#in my defense I only bought 5

[bookwyrminspiration]

I can behave normally around books

[newlyy]

Guess who doesn’t drink but bought an ice bucket, bottle opener and some other bar cart tools I don’t know the name or purpose of but they were 50% off and part of a mid century modern looking set and I liked them. 🙋🏼‍♀️

[lesbianstarlightglimmer]

Ik everyone hates Funko and marvel and whatever but you gotta admit my hobie pop rocks everyone say hi hobie

[ginsengkitten]

☆ Brat by ginsengkitten ☆

☆ Slash One-Shot

☆ Synopsis:

Slashes absence from being on tour has caused you quite the attitude problem, and he’s going to fix it..

☆ Tags: heavy smut, age gap, daddy k!nk, size k!nk, angst, rough,

-

It was no secret that you and slash often butt heads. No, the two of you were notorious for bickering and you, especially. You were stubborn, hard headed and determined, with slash being likewise. Maybe it was the age gap, different perspectives. The secret in question, was how the two of you settled your disputes in private. That part remained a mystery.

It was a classic night out on the town with the crew. One of those partying weekends crawling through every single bar and club. Nothing new per se. You adjusted your new skirt in the mirror as you checked to make sure everything looked good. You had just bought it and were excited to get to use it. You felt good. "Guys! Leaving in 5!" Axl called out. Slash entered the room from the bathroom, adjusting his belt when he took a double take at you. His expression soured slightly. "Are you wearing that tonight?" He questioned. You stood up. "Yeah, actually I am. Is there a problem?" You reply.  He eyed your body up and down judgmentally. You cross your arms defensively. Slash wasn't one to shame you for wearing what you wanted, but he was one to get jealous and overprotective at times and would let it eat away at him. It stemmed from such an intense attraction to you, sometimes the thought of another person laying their eyes on his girl, drove him crazy.

"It's a bit..short, doll.." he grumbled, angrily salivating at your legs and ass accentuated by the new skirt. What was his deal? You thought annoyed. You were so excited about the new skirt and he just had to ruin it. You usually enjoyed his protective nature, but tonight was just pushing it. "Oh I'm sorry, I forgot the part where you suddenly gave a shit about public decency?" You snarked as you put lipstick on in the mirror. He came up behind you and you felt his hard warmth press up against your backside. His large hand gently fistfulled your hair and he slightly jerked your head back while the other snaked its way around your neck. Butterflies swirled inside you very suddenly.

His hot breath kissed your ear. "I think you need to go put something else on. Something that isn't going to be such a fucking distraction all night." He growled in your ear, sending goosebumps flooding your skin. "It's not my fault if you can't keep it in your pants." You curse. You feel his grip around you tighten. "I'm sorry, what was that doll?" He growled angrier in your ear and tightened his grip on your neck. "I didn't quite hear you baby, speak up." He jerked your hair in his fist angrily. "Fine." You snarl. Your frustration overwhelmed the growing arousal and you pushed out of his semi-relaxed grasp.

"Hurry up, we need to get going." He said as he left the room, slamming the door shut. Annoyance pooled inside of you. The fuck does he think he is? He has no place to be pissy, if anyone should be pissy it's you, you thought to yourself as you rummaged in the closet. He's the one always gone on tour and leaving you alone half the time. So yeah, what if you like to dress more scantily. It was only to catch his attention since whenever he was home he was barely present anyways due to how tired the tour was making him.

Resentment and frustration boiled inside of you and you make the executive decision to deny him the satisfaction. You instead put on an even sexier, shorter and tighter outfit. A tight leather mini skirt and a top brassier akin to lingerie, with fishnet stockings and heels. You looked a total bombshell. That skirt wasn't slutty. If he wanted to see slutty, you'd show him something real slutty.

"Okay, ready. Sorry for making you guys wait!" You chirp as you trot gracefully and confidently into the foyer. Everyone clearly giving you a good looking. Slash's expression darkened and he went stone cold. His anger gave you a thrill inside. He approached you and as he was about to make a comment on your new outfit, axl interrupted excitedly. "Alright fuckers let's go already- cabs here." Saved by the bell you thought. Slash had no choice but to allow this. He stayed silent the entire ride there, but his eyes were on you every second and you could feel it. You paid no mind to him and purposefully flaunted yourself in an especially smooth manner all night. You danced sexy on the dance floor and toyed your straw with your tongue as you made eye contact with him. His increasing anger was obvious. You made an effort to avoid him all night, only dangling yourself right out his reach. This was payback. The thrill of pissing him off kept you entertained up until it was time to go home, to which you repeatedly denied to leave, only pissing him off further. "Y/N, it's time to go it's fucking 2 am." He grumbled.

You twirled around the dance floor sexily. You turned your backside to him and began grinding on him to the music. The club still wildly alive. “I think I’ll stay a bit longer.” You tease. He’s beyond frustrated and pissed off. All night all he could think about was you. All night he was hard and frustrated. It was difficult not to be turned on by you for him, he wanted one night where he wouldn’t be so distracted by your beauty. One night to just play. With you in a room, he had little time to think. It didn’t matter where or what. Thats how he fell for you to begin with. You drove him wild. And now, your beauty, he couldn’t help but feel jealous that everyone got to share it. He bowed him mouth near your ear, his warm breaths caressed your neck. “You’re about to find out what happens to little bratty girls like you.” He growled. His deep low rasp sending chills through you, pooling to warmth in your stomach.

Something about his tone made you pause. Damn. Okay, maybe you pushed him too far this time for real..you just wanted to push his buttons. This is what you wanted anyways, his attention. Now you got it. Perhaps more than you bargained for.

-

Butterflies continued inside you. You’d sobered up quick at his words. As he opened the door to the car, he gave your ass a hard smack as you climbed in.”what the- slash!” You yelped in pain. “Shut the fuck up.” He growled and slammed the door shut.

-

You stood at your suitcase, placing your heels inside. The hotel room dead silent. Slash exited the bathroom and sat on the bed. You head it creak behind you and knew it was him. You hesitated to turn around, knowing what may wait for you. But god- you wanted it. Still, you grasped at the feeble chance you might still win at this little game.

“Come here.” He demanded, piercing the quiet.” Your heart skipped a beat. You paused for a second. “I was just about to shower..-“ you reply nonchalantly. You turn to face him. He looks fucking amazing. He sat at the end of the bed, shirtless like a king at a throne. Like he didn’t care. A hard on clearly in his pants. His legs wide open. “I didn’t ask. Come. Now.” He further demands.

You obey willingly and approach him. He wastes no time in laying you across his lap. He flipped up your skirt, rubbing his palm across your ass. “You have some fucking nerve you know that sweetheart? And now I have to punish you, all because you had to fuck with me like a little spoiled brat. I didn’t want to have to do this honey.” He suddenly gave a hard smack upon your ass, causing you to yelp. “But you did this to yourself.” He smoothed his hand again. You braced for another hit but it didn’t come.

He pulls you up onto his lap facing away from him. You feel him hot beneath you, pressing hard against your thighs. He runs his hands up and down your skin. “You think you’re so smart little bunny…that you can just fuck with me and get away with it.” He remarks. You say nothing.

His large rough hand snakes around your neck entirely , holding you back against him. His mouth caressing your ear once more. “You want to act like a little whore, I’ll make you act like a little whore.” He growled lowly. You were dripping with anticipation. Ready for him to teach you a lesson. To touch you.

He slithered him hand up your skirt. “Spread those fucking legs.” He ordered. His hand rubbing roughly against your panties, before pushing them aside. “See, already so fucking wet. You’re begging to be fucked aren’t you, you little slut.” He taunts as he runs through the wet folds. You melt into him. He quickly shoves two fingers inside you. You yelp in pleasure and pain. “Oh fuck-“ you gasp. He starts roughly pumping his fingers into you. You squirm in his grasp but he wrangles you still, rendering you prisoner to him although you didn’t mind at all. The sensitivity driving you wild. “Slash- f-fuck” you moan out trying to squirm. He thrusts you firmly down and grips your neck tighter, pumping faster now. “No no, you take that shit baby.” He growls

He gives a few more moments of hard thrusts into you before exiting. He stood up, picking you up and in a swift moment, he tosses you onto the bed like a doll. You lay spread among the blankets, helpless and ready. He kneeled up onto the bed, encasing you beneath him as he towered above you menacingly. His eyes feasting upon you like a sadist. He ducked down and hovered right above you, his large arms trapping you between him. He gives you a look of pity and shakes his head, giving a slight laugh. A scary laugh. “W-what..?” You question nervously.

He caresses his rough hand along your cheek, and in a sinisterly calm voice, coos out

“Nothing baby…just admiring you before I fucking violate you.”

[parallelss-of-the-universe]

Sweets ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Windows and Streetlights

(Credits to @azriel.kk on tikok, my bsf ily gonna give u a sloppy toppy kiss when me meet😋)

Pairing: Soft Yandere Nanami x fem! Bakery owner! Reader

Summary: Nanami just wanted to see what all the popularity about that one bakery in town was. He didn’t know he’d fall so hard for the girl who looks just as sweet as the cakes she bakes.

Tags: Yandere Nanami, Kind of coquette reader, no-filter reader, Kidnapping, Stalking, Obsessive/Toxic Nanami, Manipulation, Stockholm Syndrome, murder.

Wc: 1.4k

Nanami could not stop thinking about you the moment he dropped you off. His mind racing with thoughts of you. The way your eyes look when they shined, the way your smile was so bright. He ran his hands through his hair as he remembered the way your face looked when he wrapped the scarf around your face. He breathed heavily as he made another call.

A week had passed by since Nanami walked you home, and you haven’t seen him since. You felt sad for the most part. Baking cakes to distract yourself, you blocked out the thoughts of him. Proceeding to serve your customers before your thoughts distracted you. For the past week the constant feeling that someone was watching you made you go crazy.

By the third day you bought a pocketknife. You thought of buying pepper spray, but you opted for something more permanent. If someone did attack you a plunge of the knife to their neck would do it. Not some pathetic pepper spray that will only buy you 5 minutes at the least. You also turned on your location on your phone. In case you go missing hopefully the police will be able to track your phone.

Maybe being paranoid wasn’t healthy, but so is being too carefree. Once you served your customers, you went the kitchen and drinking a glass of water. You stood close to a window feeling the fresh air. You suddenly saw something on the corner of your eye, a blur. You leaned your head out the window seeing no one. You swore there was someone there.

Opening the backdoor, you walked outside threading carefully. Hearing a scratching noise your ear perked up. Going closer, your heartbeat pounding, you turned to the corner. You froze up, a sigh chuckle leaving your lips. There stood a small tabby cat. You walked closer petting its head smiling.

Suddenly hearing a click behind you, your head immediately looked behind. No one. You looked around anxiously. Giving the cat one last rub on its head, you went inside. The day continued serving customers and baking the sweets.

Your employees left, leaving you to lock the doors of the bakery like always. You wrapped the scarf that Nanami gave you around your neck. It really was comfortable, in your defense. You let out a sigh, why is the weather so cold? The hairs on your neck stood up as you heard another ‘click’. Looking behind you, you again saw no one. You stood in that street just looking around.

You sighed, frustrated. “Do you mind?!” You shout to the empty street, to no one. Maybe you really were going crazy. At that moment you didn’t know what came over you. Opening your phone you proceeded to text Nanami. It was stupid to think he’d text first, so you’re the one doing it. A week late. ‘Nanami! How are you?’ you texted, putting your phone back in your pocket.

As you texted him you continued to do it while walking. You thought of wearing headphones, but it was too risky. Not hearing anything around you. It’s practically screaming Netflix murder documentary. Your phone vibrated, a notification. You opened your phone looking at the notification. A reply from Nanami, ‘Good. You?’ you chuckled at the dry ass reply.

‘Hey Nanami, Can I call you?’ you asked the feeling that someone is still watching you getting stronger. You arrived at your house locking the doors and the windows. You bit your lip as you felt your phone vibrate again. You look at your phone knowing it’s Nanami, ‘Ok.’ Was his only reply to you.

Man, are you sure he’s really twenty-eight? He types like a boomer. You proceeded to press the call icon leaning the phone against your ear. “Nanami?” you said softly. “I’m here.” A deep voice replied. You laughed, “I’m mad at you.” you say. He hummed, “Is that why you called?” he replied. You chuckled, “You basically ghosted me, you know?” you say biting your lip anxiously.

“I’m sorry.” He replied quickly. “Make it up to me.” You say straightforwardly. “I’ll come by tomorrow.” Nanami replied to you his voice surprisingly soft. You hummed in acknowledgement.

Nanami sat on his office chair, phone against his ear. Your soft voice playing through the speakers of the phone. He ran his hands through his hair, he didn’t mean to ghost you. He was thinking of you every day! You haven’t left his mind for the past week. He touched the piles of papers on his desk drinking his whiskey.

Almost hundreds of pictures of you lay on his desk. Pictures of you walking to work, pictures of you baking cakes; pictures of you talking with your employees. The last phone call he made, he asked for a favor. A favor to know your background. From where you’re from to who your parents are. From your friends to your old school.

For the past weeks Nanami has been following you. Taking pictures of your daily life. You smiling, you looking sad, you looking tired. He has photographs of all of it. He sighs rubbing his hand on his forehead. You were like drugs to him. Like cigarettes, you can always say you’ll quit but can’t get enough.

‘I’m mad at you’ the moment you said that he perked up. Brows furrowed in confusion, The moment you told him why he groaned quietly. You liked him so much that you’re mad at him. He looked at a picture of you on his desk, rubbing the forehead of a cat. You looked so sweet.

‘I’ll come by tomorrow’ he replied planning to pick you up at your house. His eyes went over to the picture of you continuing to wear your scarf, the scarf that he gave you. His blood rushed somewhere else, making the bulge in his pants visible. He groaned standing up and going to the shower.

You woke up groaning. Fighting yourself to either stand up or go back to sleep, which you know you can’t do. You got up cursing yourself for having a sense of responsibility. You proceeded to get ready, drinking a cup of coffee and just planning to buy breakfast outside. You weren’t gonna get a piece of toast and just run out the door like those Disney movie characters.

Not having breakfast is practically driving with no gas. You left the door locking It, no Nanami scarf for today, it was getting washed. You look behind you surprised; it was Nanami. You rubbed your eyes tiredly thinking you’re seeing things. “Nanami?” you called out voice still groggy.

He looks at you glasses off his eyebags visible. He was wearing a blue polo and his yellow polka dot tie. You smiled at him happy to see him. “C’mon I’ll buy you breakfast.” He said waiting for you. Weird how he knew you didn’t eat breakfast yet. And how he knew what time you leave your house. Do you run and ignore the red flags or let the hot dilf looking man buy you breakfast?

You shrugged going over to him. Second option it is! “Where are we going?” you ask following him. “I know this cafe that sells good breakfasts.” He replied looking at you. You nod smiling at him. “Are you also gonna buy coffee?” you ask walking beside him. If people looked at the both of you side by side, they would see the plain height difference. ‘God is he tall, I wonder if something else is tall-‘ you shake your head aggressively.

Nanami looks at you eyebrows raised. You both arrive at the café sitting down at a booth near the window. The waiter gives you both the menu smiling at you, which didn’t go by unnoticed by Nanami. Nanami’s lips pursed into a thin line watching that interaction. You continued to look at the menu before sighing, “Nanami, pick for me.” You say giving him the menu.

He looked at your smiling face, his annoyance immediately leaving. He has to take sooner or later. Away from all of these filthy curse giving people. “You look nice today” he says giving you a small smile. “Are you saying I only look nice today?” You teased.

He chuckled to himself saying your order to the waiter, who was still looking at you. “Hey Nanami…can I tell you something?” you say looking at him. He nods listening, “I feel like I’m going crazy. There’s always this feeling that someone is watching or following me.” You say looking at him anxiously.

Nanami looked at you for a few seconds before answering, “I should walk you to work, and going back to your house.” He says sternly. You sigh in relief. “I’m sorry for saying this so early in the morning.” You say looking at him sadly.

He held your hand, running his fingers through it. “I’ll keep you safe”

[wisteria-lodge]

wait there are no house elves in malfoy manor? i mean it's possible that during the time voldemort and the others where there the house elves could just be in prison or they are there and jkr just didn't mention them

because let's say there aren't house elves and voldemort and the death eaters are there, who would have prepared the meals or whatever things guest needs when they visit or stay in someone's house

In Harry Potter, we see a few strategies for maintaining and running a magical house. Let’s break it down.

OPTION ONE: NON-MAGIC PEOPLE vs HOUSE ELVES

Yep, we are going to be dropping some Filtch lore today.

So in canon, it’s really hard to explain why that man (who isn’t able to do magic) has that job (caretaking an entire magical castle.) But I’m going to do my best to make it work. Because pre Statute of Secrecy, it actually makes a lot of sense that old medieval buildings like Hogwarts and Malfoy Manor would have been staffed by muggles. 

I mean, the only reason you build castles (big, easily defensible fortresses) is so they can be the last line of defense if anything happens to the serfs who are renting/farming your land. The peasants supply food/clothes/weapons/luxury products to the Lord of the manor/castle, and in return they are protected (in theory.) That’s feudalism. If anything, being a wizard would just make you a better Lord. There’s no way the Malfoys or the Founders would have been sitting at the center of a community of only wizards, there aren’t enough wizards. Also, if you want someone to run/maintain your house and you’re choosing between Muggles and house-elves… in a lot of cases, muggles are actually better.

Like okay, house-elves are slaves, which means they would be cheaper than Muggle peasants, but like… not a lot cheaper. Also, there’s got to be some upfront cost of time/money/effort in order to catch a house-elf and bind them to your house. Once you start getting generations of house-elves that’s not a problem, but when you’re setting up a household… yeah I think getting in a staff of muggles would be quicker and easier.

The other thing house elves have in their favor is that they’re really really powerful. A single house-elf is much more effective than a single human servant. But… they’re also kind of too powerful? If you have a human servant who betrays you, does a bad job, or that you just don’t like… you can fire them, imprison them, and (if you’re a wizard) oblivate them so they can’t tell anyone your secrets. 

None of that works with house-elves. Unlike a human you can’t bribe them (because they have a culture that doesn’t value money.) You can’t imprison them (because whatever magic prevents wizards from apparating doesn’t work on them. Dobby gets in and out the Malfoy dungeons just fine.) I’m also assuming you can't obviate them, because if you COULD then oh my god, Barty Crouch Senior would have 1000000% obviated Winky. 

Until house-elves are freed they do seem to have some magical compulsion that prevents them from speaking ill of their masters…  but they can clearly still mess their masters up pretty badly if they want to. Dobby spends all of Book 2 undermining Lucius. Kreacher spends all of Book 5 undermining Sirius (and honestly is the catalyst for the Battle of the Department of Mysteries.) This doesn’t even seem out of the ordinary: Tom Riddle framed Hokey for Hepzibah Smith’s murder, and apparently everyone bought it. That's another reason a muggle would be a solid choice: even if they wanted to kill a wizard, it would be nearly impossible. But Kreacher and the Hogwarts house-elves actively fight wizards during the Battle of Hogwarts.

