#the actress playing her NAILED IT

[the-chains-cafe]

I watched Wonderland the musical yesterday and had to draw my favorite boy as my favorite character. Mad hatter!Ravio ladies and gentlemen!

@kikker-oma got inspired by your dramatic lighting drawing so I drew the boy

Some extra stuff under the cut

Different colored lighting :]

Midna and Ravio would love playing crazy characters. I think they love going 100% on the crazy part because there aren’t really limits. They can go all out on the musical numbers too, dance around as if they’re wearing magic dancing shoes, cuz again there aren’t really limits. Unlike with Damian and Janis, or Joe and enid/vivian i think. Ye :)

Also HELP HE LOOKS LIKE THE ONCELER OH NOOOO

[dramashii]

Is it scary?

MYSTERIOUS LOTUS CASEBOOK (2023) | Ep 32

[smallblueandloud]

the craziest part of the 2006 broadway revival of company is that the cast is SWITCHING INSTRUMENTS. not only are they singing AND moving to choreography AND playing instruments, they are doing this for multiple instruments. the amy actress alone has to be able to play a french horn AND a trumpet (she's the soloist in "side by side") AND act AND sing "not getting married". what the fuck!!!

[toshidou]

I also think about the Valeria snippet you let us have a sneak peek, shes so [sighs dreamily]

since it's taking me so damn fucking long to finish it, i'll give you another little snippet <33

Hot pink blurs past your peripheral vision, eyes unable to track the movement as they disappear under your chin, and suddenly you’re all too aware of the pressure against your windpipe, lungs screaming as they’re cut off from much needed oxygen. It’s as though that singular movement choked the last of your self-restraint from an already fragile mind, your mouth opening before you have the chance to even stop it, not to release a strained wheeze, not to beg for her mercy, but instead, your lips part and you whine. The sound so deprived and desperate that the grip around your throat loosens, another whimper echoing off bloodied walls at the loss of her touch, your head craning forward, pushing yourself back into her deft hands.

“Diego. Out.”

“Valer—”

“Fuera. Ahora. Or I’ll feed you to my fucking dogs.”

[vampiredraws]

I fucking love the actor thats playing grover so much

[epickiya722]

Asui, she is a;

Surprise. 🍀

AND SHE'S JUST SO ADORABLE!!! 💚

[crushpunky]

drew and actress!reader on the kitten interview

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this was highly requested, hope you enjoy <3

“Not sure how I got the short end of the stick with these three.” Y/n teased as she crossed her legs in front of her, joining Chase, Rudy, and Drew on the floor of the interview space. Cameras and crew surrounded them, a small makeshift barrier of boxes dividing them from where the cast sat on the floor.

“Ouch.” Rudy said, placing his hand over his heart in faux hurt. Drew grinned, leaning back on his hands, his fingers resting closely to the curve of y/n’s back.

“Are we ready for the kittens?” One of the producers asked.

“Bring in the cats!” The four of them cheered, clapping excitedly as one of the crew members entered the space, kittens in hands. Y/n put her hands over her mouth, squealing quietly as they placed the tiny creatures down in front of them.

“How long until y/n starts crying?” Chase said, as they continued to watch the kittens stumbled along the ground.

“She already cried on the drive here so…” Drew said, causing y/n to elbow him before returning her attention to the cats. A small gray kitten waddled over, climbing its way into y/n’s lap, its paws padding along her legs softly. The four of them talked sweetly to the kittens as they continued to play, climb, and run along the set.

Who in the Outer Banks cast consistently makes you break character?

“Oh JD,” Rudy said, moving to lay on his back as a small orange kitten rested politely in his lap.

“Yeah…” Drew watched one of the kittens crawl along his arm. “Or Nick Cirillo.”

“Agreed, agreed,” Chase said. “Y/n?”

“Hmm?” Y/n asked, clearly still entranced by the gray kitten playing with the sleeve of her shirt. The boys broke into laughter, causing y/n to groan. Of course she knew it was going to be difficult to answer questions with the smallest, cutest creatures alive in front of her, but she at least thought she’d be able to answer one question.

“I’m sorrryyy!” Y/n laughed. “Um, I think I’d have to say JD or Drew.”

“Me?” Drew asked with a quirk of his head.

“Yes! It’s just so weird to see you acting like… for lack of better words, a crazy person.” Y/n grinned, her nails scratching the scruff of the gray kitten’s neck.

What’s your favorite behind-the-scenes memory from filming Season 4?

“Oh, probably when Drew dropped me on my ass.” Y/n said, causing Rudy and Chase to laugh at the memory and Drew to shake his head emphatically. They had been filming a scene where Rafe picked up y/n’s character, carrying her over to the couch, however, Drew had miscalculated and dropped y/n straight on the hardwood floor. He had felt so awful, stressing as a pretty gnarly bruise began to form along her back over the week.

“I’m sorry! It was an accident.” Drew groaned, running his fingers through his grown out buzz cut.

“I know, I’m just kidding, baby.” Y/n cooed, pressing a kiss to Drew’s cheek.

If you could create a playlist for your characters, what songs would be on it?

“Do you guys have playlists?” Drew asked, looking between his co-stars. 

“Oh yeah,” Rudy said, patting the head of the kitten sleeping soundly on his stomach.

“I’ve got like a lot of… dark stuff.” Drew chuckled, glancing over at y/n, who was entranced with the gray cat that was still lying politely in her lap. Drew noticed the sparkle in her eye as she tickled the cat playfully, the kitten letting out a small meow.

“Um, a lot of Taylor Swift, of course… some Fleetwood Mac.” Y/n answered, attention still on her new furry friend.

“I think you’ve got a new family member, Starkey.” Chase teased, pointing at the furball in y/n’s lap.

“Oh, yeah, I think Charleston needs a little kitten friend.” Y/n said, blinking her eyes at Drew playfully. Drew said nothing, just grinning and chuckling lightly.

What’s your biggest ick?

“If you don’t like animals.” Rudy said, y/n pointing at him with a nod. At her movement, the small gray cat in her lap leaped off her knee, landing on Drew’s stomach. The kitten crawled up before flopping down on his chest, wide eyes peering up at Drew. Y/n squealed, watching the little cat having a staring contest with big old Starkey.

“I’d say, um, being rude to service people. That’s a big ick.” Drew whispered, his hand moving to rest next to the kitten’s paws.

“I would say hating on people for liking things,” y/n said, scratching the gray cat’s head. “Like, let people like things. Who cares.”

“Yeah, I agree.” Chase said.

If Outer Banks could crossover with any tv show, which show would you choose?

“Seinfeld?” Rudy laughed, the orange cat resting on his lap stirring slightly as his stomach moved as he chuckled.

“I’ve been digging Rings of Powers lately. I think it would be kinda cool to be in Middle Earth.” Drew answered, sitting up slowly, the cat sliding to rest in his arms.

“Alright, nerd.” Chase teased, causing y/n to giggle and Drew to roll his eyes at the jab. Contrary to what his very frat boy-esque exterior may give off, Drew was a nerd at heart, more than okay with spending the night reading Harry Potter or watching Lord of the Rings.

“I’m gonna say, and I think JD and Austin would agree with me, It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia.” Y/n said, the boys humming in agreement.

“I feel like JJ would really get along with the Gang.” Rudy said.

Who was your celebrity crush growing up?

“Robin Williams. I had a huge crush on him growing up.” Rudy answered, petting the kitten in his lap softly. The gray kitten resting in Drew’s arm began to climb up his shirtsleeve, balancing on his forearm as Drew lifted it higher.

