#close-up photographer of the year awards

[sitting-on-me-bum]

"A Tale In The Sand"

Sahara sand viper (Cerastes Vipera)

By Paul Lennart Schmid

Close-Up Photographer of the Year Awards

[acid-ixx]

ch.1: again &. again (platonic! yandere batfam x neglected! gn reader)

directory: preq, chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five pt 1

read until the end for an author's note.

if there was one thing you hated more than the crime-filled streets of gotham, it would be empty promises.

when was the last time they attended your birthday? or your school ceremonies? or any special event that meant for you to be the center of attention?

plot twist, there was no last time, or a time before that or any day that they were there for you.

not your eldest brother, dick, not your dead brother, jason, of course tim wouldn't be there for you, damian's absence is a given, not even your sisters would come, and most especially not your father, bruce wayne.

you never wrote wayne as your last name. in every test, it would always be your mother's last name. in every document that you had to fill, you would violently scratch in the name of your father, wishing it wasn't required at all so you wouldn't have to hang your head in shame everytime someone looks at you incredulously for having the bruce wayne as your father but never once appearing to be with you.

you can't recall a time you had called him your dad, or even considered him as one.

if you could count the times you have seen him in person, it wouldn't even fill ten fingers. even interviewers and paparazzi have more luck in coming across him than you would, his child.

it sucks, really, how despite having nearly sharing the same age as tim, you never once saw him outside of his room. you thought you would've been the closest to him, but the most you have seen him was when you were watching the news with the "new" robin popping up, or worse; when bruce would be seen guiding tim through the paparazzi and not you. alfred had to drag you away from the tv that day because you were already suffering through a panic attack just seeing those two act so close; ripping your hair out just from watching the news wasn't a good way to cope.

you remember being so jealous of him, of how bruce would always spend time with him and not you. it made you wonder, were you special enough? tim is so brilliant, you could admit. and you were, too, having enough comprehensibility as a child to find out they were vigilantes a year or two after living in the manor— but you weren't good enough like tim. you weren't cut out to be like a detective or a fighter.

it was no wonder why bruce chose them over you.

it came to you in the form of talking to tim that had you discovering that no one ever mentions your name inside the house, proving it to be true when tim had hesitated calling your name and even stuttered through pronouncing it. and then he left after finding you were of no use to help him. alfred had to stifle your sobbing after tim left the room, allowing you to cry on his chest whilst you sat beside him.

(name) wayne was so, so lonely.

you would've accepted their absence long ago, but you were a stupid child who needed care and reassurance because your mother left you for good at the age of five. you were too naive into thinking you would receive the same love from your family just like the other kids in elementary would. you were a child who expected too highly of your father, thinking that he would pick you up from school with that picture perfect photographed smile of his and kiss your forehead and tell you that you did a great job at school today.

it was your teachers who would be the one having to walk you up the stage whenever you achieved an award. alfred would be too busy sometimes to attend your school ceremonies because he had to assist bruce with missions. of course, you understood his priorities. after all, he tried his hardest to make you feel less lonely inside the mansion, it wasn't enough but he was there at least.

it was long ago that you stopped praying for your family to attend at least one of your birthdays.

it's ironic, really, for a child to prep and plan for their own celebration just to hope that a single member of their family to even walk by the kitchen and join them in on their already lonesome celebration.

too bad everybody only goes to the kitchen when alfred cooks for them. who would want to taste sadness in a sloppily made birthday cake, right? nobody, not even you would have the appetite to eat your cake with the knowledge that it was you who had to put all the effort to bake it because you didn't want alfred to feel obligated to. knowing nobody would celebrate birthdays with you, save for alfred, it was expected that you started to prefer cupcakes.

because then you wouldn't be scolded for making such a mess.

you never cooked family meals after the incident where nobody came and to not waste food, you had to bring in large containers to bring to school so you could celebrate your birthday there.

it was there that you find more solace in your small group of friends compared to the desolate rooms of the mansion. your family celebrates holidays together as a whole, but you never once attended after that one time where everybody had forgotten to get you a gift for christmas, save for alfred who gave you a bracelet (one that you cherished deeply). you only smiled weakly and hopelessly, sneaking into your room before the family dinner.

it was alfred again who bought you leftovers and sat on your bed for an hour to encourage you that there's still more christmas's to go.

you never believed what he said. not anymore.

there was a period of time where you hated them more than anything, blamed them for everything and became more rebellious, purposely failing tests, fighting your classmates and disrespecting teachers in hopes that for once your father would bat an eye on you. that only resulted in you being taken out of the school and being transferred into another, for a behavioral reform is what alfred stated to you when you annoyed him for answers.

damian started to bully you a bit more harder after that incident, calling you immature and childish, a weakling, an attention seeker. how someone at your age should've known better. you were convinced that he was relishing in the heartbroken glare you gave him, ignoring the way his eyes widened momentarily at your reaction before sneering and walking away.

alfred gently scolded you, but you were too choked up and instead you almost tripped running inside your bedroom, locking yourself in for what seems like hours.

you don't want to remember the immense breakdown you had that evening too, screaming on your blankets and destroying your things and hurting yourself because... because you had lost your old friends for nothing! your caring teachers, your academic progress, everything! every single thing for an ounce of attention! because he didn't have enough energy to come with you to the guidance counselor and he only had you transfer out so you wouldn't ruin the wayne's reputation!

you hate him, you hate bruce fucking wayne so much and you hate clinging onto their empty promises and sorry's to make it up for you. you hate how their promises were never even said directly to you, you hate how alfred was your only source of hope for a medium of communication.

you hate them all.

and worst of all, you hate yourself for drowning in hope. for wishing you were physically stronger so you could at least bond with them through training. for dreaming about a day where they could surprise you and told you they were just testing you and that you actually had worth inside this manor. for praying nightly that they'll smile at you like the heroes you see in tv rather than that of pity.

you wished there was a universe where gotham was safer, more protected with no criminals littering the streets. maybe then they would have more time to notice you crying every night, writing self destructive entries in your diary, sketching what would've been a happy family. they wouldn't have to wear their silly costumes to fight crime and instead would save you from your own demons.

if...

if you were brutally tortured and killed by the joker, or forced to choke on the fear toxin by the scarecrow— hell, even beaten to near death by some random goons; would they have given you a sliver of their love? would they finally look at you and save you from yourself?

because despite your resentment, you would never lie and say you didn't feel blessed that you were thrown to a family of talented individuals.

your drawings of a complete and happy family holding hands together and a diary filled with rants and fantasies of spending time with them proved just that.

you were blessed with them yet cursed at the same time to never reach the same level to be even considered part of their lives.

you were hopeless. you never amounted to anything. you were just, you.

thirteen years have passed by then, and in those years you were proud to say your development as a person, albeit slow, transformed you from a child that succumbed to neglect to an independent person who managed to maintain a comfortable circle of friends, a scholarship for a college far away from gotham, and an apartment of your own (you were a bit in debt due to having to pay for your own because no way in hell would you ask for your father for financial support).

allowance was scarce, your food supplies weren't infinite compared to back when you were living at the wayne manor, and you weren't greeted to michelin star restaurant meals cooked by alfred— but you were content, and that was enough.

though content translated to nightly breakdowns whilst finishing projects or writing essays, the point still stands! at least you had celebrated your eighteenth birthday with drunk smiles and your friends spoiling you to death when you had opened up about your first lonely years of life. everything was going well for you, truly.

you were so, so happy for the nice turn of events. and you wouldn't have made it so far if you hadn't slapped yourself out of the delusion that they actually cared for you.

look at you now! independent and with a life of your own! you'd give yourself a pat in the back.

you hadn't blocked them at all, but their contacts were empty (save for a few desperate messages that date back years ago) and you were fine with that. it's not like tim or bruce or barbara considered you important enough to be stalked. hah, as if!

alfred communicates with you time to time, reminding you to eat a complete meal rather than those one dollar priced noodles that tasted like pure salt. he told you he misses you a lot, you and your annoying, daily rants about life and school. he misses your awkward smile and when you would help him cook whenever the others aren't around. he misses it when you imitate his posh accent when you taste test his food and give commentary about it.

you miss him, too. growing up, you realized just how much effort alfred would exert just to spend a lot of his time on you.

now, he told you that you are still welcome to the manor whenever, and how he cleans your room weekly in case you'll visit him.

whenever you audio call with him, you'd tear up just a bit at the realization that alfred was more of a father figure than your own biological father. because he at least attended your graduation to make up for the other times he was unable to join you.

what's even better was that he gifted you something you had always wanted for your birthday. despite it being delivered to your door rather than him giving it to you face to face (since you had refused to give him your location and him respecting that decision at least), the heartfelt letter he left you was more than enough to let you cling onto pieces of your past. after all, it was him who greeted you by the door when you were first introduced into the family, bruce being too busy with paperwork that day when you were a measly five year old.

you had started to teasingly call him 'alfie' and a few more nickname after that, which results with a chuckle over the phone every time you had come up with a cheesy name for him whenever you get a wee bit irritated at his own way of making fun of you.

if only this was your life years ago, then maybe you wouldn't have been jealous of all your other friends and pushed them away that day, maybe you would learn that sometimes, family comes in the form of the people outside of your house rather than inside.

that reminds you, maybe you should reconnect with your old friends back in elementary and apologized for your sudden explosive behavior.

you were laying on your bed, phone in hand and opened your inst*gram app to stalk through the names you could remember. well... that was what you should've done, if not for the fact that a notification popped up the very moment you pressed on the search bar and you had accidentally opened a chat with your oldest brother, dick.

you would've ignored the desperate messages you have sent him from the past which all varied from inviting him to eat dinner with you or to at least join you to play in an arcade or anything to convince him to talk to you, all of which were unseen, if not for the fact that it was him who sent you a sudden "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" message, alongside a few more replies that spammed through your phone...

oh!

... that was enough to make you sit up and want to hurl.

dick grayson was a man of many talents. the mature eldest child, the ideal good leader despite his anger issues from time to time, and the same guy who set the standards high for the future robins. he is bruce's greatest achievement.

it was safe to say that if not for the support of many, then he would've suffered so many falls and would've never been strong enough to stand up despite the pain and continue his fights. nightwing was what many superheroes strive to be, an image of light in a grove of darkness such as gotham.

so why was it that he felt like he has failed so deeply right now?

inside your room, dick stands with furrowed brows. it felt too clean to look used. your furniture was polished and look untouched, the lights were too bright and the windows were bolted shut. there were no signs of life other than the notebooks and sketchbooks that were neatly tucked on the middle of the bed and the trinkets that scatter through your desk.

dick stalks through the room, careful to not make a noise as he walks over to the closet, opening it and finding nothing.

he bites his lips at the implication that this was probably the second time he visited your room and how it was also the longest time he remained here. compared to his other siblings, you were the one he noticed the least and... now he feels bad for dismissing you.

didn't he promise to take you out for dinner months ago?

damn it, he was way too focused on his mission that night and ended up ditching and forgetting you! oh god, dick facepalmed and clenched his teeth, seething in some air because no fucking way did he actually remember to feed damian's dog, titus, the same day but forgot to take you out for an important event...

it occurred to him that that was the same day you scored a perfect on "the hardest test of my life!" you had bragged to him awkwardly when he wasn't listening nor looking and you, wanting to celebrate what was a small achievement for dick, chose him to spend time with you!

dick had to carefully breath through his mouth then gulp down the shame he feels right now. he- he has no time to focus on the past but rather the present. he has to find out why the hell is your room so lifeless, yeah... then he'll make it up to you today, definitely.

huh?

is it just him, but why does the room seem so small? it looked like it was meant to be for a kid. clearly, there wasn't enough space for a growing individual like you... did bruce not provide you with a bigger bedroom? ah, dick would definitely tell bruce to relocate you to a bigger room, the current one is too small for even a dog in a manor to sleep in.

dick doesn't want to admit it at all, but... he hasn't seen you for the past few months, or not all, really. sure, he had only recently visited the manor since he's bludhaven's vigilante now, but even through his time in gotham he had never seen you other than the times you pulled his sleeves from back when you were a child.

back when you were a child.

how old are you now? you were so small back then, innocent too. he can recall your curious eyes, your chubby cheeks and the way you stutter through your words as you try to talk to him.

you were significantly younger than jason, and was adopted a week before tim was introduced to the family. he remembers you peeking through alfred's back, gleaming with curiousity and whispering to the butler if it was really the dick grayson. he smiled fondly at your dumbfounded expression, the way your mouth shaped into an "ohh," when he was the one who answered that, yes, it was him. then you whispered again if you can take have an autograph from him, to which he chuckled and told alfred that he'll help accompany you to your room.

when your five year old body tried to waddle closer to his body for an ounce of warmth when he had been guiding you up the stairs, that was also the first time he called you baby bird, with the way you coddled him so closely. his hands find itself patting your head, ruffling your hair and grinning as you both make your path through the halls.

he comes to immediately regret leaving you alone after he had introduced you to your room, remembering his duties as a vigilante than that of a brother.

but despite his early memories of you, he wants to see his baby sibling all grown up now.

had it really been years?

when was the last time you ever had a full-on conversation with him?

was there even a time that he had approached you by himself?

he had always called you baby bird after the first time you meet because of the age gap you two shared. the rare times he acknowledges you, you gave him that look filled with such adoration, like you were proud of him for being your older brother. why did he not notice you?

oh, his baby bird...

dick gulped, trying to ease his shivering by sitting on your neatly folded blankets and taking a worn diary in his hand, one at the bottom stack of books. well, if it was a personal diary then maybe you would've hidden it better, right? he figures since it was all placed on the center of the bed like a piece of treasure that... it would be alright to take just a glimpse.

to confirm if you still see him as your favorite brother.

dick's heartbeat spiked, hoping your entries would be filled with, he doesn't know, anything that didn't implicate some sort of hatred for the family, for him. hoping that despite his lack of attention towards you, that there would still be a spark of love for him. if what he thinks was actually true then... he doesn't know what to do with himself.

he flips through the first page, noting how it was bulkier than the others. the paper was filled with glittery decorations, sequence beads and cheap stickers sparkling at every angle the light hits. it was meant to be a design for the 'front cover' of the notebook, colors blended in a cacophony of rainbows and butterflies and flowers beyond the messy calligraphy that merely states "(name)'s diary!"

dick stifles a grin just from skimming through at the amount of mistakes and erasures, clearly written by the the younger version of you; naive to the world and its cruelty. he commends your creativity, his eyes softening at the few doodles that were written on the corners of the pages.

you're just too adorable for your own good, so much so that the thumping in dick's heart beats louder and louder, ears wringing uncomfortable inside your unventilated bedroom. but he just couldn't rip his eyes away from the diary, daydreaming about how proud you must've been when designing your own diary. he could picture your wide eyes, shy and harmless, and your feet kicking back and forth whilst you decorate your stuff.

everything was what he expected it to be on the first few pages of the diary. all your little rants about your daily life, your eargerness to meet your entire family from your father's side, and the hurt you experienced from your mother's sudden abandonment.

he would've skipped through another diary, one that lacked design and color, save for the name plastered on the front, if not for the grim undertones at every end of your entries despite the child-like manner it was written in.

it all started with "i wish to see my father soon and my big brother dick again!", "alfred told me my father can't come to the parent-teacher conference, he says he's in a veryyy important meeting :( but alfred would come!", "dick told me he can't help me with my science project but he promise he'll help me with something else later!" which halfway through the diary, your style fluctuates and lesser effort was exhausted on the writing.

one entry in particular, written on the last page of your diary, shattered a sliver of hope within dick, his breathing momentarily ceased from reading through your sentences; uncharacteristic of you, too mature for someone at the age of ten to write.

"XX/XX/XXXX.

dear diary, it's my tenth birthday today. i celebrated with my friends at school. they told me i always look down whenever it's my birthday. they think that bruce would throw a fancy celebration for me. i tried to hide my laughter from them. it's a really funny joke. i haven't seen him for months. i told dick that he was invited but i don't think he remembers it's my birthday today. alfred told me to come out of my room, he said he cooked my favorite dinner, that he's sorry he got my present late, but i don't want get out of my room. i heard dick is gonna watch a movie with tim later. i don't feel so good, my chest hurts, but i don't want to get out right now.

i'll eat the cupcake tomorrow."

it had been nearly two hours since dick had sat on your bed, eyes dilating whilst reading through your first diary. the cold season had already pricked his skin, but his entire body felt so unnaturally warm, a warmth that scorches him, searing deep into flesh. a lump had form in his throat, accompanying the hellish throbbing of his heart.

"fuck..." he brought his fingers to his head, carefully massaging his forehead but it relieves nothing. he wants to see you right now— he needs to talk to you. god, he has to apologize, he needs to see what you look like right now, needs to know if you're alright.

you're clearly not.

he has to oppress the urge to punch the walls, reminding himself that it's your room he's in and if he damages your already delicate property, then he's proving himself worse than he already is.

he rushes to grab another diary, the one at the top of the pile, skipping to the end of the page.

nothing. all the entries were months ago, all written in vague detail like you were starting to hide secrets. his teeth grinds against each other, frustration seeping through his veins.

he needs to— shit, he needs to find you right now. he needs to find his baby bird and make up for the all bullshit him and his family had done. if you were gone for months, even years; he doesn't even want to think about it.

but how?!

there were no signs of you. anything written your diary, your drawings, the trinkets on your bedside table— they signal no clues whatsoever, all dating back to months, even years. it's not possible at all, for nobody to notice your disappearance. dick would've noticed sooner. he should've noticed sooner. oh, he doesn't even want to think about the dangers that await you outside the mansion. with how naive you were about the outside world, you wouldn't last at all.

his baby bird wouldn't survive gotham's streets, especially not when winter was nearing.

think, grayson, think...

his phone!

he immediately reaches into his pockets to grab his phone, clammy fingers swifly encoding his password and opening his contacts.

your number was the quickest to find, it was the only one without an icon of you and an endearing nickname. he makes a mental note to change that soon and replaced your default name to your nickname.

then, without hesitation, he typed, "hey baby bird!!! <333 long time no see! how are you?!" sending the message without rereading, foot tapping impatiently against the floor as he scrolls through all your previous messages.

messages that he should've replied to with the same level of enthusiasm as you. skimming through the past, unseen texts as your motivation began to dwindle the further he refused to reply back. he promises he'll never make you feel invisible again.

seconds feel like hours for him, as he blows raspberries to pass the time, too concentrated an ounce of a reply to even notice the entirely new presence inside the room.

it's alright to call you, yes? after all, dick just wanted to check in with his baby bird and see if you're doing swell and dandy and... safe without him...!

his thumbs pressed on the call button before he could think through his actions, his other hand runs through his hair, sweat running down his forehead as if he had ran a marathon.

he waited, and waited, and waited until the call beeped and provided its automated response. he calls you again but the line immediately cuts off, he tries to spam you with more messages but they weren't delivered.

you blocked him.

fuck, he messed up big time. he needs to get to the batcave. he needs to find your fucking location before it's too late. dick needs to see you again before he loses it.

but before he could carefully place your sketchbooks back to its rightful place, he sees a silhouette at the corner of his eyes; short figure, arms crossed, and a sneer on his eyes already tells him who it was.

damian wayne.

he forgot to train with damian today.

but it doesn't matter, damian has to see it for himself— what made dick so disheveled, so delirious. damian has to finally see just how much of a wonderful sibling you are.

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: this was 4,600+ words and it drained the energy out of me. it was supposed to be posted tomorrow but i was too motivated !! i'm also quite proud of this chapter. it was a pain characterizing dick grayson and the reader. i really hope this is as good as the prequel because it's 3am right now and writing dick's part was a pain in the ass ^^' as always, please do comment or send asks if you like it for quicker updates!!!

taglist: @lilyalone, @secretomelettetroops, @earlqurl, @simpingfor-wakasa, @amber-content, @alishii, @ruiroku, @okaybutfullhomo, @trasshy-artist, @obsessedwithromance, @deadinside-09, @jjsmeowthie, @fairy-lenaa (shoutout to her specifically because i got motivated from their comment!)

[youaintnothinbuta]

"Who does he think he is?" — Austin Butler x reader

Summary: you and Austin are attending an awards show when your ex, a popular singer performs a song clearly aimed at yours and Austin’s (much happier) relationship.

Pairing: austin butler x reader

Word count: 700

Warnings: fluff! Toxic ex, protective austin

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You and Austin, dressed to the nines, sat in the front row of the grand hall, your fingers intertwined with his. Hollywood’s finest gathered under one roof. Celebrities mingled and photographers captured moments, their cameras flashing like a thousand tiny stars. Austin, looking handsome as per usual in his suit, couldn’t take his eyes off you. He’d already swept up a few awards, which were being kept safe with his manager, wherever she was. But when the host walked back up on stage to announce the next musical performance in between awards, a sense of dread filled you.

"And now, please welcome to the stage... (your ex’s name)!" The crowd erupted in applause as he, a popular singer, and more important the guy who showed you exactly what you didn’t want in a relationship stepped onto the stage.

Austin squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours for any sign of unease. You forced a smile. You hadn’t seen him in over a year, and your breakup with him had been anything but amicable.

He grabbed the microphone, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you. A sly smile spread across his face, and your stomach churned.

"This song," he began, his voice smooth and dripping with intent, "is dedicated to a special someone in the audience tonight."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, heads turning to look at you. You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your grip on Austin’s hand tightening. You leaned closer to him, whispering, “This is humiliating.”

Austin’s jaw clenched, his protective instincts kicking in. “Do you want to leave?” he whispered back, his voice barely audible above the applause as he began to sing. The song’s lyrics were painfully obvious, a lament about a girl leaving and finding happiness elsewhere—clearly aimed at you and your new relationship with Austin.

Maybe only 20 seconds into the performance, and you couldn’t take it any longer. You squeezed Austin’s hand, your way of telling him you wanted to go, and without a moment’s hesitation, he stood up, pulling you with him. He walked you out of the room, the curious gazes of celebrities and cameras trailing after you.

Once outside, you found a quiet corner away from prying eyes. Your composure shattered, tears of frustration and embarrassment welling up in your eyes. He lifts a finger up to your eyes, drying them before you could ruin your makeup.

"Who does he think he is?" You exclaimed, your voice quivering. "That was so embarrassing, Austin. How could he do that?"

Austin wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "I’m sorry, Y/N. He’s an idiot. I promise he’s embarrassing himself more than you."

You buried your face in his chest, taking comfort in his steady heartbeat. "Do we go back in?" You asked, her voice muffled. "There were already so many cameras on us."

Austin kissed the top of your head, stroking your back gently. "We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, okay? We can leave if you want, or we can go back in there."

You took a deep breath. "I don’t want to let him ruin our night. Let’s go back in. But can we wait until he’s done?"

"Of course," Austin said, his voice soothing. "We’ll take our time."

You stayed in your secluded corner for a while longer, Austin holding you close, whispering reassurances and planting gentle kisses on your forehead. Eventually, the sound of applause signaled the end of his performance, and the energy shifted back to excitement for the next performer.

Austin looked into your eyes, his expression filled with love. "Ready?" he asked, brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

"Ready," you replied.

Hand in hand, you made your way back into the hall, your heads held high. The moment you re-entered, the atmosphere shifted again. As you took your seats, Austin leaned in close and whispered, "I’m so proud of you."

You smiled. "Thank you, Aus."

You grabbed his face, planting a deep kiss on his lips, just to really drive your point home. The rest of the evening passed without incident. You enjoyed watching other actors and directors win their awards and mingled with friends.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 5 – The One About the Distorted Phone Screen that Sent Half the Fandom into the Ocean

I had no intention of writing about last week’s phone screen debacle, mainly because I found it obnoxious and a smidge infuriating. Not because I believed Jake to be on the phone screen but because people were SO QUICK TO BELIEVE it was Jake on the phone screen.

Honestly, I didn’t even need to see the “cleaned up” version of the picture because I would have sworn then – and would still swear now – it was Luke on the screen. White guy, dark hair, left hand touching his face (or, as it’s been suggested, removing sunglasses), signaling to me that the person in the photograph was left hand dominant. Add that in with all the information Luke and Nicola have laid out before us over the past three months (and, honestly, probably even before that) and there is no other answer: it’s Luke. The end, right? Nope, not even close. Like I mentioned in yesterday’s blog, we’re not allowed to have nice things.

The image comes from a video of Golda giving Nicola her WOTY award. People started taking screen grabs and dropping it into apps that claimed to clean up blurry images.

*Fun fact – I did this once to the picture of Nicola on the boat in Malta. I used three separate apps, in fact, and each time I got this frightening image of Nicola back. Do you remember the scene in Shrek where he picked up a frog and blew it into a balloon for Fiona? The frog’s eyes protruded out and his face was all puckered. That’s what I got back from these apps – a bulging-eyed monstrosity that looked nothing like Nicola. It was froggin’ weird (my Colin-Dad joke of the day), especially since, in the original image, you couldn’t even see her eyes as she appeared to be looking down at her phone.

Okay, back to what I was blabbing about…

People started adjusting the lighting on the screen grab of Nicola’s phone to extreme levels. And, there were even rumors flying around that people had superimposed Jake’s face on to the image and sent it out into the black abyss that is social media. I think I saw six different versions of the image within the first four hours of it dropping on X.

But, guess what, each time, I still saw Luke. Well, I take that back. One time, I swear I saw Johnny Bailey, which, if that had been true, I would have given Nicola a huge round of applause for being so hilariously catty about it all.

My advice, if you want to see the picture, pull it yourself. Go to YouTube, take a screen grab of it, and figure it out on your own. Do not put it through an app and don’t play with the lighting so much that it distorts the image. You may have noticed that I did not repost any of those images here. That was intentional. Form your own opinion about it.

Now that we have that out of the way – the part about me believing it was Luke on the phone screen and me suggesting you form your own opinion about it – I’ll move on to why I decided to write about this topic today.

It was because Luke did something yesterday that piqued my interest.

It wasn’t anything necessarily out of the ordinary. But, it also kind of was.

Simone Ashley posted to her grid yesterday a series of photographs. There’s nothing special here; she’s a beautiful woman putting her lovely image out into this world. It was the last picture in this slide deck that left me intrigued, though. It’s a picture of Simone – but, at the bottom left of the image, is a damn phone screen. Initially, I was a little confused by the image on the phone screen because it appeared to be Simone’s hands but also not Simone’s hands. What it was, is that the angle of the phone made the angle in which the image was depicted slightly different. Why not crop that phone out of it? Or, use a different image? Okay, whatever. I’m not sure I would have thought much of it – except Luke liked the post.

Why would this activate my little grey cells? Because it’s the first post of Simone’s in over a year that he has liked without Nicola also liking it. All throughout 2024, Luke has only liked the posts also liked by Nicola. Now, Nicola could very easily come back and like this post today or tomorrow or a week from now. She does like Simone’s posts frequently and, by Simone’s own words, Nicola and Simone are close. But, remember what I mentioned the other day. It’s the little changes that make people start giving the side eye. When taken collectively, Simone’s post, Luke’s like on the post, and the recent phone screen debacle seem, well, fucking connected in a damn funny way.

Kinda? Maybe?

I swear, I’m becoming one of those people who now plays Six Degrees to Lukola. What have I become?!

But, hey, let’s keep playing this game because, you have to admit, it IS kind of fun to speculate.

On November 10, Netflix UK dropped a post to its grid captioned “ME AND WHO???? [red heart]” The first slide in the deck is of Colin and Penelope’s wedding kiss – the one where Luke had his eyes open – and there is a red heart drawn between their chests (awe, their hearts). The remaining seven slides also include kissing couples but the red heart is drawn around their heads. The Luke and Nicola (like how I used Luke and Nicola, not Colin and Penelope this time?) picture stands out in this deck. It’s the first slide and the red heart is different than the others. And, what about that caption: “ME AND WHO????” Well, it's definitely NOT Nicola and Jake.

Is it a bit too far down the Delulu Rabbit Hole to believe Netflix would be in on a dig about “Who’s on Nicola’s phone screen?”

Perhaps.

But, remember this is also the same parent company that dropped “Nicola and Luke’s Cutest Moments” on August 28 (via Bridgerton Netflix IG), right smack dab in the middle of the Jake Festival Pap Disaster. Do you remember that? The fandom was bouncing all over the place. New festival pictures of Nicola and Jake had dropped the day before. Shondaland had also dropped a “Friends to Lovers” story that seemed oddly like Luke and Nicola. Melissa Dezarate dropped old Luke and Nicola pictures on her IG stories. Then, on August 28, Bridgerton Netflix dropped its “Cutest Moments,” and Melissa Dezarate shared more Luke and Nicola pictures on her IG stories. The “Cutest Moments,” pretty much entirely on its own (the rest was just extra frosting), turned our day right side up again. I salute you, Netflix.

Are we burrowing deeper into the Rabbit Hole? Meh. Let’s keep going.

Also on November 10, we had Dougie posting a mirror / elevator selfie to his grid with the caption, “I know it’s out of focus don’t tell me that.” Maybe he means something, maybe he doesn’t. Any ways, Jake liked this post. Now, I will admit, in the beginning of this Jake Side Story Extravaganza, I wasn’t keen on Dougie. He seemed aggressive on X – especially after those New York pap pictures dropped – but then I realized that his annoyance might be due to the narratives being spread about Jake, i.e., that he was being “hard launched” with Nicola. Recall that within a few hours of the Jake London Pap Disaster, Dougie posted to his stories an image of Jake looking at his phone with the “Mike/Sully Face Swap” meme superimposed over Jake’s face. If you research what this meme means, you’ll find that it is similar to a face-palm reaction or used for “overly ironic situations that leave you confused and perplexed.” Kind of funny, right? You’re welcome to take Dougie however you please, but over the past few weeks, I’ve become rather fond of him. He seems like a mischievous bloke, which is right up my alley.

I always have this feeling that the USS Lukola is surrounded by people who, after the ship hits a rogue wave, help to steer it back on course. The “people” come in the form of Nicola and Luke; cast, crew and friends; interviewers with their old edited-out snippets; and Netflix & Co. I’m sure I’m failing to name someone.

I shall wrap this post up with a quote from Jonathan Van Ness – who, by the way, is one of the most entertainingly funny and intelligent humans to watch. Earlier this week, JVN posted to his IG stories and Tiktok about “bobs.” With JVN, I never really know if he is being serious with what he puts out there or if we’re expected to read between the lines. Regardless, his comment was impactful to me:

“All this shit is just someone on Tiktok decided this was going to be the new name and tried to make that a trend. And that’s cool and that’s great and I love that. I just don’t want y’all getting confused. You know what I’m saying? This is just another variation of a bob.”

Take that as you please.

[ferrstappen]

Everybody wants a taste l LN4

a/n: i am in an urgent need of writing ideas I've had for MONTHS so brace yourselves I guess?? also the title ofc is from pop anthem jealous by nick Jonas.

i am also very very very stressed waiting for the standing start.

pairing: Lando Norris x actress!reader

this is angst. and some tom holland after this poll results <3

summary: Lando had never been the jealous kind, but after seeing you with many co-stars, he reaches his limit. and his girlfriend doesn't like it.

No one would ever know Lando Norris' was reaching his limit as he stood on the sidelines of another press junket for his girlfriend's new movie: a coming of age movie that already was creating awards season buzz, and God was he proud of her, having witnessed the ten minute standing ovation she received during Cannes.

But of course the limelight wasn't only on her. No, it was on him.

Lando remembers when he was asked who he'd want to portray him if they ever did a biopic and he didn't hesitate: Tom Holland. There could be some similarities between the two, both British, chestnut curls, but now Lando's skin crawled just from hearing the name.

He had dealt with different co-stars during the almost two years of relationship; he'd seen her kiss them, fight with them, fall in love with them, but this was different, he never had to witness her naked skin pressed against someone else, placing her body on top of his, pretended noises he knew weren't real and authentic, but still, they were supposed to be just for him. All for the sake of making a point of her character being an adult now, some shit about an epiphany of being able to take control of her own life, make decisions about her body, and whatever the screenwriters wanted to portray.

And of course Lando didn't help himself.

user1: God has favorites, just check y/n having fake sex w tom holland and real sex w lando norris

user2: no but y/n and tom??? such a hot couple I NEED it to happen

user3: and what are you gonna do with lando and zendaya? lol user2: idc I just want y/n and tom to be a thing

And that was just the beginning, before the movie had even dropped, because the day of the premiere? Everything went wrong.

Sunny Los Angeles had welcomed you and Lando after landing from London, paparazzi eagerly waiting for the arrival at LAX, catching the perfect pictures of Lando placing you in front of him, holding your hand tightly and doing his best to shield your body from prying eyes who just wanted a couple of dollars.

Despite being jet lagged after spending a couple of days in your home in Monaco, there wasn't much time to catch a break because the moment the two of you set foot on the Beverly Hills Hotel, they barely let you take a shower before giving some nice, fluffy robes. Lando was first, out of nowhere two people were working on his hair while the other was applying some kind of serums and creams on his face, but he didn't care when it was time for another team to start working on you; Lando was mesmerized by the way your hair perfectly framed your face, the natural glow of your skin, the deep red of your lips.

"I don't like being so separated," Lando pouted, walking towards your seat, earning a giggle from you because he looked so funny and cozy with the big robe.

"There's not much we can do, baby. I can barely move," You searched for his eyes and that was when Lando got the idea. The hair stylists gasped when the racer sat down on the floor, circling his arms around one of your legs and resting his cheek on your thigh. "Oh, you're willing to be told off by the make up artists as well?" You asked him but your insides were dancing all over the place, your fingers quickly finding their place on his curls.

Neither of you noticed a Vogue photographer capturing the scene, with Lando's eyes closed and cheek smushed, with his arms secured around your leg, but neither realized representatives for Armani had walked in carrying Lando's tux and your body-hugging black velvet gown.

So far so good. A picture perfect young couple who loved each other very much and had photographers swooning by the way Lando fixes your earring and checks for lipstick on your teeth, and how you make sure his bow tie is leveled.

But then, they get to the red carpet.

It was an elegant affair, but still full of people and before he realized, the red carpet manager was separating you from him for an alone photo call before the one and only Tom Holland got there, cheerfully greeting you in front of the cameras, throwing a couple of jokes to make you laugh as he placed his hand on your back.

This was a nightmare, having to listen to people say how cute the two of you looked, a perfect on and off screen pair, chemistry on and off the screen, both your names already on the shortlist for the Oscars.

Lando's skin was starting to crawl, and it didn't help that he had to re watch the scenes haunting his mind, but this time it was out for the entire world to see, and it didn't take long for his latest instagram post to be flooded of vile comments.

when are you getting replaced by tom holland??

now tom holland can play you in movie and y/n plays herself, nothing changes lmao

lando control ur woman!!!

lucky man, she sounds so pretty I almost had to leave the theatre

lando honey you can leave her I'd never do that to you

And Lando knows he shouldn't, but when your hand reaches for his when the night ends, he pretends to look for his phone; when you try to fix a messy curl, he moves his head out of your reach.

and you know your boyfriend too well.

"Baby, are you okay?" You ask him once you reach the shared hotel room.

Lando lets out a dry chuckle, but too aware of his throat closing. "Why wouldn't I be?"

But you weren't having it, not today, not on your big day, not when you just wanted rest your head on his chest and fall asleep with his arms wrapped around your frame.

"I don't know, you tell me, you're the one acting weird,"

"I am not," Lando argued, trying to take deeper breath, but failing miserably.

"Okay Lando, whatever, I don't care. You can be selfish during a very important day for me for all I care,"

Those words struck a nerve: "Me? Selfish? Are you fucking kidding me?" Now you could see his cheeks flushing, maybe even his neck gaining some red color.

You wanted to be scared, to walk away and let him cool off any unwanted feeling or thought on his head, but you couldn't.

"No, I'm not. Please illustrate me as to what happened to put you in this insufferable mood," You argued back and watched as Lando's mouth opened and closed as he undid the cuffs from his shirt, threw the suit jacket on the leather sofa and threw away the bow tie, all in just a couple of seconds.

"Am I not allowed to be upset to watch him all over you, having to look at the both of you acting like the best of friends or lovers for all I care, and then have to watch on this fucking enormous screen how you kiss him and touch him," Lando spat the words as if they were venom; he could feel his throat closing

Your eyes widened in disbelief, your brain not processing Lando's words. "Lando, you are not making any sense. Are you listening to yourself?" You were careful not to raise your voice, knowing he wasn't in a clear space of mind, but you blood was running hot too after processing what he was implying.

"Yes, I am. (Y/N), baby, I'm tired of having to watch you making out with a different guy every a couple of months, it is so tiring, and I understand that this is your job, but..." Lando was about to continue but was stopped by you, messily taking off the heavy velvet dress and heels, putting on the first pair of jeans and oversized sweater you found. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to listen to you anymore. You are ridiculous, Lando. You're talking about my job, my career, that I've worked my ass off, and never in a million years I thought you'd be telling me this bullshit! I'm not going to entertain this, so if you can't deal with this anymore, please let me know so that I can move on," this time your throat tightened, the last words coming out broken and choked, emotions fighting to make their way; from anger to utter sadness.

"Where are you going?" Lando didn't know if he was angry with you, disappointed in himself, maybe a mix of both as he watched you grab the Chanel black backpack.

"I don't know, but let me know if you can do this or what,"

You were sure those were the last words of the unforeseen argument, but as you were grabbing the card key of the room, Lando opened his mouth.

"Maybe you can go with Tom, everyone wants you two together anyway."

Of course he needed to get the last words.

[siythn]

Worth The Wait

LEVIXREADER! Working for the hit T.V show, Attack on Titan has truly given you many memories and opportunities. You knew you got along with your Co-Star, Levi Ackerman, a bit different than everybody else. The question was, did he notice it too? _______ ♫ LOVER - taylor swift ❝ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅɪʀᴛɪᴇꜱᴛ ᴊᴏᴋᴇꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ, ɪ'ʟʟ ꜱᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ꜱᴇᴀᴛ❞

You were four years old when you got your first acting gig. It was a commercial for a clothing brand that you've long forgotten; to say you'll never forget what it soon brought you later on is an understatement.

The grandeur of Oscar night welcomes you the moment you step onto the red carpet, the flashes of cameras and people calling out your name create a symphony of blinding lights, and clicks, with overbearing noise you can't quite make out.

Your assistant guides you and your "plus one" (a teasing nickname that arose when someone recognized you and not Levi when grabbing lunch), who just is your co-star and closest friend; Levi Ackerman, past the shouts of photographers trying to capture a moment of two well-known actors for Attack on Titan's critical acclaim.

To say Attack On Titan wasn't a huge hit was an insulting statement. It's proved itself by its many awards won over the years. It's bringing home one or more Oscars tonight to sit pretty for the rest to celebrate.

But for you, the real turmoil churns inside your stomach and into your already existing nerves as you await the category of Best Supporting Actress—your category. 

Working with the cast who's seen you grow as an actor, most importantly; a person from the start is enough fulfillment for you. To share experiences that are one of a household is short of a blessing.

But when you heard the news you were nominated for an Oscar, nothing could've prepared you for the rush of emotions that was to come. With the satisfaction you already gained with Attack On Titan; being considered to be a real winner was the cherry on top.

The famous show has been your haven for years now. It's where your career took one for the books; where your name became one familiar. You remember your first day on set, the bundle of anxiety that sat in your stomach and never quite left until you got to understand the people you would be calling your family in interviews.

One person clicked differently from the rest. Levi Ackerman is someone you'd consider a best friend or even more. To be real, you couldn't even figure out your feelings for yourself, which led you to swear you'd never admit it due to sheer embarrassment. Plus, it seems quite scandalous to have a "crush" on a co-star you've been so dear with.

It never stopped the fans though.

They have long picked up on the chemistry between you two, both on-screen and off. Your characters, connect in ways of war, along with the unspoken tension that fans adore. You weren't complaining since it brought more media attention, but the cast always had a field day when an interviewer brought it up. 

Long over the years of working together, your bond became inseparable. Close moments in the set transcribed to real life with the both of you.

Meeting him for the first time is always a funny story since both of you seemed to hold distaste for the other. When you sucked up the courage to confront him at his trailer as to why he hated you so much, you received a dumbfounded look. With crossed arms, he claimed, "I thought you hated me, so I just assumed you wanted space."

You two become closer and closer from that day on. Not to boost his ego—but his presence alone is a force in itself. The familiarity of his nearness is a comfort you've latched onto.

And, with the way you're latched onto his arm, grip tightening as the minutes fly by, anyone could pick up a clue.

You've been grasping his arm for who knows how long, but not a word of complaint has come from Levi yet. You feel bad, but your nerves are a title wave compared to the guilt.

Levi, ever the calm, senses how tense you are as he stares. "Just breathe," he whispers, leaning close enough that his words only reach your ear in the chaos.

You feel his breath grazing your neck, before pulling away with a soft nod; making sure his comforting words reach you. With a brief nod, you continue being directed to your seats.

As you and the cast find your seats, located in the middle with fancy chairs and decorum; you thank every high being you can think of when you see your name tag, then Levi's name, sitting right next to you.

"Oh no, look who's sitting next to me," Confused, you look to see Hange pulling in her chair as she sits. Levi, noticing your gaze, nudges your shoulder to redirect your stare. Following it, you find yourself looking back at your name.

"Shut up," You mumble, releasing the hold you have on his arm to smack him slightly, in return he gives you a grin. 

Being sat at one of the tables, in the Dolby Theatre, is as surreal as it might sound. You can't take your eyes off the gravitating stage. You wonder if you'll be standing up there in a bit.

As the night progresses, the time for Best Supporting Actress draws near. You haven't moved from your seat in the dim glow of the theater, too hot and overwhelmed. Levi's hand finds yours again under the table, his grip firm. It feels different this time, probably considering how you're holding his hand rather than grasping onto his forearm.

From the corner of your eye, you can see him watching you, not bothering to watch what's happening on the big stage. "No matter what happens, we celebrate tonight," he assures you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I think that's just an excuse for drinking." With a suppressed laugh and a smile matching Levi's, he gives you a snarky glare, he responds with a "watch out" kind of look, and a squeeze of his hand.

The lights dim and brighten, continuing the show even though you feel stuck in one. In this grand theatre, spotlighting the famous and the influential, there you are, seated next to Levi, your hand clasped tightly in his.

It's comical to think about.

As the category for Best Supporting Actress shows up in big bold letters, your heart pounds like it's trying to beat right out of your chest. You can practically hear your blood pumping.

You're nominated this is it; is what goes through your mind over and over, and the reality is as daunting as it is thrilling.

Your palm sweats against Levi's, but he gives your hand another reassuring squeeze. When you glance at him, he offers you a small, confident nod, as if he knows a secret you don't.

The presenter takes the stage, envelope in hand, and the murmur of the room hushes. "And now," the presenter begins, her voice echoing throughout the grand auditorium, "the nominees for Best Supporting Actress."

Your heart skips a beat as your face appears on the screen, a well-known clip from Attack on Titan, Season Four. It shows an emotional moment, a scene that took you weeks to prepare for; and fuck did you do it well, the tears pouring down your face add to the dramatics.

You can hear your cast and others cheer and clap, long before it's interrupted by another face, one of your competitors.

In your peripheral vision, you can see a cameraman waltz towards you, ready to get your reaction to who wins the Oscar. Hopefully, the tablecloths are long.

Your heart pounds in your ears, drowning out the next few moments until the sharp sound of your name cuts through, clear and irrevocable. "And the Oscar goes to. . .,"

The presenter takes so long to open the envelope, to the point where you don't care who wins or loses. You want the anticipation to be over with.

With a tiny cough to clear up her voice, the presenter's voice is loud and clear and she presses her lips close to the mic. ". . . with Attack on Titan!"

At first, you don't even hear your name. Not even realizing you won, you open your closed eyes; that you didn't know were shut, to see multiple eyes staring right at you, the camera now shoved into your face.

A surge of disbelief washes over you, followed swiftly by adrenaline that rockets through your veins. As reality sets in, tears well up in your waterline, a few escape, running down to meet makeup that took your stylist a good hour.

You can't care though, it's a testament to the journey and the struggles that brought you here.

You can't even get up from your seat at first, you just sit trying to process this tremendous wave of emotions. You look to the left of you to see that Levi is already feet before you, his applause thunderous, joined by the cheers of your peers.

As you stand, overwhelmed, he reaches out, cupping your checks gently wiping away your tears with a laugh. "Hey, no tears now, get up there," he teases gently, pulling you into a hug, as you choke up a laugh and hold him right, slightly rocking the both of you right to left.

Letting go of the warmth of his embrace, you give him a smile, ear to ear; hoping it can express the amount of gratitude you hold for him in this moment.

Moving from your seat to approach other members of the cast you love, you hug and thank each one of them that's near as they shout congratulations at you. You know your time is limited; you give one final hug to Armin who's in your reach before speed walking towards the stage.

Making your way up where your face is plastered and a few new clips play, your dress falls long behind you as you rush up the steps, making quick work but not enough to trip and fall over your heels. Walking up to the presenter, you first greet her with a hug and kiss on the cheek. With a few words of congrats, she hands you the award.

Its solid weight feels real in your hands, it's something you'd never imagine having the privilege to hold let alone have. It'll forever be a tangible reminder of the years of hard work and passion you've poured into your career.

Approaching the microphone, you look out at the sea of faces—some familiar, some not—all smiling at you. There's so so so many people, is all you can think of as you release a sigh.

"Wow, um," you let out a laugh, wiping down the tears that continue to flow down. You pause, taking in the light that beams down before you start your speech.

"I honestly don't even know where to start. Thank you so much to the Academy for this incredible honor, to our director, and the amazing cast and crew of Attack on Titan. This is a dream I've never dared to dream."

You pause, collecting your thoughts and the courage to articulate the depth of your gratitude. That's when it hits you.

Your eyes scan the crowd until they rest on Levi. "And I need to say a special thank you to my co-star, Levi Ackerman," you continue, your voice already starting to crack. "Levi, you have been my rock through this entire journey. On-screen, you challenge me to push harder, and off-screen, you keep me sane. I can honestly say I wouldn't be standing here without your friendship and support. Thank you for being so, so amazing."

With a side glance, you see the camera cut from you to Levi, capturing his slight blush and proud smile, expressions that send another wave of cheers through the audience.

"Most importantly, my family and friends. I can't make up the words to describe all my love for you. My parents, who supported me always, and my siblings who even though always tense me," you smile at the memories, "were the ones always there. And as always, the fans. I would never be here without all of you, I love each and every one of you from the bottom of my heart!"

As you finish your speech, the crowd erupts into applause. The noise is so loud, and with the few people yelling their hearts out, it's a moment of realization that this is real. You feel a hot blush rising your neck as you take a few bows, before hushing off backstage.

You are greeted with a glass of champagne, as camera crews gather around, calling your name in all different directions to try and snap a photo of you still holding the Oscar before you take off for interviews.

There, it seems like a press conference. More people are there than before, and many of them are out with microphones and notepads already prepared. You hear a few clicks of photos being taken as you answer questions, but you can't help but laugh when they ask about Levi and the special shoutout you gave him. "I had to give what was due," was your answer.

Finally being released, you're escorted backstage to your seat, in doing so, a few give you bright smiles and nods of compliments for your win. You return them all with smiley whites.

As you arrive back at your table, some of the members of your cast excitingly greet you, reaching out their hands with yours to give praise.

When the previous moments seem to have died down, you can focus on Levi. Who's been patiently waiting for his turn. When your eyes fall on him, you know the words before it comes out of his mouth.

"Told you," he murmurs, as he takes your free hand in his, his pride in you shining brightly. "I still can't believe it," as he places both of your hands onto his lap, you take the next step to intertwine them.

You don't know what his reaction was to it, since you looked away as soon as you made the move, embarrassment written across your features. You feel accomplished when he doesn't show any sign of breaking it.

Levi leans over, whispering, "How does it feel, Oscar-winning actress?"

You chuckle, a light, bubbly sound that matches the champagne bubbles you'd enjoyed earlier. "It feels like I'm dreaming. Don't let me wake up, okay?"

Levi's response is a soft, genuine laugh. "I won't. We're just getting started, you know."

- ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘ -

The shots you took with Connie, Sasha, and Jean are taking a toll on your body now. You feel tipsy, well that's what you're hoping. It's not that dizzy, but the occasional bumping into people/things and apologizing with slurred words shows you're not sober.

As the glittering after-party unfolds around you, the music thrumming and laughter echoing under the luxurious chandeliers,

You can feel someone's intense gaze fixated on you. When you move your eyes to search for the culprit, you find Levi's eyes rock hard on you.

Realizing you're now straight directly at him, he excuses himself from a group of producers and makes his way to you. Your heart races a bit, a reaction you're still getting used to despite the months of filming together.

"Need some air?" he asks, a knowing smile tugging at his lips as if he can read your mind. Without waiting for your reply, he nods toward a quieter balcony area. You follow, grateful for a break from the overwhelming crowd.

The cool night air is a welcoming relief, the city lights below providing a soft, romantic backdrop that you try not to read too much into.

The cold air feels blissful as it hits your skin, you know you should have something to cover yourself, but the feelings to nice to let go. Plus, the way Levi's aligned shoulder to shoulder with you making his body height seep onto yours, you know you can last a few more moments here.

Yet, there's an undeniable tension at the moment, made clearer when Levi turns to you with a look of admiration. "You did amazing tonight, by the way. That speech was something else."

You smile, touched by his words. Trying to hide the obvious attempt of panic, you knew he was going to bring up the shoutout you gave him. You just didn't know if you were ready to face it. "I was just speaking from the heart. But thank you, Levi. I couldn't have gotten through tonight without you."

He nods, his gaze lingering on yours. "It's not just tonight. You know that, right? You've got this energy about you. It's like—infectious, and makes everyone around better. Made me better."

His words seem to send a shock through your body as you slowly digest his words. As silence warps around the two of you, you quickly change the subject in hopes he won't can't a glimpse of your body becoming suspiciously flush.

"Remember that time during filming when Sasha accidentally set fire to the catering tent?" you ask, a fond smile playing on your lips.

You turn your head from the view to look at Levi. Who has yet to say a word in the comfortable silence, keeping his eyes fixed on you? He snaps out of it quickly, seeming startled by your words before making his face fall back into one normal.

His lips quirk into a grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "How could I forget?" he replies, a hint of laughter in his voice. "It took hours to put out the flames, and poor Hange nearly lost their eyebrows in the process."

As your laughter begins to subside, Levi's expression turns thoughtful, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Remember that time during the blooper reel when Marco accidentally tripped over his own feet and knocked over the entire set?"

The memory hits you like a wave, and you can't help but burst into laughter, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Oh my gosh, yes!" you gasp between fits of laughter. "And then Petra tried to save him, but ended up falling on top of him instead!"

Levi joins in your laughter, the sound filling the air with a warmth that seems to wrap around you like a comforting embrace. And as you both stare at each other, a few tears of laughter streaming down your faces, you realize just how lucky you are to have someone like Levi by your side—someone who knows you inside and out, who can make you laugh even in the darkest of times, and who is always there to wipe away your tears, whether they're from laughter or something else entirely.

The moment stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and hints of tension that seem to hang in the air like a delicate tapestry, woven from the threads of friendship and maybe something underlying more. As Levi's hand brushes away the tear from your cheek, you reminisce from when he cupped your cheek when facing the shock of winning.

You feel a fluttering in your chest, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the cool night air as you feel your eyelids become jaded.

His touch lingers, the pad of his thumb tracing a gentle path along your cheekbone, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, your eyes now fluttering closed at the sensation.

His other hand finds its way sneaking to your waist, pulling you softly a fraction closer, and you feel the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your dress.

With a shy, tentative smile, you reach up as your hazy eyes open to meet his. Your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his jet-black hair. The gesture is instinctual, a silent invitation that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

Yeah, you'd had your hands in his hair for multiple shots in Attack on Titan, and as much as it was a familiar feeling, it was one way more intimate.

Levi's eyes darken slightly at the touch, his gaze dropping to your lips before flickering back up to meet yours, seeking permission with his eyes.

You can feel your heart pound in your chest as you nod, the movement barely exaggerated but enough to convey your consent. And then, finally, he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that feels warm; it was worth the wait.

It starts slow, a gentle exploration of lips and breath, each touch sending sparks flying through you like fireworks. You can't think of anything but him, Levi, and how his lips touch yours.

His hand cups your cheek, his touch warm and reassuring, while the other settles at the small of your back, drawing you closer until there's barely an inch of space between you.

The kiss deepens, fueled by a growing hunger that seems to consume you both, a fire that burns brighter with each passing moment. Your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, while his grip on your waist tightens, anchoring you to him as if afraid to let go.

The both of you pause for a moment, catching your breath but not making any move to interrupt the position you're in. As Levi grips your waist tightly, he pulls you in for a kiss.

For a moment, the world falls away, leaving just the two of you suspended in a bubble of time and space, a universe unto yourselves where nothing else matters except the warmth of each other's touch and the softness of each other's lips.

You slightly move your head to the right, permitting him to go deeper than it already is. He gets the message, lips moving together, faster, as if they were made to be locked on one another.

And oh, do you wish you could last here in this moment forever.

Just as suddenly as it began, the "spell" is broken by the discreet click of a camera shutter from somewhere inside. You pull away, breathless and flushed, your eyes meeting Levi's in a silent exchange that speaks volumes more than words ever could.

Silence greets you both, as you both catch your breath for the second time. You ignore the camera, only focusing on what's more important. Levi breaks first, grinning as he stares at you up and down, then moves his eyes to peer up.

"Guess we should have checked for paparazzi," Levi murmurs, a playful glint in his eyes as he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face that fell.

You laugh softly, the sound a mix of nerves and excitement as you lean against him, arms wrapping around his neck. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around your waist tightly. In the stillness of it all, you can feel the steady beat of his heart. "Yeah," you agree, your voice barely above a whisper. "But no regrets."

"None at all," he confirms, his arms giving you one more reassuring squeeze.

- ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱᴋɪᴘ -

The next morning when you wake up, you feel as if your head is about to pound out of your head. It's like you can still hear the remnants of champagne and laughter (and multiple shots sitting in the back of your throat that you drank down) You turn annoyed to find your phone buzzing relentlessly on the nightstand.

Squinting, you pick it up to find a barrage of messages and missed calls. The top one from Hange captures your attention with its flurry of emojis and exclamation points.

[glasses]: "YOU TWO ARE TRENDING!!! BTW, when TFFF did this happen OMG!!!!

Attached is a link to a gossip site, the headline screaming about the 'intimate moment caught between AOT stars at the Oscars after-party.' The photo shows you and Levi on the balcony, mid-kiss, a moment that felt intensely private now splashed across the internet.

Your heart sinks a bit at the intrusion but warms at the memory. You knew this was bound to happen, but couldn't it have waited a day or two? You're about to type a response when another message from Hange pops up.

[glasses]: "Prepare for paparazzi madness today! 😂 And call me! Need ALLLL the deets!!!!!!!"

You toss the phone aside, landing on your bed as you groan into your pillow. The weight of the newfound public scrutiny settling in. But then you remember Levi's lips on yours, the genuine connection in his eyes, and you can't help but slightly smile.

No matter what the public says or thinks, last night you found a new depth to your relationship with Levi, one that went beyond cameras and scripts. And for now, that was enough to face whatever the day would bring.

@siythn all rights reserved!

[willowsnook]

hello! scotch with a sprite in the short, please)

josh allen x publicist!reader

just shut up and come here

-----------------------------------------------

Being the publicist for an NFL quarterback should be difficult, but Josh made your life surprisingly easy. No scandals, no reckless press conferences, no secret children. He was exactly like the media portrayed him: kind, funny, and overflowing with golden retriever energy.

After working together for seven years, you were close—really close. You saw each other almost daily and texted even more often, with conversations that went beyond work. He’d send you ridiculous memes, and you’d keep him updated on F1 drama, especially when it involved Daniel Ricciardo, your favorite driver. You jokingly said you only stuck around because Josh had befriended him.

It didn’t help the rumors. People often assumed there was more to your relationship than just publicist and client, and honestly, you couldn’t blame them. Josh insisted you join him on every vacation, “just in case something happens.” His Instagram was filled with pictures of you, and his parents regularly invited you to family gatherings.

But the truth was, you were just friends—best friends. At this point, you even joked about having to get married platonically, given your mutual bad luck with dating. You’d gone out with great guys, but something always felt missing. As much as you tried, you often found yourself wishing you were hanging out with Josh instead.

You didn’t know exactly when the crush started, but you buried it deep. He was your client, after all, and your job came first.

Tonight, you were dressed to the nines for the ESPYs, meeting Josh in the hotel lobby. His eyes lingered on you, and you couldn’t help but blush under his gaze.

“You look incredible,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off you.

You smirked, smoothing your dress. “Well, Mr. Quarterback has to have some arm candy.”

He laughed, taking your hand as he led you outside to the waiting SUV. The ride was quiet, your hand squeezing his, knowing he was nervous. Despite being one of the biggest names in New York, he was still shy at heart.

Stepping out of the car, the blinding flash of cameras greeted you both. As you tried to slip away from the photographers, Josh tightened his grip on your hand.

“Oh no,” he said with a grin, “if I have to do this, so do you.”

“Josh, people are going to think we’re dating,” you complained.

He flashed you a boyish smile. “They already do.”

His hand settled on your waist as you posed together for the cameras. By the time you made it inside, it felt like hours had passed.

“I’m getting a drink,” you told him. “You want anything?”

“Whatever you’re getting is fine,” he said, turning to chat with a teammate.

At the bar, you ordered two glasses of wine when a familiar voice called your name.

“Stefon!” you squealed, throwing your arms around him. “I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, grinning. “Where’s your other half?”

“Mingling somewhere,” you replied, brushing off his comment. “How’s Houston?”

“Hot as hell,” he joked, making you laugh. “Josh misses me, huh?”

“He does,” you assured him.

“Could’ve fooled me. But then again, he’s never been good at saying how he feels.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

He gave you a knowing look. “One of these days, you’ll figure it out.”

Before you could respond, he was pulled into another conversation. You grabbed the drinks and made your way back to Josh, who waved you over to the table.

As the awards started, you clapped along with the crowd. Josh had been nominated a few times but hadn't won yet.

“And the ESPY for Best Male Athlete goes to… Josh Allen!”

The crowd erupted in cheers as you gave him a tight squeeze. He smiled nervously before heading on stage.

“Wow,” he began, “just being nominated alongside such incredible athletes is an honor. I want to thank my teammates, my coaches, and my family for always supporting me.”

You smiled, knowing his speech by heart since he’d run it by you earlier. But then he looked straight at you, taking a deep breath.

“Lastly, I want to thank someone very special,” he said. “She’s been with me since the start of my NFL career as my publicist, my right hand, and more importantly, my friend. Y/N, you are the love of my life. I couldn’t find another woman I’d want to spend every day with, even if I tried. I fall in love with you more every single day.”

The audience erupted in ‘aww’s, but you were frozen in your seat.

Josh grinned. “That’s the first time I’ve ever told her that, so I should probably wrap this up before she kills me. Thank you, everyone.”

As he walked off stage, your phone buzzed non-stop in your purse. You caught Stefon laughing and filming your reaction from a few tables away. You flipped him off playfully and chugged your drink.

This would definitely give you weeks of PR work, but you couldn’t help the giddy feeling spreading through your chest. This moment wasn’t exactly how you imagined it—but it was still perfect.

When the show ended, you made your way to the lobby. Josh was leaning against a wall, watching you.

“You know you just gave me so much work right before my vacation,” you teased.

He grinned. “Just shut up and come here.”

He opened his arms, and you stepped into his embrace. As his lips met yours, everything else faded away. You sighed into the kiss, wishing this moment could last forever.

[helloalycia]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐓𝐖𝐎] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

one / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: as you and Skye try to relearn how to be friends again, you realise it’s harder than you thought.

warning/s: mentions of injury, substance abuse, poor mental health and basically everything Skye goes through oof.

author's note: here’s part 2! so sorry it was delayed, i’ve been stuffed with cold for the past few days so didn’t have chance to share it. Hope this makes up for it anyway :)

"...and I'm just outside your building now," I said to Skye over the phone, lingering outside.

"I was just about to call," she said in a rushed voice, sounding apologetic. "I'm running late, but I'm almost there. Give or take ten minutes. You can head straight up. The doorman knows to let you in and the spare key is in the same place as always."

I hesitated at her response.

It wasn't a big deal, I'd been to her apartment many times, but it had also been a year since I'd last been and it felt strange to go up alone. Especially because I was just supposed to be meeting her to go out, not actually going inside.

"Oh, I can just wait outside, it's okay," I said, maybe a little too quickly, but she didn't seem to notice.

"No, it's fine, you head up, I'll be with you soon," she assured me, before I heard a sound in the background. "I gotta go. See you in ten!"

I chewed my lip before putting my phone away and heading straight inside. As Skye said, the doorman recognised me and let me straight up, and it felt odd. The last time I'd been in the lift, I was crying on the way down from that awful argument between Skye and I. I hadn't been back since – I'd had no need to. But now...

It wasn't the same, I had to remind myself of that. She wasn't the same. None of this was.

Over the past few weeks, we'd somewhat returned to how things used to be, but it was all baby steps. Being each other's friend was second nature, and yet moments like this sometimes had me stumbling in the dark.

I found her door at the end of the hall, digging out the spare key from behind the framed painting next to it. A stupid place to keep it I'd always thought, but the whole place was guarded anyway so it didn't matter.

After opening the door, I returned the key to its spot before letting myself in. Everything looked the same as I last remembered it, and I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I'd missed it. I still remembered when she bought it and moved in, after her career picked up overnight. We'd had countless movie nights here, sleepovers that lasted days sometimes, and it just brought back so many memories. Good, as well as bad, but I tried not to focus on the latter.

I began to walk around aimlessly, waiting for her to return, eyeing the cabinet full of awards, the framed albums, admiring the penthouse view from her living room, and then I came across some framed photos hung on the wall. Some were of her and her mum when she was a kid, others were as she grew up, and then I spotted a familiar one.

It was a photo of Skye performing her first ever single on her first ever TV appearance years ago, and it was a photo taken by me, one of my first professional gigs as a photographer. A small smile tugged at my lips, realising she hadn't taken it down. I was touched that she kept it.

The door opening made me glance away and see Skye rushing in, looking a bit dishevelled. When she spotted me, she smiled with relief.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to run late," she said as she closed the door behind her.

"It's fine," I said dismissively, before joking, "You know, you're a little too trustworthy. It's been a year. I totally could have come up here and, like, I don't know, robbed you or something. Sold your shit on eBay."

She tossed her bag to the couch as she laughed quietly, quirking a brow. "Oh, really? A year and you've suddenly turned into a criminal?"

"I could've."

"What a personality change."

I laughed as she stopped by my side, nudging me in the arm slightly, before her gaze fell to the photos hung on the wall.

"Ah, going through memory lane, I see," she teased lightheartedly.

I glanced at her with a slight smile. "It's cute that you've still got it. Even if it is a terrible photo."

"It's not," she said with a chuckle, looking at it with pride. "It's a two in one, I had to keep it. My first TV appearance and the day I met you. It just makes it extra special that you took the photo."  

My cheeks grew warm at her words, and I found myself staring at her profile as she smiled reminiscently at the photo. We'd come so far since then and yet I still did a double take whenever I looked to her. Maybe some things hadn't changed...

"I'm just gonna change my clothes and then we can head out," she said after a moment. "Won't be long."

"It's cool, take your time," I said with a nod, watching as she went to her room, before looking back to the photo and finding myself smiling all over again.

—

Becoming friends with Skye again made it easy to remember all the best parts of having a friendship with her, so much that I almost forgot what led to everything being ruined in the first place.

Of course there was the substance abuse, but the reason for that was the anxieties and stresses that came with being one of the most popular celebrities in the world. And it definitely didn't help that Skye never had a lot of support from her team, who only ever saw her as a commodity. Clearly that hadn't changed.

I'd just finished some work one morning and had plans to hang out with Skye after, maybe catch a movie or something as she had the day off, we hadn't really decided. But when I called her, she answered groggily.

"Hey, Skye, you good?" I asked jokingly.

She made a sound like a yawn before humming. "Yes, sorry, I was just napping. Just been tired."

"Oh, I was calling to say I'm free now, but we can rearrange if–"

"No, no, I want to see you," she cut me off with assurance, forcing herself to sound more lively. "A movie, right? Or lunch?"

I tried not to snicker. "Skye, it's your day off and you sound exhausted. It's alright."

"I'm fine, honest," she said confidently, or an attempt at it. "Please, I was looking forward to seeing you."

I sighed, debating whether or not to listen to her. Then, I thought of a solution. "How about we stay in? I can come to yours and we can watch a movie there?"

"Yes, I'd love that," she said with a hint of relief. "Thank you. I'll get the blankets warmed up in the dryer, ready for your arrival."

I laughed quietly. "Sounds good. I'll bring some snacks and be over soon."

And just like that, we both kept to our word and got comfortable on her couch barely half an hour later. Snacks were laid out on the coffee table whilst two fluffy blankets covered us completely. Still, we leaned against each other for warmth.

Skye was definitely burnt out, her general enthusiasm diminished temporarily and her movements sluggish, but she was smiling all the same as she spent time with me. I knew she meant it, but it still worried me that she wasn't getting enough time to simply rest.

"How's tour stuff going?" I asked as she loaded up a film on Netflix.

She shrugged as she focused on the task at hand. "Alright. Been busy. You know how it can get."

I glanced at her. "I do."

She must have noticed my staring as she stopped what she was doing and looked over at me with an amused smile. "What?"

"Nothing," I said nonchalantly, looking to the TV. "Just remember that you can take a break if you need to. It's important or you'll risk burning out."

She sighed, leaning her head on my shoulder and playing with the blanket mindlessly. "I know. I am."

"Enough breaks," I clarified, watching her hands play with it. "I mean, your team are supportive, I'm sure, but they don't always know what's best for you."

She snorted with amusement, glancing up at me. "And you do?"

I met her gaze, half playful and half serious. "Maybe. Maybe not. But I'll always be an advocate of you taking a freakin' break."

She suppressed a smile as she nudged me appreciatively. "You're right. I will. I guess I've just been busy making sure everything is perfect. It has to be, you know? Especially after everything."

"I know," I said sympathetically. "I get it. Just... take care of yourself. Please."

She nodded, though sunk further into the couch as she laced her hands around my arm to get comfortable, almost like she was ending the conversation without saying so. I took the hint and looked back to the screen.

"Picked a film yet?" I asked.

"Almost."

—

Despite how easy it was to fall back into everything with Skye, there were still topics we didn't discuss. Like we never brought up our friendship-ending argument again, or her time in rehab, and she never talked about the accident. It wasn't that I didn't leave that space open for her to discuss, but it was definitely her way of keeping that separate by not bringing it up. And naturally, I didn't want to force her to relive it by bringing it up either.

But not talking about it meant I didn't always know how to help her.

We were walking around a park near her apartment one evening, enjoying a stroll at first, but then we started to mess around on some of the playing equipment since the place was deserted.

"You really think you can clear it in ten seconds?" I asked her with a laugh as she looked up at the monkey bars.

"I do, yeah," she said, mirroring my laughter as she glanced at me. "You just watch. Go on. Grab your phone. Timer at the ready please."

Curious, I pulled out my phone and stepped back, finger hovering over the timer. "Ready when you are, idiot."

She grinned before standing beneath the monkey bars. Looking up at them, she took a deep breath, about to jump up, but I intentionally interrupted to throw her off.

"You sure you don't wanna stretch first?"

She jumped and glared at me playfully. "Shut up. Just get ready."

I laughed and waited patiently, watching as she readied herself once more. And then she jumped up to grab the bars and I started the timer.

She managed to move down three bars before faltering at the fourth one and then letting go all of a sudden. My eyes widened when she landed on the tarmac with a sharp gasp, and I forgot all about the stupid timer as I rushed to check on her.

"Shit, Skye, you okay?" I asked quickly, kneeling down beside her.

Her face contorted in pain as her hand clutched her back. She was leaning on her elbow, clearly hurt.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she muttered quickly, though she winced and her eyes were squeezing shut to suppress the pain.

I noticed she was holding her back – not really putting together that it was from her existing back pain from the accident – and tried to help by reaching for her jacket to see if she'd hurt it from the fall.

"No!" she suddenly shouted when she saw me attempting to touch her, and I jumped.

"Okay, sorry, sorry," I apologised, not wanting to overwhelm or upset her anymore than she already was.

I moved my hand back, but she grabbed it and squeezed gently before I could, an attempt at an apology for her outburst. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she breathed out the pain, and I didn't say anything more as I held her hand, waiting patiently. Though my heart was clenching with concern the longer she took.

"It hurts sometimes," she finally spoke, avoiding my eyes, "from the accident. That's all."

When I realised it was much more than just falling from the monkey bars, I felt stupid and spoke without thinking. "Do you have medicine?"

She tensed her jaw as she glanced at me.

"Stupid question, sorry," I realised, grimacing.

She let go of my hand and shook her head, expression softening. "No, it wasn't."

Something was bothering her, more than the pain, but now wasn't the time to ask, so I settled on helping her stand up.

"Maybe we should call it a night," I said carefully. "It's getting late anyway."

She nodded, still avoiding my eyes, and we both walked back to her apartment in an awkward silence. A million things were running through my mind, mostly out of concern for Skye, and acknowledging my utter stupidity. For once, I couldn't read her.

When we reached the lobby inside, we paused by the lift.

"Are you okay?" I asked, trying to dial down my worry for her sake.

"Yes, sorry," she muttered.

"It's fine," I assured her, eyes scanning her expression as she purposely looked at my shirt and not me. "I didn't mean to overstep before. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

She shook her head, eyes flickering to mine briefly, sad, before looking down to her shoes. "You didn't. I just–"

She paused, a moment too long, enough to make me wonder what had her so uneasy.

"It's not pretty," she finally spoke, quieter than usual. "The... the scar. It's..."

"You don't need to explain," I said, when she didn't speak anymore, though my heart ached with concern, soon realising her uneasiness was embarrassment. An unnecessary embarrassment at that, as if I'd care about a scar when she was still here, alive.

I gave her a moment, hoping she'd say something more, but she didn't.

"Will you be okay?" I asked worriedly, not wanting to leave her tonight if her back was flaring up.

She nodded. "Yeah."

I nodded too, though was unsure how to say my goodbyes. Usually I'd go in for a hug, but she was already uncomfortable with me touching her before and the last thing I wanted was to do that again.

But then she finally looked up, eyes meeting mine gratefully, before she hugged me.

"Thanks for not thinking I'm weird," she mumbled into my shoulder, arms wrapped around them tightly.

I returned the hug gently. "I could never."

She didn't let go straight away and neither did I, not until she made the first move since clearly she needed this hug more than I did.

Finally, she pulled apart and offered me a small smile. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight," I said, returning her smile, before reluctantly leaving her.

—

It was the first time we'd even come close to talking about the accident and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. She wasn't opening up and I wondered if she felt like she couldn't. But maybe that incident was the key, because things changed soon after.

About a week later, I was fast asleep when I woke up to my phone vibrating on my bedside table. Confused, I cracked an eye open, wondering who could be calling in the middle of the night, but then the vibrating stopped. I considered if I cared that much, before deciding it could've been an emergency and checking who it was.

When I saw Skye's name, I woke up a little more, overcome with concern since she'd never called like this before. Immediately, I rang her back. It took two rings before she picked up.

"Hello?" she answered with confusion.

Still half asleep, I answered groggily, "Why are you confused? You just called me."

She sighed. "I did. Sorry. I cut it off when I realised."

She sounded different, her voice hoarse.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting up in bed and rubbing my eyes.

"Sorry, I just–" She tutted at herself. "It's late, Y/N, go back to sleep."

Even half conscious, I knew she wasn't okay. "Skye."

It went quiet, but she gave in, to my relief. "I had a bad dream," she admitted quietly. "I just wanted to distract myself. I didn't mean to wake you."

I frowned to myself. "Are you okay?"

A shaky sigh escaped her lips. "I will be. Really, just go to sleep, I'll be fine."

"I can't sleep knowing you're by yourself," I told her, too tired to hide my worry.

She paused, and then her voice came out guiltily, "Sorry."

"Don't apologise," I said gently, before asking, "Do you want me to come over?"

"No," she answered quickly, before adding, "It's late. I don't want you up and about this late into the night."

I was already pulling my duvet off and sitting at the edge of my bed as I said, "It's not a problem, Skye." It went quiet on her end, so I prompted, "Skye?"

"You don't mind?" she asked hesitantly.

Realising she did in fact want me there, I tried to reassure her. "No, of course not. I can come now."

She practically held her breath. "I owe you."

"You don't."

Exhaling softly, she said, "I'll send a cab to get you. I'll cover the cost. I don't want you on public transport in New York when all the weirdos are out."

I cracked a small smile. "Okay, Skye, see you soon."

Sounding relieved, she said, "See you soon."

I yawned as I hung up, trying to move quickly but still trying to wake up and so unintentionally moving at snail speed. After packing a small bag, including a change of clothes and some toiletries, I pulled on my shoes and a jacket before leaving for Skye's.

The taxi ride wasn't long since the streets weren't busy, and I found myself at Skye's door in less than twenty minutes. As soon as I knocked, she opened up.

"Hey," I said with a tired smile, before hugging her in greeting. "How are you?"

She hugged me back and let me in, closing the door behind me. I noticed she was wearing her pyjamas, hair dishevelled and eyes a little red.

"Better now," she admitted, before frowning. "I'm sorry I woke you up. But I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad you did," I told her, before leaving my bag by the kitchen counter. "So, what do you want to do?"

"You're tired," she noticed.

I waved a hand dismissively, trying to look more awake. "I can stay awake if you want, Skye."

She sighed, shaking her head, before wordlessly grabbing my hand and dragging me to her bedroom.

"Come on," she said as she climbed into her queen sized bed, so I got out of my shoes and jacket and followed suit, settling in beside her.

We laid on our backs, staring up at the ceiling in silence. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I glanced at her, her expression dimly lit by the moonlight and lights shining through her blinds. She was weary, though attempting to hide it.

"Do you have bad dreams often?" I asked curiously.

She swallowed visibly. "Not as much as I used to, but... sometimes, yeah." She paused, as if stuck in an internal debate, before admitting, "It was about the accident."

At the mention of the accident, the air in the room felt charged with uncertainty, and Skye's jaw tensed slightly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" I asked tenderly, and when she didn't reply, I quickly added, "Or you don't have to at all."

Her dark eyes flickered to mine, surprisingly calm. "It's okay. It's just– it's a lot. And when I'm alone, it's..."

"A lot," I finished for her.

She nodded, looking back up at the ceiling. "Yeah."

I found her hand between us, squeezing it gently in support.

"I remember how difficult it was after," she muttered. "That, and the withdrawals, and all of it – it was a lot. Being in the hospital... I had my mum, but it felt so lonely."

I frowned as she recalled the experience, hearing it for the first time from her lips. And then she looked over at me and I looked back, realising there were tears in her eyes.

"Why didn't you come?" she asked, voice cracking and eyes welling up. "I wanted you to visit so bad. I– I thought you would."

Not expecting that, I struggled to speak. "I told you, Skye, I thought you wouldn't want me there. I..."

She let go of my hand and wiped her eyes shamefully, looking away. I sat up slightly, leaning on my elbow to look down at her, not wanting her to bottle everything up now.

"I waited," she whispered. "Every day, hoping you'd come to see me."

My heart crumbled at her words, guilt pressing down on my chest. "I'm sorry."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not your fault, I know that. But I just..."

With the nightmare still fresh and her recollection of the past at the forefront of her mind, I knew her emotions were heightened and she was overwhelmed, and it hurt to witness.

I pulled her into my chest for a hug, rubbing her back gently. "I wish I had. I wanted nothing more than to see you then, Skye, truly. But I'm here now. I promise."

She didn't say anything, but she didn't pull away either. Her sniffles were heard in the silence of the room and she kept a firm grip on my tee shirt, and I didn't know what else to do other than continue to rub her back soothingly.

At some point, we must have dosed off like that because when I opened my eyes next, it was morning. I yawned as I rubbed my face, confused to where I was at first. And then I recognised Skye's room and it all came back to me.

I looked beside me, seeing Skye fast asleep, face smushed against her pillow adorably. She looked a lot better than she did last night and I was glad for it, seriously worried about her. Hopefully she'd gotten some sleep after everything.

Trying not to stare too long, reminding myself that it wasn't very platonic of me, I looked away and carefully clambered out of her bed to freshen up. After doing so, I went into her kitchen to find something to eat.

I was eating from a bowl of cereal at her kitchen island when I heard footsteps, looking up to see her leaving her bedroom.

"Good morning," I greeted. "How are you feeling?"

She hummed tiredly, yawning and running a hand through her dishevelled hair. I couldn't help but smile at how cute she looked.

"Better," she finally spoke, brown eyes meeting mine across the counter. "Thanks, Y/N. For coming last night."

I shrugged. "It's okay."

She sighed, shaking her head, and looked down thoughtfully. After a moment, she said, "I know I haven't talked to you much about it all."

My expression softened. "I don't expect you to."

"I know," she said quietly, before meeting my gaze. "I want to. I do. Otherwise the way I am, how I act... it doesn't make sense and I don't want you to feel confused or think I'm insane or–"

"Hey," I cut her off, furrowing my brows. "I don't think that, Skye."

She chewed her lip momentarily, eyes flickering to the counter top. "I want you to know. Eventually. I just– it'll be bit by bit because I can't go through it all at once. It's too much."

I frowned sympathetically. "That's alright. You can tell me as little or as much as you want, whenever you want. Meanwhile, if you just want the support, I can give you that too. It's what friends do."

She smiled a little, nodding. "Right."

I studied her expression, unsure what to make of it. "Did you get any sleep? Last night?"

She nodded, looking up. "I did, yeah. Thanks for coming. I know it was late. And I'm sorry for breaking down on you."

I gave her a knowing look, offering a small smile. "You need to stop apologising."

She exhaled. "Sorry."

I rolled my eyes playfully. "Never mind that. You want breakfast? I can make whatever you want, providing you have it of course."

She smiled as she took a seat. "That would be nice, yeah. Eggs couldn't hurt."

"Eggs it is then," I said, eating the last bite of my cereal before standing up. "Give me five minutes.”

She nodded and watched me, relaxed for even the smallest of moments, enough to put me at ease too.

[umadosedepascal]

O U C H | Pedro Pascal x f!reader | PART VII

Written by Santa Trindade

Banner by @missyorkswhore

Made in Brazil

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: You are at the Golden Globes and meet Pedro over there, he didn’t win unfortunately but still, he is a winner in bed.

wc: 4.1k

rating/warnings: [Smut][Semi public sex] [unprotected PIV][oral sex m/f][Pedro injured] [sex on bathtub] [elevator][Pedro a little dom] [spanking ass] [Hold neck] [Curse words ][nipple play] [making out inside the car][Pedro speaks spanish]

a/n: My fellow followers, we are fast. I know. Pedro does help us imagine these kind of situation EASILY! just because he is HOT, even wearing an arm sling (poor baby). And yes, he is our slut winner always! More to come for the Emmys! 😘 please consider reposting, let’s spread it fucking hard! 🤘🏻

This Sunday was certainly one of the busiest since the year began, you arrived early at the salon to do hair, makeup and nails, it took you a long time to choose the best dress and perfect shoes for the Golden Globes.

Despite being a little cold in Los Angeles, you got a long dress with a naked back and slit in your left leg, perfect shoes, jewelry and hair, you were finally ready for the event.

The traffic of Los Angeles is always chaotic and today it would be no different, otherwise it is worse, there are so many cars, photographers and people. The driver goes near the entrance of the Bervely Hilton hotel, and as soon as you enter you already meet some friends and acquaintances. Your assistant is always pulling you, saying that you have little time as you walked towards the red carpet.

You give some interviews and as soon as you finish your interview with Vanity Fair, you turn around and see Pedro telling a reporter that he is injured because he fell, he hasn't seen you yet.

Pedro goes out in line for the red carpet photos, You are six people behind him, but even from afar you can see how beautiful he looks, black shirt with white details, black pants and equally black boots, you give a giggle when you see that he matched the arm sling with the clothes.

It's your turn to pose for the paparazzi, you position yourself behind the wall, look to your left and see that he is still taking pictures, talking, and even about the countless flashes, you feel his gaze on you.

You smile at the photographers and get close to Pedro, he opens a smile when he sees you, saying your name and extending his hand, pulling you close to him. He immediately puts his hand on your back, feeling your naked skin, his index finger makes small circles on your back while he talks to the man in front of you, you can barely understand what they talk about, it's so much noise and your mind focused only on the feeling of his finger playing with your skin.

Pedro's conversation ends, he pulls you by giving you a kiss on the cheek quickly while saying "See you later" giving a wink, he goes inside with his agent.

Your table is opposite to Pedro's, but you can still see him from where you are. During the awards your eyes meet each other, even from a distance.

He always smiling despite being hurt, he talks excitedly to everyone, with each winner who passes he gets up and greets.

You are so anxious to see him take the stage and receive the prize he deserves.

You already in your third Moet glass, and they finally announce the nominees for best drama actor, when they announce Pedro's name, you can't contain yourself, you get up and cheer for him, as if you were alone in your room in front of him, pleasuring him in the best way, whether about acting or how he fucks you until he leaves you breathless.

Unfortunately he does not win the category, so an idea comes to your mind, you are convinced that you will give him the best night ever.

Even after the defeat, Pedro doesn't stop smiling, you take your phone and send him a message "You are much bigger than any prize dear, let me show you that later?"

It takes a few minutes for him to see message, you look towards his table and giggle when you see him getting in the way holding his phone with only one hand, he puts the phone on his lap and types, a few seconds later his answer arrives, you feel your hands sweaty, a twink in your stomach when reading "I confess that I'm not happy about it, but now I'm very curious about how you will convince me that I'm worthy for you"

You bite your lip as you read and look at him, even a few meters away, you feel that brown sea on his eyes burning you, you just blink and raise your glass in a silent toast.

A few more awards are delivered, speeches are made, and you almost feel bad for not paying so much attention, almost. Your thoughts are in Pedro, hoping that everything ends soon for you to leave, and from what you look towards him, Pedro is not very different from you, his fingers hitting the table, playing with the glass between his fingers.

Finally the last prize is announced and delivered, everyone gets up, celebrating, lamenting. You dodge the invitations to the after party, claiming to have to wake up early for work, you go towards Pedro's table, he is taking some pictures with other people, you stand still finishing your last glass of champagne waiting anxiously to get his attention.

As soon as the last photo is taken, Pedro turns to you, that smile that only he has, stretching out his hand he says excitedly "Shall we go to the after party?" Your smile weakens at the time, you feel a twinge of disappointment, but you try miserably to disguise it, agreeing with your head, he laughs loudly and says "I got you! Come on, let's go to the car, I told you we're leaving" Pedro holds your hand and goes towards the exit, we stop a few times to greet some acquaintances, but Pedro always uses the same excuse -my arm is killing me, I forgot my medicine at home, sorry, next time I will-

Pulling you by the free hand, he always looks at me in the corner, bites his lip trying to hold a smile.

Pedro opens the car door to me and says softly with a shy smile "Can we go to your house tonight?".

You open your eyes and try to remember if everything is tidy and clean at your apartment, after all you remember isn’t that bad. "You got it! I have frozen pizza and beers" he laughs waving his head and raises his eyebrow, you get in the car and Pedro sits next to you, he puts his hand on your thigh and gently smoothes up and down, You look at his face and see him staring at you, eyes so expressive. His hand goes up until he finds the lace of your panties, he releases a cough while looking at the driver who is focused on traffic. You open your legs a little giving him more access to your pussy, you feel his middle finger go up and down pressing your clit, you look at him scared and say softly while you pretend to fix your earring "Are you crazy? El conductor lo verá"

He laughs and points with his head to the button next to you near the window "Press" he says, I press and then a black glass part rises between us and the driver.

Pedro raises his hand to your face, pulling you for a kiss, his lips taste like some strong drink, he sucks your tongue, bites your lower lip and whispers in your ear

"You can't even imagine how much I was waiting to put my hand under this dress." You open your legs, putting one on top of his, giving yourself to whatever he wants.

Pedro plays with the fabric of the dress, until you feel his fingers rub your clit over your panties. You close your eyes feeling him press his finger while his mouth says dirty things in your ear, you let out an involuntary moan, Pedro looks at you and tells you to be quiet, you smile and disguise.

You notice something in his hand that is bandaged, you bend to see and his nails have some kind of sticker, he laughs as you stretch his fingers and read _OUCH_

“What is this Pedro?!” You ask laughing, he answers between laughs "did you like it?"

We both laughed, you say yes, that you loved it, you take your hand out of his and slide on his head, your fingers wrapping in his curls, doing a massage, Pedro moans softly enjoying the massage. You watch his face, eyes closed, mouth slightly open while delighting in the massage, until you stop the movements opens his eyes staring at me. He is no longer smiling, neither you are, the atmosphere has changed, the car seems to heat up, you bring your lips closer to theirs while your other hand squeezes his thigh, going up to his groin, the tip of your nail circling the bulge that begins to harden. Pedro doesn't move, he just accepts your touches, you raise your hand until you find his belt, you open it and pull the zipper down, the only movement he makes with his body and raise his hips to give you access. You slide your hand in and feel his hot cock, you squeeze it and he moans throwing his head back. You raise your hand to the waistband of his boxers and run your index finger through the wet head with pre cum, he lets out a low swear word, when he sees you take his finger on your lips and suck it.

The car stop and you see that you are in front of your place.

Pedro stretches his hand over his thigh, adjusting the pants that shows his cock completely hard, you help him fix his belt and he gets out of the car. He extend his hand to you, you hold it firmly and leave, you take the keychain inside your bag, but it is so difficult to find the right one, because your brain freezes when you feel Pedro so close to your back, his hand playing with your hair, his fingers going up your back to the shoulders where he gently slide his nails, you hum

"This way we won't even get past the elevator Jose" he lets out a low giggle whispering a sorry.

As soon as you enter the hall, you press the elevator button and you feel that it is the twelve longest seconds of your life, the two of you looking closely at the elevator display, the tension is palpable, you look without blinking at the decreasing numbers _19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, 13, 12, 11, 10_ you count down mentally and when the ten arrives, you feel Pedro hold your nape tightly, pulling you until you back hits his chest, he runs his nose through your shoulder until he reaches your jaw, where he licks and bites gently

"If that fucking elevator takes five more seconds to open, I swear to God I'll fuck you on that table over there, after all I haven't won my trophy yet" he says that and turns your neck to the side, making you see the little table where the flowers in the hall are.

The elevator warns you that it is on the ground floor scares you, your heart accelerates, you look at Pedro who is still so close to your face and just nod your head towards the elevator door.

As soon as you enter, you press number 24, when the doors close, you ask Pedro to hold your bag, he holds and stares at you, you lean your back against the elevator wall and squat a little and putting your hand under your dress - thank God the side slit helped me - you take off your panties and when tou get up you find his eyes looking at you and looking for cameras in the elevator, you giggle and approach to get your bag while knead your panties in your hand and put them in his front pocket.

Pedro doesn't say anything, the growl that comes out of his throat speaks more than a thousand words.

The elevator warns tou that you are on the right floor, but you still need to look for the key inside the bag.

“Key, right?” He says while you search my bag

_God, I had them in my hand a few minutes ago_

Pedro pushes you against the wall, at the same time he slides his fingers on your lips making you open them, he puts two fingers in your mouth and makes you suck it, he takes out his fingers and holds your chin, making you raise your face more towards him, giving you a quick kiss, he slides his fingers wet with your saliva inside the slit of your dress, his fingers rubbing your clit, sticking two fingers in your pussy.

You let out a low moan and then kiss, your left hand on his chin smoothing his beard while the other still looks for a key inside the bag.

His fingers in and out of you, you suck his lip and move away, interrupting the kiss you raise my hand, shaking the key between your fingers

“Found it!”

He laughs and takes his fingers out of you, and takes it to his lips, sucking. You open the door, Pedro pulls you towards your room, which he is already familiar with, he sits on your bed, takes your panties out of his pocket and extends it to his side and says:

“You did this, can you take off my clothes as well?”

Without thinking, you approach him, you knee down and start with the boots and socks, never breaking eye contact.

You are between his legs and drag your hands until you find his belt, unbuckle and slowly open a button, stop and look at him, as if asking for permission

"Yeah babe, like this" he says with a smile on his face, you open the other button and open the zipper. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants and pull his pants so slowly that you can feel the anxiety in the air.

You throw his pants to the side and see how hard he is, you slide your hands over his underwear, his cock is pulsating and hot, kneeling in front of him, you bring your face closer to his cock and run your tongue over his underwear following the entire length, feeling the moisture in the fabric.

Pedro sighs and looks up, murmuring something you don't even understand, you just feel his left hand grabbing your hair, letting out a growl he tells you to get up and sit on his lap. You get up and when you put your hand on the zipper of the dress to take it off, Pedro interrupts me

"Deja el vestido puesto!"

You put one leg on each side of his hip, Pedro moans low when he feels your wet pussy in contact with his thigh, you feel his hand squeezing your nape again, you smile at him while your hands play with the details of the shirt he wears.

"You are so wet babe" without answering you just kiss, your lips touch each other first softly, you feel tickled when the mustache he rubs against your skin, his hand loosens the grip on your hair and slowly goes down your back, the kiss goes wide, you bite his lower lip, pulling between his teeth and licking when releasing,

Pedro never moves his hand away from your body, you feel his thigh press your pussy, you rub yourself feeling the few hairs on his leg in contact with your swollen clit and in need of touch, Pedro lowers his hand to your hip, pulling you down while raising his thigh, you release a moan in his mouth, so what he says is enough for your body to know that he is in complete abstinence "Ride on my thigh... enjoy rubbing against me" Pedro lies on the bed, wearing only his shirt and underwear, you put your hands on his chest and you start rubbing slowly. Pedro doesn't take his eyes off yours, his hand is still on your hip encouraging me to speed up the movements, leading me.

You throw your head back, feeling a heat take over your body, you feel the orgasm rise in your stomach, your clit pulsating, feeling his thigh slide easily in your excitement.

"Come on babe give me, I want to feel you" Pedro begs and squeezes your breast over the dress, you rub harder feeling your orgasm wet his whole thigh "Oh my god Pedro please"

"Yeah babe like that ride me like that" you moan his name, you murmur things that you don't even know what they mean, as soon as you feel your body calm down you open your eyes and there they are, those brown eyes burning me, eqting you alive. You get out of his thigh, dragging you down until you get on your knees on the floor, Pedro runs two fingers on his wet thigh and moans while licking his fingers, as if you were his favorite dessert.

He leans on his left elbow and stares at you you run your nails through his legs, reaching the waistband of his boxers, and before pulling you look him in the eyes and say softly

"Let me demonstrate how important you are my dear"

You slowly pull his undies, his cock jumps hitting his tummy, drops of pre cum flooding his cock head.

You hold his cock by the base and make slow movements from the bottom up, watching the fat drops of pre cum accumulate, wetting your fingers. Without taking your eyes off his eyes you put his cock in your mouth and make circles with the tip of your tongue, cleaning his excitement, you put it in your mouth until you feel the tip of his cock hit your throat, extending your hands and stroke his tummy inside his fancy shirt.

"Help me get this out" you let go of his cock and get up, carefully opening the velcro of his arm sling, you help him take off his shirt throwing it to the side where his clothes turn to a pile. Pedro pulls you making you ride on his lap, you feel his cock hit against your clit, you put your hand between your bodies and holding his cock by the base you fit into your pussy and sit, feeling every inch of it inside you.you both moan loudly, you stand still and help put the arm sling again

"I want you to be safe babe" he laughs and squeezes your ass and moves his hips up entering deeper into you, you push him to lie down and lean over him, gluing your lips to his you bounce on his cock for a while.

"Take off that dress" he says. You get up and pull the side zipper of your dress, Pedro calls you with his fingers and asks you to lie on the bed, he kneels between your legs and stroke your thighs, your belly, circling your nipples.

"I won tonite anyways" he says as he holds his cock by the base and rubs it against your clit.

Pedro slides his cock inside you slowly, taking advantage of every inch, while smoothing the side of your thigh threatening to snap you stretch your hands and scratch his thick thighs.

You feel his nails scratch your thigh and soon the burning of the slap "Come on babe take me all" you push your hips against his, the only sound in the room is your breaths with low moans.

Pedro slides his hand down your neck, squeezing and down until he finds your nipples, he squeezes and rotates between his fingers, making you squeeze his cock with your pussy "fuck Pedro, please I need more" he stop moving, he just keeps looking at me raising an eyebrow while squeezing your nipple between his fingers

"Do you need more? "And giggles

You slide your foot on his tummy pushing him away, you kneel on the bed getting face to face with him, you lick and bite every piece of skin you find, you jerking him off, feeling your fingers get wet with pre cum and your excitement

"On all fours my little bitch" he orders with a slap on your ass, you turn around getting your face pressed against the mattress, you feel Pedro's hand stroke your ass, and then the sound of a slap echoes through the room next to your moan, another slap and you hear him squat, then his lips are in your pussy, his tongue entering you like a cock, he moans against your pussy, making you feel the vibrations of his hoarse voice.

Before getting up you feel his saliva dripping through your pussy, another slap on your ass and you feel his cock hitting your clitoris, rubbing you hard, he moans and curses not being able to have both hands free, Pedro sticks his whole cock into your pussy, taking a loud moan from both of you.

"Fuck Pedro don't fucking stop please" he trust hard, you feel another orgasm forming, his skin hitting against you, his hand passing through your back, scratching your skin.

"Touch your clit, give me one more babe one fucking more" you put your hand in the middle of your legs and it doesn't take many movements to cum on his cock, you feel yourself explode, making you scream the name of Pedro.

"Fuck babe I'm going to fill your pussy" Pedro speed up the movements, his left hand squeezing your hip hard, you feel hot jets of cum flooding your pussy, Pedro moaning your name while slapping your ass a few more times

"Your pussy is milking me you fucking bitch" Pedro throws himself next to you on the bed, breathing with difficulty, he looks at you and laughs and now you realize that he didn't even take off his glasses, the disheveled hair gives an extremely unique look. Him.

"Fuck the awards" he says laughing, panting, you kiss him and say softly

"More awards to come Pedrito, relax" he smiles stretching his hand and slapping you in the ass

"I will win them all! Let's go to the shower"

Pedro stares at you as you undo the velcro of his arm sling “What?" He just smiles saying that out of nowhere, the bathtub is almost full, you enter and feel your feet thank the hot water, you sit down and call him, he approaches and sits behind you, pulling you to have your back glued to his chest, you put your head between his neck and shoulder, stretching your right hand while you play with his hair.

You feel his left hand playing with your nipples, slowly going down yourbelly until you find my clit.

"Hmmm I'm still not happy I need more awards" he says this and puts his leg under yours, making it almost impossible for you to close your legs, the middle and index finger draw circles through your clit, in and out his finger inside you. You tilt your head more looking for his lips, kissing him while you release moans every time you feel him put two fingers inside your pussy.

"I want you to hold my cock with that beautiful hand and put it in that tight little pussy and ride me "

Every word he said was a thrust of his fingers inside you, you turn around and sit on his lap, holding his cock with your right hand, Pedro doesn't wait a second and is already pushing myou down to bury himself inside you. Pedro sucks and bites your nipples, climbs his tongue until he finds your lips, his hand holding your ass tigh, guiding how he wants me to roll.

"Fuck, you're so hot, that pussy squeezes me so hard"

Your moan is loud, your nails scratch his shoulders, your lips meet the skin of his neck where you slide your tongue whispering in his ear how you love to feel his cock all inside you.

Pedro holds the back of your neck making you look into his eyes "Cum on my cock, squeeze me" you grind more feeling your clit rubbing on his lower belly, the orgasm growing inside you, your hands hold his shoulders tightly

"Fuck I'm going to cum"

His hand grabs my neck, squeezing hard as he orders "Now" your moans are weak due to the force he holds your neck, you feel your body tremble

"I'm going to fill your fucking pussy with cum, kiss me please" your kiss is desperate, your moans are loud, Pedro’s hand runs through your body desperate to touch every inch of your skin.

"Fuck, that was much better than any award" he speaks in the midst of laughter you kiss his shoulder and bury your face on his neck

"Always so good... Hmmm pizza and beers?" He laughs loudly and gives you a slow kiss.

"Fuck yeah pizza and beers!"

———————————

Thanks for being here and read our delusional fics, likes are appreciate, comments even more. If you want to ask anything, blast it!

[sitting-on-me-bum]

"Slime Mould Didymium Squamulosum On Holly Leaf"

By Andy Sands

Close-Up Photographer of the Year Awards

[spaceorphan18]

Awards Show :: A Klaine Fic

Summary:

Famous Klaine AU

Kurt and Blaine are both nominated for a major theater award. They attend the show, while trying to navigate when and how to reveal a major secret.

Rated T: for mild language, small amount of drinking, and mild sexy times.

A/N:

for Klaine Secret Santa Gift Exchange 2024 - for @jayne89 <3 Thanks for to @snarkyhag for the beta! Ao3 Link Found Here Hope you guys like it! Thanks for reading!!

*****

Kurt Hummel exits the backseat of his car and takes his first step onto the red carpet.  The scene is pure pandemonium.  The red carpet is lined with reporters and cameras, actors and celebrities, and ropes that hold off thousands of screaming fans.  Every time he steps foot into one of these hooplas, he has half a mind to get back into the car and sneak in the back way.  Unlike most of his colleagues in the theater world, he’s never been a huge fan of these events.  Sure, he’ll discuss the gossip and the fashion until the cows come home, but having to live it is always a different story.  

He nervously plays with his phone as he makes his first few steps down the carpet.  He shouldn’t have it with him, he knows, but it’s a strange source of comfort.  It’s something to do with his hands, which might otherwise be stuffed into the pockets of his very expensive suit.  

He hears sudden clicks, and he knows already that there are cameras pointed in his direction.  He should be used to it.  In some ways he is used to it.  But it never fails to surprise him that there are people who actually want photos of him. He’s gone for a simpler look this year -- a gorgeous teal jacket and pants, paired with a royal purple shirt, with a silver pin for an accent.  The whole thing is textured, and the cut is flattering and appealing, and much more toned down than the eccentric design he wore the previous year.  

He takes a deep breath and moves forward.  He hears his name being called from multiple directions.  Some are the event guides, ushering him to go.  Some are the photographers, dying to get that first shot of him arriving.  But a majority of the screaming is coming from the fans.  He doesn’t love the crowds.  He doesn’t. But he does try his best -- for them.  

He gives a smile, and a wave, and inches closer to the ropes where they’re all standing.  They’ve come all this way, and have probably stood outside for mere glimpses of the celebrities for hours.  It’s insane - but there was a time when he may have done the same, just for a brief interaction with someone he admired.  

Before going to the fans, however, he takes a quick moment to scan the carpet ahead of him.  There are plenty of people he recognizes, plenty of people he’s worked with before, a few big names that make him seem like a small fish in a big pond, and a few faces he doesn’t recognize at all.  But one in particular stands out.  Standing in his bright, mustard yellow suit is Blaine Anderson.  

Kurt takes a moment to watch Blaine as he easily moves along the crowd; chatting, signing autographs, laughing and whatever the fans are telling him.  He positively glows in the energy.  He always has.  Kurt shakes his head, fondly.  He loves his job, but feels more at peace when an audience is quietly sitting and watching him on stage.  When he has the ability to turn it all off, and connect with the character and the story and come alive as a different person.  Being him has always been difficult.  But Blaine has no such difficulty.  It’s admirable, really.  And he adores Blaine for it.  

He then sneaks a quick second to check out Blaine’s ass, nice and round and on display whenever Blaine reaches his arms out to sign another autograph.  Kurt bites his bottom lip, thinking about earlier that morning, when he had seen that ass up close and person.  He grins, thinking about it; thinking about how despite their growing celebrity status, some things remain just between the two of them.  

For a quick second, Blaine turns his head behind him and, as if a magnet were drawn between them, notices Kurt.  He beams, wiggles his eyebrows for a second, and then goes back to the fans.  Tonight is not about him and Blaine.  Tonight is about the show.  They both know that.  Which is why they keep what they have together on the down low.  But it doesn’t stop them from stealing a moment or two.  

Kurt turns back to his side of the carpet, ready to address the legions of people waiting on the other side of the rope. As he approaches, their yells become deafening, and most of what they’re screaming is incomprehensible.  The only thing he really can make out is his name.  

He smiles brighter, trying his best to appear as kind as possible, as he takes a marker and begins to scribble his name on a Playbill.  Most of the fans are respectful.  And while overwhelmed, shower him with compliments -- everything ranging from ‘I loved your performance, it moved me so much’ to ‘can I have your babies?’.  He always has to chuckle at the range he finds.  

There’s always at least one person, however, who gives him pause.  “Hey, did you and Blaine Anderson break up?” It's a young woman with a nose ring attempting to take a photo of him with her phone -- who seems less interested in him than whatever gossip she’s going to share online.  “Cause, like, y’all haven’t spoken to each other in weeks.  Online, I mean.  Like, y’all are done, aren’t you?” 

He lets out a sigh, tries his best not to look back at Blaine. He knows that with celebrity comes lack of privacy.  He’s been bracing for it.  But what he has with Blaine is special, and he’ll protect that the best he can.  Kurt moves on to answer another fan, who has a question about a wig he wore in a previous production, ignoring the girl with the nose ring. 

***

The interviewer is a tall, platinum blonde woman with a too dark tan and a bright, shimmering gold dress that clashes with her skin.  Kurt has talked with her before - as she works for one of those websites that streams all its content on YouTube or some specialized streaming service.  He can’t remember which one, and the ‘M’ on her microphone doesn’t help any, but since he’s being shuffled to every journalist out here, he just goes with the flow.  

“Kuuuuuurt,” her high-pitched voice cries.  “Kurt Hummel everyone.” She says it to her audience in the camera, wherever that might be.  Kurt gives a friendly smile and waves to the people watching on the other side of the screen.  He may not like this part of the job, but he tries to always give his best to the fans.  “How excited are you to be here?” The woman, whose name if he remembers correctly is Karlee, asks.  

“It’s a pleasure.  And surreal. Always surreal,” he replies, truthfully.  

“Before we get too much further, we have to get your bestie over here,” she says, unexpectedly.  

Kurt isn’t quite sure what she’s talking about until she waves a hand (one that’s holding a cue card in it) over to someone behind him.  “Blaine Anderson, get on over here.” 

Oh.  Oh . 

Blaine comes up right next to him, all friendly smiles and charm and doesn’t give Kurt one ounce of attention.  He does, however, slightly push his elbow into Kurt’s arm.  Kurt pushes back.  He almost gives a laugh, but retrains.  

“Karlee, what a delight, honey, you look wonderful,” Blaine coos, taking her hand, and giving her cheek a kiss.  

Fucking Blaine, always being so suave.  Kurt bites his bottom lip, amused at how easily Blaine does it.  Blaine is definitely playing it up with the playful banter, but he also is well aware that it keeps the attention off of Kurt.  Just as Kurt likes it.  They do make a great team.  

“Look at the two of you, matching tonight.”  

Kurt and Blaine turn towards each other, both pretending to be shocked.  

I told you they’d notice -- Kurt says with his eyes and a grin, thinking about the hours-long conversation they had about what to wear. 

Blaine gives a casual shrug, but Kurt can read him like a book.  Who cares? We’re hot and they love it.  

We’re supposed to be low profile, Blaine. 

We’re theater actors, Kurt, nothing about us is low profile.  

They probably shouldn’t be doing their secret exchange, not when they’re supposed to be paying attention to Kaylee, not while everyone is watching, but Blaine has such beautiful honey-gold eyes… the shield Kurt always has up, especially in public, is dented just a little when those eyes shine so brightly on him.  

After a few moments of fashion talk, Kaylee hits them with something completely different.  “So, the two of you met a decade ago now on the stage during the original run of Show Choir! -- which ended up being such a surprising hit and thrust you both into the limelight.  I hear now there are talks of a movie version -- any chance you’ll be involved.” 

“No,” Kurt says, maybe too quickly and too sharply.  He owes that show everything.  And yet he never wants to relive any of it ever again.  Blaine eyes him and knows… 

As always, Blaine manages to be much more diplomatic in response.  “I think I can speak for Kurt when I say -- we will always cherish what that show was for us.  It got us both on our feet.  It taught us everything we know now. But it’s time to let a new generation take the reins.  And, I mean, we’re both pushing thirty now.  No one wants to see thirty-year-olds playing high school students. Even on stage.”  

“Of course, we’ll cheer on whatever new cast takes it on,” Kurt adds, hopeful that it sounds encouraging enough for the soundbite it’ll inevitably become.  

Kaylee throws her head back in laughter as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard.  “Well, it’ll be exciting to watch for sure.  So, the two of you are both nominated tonight for your phenomenal roles in such different productions.  Kurt, you’re nominated for your devastating turn where you play an American Civil War soldier figuring out his sexuality.  While Blaine, you have a haunting turn as a ghost in what everyone has been calling an epic space opera on stage.  Your roles are so different and yet have hit audiences so hard.  How do you feel about that?” 

“It’s cliche, I know, but as everyone says, it is an honor to be nominated,” Kurt says. “And I think that everyone nominated tonight deserves to be here.  I think it speaks to the writing and production and power of the stage that we are allowed to have such characters to play.  And I think it speaks to the power of storytelling that you can have such a variety of characters and yet be so moved by them.  I think we both feel really, really lucky that there are so many good shows being produced right now.”  

“I think Kurt’s said it beautifully,” Blaine adds.  “I can’t possibly top that.” 

“One last question -- any fun plans to celebrate tonight?” 

Kurt gives her an odd look, then for a split second, gives Blaine a panicked look. 

She knows? 

She’s talking about celebrating winning an award, Kurt… 

Well, I did win this morning… 

They share knowing looks.  

“I’m sure there’s plenty of trouble we can get ourselves into,” Blaine says with a sly grin.  

****

Kurt throws back his second shot and slams the glass on the bar.  Nothing like having something in you to calm the nerves.  He knows his limits, and when the bartender asks if he’d like another, he shakes his head and nudges the glass away.  Normally, he settles for a nice cocktail at these things, but his anxiety has been climbing all evening.  It’s not that he thinks he’s going to win - he’s aware of all the betting pools and the articles, his chances are very slim considering who he’s up against.  It’s the fact that the spotlight is so firmly on him.  It’s the fact that there are much better places he’d rather be.  

He should go mingle; should go say hi to the dozens of people he knows, and attempt to make a connection with those he doesn’t.  But he’s not as cut out for this one might think.  The first time he went to one of these things it had been awe-inspiring.  Surreal.  Kind of amazing.  Now that he’s been to them enough times, the shine has somewhat worn off, and it feels like another part he has to perform.  

“Drink too many of those, and you’ll be slurring your way through your presenting duties.”  Blaine comes to his side, leaning against the bar with a charming grin on his face.  

“Is it over yet?” Kurt laments. 

“This is the fun part, Kurt.”  

“You are having fun, I am surviving,” Kurt says.  He contemplates another glass, and looks over to the bartender, signaling him over.  Blaine puts a hand over his, and shakes the bartender off, knowing better.  Kurt lets out a heavy sigh.  “Do you think we should have come together?” 

Blaine gives him an odd look.  “It was your idea not to.” 

“I know.” 

“You wish we had?” 

Kurt contemplates.  It’s such a loaded question.  One that they’ve both mulled over countless number of times.  Weighed pros and cons.  Sought outside help.  There are no easy answers to such questions.  “You’re the one thing I don’t want to share with the rest of the world,” Kurt says.  He doesn’t meet Blaine’s eye, but keeps it firmly on the bar.  “And yet, I’m bursting on the inside to do just that.”  

Blaine’s face softens, and he squeezes Kurt’s hand.  “That’s sweet, Kurt.  You already know how I feel about it.”

“I do…” He does.  Kurt looks over to Blaine to see his shining eyes looking adoringly at him.  There are hundreds of people in the room and yet it’s just the two of them, an allowed moment of privacy among the crowd. “You know, the fans think we broke up.” 

Blaine tilts his head at him, shaking it.  “Since when have you ever cared what they think?” 

“I don’t,” a smirk crosses Kurt’s face.  “I just thought it was funny.”  

“Social media detectives will be the death of us all.” 

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to like some of my cat videos and Liza Minnelli memes,” Kurt jokes.  

“We should get Tina to work with you on your social media presence,” Blaine says, as if they hadn’t argued about this a thousand times.  

“And she should really lay off yours,” Kurt counters.  “I mean, the noodle incident…” 

Blaine rolls his eyes and ignores him.  “Maybe it is time to talk about being more public.  As a couple.” 

Kurt winces.  “We are not letting Tina…” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Blaine says.  He’s serious, very serious.  “Maybe it’s finally time, all things considered.” 

“Or… we could release an official statement and let it be?” Kurt says.  They’ve managed to be just the two of them for so long.  He doesn’t want that to change.  “I don’t want to be featured on the cover of People magazine.”

“Being featured on the cover of People magazine isn’t so bad you know,” Blaine says.  His charm returns as they both think of the framed cover in Blaine’s bathroom.  

Kurt lets out a playful, annoyed groan.  “Any chance you have to bring up how officially sexy you are…” 

“It wouldn’t hurt you to indulge me every once in a while.” 

“I already suck your dick, Blaine, you don’t need me to kiss your ass, too.”  

Blaine lets out a hearty laugh.  “I have it on good authority that you are actually very good at kissing my ass.”  

Kurt gives him a sharp glance.  “Fuck you.”  

Blaine gives him a dark look, as if challenging him to do just that.  Kurt wishes he could lean over and kiss him.  Fuck all the people and the cameras and the undoubted mess it would create.  He wants to kiss Blaine so badly, and has enough alcohol in him that it might be worth it.  

Blaine’s sober enough for the both of them.  “C’mon, we have a ceremony to attend.”  

****

Kurt bounces on the balls of his feet.  He and Blaine are waiting backstage, just the two of them, as the ceremony rolls on beyond the curtain.  He can hear the presenters for the award for musical score doing their bit.  There’s audience laughter, and some applause, and someone said something that struck a chord.  He suddenly doesn’t feel all that well.  

Blaine looks at him, concerned.  “Are you nervous?” 

“No.” 

“You’re nervous.” A sweet grin climbs on Blaine’s face, as he judges his shoulder against Kurt’s.  

Kurt holds himself tightly.  “Do you know how many people will be out there watching us?” 

“We’re delivering an award, Kurt.  It’s not like we’re performing,” Blaine says.  He almost sounds disappointed about it.  “It’s not like anyone is going to be paying any attention to us.  All we have to do is make sure we get the name right.”  

“We have to do witty banter,” Kurt argues.  “They’ll all be paying attention.  What if they really don’t like what we’re wearing? What if they miss that we have amazing on stage chemistry? My god, what if they don’t find us funny?” 

Blaine shakes his head dismissively.  “I’ve never known you to not be funny.” 

Kurt holds up one finger.  “I have a sophisticated, dry wit that not everyone gets.”  

“You do remember that this witty banter was pre-written and all we have to do is say the lines, right?” Blaine says.  “I can’t believe you’re nervous.  You’ve performed on stage naked before.”  

“Yeah, for like five people,” Kurt hisses.  “There are at least five million people watching this.”  

Blaine narrows his eyes, looking troubled.  “You’re really having an issue with this.” 

Kurt bites his bottom lip.  He is, and he doesn’t like it.  It’s not really because of the sheer amount of people.  He doesn’t mind performing in front of them.  It’s not like he’s never been in front of large crowds before.  It’s the fact that it’s he and Blaine.  Together.  With everyone having their eyes on them. Everyone watching every interaction they’ll make, and how it’ll be scrutinized and torn apart and he wishes that not every public interaction they have needs to be put under a microscope.  He wishes they didn’t have to endure that type of pressure.  

He breathes heavily.  “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”  

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have done all those shots.” Blaine actually gets him to laugh.  

He looks at Blaine in wonder, always wondering how he lets it all roll off his back.  “How is it nothing phases you?” 

“Things phase me.”

“Really?” 

Blaine tilts his head at him.  “You have seen me at my worst, Kurt, you know that.  They just aren’t the same things as you.  It evens us out.  It’s why we work.”  Blaine comes in close, rubbing Kurt’s arms.  “Going on stage with out an audience - that’s something that phases me.  Jesse St. James’s dog, which might actually be a demon in a dog costume, phases me.  And seeing you like this.  I don’t like seeing you like this.”  

A warmth spreads through Kurt’s chest.  Suddenly, his fears begin to melt away.  He loves this man.  He loves him so deeply.  Kurt has tried so hard never to care what other people think of him, he isn’t sure why it bothers him so much now.  Only that Blaine means the world to him, and he wants nothing more to protect that.  Wants to protect the person who makes him feel grounded and loved and safe.  

“I’ll be okay,” Kurt says, though he turns his head away.  

Blaine knows him better than that.  He says nothing, but watches him carefully.  

A production assistant rounds the corner, shouting that they have two minutes to get into place.  

Kurt stands up, straightens, puts his more professional face on.  He can do this.  They can do this.  

“You ready to see who’s going to win best costuming?” Blaine asks.  He sneaks a hand down to Kurt’s giving it a squeeze before they start heading out.  

“I really hope it’s April Rhodes.” 

“Kurt, she’s not nominated in this category.”  

“I know, but did you see what she was wearing? It’s this insane fuchsia, ‘80s inspired dress, which I think you could totally pull off something like that if you wanted to go outside your comfort zone and try.”  

The color drains from Blaine’s face.  “Oh god no, Kurt.  No.”  

****

Their category is close to the end of the night.  The hosting portion of the evening flew by in a blur, and Kurt hardly remembers being on stage nearly an hour before.  He’s been sitting, bouncing a knee anxiously, during the rest of the ceremony.  

He had been asked if he wanted to bring a plus one.  He had turned it down, not sure who he should ask.  His dad and stepmom would have come, but Carole’s sister is in the hospital and they just wouldn’t be able to make it out to New York.  All the rest of his friends and colleagues seemed to have found dates or family members that would attend.  

Blaine had asked if they wanted to go together.  Kurt had said no.  

They hadn’t talked it through enough.  Hadn’t consulted their teams. Hadn’t worked it out with Tina -- god, Tina would have a fucking field day showing off their relationship.  It had seemed like too much of a hassle.  And at the time, Kurt hadn’t felt ready.  

And then this morning happened.  It still feels like a hazy dream -- wrapped up in bed together, not even awake enough to get the coffee.  The way Blaine held him so comfortably in his arms.  Every morning should be like this one.  Every morning should be absolutely perfect.  

He can see Blaine’s eyes - so perfectly bright and loving.  

Marry me.  

What? 

Be my husband, Kurt. 

He had always expected it at some point.  Kurt knew almost the day they met that their lives would be intertwined.  But he had always expected Blaine had bigger plans.  He’s not sure what he had expected.  It’s not like Blaine was going to hire every large ensemble in New York to sing on the stage where they met as rose petals fluttered down from the sky.  That’s just insane. 

But off the cuff? Unplanned? They hadn’t even had sex that morning (yet).  They hadn’t even had coffee.  

And Blaine just asks him.  Takes his breath away without even trying.  

How could he possibly have said no? 

He could be sitting next to his fiance right now.  Instead, he’s sitting next to an elderly woman, the mother of a nominated set designer.  The other side is the aisle.  Up a few rows and over a few seats is Blaine, smiling happily as the actress on stage reads through the list of names.  

He’s not nervous for himself.  All the articles he read (more than he should have) listed him near the bottom of possibilities.  And that is fine.  As Blaine often says, they’re both still young, and have plenty of time to do more amazing things in their careers.  Kurt did not write up a list of people to thank, nor tried to memorize any speeches.  He didn’t let himself get too caught up in the idea of winning.  

But Blaine has a real chance.  He’s been a buzz in the community.  Everyone wants to work with him.  He’s had more job offers than he can even handle lately.  And he looks so adoringly hopeful as they wait for the actress to open the envelope.  

“And the winner is…” she says.  Kurt holds his breath.  “Jonathan Bailey as Oscar Pennington in Penny For Your Thoughts .” 

Kurt lets out a sigh that feels like relief.  He smiles kindly and claps, unsurprised that the frontrunner of the race actually won.  He looks over to Blaine and despite the grin plastered on his face, Kurt knows him enough to see disappointment there as well.  

After a moment, when Blaine knows there aren’t any cameras on him, he throws a look back to Kurt.  Kurt gives a kind shrug.  

Hey, at least we have each other. 

A genuine grin crosses Blaine’s face.  We do.  

*****

The rest of the ceremony passes by without much incident.  During one of the performances, the mics cut out but the entire cast belted out their song anyway and the winner of best writing for a show thanked their writing partner but not their famous wife which will be slightly scandalous in the morning but other than that, there aren’t any upsets or unpredictabilities, which makes for a rather boring time.  

Just as it’s ending, Kurt gets a text from Blaine : Wait for me . 

It’s like herding cattle to get out, but eventually Kurt is able to, and waits off in a corridor for Blaine.  Blaine, of course, is the social butterfly, and has to talk with everyone as he makes his way out.  Kurt could join him.  Maybe he should join him.  But he stands on the sidelines and waits.  Waits until Blaine finally catches his eye, and there’s a certain type of thrill that comes when Blaine’s entire face lights up.  It’s a face that’s saved solely for Kurt, and there’s always a tiny pang of relief when it’s there.  

“So, get this,” Blaine says as he walks over.  There’s a giddiness all over his face. “So, I managed to run into Jonathan Bailey, as one does. We chatted for a little bit and he said we should come to his afterparty.  I mean, he said to me, but told me to bring whoever I liked.  You are never going to believe who’s else is going to show up, I--”

“I promised Rachel and Jesse we’d attend their party,” Kurt replies quickly.  There’s something about a major party, with lots of famous people, lots of people in general, that gives Kurt pause.  

Blaine gives him a bewildered look.  “Kurt, they throw the same, boring party every year.  They didn’t even come tonight.”

“Well, to be fair, Rachel asked me, but she never mentioned you, so technically, you’re free to do as you like.” It comes off a little more dismissive than he intends it.  They never did talk about after the show, but the plan had always been Rachel and Jesse’s.  

Blaine gives him a somewhat confused stare.  

“What?” Kurt asks.  

Blaine takes him a little further down the corridor, so they aren’t seen as people continue to file out of the theater.  “Why are you being like this?” 

“Being like what?” 

“You don’t care about Rachel and Jesse’s party - nor would they notice if you’re even there.”

“Oh, Rachel will notice…” 

Blaine clenches his jaw but holds back on whatever he’s thinking.  “Okay, why don’t we stop by Rach and Jesse’s for a second, then head over to the other party.  Kurt, it might be a good opportunity to make some good new connections.” 

Kurt considers, but he doesn’t love the idea.  “Maybe…” 

“Would you rather just go home?”

He is tired.  It has been a long day, and his bed does feel enticing.  Besides, there’s all the rest of it to consider.  Does he have the energy for it? “You should go.  I don’t want to ruin your night.” 

“Kurt, you never ruin my night,” Blaine says.  He reaches for Kurt’s hand, and gives it a squeeze, only to drop it quickly, as a couple of men in tuxes turn down the corridor and walk past.  “What is this about? Are you upset about how the night went? Hit your limit with people? Or… is it me?”  

The look of devastation on Blaine’s face breaks his heart.  It’s not Blaine.  It’s never been Blaine.  “No, of course not.  I don’t know, Blaine, I just don’t want to argue with you.” 

“We can’t argue if you won’t talk to me.” 

Kurt takes a moment as Blaine waits for some kind of explanation.  “When I’m with you - I don’t want to think about being with you.  I just want to be with you.”  

Blaine narrows his eyes, confused.  “I don’t know that I follow.” 

“I just want us, together , and if we go to that party…” 

“Everyone will know that we’re together?” 

“That’s not what I mean.”  

“Kurt, we’re getting married,” Blaine says. He looks as tired as Kurt feels.  “We have to figure this out at some point unless… this isn’t something you really want.”  

“You are always what I want,” Kurt responds quickly, to assuage Blaine’s fears.  

Blaine lets out a little sigh and crosses his arms.  “Kurt… I really doubt this one celebrity party is going to be an issue.  Even if someone does see us.  Or notices.  Or we let ourselves be ourselves.  Who cares, Kurt? When have you ever let anyone else dictate how you live your life?”  

Blaine is right.  When has he ever let anyone tell him what to do? But it’s about more than just him.  It’s about them .  “I can’t lose you,” Kurt says quietly.  

“What?” It’s not what Blaine expects to hear.  

“I can’t lose you.” Kurt looks up and into Blaine’s eyes.  “You are etched into my very soul and I don’t know if I can function anymore without you in it.  And the idea that some outside factor might come along and take you from me…”  

Blaine softens.  “I’m not going anywhere, you know that.  And when things get fucked up, as they always seem to get fucked up, I’ll be right there with you - saying ‘fuck you’ to the world.  We’re a team, remember?  But, if you just want to go to Rach’s or just go home, that’s what we’ll do, okay?” 

“No,” Kurt says.  Just the idea of this party makes him nervous, but Blaine doesn’t.  He’s right.  It’s about time they start taking the world by storm.  “No, you’re right.  I think we should go to this party.  Rachel’s going to want to play tacky karaoke games anyway.”  

Blaine lets out a laugh, then reaches out for Kurt’s hands and takes them.  “Are you sure?”  

Kurt does something then that surprises even himself.  He leans in and gives Blaine a hard kiss.  Because he can.  Because Blaine is going to be his husband.  Because he wants to spend the rest of his life kissing his husband.  And maybe it doesn’t matter who sees it anymore.  “Yeah, I’m sure.”  

Blaine’s eyes twinkle.  “...okay.” 

“So, who is it that’s going to be at this party? Is it one of the Bridgerton cast? Please tell me it’s one of the Bridgrton cast…”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

***

When Kurt finds Blaine, he’s seated on a lounge chair at the back of the club, scrolling through his phone.  Kurt gives a smirk, and takes another sip from his champagne glass as he walks over.  Blaine doesn’t look up.  Kurt slides onto his lap anyway.  Blaine smirks as he finishes reading whatever is on his phone, then opens his arms to cradle Kurt.  Kurt lays head on Blaine’s shoulder, and giggles into his champagne.  

The club is hopping, there are a ton of famous people everywhere.  Some people he knows personally.  Most people he doesn’t.  Kurt doesn’t really care.  There’s so much going on that he and Blaine can be in their own secluded little bubble, and no one will really notice. 

“Hey you,” Blaine says, leaning his head against Kurt’s.  

“Hey.” 

“Did you get a chance to talk to-”

“...Yeah.” 

“Yeah? Good?” 

“So good,” Kurt coos. He snuggles closer into Blaine.  “I can’t wait to tell Rach.  She’s been blowing up my phone, by the way.  I’m ignoring her for now, but you know she’s going to be a beast when she sees us next.  And I know what you’re thinking - you’re right, we should have stopped by and we didn’t stop by and god this means we’re going to have to attend one of her murder mystery dinners and good lord there isn’t enough alcohol to get me through one of those things…” he stops short when he notices Blaine’s a bit dazed and not really listening.  “You’re being quiet.”  

Blaine waits a beat and tries to shake it off.  “Just thinking.”  

Kurt brushes a stray hair off Blaine’s forehead.  “About what?  Are you feeling it -- that you, that we lost?”  

“Maybe a little,” Blaine says.  He looks tired more than disappointed though.  “It’s fine, though.  Next time, and I know there will be a next time, it’ll happen.  And then next time, I’ll be able to thank my husband.”  He gives Kurt’s nose a little bop.  “You.”  

“Mmm, I like that,” Kurt hums.  He brushes his nose against Blaine’s.  “I get to marry you.”  

“You do.” 

“And move in with you.”  

This gets a smile out of Blaine.  “Kurt, we practically live together now.  Your apartment is more like a storage space.”  

“Oohh, we should keep it,” Kurt says.  “It’ll be like a secret hideaway.”  

Blaine adoringly shakes his head at him.  Yes, he’s had maybe too much to drink, but it’s still endearing to Blaine.  “Or, a giant closet to keep all of your clothes.”

“That is a smart idea,” Kurt says.  “A very smart idea.  It’s a good thing I’m keeping you.”  

Blaine looks down at their hands. He takes the champagne glass from Kurt, finishes it, then places it on the table next to him.  Then takes Kurt’s hand and laces his fingers with Kurt’s.  “You know, Kurt, I think you may be right.  There’s a part of me that’s not ready to give this up.  Or share it.”  

“See…” Kurt snuggles, again, against Blaine’s shoulder.  Feeling slightly vindicated.  But then a heaviness falls between them.  “Do you think things are going to be different tomorrow?” 

“Yes.” 

The happy little bubble they were in begins to evaporate.  “We should probably call Tina then.”  

“Well, if we’re going to do this, might as well do it right,” Blaine agrees. 

Kurt gives him a little, suggestive smirk.  “Yeah… do it right.”  

Kurt looks deeply into his eyes.  It’s scary how much he feels for this man.  It’s everything. 

Blaine leans forward and kisses him.  It’s hard and sure and reaffirming.  It doesn’t matter that they’re in public, in a place where everyone has a cellphone out.  It doesn’t matter that there are always repercussions to their actions.  He just wants to be with Blaine and Blaine wants to be with him.  For always.  

“Hey, Blaine?” Kurt says, dazed as they break apart.  

“Yeah?” 

“I wanna go home now.”  

***

Back home, they’re making out on the bed.  They’re both half undressed, clothes haphazardly thrown around the room.  Kurt’s on his back as Blaine hovers over him.  The kisses are slow and measured and easy.  Normally kissing has a means to an end.  But Kurt’s happy to be in the moment, to just enjoy Blaine’s touch.  He’s in no hurry to chase other, more driving feelings.  

“Mmmm, Blaine?”  

Blaine gives him an extra long kiss before responding.  “Yes?” 

Kurt grins.  “I think I may have had too much to drink.”  

Blaine stops, then rolls off him and onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow.  “Somehow, I’m not surprised.” 

Kurt stays on his back, staring at the ceiling.  “I dunno if we can fool around tonight.”  

“That’s fine,” Blaine says gently.  “We have tomorrow completely open to fool around.”  

Kurt lets out an amused laugh and turns his head towards Blaine, singing a little.  “Mmm, I love that idea.” 

Blaine is about to say something else when his phone lets out a little ping.  He reaches behind him and grabs it to investigate.  “Oh, it’s Tina answering our message.  She said she’s happy to meet us tomorrow, just to let her know what time.”  

“Make it Tuesday,” Kurt says, wiggling his eyebrows.  “I am very booked tomorrow.”  

Blaine lets out an easy laugh, and texts back Tina.  There’s another ping.  “Tina is fine with that.”  He’s about to set his phone back down when another notification comes through. “Oh, and she sent us a notice.  We made a best dressed list.”  

Kurt whips the phone out of Blaine’s hand.  “Hell yeah, we did.”  He scrolls through the article.  He’s a bit too tired to read what they’re saying, but there’s a photo of them on the red carpet, doing the interview, looking very classy and best dressed indeed.  He starts to scroll through, looking at the other celebrities.  

“Ooooh, it’s April Rhodes.  See, I told you what she was wearing is to die for.  You could totally--”

“No,” Blaine says firmly, knowing exactly what Kurt’s thinking.  

“Yes,” Kurt whines a little.  “What if I promise to give you a blowjob underneath it…” 

“Tempting, but still a hard no, Kurt.”  

There’s another ping from the phone.  Kurt gets irrationally annoyed by it.  “What does Tina want now? If she doesn’t stop, I’m going to make her watch our sex tape.”  

Blaine gives him a look.  There isn’t a sex tape (yet) but he’d still punish Tina with it if there was.  Blaine takes his phone back.  “You know, she’d probably enjoy that.”  

Kurt grumbles.  “True.”  

“No, hey, it’s Rachel,” Blaine sits up a little.  “Oh no.  There’s some buzz online. Some people saw us getting into the car together.”  

“Well, that’s annoying.” Kurt takes the phone again and reads through the website Rachel sent.  It’s nothing more than speculation and gossip, but the invasion of it feels more personal than it should.  He isn’t about to let it ruin his good evening.  “You know what? I have an idea. We control our own narrative.”  He opens the camera app.  “Okay, kiss me.” 

Blaine looks at him in shock.  “What?”  

“Kiss me.  Anywhere.  We’re taking a photo.”  

Blaine’s eyes open wide.  He understands exactly what Kurt’s doing.  It’s insane.  It’s crazy.  It’s a bit ridiculous.  And he thinks in that moment, Blaine loves him just a little bit more.  Blaine scooches closer, and kisses Kurt’s cheek.  Kurt makes a cute face and snaps the photo.  

It’s not really the best photo they’ve ever taken, but it’s cute.  It’s candid.  It’s very them.  

“Are you okay if I do this?” Kurt asks.  

He probably should be more sober before doing this.  But he knows he won’t regret it in the morning.  Blaine, a very sober Blaine, gives him a nod.  Kurt feels a swell of pride as he opens up Blaine’s Instagram app.  He uploads the photo and adds a simple caption : still won tonight.   

He looks at Blaine and takes a deep breath before he hits upload.  A shiver runs through him.  He can’t believe he just did that.  But my god did it feel good.  

“You are amazing, Kurt Hummel,” Blaine says.  He comes in close, giving Kurt a real kiss this time.  “You always continue to surprise me.” 

“Well, I just have to show you that you aren’t the only impulsive one in this relationship,” Kurt says, throwing the phone to the end of the bed.  He turns completely, giving Blaine a harder kiss.  God, does he love this man.  He will always love this man, no matter what happens.  

“The internet is going to roar tonight,” Blaine says.  He caresses Kurt’s cheek, cups his chin and draws in for another kiss.  “You know that, right?” 

Kurt looks deeply into Blaine’s eyes, and sees forever.  They are a team.  They’re in this together.  And no matter what tough road lies before them, at the end of the day, they’ve got each other.  Kurt pulls Blaine close, and lovingly looks at the man who takes his breath away.  

“Let them.” 

[myoddessy]

CONEY ISLAND | cl16 —THE PRELUDE.

series masterlist

summary —an article on y/n l/n and all that entails.

WHO IS Y/N L/N? by Louise Kelly

April 29th 2017.

By now, everyone and their mother has heard the name Y/n L/n. With the awards and the acclaims, it's a surprise to find that she isn't an old Hollywood legend, but instead an 19 year old girl with raw, unfiltered talent.

Although, as brilliant as L/n's work is, many fans and followers have noticed a distinct pattern in her projects: she releases something legendary (i.e. an Academy Award for directing after her debut, topping charts with her first album, etc.) and ghosts all media for six months minimum before returning with another knockout. This reputation has lead many tabloids and reporters to refer to her as "Star" an abbreviated version of what was "The Shooting Star" in reference to the fleeting moments of brightness of her career.

Many people over the years have speculated that this nature has been brought on by a lack of media privacy, as paparazzi and obsessive fans alike tracked her down and documented what was near to her every move in the two years before she began her complete media lockdown—outside of promotions, of course.

Due to this private nature of hers, there's a lot of room for speculation when it comes to her life—something news outlets and tabloids such as enews and entertainment weekly have taken advantage of too many times to count over the years by starting rumors and spreading gossip through clickbaited headlines.

In fact, most things people have come to know for certain about the young woman are through speeches she makes or posts from her friends and family's accounts.

In her 2013 Oscar acceptance speech, she went out of her way to thank her mother and brothers, saying they were the only reason she was standing there and their support meant more than any award ever could. Since then, she's never skipped a chance to praise and credit them for her success.

She has also spoken very fondly of her boyfriend and racing car driver, Charles Leclerc, with whom she's been dating for little over three years and grew up living beside. While she does not credit him by name in her speeches, she often dedicates her awards to "her love". Because of this, most information on the pair's relationship has come through both party's instagram accounts, and the accounts of their friends.

Y/n's closest friend, Amalie Billard, has been the public's window into the life of L/n, sharing sweet and funny moments through Instagram stories and posts. Amalie herself is a photographer who grew up with Y/n and has worked closely with her since an internship and ELLE magazine two years ago. Y/n has been the subject of a vast majority of Billard's work and has said that she "feels more comfortable around Amalie than she has with anyone else in the industry and treasures that bond greatly."

Gossip and drama aside, Y/n has build up an impressive reputation in the world's of cinema and music. She has won a total of 5 Academy Awards; Best Leading Actress (2012), Best Supporting actress (2014), Best Leading Actress (2016), Best Director (2017), Best Supporting Actress (2017). And has one 4 Grammys for her music; Pop Solo Performance (2014), Pop Vocal Album (2014), New Artist (2014), Best Alternative Music Album (2017).

She's been praised by some of Hollywood's greatest over the years for both her work ethic and work itself. "She's an incredibly talented young woman who has the sort of grace you'd see in Old Hollywood and the humour you wish you'd see in everyone now. She's truly a great role model for all—young and old." Said Meryl Streep in an interview for "Call for me", a film that she and Y/n starred in in 2015.

taglist— @whoetoshaw @formula-hamilton @lilsiz @sad1esgf @deviltsunoda @tall-tanned-tattoo @briboweee @uh-oh-spaghetti-oh-my-gosh @meetmeaftersix

if you would like to be tagged in future series parts, either comment, dm me, or send a message into my inbox! 💞💞

[karinasbaby]

PARK SUNGHOON SMAU | I WISH SUNGHOON WAS MY BOYFRIEND..

PROFILES !

Ꮺ previous | masterlist | next

LEE JENO: model, 24, was recruited alongside jimin & sunghoon by chaeyoung, most of his brand deals are in paris + his schedules align a lot with jennie’s hence why he’s constantly travelling between seoul & paris, is close with the other two.

PARK SUNGHOON: model, 23, was recruited by his manager chaeyoung to odd atelier aka jennie’s fashion & design company, is really close with jimin & jeno, a smug and obnoxious asshole (he’ll hopefully get better eventually 😞)

YU JIMIN: model, 25, was also recruited by chaeyoung for odd atelier, besties with jeno & sunghoon, does runway more than the other two, on her way to become the top female model of sk.

UCHINAGA AERI: photographer, 23, got into photographing (mainly) & video editing bcs of yn’s influence, has been besties with day ones + jake since childhood, really sweet but .. concerning.

KIM YN: photographer, 25, has always had a special passion for photography since she was younger and that somehow migrated to her friends making some of them become photographers as well, an artist at heart, day ones founder.

NING YIZHUO: photographer, 22, youngest out of her group and had a rocky relationship with them in the beginning but they’re inseparable now, is attached at the hip with day ones.

JENNIE KIM: CEO of odd atelier, 30, picked up fashion designing at a young age before moving to paris to establish OA. travels between both seoul & paris constantly for the headquarters, recommended the triplets to chaeyoung personally after finding them on the internet. doesn’t have the best reputation around her personality as the industry always attempts to bring her down.

PARK CHAEYOUNG: manager at OA, 29, jennie’s best friend, in charge of the triplets, recruited the triplets around the same time after jennie’s request, also does CEO work for jennie in whichever opposite headquarters jen is at when needed.

JEON JUNGKOOK: supermodel, 27, was the most popular model in sk and had won model of the year award multiple amounts of times, highly praised and placed on a pedestal by the entire industry, is GOLDEN’S (the company he’s under) first and only supermodel. (horrendous personality i love u kook but sorry)

KIM MINJEONG: professional makeup artist under OA, 24, got hired after she graduated and applied for OA, was personally picked by chaeyoung from over a thousand applicants, is mainly hoon’s appointed MUA, a part of day ones and is yn’s best friend.

SIM JAEYUN: model, 23, born and raised in korea but moved to brisbane at a young age, now he’s pursuing a career in modelling, yn’s & day ones’ childhood bestfriend, a sweetheart and your go to gossip corner human version.

a,note. the profiles were rushed! a bit unclear as i didn’t know exactly what to put bcs i don’t want to accidentally spoil smth 😔 hence why some things might not make sense for now but trust me they will in future chapters! so this will have to do! enjoy & happy birthday chels !!

[sh4wty18]

sextape.

pairing: pornstar!jake x bsf!reader

summary: jake always sends you his OF content before he posts it. but one day after he sends you a solo video with an unexpected ending, you decide maybe it’s time you two film together.

cw: 18+ MDNI, NSFW, pornstar!au, sex, masturbation, online sex work, language, best friends with benefits to lovers, use of y/n

word count: 3.9k + proofread

a/n: another fic i’ve had in my notes app for a month lol🤗

TW: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME ONLINE. THIS STORY IS 100% FICTIONAL AND FOR FUN ONLY. NOTHING HERE IS ACCURATE TO REAL LIFE, NOR AM I CLAIMING IT TO BE. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

you’re currently working on your grad school work, grading quizzes for the students you TA for at UCLA. getting a phd was a full time job, no one ever warned you. but it would be worth it. as you sit at the desk in your bedroom, contemplating how much partial credit to award a student for a mediocre response to a short answer question, your phone buzzes.

you look down and see jake’s name light up your screen. you lean back in your chair, phone in hand, and read his text.

heyyy you wanna see my vid for tm? tried somethin new i think it’s pretty good

you smile at the screen before quickly typing out a reply and pressing send.

yeah

u don’t know how bored i am rn

you put your phone back down and continue grading. jake was one of your closest friends. you’d been friends for years since undergrad when you both went to ucla together. after graduation you moved onto ucla’s graduate program and he decided he was done with academia. he had always been a very creative person. he was also very sexual. he loved sex. he was good at it. he knew what to do to make people squirm. he was sexy, and he knew it. he decided, why not try to make a career out of it? so a couple years ago, he’d made an onlyfans account. his innovation & entrepreneurship degree came in handy, because he knew exactly how to promote himself online to gain a following quickly. fast forward two years, and now he’s in the top 0.5% of creators on the site, easily making seven figures a year, sometimes even seven figures a month. you were a little jealous sometimes, of how much money he made with seemingly little effort, but then you thought about all the work he’d actually put into his career.

he posted on mondays, wednesdays, and fridays. mondays were photos. he’d often have extremely strenuous and exhausting photoshoots for multiple days in the beginning of the month. they were never the same and they were always creative. he thought of each idea. money went into hiring the photographers, make up artists, catering, rented out space. but he made enough money to pay for it all. money wasn’t the issue, it was time. on wednesdays he uploaded a solo video. on fridays, he uploaded a video filmed with one or two or however many other people. his videos were always to the point. he liked it quick and dirty. no emotions, no strings, and NEVER any kissing. his fans liked it that way. he knew they didn’t care for theatrics. they were there to get off, and so was he…although, he always made sure the people he filmed with came first.

he edited all his own content too. he also had the responsibility of planning collaborations with other artists, for the friday videos. they couldn’t both upload the same content, so that often meant going multiple rounds in a row. plus he might have multiple collabs to film each week, so he could edit the videos and schedule days to post them. point being, jake was a very hard worker. he deserved every ounce of fame he’d gotten.

he would often send his videos to you for your approval. since you’d had a sexual relationship for quite some time, and were super close friends, he trusted you to tell him the truth about whether the videos were good or not. you always did. for around the past year, your relationship had escalated from solely friendship to friends with benefits. he got tested once a week for his work, so you weren’t worried about getting any stds from him or anything. plus he was always super safe. sex with jake was amazing. he was a amazing. having the “benefits” label attached to your title… it was fun. it was sweet. it wasn’t serious. at least that was what you thought he wanted, and you were too afraid to ever bring it up. you were happy to be his friend. you loved being his friend. you also loved having sex with him. you didn’t want to ruin that.

it was tuesday night, he’d probably just finished editing his wednesday video. you couldn’t help but feel giddy with excitement. watching him fuck himself was always fun for you.

you heard your phone buzz again and picked it up.

well hopefully this doesn’t bore you more lol :)

*FILE ATTACHMENT 3.5MB*

you click on the attachment and see that the video was eight minutes long. normally his wednesday videos averaged around three minutes. quick and dirty, remember? when you press play, you are immediately met with the image of a nearly naked jake waving to the camera and blowing a kiss (his signature salutation). you look down and can see where his boxers obviously tent, and when he plops himself down into the swiveling office chair with a smile, his erection is even more glaringly obvious.

one time, after one of your late night escapades, while you were cuddling in your bed in the early hours of the morning, you’d asked him how he was always hard before his solo videos even started. he had giggled and kissed your temple softly, before mumbling “a magician never tells his secrets.”

“oh come on,” you begged. “pleeease. i’m your best friend. and we are having sex so you kind of owe it to me if i’m going to find out you have some type of magical penis.”

he laughed again, “i just think about you.”

he kissed you on the cheek. “jaaake… be serious,” you say with faux annoyance.

“what makes you think i’m not being serious?” he asked before pulling your naked body ever closer to his. you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, but before you could push him any further, he’d fallen asleep.

you returned your attention back to the video, where the tiny jake in your screen was peeling his boxers off and tossing them to the side of the room. you watch as his dick sprang free. he tore his gaze away from his cock and glanced up to smile at the camera again. he had such a way with the camera. his eye contact made the viewer feel involved somehow. it was almost intimate. maybe that was why he was so popular. people felt seen by him. he squeezed a bit of unscented lotion on his hand and lazily grasped the shaft of his cock, drawing slow strokes back and forth, never breaking eye contact with the camera. yeah, this was definitely intimate. his breath caught every once in a while and he’d whisper “fuck” or “shit”, almost quiet enough that you couldn’t hear him.

after a couple minutes, you could tell he was about to come. well you could tell. you specifically. it was a face you’d grown so accustomed to seeing from him. his eyebrows furrowed a bit and his top lip curled up and to the right. sometimes he squeezed his eyes shut in his videos, but never with you. when you two fucked, he was always present. he wanted to savor every second. he wanted to see your eyes roll back as he made you finish for the second or third time in the night.

he squirmed in the chair and it rotated a little as his strokes got more aggressive. but right before he came he let go. he caught his breath. he laughed. he looked at the camera with a stare that could only be described as him saying “gotcha”. he repeated this process a few more times. working himself up. fucking himself to the brink of collapse but letting go just before he could teeter over the edge. you kept note of how his eyes hadn’t scrunched up once yet this video. as if he was trying as hard as possible to remain present with his audience.

around the seven minute mark, you knew he was finally going to allow himself to come. he was squirming, his leg was shaking, you could see the muscles in his abs contracting with every shallow breath he took. he whimpered softly, mumbling incoherently under his breath. but then he did something truly unexpected.

“fuck, y/n,” he let out with a moan. his own eyes widened at his words but at that point it was too late. the damage was already done. he felt so good and he was so close to coming that he couldn’t help but continue saying your name. he continued mumbling your name between soft sighs and moans until he finally pushed himself over the edge and come shot out of his dick and into his hand. he let go of his now flaccid but sensitive penis, and sat back in his chair with a breathless laugh.

“fuck,” he said. he stood up and walked closer to the camera, allowing the audience to get an up close look at the mess he’d made of himself. he smiled brightly one last time, blowing another kiss before the video cut out.

you sat in silence and disbelief at what you’d just seen. he was literally moaning your name while he jerked off, and was about to post it for a million subscribers to see. you couldn’t tell if you thought it was hot or if it made you nervous. you looked down at your texts and saw that he’d sent another message.

well?

it didn’t take long for you to think of your reply.

come over

he answered almost as soon as your text was delivered.

already on my way baby

-

you knew he arrived at your place when you heard three quick knocks at your front door, the same knock he did every time he came over.

“hey,” you greet him with a shy smile as you open the door. suddenly, seeing him in person after watching his video had made you feel less confident, and more embarrassed.

“hi,” he said, looking down at his feet. clearly his drive over had given him time to contemplate his actions and maybe garner a bit of embarrassment himself. he stepped over the threshold without asking. not that you wanted him to. you closed the door behind him and stood with your hand pressed against it for a second, facing away from him.

“look,” he started. “i don’t know why i did it. i know it’s… different… than my other stuff, and if you don’t want me to post it i won’t, but i wanted you to see how you make me feel.” you feel his presence behind you and your suspicion is validated as his fingers glide over your hip until his palm is flat against your skin. “say something, please.”

you turn around and grab his neck with both hands, pulling him down to sloppily kiss him. you thought about his words, how you make me feel, and you thought about him. you pull away for a second and stare into his eyes desperately. he meets your gaze with equal fervor, scanning all across your face for some sort of indication to keep going. and you can tell then. that he wants you just as much as you’d always wanted him. in a way that’s more than just best friends. more than just benefits. “i want to film with you,” you say, all your confidence restored.

his eyes widen, “really?”

“yes.”

you feel his grip tighten on your waist, his other hand snaking up your neck and around the back of your head. “i was hoping you’d say that,” he smiled.

you lead him to your bedroom, hand in hand. it had to be the hundredth time you’d led him there. but it never got old. you could do it forever. you would do it forever, if he’d have you.

“so how does this work?” you ask with giddy excitement upon locking your bedroom door behind you.

“we don’t have any of my film stuff, so we’ll just have to record on my phone. it’ll be fun. it’ll look homemade… amateur. people eat that shit up. plus, i think if you’re in it, people will love it even more. i know they’re gonna love the wednesday video… just hearing your name.”

you smile, taking a step towards him and reaching out to pull him in by his waistband. “so you’ll just… be recording us on your phone the whole time?” you ask.

he gulps, his dick growing harder by the second, just from thinking about having you on camera. he couldn’t stop imagining what the video would look like, and how he could jerk off to it whenever he wanted. he wouldn’t have to imagine you anymore. “yeah, pretty much.” he inches closer to you, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and leaning in until his lips brush against your mouth. “gonna be so sexy for me, baby.”

“shit,” you whisper, your knees growing weak. “i want you.”

he sets up his phone, leaning it against a jewelry box on your dresser, and you wonder how he could possibly get all of it in frame.

“you good?” he asks as he makes his way back over to you.

“yeah,” you say, eyes still on the camera. “just a little nervous i guess.”

“you’re gonna do so good. just pretend it’s not even there. focus on me.”

“okay,” you smile, and lean in to connect your lips. he drags his hand down your back until he’s pulling on the fabric of your t-shirt, silently begging you to allow him to pull it off. you break away from each other, just for a second, to strip until you’re both naked. why not get down to business, right?

“getting right to it?” he asks with a smirk, before plunging back to your mouth, kissing you hard and fast. one of his hands grips your cheek while the other kneads your ass. your arms wrap around his neck and your bodies are so close together you can feel his cock pressing against your pelvis. you part your lips slightly, allowing is tongue to enter and explore the inside of your mouth. he guides you both over to your bed, never breaking the kiss, until he finally picks you up completely. you wrap your legs around his torso and he holds you close, flopping down on the bed with you mounting his lap. “turn around so they can see you, baby,” he breaks away and whispers in your ear. you do as you’re told, he spreads his legs so you can sit between them, facing the camera now.

“spread your legs for me, princess.” you rest one leg on both of his thighs, so you’re completely revealed. you can see yourself in his little phone screen on your vanity, and even bigger in the mirror behind it. he wraps one arm around your stomach, holding you in place, and rests his head on your shoulder, kissing you as he does. his free hand creeps around your waist and lands between your legs. “so wet for me.” he whispers as his fingers mindlessly brush over you. he finds your clit, as he’s done countless times before, and rubs gentle circles into it with his index and middle fingers.

he loved to start slow with you. building you up for so long just so he could eventually ruin you. you lean your head back into the crook of his neck and turn to meet his gaze, “please don’t tease, jake.”

he kisses your lips again, so softly, you almost think he’s going to go easy on you. “i’m not teasin’, promise,” he replies. “just gotta show them how pretty you are while you’re like this.”

he gets rougher then, his fingers moving quicker and harder, and you let out a moan. “louder, baby.” he says as he delivers a brisk slap to your inner thigh, pulling another moan from you, before he eventually shoves two fingers deep inside you. he curls his fingers upwards as he thrusts them into you, finding your g-spot over and over again.

you’re practically a breathless, shaking mess in his arms, but he just keeps alternating between fingering you and rubbing your clit. he brings you to the edge more times than you can count, alternating methods just before you can reach your peak. he almost knows your body better than you at this point. knows exactly when to stop before you can come, knows exactly what makes you feel the best. “you’re doing so good for me, princess.” he praises as you continue to play his game. allowing him to make a mess of you in his arms, he’s the only one you’d ever want to be this vulnerable with. you absolutely love when he ruins you. you love how it feels during the moment, and you love how it feels after, with him cradling you in his arms until you fall asleep. kissing your forehead and cheeks relentlessly while he tells you how amazing you are. how you’re the only person he genuinely enjoys fucking. how he could do it all the time and never get bored.

he kisses your temple as he finally allows you to come undone in his arms. you grip his arm that’s wrapped around your stomach, and your other hand reaches behind you to grab the back of his head and pull him in. your lips latch onto his, even though you’re barely capable of kissing him as he works you through your orgasm. you gaze up to make eye contact with him, and he smiles down at you while your body finally stops convulsing and your loud moans dwindle into soft, breathless pants. you manage to return his smile then, and he leans down to press an ever so gentle kiss to your lips. “you think you can take more?” he asks softly.

“with you? always,” you reply.

“that’s my girl,” he grins. “move to the edge of the bed, baby.”

he stands up and grabs a tissue from your vanity to wipe off his fingers before grabbing his phone from the dresser. he flips the camera view so it’s on you, and he turns the flash on.

he walks up to you, camera in hand, and you can’t help but giggle as he does. you’ve never seen him in action before. well, not live. you wonder if this is how filming usually goes for him. you imagine not. since he has more professional recording equipment at home, and he’s with strangers. you have to admit, no matter how good his content is, he never has any type of chemistry with the people he fucks beyond sexually. it was different with you, it was bound to be. your relationship is bigger than just sex. it was more… for both of you.

“you laughin’ at me?” jake asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow at you.

you bat your eyelashes at him innocently, “never!”

he lets out a chuckle before finally reaching you on the bed. he stands at the edge where you sit up on your elbows to look at him. the flash in your face makes it hard to even see jake. you look past the light up at him, he’s all you care about. you know you must be giving him the biggest doe eyes ever, but you don’t care how you look. you want him bad.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he says, reaching down to jerk himself off with his free hand. “could come just by lookin’ at you.”

he continues stroking himself, whining a little as he does. “see what she does to me?” he asks his hypothetical audience. “lean back, mama. hold your thighs back for me.” again, you do as you’re told. being with him was the only time you were okay with a man telling you what to do. you grab one thigh in each hand and pull your legs back until they’re pressed against your torso.

he guides his cock between your legs, slowly pushing it inside of you inch by inch. you were always taken aback by his size. as if your body forgets how big he is between your hookups, you always needed a minute to adjust. “takin’ me so well, princess.” you knew the camera was capturing the entire scene. and for some reason, that was turning you on even more.

once he was finally in deep enough, he let go of his dick and used his now free hand to grab onto your thigh, pushing it down even further. you felt him bottom out, his pelvis pressing against your skin, and he groaned in delight at the feeling. “missed you so much, baby. missed this perfect body, and your pretty moans,” he says.

“you came over three nights ago,” you muster between moans as he begins thrusting into you.

“yeah, but i always miss you when you’re not with me. miss all of you. not just fucking you.” he couldn’t say much else, as he was now groaning himself, but you understood well enough what he meant. he missed you. everything about you.

his thrusts grew faster and harder with each passing second, and you reached out to grab his arm that was still pushing your thigh back. you gripped his wrist, your nails digging into him as your moans got louder. “fuck! jake… fuck, fuck.”

“what is it, baby? use your words,” jake said through his grunts.

“‘m…so close,” you reply, and another moan rips through you.

“me too,” he says. “come with me.”

your back arches off the bed and you can almost see stars as he slams into you, but you let go at precisely the same time. his thrusts grow sloppier, and he can barely hold his grip on the phone as his body begins to shake. yours does too, and you grip the sheets with the hand that isn’t actively holding onto jake’s wrist for dear life. you’re both in a state of pure ecstasy as you feel his dick finally twitch inside you.

he stops the video and throws his phone on the bed, hunching over on top of you to catch his breath. he slowly pulls out and collapses onto the bed, pulling your body onto his and kissing your face gently. he fixes your sweaty hair as best as he can, smiling as he does. “you’re so pretty.”

“so are you,” you whisper, your fingers softly tracing his face. “so are you gonna post the video this week? i think it was good, hopefully it’ll do well.”

“oh, i don’t think i’m going to post it.” jake says.

“what? why not? do you think it’s bad?” you ask, and genuine concern lines your voice.

“no. that’s the problem. it’s so good. i don’t wanna share it. don’t wanna share you. only i want to be able to see you like that.” he kisses you roughly and nuzzles his head into your chest.

you smile at his words. don’t wanna share you, and suddenly, you’re saying the one thing you never thought you’d be able to say to him. “jake, i think i’m in love with you.”

he seems caught off guard at first. but then he looks at you with eyes full of only love and passion, and the most earnest smile you’d ever seen adorns his face. “thank god.”

he kisses you, only this time it feels different. it’s as if a taut rope that had held you two a foot away from each other had finally snapped. or been cut. he holds your face in his hands like you’re a precious porcelain doll he wouldn’t dare risk breaking, and when he pulls away from the kiss, it’s only to say “you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to hear that.”

pics from pinterest, divider from @/saradika-graphics

tags for @liseytopia & @audr3yyyyy again <33 ily guys

[ateez-himari]

[BREAK] HALF OF MY HEART

...

Still, when time passes will it progress And help [me] forget everything? 

Two years later when they properly crossed paths once more the young woman's angelic features still wore that warm smile, though this time holding nothing more than friendly affection, and yet something in the rapper's heart still stopped when their eyes met. There was a time where both longed for one another despite their arrangement, where touches lingered shyly when meeting during award shows, yet now another man occupied her delicate heart, one who had brought the light back into the one they both cherish, something he was never able to do no matter how hard he tried.

"It's so nice to see you again, Mingyu!" She greeted with that melodic voice he so adored. "I've missed you."

"Yeah..." The man agreed, though the following words weighed more than she could ever know. "I miss you too."

When their bodies made contact briefly to exchange the lightest greeting embrace his senses lost themselves in the perfume that remained unchanged even after years, gaze lingering on the way the studio's golden lights danced perfectly across her skin. The older idol's large hands still fit perfectly around the curves he would now not dare to touch, lips parting ever so slightly as though hoping they would once again find themselves slotted against her glossed ones.

"Alright, let's get to work." The photographer's voice ripped him from those reveries as he suddenly became aware of the cameras pointed at them. "I'm gonna need you guys to get a lot closer, remember, we want people to feel the sense of romanticism in the jewelry."

Blissfully ignorant regarding the effect her mere existence still had on the idol whose cheeks were reddening at the idea of them being so physically close once more, the young woman placed a bejeweled hand on his broad chest, the same one she used to rest on in the dead of night. Catching the motioned instructions from stylists out of the corner of his eye, Mingyu hesitantly wrapped his arm around the maknae's delicate hips and almost instantly he realize what exactly it was that the end of the situationship had ripped from him.

It was not the lustful intimacy he still craved but the sweetly whispered words in front of romantic dramas, the soft kisses interrupted with playful giggles, the way her body nestled itself against his own so naturally while conversing with his bandmates, it was her love that he lost. Of course there were the nights their bodies lost themselves in one another's atop messy sheets, much too heated make out sessions shared in the back of his car, days where she would beg him to make her forget everything but his name, yet those couldn't rival with the need to feel that she was his alone.

"Oppa..." She whispered, looking up with those dangerous shining doe eyes. "Are you okay with this ? You can tell me if you want to change positions"

"W-What" His cheeks flushed at the possible dirty implications of her words. "N-No uhm, this is fine, so long as you're comfortable"

Feeling her much too familiar frame relax against his own the man allowed himself to enjoy the moment even just for the rest of this shoot, thumb drawing small circles on her skin out of habit. Under the pretense of making the pictures more realistic his gaze flickered down to her soft features, pretending for a few more hours that she still stood at his side - that her hand was still his to hold close, to find comfort in.

......

"We should get together some time soon." Mingyu offered sheepishly once their schedule ended, scratching the back of his neck simply to occupy an otherwise fidgety hand. "You know...like we used to, as friends this time."

He knew that this would only make things more painful as any person with half a mind could tell the young woman had moved on, her heart appeased at the hands of another who undoubtedly held everything the rapper ever wished for. How could he possibly stay away from her any longer now that he had felt the pure happiness brought about by her presence, how could he ever make the mistake of letting her out of his life once more.

"Yeah, I'd like that!" Himari smiled warmly at the idea, hugging him goodbye. "I'll text you tonight, maybe we can go racing again - if you're ready to lose this time."

A deep raspy voice interrupted this nostalgic moment, instantly catching the vocalist's attention who wasted not a second to run into her boyfriend's arms, and as the two shared a tender kiss the older idol could not help the pang of jealousy that struck his heart. Ringed hands settled on the curves he once had the right to claim as his own and although deep down he wished she would run back to him one day, seeing the couple shining brighter than the starry sky itself when together forced him to bury that silly hope where no one could ever reach.

If only we had grabbed on So that we didn't get drift apart

[marysandbox]

Dress - Taylor Swift x Reader

Summary: The one where "Dress" was written for you. [Requested]

Warnings: (+18), smut (it's flagged and can be skipped), fluff, secret relationship, implicit forms of media homophobia, mentions of past relationships. | Words: 2.724

A/N-> I found this request from last year on my drive, I believe it was a writing challenge. It was my first time writing for Taylor, and since it wasn't the focus of my main blog, I ended up forgetting about this one. Now that I have this secondary blog, I haven't found any reason not to share this little one.

General Masterlist |

-&-

Sighing softly, you let go of her hand.

Taylor remained close to you, however.

"It'll be quick." She assured, forcing a smile. "A few hours, we'll go home, okay?"

It was your turn to smile, your gaze roaming the entire figure in front of you, watching the new dress hug all the right places.

"You look beautiful, dear. Did I mention?" You deflect from her previous sentence, and despite the soft redness in her cheeks, her stare is amused.

"Once or twice."

"Then I need to improve on that number." You spoke, bringing your face closer to her ear. "You're breathtaking, Tay." You whispered, enjoying the way her skin shivered.

But the place was beginning to fill up. The other contestants and performers were arriving incrementally, and even though you were hidden from view by the cameras now, it was still too risky to be so close and so non-platonically in public.

Resisting the urge to kiss her cheek, you pulled away and cleared your throat softly. "After you, Miss Swift."

She rolled her eyes at the formality, a smile playing on her lips.

Taylor left first, or rather, entered, the great hall where the awards ceremony would be taking place this year.

You as an independent artist were going to sit a few tables away from her.

The challenge was to keep your eyes off your girlfriend when she looked so stunning.

The evening passed slowly, most probably because all you could do was watch the concerts and speeches and try to cheer yourself up a bit with the expensive food and bad drink.

Your only wish was to be able to keep your hand intertwined with hers and kiss her, even if only on the cheek, as married men could do around the room.

For your happiness, at least you can look at her. Her album won one of the awards that night.

She came on stage, to wave and to express her thanks, and you can't even control your own expression.

Would the photographers in the room be able to tell that your eyes shine brighter than the lights when you look at her?

Would Taylor be able to see you from that distance?

You know she can. Because she meets your gaze from the stage and smiles in a way that you know is just for you.

And when the night is over, she has autographs to sign, and hands to shake, and you are beginning to regret not drinking when one of the boys in a band tries to get her number from her managers.

–//–

It has been like this for some time.

Maybe days, or months? Sometimes you feel that it has been going on for years. Maybe all your life.

When you didn't know her, what was it like to go to LA?

Not to be around her, visiting galleries and parks in a poor disguise, or rushing out of rehearsals to spend time in her apartment under the sheets.

Soon spring is coming, and you need to get back to England for the awards.

Taylor invites you to accompany her to the Grammys when you're back.

At this point, even with all the precautions, the media recognizes that you two are close.

“Best friends” is written on the cover of gossip magazines. Her marketing team won't let her comment.

You are at her house again, before you travel, and she is wearing a sweatshirt that is yours, that she took from the bags you are not done with.

"I'm going to need that in the London cold, Tay." You mutter as you approach to hand her the drink you said you were going to prepare for you two.

She lifts her gaze from the little notebook, confused for a moment until she recognizes that you were talking about the clothes. Then she just smiles "Buy another, this one is mine until you get back."

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you sit down in the armchair across from her.

There is a forgotten movie on the television, and your cell phone is vibrating with the new appointments on your calendar, but you are looking at the woman in front of you. The blonde strands fall down at the sides of her face, her legs crossed on the bed as she scribbles some things down.

"Is it for Reputation?" You ask about the verses she suddenly, in the middle of the movie session, got the idea to write. She covers the paper immediately with her hand.

"Don't peek!" She warns with an expression of false seriousness, pushing the closed notebook further into her lap, her other hand holding her mug of chocolate.

"Never." You assure. "I can't wait to hear, though."

Her cheeks flush, and she smiles. You won't disturb her in her writing, and you think you can just watch her work and you'll be happy.

–//–

Most of the time, you hate journalists.

That's one of the times.

"We heard that you and Taylor Swift have become very close since the 2014 Grammy party." The man with the mustaches began, and from the tone, you knew it couldn't be a good thing. The dozens of cameras and microphones beside him in the stands kept you from turning your back. "We wanted an opinion, don't you think it's funny that Swift always writes of her relationships and people keep dating her?"

That was so mean. Unnecessarily mean.

You licked your lips, frowning, trying to remain calm.

Even the artist answering questions next to you grimaced, although she didn't stop her own interview to comment.

Your manager always said, "Take a deep breath, don't let it get to you. Everything can get around in a joking tone, so if you want to punch someone, the best alternative is to ironize what was said to you."

"Look buddy, have you met her?" you started in the least angry way you could manage. " Tay is by far, the most incredible, inspiring, hard-working, and intense woman I have ever met. I think everyone who meets her has the same impression, and when you have a chance to be, whether it's a footnote or a song, you take a chance. Because anything is worth it to have a little piece of paradise that is being loved by a woman like her."

The man was embarrassed by his question, and unresponsive. His best was to smile. Some of the others began to comment on the sweetness of your answer, but you were dismissing further questions to get into the event.

Before the party was even over, all the way to another continent, Taylor would be teary-eyed with the cut of this little interview circulating on the internet and on her cell phone screen.

You came back to the United States two weeks after you left.

It was like longing torture, to be honest.

Your cell phone had unread notifications because you were in airplane mode the whole trip.

You called Taylor as soon as you picked up your bags.

"Hey, baby sorry for the delay, I forgot my cell phone was off "You spoke as soon as she answered.

"No worries." She said. "Where are you? The car will be right out."

The Grammys were tonight, but you hadn't even taken off your travel clothes.

"Yeah, I think I'll miss my ride." You say checking your watch. "Can I meet you at the party?"

"Of course, darling." She spoke a moment later, almost hesitantly. You didn't catch why. "I love you, see you later."

"I love you too."

You were late. Very late.

Not only did it take forever to get a cab, but you lost your keys somewhere in your suitcase and it took an hour and a half for a locksmith to service you at that time.

When you finally arrived, through the back because the red carpet was closed, the awards ceremony had already begun.

Your gaze searched among the people immediately, and Taylor was in one of the front seats.

Yours was between the ninth and tenth row. You could barely make out her figure from that distance.

The way you missed her was almost painful.

And the speeches and applause continued, and you were exchanging sweet messages with her across the room.

She didn't win anything that night, a younger girl took many victories.

Everything seemed to happen automatically, until the party and she was close enough for you to hold.

You hugged her tight, fuck the photographers and the rest of the world for a few seconds. She hugged you back just as hard, her hands wrapped around your neck.

One or two people noticed the excitement and one of the managers clarified something about you being traveling, a long time apart.

But you didn't follow this.

You just focused on the bright blue eyes in front of you, without saying anything, and you already knew.

You were talking about going out and missing each other, and it was hard to hear each other in that crowded room, with the music so loud.

So Taylor was leaning into your ear, and it just seemed like friends trying to hear each other better.

"Can we go to my apartment after here, please?" She almost begged, her fingers haunting your wrist a moment before she pulled away, with the most innocent expression in the world.

And you were swallowing dryly, shifting your gaze from her lips to her eyes and forcing a not the least bit affected smile, as if she had just made a comment about the food. 

It was your turn to lean in so, seeming to continue the conversation. "I can't wait to get that dress off you, baby."

She sighed, almost inaudible. But you felt it against your neck, her breath uncompensated.

Then you both were pulling away, and smiling gently, keeping up appearances.

–//– ~smut scene~ –//– 

You let your hands wander down, tongues together sliding against each other, the soft moans being the only sound in the room.

Taylor was pulling you by the tie, stumbling around the apartment to the bedroom, but you two kept stopping all the way. Pressed against each other, breathing together.

"I need this off." You warned breathlessly about her tight clothes, the kisses running down her collarbone as she melted against you.

It seemed to become the most complicated thing to remove when you had her throwing her hips towards you, her body so warm.

So with a frustrated grunt, you grabbed the fabric and ripped it off. She let out a low moan, the cold air against her skin being quickly replaced by the sensation of your hands running over her entire body.

"God, Tay, I missed you so much, baby." You declared kissing your way to her breasts. 

"I missed you too." She returns equally breathless, her eyes closing tightly as she feels your lips around her nipples, stimulating her eagerly.

Her legs are giving out. You can tell, and waste no time in grabbing her by the waist, looking for the first surface you can find.

Your hand pushes some objects out of the way, books, and picture frames. You place her on the top of a cabinet, seated, and her legs encircle your waist as your mouth returns to hers.

Taylor gasps against your lips, kissing you in the same overwhelming intensity, her hips splaying forward, trying to ease the sensation between her legs.

You smile at this, slowing the kiss as you slide your hands down her thighs.

Her panties are ruined. She is dripping, you can feel it through the fabric.

Taylor chokes as she feels your thumb against her clit, and moans hoarsely when you begin to press.

"Is that good, baby?" you tease when she can no longer kiss you back, her hands on your shoulders and her eyes ajar staring at you.

She looks so beautiful. Her darkened eyes, her flushed cheeks, and her lips were puffy from kissing hard.

You smile at her, as your fingers push the fabric of her panties aside and you slip into her without warning, which elicits a moan from both of you.

It is always as amazing as the first time. She is hot and slippery, and you sigh. "Fuck, I need to taste you."

She whimpers and barely has time to complain about the lack of contact when you remove your fingers, because her complaint dies in her throat and turns into a suffering moan when you get on your knees in front of her, and sink your face against her nub without warning.

"Jesus!" She exclaims affected as she feels your tongue, eating her with desire, and all she can do is close her eyes tightly, trying not to cum immediately.

You moan against her pussy, her taste is intoxicating. Your own panties stick to the wave of arousal you feel as you eat her out.

You move your tongue with precision and speed, sinking between her folds, stimulating her as deliciously as possible.

She becomes a mess of whimpers and loud moans, and digs her nails into your scalp hair, forcing your face against her before spilling onto your tongue.

"Fuck." She whimpers excitedly, trying to recover from her orgasm as you drink all her liquids and continue to overstimulate her. "Babe, please."

"Give me one more sweetheart." You ask as you pull away for a moment, moving your fingers to open her more. "I know you can."

She nodded breathlessly, already ready for another one anyway. And you weren't going to stop anytime soon.

– ~end of smut~ –

You sleep until late.

When you awaken, there is a small breakfast tray in the corner of the bed, and a blonde woman in the armchair, a notebook in her hands.

"Are you watching me sleep?" You ask in a husky voice, as you open your eyes. She blushes, shifting her gaze back to the pages, making you smile. "Creepy."

She laughs softly, and one of the sheets she has crumpled into a little ball, she throws at you.

You stretch, sitting up properly. 

"I wrote a song about you." She declares in silence many moments later, when you are already passing jam on your toast.

You raise a brow, a playful smile, "Yeah? Are you going to tell me what it is called?"

She bites back a smile, denying with her head. You give a chuckle. "Not even the album?"

Taylor leaves the notebook on the armchair, and crawls back to the bed, keeping her gaze on you until you are close enough.

"What's the fun in saying, if you can guess?" She whispers against your lips, and you feel the jam drip against your fingers, but you don't even mind, moving forward to capture her lips.

She smiles against your mouth, and you forget about the food, wrap your hands around her face, and kiss her until she is flushed and breathless beneath you.

"Not even a hint?" You try later in a brisk tone. She laughs, shaking her head. "You know what, Tay? It doesn't really matter." You murmur as you lie down next to her, tracing her features with your fingers. She raises her eyebrow in curiosity.

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm staying long enough." You reply. "I will stay until all the love songs make you think of me."

She blushes, but has a challenging smile, "You are so cocky."

You laugh, nodding. "All of them. From Taylor Swift 2006 to 1989."

She laughs softly. "You want me to think about you with all of my ex-boyfriend' songs?"

You nod trying not to laugh too. "You'll think about how none of them compared to me."

She giggles, moving closer to kiss you several times on the cheek, over and over again, until you are laughing too.

A long moment after, you calm down, and she has her face resting on your chest, your hands on her waist and hair, and you notice the mood has changed.

You don't push, Tay talks when she wants to. And it doesn't take long for her to kiss your skin and then whisper, "You're going to be my best song."

Smiling weakly, you kissed her forehead. "I just hope to be the happy ones."

Taylor sinks her face against your neck, entwining her legs in yours. "You are."