So if you have a house-elf that you can’t trust, basically your only option is to free them. Which is bad, because they know all your secrets and can now talk to whoever they want (Dobby absolutely bad-mouths the Malfoys after he's freed. And it’s super plausible that Winky could’ve said something about Barty Junior while she was smashed off Butterbeer.) So really… the only truly safe option is to kill them. And it seems like you have to kill them, by hand, with a sword. The Blacks did sign up for this, and we can see their wall of decapitated house-elf heads as proof. House elves do make more sense for the Blacks, because I'm thinking if they became powerful at around the same time as the Statute, they would have been setting up new muggle-less households, not adapting old ones to the new paradigm. But then, not everyone is as hard-core as the Blacks. The Malfoys, for example, actually seem quite squeamish about violence. Also, Draco is very happy to refer to what Hagrid does as "servant stuff," which means he's comfortable with that particular worldview.

Now, Hogwarts has house-elves, and they certainly don’t seem to kill them. Of course it's a school rather than a house - if one of those elves went rouge, what damage could they really do? Compare that to Dobby. Like, if he wanted to put Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban… he could've given some really damning evidence. Lucius Malfoy’s defense was that he was under the Imperius curse. Dobby knows that’s not true. Dobby knows where all the contraband in that house is, Dobby knows that diary belonged to Voldemort, he knew Lucius was threatening Hogwarts on purpose... Maybe elves aren’t allowed to testify in front of the Wizangamot, but Dobby - bring that info to Arthur Weasley. Bring it to Dumbledore. If I were Lucius Malfoy, I would be terrified. Even if I had other house elves, I don’t know if I’d keep them around after second year. Definitely not after Kreacher went rouge and betrayed Sirius, which *Narcissa* knows all about.

Hogwarts also has Filch (and Hagrid, who *also* can't do magic, at least on paper.) And I guess I could see an interpretation where if Hogwarts was initially designed to be run by Muggles, then maybe there are certain functions of the castle that can only be performed by Muggles. Like we all know there’s something weird going on with Mrs. Norris. She’s too smart, she’s the only animal who shows up on the Marauder’s map, she’s telepathically bonded with Filch. So, maybe she is the manifestation of some magical function that oversees the castle, and maybe you need someone without magic to properly access her magic. Like if a witch/wizard tried to bond with her, their magic gets in the way of the castle’s magic. I’ll buy that. 

Eventually though, Salazar Slytherin started becoming wary of Muggles, so maybe he started a process of phasing out any muggle servants working in the castle and replacing them with house-elves. That makes sense to me. And if the castle needed non-magic workers… squibs would be a good compromise. 

OPTION TWO: AUTOMATED MAGIC

So we know you can cast a spell on an object, and then that object will just sit and do nothing until the spell is triggered. Fred and George’s hats don’t do anything until you put them on - and then they turn your head invisible. You are not doing anything to cast the spell, it’s all in the hat.  Presumably their cloaks and gloves that deflect curses work the same way. 

We see a lot of this kind of delayed-action magic when it comes to magical protections for locations. Dumbledore has spelled Grimauld Place to send specters at anyone who comes through the door. Muggle-repelling charms don’t do anything until a Muggle is in proximity. Voldemort’s inferi cave is filled with magical objects that don’t activate until certain conditions are met. Also, these are not single-use protections that you need to replace every time they’re triggered. Once they're set up, it seems they keep working until they're taken down.

We also know there are plenty of spells that make running a household easier. We see Mrs. Weasley use spells to cook, to make clothes, she has whole books full of household magic. So my thought is - if you can bewitch the outside of a house to respond to certain conditions, then why not the inside of a house? How hard would it really be to bewitch a fireplace so it turns on every time someone walks into the room? I bet you could get beds that make themselves, carpets that clean themselves, make it so that certain meals are always cooked at certain times, and served in specific places. The house probably cycles through a set number of meals, and some of the food options would be slightly eccentric because that piece of food-magic was set in 1702. But it all seems very doable, in a programmable smart-house sort of way. Especially if you’re the Malfoys and have nothing but money, time, and a love of the ~*~*aesthetic*~*~ Because the aesthetic of a house like this would be absolutely peak. Very spooky fairytale, invisible servant, romantic Beauty-and-the-Beast vibes. 

I think this is the option that Malfoys would have chosen, when they no longer had access to Muggles to run their house for them. Apart from the heightened security and a cooler aesthetic, the Malfoys were very against the Statute of Secrecy, so I bet that (for a while at least) they were kind of hoping that it would be reversed and things would go back to the way they were. So, not as motivated to start building up a household staff of house-elves, which is a pretty irreversible decision. 

The Malfoy also like to keep secrets. In the present day of the book, we know they have contraband cursed objects, contraband poisons, a hidden room to keep all of their contraband in underneath the drawing room floor. I don’t think this is a particularly recent state of affairs. Going back to the 1700s, if the Malfoys were ordered to cut off all these very profitable ties with the muggle world… yeah they’re not doing that. They are definitely hiding income coming in from the muggle world, or muggle retainers that they were kind of supposed to obviate and didn’t. 

In the main timeline of the books, I think it makes a lot of sense that Dobby is a Black family house elf that came over with Narcissa when she and Lucius were first married. And I say that because… Dobby is a mess, and Lucius Malfoy puts a lot of stock in looking good while out in public. The Hogwarts house elves look neat and presentable. Winky’s tea-towel toga looks clean and neat. Dobby is shambling around in a snot-stained torn pillowcase, is Lucius not embarrassed? 

My thought is that he kind of resents Dobby: he’s the Black family passive aggressively saying that Lucius can’t take care of Narcissa, or maybe he suspects that the Blacks are sending Dobby over as a spy. But whatever the reason, he can’t get rid of him - first because he doesn’t want to offend his in-laws (Dobby as the equivalent of an ugly lamp that you keep in the closet unless the people who gave you the lamp are visiting.) Then Dobby witnesses the entire first war, which makes him way, way too much of a liability to free. 

So that’s my answer. tl;dr - the Malfoys are a very private family with a long-standing distrust of the Ministry, with a house that was set up to be run by Muggles. It makes the most sense that they have retrofitted that house with automated magic, until it’s basically able to run itself. And then, whenever they’re throwing an event, or something a little too complicated for the house's magic to handle… they just hire in a staff of wizards to work one or two nights.

[gretavangroupie]

Errant

Word count: 16.0k

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking, Angst, Fighting, Name Calling, Toxic Themes and Behavior, Allusions to Cheating, Jealousy, Anger, Gaslighting. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Slight Masochism, Slight Humiliation Kink, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.

A/N: Hey! Welcome back for the third installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Josh's story! This may not be everyones cup of tea, so make sure you read the warnings! There's only one left now, and we can't wait to share Jake's story with you! See you real soon!

JOSH POV

You sit on the exam table, gently swinging your feet as the doctor scribbles on his prescription pad. The paper underneath you crinkles, your clammy hands getting stuck to it. 

“It’s looking like the perforation is healing, but I’m going to give you some antibiotics and ear drops. You’ll take the antibiotics for 10 days and the drops for 5.” He tears off the prescription and hands it to you. “Just be sure you aren’t drinking and you avoid getting any water in or around your ears.”

You scrunch up your nose when you hear the pointed reminder not to drink. 

“Thank you, doc. I’ll be on my best behavior.” You joke, hopping down from the table. Your sneakers squeak as you stick the landing. 

Navigating through the back halls of the ENT practice, you follow the signs that direct you to the check-out. It’s eerily quiet as you walk through the waiting room and out of the front doors. The sun nearly blinds you when you get outside, so you lift your hand to block it out while you search for your girlfriend’s car. 

Spotting her a few rows into the parking lot, you walk in her direction, knocking softly on the window once you’re close enough. She unlocks the door and you slip inside, the car next to her parked a little too close. She sighs, shifting from park to drive while you buckle your seatbelt.

“How was it?” she asks, her enthusiasm lacking. You look over at her as she cranes her neck to check that the way is clear before she pulls out of her parking spot.

“Well, it was fine.” You take a deep breath before continuing. “I have to take antibiotics and put in ear drops for a few days, so you might have to help me with that. I can keep taking the pain meds that the doctor I originally saw prescribed, but the pain should subside as I heal.” 

She nods, keeping the radio volume low. The only time she doesn’t sing in the car is when she’s upset, and you know the song currently playing is one of her favorites. So, you seal your fate and ask the dreaded question in every relationship.

“What’s wrong?” 

She huffs and thinks for a moment before she answers. 

“You know it’s Valentine’s day, right?” 

“Oh. Yeah, I guess it is.” You’ve never put much stock in the holiday and you didn’t think she did either. The last two years, you hadn’t ever done more than get her some flowers or chocolates delivered, mostly because you weren’t around.

“I just… I don’t know, it’s the first one we’ve been able to spend together and we’re spending the day going to the doctor and the pharmacy…”

“Oh, so you’re mad that you had to bring me to the doctor?” you ask, a little defensive now. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, Josh. I’m just saying I wish we were doing more than running errands.” She speaks curtly to you, and honestly, it’s a little condescending.

“It’s a made up holiday anyway. I’ve never bought into all the hearts and candy and bullshit. I didn’t think you did either.” You rest your head on your hand, looking out the window as she drives a little too fast down the freeway.

“It’s not about that. You’re not getting it.” she snaps, her tone whiny and frustrated.

“Listen. I had my assistant send you chocolate covered strawberries to your office. I don’t really know what else you want from me.” you bite back. You’ve had enough of this argument and want to be home already so you can take something for your pain and try to get some rest. 

“I didn’t even know that, seeing as I had to call out and use a sick day to take you to the doctor.” she says, and you feel your scalp get hot, your temper flaring.

“So you are mad you had to bring me to the doctor.” 

“I just don’t understand what a ruptured eardrum has to do with driving!” she says, her voice raising a bit. “You didn’t take your pain meds this morning so you technically would have been fine to drive… I just don’t appreciate that I had to use my PTO on Valentine’s day and all I’m doing is driving Miss Daisy.” 

“I don’t know if you realize this, but I’m in a lot of fucking pain.” you grit out, and she scoffs a laugh.

“Yeah. I’ve heard.” 

You know you’re about to lose it, so you close your eyes for a moment, gathering your composure. Unfortunately, she just keeps going.

“I thought I was going to spend my Valentine’s day getting bitten and scratched by your brother’s awful fucking cat, but now that you’re all home, I get to spend my evening dealing with you while you’re miserable and in pain, and I’m not sure which is worse.” 

“You act like I’m home on some vacation… I have a work function tomorrow even if I’m not out at the shows, so–”

“Are you kidding me?! You somehow have MORE obligations now that you’re home? I guess I’m the fool for thinking we would have more than a few hours to spend together.” She cuts the wheel and turns sharply into your driveway. You grab the handle of the door and grumble under your breath at the way she’s driving like a maniac.

“Look, it’s not like I asked to go. Jake and Danny did the last one, so now Sam and I are stuck going tomorrow. It’s supposed to be nice. It’s a fancy thing, dinner and drinks. I figured you would be my date.” 

You watch her turn off the car and think for a moment, the word “date” appealing to her a little bit, which is exactly what you had hoped.

“Come on. I missed you and I feel like shit and you’re… you’re all prickly. Can’t we just have a nice night in? I’ll make it up to you. I just want to take a nap.”

She seems to be thinking about it as she gets out of the car. You unbuckle your seatbelt and follow suit, walking around to her side and reaching for her hand. Tugging her closer, you wrap your other arm around her shoulders and kiss her on the side of her head with some force. 

“Okay, okay…” she relents, leaning in to you. 

“I love you. You’re still my Valentine, right?” you ask, nuzzling your nose into her hair and squeezing her tighter. It works up a little giggle out of her, which means you’re in the clear. 

“I guess so. You didn’t even ask me.” 

You squeeze her again, this time digging your fingertips into her sides to tickle another laugh out of her. 

“It was on the card that came with the strawberries, obviously.” you quip, peppering her cheek and neck in kisses while she continues to soften up. 

“Oh, get out of here. Go take your damn nap.” she says with a smile, turning you by the shoulders towards the house and pushing gently. 

—

HER POV

You hear the soft padding of feet upstairs and the whip of the flat sheet as your bed is remade, pulling your attention away from your computer screen as you send off emails. The sun is set now, the room cast in darkness, and you figure Josh has slept off the fatigue that was a result of his medications. You gently close your computer, setting it next to you on the couch as you hear his feet walking slowly down the stairs. You turn to lay eyes on him, looking a little worse for wear in his low slung joggers, but still glowing as usual. 

“Hey baby, you feel any better?” you ask, resting your chin on the back of the fluffy leather couch cushion. 

“No. Not really, but it’s fine.” he pauses, reaching the landing and walking up to the back of the couch. He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time, “You want to get ready, we can go grab dinner?” he asks, running a hand over his messy curls. 

“I would love to, but are you sure you want to?” you ask, a little surprised that he actually wants to go out. 

“Yeah, I have to eat with these antibiotics.” he says, pushing off the couch, and heading into the kitchen. “How long do you need to get ready?”

“Um, I don’t know, twenty minutes or so?” you answer, standing quickly and grabbing your phone from the coffee table. 

“Alright, I’ll be up there to change in a minute.”

You take the stairs two at a time, rounding the corner into your bedroom, and dashing into the closet. You finger through your hangers searching for the perfect outfit, the idea not occurring to you that you’d need one since he wasn’t even supposed to be home for Valentine’s day this year. 

You pull a dark burgundy top from the hanger, the thick sweater material perfect for the cold snap that has swept over Nashville this week. You pull your t-shirt over your head and put it on while reaching for a pair of dark wash jeans. After shimmying into the denim pants, you find a pair of heels, kicking off your socks and securing the buckle at your ankle. 

You make a mad dash into the bathroom, doing a quick version of your normal make up and running a curling iron through your hair. You’re spraying your wrist with his favorite perfume just as you see him walk past the bathroom door and into the closet. You can hear him changing clothes, grabbing his coat and pulling it over his arms as he steps into the bathroom and meets your gaze in the mirror. 

“Wow, uh, you know it’s freezing out, right? Actually, colder than freezing.” he says, adjusting his sleeves. 

“Yeah, I’ll grab my coat from the closet down stairs, no big deal.” you answer, walking towards him and shutting off the bathroom light. 

“You sure you want to wear heels?” he asks, as he ushers you downstairs, a lilt in his voice.

You open the coat closet, grabbing your jacket and pulling it over your arms. “Yeah, why not?”

He throws his hands up, “Just asking…”

You grab your purse from the kitchen counter, following his lead out to the car. He makes a point to open your car door, shutting it behind you before skittering across the front of the car to join you. 

With the turn of his keys, his Jeep roars to life, his fingers quickly pressing the buttons to turn on the heat. He puts the car in reverse, backing up enough to turn around in the driveway, the gravel crunching beneath his tires. He lays his hand over top of yours on your thigh, clasping your hand in his. He licks over his lips and turns to look at you. 

“Hey,” he pauses, waiting until he has your attention. You let your eyes meet his, before he refocuses on the road. “I’m sorry about earlier… I just have a short fuse when I’m in pain. Thank you for taking me today, and thanks for taking care of me.”

“Oh, it’s– it’s okay, I know you don’t feel good. Don’t worry about it, baby. We’re here now, right?” you say, offering him a lopsided smile.

He pats your thigh as he drives down the road, leading you into town as he mouths the words to the songs playing through the speakers. Your heart flutters as you look at him, your head tilting back to rest on the headrest, just happy to be with him, and happy that he changed his mind about doing something tonight. 

You’re quickly pulled from your daydreams as he whips the car into the parking lot of Phil’s Tavern, a local spot that is not exactly known for its phenomenal cuisine, sitting a whopping 5 minutes away from your home. You sit up a little straighter, making sure you’re seeing this right, and that he really is parking the car. 

“Phil’s…” you question, turning to look at him. 

“...Yeah? Did you want something else…?” he asks, as if annoyed you’d question his decision.

“You said– You– I thought we were going to dinner, not picking up sandwiches from the fucking neighborhood bar?!” you shout. 

“I’m not getting a sandwich. I’m getting soup. You can get whatever you want.” he says, pulling his keys from the ignition, and opening his door. 

A huff leaves your mouth as your jaw hangs slack, watching in shock as he shuts the door behind himself and makes his way to yours. He opens yours and offers you a hand to step down, but you’re still sitting in shock that this is his idea of a romantic Valentine’s day date. 

“Josh…” you admonish, looking down at your heels and sweater. 

“What? I asked you if you wanted to wear that and you said yes!” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Yeah! I didn’t think we were going to fucking Phil’s, Josh! It’s Valentine’s Day! I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there aren’t a lot of cars in the parking lot?!”

He clicks his tongue, and looks around. “Perfect, then we have the place to ourselves.”

Your eyes close on their own and you take a deep breath to keep yourself from having a meltdown. You grab your purse from the floorboard and grab his hand, stepping out of the car and snatching it away from him as soon as your feet hit the gravel.

He shuts the door behind you and locks the car, the two of you walking quickly into the dimly lit bar and grill. You walk up to the counter to order, watching as the bartender throws back a shot with the guys at the end of the bar. You catch his attention and he rushes over to the order counter pulling a pen out of his pocket. “What can I get ‘cha?”

“Hey man, can we uh– I’ll take the soup of the day, whatever it is is fine.” 

“It’s ahh, it’s Chicken Tortilla.” he answers. 

“Yeah, that’s great, thanks.” he answers, pulling his wallet from his pocket. “Babe?” he murmurs, wanting you to order. 

“Okay, I’ll do a Cuban, extra pickles.” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. 

He nods, “Outta Cuban bread, sorry sweets.” 

“Okay I’ll do the Italian then.” you concede, watching him scribble it down on the notepad.

“You want that hot or cold?” he asks. 

“Hot.”

“Think our press is down, but I can check.” he says, turning to shout towards the kitchen.

“It’s down, is cold fine?” he asks, him and Josh both staring at you. 

“Fuck.” you mutter under your breath. “Yes, fine.”

“$17.97.” he says, ringing the service bell for the staff. Josh swipes his card through the card reader and puts it back into his wallet, placing it back in his pocket before thanking the man at the counter. 

“Oh shit, I didn’t tell him it’s to go. You don’t care if we take it home, right? It’s a little loud in here.” he doesn't give you a chance to answer before stepping back up to the window.

You pull your phone from your purse, opening Instagram to mindlessly scroll while you wait for your food, seeing story after story of the dates your friends are on, fueling your rage all the more. You didn’t care that you weren’t at a fancy restaurant. You didn’t care that you were having a sandwich. You cared that he seemingly didn’t care about how you were feeling. That it was just any other old day to him, simply because he didn’t subscribe to the holiday. But that didn’t mean you didn’t. You tried to see the bright side, that he was home, and that you were at least together, even if he was in a sour mood.

He steps back over to you, pulling his own phone from his pocket and sending a few texts. You can’t help but notice how carefree he is, completely unbothered and oblivious to how you’re feeling as you stand right next to him.  

“You wanna watch a movie or something when we get back?” he asks, putting his phone in his jacket pocket. 

“What movie?” you ask, raising a brow.

“I don’t know, a documentary? We can find something, I’ll probably fall asleep watching it anyways.”

You huff out a laugh, “Of course. Yeah, whatever you want Josh.”

“What’s your deal tonight, Y/N, Jesus…”

You feel your blood boiling beneath your skin and just as you are about to unleash, the order bell rings and a brown paper bag is placed on the counter. Josh steps up and grabs it, pulling his car keys from his pocket and heading for the door, leaving you to follow behind him.

