#fuck tmz i hope they burn down

[ncutii-gatwa]

tmz thinking it was okay to not only have a photograph of someone dead on the ground seconds after it happened but to fucking post it on their website along with the death announcement is so beyond fucked up they need destroying so fucking fast my god

[buckyinluv]

✩ Hollywood Has Its Favorites (1)

next part>>

Summary: Steve Rogers was the ultimate golden boy, the actor was called a gentleman by some and too strict by others. On the contrary, you were the rebellious rock singer whose career was falling apart and needed an urgent fixing in your life.

Pairing: actor!steve rogers x f!singer!reader

Series Warnings: +18 (MDNI), fake dating, slow burn, fluff, angst, smut, mature themes, mention of drugs, soft!steve, brat!reader, language. | More warnings will be added as the story progresses. Please, be aware.

Words: 1.5K+

A/N: This is the first thing i wrote after years and also the first time i wrote something in english, please be nice about it!! This fic was inspired by @bucksfucks’s “faking it” which i love <3 i hope whoever reads this, enjoys it just as much as i enjoyed writing it.

✩

Observing your own form in the mirror reflection, you saw a foggy figure as a result of your tears, which stained your cheeks shamelessly. Your panting started to quiet down and your senses came back into you. You were sitting down on your legs, on your bedroom floor with your phone in your hands, open with a TMZ article displaying a set of private photos from your last night partying, with random men whilst your body was almost naked.

Your public image was descending in front of your eyes and you didn’t know what to do anymore. The articles were getting lousier each day that passed, but you couldn’t help but live the life you had. The parties, drugs and alcohol were too good to be turned down, even though the people around were too obnoxious to be trusted.

“You’re gonna get up and fix your shitty mess from ruining your career or you’re going to stay there, on the floor, crying a river?” Natasha, your best friend since the beginning of your career and your agent, leaning on your doorway arched an eyebrow as she waited for your next move.

You looked up in guilt and remorse for your previous behaviors but sorrow remained in your eyes. Natasha knew that you were done with that routine, and you’re terrified of the following consequences, which consists in your record label threatening your million-dollar contract to be over way earlier than the deal, leaving you with a million-dollar debt.

Rubbed your humid face struggling to dry it up, due to your unstopping tears. “I hate crying.” You mumbled, sniffing your tears away.

“You know that I will always support you crying because you kinda need to, but this is not the right time to do so, honey. I’m sorry.” Natasha gazed with an apologizing look on her face, she felt upset for being so rough and plain about her best friend's feelings, but that’s what her job demands of her at that moment, and she couldn’t let it down.

“I know, Nat. S’fine.” Your legs trembled as you got up from the floor, and shift your body to the top of your big silky bed, not looking much to Nat but you could feel her eyes following your body. You sensed that her heart was aching and hurting for you and you didn’t like to put the people you love in this type of position.

“You know is not fine, we need to fix all of this.” Nat says as she sits beside you in your bed. You start cracking your finger joints from anxiousness, as the feeling of being impotent and defenseless rises up in your chest even more.

“My bad reputation is too far up in the press, Nat. They’re going to break up the contract, they warned me. But I'm fucking stupid to listen.” You rumbled, shaking your head believing you’re done for in Hollywood.

“There’s one thing you promised you would never do, but it’s time.” Nat grinned hopeful you would accept it.

You promised yourself you would never be in a relationship where you don’t sincerely like the person, especially for press and looks. You believed your whole purpose in the music industry was to be authentic and the most real possible, because it reflected and affected your actual music.

“Nop” You projected the “p”. “Absolutely not, I can’t do a PR stunt, you know I’m a terrible liar. If I hate the person it’s gonna show on my face the whole time and...”

“That’s your last chance, Y/N.” Nat interrupted you with a serious glare. “We need to do this. We need to try.”

With eyes unfocused and staring at the walls, you took a couple of minutes to think about the situation you were about to face.

Taking the deepest breath you ever took, you eyed her. “I’m down, Nat. But I beg you, don’t put me with a boring bland vanilla ass boy” With supplicating eyes, you pleaded.

“Oh, you’re going to hate who I choose then.” Nat smirked mischievously, and you pouted. “Come on, is going to be fun. I promise.”

Growling into your pillow, you replied. “You’re lucky I like you, redhead.”

---

Steve entered the white and icy-looking office, with his agent (and best friend) Sam by his side and Natasha guiding the both of them to sit in from of her glassy desk.

“So, I would like to start this conversation by thanking the both of you for agreeing to do a meeting so promptly and early in the week.” Natasha set down in her chair, with a sincere grin on her lips.

“The email came in a good time actually, so we appreciate it that you thought about Steve in this... situation.” Sam initiated the talking, trying to carry through the topic as lighter as he could. “If you let me ask so, where is your client?”

Natasha stiffed up, correcting her posture. “She is coming, I’m sorry that she is a little bit late.” She grinned apologetically at the men.

“I’m excited to meet her, I don’t think we ever met.” Steve finally said something. He felt fidgety and uneasy since Sam received the email from Natasha proposing a PR Stunt, between him and you.

He knew who you were and heard all the gossip that ran around Los Angeles streets, about how much bold, shameless and cocky you could be in your nights out. Steve thought you were overly pretty, had an incredible voice and your stage presence was to die for, but believed your lifestyle wasn’t for him to duplicate.

Steve was, in fact, a sweet man, extremely gentle and soft-spoken. His parents raised him to be out of trouble at all times, shaping him to be a gentleman and very so often a naïve person, oblivious from some malicious situations. He didn’t smoke and only drank on special occasions and some of his coworkers thought he was too uptight for a Hollywood star, that he was. He was truly uncorrupted from the harsh part of fame.

“I’m sure she will be... startled to see you.” Nat’s uncertain tone kept unnoticed by Steve but was perceived by Sam who arched his eyebrow in doubt.

“Nat, I swear to god why the fuck am I here so fucking early, I was...” You stopped midway through the sentence, widening your eyes trying to recognize the two strange men that stared at you.

Steve traced his eyes from your feet to your face, almost causing you to shiver with such tension that his blue eyes held. Never breaking eye contact, Steve got up walking towards you outstretching his hand.

You swore that the both of you lingered at the moment for what felt like hours, but you finally said something breaking the spell. “Hi...” You waited for his name.

The presentiment remained in your mind that you already saw the blond man before, but couldn’t recall from where.

“I’m Steve, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” He gripped your hand gently but firmly and you examine the bigger hand around yours, sucking in a breath.

“A pleasure, uh?” Coming back to your senses, you chuckled.

His head tilted to the side and he frowned in confusion. He pulled back his hand, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hm... what?” He slightly shook his head.

You said your name to him, and promptly look over to Natasha. “Is he the one?” You raised your eyebrows, talking about him as he wasn’t by your exact side.

Natasha took a deep breath, briefly rubbing her face in annoyance, preparing herself for whatever situation you were about to put her in. “This is Steve Rogers, he is an incredible actor and this is his agent, Sam Wilson.”

A smile plastered in Steve’s face, accepting the compliment, while Sam was doubtful about your character, yet.

“Let’s get this shit over with.” You strolled to the chair beside Steve’s, laying back with a sagged body completely relaxed.

A concerning look was plastered on Sam’s face, as he bluntly stared at you for your unprofessional behavior.

“Let’s do it!” A giggly Steve clapped his hands and set down beside you, unfazed by your attempt to make him uncomfortable.

It was going to be a long day.

[cosmicbash]

@maegami88

"You really dragged me thousands of miles, over an ocean, and through three different airports just to play in some sand?" Marshall's lack of enthusiasm did little to snuff out Colson's great mood as they trudged along the cool sands of a Caribbean beach. The sun just starting to make its descent from up in the sky. Cooling the humid air significantly. "We could have just stayed in LA and done this."

Marshall's frown was alot more visual now than it had been throughout their long journey. If Colson hadn't been with him through every half hearted bitch and empty complaint he might even believe Marshall was as miserable as hes pretending.

But, of course they've been joined at the hip since his frumpy older boyfriend first landed in LA. Clingy to a fault even if he will deny it with his last breath. So Colson knows its just Marshall's stubborn side refusing to admit he actually DOES enjoy getting out of his stuffy old house on occassion.

That isn't going to stop Colson from poking fun though. "So you're saying you'd be willing to lay out on Santa Monica with me? Catch some rays, snuggle under an umbrella?"

His shoulder catches Marshall's in a soft bump. Knocking a soft huff out of the man and sending what he assumes must be a dirty look his way behind dark shades. "And die in a mob? You know what I meant." His fingers are up adjusting the rim of his hat, another kangol but this time a bucket one. The rapper ever loyal to the brand.

It makes Colson's chest warm and his mouth stretch up into a smile. He loves this version of Em. The soft white tee and cheap cargo shorts wearing guy, who looks like he could be any old tatted up middle aged dilf. So far away from the boring tracksuits and heavy gold chain that ways his neck down any other day. Marshall has always served as a breath of fresh air compared to the overly fashionable and expensive style everyone in LA needs to keep up with.

Colson loves fashion to death, and loves flexing his own wealth and creativity through it, don't get him wrong, but the normal air around this, just the two of them dressed down to go to the beach together pulls at something soft and yearninful in his chest.

"Coulda just rented out a villa with a private beach or something." Marshall's still grumbling to himself, but his palm has dropped from it's fussing with the hat to brush against Colson's in a less than subtle manner.

The blonde can bet those eyes are darting around behind the glasses, scaling the perimeter for any surprise paparazzi.

There's no one here for miles though, that's not apart of their staff at least. Colson's wallet took a serious hit to secure that, not that he will ever tell Marshall that. Hard enough stopping the bastard from playing sugar daddy.

"Pretty sure you were the one who sat around ranting that theres no such thing as a private beach in LA babe." His fingers are dancing and weaving between Marshall's not hooking together just yet, because he always likes to wait and see if the other man will man up and make the first move for pda.

He's rewarded with Marshall's fingers roughly grabbing at his for a tight hand hold less than a minute later. Dark sunglasses directed his way instead of inland this time. "Yeah, that's because there's fucking TMZ drones everywhere-" his expression, what half Colson can see becomes more animated as he speaks. "Andre's had to shoot like 4 down already-"

He could let Em ramble on into a long speech about drones and privacy and hope the release of cagey bitchy energy soothes him, but he opts for a chaste kiss instead. Head darting down and free hand up to softly life the brim of his hat out of the way.

It's quick, and dry, nothing more than a quieting brush of lips but kissing like that always feels more scandalous outside then the few times they've gotten frisky and madeout against cars or down the hall.

The pink burn across Em's cheeks show he thinks the same, but for once the man doesn't fuss about it. Just accepts the kiss and readjusts his hat to drag Colson further down the beach and thankfully away from that expected speech.

Colson loves him. He feels is bright and burning in his chest, even more than the setting sun on his skin. Marshall doesn't even have to do something special for him to feel like that. Its a thought that rushes past his brain over the smallest of moments, which helps Colson know its different from all the times in the past. It's really real this time.

"So we're vacationing all the way out here for a picnic?" Marshall's huff drags his eyes up from whereever they settled on the man's back.

Ahead of them he can see they've finally gotten close enough to the small set up of blankets and baskets Colson had some assistants help him set up earlier. The food being discreetly dropped off while he got Marshall off the couch and agreeable to a sunset walk. It's got nerves fluttering around in the younger rappers stomach like butterflies.

Suddenly the scatter of rose petals and other romantic stuff like candles feels a bit TOO much. Too cheesy for Em to take seriously.

His hesitance must cause the silence to drag on for too long because sunglasses turn to look at him again. Marshall's mouth still and expertly hiding whatever thoughts are rushing through his head.

Colson's almost about to puke, or laugh and kick some sand around and joke how it all must be a prank from his staff but then Marshall smiles. One of those rare genuine ones that he doesn't work hard to hide, or feel ashamed of showing.

"Bout time you finally treated me like the princess I am."

It's soft, and not at malicious in its tease, exactly what Colson needs in the moment to jumpstart his confidence and get him pressing close once more. Hands slipping down to a magnetic spot on Marshall's hips almost instantly.

"Figured I needed some hot sun to thaw away all the ice first."

"Oh so I'm an ice princess now? You calling me cold?"

"More frozen than an iceberg. Absolutely awful. Using the hairdryer once a night was taking way too long-" His mouth hurts at the corners from his smile. Fingers climbing to run through Marshall's soft short hair. Hardly enough to need a blow dry but Colson's done it anyway to see it fluffy multiple times.

"Tch." Marshall's eyes have to be rolling. His fingers curl into Colson's belt loops to drag him forward the rest of the way anyway.

The two of them fit snug under the sunshade, sides touching despite the expanse of blanket all around them. Colson can't help but admire the way Marshall immedatiately moves on to pulling out the food and setting up some plates. Taking the lead as if this isn't a date Colson put together for HIM instead of the other way around.

"Holy shit, you packed tacos? Really trying to butter me up tonight aren't you-"Colson figured that would be Em's favorite part, not the trip itself, just the tacos. "Maybe you're not half bad then Kells."

"Yeah, yeah," Colson's turn to eye roll, his fingers finding the cold little container hiding away his sushi snack he's ordered for himself. "Figured I'd need to win you back over for keeping you up past your bedtime tonight gramps."

A second set of chopsticks swipes away his bite before he can get it. Marshall's amused chewing baiting him for more play. "Little do you know I already have the viagra and the astroglide out waiting at home for the long night I was planning."

"Yeah?" Colson's fingers swipe up a whole taco to steal a bite in retaliation, Marshall's noise of distress completely ignored so he can messily rain tortilla chip, meat, and cheese, crumbs all down over their plates. The quiet chastise of wastefulness ignored while he snags up a bottle of wine. "Thought we already proved I don't need any of that to keep fucking you all night. At this point we might as well invite Pete in to keep you satisfied- ow-"

The sharp jab of an elbow almost makes Colson spill his pour but Marshall's embarassed flush saves him from an additional dig.

"Meant for me to wreck your scrawny ass all night you brat."

The Pete joke is ever ignored, just like every other time Colson suggests it. A thin wall of interest obvious in Marshall's stark avoidance of the topic but they'll dream on that a different night.

"Imma keep you to that then. What number do we wanna bet on? 3? 4 times before?"

Marshall falls right into his trap as expected "Before what?"

"Before you tap out and ask me to tag in."

A middle finger and soft kick is Colson's prize this time. Attention shifting back over to the food in a silent way of truce. Both of them ever aware that if they aren't careful they'll trip their way into a riduclous bet like every other time.

But it's fine, because this is what Colson wanted anyway. Just some nice time to soothe his own nerves and enjoy eachothers company before the main event. He could sit and listen to the waves crash and watch Marshall meticulously pick at his tacos for hours given the chance.

The wine will help too. Liquid courage goes along way for Colson after all.

They stay like that until the sun drops to its lowest yet. Sky painted all pinks and oranges, the wind catching a slight chill. It's beautiful. Not unalike the sunsets in LA but maybe its the lack of smog or light pollution that makes it all seem brighter.

Colson has shifted down onto his side, stretching out along the back of the blanket. Knees offering support to Marshall's lower back where he remains seated.

They're alone. Truly by themselves without a soul around to ruin the moment or even percieve their actions.

It's peaceful. Colson feels the warm gooey seeping of love through his bones. He almost wants to fall asleep in this moment. Lock it in to last eternally over that timeless space where consciousness is far away and the past and the future can mix together.

He makes it as far as his eyes closing before Marshall's lips coax him back awake. A warm palm cupping his cheek, grounding him back to reality where silly sunglasses and a sillier hat continue to hide away those expressive eyes.

They're the first thing Colson plucks off before they roll. His body pinning the older man's to the ground in a soft huff. Hat flopping back to cup Marshall's head while blue eyes crinkle in endearment.

Colson loves him and says so with everything he's got the moment he finds his voice again. Ripping the proverbial bandaid off to lessen the sting.

There's a shakey half smile that wobbles across Marshall's lips for a moment before his expression softens altogether. "Thank god." Puffing between them in a fast sigh of relief before Colson finds his mouth dragged down into a kiss.

It's invigorating. To be seen and accepted so quickly. The relief across Marshall's face and desperation in his kiss almost all the confirmation Colson needs.

"Say it-" his mouth can't help but break away every few seconds between kisses though. Hands wandering and bodies sliding into a comfortable press. "Tell me you- fuck, Marsh-" he wants to drown the other man in kisses, in love. Pour it out of his own mouth in Marshall's to fill him and overflow just to guarentee he hears it back. "I fucking love you-"

A firm hand sneaks along Colson's lower back and another up through his hair. Breaking them apart in a lingering smack before Marshall's pointy nose nuzzles against his. Nose ring catching the same way their lips do. "Colson-"

It's painful. The way Marshall says his name, like holy scripture that burns its way off the devils tongue. Not a venomous spit, but a longing ache.

"Do you?" Colson's hips can't help but grind down hard, mouth darting to nip at Marshall's adams apple when he throws his head back in response.

"God- yes-" his tone is weak. Fingers tightening and body arching. "I've fucking loved you since the very first night you bastard."

The confession punches Colson like a knife, tearing right through his doubts and worries in an instant. He knows Marshall's telling the truth, can taste the embarassment and shame on the other mans tongue when they kiss.

"Loved you before I even knew if you'd tolerate me I think-" this time there's a laugh. It's tight and Colson can only match it with his own. Body shakey and fingers stretching to touch every inch they can.

"You should've told me."

"I know."

But he couldn't. Colson knows the pain Marshall's been through, has made his way though probably a dozen stupid fights in the beginning trying to end things, now with even more painful context. Of course the prick couldn't come out and say it first. He's been afraid just as much as Colson has.

Once you say it, it becomes something loseable.

"Can I, fuck, can I tell you something?"

Marshall's mouth is stretching up into a bigger smile, teeth flashing and tongue peeking as he swallows a laugh. Colson would hear anything he has to say.

"What?"

"I-" Proper laughter breaks them apart a little further, Marshall's hands slide up Colson's side to cup his neck and keep their eyes locked. Steady and firm. "I really thought you were either gonna dump me, or propose today. Like- completely skip this fucking lovey dovey shit and just beeline me right for a confession there in the moment, or, or just drop my ass out here in the bahamas so I can't make a huge scene-"

It's so comical Colson can't help but snort. A burst of laughter wracking through his chest immedaitely afterward that has Marshall pulling on his hair in jest.

"Seriously! You move so fucking fast on me, I can't keep up."

"You're crazy."

"And? That just means you're the weirdo who loves some nutjob."

Snorting again Colson can't help but shake his head and collapse atop his partner with a heavy drop. "I guess so."

He's feels exhausted. In a good way. Months of weight and worry off his shoulders in an instant. Body ready to start unwinding the last weeks worth of tension he's built up over just today atop of Marshall's comfortable chest.

"Propose to ya huh?" The idea sounds both silly and tempting. The door to their future finally wide open before them now with that three word admittance.

Colson is surprised by how much he suddenly wants that. Rings and a stupidly public ceremony. Marshall's hand clasped in his own, a single house shared between them. Another kid.

It's more dream fodder to make him smile silly. "I know your goofy ass aint ever marrying again."

Marshall's responding snort makes him laugh hard. "Says who?"

Even just teasing at the possibility makes Colson smile. He doesn't want to do that right now though. Too comfortable to play and joke around with Marshall so he hums a response and settles himself back down for a possible nap.

Warm arms are wrapped loose around eachother. The crash and retreat of the waves filling the silence.

Colson can't imagine more.

.

..

...

"Will you?" Marshall's voice and soft fingers draw him back in. Threading through his hair and mumbling kisses against his scalp.

"Will you marry me Col?"