“Padme and Anakin in Attack of the Clones were… life changing.” Y/n said, watching the kitten walking carefully across Drew’s arm. One of the kitten’s paws slipped off, causing the kitten to fall and y/n to let out a small yelp. Drew was able to catch the cat’s small body before it fell too far, the cast letting our relieved sighs.

“You saved him.” Chase gasped, Drew lifting to hold the kitten against his chest, a sweet smile on his face. Y/n cooed at the way the kitten rested in Drew’s large hands, resting her head on Drew’s shoulder as the two of them looked down at the cat.

“Hmm,” Drew hummed quietly, “maybe Charleston does need a little friend.”

Y/n grinned, pressing a kiss to Drew’s cheek before squealing excitedly. Y/n turned to Chase, shaking his shoulders excitedly as Chase joined in on her excited squeals.

“Thank you Buzzfeed!” Rudy said, elbowing Drew playfully.

“Yes, thank you Buzzfeed!” Y/n joined, thanking the crew for their new furry friend.

[rucow]

made some shocking discoveries in regards to the 2004 poto film that may or may not have made me laugh hysterically bc i HAD a feeling this was true and . wow my intuition is on point

[mot-hesbian]

I'm going to say something a little controversial:

I don't think Ariana should have been cast as Glinda (that isn't the controversial part) contrary to some opinions that I've seen, I have total faith that she can NAIL Glinda's vocals. She has an incredible voice, that's kind of a fact, her range is very impressive. I do not, however, trust her with the acting or nuance needed to play Glinda, especially with her using the Cat voice.

Ariana isn't a terrible actress, she's decent, but you need to be able to pull off an "obviously feeling 5 polar opposite and distinct emotions at once while successfully covering them with a smile" to play the role. Plenty of Broadway Glinda's haven't been able to do that, very few acknowledge that she's angry and grieving during NoMtW, she legitimately just watched her best friend die in front of her, something I think truly makes a wonderful Glinda wonderful. Thank Goodness is a very complicated song, Glinda is seriously going through it and trying to hide the fact she's on the verge of having a total breakdown in front of a giant crowd she's meant to be cheering up and encouraging. She's trying to convince others that she is happy when she can't even convince herself.

Glinda isn't an easy role to play, it's a heavy responsibility. It's even harder when trying to play with the dumb blonde trope while also displaying the fact that Glinda is deeply intelligent, she just knows that that's not going to get her very far. As she knows, in Oz the most important is being popular.

****EDIT****

I have since made another post after watching the trailer, my opinions have changed as a result.

[dalekofchaos]

Doctor Doom gets ruined AND WHITEWASHED AGAIN!

4 attempts to get Doctor Doom right

4

And we STILL can’t get this right

A master of magic and science. A man who rivals Doctor Strange and Reed Richards as the most powerful sorcerer and the smartest man alive. He rules an entire country with an army of Doombots. Considered to be one of the greatest Marvel villains. And they still can't get him right. They have to make him a fucking Tony Stark variant. Tony Stark is not Victor Von Doom and Doom is above Tony Stark.

Victor wearing the mask always is integral to his appeal and aura like Vader's mask. It not only hides his vain scars he caused due to his failures, but it closes him off from humanity and makes him believe he’s beyond it.

As far as I'm concerned Marvel Ultimate Alliance and EMH are the only good adaptations of Doom

Doctor Doom being a romani man with a background CENTERING his family's racial persecution. with his ethnicity at the forefront of his motivations and his tragedy. and they really just brought back Robert Downey Jr.

Being romani is INTEGRAL to doom’s character and without that he’s not doom. he NEEDS to be romani and played by a romani character. full stop, don't believe me? Read Book Of Dooms.

Since 1964 Victor von Doom has been established as a Romani character. His childhood was filled with antiziganism and his parents deaths were caused by it. This later led him to become Doctor Doom and overthrow the Latverian government to protect his people

I am so fucking sick and tired of this whitewashing bullshit and the ethnoerasure of Marvel characters.

The Maximoff Twins, The Ancient One, Moon Knight and now fucking Doom.

God fucking forbid an actual Romani actor PLAYS A ROMANI CHARACTER.

But no they pulled another fucking multiverse shit all so RDJ could return and it all feels like blackface from Tropic Thunder

I DON'T GIVE A FUCKING SHIT ABOUT ANTHONY STARK FROM EARTH-11029 OR INFAMOUS IRON MAN

If you wanted evil Iron Man so fucking bad, why didn't you just do Superior Iron Man?

The LAZIEST, DUMBEST, most CONTRIVED BULLSHIT casting ever, Marvel continues to not beat the whitewashing allegations. Doctor Doom deserved better.

Romani actor Charlie Clapman was right fucking there AND HE ENDORSED IT!

I'd even suggest Romani actor Óscar Jaenada as Doom. Again another Roma actor who's actively interested in playing Doom

And you know what? As bad as the 1994 movie was, Joseph Culp the first actor to play Doom in the Fantastic Four (1994) movie by Oley Sassone & Richard Corman. Culp was also white but he very clearly cared for the comics background of Victor von Doom

and you also know damn well they're going to erase everything about Magneto too that makes him who he is… which is his entire fucking background. how horrible of a person do you have to be to repeatedly disrespect the minorities who created these stories?

Doctor Doom is Roma Romani. He is not white. The MCU loves to whitewash its Roma and Jewish characters and it’s time we called them out for it. Dr Doom is not a white man, he is Roma!

They will never nail down the complexity of Victor Von Doom

Every year Doom goes to hell to fight Mephisto to rescue the soul of his mother. He finally won her soul with the help of Doctor Strange only for her to reject him.

No evil Stark replicant will ever fucking match the complexity of Victor Von Doom.

I don't care if this is a one time thing for RDJ. They specifically chose to do this when the fans were begging for a fucking Romani actor. It also doesn't fucking help that Marvel has erased nearly EVERY fucking ethnic character has been whitewashed.

Scarlet Witch & Quicksilver: Erased Romani heritage and whitewashed. Moon Knight & Wiccan: Casted non-Jewish actors. Sabra: Featured in anything at all, and actress is an IDF soldier to make matters worse.

The MCU is full of ethnic erasure, military propaganda & racism. it’s disgusting this is continuing with Dr Doom’s casting. remember to continue to boycott marvel, because of the genocide they support by casting an iof solider to play a character from the zionist terrorist occupation

Dr Doom is one of those villains that it should be IMPOSSIBLE to fuck up but wasting him on a cheap Iron Man nostalgia casting pop might be the way

[lovelookspretty]

lover of mine

drew starkey x actress!reader au

— in which drew and y/n, secretly exes, must fake date in order to keep the peace at a mutual friend’s wedding, but the forced proximity makes them question whether they ever truly moved on.

warnings: a really long chapter part thing i fear . kisses .. maybe .. IM NOT SPOILING THIS

prev next

authors note: erm guys .. if im rushing this then do NOT pay attention !! I WANT THEM TO BE OKAY AGAIN JUST LIKE U GUYS I FEAR. I CANT HELP MYSELF. but do NOT think this is the end because this is NOT!! we still have to get through the rest of the second week + the wedding. and if u think about it, DAMN a lot happened in week 1 omg goodnight

anyway, if u still arent part of the tag list, feel free to let me know thru replies, anons, or dms !! notifications are always on <3333

you keep your distance from him the next two days. you know you have to face him, and sometimes you do, but you’re stiffer than before. he knows better than anyone to maintain that gap until you’re okay again.

it just feels like your breakup with him all over again, but this time, for a different reason other than having too much time apart. this time, you’re all he spends time with but there just happens to be something getting in the way of that. another girl. it isn’t fair.

drew’s been trying to show in little ways that he’s sorry, but it doesn’t cut it for you. not yet. and you don’t want to lead him by a string and take advantage of him caring about you. but him bringing you breakfast, then trying to avoid you throughout the day until you’re back in libby’s bed again—it’s just frustrating.

you don’t even want to be there anymore. you don’t want to have to deal with this. but it’s for leila and theo, their day is coming up soon. you just want them to have a good time and then you can all separate ways and live your own lives again. how it’s always been and how it should be.

the guys are getting ready to visit town while the girls stay back. this isn’t for you though, and you’re grateful. gia proposed a self-care day after a package was shipped to the home, a large box of cookies, and safe to say you all agreed to the plan.