—

He pulls into the driveway rapidly, rocks flying as he throws the car into park. Shutting off the engine he pulls his keys from the ignition and grabs the brown paper bag from the center console. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll start the fireplace.”

You huff as you step out of the car, making your way up the walkway, pulling the sleeves of your coat over your hands. He unlocks the front door and places the to-go bag on the kitchen counter on his way to the living room.  

You take off your coat and hang it in the closet, pulling your foot up to release the buckles of your heels, letting you drop back down to your normal height. You can hear him mumbling in the living room, clearly having a hard time getting the fire lit. You walk into the kitchen grabbing a bottle of red wine off the top of the fridge, and searching around the junk drawer for the corkscrew. It’s no time at all before you’re popping the cork out of the bottle and pouring the Merlot into a bulbous green colored wine glass. 

He joins you in the kitchen, washing his hands in the sink before looking over at you, starting to take the first sip of your wine. “Really? You’re serious…”

“Serious, what? About this glass of wine? Yeah, I am.” you quip, swallowing down the first sip.

“You’re really gonna drink my favorite wine, right in front of me when you know I can’t have any? What are you playing at tonight, Y/N?” he seethes, pulling his plastic container of soup from the bag.

“What am I playing at? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that just because you can’t drink, meant that I had to follow suit! My mistake!” you shout, setting the glass down on the marble countertop maybe a little more forcefully than you should have. 

He shakes his head trying to rid the nasty thoughts you know are swirling around up there as he pulls a spoon from the utensil drawer. “Whatever, I’m gonna take this to the couch.”

You grab a plate from the cabinet in front of you, unwrapping your sandwich and placing it on the plate. You look over and see him tinkering with the TV remote, no doubt queueing up something the two of you have watched, studied, and rewatched a hundred times. You grab your wine glass and your plate and join him in the living room, setting your items on the coffee table before sitting at the opposite end of the couch. 

The tension in the air is thick, neither of you wanting to say anything for fear of it turning into yet another argument. So instead, he presses play on the remote, and as suspected, ‘Kubrick by Kubrick’ begins to play for the 77th time in this household.

“Josh, really…” you whine, your shoulders slumping in defeat. 

“I don’t want to get too invested in anything, I’m gonna pass out as soon as I finish this soup.” he answers, turning up the volume to effectively silence you.  

“Can’t we watch something, I don’t know… With a plot? With a shred of romance? That we haven’t seen a hundred times?” you barter, talking over the intro music.

“Can’t you just let me enjoy being home for once?” he snaps, pressing pause on the remote.

Your eyes dial in on his, and almost poetically, you’re positive he can see the reflection of the flames in the fireplace dancing across your infuriated eyes.

“For once…” you breathe, biting your tongue.  “Sure, sure. You uh– you just enjoy yourself, okay? I would hate to ruin your time at home with my presence.” you say, standing up from the couch with your wine glass in hand, leaving your sandwich laying there as you bound up the stairs. 

Before you even reach the top you hear the music blare back to life, and the slurping of the soup from his spoon. If you had a bedroom door you would slam it but fucking of course, you don’t.

You place your wine glass on your nightstand before walking into your closet ridding yourself of the wasted outfit. You pull a slinky black satin slip from your pajama drawer, dropping it over your bare body before padding back out to the bedroom to close the curtains. 

You draw back the fluffy flax colored duvet, thinking of nothing but positively melting into your olive green linen sheets; a Christmas splurge the two of you decided you couldn’t live without. Sinking down into the feather pillows you let out a sigh, finding yourself exactly where you expected to be tonight, before you ever knew Josh was coming home for a few days.

You settle in with your glass of wine and your kindle, reading love stories of men, who at this point, you were sure didn’t really exist. An hour or so later, when the wine was long gone, and the house had grown quiet you heard the front door lock, and the flick of the light switches downstairs. You switched off your lamp, hoping to avoid any further conversation for the night, placing your tablet on the nightstand and pulling the sheets up over your shoulders. 

His footfall is light as he pads up the wooden stairs, rounding the corner hesitantly as he catches sight of you in the bed. He slides his hand down the wall as he enters the room, walking quietly into the bathroom and shutting the door. You can hear the sink running and the sound of him tossing his clothes into the hamper as you close your eyes and will yourself to fall asleep.

It’s not long until you hear the door open and feel the dip in the bed as he slides in behind you, a  gentle sigh leaving his lips as he sinks into the sheets. You feel the brush of his knuckles as they glide up your spine. “I know you’re not asleep, my love…”

Knowing you’re caught, you turn softly to your back, “No, you don’t know. I could have been.”

A soft smile forms on his lips, a few misplaced curls falling over his forehead, “Not true. I know you fall asleep with your arms over your head every single night. And in the middle of the bed. You never sleep on your side of the bed.”

“Well maybe I want to tonight.” you quip, rolling back to your side and repositioning the sheets.

“Come on baby, don’t be like that.” he says, wrapping his arm around your waist. He pulls you towards him, his obviously nude body conforming to yours. You can feel him, hard against your back and you push away from him. 

“Josh…” you scold. 

“What, baby…” he asks, running his hand along the curve of your waist. “I miss you…”

“You didn’t an hour ago!” you sneer.

“Yes I did! I miss you all the time! Every single day I’m away from you. That’s why you moved in, remember? So I could spend every day with you when I’m home?” he pauses, “Every night like this?”

“Josh, I just– Tonight was… Well the entire day, really, was rough. I’m not exactly in a romantic mood at the moment.” you answer.

“Well that’s okay, you can just blow me instead.” he says, more of a demand than a question, his lips brushing against your shoulder. 

“Oh can I?! How generous of you to offer that to me! What a privilege!” you mock. “You really have earned it, I can’t believe I didn’t think of this myself!” you scorn, reaching for his hand and shoving it towards his dick. “Try that instead!”

“Goddamn you’re being such a bitch!” he seethes, throwing the duvet off of himself and snatching his phone from the nightstand. 

“Yeah! Happy Valentine’s day to you too, Josh!” you spit one last time as you watch him pull on a pair of boxers. He smooths his hand over his face and runs his tongue under his lips, looking at you one more time before stomping his way down the stairs. 

—

JOSH POV

It took you approximately fourteen seconds after you said it to know you fucked up. It took you two more seconds to realize there was no coming back from it, at least that’s what you deduced as you tossed and turned on the living room couch all night. You spent those sleepless hours racking your brain for ways you could fix this. You were a dick, admittedly, in pain or not, and she in no way deserved the way you treated her.

You pulled your sore body up from the couch, tossing the throw blanket over the arm as you made your way up the stairs. She was still sleeping, sprawled across the middle of the bed with your pillow hugged to her face. You wished you could take back what you said. You wished you had taken her somewhere nicer than Phil’s. You should have known that when you saw her in heels and smelled your favorite perfume. She dressed up for you. But you couldn’t see past your own selfish needs. You only cared about yourself and what you wanted. 

You kicked yourself the entire time you spent under the spray of the shower, knowing that of the three sporadic days you would spend at home with her, you’d let one go completely to shit. Then tonight, you’d spend the whole night schmoozing with label executives, where she would willingly stand in your shadow until it was time to go home. 

Unless…

A smile spread across your face as you formulated your plan, and as you shut off the water and wrapped a towel around your waist you hoped and prayed it would work. 

—

You rap your knuckles against the old wooden front door, peeking through the glass to see if there is any movement inside. It’s nearly noon and you know he’s in there, but whether or not he’s awake is the question. You shove your hands into your pockets, the cold air whipping through the porch a little too harshly for your liking. 

You hear his footsteps bounding down the stairs and you see him appear through the glass, a strange look on his face as he opens the door. 

“If you’re on my doorstep, you want something that a text wouldn’t cover.” he says, raising a brow.

“Can I not come visit my twin?” you ask, pushing past him into his warm house.

“No, I think your last words to me when we left the airport were ‘Fuck off, don’t call me, I’ll see you in three days’, but I could be mistaken.” he says, shutting the front door. 

“Listen…” you counter, flopping yourself down onto his couch with a huff.

He stands across the living room with his hands on his hips and a small smile on his lips. There’s something different about him, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. Almost like a little bit of life has been breathed into him. 

“Why do you look different…” you ask, the intrusive thought pushing through.

“I don’t.” he says, putting his hands on his hips. His eyes flick up to the window behind you, before looking back at you. 

You cut your eyes at him, you can tell he’s not telling the truth but you let it go because you have more important issues to deal with. 

“I need a favor.” you say, cutting right to the chase. 

He raises his eyebrows signaling for you to continue. 

“I need you to go to this event tonight in my place, I–”

“No.” he shouts, cutting you off. 

“Jake, please. Y/N and I got in a huge fight and I have to make it up to her and I can’t if I have to go to this fucking thing tonight.” you explain, giving him the shortened version. 

“No. Actually, my answer is not only no, but fuck no.” Jake stood with his arms crossed across his chest. You let your head flop back onto his couch, a groan leaving your chest. 

“You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t fucking dire.” You plead. “I fucked up, and I have to make it right. Please Jake…”

“Jesus Christ, it’s Thanksgiving all over again. You know Josh, if you and Y/N didn’t fight like this every other day, I might be more willing to consider it. One day you’re gonna fuck around and lose her for good.” he says, shaking his head and rubbing his hand over his chin. “Hold on, you two fought on Valentine’s day? Fuckin’ poetic. What did you do, buy the wrong flowers? The wrong chocolates?”

“No, I… Didn’t get her flowers.” you mumble, hoping he didn’t hear you. 

“Okay, so no flowers. Did you take her out to dinner or something?” he asks, tilting his head.

“No, I mean, well, kind of.” you mumble again. “Didn’t really think about it.”

“Where did you take her Josh.” he demands, crossing his arms again. 

“We went to Phil’s…And got…To-go…” you answer, realizing again as you say it out loud how bad it sounds. 

“The fucking sandwich place Josh, you’re kidding me…” he spits, starting to pace around the room. 

“Don’t act all high and mighty Jacob, you sat home alone...” you retort, knowing this isn’t helping your case.

He lifts his finger to you, pointing at you with a scowl, “Fuck you. Also, it sounds like she was justified. Didn’t she take you to the doctor yesterday? Hasn’t she been catering to your ass since we’ve been back?”

“Yeah.” you answer. 

“And you didn’t plan a single thing at all…” he confirms. 

“Correct.” you say, over enunciating the ‘T’.

“Asshole.”

“Okay, so you agree, I fucked up and need to fix this.” you say, gesturing with your hands. “So go to the event tonight in my place and let me smooth things over with Y/N tonight.”

“Sorry, but I can’t. I have plans.” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. 

“Plans?! With who? You don’t leave your house!” you shout, seeing a blur of black fur and claws tear across the living room. “Jesus, I always forget you have that thing.”

“Yeah, I’m not keeping it.” he says, shaking his head. “And it’s none of your business. You’re going to that event. The label doesn’t care if you’re in a fight with your girlfriend. They are expecting you, and you are who they’re gonna get. Plus, Sam will be there so you don’t have to do all the talking. Take her with you, lay it on thick, and take her home. Things will blow over like they always do and you’ll be back to your 2AM facetime gushy bullshit in no time.”

“Fuck…” you sigh, laying down across his couch. “I just don’t think it’s gonna go that way. This was a bigger fight than usual.” you say, feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out to see your timer flashing, indicating it is time for your next dose of antibiotics. 

You reach into your other pocket, pulling out the loose pill, and grabbing the glass of water you assume to be Jake’s from the coffee table. You swallow down the pill as he watches in contempt, checking the time on his phone. 

“Do you need anything else?” he asks, pacing around his living room. 

“No. Guess fuckin’ not. What are you getting into today?” you ask, relaxing back into the cushions. 

“I have… some errands to run. And a few other things.” he says, dismissively. 

“Errands and a few other things? Who the fuck are you…” you ask, stretching your legs out on to the coffee table.

“I was about to take a shower, are you staying or going?” he asks, and as you lay your head back on the couch your eyes start to feel heavy.

“Just gonna rest my eyes for a minute.” you answer, getting more comfortable. 

“Goddamnit, Josh… Okay, but you’re leaving when I do.”

—

The sound of the front door closing is what wakes you, and as you come to you see Jake standing in front of you with grocery bags, clearly back from his errands. 

“Well, good morning.” he says, his tone a little snipped. 

“Shit, what time is it?” you ask, pulling your phone from your pocket and checking the time. Fuck. 

“Yeah, time for you to go the fuck home and get ready.” he says, making his way into the kitchen. 

“Alright, I’m outta here, good luck with your… plans…” you smirk, making your way to the door. 

“Don’t need luck, but sounds like you do. Fix it, Josh.” he says, pushing you out the front door and slamming it behind you. 

—

HER POV

As you leave the house, you think back on how many hours it’s been since you spoke to Josh. He popped into the bedroom when he got home and let you know that you had to leave by 6 to get to the event on time, but you don’t really count that as a conversation. You hadn’t actually exchanged words since your argument before bed. 

The two of you sit in complete silence as he drives, the radio turned down so low it’s barely audible. You hold your jacket close around you, unable to shake the chill from the awful cold snap plaguing Nashville. 

As you arrive, Josh quickly gets out of his Jeep, jogging around to your door to open it and offer you a hand to step out. You accept it, begrudgingly, and steady yourself on the asphalt. You opted for smaller heels tonight, a little scorned from the night before. You look at him and see his slightly forced smile under the streetlight. He’s in his favorite brown suit, his hair in perfect curls, three tiny, metallic dots painted on the apples of his cheeks. He looks sinfully good, and if you weren’t so upset with him, you’d kiss him square on the lips.

“I know you don’t want to be here. Just… at least try to smile in the pictures, okay?” He says, a hopeful lilt to his voice. 

You give him a little side-eye before starting to walk towards the front doors of the venue. He catches up with you after locking the car, his hand landing on your upper back as he ushers you into the front door he’s holding open for you.

The two of you wait in line for the coat check, your eyes scanning the lobby for anyone you may know. You don’t recognize anyone, so you shuffle ahead in line and keep your coat pulled tight around you. Once you’re a bit further up in line, almost to the front, you hear a familiar voice. 

“Heeeeey guys!” 

Sam’s arms wrap around both of you from behind, pulling you into a forced group hug. He unintentionally cuts the entire coat check line to stand with you and Josh.

“Hi Sammy,” you mumble, giving him a halfhearted smile. He looks to Josh, who forces a grin, his nose scrunching up in a way that makes it clear to Sam that the two of you aren’t getting along. It’s nothing new to Sam, so he shrugs it off. 

The line moves again and you’re finally at the front. A friendly young girl is standing behind the podium at the entry to the closet, a few guys running back and forth to take coats and put them in their assigned spots. She offers the three of you a smile as she looks down and tears a tab in half. 

“Can I take your coat, sir?” she asks Josh as you start to shrug your own off your shoulders.

“Ohoho, trying to get me out of my clothes, young lady? I just walked in the door!” he says, like he’s some sort of comedian. You roll your eyes so hard you think they may fall out of your head and fold your coat over your arm. She laughs, her cheeks turning pink as she accepts your coat instead. She dutifully hands the coat to the boy behind her, then offers the other half of the ticket up, between you and Josh for either to grab it.

“And now you’re trying to give me your number?” he jokes with a charismatic grin, seeing the number 107 on your ticket. She lets out a shameless giggle at that one and you can’t help but shake your head and walk away, uninterested in hearing any more of his god awful jokes. You arrived in a terrible mood and he’s already managed to make your night worse.

Passing through the entrance to the cocktail hour, you grab a glass of champagne and thank the server. Taking a big sip, you look behind you and see Sam and Josh approaching, Josh talking animatedly with his hands to Sam, but Sam is looking straight ahead. At you. 

His eyes scan over your figure- you’re in a champagne satin mini-dress. The cowl neckline is loose, but the waist pulls in due to the lace-up back. The shimmery color is brought to life under the light right above where you’re standing. Sam isn’t listening to a single word Josh is saying, just nodding and staring at you from a distance as his steps slow. 

It’s then that you cook up a terrible idea, if not the worst you’ve ever had. If Josh wants to treat you like he doesn’t care about you and put more romantic energy into the coat check girl than he’s shown you in days, you may as well give him a taste of his own medicine. Right?

Sam eventually pulls his eyes away from your body, nodding cluelessly at Josh. He can’t help it and looks back at you again, but this time, Josh’s gaze follows his. You sip your champagne, ignoring the way Josh’s eyebrows raise in surprise as his neck cranes forward slightly. You can read his lips as he says, “Jesus Christ.” and look away without giving him a reaction. 

The two of them make their way over to the high top cocktail table you’ve claimed as your own. Josh clears his throat and musters up the courage to speak to you. His voice sounds like it might crack. 

“I’ve never seen that dress. Where’d you get it?” he asks, giving you another once-over now that he’s closer.

“You sent it to me while you were in Paris for my birthday.” you answer dryly. “Or was that your assistant too?” 

He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, realizing he’s just dug himself a little bit deeper. 

“Come to think of it, Josh, have you ever bought me a gift yourself? Or do you just send the people that work for you on errands to ship me fancy baubles to keep me quiet and occupied while you’re away?” 

He steps a little closer to you, lowering his voice. 

“Do we have to do this here?” he pleads. “I’m sorry I didn’t remember. You look beautiful. Okay? Let me go get you a drink. What do you want?” 

You cut your eyes to Sam, who seems to be trying to occupy himself by staring up at the ceiling. Letting out a big sigh, you mumble back a tired, “Champagne,” to Josh. 

He nods and walks off, heading for the bar. In the meantime, you look at Sam, who’s giving you a nervous smile. 

“Sorry. It’s been… a rough few days.” You confess. “This ear thing has turned him into a jackass.” 

“Oh, yeah. He complained the whole way home.” Sam says, commiserating. 

“So it’s not just me?!” You laugh, Sam joining you. 

“No no. Not just you.”

You notice Josh is on his way back and decide to test the waters. Reaching forward, you step closer to Sam and adjust the collar of his shirt under his suit jacket, your touch lingering as you let your hand brush down the front of his chest before tugging his jacket into place and pulling your hands back to yourself. You’re in close proximity, so you look up at him with a little bat of your eyelashes. 

“Oh. Thank you!” He says, a little caught off guard, but he’s Sam, and he’s friendly, and you know he’s going to let you get away with it. 

Josh appears and somehow squeezes his arm between you and Sam, placing your champagne on the table. He’s noticed the mischievous glint in your eye and it’s game on. 

The event starts to pick up, more and more people roping Josh into conversations. It’s obvious that he’s the more recognizable of the two brothers there tonight, so you find yourself left standing with Sam on more than a few occasions. 

“Did you trim your hair?” You ask him, reaching out to twirl the end of his shiny brown locks around your finger. He chuckles softly, feeling a little bashful. Josh is at your side but deep in conversation with a man you’ve never seen in your life.

“Yeeaaaaah, I did, it was getting a little unruly. Just trying to keep it healthy. I’m surprised you noticed.” 

“Of course I noticed, Sammy. Some people may not notice you. But I always do.” Your voice is syrupy sweet. You feel a nudge from the other side of you and Josh is clearly eavesdropping, his brain working overtime as he nods at the gentleman talking his ear off while also listening to you and Sam. Sam doesn’t notice and gives you a soft laugh, shrugging. His cheeks are tinted a little pink. He’s too easy. 

“Why don’t we go find our table for dinner, hm?” Josh suggests, cutting his conversation short, which is just not in his character. You finish your last sip of champagne and leave your glass on the table. 

“You heard him. C’mon, Sammy boy.” 

You reach for his arm, linking it with yours. Josh gives you a look, but you usher him forward with a dismissive gesture. He glowers at you before walking toward the seating chart to see that the three of you are at table six. Sam follows along, his hand in his pocket as you hold on to his forearm. 

You settle into the chair between Sam and Josh. You opt for the chicken when the caterers come around, and both Sam and Josh go for the fish. There are a few speeches that go on before your plates arrive, so you sit politely and listen, Josh’s back to you as the speakers present. Since Sam is behind you, there are a few points where you turn around to laugh with him about something the presenter says. Josh stays facing forward, effectively blocking the two of you out. 

As your plates are delivered, everyone starts to eat, the table occasionally chattering, but it’s mostly quiet as some music plays. 

“How’s the chicken?” Josh asks, trying to make small talk. You take a bite, nodding. 

“Really good. And the fish?” You ask politely, but you don’t really care. 

“Delicious. Do you want a bite?” He asks, gesturing to his plate with his utensils. 

“Oh, no. No thanks.” You reply, turning away. He shrugs and goes back to eating his dinner, sipping his water.

“Do you wanna try a bite of the chicken, Sammy?” You ask, raising your eyebrows. You give him a soft smile as he nods, swallowing his bite.

Cutting a piece, you lift your fork towards Sam and he instinctively opens his mouth. Your other hand comes up under his chin to make sure he doesn’t get any sauce on his jacket. He accepts the bite from your fork and chews, nodding. 

“Oh, that’s really good. I should have gotten that.” He says, talking with his mouth full. It’s then that the stranger next to Sam interjects. 

“How long have you two been together?” She says, a nosey but well meaning woman. Josh nearly chokes on his dinner, pulling his cloth napkin up to his mouth as he coughs. It’s such a distraction that you don’t hear what Sam says to her. 

Once Josh stops coughing, he looks at you with a subtle anger behind his eyes. 

“Can you stop? I get it. You made your point.” Josh grumbles through gritted teeth. You feign innocence, blinking at him with bullshit doe eyes. 

“What point, Josh?” 

“You’re flirting with my brother so blatantly that strangers think you’re dating. What the fuck am I supposed to do, just sit here and let it happen?” 

Sam, realizing tensions are high, starts to stand up. 

“I’m gonna go get some air…” he says, departing from the table like it’s on fire. 

“I’m not flirting with him. I’m just being nice to him. You remember what that is, right? Being nice?” You say with an attitude, tilting your head as you wait for an answer. 

“Cut it out.” He tenses his jaw and his mouth barely moves as he scolds you like you’re some kind of dog. 

“Fuck you, Josh.” You’re not putting up with it for another second, so you push away from the table, grab your drink, and head in the direction Sam went. 

As you sneak through the crowds and the bar lines, you check to see if Josh is following you, but he’s still seated at the table. You see Sam through the glass doors, standing under a tent that’s doing little to nothing to stop the wind, smoking a cigarette. Gently pressing against the push bar, you slip outside and approach him tentatively. 

It’s quiet between the two of you as he gives you a smile that’s more of a grimace, though you know him and know that it’s not his intention. 

“Two wrongs don’t make a right, you know that, right?” He says, giving you a knowing smirk as he exhales some smoke. You sigh, kicking at a pebble beneath your feet. You hold your glass of champagne with both hands, your thumb nervously running along the side of it. 

“I feel like I do. But sometimes I can’t help myself.” You peer up at him, a coy smile spreading across your face. He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“You two are a match made in hell,” he starts, bringing the cigarette back to his lips. “But I can’t imagine him with anyone else.” 

You roll your eyes. Lately you’ve been feeling like Josh doesn’t even want to be with you anymore, but it’s not like you would have time to even discuss splitting up in person, since he’s hardly around long enough. Instead of divulging any of that to Sam, you lift your head and step closer. 

“Can I have a drag of that?” You ask, giving him a mischievous smirk. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You know how he is.” Sam says, well aware that the only thing Josh thinks it’s okay to smoke is not cigarettes. 

“Just one.” You bargain, looking out at the parking lot for a moment, then up at him with doe eyes. He can’t help but smile at you in return. 

“Don’t even touch it. He’ll smell it on your hands.” He jokes, turning it around in his fingers and holding it towards you. You tilt up your chin, smiling sweetly before he moves it closer to your pouty, glossy lips. Your eyes close gently and you start to inhale. 

Within seconds, it’s pulled from your lips, and all you hear is Sam’s thick Michigan accent as he whines, “OWWWW!” your eyes shooting open. 

“I will break every bone in your fuckin’ hand if you don’t get the fuck out of here right now, Samuel.” Josh threatens, suddenly outside with the two of you on the patio. Sam grabs the cigarette from his restrained hand with his free one, dropping it to the ground and stepping on it with wide eyes. 

Josh pushes his arm towards him as he lets it go and Sam nearly trips over himself, mumbling a startled, “Jesus Christ.” before adjusting his suit jacket and heading for the door.  

“And you.” Josh is positively seething, as he steps up to you. “What am I going to do with you, hm?”

You nervously step backwards, leaning onto the railing behind you as he cages you in. “Josh, I’m–”

“Oh, it’s a little late for that, don't you think? I fucking warned you, Y/N.” His hand grips into your elbow, yanking your forward and dragging you behind him as you make your way back inside the building. “Get your fucking coat and meet me at the front door.” he says, releasing you as you enter back into the large crowd. 

You walk back over to your table, collecting your bag and your champagne before rushing over towards the coat check. You hand the same girl your ticket stub, and you anxiously sip your champagne as you wait. You may have pushed him too far this time. Seconds later she returns with your coat, and you take it with a smile, pulling it over your arms and making your way to the front door. 

Josh is waiting, chewing a piece of gum a little harsher than necessary. His jaw is hard set and his cheeks are pink and you know this does not bode well for you. As you approach him he offers a small wave and a smile to someone behind you, before letting his eyes drift back to yours, full of fury, the tension returning to his body. 

“Oh, so you can listen.” he says, yanking the large glass door open, both of you being hit with the cold outside air. You step out the door and begin the walk to the car, clutching your jacket close to your body. Your teeth chatter as the wind hits you, your whole body shivering. 

“What, are you cold in that slutty little dress?” he asks, walking a little too quickly for you to keep up with him. “Seemed just fine on the patio with Sam. Suck it up and keep walking.”

He turns his head looking back at you as you try to drink down the rest of your champagne. He reaches for the glass, ripping it from your hand and tossing it into the bushes. You hear the glass shatter and you’re a little taken aback. You’ve never seen him this mad before, and you hate that you kinda like it. 

“Josh!” you shout, you cheeks heating at his aggressiveness, and you think the alcohol in your system is to blame for that. 

“What has gotten into you, Y/N?! You think– You think you can just go around acting like a little slut at my work events? With my fucking brother? Do you know how that looks!?” he shouts, as you round the corner, steadily approaching the car. He is still chewing the gum too hard, hoping it will relieve some of the tension pulsing through his body.  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Josh, I think the pain meds are making you crazy.” you scoff, completely brushing off his accusations, even though he is completely right. 

“Oh, fuck offff…It’s not the pain meds, it’s you! You’re making me fucking crazy! Running around like a little trollop just to make me irate for sport!” he yells, his midwestern accent peeking out in his anger. 

He reaches for the door handle, yanking it open to let you step in, regardless of how angry he currently is. As you position yourself in the seat you turn to look at him, ready to deliver another snarky comment but as you open your mouth he cuts his eyes and slams the car door closed. You huff and fasten your seatbelt as he joins you on the other side. 

He starts the car and peels out of the parking spot, spinning the tires as he pulls out onto the main road. Your hands grasp at the door handle for stability, his expression unwavering as he continues to blow down the backstreets of downtown Nashville. 

“Josh, I–”

“No. Silence. Don’t say another fucking word until I speak to you first. Got it?” he snaps, the fury is thick in his voice. 

You cross your arms over your chest, debating whether or not to taunt him further. As if he can hear your thoughts he turns to you, speaking through clenched teeth. 

“Not. A. Fucking. Word.”

The rest of the drive home was spent in silence, and you could tell he was compiling his list of your transgressions. You knew that the second the front door shut behind you he was going to unleash every bit of it on you, and to be quite honest, you couldn’t wait.

Once he tears recklessly up the driveway, he kills the engine and the headlights. Throwing open the door, he slams it behind him and makes his way around to the passenger side. Despite his burning anger, he’s still insistent on opening your door for you. He offers you a hand and when you take it, you feel how warm he is to the touch. Hopping down to the ground, he lets you steady yourself, then tugs your hand so you’re forced to walk in front of him. He lets go once he knows you’ve gotten the hint and start off wobbling through the gravel in your heels like a baby deer as he locks the car. 

You wait next to the front door, knowing Josh has his keys and you opted to leave yours at home to save space in your clutch. He ignores you, his jaw still working overtime on the probably stale gum in his mouth, turning the key in the lock and pushing into the house. He leaves the door open for you to follow him in, so you do, shutting it gently as you slip off your heels. 

He tosses his keys onto the dining table and you watch as they slide to a halt as he rids himself of his suit coat, tossing it over the back of a chair. You make a move towards the closet, ready to hang your own coat but as you walk he steps in front of you, snatching the thick black fabric from your hands to throw it over the same chair. He stares at you with a hardened jaw, his face and ears red as he prepares for his onslaught, and as a small grin turns up the corner of your lips you see his anger tip the scales to catastrophic. 

“I don’t know why you’re so worked up, Josh. If I didn’t know any better I would say you’re acting a bit jealous. Or threatened, maybe?” you pause, tapping your finger to your chin. “Yeah, I think threatened is the right word. Are you nervous little Sammy is gonna steal your spotlight and your girl?”

“Steal my spotlight?” he responds, scoffing. It’s clear you hit a nerve there. “You need to learn when to keep your mouth shut. Especially when it comes to things you know nothing about.”

“I know how many people were bumping elbows with him tonight, talking about his upcoming projects, barely even asking about the album. He’s got his own career now.” you double down, narrowing your eyes at him, twisting the knife. He steps closer to you, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath. You know he’s about to lay into you for that.

“You should be grateful I even let you tag along to these fucking things.” he snaps, his voice raising. “You know, there’s a hell of a lot you should be grateful for, now that I think of it. Do you know how easy it would be for me to find a nice, quiet girl who waits patiently for me to come home and doesn’t spend every waking moment reminding me of my shortcomings?” 

You don’t like the direction he’s taking this, and you’re realizing you may have pushed him a little too far. 

“I could go down the line and pick any one I wanted, but I still come home to you. And this is what I have to put up with?” 

“So do it then! Go ahead and take your pick!” you shout, throwing your hands in the air. His cheeks grow red, and his eyes narrow. 

“But you won’t, will you Josh... Because you know that not a single one of them will stick around once they find out how you really are. When they find themselves home alone night after night. When you don’t speak to them for days at a time when you’re writing or on the road. When you miss their birthday… and every major holiday for that matter. When they find out that your idea of love and romance is having your assistant buy hush gifts you can’t be bothered to choose yourself. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s the one texting me from your phone, too!”

He slams his fist down on the dining table, his keys rattling against the wood. “That is not true, and you know it!”

“But it is, and you know who puts up with it? Me, because I love you. And I can promise that you’ll be hard pressed to find someone else who is willing to deal with all of that.”

“Dare me?” he challenges, wincing slightly as the pressure builds in his ear. 

“I don’t know Josh, is that what you want? Wouldn’t say I’d be surprised with how you’ve been acting lately.” you say, pushing away from the kitchen table and walking further into the house. 

“How I’ve been acting lately?” he scoffs, following after you, hot on your heels.

“Yeah! Like I’m such a burden to bear. Like you’d rather I wasn’t here. I’m practically your glorified assistant, or arm candy when you feel like dragging me along.”

You start to climb the stairs toward your bedroom, needing to get out of your dress and away from him. Unfortunately, Josh isn’t one to ever let you have the last word, and he starts bounding up the staircase after you.

“Is that what this is about? You’re still mad you had to bring me to the doctor? God forbid I ask you to do something besides complain and spend my money. I needed your help, because if you haven’t noticed, something pretty serious happened to me, but for some reason you won’t stop giving me a hard fucking time about it!” That comment about the money stops you in your tracks, leaving you glaring down at him on the step below you. 

“It’s not about your money and it’s not about me having to help you. It’s about you not giving a shit about how I feel and blowing me off when I try to tell you. All I want is for you to care! Have we grown so far apart that seeing me upset doesn’t even phase you anymore?”

Josh runs his tongue over his teeth as he tries to conjure up a response. He steps up so he’s on the landing with you, a little bit of silence settling over you both.

“And you thought…” he starts, looking out the window behind you for a moment, then back to your eyes. “You thought the way to get me to care… was to behave like a little slut?”

The energy suddenly shifts between you. You know that in the silence, he must have had a realization that he’s not meeting your needs. You feel your mouth go a little dry and you take a step backwards, reaching to hold on to the railing. 

“I–”

“You know what I think…” he says, moving closer, caging you in with his arms. “I think that I’ve been gone too long…” his breath is hot on your cheeks. “I think you’re due for an attitude adjustment.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you grip into the bannister. You swallow nervously, as his hand moves to meet your satin covered waist. “Yeah, I think I need to remind you just how good you have it, don’t I sweetheart?”

The words are there, swirling through your head but as his eyes peer into yours, nothing seems to come out. 

“S’matter, baby? Nothin’ to say suddenly? No smart ass remarks? I’m right, aren’t I? You need me to fuck some sense into you?” he growls, his fingers gripping into the curve of your waist. He nods his head in the direction of your bedroom, a crooked smirk on his face. 

“Go ahead and take off your earrings, baby. Get out of that unbecoming little dress and wait for me on the bed.” he says softly, rubbing a thumb over the apple of your cheek before walking off and locking himself in the bathroom. 

The cocktail of emotions your brain is floating in has you dizzy. You want to be angry at him, but you’re starting to feel a little embarrassed as you think back on how you acted at dinner. Part of you wants to cry, his harsh words hitting you where he knew it would hurt, but another is so turned on by the way he just flipped the switch on the entire emotionally charged exchange.

You shuffle into your shared bedroom, sitting gingerly at your vanity and taking off all of your jewelry. As you take off your rings, you stare at the earrings and necklace in your porcelain dish, remembering when he had gifted each piece to you. Maybe it’s not that he doesn’t care how long or how often he’s away…he just doesn’t know how to make it better. So he sends you trinkets from wherever he visits, reminding you that you’re on his mind. Your heart lurches as you realize that maybe all he wanted while he was away from home was a quiet dinner with you, his love, at Phil’s, and that’s why he didn’t take you out to an expensive steakhouse where you would undoubtedly sit awkwardly across from each other and make conversation. He wanted comfort. He wanted what he knows no other woman can give him. 

You hear the water start to run, which zaps you back into the moment. Standing from the velvet upholstered stool, you head for the walk-in closet and try to reach for the zipper on your dress. You can’t exactly get to it, stretching to try and pinch the zipper between your fingers. The bathroom door opens and you whip your head around, knowing he’s going to come looking for you. 

It’s only seconds before you feel his warm hands gliding across your hips, no doubt knowing you need his help with the zipper. Perhaps that’s why he purchased the dress to begin with. Knowing he would be the one to help you take it off. He moves your hair, laying it all to one side of your neck before pressing his lips to your skin. His fingers pinch the small zipper as he slides it down, letting the silk dress flutter down around your ankles. 

“Tell me you know that I love you.” he breathes, his lips brushing against your neck.

“I know you love me.” you answer, breathless as your chest heaves. 

His hands slide around to your bare stomach, pulling your body back until you’re flush with his own. “Now, tell me you’ll remember that.”

“I’ll remember.” you whisper, feeling him long and hard as he rests against your back. 

He grabs your hips and spins you around to face him, cupping your cheeks in his hands. “Good, because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

A gasp leaves your chest as your eyes meet his, dark and blown out. He drags his thumb over your lips, smearing the remnants of your pink lipstick across your chin. “Now get on the bed like I told you the first time.”

Reluctantly pulling away from him, you make your way back into the bedroom, kneeling on the bed, sitting on your heels. You nervously cover your chest with your hands, the room feeling a little cold all of the sudden. He steps into the room, his hand lingering on the doorframe. 

“Move your hands,” he says, his voice quiet but stern. “You wanted the entire dinner table to see them. Why can’t I?”

Your cheeks burn red as you lower your hands to your lap. He approaches, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he’s appraising you.

“He didn’t touch you, did he?” he asks, pushing your hair behind your ear. “My brother?” 

You quickly start to shake your head. Maybe a little too quickly. You watch him with careful eyes as he lets his hand gently graze your throat, then move further down, the gears in his head turning.

“I bet you wanted him to, though…” he adds, pinching at your nipple teasingly, wanting a reaction. You take in a sharp breath between your teeth.

“No.” you say defensively.

“You like Sam because he’s so sweet. He cares. That’s what you want, right? Someone to wipe away your tears when you cry about meaningless shit? You know that’s his specialty.” 

“I don’t like Sam. I just wanted–”

“Save it.” Josh snaps, grabbing harshly at your cheeks to shut you up. He stares at you for a moment before placing a gentle kiss to your squished lips. He pulls away quickly, but doesn’t release his grip on your cheeks.

“If you want to act like a little whore, I’m going to treat you like one. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll tell you.”

He pushes you backwards as he releases his hand, landing you in the pile of soft feather pillows behind you. He stands up from the bed, shimmying off his boxers before crawling back onto the bed in front of you. His eyes meet yours and for a second there is a softness there, almost as if he is asking if you’re okay with this. You offer him a subtle nod before he lowers his head and begins to drag his nose up the length of your leg.

“Did you have fun tonight, flitting around the place, drink in hand, practically begging to be fucked in the bathroom? Hm? Is that what you wanted?” he asks, pressing a hot kiss to the inside of your thigh. 

You squirm beneath him as the filthy words leave his angelic lips. “Did you want him to take you away and fuck your stupid little brains out? Answer me.”

“No.” you reply, desperate to feel his lips on your body. “I… I wanted…” you stammer, your bravery leaving you with every shaky breath. He places an open mouthed kiss to your mound, but freezes once your words trail off.

“You never stop talking, but now you’re at a loss for words? Fucking say it, Y/N.” 

“I wanted you!” you cry out, your head falling back onto your pillow, a heavy sigh leaving your chest. He squeezes the softness of your thigh before he speaks.

“And you really thought that would work?” he asks, nipping at your soft skin, chuckling quietly. “You’re dumber than I thought.”  

You feel your skin grow hot at his words, your hips jerking upwards on their own accord.

“You like that, don’t you? You like it when I call you my stupid little girl?” he asks, sucking a mark into your thigh. “My dumb little brat?”

A whine leaves your chest as you feel his tongue slowly start to slide through your folds. 

He pulls away from you, “Ah, ah… Be quiet, remember? I know it’s hard for you to do as you’re told, but if I have to remind you again you aren’t going to like what happens.”

You stifle your moan and move your hips as his hands hold you in place, his tongue reconnecting with your core as he makes slow, languid laps against you. “Did I leave this pretty pussy too long? Does she miss me and need my attention?” 

He moves his hands to let his thumbs spread you further, swirling his tongue over your clit. “I think she misses me so bad that it’s got you acting crazy, my love.” His lips suction against you, sucking you into his mouth with a lewd slurp. His hands slide up to your hips, pulling you closer to his face. His tongue grazes your entrance, dipping in just long enough to tease you. He presses a kiss to your clit before pulling away again. 

“You must be crazy if you think my brother could do even half of what I do to you. No one, no one, treats this pussy like I do. Worships this pussy like I do.”

“Josh…” you whine, the word leaving your lips before you could stop it. 

You feel a sharp flick to your clit and you cry out, your body jumping in response.

“I told you that you wouldn’t like it.” he says, pressing a kiss to your sensitive clit, as if to soothe the pain he inflicted. You feel a rush of warmth at your core, your body responding positively to his actions. 

“Oh, baby, fuck…” he groans, sliding his fingers thorough the wetness. “But you do like it. You love it.” He pauses, locking eyes with you. “Answer me.”

“I–Yes…” you breathe, feeling his smile against your core. 

“My dirty, sweet, baby likes a little pain with her pleasure.” he growls, sliding a finger inside of you. You clench around it, desperate for more. “Yeah? More? You want two or three?” he asks, his eyes flicking to yours. 

“T-Three.” you beg, breathless as you feel him slide in two more. 

His lips find your clit again, suckling the sensitive nub into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it again and again as his fingers work you from the inside. The pressure is growing and you know you’re close. He must feel you fluttering around him, so he pulls his fingers and mouth away from you quicker than you can blink. 

“Nu-uh. Not until I say so, and I do believe I’d like to get mine first tonight... You know, for my troubles.”

A huff leaves your chest as you look at him, sitting back up to rest on his heels. 

“You know baby, I think I’m feelin’ a little reckless tonight...I’m thinkin’ maybe we skip the condom, what do you say?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, Josh always having been completely adamant that you use protection. Always. Despite being on birth control. You can count the number of times you’ve gone without a condom on one hand over the three years you’ve been together. 

“Are–Are you sure?” you ask.

“Yeah, I think you need the full effect… need to really feel me so you can remember your place. Remember why you count down the days until I come home.” he says, fisting his base. 

“Although,” he says thoughtfully before pausing. “… if I’m going to fuck you like a whore, I’m gonna have to wear one. Standard procedure, you understand…” he mumbles, reaching over to his nightstand and pulling a silver foil package from the drawer. You feel your heart drop as he rips it out of the package and effectively rips the opportunity away from you. A quiet, disappointed whine leaves your throat.

He clicks his tongue as he watches your face drop, “Aw, what is it? Did you want my cock?” he asks, a smug grin on his face. “If you behaved yourself I probably would have given you what you wanted. It’s a shame, really.”

“Please…” you whine, hoping he doesn’t notice the tears in the corners of your eyes. 

“Oh she’s begging for it. God, you really are so sweet when you want to be.” he says, rolling the condom over his cock. 

“Josh come on, please!” it’s a pathetic whine as it leaves your mouth, but you don’t care.

His hand collides with the side of your hip, a loud smack ringing through the room. “Don’t be a little brat. You’ll take what you’re given.”

A whimper leaves your lips as the sting sets in. “That hu—”

“What? Hurt? That’s typically the point, love.” Your hips jerk up towards him, his abs peeking through as he leans towards you. “Now, do you understand?”

You nod your head as he lowers his, pressing his lips to yours. His perfect heart shaped lips capture yours, his tongue pressing into your mouth with fervor. Your hands come up to wrap around his waist, his skin soft and smooth beneath your hands. You feel his muscles tense under your touch as he ruts his hips, dragging himself against you, the sound of the latex audible as you try to angle yourself so he’ll slip inside you.

“So impatient…” he chides, sucking his teeth as he hovers his lips just above yours. He decides to take mercy on you, letting himself start to slide inside with ease. You cup his cheek, kissing him tenderly, a silent thank you. You feel the heat building in your abdomen again, half the battle won after the way he edged you previously. 

“Does that feel good, sweet thing?” he asks, pushing in to the hilt before slowly pulling out again. “You gonna settle down now that you’re feeling nice and full?” he asks, and you respond with a shake of your head. “No?” he questions, surprised. He fucks into you slowly, deeply. You feel every inch of him that you’ve missed… but it’s not the same.

“No…I wanted you to take it off…” you whine. He shakes his head, a little chuckle leaving him.

“You’re in no place to make demands. I’m gonna get mine, toss it in the trash, and leave you wishing it was dripping down your thigh. And if you’re smart, you’ll say thank you.”

You feel yourself clench around him at his cruel words, making him smirk. So he carries on, picking up his pace as he grips into the softness of your thighs.

“But you’re not, are you?” he taunts, lowering his head to kiss and suck at your collarbone. “Can’t be if you pretended to be interested in my idiot brother. You’re mine. What do I have to do to get it to stick in that little brain of yours?” 

You whisper his name, closing your eyes as your cheeks turn pink, his insults both embarrassing you and bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“I told you I’m getting mine first. Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns, his palm landing on the pillow next to your head as he rests his weight and increases his range of motion. As he moves faster, his thrusts become more brutal as he starts to knock the wind out of you. It’s getting harder to keep yourself from losing it, your thighs starting to quiver.

He feels it, because he always does, but you can tell by the look on his face he doesn’t want to stop. He curses breathlessly and pulls out, his hand leaving your hip and moving down to stroke himself, but he lets out a grunt and pushes up to sit on his heels, looking down at himself.

“...Fuck.”

He wraps his arm under your thigh and tugs you closer, urgently, and sheathes himself inside so quickly you cry out.

“Oh, baby. You feel like fucking velvet.” he moans, his head falling back, his moans bouncing off the ceiling. When he pulls back, something feels… different. “Looks like you got what you wanted after all…”

He sits back again and pulls out of you, resting his hands on his thighs as he takes a deep breath like he needs to get himself under control. Sitting up on your elbows, you look down at him between your thighs to see the condom has not just broken, but torn. It’s more than halfway down his shaft, which explains why he felt so slick and warm inside you.

“Oh…” you say softly, your lips parting. You stare at him above you, his chest rising and falling, his eyes heavy as they lock onto yours. He lifts one hand, motioning you forward with two fingers, and you know exactly what he wants. 

“On your knees.”

You don’t hesitate to roll onto your side and stand from the bed, dropping to your knees with your hands in your lap. He watches as you go, waiting until you’re in position to stand himself and approach, raking his hand through your hair almost affectionately. You keep your eyes on him, the way he’s hard and straining against the useless condom.

“Does being on your knees hurt, little slut? Or is that right where you belong?” he asks, resting the tip of his cock against your lips. “Open.” 

You stick out your tongue, dragging it against the bottom of his tip.

“More.” he demands, pushing his hips forward. You open your mouth wider as you move to reach up and touch him, but he immediately tells you, “No.”

Your eyes look up at him, brows furrowing in curiosity as you question silently whether or not he’s going to take the condom off.

It’s sudden and shocking when he answers your question, grabbing the back of your head and shoving himself in deep. You feel him against your tongue, tasting the lube and feeling the latex on the front end of your tongue. 

He starts to thrust so quickly, you reach for his thighs to try and push him back. He doesn’t seem to care, almost relishing in your struggle, his fist tightening in your hair. As a gag works its way up your throat, he pulls you off of him, gasping for air, saliva dripping down your chin and neck. 

“How’s it taste, baby?” he asks, tugging your hair, making you look up at him through bleary eyes, trying to catch your breath. As you open your mouth to answer, he fists himself, shoving himself back into your mouth. You gag immediately and he pulls out, your mouth open as you try to breathe. He doesn’t let you, though, grabbing your jaw and spitting directly into your open mouth. 

“You better think twice before you complain.” 

You snap your jaw shut, swallowing thickly, your eyes popping back open to look up at him in shock. He gives you a crooked smile, pleased with the way he’s managed to throw you off. It only encourages him as you look up at him with wide eyes and try to catch your breath. He quirks a single brow, then runs his tongue over his teeth. 

“Nothing to say?” he asks, challenging you. You shake your head once.

He pushes the head of himself back inside your mouth, then spits again, making you flinch as it lands on your cheek. You squeeze your eyes closed, intending to hollow out your cheeks and suck, but he pulls himself out with a pop and drags his cock through the spit on your face, chuckling. 

“You’re starting to smarten up.” he mumbles. “Little brat.”

He taps the tip of his cock harshly against your lips and you can see the wheels spinning in his head as he plans his next move. “Back on the bed, all fours.” he says, snapping his fingers and pointing to the center of the bed.

You immediately pull yourself from your aching knees and scramble onto the bed, positioning yourself on all fours, just as instructed. You feel the bed dip behind you and you turn your head, seeing the remnants of the condom still intact around him. He makes no effort to remove it, wearing it like a trophy as his hands find your hips. His left hand slides up the curve of your back before pressing a palm to your spine, a silent order to arch a little further. 

“You’re trembling. You want it so bad don’t you…” he growls, his tip brushing against your entrance. “Want to feel my nice warm cock inside you…Nothing but me and you…You’d like that wouldn’t you, baby…”

“Yes.” you breathe, almost a whisper.

“I shouldn’t…I should put a new one on right now.” he says, the clench of his jaw audible. 

He thrusts himself inside of you, the barrier of latex gone between the two of you, letting you feel every ripple and vein of his perfect cock inside of you. It nearly takes your breath away as his hips slam into you. A groan leaves his chest as his hands grip into your hips, and you can feel his hot breath on your back.

His hips crash violently into yours, his pillow soft tip grazing your cervix with every stroke. He’s struggling to keep his composure, it's evident with his erratic breathing and the stuttering of his hips. 

You clench around him, a whimper falling from his lips in response, briefly breaking the facade he’s chosen for the evening. “Fuck, Y/N… I– I fucking hate you. You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

A pang shoots through your chest, you feel the tension in your stomach start to build as you flutter around him. “I hate that I can’t live without you. I hate how much I love you. You–I can’t deny you anything…Not ever…” he pauses, his chest heaving. “Can’t you see that?”

“Josh…” you beg through panting breaths. 

“Not yet, you’re gonna wait. Wait until I say, yeah? Can you wait like my good girl?” he says, struggling to stave off his own release. 

“I– I can’t…” you whine. 

“You will.” he demands, punctuating his sentence with his hips. “Fuck, you feel so good, swear to god I’m gonna– fuck…”

“Josh please, please!” you beg, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“My little slut begging to cum, oh you’re a fucking vision… My angel…” he pauses, sliding his hand around your waist and pinching your nipple between his fingers. You tighten around him and you hear him hiss in response. “Oh goddamn, you’re not a fucking angel though, are you… You’re straight from hell.”

His hips start to falter, and you can tell he’s close. You turn your head to look at him, his hair wild and sweaty against his temples, his jaw hanging slack as he watches himself fuck you. His eyes flick up to meet yours, they are dark and his pupils are wide as a slight smile turns his lips. 

“I know I said I was going to get mine first, but you’ve been such a good girl for me. Go on, cum baby. Cum right on my cock, wanna feel you give yourself to me.” he says, nodding his head. 

His permission throws you right up into the sky, your release washing over you so forcefully that your arms give out below you, sending you tumbling into the sheets. His hands hold you up as he continues to fuck you through it, curses and praise falling from his swollen pink lips. 

As if your bliss fueled his own, you feel him pull your hips back firmly against him, a groan exploding from his chest once he can’t hold on any longer. You feel his cock twitching, his release beginning to spill inside of you as your name falls from his lips. You clench around him and he rapidly pulls out of you, fisting his cock as his cum continues to spill, painting hot white streams across your back. 

The room is quiet, just the sounds of the two of you attempting to catch your breath. His hand slides up over the curve of your ass, his fingertips catching a drip of his cum before it falls to the sheets below you. His hand reaches around smearing his fingers across your lips, and you can hear him snickering as he leaves his release behind. “A much better shade on you, darling.”

With a smack of your ass you feel him step off of the bed, padding towards the bathroom. “Stay there, don’t move. I don’t want a mess on the sheets.”

You stay put, frozen as you lean down on your elbows and rest your chin in your palm. He comes back out of the bathroom a moment later in his robe and saunters to the stairs. You hear his footsteps slowly descending the steps, the occasional squeak indicating how far away he is. 

You figure he’s heading to get you a towel from the dryer, so you just sigh and bide your time, feeling the wetness on your back start to get a little cold as the air moves through the room. In the silence, you hear a cabinet opening… then a cup being placed on the counter. Your lips part in shock as you realize he’s downstairs making a drink while he leaves you here, messy and exposed. The cherry on top of the punishment he’s dealt you this evening.

It’s a good, long while before he comes back up the stairs, again, at a leisurely pace. He softly pads across the room, then steps into your line of sight, putting a mug down on the nightstand. He made himself a cup of tea? 

You sigh, looking at him flatly, a little tired of the game at this point. He steps into the bathroom again, this time reemerging with a warm, wet towel. He approaches the bed and kneels over you, gently wiping you clean as silence settles over you both.

“I made you some tea. In case I was a little rough on your throat.” he says quietly. “I figured I owe you a drink after throwing yours into the bushes.” His tone conveys that he’s remorseful, his voice back to its unique, charming timbre. “Listen, I didn’t mean to get so… worked up. You were right when you said I was threatened by Sam, and I just kind of lost control.” 

You hum softly, resting your head on the pillow and looking at him over your shoulder, your eyes soft and tired.

“I’m sorry I pushed you that far…” you say quietly, your voice hoarse. He tosses the towel towards the hamper, standing from the bed. He leans down and places a kiss to your temple as you lay all the way down, just as your back starts to hurt.

You hear him opening your dresser drawer and soon enough he’s back at your side, placing a set of silky, cream colored pajamas and a pair of underwear near your head. He kneels at your bedside, resting his head on the bed to look at you where you lay.

“I picked these out for you when we were in Glasgow. There was this little boutique near the hotel that caught my eye. It was after dinner one night and I tried to call you but the time difference was making a mess of things…I couldn’t get ahold of you and I was just feeling lonely… so I took a walk and decided to pop in. I saw them and thought of you immediately. Thought of how they’d feel when I got back home and in bed with you.” he confesses, petting your hair the whole time he speaks. There’s almost a sadness to this story that makes guilt bubble up in your chest. You accused him of never calling, rarely thinking of you, and sending his assistant off to buy you meaningless gifts. The thought of him hand picking it for you while he was feeling lonely thousands of miles away breaks your heart.  

“I’m sorry I said all that stuff. About the gifts. That was admittedly pretty awful of me.” you squeak out, feeling ashamed of the way you acted and who you painted him to be. “I’ve been really hard on you.”

“Hard on me?” he asks, a breathy laugh rumbling through him.

“I just… I haven’t been really considerate about your ear and the stress you’re under and I think I’ve been feeling neglected in a way, so instead of trying to fix it, it was just easier to put all of the blame on you and lose sight of the sacrifices you make for me every day. For us.” 

He shakes his head, unwilling to let you accept all the blame. “I haven’t exactly made things easy on you…” he says, his voice a little small. “I think–no, I know I can do more. I will do more. I fucked up yesterday baby, and I’m sorry. I should have planned something nice. You deserve that. And I’m sorry about tonight, fuck, I’m just sorry for all of it. I love you and I need you and I’m just really, really sorry.”

He stands from his place on the side of the bed, watching you as you slide into your silky pajamas. He tosses his robe to your vanity chair and joins you on the other side of the bed, pulling back the linen sheets and sliding in next to you. 

“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I was a brat, and I’m sorry I used Sam to get under your skin. I just– I wanted your attention…and I know it was stupid and immature… I just needed to know you still cared, even just a little bit. I wanted to see it.” you pause, looking into his dark brown eyes. 

“And last night, you just wanted a night in and I was…less than agreeable. I wish we could do it over. You just wanted your comfort food and your favorite movie, home alone with me…but I couldn’t see that. I know you’re hurting. I know you’re doing your best and I’m sorry I was ungrateful. I’m happy that you were even home. I’m happy I can take care of you while you’re here.” you say, moving closer to him in the middle of the bed. “I missed you last night…”

He props himself up on his elbow, his cheeks still a little pink from earlier, and in the dim light of the lamp he is glowing. “I missed you too baby, I knew I fucked up before I even got out of the room. I should have never said that to you. Not ever. Can you forgive me?” he asks, letting his free hand slide across the sheets and grab yours. 

“Can you forgive me?” you ask, letting your glassy eyes meet his.

“Baby…” the word is a breath from his lips. You reach for him as he wraps his arms around you. You cradle his head in the crook of your neck as he breathes you in and you know all is forgiven between the two of you. You scratch his scalp and pet his velvety shaved sides, holding him close enough that you can feel his heart beating. 

“Can I make you that soup you like tomorrow? With the kale and the carrots…” you ask, a whisper against his temple. You feel him nod, a small hum leaving his chest. 

“And I still have that sourdough starter that Jake gave us… I can make some bread with it? Does that sound good?” you ask, feeling his grip on you tighten. 

“Oh my god, that starter. Have you been feeding it like he said!? I completely forgot!” he gasps.

You laugh hard enough that it shakes your chest, “Of course I have. He would be so sad if I let it die.”

You feel his body relax against you again, “Do you know how much I love you?” he asks, turning his head to face you. 

You feel your skin blush as he looks at you, his eyes full of adoration. “A lot?”

“More than that.” he smiles, his cheek dimple peeking out just a touch. You can hardly stop yourself from pressing your lips to it, your favorite thing. 

“I love you, alot.” you reply, peppering his face with kisses. 

“But there is something that I want to talk to you about…” he says, his voice growing a little more serious. 

“W-what?” you ask nervously, pulling away just a little. 

“I know you’ve been so excited about coming to Spain in a few weeks…And I’ve really been looking forward to it too…” he starts, and you feel your heart drop. Is it canceled? Does he not want you to come?

“Yeah…” you breathe, anxious to hear what he’s about to say.

“So, you know it’s been a long time since we’ve toured over there, and our normal coordinator isn’t able to make it, so we are using a secondary coordinator…It really throws a wrench into everything. Things are going to be really shaky those first few days with the jet lag and all of that. I just– I know that it’s gonna be super crazy, and I feel like we probably won’t be able to spend much time together while we get the tour stuff sorted out.” he pauses, and you feel your eyes well with tears. “I just don’t want you to come and feel ignored...”

“So I’m not–” 

His face softens as he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, “So, I went ahead and booked us flights to go a whole week early, just me and you. Found us a quiet little place on the water right outside of Barcelona. It has a big open porch and a giant bed. It’s so beautiful and I know you’re going to love it. We can do whatever you want, just you and I.” He kisses your forehead before he continues. 

“And before you ask, yes, your boss already knows. I wanted to surprise you when we left, but I figured you would be suspicious that the rest of the guys wouldn’t be with us in the airport. I was planning to tell you tonight when we got home, but we saw what happened…” he smiles, his eyes positively sparkling. “So, how does that sound, my love? Will you come with me?”