[unwantedtomost]

it had been months — sebastian stan

sebastian stan x fem!reader

word count: 4,401 words

summery: it had been nine months since you and your first real long term boyfriend broke up. but as they say, time makes the heart grow fonder ... and it also made the lust build up.

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, cheating, kind of a breeding kink at the end, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

a/n: i have never actually posted a whole thing on here before, so i hope this goes well. i know my writing can improve, but it’s pretty good i would say. enjoy!

It had been months since you had broken up with your long-term boyfriend. Your first long-term boyfriend you had since you arrived to the Hollywood scene. Nine months, to be exact. The same amount of time it would have been to carry a child. A hypothetical child. The same hypothetical child that ruined your relationship in the first place.

“You don’t want kids?” Sebastian questioned as soon as you entered the shared apartment. The topic of children came up at dinner with your shared friends. You, offhandedly said: “God, no,” with a laugh, not giving it a second thought. Not till now.

“Not really,” you said as you unzipped your heeled boots. “I never really have, not since I was younger.”

“Never?” He asked, heart starting to beat heavier.

You looked up to him, concerned when you saw his face. It was the same face he had on every time you guys got in a face, mixed with disappointment, maybe even hurt. You smiled, trying to lighten the situation.

“Maybe not never,” you said, putting your shoes away. “But not at least for ten years, maybe even longer. I mean, I am only twenty-two. I would like a good life without children before bringing them into the mix.”

Your warm smile and calm demeanor did nothing to elevate the tension, something inside you saying it did the exact opposite. He looked serious and upset, a combination you never saw much.

“In ten years I’ll be almost fifty,” Sebastian states.

“So? Guys never really stop shooting out good rounds. All my parts will still be intact by that time too.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is it?” You were confused. Why was he acting like this?

“I shouldn’t be old enough to be the kid’s grandfather.”

Anger started to bubble up as well. This tone that he had made you pissed off. He was talking like you were stupid like you didn’t get what he was saying. The brassiness you had in general not helping your temper.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you started dating someone sixteen years younger than you,” you shot back.

Then the yelling started. Something that could have been a deep, meaningful conversation (one that frankly should have been had way before this point) turned into a full-blown fight. You both started going in at each other, picking at old scabs that you knew would hurt. That was the point, after all, you just wanted to hurt each other. Because you were mad and upset, you guessed, but by the end of it, you weren’t even sure.

The fighting ended two hours later, you sat, slumped on the couch, huffing. You tried to catch your breath from all the yelling. Your throat was hoarse, your cheeks sticky from dried tears.

“It seems like we’re not gonna work out then,” you said, numb.

“Seems so.”

And you left that night, grabbing nothing but your phone before making your way to your closest friend’s house.

After that, you cried for two months straight. You really thought that Sebastian was endgame. That you would be together forever. That you would be happy. Ever since you caught sight of him at your first audition, you felt that he was the one. Then the universe laughed maniacally as it showed you just how fucking wrong you were.

In the past nine months, you had seen him approximately sixteen times, most being in passing, a few being at parties, and one time being at a coffee shop that you both loved. You started to frequent it less after the breakup, too scared to bump into him. Little did you know, he was doing the same thing. The day you two saw each other was both of your first times in three months.

It was all stupid small talk until it wavered, forced laughs and fake smiles fading as the reality of the situation simmered in.

“Look, y/n—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted. You knew what he was going to say, and you didn’t want to hear it. You simply couldn’t. “It was nice seeing you again, Sebastian. I hope you have a good life.” You took a few steps before turning back around for a moment. He looked at you like he was expecting you to run into his arms and make everything go back to normal. “And I really hope you meet a girl that can give you what you need.”

He tried to reach out to you, but you wouldn’t let him. You simply walked away and left him, alone. That was the last time you had spoken to him.

It was five months after the breakup until you let your friends talk you into going out again. And that night you had run into none other than the Timothee Chalamet. Numbers were exchanged then the next thing you knew, you were naked in his hotel room. After that, you went through a bit of a “hoe stage.” Every two weeks you were on a cover of TMZ, E!, or any other celebrity gossip magazine that existed with a “possible new thing.” The people ranged from Tom Holland to Madison Beer, and no one knew what was true or not. After the first few batches came out, you stopped giving a shit. You were allowed to rebound with whomever or however you wanted to, and you were taking full advantage of that.

You were so busy juggling so many people that you hadn’t even thought about Sebastian. Not till right now. Your eyes catch his from across the ballroom that you’re currently in. Your pulse quickens rapidly, you feel like you might even faint. If it wasn’t for Timothee’s hand on your waist, you were sure you would have collapsed on the spot. You watched as Sebastian’s jaw clenched just like it did whenever you did something he disapproved of. Just like it did every time he gave into himself and read one of those stupid gossip sights and saw you all over whatever arm candy you had chosen for the week.

“I’ll be right back, okay babe?” Timothee said, kissing you on the cheek. He waited for you to nod before making his way to one of his friends.

You don’t know what to do and those beautiful blue eyes you fell in love with all that time ago refuse to leave yours. You feel like you want to cry, or scream, or throw up, but you know that you shouldn’t actually do any of those things. You’d draw attention and you don’t want any more people talking about you.

Luckily, one of your best friends, Elizabeth, pulls you into a tight hug and brings you back to earth. Her body feels warm and it makes you feel safe, the smell of her strawberry shampoo bringing you comfort.

“I know,” she said before you spoke. “I saw. Are you okay? I’ll leave with you right now if you want to.”

It takes you a minute to process everything, and even though you’re running everything through your mind, nothing really sinks in.

“I’ll be fine,” you say with conviction, though you don’t know if it’s true at all. “Leaving wouldn’t accomplish anything.” You stop talking for a minute before smiling at Elizabeth. “Now, let’s go give the people what they want and take some pictures together.”

It had been two hours and the event was finally coming to a close. No more than forty-five minutes and the place would be cleared out. With that knowledge, you went to go take advantage of the free bar stocked up with expensive liquor. After schmoozing with people you did not even want to interact with, you deserve it.

“Two shots of tequila and a rum and coke, please,” you say to the rather cute bartender, shoulders slumping.

As soon as the two shot glasses were in front of you, you downed them. It burned like hell and you could only imagine the ungodly face you made. You tried to chase it with the rum and coke, but it didn’t help much. You heard a gruff voice beside you order something, one that was very familiar. When you heard a chuckle, you knew for sure who was right next to you. You froze again, that same dizzy, sick feeling coming back. You turned your head slowly to see those big blue eyes for the second time tonight, your heart surely beating loud enough that anyone in a mile radius could hear it.

“You look beautiful tonight, y/n,” Sebastian said, leaning against the bar, facing you.

“You do too,” you blurt out. Face turning red after you realized that you’re fucking stupid. “I mean, you look—shit. You look very nice, Seb—Sebastian.”

You’re so flustered and red, you want to simply sink into the floor. For a moment, you wonder why he isn’t acting the same way. It could be that he had already had some to drink or maybe he was just better at controlling his emotion. And the thought that makes dread flow through you is that maybe he is just over you.

“Are you going to an after-party?” He asks, sipping from his glass.

“I don’t think so,” you say. You were supposed to go to one with Timothee, where you were finally going to announce that you two had become official, but now you just want to go home. “Are you?”

“Probably not,” he said simply. “I’ll just have a few more of these back home and go to bed.”

“Drinking alone is no fun,” you say, hinting. You know what you are trying to get across but you don’t know why. It’s like your mouth was moving before your brain could understand what you were doing.

“It’s not ideal,” he said. “But I really don’t have a date to drink with, unlike you.” He pointed towards Timothee talking to a director you hastily met.

“He’s not my date,” you shot out. “I mean, he is, but we’re not like, dating.” Why the fuck are you talking!?!?

“It’s none of my business,” Sebastian said. He didn’t sound mean, he sounded like he was trying to comfort you.

“I know … but we’re not … if you were wondering.”

He chuckled, placing a hand on your elbow. “It was nice to see you again, y/n.”

He turned to start walking away but you called after him, making him turn back around. “Wait!” Once he was facing you, you felt like you were in a movie. “I could go for a drink.”

Sebastian smiled but his eyes dismissed you. “What are you doing, sugar?” He warned.

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “But don’t shut me down.”

With a shared smile, he took your hand and you both left the party. On the car ride back to his apartment (that used to be your apartment), you thought briefly about how you would explain this to Timothee in the morning. Then you turned off your phone so you didn’t have to feel guilty if he decided to text you. Neither of you spoke much on the way. His hand never left its place on your thigh before you were finally there.

When he opened the door, you stumbled lightly into the apartment. Sebastian caught you by wrapping his arm around your waist. He lightly sat you down on the chair by the entrance (the same one you had sat at nine months ago). Once he had closed the door and put his things down, he came back to you to help slip off your heels.

“Are you already drunk?” He chuckled.

“No, just a wee bit tipsy.”

“Your ‘wee bit’ is usually a lotta bit.”

“Not this time, I really mean just a wee wee bit.” You suddenly burst out laughing at the fact you just said wee wee, giving away the fact that you are indeed close to being drunk.

“Maybe you don’t need anymore to drink,” Sebastian said.

“C’mon, Sebby, take that stick out of your ass,” you say, making him laugh. It makes you feel lighter like you weren’t fucking shit up again. Like you weren’t making a mistake you would regret in the morning. 

You watched as he made his way into the kitchen, pouring both of you a glass of red wine. Your favorite and most expensive red wine, the one that you had left at the apartment after the breakup. You wondered if it was the same bottle, or if he had done the same thing he was doing with you with another girl. When he came back, he handed you the glass which you placed down on the coffee table, realizing you were still in a designer white dress that you didn’t own.

“Shit,” you muttered after your realization.

“What is it?”

“This isn’t my dress.”

His eyes wandered down your figure as he thought. “You can take that off and I can hang it up for you. I’m sure there’s something here you can wear.”

You nodded before he was walking towards the bedroom, the one you once shared. You followed after him through the small hall. You looked around the room, noticing how boring it looked now. None of your decorations you had were up anymore, but the small mural you once painted in the middle of the night was still in full view. Did he think about you every time he saw it? If he did, why didn’t he just paint over it? 

Sebastian placed one of his shirts (that was your favorite one to wear) and a pair of shorts you had thought you lost on the bed.

“Well, you can get changed in here,” he stated before going for the door.

“Actually,” you called out, stopping him from leaving. “Can you unzip me please?”

He paused for a moment before nodding, slowly making his way back to you. The room went silent as he softly collected your hair and moved it to one side. Heat started to rise through your body at the close proximity he held. His hands grazed your shoulders momentarily before he steadily unzipped the expensive dress. You caught his eyes in the mirror in front of you, your cheeks immediately burning red. He finished unzipping the dress before helping you slide it off your arms. You had to cover your breasts with your arm since you hadn’t worn a bra. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen your body before, he knew his way around there better than you did, but not covering yourself just felt inappropriate. But, to be fair, the entire situation felt inappropriate. The dress fell to a pool around your feet, leaving you in nothing but a pair of lace black underwear, ones that Sebastian had bought for you one month before you broke up. You stepped out of the dress, eyes never leaving his. He bent down to pick it up, blue orbs never leaving your eyes.

“I’ll go lay this on the guest bed,” Sebastian said plainly before leaving the room and closing the door.

Your heart was beating out of your chest as you let your arm fall. Even though you hadn’t even had a conversation with Sebastian in six months, being in that moment felt more intimate than anytime you had sex with Timothee—or anyone, for that matter. You pulled on the worn-out gray tee shirt that vaguely had ‘Coca-Cola’ printed across it before going out to the living room where you found Sebastian sipping on his wine, now dress in an old tee and grey sweatpants.

The next hour felt like a blur, it was filled with giggles and stupid comments. By the end of it, the wine bottle was empty and you two were officially wine drunk. Now, you were slumped on the couch (the one that you picked out), leaning towards Sebastian, hand dancing along the cushion space between you two.

“Have you realized we never had a goodbye?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“What do you mean?” He asked, not wanting his guess to what you were talking about to be right.

“I mean, we had a fight and I left then we were done. There were no ‘this is for the best’ speeches or attempts at a goodbye kiss. One day there was an us and the next it was … nothing.” You looked up at him, an innocent yet quizzical look on your soft features.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” he said.

Not this shit again. “I know,” you said, “we don’t have to talk about anything. We’re not together anymore. We don’t even need to acknowledge each other’s existence anymore. But tonight, you did, and now we’re on your couch.”

“I don’t—” he started, but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“We don’t have to talk about it then. But, I do have another question. Did you ever fuck anyone here?” The words flowed out before you could think any longer, nothing but courage and alcohol running through your body.

“What?”

“It’s pretty self-explanatory, Sebastian. I just want to know if you ever fucked someone in my—our—this place.”

His eyes bore into yours as he spoke, voice sharp and clear. “No, y/n, I have never fucked anyone in this place. No one but you.”

That answer made you happy. This place, your place, was still pure. No random hookups had tramped through the place where you lived.

“Good,” you accidentally said out loud, making him upset.

“Why does it even matter? It’s not like you weren’t fucking those young things you were all over in public.” He started to get angry at the thought. “Who are you to question me about my sex life after you broke up with me then pranced around tabloid covers for months with different people each week?”

“Because this was our house, I just want to know it wasn’t tainted by blonde bitches with names you didn’t even remember in the fucking morning.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but you’re the only blonde bitch I’ve fucked.”

Suddenly, your hand was moving and your palm was connecting with his face. It shocked both of you, making you both freeze in place. It took ten seconds before Sebastian grabbed the wrist you hit him with, yanking it so you were closer to him. So close you could feel his breath on your face.

“Slap me again and see what fucking happens, I dare you,” he spit out.

Then your heart was in your ass as your stomach erupted with butterflies and your panties soaked with arousal.

It was almost like you lost all control over your body as you smashed your lips against his. Your hands went to the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and tugging at the hair there. The intentional scruff on his face was harsh against your smooth skin, but it only elevated your pleasure. Sebastian’s hands went around the sides of your neck, one kind of cupping your face while the other was closer to the back to pull you closer. You felt like you needed to get closer to him, get as close as possible. You needed every single inch of him over every single part of yourself. Your leg swung, straddling him.

Without thinking, you rutted yourself against his thigh, a guttural moan coming from your lips as you did. It’s not like you hadn’t been touched in a while, you just got fucked a few days ago, but you hadn’t experienced something as hot as this in so long. It was rushed and needed, you felt like you would die if he stopped. Your hips absent-mindedly grinded down against his thigh again.

“Fuck, ride my thigh baby,” he ordered. You listened, slipping into your old ways. You continued to rut against his thigh as you kissed. He knew you were getting close by the moans you were letting out into the kiss. He pulled away from your lips, watching as you were losing yourself. “I want you to cum for me, sugar.”

Your hips slowed as your mind raced a mile a minute. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you cum from just his thigh. What would that do to his already inflated ego? It sounded like bullshit to give into him.

“No,” you mumbled out, your hips threatening to halt their movement.

“No?” He repeated.

You sat there for a minute, silent as his eyes frantically studied your face to see what the point was. He wondered if you wanted to stop, he would understand completely, but he knew that wasn’t what it was by the way you keep clenching your thighs together. Sebastian smirked as he realized what was really happening. He grabbed your hips and started to push you down on his thigh. The problem was that you wanted to cum, but you didn’t want to cum for him. Too bad he was determined on it.

You moaned loudly as he started to drag your hips. You were inching so close, the fact that you didn’t want to give in to the feeling made it feel like it was only becoming stronger. Your hands grabbed his old t-shirt as you frantically moved your hips back and forth. Your nose scrunched and your eyes shut tight, your mouth letting out a whisper of “oh fuck”s on a loop.

“That’s it,” you heard Sebastian say even though his voice sounded like it was miles away. “Cum like a good girl.”

Suddenly, all the pressure that was building up deep within your tummy snapped and you were on cloud 9. Your heat pulsed as you road out your orgasm, Sebastian's hands helping you immensely. It took a good minute of pants as you caught your breath before you opened your eyes and came back to reality.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” you muttered to him when you finally made eye contact again.

“I know,” he smirked. “Now be a good girl, sugar, and take off your pants.”

You questioned arguing with him more, but you decided not to. You wanted him, you wanted him so fucking bad. You stood up and pulled down your shorts, doing a little spin so Sebastian could marvel at how wonderful you looked.

“As beautiful as those look on you, darling, they’d look better on the floor.”

You playfully rolled your eyes as you stripped out of the underwear as well, leaving you in nothing but an old grey t-shirt. You went back to your place on Sebastian’s lap, pulling him in for another passionate kiss. You felt like you were melting into him entirely as everything snapped back into place. Your hands roamed lower, palming him through his grey sweats. You smirked to yourself at the realization of how hard he was already and at the fact he wasn’t wearing boxers. He lifted his hips to help you pull down his pants. Just as you were getting ready to place his member in the place you wanted him the most, he halts your movement by grabbing your wrist.

“Shit, I don’t have a condom, y/n,” he warned. You frowned, upset that he had stopped you.

“I don’t care.”

“But you still have that IUD in, right?”

You grimaced because no, you did not. Your five years had run out two months ago and you hadn’t gotten around to making an appointment for a new one. You shook your head slowly side to side before he sighed. He went to pull you off of him but you stopped him by holding onto his shoulders

“I don’t care,” you repeated.

“Y/n, you know why can’t.”

“Why not?”

He looked at you in disbelief. “Besides the fact you could get pregnant?”

“I don’t care,” you said one more time. “I want you.”

He looked into your eyes, trying his best to decipher your intentions.

“Y/n …”

“Get me pregnant, Sebby,” you said, meaning it too. “I want you, I want your kids. Fuck, I want us back. I don’t care if that means kids and a white picket fence. I just want you.”

“Are you sure?”

In response, you slowly leaned down and your lips touched. It was nothing like the kisses you had shared preferably, it was slow and soft. He pulled you closer, finally letting you lower yourself down on him. You both let out loud moans as you sink down on his member.

It was like you had forgotten what making love felt like, probably because you did. In the past nine months since you had split, you hadn’t made love with anyone once. It was all just meaningless sex or hot fucking, but there was no love behind it. You didn’t love Timothee, you hadn’t loved any of your flings. Maybe it was because you never stopped loving Sebastian—you were almost sure it was because of that.

You moved up and down whilst Sebastian thrust up into you. The room was filled with moans, grunts, and praises from both ends. He started to kiss your neck as his thumb started to rub your clit. The multiple amounts of stimulation only brought you closer to your climax.

“I’m gonna, fuck—I’m close.”

“I know, babygirl,” he cooed. “Look at me.” You looked into his blue orbs, feeling your climax inching ever so closer. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whined out as your hips moved faster. “Cum inside me, Sebastian. Get me—fuck, god—put a fucking baby in me.”

With your confirmation, he flipped you on your back, thrusting harder. The hand that wasn’t toying with your clit interlaced with yours. Your grip on each other squeezed harder as you neared your finishes. You wrapped your legs around him as his hips started to stutter.

“Cum with me, baby,” Sebastian groaned.

You finally let the coil that built inside of you snap with his permission. Moments later, he busted inside of you, making you both yell out. He collapsed on top of you, trying his best not to crush you under his weight. You both panted for minutes before you finally spoke up.

“I love you,” you said. He lifted his head, looking into his eyes. “I never stopped.

“Neither did I,” Sebastian said. “Did you mean it, you want to have kids?”

“I want to do anything if it means I can be with you. Anything.”

[onewithnomightypowers]

clandestine (chapter 7)

PAIRING: Tom Holland x fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Y/N is an up and coming actress, married to a once hotshot actor, Harrison (Haz). What happens when her co-star, Tom, makes her realise that she is stuck in a loveless marriage. A marriage starts crumbling and a new romance stars brewing.

chapter 7: rabbit hole

A/N: i do not encourage cheating. omg THE LAST CHAPTER!!!! i hope you guys like this chapter!! feedback is always appreciated. thanks for reading <3

warnings: drinking, cursing, hate comments

word count: 1.6k

important: bold and italic are character thoughts

series masterlist   main masterlist   chapter 6

Love, easy it comes and easy it goes. Y/N and Haz’ calamitous love had no tracks ahead of it. The only thing they could do was jump off the train before it crashed and burned. Y/N took that step and fell on Tom’s doorstep. When Haz saw her leave, he understood that hurt couldn’t save a dying soul, so he jumped too, causing their marriage to fall off a hill.

They left the hobbit’s room with a sea of change in their aura. Both had bloodshot eyes from all the rivers they swam through. “I will go settle the tab”, Haz said without meeting her eyes. Y/N walked towards her driver, Arnold, who was standing near the main entrance, eager to tell her about the situation outside.

“There is a herd of paparazzi out there, ma’am”, he said.

Y/N hummed in acknowledgment.

“Shall we go?” Haz walked over to them.

“Yeah”, her voice was small and dry.

Arnold opened the door and stayed ahead to make way for them in between the storm of people. They were all screaming something over one another, making it hard to understand. Haz and Y/N had their heads down, trying to hide the stained cheeks from the blinding lights. Haz clutched Y/N’s hand protectively, out of habit.

They made their way inside the car, parked not so far away from the pub.

“You can stay with me tonight, you’re leaving for New York tomorrow morning anyway”, Y/N said looking outside the window.

“It's fine Y/N, I can get a hotel room”

“No, I insist”, her eyes focused on the lamp heads passing them by.

“Okay, I’ll take the couch”

“You can sleep on the bed, with me”

Haz found Y/N’s hand in the dark backseat and squeezed it affectionately.

That night was the last time they slept together in the same bed. When Y/N woke up the next morning, he was already gone. He left a note on the refrigerator that read, ‘thank you for everything’. A bittersweet smile took over her face.

Y/N needed some time to herself, but she also needed to inform people about her decision. She craft an email to her manager, agent and her lawyer. All of them were sent the exact same email.

Harrison and I have decided to end our marriage. I would like to file for divorce as soon as possible, and the process should be civil. I will be unavailable for a few days, so do what you have to with the news.

Y/N

She also sent her parents that email but as a text on the family group chat.

It’s short and to the point, let’s hope they don’t call me with a million questions.

When it came to Tom, she noticed that he had sent her an image a few seconds ago. It was a screenshot of a TMZ article. The headline was, ‘Y/N left her movie premiere early to meet her husband’, it wasn’t jarring but the photo underneath the headline was. Haz was holding Y/N’s hand as tightly he physically could, both of their bodies looked tired and Y/N’s makeup was all messed up. She hadn’t noticed any of that in the moment, last night.

Tom sent her another text.

Tom: Are you ok?

Y/N: not really, I’m filing for divorce

Tom: oh, do you want me to come over?

Y/N: I think I want some time to myself right now

Y/N: I’ll probably watch Gilmore girls the whole weekend

Tom: ok, I’m here if you need anything

Tom: love you

Y/N: you too

---

On Monday, the news broke. The whole world now knew that their marriage was over. The news outlets tried their best to be creative with headlines.

‘Their kingdom has come and gone: Harrison and Y/N file for divorce’

‘Harrison and Y/N, Hollywood’s perfect couple not so perfect anymore’

These were some of the most impressive ones according to Y/N’s management team but they decided to keep it to themselves. No one had heard from Y/N since Saturday. Even though she had told them that she would be unavailable, they still sent emails, warning her to stay off social media sites, especially twitter, the creator of hate wagons.

Twitter was not kind to her at all. Their divorce was trending in the entertainment section. Many people thought that it was their right to comment on this situation. They had a lot to say, mostly about Y/N.

Y/N would often find herself diving into the rabbit hole of her trending tag. She would read almost everything they had to say about her, the good and the bad, but the bad overwhelmed the good.

‘She was only in it to get famous’

‘She ugly if I was Harrison then I would drop that ass too’

‘She is so fake’

‘Harrison is better off without her’

‘She was def cheating on him’

‘Why would someone even love Y/N’

She didn’t notice, but this was getting to her. She would constantly stare at her reflection, picking her appearance apart because someone on the internet called her ugly. Y/N would rethink everything she ever said in front of the media wondering whether she sounded fake or not. She would wake in the middle of the night, pacing like a ghost, thinking she didn’t deserve Tom at all and that he would realise soon enough.

All would be lost.

Even though she thought no one noticed that she was slowly losing her mind, Tom did. He would look at her touching her face, getting lost in deep thoughts. He could feel her tossing and turning in the bed, every night. He would look through her while she’s looking through her phone. Her leg would never stop fidgeting while at rest. He noticed everything.

He took it upon himself to save her from the demons. It was late evening, Tom picked Y/N up from the set. The whole ride home, Y/N was on her phone, mindlessly scrolling through her twitter, reading every inch and every corner. No words could escape her.

When they reached home Y/N informed Tom that she was going to take a shower. Tom was in the kitchen getting the food ready, when he saw Y/N’s phone unattended on the kitchen island. He was tempted to go through with his plan.

He picked up her phone and unlocked it, he knew her password. He went on deleting every social media app from her phone and also changed his contact DP on her phone. Earlier it was an embarrassing childhood photo, he changed it to a scanned Polaroid photo of them together.

Y/N came out with a towel tied up her head. She grabbed two plates from the cabinet and set them on the island.

“What are you making?” she asks him.

“Rice paper rolls”

“So we’re having Vietnamese today, interesting”, she grabbed her phone to check her Instagram.

Where the fuck are all my apps?

“I think my phone has some defect, the Instagram and twitter apps got deleted”, Y/N says vigorously swiping through her phone.

“That’s not a defect I did that”, Tom served the dinner.

“You did what? You have no right to go through my phone and delete apps without my permission, Tom.”

“It’s for your own good, all of that shit was getting to your head”, he said calmly.

“No it wasn’t” she poorly defended herself.

“Yes it was, you were letting some random divs tell you what you are worth. That’s fucked up, babe”

She lets out a loud grunt, filled with frustration.

They both ate in silence, only the crunch of vegetables audible.

After Tom was done with his dinner, he got up, placed his dish in the sink, picked up his coat from the sofa and walked towards the door. Y/N’s eyes never stopped following his figure.

“I think I should go back to my apartment”, before Y/N could reply, Tom was out of the door.

They didn’t talk for a day but Y/N realised how peaceful she felt without having other people’s opinions being fed to her constantly. She felt less insecure about her body, her personality and especially Tom.

He loves me so much that he was ready to invade my privacy to help me.

She decides to call Tom, noticing the unfamiliar photo on his contact. The phone rung, he picked it up on the second ring.

“You little shit changed your photo, huh” her smile was audible.

“I did and I’m sorry”

“No, I’m sorry. You were right, I do feel better with all the noise gone, but you know what would make me feel much better, you, here with me”

---

Tom came over almost instantly, it was like he was already halfway to her apartment when she called. They were on the couch, watching a movie on Y/N’s laptop. Y/N had her head on Tom’s lap and he was playing with her hair.

Holding her breath, Y/N slowly said, “You didn’t need to save me, you know”

“I know”, he replies nonchalantly.

“But the real question is, would you run away with me?”

“Of course, where to darling?”

“Somewhere no one can find us and it’s only the two of us”, she scrunches her face.

“Do you remember the first time we kissed, at the pub?”

“Yeah”, she replied, fondly remembering that moment.

“You said we should go to Ireland together and I said don’t make empty promises”

“Well, do you want to run away to Ireland with me?”

“Yes”, he bent downwards and kissed her softly.

THE END

@mysticapples17 @storybookholland @flqwsome  @hollandstanevans

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Love on the Line - Part 2

I hope y’all are ready for the heartache because this chapter absolutely destroyed me. Please read the warnings because this chapter does deal with quite a few heavy issues along with ripping your heart to shreds. Let me know if you’d be interested in another part? Thank you all for the read! Part 1 HERE

Masterlist

Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count: 2360

Warnings: heartbreak, break-up, language, mention of self harm, pure unadulterated angst 

******************

Today was a day where she just wanted solace though the impending doom of forethought clouded her every sense. She wanted to blink and will the world around her to magically disappear enjoying her descent into darkness. Y/N sought to feel anything at all but alas she felt wholly empty. It was slowly but surely killing her, picking her apart piece by fucking piece. She hadn’t had the chance to speak with him, hear his once soothing voice on the other end of the phone. Just nonchalant texts messages brimmed with no meaningful purpose. But is that what she wanted the entire time? Possibly so. 

That’s what made her friends poke into her business, snoop until they found an answer worthy of their liking. Y/N knew how to play their games and say whatever it took to make them stop their line of questioning. It was her equivalent of mourning the future she mapped out. Her phone chimed alerting Y/N of its annoying presence. ‘Catching a connecting flight out of LAX to meet with Danny and, finally heading home baby! ETA tomorrow late afternoon.’

Great, there was no stopping his arrival now that he was officially coming home.

She had so many grand plans in her dreams, promises of a life she now questioned if she ever wanted at all. The blade felt cool against her skin, she begged for the sweet release for the air latched in her lungs to be set free, but no such luck today. Old habits die hard. Blood dribbled onto the marble sink as relief flooded her system, endorphins pumping as her vision momentarily darkened. For a second, all was calm and she relished in the fleeting feeling. Y/N finally released the breath scratching at her lungs. She was anxious and just wanted to sleep away the day while morph into her sheets.

Curiously, she didn’t remember when she became exhausted. She didn’t remember when exhausted was no longer exhausted, and it just was. The tiredness seeped in her bones and she accepted this state of being with utter apathy. Y/N frowned down at the piece of jewelry that once sparked joy, reminiscing on the night Henry proposed. Now the ring on her finger was beginning to weigh too much for her to fathom. So, Y/N did what was best and sadly slide the diamond off her ring finger and back into its elegant box.

~The Next Day~

             Y/N paced their chic living room floor awaiting his and Kal’s arrival. Mentally prepping herself over the strong points to hit in their conversation trying to build her courage and morale. This would be easier if I wasn’t in love with him. Just then, she heard the sound of the garage door open and an engine decease. It was now or never. Realistically, Y/N knew she couldn’t keep a straight face for very long but at the same moment so ached for his touch, for his gentle kiss, and for one more unscathed instance. She inhaled deeply and soothed her nerves to the best of her ability. The front door opened, the pitter patter of paws hit the ground first, greeting her with overwhelming enthusiasm. Y/N kneeled to Kal’s level letting the dog lick her cheek powerless to the loyal Akita before her.

“Darling, where you are?” His voice echoed through the foyer in search of Y/N as he found her with Kal. He rushed towards her, wrapping his arms in a warm embrace and brought her close. He buried himself in the column of her neck kissing a trail of the gentle kisses and inhaled. Everything about this woman lit his insides of fire and now she was tangible, a reality he was more than happy to clasp on to. Hands finding his tamed locks, Y/N intertwined her fingers pulling him in leaving no space between their bodies. Stay strong. Stay focused Y/N.

“Is it even possible to miss one’s smell?”

“You’re home.”

Y/N stepped out of his warmth missing the fleeting scowl etched on Henry’s face.

“Can I get you anything to drink; Scotch possibly? I’m dying for a drink.”

Henry couldn’t put his finger on it but something didn’t feel right. As she reached the wet bar, he took in her appearance. She had lost weight; her bones were noticeable now. She turned his direction with glasses in hand. Her cheekbones were too pronounced, she quite frankly looked …fragile?

“Here you go, babe. Welcome home.”

His hand clasped over hers holding her stare before retrieving the glass.

The liquor deliciously burned down her throat. He refused to bite his tongue any longer; “Y/N, is something the matter?”

She ogled the bronzed liquid in her glass before clearing her throat; “Yes.” Henry’s eyebrows raised in concern reaching out to her as Y/N took a step out of reach.

He barely heard her before a whimper left her; “Please don’t touch me, Hen.”

Bewilderment override his body leaving his brain in the dust.

“Love, what’s wro—” Before he could finish, his phone beeped notifying him of an incoming message. He reached in his back pocket wanting to silence the damned thing before reading who it was from.

‘Anya: Make it home safe? I’m lying in bed alone and can’t help but think of your taste. See you soon?’

Y/N watched in disbelief at his attention pulled elsewhere. So much so that she didn’t comprehend the glass shattering onto the tile floor and blood sliding down her wrist. She clenched her fist in blinded anger reminding herself of the pain as the shard dug deeper into her flesh.

“I’m standing right in front of you. I always have and yet you refuse to even acknowledge me. I can’t even maintain your attention god forbid you put your phone down for five minutes. How do you think that feels when the one person you’re in love with can’t even give you the time of day?”

He drank in her disheveled appearance, her blotted checks streaked with tear stains, her messy hair from constantly running her fingers through, and lastly, the hurt that lay just behind her blue irises. He’d never hated himself more than in this moment. Ever so gently he leaned closer into her frame craving her closeness but she remained a step further. She ducked away in disgust swatting his hand from reaching her face. Henry attempted to cover up the shock from overtaking his chiseled features. He’d never seen her so on fire in their entirety as a couple.

“I said don’t fucking touch me. You sicken me. Is that what you wanted to hear, huh? Do you think it’s fun being invisible to the one person I thought had my back?” She refused to hold back her emotions anymore allowing the storm to overflow.

“YN... please let me...”

“What? Let you explain? What possible bullshit are you about to spew in hopes of changing my mind?”

“I love you. Don’t ever underestimate my feelings for you.” 

Sighing, she inhaled a much-needed breath of air before composing herself, at least to the best of her abilities; “Henry. Stop. Please, I’m begging you. My chest feels as if it’s been pried open and my heart ripped from my body. My blood boils through my veins yet is tinged with ice. You’re breaking me into a million little pieces. You must see what you’re doing to me.”

Melancholy dripped from her voice as he silently berated himself, shaking his head in defeat. His eyes glazed over slightly in an attempt to find his own composure, to quill the manic pounding residing in his chest. If he were being honest, it had been quite some time since he last looked at Y/N. Genuinely looked at her. No facetime, no phone calls. And she was right, she was ripping at the seams. How had he not noticed? The chilled atmosphere left the pair suffocating, grasping onto their last truth of reality as quietness laid between them. 

“You pride yourself on your so-called honesty. So, now’s your time! ...are the rumors true?”

Henry’s eyes immediately averted to the cement ground below wishing to buy himself another second of borrowed time. But with no such luck, he let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realize had been lodged in his lungs. 

“Yes. But I didn’t sleep with her.” 

YN bit her lip to keep a wail from slipping out making her insides inflate with sadness. She knew it was all too good to be true. Her stomach churned at the mere mention of her name.

She sniffled trying to look anywhere but at the handsome god displayed in front of her but to no avail met his calm blue eyes awaiting hers. 

“Okay.”

“Okay? That’s all you have to say?” 

Y/N’s fight was fast depleting and she wasn’t sure how long her energy would remain before perching upon empty. If she was being honest, all she wanted to do was bury her head into his warm chest willing his past mistakes away and reuniting them with their life...the life they built together. But that was no longer an option she could look forward to any longer. He made damn sure of that before returning home from filming. And worse, TMZ had the pictures to rub salt in her fresh wounds. 

Her silence was killing him increasing his anxiety foolproof. 

“Please Y/N say something, anything! I deserve your wrath and anger. A shout would be better than nothing.”

But to his surprise, she remained frozen unable to show what was running through her mind. 

“There’s nothing left to say. You made a choice and with that said choice allowed for the entirety of our relationship to simply vanish. I deserve wholesome and unconditional love, not some half-ass attempt. It must’ve been so lonely in Budapest for you that you just had to fuck somebody else. I totally get it.” Her sarcastic tone finally freeing her most inner thoughts.  

“I didn’t have sex with her! Woman, listen to the words I’m saying.”

“Don’t you dare patronize me. Look me in the fucking eyes Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill and tell me what happened.”

“A silly mistake. We had just wrapped and headed out to a local pub down the way. It had this amazing terrace and all I could think is about how much you would’ve enjoyed the view, the architecture of the city. Drinks led to shots and before I knew it, someone pushed me into a bathroom stall. I remember hearing the lock click, Anya tugging at my belt, and not having the restraint to push her away. I closed my eyes and pictured you, I swear it. God woman, I missed you. It wasn’t until I came that I realized it wasn’t you.”

“Did you ever even maybe think about how I get being hundreds of miles away from you? That maybe I was just as lonely. But guess what? I didn’t go to a bar and stick my tongue down anyone’s throat. Jesus, Henry, I’m not even sure I even crossed your mind. Do tell me though; are you apologizing because you got caught or because you feel bad?”

His question left her stunned. This wasn’t how he saw this scenario playing out in his head. Y/N glanced down at the beautiful ring residing on her delicate finger. The one she had forced herself to put on that morning. The diamond ring she once so blindly admired now felt like a ton of bricks forcing her stomach to stir with resentment. 

“Filming was chaotic and I just slipped. A fucking lapse in judgement. I’m an asshole Y/N but you must know how much I regret causing you any amount of pain. 

“Temptation is an impossible beast to tame. But worry no more for you are a free man now.” 

“That isn’t what I want.”

She smirked at him before letting out a loud huff; “Sometimes we don’t always get what we want. In this case, we’re both losers.” 

Henry shook his head in disagreement unable to process her words before she spoke again; “Perhaps, somewhere, someday, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again.”

“Don’t say that my love. Please give me another chance. We can work through this; I know deep in my bones there is no one else for me in this life.”

“To what Henry? To make a fool out of me once more? To show the world your power of forgiveness?”

“Be rational Y/N. I asked you to fucking marry me for god’s sake. I want you as my wife, to be by my side!”

Her throat dried at his words of admittance. It was still her dream too. When she closed her eyes YN pictured him in a wonderfully fitted tux waiting for her but now he had trampled her trust.

“I, I want to be the last person who ever kisses you… Please, hear me out. I know that sounds weird, like some sort of death threat.” Henry continued to stumble in attempt to find the words his brain was spewing; “This is it for me, darling.”

His words sunk into her encapsulating her very presence. It was everything and more she had craved to hear. But now his pretty words were tinged with guilt and cheapness leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

“You’re not in love with me, not really, you just love the way I made you feel. And you’ve definitely proved that others can make you feel the same just as easily. Stop playing the victim. You did a shit thing and it kinda makes you a shit person now. The sooner you accept that the easier it will be to comes to terms with your new reality. The one without me in it.”

Before Henry fully processed her words, he suddenly felt an object being placed into his right palm. Her slender fingers atop his before throwing him a pitiful frown. Slowly prying his hand open, the glimmer of the engagement ring laid desolate as blood bombarded his eardrums. After all, how often do we get a second chance?

 -------

Tags: @maggiemoo1892​ @thedeadhearted​ @giveusbackourbucky​ @elinalfrida​ @thereisa8ella​ @henry-cavlll​ @onlyhenrys​ @threeminutesoflife​ @princess-of-riviaa​ @omgkatinka​ @littlefreya​

[kenzieam]

Us This Way - Oneshot

Rating: M

Warnings: Angst, heartache, some language ****TRIGGER WARNINGS****

Word Count: 4417

Tags: @jewels2876​  @moonbeambucky​  @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123​  @iammarylastar​ @captstefanbrandt​  @badassbaker​  @pinknerdpanda​  @oliviastan17​ @mizzzpink​​

***************************************************************

Okay, so this frickin’ song gets me every time.

Kudos to the beautiful Lady Gaga for this hauntingly beautiful gem.

**************************************************************

Lev swallowed past the lump in her throat, skimmed the note in her hand one last time. She’d wrote and rewrote the words so often in her head she knew them by heart, but it didn’t make reading them any easier.

James,

By the time you sober up and read this, I’ll be gone.

I can’t do this anymore, the drinking, the fights, the lies.

You aren’t the same man I fell in love with, and I can’t say anymore that I’m the same girl you knew either.

When we started this journey, you told me things would never change; that it would be just the two of us, against the world, travelling and sharing your music and voice and I, naively I guess, believed it.

But everything is different. You’re drunk all the time, drinking to excess and its only going to be a matter of time before your followers see it too, there’s already gossip on the fan sites about your behaviour.

And I’m not leaving because of that, I could deal with the alcohol if it weren’t for the craziness that comes with it.

These women aren’t here for you, they’re here for the idea of you, the Rockstar, and I can’t watch you take them into your hotel rooms anymore, I can’t hear you through the walls with them.

I deserve better and, to be honest, so do you but I can’t help you anymore.

God knows I’ve tried.

I hope one day you find peace and closure from whatever haunts you so badly and discover your voice again.

I love you; I always have.

I always will,

Levi

A tear burned hot down her cheek, but she wiped it away absently, clearing her throat. She’d already wasted so many tears, she couldn’t spare any more.

Laying the note silently on the bedside table, Lev took one last lingering glance at the man, her former lover and friend, current rockstar touring and conquering the world, now passed out face down in the hotel bed, back scratched and red from his latest groupie foursome she’d chased out just minutes ago, two or three empty liquor bottles visible among the tangled sheets, then turned and left the room.

*******************************************************************************

A throbbing headache dragged him from oblivion later and, for a time, James just lay there, eyes half-open, trying to piece together the last hours.

He remembered two, or was it three? Groupies: giggling girls with fake tits and trout pouts, wearing little more than ace bandages and laughing at his every word like he was the most charming asshole on Earth and everything that fell out of his mouth was pure gold.

Lev had never put up with his shit. She’d always set him straight with a few well-chosen words, a sharp glare with her hypnotizing violet eyes.

Come to think of it, where was Lev? Usually she was prodding him awake by now, pushing coffee into his face, talking about getting up, getting showered and getting on the damn bus.

Bottles clinked as he moved, struggled in the tangled sheet to push himself upright. His back stung and faint memories surfaced, one of the harpies scratching him, moaning theatrically as he fucked her, wishing it were Levi beneath him still instead of this random stranger.

God, he hoped he’d worn a condom, not that it stopped theses psychos; Christ, every week there was a new accusation, a new girl stepping forward claiming he’d impregnated her.

Thank fuck for his lawyer, Sam Wilson; the man was a gem, with the retainer bills to prove it.

“Lev?” He croaked, wincing as fresh pain shot through his skull.

No answer.

“Lev!” He chanced a shout, growling and grabbing his throbbing temples. “Fuck, where are you?”  

He turned his head, squinting before freezing as his glare landed on the letter.

***********************************************************************************

“So, you just left, huh?” Steve asked, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, and staring at it contemplatively.

“Yeah, same as you.” There was a hint of venom in Lev’s voice and the blond man smirked.

“Yeah, same as me. Got tired of the shit.”

“Everyday.”

Steve sighed, staring out at nothing, thoughts a thousand miles away. “Remember when we first started out?”

“You, me and James in that old van? Driving from bar to bar and playing for peanuts?”

“You’d go up on stage when he reached for you, join him for a few songs?”

Lev sighed sadly. “Long time ago, man. We were just fucking kids.”

“Yep, but you two? Timeless. I remember when I first saw you. First day of grade three in Ms. Hawthorn’s class; James elbowed me and said, ‘that’s the girl I’m going to marry’.”

“He did not!” Lev fought a smile, she’d heard this story so many times, her reaction varying from honest disbelief to warm-hearted nostalgia depending on how fresh her latest pain was.

“He did.” Steve replied, smiling fondly. “Couldn’t take his eyes off you.”

“Yeah, well… something else has caught his eye now.”

“You can’t save him, Lev. He has to want to save himself.”

“I know… it just hurts.”

“I know.” Steve murmured quietly. “I know.”

*****************************************************************************************

‘Rockstar James Barnes’ newest run-in with the paparazzi, next on TMZ’

Lev groaned and turned off the TV, throwing the remote onto the scarred coffee table.      

Obviously, he was perfectly capable of carrying on with his shenanigans without her, not that her pleas for him to stop had ever fallen on anything but deaf ears.

She glanced at her cell phone, then cursed and purposefully looked away. Every day for years she’d seen his name come up on her display, multiple times a day, through the night and she’d come to expect it.

The calls after she’d left had come heavy and hot, barely a pause in between except for increasingly abusive texts and voicemail messages. When they had changed to broken, mournful, pleading messages she’d thrown her cell away, smashed it for good measure.

It was just habit to look for his name now, a useless throwback.

She had left a month ago and James’ spiral of self-destruction was becoming a nightly news story.

She didn’t envy Pepper, his long-suffering publicist, nor Nick, the rep from Fury Records; word was both were close to dropping him soon, if he didn’t get his act together.

Cursing herself afresh, Lev reached for the remote and flicked the set back on. She was a fucked up as him sometimes, intent on making it hurt.

James’ face appeared on the screen and Lev was shocked at how haggard he now looked, pale and drawn. His hair was lanky, in his face, clothes wrinkled. As the paparazzi swarmed him, leaving the latest club, he glanced up at the cameras and Lev was struck dumb by the utter misery on his face. His eyes were red-rimmed, either from sleep problems (something he’d had more than his share of in the time Lev had known him) or he’d taken up hard drugs.

The pap screamed questions at him, jostling each other and him as he struggled through the mob, the slightly shell-shocked bottle-blonde woman on his arm being all but dragged behind. What security James hadn’t chased off was all but overwhelmed by the reporters and fans, light flashes strobing the scene.

“Just leave me the FUCK alone!” James roared, pushing hard at one spectacled paparazzi, knocking him to the ground and only inflaming the mob more.

Lev felt a surge of fear, mixed in with a healthy dose of rage at the sight. Someone could easily get hurt tonight, lines could be crossed that would never be forgotten. James was juggling with the remains of his career right now and he had the shakes.

“Are the rumors true?” One pap screeched.

“Where’s Lev?” Another yelled and Lev winced. They were still asking him, four weeks into her departure.

“Is the picture of you snorting a white substance outside The Down Low real?”    

Shit.

James didn’t answer beyond a wild-eyed sneer then he was scrambling into a large black SUV, the confused milling of his few remaining security guards telling Lev they hadn’t expected him to drive; then the SUV was screeching away, paparazzi and security scattering like flies, their shouted questions turning into screams of shock and fear and Lev clapped her hands to her mouth, biting back her own scream.

He had totally gone crazy; without Lev there to anchor him, he was dangerously adrift.

The clip ended and the TMZ crew started rehashing it, some expressing sympathy for James and others outright condemning him for losing his shit so badly.

“Does anyone know where she went?” Harvey asked, sipping on his trademark straw.

“Who, Levi Riel?” One the lackeys frowned in confusion.

“Who else?” Harvey laughed. “I mean, James Barnes was a wild man before but now he’s completely off the rails. Something’s happened there but his camp won’t comment. Any luck on contacting Lev herself?”

They’d tried, endlessly, until Lev had smashed her phone and gotten a new number; so far, that hadn’t been leaked but the pap was sneaky and resourceful, Lev had been in the spotlight long enough as James’ gal Friday to know how it worked and she didn’t expect to remain incommunicado forever. Besides, she was already fielding calls from other musicians, hearing she was free and desperate for her services. So far, she’d said no, it was still too raw for her to go back into the industry, but her savings wouldn’t last forever.

Would she be alright? Running into James at an award show somewhere, contracted to another singer, seeing him with some other woman (not that that was in any way new), or perhaps worse, doing just fine now without her? How long would he last like this? There were plenty of examples out there of musicians who’d self-destructed, died by suicide or misadventure, and if James had been spotted snorting white powder already, he was well on his way to joining the club.

Her phone rang and Lev almost dropped her glass, despite staring at the damned thing almost compulsively looking for James’ name, the sound still made her heart race.

“Hey, Steve.”

“You saw that?” His voice was resigned. “TMZ?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Every miserable second.”

“You going to tell me to go back to him?” A part of Lev wanted Steve to say no, but a larger part wanted to hear yes.

“No. I was going to tell you to make sure you stay the hell away. This isn’t your mess anymore, hon.”

“But… my leaving-”

“Didn’t do anything, he was already circling the drain, you were right to get yourself out when you did.”

Lev blinked back tears, wiped them angrily away. “When did it all go so wrong, Steve?”

He exhaled sadly. “Who knows? After Clint overdosed?”

“After my miscarriage?” Lev whispered, the memory of James holding her, crying with her on that hotel bathroom floor, blood smeared on her inner thighs rushed back into her mind’s eye.

They… he’d wanted a child so badly, back in the good years, when they’d lay sated and exhausted in bed together, murmuring softly before sleep claimed them both.

“I want a baby,” he’d whisper, eyes searching hers. “You’d be such a good mama.”

“Not right now,” she’d always answer, although the thought of growing round with his seed sparked heat low in her belly. “It’s not the right time, you’ve had five consecutive number one hits, you’re on top of the world.”

“We are.” He’d reply, reaching up and stroking his calloused thumb over her bottom lip.

“Maybe.” Steve replied softly. “It’s still not your fault, Lev.”

She couldn’t hear anymore; the memories were rushing back too hard and too fast. “Goodbye, Steve.”

********************************************************************************

A part of her expected the call, and she reached for the phone, half-awake, when it rang sometime after two a few nights later.

“Miss Riel?” A clipped, professional voice. “This is Dr. Keening from the UCLA Medical Center, I'm calling about your husband, James.”

********************************************************************************

Lev wouldn’t let herself examine the reasons why she dropped everything and booked the next flight to Los Angeles, maybe it was seeing him so distraught on TV, maybe it was thinking about their past; the way he’d held her so tightly, so lovingly, even as he cried so hard with her that night, the realization so fresh that their child, almost too early to even be called a baby yet, had left them already.

She gave the Uber driver directions then leaned back in the seat, staring out the window without really seeing and, all too soon, the car was pulling to a stop in front of the hospital.

The sterile smell inside made her stomach roil and she almost turned around and left, then squared her shoulders and pressed the elevator button for the right floor.

A nurse directed her to the correct room then had the grace to leave her alone. Lev milled around the hallway for a beat, chewing on her lip and struggling to find a reason, any reason, why she should walk through that door.

This…. He wasn’t her problem anymore, she’d left.

But they could both use some closure.

He was asleep when she entered the room but before she could turn around and leave his eyelids fluttered. He’d always been able to sense when she was near, and that connection apparently hadn’t faded in their separation. The instant his gaze landed on her the cloudiness vanished and a desperate, clinging hope took its place.

“Lev?” His voice cracked with exhaustion, his hand shaking as he reached for her and Lev was surprised by how hard it was to not step forwards and take it, smooth back the dark hair plastered on his sweaty forehead. He’d lost weight, dark rings under his eyes, the muscles that always flexed so deliciously as he moved fading away.

She squeezed her fist around the handle of her bag and waited, not moving forwards.

His fingers twitched, confusion joining the hope. “Levi?” His voice was plaintive.

“What are you doing, James?” She clipped.

“What?” His brow furrowed, his breathing beginning to speed up. Finally, he dropped his hand, pulling it back into his lap, fingers clenching.

“Acting like this? Getting caught by the gossip rags snorting coke? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He’d obviously not expected to be chastised and wasn’t that the heart of the issue; he’d always gotten his way before, the coddled rockstar, no one calling him out with any degree of seriousness, no one but Lev anyway and she’d always caved before laying out any real boundaries, never done something so extreme as leave before.

Was that why she’d come back then, because she felt responsible for this?

The furrow in his brow deepened, the simple hope in his face vanishing. Now came the temper, the short bursts of fury meant to force his will, likening him to a spoiled child, an attitude that Lev regretted not shutting down years ago when it first started raising it’s ugly head.

He stared at her, eyes dark and wounded, “you left,” he hissed.

“I couldn’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” A compulsive snap, he knew exactly what she was talking about, but he’d never owned up to it, never, not once.

“Watch you with all those girls, see you take them into your room, hear you fuck them through the walls, chase their skanky asses out the next morning so I could get you out of your drunken stupor and looking like a human being only to have you treat me like a piece of shit by doing it all over again the next night!” Lev hissed, enraged to feel the prick of tears in her eyes.

For a moment she was surprised to see betrayal flash through his eyes. “They don’t mean anything. They’re just groupies-”

“So that makes it alright? And telling people I’m your wife? What the fuck, James?!”

“Well, you should be!” He snarled. His arm snapped out, sweeping across the rolling table hovering over his bed, loud crashes sounding as everything on it hit the floor. “I fucking asked you enough times!”

He had. So many times, and every time she’d said ‘no’. What had held her back?

“Grow up.” Lev snapped, her face heating. How many times had they argued like this? How many times had they danced this twisted dance?

Too many fucking times.                    

“Fuck you.”

“No, James. Fuck you. I’m done. I don’t know why I came here anyway… I’m, I’m done. Have a nice life, what’s left of it anyway.” She turned to leave before the fury she was feeling was overwhelmed by the hurt and disappointment; what had she expected? Why did she always do this? Hadn’t she learned yet that he would never grow up and be the man she saw deep inside him? When would she stop hurting herself trying to draw that out?

She needed to stop trying.

“Hey. What are you doing?” James demanded but Lev ignored him, marching back out the door she’d just entered moments ago. “Hey!”

Lev stopped and took a deep breath, collecting her words. Without turning she swiveled her head enough to look at him.

“I’m done, James. I can’t watch you self-destruct anymore. I tried for years to be there for you, because I love you… but I can’t do this anymore, I need to live my own life.” Without waiting for an answer, she swiveled back, let her feet carry her away even as she felt her heart break anew in her chest.

If this was the right thing, why did it hurt so bad, why did she feel like she was abandoning him just when he needed her the most?

“Levi!” His voice broke on the scream, reverberating around her in the hallway but she didn’t turn back.

******************************************************************************

Ten Months Later

Lev sorted through her mail, separating the junk from the real then paused, lifting a large, cream coloured envelope from the pile.

Who sent letters anymore?

Splitting the seal, Lev pulled out folded sheets of thick paper, the same colour of the envelope, definitely expensive. As it opened, another smaller piece of paper fell out and Lev reached for it, brows drawn in confusion.

JAMES BARNES – STRIPPED BARE

A SPECIAL EXCLUSIVE, ACCOUSTIC ONLY ENGAGEMENT

She stopped reading, dropping the ticket to the table, and focussed on the letter instead.

Levka.

It’s been a while since we spoke, but I wanted to send you this anyway.

I understand why you left, and I applaud you for having the strength to do it. It seems to be the kick he finally needed.

James took a break from music, as you may or may not have realized but has recently decided to return, albeit in a much different capacity from before.

He has done away with the show, or ‘bullshit’ as he so eloquently puts it. No more pyrotechnics, no more lightshows and theatrics; he said he wants to return to the way he started, just him and his guitar, the band behind him.

Enclosed is a ticket to his first show and a plane ticket, first class, to reach it. The seat is in the back, where James won't be able to see you, if that is your wish.

I leave it up to you whether you attend but understand that James has not asked me to do this, and I have not told him I have.

Regards, Pepper

Lev stared at the letter for a full minute, marveling despite herself at the publicist’s flowing handwriting, her graceful hand.

She had stayed with James after all, even when Lev had left.

The second sheet was a printed plane ticket, leaving the next morning. Lev, if she took it, would land in mid-afternoon, giving her a few hours to gird herself before going to the show.

She recognized the venue listed; James had played it in his earlier years, just as he was starting to become famous and it was smaller, intimate, suited to an unplugged show. The seat shown was in the back, just as Pepper said; Lev could attend the show and leave again without James ever seeing her.

But did she want to?

What would it feel like to see him again, to hear him sing again the way he used to, his voice clear and full? When he’d reach his hand out to her, pull her onstage and sing with her, gaze at her so lovingly as they shared a microphone, voices melding and complimenting each other so beautifully?

Could she handle seeing him again?

She hardly knew.

*************************************************************************

Taking a deep breath, Lev opened the door and stepped inside. Other ticket holders milled around, no one paying her any mind. She prayed no one would recognize her, going so far as to dye her auburn hair a lustrous blue-black, switch out her contacts for the thick wayfarer frames she usually only wore in quiet moments spent relaxing or working from home.

The show was going to start in only a few minutes, but Lev resisted the urge to find her seat just yet, drifting until she gathered the will to enter the main area.

Finding her seat, Lev stared at the stage, hardly noticing as others shuffled to find their own places. Although small, the venue appeared to be sold out. Scott sat at the drums; Thor held an acoustic bass and James sat on a stool at the front, head bent over his favourite redwood acoustic guitar, the one he’d always said reminded him of Lev’s hair.

One jean-clad leg bent, worn biker boot on the footrest, he looked better than Lev remembered. Some of his physique had come back, thigh straining the jean’s stitching, biceps visible through the t-shirt he wore as he plucked the strings slowly, listening for the sound.

He looked good. He looked healthy again, his hair lustrous under the light, cheeks dark with just the right amount of stubble, fingers strong and sure, the boot flat on the stage floor tapping slowly to the beat in his head.

Lev felt a riot of emotions swell in her chest. This was the James she’d fallen in love with, the man she’d spent their early years with, before the vampire of fame began to bleed him dry.

He lifted his head, flashed a gorgeous smile at the audience and the show began.

It was beautiful, James’ voice strong and clear; the audience sat spellbound, hypnotized and Lev knew he’d made the right decision; to go back to his roots, let his talent speak for itself. He would enjoy a long career like this, unplugged and real.

Time passed like the blink of an eye and suddenly, too suddenly, James was standing, setting his guitar in its rest and stepping to the side of the stage. The spotlight followed, leaving Thor and Scott in the dark and illuminating a gleaming grand piano. The audience cheered in building excitement as he sat, adjusted the microphone.

He had not played piano is one of his shows for years, Lev wasn’t even sure he knew how to anymore.

The din died down, waiting and James looked out over them as he began to speak, a small, sad smile pulling at his lips.

“A while ago my life fell apart,” he stated simply. “I got tangled up in fame and being a rockstar and pushed away everyone that cared. Even Lev, the most important person in the world to me.”

Lev felt her cheeks warm, edginess creeping into her limbs. Was he about to blast her? Was she about to get her proverbial ass handed to her? Did he know she was here?

“She left,” he continued. “And I crashed. The only woman I’ve ever loved, and I hurt her everyday until she couldn’t take my bullshit anymore.” He swiped at a tear and Lev bit her lip.

“I hit rock bottom and Lev came to see me one more time. But instead of being grateful, of begging her for another chance, I acted like a total asshole and pushed her away again. And that was finally it, Lev leaving me like that was the push I needed to get my life together. I haven’t seen Lev since, I don’t deserve to…. but I owe everything to her.”

Lev heard sniffles around her.

“A while ago I heard this song for the first time. It made me cry like a baby and I listened to it for hours, until I couldn’t cry anymore. It brought about this idea I had about ‘stripping bare’ and starting over again…. This song is for you, Lev. I love you, baby.”

He focussed on the keys and a haunting melody began. Lev recognized it immediately, for it too had provoked her own tears the first time she’d heard it.

That Arizona sky burnin’ in your eyes.

You look at me and, babe, I wanna catch on fire.

It’s buried in my soul, like California gold.

You found the light in me that I couldn’t find.

His voice was heart-breaking, emotion pouring through as he sang, the piano a poignant, moving accompaniment, his fingers sure on the keys.

So when I’m all choked up,

But I can’t find the words.

His voice broke, but he pushed through.

Every time we say goodbye baby, it hurts.

When the sun goes down

And the band won’t play,

I’ll always remember us this way.

The band joined in quietly and Lev was lost in the sound, swaying slightly to his beautiful voice as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Too soon, the song ended, James’ head bowing as he breathed the last words, the last notes fading and the audience sat still, stunned silent for a beat before exploding.

Lev exhaled raggedly, wiping at her tears. As she watched, James tipped his head back, tears shining on his face and swallowed hard, seeming to gather himself before returning to the show.

The crowd continued to scream and cheer as James nodded once in acknowledgement, the smile on his lips tempered by the pain in his eyes.

He was open and vulnerable, stripped bare and he’d never been more beautiful in Lev’s eyes.

God, she still loved him, but was that enough?

Was she the key to his success, or the poison?

Should she go to him, step through the crowd and join him onstage, forgive him and start their next chapter together?

Or leave, let them both live their lives and follow the song, simply ‘remember us this way’?

She decided.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Cross My Heart - CH.05

Pairing: Bodyguard!Dean x Reader; Chuck Shurley x Reader

Summary: After opening up a letter, the life as she knows it, changes forever. Her husband hires Dean Winchester to protect her but is Dean really who he said he was? And is her husband really worried about her safety?

Warnings: Angst, teasing, tension

WC: 2298

SERIES MASTERLIST

Y/N gets woken up in the middle of the night by weird noses. It sounds like someone is scratching against the bedroom wall on the outside. She doesn’t know what it is, and doesn’t dare look. It could be anything really. Maybe a gust of wind carried a branch here, maybe there are wild animals outside. She thinks about how it could be anything but she doesn’t let her mind wander and assume the worst. 

Should she wake Dean up for it? She hates to wake him up if it’s really nothing, though.

She decides to wait a little bit longer, maybe it’ll go away. But she hears the clock ticking while the noise stays.

“Dean,” She whispers and looks to the open door.

To her surprise, Dean’s already standing in the doorway, his gun cocked and hair disheveled. He’s wearing some pj pants and a white t-shirt. 

“Get out of the bed and come stand behind me!” He hisses as he creeps along the wall towards the window. 

She frowns a little but does what she’s told and gets out of bed, tip toes her way over to where Dean’s standing.

His eyes widen when he sees that she only wears a set of comfortable Calvin Klein underwear, and he rolls his eyes at that, “Jesus, what are you wearing for bed?”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s hot here, alright?” She comes to stand behind him now. 

“Always wear something, Y/N. You never know when you need to up and leave.” Dean hisses through gritted teeth as he looks out of the window from the side, keeping himself from being seen.

“Well, excuse me but I never had to up and leave before in my life!” 

Dean ignores her, instead he peeks out and after a long moment, he starts to chuckle.

“What?” She asks him.

“Come see,” He says, and stands back a little, making room for her to push past him in order to be able to steal a look herself. 

It’s a mother bear and her cub, probably searching for food. Her eyes widen as she takes it in and watches them. She’s never seen bears from up close before. Not in the wild. She watches until they walk back towards the thick of the forest where they came out from, probably unsatisfied because they didn’t find anything here.

“We’re safe.” Dean exhales, he’s probably relieved himself, “You can go back to sleep.”

She climbs back to bed, while Dean watches her, making sure to stick her ass out, because she likes to rile him up. She goes back to bed without protest either. Mainly because she doesn’t want to be a pain in his ass. Dean already has his hands full with taking care of her and she at least can cut him some slack. 

While she tries to make herself comfortable in bed, Dean rummages in the closet and tosses her a shirt. It hits her square in her face and he laughs before he walks away while telling her to fucking wear it. 

She’s holding up the shirt, sees that it’s not hers because it’s too big, so it must be one of his. She pulls it over her head and brings it to her face to smell at it.

“Don’t worry, it’s a fresh shirt.” Dean calls out from the living room.

How does he fucking knows?

She smirks and lays back down, taking in his scent one more time and closes her eyes. 

 ***

 The next two days were pretty awkward. 

But maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. 

There were lots of looking at each other when the other one was not looking. Because how else could she explain the burning sensation she felt on her skin? The same thing she always felt when he looked at her with hungry eyes. She mostly felt it on her back when she had it turned to him and every time she looked back at him, he had his head turned downwards or had it tilt the other way.

It seemed to her that Dean avoided her more either. When he would be in a room and she would walk in to grab something, he would storm out of whatever room he was in and honestly, it was weird and fucking awkward because there aren’t many rooms in this cabin.

Dean would also cringe every time their skin would brush against each other by accident. 

Which is really, really not how she wants someone to react to her touches.

 *

 She’s in bed reading when Dean walks in on the afternoon of their third day in hiding.

“Your friend,” He says and hands her his phone.

Y/N takes the phone out of his hand and sees that Dean has already put Meg on speaker phone.

He sits down at the foot of the bed, listening in on the conversation and she doesn’t like that at all but apparently that’s the rule.

“Hey,” She says, her eyes are on Dean but he looks away.

“Oh my god, the guy who picked up, is that your bodyguard?”

“Yes?” She answers.

“Fuck, Y/N, he sounds sexy as fuck. His voice is so deep, so gravelly, it makes my skin tingle. I bet he makes other parts of you tingle, too, isn’t he?”

She turns red, “Meg,” It’s supposed to be a warning to her friend without saying too much. She hopes Meg gets it.

“No, seriously, I bet he’s fucking sexy, isn’t he? Probably could lift you up one armed and I bet he can fuck you as deep as his voice is.”

Apparently, Meg doesn’t get it.

Y/N watches Dean and see’s that he tries to suppress a smirk. His face settles for a frown instead.

“Meg!” She shouts, trying to stop her friend.

“Seriously, Y/N, you gotta live. Can’t be that Chuck that sleazy weasel gets to have all the fun and you don’t!”

“Is there a reason for your call?” She asks Meg with annoyance in her voice and that does the trick because it seems like Meg gets what Y/N was trying to say.

“Ugh, he’s listening isn’t he?”

She huffs out a tired chuckle, “Yeah.”

“Hi, Mr. Bodyguard, I was just joking,”

Dean turns his head to the phone, “Hi,” He says, and then a little lower, as if he wants to tease the shit out of Meg, “Meg, is it?”

There’s a squeal on the other end and Dean raises an eyebrow at Y/N to which she just shrugs.

“Like Y/N said, is there a reason you called, Meg?” Dean asks.

Meg whimpers, “Oh my god,”

There’s a long pause.

“Meg, did you just have an orgasm or something?” Y/N’s giggling.

“I’m close, can’t lie. Mr. Bodyguard, have you ever thought about working for a phone sex line? Becau—”

“—Meg!” She cuts her friend off. 

“Alright, listen, you two, I went on facebook today and TMZ posted an article about Y/N’s kidnapping.”

“They what about what?” Dean’s voice cuts in, and it’s loud, it makes her flinch.

“Yeah,” Meg says, “You can look for yourself. I thought you weren’t kidnapped? But Chuck gave an exclusive interview, and even a reward is out for your safe return.”

“What the fuck!” She looks at Dean and he stands up, he’s agitated but he keeps his composure.

“Okay, thanks, Meg. She’s not kidnapped. But please keep that to yourself until we talk to Chuck. Can you do that?”

“Of course, Mr. Bodyguard.”

“We need to go. Bye Meg, miss you.” She says quickly because Dean’s already walking out into the living room and starts up his laptop.

She follows and slams his phone on the table where he’s sitting, “Who the fuck are you?”

Dean looks up from the laptop, there’s a pained expression on his face. “Your bodyguard.”

“Why should I believe you?” She shouts and starts to pace around the room.

“Your husband knows where we are! Why should I kidnap you and even let you talk to your friend?”

“But you don’t let me go anywhere!” She lets out a frustrating groan that comes out from the depths of her throat.

“Because I have to fucking keep you safe!” Dean stands up and pushes his chair back with a screech.

Y/N’s eyes find Dean’s gun on the table and she takes it, aiming it at Dean and he looks at her in bewilderment.

“Y/N, put that down,” His voice is firm, as if he puts his foot down by only speaking to her. It sounds final, like it’s his way or no way.

She’s crying, even though she doesn’t want to, “No. Who are you, Dean? Why me? If you know us, you’d know that Chuck doesn’t give a fuck about me. He probably would kill me himself if someone would ask him for ransom money for my safe return.”

Her hands are shaking, her grip on the gun is tight, the white of her knuckles showing.

Dean purses his lips and then everything happens so fast. 

One moment she has the gun aimed at him and the next she finds herself pinned against the wall, his hand on her wrist and there’s nothing that she could do other than letting him take the gun from her hand. He’s so close, his face a mere inch from hers, his breath mingles with hers and the look on his face is a mixture between anger and pain.

“Sweetheart, next time you aim a gun at someone, make sure the safety’s off,” Dean reaches back, tucks his gun into his pants, but she’s still pinned there. 

Dean's eyes are on her, his breathing picks up when he brushes the tears away from her cheeks. He leaves his thumb on her bottom lip, drags it down, making her open her mouth. 

The next thing she knows he’s kissing her. And instead of it being rough like the kiss they shared before, this one is much gentler. He presses his body to her, his hands kneading at the flesh of her hips while he maps out her mouth with his tongue. And she wants more, wants everything he’s able to give her.

Before it can grow heavier, Dean breaks the kiss and steps back. His teeth gnawing at his bottom lip before he looks downwards, “Shit, I shouldn’t. ‘M sorry.”

She places her fingers to her lips, feels them hot and wet. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I—” Dean lets out a breath, “—I don’t know what came over me.” He rubs at his forehead, “You gotta believe me, Y/N. I’m not a kidnapper.” Dean walks back to the table and grabs his phone, thumbs over his screen to dial a number.

She walks closer, sees that he dials Chuck.

Chuck doesn’t pick up.

That’s typical. He probably is screwing some hoes.

Dean hangs up, and takes his phone, thumbs over something and then he hands it to her.

It’s text messages between him and Chuck.

 D: Everything’s alright, sir.

D: We stay put.

D: Nothing happened.

 Dean text’s Chuck up to six times on a daily basis since they’re here and Chuck always only sends him one text each day with the word, “Okay.”

“You know, I have no idea about Chuck’s plans nor the police’s plans,” Dean’s head is low when he comes to stand in front of her, “My only job is to keep you safe.”

“Okay,” 

“I thought you were joking at first when you said that your husband doesn’t care about you. Couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact how someone could not at least care a little bit about the person they’re married to but then I saw it with my own eyes. The lack of empathy he shows you is mind blowing.” Dean let out a tired chuckle.

She swallows.

“He sent you away with me. We are glued together for three days and he doesn’t fucking care.” His voice drops just a little lower, “You deserve better.”

“He never did,” She mumbles because it’s true. All her fucking husband has to say is okay? O-fucking-kay?

Dean reaches out a hand, places it on the back of her neck, pulls her a little closer and lowers himself and all she sees is the green of his eyes, “I need you to trust me, okay? I’m not a kidnapper. I have nothing to do with it. All I’m doing is keeping you safe and it would be good if you would trust me on this.”

She nods. He’s so close. It makes her want to surge forward, makes her want to kiss him—

— but she doesn’t.

“Good,” He says, “Let’s see what that website says, okay?” 

Dean walks back over and sits down and she follows, comes to stand next to him. He looks up at her then, “What’s the website called again?”

Instead of answering, she types it in for him, her upper arm brushes against his scruff after she takes her arm back, it leaves behind a longing inside of her.

There’s a picture of Chuck on the front page, next to it is a picture of her in a dramatic bubble. 

 CHUCK SHURLEY PLEADS TO KIDNAPPER: PLEASE DON’T HARM MY WIFE.

 She snorts when she sees the headline.

Dean reads the article aloud, “Apparently he received an email telling him to pay $5 million for your safe return. He has seven days and if not they’d kill you.”

“This is bullshit,” She huffs out a breath, “What is Chuck playing?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t like this at all.” Dean closes his laptop and leans back in his chair, his fingers drumming away on the closed laptop.

CH.06

[calypsoff2]

Seventeen. Part 2

My smile grew, I spend every waking morning with my girls and night too. It’s been a while since I have experienced this with all three, they sleep in the bed with me, all three, well. We decided that I sleep in the middle, I don’t know how that came about but it’s been hard because I get into bed later than them, having to squeeze in the middle but I wanted to make sure Imani is away from them two too because of her arm, they may push her while they sleep so I just put that barrier between them. I honestly think my girls enjoy Paris; they love it here. They love their tutor, she keeps teaching them French, but they enjoy it, just to see them ever so happy when I come back from meetings. I think it’s actually a good thing, besides when Rylee had a breakdown on the first day here, when I left to go she cried so much thinking she was coming to work with me, I never said that shit. She will be coming with me today for the event, all three of my beautiful girls will be. Sometimes I feel it’s surreal, it’s surreal that I am a mother of three, I sometimes think how the fuck did that happen. I have three kids, I may have had five, but I got these beautiful babies and I adore them, I love being a mom. My daughters are coming with me to this event more to do with the Fenty Kidz line, they will be the face of it. And the company in general want to meet them but it’s informal, they won’t really notice it’s actually something bigger for them, but I am excited for their future, they have a really bright one. But when LMVH found out my daughters were here with me, they said bring them we want to meet them and I wasn’t so sure but knowing the fact it’s going to be informal for them, they won’t notice it. I will be keeping them close though, I don’t trust people that easily because we went out last night, leaving the hotel was bad. The fans were reaching out, they were grabbing my kids too and I was so angry getting into the car, Jah helped us a lot, but they are really bad overseas paparazzi and I dislike that they really be in my babies faces for no reason too. I am just tired from last night too, I be working and trying to be a mother which is busy for me.

I huffed out as I sat down on the couch, my team all look just as tired as me and I don’t blame them. It’s a busy schedule being here “is your husband ok?” Jah asked, looking up at him “why ask?” I questioned, not like Jah to ask about Chris when all Chris does is be an ass to him, in a funny way of course “I heard that his parents’ home got broken into? It’s rather sickening that someone would do that, so I was asking” I paused just frowning at him, how the hell he know this “how do you know?” I asked, I mean I know I didn’t say anything to these about the break in “no need boo, TMZ said it all and they already got the people” I gasped “what!? I mean how long did I sleep for!? What the fuck” I am shook “literally just saw it now, it just happened now actually. They caught the people, they were selling your pictures and a car, there pictures of you and the girls” I gasped “wait a minute” I said confused on what I just heard “yes boo?” Jah said a little confused “picture of me and my kids!?” I spat, I didn’t know that part but then again I haven’t spoke to Chris at all but the time difference is a bitch so I will have to work that out “according to TMZ, they caught the guys because they were trying to sell the picture of you and the kids, on eBay that is and boasting on Twitter about it. The pictures are the photoshoot ones, the ones you don’t show the world” I groaned out “I am sick of people, I wish they left my family alone, but we need to proceed. The girls need to get ready, I was thinking let’s plait their hair” Yusuf gasped “oh we going to be busy today, so we going to have the babies all the same including you?” nodding my head “yes but I am excited for today. My babies first red carpet, it’s going to be big for them” Tina cooed out.

“I am not sure though, I feel like I am putting them in the spotlight, I talk about not wanting my kids in the spotlight but here I am. I know there is going to be big designers there, there is going to be people that are going to take interest but it’s for Fenty Kidz, it isn’t for them, but I feel it’s going to open doors for them” so many decisions “they are beautiful girls Robyn so honestly I get why they are going to take interest and I feel like Fenty Kidz is going to be a hit, just like every other line this will too. Imagine Fenty and Fenty Kidz, parents matching with their kids” nodding my head “you got a point but yeah, we shall see. I wish Chris was here, but I was proving a point a point” rolling my eyes “what point is that?” Tina asked “that I can take my girls with me, that I don’t need them. I have backlash from my mom saying that I leave my kids and I am just not being active enough in their life so here I am proving a point, and at the end of it. Chris is finding it hard; he didn’t actually want me to go at all, but he was the same man that was complaining too but he apologised anyways, he was just missing me. But here we are, erm why are you here?” I said to Imani “I don’t’ want to do that anymore” she mumbled, she looks grumpy “you’re supposed to be learning Imani” I think she is unhappy about the cast; she walked into me and placed her head on my lap, my poor baby girl “it’s ok, you can stay here” she clearly doesn’t want to learn anymore.

Imani and this mood of hers, she was refusing to let Yusuf do her hair so she is sat on my lap and now is allowing him to do it “mommy it done” she pointed at her tablet, I didn’t even notice that. Holding the tablet up “well let’s put this episode on” her and paw patrol, she will never not watch this “there you go” side eyeing Yusuf, he was about to burn my arm “girl, you know how hard it is when diva doesn’t want to listen. Don’t’ give me that face boo” he has a point but still, he nearly burnt me there, Imani whined out “Imani, not long left. Don’t do that, Yusuf is being kind to you” Tianna is rushing over with the phone in hand “yes baby” looking at her “Jah locked the phone mom, I can’t get in” who the hell is this phone “who’s is it?” I questioned “Tina” this girl “give it back to her, Jah locked it because it’s not yours now go” they will do anything to get onto social media “kids” Yusuf said “I know, they get above themselves. The other two that is, they are sly with things too. I hate when Rylee tries to be a smart ass and Tianna, she can do it too. Like they want to be grown” this shit actually stresses me out “I can tell it upsets you” nodding my head “it does” I mumbled, my daughters are growing “I am not ready for that teenage phase yet, my god. Rylee is right Yusuf, in ten years she will be eighteen, I am going to cry” I chuckled “I better be doing her hair too girl” I snorted laughing “you will, don’t worry boo” it’s scary.

Fixing my Burberry cap “you look like you are ready for business” Jah said, I think I got my business hat on now. I am business mommy mode, I am ready to get down to business. I can’t do business when I have a clingy child, Imani will not let me go at all “I want to take this mommy” nodding my head just hearing her “let’s go and see your sisters now” walking off “mommy” hearing Imani say behind me, near in tears behind me “Imani I am here, don’t worry” Tianna and Rylee are both ready “mommy you look so pretty” Rylee said to me “aww thank you princess and look at us all matching” we are wearing a black minidress with Burberry trench coat and cap. My mini me’s, I swear my whole heart is just glowing right now seeing all three of my girls just dressed like me, I mean besides the heels and their dresses being longer than mine we are all the same “mommy we the same” Tianna smiled so wide “we are baby, come on. We need to take a picture for daddy, I promised we would. We can make him happy” shuffling over to the balcony “come on Dennis, got those photography skills going” I have missed just doing this, being in Paris actually but I’ve enjoyed having my girls here, they are so cute. Turning around as I shuffled down the arm of the trench coat, turning to my side. Dennis is crouched down already taking pictures, I had to double take “erm, girls” I said looking at them, they are posing like thugs “you are posing like your dad, come here. We need to send dad nice pictures” these girls are doing gang signs, what on earth “you know I haven’t been spending time with them” I said laughing.

I sent the pictures to Chris so I hope he likes them, I think he will be awake or maybe he will be asleep, but he hasn’t called me yet, but we are leaving now for the event “girls” I said, specifically to Rylee and Tianna, they both ran out of the elevator “you two, your mother said” Jah said with his serious face “you’re bald” I heard Rylee say, stepping off the elevator “Rylee Brown! You apologise now, you be kind to him. He is older than you, you give respect” letting Imani’ hand go to get my phone from the bag “Chris” I answered “you all look so nice! I am jealous” I chuckled “aww thank you, I wanted too” I dragged out “we need to be careful there is so many fans out there, we have the police out there too” I groaned out “Chris, I will call you back when I get in the car, just wait for my call please. I want to speak to you” he let out an oh “ok, will wait” disconnecting the call “right, Rich. Can you pick up Imani for me” Imani whined out “no mommy, I go with you” placing my phone in the bag “I am coming, let Rich hold you. I will be right behind you. You two hold my hand, you stay close! All of you, it’s very busy out there” I said, my girls are too hyper. Rich picked up Imani which she didn’t want to be picked but she has no choice in that. Rylee and Tianna both held my hand, Frank and some officers came up besides me “let’s go queens!” I said as I walked off with my daughters, I can literally hear the fans outside and I think because they can see us. Imani is looking at me, she is being so clingy with me now. The door opened and the crowd went wild, the fans went crazy when they saw us, I just stepped out with the kids and I felt like they were going to break free from the barriers, my daughters weren’t scared at all. I think they are so used to the fans being this way now, they are used to the fame.

Imani is sat on my lap; she is ready to fall asleep and we haven’t even left for the red carpet yet. Pressing the phone to my ear waiting for Chris to pick up “twin” he answered finally “baby, I miss you” I said straight away “I miss you too, I miss you and the kids like crazy. I think I feel it even more now because the girls aren’t here but you all good right?” he is missing me; I can tell in the tone of his voice “I am good but are you? I heard that they took picture of us Chris, what the hell?” I didn’t even know that “yeah, I am pissed off. I bid on the shit too, I want it back. That shit is private to us, I don’t like it but they got caught. The guys aren’t talking, they aren’t saying who they are working for and why, just look like some bum ass niggas. Fucked up but I am leaving VA, shit is too hot up here Robyn. I just feel unsafe, even with Pat. Niggas don’t like me, they are jealous, but I am leaving to go to New York, sort the home out for us. My family are stubborn, also my dad made a sly remark about me. He said I am here with aa bodyguard I have changed, with that alone I don’t want to do shit for them but yeah, I am leaving but I want you to have a good time. Y’all look so good, my girls look beautiful. I can’t believe you’re a mother of three, you look amazing” I cooed out, I know he means that “thank you, but Chris. Listen to me, we will talk about this tonight my time. Because it’s not on with what your dad said but I will send you pictures of the girls” he is sad, I don’t like it “thanks, I will let you go love you” my poor baby.

[buckyskorpion]

“i thought you’d like this” please ?💕 i’m very excited for the fourth part of your story and i love your blog!

sorry this took so long!! hope you enjoy this, it’s a bit of fun in these not so fun times 

Nat comes into the boardroom with a tiny smirk on her face. You share a glance with Bucky - this can’t be good.

“I thought you’d like this,” Nat announces, throwing herself into the chair next to you and dumping her legs in your lap, effectively pinning you down. She clears her throat theatrically and pulls out her phone, reads, “Former Winter Soldier and current Avenger James Barnes spotted taking newest recruit on a date in Central Park.”

Bucky starts coughing so violently you’re worried he’s going to pop a plate in his new arm. You, on the other hand, feel the colour drain from your face almost immediately. A date?

Nat is grinning, now, which is somehow even more terrifying than when she’s mad. Bucky has to stand and grab some water from the cooler in the corner, leaning on the wall for support. Good to know the concept of hypothetically going on a date with you is so horrifying to him. You have to say something, the silence is stretching on and it’s so awkward and tense you might explode. Maybe that’s a good thing. Then you’d never have to meet Bucky’s eyes ever again.

“Where did you get this from?” you ask Nat hoarsely, swallowing past the way your voice cracks. Her eyes are sparkling, she’s so happy - this isn’t natural. You make grabby hands for her phone and, reluctantly, she hands it over.

There are photos attached to the article, because of course there are. It’s a TMZ release (who else) and the photos are disturbingly high-quality. It was the morning after your last mission, when you’d woken up aching all over and tired in a way not even a good nights sleep could fix but Bucky was knocking at your door asking if you wanted to go for a walk with him. Of course you said yes, even if it felt like torture to drag yourself from bed. It was Bucky — you would always say yes.

He bought you coffee and you walked around Central Park in mostly silence. There wasn’t a lot to say, it was just nice to be quiet in each other’s company after the chaos of the mission. Fall was starting so it was getting cold, but not unbearably so, and not enough for the trees to lose all their green. It was beautiful - you hadn’t seen something so beautiful in a while. It was like Bucky knew it was what you needed, and you’d turned to softly thank him only to find him already look at you.

This is what the camera had caught, the photo plastered on Nat’s phone with the offending article. You, smiling up at him with the most awful, fond look on your face you wish you could burn and Bucky, head bent towards you, also smiling. His face matches yours. Since when? You were there, you remember this moment but you don’t remember Bucky looking at you like that. He couldn’t. Could he?

“Well,” Nay says pointedly, asking for her phone back with a hand held out towards you. You pass it over, fingers numb, mind going a mile a minute. “Good to know TMZ had to ask your girl out for you, Barnes. Pathetic, honestly.”

“What?” This was officially too much. Bucky is looking at Nat like he wants to actually tear her vocal chords out of her throat and she’s still smiling, having the time of her life, and you want to scream. So you do, essentially. You slam your hand on the table and cry, “Can someone please explain what the fuck is going on? Who’s girl where?”

“Calm down before you hurt yourself,” Nat says, cutting you a side eye. You blush, immediately embarrassed by your theatrics but honestly, who could blame you? TMZ has a lot to answer for. With a raised eyebrow towards Bucky, Natasha says, “Well? She’s asking you a question.”

“Can you give us a moment, Natasha?” Bucky grinds out, a scarier look on his face than even the Winter Soldier could muster. Nat laughs, head thrown back, like this is the funniest thing in the world.

“Oh no,” she says, still somewhat giggling. “I’m not missing this for the world.”

Bucky’s sigh could’ve shaken the walls of the boardroom. You were supposed to be having a mission debriefing for crying out loud, but now you’re here, absolutely confused to hell, staring at Bucky hoping for some enlightenment but he’s just chewing his lip and avoiding your eyes. TMZ thinks you went on a date with Bucky when you know damn well that only happens in your dreams, and Nat is somehow involved, and Bucky is being evasive, and no one is filling you in yet. Maybe this is a dream of yours, morphing into a nightmare as the silence ticks by.

“Honestly!” Nat exclaims, throwing her hands in the air. “You are both useless! (Y/n), what did you tell me the other day after training? ‘Bucky could never like me back, we’re just friends!’ My ass!”

Oh no, this isn’t happening. This is definitely a nightmare now. But Nat isn’t done, ignoring the strangled noise you make and how you slump down in an attempt to hide.

“And you,” Nat says, eyes narrowing at Bucky while she points a finger, “If you ask me one more time for advice on what to do about your schoolboy feelings for (y/n), I will physically remove your spleen and enjoy it.”

With that, Nat finally removes her feet from your lap and storms from the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. The silence is a physical thing, fogging up the room and choking you out from the inside. You stare at the wood grain of the table, reeling from Nat’s outburst and the absolute wasteland that is your pride. You never want to look at Bucky again, the shame is too much. But he’s walking over to you now, pulling out the chair next to you and sitting so you’re between the ‘v’ of his legs, so close you can feel his supersoldier body heat radiating over you. Or maybe that’s just your burning cheeks from the sheer embarrassment of the situation Nat has put you in.

“Did you really say that to Nat?” Bucky asks, soft but the sound still makes you flinch.

“I’m sorry,” you say, avoiding his gaze that’s burning into the side of your face, “I shouldn’t hav said that, it’s not fair to put you in this situation and you probably think I’m some kind of creep-“

“(Y/n),” Bucky says, and his tone makes it almost sound like he’s laughing. That can’t be right. And then he puts his hand on your neck, urging you to look up and over at him - you’re powerless to resist the warmth of his skin and the rough slide of his palm as he shifts to cup the back of your head. You look at him, finally, to find him smiling at you in the same way from the TMZ photo.

“Bucky?” You’re unsure what he’s doing, what’s going on, but you can’t formulate coherent sentences at the moment so you settle for that. He laughs, then draws you forward and thunks his forehead against yours. You close your eyes breath him in, the only thing you’re capable of doing when your mind is screaming what the fuck is going on?

“I can’t believe you thought I’d never feel that way about you,” Bucky says, hushed. You find yourself blushing again, squirming in his grip to pull away but he doesn’t let you. Damn super strength.

“Feel what way?” you ask, defensive, “You mean as completely platonic friends and coworkers?”

“You’re a brat,” Bucky huffs, but when you peek an eye open you can see he’s smiling. He’s still holding you close, and you can’t find in you to pull way even as you’re trying to distance yourself verbally. He shakes his had against yours and says, “I can’t believe it because that’s what I’ve been sayin’ about you this whole time.”

“Wait, what?” you ask. Now you’re lost. Bucky can’t be saying what you think he’s saying - he can’t.

“Nat’s right, we really are useless,” Bucky laughs, and then he pulls away. You try not to feel disappoint but it hits you in the gut anyway - only for a moment. Bucky doesn’t go very far, just enough to physically turn your chair so you’re facing him, in between his legs, and holds your face in his palms so he has to look at you. It’s a lot of manhandling and your head is spinning a bit. Why does he have to be so sexy?

Looking at you dead in the eye, Bucky says, “I don’t need TMZ to do this for me. I love you, (Y/n), I think I have from the moment I met you. I’m sorry for being a stupid, scared punk - it’s never gonna happen again.”

And then he kisses you, pulling you into his chest hard enough you have to hold onto his shoulders to stop yourself from toppling over. You muffle a yelp into his mouth but it’s quickly lost in a moan as he fists your hair and holds you close, kissing you rough and bruising like you always imagined it would be. It’s not until you think you might be seeing stars from how lightheaded you are that you pull away, breathing heavy and mouth probably just as swollen as Bucky’s looks. It’s a hot look. You can’t help but kiss him again, quick, just for looking like that.

“I think it will happen again,” you say, tilting your head at him as Bucky’s brow furrows. He looks upset, until you add, “I dunno how you’re gonna stop being a stupid punk, that’s practically in your DNA.”

“Oh, now you’re in for it,” Bucky growls, and your laughter turns into a squeal as he stands up and throws you over his shoulder, heading out of the boardroom with you pounding on his back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Put me down, Bucky!” you cry, practically in tears from how hard you’re laughing and how difficult it is to breath with a giant metal shoulder digging into your stomach. Bucky puts you down gently, which belies the angry look on his face as he stares down at you. You grin, reaching up to take his stubbled cheek in your palm, and you know he’s just playing but you still need to say, “You’re a stupid punk, but you’re my stupid punk and I love you.”

“Romantic,” Bucky says flatly, but you barely have time to roll your eyes before he’s kissing you again. You’re probably the first person in history to think, thank god for TMZ.

[shereadsandwritesformelanin]

The Baker And Her Actor: part V [Fame is Insane]

Paring: Chris Evans x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet Chris while making a house delivery for the Evans. He can’t get you off his mind and to be honest neither can you.

Warnings: profanity and sexual content, angst, but overall fluff!

Notes: I hope you all enjoy. Feel free to leave any comments Or critiques down below!

Part(s): (1)(2)(3)(3cont)(4)

-PSA ALL BLACK LIVES MATTER‼️- CLICK THE LINK HER TO SIGN THE PETITION IN HONOR OF GEORGE FLOYD‼️

-

“Deacon has officially lost his mind.’ Kiara huffs flipping the last of the pancakes. “I mean seriously why did he think that was appropriate? If it was me his ass would be out!”

You sit at the counter rolling your eyes thinking about the events of yesterday. Of course it stressed you out, I mean Deacon had no reason to have that outburst. Now you think Chris is officially done with you, and you still don’t know why he ran off.

Running off with no explanation seemed to be the theme of your dynamic. “I know but he was just upset, so I’m not gonna fire him over one outburst.” You reason to kiara.

“Whatever, if it was me -.”

“I get it ki, I really do.” You interrupt.

“Foods done.” She says platting you’re pancakes, walking toward the living room.

You drag your feet over to the couch plopping down next to Kiara. You two move in silence handing each other the butter and syrup.

“What are we watching?” Kiara inquires.

You took another bites swallowing it quick answer the question even quicker. “Uh I’m not sure turn on tmz they always make me laugh and I could use that.”

“Alrighty tmz it is.” Kiara states

“Okay okay but look at this. The setting is Boston and we caught captain America sharing a sensual embrace with a mystery woman.” A reporter says

You felt your heart drop to your ass. Your limbs went weak, letting the plate of food slip out of your grasp as your eyes went bigger and bigger with each picture that popped on the screen.

You felt the heat of Kiara’s eyes on you. She was just as shocked as you, eyes wide bottom lip hanging open.

“Okay so what should we call her black black widow.” Another reporter says earning an eruption of laughs from the other cast members.

“I didn’t even know he liked black women.” A female reporter says.

“I didn’t even know he liked women, I really thought I had a shot.”

“You knew he liked women.” The reporter states laughter continues to fill your ears through the screen.

“Y/n, what the -.”

“Fuck.” You finish cutting her off.

“You need to call him now!” Kiara instructs

You turn your head facing her perplexed. You knew she was right but you were all over the place, a wreck.

“If you don’t do I will, because what the hell is going on!” Kiara shouts

Just like clock work your phone began ringing. The room fell silent.

You and Kiara slowly crept over your phone to see who the call was from.

Incoming call from: The Captain.

Shit.

“Answer the fucking phone y/n or I will.” Kiara threatens

You knew she was only behaving like this because she was in full protective mama bear mode at this point.

Gulping you hesitantly pick up the phone placing it near your ear to have the conversation.

“Hello.” You sqeak

“Y/n.”

His voice sounded stern less playful than all the other times you’d ever been on the phone.

“Yes Chris.” You whisper nervous of what would come out his mouth.

“I need to come over. We need to talk, god I hope you haven’t seen it.” He says

“I have.” You admit

“I’m coming over right now give me thirty minutes.” Chris states hanging up the phone

Kiara stood arms folding eyes scanning your face for an answer of what just went down.

“He’ll be over in 30 he said, it sounds serious ki.” You inform her

“He doesn’t think you did this shit does he?” Kiara quips

“No, well I’m not sure he didn’t specify.” You admit

“Well isn’t that just dandy.”

-

Like clockwork, the doorbell rings.

Hesitantly you scoot to the edge of your seat picking yourself up walking toward the door.

You turn toward Kiara who was still sitting on coach positioned toward you waiting for you to open the door.

Tightening your robe, you swing open the door revealing a tired Chris. His eyes were red and looked like he hadn’t slept in years.

Jesus.

Your face immediately softened at the sight, then you notice movement behind him. You were so caught up in his face and his emotions you didn’t even noticed the two people who stood behind him.

“May we come in.” He ask voice raspy

“Um sure I suppose.” You comply confused about the onterage her brung with him.

Chris takes you hand guiding you toward the kitchen sitting you down at one of the stools. “Chris what’s going on?” You question concern laced in your voice

“Can we have a moment.” Chris says to his unwanted guest

They nod quickly wondering off to the enterance of your home.

Chris takes a deep shaky breath. “Y/n the last hours haven’t been easy for me I’ll be honest. I’m a very private guy and I was beyond shocked when I saw the pictures and the guy who snapped those pictures.” Chris confessed.

“Wait. So that’s why you ran off yesterday someone was taking picture of you, of us?” You quipped

He drew in another long breath speaking once more confirming a nightmare. “Yes.”

“I understand why you’re upset, invasion of privacy and you’re not my boyfriend so it’s understandable you don’t want any confusion and I’m sorry I shouldn’t have called you out with me that day.” You aplogize

Chris looked at you with his eyebrows furred toward the center. You couldn’t read if he was angry at you or the situation but he definitely had something on his mind.

“Y/n it has nothing with me not wanting to be seen with you and everything to do with my privacy. I, I really do care for you and I like you. I can see something with us. But the reality is I have to protect myself.” Chris explains

You feel your heart sweep up. Did he just admit what you’ve been wanting to hear, He likes you.

“You like me?” You mummer eyes facing your palms instead of his beautiful face.

Chris grabs your chin pulling it upwards so your eyes are leveled with his.“More than anything.”

The way he said it was so genuine you knew he wasn’t phony or just wanted to get in your pants. For crying out loud he was Chris Evans he could have your pants if he wanted to.

You don’t know what took over you. You promised yourself to take it slow but he looked so vulnerable and beautiful you couldn’t help yourself.

You let gravity pull you toward his soft pink lips. Tangling your hands around his sturdy neck, propping your lips on his.

You feel him pull your hips closer deepening the kiss as you both take turns dominanating the passionate moment.

“Chris we should.’ One of his party members says. “Oh I’m sorry I didn’t realize she stutters backing away.

You and Chris jump out from each others arms startled by her sudden presence.

You sat there cheeks burning at not only what you just done but how you’d just been caught.

“Y/n I really like you, I do. If you’ll have me I’d love to be your boyfriend.” Chris asks almost shyly

“Yes.” Was all you could muster out attempting to contain your excitement

Chris lets the biggest smile pan out on his face. You both were elated you finally made it official. “I need you to do one thing for me though, and I know it sucks but it’s just standard.” Chris states

“Megan!” He shouts

The thin tall blonde slips into the kitchen breif case in one hand cellphone in the other.

You sit perplexed as she pulls a large stack of documents out placing them in front of you along side a gel ink pen.

You begin shifting in your seat “What’s this?” You ask nervously.

“An NDA.” Megan blunts

You eyebrow lifts as you stare at Chris searching for an answer.

“A non disclosure agreement.” Megan sasses

“I know what it is, just why?’ You ask staring Chris down. “Do you not trust me?”

“No baby I do but it’s just standard. All of my family has one as well.” He explains

“Can I at least read it over, do I even get thag option?” You plead

Megan takes in a deep breath rolling her eyes. She clearly wasn’t the freindly type.

“The reason I came here today was because you were going to sign it today, and for lover boy to express his feelings so no you can’t look it over.’ She bitches. “Besides there isn’t anything in there to screw you over besides getting sued.”

“Oh and your friend in there I’ll have to make her one as well if she plans on being around.” She continued

“I’ll sign it.’ You pause taking a breath. “For you.”

You and Chris lock eyes before you pick up the pen flipping through to the last page signing your name and the date.

For some reason you felt you’d just sold your soul to the devil.

“Everything is gonna be okay, I promise.” Chris reassures rubbing the top of your palm placing a firm kiss on the skin.

“ I hope so.” You whisper underneath your breath, Facing your now boyfriend.

What do you tell your family, you knew they’ve all seen it by now.

The only thing you knew is that you were falling for the man in front of you and that would come with challenges.

—-

A/n: I’m sorry for the late chapter in recent light of everything my brain has been completely all over the place. I’ve been at protest I’ve been speaking up! So writing hasn’t been at the forefront but I’m back and I want to make the next chapters amazing! I’m very sorry if this seemed lackluster and short, minds just everywhere.

But if you enjoyed make sure to like and reblog‼️

ASK TO BE TAGGED!

-

Tag List:

@toniilaney

[satanfm]

hello! this is my smol messy child with a heart of gold lux !  i’m very excited to rp with all of you beauts, so pls give me all of your affection & plots 🥺 lux is twenty-three, a singer and professional nuisance to record companies, managers, collaborators, exes, and basically anyone who’s ever met her. positive traits are often overshadowed and forgotten due to the intensity of her negative traits.

chicago’s very own lux santana has been spotted on madison avenue driving a range rover , welcome ! your resemblance to sofia jamora is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty third birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re aggressive , but being confident might help you . i think being a leo explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be being soft and stone cold at the same, broken guitar strings, & singing songs under her breath. (lux doesn’t want children, so when she got pregnant she had an abortion and lied about it to the father by faking a miscarriage) & ( cis female & she/her) + ( hailey , 19 , she/her, cst)

— “ basics ! ’ 〉

full name. lux santana. 

nicknames. friends can her lux, and enemies call her satan. 

age. twenty-three. 

date of birth. july 26. 

occupation. singer/songwriter. 

sexual orientation. pansexual. 

birthplace. chicago. 

zodiac. leo. 

spoken languages. fluent in english, spanish & some french.

— “ backstory ! ’ 〉

satan ... i mean lux santana was actually born delilah humpries and raised in chicago. her father is one of those important political bigwigs and...all she knows about her mother is that she’s never known her mother.

her dad was the typical rich successful man who showered his child in all of the presents and money that she could ever ask for in order to make up for the fact that he was always too busy working to ever spend any actual time with her and instead left lux to be raised by a revolving door of nannies

from a young age it was obvious that lux had a talent for music & ofc her dad was willing to pay for her lessons so long as it kept her occupied so she started with singing and piano but moved on to learn a few other instruments including the guitar and even began dipping her toes into songwriting. by the age of 14 she had written and recorded a whole demo album in her bedroom and once it was done, she started sneaking out at night so that she could go hang around the local big name recording studios in the hopes that she would catch a producer leaving for the day and hopefully convince them to listen to her demo

she never did

sis really tried though. now ofc her dad could’ve paid a record company to just hand her a contract and she knew that, but dammit. lux wanted music to be her lifelong career and she wanted to earn it herself. she knew that she was genuinely talented even though her demo album was probs lowkey garbage lmao and she knew that she could be successful, and she didn’t want anyone to be able to say that she didn’t truly work for her career

she was so determined that she spent y e a r s relentlessly hounding record companies but no one would give her the time of day, so she developed a different strategy after seeing some flyers around the city and at the age of 16 she joined a local bar band who happened to seeking a lead singer...and got kicked out like two weeks later for being absolutely fucking insufferable

join local band in need of a lead singer. attempt to overhaul said band and push all of the other members into the background. face resistance from said other members. get angry, lash out, get kicked out of the band, repeat. it was a vicious cycle that went on for a couple years.

it was while she was in the midst of this vicious cycle that she met her (now ex) boyfriend and they were...whew. A WHOLE MESS. he was the frontman of a different band that was gaining more and more popularity by the day. he was older and he seemed so cool, and so ofc lux fell for him hard. they got together and appeared to be madly in love, but all was not perfect at all.

they were veeeery on and off, the type of couple to get in a screaming match and “break up” over nothing only to get back together like ten minutes later. this guy also wound up getting lux hooked on drugs, getting her arrested, getting her name plastered all over the tabloids for everything except her music, which was something that she still hadn’t quite found her footing in yet

until finally at the age of 19 she landed a record deal and, at the age of 21 after a lot of delays that had to do with her perfectionist nature and tumultuous relationship her first album was released and turned out to be a major success with all of the singles charting, lots of streams and airplay and a sold out debut tour that would unfortunately get cut short

so basically what happened was her bf showed up after one of her concerts and ofc they got high together, but then lux started to overdose. she passed out, but her bf thought she was dead and ofc he freaked out so, uh...he ran. literally bolted out of her tour bus and lux has not seen him since

fortunately she was found by someone else in time and rushed to the hospital. of course the rest of her tour was cancelled so that she could recover and she subsequently did the obligatory few months in rehab only to get out and immediately go back to using. that was over a year ago now and since then she’s been working on her second album aaaand it’s almost finished! people are starting to wonder what’s taking her so long and the answer is honestly just the fact that she’s nearly impossible to work with tbh

— “ fun facts / headcanons ! ’ 〉

lux is lux, not delilah. she uses the stage name in order to a) be pretentious and b) distance herself from her family name as a way to shut down the argument that it’s the only reason why she’s famous/successful. as for where the name came from? but yeah. lux, not delilah, or she’ll get all huffy.

pan af, has dated & hooked up with people both before and after her disaster bf and sometimes while they were “broken up” for all of ten minutes. tbh she kinda...gets with people solely to use them as songwriting material and then just dumps them when she’s gotten some material out of them? yikes! so she can be a bit of a heartbreaker.

since music is really the only thing in her life that she takes seriously, it’s what most of her energy tends to go into and it’s why she can be so impossible to work with. she’s always full steam ahead and she always thinks that she’s right, which doesn’t really pair well with the fact that she’s also very stubborn. recording studio employees have literally quit on her in the middle of a song more than once before bc they just couldn’t deal with her anymore. she’s that bad.

she’s quite intelligent and empathetic and genuinely talented but unfortunately her stubbornness and perfectionism and short temper often overshadow her best qualities and become all that people are able to see when they look at her. lux, surprisingly, doesn’t seem to realize that dialing back the attitude might help her in her quest to be just be taken seriously for fuck’s sake

she is the embodiment of ' 5′1 but attitude 6′2′.

can be v reckless, willing to try anything once.

she's v free spirited but can be flighty, never wanting to settle, always on to the next thing, whatever it may be.

big on living in the moment, future who?

— “ wanted plots ! ’ 〉

some potential wc i’m terrible at thinking of these so please don’t feel limited by this list!

best friends

step siblings

cousins

perhaps someone from her mom’s side of the fam

attempted good influence

exes ( she probs has a bunch who hate her )

former / current hookups ( again, she probably has a bunch )

ex friends / bridges she’s burned ( probs has more of these than anything else lmao )

straight up enemies

other singers or musicians who have tried to work with her

people she’s written songs about!

[secones]

          park jimin  ,  he/him  ,  cis male  ------  apparently jovi yuen  ,  the twenty-four year old software developer  ,  was on a bus to new york city that day before unfortunately returning to a vacant town  .  as time passed  ,  they’ve decided to join faction #2  ,  which is understandable considering they’re known to be quite tenacious and sentimental  ,  but also escapist and caustic on a bad day  .  they don’t seem to be handling this new society well  .

hello  !  hi  ,  i’m deni coming at you from the gmt+9 tmz  .  i use she/her pronouns and don’t have any triggers to be tagged  .  here is jovi’s intro  ,  fashionably late just like the muse  .  he has a wanted plots tag here  &  don’t hesitate to hmu if you’d like to jive something out  :) 

before. 

        a skyline he’d seen a hundred damn times  ,  roads he’d carved ruts into with two feet  ,  a bike and a skateboard  .  swings in the park where he smoked his first cigarette and the warehouse behind the school where he got his first kiss  .  the basement of his childhood mansion still sports the stain from where he first got drunk back in high school and an abandoned warehouse still sports his initial in faded red spray paint  .  as familiar as ham is  ,  this place still doesn’t feel like home  .  he stayed here for years and half-assed pretended to be happy  ------  but anyone who spoke to him for more than a minute knew he wanted to leave the first chance he got  .  leave behind his overbearing parents  ,  his nosy older brother  ,  the shackle of expectations everyone seemed to have whenever the yuen name was uttered  ,  disappointed whispers that made his ears burn whenever he did something just a touch wayward  .  

        wasn’t brave enough to take that leap until the last year of college  .  kept holding out  ,  hoped things would get better  .  but one day he looked up into his rearview mirror and saw the town’s welcome sign slipping further and further away  .  he drove to the state line and didn’t look back  .  turned off his phone and didn’t answer a message until a few days later to let everyone know he was fine  (  switched it off before anyone asked any questions  )  fuck  ,  dude  .  maybe there were better ways to shove that suffocating weight off his chest  ,  but he swears the first night he breathed in whole was the first night under new york city lights  .  he’s lucky  ,  he had the means  ------  enough set aside to secure a few months’ rent in a cramped one-bedroom and two roommates  ,  an internship and connections to one of the thousands of tech start-ups in the city  .  two and a half years have passed and jovi’s made a name for himself in the skyline capital  .  should’ve known returning back home was the biggest mistake he ever could’ve made  .  

after.

      who the fuck were these people  ,  trying to boss him around and make orders  ?  half of them he knew from high school  .  he wouldn’t trust them with his pencils then  ,  so he damn sure won’t trust him with a goddamn government now  .  jovi figures this will all  ---  better  --- blow over soon  .  that they’ll break past the forest line or someone will come back and tell them what the hell’s happened  .  shit  ,  he almost doesn’t care at this point  .  he’s just tired of all the nagging and empty message boxes on social media  .  this is all just too weird for comfort and he’s more anxious than he lets on  .  figuring now’s a better time than any  ,  jovi’s throwing himself into decluttering the family home and getting down to the truths he’s suspected of his parents all along  .  just what’s been happening in new ham all these years  ?  

stats.  

full name.  jae-beom yuen date of birth.  january 29th western zodiac.  aquarius  chinese zodiac.  rat sexuality.  pansexual occupation.  software developer at a mobile gaming company , former med student

personality.  on the shyer and quieter side  ,  jovi finds he spends more time in his head than speaking  .  he doesn’t think of himself as a thinker  ,  but constantly needs mental stimulation in order to be satisfied and borders on the neurotic  .  he constantly feels constrained and fears being limited by anything  .  doesn’t respond well to criticism or disagreement  ,  and can become aggressive when he finally chooses to speak his mind  .  he’s slow to trust others and is incredibly sensitive  .  values intellect and deep conversations  ,  and will do anything he can for a loved one  .  stubborn  ,  indecisive  ,  and inflexible  ,  jovi holds hard to his Truths of the world  ,  but he still values open-mindedness and will take time to consider different worldviews before making a stance  .  enjoys spending time alone or with close  ,  intimate friends  (  but he did move to new york city of all places  . . .  self-professed loner isn’t fond of loneliness  ,  after all  )

physical.  small in height but carries himself in a way that makes him seem larger  .  hair currently dyed ash blonde but darkening  .  sun-kissed skin from the summer months  ,  dotted with a few minature tattoos on his arms and torso  .  thin  ,  but athletically lean   .  looks half asleep  ,  can dress-up easily but mostly seen around town in baggy black tops and skintight jeans  ,  thick boots or trendy sneakers for added height  .  baseball caps  ,  leather satchel  ,  iced coffee in hand  .  silver rings and thin bracelets hang from his wrist and a loose chain around his neck  .  doesn’t flinch from eye contact  .  walks slow but steady  .  jaw ticks when he’s annoyed and his eyes brighten when something interests him  .  carries his laptop  ,  an old walkman  ,  and headphones everywhere he goes  .

credits.

blog  theme  :  x icon  base  :  x  ,  x gif  icons  :  x  ,  x  ,  x header  :  x blog  photos  :  googled   “ park  jimin  army  zip  2020 ”  for  them

[prevaricatcr]

‹ TARON EGERTON, HE/HIM, CISMALE, BISEXUAL.  ›  ELLIOT GALLAGHER is the TWENTY SIX year old from SANTA MONICA, CALIFORNIA. when a friend asked them what they thought of the manor they said,  ❝ MIGHT AS FUCKIN’ WELL, RIGHT? GONNA HATE MY LIFE EITHER WAY, MIGHT AS WELL DO IT WITH SOME SCENERY. ❞ they claim FUNNY GAMES is their favorite scary movie, and if they were to die in a horror film they would TAUNT THE KILLER AND GET WHACKED FOR IT. their fears include DRIVING A CAR, WRITHING SNAKES and PUPPETS, and they don’t know we know, but… HE’S PAID OFF MULTIPLE WOMEN WHO HAVE HAD HIS CHILDREN. hope they enjoy their stay.  ‹  MUSE A from HOLLYWOOD’S BLEEDING penned by, Z, 25+, CST.  ›

- - - - - - - BASICS.

Name: Elliot Rian Gallagher. Pronouns: He, him. Nicknames: n/a Age: Twenty-six. Birthdate: April 18th. Zodiac: Aries sun, taurus moon, gemini rising. Ethnicity: white, his father's grandparents were second generation irish and his mother always stated that her parents came from Sandusky, and didn't know more than that. Nationality: American. Birthplace: Santa Monica, CA Gender: Cis Male. Sexual Orientation: Bisexual.

- - - - - - - BACKGROUND.

Parents: Craig Robert Gallagher; 58 years old, alive. Teresa Dawn Shwitzer-Gallagher ; 52 years old, alive Siblings: 2 older siblings, a boy and a girl, and two younger sisters. Spouse: n/a. Children: 3 by different mothers, whom he sends monthly allowances to. He makes it his business not to know any more. Current Job: out of work musician. Dream Career: to be back on top of his game, winning grammies like he used to. Schooling: Attended Crossroads in Santa Monica on and off, eventually graduated with lots of monetary assistance. Income: Receives pay from royalties from the band he was in as a teenager that kicked him out.

- - - - - - - PHYSICAL.

Height: 5'8". Weight: 160 lb. Eye Color: Blue. Hair Color: Dark brown. Hair Length: Fairly short. Hair Type: On the thinner side, with some wave. Body Type: Fairly skinny, with small hips and waist. A little thicker around the midsection with his short stint of sobriety. Clothing Size: Medium to large. Shoe Size: Size 11 Complexion: Very pale, freckles fairly easy, burns very easy. Scars: scars and calluses on his hands, a puckered scar on his temple half hidden by his hair, and a scar on his right hip from a bad car accident, his knees are assessed as much older than himself because of how poorly he treats them combined with genetics, and a long scar on the left side of his back.

- - - - - - - PERSONALITY.

Positive Traits: adventurous, charming, direct, passionate, sociable, competitive, creative, lively, versatile. Negative Traits: volatile, extravagant, defensive, envious, juvenile, wasteful, unreliable, vulgar, pessimistic. Mental Condition: Currently drinking again and using cocaine along with a few prescription pills after attempting out-patient rehab and tapering down his drinking, which he's been addicted to since age fourteen. No officially assessed disorders or conditions besides his alcoholism. Struggles with intimacy while sober. Emotional Condition: Fragile, filled with guilt and self loathing after relapse. Sees trust as more important than love and is very guarded with what he considers his innermost self. Likes: All black outfits, sunglasses, a tall glass of boulevard when he's drinking to taste it, people that make him laugh out loud, old school SNL, the fine tuning of behind the camera work, treating the people he cares about to nice things, arguing about oscars prospects for any given film, penny slot machines, jokes that make people groan loudly. Dislikes: lazy jokes about addiction, late night talk shows, people who look at him and see his misdeeds and not who he is as a person, "lizard people" conspiracy theories, elevator music, plastic covers on mattresses, the concept of an all seeing, all knowing god, TMZ, the smell of industrial cleaner. Strengths: intelligent, ambitious, sincere, passionate, generous, philosophical. Weaknesses: reckless, impatient, cowardly, detached, foolhardy, irresponsible. Fears/phobias: sobriety, letting someone see every single part of him, allowing himself to be vulnerable when sober, having hallucinations, driving a car. Hobbies: little to none as his primary hobby has always been drinking, mostly reading and watching movies. Quirks: fiddling with his glasses, biting the inside of his cheek, humming any song that comes through his mind out loud when he's distracted or concentrating hard on something.

- - - - - - - HISTORY.

!!! possible triggers in the following biography: drug use, alcohol abuse and alcoholism, driving while intoxicated, car accidents, parental neglect of children !!! You are two and a half when you land your first commercial. Your younger sisters managed their first roles before you, but it was a little easier for them as they were infant twins; far more in demand than just a tiny toddler boy. This is how your family eats and keeps themselves in an apartment in Santa Monica that's meant to house three when your family eventually grows to hold seven in total. A lot of mouths to feed. Thankfully you don't remember a lot of this, as the small time work you and your siblings do is enough to keep your family afloat. You make your way into middle school; pissed and stand offish and looking like a cherub; which insures that no one takes you seriously. The friends you make, you hold tightly to, and you kick around in your best friend Boston’s basement, just fooling around on his parents drum kit, their guitars that aren’t actually supposed to be touched. It’s all just for fun, the band and the EP you slap together; just trying to impress each other, until one of Bos’ parents finds someone who wants to sign the band. Everyone tells you over and over again, that this is the deal of a life time. That this will make sure you work in Hollywood for the rest of your life. This is both true, and untrue. The EP is an unmitigated success, and every review has something to say about you, the kid on bass with backup vocals who’s face looks barely legal but plays like he’s planning a murder. Almost everyone remarks on how much older than your few years you seem. Which at first makes you feel special, important. Makes you seek out big words to use when you're sitting on the couch as a guest. The audience really loves that. Of course, this also spawns those times when you end up at wrap parties and after parties, your mother schmoozing whatever producers and execs she can find, your father nowhere to be found, and a sea of adults getting high and wasted around you. None of the vices of Hollywood have ever been all that strange to you, though. Your parents have always had a very blase approach to the innocence of childhood, and didn't much care to shield you from anything. It’s still all fun and games, really. The five of you have too much fun, and everyone wants to treat you to everything, so. Somehow the option you end up choosing most often is the bottle in your hand. The bottles that are so readily available, everywhere, that get pressed into your hands and put into the end of the night goodie bags your mother always takes three of. You think that waking up in an unfamiliar bed every single night of a week is something the rest of your bandmates are doing. It’s all a laugh, we all drink and we all smoke and it’s kid shit, right Boston? You learn that it very much is just a ‘you’ thing when you come to rehearsal (late, as usual) one Thursday afternoon and they’re all somberly waiting for you, hands in their lap and silent. You are being released from your contract with Cthulhu Rising...but the band has elected to move on and create their debut album. Unfortunately at this point you are eighteen and very, very deeply entrenched in alcoholism. The press has been playing you as a party boy who enjoys simple teenage excess for a very long time, but it's starting to wear thin. TMZ is growing a lot less glowing in their articles. You try not to pay attention even as you get yourself thrown out of clubs and tossed into drunk tanks and bailed back out again by whichever assistant your mother has hired this week. As long as you can find a way to make music, you can keep breathing. But with your growing notoriety, offers start to dry up. Those late night shows that loved your precociousness take pot shots at you in their opening monologues. Kimmel's pre-taped Lonely Island style sketch about 'you' endorsing a brand of gin in the style of I Love Lucy gets over a million views on youtube. All of Hollywood, and by extension all the world is laughing at you. It get a little less funny when you ram your matte black Lamborghini Aventador into the median taking the exit for Interstate 10, pinball off of it and into the car in the lane next to you, back into the median hard enough to flip your car into a roll, tumbling side over side across the lanes into the ditch. Your blood test results at the hospital show your blood alcohol content was nearly triple the legal limit. The accident doesn't kill you, though it's a close thing. You're convinced the recovery is worse. The total at the end adds up to a fractured pelvis, six broken ribs, safety glass embedded in your left temple, lacerations all over your arms and face, bleeding in your lungs and swelling in the brain that leaves you in a coma for the better part of two weeks. The most pathetic part of it all? All of that, the things you don't remember from that day coupled with the bursts and flashes of what you do remember, the year and a half you spend in recovery still isn't enough to make you put the bottle down forever. And doesn't that just make you fucking hate yourself?

[a-simple-imagine]

Nothing But Co-Stars

Requested by anonymous: I was hoping to get a Gemma Chan story where she and reader worked on captain Marvel together and are high key in love and like the media finds out or something!

Pairing: Gemma Chan x fem!reader

Words: 1937

A/N - 2 posts in one day?? AND I have 3 more coming. This is so unlike me. I did say I would do all my requests before endgame which I’m seeing tomorrow. Since I’ve been avoiding spoilers it’s given me a lot of time to write. I have 5 open spots for requests so throw them at me. 

I was gonna make this fluffy but you know whats better than fluff? angst. I left it on a cliff hanger too

You glance anxiously towards your partner in this interview. You were looking for an answer; some indication of whether she wanted to talk about it or just move on. The woman just smiles softly and you turn back to the interviewer. You can answer a simple question. Nothing suspicious about that.

"Yeah, we become pretty close while working on the set together- as did all the cast."

"I agree." Gemma nods. "I think working on any show or movie you kind of become like a little family for a while. So I've been spending a lot of time with Y/N."

"You two were spotted out for dinner together quite a few times." The interviewer adds.

"Oh yeah. What can I say she makes a great dinner date." You insist with a soft chuckle.

"Y/N actually was late to our last dinner date," Gemma added.

"Okay, I actually have an excuse for that."

"Which is?"

"It's nothing major, I just had a really long day. I had just finished up some press with Brie and it ran a little later than expected. And these two girls run up to us asking for pictures. So I'm taking pictures of them with Brie because y'know she's Captain Marvel. I was surprised when they asked for one with me, it made me feel like a star. Anyway, this girl is standing next to me. I have one arm around her and she just whispers in my ear, will you strangle me?"

"What?" The interviewer seemed surprised but amused.

"Yeah, I was like so confused and Brie is just laughing next to me. I sadly had to tell her that I would not choke her but we were both shook."

"You never told me that."

You shrug casually, glancing in your co-star's direction. "Never needed to. I didn't think it was relevant, I wasn't that late to dinner."

The interview continues normally. You talk about the film. Answered some vaguely personal questions. And when it was over, you retreated to your black SUV with the rest of your team. Surprised when Gemma slips into the seat beside you a few moments later.

"Do you not have your own car?"

"Thought we may as well share." She insisted, hand settling on your thigh. You smile warmly at her.

"I was gonna head back and go for a run but how about we grab lunch instead?"

She nodded a little. You had your driver/security guard take a detour to a small cafe downtown. This thing with Gemma had been going on for a while now but letting the world know wasn't part of the plan yet. So it requires a lot of sneaking around. You share lunch at this small french style cafe. You chat about anything everything. It was pleasant. It was undisturbed. And for just a moment you forget that for some messed up reason you're more than just two people having lunch. Brushes of hands. Longing glances. As you leave, your hands are intertwined. A peck on the cheek before you slip into you car and she gets in the one behind. You go your separate ways after that like nothing happened. You had to be in a different places tomorrow.

"We have a problem," your assistant announces as your speeding down the road. Tapping away on her phone beside you. You're preoccupied, recording the current song on the radio to post to your Instagram story.

"Have you seen TMZ?"

You don't register the question right away but when you do you shrug. "Who got a DUI now?"

"I don't know. I'm more worried about you," you glance at her briefly before looking out the window. Cars pass by. An old woman walks her dog. A young man skateboards down the street with what looks like an ice pop. "Can we get ice cream on the way home?"

"What are you five years old?" Your drive asks. His tone is playful.

"A five year old who also happens to be your boss." You flash a tight-lipped smile in your driver's direction. Continuing to scroll through your Instagram feed. Completely ignoring most of the posts just minding your own business. Your team chatted around you. You could hear what they were saying but you just weren't registering any of it.

"Y/N. You were planning to keep your blossoming relationship with Miss. Chan a secret were you not?"

"For now." You respond with a small nod. "A lot of people date their costars so I just wanna make sure there's something here and it's not just because we've been working together. I don't want this to be promo."

"TMZ posted about you."

A split second of panic. "About the interview? That was fast."

"No about you two." She held her phone up for you. Your Y/E/C eyes narrow in on the English actress and yourself. Your lips pressed to her cheek. Hands intertwined.

'Y/N Y/L/N cosies up with co-star Gemma Chan during lunch date'

Uncreative. Straight to the point. Definitely TMZs style. But it was just one news outlet. No big deal. It's not like they caught you doing anything bad. You open Twitter and check your official mentions. More outlets had taken the opportunity to write about it. You're not a massive star but enough to peak the interest of the media. Enough for an otherwise slow news day. Fuck. It had been a brief laps in judgment. Hardly anyone was around. You decide to let the news linger for now. No need to confirm or deny. You open Instagram and take a selfie. No caption. Just a time filter. You get the ice cream you wanted. Deciding upon Mint chocolate chip. You also put that on your Instagram story. People who don't like mint choc are tasteless as a caption. 3 posts were enough to satisfy what fans you had. It makes you seem active and like you're engaging with your fans when you've hardly put in any effort. You return to your moderate size apartment. It overlooks the city. It looks beautiful at night. Your team leaves you alone not too long after that. You go for a jog with your dog. It's peaceful. There's safety in numbers. On returning, you take a shower to which you perform Beyoncé's greatest hits before retiring to your living room. The word room used loosely because your apartment is open floor. You place your shark mug - the body of a great white, fins and all made up the mug and the tail made up the handle - of hot chocolate atop a low glass coffee table alongside your iPad. You take up space between the table which is sat on a plush carpet and the couch which rests on laminate. You switch on the tv more so for background noise than anything else. Deciding to watch The Good Wife. You've been binge-watching it lately. It's good. And then you call her. A few rings pass by and she picks up. Her face swimming into view. You smile at her and she returns it.

"We need to talk," you say quietly. Picking up your mug of hot chocolate; for a moment you're amused by its quirkiness. You blow gently on the surface. Your attention on the drama unfolding on screen.

"You saw?"

"I did." You reply, daring to take a sip. It was really hot. Burns the end of your tongue but you can tell it's gonna taste great. You keep the mug in your hands allowing the heat to transfer to your skin.

"What are you watching?" She wonders clearly noticing your lack of attention.

"The good wife." You answer, turning back to her. "So, what do we do?"

"What do you want to do?"

You shrug. It's not a question you should decide on your own and so you had left it until now to truly think about. "Maybe it's time to just tell everyone."

Her expression is unreadable and so you divert back to Alicia as she battles yet another court case. She seems to be winning.

"Really?" By her tone, you can tell she's not entirely on board with the idea. But she's also not trying to come off as malicious or embarrassed. Just cautious. Being in the public eye could be great but it was also unforgiving. It was progressive but unprogressive. For every person who loved you, there were ten more lining up to tell you you're a piece of shit. Talentless. Your words were always being twisted. Every step of your life became strategic. To some extent, you did whatever you wanted but you had a publicist that kept you from doing anything stupid. Usually, she would be on the phone right now. Maybe she was. You had left your phone in the kitchen on silent for a reason.

"I just don't think Its best right now,"

"For us?" You question as your stare down the iPad screen. "Or to be telling everyone?"

The hesitation is worrying but you don't question it. You decide not to make a big deal out of it.

"Telling everyone." She eventually answers. She's not looking at you and you wonder where her attention lies.

"Why?" You ask immediately. Brow cocked in curiosity.

"I just... don't think it's the right time. "

"Then what do you want to do?" You ask, bringing your shark mug to your lips and taking a large sip. It warmed your entire body.

"I don't know," She answers. "can't we ignore it?"

"Sure," You nod, returning your gaze to the tv. "but people are still gonna think we're together so why not just tell them?"

"Y/N, please." Your disappointed in her soft words but you had been expecting them.

"I'm gonna talk to my publicist, see what we can do." You explain.

"Thank you,"

"I kinda want to tell everyone though." You mumble casually. More to yourself than her. She didn't seem like she was going to change her mind any time soon. "What does your publicist say?"

"I told her I wanted to ignore it. See what happens."

"Oh." You nod a little. "Okay then."

"How was your run?"

You glance back to her. Taking in a little more of your drink. She was changing the conversation so I guess that was the end of that. "It was good."

A silence comes between both of you. It's a little awkward but that's because you're a little disheartened. The circumstances had changed. Everyone had already caught a glimpse so why does she still want to hide? You can't wrap your head around it. What was she so scared of. You watch her through the screen. Listening to the TV show in the background.

"I'm gonna go." You eventually say. "I'll call you when I'm done with press tomorrow."

"Oh- yeah, okay." She offers you an unsure smile.

"I'll see you later Gemma,"

"Wait Y/N, I-" you cut off the feed before she can finish her sentence. You down the contents of your mug before raising to your feet. You exchange your mug with the phone in the kitchen and retire to the couch. Your pup comes along and lies down next you. Head falling to rest in your lap. You hand brushes through its soft fur. You unlock your phone and finally return the missed call.

"So what's the plan?"

"Tell me what you want?"

With an unfocused gaze on the screen, you sigh. "She wants to ignore it."

"I didn't ask what she wants, I don't work for her. What do you want to do?"

You hesitate for a moment. "I... want everyone to know."

[harley-quinnn]

Headlines

Jared Leto x Reader

Prompt: Can we get a reader x Jared where maybe Jared cheats on the reader on tour but then they fix it? I know it’s so mean but I’m weird 😬

{A/N} Happy Valentine’s Day puddin’s, I hope ya had a great day! This is a short little one shot for the cheating request to give ya something in place of Home squared while I work on it. I know it’s the day of love, but this story is a bit of a roller coaster ride emotionally, so please read at your own risk!

Warnings: Self doubt, adultery, slight violence (meaning a glass was thrown in the opposite direction of a person), depression. But also fluff at the end, somehow. 

ALSO- Regardless of any previous rumors in real life, I do not see Jared as a cheater, this is purely fiction for the request I received! He’s a good guy. Right, Jared? Okay, cool, good.

There we were, “Jared Leto and {Y/F/N}.” We were in headlines for days about a “new blossoming romance.” We graced every front cover of every tabloid, every episode of TMZ and Dish Nation, Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollywood. We were Hollywood’s latest power couple, despite our best efforts to keep it a secret. Eventually, it got to the point where we just said “fuck it,” and did what we wanted. He loved me, and I loved him. What did it matter who knew?

But it wasn’t so easy to keep up with each other. It wasn’t easy at all. Scheduling conflicts between appearances, filming and recording kept us apart more than together, and after a few months or so, my cynical nature always had me second guessing his true feelings for me. 

On occasion, we’d fight, and we’d fight ugly. I always thought we fought hard because we loved harder, but as fame and the media broke me down, and hit him with false accusations and reprimands for things from our age difference to calling us a publicity relationship, I began to lose myself and what I was fighting for. After long, theraputic chats, he always brought me back down to earth, reminded me of who I was and who we were. But our previous arguement had been over the phone, and neither of us seemed to have the level head to call the other back to apologize or talk things through.

And while this day was the day he finally returned home from months worth of tour, I couldn’t be excited; I couldn’t be happy. In fact, I couldn’t really feel anything at all other than heartache.

I sat on the couch, my heart feeling as though it was shattering like glass inside of the confines of my chest. A shaky hand poured another glass-full of vodka into a crystal glass that sat on the coffee table in front of me, beside that, an email of an article open on my laptop that had been sent to me by my publicist just a couple hours earlier.

“Jared Leto cheats on girlfriend with mystery brunette on tour.”

Awesome.

There were no feelings in my entirety, yet every feeling all at once. My mascara had long been running, and my publicist had already heard an earful of screaming from me, though it wasn’t her fault. She was looking out for me, not wanting me to be caught off gaurd hearing it elsewhere. Hell, I hardly even knew if it was his fault. But I hadn’t the mental capacity to make decisions that weren’t brash anymore as I downed the glass I’d just poured.

The vodka burned in my throat like acid as I held the glass tightly in my hand. He was slated to be home any minute now, and while I’d run through speeches in my head, the notion of trying to find out what actually happened, and other things to say, I knew the moment I set eyes on him again I’d lose it all. In what way this time, I wasn’t sure. 

I’d dealt with the mean headlines, I’d faced the intense lines of questioning at every interview. But I’d never seen this headline before, and it was eating me alive. We’d fought over petty things, and some important things, but neither of us had ever dealt with cheating accusations from one another, despite the way the press loved to talk.

Moments later, I heard the doorknob click and the familiar sounds of bags and rustling that came when he returned. I heard Shannon laughing with him as they carelessly entered the living room, not yet noticing my shell shocked state in the opposite end of the large room. I was already shitfaced, and I felt the tears silently pour down my cheeks once more as my eyes caught sight of him. It felt as though I were looking at him from within a hollow shell, the caving sensation of my heart breaking in my chest in the forefront of my senses.

“Babe!” Jared called out when he saw me, a grin on his features.

“Hey, {Y/N},” Shannon grinned.

I could only inhale and turn to face them, gripping the glass in my hand even harder as I tried with all my might to keep quiet; to keep from overreacting.

“{Y/N},” he said next, his tone turning into nothing but extreme concern as he saw the state I was in.

Jared rushed over to me, and as he grew closer, I pushed the laptop open further and turned it to face him without another word. His brow furrowed as he looked down at it, taking a bit to read the headline and study the photo of him beneath it. He remained quiet, his expression growing tense before he turned to Shannon, who was just as confused in the entryway.

“Can we have a minute?” Was all he said, and Shannon simply nodded and walked his things towards the back of the house.

“How could you, Jared?” I heard myself slur from what felt like a million miles away. “I trusted you..”

There was pain written all over his features, and while his silence spoke volumes, I wasn’t sure what I was willing to believe.

“Baby..”

“Don’t you dare baby me. You.. I told you I’d be your ride or die no matter what. I know tour life. I know how it is. I didn’t expect this not to happen, I just.. I didn’t think I’d ever know, you know?”

My voice cracked again, trailing off of the end. It was true, I was willing to put up with anything for him. My heart beat solely for him and him alone. I knew he loved me, everyone knew he loved me- and everyone knew I’d die for him. Still, I couldn’t help but feel betrayed, and as though I just weren’t enough for him anymore.

To millions, I was a shining beacon of beauty and sex. Everyone wanted to be me, and those who didn’t wanted to have me. The same was said about Jared, of course. I did what I could when we were together. I gave him every ounce of affection and attention I possibly could. I cared for him like I’d never cared for anyone before.

I just couldn’t wrap my head around why.

I stood from the couch, glass in hand. Swaying a bit, I stepped closer to him. It was far too late to keep my tears hidden in my waterline.

“Is she prettier than me? Was she.. Was she sweeter than me?” I drunkenly inquired, hot tears running down my cheeks as I turned to face away from him. “Because I don’t know what else it could be..”

Jared stayed quiet, his expression tense as he watched the woman he loved fall to a million broken pieces before him. Trying to find the words to say, he opened his mouth to speak.

“It was that fucking fight we had,” he started, cool and collected, and I recognized the tone to be the one he took when he was trying to keep me level headed. “About the fact that you have to start your tour the same day I have to start filming, even though we planned for you to come with me.”

It was like something snapped in me instead. I chucked the glass in my hand toward the wall, turning to face him again as the shards of sparkling glass scattered across the floor. I was never a violent person, but my heart had no idea how to react, and my mind was no help, either. He kept his demeanor calm, and only pushed me further.

“Is that supposed to make it okay?” I spat, angry and deeply hurt.

I had never felt so strongly for anyone in my life, and this, coupled with the stress I’d been enduring in other ways, finally made me unravel.

“Please just tell me what I did,” I begged, feeling the the life slip away from my body as I weakly shut my eyes. “Please..”

Before I could open them again, he took my hands in his, squeezing them firmly. It caught me slightly off guard when he wrapped his arms around me. His embrace was possessive, as though he were keeping a cracking statue together; as though he were protecting me from someone else, even though the harm had come from him.

“I’m so sorry, {Y/N}.. You have no idea how awful I felt. I wanted to call you as soon as it happened, but I didn’t want to stress you out even more. We’d just had that huge ordeal and I felt.. Well.. Fuck, I felt vulnerable and pissed off. And she was just.. there. It’s no excuse, there’s none..”

“What, does she fuck better than me?” I mewled, sobbing against his chest.

“God, what? No,” he grimaced. “I didn’t sleep with her, I just kissed her.”

His toned arms squeezed my frame even harder. Inadequate was hardly the word to describe how I felt. The ache that sat in my chest seemed to radiate from deep within my ribs to the flesh that sat just under my necklace. I tried to collect my drunken thoughts; tried to make some kind of sense of what I was hearing. Then, it hit me. I looked up at him through my makeup stained face, sniveling quietly as our eyes rested on each others.

“Wait.. You didn’t sleep with her?”

“No, baby. We went out.. Got food.. And, you know. But I didn’t take her back to the room.”

I sat quiet for a moment, reeling from the details but mulling them over. It was much less to take than the image I had of them burning a hole in my mind. My eyes drifted away before I spoke again.

“It was just once?” I whispered, as though that was going to make it all go away.

“Once. And it wasn’t even good. It wasn’t really anything,” he scoffed.

No, it didn’t make it better. I was still going to have to come to terms with what happened, and either move on from it, move on from him or let it destroy me. I wasn’t having the latter two. He was my heart and soul, and despite this whole scene playing out before me, I knew I was his, too.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against my hair on the top of my head, and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said I heard some kind of emotion catch in his throat.

Swallowing hard, I pulled away from his embrace, feeling defeated. What else could I do? I sniffled again, dragging the back of my hand under my eye. I suddenly felt over dramatic when it was just a kiss shared between them. Still, my heart hurt.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” he said, taking my hand and cupping it between his. “What are you thinking? Talk to me, please..”

“I..” I started, sitting back down on the couch. “I love you, Jared.”

My voice was shaky with emotion and exhaustion. I believed he was sorry. I believed it was a one time mistake. Everyone is human, we all make them. He at least hadn’t been caught doing it before, and anyone knew it was easy to do so when it came to either of us. I shook my head as he sat down beside me, his sight set on nothing else but me. Despite it all, I just wanted to get comfortable and cuddle with him while I fell asleep.

“I love you, too, {Y/N},” he responded. “So fucking much. Even if it doesn’t really seem that way right now.”

Stupid as it was, I cracked a small grin. Maybe it was just the exhaustion, or the booze, or both, but I found it amusing. So amusing, that my next response wasn’t though out at all.

“It’s okay. I fucked Shannon in the other room while you were sleeping before you left, anyway.”

His face, while what I said was a cruel, terrible joke, was priceless.

“I’m kidding, babe,” I sighed, watching his chest rise and fall again as he willed himself to believe me.

I supposed one slip up in the course of our relationship so far wasn’t too bad, considering I had already married myself to the idea that he’d be full blown cheating on me left and right. It didn’t make it any more okay, but, fame was a hell of a drug, and he could have anyone he wanted at the drop of a hat- mad at me or not.

I relaxed a bit, groggy and overwhelmed. I began to feel just a little better that it wasn’t something as far as a passionate night of intimacy in bed. Just lunch and a kiss, or maybe they made out, but, it wasn’t sex.

“Please just tell me you’re not trying to make this a habit. I can’t handle this every time you’re gone.. as it is, I’m going to have it in the back of my head forever,” I complained.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he assured me. “I told you, it was a mistake. A one time, stupid, rash decision.”

Shaking my head, I threw my arms around him and sighed, my breathing still rugged from crying.

“I really thought you two were banging, so I’m relieved.. but still hurt.”

His hand moved to stroke my hair slowly as he kissed the top of my head.

“I know, baby. But the only lips I want to kiss are yours. And the only person I’m trying to bang is you,” he grinned lightly.

Another faint smile crossed my features as I sat up straight before him. It was then that I leaned in, placing my hands on his cut jawline and locking my lips with his.

I kissed him like I never had before; like it was the first time we’d ever kissed after days of sexual tension. I kissed him as though I were taking him back from whatever spell he’d been under, and he kissed me like he’d never get the chance to again in return. When we pulled away, I sighed, brushing my lips against his delicately, feeling the smile that placed itself on his expression all over again.

“Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed,” I whispered, ready to end the madness that was my day.

He nodded, standing up and sweeping me off my feet in one movement, carrying me out of the living room. I gave a slight giggle, nuzzling my nose against his shoulder.

“I’ll show you exactly who belongs where,” he winked, squeezing me playfully with a smirk.