“i’ve been trying to get back into reading but i feel like i have no time sometimes,” leila’s telling you and the girls as you set up shop at the kitchen island.

there’s an array of face masks, moisturizers, rollers, oils, creams, other things they’ve wanted to try. gia even brings her diffuser and places it nearby as the tv in the living room plays.

“i recommend ‘doomsday’!” libby perks up from across the table. “i read it last summer and let me tell you, i bawled crying for a month straight.”

“y/n, you read,” leila says as she files her nails, crossing a leg over another. “what are your recommendations?”

“hey,” theo greets leila as he and the boys join you four at the table, each with their respective girlfriend besides libby and oscar, and technically you and drew. he hovers behind you but just merely nods his head to say hello. “we’re gonna head out.”

“oh, okay,” leila says with a small frown, but kisses him goodbye. “drive safe, alright?” you’re winking at roman who points at you to say to behave, but he kisses gia’s cheek before he’s following theo out.

you answer leila from earlier with a shrug, “i’ve been wanting to find ‘the last love letter’ but i haven’t really been reading lately. been too busy.”

gia mouth gapes open as she slams her hand on the table, nearly knocking something over. “shut up, i’ve been wanting to read that too!” she shrieks as libby tells her to be more careful.

you can only giggle at her while she gets off her seat and comes up behind you to pull your hair and tie it back.

“that book is literally nowhere, i swear the author only made like five copies of it.”

“have you guys read ‘self sabotage’?” leila asks as she and libby, already prepared, begin to place their face masks on.

you’re on the couch with the girls as libby records you on her phone. the box of cookies are opened and after careful review, you’ve all decided what to try first and what comes after that, and so on.

“now?” you ask libby if she’s ready, and she nods. you, leila, and gia take a cautious bite out of the pieces you’ve broken off of the first cookie. it only takes you a few chews in to realize how heavenly it is. gia even pretends to faint beside you.

“holy shit,” leila says as she covers her mouth, taking a look at the cookie with wide eyes. “are you serious?”

libby lunges at you with her phone to take it from her, “well now i wanna try it!”

you’re in a fit of laughter as you try to turn the camera around before she can sink her teeth in, but she’s too fast. your eyes widen at the girl, “libby, slow down!”

and eventually, you’re full of cookies and half of them are still yet to be tried. you agree with the girls to continue this matter tomorrow if the boys don’t eat it all themselves, and you know they will. you’re just glad you’ve already tried all the ones you really wanted to before then.

when the guys get home, it’s exactly what you anticipated. they bee line directly to the cookies on the coffee table, but not without greeting you all first.

theo groans as he takes a bite, roman right beside him to stuff a whole chunk in his mouth. “this is better than sex,” he murmurs while roman snaps his fingers several times. leila can’t help but nod in agreement.

“i feel cookie-drunk,” you say with your hand on your stomach, and gia curls up into your side as she holds onto hers. “what’d you guys get?”

roman is quick to reach into his bag and pull out a couple of keychains, as if he just got reminded about something. he tosses one at gia’s head, and you look over to see what it is.

“the world’s okayest girlfriend,” she reads aloud, and she chucks it back at him, no longer accepting the gift that roman laughs about. she gets up to see what else is in his bag, leaving drew to plop down next to you and libby, who’s on the other side of you this whole time.

she’s cleaning the ice cream off her spoon when she speaks up for you and her, “what’d you get?”

“few things,” he says as he lets you look inside for yourself.

you pull out a long box and open it. it’s a chain bracelet, sterling silver. it’s nice, and you nod with raised brows. there’s other things inside that you only glance at, but when you look up at him you notice the new pair of sunglasses that’s resting on his head.

you pull it off of him silently and place it on yourself, unspokenly thanking him for the temporary gift you’ll give back later but you like them so now they’re yours for a few hours.

drew purses his lips and closes his bag, assuming you’re done, so he gets up and starts heading upstairs. you look over at libby. without hesitation, she asks, “you okay?”

you hesitate, and you know she’s only asking this because this is one of drew’s brief interactions with you since a few days ago. but you shrug it off, “yeah, i’m okay,” you say.

libby doesn’t miss a beat, she’s not convinced at all. she knows you well enough to understand what ‘im okay’ really means is ‘i’ll be okay’. that it’s not okay, but it will be eventually.

she’s seen this look on you before, during the hardest parts of your relationship with drew. she can feel the unspoken words between them, the ones you don’t even need to say out loud.

“right,” libby says with a soft sigh. she wraps her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. “you’ll be alright,” she whispers. you know she won’t pry further, but knowing that whatever drew did, it was enough to hurt you again.

after a few moments, she pulls back and, with a small smile, asks, “wanna help me with dinner soon? leila thought it’d be nice to eat out in the backyard tonight, by the pool.”

you hum softly, nodding your head, “yeah, that sounds good.”

libby grins, “awesome. ‘cause it’s pizza night and i cannot do it alone.”

the next few hours blur together. you’ve successfully prepared the pizzas with libby and slid them into the oven. now you’re cutting into them and displaying them outside on the table.

it used to be bare, but someone since morning has gone out there to help decorate the backyard to make it just a little flashier. there’s a cloth on the table, which is scattered with candles, flowers, dishes, platters of cookies, fruits, a charcuterie board, and there’s a helpful variety of drinks.

fairy lights blink across the backyard, even over the pool, and it illuminates the whole place. you place the different pizzas in between each candle piece, which libby lights as you do. when you call everyone outside, you join together at the table.

and once theo leads you once again with the ‘i’m grateful for my future wife’ shit, you get to dig in. you’re pretty sure it was longer this time around and even roman started to just eat until he was kicked under the table by drew.

“fucking finally,” libby murmurs under her breath after theo concludes his speech, to which causes him to pick up an olive off the plate and toss it at her. “yeah, you’re so lucky i like olives,” she whispers to herself as she rearranges her napkin, “fucking loser.”

“libby,” you scold, though you can’t hide your laugh. she’s grinning when she looks up, silently laughing with you.

when you turn to drew on the other side of you, he’s taking large bites from his slice. he tilts his head back with a groan, then takes a longer look at the pizza as he chews.

“s’it good?” you ask, and he nods rapidly, and soon his body moves with it. you bring yourself to smile, grateful that people you care about like what you’ve cooked.

you reach over to take your own slice from each pizza and just stack it on your plate, planning on going through them one by one from the one on too being the one you least want to eat, and the last at the bottom being the one you’re most excited for—a ‘save the best for last’ type of thing. it’s silly but you do it anyway.

drew’s finishing up his bite when he leans into you gently. “i have to talk to you later, by the way,” he says, and it sort of startles you because at this point you’re just talking to libby.

you look at him with furrowed brows, but again, you’re not mad. you’re not upset with him. at least not in this moment, you can’t be.

and it looks like he’s grateful because he can see it too. “if that’s alright with you,” he says, then takes another bite. you just nod at him in silence, and watch as he turns back to oscar who’s on his other side before talking to him.

you look straight ahead where roman’s sitting, and he sends you a look. he heard drew talking to you, he knows it must be about something important, but it’s not what’s on your mind right now.

you shrug it off. “—tell you later,” you mouth to him, then turn to libby when you realize she’s talking to you again.

after dinner, gia and leila clean dishes while literally all of the guys clean up outside as a thank you to you and libby, who lay across the living room with bellies filled with food.

there’s a movie playing on tv that you can barely pay attention to, but you’ve been laying there for about an hour so if you really want to, you could. you just play into the laziness that you’re allowed.

you hold your phone above you as libby rolls around the carpet, or at least that’s what you last saw her doing before you looked away. you’re scrolling through texts with your manager as if a new message will come in.

