#I’m trying to fix my zoom habit

[vampstel]

Hey guys, so it turns out if you don’t zoom too much while drawing, you draw faster!! Who would’ve guessed? 💀

[ssweetleaf]

roll like thunder.

carmen ‘carmy’ berzatto x fem!reader

summary: you piss carmy off, he decides to teach you a lesson.

includes: 18+, dub con, angst, mean!carmy, belting, wedgying?? is that a word?, degradation, too many uses of the word ‘fuck’, sorry, no actual smut in this, but i’m thinking of making a part 2…let me know if you’d likeeee :D

divider credit goes to @cafekitsune

Being in Carmy’s bad books was not a usual occurrence for you.

You were used to being good— having him coo and dote over you, petting your hair and kissing at your forehead, telling you what a good girl you were.

You were used to being underneath him, all pliant and submissive, eager to please— and he’d treat you so good, give you anything you’d ask for and you didn’t even have to use your words.

So when he sat in the driver’s seat of his car, his hands were clenched upon the wheel, the leather squeaking under his grasp— you sorely missed the usual hand that squeezed at the fat of your thigh, or warm palm that enveloped your knee.

In fact, he barely looked at you, nostrils flaring as he stared straight at the road ahead, chewing irritably at the skin of his bottom lip— already red raw.

You awkwardly shifted in your seat whilst he drove in silence, fiddling with your fingers and wringing your hands in your lap. Your mouth stuttered for words, wondering how to approach him and what to say.

“Carm, I—,” you began, only to be cut off rather abruptly by the man himself, the first words he had uttered since you’d left the restaurant, since you said your goodbyes to the rest of the kitchen, since Carmen piped up on how disappointed he was with you.

“Shut up.” He muttered, utterly fuming, smoke practically bellowed from his ears and you sucked in a sharp breath, trying to keep your tears at bay.

You didn’t like when Carmen thought you were bad.

“But I just—” you tried, reaching out to grasp his hand that lay limp on his lap, only for him to bat it away.

“I won’t tell you again.” He spoke firm and lowly, a kind of voice he had never really needed to use with you before.

A part of you hated it— the tears that begged to ebb over your lash line were proof, however there was someplace deep inside you that enjoyed his tone, an itch that needed to be scratched, a desire to be put in your place, to know your place.

But you nodded shakily anyway, cowering down into your seat and keeping your gaze set on the hedgerows that zoomed past your window— you were nearly home, just a few more minutes and you’d be ridden of this awkward tension, at least you’d hoped.

…

Once you had both made it home, Carmy turned off the ignition, and got out of the car, letting the door slam shut before making his way inside your apartment.

You frowned, any other day he’d come around to the passenger side, insisting on opening the door for you, helping you unbuckle your seatbelt and aiding you in stepping out with an open palm. Instead today, you had to walk inside on your own, smoothing your dress down (one of Carmy’s favourites, though you were sure it didn’t really matter, not with the mood he was in) and watching hesitantly as he gripped the kitchen counter, his head hanging between his shoulders and mouth in a thin, firm line.

He was very clearly pissed.

“Carmy,” you whispered, shifting on your feet, watching when his shoulders tensed at your words. “talk to me.”

You could see the way his jaw ticked, flexing and grinding his teeth, a habit of his when he was angry— though it had never really been directed towards you before.

He chuckled, a humourless and dry laugh that had you chewing at your lip, trying to keep your frown at bay.

“What’s there to say, honey?” His usual pet name didn’t flow off his tongue as sweetly as it usually did, instead it was spat out like venom— mocking you. “You embarrassed me. In front of my fucking employees, no less.”

Your gaze was fixed to the floor, toeing your sock clad feet against the kitchen tiles and chewing anxiously on your lip.

“I-I didn’t mean to,” you uttered, feeling the lump in your throat starting to form and thick tears building from beneath your waterline.

It didn’t help your oncoming emotions when he decided to mock you further— to imitate your helpless stuttering with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, you didn’t mean to, huh?” He said, and you shook your head, looking at him now, eyes boring into his, just hoping to see a semblance of your usual Carmy inside them. Instead they were dark and swarming, his cerulean irises glazed over and almost black.

Carmen was quiet for a while— moody and brooding, chest heaving and shoulders impossibly tensed. You felt like running to him, pressing your cheek to his chest and saying how sorry you were, that it’d never happen again, that all you wanted was to be good. But some part of you decided to leave it, to wait and see what he’d do— to see how far he’d take his anger.

“Bear—”

“Bend over the counter.” Carmy spoke, hands on his hips, completely fuming and not in the mood for anything other than obedience.

“W-what?”

“Bend over the fucking counter, m’not gonna repeat myself again.”

You swallowed thickly, wetting your dry lips with a swipe of your tongue before nodding. Moving to the island, you pressed your tummy against the cool marble, leaning forward so your ass jutted out, your chest completely flat and cheek squished.

You could hear the clinking of his belt buckle, the quick swoosh of the leather pulling from the loops on his slacks.

You craned your neck, lips in a pout from the hard surface upon the fat of your cheek, taking a peek at Carmen and watching him fold his belt in half, leather squeaking in your ears and buckle jangling with each slight movement.

His eyes found yours and you saw his jaw tick.

“Gonna show you how to fucking behave.”

You grew tense at his clipped words, cheeks warming and chest heaving against the cold marble, waiting in jumpy anticipation for what was to come.

Carmy tugged at the hem of your pretty dress before flipping it up, tucking it up under the band of your bra to keep it in place— he pulled at your panties too, tugging them up up up, your pussy lips swallowing the gusset of your underwear, the fabric tight and uncomfortable against the seam of your ass and you whimpered when you heard the short cracks of the elastic snapping.

“Carmen—”

“Shut. Up.” He muttered it through gritted teeth, pulling and tugging even harder, bouncing you a little when you were brought to the tips of your toes, having nothing to hold onto apart from keeping your chest flat against the kitchen counter.

“The trouble is I spoil you too much,” he huffed, twisting at the soft pastel of your panties, watching with a little smirk when they slowly started to rip, the elastic hem snapping at the seams, just moments away from falling apart. “give you anything you ask for, treat you like a fuckin’ daddy’s girl.”

“But,” you hiccuped, sobbing at the way the fabric dug into you, leaving your skin raw. “but I am daddy’s girl.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw the way he shook his head, grunting lowly, almost scoffing at the way you decided to pipe up.

“No,” he sighed, you could hear the disappointment and you whined audibly at it, “you ain’t daddy’s girl— ain’t nothing but a fuckin’ bratty whore.”

You continued to sob, tears running freely now, thrashing your legs about to try and get free of his torture— that is, until your panties had finally decided to rip, leaving you bare and sore, feet back to being flat against the tiles, your thighs rubbing mindlessly together, trying to quell the ache between them.

Carmy let the scraps of fabric fall to the floor, pushing at the small of your back and having you arch even deeper— he adjusted the leather belt in his palm, doing a couple practice swings, readying himself.

“P-please, Carmy, not the belt— I’ll be good, I swea—” your babbling was quickly cut off by the flick of the leather, a sharp, searing smack that had you gasping out. “Ow!”

Another one came, inflicted towards your other cheek this time, quick and to the point, no nonsense, just like Carmy and you squealed at the pain, reaching back with your hands, desperate to quell the sting and ache by smoothing the softness of your palms over the welted flesh.

The welts bloomed thick over your skin, throbbing, as if they had their own heartbeat, never seeming to dull— tears already started to flick over your lash line at a mere two spanks and you were afraid to ask how many more he had planned.

“Get your hands outta the fuckin’ way or I swear to fuckin’ god.” Carmy smacked at your wrists repeatedly, gathering them up in a single hand and pressing them firmly against the small of your back, keeping them there, daring you to even twitch a finger.

He started again, raining smacks down on your ass in a quick fashion, grunting at your little squeals and sobs when he caught the space where your ass and thighs met— a sensitive spot, you were sure you’d be able to feel it for days after.

“C-carm, it hurts,” you whined, sobbing into the cool marble, drool dripping down your chin, eyes all swirly and glistening with tears that slowly traipsed down your searing cheeks, messing up your makeup that you so prettily put on for him, for carmy.

“Good,” he huffed, reaching up to push your head down and further into the counter. “S’fuckin supposed to.”

You were full on crying now, throat hitching with each inward take of breath, stuttering and sobbing with watery eyes and a runny nose. It felt like torture, the constant flicks of his wrist feeling like forever, you were glad he didn’t make you count them, because you genuinely had no clue, mind a hazy, fuzzy mess.

Carmy watched with a raised brow when little drips of arousal slipped down your inner thighs— he spread your legs, your cunt glistened in the low light of the kitchen, the constant surge of arousal slicking you up, turning you into a sopping mess.

He paused his spankings, reaching his belted hand down to your pussy, running his raised knuckles along your slit, collecting your sweet slick on his skin, a long sticky, silvery line of arousal connecting his hand to your cunt before snapping away.

“You gettin’ off on this?” He scoffed, embarrassing you further, wiping your wetness off his knuckles and onto the skin of your thigh as if it was some hindrance. “So fuckin’ filthy— tryna teach you a lesson and you’re fuckin’ wet?”

“C-can’t help it,” you sniffled, squeezing your thighs together to try and quell the ache in your clit and to stop dripping all over the tiles. “bein’ so mean.”

He chuckled humourlessly, sucking his teeth with his tongue.

“Oh, I’m bein mean, huh?” he cooed, false and sickly sweet, hands palming over your poor, welted globes, soothing them slightly and you melted into his touch, leaning into him— into your carmy, hoping now he’d let up and go easy on you.

Far too gullible, he thought— he wasn’t gonna let you off that easy.

Carm pinched at your sitting spots, the places that hurt the most when he used his belt on them, just above your thighs— the soft, pliable skin blooming with more heat and nothing to soothe the sting.

“I’ll show you fuckin mean,” he spat, loosening his grip and letting the belt clatter to the floor, hands quick with unzipping his fly and pulling his cock out, jeans barely past his thighs. “told you I’d teach you a fuckin’ lesson.”

[httpscomexe]

Hiiii I wondering if you could write a fic where the reader has started meowing whenever Logan speaks and she keeps interrupting him like MEOW and it starts to annoy him so he does his hair differently

This idea is super cute!!

Meow

Pairing: Logan x Reader

Summary: You’ve started interrupting Logan by… meowing…?

Word count: 521

No warnings except a bunch of cuteness.

(Find what I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

It all started with a TikTok video you showed him. It was an edit of him, his hairstyle being zoomed in and out of with a cat meowing audio before the sexy edit of him. You showed it to him of course, being his girlfriend you wanted to embarrass him in any ways possible. So you started a new habit. One that’s become increasingly annoying to him.

“Hey so I was thinking maybe-“

“Meow.” You didn’t say it normally. You said it obnoxiously. Almost yelling it to interrupt him every single time. At first he would laugh about it, but now it was annoying him, which you’ve noticed, but you still did it.

“Good morning baby, how’d how sleep?”

“Meow.” You’d use it to respond also, as if he could actually understand you.

Everything was fine though, it was just a joke between the two of you, but you didn’t think it actually bothered him. Not enough to change his hair.

“Good morning pup.” He grabs your waist and presses a kiss to your forehead: You look up at him, and just before the taunting meow left your mouth, you squint at him in confusion.

“What the fuck did you do to your hair?” Your tone was serious, as if he had shaved it all off.

“You don’t like it?”

“Logan I fucking hate it.” Your turn to completely face him, looking up at his hair where the two twin peaks used to be. “Where are your kitty ears?”

“Wanted to try something different.”

“Is it cause I meow everytime you talk?”

He doesn’t say anything, and you know you’ve got your answer. It did bother him.

“I’m sorry…” You whine. It was no wonder he called you his puppy.

“It gets annoying.”

“You calling me names puppy gets annoying.” You cross your arms and turn away, but then an idea pops in your head. “You want me to stop saying meow?”

“I’d love that.”

“Can I call you kitty?” There’s another moment of silence, and you can see in his eyes that he’s actually considering it.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” You stomp one of your feet like a child.

“Because I’m not your kitty.”

“You call me puppy.”

“Cause you whine like one.”

“You do your hair like a cat.”

“Not anymore.” The two words would’ve been enough to make you cry, and you almost do.

“Nooo, please don’t get rid of your kitty ears!” You whine.

“Don’t meow at me.”

“Hmph…” You bite your inner cheek. “Fine.” He grins and presses a kiss to your cheek.

“Good girl.” He pets your hair a little and reaches over your head for a mug in the cabinet.

“Lo?”

“Yes baby?” He begins to brew himself coffee.

“Can I fix your hair?” He nods and you walk up to him, reaching up to fix his hair until his two little cat ears were as they should be. “Also Lo…”

“Hm?” His arms snake around your waist.

“Can I please call you kitty?” He growls a little and leans his head down, resting his head on yours.

“Fine, you can call me kitty.”

[gloivy]

glo my love can i have 7 36 and 94 for the ask game <3

thank you for the ask Anna bb <3

7 - tell us about the plot of the first fanfic you ever wrote

oh my god i’m not sure i actually remember the first? IT WAS SO LONG AGO!!! i’ve been writing fanfiction since i was 12/13??? i was a lil baby. but one plot i remember pretty vividly from around that time was a Hunger Games fix-it fic i wrote where Peeta was never hijacked by the capital and instead had a happy reunion with Katniss in District 13 🥲 and here i am over a decade later, still an everlark girlie

36 - do you base your characters off real people or not? If so, tell us about one.

yes, although usually unintentionally. i think i’m always in a state of observation, and when i meet someone who is especially quirky or expressive, they almost always inspire elements of my writing - their mannerisms, unusual habits, or fun little phrases/sayings.

a wee fun example i can give where one of my characters was inspired by a specific person, is Draco in The Muggle Telephone. a lot of his online fumbling was heavily inspired by my great aunt who uses facebook with great difficulty. she REGULARLY posts a series of statuses along the lines of “John smith” followed by “find John Smith” and then “Can you find John Smith from [the small town she lives in]”. sometimes! we get a random keysmash! one time she accidentally updated her profile picture to a zoomed in photo of her ear! and then in the comments of said photo said “delete it”. and no matter how many times we try to help her with social media, it never quite sticks hahaha.

so, yes, i based The Muggle Telephone Draco off an 84 year old woman.

94 - do you prefer dialogue or description?

DIALOGUE!!! nothing else flows for me like writing dialogue. once i get into a conversation between characters, i feel like i can’t type fast enough to keep up with it!

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n, tubbo and jack - we built a boat

requested: yes/no

this is part 10 to the great adventures series

you didn’t actually expect to be filming a vlog with tubbo and jack today, you were spending one of you last days away from home with lani at the beach, not knowing that tubbo and jack would make you join them. you ended up finding several rocks you liked and ran off to pick them up thinking tubbo would like them, so you put them in your pocket. whilst you were collecting rocks, lani was on the phone to tubbo letting him know you were actually at the beach if he wanted you to join him in the vlog.

“wait y/ns there? put them on the phone.”

“they’re in the water.”

“why?”

“ill ask, Y/N WHY ARE YOU IN THE WATER?!”

“I FOUND A ROCK THAT MATCHES RANBOOS BRAND BUT A WAVE TOOK IT AWAY FROM ME AND IM NOT LETTING POSEIDON WIN!”

“yeah they’re fighting Poseidon, where are you going to be? ill bring them to you.”

few minutes later you made your way to lani drenched in water.

“i fell…stop laughing!”

“im not!”

“you’re eyes are literally watering because you’re holding in your laughter, anyway look what i got you!”

you placed a clear quartz crystal and a piece of sea glass in lanis hand.

“thank you y/n!! wait this isn’t like your other rocks?”

“i know!! it’s clear quartz and sea glass. i felt like you should have it! i think it’s because i won the battle with Poseidon!”

“you fell.”

“shut up!”

“are you staying at ours again tonight?”

“think so… wanna turn the crystal into a necklace?”

“definitely!”

lani ended up taking you to where tubbo was, but didn’t tell you what was happening, you only found out when you looked up to see jack recording you and lani.

“hold up, guest appearance.”

“oh hi lani…y/n, guess what?”

you looked down to see the boat.

“oh fuck no!”

you walked away laughing, tubbo followed after you dragging you back to the others.

“they said they can’t wait to go on the boat with us jack!”

“how likely is he to be able to build this?? how likely are me and y/n going to drown??”

“uhm good chances!”

“of what?”

“lani, am i going to live or die?”

you laughed as lani walked away shrugging.

“tubbo how much money did you spend on this…”

“£50.”

“oh great i’m drowning today!”

you stood next to jack tilting your head as tubbo attached the sail to the pole.

“just remember if you two die, i’m in your will.”

“i didn’t write a will.”

“well that was your first mistake y/n did!”

“tubbo gets my rock collection, tommy gets whatever he wants just not the rock collection, ranboo gets whatever tommy doesn’t want, and you get what ranboo doesn’t want.”

a few minutes later you helped tubbo put the sail up whilst jack stood filming you both.

“this looks unsafe..”

“and muddy.”

“it’s unsafe and muddy but we’re trying our best.”

“jack didn’t do anything.”

“rude!”

you stood next to lani trying to convince her to go on the boat so you didn’t have to as tubbo tried to lasso jack. after being told no several times, you stood with jack whilst tubbo began to tie a figure of 8, you watched as tubbo began teaching you how to actually tie a figure of 8 using a really morbid story.

“…heh”

“why was that so morbid?”

“we like death on the tubbo channel!”

“i want to go home!”

“no!”

“okay!”

the three of you began to carry the boat out to the sea, however you crashed into something straight away.

“could be worse…could have hit a member of the public.”

“IM TRYING!”

“i can tell…it’s not good enough but i can tell.”

“…TO HIT SOMEONE!”

“NO!”

“my bad T bo!”

“what the fuck did you call me?”

as you were getting ready to go down the ramp, lani looked directly at you and tubbo who were now trying to push each other into the water.

“try not to hit little people in the water!”

“little people…”

“shall we waterproof up?”

you turned around a minute later only to have tubbo holding his phone up to your face after annoying jack with it .

“say hello.”

“hi there , please send help. i’m going to die!”

“ignore y/n, they’re just dramatic..i wouldn’t let them drown.”

you helped tubbo get the boat into the water as jack filmed the pair of you .

“it’s cold.”

“i’ve been in here before…i fell.”

“how cold was it?”

“very.”

“the weed of the sea is in my feet.”

“ew! what the fuck!”

lani noticed you had all let go of the boat and yelled at you all to grab the boat before it left you all behind, jack, and tubbo got in the boat, however you refused as lani kept yelling that the trailer was on.

“oh we’ve left the trailer on.”

“that’s what lani has been saying.”

tubbo got off to untie the trailer and you stood nervously laughing as the wheel fell off .

“i'm actually going to die!”

“it’s fineee!”

you helped jack get out the boat, so you could all fix the boat.

“he thinks we could be doing better.”

“i think everyone could think that.”

jack got on the boat first, then tubbo, who then helped you get onto the boat.

“off we go!”

for the first five minutes, the three of you sat yelling at each other what you all should be doing to make the boat go forwards.

“i quite like this.”

“we’re not moving!”

“exactly!”

soon enough you had figured it all out and waved goodbye to the others after they gave you a thumbs up.

“TO FRANCE!”

“so now what do we do?”

“pray.”

“heh?”

“to what?”

“god..say your final goodbyes we’re going to die!”

“hey that rhymed, you’re a genius!”

at this point the boat had completely stopped moving, however tubbo didn’t think this was the case, and began trying to turn the boat around as it was apparently going to shore, despite the fact you and jack were telling him you all hadn’t moved.

“so what’s the sail for?”

“i mean jack has a point you are paddling.”

“luck!”

“….HEH?”

“y/n you talk to technoblade too much.”

“i’ve been saying heh before i met tommy, what the fuck?”

“jack go up to the front, so y/n can sit next to me.”

jack moved and you sat next to tubbo.

“so how long does it take to go to france?”

“ahh you know, about 20 minutes.”

“how fast do you think we’re going bud?”

“on a, on a, on a train.”

“how would you get the train?”

“i don’t think the train can go across this..”

rather than answering that question tubbo decided he made a hit list.

“we’re going to just go through here.”

“…through where?”

“between the people.”

“NO!”

“you’re creating unnecessary danger.”

you and tubbo started bickering about why he suddenly decided that he was going to hit a bunch of people with the boat for no reason.

“fine you take control y/n!”

“tubbo you were going to kill them!”

“that’s just part of the sailing life!”

you just stared at tubbo shaking your head slightly, trying to process what just happened, then all of a sudden tubbo got up and put you in charge of controlling the boat. you were surprisingly good at it, which was lucky for tubbo and jack who were now leaning out of the boat claiming that they were hiking. they only stopped when the boat began to go faster and noticed you had no idea what you were doing.

“y/n is going to be the reason we crash!”

“yeah i will!”

“why do you sound happy about that?”

“eta france?”

“any second now.”

you decided to focus on making sure the boat was going where you wanted it to go, whilst the others yelled out to the sea occasionally yelling phrases in french as they claimed they could see the french. well you think tubbo was yelling phrases in french, however halfway through you were convinced he started just yelling things in a french accent as he revealed he didn’t actually know french, resulting in jack asking to go to russia as he knows russian.

“y/n, sail is to russia!”

“you know what i don’t wanna drive here you go jack it’s your turn.”

“I DONT KNOW HOW TO DRIVE!”

“we’re sick of this shit aren’t we y/n, jack take that…you’re on the wrong side switch sides with us.”

you all swapped sides and you and tubbo sat with your arms around each other instructing jack how to sail .

“yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“thats good now turn us and we’ll be in the wind.”

“we’re about to catch the wind.”

“JACK MANIFOLD GET READY!”

you all swapped sides again and tubbo whispered in your ear, as you sat next to him, about making the boat capsize so jack would go into the water, jack ended up doing a lot better than you and tubbo did, and you all actually started going pretty fast. however, there was absolutely no way you’d get to land any time soon. you sat laughing with tubbo whilst jack yelled about how he was a fisherman, and that’s why he was doing so well and how he studied their fins so he could find out how fish swim.

“for a £50 boat it’s done us well, look we’re sailing, the water cleaned the boat.”

“we havent died.”

“im a little wet, but not too bad.”

“must be nice.”

“oh yeah you fell earlier.”

“how?”

“they were fighting Poseidon.”

“huh?”

“they probably found a rock they liked and went to get it but it ended up in water.”

“…yeah.”

you all ended up catching the wind and tubbo decided to make you and jack do reaction images.

“help girl, i don’t know how to sail.”

“okay jack your turn, drive and film.”

“hey look i’m filming and driving!”

“no film me and y/n!”

jack filmed the pair of you, tubbo had his arm around you to prevent you from falling out of the boat as you had a habit of leaning out the boat to touch the water. you had no idea what to do so ended up copying tubbo, the pair of you took off your hats .

“tips fedora…what do you want to name our boat?”

“tubboat!”

“no way..”

“THE TUBBOATS REAL NOW!!”

it was around now you and tubbo claimed you were all drifting out to sea, and to just let the wind take you wherever it wants to, whereas jack claimed the boat wasn’t moving at all. you pointed at a boat which was moving a lot quicker than you were.

“HES GOT WIND!”

“WHERES OUR WIND?”

“he stole our wind.”

“we’re stranded jack,y/n.”

you noticed lani and waved out to her.

“LANI!”

“jacks sailing, hes getting sailing tips from my cousins!”

“great can he take us to land?”

“no.”

“YO WERE ZOOMING!”

“i hope we don’t capsize..”

“why would we?”

tubbo looked at you and you nodded back at him.

“hey jack we’re gonna tip this boat!”

and with that the pair of you stood up and began tipping the boat over whilst laughing.

“SUCKER WERE STILL DRY!”

“tubbo i’m about to fall!”

tubbo grabbed your hand keeping you up on the boat with him, you both even managed to get back in the boat without getting wet.

“no, if i’m in you have to be in too.”

jack pushed tubbo into the water tubbo then went on to pull you into the water with him.

“NO!”

“IM FREEZING!”

tubbo helped you onto the boat first as this was the second time you ended up in the water, and you were quite clearly cold, he got on after you. you sat on the boat as he filmed the outro and jumped back into the water. once jack ended the recording, you reached out your hand to tubbo helping him back onto the boat. the way back to shore was you and tubbo clinging onto each other trying to warm up, and the three of you making shit jokes, and enjoying each other’s company. you even made a few more plans for when ranboos in the uk. few hours later you had said goodbye to jack and went back to tubbos house, tubbo let you shower first while he stayed with lani as she streamed.

“chuck your clothes outside the door, i’ll put them in the dryer whilst you shower. you can change into these.”

tubbo gave you a hoodie from his merch collection that would be dropping soon, along with your pyjama pants, 30 minutes later you sat with lani whilst tubbo went off to shower, lani ended up finishing the stream after 15 minutes.

“wanna make the necklaces lani?”

“i’d love to!”

not long later tubbo joined the pair of you.

“oooh tubbo i got you some more rocks, they're over there with your phone.”

you ended up making a couple of them into necklaces for him, so the the three of you had something to help you remember the day.

“y/n, i hope you’re enjoying your stay, youll practically be living here for a few month soon.”

“wait their parents said yes?!”

“what are you all talking about?”

taglist:

@dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

[xgryffinwhore]

Hey! Can I request a jaeden martell x reader where basically their charters are dating on a tv show and they are really really good best friends in real life and they they both go on the Jimmy fallon show and he keeps on asking if they’re dating because everyone thinks they are and when they say no he obvi doesn’t let it go lol and it ends up slipping up that jaeden did/ does have a crush on reader and they maybe end up sharing a kiss in front is Jimmy & audience & stuff😶just an idea i had 😂:)

i love this idea wow, thinking i’m going to put my own little twist on it but i think you’ll still be pleased ;)

just friends

warnings!: suggestive topics, fluff

word count: 2.1k

five

your face was being touched up with powder, the cotton pad dabbing at your nose as the white powder absorbed into any oil your face may have had.

four

you look over at jimmy, this wasn’t your first talk show, but it had been the biggest one with the most following. it was intimidating, you bounced your foot up and down and played with your hands.

three

behavior jaeden had grown to recognize. he knew you better then you knew yourself, your anxiety was worse then you put it out to be. “you ok?” he questioned, “fine, i’m fine” you painted a small smile on your face. but he wasn’t easily fooled.

two

he grabbed one of your hands and rubbed circles into your palm, this sent vibrations of relaxation down your spine.

one

his eyes locked with yours, you swore they were a different color each time you saw them. sometimes more blue, sometimes more green, sometimes dark with mystery, sometimes light and playful.

‘aaand where on air’

you wiped the hand that was interlocked with his off on your dress, it was clammy. the curtain came up fast, and your vision was soon flooded with bright lights and silhouettes of bodies.

making out the faces in the sea of people was impossible, but you knew your friends were out there. they had flown out to see you, a) they could go see new york and b) you were on national television, and they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

jimmy was talking, you knew that much, but your nerves took over and honestly you weren’t registering a damn thing he was saying. the crowd cheered, you snapped out of your daze.

“and here tonight, we have jaeden martell and y/n l/n from the new HBO tv series: turning tables”

he turned to both of us, and gave everyone time to clap. he tired to speak over the loud hands, moving on with his show, but the crowd made that difficult. eventually the clapping died out and he could continue.

“now, i’ve watched all of the episodes but, for the people who haven’t seen: can you explain what the show is about?” he looked a jaeden, you let go of a breathe you had held in.

“s-sure” jaeden turned to face the audience more, he was soft spoken and shy, so it was important he projected as much as he could.

“turning tables is a teen drama. it’s about families of poverty in the seattle washington area and how they struggle to go to school and work. my character, jennings cooper, is the main protagonist. the show is mainly from his point of view, and how he struggle to support his family.”

jimmy nods and smiles, he looks pleased with his explanation. i’m truth the show wasn’t that simple, he knew that. but, it would take so long to explain.

“and y/n, who do you play?” he knew the answer to this obviously, but you were becoming a crowd favorite. everyone loved your personality, and you were an up-and-coming a list celebrity.

“i play parker marlow, jennings girlfriend” you blushed at this statement, the crowd giggled and ‘ouuu’ed. jimmy rubbed his hands together, getting excited at the upcoming topic of discussion.

“so, your romance on season one was steamy” you thought back to the scenes you did together. all of the kissing, which felt normal at this point. he wasn’t a bad kisser, in fact- you didn’t mind it at all. your romance through the season built up to a sex scene, your mind flashed through the memories of filming it.

filming those scenes isnt half as steamy as you think it is. it’s awkward, you laugh a lot. you had never felt that exposed in your life! however watching it was different, it looked so real, so perfect.

you blurred out your thoughts, mr. fallon still speaking on the subject. “can we expect more -“ jimmy searched for your ship name, it was on the tip of his tongue. the combination of your first names on the show didn’t make an attractive combo. it was either jarker or pennings. your last names matched a little better.

“-carlow” jaeden finished for him. jimmy nodded and smiled “yes- carlow- can we expect more carlow next season?” you both looked at each other and smiled. the writers for the show already had the next four seasons laid out. you knew that carlow was a continuing relationship on the show.

“yes, you should expect more of that sort of content from us” you stated. the people in the crowd had a positive responce to this, the applause lapping until it died out once again.

“right, your characters have so much chemistry in the show. two struggling teens just trying to break even.” jaeden agreed “yes, our characters balance each other out, and being from the same background helps them associate. jennings is kind of a bad boy-as the ladies say- he’s a felon, he steels cars and sells them to counterfeit manufacturers and dealers for money. parker, y/n’s character, has a job at a diner. she shows him the light at the end of the tunnel if he chooses to go down a good path.”

“yes, parker gets jennings a job at the diner with her, and he falls for her sweet disposition even after everything she’s been through” you add.

jimmy licks his lips and pops another question: “so id imagine the chemistry in the show heightens the real life thing?” he cocked an eye brow, the group gasping at the intrusiveness.

“jaeden and i are just friends” you blurt out, your nerves working up again. it was hard, you liked jaeden ever since you had your first kiss with him.

“y-yeah” he stutters, he obviously wasn’t expecting this either “friends” jimmy shakes his head and puts his finger on his lip “recently, you both have been showing a lot of pictures of you two together on social media.”

the audience ‘awwwed’ at the photos that displayed behind you. on the screen, there were pictures of you and him that were on both of your instagrams. you two at gardens, getting food, even watching movies at each other’s houses.

“for just friends, these photos looks intimate , wouldn’t you say” a bunch of ‘yes’’s and ‘mhm’’s came from the crowd as both of your faces became red.

“we’re just best friends, honestly” jaeden laughed nervously, he fixed his hair with his hand has he always does.

“right right- can you tell me when this photo is from?” jimmy asked, the last picture flashing on the screen. it was of you both, you had just filmed your first scene together.

the first scene you filmed together was episode two, he saved you after you fell into ice cold water. it was how the characters met, and it was filmed at a cove on a windy august day.

the picture was a little blurry, but it added character. he had his arm around you, both of your hair soaked, and you share a huge towel. you remember how cold you were, your teeth chattered so rapidly. his hair was stuck to his forehead and more small pieces went up. and your lips were almost purple, half from the makeup, half because you swore that was the coldest water you had ever went in.

“that’s from when we first started filming, it was the first time we met in the show” you recited, re living the memory in your head. you remember jaeden pulling your head into his chest when the wind began blowing. you remember his thumb trying to create friction on your back to make you just a little warm.

“yes yes- you two look so adorable!” jimmy squealed, he was the most teenage-girl-grown-man you had ever met. his hand opened one of the drawers in the faux desk he sat behind, pulling out a small blue camcorder.

the camcorder.

you know how on tv shows, there is special footage? sometimes it’s just behind the scene specials but sometimes- sometimes - it’s footage the actors document when they were just having fun? yeah it was one of those camcorders.

the camcorder was brought in by the two other co hosts wyatt oleff and finn wolfhard (i know this cast is sooo original not really) they played jaedens two best friends on the show. while they weren’t filming, they’d dick around and talk about stupid stuff. you’d never seen what they filmed, but you had been featured quite a few times; their by them pranking you, or invading your personal space.

you looked over at jaeden, you watched his adam’s apple bob and a thin layer of sweat flush over his face. he bounced his leg slightly, a habit he had picked up from you.

“let’s just review our material here” jimmy teased, his tongue darting out between his teeth. the video began to play, the sound was loud; assumingely for jaeden quiet voice in the tape.

the video started with wyatts unsteady hand, him and finn were running around set, they stopped at jaeden, he was playing on his phone in his trailer.

“jaeden wesley we have come for you” finn yelled. you could see jaeden shoot up from his chair. “hey guys” he waved. they talked for around a minute, jokes and all. then finn started to giggle, wyatt zoomed in on jaedens face.

“so jaeden, how’s y/n?” he chuckled, jaeden blushed “she’s ok i guess dunno.” wyatt stopped zooming in when the only thing in frame was jaedens head. “the kiss was good hm?” wyatt asked. jaeden continued to play on his phone, he nodded. “yeah, she’s pretty cute too.”

the video cut to another segment, this was filmed after the sex scene. you knew because jaeden laid on the bed you, in the same underwear that he wore during the scene. the boys were jumping on the bed, and jaeden took the camera and talked to it.

“this is for memory and memory ONLY! h-hey y/nnn” he was talking to the camera like it was you “you’re amazing and cool” you could hear finn explode into laughter as he stole the camera back and started running “yeah! and he wants your babies and loves you so much-“ “SHUT UP FINN!!!” and jaeden chased him around.

the video was taken off the screen. your face had become close to ghostly white. it was weird, it was almost like he was dumb enough to think finn wouldn’t give jimmy this blackmail goldmine. you looked at jaeden, he hit his bottom lip until it was red, he itches his neck and laughed it off.

“yeah ok-ok jimmy, maybe i liked her back in the day” jaeden tried so hard to be casual, but jimmy hit him with a heart stopper: “but mr martell, the last clip was filmed less then a month ago!”

your mind flickered with memories and ideas of him.

your first time meeting, how good his hand felt in yours. when you wiped icecream off his chin, and him dotting icecream on to the top of your nose. the way his hair always fell perfectly above his eye brow. and SHIT how he always smelt so fucking good. how he let you fall asleep in his arms and how he never complained when you put on some stupid romcom and-

“y/n?” jimmy questioned. “huh?” you spaced, come on y/n you gotta stop doing that. “i asked how you felt about all of this.” “well, there isn’t a right word i can use.”

jaeden took this has a bad reaction, he did a small wave to the crowd and stood up to get off the stage.

you stood up, grabbed his hand, and laid one right on him. kissing him felt normal, but now that there was emotion behind it, it just felt so right.

you both stopped for air, the crowd went wild. jimmy was clapping too, you could barley hear them, your heart was pumping throughout your whole body. you swore jaeden could hear it.

after the show, you sat in your dressing room for a bit, contemplating the events of tonight, and how they were all broadcasted for your embarrassment. but it was only the beginning. only the beginning of what was to come for mr. and mrs. jaeden martell.

[itsallyscorner]

Ik someone else already asked for like a delivery part (and honestly, that would be amazing. Like imagine the girls reacting to Baby Mix casually dropping it in their chat). But, also imagine Tom and Y/N haven’t released anything to the public and Perrie (my loose-lipped queen) let’s it spill over a virtual interview or something, how chaotic would that be????

Anyway, I truly loved your Baby Mix stories. You’re combining two of my favourite things so effortlessly. Thank you💜💜💜

Hello my love! So sorry for the long wait, I hope you don’t mind! Thank you for requesting this and being so patient with me❤️ I’m so glad you’re enjoying the Little Mix reader! stories🥰 I haven’t written a delivery part yet but I already had an idea of how I wanted to write this so...here ya go! Happy reading🤎🧸

💌.

Meet Aunty Pez

She would be the best aunty in the world, ugh🥺 Also I’m so sorry I haven’t been active, school has been keeping me busy, but hopefully it’ll ease up soon! Sending all my love to all of you💞

At 3:14am, on an early Monday morning, the bundle of joy that you and Tom have been waiting nine months for has finally arrived. After hours of enduring pain and labor, Amelia May Holland was born. Weighing at 7.5 lbs, she had the same bright chocolate colored eyes as her father, gorgeous brown hair, a mix of your and Tom’s nose, and thankfully she inherited your lips. She was a precious little thing, always cradled in the arms of either of her parents, since they both couldn’t believe she was finally in the real world with them.

The sun casted soft rays of light into the hospital room you and your little family occupied. The warm light added to the peaceful atmosphere you were all currently in. You were sat against the hospital bed, cradling Amelia in your arms, while you and Tom stared at her in fascination. You lean your head against Tom’s shoulder, eyes never leaving your baby girl, who’s nose momentarily scrunched up.

Softly chuckling, you glance at Tom, “Not even a day old and she’s already doing a habit of yours.” The gentle smile grows even wider on Tom’s lips, a sense of pride rushing through his veins.

“Well she’s definitely her father’s daughter.” He hums, his arm around your shoulder pulls you flush against his chest. Tom hides his face in the crook of your neck, placing feather light kisses onto your skin trailing down to your shoulder, where he rests his chin.

“I can’t believe we made her. Isn’t she the most gorgeous baby in the world?” He speaks in a hushed voice, cautious of startling his newborn daughter awake. He gazes at Amelia with a fond expression on his face, large fingers gingerly reaching out to softly stroke the back of his baby’s hand. She’s only been here a few hours and she’s already wrapped him around her dainty little fingers. He would go to extreme measures to do anything for her and to make sure she lived the best life she can. She was to be treated like a princess in his eyes; because she was his princess and you’ve been bumped up to be his queen.

“She’s all we’ve ever wanted.” You turn to face Tom over your shoulder. The whole morning, ever since you gave birth, the two of you spent most of the time admiring Amelia and would burst into tears at how proud you were of each other. Not only had you both just made the most precious baby in the world, but this was a new chapter in your lives. A new experience of life with a stronger bond, full of love, and years of memories that’ll be looked back on in the future.

Tom shifts his gaze to you, the look in his eyes changing to adoration. He tenderly kisses your lips, repeating the actions a few more times before speaking. “Thank you so much for this. Thank you for being an amazing wife and giving me a family. I love you so, so, so, so, much. You have no idea.” He brushes his nose against yours, shutting his eyes, to savor the meaningful moment.

“I wouldn’t be doing this with anyone else but you. You’re gonna be such an amazing dad.” You beam at him. Tom softly chuckles, leaning his forehead against your temple, “God, I hope.”

“You will, you’ll be the best one in her eyes. I already know it.” You reassure him, pecking the corner of his mouth. You turn your attention back to Amelia, who was still sleeping peacefully in your arms.

“So when should we tell everyone?” Tom asks, resting his chin on your shoulder again. You lean the back of your head against his shoulder, making yourself comfortable in his arms.

“I think we should tell our family and friends first. I’m not ready to share her to the public yet, I want her to only be ours for now.” You quietly explain. You feel Tom smile against your skin.

“Of course, darling. Whatever you’re most comfortable with, that’s what we’ll go with.”

(Y/n)🌻: sent a photo

We thought Amelia might want to pop in and say hello to her favorite aunties for the first time!❤️

Perrie🦋: oh my goodness! Congratulations🥳🥳 I’m over the moon for the both of you!!

Oh she’s precious! Look at those cheeks!! I can’t wait to meet her🥺

Jade💜: OMG WE SHARE THE SAME NAME!!

I’m so happy for you and Tom!! You guys are going to be the most amazing parents in the world!❤️

Leigh-Anne😻: Baby Amelia, you are the most adorable baby I’ve ever seen!!!😍 Babe, you and Tom have some really good genes👀

Congrats you two!! I’m so proud of you both❤️❤️❤️

Jesy💖: Thank god Amelia got (y/n)’s genes for her lips!!😂😂 I can’t imagine another loose-lipped Holland!

I’m so happy for you guys!! I can’t believe you’re already a mum, darling🥺 We love you so much and can’t wait to see you and Baby Amelia❤️

(Y/n)🌻: You guys🥺🥺 I can’t wait to see you all and get out of this hospital! This bed isn’t doing anything for my back😭

Perrie🦋: You must be so exhausted lovey, how are you doing? I hope everything went well during delivery!

(Y/n)🌻: Very painful, I felt like I was about to pass out omg😭 The doctor kept on telling me to push, I didn’t know if I was shitting myself or pushing the baby out😭

Tom’s been amazing the entire time. Bless him, I think I broke his hand while I was pushing :(

Jesy💖: Omg!! What was Tom’s reaction to childbirth?!!

(Y/n)🌻: If you thought he couldn’t get even paler, you thought wrong! He was as white as the walls in the room😭😭 He was a good sport through it all though!

Also, Amelia’s crying. I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you girls soon!! And good luck with the interview today, you guys are gonna smash it xx

Perrie🦋: Don’t worry about us! You’re officially on maternity leave now! We’ll send your regards for the interviewer❤️

Leigh-Anne😻: Look at our baby mama! We love you❤️❤️❤️

Jade💜: Say hello to baby Amelia and that Aunty Jade loves her🥰

Jesy💖: ^Kiss ass, she’s not even a day old and the competition for best Aunty has already begun smh.

Bye darling, we’ll catch up with you soon❤️

You smiled at your screen before turning it off and placing it onto the table beside your bed. Tom was pacing the room, cradling Amelia against his chest. He was gently rocking her back and forth, alternating from shushing her to humming some sort of tune underneath his breath. You sat back and admired the curly headed boy that’s claimed your heart. Not only was he the love of your life but he was also the father of your child. Sure you guys were young, both in your late 20s, but the daddy role definitely fit Tom perfectly.

Tom must’ve felt your stare because he turned around and sent you a tired smile. He walked towards your bed and motioned for you to lay down. Using one had to cradle Amelia, he used the other to help you get comfy in the hospital bed. Still with one hand, he fixed your hair on the pillow so that it was away from your face. His large calloused hand cradled your jaw, “Get some sleep, darling. I know how tired you are.”

You pouted at him, “But what about Amelia?” He shook his head, his thumb stroking your cheek, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll try and get her to sleep. You just close your pretty eyes and get some rest in.”

“What if she’s hungry?”

“If she doesn’t fall asleep, then I’ll wake you up. Just please get some sleep, love. You haven’t taken a proper nap since this morning and I know you’re already close to knocking out.” He reasoned with pleading eyes. You sigh finally giving in, lazily nodding in response. Tom beams at you and leans down to place a tender kiss onto your lips.

“I love you both.” You mumble against his lips. He pecks your lips once more, “And we love you too, mummy.” The moment you closed your eyes, you were out like a light.

You managed to take a nap for about half an hour until you felt a few pats on your shoulder. You were immediately awake, turning your head to look for Amelia. You looked at the hospital bassinet, where you could see her sleeping peacefully.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Tom. He was sat beside your bed with his phone held in his hand watching something.

“I’m so sorry for waking you, but you should see this.” He apologized with a pitiful smile. He scoots closer to the bed so you can look at the screen. Your brows furrow together in question as you stare at Tom; it was the girls’ interview.

“Just watch.”

“Hello ladies! Thank you for joining me today!” The interviewer started. A round of “hellos” and waves were seen on the recorded Zoom session.

“Thank you for having us!” Leigh-Anne said.

“Yeah, it’s always a pleasure to be on your show, Zach.” Jade gushed. Zach made a show of flattery making them all laugh.

“I mean I guess I should start by asking how are all of you?”

Jesy was the first to answer, “I’d say we’re all doing pretty good, aren’t we girls? You know—just trying to get by especially with all that’s going on in the world.”

Perrie agreed, “Yeah, we’re lucky enough to be healthy and have the privilege to work. So I’d say we’re very blessed and making the best out of situation.”

“That’s great for you girls. AND speaking of making the best of the situation, thank you for giving us entertainment! I’ve been watching The Search and I’m absolutely obsessed.” Zach began, complimenting the show. He continued, “Although I did notice, that there’s only four of you at the moment, and in the show. How is it like to not have (y/n) around?”

Jesy pouted, the other girls having familiar reactions at the lack of your presence.

“As much as we miss her, it’s best for her and the baby to stay home and away from the public. When it comes to your career or family; family comes first, so it was totally understandable.” Jesy explained.

Jade chirped in, “Well, she’s not completely missing out. She’s had a few virtual appearances on the show and we’ve all been in contact, we always know what she’s up to.”

“How’s she doing? With the baby preparations and all?” Zach asked the girls. Their faces immediately brightened with joy, especially Perrie how squealed and clapped her hands in delight.

“Oh she’s doing wonderful, we were just texting her! She’s officially on maternity leave!” Perrie cheered. On the screen, Jesy eyed Perrie warily.

“Officially on maternity leave?”

Perrie smiled widely, “Yes, she is! She sent us a photo of the baby in our group chat and my goodness! Their baby is so cute, I just want to pinch her little cheeks!”

The three other girls’ eyes widened at the things coming out of Perrie’s mouth too stunned to say anything.

Zach squinted at Perrie, “Wait she’s already had the baby?”

“PERRIE!”

“Yeah, today actually.” The blonde answered proudly.

“PERRIE SHUT UP!”

“STOP TALKING!”

Perrie stopped, looking at the three girls offendedly, “What?”

“Oh my god, she did not.” Leigh-Anne facepalmed herself. Jade’s jaw was slack and Jesy’s eyes were wide with horror.

“Babe, do you know what you just did?” Jesy questioned Perrie, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose in stress.

You paused the video, taking in what just happened.

Tom eyed you carefully, “Your phone’s been blowing up consistently. Pez even called me to apologize, she feels really bad (y/n).”

You frowned knowing that Perrie was most likely upset at herself. You’ve been friends with Perrie for years now. It was common knowledge amongst you and the girls that if something big and secretive were to happen, you were to never tell Perrie. Not that you all wanted to leave her out on propose, she just didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut. When Perrie found things that made her happy or excited, she didn’t know how to contain her happiness. So it wasn’t completely a surprise to learn she’s told the world you and Tom were finally parents.

Tom noticed that you were still quiet, “Are you mad, darling?”

You shook your head, “No—no, I’m not mad at her. I know Perrie can get too excited sometimes.”

“So you’re okay with this?” Tom asked you, knowing that just an hour ago you said you wanted to keep Amelia away from the public. His hand reaches for yours, grasping it.

You tilted your head at the ceiling, “Yeah, I guess I am? I mean it’s not like she said Amelia’s name or anything. All she told them was that I gave birth already.” You paused and turned to look at Tom.

“Plus, I think she’s saved us the trouble of figuring out how to tell the world about Amelia.” You send him a smile. He reciprocates the action and brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “We don’t have to tell them anything more. All they have to know is that you’ve given birth and our little princess is healthy. Also that we’re very happy. The rest of the details will only be for us. For now.”

“For now.” You confirmed squeezing his hand. You glanced at your phone and motioned for Tom to give it to you. Scrolling through your contacts you clicked on Perrie’s name, “I guess we should call her and thank her.”

You clicked on the FaceTime icon and not even a second later, Perrie immediately answered the call.

“I am so sorry.” She apologized, hand covering her face. You chuckle at her and shake your head, “We’re actually calling you to thank you Pez.”

Her face contorts into confusion, “What do you mean thank me? I just exposed the two of you during a live interview.”

Tom poked his head into frame, “Well one, you’ve announced that Amelia’s here already, so that’s one thing off our list. And two, you just saved me months worth of relief during interviews. Now that everyone knows we have a baby, I don’t need to be scared of accidentally slipping it out when I have to do promos!”

The blonde looked between both you and Tom I’m disbelief, “Are you kidding me? If I knew you two would’ve responded this way I wouldn’t have been spending the last hour beating myself up for it.”

You laughed smiling at her. Perrie beamed at the both of you, “For just delivering a baby, you look gorgeous hun. You’re glowing.”

“Aw thank you, lovey.” You look at Amelia from the corner of your eye. “Do you wanna see her?” Perrie eagerly nods at the camera. Tom takes the camera and rounds your bed to the bassinet. Aiming the camera above Amelia he said, “Amelia, meet Aunty Pez.”

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[anika-ann]

One Door Closes... (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 2700

Summary: For Steve, your door is always open... or he thinks so. And even when it isn’t, it is.

In which one small Zoom mishap leads to an (un)usual ‘welcome home’.  

Warnings: brief mention of blood and violence, lightest angst, attempt at humour, crack-ish, fluff and language

A/N: For @anjali750, because this is totally her fault. Thank you for inspiring me :-* Have a little bit silly weekend reading, y’all!

“Tell me about it,” Steve encouraged you gently, soft smile playing in the corner of his mouth despite the pain it must be causing him due to his busted lip.

You couldn’t but grin at the lenient picture he made. Feeling blood rush to your cheeks at the thought of him probably calling you cute in his mind if his expression was anything to go by, you obliged, proceeding to tell him about the new project at work.

Your project. Because somehow, you finally earned your boss’ confidence and could bring the great ideas in your mind to life.

You felt so giddy just talking about it! So you started explaining, excitedly gesturing with your hands so Steve would get the right visual and you grew so enthusiastic that you almost forgot to keep an eye on him.

But you were watching him – always.

His lower lip was split, but already healing – it would have healed much faster if he stopped tugging at the healing skin whenever he talked or smiled at you from the screen. He looked a little drowsy, a shadow of a bruise forming on his cheek, but as far as you knew, those were the only injuries he had; that and many hours of sleep to catch up on.

Steve had a habit of calling you via Zoom whenever he got back to the Tower from a mission. He usually took a quick shower and was online until the last second before he had to leave for a debriefing; the only reason why he didn’t head straight to your place.

He admitted once that he loved seeing your face and talking to you even if for a moment after a mission, that it grounded him. On a very sappy and loveable moment, he even called you his sun; and the fact that after few minutes of being with you – as much as technology allowed – his face always seemed brighter, made you think that it truly was how he felt.

Even exhausted as he was now, you could tell his half-lidded eyes shined with life unlike when you started the call.

And so you kept rambling, feeling your heart bursting with love for your man and with euphoria, because goddammit, finally some recognition at work!

“Well, obviously, to reach as much general public as we can, we’re gonna launch a world-wide campaign! World-wide!” you emphasized with a blinding grin, throwing your hands wide to demonstrate.

---and your fingers caught in a cord from the laptop, pulling at it.

Steve’s benevolent face disappeared as your screen went black.

Because of course it did.

You had been talking yourself into buying a new laptop or at least having this one fixed for a few weeks now, because this was always the result whenever you accidently unplugged it. The battery was useless, ready to retire.

“Motherfu--- ugh!“

You wanted to be mad at the device – but this was totally on you.

Sighing, you hooked up the laptop again, waiting for it to wake up from a coma, shooting Steve an apologetic text in the meantime. Closing your eyes, you let your forehead lightly fall against your desk, mentally cursing yourself.

Dummy. If you only weren’t so lazy… and didn’t hate certain aspects of adulting with so much passion… you could have been talking to Steve-

Your eyes flew opened when it felt like it was quiet for too long; no reply to your text. Dread filled you and you quickly reached for your phone again, this time to dial.

You prayed you were wrong; but as the phone kept ringing with no one to answer it on the other end, you felt misery creep up you back and whimpered. Sliding your phone on the tabletop, your not-so-deft fingers stumbled over the keyboard, harshly welcoming it into the world of living by opening Zoom again to reconnect the call.

Your breath hitched in anticipation as the window opened---

An amused and yet somehow unimpressed face of Natasha Romanoff welcomed you and this time, you didn’t bother slowing down as your head hit the desk. It hurt, but that was only a presage of the real pain.

“Nooooooo,” you whined loudly, faking and not quite faking a sob, because shit.

“Oh yes,” Natasha hummed nonchalantly.

You straightened a bit in your chair, narrowing your eyes at her as you noticed the corners of her lips twitching while she pretended to be busy checking out her possibly-mission-broken nails.

“It’s not funny.”

She snorted and glanced at your no doubt desperate face.

“It really is. But also kinda sad,” the spy noted, something resembling concern flickering over her face before she scrunched her nose, irises twinkling. “And disgustingly cute. It has Rogers written all over it.”

You glared at her some more, not even bothering to roll your eyes.

“Tell that to my landlord,” you muttered under your breath, leaning your elbow on the tabletop and dropping your chin to you palm. A second later, a brilliant idea hit you and you tried to manipulate your legs from under you.

The thing was, even if you had a pretty good idea of what was coming if you didn’t stop it and knew that it would be a bitch to deal with, Natasha was right.

In a way, it was utterly cute, disarmingly charming and entirely heart-warming. Your stomach fluttered, the fabled butterflies flipping their wings, your face grew hot and your heart… well, it felt as if it was growing in size.

It was also sad, heart-breaking even; Steve, especially after a mission, was a man running on instincts. It was one of the reasons why he had developed a habit of calling you, why he wanted to hear you ramble about your either boring or exciting but always wonderfully normal day. A day which involved no shooting and no blood besides papercuts and a quarrel with your stubborn boss who shoot you glares at best.

On a mission, these carnal automatisms often meant survival. But back home, Steve didn’t want to be a sum of instincts of survival, fight and fear; he wanted to feel again. And with you, he did. He wasn’t just a Captain America, a soldier to be put on battlefield whenever the general found fit. He was a human being. A wonderful one at that, with beautiful soul.  

So yes. It was also rather upsetting.

And in a way, it was a little funny too. You knew it was totally your fault and that Steve was being kinda ridiculous, because he knew you and your inclination to wild gesticulations ending up catastrophically. On top of that, he was aware of this particular problem being almost a daily occurrence; hell, he tried to talk you into having Stark look at your laptop and failed.

And now... well. Here you were.

“You know, maybe if you get up and welcome him with door opened…” Natasha teased you with your own genius ides and you grinded your teeth, frantically trying to move your foot, which was pretty much on fire and yet dead.

“I would, but I… eh, pins and needles, was sitting on my feet,” you explained, embarrassed, testing whether your feet could carry you or not, naturally finding that without support, you’d be down before you could take as much as a step.

This time, Natasha didn’t snort in amusement.

Instead, she graced you with an outburst on honest full belly laughter, her red hair unfairly shiny for a woman who just spend week on a mission in damn Moldova and probably kicked more asses that you could imagine.

“You know what, Romanoff…” you grunted, forcing yourself to wobble towards the door. Very slowly. And cautiously. Knowing your luck, you might actually get hurt.

“I’m not even sorry,” she choked out and then continued to howl in laughter. “You so deserve each other. I finally know what the ‘idiots in love’ mean. Thanks for that!”

“You’re very welcome,” you huffed, voice dripping with irony.

Finally able to put full weight on both of your feet, you headed towards the exit – and entrance – of your apartment.

Halfway, you decided it was a lost cause. You would be willing to bet that the moment you’d touch the doorknob, you’d get hit to your face. It wasn’t worth it.

Yes, maybe if you did get hurt, it would make Steve think twice before coming all guns-and-shield blazing into your apartment; then again, it would probably cost you a broken nose.

Not to mention Steve’s tendency to get swallowed by the enormity of his guilt.

So not worth it. Best if you stayed put.

That was what you kept telling yourself when you stood there for about two minutes, in which you’d be able to open the door about forty times. Your annoyance – mostly with yourself and the cackling redhead – and the anticipation was becoming unbearable. As seconds ticked by, you were trying to convince yourself into taking the last few steps and opening the door and save yourself some trouble---

You yelped when the loud bang rattled your apartment the door sent flying of their hinges along with a spray of powered plaster despite knowing it was coming.

A glint of metal appeared next, the striking red, white and blue no longer there as it was covered in more bland colours for stealth missions.

And then a large figure cladded in blue shirt and grey jeans entered, his chest heaving, face flushed with red. Piercing blue eyes wiped of all previous traces of tiredness scanned the room, instantly falling on you as you awkwardly stood there, dumbfounded, startled and utterly speechless.

Also, much to Steve’s puzzlement, you were perfectly fine otherwise – even with both legs functioning, no remnants of pins and needles present.

Steve eased his posture instantly, eyes narrowing and then widening as he looked you up and down, lips parting in genuine surprise – and relief.

He said your name, clear and almost reverent, dropping the shield on the floor with a clang.

The ‘hi babe’ got stuck in your throat as you could see the tension leaving his shoulders, his eyes turning glassy and absent despite relief rolling off him in damn tsunami waves.

It hit you like a train – that you were delighted to see him, actually see him, even under these circumstances; and you truly didn’t want him to withdraw to some freaky brain-space after he had probably got one of the most ridiculous scares of his life due to the fact that his brain was not fully back in the normal world.

In the normal world where you abruptly disconnected a call without warning, because you talked too animatedly and not because some terrorist high on the FBI’s, CIA’s, NSA’s and SHIELD’s most wanted list found out you were Steve’s girlfriend and decided to take you out.

So to prevent another psychical horror trip of his, you went for distracting him – with a very relevant issue.

“You broke my door.”

Steve blinked, gaze refocusing on you fully, simply staring for a long moment.

“You went offline,” he objected quietly, a hint of accusation in his voice. God, you missed his voice.

“You broke my door, Steve.”

As if hearing his name was a spell, his frozen figure came to life and he took a cautious step closer, repeating his previous statement, this time with a hint of guilt.

“You went offline.”

“And you broke my door. That’s the second time this month, Steve! My landlords gonna k--- be real pissed at me,” you corrected yourself in the last second, not wanting say kill.

Steve ignored the slip and apparently got the message, his face twisting in genuine apology. “I’m sorry. I’ll fix it!”

With efficiency of a supersoldier, he spun on his heels and rushed to pick up the door as if it was lighter than a paperweight and swiftly put it in place.

Only for the door to slowly tilt his way again. He caught it with a loud curse and moved it aside, leaning it partly against the wall. The action sent more plaster down onto the floor, like the only truly white snow in New York City. Peripherally, you noticed Steve grimacing, his face an expression an epitome of yikes.

You let your eyes slipped shut, shaking your head with a sigh, but couldn’t but chuckle. When you looked at Steve again, he resembled a 240 pounds giant Labrador puppy, truly regretful, approaching you reluctantly as if he was afraid you would slap his big paws for being clumsy.

What he would deserve was for you to clip round his ear for impulsiveness, but could you blame him? God knew what he had seen in Moldova in the past week, what horrors he had lived through and what a nightmare his mind had created when you ‘went offline’.

Him barging in like this due to your own dumbassery was kinda sad; a prove of his demanding job full of terror.

It was cute and heart-warming, because he just cared for you that much.

It was a little ridiculous, because as Steve finally crossed the distance between you two, the head of your elderly neighbour peeked from behind the empty doorway, puzzled and rather concerned.

You snorted unattractively, the scene in front of you seeming epically hilarious all of sudden.

“I’m good, Mr. T!” you called over Steve’s shoulder after the poor man who gossiped like an old woman and was just as hospitable. “Just my boyfriend fussing because of a technology fail!”

A grin spread on his wrinkled face; a testimony to years of laughter and amiability. “Oh. Hi, Mr. America!”

“Afternoon, Mr. T! I am verry sorry for disturbing you.”

The older-looking man waved off Steve’s politeness.

“It’s fine. You keep taking care of your lady, Mr. America, and keep her safe!”

“Yes, sir,” Steve humoured him with a salute, earning a wink.

As your neighbour walked away with a fresh topic for his Sunday tea party, Steve turned his attention to you again, eyes searching, wide, apologetic – but also soft, taking in the view of you, revelling in it.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he whispered lowly, the lopsided smile you loved so much gracing his face, once again pulling at that damn split lip. You grimaced a bit, the sight of him almost brining tears into your eyes; the gentleness and the remnants of fight punching you straight in the gut.

His eyes fluttered close when you lifted your hand and traced the line of the bruise on his face with the lightest pressure you were capable of. This time, tears definitely prickled in your eyes, but you blinked them away, cupping Steve’s cheek and pulling him close.

“Oh come here, babe,” you breathed out, fingers carding through his hair as he leaned his head on your shoulder, lips brushing the crook of your neck, strong arms embracing around your form.

He was warm and big and held you a bit tighter than necessary and dammit, you loved your sweet of heart and occasionally dumb of ass boyfriend. Boyfriend, who was crazy in love with you. Sometimes with emphasis on the crazy.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” he muttered, nose nuzzling the sensitive skin of your neck, breathing in deeply. You pretended it didn’t do things to you as he did everything to get lost in you and leave all the bad behind. You failed.

“You’re totally paying for fixing my door.”

Well, maybe not failed entirely.

“Of course,” Steve assured you dutifully, no hint of humour in his voice.

It broke you on a completely new level; he was serious. Dammit you loved this man!

“I missed you too,” you finally admitted and this time, he did chuckle, squeezing you even tighter, hand running up and down your back. Without any warning, he tightened his grip and lifted you from the floor so you had to cling to him entirely, causing you to gasp.

You never got the chance to gather your wits and comment on that, because an annoyed voice of a certain redhead sounded from your laptop.

“…alright, you crazy kids, you had your cuddles. Now, Rogers, should I tell Fury you’re coming back for the debriefing or should we just finally change with the times and do it over Zoom?”

Clutching Steve’s waist and shoulder, face contentedly in his chest, you voted for the latter.

Steve Rogers masterlist

Lovely divider by whimsicalrogers​.

A fic from collection ‘This was supposed to be a drabble.’  Also, I couldn’t for the love of god figure out a better title.

I hope you enjoyed at least a bit :-*

Thank you for reading!

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Lost Boy

Sodapop Curtis x Reader

Words: 4305

Summary: 16 years of never belonging and you’ve finally had enough. You move in with your outcast sister in Tulsa and meet a group of boys who finally make you feel like you’re where you’re supposed to be. Inspired by the song Lost Boy by Ruth B.

Notes: Peter Pan is one of my all time favorite stories and I love this song. I thought it could bring a whimsical, yet still angsty feel to a Sodapop imagine so I hope you guys enjoy! 

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

Sodapop and more: HERE

-

There was a time, when I was alone

Nowhere to go and no place to call home

You always wanted to know what it was like to fly. To soar above the clouds, too far away to hear your parent’s screaming. Watching the world zoom by through the car window was the closest you’d ever felt to flying. You were free.

Pulling up to the little shack of a house, your sister, Beth, gave you a small smile.

“It's not much. You’ll be sleeping on the couch until we can clean out the attic.” She rambled. Beth rambled when she was nervous. “We were going to have you stay in the boys’ room, but Michael has a fever so he’s had to stay in bed-”

“Beth,” You gave her the biggest smile you could. You hadn’t smiled like that in a long time. “It’s perfect.” There was a loud racket coming from the house at the end of the block and three rowdy boys came bounding down the street. 

“Hey Mrs. Austin.” One greeted as you both got out of the car. Your sister waved and he grinned. You never knew a boy could have a smile as nice as he had. 

“Steve, my engine is making that sound again.” Beth said to one of the other boys. 

“I’ll look at it as soon as we get back.” He said and the three took off down the street again. The one with the nice smile looked back at you and for a second you thought he might have winked. 

“Who was that?” You asked, turning your attention back to your sister as she helped you unpack. You didn’t have much. Just some clothes and a couple books. 

“The one I was talking to is Steve Randal. He’s been helping me keep this piece of junk rolling.” Beth patted the hood of the car. “The others are two of the Curtis boys. They live with their big brother Darryl down the block.” She pointed to the house the boys had come out of. “Nice kids.”  

You watched them walk for a moment longer before taking your things inside. Your brother in law greeted you with a suffocating hug and one of your nephews wrapped around your leg. 

“John.” Beth laughed, prying him off of you. John was six-years-old and Michael was four. They were two of the sweetest and silliest boys you’d ever met. 

“Look at how big you’ve gotten,” You said, feeling a twinge of guilt. You hadn’t seen the boys since Michaels first birthday. You were lucky if your parents let you write Beth letters. 

Beth was your age when she got pregnant with John. Your parents kicked her out of the house and told her never to come back. Her and Jack got married and moved here, to Tulsa. Two years later, she had Michael. They were happy, which was more than you could say for your parents. But you’d never have to worry about them again. 

After you settled in a little, you decided to find a quiet place in the neighborhood to read. You’d lost count how many times you had read Peter Pan, but you never got tired of it. The idea of a place like Neverland got you through every fight, every tear filled night, and every cigar burn. 

You walked around for a while before you found a nice spot in the big empty lot. There were a couple of logs to lean on and a spot where a fire had been. With winter break coming to its end, the January air made you shiver. You didn’t mind. You were too happy to even notice. 

Just as you opened to the first page, you saw a figure approaching. He was hunched over with his hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t even notice you until he reached where you were sitting. This must be his usual spot. 

“Hey, who are you?” He spat, though it was hard to be intimidated by his quivering voice. 

“My name is Y/N,” You said calmly, setting your book aside. “I just moved here.”

“Yeah, well you better beat it.” He ducked his head like he was trying to hide his face from you. “There are some real creeps around here at night and you don’t look like no greaser girl.” 

“I’m usually pretty good at handling myself.” You stood, not to scare him, but to show that you weren’t scared. “What’s your name?” 

“What’s it to you?”

“Well, if we’re going to be friends, I’d like to know your name.”

“Who said I wanted to be friends?” 

You sighed and tucked your book under your arm.

“Suit yourself.” You walked past him, bumping his shoulder as you went. 

“Wait.” He squeaked. You turned around. “What… what are you reading?” A little surprised, you lifted up the cover so he could see it.

“It’s my favorite. I’ve read it so many times, but I never get tired of it.” You beamed as he read of the gold lettering on the cover, worn from years of being very well loved. You could see his face now and you held back a gasp. His cheek was red and swollen and his lip was split. He caught you staring and quickly turned away. 

“Like I said, you better get out of here.” He huffed. Without thinking, you put a hand on his shoulder. 

“My dad hit me too.” You didn’t know how you knew, but you did. At first, he seemed angry and jerked his shoulder away. But his face softened and he looked at the ground. 

“My name’s Johnny.”

“Now was that so hard?” You playfully nudged his arm to try and ease the tension. He even smiled a little. 

“Johnny!” Another figure appeared across the lot, barreling towards you like a steam engine. You were worried that it might be his dad, but as he got closer, you saw how young he was. He looked Beth’s age, maybe younger. 

“Hey Darry.” Johnny greeted, his voice still quiet. 

“I thought that was you I saw slinkin 'over here.” the man crossed his arms disapprovingly. “The hell are you doin out here? You’re gonna freeze to death.” Darry saw the signs of violence on the boy’s face and sighed. “Come on home with me and I'll fix you something to eat.”

“Thanks Darry.” Johnny muttered. Darry’s stare landed on you. 

“Haven’t seen you before.”

“I just moved here today.” You meant to sound tougher, but your voice came out as a squeak. Man, he was scary. After giving you a once over and figuring you weren’t trouble, his hard stared turned a little more welcoming. 

“You must be Beth Austin’s kid sister.”

“Yes, sir.” 

“No need for that, now.” He chuckled. “You can call me Darry, same as everybody else. Your sister told me to watch out for you.”

“She did?” You knew Beth was protective, but she didn’t have to alert the neighborhood.

“Probably wants you to stay away from us greasers.” Johnny said and Darry tousled his hair. 

“You can come over for dinner too, if you want.” He offered. You would have declined, but your stomach started growling something awful. Darry motioned for you to follow him. 

“That’s Darry for you.” Johnny whispered with a small smirk. “He’s got a habit of takin’ in strays.” 

-

He came to me with the sweetest smile

Told me he wanted to talk for a while

It was kinda funny how well you fit in at a table full of boys. Darry was still fixing dinner and Johnny was talking to the youngest Curtis, Ponyboy. It only took a little convincing from Johnny for Ponyboy to get comfortable with you being there. 

“Damnit, where is that boy?” Darry exclaimed, throwing down a dish towel. 

“He probably got caught up talking to all those girls that come to see him.” Ponyboy said, sounding a little jealous. 

“Yeah, well if he wants dinner, he better get his butt back here.”

“Who are we waiting or?” You asked Johnny in a low voice. 

“Oh, they’re just goin’ on about Sodapop. He’s the middle one.”

“His name is Sodapop?” You wondered. You didn’t laugh like other girls sometimes did. You were actually curious. 

“Sure is. Our dad liked unique names.” Ponyboy beamed. “And Soda’s as unique as they come.”

“That’s one word for it.” Darry laughed, shaking his head. As if he heard his name, the middle Curtis burst through the front door, an excited grin lighting up his face.

“You shoulda seen her, Darry.” He howled. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that about every girl.” His older brother scoffed. 

“Well this time, I mean it. And she’s just down the street!” Sodapop leaned against the fridge with a dreamy expression. Darry cleared his throat, jerking his head towards the dinner table. Ponyboy and Johnny were ready to burst from laughter. As soon as Sodapop’s eyes landed on you, he nearly fell over, his face turning a very cute shade of pink.

“You must be Sodapop.” You tried your best to hide the nervousness in your voice, not to mention the furious blush lighting up your face. You had never been called pretty before. Maybe he wasn’t talking about you. After all, he only saw you for a second. 

“Yes ma’am.” He straightened himself out and smiled. Lord, that smile. “You-uh-you’re the girl I saw with Mrs. Austin.” 

“What’re you calling her ‘ma’am’ for?” Johnny exclaimed. Ponyboy elbowed him in the side. “Ow! What? She’s just one of us!” You laughed at the two, but kept your eyes on Soda.

“That’s me alright. Beth’s my big sister. I’m gonna live with her now.” You said proudly. 

“Where are your folks?” The youngest boy wondered. 

“Ponyboy,” Darry scolded sharply. He knew that the story probably wasn’t a nice one. In this neighborhood, they never were. You didn’t seem upset by the younger boy’s question. 

“They’re still in Chicago. Be glad you’ll never have to meet them.” You shrugged, your gaze returning to Sodapop. His blue eyes were bright with curiosity. He sat down across from you and Darry put down a plate of sandwiches. 

It was the liveliest dinner you’d ever had. Darry and Ponyboy squabbled back and forth while Johnny scarfed down his sandwich. 

“Whatcha reading?” Sodapop asked, eyeing the book you had set on the table. 

“Oh, um, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” You quickly pulled the book into your lap. His lips fell into a pout. 

“I promise I won’t.” His voice was so sweet that you knew he wasn’t going to make fun of you. You slid the worn down and well loved book across to him. “Peter Pan?” He read. “I remember that Disney movie when we were kids. Never thought about reading the book.”

“That’s cause you don’t read.” Ponyboy snickered. There was a thud and Ponyboy cried out, rubbing his now sore shin. 

“Is it any good?” Soda asked. 

“Oh it’s my favorite.” You beamed. “I guess the idea of flying away to a place where you never have to grow up was a nice thought when I was with my parents and all their yelling.”

You felt the tone of the table change. Ponyboy and Johnny looked at each other, Darry clasped his hands together on the table and Soda gave you a sympathetic smile. The grim shift made you think of home. 

“Alright, enough with the long faces.” You exclaimed, leaning across to playfully shove Ponyboy’s shoulder. “That’s all over now.” You looked at each boy with the brightest smile they’d ever seen. Your gaze landed on Sodapop and his lips returned your grin. “This is Neverland.”

Smiles returned to the boys’ faces and Darry even chuckled. You and Soda just kept looking at each other. 

“You clearly haven’t been in Tulsa long enough.” A new voice sneered. Everybody looked at the boy standing in the doorway. He had a hard stare and a mean look about him, but you didn’t let that scare you. You’d seen meaner. 

“Anywhere is better than where I was before.” You replied calmly. The boy narrowed his eyes and looked you over. 

“Is there something you need, Dally?” Darry asked sternly. 

“Little bird told me there was a new girl in the neighborhood. Didn’t think she’d be slumming with us greasers already.” Dally kept his mean glare on you until Sodapop stood up. 

“Come on, Y/N. Why don’t I walk you home?”

“Soda must think you need protecting.” He smirked. “I think you look like you can handle a guy like me.”

“Cut it out, Dallas.” Darry’s voice was a warning now.

“It’s alright. I should be getting back anyway to help Beth get the boys in bed.” You pushed away from the table, thanking Darry for dinner and saying goodnight to everyone. Lastly, you turned to Dally as you and Soda passed him. “It was nice meeting you, Dallas.”

You could feel his stare burning into the back of your head as you stepped out into the cool night air. 

“Sorry about him.” Sodapop said, shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he walked. “Dally’s really not so bad. He’s just acting like that cause he don’t know you yet.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You shrugged. “I knew plenty of boys like that back in Chicago, only I didn’t have a tough guy like Darry or a sweet one like you to stand up to them, so Dallas is right.”

“About what?”

“I can handle guys like him.” You bumped his shoulder with yours and laughed. “I appreciate you walking with me, though. Beth would kill me if she thought I was out here by myself at night.”

“Has she always been protective like that?”

“I guess.” You thought for a moment. “When we were kids, she was always sticking up for me to our old man. She never let him lay a hand on me as long as she was around.” You found a pebble on the sidewalk and nudged it with your toe. “When she got pregnant, she didn't have a choice but leave. I think she just still sees me as that scrawny 10-year-old.” 

You walked together in silence for a moment. You stopped suddenly, looking up at the sky. Stars stared back down at you with their bright faces. You liked to think they were smiling. Soda was a few steps away before he noticed that you had stopped. 

“What’re you looking at?” He asked, walking back to join you. He tilted his head upward, trying to find whatever had caught your attention. 

“The sky’s a lot prettier out here.” You mused. “In Chicago, it’s all lights and smog. But here, you can really see the stars.” That feeling of flying was back, taking you up into the air just like the book. 

“You’re a different kinda girl, you know that?” Sodapop laughed. You spun around with your arms extended. 

“You have to be different to survive, Sodapop Curtis.” When you looked at him, he could have sworn that your eyes twinkled like the stars. 

-

I am a Lost Boy, from Neverland

Usually hanging out with Peter Pan

“They were not nearly so elegant as Peter, they could not help kicking a little, but their heads were bobbing against the ceiling and there is almost nothing so delicious as that.” You read in a clear voice so that all the boys could hear you. It was strangely nice out and the afternoon had turned into a kind of gathering at the park. You were sitting underneath the jungle gym with Johnny and Ponyboy sprawled out across from you. Sodapop and Steve had their knees hooked on the bars to see who could hang upside down the longest. 

“Do you think this counts as flying?” Soda grinned down at you. Even upside down, it was the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. 

“Only until you hit the ground.” Steve swung out his arm to try and knock him down, but Soda was quicker than that and Steve was the one that ended up in the dirt. Everybody laughed and Steve was only angry for a minute. 

“Let her keep going.” Johnny whined. He seemed less skittish than he had last night. Ponyboy waited until Steve wasn’t looking to nod eagerly in agreement. 

“Pony, don’t you have studying to do?” Soda climbed down and gave his brother a pleading look. It didn’t take long for Ponyboy to catch on. He made a face and got up, nudging Johnny to join him. 

“Don’t be too late, Soda else Darry’ll take it out on me.” He grumbled, thanking you for the story before taking off back to the house. Steve also came up with an excuse to ditch, leaving just you and Sodapop, who tried to look surprised.

“Is this how you pick up all your girls? Cornering them in parks?” You scoffed, putting your book back in your bag. Man, his face turned red. 

“I don’t know what- um- I’m not… no.” He stammered, kicking the toe of his boot into the dirt. You laughed. 

“Relax, Soda, I’m just teasin’ you.” You shoved him playfully and slung your bag over your shoulder. The wind picked up a little and you shivered. 

“Don’t you have a coat or something?” Soda asked, watching the goosebumps appear on your arms. You’d picked one of your short sleeve shirts since it was so nice, but now the weather seemed to remember what month it was. “Here.”

Soda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, rubbing your skin to help warm you up. His hands were softer than you thought they’d be with him working at the gas station and all. Being so close brought a pleasant pink color to your cheeks. Before you knew it, you were inching closer and closer until he kissed you. 

His lips were gentle and soft and perfect. You both forgot to breathe for a while, but that didn’t bother you. When you did finally pull away, you both had the biggest grins on your faces. 

“Maybe I should walk you home.” Soda said breathlessly. You nodded and, with a rush of courage you laced your fingers together as you walked. 

By the time you got home, you felt like you were floating. It wasn’t the same as flying. This wasn’t rushed or heart-pounding. It was quieter and sweet. You couldn’t help but give him another kiss goodnight. When he was walking back to his house, he seemed to have a skip in his step. 

You swung the front door open with a wide smile, giggling to yourself like a little kid. But that happy feeling washed away when you saw who Beth was sitting with. 

“Daddy?”

-

Run, run Lost Boy, they say to me

Away from all of reality

You ran until your lungs felt like they’d burst. All you heard were three terrifying words and you got out of there as fast as you could “Takin’ you home.” You were home. That bastard wasn’t taking you anywhere. 

You took the back way to the Curtis house, ducking your way through other people’s back yards so that your father wouldn’t be able to follow you. You were too afraid to go around front, so you found a low window and knocked on the glass. 

“Darry!” You whisper-shouted. “Soda, Pony, is anybody in there? Sodapop?”

The curtains were pulled aside and an irritated looking Darry peaked out at you. He lifted up the window pane all the way so he could lean out and get a better look at you. 

“The hell are you doing here, Y/N?” He asked. “Soda said he just dropped you off at home a few minutes ago.”

“I couldn’t go around front, Darry, he might see me.” You sniffed, wiping your nose on your sleeve. You must have been crying cause your face was all wet. “Could you help me in?”

He nodded and pulled you up by the arms. As you climbed in the window, Ponyboy appeared behind Darry with big eyes. You must have looked worse than you thought from climbing all those fences and cutting through yards. 

“What happened to you?” 

“Pony, go get her a glass of water. And where’s that other kid brother of mine?” Darry shouted before turning back to you. “Jeez, kiddo, you’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Yeah, Darry?” Soda popped his head into the room. His eyes went as wide as Pony’s had when he saw you. “Hey, Y/N, what’s the matter?” Darry grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him forward. 

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis, if you hurt his girl, I’m gonna-”

“It wasn’t Soda.” You blurted. You crossed your arms over your chest and stared down at the floor. “It’s my dad. He’s come to take me back to Chicago.” You jerked your chin up, trying to look tougher than you felt. “But I’m not gonna let him.” 

“I thought they let Beth bring you here.” Darry closed the window and grabbed you a blanket from the bed. It was then that you realized you must have climbed into Darry’s room. There was a pair of work boots on the floor and an old, beat-up football on the shelf. 

“They did.” You glowered. Soda gently wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “Guess they missed having something to scream at besides each other.”

“Well you can just stay here til he goes away, right Darry?” Soda said, not losing his sunny optimism for a second. Before Darry could respond, a series of loud bangs came from the front door. 

“I know she’s in there you little punks!”

“Oh god, it’s him.” You hid yourself in Soda’s embrace and Darry went to answer the door. 

“Come out now you-” Your father’s shouting stopped abruptly. Darry, though half his age, towered over him. He didn’t look so confident anymore. “Where’s my girl.”

You held Soda tighter. Your old man must have really hurt you because Soda knew you were one tough girl. You stood up to Dallas. 

“You need to leave.” You could just see through to the living room since Darry’s bedroom door was slightly open. Darry was fully blocking your father’s view of the house.

“I’m not leaving without that little brat.” He snarled, his cockiness returning. “An’ if you don’t bring her out here, I’ll call the cops. That wouldn’t end too well for you, would it son?”

“I said leave.” Darry growled again, his muscles tensing. You knew what could happen if the cops came. So you broke away from Soda.  

“I’m right here, so you can leave these boys alone.” You snapped, stepping out before Darry or Soda could grab you. 

“Thought you could run around with these bums and I wouldn’t come for you?”

“How did you even know where to find me?”

“Those brats of Beth’s started hollarin’ as soon as I raised a hand at her.” He smiled cruelly. 

If you hadn’t been standing there, Darry would have slugged him. You just wanted to get this over with. 

“Are we going or not?” You frowned, defeated. 

“Y/N, you can’t go with him!” Soda cried, trying to reach for you, but you jerked away. Tears pricked at your eyes again. 

“I have to, Sodapop.” 

“I don’t think so.” A new, hard voice joined the scene. You looked over your dad’s shoulder and saw the rest of the boys circling the house; Two-Big, Steve, Johnny, Ponyboy, and Dallas. Dally was the one talking. “You know something, fellas? I don’t like old me. And I really don’t like old, stinkin’ drunk men hanging around my neighborhood. Especially one that yells in my buddy’s face.”

“I ain’t afraid of a bunch of rats from Oklahoma.” Your father spat, but you could tell he was a little shaken. Dally pulled out a blade. 

“How about a New York rat?” He hissed, getting real close to his face. Your dad’s eyes went wide, shifting from the blade to the circle of tough looking boys around him. Then he looked at you. 

“You ain’t worth the trouble.” He decided, carefully moving around Dally and walking into the night.

The whole group gathered around, hollering and cheering over their success. Soda pulled you into a tight hug and kissed you right there in front of everybody. One of them, probably Two-Bit, whistled. 

“Ponyboy, where the hell have you been?” Darry asked, ruffling his youngest brother’s hair. Pony just shrugged. 

“I saw that mean old guy standing out here, so I ran and got Johnny and then we got everybody else.”

You pulled away from Soda and glanced around at the other boys. 

“You all came here… for me?” You gasped, a different kind of tears now welling in your eyes. 

“As soon as I heard Soda’s girl was in trouble, I got the hell over here.” Two-Bit said and Steve nodded in agreement. You felt your heart swell. Soda’s girl. 

You looked at Dally. Without him, it might not have worked. He just shrugged coolly and lit a cigarette. 

“I had nothin’ better to do.” But you could tell that, underneath, it was more than that. Johnny gave you a small smile. 

“You’re one of us now.” 

“And we stick together.” Ponyboy added. And they were right. 

“Alright, I’d better call Beth and tell her everything is gonna be fine.” Darry announced. “You all get in here. I’m sure we’ve got more chocolate cake somewhere.” This was followed by more cheers and stampeding feet as the gang rushed inside. 

Sodapop gave you the biggest, bright smile yet, taking your hand and following the boys to the kitchen. 

Neverland is home, to Lost Boys like me

And Lost Boys like me are free.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[steves-on-a-plane]

I'll Be There For You

For @star-spangled-bingo 2021

Pairing: None Cast Of Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers & Rogers Daughter!Reader Warnings: Mild swearing, bit of teenaged angst from Reader Words: 2399 Squares Filled: Dad/Daughter Dance Summary: Reader is Steve Rogers' twelve year old daughter who has been left in the care of her two "Uncles" Sam and Bucky. Reader confesses to Sam & Bucky that she feels like she plays second figure to "Captain America" on her dad's priority list. Her uncles do their best to assure her this isn't the case and of course Steve Rogers swoops in at the last minute to save the day.

You opened the window, closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. You didn’t care that the wind swirling around outside was causing small pools of water on the sill as fat droplets made their way in side. You didn’t care that the air was thick and the sky was a chalky grey. It was raining and you loved the rain. Rain was cleansing. Rain meant that old things were being washed away and new things would grow in their place. Rain was comforting.

The apartment you lived in with your father was the opposite. The building was old and every other floorboard seemed to creak or crack. The windows rattled and no matter how much the two of tried to keep things clean, there seemed to be a perpetual layer of dust that settled over everything. It was somehow stuff and drafty at the same time. You want to be outside where the rain was, not stuck inside with your two babysitters.

“[Y/N], what the hell are you doing?” Your Uncle Bucky demanded as he entered the living room. He pulled down the sash, effectively closing the window and keeping the beautiful rain scents out.

“Buck, you shouldn’t say hell to kids. You shouldn’t swear at kids. Steve would have a fit if he heard you.” Uncle Same chastised as he followed into the room.

“[Y/n]’s not a kid, she’s twelve. That’s practically thirteen. She’s basically a teenager.” Bucky pointed out. “Besides it’s not like hell is a gateway swear. You think if she hears me say hell then it’s a matter of time before she moves on to some real swear like…"

“I’m going to stop you right there.” Sam interrupted. “I don’t see a scenario where that sentence doesn’t end in a word Steve is comfortable with [Y/N] hearing.”

“Uncle Sam you do know that I’ve been around Tony Stark before, right?” You asked. “And believe it or not the Avenger who swears the most is Dr. Banner.”

“That still doesn’t mean your Uncle Bucky needs to help you pick up any bad habits.” Sam then noticed the water on the windowsill dripping down onto Steve’s hardwood floor. “Where did all that water come from?”

“Little Rogers had the window open.” Bucky nodded at you. “She had half her torso sticking out a fifth floor window.” He shook his head. “I’ll go get a towel.”

“Were you really hanging out the window?” Sam asked as Bucky stepped out into the hall. He knew Uncle Bucky had the tendency to overreact. Not that he could blame the guy, you were the only kid Bucky ever spent more than five minutes with.

“No.” You answered, but the truth was you couldn’t be certain. “I don’t know, maybe.” You added.

“YES!” Bucky shouted from the linen closet, still out of sight.

“You know that’s dangerous, don’t you [Y/N]?” Sam reminded you.

“Yeah, but…” You tried to defend yourself.

“Yeah but do you think Uncle Sam or I want to have to call your Dad and tell him that you fell out the window when we were supposed to be taking care of you?” Bucky handed you the towel and motioned for you to start moping up your mess.

“Weren’t you the one who was just saying I’m practically a teenager?” You sighed. You then mumbled to yourself, “Besides, maybe if I fell out of the window he’d actually pay attention to me.” Sam and Bucky exchanged a look of confusion behind your back.

“What do you mean by that?” Sam probed. He wasn’t accusatory. His tone was soft, he waited for you to answer.

“He’s not here right now is he?” You tossed the sopping towel in your hands to the ground and turned to face them. “Lots of kids have parents who go away for work so I know I’m not that special okay? But I can’t help but wish he was home more. Even when he’s not away on missions he’s still in his office taking calls or filing reports or zoom meetings! It sucks!” You threw yourself down into a nearby armchair. You ignored the smirk from Bucky and the incredulous look from Sam as you swore. “Even when he tries to do things with me…Like last week, he wanted to take me out for ice cream. We didn’t even make it a block from the apartment before he was getting hounded for photos and autographs. I love my dad, but I hate Captain America.”

Sam and Bucky exchange another look. This time both their expressions seemed to say, “What do we do now?”

“It’s okay, you can say it.” You sighed, looking down at your feet rather than at either of them.

“Say what, Kid?” Bucky used the most affectionate nickname he could muster and he sat beside you on the couch.

“That it’s a really selfish thing to say and that Captain America does a lot of good and sharing dad with the Greater Good is a sacrifice I should be happy to make. You can’t think any worse of me then I already do.” You assured them, still not daring to make eye contact with either one of them.

“I don’t think that at all.” Bucky told you. You certainly weren’t expect that. You looked over at him. “I hate Captain America too sometimes.”

“You do?” You felt your eyebrows knit together. Uncle Bucky had been your dad’s best friend practically their entire lives.

“Of course. Steve Rogers is my best friend.” Bucky said. “But Steve Rogers is a skinny little thing who’s allergic to everything under the sun, and couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag.” His description brought forward in your mind pictures you’d seen of you dad before the serum. Seeimg him like that always made you giggle. “Now Captain America, He’s a big beefy guy, he likes running and motocyles, thinks he’s so cool.” Bucky wrinkled his face in disgust. “You know what helps me, on my days when I’m really ticked off at Captain America?”

“What?” You inched a little closer to Bucky as if he were whispering a secret.

“I have to remind myself that some days, your dad hates Captain America too.” You opened your mouth to disagree, but Sam jumped in. He sat on the other end of the couch, joining the conversation.

“Remember that story you were telling us during dinner, that one friend you have…?” Sam reminded you.

“Jennifer.” You supplied.

“Right.” Sam nodded. “Remember how you said Jennifer’s mom told her that drawing is a waste of time so now even though Jennifer really loves to paint and draw she doesn’t bring her projects home from art class any more? This is kind of like that.”

“Riiight.” Bucky agreed unsure if your friend’s interest in art was the same as the point he was trying to make, but he’d give Wilson an A for effort.

“It’s the same thing.” Sam insisted. “Jennifer is comfortable sharing her art work with you, because she knows you support her. There are thinks your dad with share with us that Captain America might not share with the world.”

“Right.” Bucky nodded enthusiastically this time. “Like that magazine that published an Apple Pie recipe last month as ‘Captain America’s Signature Apple Pie.’ You and I both know your dad’s never made an apple pie in his life. He doesn’t even like apple pie that much.” You smiled again remembering the rant Uncle Bucky had gone on when he saw the magazine in the grocery store.

“You said your cat could probably make a better pie that dad.” You reminded him.

“And I still think that.” Buck assured you. “Our point, [Y/N], is that it’s okay to not be okay all of the time. It’s okay to feel like your dad and Captain America are two different people sometimes. But you have to talk about you are feeling. You have to tell your dad, Uncle Sam, me or someone else , because if you don’t you’re never going to feel better about it.”

“I mean I guess I feel a little better already.” You shrugged. “But I’m afraid to bother any one with my stuff. You guys are busy. Let me guess this is the part where you both say you’re never too busy for me?” You rolled your eyes. “Dad says that all the time, but he’s on a mission and not at the father daughter dance with me tonight. I’m sorry about the window.” You said getting to your feet. You picked up the towel from where you’d discarded it earlier.

“Father daughter dance?” Bucky mouthed to Sam behind your back. Sam shrugged in response. “Fix it!” Bucky replied.

“How?” Sam mouthed back. It was Bucky’s turn to shrug.

“I think I got most of the water.” You said, facing them again. “I’ll throw this thing in the hamper and then I think I’ll call it a night. Thanks for listening to me b-complain for a bit.” You decided not to chance swearing again in front of Uncle Sam.

“Bed?” Bucky jumped to his feet. “It’s not even five yet.” He glanced at his watch to confirm. “We should do something…”

“That’s fine, I think I just want to be alone for now. I’m sure dad will still be gone tomorrow. We can do something then.” You and your dripping wet towel started to make your way towards your bedroom.

“[Y/N], wait.” Sam also got to his feet. “Maybe Uncle Bucky and I could take you to your father daughter dance. I know it’s not the same because we’re not your dad, but other kids probably go with uncles or…”

“Jennifer’s moms are both taking her.” You smirked. “And I am the only one of my friends who wasn’t going. It could be fun.”

“What time’s the dance start?” Bucky asked. “Seven? Eight?”

“Seven, but I don’t have anything to wear. Everyone else was planning on dressing up.” You pointed out.

“If we leave now, I’m sure we can still find you something nice.” Sam suggested. “Maybe we can find a salon to do your hair.” He remembered how much his sister used to love getting her hair done special for dances when they were younger.

“What about the rain?” You bit your lip. You could tell they were really trying to make this work.

“You were about to climb out that window before I got in the room.” Bucky laughed. “I didn’t think a little rain would slow you down.”

“Okay.” You agreed. “Okay. Father-Daughter-Uncle Dance it is.”

“I’ll get my car keys. You put your shoes on and get a jacket. Last thing I need is you getting sick.” Sam instructed.

Two and a half hours later, Sam parked his car in the parking lot of your school. The dance was being held in the gymnasium. Miraculously, he had found a hair salon that was still open and willing to style your hair for the event. Apparently, a lot of parents in the neighborhood were taking their kids for cuts or styles in preparation of the big event. While you were in the salon, Bucky darted in and out of shops trying to find the right dress. He was on video chat with you or Sam the entire time and eventually the three of you settled on a pale pink dress with layers and layers of tule for the skirt. It had a shimmering silk sash that Uncle Bucky had tied into a perfect pink bow and the sleeves were flowy but not heavy. You felt like a princess.

“We’re late.” You frowned. “Do you think that matters?”

“Haven’t you ever been fashionably late before?” Bucky asked, opening the car door for you. He held a large umbrella in his hands so that neither of you would get wet. You noticed the rain had slowed down considerably since earlier.

Bucky and Sam had done their best to look put together for you. Uncle Bucky borrowed a pair of your dad’s old khaki pants and a charcoal grey button up shirt he hardly ever wore. You didn’t know where he’d found suspenders, but suspected they were your fathers too. Uncle Sam went for a more casual look wearing his cleanest pair of jeans and a maroon polo. When you entered the school gym, your homeroom teacher Mr. Jenson was selling and collecting tickets.

“Ah, [Y/N] Rogers. Who are your escorts this evening?” He asked while Sam paid for the tickets.

“These are my two Uncles.” You introduced them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.” Mr. Jenson smiled. “Enjoy the dance.”

For the most part you did. There were all sorts of desserts available. Bucky helped you taste test every single one before you both agreed the chocolate cupcakes were the best. You felt a sense of pride when one of the boys in your class tried asking Sam about his Falcon costume and he explained he was at the dance on official Uncle business. They’d have to save the Falcon talk for another time. You introduced them to all of your friends and told everyone how amazing it was that they’d put everything together so last minute for you. Both Sam and Bucky took turns making sure you got in as many dances as possible. What had started as a boring afternoon had turned into a pretty good night.

“I think I’m ready for bed.” You yawned as you sat down next to Sam. The night had begun to wind down and you were getting tired.

“One more dance and then we’ll head up.” Bucky told you.

“Uncle Bucky I don’t know if I’ve got one more dance in me.” You yawned again.

“Too tired to dance with your old man even?” A familiar voice asked from behind you. You pivoted in your seat to see your dad standing behind you. He was dressed in his best suit, your favorite navy blue one, and held a bouquet of wildflowers in one hand.

“Dad!” You jumped to your feet and hugged him.

“You didn’t think I’d miss the chance to dance with my best girl, did ya?” You Dad asked. You took the flowers he offer you and placed them on the table between Sam and Bucky.

“Thank you.” You whispered to both of them before following your dad out to the dance floor.

[favescandis]

New Q&A with Alexander Skarsgård and Esquire Middle East

‘Alexander Skarsgård on pro wrestling, death metal, the joys of Godzilla vs Kong’ - by William Mullally, March 25, 2021

The Swedish star speaks to Esquire Middle East about his latest film, being home in Stockholm, and staying ripped for The Northman during quarantine

Alexander Skarsgård did not have the 2020 the rest of us did. There was no quiet quarantine, no tubs of ice cream devoured at three in the morning, no existential boredom, no staring out the window as we wondered if we’d ever be able to start doing things again.

No, Skarsgård had to spend the year staying in the best shape of his life to play an honest-to-god Viking warrior and Nordic prince Amleth in Robert Eggers’ upcoming epic The Northman. Not that he minded, of course.

Skarsgård is in a very good place. Before The Northman, he filmed Godzilla vs. Kong, which was one of the most joyful experiences of his career. It’s a film that is much better than anyone could have hoped, that fixes the flaws of the previous outings of the franchise in Kong: Skull Island and Godzilla: King of Monsters by making its supporting characters actually interesting to follow—including Skarsgård’s turn as a conspiracy-loving mad scientist named Nathan Lind—and making the battle between the legendary behemoths the stuff of Hulk Hogan vs. Andre the Giant.

Esquire Middle East caught up with the 44-year-old Swedish actor, who is aging like a vampire, fittingly enough, over Zoom ahead of the film’s release.

Read the full ESQ&A with Alexander Skarsgård below:

Alex, it’s great to see you again. How are you?

I’m pretty good. You’re in Dubai, right? I’m in Stockholm, Sweden at the moment.

How long have you been home?

I’ve been here for two months now since I wrapped The Northman.

How’s that been?

Yeah, it's been really nice. I mean, it's obviously a difficult time, but considering everything, I'm lucky, because everyone is doing alright. It's a nice opportunity for me, as I'm constantly on the road normally. It’s great to just be home, and not just for a week around Christmas or weekend over summer. I actually get to be here and spend some real time with my family.

You didn’t have any downtime in 2020?

Well, I was actually shooting for most of 2020. When the pandemic hit, I was in Belfast about to start filming the Northman, then we shut down for three months, and during that I had to train basically. It's a very physical role, so I had to keep working out. I was still in work mode for the whole lockdown. Then in July, we started shooting till the end of the year.

Did you prefer it that way?

I was very grateful to be able to work. It was definitely different from the normal set because we were completely isolated. We got tested three times a week and I basically lived in a bubble up in the hills of Northern Ireland and didn't see anyone didn't do anything for six months other than work and sleep and train.

I have a friend Adlai who lives in that village in Northern Ireland and I kept trying to get him to go break into your set because I needed to know more about this movie.

It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. The most amazing experience.

You’ve been making a habit of working with great horror filmmakers, with Robert Eggers (The Witch) on the Northman, and Adam Wingard (You’re Next) on Godzilla vs. Kong.

What’s interesting about all these guys like Adam and Rob Eggers is they produce these really dark and twisted movies but they are two of the nicest human beings I've ever met. They're so sweet and genuine.

What do you and Adam like to talk about?

Death metal, probably. He's a big metal fan.

Are death metal people sweethearts, generally speaking?

Yeah, actually. Sometimes I feel like that's sometimes the case when you meet musicians in death metal bands they're like the sweetest, loveliest people who talk about their grandmothers and stuff.

Why do you think that is?

Maybe it's cathartic. It's a way to get out all that dark energy onto the big screen or as a musician onto an album.

Did you and Adam click immediately?

I met him years ago for another project. We didn’t end up working together on that but it was such a memorable meeting that we stayed in touch over the years. He’s not only a wonderful guy but so intelligent, such a film buff who knew everything about not only the horror genre, but even just films in general. When Godzilla vs Kong came up, I was just really excited to get an opportunity to work with him.

Were the words ‘Godzilla’ and ‘Kong’ enough for you, or did something specific draw you to this one?

I think it was a combination. I had just come off of a couple of really dark intense projects. I did the Little Drummer Girl, which is a limited series based on the John le Carré novel about conflicts in the Middle East, and I just come off Big Little Lies, two seasons of domestic abuse.

Did you just need something different?

It was just really two of the most rewarding experiences of my career but also really, really draining really intense experiences. I was just craving something fun and exciting. I hadn't done any big tent pole matinee-style movies and since Tarzan.

But you said it was a combination—are you also a Godzilla nerd?

Oh man, I was like a little boy. I just got giddy when I saw the renderings, the drawings, the storyboards, like the world that they wanted to create. I thought tonally they were the right people to make this kind of movie because I thought they had the balls to go all the way and make it as big and crazy and fun as it as I think it deserves to be, with the right amount of sarcasm and irony, but while still taking the topic seriously, and the characters seriously, and really caring about both Kong and Godzilla.

Did you and Adam share a lot creatively back and forth?

Oh, yeah. He would run up to me and ask what if they run into a creature that almost looks like an owl and start explaining how it works. And then you start sketching something on a piece of tissue. And then a week later, he would come back with something amazing that the visual artists have created. To be part of that from an early stage is so exciting to me.

As a pro wrestling fan, that balance of ironic and serious you mentioned sounds awfully familiar to me. Did you guys make a pro wrestling movie on purpose?

It’s a lot like pro wrestling. Like, you want the fights to be big spectacular, fun, and entertaining. But you want to care about the wrestlers, right? You want to root for them. I think Adam did such a great job in finding that tone. They beat the sh*t out of each other on an aircraft carrier, but you also want to connect with these creatures and care about them. The movie asks, what does Kong really wants other than beat up Godzilla? What is he longing for in life?

That’s exactly what I think when I watch the Undertaker throw Mankind off Hell in a Cell.

Absolutely!

Godzilla vs. Kong is in theaters now across the Middle East

https://www.esquireme.com/content/51448-alexander-skarsgard-on-pro-wrestling-death-metal-the-joys-of-godzilla-vs-kong-the-northman-interview

Photo from WarnerBros. Entertainment. Thanks to SophTop on Delish for the find!

[cosmiclatte28]

Night Talk (Renjun x you)

A/n : a quick scenario with Renjun. This was a long not finished WIP but look I finished it!

trigger warning : crying, feeling nervous and doubtful.

tagging @neopalette @ardorkth

Renjun 1-2 am

Your boyfriend never sleeps before three am, and you actually argued a lot about it with him. You know he wants his free time after a long day of being locked up in the practice room, you get it he wants to have his me time. Drawing here and there, tire himself off with endless imaginations, calming himself with drinking tea and burning a candle, but you cared for his health and you know his lifestyle is not so healthy.

That was last year, you’ve been arguing about his sleeping schedule and he always shrugged it off. Saying “I don’t have any other time to satisfy my happiness. I got home at nine usually and the only time left to talk with you and draw is at midnight.”

You used to let him do that, while constantly nagging him to go to sleep too, but Renjun was too stubborn sometimes saying he cannot sleep before finishing what his head wanted to do. Until the pandemic happens and you have to take classes remote from another country. The time difference sucks, live classes made you wake up in the dead of night and early mornings.

“Guess, I will be forced to wake up…” Renjun gulps when he hears you explain your new schedule.

You smile sweetly at him, biting your lips for feeling shy about what you are requesting.

“Well, I don’t exactly force you to wake up… just that finally I can accompany you at night.” You twirl your hair in your fingers.

Renjun scoffs “Fine. We’ll see.”

You just grin “Hey aren’t you happy I am finally going to be awake when you’re awake and I can sleep when you’re busy with your morning schedules.”

“Then when do I sleep babo,” he flicks your forehead playfully and you groan.

“Right. Why am I so stupid suddenly.” You wonder to yourself but Renjun giggles and pulls you into his hug

“You’re tired from suddenly changing your habit. It’s okay we can fix this.” He calmly runs a hand through your hair.

--

That’s how you ended up always taking a nap after dinner and chilling with Renjun. He usually lies down on the bed too with you, talking about his day. Silly stories that happen with dreams, and some nights we talk deep about space and imaginary creatures. By midnight you wake up and sit in front of your laptop, joining zoom calls for classes, talking in low voice to not wake Renjun up (sometimes he is sleeping so sound that you did not want to disturb him). You bore with the crazy hours of living upside down. Taking notes in the dawn, sleeping when the world starts working. Renjun has always kissed your forehead when you’re sound asleep as he leaves the house. It was all going fine, until your heart and body gave up one night.

“I am tired,” you sigh to Renjun when one night he hugs you and nuzzles your neck.

“hmm?” he asks, a little bit bewildered by your statement.

You sigh and wipe a single tear “Sorry, why was I this emotional.” You try to laugh it off, but Renjun catches you off guard when he wipes your tear and kisses your cheek “Spill it out (y/n),”

Renjun has never seen this side of you, you’re always the one for him to lean on. Well, you think that his idol life is already hard enough, so you don’t want to add more into his plates. You’ve been bottling this up and out of all day, tonight is the night when your heart says enough.

“I don’t know… I’m just emotionally overwhelmed, it’ll be okay. Don’t worry.” You try to keep it to yourself but Renjun is not buying that tonight.

“No (y/n), you have to spill it out. Come here, we can take it slow. You don’t have classes tonight I don’t have schedules tomorrow. We have the time.” His hand reaches out to turn on the small mood lamp he has on the drawer next to the bed. You don’t realize you’ve been crying heavily until you feel your cheeks wet.

“I’m just tired of the school,” you lied.

Your heart misses your parents who are in another city, you’re tired of living upside down, you also find sneaking into public with Renjun undercover is slowly eating you off. You hate lying to your friends and relatives that you have a boyfriend. Not that Renjun doesn’t allow you, it’s the managers that told you not to tell anyone.

Renjun never knows about the “warning” his managers are giving to you. You remembered when they called you after seeing Renjun and telling you “Dating him is allowed only if you’re not caught. Never tell anyone about your relationship.”

And because you did not want Renjun to step out of his boundary (knowing that he will definitely fight back), you keep it to yourself. Always asking Renjun to go out undercover because “Renjun I am not ready to see your fans hate comments.”

Renjun understands your request and even succeeds in keeping the relationship a secret for one year.

“I am leaving as soon as possible Renjun.” you finally drop the bomb that has been bothering you lately.

Renjun gasps, you can hear that even when it was voiceless. You hug your stuffed bunny and play with its ears, not ready to hear whatever reaction Renjun is giving you.

Contrary to what you fear, Renjun gently brushes your hair and smiles “Looks like my baby princess is big now,”

You tilt your head to face him and scrunch your eyebrow “What?”

He pulls you into a deeper hug “You’re stressed out about leaving to States? Come on I thought this was your dream since young?”

You nod, wiping a tear that somehow chooses to fall now “I know, it’s just that suddenly I feel like doubtful.” your fingers nervously play with the stuffed doll Renjun got for your birthday on first month anniversary. “It’s like impulsive decision and what if I regret this Renjun? What if I am not ready?”

Renjun sighs and chuckles “You are ready. You will be ready. We’ll prepare this okay.”

You wipe the tears away “I don’t know why I am crying. I’ll be away from you, far away on my own. Far from you, Dreamies, and my family.”

Renjun nods “I totally understand, I’ve gone through it.” he shushes you down

You force a laugh “Look at me, crying when I am this big. You left China and you were so young and so brave.”

He patiently runs a hand on your back “I also felt afraid. It was natural. Don’t worry, it was frightening at first, but when you reach there. Breathe in the air and reminds yourself of how far you’ve gone and how you’ve worked hard to reach this step, you’ll get rid of that fear.”

You smile and watch Renjun leans closer to wipe your puffy eyes “Come, stop crying princess. You look ugly when you cry.” he teases you and that makes you laugh.

“Thank you for reassuring me Renjun.” you take a deep sigh.

“I’ll miss you, love.” you stare into his lips and Renjun pulls your neck closer “And I’ll miss you more sweetheart. But go chase that dream! I’ll come visit you when I have free times.”

You snuggle yourself into Renjun’s embrace and breathe in his cologne. It must be the nerve or it’s the air. Either one, you’re glad Renjun is here to hold you tonight and remind you that this dream belongs to you, and only you can make this come true.

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 9

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 9

Chapter Summary: What happens when a busy schedule leaves you lonely?

Rating: 18+

Chapters:  {Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8}

It had been weeks since Faye had seen Henry outside of work. Henry's schedule was packed with choreography practice, training, filming and hush hush phone and zoom interviews he refused to tell Faye anything about. She was starting to get the feeling he had given up on her and was moving on. Why else would he refuse to tell her anything about this 'project' he was working on? Not a single clue was dropped. He continuously sited 'not wanting to jinx it' as his reasoning for not telling her. She was banned from his house for the last three weeks, finding herself right back where this had all started. Could it even be called a relationship? They had never agreed to be exclusive or anything, so it wasn't like she could lay some sort of claim on the man. It seemed he was drifting further and further away with every passing day.

Briar was taking it harder than her mother was. He was the first male presence outside of her grandfather and uncle she regularly had contact with. To say she had quickly become attached was an understatement. One particularly heartbreaking evening, she had convinced herself he would be coming over and bringing "Princess Kal" as she had dubbed the poor canine. She sat by the front window, clutching her stuffed bunny stubbornly until far after her bedtime, finally breaking down into hysterical sobs when she realized he really wasn't coming. Faye's texts to Henry about the child's expectations went unanswered.

A few days ago, Mrs. Anderson was unable to babysit, leaving Faye no choice but to either call in sick, or bring her daughter with her to work. Last time hadn't caused much of a problem, so hopefully she would be able to get away with it again. Just as long as it didn't become a habit, it wouldn't be a problem, right? It really wasn't, either. For the first hour or so, the child sat in the corner of the makeup trailer, mesmerized by the movie playing on her tablet. Faye had breezed through the battle wounds on some dwarves and applied the prosthetic ears on the elves in that time, her daughter calmly tucked away the entire time.

Then came time for Henry to get into the makeup chair. The second he stepped foot into the trailer, Briar had latched herself onto his legs, sobbing and clutching his pant leg like her little life depended on it. To say Henry panicked would be an understatement.

"I told you she missed you." Faye shrugged. In fact, she had mentioned several times how Briar kept asking about him. It was a bit of a wakeup call as far as her dating life was destined to go. If Henry was only around for a few months and Briar had attached herself so firmly to him, what would happen if Faye actually dated someone and spent even more time with him? Briar would be devastated if it didn't work out.

"I'm so sorry, princess." Henry soothed, detaching the toddler from his leg and scooping her up, letting her continue to cry into his neck. "I've been busy, I wasn't trying to make you sad." He assured, sitting in the makeup chair with the little girl still clinging to his shirt.

Faye may have failed to mention the multiple meltdowns she'd had to endure due to his sudden absence, but why should she bother the man with it? It's not like it was his job to pacify her daughter. She just wished the little girl hadn't grown so attached to him in the short time she had known him.

Briar completely refused to be apart from Henry for the rest of the day, perching herself in his chair while he filmed, staring intently at him as she clutched her bunny to her chest, whimpering unsurely the first few takes of a particularly rough fight sequence. Thankfully, she had calmed quickly, Faye explaining to the little girl that he was just playing pretend and wasn't going to get hurt.

She had reattached herself to him the second he drew too close, practically climbing him like a monkey to cling to his neck again. Faye was past the point of trying to stop her by then. She had been the one dealing with it ever since he had decided to vacate the little girl's life. At least now he could see first hand why Faye had been so irritable with him lately.

He vowed to Facetime later that night to say goodnight to the little girl when he had strapped her into her car seat that evening, the child unwilling to let her mother take her to the car by herself. His promise didn't stop her from sobbing the whole way home. The poor girl cried herself out by the time Faye had pulled into the driveway, half asleep all the way through dinner, ultimately passing out at the table, a forkful of pasta clutched in her chubby fist.

To his credit, Henry had called later that night, well after Briar's bedtime. Again, he apologized profusely for his insane schedule in the voicemail he had left. Faye wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, too drained from her daughter's most recent meltdown.

Now, here he stood at her doorstep five days later, his shoulders slumped in defeat and a pleading look on his face as Faye blocked his entry into her home with her tiny body.

"Can I help you?" Faye asked calmly, crossing her arms and leaning against her door frame.

"Faye, please, can we talk?"

"What's there to talk about?" Faye brushed him off, fixing him with a cold look.

"You're avoiding me."

"Excuse the fuck out of you?" Faye hissed, stalking toward him and shutting the door harshly behind herself. "I'm avoiding you? Are you seriously going to pretend the last three weeks never happened? One second, you're around all the time, the next I only see you at work. You dodge my calls, refuse to see me and break my three year old daughter down into hysteria thinking she did something wrong. Please, go on, tell me how I'm the one avoiding jack shit here!"

"I deserve that." Henry sighed, roughly shoving a hand through his untamed curls.

"Goddamn right you do." Faye hissed, fury burning intensely in her usually wide, innocent brown eyes.

"Please, Faye. Can you hear me out?"

"What's there to talk about? You got bored and you left me behind. I don't want your fucking excuses."

"I promise, I wasn't trying to avoid you, and I didn't get bored of you!" Henry growled, anger taking over his once apologetic face at her accusations.

"Then what the hell is it? Please, tell me why I should be okay with only being in your life when it's convenient to you."

"I've been busy, Faye! My life doesn't revolve around you!" Faye's entire body tensed at his outburst, returning his fiery gaze with a cold stare.  

"And mine doesn't revolve around you either, Mr. Cavill. If you don't have time for us, that's fine. I understand we aren't a priority for you. You've made that much clear. That doesn't mean I have to be at your beck and call whenever you can fit me in. I have my own life. I have a daughter to take care of, and I don't need you breaking her heart every time you can't spare a goddamn second for her."

"I wasn't trying to hurt her. I wasn't trying to push you away." Henry seethed. "You think I enjoyed being away for this long? You think I liked not spending time with you?"

"You make time for the things that matter, Mr. Cavill. Clearly, that's not us." Faye replied, her calm tone slashing through Henry's heart worse than any previous rage or hostility could. These were not words created by anger and meant to hurt him in the heat of the moment. This was coming from a detached, practical place in her mind. This was something she had thought about, long and hard.

"Faye." Henry sighed, his tense shoulders falling in defeat. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt Briar. The time I've spent with you two these last few months have been the happiest I've been in years. I understand if you don't want to see me, but I really wish you would. I... damnit, I fucking need you two." He admitted shakily, his eyes falling to Faye's feet, taking notice of the black ink covering the top of her right foot for the first time. Had he really paid so little attention that he hadn't even noticed that? Was he really that detached from something that brought him so much unconditional joy?

"And what am I supposed to do when you vanish again? It's the life you live, Mr. Cavill-"

"Henry. Please, call me Henry." He pleaded softly, each utterance of the removed name feeling like a knife to his heart.

"You aren't tied down to one place. You travel all the time. Why should I let you continue hurting us? What promise can you possibly give us that you won't just leave again?"

"I never left, I've been right here." Henry whispered, unsure hands coming to rest on her hips, slowly lowering his forehead to rest against hers. He had no idea when they had gotten so close during their argument, but he had to admit, it felt good to hold her again. "Please. I promise, I won't vanish again. If I can't be here in person, I'll call, I'll Facetime, I'll send video messages, I'll text. I will do anything and everything I can to be here for you."

"Then what happens when you find someone else?" Faye countered, remaining stiff in his hold, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, subconsciously trying to block him out and build a wall between them.

"I'm not looking for anyone else." Henry assured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

"Doesn't mean you won't find her."

"Then this mystery woman can sod off. I'm not interested." Henry hummed, pulling Faye closer to wrap his arms around her, resting his cheek atop her head, her tension slowly fading away with his embrace. "Can you forgive me for being an ass?" He asked hopefully, peppering the top of her head with kisses.

"This time. There won't be a next time. I don't have time to invest in someone that won't make any time for me."

"I promise, I will make time for you two." Henry vowed, reluctantly taking a step back to look into her face. "Would it be too much to ask to come inside? I sure could use one of Briar's special cups of tea."

"Mmm, you might be out of luck then. She's decided she wants to be a knight instead now." Faye informed him, slipping away from his desperately clutching hands to push the door open, Briar freezing in the middle of charging through the house on her hobby horse, sword in hand when she saw the man standing outside.

"You're back?!" She gasped, dropping her toys and bolting past her mother, Henry catching her as she rushed him, hoisting her into his arms and letting the little girl sling her arms around his thick neck. "I sorry... I be good." She sniffled, her chubby hands gripping his collar tightly.

"Oh, sweetie. Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." Henry soothed, rubbing her back softly. "I was the one that was naughty, can you forgive me for being mean to you and your mommy?"

"Don't go." Briar whimpered, burrowing further into his neck, her sobs only increasing at his apology.

"I won't, I won't." Henry promised, smoothing down her wild, uncombed hair, looking fearfully up at the child's mother. Was this what she had been dealing with since he had been away?

"She got it in her head you were mad at her, and that's why you weren't coming around anymore." Faye explained, nodding him inside.

"I'm so sorry." Henry repeated, holding the toddler a little tighter as he slid past her mother, perching himself on the arm of the couch as she sobbed into his neck.

"You understand why I'm not too keen on second chances?" Faye sighed, locking the door behind herself. "I'm not going to keep putting her though this. I don't expect you to change your lifestyle, so when we fall to the backburner again, please, do me a favor and stay gone. It's not fair to her."

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I truly have been busy."

"I know. That's your life." Faye shrugged, leaning against the archway to the living room.

"What can I do to make it up?"

"You can't. You just have to understand that this is the last time I will allow this to happen. If you get too busy for us again, I won't open the door the next time you come knocking." Faye's declaration hung in the air, the sureness of her voice leaving no room for argument or further exchange of words. A desperate sort of silence befell the two adults, the only noise in the house being made by the small girl in Henry's arms.

Briar's sobs slowly gave way to small sniffles and hiccups, her tiny hands refusing to release his shirt, unashamedly wiping her nose on the fabric. Henry was the one to finally break the suffocating silence that had taken over the room.

"Could I ask for your help with something?"

"What might that be, Mr. Cavill?"

"Please, Faye. Henry. Call me Henry, or anything else really. I didn't mean to hurt you or set us back months. Call me any number of mean names, just... not that." Henry pleaded, resting his head against Briar's.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need to shave my head." Henry sighed after a long moment, turning sad eyes up to her.

"You want me to shave your head?"

"You're the only one I trust to do it right now."

"You literally have a hairstylist on set."

"This is different." Henry insisted.

"How is this different?"

"Believe it or not, I like my hair. Shaving it off isn't exactly a fun time for me."

"Is the tape getting to painful to remove?" Faye asked, raising an inquisitive brow.

"I mean, it will be a plus not having to deal with that for a while, but no. I... I have a screen test in a few days. Over zoom, but a screen test none the less."

"Oh, congrats."

"But the role calls for a military style cut." Henry continued. "Which means it all has to go."

"What role is it for?" Faye asked, crossing the room to run her fingers through his unruly curls.

"Mass Effect." Henry divulged, leaning into her touch.

"So you showed up for a haircut?" Faye asked, detangling his hair with her fingers.

"I showed up because I missed you, but it made me realize you're the only one I'm comfortable with doing it. I've been dreading it for over a week now."

"I only have scissors here. The best I can do is a hack job." Faye informed, continuing to play with his hair absently. It was so soft when he didn't try to tame it. The products that kept it in check, looking so neat and orderly, always made it stiff and crunchy. His natural hair was a thing of beauty.

"I have clippers back at my house. You're both more than welcome to stay the night."

"You know Briar won't stay in the guest room." Faye sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm fairly certain I'm not in good enough standing with you for us to be doing anything that young eyes shouldn't see." Henry chuckled, looking hopefully up at the woman gently running her nails over his scalp.

"You are not." Faye confirmed around a giggle of her own, playfully tugging at his hair.

"Easy, love, the baby is right here." Henry lightheartedly scolded, raising his brow at her.

"You should have mentioned you enjoyed that sooner. No time to take advantage of it before I chop it all off now." Faye sighed, reluctantly letting her hand fall away, Henry reaching out to pull her closer, looking up at her hopefully.

"What are the odds I can talk you out of a kiss?" He asked, staring longingly at her mouth. Faye smirked and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, leaning down to allow him to press a slow, affectionate kiss to her lips, reluctantly pulling back when Briar began to stir from her crying fueled power nap against his neck. "There you are, sleepy head." Henry chuckled, easing the child down to his lap instead.

"You here?" Briar asked, rubbing her still red eyes, staring up at him with a wobbly lower lip.

"I'm here. Would it be ok if you and Mommy stay at my house tonight?" Henry asked, wiping away the dried tears from her face.

"I bring Bunny?" She asked, her face finally splitting into a grin when Henry agreed to her request.  

"You go get Bunny, I'll pack you a few things." Faye instructed, Henry reluctantly setting the girl down so she could do as her mother asked.

"Thank you, so much." Henry sighed, pulling the tiny woman against his large frame, dropping his head to rest against the top of her chest.

"For letting you use my tits as a pillow?" Faye teased, running her fingers through his hair again, wanting to memorize the feel of his curls before she had to chop them all off.

"Secuititty." Henry chuckled, pulling her in to straddle his hips, needing to be even closer to her. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

"Try not to blow it."

"I'll do my absolute best."  

@Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[nestasgalpal]

The art of antagonism

Fixing ACOSF part 7

Masterlist | AO3

Summary: It’s Starfall, the most beautiful night of the year in the Night Court. Nesta is with her friends, dancing with them, and not even his unexpected appearence will ruin it.

A/N: I AM SORRY IT TOOK ME MONTHS. I got a job and didn’t have that much time. There was so much these two needed to discuss... and there is more coming in the next chapters (WHICH I HAVE DRAFTED BECAUSE THEY WERE SO MUCH EASIER TO WRITE THAN THIS ONE). Anyway, here is the next part of Fixing A Court of Gaslighting.

Tagging:  @gwynriel​ @zoyaslai​ @clolikescloquetas​ @amelievrstr​  @t8astr8ng @wanderlustlastsforever @saltydreamcollector​ @lordlorcan​ @esrahiba​ @queenestarcheron​  @jemstan300​ @nessiantrashh​ @azrielandhawkesropebunny  @frosted-crackers  @mireillemystique​ @pataytayo​ @968sunflower968​ @caram267​ @jainadurron​ @darkshadowqueensrule​ @amphiptree @finae-bookshelf​ @niytavia​ @brainlessfruit​ @dontgetsalmonella​ @messyhairday-me​ @sunsummoner​  @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens​ @wannawriteyouabook​ @psychoticminx​ @misswonderflower​  @drielecarla​ ​

The night was even more beautiful now that Nesta laid on the cold grass, Gwyn dancing nearby with her feet bare. Stars rained over them.

The training yards on the rooftop took most of the space, but there was enough room for the three of them to lay on the soft grass that started to grow with the early spring weather. Emerie was not with them yet. Her sister said Azriel would go sought her, but it was taking him a little longer than she had anticipated. 

Gwyn sang. She did so quietly enough that Nesta only grasped some of it, the soft melody flowing between them. Her friend literally glowed covered in stardust, like a goddess who looked down to the city of light and shone for its citizens. Her presence there -out of the library at night- a blessing to them.

Nesta got up from her mat and joined the improvised dance to the rythm of Gwyn’s light mutter. Nesta made her twirl and then catched her in her arms, laughing at how clumpsy the manuver came out. Gwyn laughed too, and Nesta knew she had made the right decision when she left Feyre’s party.

She wanted to spend her first Starfall -the first Starfall she would remember- with her new friends.

Stars zoomed in the sky, fast and beautiful. Nesta let Gwyn spin her and then take her hand, the other one now resting in the priestess shoulder. They moved together in harmony, not performing the choreography or any real dance she knew, yet swinging with grace.

Then, Emerie arrived. Only it was not Az who brought her to them, but Rhysand.

Nesta’s joy vanished in a heartbeat. What was he doing here? Emerie run to them. She looked unharmed, smiling as she approached and waving her hand with excitement. Nesta walked past her, straight to Rhysand.

“Feyre asked me to bring her here” he explained before Nesta said a word.

“Did she?” not a single syllable was free of poison and distrust.  She knew it was a lie, her sister hadn’t asked him.

The High Lord didn’t try to deny the silent accusation. Because he didn’t really care that she knew it had been his idea -that he had asked Feyre to be the one bringing Emerie to Velaris, and she had agreed. He wanted Nesta to know that after the last fight with his mate, he had been forgiven, and her sister trusted him blindly again.

Silence didn’t have time to settle between them before Nesta found the strength in herself to answer to his silent jibe with just as much pettiness. “Well, that’s good. For a moment I thought you were here to join us. And you know, we usually don’t accept new members when they’ve threatened the life of one of us.” Nesta shrugged, her face not showing a pinch of the bad blood she felt. Her eyes did that for her, as did Rhysand’s in return.

“I already apologized for that” was all he said. Yes, he had apologized to Feyre. And to Cassian, who had been comfortably talking to him in the balcony.

But not to her. The one whose life he had threatened. He didn’t think he had to. And nobody expected him to do so either, apparently.

Facing him wasn’t something she had anticipated for tonight. She didn’t feel prepared at all.

Learning to respect herself enough to keep going with her life was not an easy path, and her sister’s mate was still the biggest obstacle she would have to face after she came to terms with herself.

Not tonight, please. Not now.

Rhysand had threatened her multiple times. And he hadn’t apologized to her once. It wasn’t fair. That much, she knew. In theory, this should be easy -facing him and demanding respect. But in practice it wasn’t. Nesta found herself struggling to keep control of her emotions, her anger, her guiltiness. There was a learned habit of believing his words to be true because everyone else seemed to agree with him and it was either accepting them as well, or be left alone to stand against him.

He had the same confident grin he had worn the day Feyre sent her here. That disgusting grim Nesta dreaded. She knew that if he had tried to look only a little more intimidating, she would have fallen back in line, accepting that she was still his prisoner in The House of Wind, a building she couldn’t escape from. But the way his confident eyes looked down on her made the mist in her mind vanish, her rage rising up like a shield -her old reliable walls.

She was done with being the only one who was held accountable for her mistakes.

A high-pitched laugh came from where Gwyn and Emerie were sharing a welcome hug. Only a few little lanterns on the floor lightened up the space, stars doing the rest.

They oozed joy as Nesta turned her back to them to face her sister’s mate again. She wanted to join her friends, but had to do this first. Because Nesta had endured too much already, and wasn’t willing to let this male ruin the most beautiful night of the year for her. She was determined to have fun with her Valkyrie sisters, so if Rhysand wanted trouble, he would have to wait.

They would have a confrontation another time, and it would be on her terms.

“You should go back to your party. You have guests.”

The High Lord nodded. His semblance was relaxed, comfortable. In control. “You do too. Though it looks like you are missing one. Do you want me to bring Elain up here as well?” Nesta fought the impulse to tighten her jaw and fists. She made herself breathe through the anger and keep her mien blank. “Get one sister, loose the other, I guess”. He shifted on his feet, his hands now in his pockets, the image of a confident male. He waved his hand to her friends behind her, a smile on his lips that didn’t meet his eyes. “I’ll never forget Elain’s tears when she came back from visiting you that last time”.

“And I’ll never care about what you think of that.”

Nesta tried to make her words heavy with venom. Unmoving stone against his constant pushing. She intended for them to sound like a final statement. But truth can’t always be bent like that, sometimes it flungs free. Against her will, her voice was light, syllables one after the other coming out of her mouth as naturally as breathing.

Not cold, not welcoming or tinted with any hue of sentiment at all. Her words were a simple and transparent truth: She didn’t care what he said, what he thought of her or what he did. She never would, no matter how many traps and punishments Rhysand devised for her, or how strong his High Lord abilities affected her psyche. There was no room inside her left to care about this male in front of her anymore. Specially, not now.

Because he would never change who he was, or how far he was willing to go to see his goals materialize. Nesta was beyond caring, anyway. Beyond trying to earn his pardon.

Nesta told herself she was the master of her own fate, as her sisters and every other person in her live controlled their own. She repeated the words like a mantra, an exercise to convince herself and keep her cool. Whatever I want, I can work for it with or without his approval.

Nesta took in the image presented in front of her. The delicate embroidery of his tunic, the carefully styled hair. The overall perfection of his appearance. And concluded that he wasn’t worth the effort of coming up with witty insults. He simply needed to leave her party and go back to his own.

“You’ve made your loved ones cry a fair amount as well, and they found a way to forgive you. If what you’ve done to others can be excused, then I’m sure my sisters and I will find a way to work things out as well. We are long-lasting creatures now, We are in no hurry.”

As his only answer, Rhysand fixed his gaze behind her again and smiled, a wicked grin darkening his beautiful features. Emerie’s burst of laughter echoed in the rooftop. He kept his stare there. Nesta could almost hear his brain at work, but didn’t get a clear reading of his thoughts.

There was a weird feeling about his presence there, the way he kept looking at the illyrian and the priestess. He was monitoring them, as if making sure they were okay. That’s when it clicked -the reason why her sister’s mate had insisted on winnowing Emerie himself. He didn’t travel all the way to Illyria to provoke her, he was actually making sure Nesta wasn’t a threat to her friend’s safety.

He had already warned her once about that on that same spot of the House of Wind.

Why did he insist on making of Nesta such a monster in his mind?

The only reason she even met her Valkyrie sisters was him locking her in that damned house carved in the mountain. It had been his idea to make her work in the library with the priestess. It had been an order of his that she went to Windhaven to train. Why did he insist of making a threat of her even when he was the one moving her around and controlling her every movement?

“Haven’t you taken enough from me already?” she asked when the silence became too much, anger rising in her stomach and burning all the way up to her throat.

She really needed to know. Because as days went on, she started questioning what did her sister’s mate even expect from her. To what end had he engined this plan? What did he want from her before he let her out? That’s if he ever intended to do so...

Does he only want to see my spirit broken?

Nesta was well aware of how her choices had hurt Feyre. Cassian. Even Elain. But what had she even done to him? Why did he go around pretending her life and her future belonged to him so fiercely she had almost believed it as well? Why was he so convinced of his entitlement to grant her a pardon or not, even when the rest had already made peace with her?

That, she didn’t understand. That was precisely what made her shake and be scared of the future. That she didn’t know. That she didn’t know if the rest did either. That they saw and heard him act like that... and didn’t say anything.

That was what made her fall and fall again under his power. Whenever she felt like his treatment was unfair, she looked around and realized she was the only one who had a problem with it. She doubted herself, how reliable her own judgement was.

But she had to come out of that darkness.

She had to, or else she would really crumple up and perish once and for all.

When Rhysand looked back at her, he scanned her features as if she were a puzzle, a mystery. His own personal challenge that didn’t exist beyond his own perception. A hint of pity shone for a second in his pupils, then disappeared as if it had never been there.

“Don’t you think you deserved some of it?” he asked back. When Nesta didn’t answer, he decided to explain it to her with the condescension only those who didn’t belong to his circle knew from him. “You don’t even know how deeply your actions have hurt her. How much damage you have caused.” Rhysand gave a step closer. Nesta didn’t back down. “She keeps forgiving you because she’s already imagined what her life looks like with you by her side and wants it desperately. You prey on her innocence -on her unconditional love. You take advantage of it and fail her time after time.” The High Lord was gritting his teeth “Yet she keeps coming back to you. I refuse to allow this behavior from you anymore. I must put an end to it before you drag her down with you to that well you seem unable to escape. If you want to be miserable, so be it. But I won’t allow you to ruin my mate as well.”

Oh.

So that’s it.

It hurt. It hurt way more than she could have anticipated. Nesta had spent countless hours looking between her memories for the most painful ones. For those times when she had been so awful there was no room for redemption. She had been the first one to use them against herself in those long nights of self-loathing. Nesta had gone over and over those times when she picked on her sisters, she had memorized every insult thrown at them until the words lost their meaning and no longer could be used to hurt herself.

Nesta thought nobody could use that against her better than she already did and make her hate who she was more than she ever did. So it hurt to listen to Rhysand and understand what was hidden behind his words. There was an underlying truth that she had never even considered. A new layer to the High Lord’s character that she had never known. Yet suddenly, it all made sense.

And it hurt.

It hurt to realize that Rhysand wouldn’t stop trying to keep her away from Feyre because he was jealous. He was jealous that it didn’t matter what he gave her -a crown, a court, the world itself... Feyre wouldn’t have the life she wanted until she had her sister by her side to enjoy it. It almost made her laugh, hadn’t it been the cause for almost a year of missery.

It was sad and pathetic to realize this male was using every weapon at his disposal to ruin her because of his own insecurity, his own fear of not being enough.

She had been suffering this nightmare for him. For his ego.

“I did kind of deserve this” she answered with honesty, her arms spreading at her sides to point at the space. Her open sky prison. “The first time a High Lord used a fake law to manipulate me and my family to his will, I was unprepared. But this second time, I kind of deserved it. I should have known.”

Rhysand’s eyes widened as she spoke, but Nesta wasn’t finished yet “Do you get like a manual, or something, when you sit on the throne? How to trick stupid girls into giving up their freedom? How to keep them quiet when they refuse?” she mocked.

His eyes were voids of blackness that seemed to swallow her, his dark essence flinging free around them. To say his performance was a threat would be a stretch. It wasn’t a threat, it was the preparation for an attack. The scent of his anger hit her senses and almost knocked her out, a death promise painted in his fine features.

Don’t you ever compare me to him, he growled in her mind.

But Nesta had faced death too many times to be scared of it anymore.

She took a step closer as a savage grin formed in her lips. Unafraid. Because she was sure his threats would become true, and the thought of it made her shiver. But so would hers, if the male in front of her even considered hurting Feyre, her friends of Nesta herself again. “Then stop doing the same shit he did”.

Her words came out as a whisper, soft in the way a lion’s fur was to the touch. A softness that didn’t make its jaws even slightly less dangerous when it prayed upon its victim.

And they hit their mark.

Rhysand’s hands were fists

Nesta was already preparing her next jibe. She wanted him to leave, to stay away from her. But if he refused, then she was ready to fight him to filth. To make him see for himself how hard it was to make peace with everything she needed to mend, every person she had hurt, when he kept going after her for the fun of it. She would make him go through it if that was the only option he left her.

But when Nesta met his gaze, she thought she saw a kind of hurt deep in his pupils so familiar that she wondered if the black in his eyes was only reflecting her own. “I only want to protect my mate” he said at last, his eyes endlessly tired now. She would have pitied him. Had he ever granted Nesta a little consideration before dismissing her as a monster, as a threat, as the cause of every single inconvenience in their lives, she would have pitied him. It wasn’t the case.

“Then go sought her, and leave me alone.” 

He did. Without any last comment to torment her evening, without a last threatening glare to let her know that she had won this fight, but not the war, Rhysand went for the stairs, and got lost in the darkness.

Nesta gave a step back, not wanting to turn her back to the stairs... just in case. Only when she made sure her sister’s husband wasn’t coming back and her erratic breathing became normal again, she went to meet her friends.

Gwyn was barefoot and sited on the ground, her hair all the colors except the auburn shade the Mother had given her. Emerie was standing by her side.

“Is everything okay?” the illyrian asked.

Nesta forced herself to open her mouth in a broad smile for her friends to see.

“Yeah, it was just a misunderstanding” they didn’t look convinced “Family stuff. Sometimes it’s hard to draw the line between family business and the obligations of one’s job, you know.”

Emerie’s hand found hers and gave it a tug. “Well, whenever it becomes too much to handle, come find us.”

“You can always count on us, Nesta. We’ll be here for you.”

Gwyn raised from the grass with some help from her hands. She moved her arms around them, her lips forming a smile that showed all her teeth. When Nesta thought the redhead was going to hug them, she opened her fists in their faces, stardust  flowing from them and into their bodies.

Emerie coughed, Nesta only burst out a loud laugh that resonated in every balcony of the House of Wind. She had been taken by surpise. And it had been fun.

Nesta forgot about every other person she had met that night and the presence of those two females by her side became so obvious and indubitable, she almost cried for a second time.

Her friends. She was going to spend Starfall with her friends. The family she had chosen. Who had also chosen her.

Emerie was giggling too, but she hadn’t appreciated the surprise as much as Nesta. “Why did you do that?” she reprimanded Gwyn, the amusement impossible to hide.

“You were too clean. I think I have stardust even under the tunic” Gwyn said. Her slippers, abandoned in a corner, were for sure coated with light blue glimmer.

“They are spirits, Gwyneth Berdara!” Emrie corrected. “It’s not dust.”

Was it not? Nesta didn’t know about that, or how spirits could take this form at all. She had always imagined ghosts as ethereal beings, not shooting stars.

“Doesn’t matter, let’s just enjoy the night. You probably don’t want to be bored by a history lesson” she joked.

“I do.” Nesta sat on the grass, Gwyn was quick to follow. “I want you to tell me everything about it, please”.

Emerie had to give in and let the smile she was hiding shine on her lips. Pretending she wasn’t as eager to share legends and stories about her Court with them as they were to hear her talk, Emerie started her tale.

Stories about our Court, she corrected herself. Because it was now a home for the three of them.

[shelovescontrol91]

Between a starring role in Cinderella, live performances, and a forthcoming album, it would appear things are business as usual for Camila Cabello. But there’s a difference: Before the pandemic her work was leaving her drained, anxious, and insecure. Now she’s found a way to be a pop star on her own terms, and everything—from the music to her relationship with her body—has fallen into place.

By mid-September, Camila Cabello was feeling burnt out. In the span of three days she had performed at the MTV Video Music Awards, attended the Met gala with boyfriend Shawn Mendes, and shot the first-ever global cover for Glamour. So when she finally returned home to Miami, rest wasn’t just desired—it was essential.

But rehearsals for New York’s Global Citizen Festival loomed. Before jumping back into pop star mode, Cabello put on a yellow bikini and headed to the beach for two hours of blissfully uninterrupted downtime. She sank into a chair and cracked open a book, her favorite pastime. The salty air enveloped her; waves crashed in the distance. This is why she lives in Miami, her hometown, as opposed to a showbiz hub like Los Angeles: more privacy.

Or so she thought. Somehow the paparazzi found out where she was for those 120 minutes. She didn’t see them at first, but there they were, snapping away.

“I didn’t consent to those pictures,” she tells me over Zoom, camera off as she drives in Miami. (At one point she says to someone on the road, “Why are you honking at me, bro?”) “I got my period on the beach. I’m in a bikini and on my period, so I don’t know if I have a fucking period stain and that’s going to be everywhere. I didn’t sign up for anybody to be taking pictures of me in a bikini.”

Cabello has developed methods for dealing with invasive situations like this. She’s had to. The 24-year-old—born in Cuba, raised in Miami—has been in the public eye since 2012, when she competed on The X-Factor. She auditioned as a solo artist but was later matched with four other girls to form the pop group Fifth Harmony. They released two albums before Cabello embarked on her own—and achieved mind-boggling fame. Her singles “Havana” and “Señorita” (with Mendes) topped the charts worldwide. She’s earned three Grammy nominations, become a face of L’Oréal, and tried her hand at not just acting but starring in a feature film: this year’s Cinderella remake on Amazon Prime. Her third studio album, Familia, is due out later this year.

By all accounts it’s a lot. Careerwise it’s the closest things have felt to prepandemic times, when she was working constantly, arguably to an exhausting degree. As COVID-19 shutdowns went into effect last March, Cabello was able to realize just how tired she was.

“I by no means am trying to complain,” she says, “but it was such a thing of, ‘I have to get onstage tomorrow and I’m performing at this big thing,’ or whatever. ‘I want to do a good job. How do I do that when I feel nervous?’ I did this without being like, ‘Am I even happy right now? Do I even feel healthy?’ I didn’t have the space to ask myself those questions. I’m still working a ton now, but after quarantine I’m able to be like, ‘You know what? Right now I’m just not happy. I need to change something.’”

Therapy helped her see the changes she needed to make. Cabello tells me she’d experimented with therapy before the pandemic, but it was always situation focused—quick fixes to help her tackle the next performance or songwriting session. But with time at home, she dug deeper: “Because I wasn’t stressed about all the things I needed to do the next day, I was able to slow down and have enough stability to look at my stuff.”

Cabello doesn’t expand on what that “stuff” is. She does, however, explain why she decided to switch therapists as her internal work continued. “I wasn’t feeling like I was progressing in the areas I wanted to progress,” she says. “But when I switched, I found I was able to apply what they said in a way that benefited my mental health.”

One lesson she’s learned is the power of saying no. Two hit albums under her belt give Cabello the freedom to do things her way. Now she always has one day off a week, minimum. And when time came to start work on Familia, she forwent the standard pop music factory for a more intimate approach. The new album was made with just a handful of collaborators she could be open with. If Cabello was feeling anxious or nervous in a session, she had the space to address it. As a result, she says, it’s her best work yet.

“It’s the most grounded and calm I’ve ever been making an album,” she says. “I worked with people I wanted to have dinner with, and I was like, ‘I’m not going to write every single day for months, but write a few days a week and have time to gather experiences and be a human being.’”

Shawn Mendes is one of the people she’s gathering experiences with. The two singers confirmed their relationship in September 2019, and they’ve been tabloid magnets ever since. Everything from their laughably slow pandemic walks to their kissing style is dissected with a fine-tooth comb. A clip of them getting ready for the Met gala went instantly viral.

Cabello tells me she and Mendes try to avoid the social media chatter about their relationship, but it inevitably seeps in. “When stuff that’s negative is out there, it’s going to get to you,” she says. “So yeah, that’s very, very challenging. I feel like it’s another thing therapy has been really helpful for.”

Mendes goes to therapy too. While Cabello says she and Mendes haven’t done couples therapy—though she’d be open to it—they very much work on their mental health together.

“For better, for worse, we’re very transparent with each other. I think that’s why we can trust each other so much, because it’s a very 3D human relationship,” she says. “I’ll be venting or ranting about something, and he’ll be like, ‘Have you talked to X about it?’ And I’ll be like, ‘No. I’ve got to do a session.’ And he’ll do the same thing to me. I think even just the language of being like, ‘Hey, I’m sorry that I’ve been distant with you or snappy with you. I’m just struggling and I’m feeling kind of anxious.’ That level of transparency really helps a lot.”

Mendes echoes Cabello’s thoughts. “Camila and I give each other an extreme amount of patience and understanding,” he tells me via email. “I think the truth is that when you’re struggling with mental health, it turns you sometimes into the version of yourself that you don’t like to be—and kind of loving and accepting your person through that, and being there for them through that, is life-changing. We give each other so much space and understanding and patience.”

A behind-the-scenes VMAs story perfectly illustrates this. When Cabello was nervous meeting new people at an after-party, she caught herself leaning on a habit she’s trying to break. Mendes helped her through it.

“I have this pattern of eating a lot when I’m anxious or uncomfortable,” she says. “It’s a comfort thing for me. I’ll just kind of become unconscious and zombie-eat a lot, and then I’ll feel sick. I’ve told Shawn about that. So at the VMAs party, I was like, ‘I’m doing it.’ And he was like, ‘It’s okay. You’re doing it. That’s okay. Let’s just take a breath and not do that.’ It’s really good for me to be able to talk about my patterns with someone.”

Food and body image are two things that have really been on Cabello’s mind this year. A July TikTok she posted shutting down body-shamers racked up 4.8 million likes. “Being at war with your body is so last season,” she says in the video, which she posted after photos of her running in Los Angeles made the rounds online.

That mantra is true, sure, but it’s easier said than done. Even Cabello has difficulty following it. She braced herself for what she might feel when those aforementioned bikini pics went live: “I need to work out. I need to eat better.” “Not that those things are bad,” she says. “But maybe I wouldn’t think about them as much if there weren’t people taking pictures of me.”

It’s not just the paparazzi who ignite moments of self-doubt. Cabello tells me about a time she was exercising with her trainer, Jenna Willis—who’s great, she says—and feeling insecure. “She’s the same height as me, and I was kind of comparing myself to her, because she is a lot skinnier than I am,” she recalls. “I was just like, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been working out and I look better, right? I look better, right?’”

It’s Willis who helped silence those voices in Cabello’s head, reminding her that how she feels is more important than appearances; that life is about balance and enjoying food. These are health philosophies we’ve all heard—but when you’re Camila Cabello and millions are picking apart your beach photos, it’s hard to tune out the noise. Now when she’s feeling down on herself, she just turns her phone off and goes outside.

“When I’m having negative thoughts about my body, that’s actually when I’ll want to binge-eat cookies, and then I have a stomachache,” she says. “It’s this weird psychology: The more I love my body, the more I actually want to take care of it…. As long as I’m healthy and working out and feel good, that’s the best I can do. There’s no point in trying to have another kind of body.”

By this point in our conversation, Cabello’s made it to her destination. When I ask if she’ll have time to chill and decompress, she says, “To be honest, not yet, but I will after this weekend.” There’s a calmness in her voice when she says this—a stillness, a readiness. She seems perfectly prepared for what lies ahead: album promo, performances, and undoubtedly more scrutiny about her body, her relationship, her everything. But she’ll be fine, because just around the corner is a day off. That’s nonnegotiable.

“It’s important to be on top of not just what’s making you sad or anxious, but also what’s giving you joy,” she says. “I want to be happy and enjoy my life. That’s kind of it.”

[funkymbtifiction]

I know this might be a silly or impossible question, but sometimes when it sinks in how difficult it is to conquer our core fears - I wonder *why* we were given our type, in a spiritual sense? I read your post on how each type can contribute to the church and loved it. But yes, sometimes I just wonder "Why, God, why" because core fears/weaknesses can be so difficult to fight again and again :') If you don't mind sharing, would it be possible to hear your thoughts on how you understand/make sense of this struggle from the view of your own faith? It's okay if you'd rather not share though! Thank you for your wisdom :)

I’m not sure I have any. I hear a question like that and my Ne immediately zooms out to look at an even bigger picture. Why do we have a certain personality? Why do we have certain fears? Well, what about an even bigger picture than that -- why were we born to the parents we have, born in the nation we live in, born with whatever physical problems trouble us? Why are some people born into slavery, abusive households, or really lousy situations? Why are some of them born and then die a month later? Or live a painful life with a defective medical condition? I know a woman whose genetics were so poor in her family, she had a dozen of her brothers die before age 16. Half of them were in wheelchairs by their teen years. Her poor parents lost every son they ever had, and then she went on to lose her son to the same genetic disorder. Why?? The idea that “all things work for good” doesn’t really seem to apply there, does it? You can’t take a situation like that and make it “positive” because there is no positive answer. If you say that “God never gives us more than we can bear,” you make God out to be a first-grade a-hole who enjoys torturing us to our limits, which doesn’t seem fair. So I handle this question like I handle every other “why” about a divine being that orders the universe -- I think we create situations for ourselves, both intentionally and otherwise. Bad things happen as a result of living in a world that is not perfect. God appears to care more about our spiritual self, our eternal soul, than He cares about our physical body -- and whether that is true or just something humans have “assigned” to Him based on our inability to understand why divine forces don’t just make all of our problems go away, I don’t know. But I don’t think He assigns bad things to us, and that includes the problems within our mental state or our personalities. A world governed by free will is going to include challenges -- both mentally and physically.

Have I ever wondered why I got stuck being a 6? Plenty of times. I’ve thought my life would be much easier and happier if I didn’t have to deal with anxiety and self-doubt all the time... but that’s my lot in life. In my typical Te way, I’ve just accepted that this is how things are for me and I can either have a bad attitude about it or I can do everything I can to try and fix myself. The burden of self-help is on me. It’s also helped me to remember if I weren’t a 6, I’d have the problems of another type. If I believe God cares about our character (and I do)... then I have to assume that while it’s hard to fight against our inner self, it’s also worth doing. Science tells us that you can rewrite your neural pathways through a deliberate change of thinking or habits. The old pattern is still there, but you can “write over it” with persistence. I think that’s pretty awesome.

God never promised anyone an easy life, but we can both make it easier on ourselves by making good choices and by being aware of our default and working to change it. Doing so is not out of reach -- it’s just hard. But sticking to doing something hard is how someone strengthens themselves, grows, and learns to have compassion for others stuck in the same (or a similar, or a different) rut. The things that come easy to you, it’s easy to look down on other people for struggling with them -- but we are all struggling against ourselves, and that can give us greater compassion for each other, and that’s the God I believe in. The one who says “love each other.”