thing he does when he's actually kind of serious but he's playing it down, not his real laugh and it unnerves Max a lot.

"What do you mean?" He honestly doesn't know what he's done. Something, clearly; it's not bad enough that Lando isn't curled right up against him in Max's bed, Max's fingers threading through his hair and Lando's stupid palm tree necklace digging into Max's breastbone.

"You were flirting with Martin so much, oh my god."

Oh.

Well, guilty as charged.

"If my boyfriend didn't leave me at home all the time then maybe I wouldn't have to look at hot, uhm. Hunks." He's got past the word 'boyfriend' in his list of mental blocks but it's very hard for Max to sort of think of himself as gay beyond Lando. He's not really sure he is but then, Martin is pretty hot and so tall, too. Like Jake, who's also pretty hot and ok maybe he just... has some sort of very specific type. He should try checking out Marcus next time they're in the gym to see if it's all drivers or just specifically the idiot ones.

Lando pouts, curling more round Max. "If you'd actually ask instead of, like - you know I always want you there. Anyway, I guess Martin's kinda hot."

Oh. Oh, Lando isn't complaining, he's fantasising.

Except Max's self-esteem isn't as secure as Lando's, clearly and so what he says is. "Hotter than me?" And his voice sounds pathetically small.

"No." It's not possible to actually hear someone rolling their eyes but Max thinks he can. "You're - and mine. But y'know, for someone else he kind of is."

Lando presses an unusually tender kiss under Max's ear. "You're still my big boy."

"Jesus-" Max ineffectively swats at Lando, who's already successfully limpeted onto him and just holds Max tighter, peppering him with kisses. "Fuck off. God."

Max mumbles "I love you, Bob" into the bumps of Lando's spine when they've rearranged to big and little spoon, a few minutes later.

Nothing happens because why would anything happen. Martin's straight and if Max and Lando sometimes work it into their dirty talk, the idea of one of them getting fucked by Martin while the other one's watching then, well. Look. They've said that about, like - Lando has a weird crush on Niall from One Direction and sometimes it comes up, it's just a fantasy, it's fine.

Until Tom opens his stupid mouth and Max is gonna edit him for Insta again, he swears to god.

"Who'd you have in a threesome, if you could have anyone?"

"Martin," Lando says, without even looking up from his phone while he's posting some jpgs.

It's at the same time as Connor says "Dua Lipa" and Jenny hits him with a cushion but someone definitely heard because several people follow it up with what?

Lando glances round the table, unfazed. "It's be Martin, we've talked about it."

Max can feel himself turning blotchy crimson. "Mate, you can't just say things like-"

"Really?" It's only fair that Martin, himself, asks.

"Yeah," Lando is totally unbothered, tucking himself back against Max's shoulder and taking a sip of his drink, the only tell that he knows what he's doing the way he's suddenly glowing with that weird, malicious energy he gives off sometimes. "It'd be hot. Y'know, you could fuck Max or-"

Collective shouting around the table manages to preserve Max's honour and stop him having to find a way to murder the man he loves the most of anyone in the world. And that's kind of the end of it because they get into fuck, marry, kill with the characters from Friends but none of them can remember what half of them are called and shots dissolve the rest of the conversation.

Until Max is wobbling to the bathroom, a little while later and wondering where Lando's gone. He probably might have noticed Martin was gone, too, except that he's been studiously trying not to make any kind of eye contact with the bloke for several hours, so it's easier not to think.

Except that Martin is suddenly right up in his space and Max nearly trips over his own feet. "Uh - hello, what Lando said, like, just, ignore him it's-"

He's shocked by Martin shushing him. Realises Martin's shirt is unbuttoned all the way down, tries not to fixate on the trail of hair down from his belly button but looking up from that means he's staring into Martin's eyes.

"I didn't mind," Martin's accent makes it soft, voice deliberately gentle. "It's kind of cute."

Max doesn't have time to squirm, before Martin's hand is on his jaw and his sweaty palms are on Martin's chest to steady himself and the main thing he registers, when Martin kisses him, is Lando's shrieky laugh of glee much too close by.

"I knew it," there's the sound of a shutter closing, a photo that better not make it to the internet. "It is really hot."

#emptyhalf fic

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deadcactuswalking · 1 year ago

Text

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 11/11/2023 (Olivia Rodrigo, Jax Jones/D.O.D/Ina Wroldsen, The Kid LAROI)

Welp, with a ton of sales and some actually good streaming traction, the Beatles have done it. With their supposedly final single, they now have 18 #1s, the second most of anybody charting only second to Elvis. It’s their first #1 since 1969, “Now and Then” surging up to the top spot this week. So what about the rest? Well, welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

It should be no surprise that “Now and Then” hit #1. They sold 78,000 units - a lot of it being physical copies - which naturally stomps on the usual sales figures we get nowadays. They set all kinds of chart-span records, including gap between #1 singles, and whilst it’s far from the only story this week, it is pretty great to have a genuine chart moment much like the Christmas #1 where the average person may actually give a damn about the chart. Now that you’re interested, here’s what’s on the chart, our notable dropouts - songs exiting from the UK Top 75 after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. This week, we say farewell to all the Halloween-related re-entries and debuts - probably not worth listening here, just make five guesses and check last week’s episode, you’re probably correct - and then it’s just “ONE MORE TIME” by blink-182, “bad idea right?” by Olivia Rodrigo, “Bittersweet Goodbye” by Issey Cross and “Kill Bill” by SZA, it’s not exactly a week for big losses.

This is also one of those weeks where we do see resurgences of old songs, with “Bad Habits” by Ed Sheeran back at #74, as well as the return for “Iris” by the Goo Goo Dolls at #67. This is its first time in the top 75 since 2014, and it has a bit of a bizarre run in general. It charted at #50 on release, died almost immediately, came back the next year at #26 before soon drifting back away. With the introduction of digital sales and eventually streaming, however, “Iris” has won out, going in and out of the charts for 100+ weeks since 2006. It peaked at #3 after a performance on The X Factor in 2011 pushed its sales up, which meant it was competing with Sak Noel’s “Loca People” and Maroon 5’s “Moves Like Jagger”. Elsewhere, we see gains for “Everywhere” by Fleetwood Mac at #61, “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi at #58, “As it Was” by Harry Styles at #57, “Another Love” by Tom Odell at #51 and the earliest defrosting of the Christmas hits ever, with “All I Want for Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey at #40 and “Last Christmas” by Wham! at #37. Therefore, Christmas rules need a reminder: I will not discuss Christmas gains past the top five unless they are entering the top 75 for the first time that year in that week. It means the rundowns get a lot less tedious during the holiday season.

To be fair, we have some more contemporary gains, like “MONEY ON THE DASH” by Elley Duhé and Whethan at #63, “Black Friday” by Tom Odell at #54, “Dance the Night” by Dua Lipa, “Would You (go to bed with me?)” by Campbell and Alcemist at #29, and “On My Love” by Zara Larsson and David Guetta at #22. Additionally, Jung Kook’s solo debut album GOLDEN debuts at #3 on the albums chart, thus we see gains for “3D” featuring Jack Harlow at #45 and a re-entry for “Seven” featuring Latto at #35, alongside a new single in the top 10 which we’ll talk about later, standing right next to Taylor Swift swapping out “Slut!” for “Cruel Summer” returning at #7, and speaking of the top 10…

The top five this week consists of “Water” by Tyla back up to #5 with Tate McRae’s “greedy” at #4, Taylor Swift’s “Is it Over Now?” holding on at #3, “Prada” by casso, RAYE and D-Block Europe at #2 and of course the Fab Four at the very top. Now for our pretty scarce but vaguely interesting batch of new songs, though I say the term “new” a bit loosely.

NEW ARRIVALS

#75 - “The Night We Met” - Lord Huron

Produced by Ben Schneider

Okay, so we have another weird chart run here. This song by California indie rock band Lord Huron was originally released in 2015 - which is soon, terrifyingly, near a decade ago - and did not make much noise until it was featured on the soundtrack to Selena Gomez-backed polarising Netflix show 13 Reasons Why in 2017, the year in which this song actually charted below the top 75 for a brief couple weeks. The year after, a remix featuring Phoebe Bridgers of boygenius was featured in the soundtrack for the show’s second season, and gave the song a bit of a third wind… and now it’s back for a fourth because God knows why, probably TikTok because the show is long cancelled. Thankfully this constant slow-burn of a chart run is for a song that is genuinely very good, going for a slightly retro-sounding guitar lick with the haunting doo-wop vocal lead-in, for a song about losing the spark and connection of a relationship and just desperately wanting to recapture - or honestly, escape - the initial moments. I wish the lead vocalist would really get into it a bit more as whilst his fried devastation is effective, I’d like to hear a real belt considering the desperate melodrama of these lyrics. It’s also not the bets co-ordinated-sounding chorus in the world, isn’t really that impactful, and the mix can feel a bit compressed, but as a song, the qualities are there, and I think it lacking a bridge or real climax is by design. It’s the closer of the album after all, and I’m not about to complain about something that could be corrected by listening to the full record. I prefer the Bridgers version, primarily because of how a female perspective in the second verse just touches a better note for me, I don’t exactly know why. It doesn’t make any major differences to the composition so either will work, and if it ends up sticking around, it’s far from the worst indie pop track to have lying around at the bottom of the charts. Isn’t that right, Vance Joy?

#66 - “Brilliant Mind” - Blanco

Produced by Jensmuller

We’ve seen UK rapper Blanco, specifically accompanied by Central Cee, and he didn’t make much of an impression then, though the song wasn’t bad. Here he is backed with what may be one of the best drill beats I’ve heard this year, if it counts as one, applying the rhythms to a club bounce and some African-influenced blocky percussion, as Zelda-sounding flutes ring off in the background and as soon as Blanco starts rapping, a warm sax joins the mix, adding a lot of richer potency to otherwise standard flexing and violence, though the rhyme schemes and flows are on point, and Blanco has a fantastic delivery to sell all of this. I find the lack of ad-libs for the most part really interesting too, it makes the song feel a lot more self-interested, inward-looking rather than flexing on the audience, where each thing he’s grateful for in his life has the added caveat of what should have happened or what eventually does happen to defy the purpose and meaning of it, like when his old gang friends hop the gated fence he has up. It’s a shame that the name of the song comes from a corny sex pun in the hook because there really is a lot to this one, and I think a better outro would seal it for me, but as this there’s still a lot of quality here, especially in the production and that frankly fantastic second verse, for me to call this a pretty excellent example of where British hip hop could be going. Check this out.

#41 - “BLEED” - The Kid LAROI

Produced by Billy Walsh, Omer Fedi, Blake Slatkin and The Kid LAROI

So The Mid LAROI has slowly been drip-feeding songs from the new album he just released this week, and whilst rap is still an influence, LAROI is moving further into the pop rock direction Post Malone kind of took, which makes complete sense for LAROI considering he is some kind of amalgamation of Posty, Bieber and Juice WRLD, with the only thing that really makes him all too recognisable being his hate-it-or-love-it voice. Now I love “WHAT JUST HAPPENED”, but that’s not the single that charted this week. Instead, we have “BLEED”, which just goes for a similar indie pop-influenced acoustic rock sound, except more familiar and laidback than what the other single went for. It’s not bad at all, even if LAROI’s rawer lead vocal take seems a tad detached from the backing harmonies. I do quite actually like that interplay - or more accurately counterplay - on the chorus, where LAROI’s vocal inflections seem particularly dejected when he’s not going for a half-rap angst. The soaring backdrop makes this a pretty solid track, even if perhaps a one-note one that doesn’t go for much more than the one cool trick it saves for the second verse, that being the fast-pace build-up with the distorted guitar and synth flutters sliding in, but it doesn’t lead up to all that great of a final chorus, especially since some of the extra layers are stuck in the back of the mix or only in the left channel. There’s a good song here, but it’s not really fully realised and I don’t think it’ll ever be a great one.

#28 - “Won’t Forget You” - Jax Jones, D.O.D and Ina Wroldsen featuring The Blackout Crew

Produced by Jax Jones, D.O.D and Mitch Jones

Part of me perhaps optimistically hopes that D.O.D will offset some of Jax Jones’ copy-and-paste house-pop genericism by a lot trying a little, and we have Ina Wroldsen - who you probably heard on Jones’ older hit “Breathe” - on the meaningless vocals, so it’s not exactly a good sign, but hey, it’s not awful. Wroldsen sounds frankly terrible but the Euro-trance revival is still in full effect and that slightly jerkier take on the beeping trance synths is actually a bit of a cool, different touch amidst the rest of the oddly drowned-out atmospherics that Wroldsen is mixed way over. It was probably D.O.D’s idea but that’s not important, it’s still there… but it loses its novelty past the first drop. It’s an earworm for sure, though and for whatever reason, the Official Charts Company credits “The Blackout Crew” here for the less-streamed “donk edit”, which is basically the song sped-up and with comical rapping over the drop. Welcome back, Blackout Crew, you haven’t charted since you “Put a Donk on It” in 2008, and you haven’t gotten any better in those 15 years, but it’s still… just delightful. In fact their style of comical EDM-rap they introduced with that classic novelty single is probably more influential than I’d like to admit nowadays. I’d like to see them collaborate with some of the people that clearly take influence from them, like Kak Hatt or, uh, the “give me some time, I’ll have that Rover” guy. Yeah, that would work.

#18 - “Can’t Catch Me Now” (from The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes) - Olivia Rodrigo

Produced by Dan Nigro

Welp, there’s a new Hunger Games, and Lorde isn’t hip with the young-adult demographic anymore so guess who’s back? This seems to act as a semi-motivational semi-revenge track that makes many direct references - albeit through metaphors and imagery you could absolutely apply to, say, a breakup - to the film’s plot, or at least seems to. Rodrigo plays a powerful woman responding to mistreatment by just being everywhere and having whoever wronged her constantly reminded me of O-Rod, without them being able to “catch” her. It’s a cool idea for a song, but perhaps not an acoustic ballad? Rodrigo doesn’t feel like she’s signifying much power here, even if the acoustic guitars sound a lot richer this time around and the harmonies are pretty gorgeous as one would expect. For an acoustic Olivia Rodrigo ballad, it’s actually up there quality-wise, even if just for the swell and for the lack of annoying wordiness that is a bit of an O-Rod trademark at this point. The haunting strings do a pretty good job at feeling surrounding and particularly enclosing, giving a ghostly essence to the reverb and echo on Rodrigo’s “oohs” in the post-chorus. In fact, the bridge kind of seals it: her performance is fantastic, the initial hit is great, but then it repeats as a mantra, gaining swell but losing most of its steam. Unlike LAROI’s ballad from earlier, there IS a great song here, somewhere, but the structure of it - and perhaps my lack of connection of the franchise - doesn’t do it as many favours for me. I can see it growing on me or really being a fan favourite but for now, I just think it’s pretty good.

#6 - “Standing Next to You” - Jung Kook

Produced by watt and Cirkut

I’m still yet to be impressed by BTS solo work and whilst Jung Kook is somewhat close - he definitely has the charisma of a pop star - I feel like he ends up losing me just in the songs department, as they really end up being a competent version of a mostly competently-written song with a fun performance, and nothing more. They’re so fine-tuned and well-done it makes me forget that he was at some point a K-pop singer, and that’s definitely true for this one that just throws 80s synth funk grooves, harmonies and disjointed blasts of horns and bass at you, to convince that there’s some kind of bombast. But I’m honestly not convinced: it’s trying a lot, trying to make some kind of epic, but it doesn’t have a lot of the guts. One of the big lines in the chorus is “it’s deep like DNA” and the wham line it drops on is just a stuttered, kind of weakly-sold “take off”. There’s also just not a lot lyrically here at all, and I mean that in quite literal terms of how many unique words there are. It’s not bad, it’s just a nothing burger.

Conclusion

And sadly, on a decent week, that’s enough to get Worst of the Week. I probably have to clarify given it’s Jung Kook that I have absolutely nothing against the boys, just I’m not a fan of the song. I can’t sincerely give out a Dishonourable Mention so I’ll tie the Honourable Mention between “The Night We Met” by Lord Huron, specifically the version featuring Phoebe Bridgers, and Olivia Rodrigo for “Can’t Catch Me Now”, whilst Best of the Week goes to, surprisingly enough, Blanco for “Brilliant Mind”. I guess, keep it up, man. As for what’s on the horizon, we’ll be in festive season soon enough, but maybe PinkPantheress will give us something less confectionery to chew on in the interim? I don’t know. Regardless, thank you for reading and I’ll see you next week!

#uk singles chart #song review #pop music #jung kook #olivia rodrigo #the kid laroi #blanco #lord huron #phoebe bridgers #jax jones #ina wroldsen #d.o.d #blackout crew

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whorecorelover · 3 months ago

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Hola people of tumblr. It is I. Here, yet again for another diary entry.

I have so far cried for about seven times today, not counting the tears from the past half hour. This place is difficult. It is full of hate. Makes me get full of hate as well.

I hate how some parents do not want toddlers, kids, children, teenagers and adults. They want babies. You know why I think that’s the case? Babies are soft, they are cute, they are chubby, they are biteable, yes. But babies have no power over you. They are dependent on you. They are like little dolls you pick up and show people around like how you did when you were little with your Barbie’s. Look this is my baby. It cant do anything and will listen to whatever I say without questioning, because it cant think.

It is unmistakably what the case is with my parents, more with my dad. It is exhausting. I’m not 3 anymore, you cant do that anymore and you cant expect me to let you do that anymore. I am not yours anymore, I was never anyone’s to begin with. I have always been aware of how distant we got the more I grew up, I just never thought he would have resented the idea of someone especially his daughter growing up. I was wrong apparently. Other than the countless humiliations in front of big crowds he and my brothers has inflicted on me he kept mentioning how he doesn’t need to ask permission to hit me because I am his.

No I am not. I am not yours. I never was. And I never will be. His obsessive behavior with my mistakes with my actions or rather with anything I do or say is making me feel disgusting. I feel physically sick because of him. I feel angry.

I miss who I was a few weeks ago. Calm and loving without this constant anger, state of survival and being triggered all the time. If I were in that country still (will go back in a months time) I would have gotten myself my biweekly flowers. Cleaned my room. Got more blue tack so I could put up more pictures and postcards on my walls. I would have started praying, being close to God. Would have used the prayer mat and the dua my boyfriend got for me. I would have spent time with him. Went out on small dates, whether to a pub, bar, museum, or just the gym and home. I miss him. Haven’t spoken properly to him about six days at this point (he is at a festival).

I miss the life I built for myself in university. I cannot wait to go back to it. But for now here are some good things that happened to me today:

🩷I had this dessert that I have been thinking for a while. It was so sugary but so good. Diabetes in a plate.

🩷I talked with a friend who lives in germany. We haven’t talked for a while I really missed him.

🩷I saw a lot of kedys today.

🩷I found a book that I seem to like so far. I haven’t picked up a book in ages that wasnt forced onto me by my father. I might buy it!

If you have read so far, I hope whatever you have on your plate comes easy to you and I hope you try to surround yourself with love always.

Thank you for reading, here is a picture of a distinguished gentleman I saw today.

#my diary #dear diary #diary entry #self love #self improvement #self care #self help #talkin #cute cats #kedy

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amandapjstt · 5 months ago

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Soul and Mate

tujuh belas juni dua ribu dua puluh empat. tujuh empat puluh sembilan.

Hello, everyone! It's been a long time it's been a long no writing to this blog. As for today, I want to share my journey to finally find the "one". What an interesting topic for 90's generation who's already on their 30's and still single. I'm ready to spill some tea with you guys!

I bumped into @coachanez's page and find one of her reels relatable and I hope this post will somehow inspire and encourage you guys on finding your mate.

Coach Anez in one of her reels said to find your soul first before find your mate. I just watch it today and without realizing I'm on that process already. It's Allah's way to grant me such idea to find myself first, what exactly I want in life in order to find what I want from a partner.

Step to a few years back, I overthink on my prospect on finding partner if I'm not wiling to meet real person in real life while I have limited access on women-men interaction. Then I start to be more open on social gathering especially in matchmacking purpose. And I came to a conclucion I should put myself out, not sit still on my bubble. It's hard, I know. It's hard to be vulnarable, show my intention, but it's something I need to do since it's widder the chance of me getting women-men interaction.

Everytime I attend the matchmaking gathering (some people here called it anjangsana) in my 28's until my age now, my intention is shifted. I change my intention to encouraging those girls on the event. I started making friends everytime I came to those gatherings. Listen to their stories and shared the good vibe energy with them. I can't remember their names but we remember faces hahahahaha! but that's fun! on the last gathering I attend I met a girl who I always bump to on every gathering I attend and she said she's pregnant already that indicate she's been married! I'm happy for her ofc! that's how the energy I want to give to others, like "hang on girls, your time will come" finally with Allah's blessing my intention, my energy is well shared. I love listening to their concern and I hope with my presence there they find it as an encouraging message. warm hugs for those girls.

As I meet a lot of people, I came to the idea on finding myself first. And I start to wrote on this platform, privately (I make it open just now hehe), what I want from a partner. And that really help me on deciding whether the man who come is worthy of my time.

And finally I can say that I finally met that person! (OMG! the tea is spilled hahaha) One of my cousin introduced me to this man and voila! in no time I become someone's wife. It's exciting yet thrilling! But to be wise, I need to calm down and enjoy the rest of the month as a 30's single before those obligations and mandatories come along with the new chapter. And preparing a wedding is tiring AF yet exciting to be honest. Haaaaaaah ... inhaling and exhaling everytime I think about it. And I sit here at 4 am continue wrtiting to you guys before I dive into the chaotic wedding spreedsheet that I make LOL.

Beside all the flowers and butterflies things happening, there's a tiny part on my brain that overly think, like, is this real? (this one with capital letters! OMG IS THIS EVEN REAL?!) am I not rushing things? am I not trapped in the idea of him? am I deserved to be with someone as fine as him? ... but I try not to. Everytime those intrusive thoughts come, I pray to Allah to keep those away and make me focus on what I should do next. This process also teach me how "go with the flow" (with Allah's guidance of course) is as exciting as "everything planned".

The one thing people want to know is how do you know is she/he is the one? Idk about him but for me ... he's everything I could ask for a partner. On my whisper pray before bed, on my sleepless night, on my despair ... those whisper prays ... those tiny tiny voice inside my head ... Allah is there, listen. No one will check all the list you write as your ideal partner but when the person come, you finally know which qualities from your list that you needed the most. I can guarantee that. All the stage of life that you've been through ... I can say it's necessary to happen, to help you find your soul and finally, find your mate.

I'm not saying all my problems solved at this rate. It's actually a new chapter, a new problem ofc. But the idea of getting to know someone and have a partner going through the hard road is great. I know, none of this writing is make sense for my fellow 90's friends and 30's girls. This is not relateable, I know. But when your time come, and you read this, I hope all of this will make sense to you. And when it come, I hope you're already make peace with yourself.

See you on my next writing.

Bye!

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sub-matlabi · 7 months ago

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I want to get married to someone. But that person has made it clear to me that they are not interested. Actually they backed out after agreeing. Everything was set, even the date was fixed but then they started making excuses and it ended so horribly that there is literally no hope or way for it to happen now. That person has hurt me a lot. I have suffered great personal and family loss because of them. I want to let it go and move on but It doesn’t seem to go away from my heart. I can’t let it go. Even when I try my best I still find myself feeling the same thing. It’s been almost a year. I have been looking for other proposals and as soon as my family finds a good match I will get married. This struggle in me confuses me. I believe that dua can change anything. I want to make dua for that person to come back to me. I know it sounds so weird and silly. Even I feel it funny as I write this but what to do with my heart which doesn’t give up. I want Allah to decide this matter for me now. I have waited so patiently for ramzan to come so that I can talk to Allah about it. What should I pray for in the last ten nights? I don’t know why I still want to get married to that person. I want to let it go but I can’t. Please tell me what should i do? What dua should i make? At times it weighs so heavy on my heart that I can’t stop crying. My desire to be loved and accepted by that person isn’t letting me move on. I am tired of fighting with myself. Last night I thought okay yr I surrender to this and I will make sincere dua to Allah to get married to them. It seems unlikely but my heart won’t give up. I’ve been making continuous Quranic dua for a righteous spouse but at times I ask Allah to make that person better for me. Just yesterday I offered 2 rakat nafal prayer specially to forget all of that and by isha i had such a severe anxiety and panic attack that I cried in prayer and asked Allah to send them back. I know that person doesn’t want to marry me at all. I know I will move on too. But what to do with these feelings and this hope and faith in dua. At times I can literally feel that person. Like I can literally feel that they have moved on and it hurts. I am learning to accept it. And i made dua that I stop sensing them. My heart feels attracted to them this is why i can sense them. I want it all to end and if it doesn’t then I want Allah to make us better for each other and unite us as spouse soon. Please help me understand all this and please make dua for me. I am in extreme emotional distress because of all this. Nobody seems to understand. And I cant explain it either. Please do reply and please give me sincere advice. May Allah bless you.

Assalamu Alaikum, Dear brother or sister! I hope I will be able to guide you. Reading all that you have mentioned I assume you already have a strong faith in dua, you are lost and cannot figure out what's right for you. Truth is that only dua can help you in this extreme situation where you are fighting with your nafs. You need to learn the way to make dua. Remember you have to put Allah swt before anyone else. When you are praying to him use his attributes that show his omnipotence. He likes to be called upon by his attributes. Recite surah doha on daily basis as it helps to calm down your heart. You must learn the duas of Hazrat Musa AS, Hazrat Salama AS, Hazrat Younas AS. These duas have helped me and many others alot. Seek for Allah's guidance. Ask him to bless you with a righteous spouse. Never stop praying. Pray to him again and again until you get married. Have strong faith in him. Even if you want the same person back in your life ask Allah SWT to bring him back but only if he is suitable for you. Remember that you have no idea if that person would have been the righteous spouse for you. So never ask Allah to give him back to you at any cost. Always pray that bring him back if he is the best match for me. Always ask him to bless you with the best in the dunya and akhira even if you think you don't deserve it. And please don't cry for human beings. It's not worth it. Cry only in front of Allah and only for him.

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yuleshootureye · 9 months ago

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I don't know what it is, but I've recently become obsessed with Dua Lipa's "Physical". I mean, it's at least 75% because of Laganja Estranja on All Stars 6 giving one of the most face-melting lipsync performances ever, but I have no idea why it's taken two years for the song to fully start eating my brain.

But anyway, while I've been wearing out the virtual turntable, I've been paying attention to the lyrics and they are just... it feels like two songs got mashed together?

Okay, Verse 1 and Pre-Chorus: this is a song about having fantastic sex with someone you're really digging -- "common love isn't for us", "phenomenal", "diamond rich", "nothing on this planet compares to it" -- Dua Lipa is so very dtf and she hopes this person agrees.

"All night, I'll riot with you" - is that what the kids are calling it these days? Especially when followed up with "I know you got my back and you know I got you"... is. is that sexy? I mean, "I can rely on you and you can rely on me" is a good sentiment, but is it sexy? It's a good sentiment when you're going to choose someone to riot with, but much like the word "riot" it doesn't really evoke "wild sex" to me?

But maybe I'm weird and old-fashioned. She said "let's get physical", clearly an Olivia Newton-John reference, clearly a sex reference now just as it was back then

"Baby keep on dancing like you ain't got a choice"?? Also doesn't seem sexual to me? Yes, dancing is historically a great sexual euphemism, but "like you ain't got a choice" is one hell of a simile to end that phrase with. Again, it's very possible this song has just eaten away at my brain and all I have left are conspiratorial ramblings, but "dancing like you ain't got a choice" sounds more like the aforementioned rioting than anything sexy??

But let's leave the chorus for Verse 2, maybe that will clear things up

...is our sexy riot happening in the Matrix now, what is going on??

"I don't want to live another life / 'cause this one's pretty nice" is one hell of a downgrade from "common love isn't for us"... don't you agree?

This deliberate(?) understatement is actually what originally caught my attention, tbh. And after the Matrix vibe of the first two lines, "I don't want to live another life / 'cause this one's pretty nice" feels like the robot overlords realized that during the chorus you pulled a bait-and-switch and this song is actually about fighting the power, not marathon sex, so now you're pulling back and going "me? incite a riot? no no no, how could I when I love it so much here in the Matrix!"

Then we cut to the chorus, we riot again, we do sexy trust falls or whatever, we dance until we die, etc.

"tell me if you're ready" for what?? A real relationship? To take the red pill? To try butt stuff? I just don't know.

#I go through an entire emotional rollercoaster every time I listen to this song #and I've been playing it on repeat #so you can imagine the journey I've been on recently #I had to make this post to share the brain rot #yuleshootureye.txt

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islamicspecialistforloveback · 7 months ago

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Islamic Dua To Get Your Lost Love Back

Today we will talk about Islamic Dua To Get Your Lost Love Back. We all know that losing your true Love is very heartbreaking and painful. The most common reason behind lost Love is our lack of mutual understanding, or the other reason could be a love triangle. Sometimes many couples do not respect their partner because they have a misunderstanding in their mind that they can’t leave…

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#Dua For Lost Love Back #Dua to get someone back ideas in 2024 #dua to get someone back in your life #Islamic Dua To Get Your Lost Love Back #Which dua will get your lost love back in 7 day

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weeklydoseoffeelgoodtunes · 10 months ago

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Top 100 of 2023

1. Dua Lipa- Dance The Night

2. BENEE- Green Honda

3. Tove Lo- Borderline

4. Galantis, David Guetta, MNEK- Damn

5. Kylie Minigue- Padam Padam

6. Tai Verdes- Sandman

7. Ellie Goulding- Like A Saviour

8. Nicky Youre- Eyes On You

9. Troye Sivan- Rush

10. Latto & LU KALA- Lottery

11. ClockClock- Someone Else

12. The National- Tropic Morning News

13. Mae Muller- Me, Myself, & I

14. Ava Max- One Of Us

15. White Reaper- Pages

16. Post Malone- Chemical

17. Milky Chance- Living In A Haze

18. Del Water Gap- All We Ever Do Is Talk

19. Fat Nick- Songs on the Radio

20. FAST BOY & Topic- Forget You

21. charlieonnafriday- Enough

22. Dream- Until I End Up Dead

23. beabadoobee- the way things go

24. Tiësto- Lay Low

25. Seeb & Alexander Stewart- Would You Lie

26. lovelytheband- sail away

27. Julieta Venegas- En Tu Orilla

28. Gorillaz & Adeleye Omotayo- Silent Running

29. Post Malone- Enough Is Enough

30. Nissi & Fireboy DML- Nobody

31. Oliver Tree & Robin Schulz- Miss You

32. Cannons- Desire

33. Jonas Blue & Felix Jaehn- Weekends

34. The Killers- Your Side of Town

35. Bad Bunny & Bomba Estéreo- Ojitos Lindos

36. Galantis & Hannah Boleyn- Little Bit Yours

37. Post Malone- Mourning

38. almost monday- sun keeps on shining

39. Anson Seabra- Supposed To Be a Love Song

40. Feid & Rema- BUBALU

41. Jung Kook & Latto- Seven

42. Chappell Roan- Red Wine Supernova

43. Gus Dapperton- Horizons

44. Bebe Rexha & Snoop Dogg- Satellite

45. iann dior- You Don’t Even

46. Fireboy DML- Someone

47. Cannons- Bad Tattoo

48. Rels B- yo pr1mero

49. Ice Spice- Deli

50. CHVRCHES- Over

51. PinkPantheress- Mosquito

52. Little Big & bbno$- IT HAPPENS

53. Arlo Parks- Weightless

54. Tiësto- All Nighter

55. Arcángel & Grupo Frontera- ALV

56. PNAU & Troye Sivan- You Know What I Need

57. Galantis & Neon Trees- Dreamteam

58. Danna Paola- XT4S1S

59. Olivia Rodrigo- get him back!

60. P!NK- TRUSTFALL

61. Tiësto & Tate McRae- 10:35

62. Johnny Orlando- if he wanted to he would

63. Mae Stephens- If We Ever Broke Up

64. ALEXSUCKS- 6 Pack & Cigarettes

65. BEL- Are You Okay?

66. Jubël & NLE Choppa- Triple A

67. Leah Kate- Hot All the Time

68. venbee & goddard.- messy in heaven

69. Tyla- Water

70. FIFTY FIFTY- Cupid

71. Rauw Alejandro- DIME QUIÉN????

72. Seven Kayne & Diablo- NO SÉ XQ

73. DARKOO & Ayra Starr- Disturbing U

74. Ava Max- Christmas Without You

75. Post Malone- Overdrive

76. Kylie Minogue- Hold On To Now

77. Holly Humberstone- Into Your Room

78. Lauv- Love U Like That

79. Fireboy DML- Oh My

80. (G)I-DLE- I DO

81. [email protected] & lentra- psycho drama

82. Jax Jones & Calum Scott- Whistle

83. Corina Smith- como te va?

84. Arlo Parks- Blades

85. UMI- why don’t we go

86. Paris Texas- Everybody’s Safe Until…

87. Trevor Daniel- Karma

88. Kylie Minogue- Things We Do For Love

89. People R Ugly- Get Over It

90. Rita Ora- You Only Love Me

91. Olivia Rodrigo- bad idea right?

92. Clean Bandit & Elley Duhé- Don’t Leave Me Lonely

93. Djo- Change

94. 347aidan- candyflips!

95. Bad Bunny- WHERE SHE GOES

96. The Last Dinner Party- Nothing Matters

97. grandson- Half My Heart

98. OneRepublic- RUNAWAY

99. ThxSoMch- SPIT IN MY FACE!

100. Fisher & AATIG- TAKE IT OFF

#2023 #music #playlist #countdown #top songs #top songs of 2023 #top 100 #top 100 of 2023 #dua lipa #dance the night

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theweirdkidinside03 · 11 months ago

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2023: Jung Kook and Latto's collaboration, Seven, is the song of the year!

Seven (feat. Latto) - Jung Kook

Flowers - Miley Cyrus

vampire - Olivia Rodrigo

Snooze - SZA

Traffic Accident - Dann & Mujin

Paint The Town Red - Doja Cat

Kill Bill - SZA

Last Night - Morgan Wallen

Dance The Night - Dua Lipa

GENTO - SB19

Chemical - Post Malone

Eyes Closed - Ed Sheeran

Fast Car - Luke Combs

Like Crazy - Jimin

greedy - Tate McRae

What Was I Made For? - Billie Eilish

Creepin' - Metro Boomin, The Weeknd & 21 Savage

Escapism. - RAYE & 070 Shake

Waffle House - Jonas Brothers

3D (feat. Jack Harlow) - Jung Kook

CUPID - FIFTY FIFTY

THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS (feat. Dan + Shay) - Charlie Puth

Lavender Haze - Taylor Swift

BZRP Music Sessions #53 - BIZARRAP & Shakira

Heaven - Niall Horan

bad idea right? - Olivia Rodrigo

Love Like This - ZAYN

Karma (feat. Ice Spice) - Taylor Swift

Anti Hero - Taylor Swift

Wild Tonight - Josh Cullen

Demons - Doja Cat

Daylight - Harry Styles

Meltdown - Niall Horan

get him back! - Olivia Rodrigo

Single Soon - Selena Gomez

I Can See You (Taylor's Version) (From The Vault) - Taylor Swift

Used To Be Young - Miley Cyrus

Rush - Troye Sivan

Rainy Days - V

River - Miley Cyrus

Psychic (feat. Jack Harlow) - Chris Brown

Special - Lizzo

Curtains - Ed Sheeran

TOO MUCH - The Kid Laroi, Jung Kook & Central Cee

Lipstick - Charlie Puth

Barbie World (with Aqua) - Nicki Minaj & Ice Spice

Princess Diana - Ice Spice & Nicki Minaj

Double Fantasy (feat. Future) - The Weeknd

Standing Next To You - Jung Kook

Angels Like You - Miley Cyrus

Desire - Calvin Harris & Sam Smith

Miracle - Calvin Harris & Ellie Goulding

K-POP - Travis Scott, Bad Bunny & The Weeknd

Boy's a liar - PinkPantheress

Favorite Song - Toosii

fukumean - Gunna

Mourning - Post Malone

Pretty Girl - Ice Spice & Rema

The Show - Niall Horan

Heart Wants What It Wants - Bebe Rexha

Attention - Doja Cat

Sensational (feat. Davido & Lojay) - Chris Brown

Can't Tame Her - Zara Larsson

The Astronaut - JIN

Like a Movie - B1A4

Die 4 Me - Halsey

Middle Ground - Maroon 5

Crushed - Imagine Dragons

Feather - Sabrina Carpenter

Slow Dancing - V

Older (feat. Sierra Deaton) - 5 Seconds of Summer

WHERE SHE GOES - Bad Bunny

Withdrawal - Austin Mahone

Do It Like That - TXT & Jonas Brothers

Love Again - The Kid Laroi

Running Out Of Time - Paramore

NVMD - Denise Julia

Angel Pt. 1 - NLE Choppa, Kodak Black, Jimin of BTS, JVKE & Muni Long

Music For a Sushi Restaurant - Harry Styles

I'm Not Here To Make Friends - Sam Smith

Houdini - Dua Lipa

End Of Time - Zara Larsson

Is There Someone Else? - The Weeknd

One of Your Girls - Troye Sivan

Rock And A Hard Place - Bailey Zimmerman

Wings - Jonas Brothers

On My Love - Zara Larsson & David Guetta

MONACO - BAD BUNNY

SAD B!TCH - Anne-Marie

They Don't Love It - Jack Harlow

ONE MORE TIME - blink 182

Good Good - Usher, Summer Walker & 21 Savage

Alone - Kim Petras & Nicki Minaj

Lost - Linkin Park

Like A Saviour - Ellie Goulding

VIBE (feat. Jimin of BTS) - TAEYUNG

Cheetah - Jackson Wang

Baby Don't Hurt Me - David Guetta, Anne-Marie & Coi Leroy

With You - Oliver Tree

what is lovE? - B1A4

0 notes

theskytraveler · 2 years ago

Text

!!!!!!!

I didn't want to read this until I was done writing my own new chapter, but now I am and I am so excited about this!!!

As usual, I got carried away with the commentary so I had to put in a "keep reading" thing 🙈

It looks like Disneyland trying to do stately

Dying at this description, I love it.

Part of you feels sad for having missed out on the Say Yes to The Dress moment

MAY, HOW DID YOU KNOW I'M OBSESSED WITH THAT SHOW?? One of my life dreams is getting married in a Pnina Tornai dress 😍

he’s always looked a little too much like Tom Cruise for comfort

I was waiting to see if she'd mention the uncanny resemblance and I can't stop laughing 😂 Also, "I'll be your witness today" man, stop being so serious! This is a wedding! At a building that could belong at Disneyland! Lighten up!

Pete excuses himself to find some water after a while, but you suspect he might just be trying to give you and Bradley some space.

Either that or he needs to check in with his cult 😌

It’s a ring. A simple silver band with a little diamond, nothing flashy, nothing big. Classic. Reliable. So Bradley Bradshaw it would make you laugh if this whole thing weren’t so goddamn sad.

How do you do this?? How do you characterize someone so well through an object?? Show me your ways.

After the divorce

Yeah, right. As if I believe that's gonna happen. Pfff, please.

After all, you’re the one bringing all the baggage here.

Has she met him? That man is all baggage. I'm surprised they let him fly the jets instead of putting him with the rest of the cargo.

trying to forget what you just forced Bradley to do

She forgets this was all his idea a lot 😂 I get it, but like, everything is mostly fine 😂

Phoenix wears a broad smile

PHOENIX!!! I'm suddenly reminded of my campaign!! Let Phoenix Punch Luke In The Face 2k22!! Soon to be 2k23!!

Bradley shrugs, but you catch sight of his expression before he turns toward the bar room again, and you think he looks pleased.

This man is a puppy. I feel like I've said this before. Still true.

Whitney Houston bellows about wanting to dance with somebody from the speakers.

Listen, I love Whitney as much as anybody, but I thought you said we were listening to modern songs? I thought that meant One Direction. Dua Lipa. Can't name any more artists from the top of my head because I only listen to Broadway and West End cast recordings, but you get what I mean. This is such an unimportant detail, but it caught me off guard and it's important to me that you know that.

“You guys have been disgustingly in love with each other since you met. The baby on board is just the cherry on top of the perfect peanut butter chocolate sundae, right?”

I cannot believe that the first person in possession of all of his brain cells in this fic is Hangman. Caught me off guard as well. Maybe he should start singing to Whitney too, that would throw me for a loop.

He disappears into the mess of the night, whistling a tune

I NEED TO KNOW, IS IT WHITNEY????

“I never would have predicted Hangman would be the first one to figure it out, right?”

No, sir! This is the part you confirm you're in love so we can avoid the miscommunication shenanigans later on. It's like none of them have ever read a book! Watched a movie! His mom is rom-com royalty Meg Ryan for crying out loud!

Careful where you tread, you think, dumbly, you might be treading on my soul.

I can't believe it took me this long to say this, but this woman needs a therapist. Someone get her one.

“If I followed you on Instagram… would you follow me back?”

Love seeing she has her priorities straight 😂😂😂

“It’s my Bronco. I have a picture of my car as my profile pic.”

AHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA I AM SCREAMING!!

for a moment, just a moment, you think that maybe, after all, things might turn out okay.

They will. Meg Ryan, rom-com royalty, is his mom. Happy endings are basically 50% of his DNA.

May, this was so worth the wait! And there are so many directions I see this story going, so I'm excited to see which one you'll choose.

Hangman is 100% a Whitney Huston fan, you heard it here first!!

My HC is that Bob is away since I don't remember seeing him even in part one. Lucky for them. The second he glances at Y/N and Bradley he's gonna understand their entire story up until that point and then probably predict their future too.

AND WHERE IS LUKE SO THAT PHOENIX CAN PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE???

I love this series ❤️

baby, let's play house. rooster (part 2)

part 1

pairing ; bradley bradshaw x female!reader

synopsis ; marriage of convenience. you got yourself in trouble. bradley has a bit of a savior complex. together, you come up with what could potentially be the worst idea in the longstanding and illustrious history of bad ideas.

wc ; 6k

warnings ; angst; explicit language; explicit sexual content in later parts; pregnancy; mentions of Tom Cruise; unhealthy family dynamics

note: jesus this is so late... and it's so short.... I'm so sorry y'all???

Two weeks later, you marry Bradley Bradshaw.

The Miramar City Hall is a horrible building, all the worst aspects of suburban SoCal architecture wrapped into one. It looks like Disneyland trying to do stately, with the walls painted an indefinable color somewhere between salmon and eggshell. Massive white pillars protrude from the facade, and through the square windows, you can see rows of underpaid clerks poring over documents, computer screens, or jelly donuts. A long fountain stretches in front of the stairs, water bubbling forth in steady streams.

You stand under the sloping canopy of the front entrance, feet aching in the heels you dug out of the depths of your closet, seven out of ten nails bitten down to the beds, heart fluttering in your throat as the panic swallows you whole, and wait.

Bradley offered to pick you up, but you declined politely but firmly, insisting instead on driving yourself. Some weird, last stand for your independence, maybe. Or you had just needed the fifteen-minute drive to calm down, to let the wind whistling in through the rolled-down windows whip some sense back into you, to listen to the same song on loop until the routine of the rhythm, the repetition of the notes, lulled you into a false sense of security—either which.

All that forced calm is gone the minute Bradley climbs the last step and smiles at you. Behind that smile, though, barely concealed by a thin veneer of cheer, in his eyes, you can see his tension clear as day.

He’s in his dress whites, cap and all, and for some reason, that makes you want to cry. With the added breadth of the shoulder boards, he looks even broader than usual. You can’t stop staring at the ribbons pinned to his chest.

“Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “You look beautiful.”

It dumbfounds you. You glance down at the dress you panic-bought using your nest egg last week, at the open-toed sandals you got on sale for your senior prom. It’s hardly Vera Wang, hardly what you imagined for yourself.

Part of you feels sad for having missed out on the Say Yes to The Dress moment, on the champagne and the entourage and the lace and veil. Part of you wonders why you even care when there are so many more important things going on.

“Thanks,” you mumble, even though you’re pretty confident he’s lying. “You look handsome.”

Bradley acknowledges that with a twitch of his mustache. Then he turns and points at the man behind him.

“This is Mav. I don’t know if you guys have met….”

Mav is just as dressed up for the occasion as Bradley is, and you almost feel bad. With how focused you were on Bradley and the dread of the impending nuptials, you didn’t even notice him.

“Yeah, we’ve met,” Mav says, a wistful smile on his face as he leans forward to offer you his hand. You’ve seen Pete Mitchell around the Hard Deck pretty frequently since Penny and he started dating, have poured him the occasional drink. You get the feeling he used to be the kind of handsome hotshot aviator Hangman fancies himself to be these days, but to you, he’s always looked a little too much like Tom Cruise for comfort. “I’ll be your witness today.”

“Oh.” You shake his hand in a daze. Somehow, you’d expected Bradley to bring someone else. Anybody else. You didn’t even know these two had any ties except for their military ones, but now you can see the tether of familiarity between them. It’s glaringly obvious, and it makes you uncomfortable for reasons you can’t explain. “Thanks for that. It’s very nice of you.”

Pete chuckles. “No worries at all. Happy to be here. It’s not every day you get to watch a boy you’ve known since he was born getting married, can you?”

It’s light-hearted, affectionate, but it hits you like a fist to the stomach. You can barely breathe.

Oh God, you think. Oh God, what am I doing?

Suddenly, you feel so alone it builds like a lump in your throat.

“You ready to go?” Bradley asks, and you wonder if he can sense your profound discomfort or if he’s just eager to get this over with and continue with the rest of his day.

“Sure,” you say, fingers tangling in the straps of your purse. “Yeah.”

The city hall is cooled down to arctic temperatures. Outside the office, waiting your turn, you clench your jaw to the point of pain to keep your teeth from chattering. Covertly, you try scooting closer toward Bradley on the rickety chairs. The man radiates heat like a furnace.

Pete excuses himself to find some water after a while, but you suspect he might just be trying to give you and Bradley some space.

“You okay?” Bradley asks the moment you’re alone, twisting sideways in his chair to get a better look at you.

You don’t want to lie to him, but you also don’t want to tell him the truth: That you’re miserable. That nausea kept you up all night, ripped you out of bed at three am every day the past week. That you can’t sleep anymore. That your legs ache and cramp. That the guilt and the worrying are making you dizzy. That you’re fraying at the seams, unspooling, coming apart like an old sweater.

So you just shrug without looking at him, which isn’t an answer at all, and say, “And you?”

“I’m fine.” Bradley is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “Do you still want to do this?”

His voice is neutral, a blank slate, but you know what he means without saying it. If you want to call this off, I won’t be mad.

Maybe he’d be relieved, actually, some masochistic part of you thinks. Relieved to get away from you and all your chaos.

At least he should be if he is even half as smart as you suspect.

It makes you wonder how he would react if you actually were to leave him at the metaphorical altar. If you were to release your inner Julia Roberts right now and book it out of here runaway bride style.

Not that you could. These shoes definitely weren’t made for running.

Part of you wants to, though - just get the hell out of here. Leave this whole thing behind and never think of it again. Maybe it would be doing you both a favor.

But then you think of the baby. You think of free healthcare, of a house with a separate nursery, of the trust fund. You think of waking up in the mornings and not being alone.

Voice halting, words slow, you say, “Yeah. Do you?”

Bradley doesn’t hesitate. “I do,” he says, and then he’s reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. “Hey, I got something for you.”

It’s a ring. A simple silver band with a little diamond, nothing flashy, nothing big. Classic. Reliable. So Bradley Bradshaw it would make you laugh if this whole thing weren’t so goddamn sad.

Stunned, you stare at it for a moment, and then you say, “You… you bought a real one?”

Figuring that he might actually end up needing them, you’d given Bradley back his dog tags the night he proposed, and you hadn’t even considered the issue of a ring again. It was such a stupidly trivial thing in the face of everything else that’s been going on, the thought hadn’t crossed your mind.

Now, looking at it, it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s a beautiful ring, inconspicuous but lovely. Exactly the kind of thing you would have picked out for yourself if the situation had been different. If everything had been different.

“No, I… I had this at home.”

Confusion sets in. “What, you just have wedding rings lying around your place? Do you propose to girls a lot? Are you like… a habitual proposer?”

Bradley laughs and shakes his head. “Nah, I…” Then he’s clearing his throat, and he’s shifting in his seat, and your heart is racing. “It was my Mom’s.”

The panic ignites like a forest fire. You feel it everywhere, tingling in your fingers, snapping in your bones.

“No,” you say immediately, trying to push it back into his hands as you shake your head. “You can’t give this to me, Bradley, no, I.….”

“It’s fine,” he interrupts you. He’s smiling. “You can just give it back to me… after.”

After the divorce, your brain supplies helpfully, filling in the blanks he left in that sentence.

It feels like you can’t breathe. Your hands and feet are numb. The telltale burn of tears sears behind your eyes.

“Bradley,” you whisper, “this was your Mom’s.”

And it sounds like a plea. Like you’re begging. Like you’re saying, Please, don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me even worse of a person than I already am.

But Bradley’s still smiling. A soft, genuine smile as he closes your fingers around the ring. You feel the cold, circular shape of it against your palm.

“It’s fine,” he repeats, and he’s so calm about it all. How can he be so goddamn calm? “We want it to look real, right? No way I wouldn’t give this to my wife.”

And then you don’t know what else to say. Don’t know how to argue with him. Not when he’s the one pushing the whole thing.

So you give in. Nod. Hope that maybe, in some strange way, this will make him feel better. Even if it settles like a stone in your stomach, stacking on top of all the others.

You offer it to him on your open palm. “Maybe you should give it to me inside there, then.”

Bradley laughs, the sound a little sheepish, and accepts the ring back. “Right,” he says, “good thinking.”

Bradley is too nice for his own good, that’s what you’ve determined so far. Even if this might be a mutually beneficial agreement, you know he’s getting the short end of the stick. After all, you’re the one bringing all the baggage here.

A thought crosses your mind belatedly. “Does your Mom… not need it anymore?”

Almost imperceptibly, Bradley stiffens next to you, and you know right away that you’ve made some mistake, some miscalculation, even if you can’t tell exactly what it is.

Without looking at you, he says, “No. She’s dead.”

You open your mouth to say something, to apologize, to quell that horrible, sinking feeling in your stomach, but you’ve barely made it past a choked Bradley when Pete comes back, handing you a small paper cup.

“Here,” he says, “you should have some water. You look like you’re about to throw up.”

The smile he gives you is so warm it makes you want to scream. Can’t you see? you want to ask. Can’t you see I don’t deserve your kindness? Can’t you see I’m ruining Bradley’s life?

Instead, you accept the cup, nod, force an answering smile, and say, “Thank you.”

“Wedding jitters?” Pete asks as he sits down next to Bradley again, elbows braced on his knees to look at you. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

“No…” you begin to protest, but Pete is already pushing on.

“I wouldn’t blame you,” he jokes, grinning at Bradley. The kind of mischief on his face could put the fear of god in women stronger than you. “This one is a handful. You know, when he was twelve, he….”

“Mav,” Bradley interrupts, tone somewhere between long-suffering, warning, and affectionate.

You never do get to hear the story because the door opens and your names are called.

Everything happens very fast after that. Your officiant is a bored-looking woman in her forties who manages a well-practiced but pleasant smile throughout the vows. You stand facing each other in a lackluster room with a painting of palm trees on one wall, with no one in the rows of wooden chairs but Pete Mitchell, a man you barely even know. Bradley won’t take his eyes off you, and you can’t look at him without feeling the guilt overwhelm you.

It should be a happy day, but it reads an awful lot like a tragedy.

You both say I do, Bradley slips the ring on your finger, and then the officiant is saying, “Congratulations. You may now kiss the bride.”

It’s lightning fast. Bradley leans over, leans into your space, leans so close you can see the streaks of gold in his facial hair, can see the apology flickering in his eyes, and then his lips meet yours. It’s the softest pressure, like the brush of a butterfly’s wings. It’s the coarse hairs of his mustache tickling your skin, the warmth of his mouth against your own. It’s the fluttering of your heart, your hands clenching into fists, your stomach swooping.

For a moment, time is frozen, suspended, moot.

Then Bradley’s pulling away, a shy smile crossing his face, and you’re dizzy, you’re spinning, you’re falling. You want to cry.

And that’s how you marry Bradley Bradshaw: In a city hall on a Tuesday morning, with something in your chest that feels suspiciously like foreboding.

“I promise I didn’t know about this,” Bradley whispers into your ear half an hour later. One of his hands hovers above the small of your back, and though he doesn’t touch you, the phantom pressure of it sends shivers down your spine. His breath traces over your exposed shoulders.

You let your eyes wander over the Hard Deck, only half full and populated with people from Bradley’s life: His old squadron, friends from the Naval Academy, a few from back when he apparently attended UVA. (You still don’t understand his CV one bit and decide to ask him about it later. These are the things you should probably know about your husband. These are the things you would know about your husband if any of this were real.) Everybody’s smiling and congratulating you, and a banner strung from the ceiling, dangling between the models of airplanes, between the beer jugs, spells out CONGRATULATIONS! in big, colorful letters.

It’s obvious, it’s glaring, it’s so visible it blooms a shame somewhere in your belly - that they’re all here for Bradley. Your parents didn’t make it to California on such short notice, and there hadn’t been anybody else to invite. The only people one could count as your side if they were being especially generous would be your co-workers from the Hard Deck, standing behind the bar and looking out of place.

The whole day is a stark reminder of it all. Of your loneliness, of your solitude. Lonely enough that you had no one to invite to that ceremony at the city hall. Lonely enough you agreed to marry a stranger.

“That’s okay,” you tell Bradley, and it’s only a little lie. “It’ll be fine.”

You don’t know what you expected to happen after the wedding. Maybe to get fast food from whatever drive-through you passed first and then spend the rest of the night curled up in your bed, trying to forget what you just forced Bradley to do. Maybe just to get out of these heels. Certainly not for Penny to discover her inner event planner and throw you a surprise party.

But there was something on Penny’s face as she went to embrace you, something about the way she looked when you told her you were getting married to Bradley. An expression she was trying to hide. A flash of hurt, maybe, or a trickle of frustration. You chalked it up to her being upset that a guy she’s known since his teens didn’t tell her about his relationship with her employee, but that reasoning seems threadbare now.

Phoenix wears a broad smile, warm, her hair for once out of the army-commissioned coil and spilling dark and glossy over her shoulders. She’s out of the usual uniform and slipped into a blouse and pants for the occasion. The whole picture of her as anything other than the put-together pilot you see usually unsettles you a little.

“Congratulations,” she says, moving to give you a hug. Then she leans back to look at you. “Or should I say condolences? I can’t believe you married Rooster. Poor girl.”

You force a laugh, but you wish she’d step away a little. Up this close, she might be able to see the shame. It must be written all over your face.

Penny starts handing out shots. The tequila rushes from the bottle into the glasses in a stream of clear liquid, splashes of it landing on the bartop. You stare at the lime wedges, the salt shaker, stare at everybody lining up shoulder to shoulder, and the panic flares in your chest.

“I have to pee,” you announce to no one in particular, and then you’re slipping toward the bathroom, pretending you don’t feel Bradley’s eyes on you.

When the door falls shut behind you, you turn the key in the lock and lean your forehead against the wood. The material is cold against your skin, and you blink at the patterns, at the stains running through the dark oak like veins. Press your finger to one, and your eyes closed.

With your heart racing, your hands shaking, you stand like that for a moment, bracing yourself. You hadn’t expected all the attention, all the pretending, and you feel drained before any of it has even begun. You’re not sure if you can really pull this off. Maybe you’ll just crumble under the weight.

What a mess, you think to yourself, rubbing the heels of your hands over your eyes, then panic when you remember the mascara you painted on earlier. You check yourself over in the mirror, reapply your lip gloss and smooth down some flyaways.

You remember staring at yourself in this very same mirror two weeks ago, the day you did the test. You remember thinking how strange it was that you still looked the same even after your entire world had changed. How the outside did not reflect the inside at all.

You still don’t look any different. But it seems to you you’ve gone from nothing to something by virtue of association - now you’re someone’s mother, someone’s wife.

Then why am I still here, in this bathroom, alone? The thought comes with a bitter taste spreading on your tongue, like blackcurrants bursting in your mouth.

Bradshaw, you think, and then you say it out loud, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw’s wife.”

You feel the shape of the words, feel as your tongue forms them, bounces them off the roof of your mouth, and then past your lips. Hear them echoing off the walls. Watch yourself in the mirror, the muscles of your face flexing and relaxing, your lips meeting to dispatch the bs.

And still. None of it feels real.

The room smells freshly cleaned, astringent in its intensity. Your nose tingles like you’re going to sneeze. Carefully, you slide the wedding ring off, put it on the side of the sink, place it with the quiet plink of silver meeting porcelain, and then you wash your hands three times. Just last month, you went to Costco with Penny and picked up a 20-pack of orange blossom-scented soap, and now you watch it lather to a foam, the water so hot steam rises off it, and your fingers burn. Watch as it spirals down into the drain, bubbles popping.

It shifts reality back into focus. You turn off the faucet, use a few paper towels to dry your hands, put the ring back on, and then you step back into the din of the crowd, where even friends suddenly look like strangers, and you don’t look into the mirror again.

Bradley is waiting in front of the bathroom, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his head turned toward the ground. When you open the door, he snaps up immediately, unfolding himself from where he was leaning against the wall. His hands dangle uselessly by his hips.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you echo. You don’t meet his eyes.

“I was wondering….” He trails off. You focus on his shoes - they’re shiny, shiny enough the light bounces off them, and you wonder distantly if he cleaned them for the occasion. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say and try to smile, but with your face still turned down, the effect is lost. Might be for the better, too - you have no idea what you look like. Your face is numb.

“I…” You glance at Bradley, at his furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw. For a moment, it looks like he wants to say something stern, something probing, but then he changes course at the last moment. “Should I carry your bag?”

Instinctively, your fingers go to the strap of your crossbody bag. You rush, “No, that’s fine. It’s not heavy. I can…”

“Please,” Bradley says, reaching for the bag but not touching you. Leaving his hands hovering in the open air. “Let me do this for you.”

You want to tell him he’s done enough for you. You want to tell him he’s the only person, in a very, very long time, who’s done anything for you. You want to tell him that you’re sorry, that you’ll never forgive yourself, that maybe this was a mistake, maybe…

Some guy you don’t know squeezes past you and into the bathroom, winking at you and slapping Bradley’s shoulder as he passes, hooting something about wedding nights. Beer sloshes over the rim of his bottle and splashes to the floor.

When he’s gone, the moment has passed, and the need to tell him anything has been snuffed out by your own embarrassment. You slip off the bag and hand it over, watch as Bradley slides it over his shoulder. It’s a ridiculous sight: The dainty thing juxtaposed to his uniform.

It makes you smile.

“Thanks,” you say and mean it.

Bradley shrugs, but you catch sight of his expression before he turns toward the bar room again, and you think he looks pleased.

A few of his friends whisk him away as soon as you step back into the party. Somebody has turned on the overhead fans, and stale air circulates into a cool breeze. There’s a speaker system set up on the bar for once, playing more modern music than what the Jukebox has to offer, and out of the fog of your memory, of the whirlwind, haphazard thicket of the past few weeks, rises a single moment. Penny leaning across the bar, hand outstretched, saying, Let me have a look at your Spotify. I’m getting some inspiration for a musical update.

Suddenly, you feel warm all over.

Hangman finds you by the bar, grinning ear to ear. There’s always been something wolfish to his grin, but you don’t fall for it. As much as Hangman likes to pretend the opposite, play up his flirting and his taunting and his casual cruelty, when it comes down to it, he’s harmless. A sheep in wolf’s clothing through and through.

“Honestly,” he says in lieu of a greeting or even congratulations. “You could’ve told me about this. Would have spared me a lot of trouble.”

“Hello to you, too, Jake.”

He dismisses that with a wave of his hand and places his glass on the bar top. Condensation drips off the sides, pools in a puddle on the wood as the ice melts, and the lime goes sliding away from the center. “You gotta admit it wasn’t entirely fair.”

You sigh and decide to indulge him and his games. “What wasn’t?”

Jake points a finger between you and him. “This. You’re breaking my heart, sugar.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, frowning.

“I’ve been flirting with you every time I came down to Fightertown,” Jake says. “A whole year, sugar! You could have told me that all this time you were dating goddamn Rooster of all people.”

“Flirting,” you repeat, dumbfounded, at the same time as another voice says, “Don’t start harassing my wife, Seresin.”

Hearing it out loud pulls the rug right from under you. Bradley’s hand lands on your elbow - neutral territory, you think, inoffensive, harmless - and his mouth is twisted into a jovial smile, even as his gaze flickers over you like he’s looking for something. You blink down at your shoes.

“I’m not harassing her, Bradshaw. I’m flirting with her, not that you’ve ever heard of that.”

Bradley shrugs. “Aren’t they the same thing with you?”

Between their banter, you feel decidedly out of place. Just another reminder that you don’t belong into Bradley’s world.

“Anyway.” Hangman sighs, leans back against the bar and crosses his arms over his chest. For a moment, he glances between you and Bradley, prompting you to shift your weight, to step a little closer into the open fan of your newly-anointed husband’s arm. If you want to tell this story, you’re going to have to start selling it. Hangman’s mouth curls into a grin. “Jesus,” he says finally, “I can’t believe you knocked a girl up before I did, Rooster.”

The words run through you like lightning. If you had any liquid in your mouth, you’d spit it out right now. To your right, Bradley stiffens, his hand tightening around your elbow, then loosening again.

“What?” he asks, and his voice sounds like something got stuck in his throat. You can’t look at him.

Hangman’s grin remains firmly in place. “That’s why you guys did it, right?” Then he mimics somebody loading a shotgun, complete with sound effects. “Her dad’s got tone on you?”

“I…” Bradley’s sentence trails off like he ran out of steam. Whitney Houston bellows about wanting to dance with somebody from the speakers. Glasses clink, people laugh, cues hit eight balls. The sound of your own heartbeat in your ears is deafening.

Hangman laughs. “I’m messing with ya,” he says, clapping Bradley on the shoulder and giving you a smile that seems uncharacteristically soft. “You guys have been disgustingly in love with each other since you met. The baby on board is just the cherry on top of the perfect peanut butter chocolate sundae, right?”

“That’s not true!” you protest, and then promptly want to slap yourself. Somebody says you’ve been in love with the guy you just fake married and that’s the part you want to deny?

Laughing, Hangman shrugs and downs a tequila shot. “Keep telling yourself that, sugar,” he says, bending down to press a quick, sloppy kiss to your cheek. “Whatever. Congratulations to you two.”

He disappears into the mess of the night, whistling a tune, beelining toward a pretty, single girl at the back of the room. Bradley, stoic and silent and unmoving at your side, says nothing.

You watch the people, their easy joy, their thoughtless happiness. The way they smile without caveat, enjoy themselves without footnotes or guilt.

“Well…” Bradley clears his throat, but you don’t care to look at him. “I never would have predicted Hangman would be the first one to figure it out, right?”

“I guess so,” you agree, even though you think he’s wrong. Hangman is as perceptive as any Navy pilot has to be, quick on his feet and good at reading situations, people, lies. Even if you were never particularly close with him, you can tell this much.

“Is… are you okay?”

You shrug, shake your head before you can think better of it, then nod out of instinct. “Sure,” you whisper. In the breeze of an air vent, you shiver, moving to rub one hand up your bare arm.

Bradley springs into action immediately, moving your purse to one arm, unbuttoning his jacket and slipping out of it. “You’re cold,” he’s saying, obviously relieved to have found something to do, “here, take my jacket…”

“Stop!” Your voice is much too loud. Several heads turn in your direction and you duck your head, feeling the blood rushing into your cheeks, the wetness into your eyes, the blood in your ears. Everything feels shaky, like you’re on deck in a rough sea. Your hands twist into the fabric of your dress and you watch as you crumple it between your fingers. “Just… stop being so nice to me, Bradley. Just stop it. Please.”

From the corner of your eye, you watch as Bradley’s arm drops uselessly to his side, the jacket dangling from between his fingers. His feet shuffle along the hardwood floors. “Oh,” he says, the word soft and airy and so full of something like hurt that you bite the inside of your cheek bloody. “Well. I’m sorry.”

Another beat passes. You should say something, you think. Apologize or thank him or tell him that you’re stupid and mean and ungrateful and you don’t deserve someone as nice as him. But no words come. You’re completely empty, drained. You’re so tired and so confused and you don’t get it. You don’t get what’s happening here and what Bradley is getting out of it and how you even ended up here in the first place.

Tomorrow, Bradley is going to drive a U-Haul truck to your shitty apartment where your life has been shoved into boxes. You’re going to move out of your own space and into a house with a man you don’t know and you don’t love but whose ring you wear. You’re going to wait for a baby you never wanted, and you’re going to watch as your dreams and your plans wash away like water down a drain. You’re going to give up the person you used to be, shove her into the very back of your sock drawer, something to be marveled at only in private, only on rainy Sunday mornings, only when nobody else is looking. Tomorrow, you think, in a way, your life will stop being your own and start being somebody else’s.

So what you want right now then, more than anything, is to be alone.

Bradley says nothing else. You hear as he leaves, as he follows after Hangman, moving away from you, but you don’t turn to look. You stay staring into nothing, your heart in your mouth, a ring on your finger, a baby in your belly, and your life in shards on the floor.

Careful where you tread, you think, dumbly, you might be treading on my soul.

The first thing Bradley Bradshaw - your husband, you have to remind yourself, your actual, real-life husband - says to you in your new house is this: “I’m sorry about last night.”

He’s sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the living room, clutching a bottle of beer like a lifeline. The television is on to provide background noise, some talk show you’ve never seen before where twins separated at birth are currently being reunited. You sit curled-up in an armchair Bradley brought, knees up at your chin, hands on your ankles. A pizza box is unfolded on the coffee table, steam still rising off the sizzling cheese. Your mouth waters at the scent, but you’re strangely shy about taking a slice. Like tearing into this pizza is going to be the straw that finally breaks the camel’s back on this strained truce Bradley and you seem to have entered into.

“No,” you say, fingers tightening around your ankles. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” Bradley looks relaxed from his position, his back leaning against the couch. At home, here in this house for which he provided 90 percent of the furniture, 100 of the artwork. Mostly weird watercolor landscapes and one or two Hitchcock film posters you’d rather not ask him about. “I was being… overbearing.”

The thing is this: Bradley did help move your stuff into this new house. He loaded the U-haul and he lugged your meager belongings up to your room. He didn’t say anything about the water-stained mattress or the lack of a bedframe, about the peeling paint on your desk, the squeaking office chair. He hung the curtains you wanted and gave you a string of fairy lights to climb up one wall. This is your home now, you’d told yourself up in that room, staring at the powder blue walls, the floral bed sheets, the potted plant. This is it.

And still. It feels like you’re sitting in a stranger’s house, visiting from out of town.

“You weren’t,” you tell him, and you mean the words. “You… you’ve done so much for me, Bradley, and I…”

“It was nothing,” Bradley cuts you off. “None of… it’s fine. I’m not… I wanted to help, okay? So stop… stop thanking me or feeling indebted to me or like… I don’t know. Have a slice of pizza, okay?”

He hands you one before you can say anything, and you hold the scalding dough in your hand, watch as he bites into his own slice. A bit of cheese gets caught in his mustache. His throat moves as he swallows.

Out of nowhere, suddenly, without warning, you ask, “If I followed you on Instagram… would you follow me back?”

It’s juvenile. It’s stupid, it’s so dumb, and you have no idea where it even comes from, but you have to ask, feel it like a need that burns through you. You just want to know.

If Bradley is confused by the sudden change of topic, he doesn’t let it on. Instead, gaze still on his pizza, he says, “I already follow you.”

“You… you do?”

He shrugs. “You probably didn’t recognize me. I don’t think I’ve ever posted on there.”

“What, you don’t have a profile pic?”

Now he has the audacity to blush and you hate the way it makes you feel, hate that something in you twists at the sight. “No, I do, just… I’m not in it.”

“Who is, then?”

He opens his mouth, closes it again, and turns half away from you, like he’s trying to hide his face. You frown.

“Bradley?”

“It’s…” He sighs, curses, licks the cheese off his mustache and runs a hand through his hair. “Fuck it,” he mumbles. “It’s my Bronco. I have a picture of my car as my profile pic.”

A beat passes, and then, miraculously, you’re laughing. Actual, real laughter that bursts from you like water from a pipe. “Oh,” you choke out. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Bradley grumbles, but you see the tentative smile stretching his face, the probing, searching look thrown your way. “I’m a grandpa. At least I know what Instagram is.”

“Do you use the premade insta filters?” He doesn’t answer. “Oh my god, you do!”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” Then he leans forward and deposits another slice of pizza on the one you haven’t even eaten. Grease stains your fingers. “Here. You’re eating for two.”

He turns to stare at the TV, a furrow of concentration carved between his eyebrows, and in this living room, in this house, with him on the floor and you in the armchair, with pizza steaming between you and your things upstairs and his things everywhere, for a moment, just a moment, you think that maybe, after all, things might turn out okay.

#bea reads #apparently i'm keeping the bullshit tag #sorry not sorry

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heavyhitterheaux · 2 years ago

Text

Who is in My House?

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

AN: you are always going to continue to play with your husband lmao

Synopsis: "He just left, so come over" prank has Jackman in SHAMBLES

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Deciding that you wanted to play another prank on your husband, you started a group chat with all of the members of PG to get some ideas. You had been throwing ideas back and forth for about a week and a half when everyone agreed upon which one you should do.

Everyone voted for you to do the “He just left, come over.” text prank that had been floating around Tik Tok and you already knew your husband was probably going to have a mental breakdown or be completely pissed off.

PG would be going out to lunch, while you stayed home and pretended not to feel well. You knew that Jack would be hesitant to leave you, but you would have to reassure him that you were okay to make this work.

Clay told you that he would text you when they all got to the restaurant so that you would then send the text to Jack.

Everything was a go and you couldn’t wait.

“Baby, are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I don’t like leaving you by yourself if you aren’t feeling that well.” Jack said while pushing your hair up out of your face that had fallen.

“I promise, I’ll be fine. Just bring me back something. I’ll just probably drink some tea and go to sleep.”

“You’re absolutely positive?”

“Yes, boo bear. I’m okay.”

“I love you and you better say it back this time.” Jack said while eyeing you.

“I love you too, more than anything else in this world.” You answered before laughing as he leaned down to kiss you.

“We shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Take your time, I want you to have fun. If I need you, I’ll text you.”

There was also one other person who was in on the prank and Jack was about to lose his shit when he found out.

No one other than Dua herself.

She was currently on her U.S. tour and she had a show tomorrow night in Atlanta. You quickly sent a text of the details of the prank last night and of course she was in.

About 45 minutes had passed when you received a text from your brother-in-law

Clay- He’s here. Everything is a go.

You- Lmaooooo it’s showtime

You ‘accidentally’ sent Jack a text thinking that someone was coming over to the house and you knew it would send him into a panic.

However, someone really was coming, but he didn’t know that.

You wanted for the prank to be a little different and that Dua would eventually show up.

You- He’s out with the rest of PG, you can come over! I could use the company.

Jack noticed that the notification sound went off alerting him that he had a text from you. He was hoping that you were okay and didn’t need him, but he got a lot more than he bargained for.

Knowing what was happening, Jack’s eyes went wide as PG was trying not to laugh and looking at the menu to distract themselves.

“Uhh, Jack? You okay?”

“Mm hmm.” Jack quickly answered, trying not to make a scene or make a big deal out of it.

“You sure? I mean you’re usually pale as shit, but it seems as if you got ten times paler when you looked down at your phone and read whatever wifey sent you.”

“I…” Jack started to say, but quickly stopped himself.

“What?”

“She was all like ‘I don’t feel good’ earlier and now I see a text saying that I’m out with yall and to come over? If someone is in my fucking house, I’m about to murder them and then I’ll deal with her. I guess she meant to send that to whoever and not me.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing, it might just be Saweetie. I know she said she would be staying in Atlanta for a few days.”

“Nah, the way she worded it made it seem like it was someone else.”

“You worry too much. Y/N doesn’t have eyes for anyone but you. We’ve been wanting to come here for a while so your ass better not get up from this table. You see the way she acted with that Anitta girl and she sees how you acted with Giveon so do you honestly think she would do anything to break your trust?”

“Clay, facetime her right now. She might not answer if it’s from me.”

Clay simply shrugged and did what he was told.

It rang for a few seconds before your bright face came on the screen.

“Is that my favorite Harlow child? Hi, my baby!”

“Hey, Y/N, Jack just asked me to call you to check on you. He told us you weren’t feeling that well.”

“Well aren’t you sweet? That’s why I keep you around.”

“You know we should have gotten married instead.”

Jack rightfully smacked the back of his little brother’s head and all you could do was laugh.

“Ow!”

Clay purposely angled his phone so Jack could see you and took note of another person in the background and Jack’s eyes went wide.

It was so quick, that Jack didn’t really get a good look as to who it was.

“In another life, my love. I’m fine! I actually feel a little better since drinking the tea.”

Jack immediately snatched Clay’s phone from him and questioned you not wanting to put it off any longer.

“Baby girl.”

“Yes, pookie?”

“First of all in another life, my ass. I have no hesitations to throw your favorite Harlow child off the nearest cliff. And who the… you got someone in my house I don’t know about?”

“What? What are you talking about?” You curiously asked to play along and not try to laugh.

“Mamas, do not fucking play with me. I got that text message you obviously meant to send to someone else.”

“What text? Baby, I’m confused. Are you feeling okay?”

“I will jump through this phone right fucking now. Who the fuck is in my house?”

“Uh? Besides me? Your children. I just finished walking the golden girls. I think Blanche misses you because she curled up next to your pillow.”

“Y/N!!!!!”

“Jackman.”

“Do not get smart with me. I am going to ask you one more time.”

“No one, baby! I’m here by mys…..”

Without warning the facetime call cut off and if Jack was mad before, he was pissed off now.

“That’s it, I’m kicking both of their asses.” Jack said getting up and grabbing his keys. Clay put one hand on his shoulder to get him to sit back down.

“I didn’t even see anyone else on the call. You feeling okay?”

“How could you not?! They were sitting to the left of her.”

“Jack, is yall house haunted? If it is, I can’t stay there no more. Black people don’t do ghosts. I mean truth be told I know Y/N doesn’t either and if I know anything about ghosts and her, she’ll probably run them off.” Shloob said while taking a sip of his iced tea.

“No, it’s not haunted! There was literally another person there with her!”

“Well, try calling her back.”

Jack then whipped out his phone and proceeded to do so all for it to go to voicemail.

“She cannot be fucking serious right now. I’m getting my shit to go.”

Jack hopped in his jeep and was speeding down the highway to get back to your shared home.

He didn’t even bother parking in the garage and left the car out front before making a beeline to the front door.

Once opened, he walked around to the living room to find you sitting on the floor playing with your two piglets.

You looked up to see Jack and the pissed off look on his face.

“Uh, baby? Why are you back so soon? And where is my food? Look babies, daddy’s home!” You said while looking down at the both of them. They saw Jack and immediately got excited.

Jack was steadily looking around and checking behind the couches as well as in the closets.

“Baby?”

Jack didn’t even bother to answer you as he was continuing on with his search.

“Jackman!”

“Who the fuck you got in here, huh? I’m about to kick their ass right now.”

“Are we still on this? No one, baby. Except me and our tribe of children.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Hmm well okay. Have fun searching.” You replied as you went back to playing with two of your children.

Jack tore up the house from top to bottom looking for someone that he thought had been in the house.

Once he gave up his search, he went downstairs to see you and Dua on the couch talking and laughing.

“Y/N!!! WHY IS SHE IN MY HOUSE?!”

“Correction, our house, baby.”

“Hi to you too, Jack!”

All Jack did was stare at her and give her the evil eye.

“See, I knew you had someone else in here.”

“Babe, Dua just got here five minutes ago.”

“Y/N….. I know what I saw on that facetime call!”

“I told you he was crazy. You should move in with me, now he’s seeing shit. Next thing you know you’ll have to put him in a nursing home.”

“Dua, shut your ass up and move away from my wife! Six feet at all times!”

“Jack!”

“Y/N!”

“Okay since we’re all saying names, I’ll do my own. Dua!”

“Baby girl…..”

“Yes, pookie?”

“Is that... Is that a camera?”

“Oops.”

“DID YOU…. THIS WAS A PRANK! SHE WAS HERE THE WHOLE TIME?!?!”

“UHHH……”

You took off running while Dua was laughing and with Jack following quickly behind you and catching you.

“Now, I know you didn’t think you were going to get far with those short legs of yours did you?”

“Well, it was worth a try.”

“Jack! Since I’m here, let me get a copy of that video!”

“HELL NO!”

“I mean it was better than me asking for your wife to sit on my face.”

“See, now I’m really about to have to beat your ass. You always come over here and act outta pocket.”

“Beat my ass? I’d rather eat hers.”

“DUAAAAA!!!!! AND Y/N STOP LAUGHING!!!”

Liked by jackharlow, claybornharlow, saweetie, dualipa, 2forwoyne, lilnasx, druski2funny, and 3,184,907 others

y/ninsta: my husband mad at me yall lmaooooo

jackharlow: y/ninsta I’m legally separating from you tomorrow 😐

lilnasx: what happened this time? lmaooo

claybornharlow: lilnasx another prank by wifey 😂

druski2funny: y/ninsta why you stay stressing my man out?!

2forwoyne: seeing him freak out about that text message was TOP TIER

jackharlow: HOLD THE FUCK UP

jackharlow: PG?!? YALL WERE IN ON IT?!

urbanwyatt: jackharlow we may or may not have an entire group chat that the primary reason is to prank you

shloob_: I told her not to do it

quiiso: shloob_ you stay throwing our asses under the bus. you were it on it too

jackharlow: urbanwyatt and to think I call you my best friend

saweetie: y/ninsta give that man a break! that hairline keeps going south because of the stress!

jackharlow: DIAMONTE!!!

saweetie: yes Jack?

jackharlow: saweetie after I get done kicking their asses, you’re next

y/ninsta: much thanks to dualipa lmaooo had my baby looking everywhere for you 😭😭

dualipa: y/ninsta glad to be of service!

jackharlow: dualipa where were you even hiding?!

y/ninsta: jackharlow you never looked in the backyard!

dualipa: jackharlow lemme at the wife and I promise not to do it again

jackharlow: dualipa one of these days, you about to learn to stop playing with me

dualipa: jackharlow so is that a yes?

jackharlow: dualipa it’s a ‘I still have my bb gun and I’ll shoot you’

dualipa: jackharlow you wouldn’t shoot your wife’s friend!

jackharlow: dualipa now, who told you that lie? you can get all this smoke any day of the fucking week and saweetie is next

saweetie: jackharlow now why am I in it?!

y/ninsta: saweetie that hairline comment lmaooooo

jackharlow: y/ninsta you laughing a little too loud over there for my liking. on your knees.

sza: oh my

y/ninsta: jackharlow DO YOUR WORST

claybornharlow: now I understand urbanwyatt’s pain

jackharlow: y/ninsta but don’t think this makes up for the shit you pulled today. consider this war and watch your back

y/ninsta: jackharlow may the best Harlow win (that’s me) but imma need you to make me cum first

jackharlow: y/ninsta who said that I was about to let you cum?

y/ninsta: jackharlow wait, what? 🤨

jackharlow: and dualipa if you so much as utter a WORD I’ll end you 😡

dualipa: jackharlow 👀

dualipa: y/ninsta I’ll make you cum kbye

jackharlow: DUAAAAAA!!!!

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#jack harlow #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic

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