“did elyse get back to you?” libby asks, a face-full of carpet and it sounds like she’s just a few feet away. “about the thing.”

“no,” you mumble, then turn your phone off and set it face-down on the carpet, just like libby. the side of your head is laying on your arm as you look at her. “i could go for another cookie.”

“you ate three!” libby’s muffled voice raises.

“and i’ll make it four,” you tell her, raising your volume back. you consider getting up but don’t feel like it. you can actually lay here forever—maybe.

“y/n,” you hear his voice. it’s drew.

and you get up immediately. he was so softspoken, so cautious with you. he’s entering the house with the other boys who must’ve finished outside, meaning it’s time to have his talk. you almost ask if you guys can just have it there if it’s not that important, but if that’s possible then he wouldn’t be trying to get you alone.

you look over to libby, who—at the sound of drew’s voice—peeked her eyes out to see what he wanted. she looks to you, and she understands why you have to go. she convinces herself to get up and find the remote so she can turn the volume up.

you know it’s for you and drew, and a part of you wants to nudge her or be offended, and you do. is this going to be normal behavior in the house? turning up the volume just for you and drew when you guys need to have these ‘talks’ that are just screaming practice in disguise?

you’re almost embarrassed but you know that you’d rather have this than let them hear you two upstairs.

you follow him to your room, or technically his room as of three nights ago, and he lets you inside first. there’s a chilling feeling when you realize what’s about to happen and you feel like he’s literally about to murder you.

the room is clean, for the most part. you didn’t doubt for a second that he wouldn’t take care of this room regardless if you’re in it or not. his bed isn’t made and his backpack’s on the edge of it, opened and rifled through.

you look to him when you’ve entered, and he nods toward the bed, as if to say he would rather you sit there while you listen to what he has to say, so slowly, you make your way over and settle down on the edge.

drew pulls out a chair from the desk across the bed and turns it around, pushing it closer to you. you’re surprised that he’s doing a whole setup just to talk to you. maybe he really is going to kill you.

“i haven’t been honest at all . . . since we started talking again,” he begins as he sits down in front of you. you stay there and close your mouth. you want to hear what he has to say, even if it ends terribly. you need to hear what he’s been thinking. “so i’d like to tell you everything about this past year if you’re okay with that.”

you shrug and gesture to let him have the floor. “please,” you insist with a nod.

he sighs as he fiddles with his fingers in his lap. “there’s . . . mila," he starts, and even though you knew this conversation was coming, it still stings when you hear her name.

“i guess you could call it a situationship or whatever,” he says before he catches himself, realizing how that sounds. “i mean, to me, it felt like that. but i think—” he pauses, chewing on his words. “no, she definitely saw it as more. she always viewed it as a relationship.” he glances at you, watching for your reaction, but you just sit there, waiting.

he rubs a hand over his face, frustrated with himself. “we just weren’t on the same page. i was . . . i was using it to distract myself, if i’m being honest. and i know that’s not fair. i knew it even then. but it felt easier than than facing what i was actually feeling at the time.”

he continues, “i told myself it was nothing, but i knew, deep down, it wasn’t fair to her. she didn’t deserve to be strung along like that.”

you feel your chest tighten, but not from jealousy. it’s you knowing that someone else had been hurt in this too, someone who had clearly thought there was more between them. “does she know? about this?” you ask him.

he flinches slightly, as if the concern you’re showing for mila makes this even harder to explain for him. he hesitates, “i officially ended things with her three nights ago. the night you confronted me about her. i told her it was over, that i couldn’t keep pretending things were fine when they weren’t. she didn’t take it well. and honestly, i don’t blame her.”

you’re quiet for a moment—so he’s decided to keep you and him a secret from mila? to spare both his and her feelings? you aren’t sure if you should bring light to it or just push it aside. you did say before that it was ultimately his decision.

“i’m glad you told her,” you say carefully, but there's a pause before you add, "but i can’t imagine how confusing this must be for her.” you shift in your seat, rubbing your palms on your knees. “i mean, from her perspective, this whole thing must feel like it came out of nowhere.”

he swallows hard, nodding. “yeah, it wasn’t fair to her. not at all.”

there’s a beat. he looks at you, his expression more vulnerable than you’ve seen in a long time. “i told her about you,” he says. he’s quiet, as if he’s afraid of the confession. “i told her that i’m . . . that i’m still not over you. that i don’t think i ever really was.”

what?

you blink, startled by his words, though in a way, you’re not entirely surprised. you’ve felt the tension between you two from the moment you started talking again, but hearing him admit it, finally saying it out loud . . .

his voice is rough, like he’s forcing himself to continue. “but that’s why things with mila were never real. not for me, at least. i kept telling myself i could move on, that i could just forget, but every day i’d realize i wasn’t. i couldn’t let go of you.”

“but you broke up with me, drew,” you remind him. “that doesn’t necessarily sound like you’re in love with me.”

“i didn’t break up with you because i didn’t love you,” he says, his brows furrowed. “i do, more than i’ve ever loved anyone else.” his eyes meet yours briefly before dropping to his hands, which he’s fiddling with in his lap. “like, it was the opposite. i felt like i wasn’t enough for you. like i was failing you.”

you feel your breath hitch in your throat, but you don’t interrupt. you sit up on the bed.

he leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he speaks. “our jobs, the schedules, the distance . . . it was tearing us apart, you know? and every day, i’d think about how i wasn’t giving you what you deserved. we were supposed to click, supposed to last, but i felt like i was just holding you back.” his voice is quiet, and he rubs his forehead slowly. “and i couldn’t stand the thought of you waiting for me when i could never give you the time you needed. it was eating me alive.”

you stay quiet, but tears prick at the corners of your eyes. his words hit hard, and you feel like everything that was left unsaid was finally coming to light now—there were arguments that could’ve been avoided, the misunderstandings that built up. he was overthinking, spiraling, and instead of talking to you, he made the decision for both of you.

“and i just kept thinking, like . . . ‘she deserves someone who can be there for her, really be there. someone who can come home to her every night’. i wasn’t that guy. i’d go days without seeing you, weeks even, and it broke me.” he swallows hard again, shaking his head. “i convinced myself that you’d be happier with someone else. someone who wasn’t always on some stupid set, always busy.”

your heart aches as you watch him, his guilt written all over his face. you lean forward and whisper, “but you don’t get to decide that for me, drew. we make decisions together. or at least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“i know,” he mutters, his tone regretful. “i know that now. but back then, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i was . . . protecting you, i guess. from me.”

you shake your head, wiping at the tears that are now falling freely. “protecting me from you? drew, i never, ever wanted anyone else. i wanted you. i didn’t care about the schedules, or the distance. i would’ve waited, and we could’ve figured it out. together.”

his eyes finally meet yours again, and for the first time, you can see the depth of his regret. “when we broke up, i tried. god, i tried to move on. i tried to find something, you know? but i was always looking for you.” he takes a shaky breath. “every girl i met, i’d compare them to you. i’d look for pieces of you in them, trying to find something familiar, something that felt right. but it never worked.”

you knew he had tried to move on, but hearing that he was always searching for you in others, that no one ever compared. it leaves you speechless for a moment. if that’s what happened, then why invest so much time into mila?

you finally gather the courage to ask, “mila. did she . . . was she like me?” your voice is soft, almost hesitant, but you need to know.

“no,” he admits, shaking his head. “not really. mila was cool, and she’s . . . she’s great in her own way. but no. she wasn’t like you.” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. "but i remember i wanted her to be."

he didn’t try to replace you with mila, but it was clear that he had been searching for something, anything, to fill the void you left behind. and it never worked.

“no one’s ever going to compare to you, y/n,” he continues, “i realize that now. it took me a while, but i’ll always search for you in everyone, and it’s never going to be the same. it’ll never feel the way it felt with you."

for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally getting the truth. the real, unfiltered truth about why things ended the way they did. he wasn’t running because he didn’t care. he was running because he thought he wasn’t enough for you. and now, he’s sitting here, telling you everything he couldn’t say before.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper now, on the verge of crying. “i’m sorry for walking away. for not talking to you about it when i should’ve. i was scared. scared that i wasn’t enough for you, and scared that i never would be.”

you can feel the tears still lingering in your eyes, but there’s also a strange sense of closure. you’ve needed to hear this for so long, to understand why things fell apart the way they did. and now, you finally do.

“i messed up,” he says, “i messed up everything, and i know it. but i never stopped loving you and i’m . . . i’m still in love with you.”

you stay silent, blinking away the burn in your eyes, trying to absorb what he’s saying. part of you feels relief, but another part of you is cautious. you’ve been hurt before like this. by another and by him.

he watches you closely, and it feels like the longer the silence is, the more anxious he gets. “i know this doesn’t fix anything, and i’m not asking you to forgive me or take me back. i just needed to tell you the truth. i needed you to know that mila . . . ? mila was never you. no one is.”

the room feels too small suddenly, too full of emotions that you don’t know what to do with. you take a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts, but all you can manage to say is, “why now, drew? why are you telling me this now?”

his gaze softens, “because i didn’t want to lose you again. not without you knowing the truth.”

you can only look down at your lap. your vision blurs as you try to focus on your fingers, interlocked and tense in your lap, the pressure in your chest is tightening by the second.

you don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, so you hold everything in, to find the right words, but nothing comes out.

when you finally lift your head to look at him, the tears are already pooling in your eyes. you blink rapidly, trying to keep them from spilling over, but it’s useless. without saying anything, he stands up and pulls you into him, wrapping his arms tightly around your frame.

you let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding as your face presses into his chest, and it’s like the dam inside you finally breaks. the tears fall freely now, your body shaking as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arms around you—something you’ve missed so desperately.

and it’s not just about the last few days. it’s about the past year of missing him, of pretending you were okay when you weren’t. and you can tell drew needed this too. you can feel it in the way his grip tightens, like he’s afraid to let go, like he’s trying to hold together everything that’s broken between you both.

you stay like that for a long time, the sound of your quiet sobs muffled by his chest, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your back as if to soothe the ache inside you. it’s a comfort you haven’t felt in so long, and it is exactly what you’ve needed.

toward the end of it, your face still pressed against his chest, you mumble something, your words half muffled by the fabric of his shirt. he loosens his hold just a little, enough for you to pull back slightly, just enough to breathe. “i . . .” you take a shaky breath, your hands still gripping his arms, and when you finally meet his eyes again, you whisper, “i never stopped loving you either.”

the words hang between you, raw and honest, and as soon as you say them, you see the way his expression softens, like it’s the only thing he’s been waiting to hear.

his lips crash into yours, urgent and insistent. his fingers tighten against the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if he can’t get enough. his lips coax yours open, deepening the kiss, and he swallows the whimper that escapes you.

his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap as he sits back on the bed. he kisses you like he's been starved of you, his tongue swirling against yours, his hands exploring every inch of your face, your neck, your hair. this is what he’s been waiting to do.

his hands trail down to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and he breaks the kiss, only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “stay with me tonight?”

you can’t get enough of him, and although you know that everything can’t be completely fixed over just one conversation, sleeping and waking up in the same bed as him isn’t hurting anyone.

you nod, a soft smile on your face that causes him to grin. but he pulls away slowly hesitating for a moment, his smile growing a little wider as he reaches past you into his backpack, his fingers rummaging around as if he’s searching for something precious.

you watch him, curiosity bubbling inside you. what could he possibly have?

“hold on,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and filled with warmth, and you smile as you press another kiss to his.

finally, he pulls out a book, holding it out toward you with a look of pure joy on his face. you take a look at it but almost don’t even catch it the first time until a second later. your heart skips a beat as you recognize it—the last love letter.

“shut up,” you say, taking it into your own hands to see if it’s real. and of course it is.

he nods, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “i heard you talking about it with the girls before we left earlier,” he explains, but he knows you can tell already that much. there’s a goofy look on his face as he wipes underneath one of his eyes. “i knew how much you wanted it and i saw a copy in town, so . . .”

“no, shut up. i can’t take this,” you exclaim, feeling tears welling in your eyes. “star.” the words spill out, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming gratitude. it’s not just the gift; it’s the thought behind it that strikes a chord deep within you. you trace the cover with your fingertips as if it’s a treasured artifact.

he watches you intently. “i wanted to,” he assures you. “i heard it, i thought it would mean something to you.”

your gaze shifts from the book to him. “thank you, it does,” you whisper, your voice shaking as you blink out a few more tears.

you set the book aside momentarily, throwing your arms around him once again. the embrace feels like a lifeline. you hold him tightly, your heart racing as you bury your face against his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent.

he wraps his arms around you, holding you just as tightly, as if he’s afraid to let go. the world outside fades away, and in this moment, it’s just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, a bubble of intimacy where everything feels right again.

after a long pause, as you pull back slightly to meet his gaze, you can see the softness in his eyes. “you really didn’t have to do this,” you say again, looking down at the brand new book. “but it means the world to me that you did.”

he grins, “i know it’s just a book, but i wanted to show you that i’m here—like, really here this time.” and you are so glad he is.

“i missed this,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he closes his eyes for a moment, and you continue to explore the pages of the book, though your thoughts keep drifting back to him. aw you run your fingers through his hair, it dawns on you how much you've missed this—this connection, this easy banter, the comfort of being together.

“i missed us,” you finally admit, looking into his eyes, and in that moment, everything feels right again. it all floods back to you.

he shifts slightly, leaning in closer, and his arms slide to wrap around your waist as he lays his head on your shoulder to take a look at your book with you, his voice in relief as he mumbles, “me too.”

and you’re happy, it all just feels like your dream again.

@rubixgsworld @itgirlbrina @thepopcultureaddict @icaqttt @samsmelodrama @kissfinalgirl @itsamegazaddysworld @willowpains @toterry @wearemadeofstardust0 @cl4uus @maybankslover @itneverendshere @httpsdrewstarkey @ilyrafe @sunny1616 @pillowprincess4him @yootvi @matthewswifeeee @uwuemlwlrld @l4venderia @chenslucy @darkreymbow @congratsloserr @skyslowalking @behindviolettwrites @allthoughtsmindfull @lovelylupin04 @ecstqzy @dasguccier

[lemonlover1110]

Girl Dad

Dad Series

Kento Nanami

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Taking care of a baby and a five-year-old isn’t easy, but Kento has it covered. You have a bad cold, the man can’t let you near his daughters. You need to rest and he won’t risk having the girls sick. However, Kento didn’t realize how much of a handful they would be.

Suki herself is enough to fill up Kento’s plate, but having a ten-month-old baby on top of it makes his job even more difficult. Suki loves her little sister, don’t get her wrong, but she will ensure that she’s the favorite daughter even if that includes sabotaging a toddler. Kento knows it, that’s why he keeps his eyes on her.

But Kento can’t keep his eye on Suki at all times, especially when you’re sick. He’s trying to cook a nutritious meal, he can’t hold a baby that loves to touch everything. The easiest solution is to put her in her playpen while he gives Suki something to entertain herself with. It’s usually his phone, giving her a game to play before he begins his other duties.

Sometimes the phone isn’t enough to entertain her. Suki loves to wander around the house, painting on the walls, playing with your decoration, making “potions” with your lotions and perfumes– The list goes on. But sometimes all of that isn’t enough to entertain her.

“Daddy, can I paint your nails?” Suki asks, walking to the kitchen where Kento makes lunch for everyone. Soup for you, something bland for his picky daughters, and then something simple for himself. In other words, his hands are full.

“Later, Suki.” Is all he says, and Suki stomps her little feet, walking back to the living room with her kid nail polish. Her little arms are crossed, and she looks around for something to do, something that will express her anger. She looks down at her nail polish then she hears some cooing from the playpen, and a lightbulb turns on.

Not even five minutes pass, and Kento hears his eldest daughter yelling at the baby. He turns off the stove and walks to the living room to hear Suki yell, “Bad, Chichi! Bad!”

“She’s not a dog, Suki. That’s your baby sister.” Kento corrects her because Suki treats the baby as her dog. Kento walks over to the playpen, where Suki reprimands the baby. Suki’s nail polish is spilled in front of the baby, and before her chubby hands can lay on top of the puddle, Kento picks her up from the playpen. “What happened here?”

“I climbed into the pen to play with her but she grabbed my nail polish and started to throw it around. Like usual.” Suki is a great actress, sticking out her bottom lip and crossing her arms.

“Is that true Chichi?” Kento softens his voice while talking to the clueless, happy baby. She smiles, causing Kento to smile back at her. He kisses her chubby cheek before putting his attention back on Suki. He hates to reprimand her but he can’t let her get away with everything anymore. “I’m not a dumbass, Suki. You can start doing bad things and blame it on her when she’s two or three, right now that won’t work.”

“I’m telling the truth!” She claims, but Kento is hearing none of it. She knows it’s not believable but her daddy usually believes her every word, so she hoped this time around he would believe her again.

“Get out of there, Suki, and stop lying before I put you on timeout again.” Kento can’t believe the words he’s saying. Timeout? Really? He hates it, he’s supposed to support her with everything, not reprimand her.

“Can I go with mommy?”

“She’s sleeping. Now go sit down on the couch and wait for the food.” He’s very serious, she can tell, so she won’t challenge him anymore.

“Can I play with Chichi?” Suki asks as Kento walks back to the kitchen with the baby. He looks at his sweet smiley baby, who reminds him so much of Suki. And to think Suki blames everything on a replica of herself– But he reminds himself that he’s the reason she acts like a little brat.

“Next thing you’ll do is put your mother’s makeup on her, you’ll blame it on the baby and we all get yelled at. I won’t risk it.” He clicks his tongue. 

Kento has to find a way to get Suki to stop blaming everything on the baby, but he has a feeling that’ll take a while.

[0xstarzx0]

NDA: The moment happens when Rafe comes to see Sarah at the Pogues’ shop, but instead, he finds Kiara there. (ep:5 S4) English is not my native language!!

+18

"Rafe, if someone-" you started, but Rafe quickly silenced you by pulling off your panties. He growled, locking eyes with you.

"Listen to me, Y/N. Did you really think you could walk around in a miniskirt without there being consequences? Are you stupid?"

You shot him a glare. "Hurry up." Rafe smirked.

My god. This is so wrong.

Rafe had a girlfriend who loved him, yet here he was, with you bent over the counter of your older brother's small shop.

At first, you and Rafe saw each other as nothing more than casual hookups. You wanted to annoy your brother and his friends, and he just needed an escape from the pressure of taking over the Cameron family legacy.

Unfortunately for you, Rafe developed a serious thing for you.

You never thought that, in the middle of the day, he’d decide to visit his sister at her shop—and walk in to find you, wearing a miniskirt, tidying up the store.

Rafe enters you gently, he moans, and you arch your back slightly. Your nails dig into the marble of the counter. "Move"

He begins to move, his erection stretching you. You hold back every moan that threatens to escape, and you lower your head.

Rafe establishes a regular rhythm, his hips slamming against your ass with each deep thrust, deeper than the last.

You feel your insides lifting with each penetration, and you hold your breath again, your lips slightly parted.

Your eyes roll back, Rafe looks at your arched back, you're so easy to have. He slows his thrusts, no longer moving to stimulate your pleasure. You look over your shoulder and shoot him a cold glance. "I was enjoying myself."

Despite the icy glare, a smirk plays at the corners of Rafe's mouth. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers: "For someone who didn't want this at first, you're acting like a cheap whore." He resumes his thrusts with renewed vigor, each one harder and more brutal against your defenseless little pussy.

Your breath hitches as Rafe's cruel pace, his thick member slamming into you without mercy. You let out a cry of pain and pleasure, your body tensing as he hits a particular deep spot. "Rafe!"

Your moans sound like those of a porn actress, but this time, you're not simulating. Each cry is raw, genuine, torn from your throat as Rafe pounds into you relentlessly. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room.

A few boats pass by but don't stop, all eyeing the sordid little scene with disapproval and distaste. They quickly avert their gazes, unwilling to witness the brutal coupling unfolding on the shop.

You throw your head back against his shoulder, the position uncomfortable but the pleasure too intense. "I'm... I'm going to come!" you gasp, your voice strained with need.

Rafe's hand wraps around your throat, tilting your head to the side to expose your neck. He sinks his teeth into your flesh as he continues to thrust into you, the double sensation sending you over the edge.

Your inner walls begin to spasm, gripping Rafe's hardness tightly. Your eyes fly wide open, and you try to push away from him, but his iron grip holds you in place. Your legs turn to jelly, and you'd swear that no man could ever make you feel so helpless, so thoroughly owned.

Rafe's teeth remain buried in your neck as he feels your pussy clench around him rhythmically. He groans against your skin, the vibrations adding to your intense sensations. With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you, his own release hitting him hard.

After a few seconds of nothing but ragged breathing, Rafe pulls out and pulls up his shorts. "Tell Sarah I'm looking for her. And take a damn pill, I don't want to end up with the kid of a pogue under my arm."

"I love you too, you jerk." You mutter, rolling your eyes. Despite the harsh words, there's a tenderness in your voice that belies your true feelings.

Rafe nods curtly, his expression unreadable. With one last lingering glance over his shoulder, he turns and walks away, leaving you alone on the shop.

MY REQUEST ARE OPEN!!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Perfect Life || CL16 {4}

Summary: The plan is set and it's time to get things into motion. Warnings: angst, swearing, sarcasm, abusive parents WC: 2k

One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Two Weeks Later

You were barely through the ornate arch that separated the foyer entrance from the dining room when a fist of razor sharp fingernails cut into your upper arm. 

“Hi,” you greeted your mother as she dragged you into the room lit by a gilded chandelier. You were late to the regular Friday night dinner but time had slipped away from you at Arthur’s apartment. Charles had picked you up after flying in from Maranello and taken you to Monaco to finalise the plan after officially signing a contract his lawyers had drafted. The risk of exposure was too great to be an employee through his Ferrari team so everything had gone through his personal solicitor.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me you ungrateful little-sweetheart, you didn’t tell me you would be bringing a guest.” Your mother’s eyes widened as Charles stepped in behind you, his palm warming the small of your back. “I’ll have one of the maids set a place for you, Charles.”

You had coached Charles through the cutlery he could be expected to use, even in an informal setting such as a family dinner. The variations of forks would no doubt be a test that your mother would use to judge the latest guest. In return, he had posted cleverly taken photos throughout the week to ‘soft launch’ the relationship. 

“Madame Florence told me that you missed your piano session this afternoon,” your mother said sweetly, but her nails dug deeper into your skin. 

“That was today? It must have slipped my mind, you know what a ditz I can be.” Your aloof tone only set to anger her more but you knew she wouldn’t lash out while Charles was around. She always had to maintain the perfect image, like how her bruising grip was hidden by the sleeve of your shirt. 

“You play piano?” Charles asked as your mother turned on her stiletto heel and took her place beside your father at the head of the table. 

“Not by choice,” you muttered.

“Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and others have greatness thrust upon them,” you mother quoted Shakespear like the actress she had failed to become. “She might not be the first, but my daughter could achieve greatness if she applied herself and actually attended the lessons.”

“That must be the nicest thing you have ever said,” you commented as you took a seat opposite them. Charles pushed your chair in before taking his beside you where Alicia had placed a setting for him, an appetiser already waiting. “Charles is staying over so perhaps I can have some greatness thrust upon me tonight.”

Your mother choked on her negroni and the oyster fork slipped from your father’s hand, clattering to the fine china plate. Even Charles looked a little shocked but he quickly recovered.

“If that is alright with you of course, not the uh thrusting, but staying the night,” he said after clearing his throat. 

“This isn’t a hotel,” your father stated. “Or a brothel.”

“Not sure about that since everything around here is completely fucked,” you whispered to Charles and caught the hint of a smile before turning to the head of the table. “Father, Charles is my boyfriend - get used to having him around.”

Charles’ fingers laced with yours and he kissed your knuckles. “At least until you move in with me.”

“Let’s just take a step back,” your father chuckled. “Boyfriend?”

You nodded and watched the amusement fade. 

“You are dating the boy you spent weeks, months, crying over?” your mother asked with a laugh. 

“Really?” Charles asked behind the napkin that he patted along his clammy upper lip. 

“I was an emotional teenager, but I grew out of it - don’t take it personally,” you lied. 

The dishes were swiftly taken away and replaced with the main course and Charles frowned when he saw the child size portion on your plate. “We can share,” he offered, thinking that his sudden arrival for dinner meant the kitchen was short of food. 

“She’s on a diet,” your mother tutted. “It’s Social Season and we can’t have all those lovely gowns ill fitting.”

You stabbed the salad fork into a sweet cherry tomato and watched the seeds and juice splatter over the lettuce, morbidly imagining it was a certain someone across the table. You didn’t bother to even finish the plate of rabbit food before you excused yourself. 

“You can stay,” you said to Charles when he rose to follow. “They’ll let you have dessert.”

“I’d rather your company,” he replied before turning to your parents. “Enjoy your evening.”

You felt his presence following closely up the stairs and you knew he was biting his tongue from the waves of discontent that seemed to physically roll off him. The second floor of the mansion was quiet as you walked the hallway and turned a corner to see Alicia step out of the staff stairwell. 

“Rough night,” she said with a sad smile and held out the tray of food Chef Alain had prepared. This time there were two portions of dessert. Her eyes darted to Charles and she started to speak before closing her lips. Finally, she worked up the courage and asked, “Are you alright? I can call Franco.”

You smiled genuinely at her concern and placed a hand on her shoulder to reassure her that Charles was a welcome guest. “I’m fine, thank you, no need for the big guy. But, could you please let him know we’ll be heading out the south entrance tonight?”

Alicia nodded and relaxed slightly. Unable to fight the habit, she bobbed sedately and ducked back into the shadows of the stairwell. Your parents may have acted like the house staff didn’t exist but they were always around, and they always saw what the outside world didn’t. You would have lost your sanity long ago if it weren’t for their help, even if it meant risking their jobs. 

Charles took the tray from your hand and you opened the plain white door that looked just like the others down the hall. He remained silent as he cast his eyes around the room that dripped lux from every surface. The plush carpet absorbed his footsteps as he stepped into the sitting room and the sheer curtains wavered in the breeze coming in from the sea beyond the wide balcony. In one adjoining room a large canopy bed spread across a wall decorated with blue and silver hand painted damask designs while an equally large desk sat in another connected by open glass doors.

“Hmm,” he hummed as he placed the tray on the coffee table and continued his quiet judgement walking around the rooms. 

“Still not up to your standards?” you asked as you followed him to the bed that he sat comfortably on, toeing his shoes off before kicking them up and reclining back among the pillows.

Charles smirked and shrugged his shoulders. “I think I like the dump better, at least it has some personality. You don’t even have any photos on the wall.”

You thought about correcting him again for calling your sanctuary a dump, but gave up on the idea. Instead, you reached under your bed for the duffle bag you kept there and disappeared inside your wardrobe to pack. “You’re in luck, that’s exactly where we are crashing tonight.”

You dumped the bag on the floor in your spacious closet and dropped to your knees before rummaging around the bottom shelves. You pushed aside a box of Prada pumps you hadn’t yet worn and found what you were looking for as a shadow dimmed your light.

“Why aren’t we staying here?”

You looked up to find Charles towering over you and sat back on your heels, pulling the gym gear onto your lap. “It’s Friday, I have a fight.”

You stuffed a sports bra and shorts into the duffle bag before adding a pair of sneakers, knuckle tape and Vaseline in too. Lastly, you grabbed the hoodie Charles had given you and tossed it on top. 

“You don’t have to fight anymore,” Charles said, blocking your exit from the small room. 

“I’ve never been forced, the whole point is that it is my choice. Now move aside.”

He ignored your request and stayed planted in the doorway as you stepped closer. “Your mother said you cried over me. Why?”

Your back stiffened and you swallowed at the memory. “You’ve seen my family, I had plenty to cry about. Maybe I blamed you one day when she caught me.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Believe what you want, I don’t care.” You tried to duck under his arm and escape but he was quicker and dropped it, catching you around the waist and tugging you against his body. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek and just how strong his body was as his arms tightened their hold. 

“I think you’re lying and I want to know why.”

“What good would the truth do?” You craned your neck to look him in the eyes and wondered when he had grown so tall. “Do you enjoy feeling guilty?”

Charles’ eyes bored into yours and you noticed the little crinkles around them as his frustration grew. “Just tell me, please.”

Your resolve broke and you shoved against Charles until you had the space to breathe. “I never got to say goodbye to him.”

His brows pinched together in confusion. “Who, Jules?”

“God, I hated you,” you laughed humorlessly as you sat on the edge of your bed and looked at your hands fidgeting on your lap. “Things were great before you came around, not here, obviously, but with the Bianchi’s. We would go karting on the weekends, Mélanie would let me help her bake. I didn’t know what a home felt like before then.”

The bed dipped as Charles sat beside you and took your hand. It was one thing to act as if there was a relationship but your heart stammered a little when he brushed his thumb over your knuckles. “I’m sorry.”

“I know now that my father already had plans for Jules before you met him, but that was when I noticed things started to change. Whenever I went to their house he would disappear, then there were no more karting days. Whenever I asked, he was busy karting with you. I thought you stole him from me.”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“But it made you cry.”

Your shoulders jumped with a clipped laugh and you shook your head. “You know, I never went back to the hospital after that day.”

“What day?” Realisation dawned on his face and his hand slipped out of yours as he covered his mouth. 

“I never got to finish the story. I never got to say goodbye,” you whispered as your voice broke and fresh tears burned your eyes. “And that is why I need to fight. There is so much anger inside me that I don’t know what else to do. It’s just sitting here,” you beat your fist against your hallow chest, “burning a fucking hole through me.”