Tears rush to your eyes. You were so prepared to be disappointed again that they were already on their way and this sealed the deal.

“That sounds so perfect,” you manage to squeak out as he wipes away an errant tear sliding down towards your pillow. When he pulls you in for a tender kiss, you can feel him smiling against your lips. “My coworkers are going to kill me for going on a two week vacation during tax season…”

“I’m sure they’ll be okay.” he says, brushing it off with a soft laugh. “They probably ate your strawberries yesterday, so you can call it even.” You suck your teeth at that, lips parting in shock.

“They better not have! I’m out for one day and the wolves descend?”

“I’m sure they’ll be there waiting for you Monday.” He soothes, pulling the sheets and comforter up higher over the both of you, pulling you in close as his little spoon. “But just in case… Maybe we can get some melting chocolate at the store tomorrow and make our own for dessert?” he mumbles softly. 

“Oh, I’d love that…” you say, pleasantly surprised at his effort already. He holds you tight, nuzzling into your hair. His hands are soft and warm as they sneak up under the silky pajamas, a comforting touch after so many nights spent in this bed alone.

“It’s a date, my love.” 

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[hatoheart]

hey so I’ve said before I prefer to keep my blog a drama free place but

Oh well. It’s my blog and I can break my own rules as I see fit lol.

My background with Lily Orchard: I had been a fan since about summer 2019 (20 years old, I was born December 12, 1998) and had heard her talk about the various abuse she claims to have gone through throughout her life. With no reason to believe otherwise, I just accepted this. I bought into everything she said when allegations came out against her because I had already anchored my beliefs to things she’d said. It’s hard to dismantle beliefs that are so ingrained in you.

In June 2024 I made a tumblr post asking for actual evidence, and to be fair, I had plenty of people come to me in good faith. Unfortunately, I was unwilling to believe a lot of what I was sent, parroting the same excuses for them I’d heard Lily use. I like to think of myself as someone who’s objective and looks at things from every side, and yeah, I’ll fully admit I was not doing that at all here. I got dunked on a bit, rightfully so.

I was a member of Lily’s Patreon server from June-September 2024 (I only just joined Patreon itself in June 2024). I started as a $1 Patron before bumping up to a $5 Patron for access to the Patron chat. I wouldn’t say I was especially close to Lily, I certainly wasn’t part of her “inner circle”, and got reprimanded by her a few times for various minor things, but ultimately she trusted me enough to let me into the private “server regulars” chat she implemented a week or so before I left.

The first major crack came when she used me venting in her stream chat about my beef with KP as an excuse to drop her and Sai’s full names. I did not at all endorse that and was actually quite pissed at her for doing that. I value my privacy a lot, and I try to extend that courtesy to everyone else I come across online. I’ve got plenty of good friends online and I couldn’t tell you the real-life names of about 90% of them.

Ultimately, the incest game folder was the major incident that got me thinking. She did her best to debunk it, but it was just… such a flimsy excuse? It seemed like she was desperate to cover it up. I don’t know, I’d bought into plenty of things she’d said in the past, but this seemed… unbelievable. So after spending a few days conflicted, I looked back into the evidence I’d been given months prior. And it was… a lot. I lashed out at some people trying to help me during this time, and blocked someone who’d been very cordial to me in DMs. I was stuck. I didn’t know what to believe. I suppose you could say this was my breaking point.

Ultimately the evidence did prove overwhelming, so on September 13th, 2024, I quietly left Lily’s community. No big statement, no fuss, just quietly retracted my Patreon sub, unfollowed on tumblr, and unsubscribed on YouTube. I’ve been quiet for the past month, give or take.

And man, has hindsight been 20/20.

She frames everything as “my boundaries tho” so that she can excuse being rude to her fans. She consistently denies Tara Callie/Stockholm and other wrongdoings without any proof to back up her claims.

I’ve watched KP and Courtney’s videos. I’ve looked at Britt’s evidence. I’ve privately made amends with all three of them.

I had already planned on watching Joon the King’s video when it released. I was a fan of his prior and figured if he was covering Lily… then there must be something I was ignoring.

Part of the reason it can be so difficult to look into Lily’s past is because the resources aren’t neatly gathered in one place. Joon’s video does just that. An easily digestible resource for people to get the gist of who she is.

And I’m sorry to anyone I may have hurt on her behalf. I am not claiming to be innocent here, I knowingly dug my heels in while claiming to want evidence, and then refused to look at it. I’m sorry for the rancid shit I’ve said and done to people in defense of Lily.

But I’ve opened my eyes. I’ve stopped hiding from the truth.

I’m not going to discuss this further, as I’ve said I prefer to keep my blog a fairly lighthearted place for me to hyperfixate and shitpost. I’m not interested in dunking on Lily or harassing her (please don’t harass her), but just being transparent and letting everyone know where I stand as of right now. This needed to be said eventually.

[cr33pz-mck3nna]

Some creepypasta headcanons/facts!

Warnings: Not canon as these are my versions of the Creepypastas

Jeff

• He dyes his hair black to look like his stepmother more, he's actually a blonde as well as both his parents

• He and Liu have different moms, Liu's mom being deceased, Jeff's mom having been a one night stand who abandoned him with his father. They have a stepmother by the time Jeff's dad took custody of him, Jeff was closer to his stepmom then his father, his father loving Liu just a bit more due to him looking like his mother but he'd never say that in front of his kids.

• Jeff and Liu have a half baby sister who was less than a year old when Jeff killed their parents, Jeff killed them just before Christmas but one thing he could never do was hurt his baby sister, he carried her to the police station through the snowstorm and was almost caught by the police leaving her there.

• Jeff only was going to kill his parents, Liu's "murder" was self defense as Liu attacked him to make him stop.

• Jeff knew Nina and Jane had just moved into the neighborhood and heard through the grapevine that Nina had a crush but he never actually met them, the only one he ever met was their father who he wound up having to kill after he tried to shoot him.

• Early days "Jeff the Killer" didn't like killing, he did it for survival, like a wild animal, in his eyes life is kill or be killed, now he doesn't so much take "joy" from killing, it's just a habit, something familiar and something he was sure of.

• Jeff still loves his stepmother and he regrets killing her and Liu, he has a distrust and dislike for his father due to the separation he made between them, as for his biological mother...now THAT is who Jeff hates. His ultimate goal, he will not rest nor will he die until he sees his mother does first. Jeff will never see that THING as his mother.

• Jeff is close with BEN because he reminds him of himself, back when he was the video game nerd with a love for call of duty and being left alone, sometimes he wishes he never killed his family but than he remembers his mother and bullies and it reminds him of why he is here.

• Jeff considers Sally like a sister to him And the feeling is mutual, she reminds him of his sister and in Sally's words "I always wanted a big brother!".

Hostility: 5/10, if you leave him be he'll leave you be.

BEN

• He has a hatred for pools and swimming as it reminds him of his death.

• He hates talked about his siblings, especially his older brother who killed him(His brother was mentally handicapped and hit him over the head out of jealousy at a family reunion since he was the focus of all his relatives, he was temporarily paralyzed from the hit and the fact he didn't know how to swim so when he fell into the pool he wound up drowning).

• He can't sleep most nights as his dreams are filled with the screams of his family as he drowned and the sound of his brother laughing.

• His mom put his brother in a mental asylum after his murder but hung herself out of shame, he doesn't know what became of his father and sister after that but he doesn't care, he's too busy haunting his brother.

• Once sold his soul to Zalgo to get his mother back, Zalgo did not keep his promise though and used him as a slave instead, he was saved when Slender bought his soul from Zalgo.

• He originally feared Jeff, thinking he was like his brother but eventually became closest to him out of anyone.

• Was unaware he was an uncle, or just how many damn kids his sister had, until he met his nephew Todd(oc of mine and a MC in my original story,named after Todd from Sally Face and has a similar personality) who is so much like him when he was alive they do NOT get along-

Hostility: 2/10, he only kills people when he doesn't like them or he's bored

Sally

• Sally had never met Uncle Johnny but she trusted him so much because how different could he be from her favorite uncle!?

• Her favorite uncle..that was her mother's sister(AFAB, Agender) Sally(whom she was named after) but she called them Uncle Sal(another oc, also named after Sally Face character).

• It was her first time staying at Uncle Johnny's place and was just supposed to be overnight until Sal could pick her up in the morning for a day out. Johnny the drunk bastard he was claimed she walked off in the middle of the night and he couldn't find her, in truth she lost her Teddy her mom made her and wouldn't stop crying so while looking Johnny being drunk got angry at her crying and hit her with his bottle which accidentally killed her, he buried her in the woods behind his house.

• Sally has a love for the color blue, her uncle Sal was considered the "eccentric" one of the family and was known for their wild hair colors, the most common one being a deep royal blue which is now Sally's second favorite color.

• Sally was the first one to meet Slender and the one to convince him that not all humans were horrible people.

• Sally has a strong hatred for adult men and will try to kill 99% of the ones she meets though she doesn't like killing anyone else.

Hostility: 7/10, she'll only attack you if you run and try to tell about her, though if ur a man start saying your prayers-

Let me know if you want any more or who you wanna hear about! And remember that most of the time I will NOT write for the canon versions of the Creepypastas but for my versions of them. Even if you ask for canon, I will 89% of the time reject the request for the canon versions or I will just write about my versions as I do not like the majority of the canon Creepypastas.

[coolbeesbro]

Please share this post to get this information to those who need it!!!

In light of recent events, I compiled a list of resources for LGBT+ folk and more. Ranging from how to legally change name/gender on documents, links to Advocates for Trans Equality, Human Rights Campaign, and The Trevor Project websites. How to obtain bulk HRT injection supplies, legal self defense information, as well as a list of supplies for an emergency Grab and Go bag. Everything is below the cut! If there's anything you want to add, please share and add that information! Thank you everyone, and please stay safe!

ID Legal Name & Gender Change + Other Resources US:

Advocates for Trans Equality: ID Documents Center | A4TE

For those in the US looking to legally change their names/sex on documents, you might want to do this between now and January 20th. You never know what you can and can't do until it happens. There are fees for the change, but in some states there are wavers for lower income folk you can apply for as well.

Human Rights Campaign: Human Rights Campaign

Has resources reporting on government legislation that may or may not effect you, along with informative resources for all walks of life ranging between sexual orientation, gender identity, ethnicity, religion, age and more.

The Trevor Project:  The Trevor Project

The Trevor Project is the leading suicide prevention and crisis intervention nonprofit organization for LGBTQ+ young people. We provide information & support to LGBTQ+ young people 24/7, all year round.

Plan B Contraceptive Info: Planned Parenthood

Fun fact for no reason in particular, Plan B has a shelf life of 4 years (when stored properly).

Bulk HRT Intramuscular Hormone Injection Supplies: 

25 Gage 1” Needles: $9.79 (100 pack)

100Pack 18Ga 1Inch/25mm Disposable Dispensing Lab Supplies Individually Sealed Packaging: Amazon.com  

18 Gage 1” Needles: $9.59 (100 pack)

Amazon.com: 100 Pack 18Ga 1 Inch Sterile Disposable Injection Needle with Cap for Scientific and Industrial Dispensing Needl Accessories

1ml Syringes: $14.99 (100 pack)

BH Supplies 1ml Luer Lock Tip Syringes (No Needle) - Sterile, Individually Wrapped

Sharps Container: $13.45 (3 pack), $19.95 (5 pack)

Amazon.com: Sharps Container for Home Use and Professional 1 Quart (3-Pack) by Alcedo | Biohazard Needle and Syringe Disposal

Total: 

With the 3 pack sharps container: $47.82

With the 5 pack sharps container: $54.32

These are the products I use for my HRT treatment. $47.82-$54.32 might seem like a lot off the bat, but to put it into perspective: I bought these needles and syringes 2 years ago and am only now starting to run low. I’ve had to buy the sharps containers throughout these times a total of 3 times.

For silly hypotheticals, say you need enough supplies to make it through 4 years, you would need to spend $68.74 for needles and syringes, and $40.35 for sharps containers. 

For Bandaids in Bulk: $9.99 (200 pack)

Amazon.com: Care Science Fabric Adhesive Bandages, 200 ct Bulk Assorted Sizes | Flexible + Breathable Protection Helps Prevent Infection for First Aid and Wound Care : Health & Household

Alcohol Wipes: $8.99 (100 count pack of 2)

OWELL Sterile Alcohol Prep Pads, Medium 2-Ply Medical Alcohol Pad for Cleaning Skin, First Aid Kit Alcohol Swabs, Individually Wrapped Alcohol Wipes, 100 Count, Pack of 2 Boxes

Once again, for silly hypotheticals, you need enough supplies to make it through 4 years, you would need to spend: $37.96

Legal Self Defense & Safety Information:

Things to know:

The act of self-defense must be proportionate to the danger, and the person defending themselves cannot be the initial aggressor (the first to threaten or use physical force). United States v. Peterson is often used to teach the self-defense doctrine. Other laws and regulations regarding self defense can differ between states, so I highly recommend researching the laws of your state. Stay informed and know your rights.

You don’t need a license to buy or own a can of pepper spray in the US. Different states have some regulations around them, but legally you can obtain pepper spray with no legal repercussions. 

Generally speaking, across America you’re allowed to carry a pocket knife with you that has a 2.5” blade. Once more, different states have different regulations on what you can and can’t have in public (mainly switch blades and daggers) that I suggest you look into first before you buy anything.

You don’t need a license to buy or own a taser in the US. You can even buy a 2 in one pepper spray and taser off Amazon for under $25.

Mentioned Items:

Smart Personal Safety Alarm: $39.95

Amazon.com: She’s Birdie - Birdie+ Smart Personal Safety Alarm for Women by Women–Loud Siren, Key Chain, 24/7 Live Rep, Emergency Alerts, Bluetooth Connection - 3 Month App Subscription Included (Lavender)

Pepper Spray: $9.99

SABRE Pepper Spray, Quick Release Keychain for Easy Carry and Fast Access, Finger Grip for More Accurate and Faster Aim, Maximum Police Strength OC Spray, 0.54 fl oz, Secure and Easy to Use Safety

Discrete Taser: $21.90

Amazon.com : Rechargeable Stun Guns Self-Defense with LED Flashlight,Rechargeable Stun Gun for Woman (Combination Suit 1)

Taser/Pepper Spray: $22.62

Amazon.com : SABRE Pepper Spray & 2-in-1 Stun Gun with Flashlight, Self Defense Kit, Fast Flip Top Safety, Finger Grip for Better & Faster Aim, Painful 1.60 µC Charge, 120 Lumen LED Light, Rechargeable, 0.54 fl oz

“Just in case” Grab & Go Bags:

Must Have:

Non-perishable foods like granola & protein bars. Canned things are good too, but bars are lighter in weight so you can pack more without having as much weight to carry.

A reusable bottle of water.

Personal hygiene products like:

 2 toothbrushes (It’s good to have a backup just in case)

Tooth paste

Dental floss

Q-tips 

Wet wipes

Deodorant

Shampoo & Conditioner (solid bars if possible, since it’s lighter and takes up less space)

Hair brush/Comb

Hair ties (if needed)

Nail clippers (can be versatile and used to cut through packaging and other smaller things if needed)

At least 1 washcloth

Pads/tampons (for those who may need it)

Chapstick 

Hand sanitizer 

Multiple pairs of clean underwear (if you can’t pack a change of clothes or shower regularly, wet wipes can help you clean up and clean underwear can be put on. I cannot emphasize it enough, this is a mandatory must have so you can avoid things like UTI’s and yeast infections!)

If you have room for it, 1 change of clothes as well. Multiple pairs of socks is good to have as well.

Copies of important documents (birth certificate, medical records, deeds etc.)

Bills (Small ones like ones and fives preferred)

Ibuprofen

Ibuprofen

Acetaminophen 

Antacids (like tums)

Caffeine pills (for those who need it)

First aid kit

Convenience Items:

Flashlight (Hand crank would be ideal)

Portable phone charger

ear buds/headset

Notepad, Pen/Pencil/Marker

Work gloves

Rain poncho/coat

Sunblock

Bug spray

Matches

A lighter

[longwuzhere]

My Adventures with Superman Issue #2 Easter Eggs

The second issue of the My Adventures with Superman's comic book tie-in which bridges the gap between seasons 1 and 2 [W: Josie Campbell, P&I: Paolo M. Collar, C: Nick Filardi, L: Lucas Gattoni] is out this week and so lets check out the Easter Eggs in it! Remember the second issue can be bought at your local comic shop!

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

Spoilers if you haven't read the issue yet

Starting things off Clark gives us a summary of what happened last issue and he mentions that the military took the Amazo robot back to Mt. Simonson and mentioned the defenses it has like the lead walls and the Cadmus Red Sun Omega Field. I talked a bit about Mt. Simonson's reference here, the lead wall's blocking out Superman's x-ray vision here, Red Sun being a weakness for Superman and Cadmus here, and the fact that the caption using the word Omega in the Red Sun Omega Field and the Kirby crackle in the panel here.

When our Daily Planet trio go to the base to figure out where the Amazo robot is Jimmy gets put on blast for his conspiracies about the things the military may or may not have or be doing. The latter two panels mention a turtle boy and Atlanteans from the Mariana Trench.

The first reference is a nod to Jimmy Olsen's time as the Giant Turtle Man. Giant kaiju turtle Jimmy Olsen makes his first appearance in Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen #53 (1961) [Cover art by Curt Swan] where Jimmy finds a treasure chest containing an enlarging ray that Jimmy accidentally triggers with a turtle nearby acting as a filter causing the ray to hit Jimmy creating the Giant Turtle Man as seen on the cover. Superman fixes this by using Brainiac's shrinking ray on Jimmy and Lori Lemaris who was once Superman's mermaid partner figures out Goxo, an Atlantean criminal who built the enlarging ray, was involved in all this. MAwS Jimmy also mentions mermaids and I talked more about the only Superman related mermaid, Lori Lemaris here.

Jimmy mentioning mutated Atlanteans from the Mariana Trench brings to mind the Trench from the Aquaman comics. This underwater civilization that was once part of the Atlantis kingdom and when Atlantis sunk to the ocean, the Trench adapted to their underwater environment to be more like the deep sea creatures who live deep down the depths of the ocean floor. The Trench make their first appearance in Aquaman #1 (2011) [W: Geoff Johns, P: Ivan Reis, I: Joe Prado, C: Rod Reis, L: Nick J. Napolitano] where they were seen surfacing back up from the ocean floor. You might also have seen them in the first Aquaman movie where Arthur and Mera are on a boat in the stormy seas and the Trench swarm and attack their boat.

Later on as Jimmy gets escorted to the visitors area, we see Robert and Slade have a dick measuring contest and Slade mentions Team Seven. I talk more about Robert's comic book counterpart here btw.

Team Seven makes its first appearance as Team 7 under the legendary Jim Lee's former comic imprint, Wildstorm in Gen 13 #4 (1994) [W: Jim Lee, Brandon Choi, J. Scott Campbell, P: J. Scott Campbell, I: Alex Garner, Sandra Hope, C: Wendy Broome, Wildstorm FX, L: Richard Starkings, Comicraft]. In the double page spread, John Lynch explains the history of the Team 7 which he was a part of, telling the Gen 13 kids, that their fathers who were all part of Team 7 was exposed to the Gen Factor to give them superpowers thanks to International Operations who now want to control the Gen 13 kids.

When Wildstorm and their characters were absorbed into DC, they became part of the DC universe and during the New 52 reboot Team 7 was reintroduced again with some familiar faces from the DC universe joining the team.

This iteration of Team 7 made its first debut in Team 7 #0 (2012) [Cover art by Ken Lashley and Nathan Eyring], where the team was composed of former Wildstorm Team 7 members, Alex Fairchild, Cole Cash aka Grifter, and James Bronson aka Majestic, DC familiars Amanda Waller, Dinah Drake II (the second Black Canary and daughter of the first Black Canary aka Dinah Drake I), Steve Trevor, and Slade Wilson and then-new to the New 52 universe characters Dean Higgins, Kurt Lance (who eventually marries Dinah Drake II), and Summer Ramos.

This iteration of Team 7 is a government affiliated team that is used to stop metahuman threats.

Later in the issue we meet Dr. Killgrave who, along with his team, are doing experiments on the Amazo robot.

Thaddeus Killgrave makes his first appearance in Superman #19 (1988) [Cover art by Jerry Ordway]. In the comics Professor Killgrave was a mad scientist who helped build anti-Superman tech sometimes even selling them to other villains. He also worked for Intergang before Superman was able to stop them all together.

And with that we finish the Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman #2! Come back next month to see what is in issue 3! Be sure to preorder your copies at your local comic shops because not only are you showing DC that there are fans behind this book, but you are also helping out a small local business stay afloat as well!

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 5 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

[zombiecowboy65]

I think the way the raven's relationship to sexuality only really makes sense as like prison sexuality (and even then it barely makes sense) like its fine to have sex but not to love- when jean talks about getting in trouble for "looking at another man like that" its the way he looks at Kevin in his apartment-not with sexual desire but full romantic adoration. i think knowing that jean is actually queer, and has the capacity to really seriously love other men, means that, even if he were to just be having sex with other men, it would be seen differently.

as far as why jean gets punished, if the backliner is saying, I'm the best he's had so far out of the whole defense line or whatever, that backliner is just saying he's sleeping with 1 person (jean) but jean is sleeping with 5 in a week and at 16? which is a worse look, and it implies that he's only gonna keep sleeping around and transgress the unspoken norms of raven sexuality, which is why tetsuji beats him i guess? but yeah it doesn't make a ton of sense.

as far as why jean doesn't really submit to jeremy's captain authority the way he does xavier's, i think it's because jean knew him/knew of him from his freshman year. in his mental schema, jeremy knox the beautiful, smiley, talented striker Kevin is obsessed with exists long before jeremy is ever captain, so jean is more easily able to overlook the captain status bc there's a foundation underneath that, compared to xavier who he sees as vice-captain first, and will have to meet the person underneath.

I actually think a similar situation is at hand with the way he treats wymack, being way sassier with him than he would ever be with rhemann. most of that, obvi, is because rhemann is his coach and wymack isn't, but i also think it's because he has known wymack is kevin's father for so long, before they are even in college, so his mental image is wymack as kevin's dad as much as wymack the coach, compared to rhemann who has nothing else until jean gets to know him

idk if any of that makes sense but yeah.

Yeah I think that’s what Nora was going for but I read this marvel fic once and Bucky told me everyone in the army had sex at some point or other and it literally only reminded me of that. Took me out of the story and all I fear. Literally paused to stare at the imaginary camera like what did Jean just say to me 😭. (Especially bc, and sorry to be crude, I can really only see them crossing the line of like ? Handjobs? I can’t imagine them offering to bottom or blow someone ?? At least not ALL of them yk?)

Also in terms of Jeremy, I suppose. Reading TSC I was p convinced it was because Jean’s issue was coaches, because I don’t remember him mentioning Xavier’s role as much as he did this time around? And there was that whole “I refused to name Riko as my master” thing. And I was like oh ok this makes sense bc Jeremy is captain and if he bows like that to captains, they won’t really work unless it’s addressed? But then Jean started talking about Xavier’s authority and I was thrown again lol.

For wymack yeah I think it’s like u said. Not his coach not his problem.

But also this is like so nitpicky lol. At the end of the day I bought two copies of this book and am super seated for book 3

[return-to-ravenbrooks]

Return to Ravenbrooks:

Biography

Entry 7

Name: Nicholas Roth

Date of Birth: 1996

Gender: M

Current Address: 910 Friendly Court

Height: 5'6 (5'3 when hunched)

Hair color: Brown

Eye color: Brown

Key features: Freckles, messy hair that sticks up on the left side, hunched posture, goggles

Role: Spy

Abilities: lock picking, pickpocketing, gadget inventing, climbing

Occupation: N/A

Status: N/A

Biography:

I had been used to bouncing around towns and cities for dad's work, friends had become less and less important as their faces blended into one another, if I made any at all, just passing figures I'd likely never see again. People who existed briefly just to mock the new kid, the dweeby nerd, and his weirdo family. I began to become more invested in just myself. I'd always enjoyed the fidgeting and picking at technology. But by the time we reached our old brown house, I'd made the goal of becoming an expert on the lock-picking set I was given by my dad.

Our latest trip had been to a much smaller town than I was used to, a place called Ravenbrooks. Despite being only twelve I could remember driving past the gates vividly, the crow that screeched at me as it made eye contact, flapping its wings madly. I'd flinched at the noise. As we pulled up to their new, likely temporary turquoise home, I felt numb to its appearance. Sure it wasn't a bad house, it could even be called a nice-ish home, but I knew we wouldn't stay long. Through the whole school year at best and at worst? ...I didn't want to get attached. While my parents began to unpack I found myself just staring at the building silently. A disappointed sigh escaped my dad's lips as I sat on the sidewalk and began fidgeting with my newest project. A knot of locks I'd found at our previous house, of different types and difficulty. It must've weighed 5 pounds. I love the way it jingles in my hand, the weight and feel of the cold metal. It gave me a joy I don't think I could explain with words.

I was interrupted about an hour in when a kid yelled "Think fast!" only a long enough second for me to lift my head before a basketball hit me square in the face. Knocking me over and scratching the back of my head against the sidewalk.

"What the heck Aaron! You're supposed to yell it before you throw the ball!" A little girl yelled from across the street. I sat up, vision slightly fuzzy from impact, and noticed the perpetrator stepping foot on the lawn "our" lawn, even though we didn't own it.

"Well maybe if he'd put his hands up." The boy, Aaron declared in his defense. I barely managed to grab the ball from rolling away, ready to hand it off and be over with it, but in return, Aaron grabbed my lock pick. "HEY! THAT'S MINE!"

"And that's mine." Aaron countered, fidgeting with the set.

"I like your set, where'd you get it?" I stood up to grab it back, but Aaron was at least a foot taller and easily held it out of my grasp. His height gave me a brief second to recognize the words he'd spoke.

"I- it's- I" I stammered, struggling to regain my composure. "My dad- well- not all of it. These ones I bought off a kid a few months back, and this one-"

"Lock picking huh? Does it work on any lock?" The little girl peeked out from behind her brother. I hadn't even seen her cross the street.

"Go away Mya, you don't even care about this stuff." Aaron shooed. Mya stuck her tongue out at him.

"We've got a lock that needs opened." She told Nicky. "Would it work?" Aaron turned to his sister, a puzzled expression on his face as he furrowed his brows.

"What? No, we do-" She shoved her elbow into his stomach. He gave her a disgusting glare and she looked back at him with an expression I couldn't read in the slightest. Then suddenly they both looked at me, expectingly.

"Uh- yeah...probably." I admitted hesitantly. "If I open it for you will you go away?" Aaron and Mya exchanged another set of glances before nodding. In an instant, Mya began dragging me across the street with vigor. Aaron walked not far behind us.

"Our dad locked our bikes in the shed for the winter, it's finally warm enough to get them back out but he lost the key and said he wouldn't look for it until he was done with his project" Mya explained.

"And you can't wait?" I asked.

"No, because then It'll be dark!" Aaron piped up and shook his head. The two had such an odd couple of expressions between them. It seemed almost mischievous, and for a moment I worried I was being led into a trap.

As I dealt with the lock I could hear footsteps approaching from behind. "I told you I need space," I muttered, shooing backward with one hand. However, the footsteps didn't stop or back away like before. I turned my head, expecting to shoot the seemingly much older boy a dirty look but instead saw brown jeans on much longer legs, before a gloved hand grabbed me by the back of my old shirt. He lifted me like I was nothing, his hulky muscular frame dressed in an argyle sweater vest.

"I don't believe I've seen you around before." The man proclaimed. His hair was a reddish brown, neatly combed back to match a mustache that "most men would kill for" or at least that's how my father later described it. I felt a chill roll down my spine as the man eyed me up and down. Where had Aaron and Mya gone? Was I right and this was all a trap? "Are you just going to stare or are you going to explain yourself?"

"I- uh- I was asked to open this shed to get out bikes..." I explained quietly. The man shook his head, setting me back down on the ground. Even out of his grip, I felt myself frozen in place with fear. A grin curled across his lips and he let out a bellowing laugh, the kind that shook me to my core. "Such impatient children. What's your name, young man?"

"Narf- uh- Nicky. Nicholas Roth," I said before quickly adding a 'Sir'. "My family moved in across the street" I pointed. The man looked across the street and smiled. "You should be careful boy, that house is very important to the cult."

"Cult?!" He felt a lump form in his throat and a knot in his stomach.

"Dad!" Mya again seemed to appear from nowhere, wrapping her arms around his leg, "Are you done?"

"Not quite, but I heard someone messing around out here." He looked back at me. I tried to force my body out of it's paralyzed state.

"Uh- um... I have to help my parents unpack!" I finally managed to declare in a voice much louder than I intended and took off running before anyone else could even react.

"Careful in there! Don't run into any cultists!" Mr. Peterson yelled after me, laughing again. I tucked behind the moving truck and breathed a sigh of relief. Something about this side of the street just felt- safer.

My second encounter with the Peterson kids was only a day later when Aaron knocked on their door with my lockpicking kit in hand. I hadn't even realized I didn't have it in my pocket anymore.

"You forgot this when you ran." He said, with a gentle smile. It was awkward looking, slightly forced.

"...thanks" I accepted quietly.

Appearances from Aaron became more and more frequent after that, Aaron's excuse for every visit being "Well you never unlocked it so we don't have to leave you alone" and slowly but surely I began to feel less awkward about the visits less and less. I'd learned quickly that Aaron could've undone that lock himself. Not only did he know about lockpicking, but he was better than me, way better.

Aaron was my age, although still older by several months. I barely believed him when he told me. He already had the early forming of his dad's broad figure and an Adam's apple. He looks ready for high school.

Aaron was a weirdo, a nerd, a horror movie fanatic, and a junk food aficionado. He was weird, weird like me. We became almost inseparable even when we were in our own houses, sharing notes across the street with each other via flashlight and making stupid faces to one another. The summer days were spent pulling pranks, making stupid jokes, and babbling on about the supernatural, even though Aaron didn't believe in alien overlords and the inevitable overthrowing of Earth.

"And Nicky," I'll always remember the empty look in his once warm amber-brown eyes as they met mine from the top of his stairway. I felt like a failure that day, and the weeks beforehand, like something about our friendship had fallen flat on its face and I was the one who pushed it over. "Don't come back."

[ghostinthegallery]

I can't believe The Silence and the Storm is over a year old! The first anniversary was May 27th (yes I missed my own fic's birthday in my defense I was traveling and forgot how time works).

I'm trying to compose my thoughts because this sure feels like a time a blog post would be fitting. However, my engrams are scrambled because...wow do I have too many feelings.

As some background, I've been a writer for a long time. And I've written 3-5 books (depends on how you count "completing" a book but it's 5 full drafts, 3 of which were heavily edited). I wanted to be a trade published writer (still do) and for a while I was feeling good about my chances! I got lucky and received some wonderful professional mentorship (and met one of my best friends during that program!). I took that guidance to query agents (a necessary step for access to most big/medium US publishers). I knew it would be hard and take time but...4 years later all I have to show are a few requests, hundreds of rejections, and one agent who asked me to rewrite my entire book only to reject me anyway (me, bitter? No not at all nooooo).

I'm a creative person and sharing my work feels like sharing a part of myself. Something that is not easy for me to do. After a while I just assumed I was missing something necessary. My work didn't resonate, but I didn't know how to fix it. I’d never reach anyone in the way I so desperately craved, and it was my fault for not being good enough. I felt broken.

During one of many major depressive episodes my spouse bought me a copy of The Infinite and the Divine. That book has changed my life. I was never much of a fanfic writer before. Either I thought the original work was too good and I didn't think I had anything to add or it was too bad so why would I bother with it when I could just go read/watch something better? 40k inspired me though. The ideas are incredible but underutilized enough that I felt like I had something to add.

So I started writing necron fic because why not? There wasn’t enough for me to read, and I needed more robot stories. Maybe I could rediscover my love of the craft, make some friends, make some robots kiss. Distract my mind from the horrors. So I posted a little OC fic and actually got some nice comments. Hey! Positive reinforcement! Hadn't had that in a while.

Emboldened, I continued in the most normal way possible. Going from a 7 chapter OC story to a giant civil war epic including every named necron character I could find with 6 (then 7...then 9) POVs. It was the type of grand space opera I've always wanted to write but never did because I didn’t think I had the skill and it's harder to sell. Luckily AO3 is free. Ain't no playing to the market there!

Now, a 40k necron civil war space opera is...niche. So I wasn't expecting much. I would have been happy with some kudos, some comments. Fan art felt like a pipe dream, but what are writers if not dreamers? The main goal was to enjoy myself. It was low pressure fun, I love the characters, what could go wrong?

Nothing, but I was wholely unprepared for things to go as right as they did. Y’all have been amazing. So many great comments and ideas exchanged, gorgeous art, fun asks, a lot of screaming (it’s fine probably don’t worry). I’ve never had such a strong outpouring of support for my work. It feels incredible. But also sometimes confusing. I’ve trained myself so well to handle rejection that I kind of forgot how to handle acceptance. Especially for something so personal. This is a weird story about undead space robots, there’s a lot of politics, sometimes the robots have sex. It’s got out there head canons, and 99% of the tyranid parts are pulled out of my ass because nobody knows how the space bugs work okay. My weirdness being embraced on this scale is one of the greatest feelings of my life. But it’s also new, and way out of my comfort zone. I’m being seen and adjusting to that.

Still, writing in this space has been one of the most consistently joyful things in my life for…well, over a year now! It’s changed how I view my art. I actually can create stories that touch people and make them feel things. I can take risks and have them pay off. I know not everyone will love this, but some people really seem to love it. That is mind blowing to me.

It’s making me reassess a lot about how I approach my art. Writing and other. I still plan to pursue publication. I want to get paid for my work, but this is making me consider alternate paths that might fit my style (and psyche) better. I don’t know what the future holds, but if you’d told me a year and a half ago that a big part of it would hinge on an AO3 gay robot skeleton space opera…I would have thought you were nuts, but also hoped you were right because that sounds rad as hell.

So in conclusion, thank you all so much for reading <3

[luulapants]

Where Illinois politicians stand on Palestine

I sent a letter to Senator Tammy Duckworth today. Illinois is a solidly blue state, and I've dutifully voted blue no matter who since I started voting. Droves of people here have been writing to her and our Congressional Representatives, begging them to support a ceasefire, and all we will get back is a canned party-line response about Israel's right to "self defense" and the need to eradicate Hamas.

They are able to do this, to disregard the outrage of their constituency, because they feel certain that no matter how many letters we send, we will show up and vote for them when the time comes. They are certain their actions have no consequences, and even if they did, they would tell us that it's all our fault for failing in our democratic duty to vote.

Senator Dick Durban received about $154.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He has publicly called for ceasefire anyway. Their money was not worth a genocide.

Senator Tammy Duckworth received over $212k from Israeli lobby groups. She refuses to call for ceasefire. This was her going rate to enable genocide.

In my letter, I told her that I could not see pictures of dead Palestinian babies and turn around and vote for someone, like her, who had their blood on her hands. I told her that "vote blue" cannot extend to genocide. My ethics do not stretch this far.

14/17 representatives for the state of Illinois are Democrats. Of these, only 5 have called for ceasefire.

Jonathan Jackson: $3k from Israeli lobby groups. He has publicly called for ceasefire anyway. Their money was not worth a genocide.

Robin Kelly: $21.5k from Israeli lobby groups. She refuses to call for ceasefire. This was her going rate to enable genocide.

Delia Ramirez: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. She has publicly called for ceasefire. They knew she could not be bought.

Jesus "Chuy" Garcia: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. He has publicly called for ceasefire. They knew he could not be bought.

Mike Quigley: $43.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Sean Casten: $61.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Danny Davis: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. Yet he refuses to call for ceasefire. You can have his cowardice for free.

Raja Krishnamoorthi: $61.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Jan Schakowsky: $58.5k from Israeli lobby groups. She has publicly called for ceasefire anyway. Their money was not worth a genocide.

Brad Schneider: $54k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Bill Foster: $65.5k from Israeli lobby groups. He refuses to call for ceasefire. This was his going rate to enable genocide.

Mike Bost is a Republican. $14.5k and obviously no ceasefire talk. He will not be moved.

Nikki Budzinski: $25.5k from Israeli lobby groups. She refuses to call for ceasefire. This was her going rate to enable genocide.

Lauren Underwood: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. She has publicly called for ceasefire. They knew she could not be bought.

Mary Miller is a Republican. $0 - they don't even have to pay her to toe the party line. She will not be moved.

Darin LaHood is a Republican. $27.5k and obviously no ceasefire talk. He will not be moved.

Eric Sorenson: $0 from Israeli lobby groups. Yet he refuses to call for ceasefire. You can have his cowardice for free.

The Republicans will be trash regardless, but we cannot let our Democrats skate by thinking there are no consequences for supporting a genocide. They are slaughtering people with your tax dollars, Americans. It's time to get serious. It's time to tell these people that they cannot have our votes for free. It's time to start talking about primary opposition and third party voting. It's time to start exercising our power as voting citizens.

[tomhardystories]

Part 5

The night of the gala had arrived, and Jules was in her apartment wrestling with the zipper of a sleek black gown.

“I swear this dress fit better when I bought it...” she muttered, twisting in front of the mirror like a pretzel. “Does fabric shrink in closets? Is that a thing?”

Samantha, sprawled across the bed scrolling her phone, didn’t look up. “Maybe it’s all the wine you’ve been stress-drinking this week. Liquid courage adds volume, babe.”

“Thank you for that helpful observation” Jules said through gritted teeth, finally yanking the zipper closed with a triumphant gasp. She smoothed the gown over her hips and turned to Charlotte, who was fussing with her own dress in the mirror.

“You look stunning” Charlotte said, stepping back and giving Jules an approving nod. “That dress is perfect.”

“Yeah, sure” Jules said, eyeing her reflection skeptically. “At least it’s black hides wine stains, sweat stains, tears. You know, all the essentials.”

“Lovely” Miranda deadpanned from the corner, where she was battling with the clasp of a necklace. “Remind me to stay out of splash range during the toasts.”

Samantha smirked. “The real question isn’t whether Jules will spill wine; it’s who she’s planning to dazzle tonight. Or are we still holding out for a certain British movie star to miraculously show up?”

Jules rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw the back of her head. “Tom Hardy is not showing up, and I am not sitting by the phone waiting for him to swoop in and rescue me from a dull evening. We are over him. It’s ancient history.”

“Ancient?” Samantha raised a brow. “You left that voicemail like four days ago.”

“Four and a half, actually” Jules corrected automatically, then winced. “But who’s counting? I’m not hung up on the guy. He didn’t call back, big deal! I’m not in love with him or anything.”

“No” Samantha said, flipping onto her stomach with a wicked grin. “But you did try to make him your gala date.”

Jules grabbed a pair of earrings, her tone defensive. “It was a joke. A half-joke. I just thought, you know, since we kept bumping into each other at coffee shops, maybe for once we could plan to meet instead of leaving it to fate.”

“And by fate, you mean stalking his Instagram for clues about his schedule?” Charlotte teased.

Jules jabbed an earring at her. “That is slander. I don’t even have Instagram.”

“Uh-huh” Miranda said, finally clasping her necklace. “Let’s just call it what it is: desperation.”

“Desperation?” Jules scoffed, turning to the mirror. “No. It was practicality. He seemed like he’d clean up nicely for an event like this. Plus, he’s hot.”

“Practical” Charlotte said, smirking. “Nothing says romance like ‘convenient arm candy.’”

“I’m just saying” Jules replied, popping in her other earring, “it’s not like I’m sitting here writing his name in hearts on my notebooks. He was an option. I’m not hung up on him. Tonight’s about celebrating the school and looking fabulous - not British men who don’t know how to return a phone call.”

Samantha raised her glass of champagne. “Now that’s the spirit. No more brooding over Mr. Convenient.”

“Exactly” Jules said, grabbing her clutch and striking a dramatic pose. “Tonight is about me. And maybe a little about the school. But mostly me.”

Miranda grinned. “I like this version of you.”

“Agreed” Samantha added, clinking her glass against Miranda’s.

“Alright ladies” Jules announced, heading toward the door with a flourish. “Let’s go dazzle these New Yorkers. And if Tom Hardy does miraculously show up, well, he can wait in line like everyone else.”

Her friends laughed as they followed her out of the apartment. Jules felt lighter already. Whether or not Tom Hardy - or anyone else - showed up tonight didn’t matter. This night was hers, and she was going to own it, one spilled glass of champagne at a time.

The grand hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art glittered with the kind of elegance Jules usually only associated with the Oscars or movies where everyone mysteriously knows how to waltz. Crystal chandeliers hung like overpriced disco balls, casting a golden glow over the crowd of New York’s finest. Educators, philanthropists, and city officials mingled like they’d been born clutching champagne flutes, their laughter tinkling off the impossibly high ceilings.

Jules walked into the gala flanked by her friends, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte, like some sort of ragtag, overdressed girl gang. She adjusted the neckline of her sleek black gown for the third time, muttering under her breath “Just stay put, will you?”

“This is... impressive” Miranda said, pausing mid-step on the grand marble staircase to take it all in.

“Not bad” Samantha replied, already plucking a flute of champagne from a passing tray with the precision of someone who’d done this a thousand times. She took a sip and smirked. “Let’s see if their PR team can live up to all this glitter. If I’m not crying during the speeches, they didn’t do their job.”

Jules snorted. “I’ll be sure to tell them that while I’m up there.”

“Oh, you should” Samantha said, deadpan. “Really let them know.”

“You’ll do great” Charlotte interjected, her tone warm and supportive as always. She placed a hand on Jules’ arm, looking like the human embodiment of a motivational quote. “This is your moment. You’ve worked so hard for it.”

Jules gave her a tight smile, though her stomach was already threatening to stage a rebellion. Yes, it was her moment, right up there with the time she accidentally tried to pay for groceries with a library card. Thrilling and surreal, sure, but mostly terrifying.

They descended into the main reception area, weaving through clusters of beautifully dressed people. Jules caught sight of a live string quartet playing in the corner, their bows moving in perfect harmony. Waiters floated by with trays of bite-sized food that looked far too fancy to eat.

“Oh, look” Miranda whispered, nudging Jules and nodding toward a waiter. “Tiny food on tiny plates. So much effort for a single bite. It’s basically art.”

“Art I could eat a hundred pieces of” Jules muttered, snatching a mini tartlet off a passing tray. She stuffed it in her mouth before realizing that was probably not how classy people operated.

As they moved further into the room, Jules scanned the crowd, trying to focus on the energy of the event rather than the growing nerves gnawing at her. She recognized a few faces - colleagues, city officials she’d worked with, and teachers from her school. All people she probably should greet. Later. After another tartlet.

Suddenly, Samantha grabbed her arm. “Don’t look now” she whispered, her grin wide and conspiratorial, “but I think that’s the mayor by the bar. Should we introduce ourselves?”

Jules rolled her eyes. “By we, you mean should I introduce you? Go ahead, Sam. Tell him about your groundbreaking PR empire and your plans for world domination. I’ll stay here and pretend I know what I’m doing.”

Samantha raised her glass in salute. “Love you for this” she said before strutting off, her heels clicking like she was auditioning for a high-fashion runway.

Miranda leaned in closer as the mayor got ambushed by Samantha. “You sure you’re okay? You’ve been scanning the room like you’re expecting someone. Or hiding from someone.”

Jules hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m not expecting anyone. I just... I don’t know. It’s a big crowd.”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet, clearly not buying it.

Truthfully, Jules wasn’t looking for anyone in particular. Well, okay, maybe she was. But only in a general sense. Like, maybe a handsome stranger who’d sweep her off her feet, or a former flame who’d regret all his life choices. Or, fine, maybe Tom Hardy, even though she was totally over that whole situation.

The string quartet played on, waiters kept circulating, and Jules let herself relax, just a little. At the very least, she still had half a glass of champagne, one functioning heel, and an army of tartlets to get her through the night.

As the evening unfolded, Jules found herself swept into an endless parade of conversations with donors and city officials. There were congratulations on her school’s success, polite questions about her future plans, and one slightly terrifying moment when a city councilman leaned in far too close to explain his thoughts on public education reform, while holding a canape that seemed determined to escape his grip.

She smiled, nodded, and occasionally muttered things like, “Absolutely, so important!” and “Oh yes, equity!” with just enough conviction to avoid follow-ups.

On the bright side, she managed to dodge all awkward encounters with ex-boyfriends, meddling reporters, or anyone likely to ask about her still totally normal and not at all embarrassing voicemail to Tom Hardy. The food helped - a lot. Mini lobster rolls that melted in her mouth, truffle risotto bites that were almost better than wine, and a dessert tray that might as well have been sent straight from heaven. Jules mentally calculated how many she could eat before someone noticed.

At one point, she found herself at the edge of the crowd, clutching a glass of sparkling water and trying to remember how to breathe. She stared out at the sea of faces - confident people, laughing and gesturing like they’d been born at galas. They even held their champagne glasses in that perfect, nonchalant way that Jules could never quite master.

“See?” she muttered to herself, sipping her water. “You don’t need a date. You’re fine. Totally fine. Tom Hardy who?” She let out a quiet, overly forced laugh, then immediately stopped because a waiter glanced at her like she might need help.

She shook her head, banishing the thought. Tom wasn’t here—of course he wasn’t. And that was fine. Totally fine. Fine like this dress that’s trying to suffocate me.

“Jules, come on!” Samantha’s voice jolted her out of her spiral. She turned to see her friend striding toward her, looking radiant and exasperated. “They’re calling you to the stage!”

“Oh God, already?” Jules whispered, as if the award committee could hear her panic. She gulped, nearly spilled her drink, then handed the glass off to a passing waiter with the elegance of someone pawning off a ticking bomb.

“Right, yes, stage. Got it” she said, straightening her posture and smoothing her dress, which had suddenly decided it was too tight in the wrong places.

As she followed Samantha to the front of the room, Jules tried to channel every movie scene she’d ever watched of strong, confident women striding to their destiny. But in her head, all she could think was: Don’t trip. Don’t sweat. Don’t... oh god, is that shrimp in my teeth?

She squared her shoulders, adjusted her dress again for good measure, and plastered on a smile. This was it. Her moment. A room full of New York’s finest, all here to celebrate her.

And if she got through it without accidentally thanking Tom Hardy in her speech? That would be a win.

Jules stepped onto the stage, her heart pounding so hard she was convinced the mic might pick it up. The spotlight hit her face like the world’s brightest interrogation lamp, and she instantly regretted not powdering her forehead one last time. She adjusted the microphone, which made an obnoxious squeaking noise, then froze, awkwardly smiling as the sound echoed across the room.

“Good evening, everyone” she began, her voice cracking just slightly. She cleared her throat and tried again, her tone more confident this time - barely. “Wow. This is... this is a lot of people. So many brilliant, accomplished, intimidatingly fabulous people.” She laughed nervously, realizing she hadn’t blinked in at least 15 seconds.

“I mean, honestly, it’s a bit overwhelming. But, you know, I work in education, so I’m used to tough rooms. Like, uh... have you ever faced twenty five-year-olds on a Monday morning? No? Well, let me paint you a picture—it’s 8:00 a.m., you’ve got coffee spilled down your blouse, they’re all buzzing from weekend sugar highs, and one of them’s already crying because someone said Pikachu isn’t real. Terrifying. And that’s just the first five minutes.”

The audience erupted into laughter, and Jules allowed herself a relieved grin. Okay. Maybe she could pull this off.

“In all seriousness, though” she continued, her hands gripping the podium like it might bolt for the exit, “I am deeply honored to accept this award tonight. It’s... well, it’s surreal, really. When we started the school, I thought, wouldn’t it be great to teach people languages AND somehow not go bankrupt? That was the dream. And, uh, I’m thrilled to say we’ve accomplished at least half of that!”

The crowd roared with laughter again, and Jules could feel her nerves beginning to fade. She even spotted Samantha in the front row, giving her a thumbs-up and mouthing: You’re nailing it.

“But truly...” Jules said, her tone softening “we started the school with one simple idea: to create a place where people could not only learn a new language but also feel like they belonged. Because language isn’t just about grammar rules or vocab lists - it’s about connection. And in a city as gloriously messy and diverse as New York, connection is everything. Well, that and knowing how to order a decent bagel.”

The audience chuckled warmly, and Jules gave a little shrug. “I’d like to thank my incredible team for making this all possible. They are brilliant, hardworking, and shockingly tolerant of my tendency to accidentally schedule meetings at 2:00 a.m. instead of 2:00 p.m. because I can’t read a digital clock. Honestly, they deserve this award more than I do.”

She paused, glancing at her friends, who were grinning and nodding like proud parents.

“And finally” she said, her voice a little steadier now, “thank you to everyone here tonight for supporting education in this city. It’s not just about textbooks or classrooms; it’s about creating a future where everyone gets a chance to succeed. So, here’s to that future.”

The audience broke into applause, cheering and whooping as Jules stepped back from the mic. She gave a polite nod, almost tripped over her own heel, and quickly exited the stage, her cheeks burning.

Backstage, Samantha was waiting, her arms crossed and a wide grin on her face. “You killed it!” she said, handing Jules a glass of champagne.

Jules sighed in relief, taking a sip. “I’m pretty sure I said Pikachu wasn’t real, though. Someone’s kid is going to hate me forever.”

“You’re fine” Samantha said, clinking their glasses together. “And by tomorrow, everyone here will be asking if you’re available to host their next event.”

Jules smiled. Maybe she didn’t need to be perfect. She just needed to be her - and that, apparently, was enough.

Jules slipped through the crowd like a woman on a mission, muttering, “Sorry, just need some air...” to anyone who tried to intercept her. She wasn’t sure if her hands were shaking from the speech or the sheer, primal need for nicotine. Probably both.

Finally, she found the terrace, blessedly quiet and bathed in the cool glow of city lights. The crisp evening air hit her face, and she exhaled dramatically, pulling a slightly crumpled cigarette from her clutch. There it is, she thought, fumbling for her lighter. Her savior.

“Nice speech.”

The voice nearly made her drop the cigarette. She turned, wide-eyed, to see none other than Tom Hardy leaning against the railing like he’d stepped out of some moody cologne ad. Black suit, slightly loosened tie, and, of course, the signature smirk that should’ve come with a health warning.

Jules blinked. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Tom raised an eyebrow, looking amused. “What, not happy to see me?”

She finally got the lighter to work, taking a long drag to steady herself. “Oh, thrilled. Honestly. Just one more thing to add to the ‘What Is My Life’ file.”

“Glad I could help” he said, his grin widening. He pushed off the railing, strolling toward her like he owned the entire terrace, and maybe the planet. “Didn’t want to bother you before your big moment. Figured you had enough to worry about.”

“How thoughtful” she said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. She took another puff, blowing smoke into the chilly night air. “Didn’t think you’d show up at all, to be honest.”

“Neither did I” he admitted, hands sliding into his pockets. “But... here I am.”

She tilted her head, giving him a skeptical look. “So, what, you just happened to get my message?”

He shrugged, all casual coolness. “Eventually. You know how it is - busy schedule, running into fans, saving puppies, that sort of thing.”

“Of course” she said, rolling her eyes. “The glamorous life of a world-famous actor. Must be exhausting.”

“You’d be surprised” he said, flashing her a grin. “But seriously, Jules, you were great up there. Funny, sharp... presentable. Rare combination at these things.”

“Presentable?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Wow, stop, you’re making me blush.”

Tom laughed, leaning on the railing beside her. “You know what I mean. Most speeches at these events are, like, ‘Thank you for the award, insert inspirational quote, blah blah, everyone claps.’ Yours? People actually paid attention. You’re... refreshing.”

She snorted. “Refreshing? What am I, a cold beer?”

“More like whiskey” he said, his tone playful but his eyes sincere.

Jules let out a laugh before she could stop herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe” he said, the smirk softening. “But I mean it. What you’re doing with your school, it’s amazing. You should be proud.”

Her laughter faltered, replaced by something warmer. “Thanks” she said quietly, flicking ash from her cigarette. “That actually... means a lot.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the muffled sounds of the gala behind them and the city lights stretching endlessly in front. Jules glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, curiosity bubbling up despite her better judgment.

“So...” she said, tilting her head, “what made you come tonight? Surely there were better parties with more interesting people to attend.”

Tom turned to her, his gaze steady and, annoyingly, very distracting. “Your message, obviously” he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You’ve got a way of getting under people’s skin, Jules. It’s hard to ignore.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to hide the fact that her cheeks were definitely heating up. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head. It’s already enormous.”

“Too late” he said, grinning as if she’d just proven his point.

Jules took a final drag of her cigarette, stubbing it out under the heel of her shoe with the determination of someone squashing a spider. She glanced at Tom, who was still leaning against the terrace railing like he was posing for a perfume ad. He looked so effortlessly casual that it was borderline offensive.

“You know” she said, smoothing down her dress, which was clinging in all the wrong places after her public-speaking sweat fest, “I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

Tom smirked, because of course he did. “Tired of being the star of the show?”

“Something like that.” she replied, crossing her arms and staring dramatically at the skyline, as if the Empire State Building might swoop in and save her from this conversation. “I’ve done the whole speech thing, shaken hands, smiled for the cameras. I think I’ve reached my limit for adulting tonight.”

“Good” Tom said, straightening his jacket. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jules turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “Let’s? As in we? As in you are coming with me?”

He nodded, his smirk only growing. “Exactly.”

She snorted, half-laughing, half-choking on her skepticism. “Okay, let’s just pretend for a second I entertain this idea, how, exactly, are we getting anywhere? You don’t even know where I live.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you can direct me.”

“That’s not the point!” she said, throwing her hands up. “The point is, this is... this is ridiculous! Don’t you have more important people to talk to? Like, I don’t know, a senator or some billionaire philanthropist?”

Tom shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’ve done enough schmoozing for one night. Besides, you’re more fun than anyone in there.”

That made Jules stop in her tracks. Her brain short-circuited as she tried to process the compliment. “I... uh...” was all she managed before her sense of self-preservation kicked back in. She shook her head and gave a forced laugh. “Well, you have terrible taste in company, but sure. Why not?”

Tom nodded toward the terrace doors, and before Jules could rethink every decision she’d ever made, she was following him out through a quieter exit. The noise of the gala faded as they stepped onto the street. Jules glanced around, expecting a sleek town car or maybe a driver in a fancy hat waiting nearby.

What she saw instead was a motorcycle. A gleaming, black motorcycle.

“Hell no” she muttered, stopping dead in her tracks.

Tom grinned, already pulling on a leather jacket like this was some kind of Hollywood audition. “What? Never been on one before?”

“Absolutely not” Jules said, folding her arms. “And I’m not starting tonight. Do you see this dress?” She gestured down at the fitted black gown that was clinging for dear life. “It’s not exactly motorcycle chic.”

Tom laughed, unfastening a helmet from the back of the bike. “Relax. I’ll go slow.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

He stepped closer, holding the helmet out to her like he was offering her a poisoned apple. “Trust me. You’ll love it.”

“Trust you?” she repeated, laughing hysterically. “You’re the man who didn’t call me back for a week. I’m supposed to trust you with my life?”

Tom’s grin only widened. “It’s more like four and a half days. And yes.”

Jules groaned, grabbing the helmet from him. “Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you forever. And I’m going to be Annabelle. I’ll ruin all your movies.”

“Deal” Tom said, clearly trying not to laugh.

What followed was a humiliating display of Jules trying to climb onto the bike without ripping her dress, breaking her dignity, or flashing the entire street. She twisted awkwardly, got her heel stuck on something, and nearly slid right off the other side before Tom caught her arm.

“You’re going to need to sit properly” he said, his voice calm but deeply amused. “Otherwise, you’ll just... fall off.”

“Oh, thank you, Captain Obvious” she snapped, finally managing to straddle the seat like an extremely uncoordinated flamingo. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Once she was on, she stared at her hands, which were hanging limply at her sides. “Okay, now what?”

“You hold on” Tom said over his shoulder.

“To what?”

“Me.”

Jules froze, her brain screaming ABORT MISSION! before she reluctantly wrapped her arms around his waist. “If this ruins my dress, you’re buying me a new one” she muttered.

“Noted” he replied, revving the engine.

When the bike finally started moving, Jules let out a strangled shriek that probably scared a pigeon off a lamppost. Her grip tightened around Tom like he was a life preserver in a hurricane.

By the time they reached her apartment, she was still alive but emotionally scarred. Her legs felt like jelly as she climbed off the bike, wobbling like a newborn giraffe. Tom dismounted with irritating ease, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his hair like some kind of shampoo commercial.

“See?” he said, grinning. “Not so bad, was it?”

Jules glared at him, shoving the helmet into his hands. “It was horrific. I can’t believe people do that for fun.”

“Next time, you’ll love it, I promise” he teased.

“There won’t be a next time” she shot back, though she wasn’t entirely sure she meant it.

Tom stepped closer, his expression softening. “Thanks for letting me ruin your night.”

Jules brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “You didn’t ruin my night. In fact, it wasn’t the worst thing ever.”

“High praise” Tom said, his grin returning. “Goodnight, Jules.”

“Goodnight, Tom” she replied, disappearing into her building with as much dignity as she could muster, which wasn’t much, considering she was limping from one of her heels breaking during the dismount.

As she climbed the stairs, she muttered, “Tom Hardy and a motorcycle? What is this, a bloody rom-com?”

And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling.