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coffeeshades · 2 months ago

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART VI

—echoes of desperation

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst!!! cursing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. asshole!pedro maybe? no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hi everyone, happy reading <3

masterlist!

October 19, 2019

Newport, Rhode Island

The crisp autumn air greeted you as you arrived at your friend Jennifer's wedding. The historic estate, bathed in the soft golden light of the setting sun, seemed like the perfect backdrop for such a special occasion. The large, opulent estate, adorned with seasonal flowers and fairy lights, buzzed with the excited chatter of guests.

Daniel was by your side, his arm casually draped around your waist. You’d opted for a classic blue dress, elegant and understated, which seemed to enhance the sparkle in your eyes and the quiet grace in your movements.

Jennifer greeted you with her usual infectious energy and a hug that felt like a balm to your nerves. “You two! I’m so glad you could make it!”

The ceremony had taken place 40 minutes earlier, outside in the estate's lush garden, under a canopy of white roses and twinkling lights. And now the reception was in full swing. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air.

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed your wedding for the world," you replied, returning her hug. "Everything looked amazing, and you were absolutely stunning in that dress."

She beamed at the compliment, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Congratulations, Jen," Daniel said, raising his champagne flute. You looked at him, his brown eyes shining with genuine happiness, and smiled. Jennifer took notice of this and grabbed your hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "Thank you both so much for being here," she said, her voice filled with emotion. "And who knows, maybe you two will be next to tie the knot."

Both of you laughed at the suggestion, but you couldn't help but feel a warm flutter in your chest at the thought. A strange warm flutter, something you haven't felt in months; sadness, perhaps?

No, it couldn't be.

For the past six months, everything with Daniel has been nothing but perfect. He's been the perfect boyfriend: supportive, caring, and always there for you. You couldn't imagine being with anyone else right now. So the idea of marrying him didn't seem too far-fetched at all. On the contrary, it made perfect sense. So this feeling of unexplicable warmth and ache must've been nerves and excitement, nothing else.

The time for your speech arrived, and you took a deep breath as you were handed a microphone. The room fell into a respectful hush, the chatter and clinking glasses fading as the guests turned their attention to you. You glanced around, taking in the elegant decor and the sea of faces, many of whom you recognized. The soft, golden light from the chandeliers cast a warm glow over the gathering, and the atmosphere was filled with anticipation.

You adjusted the microphone slightly, feeling its cool metal against your fingers. You didn’t feel nervous; instead, a calm confidence washed over you. After all, you were good at this—pretending you were the best.

“Good evening, everyone,” you began, your voice clear and steady as you introduced yourself. "I have the distinct honor of speaking about our beautiful bride tonight.”

The crowd responded with polite applause, and you smiled, taking a moment to find your rhythm. "Jennifer," you continued, “where do I even begin? From the moment I met her, I knew

she was someone extraordinary. It’s not just her infectious laugh or her incredible talent that stands out, but her heart. Jennifer has a way of making everyone feel like they’re the most important person in the room.”

A soft chuckle rippled through the audience, and you saw Jennifer’s cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. You continued, weaving in anecdotes about your friendship, each story punctuated by a touch of humor and warmth. Laughter filled the room, and you finally caught Pedro’s eye momentarily. He was sitting at a table near the front, his gaze soft and attentive. The first time you saw him that night was when you arrived at the ceremony; he was already deep in conversation with someone.

You couldn’t quite read his expression, but you felt a flicker of emotion as your eyes met for a brief second. As you moved towards the more emotional part of your speech, your tone grew softer and more reflective.

The room cheered and applauded as you wrapped up your speech. Jennifer got to her feet and walked to the front, her eyes glistening with emotion. You stepped down feeling a sense of relief. The reception continued with lively music and dancing. You and Daniel enjoyed the evening, laughing and dancing with the other guests.

The joy of the celebration was palpable, but it couldn’t completely erase the tension you felt every time you glanced in Pedro’s direction. Exhausted from all the drinking and dancing and seeking a brief reprieve, you excused yourself to the bathroom.

"I'll be right back."

You give Daniel a quick kiss, his hands coming to rest on your waist.

"All good, baby?"

"Marvelous," you reply before slipping away from the crowd and into the quiet sanctuary of the bathroom. Its marble countertops gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, the delicate scent of lavender soap mingling with the faint aroma of champagne and floral bouquets from the reception. You stood by the sink, staring at your reflection in the polished mirror, your fingers tracing the edge of the elegant marble as if it could ground you amidst the chaos of your emotions. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter of unexpected anxiety in your chest.

The silence was briefly interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

Well, so much for peace and quiet.

The door creaked open, and Pedro walked in with his usual confident stride, albeit slightly unsteady. His suit was pristine, the dark fabric impeccably tailored to his frame. Yet the disheveled state of his dark hair and the slightly rumpled collar of his shirt betrayed a night of indulgence. The contrast between his polished exterior and the evident effects of alcohol made him appear both charming and vulnerable.

Pedro’s eyes softened as they settled on you, taking in the sight of your dress—a stunning creation that clung to your form in all the right places, the deep hue accentuating your features. He stepped closer, his gaze lingering with an almost palpable mix of admiration and regret.

"I was looking for you," he said, his voice low and filled with a hint of longing. "And I saw you come in."

He locked the door behind him, the click echoing in the quiet room.

“You look incredible,” he said, his voice carrying the telltale tone of someone who had enjoyed a few too many drinks. “But then again, you always do.”

The compliment hung in the air, unacknowledged. You kept your focus on the sink, pretending to be absorbed in the intricate patterns of the marble. Pedro’s gaze remained fixed on you, sensing your reluctance and frustration.

“Not going to say anything? I come all the way in here to tell you how amazing you look, and you give me nothing,” he said, his tone a fragile blend of irritation and desperation. The words cut through the silence, revealing the cracks in his façade.

You remained silent, and the quiet only seemed to fuel his frustration. Pedro leaned against the wall, his posture both defiant and defeated. His eyes were filled with a mix of sadness and exasperation, reflecting the weight of the emotions he struggled to keep in check.

“What’s with the silent treatment?” he pressed, his voice barely more than a whisper. “We used to talk about everything, and now you can’t even respond to a compliment?”

The tension crackled like electricity in the confined space. Pedro’s dark and aching eyes betrayed the vulnerability he usually masked with confidence. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you with a sense of urgency.

“Is this how it’s going to be, then?” he asked, his voice a tremulous echo of desperation. “We’re just going to ignore each other until it all blows over again? pretending like everything’s fine when it’s clearly not.”

His proximity made your heart race; the warmth of his body and the intensity of his stare were both electrifying and suffocating. The room, once a refuge of privacy, now felt like a cage closing in on you, amplifying the emotional turmoil swirling between you.

"If I remember correctly, we already had this conversation," you finally said, your voice steady. “You come and go as you please, and then you act like nothing happened. How am I supposed to handle that?”

Pedro’s eyes filled with regret as he reached out, his fingers trembling slightly as they touched your arm.

"I’ve been trying to move on, like you told me to, but it’s impossible when you’re always on my mind." His touch was hesitant, the warmth of his hand a stark contrast to the coldness you felt inside.

As the minutes ticked by, the two of you remained locked in this intense, silent exchange. The muffled sounds of the party outside felt like distant echoes, drowned out by the gravity of your shared history and unresolved feelings.

Pedro’s eyes, dark and glassy from the alcohol, bore into yours as he closed the distance, his body pressing lightly against you. You could feel the heat of him, the scent of whiskey clinging to his breath, mixing with something familiar—him. Your pulse quickened, the rush of emotions swirling uncontrollably as you met his gaze.

“You’re drunk,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, but it came out softer than you intended. The barrier you’d built so carefully maintained was beginning to crumble under the weight of his presence.

“And you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his breath grazing your skin. The way he said it, with that low, gravelly voice, made your heart stutter.

You wanted to hold onto the anger, to remind yourself of the hurtful words exchanged and the distance you had fought so hard to maintain, but his nearness was intoxicating. The warmth of his body, the brush of his fingertips against your arm—it was all too much. His scent, the alcohol, his desperation—it clouded your judgment, making everything hazy.

His gaze flickered over your face, searching for something you couldn’t name. “Do you love him?” he asked, and though he didn’t say Daniel’s name, the weight of the question nearly took your breath away.

You froze, refusing to answer, instead turning your head to the side, your eyes seeking solace in the marble counter or the door—anywhere but him. But Pedro, in his drunken determination, wouldn’t let you escape so easily. He gently tilted your chin up, forcing you to face him, his fingers warm against your skin.

“Look at me,” he whispered, the words barely a breath. “Tell me.”

Your eyes, betraying you, flickered to his, and in that moment, you felt everything unraveling. The years of history, the on-and-off again, the unsaid things—they crashed over you, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

“Pedro,” you managed, your voice shaky. “You’re drunk. Stop it.”

He ignored you, his eyes locked on yours, filled with a rawness that made it impossible to turn away. “No,” he insisted, his voice low and thick with emotion. “Answer me.”

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, squeezing the air from your lungs. You could feel your eyes starting to burn, the overwhelming need to cry pushing at the edges of your control. His touch was maddening—pulling memories to the surface that you’d spent so long trying to bury.

“Tell me, princesa,” he said, his voice barely a whisper now, the nickname slipping from his lips like a plea. “Do you love him?”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t speak. The question lingered between you, suffocating the space; the answer too painful, too heavy to voice.

Finally, the words came, slow and trembling, barely louder than a breath. “I don’t know.”

The admission hung in the air, fragile and heartbreaking, and you could see the way it struck him, deep and unguarded. For a brief second, his hand dropped from your chin, and the look in his eyes—the sorrow, the regret—cut through you like a blade.

But still, he didn’t move. Neither did you. The gravity of everything left unsaid, everything unresolved, weighed too heavily, pulling you both into a moment from which there was no easy escape.

“Would it change something if I said no?” you asked, your voice sharp, cutting through the charged air between you both. The words were cold, edged with bitterness, the hurt simmering just beneath the surface.

Pedro’s reaction was instant—he grabbed your face with both hands, rougher than usual, though not enough to hurt. You didn't feel afraid; he could never make you feel as such. His grip was desperate, trembling slightly with the weight of everything unspoken. His eyes, though hazy from alcohol, searched yours with an intensity that made your heart pound harder. He was trying to find an answer, a way to salvage something, but you weren’t done.

“Would it change something, Pedro?” you pressed, your voice rising as you spit out the words like venom. “Would it? If I said no, would that make all of this—" you motioned between the two of you, your chest tight “—would it make this easier? What if I told you I don't love him? What if I told you I still think about you all the time? What would you do?”

Each question hit him like a physical blow, and you could see the pain etching itself deeper into his face with every 'what if' you hurled at him. He didn’t respond, but his grip on your face tightened, as if he could somehow hold onto you through the force of his hands alone. His silence only fueled your fire.

“No,” you finally said, your voice trembling but firm, “it wouldn’t matter because you're too late, Pedro. It wouldn’t change a damn thing. You think saying something now and asking me these questions will make up for all the times you left, all the times you didn’t say anything? We’re broken. And it’s too late to fix it.”

Pedro's breath was uneven as his fingers dug into your skin, not with malice but with a desperation you hadn’t seen in him before. His face crumpled for a brief second, his lips parting like he was about to say something—something big, something important—and you stopped him.

"Don't. Don't say it, not now," you whispered. "It wouldn't change a thing, so don't."

You were suffocating under him, until a sudden banging on the door jolted you both out of the moment. A voice called from the other side, followed by impatient knocks.

“Let me go,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. The words were for more than just this moment. You needed him to release you—not just physically. But in that bathroom, right then, it felt like the only thing you could control.

Pedro didn’t move at first, his hands still gripping your face as if he couldn’t quite let go. His thumbs grazed your skin, and for a moment you saw the flash of something behind his eyes—fear, maybe, or regret—but then it passed, replaced by the same helplessness that had filled the space between you for years.

“Let me go, please,” you said again, softer this time, but it felt like more than a request. It was the final thread holding the two of you together, and cutting it felt both terrifying and necessary.

His hands slowly dropped, the warmth of his touch leaving your skin cold in an instant. It felt appropriate, almost painfully so, that this was how it ended—here, in a bathroom at a wedding, with a banging door and the realization that no matter how much you wanted it, there was no going back.

You turned away, your body trembling, unsure if it was from the confrontation or the emotional weight pressing down on your chest. The moment felt fragile, like something you needed to step away from before it shattered completely.

You weren’t sure if it was the right decision, but in that moment, it felt like the only one you could make because someone else was involved now, and the consequences of continuing down that path were too great to bear.

November 10, 2019

Los Angeles, CA

Pedro’s day had started much like any other, but there was an added weight hanging over him, like the prelude to something significant. He woke up to the sound of light rain tapping against his windows, a rare occurrence in LA and a subtle reminder of the calm before the real storm—the Mandalorian premiere later that evening. He spent some time with his nephews, who had flown in for the event. They were excited about the premiere, already talking about how "cool" their uncle looked as The Mandalorian—though he couldn't show them much yet.

The early afternoon was a blur of preparations: phone calls from his team, final wardrobe checks, and trying to keep his mind from wandering too much into places he didn’t want it to go. Places that involved you.

He chose a classic black suit with a beige shirt, effortlessly tailored—the kind of look that made him feel composed, even when he wasn’t. The nerves were creeping in.

As the car pulled up to the red carpet, Pedro felt the energy shift—flashes of cameras, the buzz of fans, all converging in one chaotic, yet intoxicating, atmosphere. His nephews were with him, their excitement helping ground him. For them, this was magic; for him, it was part of the job. But he couldn’t deny the thrill of it—the anticipation of seeing the first episode on the big screen with an audience.

And then, there you were.

You stepped onto the carpet in a buttery yellow dress that made you look radiant—warm, untouchable, yet familiar in a way that left him breathless for a moment. The dress was soft and flowing, but the way you held yourself was sharp, like you had an invisible armor. He could tell you avoided looking at him at first, but when the group photos began, there was no choice but to stand next to each other, cameras clicking, people cheering. You posed for pictures together, smiling for the crowd, playing your parts.

Pedro could feel the space between you—so small, yet it felt like a chasm. The cameras didn’t catch that. He stole a glance at you as you laughed at something the director said during the photo op. You looked happy, at ease. He wondered if you were.

Inside the theater, the atmosphere was electric. The cast and crew gathered on stage for a brief panel discussion before the screening. Dave talked about the legacy of Star Wars and Jon about the vision of the show. Pedro listened, nodding along, just grateful for the opportunity to be a part of it all.

When it was your turn to speak, he watched you, waiting, unsure of what you’d say. Your voice was steady, confident as always, but then your words shifted.

You spoke about him.

“Pedro is... well, he’s a scene-stealer, as you’ve all seen from the trailers,” you joked, earning laughter from the audience. “But seriously, finally working with him has been one of the highlights of my career. His dedication, his talent, his kindness—it’s inspiring. I’m lucky to share this with him, and I hope we get to keep doing this for a long time.”

Pedro’s heart swelled at your words. He wasn’t sure if you meant it or if you were just saying what the audience wanted to hear. But for that moment, he let himself believe it was the truth. That you did still care, even in this small, professional way. But then again, this was your new normal—co-workers, partners on-screen, and nothing more.

December 25th, 2019

Perth, Australia

Christmas in Perth was like stepping into another world, a sun-drenched, easy-going atmosphere that felt miles away from the traditional snowy scenes of the holiday season. Daniel’s family welcomed you with open arms, not that you were expecting any less. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, fresh seafood, and eucalyptus from the trees outside, creating a kind of domestic vibe that you hadn't realized you craved until you were in the middle of it.

Daniel was relaxed too—his racing season over for a few weeks now; he was finally at ease, the stress that usually clung to him gone. You spent every moment together, just soaking in each other’s presence. He even traveled with you to your last film shoot, attending your workdays like you had attended some of his races, a seamless give-and-take in your relationship that made everything feel, well, easy.

It was bliss.

On Christmas Day, after the exchange of gifts and an extravagant lunch, you received a call from your mom. You sat on the veranda, watching the cicadas buzz lazily in the midday heat, and spoke to her about how things were. She asked about Daniel, about his family, and about how you were doing with everything. You promised to visit soon, reassuring her that you were fine, happy, even.

But later, as you scrolled through Instagram, something pulled you out of that happiness, if only for a moment. A post from the Rise of Skywalker premiere a couple of days ago, you assume—a photo of Pedro and Oscar standing side by side, their smiles broad, their laughter captured perfectly in the shot. Pedro, inexplicably, was wearing... pajamas? Or maybe a robe? It was such a bizarre choice, so utterly him, that you couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the sight of it. The sound surprised you, breaking through the blanket of serenity you'd wrapped around yourself. But the pang that followed was sharper, unexpected. You scrolled past quickly, trying to ignore the ache it left behind.

•••

As New Year's Eve approached, the festive atmosphere grew louder, more carefree. You found yourself caught in the whirl of it all—the parties, the lights, the endless laughter—but always with Daniel by your side. On the night itself, amidst the dancing and celebrations with his family and friends, you received a call from Oscar and his wife. They both wished you a happy new year, their voices warm and full of affection. You exchanged pleasantries, caught up for a few minutes, until Oscar, in his usual thoughtful way, asked gently, “Have you heard from him?”

You paused, knowing exactly who he meant. “No, not really,” you said, your voice steady, but there was a crack in it that even you could hear. “But it’s okay.”

Oscar hesitated on the other end. You could feel his discomfort, the weight of watching two people he cared about drift into something neither of you could quite name. “I’m sorry,” you told him quietly, not sure why. Your words were soft, almost lost in the noise of the party around you.

“It’s no one’s fault,” he said, trying to comfort you, but it didn’t land quite right. There was a shared understanding, though—one that didn’t need words.

The conversation ended soon after, and you returned to the celebration, but it felt like a weight had settled back onto your chest, one that hadn't fully disappeared, no matter how much love surrounded you.

Later that night, as the party raged on downstairs, you and Daniel snuck away to your room, laughing softly as you closed the door behind you. The moment between you shifted quickly, from playful to urgent, as his hands found your skin and yours found his. It was quick, hot sex—an eruption of need in the midst of celebration. Afterward, he whispered, “Happy New Year,” his breath warm against your ear, and you nestled into his arms, letting yourself be wrapped in the comfort of his embrace.

But as you lay there, the world outside falling quiet, that familiar ache gnawed at your chest again. No matter how happy you seemed or how full your life felt, the longing never fully disappeared. It clung to you, a ghost from the past, waiting in the shadows for moments like this to remind you it was still there.

You wished, as you lay in Daniel’s arms, for the ache to go away with the old year. To leave behind all that hurt, all the unanswered questions, and move forward into the new year with nothing but joy.

But deep down, you knew that wasn’t how it worked.

a/n: a like, reblog or comment, anything is very much appreciated <3 next part coming very soon!!

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #my writing #love is complicated fic

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berthas-russells · 1 year ago

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Mrs. Russell is to entertain an English duke at her home in Newport.

MRS. and MR. WINTERTON in THE GILDED AGE (2022- ) | 2x04 "His Grace The Duke"

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csuitebitches · 1 year ago

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A Brief Guide to Yachts

This is a continuation to my cultural education segment (aka my rich bitch guide).

The yacht is an invention of the 14th century Dutch. The Dutch used small, fast boats for chasing smugglers, pirates and criminals. Rich ship owners and merchants began using these small “jaghts” to sail out to celebrate their returning merchant ships.

The first yacht club in the world, called the Cork Water Club, was established in Ireland in 1720.

Some famous clubs include:

USA:

1. Annapolis Yacht Club: Surrounding the Spa Creek Bridge in Annapolis, the Club boasts over 75 wet slips and dry dockage. The club began in 1886 as an informal canoe club, and today has 1600 regular members active in social, racing, and cruising programs

2. Chicago Yacht Club: Founded in 1875, Chicago Yacht Club is one of the oldest and most respected yacht clubs in the world. The Club is home to more than 1,400 members, including a winning America’s Cup skipper, and Olympic medalists.

Italy:

1. Circolo Canottieri Aniene

2. Circolo degli Esteri

3. Compagnia della Vela

Canada:

1. Royal Canadian Yacht Club

2. Royal Vancouver Yacht Club

Yachts are most active in the summer months (May- August in the northern hemisphere) or the winter months. many yacht owners decide to keep the maximum number of guests onboard to 12 (plus crew) for chartering.

Different types of yachts:

Sailing Yacht: a yacht mainly propelled via wind and sails

Motor Yacht: a yacht propelled via one or more motors

Gulet Yacht: a hybrid yacht with both sails and motors

Open Yacht, Cruiser, Cabin Cruiser, Express Cruiser: an otherwise uncategorized standard yacht for cruising and entertaining

Luxury Yacht: a yacht that includes high-end finishes and features and the latest in modern performance technology. The term ‘luxury’ can precede any type of yacht, i.e. “luxury motor yacht”, “luxury sailing yacht”, etc.

Sports Yacht: a yacht geared towards fishing, water sports, or cruising with a sleeker design and more powerful motor for faster cruising speeds.

Catamaran Yacht: a yacht with two hulls (pontoons) often made of fiberglass that can be used in shallow waters.

The most popular destinations:

1. Monaco

2. The French Riviera

3. Greece

4. U.S. Virgin Islands

5. Palm Beach, Florida

6. Costa Smeralda, Italy

7. St. George’s Parish, Bermuda

8. Newport, Rhode Island

9. Nantucket, Massachusetts

10. Greater Victoria, Vancouver Island

Insane super yachts

Football club owner Shahid Khan's 95 metre Lürssen Kismet was delivered in 2014. On match days, a four-metre silver statue of a jaguar, its paw resting on a football helmet, graces the bow. Elsewhere, its sizeable foredeck has enough space for Khan's beloved football team, the Jacksonville Jaguars, to stage a practice.

The 70 metre Feadship superyacht Joy features a deck that's wide enough to enjoy a tandem jog around. This yacht is all about exterior living, which includes making use of these ample decks with some great sporting facilities. A basketball and badminton court is set all the way forward on the owner's deck. This is complemented by her large gym and dedicated spa. All of this adds up to make Joy an ideal choice for those interested in a yacht with ample fitness, wellness and sporting amenities.

#c suite #powerful woman #strong women #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #productivity #q/a #getting your life together #balance #water #yacht

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mvltisstuff · 2 years ago

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labyrinth - r.a

summary: five months after y/n breaks up with her boyfriend, she leans on ryan for help and as a comfort zone. when she has to face her ex again for the first time since at a party, ryan and y/n realize that their connection is stronger than their friendship can handle.

ryan atwood x reader

“summer, do you have that black top i can wear?” marissa asked her friend while preparing for a summer party with the teens in newport. getting ready for their senior year, the group was elated. they were ready to start thinking about their future and it seemed like everyone was happy with their current situation. summer had seth, and it seemed like the drama had dialed down.

y/n was spending a lot of time with ryan. her boyfriend, anthony, was brutally dumped by y/n. ryan was her main support after the fact. everyday, ryan saw her and helped her get back up on her own two feet, being her crutch. ryan knew she needed a shoulder when she didn’t have anyone else’s.

anthony and y/n were the cookie cutter couple. they had the whole town on their back, praying their relationship could be as perfect. the walking hand in hand, the meeting at each others lockers completely concealed the emotion of the real people. none the social part their relationship showed could fix the personal part. toward the end, she was checked out. the fighting and words had become too much, so one night, when the words were stronger than the love, y/n decided it was over.

it’s been five months since that stormy night. she knew he was going to be there, and they haven’t spoken since the end of school. she doesn’t want him to ruin another fun memory for her, so she made the choice to go. if marissa and summer were there, she could be too.

“yeah, its in my closet, grab it.” summer replied as marissa went into the closet. “hey you.” summer came over and sat next to y/n on the bed while she was painting mascara on her eyelashes.

“hey.” she mumbles.

“you ready to go soon?” she said understandingly.

“yeah, i’m just nervous. he’s gonna want to talk to me.”

“i know, he’ll try. but ryans coming too.” summer nudges her arm, a thin smirk on her face. even after knowing ryan and being close for years, she still got nervous hearing his name. “your knight in shining armor will come and protect you!”

————————————

the scent of hard liquor and joints were surrounding the mansion that the party took place at. people taking shots and sparking up outside the fence. people were thrown into the pool and the music from the speaker boomed through the whole neighborhood.

summer and seth arrived, arms twisted together. marissa met up with her own individual friends, and y/n was off to the side, taking small sips of a hard seltzer she took from the outdoor freezer. she observed the group of people in front of her while she leaned against the wall of the house. she felt a hand on her shoulder and she whipped to the side.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” ryan said, softly with his own beer. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing hanging out all by yourself?”

“what’s a pretty guy like you doing coming over here?” she retorted. they laughed together and stood for a few minutes, making sly comments back to each other. “i have a question.”

“i have one too.” ryan replied back. “say it at the same time.” y/n nodded back at him.

“wanna get out of here?”

“wanna leave?”

ryan and y/n smiled and shook hands, agreeing to leave. marissa, summer, and seth were all aware we were leaving. they probably figured they’d leave anyway.

y/n threw out her seltzer can and ran to catch up to ryan. her sandals slapped on the cement surface of the deck as she skipped next to ryan. they smiled at each other, looking at ease and peace had graced both of their feelings. feeling another hand on her arm, she slowly turned around. because it was not ryan, and she knew all too well who it was.

she turned around to see the outgrown buzz cut on the boys head and looked into his deep green eyes. his height towered over her and all the words came crashing back into her mind like a wave. the aggressive aroma of marijuana and whiskey came running into y/n’s nose. his taunting smile peeled up on his face. “y/n! nice to see you.”

“im leaving, anthony, let go.” she assertively said.

“why you leaving, babe the party’s just starting!” his words slurred together and she found it slightly impressive how he managed to drink this much in such little time. she grimaced at the old name he gave her.

“shes leaving with me.” ryan came out of the side and stepped between us, ripping anthony’s hand off y/n’s wrist.

“oh! i see it really took you no time to get a move on.” anthony looks her dead in the eyes, stepping closer as she steps further. all the fears of coming to this party were displayed on the table. “and of course with this kid. ryan atwood everyone!” he shouted, making some heads turn and spilling some of his glass onto the ground.

“y/n lets just go, we can go back to the cohens.”

“nuh-uh, buddy, we’re not done here, y/n and i.” anthony spat out.

“oh, i’m sorry, my memory might be a little foggy, but,” ryan turned toward y/n. “she called it quits here.”

“exactly, y/n said it’s over.” he nodde his head and perked his head up a little. he adjusted himself toward y/n a little. “sweetheart, I never said it was over.”

“well you didn’t have the balls to call the shots.” y/n spoke up for herself.

“fuck, you still got that mouth on you. lucky Chino over here.” he winked at ryan. ryan started to laugh at anthony, rubbing his hand on his jaw.

y/n grabbed onto ryan’s side and pulled him in. “ryan, don’t. do not get involved and do what i think you’re about to do.”

“…fucking idiot… taking out the chino trash..” anthony’s voice from the corner while talking to one of his friends escaped their bubble and made it’s way into ryan and y/n’s. ryan smoothly turned around and laughed audibly, again.

“god, i love these damn parties.”

his fight response clicked into play. ryan landed a clean punch to anthony’s jaw, drawing it back and shaking it. anthony stumbled back, barely being able to stand straight in the first place. his friends caught him and all eyes were on the three. anthony was strong, and y/n knew it.

before anthony could pull himself together to throw back another punch at ryan, ryan and y/n were running to the car in the street. ryan’s hand had turned a faint purple on his knuckles and a red in the middle of the joints. the second his hand collided with anthony, y/n’s heart skipped a beat. she never wanted to start something new with anthony, and she just wanted it to end. she thought it was over, and the relationship was, but they wouldn’t be separated for a while.

y/n drove the two home in the cohens range rover in silence. ryan didn’t want to talk about it, because he knew she wasn’t mad. she was scared. scared of what a punch would do to them and what would happen to their relationship.

everyone around them knows that when ryan was there for her, neither of them would’ve been able to let go. ryan knew she wasn’t ready to move on, and he wasn’t ready to start something new after his life changed dramatically in a couple years. y/n didn’t want to change things, as he was the only stable thing in her life and she didn’t want it to end up being different.

summer always teased her, and seth always teased ryan, but the pairs fears and history prevented them from changing anything.

once back home, ryan and y/n went to his bathroom and she grabbed a few bandaids and alcohol. she started dabbing on the liquid and ryan hisses at the sting as she apologizes.

“i’m sorry, ryan. i never would’ve gone if i knew this was how it was gonna pan out.” she breathes out.

“don’t apologize. maybe he shouldn’t run his fucking mouth.” ryan looks up at her defeated eyes and sighs. “don’t be pissed off, y/n.”

“i’m not pissed, i just don’t know why you had to punch him.” y/n admits.

“what else did you want me to do? stand there and let him say shit about you?” his voice starts to get more fierce. he straightens his back and stretches his fingers.

“oh, i don’t know ryan, maybe we could’ve just walked away!” she tries matching his tone, but it’s no use. she decides not to fight back and layers on the bandage. “i’m just sick of seeing you get hurt over stupid stuff like this.”

“it’s not stupid considering the shit he’s done to you!”

her eyes well up with tears at the situation she’s in. her best friend, her soldier, is angry at her and her ex is on her back again. the scene’s running in her brain like a broken record. “i’m just worried about you, ryan, jesus christ!”

“why? you always get so worked up over shit like this when it’s not a big deal!”

“it’s a big deal to me because i fucking love you, ryan!” she spits out her secret. both of their faces drop in realization. his is relief and surprise, and hers in humiliation and regret. “shit, just… forget it, ryan. i have to go home.”

she turns around to leave with the thoughts spilling out of her head. she thinks, “he’s disgusted now, i just ruined the best thing going for me, he’ll never look at me the same…” she figured she broke her crutch. her soldier broke his weapons. her king put down his crown.

the tears are openly flowing at this point. the tightness of the bathroom and the bright lights making her more vulnerable than ever in their relationship. the pessimism of the situation over weighing the optimism. y/n goes to throw open the door when he grips her hip. he jumps down from the top of the counter and spins her around.

the fire is ignited between them and he pulls their lips together. ryan was scared, too. maybe she changed her mind about him now and didn’t want him anymore. at least not in the way he wanted her. his muscles relax when she leans in and places her hands on the sides of his face. their heartbeats were fluttering against their chests. his hands roamed her body and he tried to built the strength to pull away. he backs away, breaking the kiss between them.

“i’ve been falling in love with you this whole time.” he whispers.

#ryan atwood x reader #ryan atwood #ryan atwood smut #ryan atwood one shot #the oc #the oc imagines #ryan atwood imagine #ryan atwood fluff #ryan atwood angst #marissa cooper #summer roberts #seth cohen #one shot #the oc oneshot #the oc fanfic

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thinkingimages · 1 year ago

Text

PHOTOBOOKS, 4 books by Nancy Hall-Duncan, Laura Gilpin, Deborah Turbeville.

Nancy Hall-Duncan, "The history of fashion photography", Alpine book company, inc. 1979 First Edition.

Laura Gilpin, "An Enduring Grace", Amon Carter museum, 1986 First Edition. Soft cover.

Deborah Turbeville, "Newport Remembered", Abrams 1994 First Edition.

Deborah Turbeville, "Wallflower", Quartet Books Limited 1978 First Edition.

(Provenance ~ Tuija Lindström)

#photobooks #Nancy Hall-Duncan #Laura Gilpin #Deborah Turbeville

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mermaidsirennikita · 3 months ago

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hiya, do you have any recs that mostly takes place during a countryside house party?? like what i did for a duke and the viscount who loved me and etc. No real plot, just a couple of dumdums stuck together in a house, falling in love in ~literal~ days lmao

Hmmm

Joanna Shupe's Fifth Avenue Rebels kicks off with a beachside house party in Newport. One of my favorite series of all time—the latter two books take place largely back in New York, but most of The Heiress Hunt (the first book) and a lot of The Lady Gets Lucky (the second) take place at the house party. You have some overlapping timelines stuff, and of course it all leads up to the final book, The Duke Gets Even, when you learn that there was muuuuuch more to that house party than what was originally thought...

Again, beach instead of countryside, but it's very much the same thing But With Water Shenanigans. Also tennis. Nobody has a job. People hide. It's great.

A lot of Grace Callaway's The Viscount Always Knocks Twice takes place at a house party. This being a Grace Callaway book, there's a mUUUUURDER (which the intrepid heroine decides to solve, while the stern, flustered hero is all "PLEASE. SIT DOWN. SIX FEET AWAY." to no avail) and it's super fun. Like, please know that Grace Callaway murders are not like normal murders. I don't always love a mystery, but she does it in a way that props up the romance, versus the other way around.

Also, this is another one where in a later book (my favorite Grace book) Regarding the Duke, you find out that OTHER STUFF happened at the house party. Namely, Adam Garrity attempting to scheme his way into seducing a woman for power and money, only to play himself as it turns out Oh No, He Loves His Wife.

Infamous by Minerva Spencer largely takes place at a Christmas-adjacent (but Christmas isn't really the point, though people do sled and get snowed in together) country house party. There are actually two romances, and the heroes are twins. The nerdy twin (who is very slutty now, but in a super efficient way) runs into the woman who bullied him back when she was the hottest girl on the block. But NOW she's an old lady's paid companion and has fallen on (very) hard times. And naturally.... it's on. The titled twin has been married to a woman he had to marry due to a compromise situation (which was the aforementioned hot girl's fault) for the past decade. They have a totally quiet, dutiful marriage where they only do it for procreative purposes. Two kids in, they get along fine but it's very distant. Except. He's SUPER in love with her now. And he wants the marriage to be real!!!!

A Rake's Rules for Seduction by Caroline Linden is a house party book. In this case, the hero is best friends with the heroine's brother, and he was about to court her six years ago after realizing his feelings, but then she got engaged to another man. Now she's a depressed widow, and he is a NOTORIOUS rake who everyone talks shit about. But.... the feelings are still there. And things go down. Mostly him.

A Rogue's Rules for Seduction by Eva Leigh is one where they're at a house party except it's on an ISLAND, and this is important because the hero and heroine absolutely don't want to see each other, what with him leaving her at the altar a while ago. But their friends are like "TOO BAD. LOVE IS HAPPENING." and basically they trap 'em on the island. And they're like D:. It's great.

Goddess of the Hunt by Tessa Dare... I can't remember if this is a house party book, exactly? But I feel like it is. Everyone is at a house. It's in the country. The heroine and the hero are stuck in a closet together at some point (this also happens in The Viscount Always Knocks Twice, it's a historical thing). The hero is friends with the heroine's brother, and the brother basically sends him in to distract her, as she's trying to seduce their OTHER friend, who's supposed to marry another woman. Real feelings ensue.

Never Seduce a Duke by Vivienne Lorret has, I believe, a house party situation. The hero and heroine met each other in this very insane situation wherein he thought she was stealing his priceless Arthurian cookbook. Then he chased her across Europe for a minute, and she didn't realize this was like... a thing. THEN. Things Happened. THEN. They got separated and she was unable to reach him. Which was a bit of a problem, as she had a Thing Which He Really Should Have Been Notified Of after the Other Thing Happened. A Special Souvenir, you could say. An Unexpected Eurotrip Consequence. Anyway, he shows up at her brother's country estate for like, a gathering situation (I forget exactly why, but you get me) and everyone is together, and this girl has to cover up the fact that she absolutely had this man's baby, wasn't able to tell him, and now has to deal with his feelings.

It's really funny AND really hot, and I would recommend heartily. I believe Lorret's The Wrong Marquess, which is in the same series but a couple books earlier, also kicks to a house party at some point in the book. I also love this one. The hero initially hates the heroine who he sees as a bad influence on his little sister (who's actually.... the one who gets pregnant on a Eurotrip.... so idk points may have been made there in retrospect) but he later becomes oBSESSED. She's waiting for another man to propose, but during this whole countryside excursion, he makes his argument for banging known.

Oh. OBVIOUSLY, the first two Wallflowers books take place in large part at Westcliff's big country estate and various house party shenanigans occur. In Secrets of a Summer Night, Operation Trap a Man takes place there, with Annabelle accidentally trapping Simon. And in It Happened One Autumn, Westcliff is all "all of my friends and also that annoying girl Lillian who I want to impregnate should visit my house!!!! Even my broke slutty friend Sebastian!!!!"

#romance novel blogging #book recs #romance novels #lol i really need to reread some of these... we've got some bangers #if you're a fan of julie anne long tho.... you gotta try vivienne lorret

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