A sob cracked the room as you admitted aloud for the first time something even Arthur didn’t know. You let Charles see just how close to the edge you really were and how little it would take for you to break. Strong arms enveloped you and pulled you onto his lap as you fell apart. You tried desperately to shut yourself off from the emotions but you had let too many through that it was impossible. 

“I hate you,” you rasped as you hit his chest. The punches were weak without the space to swing your body behind it, but somehow it served to hurt him more. He knew you were stronger and seeing your feeble attempts crumble cleaved his chest apart more than your words. “I hate you, Charles. I fucking hate you.”

“I know,” he whispered as he held you closer and took each hit he more than deserved. “I hate me too.”

Part Five.

[fangedhorizon]

I absolutely love the idea that Claudia’s actress change between s1 and s2 is also because of Louis as an unreliable narrator. While yes, it can be said that it was due to Bailey Bass going to work for avatar, I think it also does wonders for the story.

Through the interview, Louis is beginning to piece his memories into a more full, coherent picture. He is losing some of the bias from emotion and inconsistency from memory as he relives his past. Therefore, the change of Claudia between seasons could still be relevant for the plot.

In the first season, Bass’ Claudia looks more like their child. Of course, interracial couples can have kids of all different shades (I am mixed myself), but it’s interesting to consider this Claudia as an unreliable construction within his memory. This Claudia, the one he reminisces during his ‘golden years’ before everything went downhill, looks like she could be their love child if biology allowed it.

As the fruit of the disaster that is them, the peeling band aid holding together a dying marriage, it wouldn’t surprise me that Louis remembers Claudia as looking like both him and Lestat. She is both the best and worst parts of them, sharing a mental connection with Louis (literally) and an emotional one from his coddling. Yet, she inherently acts like Lestat as well. Much to Claudia’s dissatisfaction, she cannot escape his likeliness, cannot help but think like him. She uses this to her advantage at the end of season one, but knows he will return because of Louis’ fragility.

After being turned while grieving Paul, all Louis knows how to do is love, and protect. But he cannot protect Claudia from her fate, which Lestat tries to tell him. By possibly envisioning her as a more traditional mix of the two of them, perhaps Louis is trying to offload some of the blame and guilt to Lestat, while simultaneously knowing subconsciously that he still played a major role in her doomed existence. Claudia is the byproduct of two broken hearts desperately trying to heal, which the dark gift does not allow.

It was never about her.

In the second season, she resembles him more as he comes to terms with his involvement in her death. Or, she has taken on a less biased appearance as Louis becomes less unreliable. Or, the memories are so vivid that no amount of self-preservation could alter her, leaving Louis’ guilt to construct her image. Perhaps he sees himself in her, or sees his family in her, sees Paul in her. He couldn’t save her, just like he couldn’t save Paul.

His nurturing nature within his retelling is thrown into question as he experiences neither her birth nor death, yet Lestat witnesses both. Louis is blinded by his pain, the ache left in his heart from his inability to protect, whilst Lestat must watch as the child he loved and detested (not in equal parts, I will die on the hill that Lestat loved Claudia in his own fucked up way, one that he learnt from Magnus’ torture) be birthed without her consent and die without her consent.

He must watch on as his fledgling achieves what he never could - true love. He must watch her sing, still serving a performative function in her last moments. She is nail glue for their dying relationship, then she’s a crowbar from a shitty marriage, she is a weapon to protect Louis from the world and himself, only to be a doll, positioned on stage as the crowd puppeteers her demise.

Claudia was never her true self in Louis’ retelling, nor will she be in Lestat’s. Even in death, Claudia only serves a function for storytelling, unable to give us her side of the story. But how could she?

It was never. about. her.

[kitkat13001]

⋆｡°✩🎃 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚝

>> tomura shigaraki x civilian!reader

>> cursing, reader is scared of horror movies, mentions of serial killers, weapons, typical halloween stuff etc

tomura’s pretty sure your ear-splitting, blood-curdling scream can be heard across the entirety of japan. 

all he had done was tap on your window, same as he had every time he visited you. except that he had done so as you were in the middle of a horror movie, and now he’s pretty sure his ears are bleeding. 

he’s quick to climb inside and cover your mouth, shushing you gently with his arms around you while he waits for your heart rate to return to normal. 

“your neighbors are going to start asking questions,” he grumbles once he lets you go (after you’ve stopped shaking). 

you wave a dismissive hand. “they don’t give a damn. they’re all ten times worse than i am. ‘sides, if any of them give me shit, i’ll just send my evil villain boyfriend after them.”

this elicits a laugh from him. 

you settle back onto the couch while tomura makes himself comfortable, hanging up his coat and taking off his shoes before coming to lay out beside you. 

he squints at the screen, the horrified face of jamie lee curtis staring back at him. “whatcha watchin’ that’s got you so freaked?”

you bunch up the blanket all the way up to your face, burrowing into his side. “halloween, 1978. one of my coworkers bet i was too scared to watch a horror movie, so i’m gonna show her.” you murmur a spiteful ‘bitch’ under your breath and it makes tomura chuckle. 

“oh yeah,” he agrees sarcastically, nudging your leg with his own. “you and your little blanket against the world.”

you shoot him a look, sitting up to glare at him. “i can be brave!”

tomura just stares blankly, not dignifying you with an answer. he knows you can’t, but he doesn’t want to burst your bubble. 

you huff at him before collapsing back against his side, hitting play on the movie. 

the actress is mid-scream—you had to have known based on the way the movie was paused—but you jump anyway when she screeches. 

tomura tries not to laugh. 

it goes on like this for the next hour. you’re watching the movie from behind your blanket, nails digging into tomura’s arm, and he’s watching you as you jump and flinch and bury your face in his side. 

you sit, horrified, as the credits roll. 

“that was awful.”

“yeah,” tomura agrees, throwing a piece of popcorn at the screen. “the kill scenes were shit.”

“but the music was so damn creepy!” you insist, shivering. you lay against him for a while longer, letting the credits roll as you get comfortable. 

tomura’s nearly dozing off when he feels you tug on his sweater sleeve. 

“tomu, i have to pee.”

he peeks one eye open at you to give you a look before he leans his head back again. “okay?”

“come with me!”

“to pee?!”

“what if michael myers is in the bathroom?!” you cry, pulling on his sleeve insistently. 

he groans loudly, grumbling and complaining the entire way to the bathroom as you drag him with you. 

you shove him inside first, flicking on the lights with a yelp. 

“now check behind the shower curtain,” you tell him with a shooing motion. 

“you’re shitting me.”

“tomu!”

he huffs, knocking your curtain aside to check for serial killers. “see? no psychopaths in here.”

“except for you,” you giggle as he scowls at you. you make your way to the toilet, but he flicks the light off and you scream. 

he snickers at your cursing, dodging the roll of toilet paper you throw at him when you come out of the bathroom. 

“you’re such an asshole!”

he pulls you in as you grumble, but succumb to his warm embrace. 

“don’t be such a baby. you know i’d never let anything happen to you. some psycho with a knife’s got nothin’ on me, sweetheart. it’s me they should be scared of.”

you give a little ‘hmph’, but his words ease your nerves a little. that, and the warmth and safety of his arms around you. 

the way you burrow further into him, hands gripping the sides of his hoodie, makes him smile a little. tomura’s not capable of a significant amount of good, being a villain and all. but protecting you is, and will always be, second nature to him. 

i just watched halloween for the first time and was thoroughly creeped out. i hate horror movies, in case it wasn’t obvious. but i wanted to write something for tomura for the spooky season! stay tuned for spooky dabi :p 👻

- 𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚢 !