#truly. he's a pathetic narcissistic little boy.

[britneyshakespeare]

That manipulative, guilt-tripping, gaslighting and condescending ex-friend I've been subposting about every now and then for several months because his actions and words have made a paranoid wreck out of me, who suddenly stonewalled me three months ago after I set up my very first impersonal boundary with him, and then I just never reached out to him again because I realized what he was trying to do was get me to crawl on my knees and ask HIM for forgiveness for hurting ME... he messaged me today. With a laundry list of excuses and justifications in the form of an "apology" filled with fake compliments and self-pity and words put into my own mouth that I had never said to him.

I let him HAAAAAAVE it motherfucker. Well Mr. Krabs, do you wanna know what I think?

[cherry-leclerc]

fucked-up little thrill ☆ cl16

genre: pwp but also porn with plot (the best of both worlds!), humor, she truly is a maneater in disguiseee

word count: 8.3K

There’s a difference between warning and danger - you happen to be both. Though, Charles only sees the green light, go. Well, we can all imagine how this will already go.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+...oral (m and f receiving), fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, riding, slight cry, unprotected sex

inspired by this and this !

“She’ll mess with your head, man. You’re going to wish she had never looked your way.” 

“I told my mom about her. Crap, I bought her an engagement ring after a few days of knowing her.”

“Four words: Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

“Do you know how fucked in the head you have to be in order to willingly go after her? Fucking pathetic. Sure, I did the same, but hear me out-”

Despite the warnings, he didn’t pay them any attention. He thought he was going crazy for sure when he saw two guys on their knees, begging:  Run, just do it. And whatever you do, don’t look back.

Charles wasn’t even listening. 

-

The nights were beginning to get warmer, yet there was still a slight breeze. Spring was rolling in. What an innocent season to meet the wildest card Charles has ever dealt. 

“...then she laughed so hard that, Jesus Mary and Joseph, my heart went bananas! Y’know what I did next? I asked her, ‘You want a slice?’ I meant the tiramisu, guys! She thought I was talking about myself! T’was the most embarrassing thing. Made me look like a bloody narcissist.” Lando whined as he leaned onto the table to hide his face.

George snorts. “Ah don’t worry mate, I would gladly take a slice.” Lando groans, further rubbing his forehead onto the table. So much so, that it began to squeak.

“Alright, calm down before you shed your skin off. It wasn’t that bad.” Alex voices, as he pops a curly fry into his mouth. 

“Easy for you to say! You basically have the person you’re going to get married to! You’re safe.” The Brit pouts. He then lifts his head up and wipes away a single tear. Everyone explodes into laughter.

“Muppet, c’mon we were kidding! Weren’t we just fooling around, Charles?” Carlos wiggles his eyebrows at the Monegasque. Charles rolled his eyes playfully.

“Yes, of course we were joking,” he starts. Lando looks up, seemingly feeling better as everyone began to agree. We were just playing around!

“Then again, how did you even fall for a girl like that?” Charles finishes his sentence. 

“Argh. You don’t get itttt,” Lando wails in defeat. “When you meet a girl like that, you don’t question it. You just thank God for sending her your way and then BAM! She just walks out of your life.”

Hm - Charles thinks to himself as he takes a sip of Martini - naive, naive little Lando. 

-

Charles met you that same night he was out for dinner with the boys. He was waiting for his car from the valet; shooting Joris a quick text.

"Sorry," he overhears a soft voice, but still didn’t pay much attention.

"Sorry? You’re sorry? We both know goddamn well that you’re sorry about nothing. Nada. Zeeerrrooo," a man's voice angrily shouts back, voice slurring. 

Charles turns and sees a man running his hands through his blonde hair, walking back and forth in despair. Then, his eyes move to find you.

Standing tall in the tightest, shortest, black dress he's ever seen. So, the little black dress truly does exist. Glowy skin shining through from the lights decorating the outside of the restaurant. Your legs appear miles long, feet paired with your nicest set of heels, Joli Queen Glitter. Red fucking bottoms. Christian Louboutin at its finest. Rich jewelry sits on your wrists, fingers, and neck. 

Even with all that in the way, all he notices is just how drop-dead gorgeous you are. Suddenly, his fingers get clammy. What the hell? His jaw was clenched. Literally, why? His pants were growing tight because oh God he was already har- Alright, now that’s just crazy, Charles. Get it together.

“Yes. Whether you believe me or not, I’m sorry. Maybe you just shouldn’t have set high expectations,” you spoke, looking down.

“Are you being fucking serious right now? You’re smiling? You think this is funny! Oh God, what the fuck is wrong with you, you crazyyyy bitch!” The man continues, sharply pointing his finger at you accusingly. He genuinely looks like he’s about to start crying for his mommy.

“Okay mate, I think that’s enough. Why don’t I call you a cab?” Charles speaks up from where he’s standing. You and the mysterious guy turn to look at him. 

You shoot a smile as the man's eye starts twitching.

“Oh great! Great, great, great,” the man chants. “What an idiotic thing to believe that you hadn't gotten rid of me already! How could I not see it coming?” He drops to his knees and starts rocking back and forth. “On my dead hamster's birthday!” Levi, Charles later finds out, cries out to the sky. “Couldn’t this have happened any other day?” Charles cringes. “Call me that shitty ass cab, dude.”

So, you stand close by as Charles helps plop Levi inside with the help of the cab driver. They buckle him up and off they go. 

Not before Levi pokes his out the window. “I swear I’m not being bitter when I tell you to fucking save yourself!”

Both of you are left there standing quietly. You pout your red lips as you pull out your phone to call a cab for yourself. 

“Need a lift?”

-

Glancing around silently, you sneak a look at Charles. Handsome, you ponder, just a tiny bit. Outrageous lie. You quickly scold yourself for being so untruthful. This man was the most beautiful kind you’ve seen in your entire life. 

“Take it that was your boyfriend back there?” He taps his fingers against the wheel.

“Mmm. Hardly. No, he isn’t - wasn’t - my boyfriend by any means. Some guys just instantly assume stuff over any girl that pays them any ounce of attention.” You lazily trace shapes onto your thigh. You tug your dress down a bit, licking your lips. “Thanks for helping me out back there. It was really sweet.”

He notices the way you never look up from your lap as you’re speaking. It’s kind of endearing, just how soft you can be. “Don’t mention it…it was…no problem.”

He walks you from his car to your house. It's small, pastel yellow with a mailbox that reads; No more love letters. Seriously. “Cute,” he comments. You blush.

“Oh, that. Sorry, I live with my two best friends and they wrote that as a joke,” you ramble as you click your heel shyly. “They said it would help out with my, and I quote, ‘secret admirers.’” You let out a tired laugh as you finally build up the courage to look at the man standing right in front of you.

“To be honest, that makes sense.” He tilts his head a bit, analyzing your eyes. “Beautiful girls should receive beautiful letters.”

Tongue tied, you stare back with a pleased smile. 

“This is so unlike me, but would you like to go out some time?”

Easiest question ever asked.

-

A few nights later, he finally decides it would be a good day to take you out to dinner. Testing went well and the car was finally on the right track. He took this as a good omen.

“How long have you lived in Italy now?” you quiz, as you bring your Shirley Temple closer to your lips.

“Oh, um, for quite a while now. I mean it’s really only for work. I go home any chance I get.”

“Sweet. Where are you from?”

“Monaco.”

Your eyes grow wide with excitement. “Really! Monaco is so beautiful!” Your childlike squeal makes him smile brightly.

“Have you ever been?” You sadly shake your head, hair bouncing back and forth. Soft floral fills the air.

“Nope, but I wish to one day. I just know I’ll love it so much…” You trail off. “It’s just that growing up my favorite movie was Monte Carlo. Would beg my mom to play it any chance I could.” Maroon coats your cheekbones. He furrows his dark brows in confusion.

“Monte Carlo? You know, starring Selena Gomez?” His soft features pinch together. “...Leighton Meester? Katie Cassidy?” You desperatelyspit your words, trying to assist. He continues shaking his head. Never heard of it.

Your mood grows sulky as you pout. Leaning back, you finally take a sip of your drink. Oh, well now I really want something stronger than this.

“I would love to watch it some time though!” Charles tries as his voice cracks. He winces.

“Sure!” Though, you're not looking at him anymore. Your eyes are trained behind him. He’s about to turn around and ask if you’re fine, when you finally speak up. “I think I’ll go to the bar for another drink. Be right back!” He huffs. 

You weren’t back for almost too long. Finally, deciding to go look for you, he stands and takes long strides all around the dark restaurant. When he finds you he sees you’re not alone. 

A man in an all black suit seems to be your new company. You giggle as he appears to slide some type of business card to you. Just as you're about to grab it Charles strolls over to you both.

“Is your drink finally ready?” he asks as he wraps a protective arm around your waist. You flinch. You hadn’t even seen him walk over.

“Charles!” you shriek, as you crumble the piece of paper into the palm of your hard, hurriedly. You pray that he hadn’t noticed, but he had. Something inside of him told him not to ask. “I was actually on my way back. Did you need anything? A drink?” you ask, furrowing your brows attentively. 

“No, thank you, amour,” Charles warmly replies, looking into your glossy eyes. You truly were the best thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

“My apologies for getting in the way.” The man extends his hand out to Charles. “Aiden Quinn, pleasure to meet you.”

Charles may be upset that Aiden ruined his date, but he wasn’t keen on being rude, so begrudgingly, he shook his hand. “Charles Leclerc.” See, normally Charles isn’t the type to throw his name out like that expectantly, but he felt as if he had a point to make. He did, though. I was here first. 

The man grins ear to ear, nodding. “Yes, that’s where I know you from. I knew you looked familiar. Formula 1 driver, right? Ferrari?” He points with a knowing smile. 

“Scuderia’s number one driver, yes.” His grip around your waist stays secure. Meanwhile, your eyes are open to their fullest. Surprisingly, you had no idea. 

“Certainly. I’m one of the team's ambassadors, actually,” Aiden challenges. Charles clenches his jaw. “When you have million dollar businesses all around the world, you try to find a place to help. Ferrari really needs it at the moment.” You’re equally as shocked with Aiden as you are with Charles.

“Well then, I’ll make sure to dedicate my next podium to you I suppose." You shift uncomfortably. This reminds him you’re there. With him. Ha! Take that, Quinn! “Anyhow, I would love to chit chat with fellow fans, but I must say we have to get going.” He holds your hand firmly as he leads you out.

“Goodbye, Aiden!” you beam as you depart ways. 

-

“Formula 1 driver now, is it?” you curiously ask as you look over where he has one hand over the steering wheel and running the other calmly through his hair. 

“Thought you knew.”

“I had no clue! Zip!” you shriek as fling your arms through the air. He laughs as he pulls into an abandoned parking lot. 

“In the mood for something sweet?”

-

“Grazie mille,” the Monegasque says as he's handed cones of freshly made gelato. Smiling, he makes his way back to you. Hands you per requested raspberry, as he keeps his lemon one. 

“Molto gentile.” You inspect and nod your head in approval. Just hearing your tongue curl in Italian has him swooning. You take a lick and release a soft moan. “So sweet. Best I’ve ever had,” you declare as you continue enjoying your treat innocently.

Charles gulps, trying to cool down. “I told you it was the best.” He shoots a wink over to Luca, the owner, for keeping the shop open for a few more minutes. 

“You scared me a bit back there.”

“Pfft. With that Aiden guy…I’m sorry about that–”

“God no. Honestly, I completely forgot about that,” you mutter. “I meant with that whole, ‘In the mood for something sweet?’. Thought you were like the rest.”

The 25 year old keeps quiet for a minute. He gathers his thoughts before settling with, “I promise I’m not.”

“Keeping my fingers crossed you aren’t.” You look around with twinkling eyes. “You know, a date I once had asked me-”

You want a slice?

No.

“It shocked me how straight forward he was being. It wasn’t even our second date! I barely even knew the guy.” You frown at the memory. “Then he blamed it on the tiramisu.”

I meant the tiramisu, guys!

God no. 

“Never saw him again,” you finish as you finally focus back on him. A pale Charles is all you find.

“Woah, are you okay?” 

“Yes! I’m so good! You look lovely! Did I mention it already cause if I didn’t then call me the worst date ever!” He begins nervously laughing. His gelato dripping all over his arm.

“I think you did.” You smile as you hand him a few napkins. He returns the gesture, thanking you. “And don’t worry about it, leave that spot for Lando. Now he might take the crown.”

Charles let out a groan.

-

Charles went back and forth deciding whether he should reach out to you. He liked you. A lot. Nonetheless, he was hesitating because he just couldn’t do something like that to Lando. The Brit was as bummed out as one could get. So, it's settled. Bye bye baby.

“Of course. Tonight at 8,” your voice confirms on the other side of the line. Charles celebrates with a quick dance.

“See you then.”

-

He decides today that he wants to switch things up. Do something that would make him stand out from anyone that came before him. 

“Monaco?” Leaning on the hood of Charles' car, you feel you have to be dreaming. He nods his head lively.

“I could show you around, y’know be your personal tour guide.”

“You should have warned me! I don’t have anything ready!” you yelp as you hold your hands over your heart, frantically. He would be more worried if it weren’t for you smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

“We still have time. Come on, I’ll help you pack.”

-

When you make it to Monaco you’re greeted by a young guy wearing glasses, driving a Ferrari Pista. Charles and him fit in a quick embrace before they turn their attention back to you.

“Ah yes, this is Joris. He’s one of my closest friends,” Charles states as you warmly reach for a handshake. 

Reciprocating, Joris says, “Very nice to meet you.” You smile, returning the greeting. “Must say, you are just as beautiful as Cha had mentioned, if not more.” You blush as Charles clears his throat awkwardly.

“D'accord, mec. Pas besoin de le dire au monde entier,” Charles mutters. “Thank you for picking us up.” Joris nods, carrying your luggages. You share a quick goodbye before he finally makes his way to another car. “That’s also one of my very good friends, Marta.” You smile and wave as they drive off. 

Monaco definitely met your expectations. Everything just captivated your attention so much that you wouldn’t be surprised if you started to drool. 

“Holy shit. Your home is absolutely stunning!” you gasp. He wheels your bags in as he exhales.

“Merci. Make yourself at home.”

-

Thankfully, the flight was quick so you both have plenty of energy to go out for a late night snack. He takes you to his; Favorite place in the world! You’ll see.

A little stand sits in the corner of the street. 

“Lou makes one of the best crepes. Trust me, I’ve been a loyal customer since my school days.”

A little old lady is attending to customers, but stops as soon as she spots Charles. “Charlie! Chérie, je ne savais pas que tu étais de retour!” She makes her way around to hug him.

“Des projets de dernière minute, mais j'ai juste envie de manger une de tes incroyables crêpes,” he replies, as they pull away.

“And who is this pretty girl?” she questions as she looks at you, standing there patiently.

“Oop, hello. I’m a friend of Charles.” Lou smiles teasingly.

“Charlie, tu es là pour me dire que tu vas te marier?” Lou suddenly looks over the moon.

“Non!” he quickly shouts, so suddenly, you and Lou both jump a bit. Tight lipped, he apologizes.

“Like she said, we’re just friends."

-

The next morning after breakfast he recommends you bring something you can swim with. Skipping your way to his room, which he is kindly sacrificing for you, you roam through your luggage until you find a baby blue bikini. 

“You don’t get sea sick by any means, right?” He looks over at you with scrunched brows underneath a pair of glossy black Ray Bans. You shake your head.

“Great.”

You make your way to a tiny boat before he helps you settle in. You grab his hand softly as you step into it. A single touch of electricity seems to link your fingertips. It catches you both so off guard that he lets go of you so swiftly, you don’t even notice as you plunge into the water.

You let out a quick yelp before you go underwater and his hands fly to his head in embarrassment. You resurface with wet hair covering your face.

“Oh my God, I am so sorry!” he apologizes before extending his arm out for you to grab. Pushing your hair out of your face, you giggle. 

“It’s okay, I got it.”

Once you independently get on the boat, he unties the rope off the deck and takes a seat himself to drive you both to the unknown destination.

“Pretty please, can I know now where we’re going?” you squeal with puppy eyes. 

Lord help me, he thinks before replying. “We’re going to a little island I love. Îles de Lérins.” You look ahead, nodding patiently. “It’s beautiful, you’ll see.”

-

When you arrive it’s easy to understand that there doesn’t seem to be that many people. You basically have the place to yourselves.

He helps you off, not dropping you this time. There’s a small trail you both begin to take. It’s something peaceful, the moment you’re in. You almost wish to fit it into a snow globe. 

“My parents would always bring my brothers and I here all the time during summer when we were younger,” Charles confesses.

“You have brothers?” 

He turns to look at you, then continues ahead. “Yes. Two.” He kicks a rock out of his way, but something you didn’t know was just how clumsy this man child could be.

“Ouch!” you groan in pain as your hand flies up to your nose.

“Jesus! What’s wrong with me today? Are you okay? I’m so sorry!” He runs to you all panicky now.

You take it back. Break the goddamn snow globe.

You try tilting your head back to ease the blood pouring out your nose before he gently grips your face to gain your attention. You scrunch your eyes, sun suddenly blinding you. Quickly, he takes off his glasses and places them over your eyes. As you open them you notice he’s shirtless. He places his shirt on your nose to clean you up. You flinch a bit.

Instantly, you’re thankful for the sunglasses because wondering eyes were all you could give him. His lean muscles were just begging to be praised. 

You shake your head before taking the Puma shirt from him. “Thanks,” you mutter as you focus on a nearby tree. “Starting to think you might hate me or something.”

“Of course not... I could never hate you!” His voice cracks in nervousness. You snicker.

After a bit more wiping, you are as good as new. You both decide to take a dip while the water feels good. You strip from your Levi shorts and t-shirt. Dipping a toe to test the temperature, you shoot him two thumbs up. 

The ocean feels so fresh and silky against your skin. You can’t seem to remember the last time you’ve enjoyed someone’s company like this, even if they almost ruled you to the ends of Earth. Two fingers press against your neck. You spring one eye open and you see Charles biting down on his thumb. He relaxes.

“Sorry, I thought you crossed the line to the afterlife.”

You tread water to stretch your legs out. “I’m fine.”

He takes this time to note things he hadn’t paid attention to before. Like how your lashes pin against your skin since they’re wet. Or how a tiny bit of freckles are sprinkled on your nose. He curses himself for not having seen it any sooner. Pretty was an understatement. You were extraordinary. 

A few hours later you guys are back at his house sharing a pizza. Pepperoni, you both loved a classic.

“There’s no bruise,” he points out almost proudly. You shoot a playful scowl. He walks over to the T.V. and clicks the remote. “Monte Carlo?”

He loved it, the way you said he would. He especially enjoyed watching how much you loved it. 

“This movie was too ahead of its time,” you confirm as you dig your feet under the blanket you had curled into. 

“Well at least Grace and Theo got their happily ever after,” he pronounces. You shoot an impressed look. “What? I was listening.” You crawl up next to him and pat his cheek. His dimples pop out from how hard he’s smiling. 

He can’t help it the moment he reaches to cradle your face to press your lips together. He can’t help but let a moan slip out when you finally kiss him back. 

Finally, he picks you up to adjust you on his lap, which you comfortably settle into. You feel him underneath you so clearly you can’t help but move your hips. He feels so good.

The heated moment continues as he wraps his hands around the curve of your ass. You pull away as your lips move down to his neck. He almost gasps the moment you lick down his throat. It doesn’t help that you’ve been keeping your hips in motion. 

He almost passes out the moment your lips move to his ear and ask, no, beg; Let me taste you, please. How could he ever deny such offer?

Making your way down to your knees, he adjusts himself on the couch. He thinks to himself that if he were standing he would’ve made a fool out of himself because just the sight of you in front of him has him choking on his own breath. You just look so pretty.

You tug his shorts down, along with his boxers, and bite down on your lip as you grab his cock, softly. He has to stop himself from jerking into your hand. Precum sprouting from his tip. You can’t wait as you take kitten licks. Fuck, he whimpers. The sound of his voice makes you squeeze your thighs together.

Wrapping your lips around him, your hands reach to balance yourself against his thighs. You moan at the feeling of having him inside your mouth, drooling all over his lap.

This itself, is too much for Charles and thinks he’ll barely even be able to survive as his head turns against the couch' pillow with closed lids. You start bobbing your head and one hand flings down to jerk off what you can’t reach. He groans at the feeling. 

You start off slow but suddenly start picking up your pace. He opens his eyes, dazed, to catch a glimpse of you on your knees and this sight is something he won’t be able to forget even if he tried. With glassy eyes, you look up at him. You make a show of releasing your lips from his cock as you lap your tongue along it. Before going back at it, you twirl your tongue a couple of times around his tip before giving it a quick suck, then deep throat him. 

He grits his teeth as if to help deal with any of this but when you start toying with yourself he lets out the loudest whine he’s ever produced. You look up smiling, grazing your teeth lightly along him and he hisses at the feeling. Proudly, you fit him back into your mouth. 

“God, your mouth feels so fucking good,” he manages to get out before you solely start jerking him off.

“What about my hands?” you seductively tease. The sounds coming from both your hands and his cock should be considered a sin itself. He groans as he looks back to make eye contact with you.

“Your hands too, baby.”

He knows he’s close the moment you twist your wrist perfectly. So so good. You know he’s close when he begins to twitch underneath your fingertips. 

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” he chants as you continue your dirty movements. He makes sure to look at you, focused, eyes drawn to his cock.

“Cum for me, Charles,” you coo as he finally bucks his hips into your hands and hot cum shoots all over your face. You wickedly smile as your lips reach his cock to continue swallowing the rest that is being released. He grabs you face to pull you off him and hauls you once again onto his lap. He’s about to kiss you before you pull away and point at the mess on your face. 

You wipe two fingers along your face and bring them to your mouth to clean them off. A pop is released when you let go. He shudders. 

This is the moment, Charles realizes, he’s so screwed.

-

When you make it back to Italy you realize that all you’ll have are a few fleeting moments together. With Charles going back to racing and you continuing your online classes, you’re both bound to be booked.

Though, Charles just isn’t ready to let you go. And a fucked up man will make fucked up choices when due.

So, he strings you along with him to the Miami GP. He realizes there’s a strong chance you might bump shoulders with Lando, but to be completely honest, he was past caring. He was completely smitten with you.

-

You wear your white summer dress as you are sprawled on his hotel bed. You’re a mess.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whimper as Charles fingers slip in and out of you. He’s feverishly kissing down the side of your thighs, bites left in between. You groan in slight pain as you tug on his soft hair. This man has brought out the moon and stars, for you.

“C’mon baby, look at me,” he whispers as he paints you with hickeys in between your legs. Somewhere no one else will ever be able to catch a glimpse of. You nod your head as you look down to find him gripping your dress over your thighs, eating you out like a starved man. You shut your eyes as you release a few soft pants, the heels of your feet press deeper against his Ferrari polo.

“Open you’re eyes.”

You shake your head. You wish you could look at him, you really wanted to, but it’s just too much take in. You wanted to make this last.

But Charles was greedy. He wanted to taste you. He stops everything all at once. You let out a cry. Fuck him.

You bring your arms around his neck, loosely, as he kisses your shoulder. “Why’d you stop?”

“You weren’t looking at me.”

With all your strength you open your glittered eyelids. 

“That’s a good girl,” he coos as he picks you up and sits you at the edge of the bed. You look down at him confused as he gets on his knees in front of you.

“If you can’t look at me, then you’re going to have to look at yourself,” he directs as he begins to push your dress back up your waist. You lean against your elbows as you realize what other than Charles is in front of you.

A shiny glass mirror.

With a slightly open mouth you’re about to protest before Charles picks up right where he left off. He spits on your clit before rubbing it. You bite down on your bottom lip so hard, you draw blood. 

“Don’t tell me I have to get you to moan now?” Charles stares at you with furrowed brows. You shake your head no before he kisses your knee. “Good.”

He makes sure you look straight at your reflection before he curls his fingers inside of you. You mewl at the touch. Your legs beg to bring him closer.

He lets out a light chuckle before repeating his motion. With sleepy eyes, you stare at the way your legs rest against his shoulders. You had painted your nails bloody mary a few nights before, in support of him and his team. Your face all fucked up singly by Charles’ long fingers and delicate touch, red lipstick all over your mouth from how heavy your make out with Charles had been.

To him, you looked like an angel. 

You squeal as he presses his nose against your pussy. You grind against his face. He pulls away and you whine, looking at him desperately.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he reassures you as he moves up to kiss your cheek and then your pouty lips. 

“Cha, please,” you beg hopelessly. He grins as he pushes your hair out of your face and runs his thumb across your lips trying to clean you up a bit.

You take a chance and wrap your lips around his finger, and you begin to suck. Expertly, you swirl your tongue. Eyes look back at him, almost challenging. He lets out a strained groan.

With all the willpower he has left, he removes his finger from your mouth. Nicely wet, he presses it back where you needed him the most.

“Thank you, baby, you shouldn’t have.” You cry out at the sudden size of his thumb now being inside of you. He switches out his thumb for his middle and ring finger. You throw your head back. All the back and forth almost has you blacking out a few times. Charles gives you a quick peck, fingers building speed, as he pulls your dress down a bit to release your plump tits.

Now he’s at a loss for words. Quickly, he regains his composure and starts sucking on your left nipple, legs squeezing around his waist as a reflex. One hand flies to the back of his head as one makes its way to cup his cheek adoringly.

He moans against you, sucking hard before moving his attention to your right nipple. The way you’re wailing against him has him painfully hard against his jeans.

“Yes, God yes right there, Charlie,” you let out as you grind against his hand. He detaches his lips from your chest as he smiles up at you. 

“I’m right here, baby. Cum for me, yeah?” You let out the most pornographic moan as you finish around his hand. Tears make their way down your cheeks. Cleans his fingers, he shuts his eyes satisfied, before he towers over your body, pressing kisses all over.

You giggle. “That tickles." The 25 year old’s heart doubles in size at the sound of your fucked out voice. 

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up before the race?”

-

The race results weren't the best Charles has had, that’s for sure. Head hung, he makes his way to his motorhome. There he finds you on the tiny little bed, curled up, watching the rest of the ongoing interviews. As soon as you notice him you jump up to your feet and walk to him.

It's almost as if you knew how down he was feeling when you wrap your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. He instantly feels better as his arms swaddle over your shoulders, chin atop your pretty hair.

“You did good,” you mumble. You press a faint kiss on his suit before looking up.

“I fucked up. I got P7.”

You frown at him before holding his face between your soft palms. “P7 is good, what do you mean?” He just shakes his head. “You’ve never heard of seven being a lucky number?”

He scoffs, but not at you, never you. More at himself. “Lucky?”

You pull away and sit back on his bed. “Oh yeah, seven bring all the luck in the world!” you squeal, as you plop on the bed. He laughs lightly as he lies beside you.

“Guess I’ll just take your word for it.” He hums with his eyes closed.

You turn on your side as you try to memorize his face. Like the small mole that sits on the left side of his face that makes him even more handsome, if anyone asks for your opinion. You scold yourself for not having noticed it before. As if to fix things, you name it one of your favorite things about him.

“You should. Things will get better, you’ll see.”

For once, he really believes it.

-

You both are walking out of the Ferrari home when you're suddenly stopped by someone calling Charles’ name. 

“Hey, Charles! Great race man!” A familiar voice rings through the air before you both have a chance to turn around. Both you and Charles, unknowingly of one another, want to make a run for it.

“Thanks, Lando,” Charles replies as he prays he might not notice you. But a girl as beautiful as you can’t go forgotten.

“Holy shit it’s you!” Lando wails as he instantly recognizes you from dinner a few months ago. You cringe. What the chances?

“Hi,” you squeak as you hide behind Charles a bit. You had no idea Lando was a Formula 1 driver too. You ought to do your research better next time.

“Mate! This is the chick I was telling you about over dinner last time!” Lando says, eyes almost popping out of his face from the shock he’s in.

“You don’t sayyyy.” Charles tries to hide it, though inside he’s freaking out as if he’s broken every FIA rule in the book.

“Hey, I want to say sorry for that night, I should have been more clear,” Lando begins to spill his apologies, as all you can do is silently stand there, accepting them all.

“Of course. Long forgotten,” you comfort the Brit. He’s actually a pretty sweet guy. 

“Charles, I’ll wait for you outside, alright?” you utter as he nods. Once you walk out, he turns to Lando frantically.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that was the same girl you were upset about!” he tells him. Liar. “You must be mad at me and I get it-”

“Nope.”

Charles stares back, caught off guard by Lando’s response. 

“You’re not?” 

Lando rolls his eyes. “I’m not. I just hope you realize what she’s capable of.” He leans in closer to Charles’ ear and Charles leans in too, expectantly. “I’ve heard stories, man…”

Charles immediately pulls away. “Okay, we’re done here. Bye mate!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

But Charles knew you better. He saw the way you looked at him. The way you felt. You were different. Fuck your following reputation.

“Ready?” 

-

When you got back from Miami, something had shifted. He couldn’t quite name the moment it had, but he was sure of it. He didn’t care though. He would put up with just about anything as long as that meant having you around.

“And then he told me to test the car again, said it was fixed. Fixed my ass!” Charles tells you over FaceTime. You were sitting in your bedroom, painting nonsense on a canvas. You wore some old overalls with loose space buns. Strands of hair would hit the paint from how messy it was.

“No way,” you say, not looking up. Charles smiles fondly.

“You look lovely by the way.” Though, you don’t seem to catch his affirmation for you. Your eyes are focused on something out of frame, in front of you. A quick smirk appears on your face but slips so fast that he almost begins to think he’s imagined it.

“Thank you, Charles,” you reply with a much bigger smile now. “Hey, how about I meet you at your house at 9? I’ll cook you a nice meal, promise.”

Like always, he knows he shouldn’t ask and also knows he can’t say no to you.

“I’ll be waiting.”

-

That night when you step into his house he notices things he wishes weren’t there. Like how your hair was a tad bit messy or how there were light bruises on your neck. He knows those didn’t come from him. He’d always been mindful to mark you in places no one else could admire, just him. Something bugs him knowing someone has seen them already.

“I’m so sorry I’m late." You rush in with bags from the nearby market, the one just around the corner from his flat.

“No worries. So, what will we be cooking, my little chef?”

That night you seem so infatuated by him, he truly thinks this all was his imagination. Maybe the wind blew your hair on your way here; he should have offered to pick you up. Maybe he forgot he had also marked your neck; he’ll make sure to be more careful next time.

He wraps his arms around your waist as you cut pieces of basil. Giggling, you turn around to peck his lips. Craving more from you, he lifts you up onto the kitchen island. He stands in between your legs as you stare up at him, ever a vixen.

As you lock lips, he picks you up, you yelp all giddy. He makes his way over to his bedroom, your lips lingering on his neck, he almost drops you from how good it feels.

“Careful, don’t need another wack in the face,” you mumble from his neck, light spirited. He rolls his eyes at your comment, but yeah, he should probably focus. 

Finally reaching his room, he kicks the door open so hard, it flies and instantly makes a hole through the wall. You gasp as he groans.

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” he murmurs as he takes you to his bed where he drops you. You giggle as your hair covers your face, he makes his way to hover over you and brush it away.

“You know I would do anything for you?” he asks, tenderness lacing his voice.

You stare back at him with bright and eager eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

He smiles as he leans down to kiss you and you instantly melt into the mattress beneath you. He kisses you so fast, so hot, that it has you feeling lightheaded. I’ve been kissed before but never, ever, like this, you think as he slips his tongue as a quick trick. You moan with pleasure. He smiles into the kiss. 

He picks his head up to get a good look at the angel the universe had ever so nicely sent his way. He caresses you gingerly. “Are you sure, chérie?”

You nod up and down eagerly, ready for more he’s willing to give. You are so desperate you would gladly take anything as long as it's from him. A flash of sadness strikes your face before it’s replaced with a warm smile. 

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he comforts you as he begins to take a step back. You quickly hold onto his veiny arm. 

“I want to,” you confirm. You bring him back to you as you kiss him for the millionth time that night. Even that would never be enough. 

His hands make their way to slip your dress off. Once you're left in your matching lingerie, you push him on his back and straddle him.

“Holy shit,” he nervously laughs as you started to unbutton his linen shirt. He pulls his arm out as you sloppily brush your lips down his smooth chest, fingers tracing his firm abs. Then, as you’re about to pull his pants down, he grabs your hands firmly. You glance at him, confusion written all over your face.

“Ladies first,” he teases. You roll your eyes, but still slip out a quick, okay, before settling under him once again. He kisses down your neck gently as you hum out, finding peace with his lips hovering your body. Every new kiss he places on your soft skin makes you feel thousands of butterflies. You’d never experienced something like this before, you’ve never felt so flawless. 

Clumsy fingers roam your back as he unclips your bra then strips you from your panties. Seeing you completely bare has his dumbstruck. This is something he could easily get used to. 

His hands make their way to squeeze your tits, your head digs deeper into the mattress as you release a soft whimpers. Charles grows harder by the second, already getting rid of the rest of his clothes as quickly as he can.

He tugs you closer to him by your legs. A laugh rolls past your lips. Resting both arms by either side of your head, he pushes into you. Synchronously, you both let out a moan. You dig your nails into his shoulder as he grips onto the sheets. 

You feel so tight around him that it takes all of him not to lose control. You throw your arm over your face, face scrunched.

Putting his feelings aside, Charles leans down and plants a kiss on your arm. “C’mon baby, not again. Look at me.”

“I can’t…,” you cry out weakly, “...too big.”

“You just have to adjust,” he reassures you as he begins to move in and out of you. Your arms fly up to his neck and you grab on tight, as if he’s keeping you ashore. You moan loudly.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers as he thrusts deep inside of you. Your velvety walls feel like home to him and he never wants to leave. 

You squirm when his cock hits your sweet spot. You yell into the nothingness and your grip on his hair tightens so much, he groans at the sensation. His hips pick up speed, and suddenly, he’s kissing you again. You whine into his lips, needy for more. Harder. 

As if he could read your mind, that's exactly what he does. Your lips form a silent O as you stare at him with eyebrows drawn together. He just feel so fucking good.

“Fuck baby,” he groans, voice deep. You shiver at the sound. “God, you feel so good, you’re doing so good,” he praises you as he now looks into your eyes. You wail in response, too fucked up to form any kind of sentence.

“I love you so much,” he announces so suddenly, you almost push him away. He keeps moving rapidly as he makes out with you eagerly.

As you kiss him back you realize something scary; you love Charles Leclerc. You think you’ve loved him for a while now, but having never been in love, you didn’t seem to notice the feeling. But you do now.

“I love you, too,” you murmur against his lips. When he pulls away you notice you’ve never seen him smile so big. You like being the reason behind it.

He immediately pounds into you harder, not holding back anymore and you’re both a mess. You moan so loud, you’re almost embarrassed but Charles seems to love it.

“If you love me,” he pants, “then tell me his name.”

He continues normally, but you swear you feel your heart stop. There’s no way.

“What are you talking about?” you manage to spit out, but the way he’s handling your body has you seeing stars.

“Please,” a desperate look flashes across his face, “just tell me his name.” His watch covered hand makes its way to your clit and he pushes his finger against it. God, his fingers are so-

“There’s no one.” Liar. “There’s just you.”

With that, you flip him over so now you’re on top of him. Hastily, you start to ride him, making sure to move your hips just the way he likes it. His head falls back against the bed frame as his fingers dig into your hips. You bite your swollen lips in slight pain, but also, just by looking at his current state.

Cheeks slightly pink with sweaty hair covering his face. Long disheveled hair that you pressed him not to trim quite yet. What a sight for sore eyes.

“Please,” he chokes out, “just tell me his name and I swear I’ll never bring it up again.” He opens his eyes to look up at you. His voice hitches when he sees you hopping on his dick, tits bouncing up and down. You throw your head back and circle your hips much harder.

“Fuck.” Charles gasps as he reaches up to attach his lips to your chest. He licks before softly biting down against your bud. You exhale sharply. He then lays back and holds onto your hips harder before helping you move on top of him. Wrapped around him, the motion between both of you picks up so fast you start shaking your head no.

“Yes, amour, say it. Please just tell me before I lose my fucking mind,” he grunts as he stares down at your juices as they make the filthiest sound against his own. 

“I swear Charles, I promise, that I have never loved anyone the way I do you,” you confess as you sink your nails against his chest, red marks instantly mapping themselves down.

“Beautiful fucking liar.” Charles smirks as he moves his fingers against your clit rapidly. With that, your walls clench around him as you cum so hard around him he can’t help but follow. You moan loudly as you fall against his chest as he groans lowly. 

Trying to even your breathing, you grab onto his hand. Instantly, he brings it up against his lips. Just the touch of his makes you want to ride him until you can’t no more. 

You meant what you said that night. Though you both should have known better. Being naive can’t always last forever.

-

“Then she left a note saying it’s best we just remain friends,” Charles reveals a few nights later over dinner. Everyone shares glances of empathy to the distraught Monegasque. Even Lando.

“It’s alright man, you’ll be over her before you know it,” Lando states as he shares a knowing smile. Charles bites down on his tongue knowing all this pent of anger wasn’t towards Lando. Not even for you. 

He would like to say that he learned his lesson and that he should have listened to everyone, all the warning signs that glowed above his head. But he knows damn well he would do it all over again if given the chance. He would say, do anything, to change your mind. To make you stay, but people like you never settled. 

Moping, Charles changes the topic as he begins asking how everyone’s break was. He didn’t really care, but he tried to pretend. 

Out of breath, Oscar rushes over to the table. “Sorry I’m late,” he says as he sits down in between Lando and Charles.

“No worries, mate, Charles was just filling us in on his expired love life,” Daniel fills in, nonchalantly. Charles immediately shoots a dry frown. Daniel shares an apologetic shrug.

“Oh. That sucks man,” the young Australian replies as he gulps down some water. “Speaking of love lives, you guys won’t believe it! I just met the prettiest girl of my entire life just now outside of the restaurant!”

[scltnsea]

“ there are always repercussions. ”

❛ are there, peter ?? are there truly repercussions ?? ❜ hook snarled, eyes illuminated with hatred and centuries of pent of anger that made the tip of his tongue razor sharp, words coated in a thick venom that slung itself in peter's direction. ❛ you have taken more from me than i myself can even fathom and yet i don't see a single HAIR missing from that pathetically wicked head of yours. ❜

it was true, though simultaneously, pan had given james everything. he had taken him from the other place, and who is to say that james would have been any less miserable back where he was before pan took him to neverland. there was a time in which peter was james's entire world, where he spoke nothing but the gospel truth that young, naive jamie followed with blind faith. looking in peter's eyes now, his face still the same, a bit rougher now, but his eyes gave away how much he had changed ( if only one knew to look hard enough ).

❛ is wanting to keep someone safe a deed that required the price of an innocent life, peter ?? if you wanted to punish me why did you do it at her innocent expense ?? ❜ thinking about sally just sent james's rage spiraling, a vortex swirling around the two of them that james's silently prayed would swallow them both whole. ❛ i am the way i am BECAUSE of you. everything i do... think...believe has been planted within me by you and your own mercenary, impish tongue. you have no right to not act as if the scarlet on my sleeves isn't the same that stains your palms.❜

the little boy inside of his heart wailed hysterically, beating small fists on his rib cage and pleading for him to stop being so cruel towards peter- to see him as the young boy he once loved so deeply. the man inside of james's head pleaded with him to draw his sword and steer it through peter's heart, despite knowing the effort would be fruitless, just wishing to have some satisfaction of bringing peter even a sliver of the discomfort james felt every day of his life.

❛ you are not GOD, peter pan. you are just a pathetic boy entrapped by an island and your own selfish, narcissistic madness. the only repercussions i am TRULY facing are as a result of me ever trusting you. ❜

[severusdefender]

Personally I despise James Potter because never have I seen the biggest case of nice guy and I can fix him disease in him and also in a jock format. They are at the bottom of the food chain and I don't feel safe with men like him.

It makes no sense for James to bully snape for his reasons. Because let's look a little bit closely at his reasoning 'because he exists'

What fucking arguement is that? You don't like him because he's what? Poor? Slytherin? Scrawny? Lacks personal hygiene (which can be attributed to the fact he's poor) ??. My fucking God I can't believe James hates snape for not being James? What the fuck did he think every scared little kid was??? Petter Pettigrew?? Such a little narcissistic fuck head.

And on top of that it's like hc or widely accepted snape became a slytherin because of his mother. And that dude is insanely smart and all he needed was to learn magic.

James then chose to isolate him from everyperson in Hogwarts for learning magic IN A MAGIC SCHOOL (this dumb mf) then made fun of him for being isolated? I don't understand his fucking logic

James and snape are not the same person and yet James made it his personal mission to make them the same entity because apparently the only common thing they both 'valued' was Lilly Evans (which sounds gross and yeah it is because one of them took her as a prize and hey what do you know it's not snape).

And then I hear the whole he changed in 2 years time. Bullshit. I know he didn't change because if he truly did I mean truly redeem himself he had 2 years to truly attone for the mess he made in snapes life. But he didn't. Also what kind of fuckery is visibly changing yourself to the entire school and being the absolute best version after you get the girl like????? (how did that work out'hey hufflepuff /ravenclaw😎😎 remember I tore your artwork for your friend🤧😳😳😳 at third year yeah listen so now that I have Lilly ✨💖💖💖I wanted to let you know that I am not that guy🥺 I'm a nice guy🥺🥺🥺 infact it was an elaborate prank 😎😎😎sorry tho🥺') yeah no fr I would be paranoid like snape if that shit happened to me in real life. I would have also decked his ass because I'm not afraid of some rich white boy who's middle name is fleamont. (hahaha Mont. Roach : you think the view is great at top but its just overlooking a dumpsite )

what kind of next level mind games is that. What an Olympic sport experience. God I can't stand his ass.

Smh snape should have really left after 5 year or even earlier. My only personal hc is him leaving and I guess not being part of the Wizarding world (only for them to sort of see him randomly). Because James really thought he was being the bigger person by having snape take part in a constant comparison contest. When it really looks like a pathetic excuse of a pissing contest.

i agree

[teafiend]

I really needed a space to simp and fangirl over Kim Jae Uck’s performance as Mo Tae Gu. His memorable and beyond magnificent portrayal was the sexiest ever. ❤️‍🔥🥵🤤 He truly did put the sex in the sexy. (“Sexy trash” was the South Korean nickname for MTG 😆 and the acronym for both words in Korean ended up being sex).

No matter how often I cringed, totally creeped out by and recoiled from Mo Tae Gu as a character, I truly don’t get tired of the way KJU slithered across the screen in all his stylish and elegant glory. He was a complete visual feast, and backed up with stunning, brilliant performances, unforgettable.

The suits, the strut. The creepiness. Each flick of the eyes, the slow deliberate smirks, detailed gestures of him adjusting his tie, buttoning his jacket etc all added up to the effect. And the lighting were all executed so beautifully.

I don’t even feel guilty admitting that his unhinged desperation by the end looked so stunningly gorgeous (amazing performance there 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽❤️‍🔥🥵) it gave me more than terrified shivers. (From the complete safety of being on the other side of a screen).

The director and camera crew really knew how to capture all that deliciousness for the imagination on screen.

And all those hints of an obsession with Kang Kwon Joo. They truly don’t get more suggestive than that. (My shipper heart just could not help sliding this part in, sorry).

Though the toll the character took on KJU was also quite apparent. To have to inhabit the mindset of a literally unhinged serial murderer must be draining and harrowing.

Undoubtedly, while actor-KJU could portray any kind of role as evidenced by his filmography, it could also not be denied that he brought a certain quality to his darker roles which elevated the characters, i.e., Mo Tae Gu and Choi Yoon.

I also get why he often distanced himself from MTG as a character in interviews. No matter how sexy and iconic MTG as a character might be, anyone sane and halfway decent would not want to be associated with someone of that caliber. (That role was so impactful it was still brought up at times years later).

It was clear MTG was written based on a composite of real life serial killers, and in that regard, competent writing. As a character, however, I thought MTG was memorable mainly due to KJU’s portrayal and performance, and only to a much lesser extent, the writing. KJU brought MTG to life with his acting and charisma, and not really the other way around.

As it was, MTG as a character seemed too much a caricature of a serial killer-cum-mafia, what with the vainglorious style and strut. KJU made MTG elegant and drool-worthy, but when I peeled back the murderous elements, MTG was just a poor, traumatized boy who turned into a stupid, violent and foolish man, enabled by another psychopath (if more “well-adjusted”), his father. (Okay, my own prejudices speaking… but well…)

Truly, I was unimpressed by MTG as a character. If he was not performed to perfection by KJU, he would simply be a tedious, pathetic, little man. A true ��loser”. I normally have issues with the degrading label “loser”, but I thought it fit MTG because by all intents and purposes - on the surface - he was a man who had it all. And used it only to gratify his own twisted and deranged impulses. So, fiction or otherwise, yucks 🤢🤮 (it would be nice if people like MTG are completely fictional, alas, they are not, although this particular iteration portrayed by KJU was).

Well, unless one thinks real life serial killers are cool, there was nothing truly remarkable about MTG as a character; simply a narcissistic, murderously violent sociopath/psychopath (with wealth and privilege for protection). A man literally a lunatic. They needed to be helped with their mental illness/issues and treated with compassion, sure, as even the show generously alluded to in MTG’s case. (But they should still be isolated away from the rest of society, for the protection of others, until and unless they can really be well enough).

Serial killers like MTG exists (mostly minus the ultra-wealth and style, but that is another story) in real life, and it is a disservice to the devastation and traumas they incurred to unnecessarily glamourise them. (In which certain sub-niches of society already do 😔😱🥶).

P.S. It is a weird situation I found myself in with MTG because much as I disliked his character, his portrayal by KJU was beyond haunting and indelible. Hence, I spent precious time writing this rant 🙄😂🤣 (It would be interesting to look back on this period and note the level of my fixation on a character I don’t even like all that much, except for the fact of my own personal obsession with KJU as his performer).

And my heart cannot help but want to ship him with KKJ. (Sorry, my awesome KKJ. You deserved everything good and wonderful, and I…🤭🤫😬)

[laviefantasie]

Not A Fan | Luke Patterson

Mini Series

Pairings: Alive!Luke Patterson x Alive!Reader

Summary: What happens if Sunset Curve loses their sound after their bandmate’s betrayal? Will a certain shy songwriter be able to help Luke Patterson, know narcissistic rockstar, find his inspiration before Sunset Curve’s new demo is due?

| MASTERLIST |

Tags: @hoechx @iainttakingshitfromnobody @phantompogues @ifilwtmfc @who-even-is-galileo @nightfurya @lukewearingbeanies

| PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE |

You had the worst best friends in the entire world.

Only Julie and Flynn would believe it was a good idea to join forces with the members of Sunset Curve and drag you —against your wishes— to the boys’ bus and try to talk you out of giving up on music.

Only having the worst world’s best friends would explain why you were sitting at said bus with your arms crossed while they discussed —rather loudly even if they didn’t believe it— their game plan.

You roll your e/c eyes as you see them turn to stare at you before going back to their discussion.

You stopped listening to them as Flynn’s rambling about how your decision compares to losing Christmas, a holiday she loved, began.

Pathetic.

Couldn’t Julie and Flynn just respect and support your decision? And couldn’t Sunset Curve mind their own business?

You sigh while letting your gaze wander through the band’s tour bus, appreciating the 90’s looking place. It was an interesting choice of style but certainly a pleasing one.

Your gaze wanders around, taking it all in, before you settle on starin out the window, seeing as you guys got closer to Julie’s house. The promise of taking you to the hispanic’s house what stop you from accusing them of kidnapping all of you.

When the bus stopped, you were certainly glad to have an excuse to get off that vehicle and not see those rockstars anymore.

But, of course, said rockstars got off the bus with you three.

Julie and Flynn walking with them to the latina’s home while still talking about you, which made you groan in annoyance.

Maybe you could make a run for it? You didn’t live too far from Julie, it would probably take you ten minutes if you decided to run.

Sighing in defeat, you start walking towards the Molina’s studio.

It isn’t until you’re in front of the big white doors that you hesitate. You hadn’t been there since the death of both of your moms, Julie barely being to open it a few months ago.

Where you really about to go in?

You’re about to turn around and head into the Molina’s household when you stop. You wanted to feel close to her.

As silently as you can, you open the garage’s doors and slip in. Your breath starts coming out slower as your wide eyes stare at the place in front of you, taking it all in.

You had certainly miss it.

With small steps, you start walking through it. Your mind being overwhelmed with happy memories filled with music and laughter.

Julie’s mom and your mom certainly being the best of friends and the best of musicians.

They were who you and Julie aspired to be.

Your e/c eyes finally find the grand piano in which you both sat at each of your mothers’ sides as they taught you both how to play it.

You feel tears start filling up your eyes as you near it, only falling once your hand finally finds itself on top of the instrument.

“I’m so sorry, mom”

Sorry for not coming sooner. Sorry for giving up on music. Sorry for not fighting as much as you should’ve. Sorry for losing yourself.

You allow the tears to fall as they please, closing your eyes to stop yourself from sobbing afraid someone inside the house could hear you.

It is seconds later, as if by destiny, a loud thud is heard through the garage.

Startled, you turn around to find the source of said noise. Your eyesight being met with a light blue notebook you recongnized as the one your mom always carried with her.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look from the notebook to the loft, guessing it had fallen from up there.

“Weird” you whisper.

Slowly, you walk towards the notebook and open it with a little of hesitation. Your heart thumping loudly at the first page.

PROPERTY OF Y/M/N

You stared at it for a long while, frozen in your place as your tears start to disappear.

Finally, you snap out of you daze and look through it recognizing the songs as the ones she used to sing with Rose all the time.

You smile happily as the sight.

But your smile disappears as you find a song that you don’t seem to recognize. Rereading the lyrics and the chords, you frown as you realize that it wasn’t one she had shown you.

When had your mom written that?

As if by instinct, your feet take you to the piano in the studio.

You hesitate once before sitting on it, the notebook opened on the unknown song right in front of you. You take a deep breath before letting your hands lightly touch the keys.

What were you doing?

Hesitantly, your eyes look through the chords written on your mother’s notebook before gazing back at the piano.

What were you doing?

Your fingers soon start playing the chords of your mom’s song with ease, your fingers moving through the keys as if they’d never stopped playing.

“Here's one thing I want you to know

You got some place to go

Life's a test, yes, but you go toe-to-toe

You don't give up, no, you grow”

She doesn’t realize that the moment she had started playing, the teenagers inside the house had stopped talking in confusion.

Julie and Flynn smiling in disbelief as they hear your powerful voice sound through.

“And you use your pain

'Cause it makes you you

Though I wish I could hold you through it

I know it's not the same

You got living to do

And I just want you to do it”

The words fell from your mouth with ease, as if you had sung it a hundred times.

The soft whisper of your mom’s voice appearing with every verse. As if she was singing it with you, for you.

“So get up, get out, relight that spark

You know the rest by heart”

As the chorus begins, the power of your voice grows. Your fingers moving across the keys on the piano once again. A feeling of belonging settling on you.

This was what you were meant to do.

“Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain

Wake up your dream and make it true

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

Relight that spark, time to come out of the dark

Wake up, wake up”

Luke looks in confusion at the other to girls, who smile with tears in their eyes, before realizing who was singing.

In awe, the lead guitarist heads out of the house looking you. He needed to see it.

Alex and Reggie soon following him with Julie and Flynn not too far behind.

“Better wake those demons

Just look them in the eye

No reason not to try

Life can be a mess

I won't let it cloud my mind

I'll let my fingers fly”

You repeat the pre-chorus once more, letting your eyes blink through your unshed tears. Singing in the Molina’s studio your mom’s song felt like a waking up from a bad dream.

It felt like being able to breathe again.

“And I use the pain 'cause it's part of me

And I'm ready to power through it

Gonna find the strength, find the melody

'Cause you showed me how to do it”

Your fingers stop playing to create momentum before the chorus. Julie’s words repeating themselves over and over in your head.

This is was would keep your mom’s memory alive.

“Get up, get out, relight that spark

You know the rest by heart”

Quietly, the members of Sunset Curve and the two teenage girls stand outside of the garage listening in awe as you sing effortlessly.

Julie and Flynn holding each other’s hands as the tears flow down their faces.

“Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain

Wake up your dream and make it true

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

Relight that spark, time to come out of the dark

Wake up, wake up”

As the bridge of the song starts, you slowly stand up still playing the instrument. Not once your fingers playing the wrong chord or hesitating.

Your voice growing with each sentence, your emotions flowing through the song.

“So wake that spirit, spirit

I wanna hear it, hear it

No need to fear it, you're not alone

You're gonna find your way, oh”

You stopped playing for the first sentence in the chorus, owning the moment.

You’re so into the song that you don’t notice the doors being silently opening as the five teenagers stare at you sing your heart out.

Your passion for music being clear as the light of the sunset behind you. It was truly a sight for sore eyes.

“Wake up, wake up if it's all you do

Look out, look inside of you

It's not what you lost

It's what you'll gain raising your voice in the rain

Wake up your dream and make it true

Look out, look inside of you

When you feel lost

Relight that spark, time to come out of the dark

Wake up”

As the song slows down, you sit once again letting the tears in your eyes once again fall through your cheeks.

Your voice lowering itself as a soft smile graces your features.

“Mmm, wake up”

You take a deep breath as you finish playing the final chords, your e/c eyes going to your mother’s notebook again.

Smiling once you see what is written at the end of the page.

You can do it, Y/N/N. Wake up.

Love, mom.

Your hand lightly touches the words before you let out a shaky laugh, oblivious to the audience you have.

Julie is the first one to step towards you, Flynn being pulled too as their hands are still holding each other, making you finally tear your gaze from the notebook and see them.

They both smile at you brightly, which makes you smile back.

Your best friends soon running towards you and hugging you from each of your sides.

Luke, Alex, and Reggie soon looking towards one another with the same look of astonishment. That song, the way you had played it, your voice. It all had made them get goosebumps.

You had made them feel every word, every chord. All of them knowing they had all felt the same magic the other had with one look.

“You did it!” Exclaimed Flynn happily “I can’t believe you finally sang”

Julie nods in agreement, “And that song! Wow”

They let go of you and you grab the notebook with a soft look before handing it to Julie. The latina going to Flynn’s side so they can both look through it.

“It’s my mom’s” You murmur “She wrote it for me”

Your best friends look read through the lyrics, soft smiles on their faces, before looking at you with pride.

“It’s beautiful” Julie states.

“You were right, Jules” You smile “All this time I’ve been afraid of singing without her when I should’ve been singing for her”

Your friends smile never disappear as you look at them with a happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You were finally you again.

You move you gaze to the three other people in the studio, a teasing smile on your face.

“Something tells me I won’t be getting rid of you soon”

Luke smiles happily at the teasing glint in your eyes before starting to walk towards you.

“Not if we can convince you to let us work on your songs with you and maybe then write some for our new demo”

You narrow your eyes, “Why are you so interested in them? I’m sure you could write another hit album without me just fine”

The three boys look at one another with uneasiness, neither knowing if they were ready to admit out loud what they had realized.

Flynn and Julie stare at the boys with narrowed eyes and crossed arms being your support.

Although, they were trying really hard to not scream at you to do it.

“I...” Luke takes a deep breath before finally meeting your gaze “I can’t”

The words have all the three girls looking at the boys in confusion.

You, knowing very well that the band sung the songs they wrote, were indeed very confused. The vulnerable look in the brunette’s eyes, though, told you there was more to the story.

“I don’t... I don’t understand”

Seeing the hard time Luke has to get the words out, Alex steps up to explain.

“Our rhythm guitarist, Bobby, stole all of Luke’s songs. The songs we had for our new demo” he softly voices “It... it hurt us”

“Luke hasn’t been able to write anything new” Reggie adds “And we haven’t been able to play as we used to”

The article Flynn had shown you that day came to your mind, the one that stated they were coming to LA for inspiration for their new songs.

They had come home in hopes of figuring out how to fix what their former bandmate had broken.

They were fighting to keep the band they’d worked so hard to make.

Although, as you look at the way the hurt in their eyes intensified as the rhythm guitarist’s name was pronounce you knew it was worst than it seemed.

They were fighting to stay together.

“Well, looks like I was right” You voice with a soft smile “I won’t be getting rid of you anytime soon, rockstar”

Luke’s green eyes stare at you brightly as the meaning of your words register in his mind.

Alex and Reggie letting out a jump in excitement of what it meant; Julie and Flynn doing the same behind you.

“This is awesome, so I was thinking we could add a little rid to Edge of Gr—”

You raise your hand before Luke can say anything else, “We’ll start tomorrow, tonight I’ve got to figure out a way to get back in the music program”

Julie lets out a gasp at your words, “Oh my! The music program!”

“Mrs. Harrison has to give you one more try” assures Flynn “There’s no way she won’t let you in once she hears you sing”

You nod at your best friends’ words before looking towards the band once again.

“We’ll meet tomorrow here after school, if that’s okay with you Julie?” Said girl nods “And then, we will talk about the songs”

You stand up from where you are sitting at the piano, going around it to stand in front of the three boys.

Giving them a little sweet smile once you’re looking at them.

“Now, I think we should meet properly” they stare at you in confusion “Your names?”

“Oh!” Voices the blond in surprise” I’m Alex”

“Reggie” adds the one with the leather jacket with a big innocent smile.

The guitarist looks at you with disbelief, you raising an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, come on” he laughs “Do you seriously not know my name?”

You roll your eyes at him before shaking your head. That was a lie though, you knew their names thanks to your best friends being huge fans.

But you weren’t about to boost his ego, it was big enough already as it was.

He stares at you in disbelief, “Luke”

You nod with a victorious smile before looking at your best friends motioning for them to come closer.

They move around the piano to stand at your sides, looks of excitement on their faces as they stare at their favorite band.

You silently wish none of them notice that but the triumphant glint in a certain pair green eyes let you know you’re not that lucky.

“I’m Flynn” stated your the one with braids “Single, by the way”

You close your eyes tightly as you feel Luke’s teasing gaze on you.

“I’m Julie” smiles the latina “Huge fan”

You turn to glare at your best friend, the Molina’s only defense being a shrug of her shoulders.

Turning back to the boys, you glare at Luke as he smiles victorious towards you.

“Y/N”

The two of you stare at each other with intensity, waiting for the other to tear their gaze first.

Alex, Reggie, Julie, and Flynn sharing looks of uncertainty behind both of you.

“Anyways” Alex makes you both turn to him “We should get going and you should start planning what you’ll show your teacher”

You nod in agreement before the three boys leave the garage to head to their bus and start their way to their apartment.

It is only when they are out of sight that Julie and Flynn scream their hearts out. Happy for how the day had turned out.

Not only had you sang again but you were going to write songs with Luke freaking Patterson.

Meanwhile, you stood frozen on your spot thinking about how you were going to tell you dad that you were planning to keep pursuing music.

Worst of all, how would you tell him that you were going to write songs for the band of the moment?

Taking a deep breath, you focus on getting back into the music program. One problem at a time, one problem at a time.

The next day, Alex and Reggie stared with smiles at an excited Luke. The boy running around the apartment with his guitar, coming up with melodies that he thought would sound well with the lyrics he had read in your songbook.

It was the most inspired they had seen him in weeks.

He didn’t know how it had happened, but as soon as he had heard you sing the melodies to your unfinished songs had come rushing to him.

It was as if your voice was what he had needed to get his creativity to flow again.

As he wrote the chords that he thought of for the melodies, your voice sung the words in his head while the different instruments played beside you.

He couldn’t wait for the time to pass so that he could show you what he had come up with.

To say he was excited would be an understatement. The hours were passing to slow for his liking.

“Dude, chill out, you have an hour still”

Alex’s comment has the lead guitarist groaning in exasperation. Could time just move a little bit faster?

“Do you think her teacher let her back in the music program?” Questions Reggie.

Luke stares at the dark-haired bass player with wide eyes, he didn’t have the answer to that question but he certainly hoped you had showed your teacher your worth.

There was no way that they didn’t let you back in. Not with the amount of talent you had.

Sadly, at that moment you were being told by Mrs. Harrison that your spot had already been filled, Julie and Flynn trying to convince her that she had to listen to you and let you back in.

But, unfortunately, Mrs. Harrison’s hands were tied. She wanted to give you another shot, she knew your talent, but she had already waited so long. She had fought for you and Julie when neither of you was willing to sing and now she couldn’t do it anymore. Even if she wanted to.

So, of course, when the school day was over and the boys came to the garage they found you three moping around on the Molina’s studio.

“Did... did we miss something?” Questions Reggie as he takes in what’s in front of him.

Julie sits up from her spot on the floor with a sad look on her face.

“They didn’t let Y/N back in the music program”

“Said I’ll have to try again next year” You add with a pout.

“Can you believe they filled in your spot?” Exclaims Flynn with a frown, “That’s outrageous!”

The three members of Sunset Curve’s mood shift as they notice how this had affected you and your friends.

Luke steps towards you then, holding his hand out with a small smirk, “Get up, shorty, we got music to write”

“Read the room, rockstar” you snap, “I’m grieving”

Alex laughs before going to help Flynn stand up, Reggie walking to help Julie. Luke shaking his hand in front of you with a small tilt of his head.

“You already grieved, now it’s time to move on”

With a huff you take his hand and stand up, grabbing your songbook before walking towards the piano with him following you.

Once you’re both sitting down, the brunette starts showing you what he came up with through your school time. A smile soon takes over your face as you talk about music, showing Luke how you think something could become better.

The other four teenagers watching the way you two easily worked with one another with smiles on their faces.

“Who wants cookies?” Questions Julie with a smile, “We could bake some”

“Oh, oh! Could we do a baking competition?” Asks Reggie excitedly.

Julie looks at him with a soft look, seeing the excitement in his sky blue eyes, before nodding.

“Yeah... Yeah, we could do that”

Reggie celebrates in his place before the four of them make their way to the inside of the Molina’s household, leaving Y/N and Luke alone.

Neither of them noticed though.

You both were too busy excitedly working on the songs to even care. It was amazing how you two understood each other so easily. The boy who was once struggling with his lyrics finding it easier to rhyme when by your side.

That’s why as you decided to bring some snacks for the both of you, Luke looked through both his and your songbooks his mind racing as he found the lyrics he was looking for.

Taking a picture with his phone of the verses in you songbook, Luke closes it before smiling happily. He had the perfect idea to help you get back into your music program, but...

First, he had to finish a song.

[miioouu]

Single Father Bakugo (3) Birthday Dad

More cute single pa Baku!! Honestly idk i just got this idea randomly sooo. Also idk if i said I'll update you guys on Single Father bakugou once a week, buuuut i don't think that's true, I'll post a part anytime an idea comes to my mind. Anyway HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAKUBOO❤️

Ten months…. 

It's been almost a year since Bakugo was taking care of his little baby. Ever since, his life seemed a little brighter, a little more colorful. Even behind his tired, sleep deprived eyes, happiness and joy can be seen. Life has changed drastically, but he wouldn't have it any other way. And to say he wanted to put the little girl up for adoption! So pathetic Katsuki. 

Even though it's his birthday, things were going on normally, being a dad meant that he wasn't able to go out and party, enjoy his special day like every other young person his age. He could still ask his mom to keep an eye on the child, but honestly he'd rather spend the day with her than surrounded by drunk sweaty bodies, annoying music filling his ears. He'd much rather listen to his baby girl babble and babble incoherent words and him pretending to understand and have a conversation with her. What he didn't expect was that this year, he'd have the most wonderful gift of all time. 

Holding her on his hips as he was making himself a birthday dinner, the little girl always looking up to him, hand gripping his thin sweatshirt, incoherent sounds would come out of her mouth every now and then making the young father look at her and reply with a "yes, you're right" and "I know right?! Unbelievable!". Bouncing her to the rhythm of whatever song that was stuck in his head, focusing on the task at hands, he almost missed the sound coming out of her little lips, if it weren't for her hand tugging harder at his top and other one patting his strong arm, a gesture that she learned would get his attention anytime. Dropping the wooden spoon to the side, seeing her mouth open and close, trying to get out something. "Come on baby! What do you have to say? Dad's listening!" He didn't want to get his hopes too high, knowing that it's still a bit early for her to say her first word, but maybe it's his dad instinct telling him to listen closely, or maybe it's just the little bit of hope that she'd say her first word on his birthday that told him to focus on whatever that was about to come out of her. "Ba… BaBa". That's it! That was it! Wide smile stretching on his face, tears threatening to fall, since when did he become so soft? Well it doesn't matter now... He couldn't believe how lucky he was, to have his daughter's first words be "baba" and on his birthday! He was on cloud nine! Hugging his baby tightly, telling her how much he loves her and treasures her, he couldn't wipe the smile off of his face for the rest of the evening. 

He spent his first birthday as a dad calling up his beloved ones, telling them about the most amazing gift he's ever gotten. 

5 years….

Growing up and growing older together, was everything Bakugou ever wants. His little baby now five, how did time pass by so quickly? It felt like just yesterday he was teaching her how to walk, and now he's begging her to stop running around the house, afraid she'd knock her head on things. It happened before, hearing his angel cry, making his heart drop, he never again wants to hear her in pain again….

His birthday wasn't his special day anymore, it was their special day. Making it a ritual to always spend it together, they'd either go out and celebrate it over ice cream, or they'd stay at home, playing and cuddling watching movies as she drifted to sleep in his arms. He never asked for gifts, she's a child, and even later in life he wouldn't. He never liked his birthday, until he became a dad, the first year she gifted him with her precious first words. The second with a hug, the third with a kiss, and the fourth with morning snuggles. His little bundle of joy completely changed his perspective of his birthday. What will she do this year? 

Apparently, something really special, as she was hiding from him all day, running away from him everytime he tried to get a hug or a kiss. Making him a little angry as he just wanted some affection from the little girl, but he's not getting any of it. Well at least he didn't have to wait that long, lunch was approaching and so did his baby, well not so baby anymore, hiding something behind her back as she was making her way to him. Giving her a little smile as she finally, for the first time today, showed some interest in her father. Pressing her head on his leg as she couldn't reach higher to get his attention, like he wasn't already waiting for her. Bending down to get to her eye level, he gave her a little cheek kiss as she revealed what she was keeping a secret from him all day long. It must've been something on a paper or something like that, but he couldn't quite tell as glitter was covering all of it, looking behind her to see the trail of orange and pink shimmers that would definitely be a hassle to clean. Though he didn't care right now, the only thing that matters was his gift, as narcissistic as it sounds. Taking the present from her hands only to open the envelope to reveal a folded paper. Shaking his hand in a sort of way to get rid of the sparkles, gently unfolding the paper. Eyes wide, then softening as a grin made its way to his lips. It was a family drawing. There she was holding hand with what he assumed to be him, wearing his hero costume, and their little cat to the side. Not forgetting to add her uncle Kirishima but it seemed as she crossed him, writing a small no to his side, making the blond giggle. And on the top of her paper, in bold multi-colored pencil a big "Happy birzday Baba" with a crooked heart next to it. It was nothing amazing, but he can see the thought she put into it, the love and passion she dedicated in the drawing, making him ever so proud of his girl. Giving her the biggest hug, lifting her up in the air as he thanked her. He was honestly having the time of his life, always, with his little bundle of joy…. 

14 years….

Rituals are bound to fade one day. And considering spending his birthday together as a ritual, he wasn't that surprised when it broke. But it still hurts. It's the first birthday in 14 years he spends alone, without her by his side. With her laughs to fill the air, with her hugs to warm his heart, with her "I love you dad"s. Instead she decided to spend the night with her friends. And the worse thing about all of it, she hadn't even acknowledged him all day long. Teenagers… 

Bored out of his mind, and too sad to do anything, even spending the night with Kirishima. He couldn't bring himself to move from the couch, laying under his blankets. Pathetic Katsuki, you've been limping around all day long like a heartbroken teenager! Man up it's just a night away. At this point he had no idea if he was sad that he's not spending the night with his daughter or if he was just worried about her. It's not the end of the world! He can still get out, have fun on his birthday like everyone. He still can….. But he doesn't want to. He wants her. He wants to hug her, mess her hair, listen to her drag his names as he teases her about her crush. He wants to cuddle up with her as they watch their favorite show for the fifteenth time. And fuck, is he crying right now? It's just…. It feels like just yesterday he was teaching her how to lace up her shoes, warning her about boys. It felt like just yesterday, she took her first steps, yelled her first swear, she gave him the middle finger for the first time. She just grew up so fast, how can he not be sad? And his tears didn't stop rolling as he looked at the fridge, family drawings she made, the highest score on a maths exam…. He was just so proud of her. He was just so proud to call this little daredevil with a soft heart his daughter. And he was so proud of the woman she grew up to be. 

Thinking so much about her, it seemed like she sensed it. Right before midnight, a special ringtone shook him awake. It was her! Is she ok?! What if something happened to her?! Shooting out from under the blankets to answer the call, mind drowning in fear, until he heard her gentle voice, slightly above a whisper so her friends don't listen to her. "Happy birthday dad, I love you so much!"

18 years…. 

Sadness, it was all he was feeling lately. The thought of her being already so grown up, he didn't want his baby to leave him. He didn't want his baby to fly away from him. He didn't want his daughter to forget about him…. But there's some things in life that you can't stop. And one of them was the departure of his girl to college, leaving him alone, with their old cat, just to stare at all her childhood photos, relive all the memories, and when he gets her occasional texts, it never fails to make him smile and tug at his heart as tears threaten to fall. 

Though on his birthday, she made sure to make it as special as possible, even if she wasn't near him. Going out to get his mail like every morning, he noticed a special letter. One decorated with glitter, orange and pink. Excitement flowing in his vain as he knew exactly where that special gift came from, or to be exact from who. Running inside and gently opening up the letter, wanting to keep it intact to save it. He couldn't help but sob at the words in front of him, the love they expressed…. 

    "Dear baba… 

     It's your special day! So I thought I'd make it even more special and write to you how I truly feel. 

    I know it's been hard, and I haven't been the easiest to raise. But can you blame me for the temper I inherited from you? Can you blame me for the loud voice I got from you? Can you blame me for the love and care and sweetness I offer the word that I learned from you? 

    I know what you're thinking, cause I thought about it too. Do you ever wonder, like me, about what would've happened if I was never a part of your life? Do you ever wonder, like me, what it would've been like if I had a mother, to braid my hair and caress my cheeks? To lull me to sleep with angelic voice and the smile that would appear everytime I do something right? Do you ever wonder, like me, if I never were a mistake? But I don't blame dad, it's not your fault. I'm not asking you to change anything, there's nothing you can do. And I understand. 

    Do you want to know what though? All of these are just what if's… In reality I wouldn't change a thing, and I know you won't either. In reality I don't need that motherly love, I only need yours. I need your rough hands to pinch my cheeks, I need your loud voice to praise me up, I need your evil smirk to boost me up. 

     I've seen your tears dad, I heard your cries. I've shed those tears too dad, and I bet you heard my cries. You wish you had someone, I wish that too. You wish you were better, I wish I was that too. But now I know, life might be us two. And I'm so ok with that. All I need in life is you. My angel and devil, my father and so much more, my number one hero…..

      Happy birthday to the most wonderful hero, to my best friend, to my one and only! Happy birthday baba! I love you!

                           From your daughter xoxo"

Tags

(@babybakuu )

[missramu]

Johnny Joestar Headcanons

So, I was really bored and decided to write about my favorite Jojo, 𝓙𝓸𝓱𝓷𝓷𝔂! This is a mix of headcanons with some canon stuff.

So, here we go!

✰ Johnny was that typical doll-like perfect baby: curly blond hair, pale skin, pink cheeks, little freckles and big blue eyes that followed everything with curiosity. The clothes he used to wear also helped to mantain that look: in the Victorian era, babies from wealthy families used to wear dresses with plenty of ruffles, laces, ribbons, buttons and frills -no matter their sex- and bonnets. Nowadays he still has freckles; although not that many. They’re mostly on his cheeks and arms.

✰As we know, Johnny is the youngest of two brothers (being Nicholas 5 years older tan him). This, plus the fact that he also looked really fragile, made his mother really over-protective of him. This was usually seen as Johnny’s being Anne’s favorite, but she only wanted to protect his youngest son. The way his mom treated him made Johnny a shy, yet kind, child. That kindness made him adopt Danny, as well as taking care of Slow Dancer even if he knew that she was old and almost ruthless.

✰ His hair gets wavy in humid weather. When he was a child his hair was a curly mess after taking baths, but now it simply curls in soft waves, which he tries to straighten as much as possible.

✰He was born in Danville, Kentucky; so he has a heavy Southern accent. But since the Joestar family used to constantly travel to Britain -and actually lived there for some years-, Johnny added some British idioms to his vocabulary, thus resulting in a funny combo of British slang said in heavy Southern accent.

✰He grew up in a wealthy family -his father was tied to aristocracy, and also was a famous racer and breeder, having won the Triple Crown seven times and owning farms to breed racing horses-, so he’s a little bit of a spoiled brat sometimes. This status also made him picky over certain things, like food or baths.

✰Johnny was educated to be a “British gentleman” and, even if his own personality sometimes makes him fail at it, he still tries to behave as polite as possible. One habit that stayed with him was the one to note everything down, showing off his fine calligraphy and his accountant skills. The Joestar kid also knows Latin and Greek, as he was schooled. He even went to Oxford for a short period of time.

✰Johnny has never been fond of dark colours; he has always preferred to dress up in light ones. Luckily, they suit him.

✰Since he was a child, he has proved to be very perceptive of his surroundings, as well as being able to read the mood quite easily. Johnny is also good at focusing, what makes him a really good shooter -probably hunting would have been one of his hobbies, if he wasn’t kind and compassionate-. He has proved to being able to shoot at little and/or moving targets, even if firing from odd angles and perspectives.

✰Johnny loved his mother, and would try to follow her everywhere like a duckling would follow its mother. It wasn't surprising that his first words were "mama". His next word was "horsie", and would enthusiastically say it as he pointed to the horses in the fields when the family decided to take a walk around the farm.

✰In the Victorian era, it was common for toddlers to rarely be in contact with their parents; as they were mostly raised by a nanny. He did have a nanny -whom he loved deeply-, but his mother was still around at all times; she was always there for him. Despite breaking this usual thing, he was indeed raised to be like the stereotypical Victorian child: proper, polite and quiet.

✰The youngest Joestar loved to visit the horses in the family farms, enjoying their company. His fondness for these animals evolved into his skills as a jockey; as he also is well-versed in equine science.

✰Johnny was five when he first rode a horse, and his father quickly considered him a genius. The young boy quickly started to believe this as an irrefutable truth, his ego beginning to grow. Although he indeed is a genius with plenty of skills that allow him to ride across many types of terrain, or even challenge fellow genius jockey -ahem, Diego Brando-; having such a big ego ended up wounding him.

✰Even if George did praise his early horse-riding skills, the rest of Johnny’s childhood was marked by a strained relationship with him. His father was unnecessarily severe, to the point of physically punishing Johnny. He also favored Nicholas immensely, belittling the younger one with constant comparisons. After Nicholas’ death, George was convinced that “God had taken the wrong son” and took out his sadness and rage on Johnny. This cruel behaviour caused Johnny great pain, and an enormous feeling of inferiority.

✰Anne's death was a big shock for the youngest Joestar. He felt like he had lost the only support he had in the family; his mother would comfort him after his father scolds and punishments. She also happened to die a short time before Nick's accident. Johnny was 9 when his brother died; and around 7-8 when Anne died. His father cruel behaviour towards Johnny hurt him, and the little boy was upset because he didn't entirely comprehend why his mom wasn't coming back.

✰The only one who calls him by his full name -Jonathan- is his father, and he despises it. Nowadays, hearing his full name triggers something on him, reacting with some kind of fear. He was used to listen to his father call him only to point out his mistakes and scold him; so hearing “Jonathan” makes him have that kind of reaction.

✰He is a magnificent horse tamer, as seen with Slow Dancer: the horse was introduced as wild and ruthless, but she warmed up to Johnny, to the point of helping him get on her by hoisting him and rolling him down his neck and into the saddle.

✰After his father disowned him and threw him out of the Joestar household, Johnny, in shock, decided to shut himself off. With this, he also created a vain and narcissistic facade in order to hide the sadness this rejection caused him.

✰He tried to take Black Rose -Nicholas’ horse- with him when he was disowned.

✰After he was disowned, when Father’s Day arrived, Johnny used to spend the day in a sour mood, secluded and probably drinking, trying to forget his lame childhood.

✰With his pride harmed, he decided to prepare for the Kentucky Derby, winning it at the age of 16. He made it out of spite, trying to prove his father wrong and growing his own ego; maybe he couldn’t defeat Diego back in the UK, but he won the Derby. He still believes that winning the Derby was his greatest accomplisment.

✰When he was shot and paralyzed, Johnny felt his own pride crushing him: everything he showed off suddeny vanished. Unable to ride again, the horse-riding promise fell into oblivion; he lost all the friends and respect he had earned as a jockey. No one came to visit, leaving him behind; even his own father disappeared from his life, not even visiting him in the hospital. For that, Johnny is used to being abandoned: he forces himself to not get attached to anyone, since he believes that they’ll probably leave him.

✰During his stay in the hospital, the nurses used to dose him with morphine. They did it in order to shut him up –the poor boy was in terrible pain-, but for that, he got addicted to morphine. Luckily, it was only for a short time, since he managed to get clean several months after leaving the hospital.

✰Due to having such a big ego, now his past glory crushes him. He hates how he lost everything in such a pathetic way; but also believes he deserves it.

✰Surprisingly, his arms and chest are really strong; because he is always using them to crawl around and to lift himself.

✰Due to his light complex and weight, he is terribly ticklish.

✰He is a Christian, and believes in Fate and karma, but in a kind of wretched way. Johnny believes that, throughout the years, Fate itself was taking revenge on him for his misdeeds; and that he deserved every misfortune he received. His obsession with the Corpse showed his obsession with karma too, and how he wanted to reset it to a neutral state, paying off his negative debt. His beliefs in Fate explains his lack of confidence and constant panic of losing everything, since he firmly believes that Fate could at any moment take away his hopes.

✰Johnny has depression and, for this, a lack of confidence. He considers himself a useless person, a burden, and unworthy of love. This gloomy perspective of life came from his youth, making him a pessimistic man.

✰TW//suicide. He has considered -and tried- to commit suicide; but he couldn’t. He claims that it’s because he’s a “coward that hates pain, and doesn’t have the balls to finish everything”; but, deep down, it’s because he holds on to even the smallest hope.

✰TW//self harm. He has several scars: the ones on his arms are smaller, and were self-inflicted -self-harm and suicide attempts-. He also has some scars on his legs, caused by wounds he got by trying to stand up, walk and ride; but the biggest scar is the one covering half his back, as a memento from the accident. The bullet left a mark, surgery made it ugly, and the abuse he endured during his stay in the hospital made it worse. Therefore, he now is ashamed and self-concious of his back.

✰Seeing his legs makes him feel weak, and he hates that. He also despises feeling as defenceless as when someone picks him up to carry him without his consent. He truly hates feeling powerless, and it also makes him incredibly angry -and lowkey sad-. He can only tolerate this if it’s someone who he deeply trusts and knows, and only if he has asked for it.

✰At first, he wouldn’t let anyone touch neither his legs nor his back; but after warming up a little, he would tolerate caresses and gentle pats.

✰He also hates when people look at him with sorrow or as if they were pitying him. He may be disabled, but he’s still perfectly capable of plenty of things. Usually, he will reject any kind of help as politely as possible, but his anger will show.

✰Meeting Gyro made him throw away his harsh facade. At first, he was uncaring of everyone else save himself, only maintaining a polite but cold demeanour towards people he met; but Gyro’s influence made Johnny slightly more friendly.

✰ Gyro also made a great impact in Johnny’s perspective of life; not all of a sudden, but in gradual steps. The Italian man gave him hope, helped him to knock out his lack of confidence, gave him some assurance and optimism and also was genuinely nice to him, making Johnny grateful for meeting him. He treasures their relationship deeply.

✰Johnny doesn’t belittles Slow Dancer for being old, as he knows that she has plenty of experience as a Racing horse, and plenty of stamina. He truly knows his mare, possessing great knowledge of her: he knows and perceives her abilities and limits, and is able to predict what Slow Dancer will be capable of. They have grown quite close to each other, and she ocasionally nudges and licks him gently. Johnny loves this.

✰Sometimes, to kill some time, he and Gyro will exchange curses and slang in their respective languages. Gyro finds American sayings strange.

✰Gyro and Johnny had a hard time understanding each other in the beginning of their relationship: the older man had a thick Italian accent, and Johnny had to decipher what the hell was he trying to say. After a while, they grew used to each other's accents, but Gyro still made fun of Johnny's.

✰ His determination doesn’t waver, despite having failed several times. Johnny focuses on his goals, and puts them above anything else. He is also willing to endure severe wounds in order to reach them. And if you also add his stuborness…

✰The man is REALLY stubborn. If he wants to get something, he WILL, no matter what. If he has to, he will be violent or kill his opponents. This is called as “dark determination flickering in his eyes”, indicating a ruthlessness which would make Johnny able to kill in cold-blood. For this, he may seem amoral and selfish, even extending this to the interest of his loved ones. Yet he isn’t truly amoral, protecting defenceless people and taking damage to protect the ones he cares about.

✰He’s rather impulsive and hot-headed, which makes him take action as soon as possible. Sometimes, he might end up regretting not thinking BEFORE acting.

✰ Johnny would do anything for his loved ones:

Even if he’s afraid of his father, he has always tried his hardest to live up to his expectations.

He loved Nicholas deeply and looked up to him as an idol, and blames himself for his death. After he died, he became guilt-ridden, believing that his brother’s death was his own fault and that he should have died instead.

He was willing to abandon the Corpse Parts he had to save Gyro.

(JOJOLION SPOILERS!) When Rina was struck with the Rock Disease, Johnny stole the Corpse to make it transfer the disease away from her, not caring who would receive it and suffer in her place. But when the disease transfered to his son, he healed him by transfering it to himself, dying in order to save his wife and son.

✰He’s the CEO of being done with everyone’s bullshit. He’s angry 85% of the time, and usually cries out of anger.

✰ He’s also a sarcastic little shit. Any stupid questions you make him will be answered with his fine sarcasm.

✰He’s HORNY! This is shown with his bug bite fetish and the fact that he has been involved in at least one threesome. He doesn’t mind empty sex either -as he slept with several girls who came to him only for his fame-. He’s also bisexual.

✰When it comes to affection, he prefers to show his emotions through actions. For him, they speak louder.

✰Regarding to affection, Johnny will deny it; but he is touch-starved. The man really loves hugs and physical contact. He likes to hold on tight and get as close as posible. Since he doesn’t usually speak out loud his emotions, he will show them physically. However, he would rather be held, feeling loved and protected.

✰He feels guilty when someone falls in love with him, since he believes he’s not worthy of happiness nor love. He tends to think that he’s making them waste their time on him, when they could be with someone who could provide them with what they deserve. He can’t help but compare himself to others, belittling himself.

✰When he has a crush, he will do anything to deny it. He doesn’t want to admit how someone began to be so important to him, and is afraid that “Fate” might take them away from him. If he has to avoid them, he will; just to get away and not face his feelings.

✰George does reconcile with Johnny, and feels ashamed of how he treated his own son. He claims to be proud of him now, and even gives Johnny Nicholas’ boots. At first Johnny was resentful and wasn’t planning on forgiving him, since he believed that his father was only coming back for his recovered fame. After a couple weeks he decided against that, forgiving George and honouring him by naming his only son after him.

✰Nicholas’ boots were one of his most beloved possessions, and were passed down as a family relic.

✰If Rina had allowed him to name their daughter, he would have called her Anne, in honour to his mother.

✰In Japan, the Joestar-Higashikata family lived in a farm. Although the place is designed in the Japanese traditional way, Johnny couldn't help but give it some Western touches, specifically to the barns. These ones were designed to be as similar as the ones his father had in Britain and Danville. It made Johnny nostalgic, but in a gentle and warm way; he purposefully made them like that, so he could remember his roots.

✰They were quite wealthy: not only for the Higashikata's fruit business, but also for Johnny's connection with the Japanese government.

✰As a horse-riding teacher, his pupils loved and respected him deeply. Johnny liked discipline -as he took his profession seriously-, but was also very kind to them, treating them with the respect he never received.

✰Obviously, he taught his children to ride as early as possible.

[aerois]

I see you are a person of taste, being a Jade fan. What are your feelings about Dist?

Oh boy oh boy oh boy I’ve always wanted an excuse to rant about this!!!

So... Dist. The Rose, The Reaper. The Runny 😏

What to say about one of the most iconic Tales side-villains? Dist is... a beautiful disaster. But what’s beautiful about him isn’t his fashion sense (he wishes tho lol), but rather, the parts of him many don’t see.

Now I won’t lie, Dist is an annoying, pathetic, self-centered little buttmunch. The man is 35 and his social skills even worse than Anise’s. His attachment to the professor goes past being immoral and subjectively disgusting to downright concerning on a more personal level. He is somehow both a giant narcissist and yet void of any confidence at the same time. And he really doesn’t know when to shut up.

But he has a very sweet heart, I think. Because underneath all the borderline psychosis and THE most unhealthy coping skillset in existence is a very dedicated and reverent person who just wants to return to the safety of his childhood. As far as we know, the Professor was the only truly positive influence in his life that wasn’t another kid his age. He describes his childhood as “those glorious days...” but it’s odd to me because, well, you would never describe the antics of 9 year olds as “glorious.” And it’s also a bit sad because a good chunk of his childhood was him getting absolutely dunked on by Jade. But at his core, Dist is someone who was forced to become an adult too fast, and yet he never really grew up. He’s stuck in this weird limbo where he’s emotionally a child but intellectually an adult.

And normally that’s disturbing, and I admit I felt that way— until I read the manga. Tl;dr (this is a spoiler for the manga, heads up) there’s a side story where Dist and Anise befriend each other during Anise’s earliest days in the Oracle Knights. Her Tokunaga used to be just a regular doll, until one day Dist witnessed Anise being bullied and the doll tattered in the process. Anise discards it in distress iirc, and Dist picks it up and repairs it in secret. He mends it, dutifully and unceasingly, adding protective technology that makes it into the Tokunaga we all know. He does all of this without Anise asking. Stays up late into the night working to exhaustion for a little girl he barely knows. It’s his first instinct to help this child.

Dist is a man who reveres childhood, so it’s only natural that he adores children. Dist was able to look at Anise, a lonely, misfit, mistreated child, and see a part of himself in her. The past version of himself that he recognizes deserved love and nurturing. He takes that feeling and, instead of becoming bitter, channels his grief into a positive action and improves someone else’s life. And for a narcissist like Dist, the fact that he toiled away quietly, making no announcements about it, is the most telling thing about his character. He is a kind, generous, and surprisingly humble man.

Dist fluffs his feathers a lot, but deep down he’s someone with an incredible amount of love but no one to give it to. And while his social skills are atrocious, I wager he’d improve a lot if he could just find someone patient enough to listen to him for a good long while. And in my opinion, he’s someone whose talents probably lie in parenting. He would make a very attentive and considerate father, and would probably derive a lot of healing from raising and running around playing with children. I think that’d be a healthy way for him to move on in life.

That’s where my feelings end up. I look at him, and while I cringe at the bad, the good almost brings a tear to my eye. I want him to live peacefully and happily, surrounded by people that accept him.

[emisonme]

Here I go again.......

I've had it with you fucking STRAIGHT crapmila shippers coming at me in my asks. You are NOT changing my mind. All you are doing is pissing me off. Those who follow me, know what happens, when I get pissed, so here we go.

I actually started writing this post, because of a funny moment in an interview. Then I watched another interview, and it got even funnier. I'll warn you now, this post is going to run the gamut, but don't worry, I'll finish it on a happy note.

I haven't really been keeping up with all of Camila's interviews lately, because like many of you, I'm tired of having to hear her promote all the bullshit, instead of HER music. It's ridiculous. I decided to give in and read a few and watch a few. It was worth it.

I watched the Capital FM, or whatever the fuck it's called, and it was a priceless moment. She went from happy to be there, to ready to throw herself off a fucking bridge in a matter of seconds.

Camila's whole demeanor changed, when they asked her about her "relationship" with Mawn Shendes. She gave her orchestrated response about how she "loves" him, and then the camera cut to the interviewer real quick. It's when the camera done another quick pan back to Camila, that the truth of all this shit, was really written all over her face. My mind went straight to her choking on her own lies, in the Liar music video.  She can't even hide the truth. She is tired of all this shit.

Then I listened to the 15 minute Zane Lowe phone-in.  That one had me rolling. Camila being Camila. If she can't tell us her whole truth, she tries to tell us little truths, as she tries to remember all the fake shit she's supposed to say.

Then, I read The Sun puff piece. Yeah, that was them dropping an elephant on her ass, for not being able to hide her disgust, and fumbling on some of her answers.

I tell ya, they are constantly trying to fix a mess, this era. Instead of concocting narratives and lies, why don't you just promote your Artist and HER damn music. For fucks sake, STOP promoting  Shendes and this fake ass "relationship". Camila is about to lose her shit, over all this crap.

You know this shit is fake, when it's obvious she is sick and tired of talking about his ass. They started this shit show, with answers of wanting to keep it private and not talk publicly about it. That's the REAL Camila. Now, she is asked about it every fucking interview, and she is now having to actually answer it. She hates it, yet she HAS to. If she wasn't being contractually forced to answer this shit, she would simply do what she has always done, and not answer the damn questions.

Instead, she has a prepared stock answer ready for each interview. That's yet another way we can tell this shit is fake as fuck. One "I'm happy. I love him" is an aw moment. Two is a side eye moment. Three, is part of a fucking narrative.

He, after refusing to talk about their "relationship" before, is now finding a way to mention her name in every fucking meet & greet. He does this, even if he hasn't been asked about her, or their "relationship", at all. It's beyond absurd, at this point.

Let's get back to the Zane Lowe interview. If you haven't listened to it, you should. He asked her something along the lines of, how she handled her "break up" with the dickhead. Oh boy, did she stumble all over that one.

She did remember to say, she was devastated and upset about it. (Yay memory!) Then went on to say, it didn't really matter which one does the breaking up, it's still devastating either way, and lets you know just how much you really loved them. She then went on to say, she hasn't ever experienced the bad side of a break-up. She hasn't ever been the one broken up with.

That in itself tells us, she is the one who "dumped" the dickheads ass. (good riddance) The problem here is, you don't just dump someone you really love....especially if they really love you back. If two people really love each other, and they "make you the happiest you've ever been", there is no fucking reason to dump their ass......Unless someone else comes along, and offers you a better deal!!! Well, in this case, "a better deal" would be the equivalent of "fighting for the one you truly love"

Listen, if this fucking narrative happened, the way they want us to believe it did, then no one would have really loved anyone. If Camila really loved the dickhead, she wouldn't have dumped his ass, for Shendes. If Shendes really loved Camila, he wouldn't have even attempted to "steal" her away from someone who made her the "happiest she's ever been." That's the fucking tea!

That's why none of this shit makes any damn sense...at least not to most of us. If we were to believe this narrative, we would have to numb our brains enough to believe, Camila went from happier than she's ever been with one dickhead, to PUBLICLY sucking face with another dickhead, a few weeks later.

That's why all these damn dumbasses out there, are calling Camila a damn cheating slut. Because, if you believe this fucked up narrative, you would have to believe she is just a dick hopping fluzzy, that confuses like for love, and is a simple selfish bitch.

Some of you do believe that. Those of you who do, actually believe Shendes is a fucking saint. In reality, if you believe this fucking narrative, that means SHAWN MENDES IS A SELFISH NARCISSISTIC DICK, who "fought" for someone who was in a fucking relationship with someone else. That doesn't make him a nice guy. That would make him a fucking prick who thinks he's better than everyone else. That's the fucking tea!!

You fucking crapmila shippers like to say Camren shippers are "delusional" and "pathetic", for shipping such a "toxic" couple. You homophobic jackasses obviously don't know what toxic is, because crapmila would have Camren beat all to shit on the toxicity meter, IF YOU ACTUALLY BELIEVE THIS BULLSHIT NARRATIVE!

*breath*...Back to the Zane Lowe interview. After she said she had never experienced the getting dumped side of a relationship, she then went on to say, and I quote, "I've never been in a real relation..." Oh shit! Oops gotta fix it. after a pause..."I've only been in two relationships."

That's your real tea, Ladies and gents. That's her little truth to keep her from choking on all the lies. That she has never been in a real relationship..." If she had not had an elephant dropped on her head, and been allowed to finish that statement, she would have said, she's never been in a real relationship...with a boy/man. (She's gay, IN MY OPINION)

You know there was someone in the room, waving their hands in the air like a mad man, ready to fly drones at her head. But, that's OK, @rogergold and @shoshonnastone put together a puff piece for The Sun, to fix the narrative.

Hmm! I wonder which two "relationships" she was being forced to remember? Was it Austin and Ew? Well, it couldn't have been Austin. That FAKE narrative was destroyed a long damn time ago. First by Austin himself, then by Camila.

For shits and giggles, Camila decided to put another nail in that shit PR. How? The official narrative was that Austin DUMPED HER after she went public with their "relationship". But, she just said, she hadn't experienced getting dumped before. Oops again!

It wasn't the boy-bander. He was nothing more than propaganda for more bullshit. It wasn't early Shendes, because every time he tried to "kiss" her, she turned him down...because he kept calling her "kid". (Corden interview 2015)

The only two it could be, is the dickhead, because he was her "first real relationship", and Mawn Shendes now. Oh, I almost forgot, Mawn has publicly stated, that he can't wait to get his heart broken, so he can write his first really good album. No problem! Camila's all set to help you with that, too.

She already saved your fucking career by giving you Ceñorita, doing another duet with you, that gave you your first number 1 hit, agreeing to do a damn PR relationship with you, taking your crappy selling third album and making it Platinum, and followed your ass around on your tour, to put more asses in the seats.

She did all that for you SHAWN MENDES. All she had to do, was fuck up her own image to do it. That's a REAL FRIEND for you. How are you going to return the favor Shawn? I know, you'll probably wait for Taylor to fix it for you. Typical male behavior. Get great women to fix all your fucking problems!!!

Whatever. It's all bullshit. In my opinion, there is only one truth in all this bullshit. That truth, Camila hasn't been in a "real relationship" with Austin, Michael, Shawn, the Dickhead, or any other man/boy.

She has only been in ONE REAL RELATIONSHIP. It has been a rocky roller-coaster ride of emotions. It has gone through it's ups and downs. It's good times and bad. They have had their fights and break-ups, true love and make-ups. That's what true love is. For Camila, that's what true love is...with a woman. Not just any woman, but the woman...Lern Jergi!!!!!! !! !!!!

From first meeting at 15, to today at 22/23. From "dang she can sing" to "dang it, she's pretty, too", to "I like your shirt". From instant friendship, to immediate crushing...to "mine's Lauren". From "beautiful eyes", to longing stares. From covert booty grabs, to admiring each others butts in front of the world.  From intertwined hands, to simply trying to touch each other without the cameras noticing. From skinny dipping in Puerto Rico, to Valentine's Day on an Aussie beach. From matching rings, to sharing clothes.

They were there for each other. They defended each other. They would trade brains with each other. Before they even knew how important they were going to be to each other, something in them knew, and something in them will always know.

From strangers to friends. From friendship to true love. That's Lauren and Camila. That's Camren. That can never be erased by a fake made up false narrative.

[star-birthmark]

Living Through You: Ghiaccio X Reader

Ghiaccio had never been someone who could take criticism well. But someone has attacked the integrity of his stand, he wouldn’t just sit idly by. When a heated attack is thrown, he is asked to explain his side of the story. He had to defend his abilities and what they represent: his love for you. Hear the ice man tell a story from his past and learn why Ghia is the way he is.  (4.1k words)

CWs: parental arguments, casual violence, reader death

“Do you guys ever wonder why we have the stands that we do?” 

It was poker night at the La Squadra base, the whole team huddled around their dining room table, engaged in the heated card game. Pesci had already blown through most of his money (much to Prosciutto’s dismay), with the game quickly becoming a power struggle between Melone’s calculating mind, Risotto’s blank expression, and Sorbet’s cheating ways. However, all members stopped and took a pause when the oh-so tipsy but oh-so curious Formaggio asked all of them his question. Illuso thought about it for a moment before looking at his casual rival with a grin. 

“I can think of why. I’ll bet a fatass like you wanted to be thinner so you got Little Feet.”

Formaggio growled. “At least I’m not so narcissistic that my stand would require me to look at myself in the mirror all day you prick.”

Prosciutto rolled his eyes and stuck his cigarette in between his teeth. 

“You gotta be kidding me. A stand has nothing to do with someone’s personality. What? Do you really think Melone’s some kind of scientific genetic genius?” 

He snickered, causing the masked man to dramatically gasp from his wounded pride. 

“Oh yeah?! Well, at least I’m not subconsciously scared of my good looks fading Pros dear. I take good care of myself. You keep smoking and eating red meat and relying on your genes to stay fit, and you won’t even need Grateful Dead to look like a gross old man.” 

Proscuitto grumbled, ready to stand up from his seat and give Melone a peace of his mind. Pesci, noticing his mentor’s ticks of anger, shook his head in protest. 

“Hey what if we all just stop this? We all got pretty strong stands anyway, so what does it matter why we have them?” Sorbet rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah obviously the man with the worst stand out of all of us would say that.” 

Seeing Pesci’s hurt expression, Risotto placed a large hand on the boy’s shoulder and glared at Sorbet. 

“Come Sorbet. You know how sensitive Pesci can get.” Proscuitto rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever sir. He should learn to take it.” 

“Wait for just a second now but I don’t wanna take it-”

“He should learn how to take it.” 

Proscuitto eyed his mentee waiting for him object again. Pesci sighed, slinking back in his chair. Formaggio raised an eyebrow in thought. 

“Wait a second… there’s still someone we haven’t really considered.” 

He looked about the group before eyeing Ghiaccio sitting between Melone and Sorbet and Gelato. The curly-haired assassin sat silently, staring down at his cards with shaking hands. The rest of them had realized who Formaggio was talking about and turned to Ghiaccio as well. Melone leaned in towards his one true friend of the group. 

“Well, you’ve been awfully quiet Ghia. You’d think since we’re all yelling at each other, you’d want in on the fun.”

“I’m alright.” The icy man nodded between teeth, still staring at his cards. Sorbet decided to pry as he usually does, unafraid to be truly hurtful. 

“Oh come on Amico… we’re all men here. You know damn well we can take an insult. So what’s about it. How about you take a shot at us, you pathetic little figure skater? Little girl huh?”

“What the fuck did you call me?!” Ghiaccio exploded, slamming his hands down on the table, coming up to his feet. Sorbet chuckled. 

“Alright alright calm down. Mad at me? Do something then…”

Ghiaccio bit his tongue once more, turning his head to sneer at his senior member. Melone was the first to notice the glossiness of his best friend’s eyes but didn’t want to hurt the assassin’s pride by saying anything. Formaggio was beginning to take notice as well, glancing down at the table to pretend he didn’t see how the tears were starting to build in Ghiaccio’s eyes. Proscuitto lit himself another cigarette for a distraction and placed a hand on Pesci’s shoulder to stop him from asking Ghiaccio what was wrong. Illuso fidgeted in his chair before getting up, claiming in his own falsely arrogant way that he was too tired to watch Ghiaccio’s and Sorbet’s pathetic stare down. Only Risotto was able to look at his teammate’s approaching vulnerability under the fellow murderer’s gaze, ready to step in case things got physical. 

With Ghiaccio, they usually did. 

His whole body trembling, Ghiaccio sat back down in his seat and looked away from Sorbet’s deadly gaze, causing the older man to howl in laughter, getting his boyfriend to join in with him in mocking their teammate. Noticing that final eye twitch from Ghiaccio, Risotto and Melone nodded to each other before getting up from their seats. But they were too slow; Ghiaccio had already stood up again in blinding rage and landed a hard punch into Sorbet’s nose, knocking both him and Gelato clinging onto him, backward out of their chair and tumbling to the floor. 

“Ghia! Ghia stop it!” 

Melone lunged, grabbing Ghiaccio from behind and struggling to hold him back. Risotto walked over to the two of them and placed a hand on Ghiaccio’s head, causing the young man to faint into Melone’s arms. 

“Take him back to his room. I’ll handle Sorbet and Gelato.”

Melone nodded, dragging his unconscious friend out of the dining room. The other got up from the table with a sigh, leaving as they heard the couple’s loud cursing and cries of pain. The night soon went down in history as the worst poker night they’d had in a long while, all members silently agreeing to not speak of it for a while. 

Until about two weeks later, when Melone and Ghiaccio were sitting in the ice man’s room talking. Mission briefings lay over the floor, along with paperwork that still needed to get done and styrofoam cups from the noodles they had just had. Melone eyed Ghiaccio at his desk from the other’s bed and finally opened his mouth. 

“Can you please tell me why you punched him?” Ghiaccio closed his eyes, sighing.

“No. I don’t want to.” 

“Oh come on. You told Ris.”

“Risotto’s our capo. I had to tell him or I’d be kicked out. You ain’t shit.” 

Melone pouted and shrugged, muttering under his breath that he, in fact, was shit, but Ghiaccio only glared at him again. Melone rolled his eyes and opening his mouth again.

“You know, it’s wasn’t even that important of a question that Formi asked. ‘Do you guys ever wonder why we have the stands that we do?’. That was all. Then we had to get all dramatic about it and yell at each other. But of course you take it too far and you ruined your relationship with Sorbet by punching him, and you still won’t tell me why you punched him at all. Not even too mention you needed Ris to move all the blood from your brain for you to pass out since that’s apparently the only way to get you to calm down. Then I had to drag your sorry self back to this room without any than-”

Not surprisingly, Melone was interrupted by his friend slamming his fists down into his desk and screaming. 

“Fine. Fine! You wanna know?! YOU WANNA FUCKING KNOW?!” 

“YES?! I DO! THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

“FINE! I WILL FUCKING TELL YOU!”

“YES! PLEASE DO!”

Ghiaccio grumbled and turned away from Melone before beginning. 

“You can’t judge me for this…” Melone could sense the seriousness of the situation but decided to keep it light.

“Do I seem in any position to judge anyone? Look at me.” Ghiaccio smiled a little before gulping, not wanting to tell the story. 

“Look… I don’t know all this for certain. But I really do think I know why I have White Album. I’m not a hundred percent sure on it all. But I remember Polpo telling me a stand can have something to do with our past, something that we loved, someplace, even��� even someone. And I think that’s what happened to me…Someone.”

 The iceman bit his lip, getting mad at Melone that he was making him admit all this. Still, Melone, another prier of La Squadra, was still confused. 

“What do you mean?” 

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

“Dear, please! I don’t know what the fuck you want, Rafi! Please! You know I can’t control him! Can’t you help me?!” 

A woman paced back and forth on the kitchen floor, wet sobs steadily streaming down her cheeks as she hid her face in her hands. The man sitting at the table away from her was smoking a cigar, his fist clenching and unclenching against the wood of the furniture, staring silently ahead of him with a sneer, his whole body seeming to quiver with hidden rage. The woman looked over at him from her spot, still shaking. 

“Well?! SAY SOMETHING! He’s your son! You’re as responsible as I am!” 

“Oh go away, dear… “ 

The man grumbled and took another puff of his cigar, causing the woman’s boiling rage to reach its critical point, and she exploded, swiftly walking over to her husband, grabbing his cigar, throwing it in the kitchen sink and soaking it in the running water.

“Hey what the fuck did you do that for?! Those are expensive!” 

“You haven’t been here for him or me for so long it’s no wonder he’s so messed up! All his father does is smoke all day while he’s here and ignore us when he isn’t!” 

“Oh please, it’s your damn fault the idiot’s the way he is! And what am I supposed to do?! We don’t have the money to keep bailing him out! His anger is out of control Marea, and I don’t know what to do about it either!” 

The woman’s eyes widened and she soon began to weep once more, her pacing continuing as she watched the clock on the wall through her tears. 

“Oh god… oh god what are we going to do? My baby… my baby… Oh, Santo Cielo! I don’t know how to help hi-”

A knock came to the door, the man quickly rushing to answer it as his wife worked to recollect herself, wiping her tears and straightening out her dress. The man opened the door, finding the exact picture he was expecting. A police officer stood alongside his teenage son on the porch, the man in uniform holding onto the young man’s handcuffs. The woman leaned out of the kitchen doorway, recognizing her son’s light blue curls, even as they messily blocked her view of his beaten and bruised face. 

“Is this Rafael Bianchi’s residence?”

“That’s me…”

“He was caught starting a fight with some other boys in the town square. We had to keep your son downtown until we could confirm the boys would recover well in the hospital. The parents say you’ll be hearing from them over the coming week.” 

“…I see… come on son.”

The handcuffs were unlocked, a young Giulio Bianchi stepping forward into the house, shyly looking up to see his father’s face and mother’s worried gaze. Once the woman got a good look at his face, her own turned to one of disappointment to one of worry. 

“Oh my god! Dear, what happened to your face?!” 

She came rushing over, carefully cradling her son’s chin in her hand and seeing the large bruise on his cheekbone and around his eyes. The young man growled before nudging out of her grip. 

“Get off me…”

“Dear we need to take you to get that seen…” 

“Just leave me alone. You didn’t even bother to pick me up from the station you bi-”

“Don’t talk to your mother that way!”

“Oh yeah?! And where the fuck were you old man?! A big tough guy like you didn’t come to pick me up either!” 

“You said you were coming back from school.” 

“I can’t believe you believed me.” The man sneered, clenching his fist before his wife took it in her hand for him to calm down. 

“Please dear… we need to get that seen. It could get infected a-and get worse and oh god what if you die? Oh god-” 

“God stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

The woman reached forward and tried to hold onto her son, but he pushed her away, taking a step back. She sighed, shaking where she stood. She had no idea how many times she had cried that night. To think she’d given birth to such a devil. To think she and her husband had raised such a monster. The tears began to fully form once more, the helpless woman weeping into the man’s chest as he reached to hug her. He looked at his son with contempt.

“Alright… alright, get going. Go wash it yourself if you don’t need us. Go wash it yourself…”

The young teen headed back further into the house towards his room, slamming the door behind him and closing his eyes in the sudden silence. He leaned against his doorway before sliding down till he sat, up against the door. The seconds of silence soon became far too much to bear, as the young delinquent let out an ear-shattering scream, venting out his frustrations and sadness.  He soon cut it short, the action hurting his bruised cheek. Giulio stood up from his spot and walked towards the window of his room, noticing that now more than ever, the snow was beginning to the fall over their little town, the beautiful white flakes trickling down to paint all over the grass outside. He stood there, watching the snowfall for what felt like hours, the slow, seemingly endless action working to calm down the young man. Distract him. From his parents. From the other boys. From school. From himself. A pull came over the young man, something drawing further and further to the snow, his hand rising from his side to the latch of his window. With one swift motion, he grabbed his coat from his desk chair and slipped his way out from his window, standing out in his yard and basking in the snow. Totally at peace. 

Of course, the peace didn’t last long. Once outside, all the young man could hear was scraping. A horrible, distinctive scraping, coming from a few streets away. Like a blade against ice. He grumbled and went to walk towards the sound, ready to give the person a piece of his mind for interrupting his peace of mind. 

That was when he saw you. 

The pond by your house had frozen over, one of the rare moments that you could finally rummage through your closet to find your skates and perform for yourself out on the ice. And well, perform for him. But you didn’t know that yet. He was entranced by you. Watching you form lazy figure eights along the perimeter of the pond, before circling into the center to spin around at top speed, had his interests peaked. Hiding within the trees, the young man watched for almost an hour as you skated all over the water, his breath catching in his throat whenever you jumped up, never one hundred percent sure that you would fully land on your feet. But you always did. The more he watched you, the more the young man became aware of the heat rising in his cheeks, or the sweatiness of his palms, or pace of his heartbeat. When you finally stopped, it took everything he had to just leave without a sound. It was a good thing he had failed. 

The rustling of the leaves and snow and the breaking of the branchers alerted you that someone was around. You turned every which way, watching for someone. 

“H-hello?! Is someone there?!” 

You called out, still looking around. He didn’t know what to do. Does he say anything? Does he run away? No. Giulio clenched his fist and turned around no longer hiding from behind the trees, his bruise out in the open, his curls blowing in the wind. 

“H-hello… I was…  I was watching you skate.” You look him up and down, scared for your life. 

“Uh-huh… Is there something you want?” 

“…Could you teach me?” You watched his face flood in embarrassment as he asked such a simple question. You couldn’t help but giggle. He frowned deeply at you.

“Hey don’t laugh at me! I’m asking you for real!” 

“But I don’t even know you.” 

“I just want to learn. I was watching you skate. It just… looks so calming.” 

You watched his eyes grow melancholy as he spoke those last words. He looked in need of help. He looked like he needed calm. Looked like he needed something like this.

“Well… I don’t even know your name.” He looked up at you. 

“It’s Giulio Bianchi… A dumb name I know.”

“I don’t think it’s dumb… my name is (y/n) (l/n). Would you like to come in? I could take care of your bruise…” His eyes widened before he shyly began to nod. 

“Sure.”

From that day on, things began to change for the young man. Winter break had begun. You had let him borrow your older brother’s skates while he studied in university, thankful that the two men had the same show size. It was a bit shaky at first, figuratively and literally. He fell quite a few times and had to hold onto you even more not to lose his footing, but you didn’t really mind. When the day was done, the young man returned home, promptly hiding away the skates, to head off to have dinner with his family. Day by day, his parents observed that their son was getting more and more at ease with his surroundings, and had been blowing up much less, though for the life of them they didn’t know why. But they certainly weren’t complaining. Calls from the police station stopped, yelling within the house turned into a peaceful silence, kisses were exchanged between two young lovers, ‘I love you’s were said. Giulio kept getting better and better at his skating. 

After weeks the two of you practicing, of him gaining his balance, of looping around the pond, and then the skating rink in town with you, Giulio felt a brand new man, and you could see it as well. Gone were the days of screaming at the top of his lungs every time he fell on the ice. Instead, he was now… civil. Loving even. You hurriedly untied your skates as you watched your partner make his final loops around the rink. You leaned against the railing as he came up to you. He watched you inquisitively.

“Hello. What are you staring at?” He asked.

“Hehe… you.” 

“Oh yeah? Like anything about it?” 

“A lot of it…” 

You chuckled and leaned down to take his lips in yours, cupping his cheek that was scarred from the fight the day you two met took place. Your boyfriend wrapped his arms around you, one hand taking through your hand with neediness. You couldn’t help but smile. He even loved in his own angry sort of way. And you have fallen in love with it. 

“Come on… let’s head home…” 

The walk back from the rink had been peaceful for the most part. Spring break was upon the town, with tourists coming to the north of Italy for the ski slopes and skating. You two huddled together in the chilly evening, chatting about the homework you both had due, how you were feeling a bit under the weather, him promising to bring over some of his mom’s homemade soup for you the next time it was made. All seemed at peace. 

Until that peace was gone. A man came running up to the two of you, coming out of a side alley. He didn’t seem to notice you. It was all so fast-paced. Another man ran in your direction, not seeming to notice you two in the crossfire. When the first shot was fired, the bullet pierced straight into the opposite man’s stomach. The two of you tried to hurry away from the noise, running in the opposite direction, the shooter running with you away from the shot. With his vision blurry, his life draining, the wounded man went to take his foe out, aiming as best as he could, sure that he hit someone. It was too bad that he hit the wrong person. You came crashing down, your head knocking against Giulio’s chest, blooding spilling everywhere. In a hot flash, he grabbed the gun the dead man had left behind and aimed towards the fleeting criminal, but he kept missing in the empty evening street. It was all done. The original shooter had gotten away, the second shooter was now dead. And poor (y/n)… was gone. It was too bad that another woman saw the stark image of a young man standing over the two dead bodies with a gun in his hand. The Bianchi household would receive another call from the police that night. 

Giulio wouldn’t know what would come of him for the rest of his life. The only person that understood him and managed to calm him down was gone, he was in jail for a crime he had not committed, and all of his raging had returned after so long of being gone.  He had no idea what would happen until a tall, powerful man stopped by his cell. 

“I can get you out of this. Is there anyone that would miss you?”

“Dunno. My parents disowned me. The love of my life is dead, I got nobody. What’s that got to do with you anyway? Who are you?” The man rolled his dark, void-like eyes and spoke. 

“Stop being so dramatic. The truth is.. I’m starting something. A team of sorts. And someone without any hesitation to resort to violence, someone with such a short fuse, would be perfect for it. You agree to join me, I’ll make sure you are out of here and taken care of…” Giulio watched him for any sign of lying before nodding in determination. 

“Alright… I will.”

It had been stressful to keep that flame on for 24 hours. But what was more stressful was what happened after the lighter went out. The dark presence, the shadows coming alive. The near-death experience, the sensation of being stabbed. Until he woke up the next morning with the light still on, sighing in relief to still be alive. 

When Guilio first felt his stand, he felt a heavy weight be placed right onto his heart. As White Album formed around his body, the sharp skates forming at his feet, and the temperature dropping just as it did back home, the young man resisted the urge to cry. Polpo explained to him that stand can from many places in the mind, even from a person the user used to know. So that was it. Guilio, now Ghiaccio smiled when he first heard that. So it was you. You were with him. You and your beautiful turns on the ice,  the way you protected him from himself, and your conditional love for him, they’d all be with him as long as he was still alive. You would live on through him, the love for the cold and ice that you both shared was now on his shoulders. 

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

“So that’s why I believe I have White Album. (Y/n) taught me how to control my anger through skating, and to this day it’s still the only thing that really calms me down. I got my love for it from (y/n), so when Sorbet mocked me for my stand, I couldn’t just sit there and take it. (Y/n) was everything to me Melone, and I had to defend (her/his) honor against him. So that’s the end of the whole story. That’s why I got so upset.” 

Ghiaccio leaned back against his desk chair and glanced over with a shrug to his best friend dramatically wiping the tears away from his face and blowing his nose violently into his handkerchief. 

“That was such a beautiful story! Ah! Ghia! I didn’t think you were capable of being so emotional!” Melone reached forward and hugged his friend, who immediately shrugged him off. 

“Yeah? Whatever…”

“Can we go skating now?! I think there’s a rink near town! You can teach me!” 

“Wait what?! No!”

“Oh come on! After such a story I want to learn as well!”

When the two friends finally arrived at the rink, Melone realized that his friend hadn’t finally agreed for them to go because he wanted to teach. He stood by the railing in his rental skates watching his best friend make the same lazy loops and figure eights on the ice that he so lovingly described. He watched as his friend closed his eyes, trusting that his feet knew where to go as if he’d memorized his rink from years of skating there.  Melone smiled and rested his chin in his hand, wishing he had met this person that shaped his best friend into the man before him that day. 

[jennifersylvesters]

not so subtle - part nine

Pairing: Harrison Osterfield x reader Word Count: 3.4k~ Warning: swearing A/N: happy galentines day!! i don’t think there’s much to really say about this besides it’s the valentine’s day part. hopefully you like it. be loving and remember that feedback is always appreciated/loved aka i’ll love you forever and possibly send you a valentine’s day heart

There were three simple words that were often used during the month of February. They weren’t used lightly, holding a substancial impact whenever spoken. Everyone heard those three words at least once in their lives that you thought constantly: Fuck. Valentine’s. Day.

It was the inevitable truth that Valentine’s Day was a spit in the face to single people. “You’re absolutely lonely? Well, suck it!” the holiday sneered at your misfortune. And lucky for you, it included a punch in the gut and a swift kick in the ass.

Everyone you knew seemed excited for the upcoming holiday. Kimberly gushed about her special evening plans with Sarah while Tom excitedly boasted how he planned a surprise date for Emma.

“I’m gonna have it all romantic looking like ‘Lady and the Tramp’” he spoiled to you. “And then I’m gonna have Tessa wearing a little bow and give her a bowl of spaghetti too. It’s gonna be really cute!” Shit - that did sound adorable.

“I hope Tessa gets sauce on your carpet” you told him, letting your envy get the best of you. Tom’s eyes grew; he was caught between being offended and worried about needing a carpet cleaner on standby. Sure that wasn’t particularly nice, but this holiday made you feel like the Grinch.

The only good thing about the miserable day were the candy sales. While you could do without the heart shaped, well, everything, it was easy enough to pretend you were buying it for someone special. In you case, you were buying it for yourself. And you a special person. A special idiot who couldn’t snag a boyfriend. But at least you could snag a couple boxes of chocolate for a discounted price.

There was only one plan for that night: you would order massive amounts of takeout and then pig out while watching terrible romantic comedies. “This is self care” you justified to yourself. This is totally acceptable behavior.

Night time rolled around on the worst day of the year, and you comfortably settled into your couch. You were half an hour into “10 Things I Hate About You”, carelessly tossing chocolate into your mouth as you waited for your dinner. Hearing the doorbell chime, you grunted pushing your junk food to the side.

“Coming” you called out as you shuffled to the door.

Your eyes widened as you swung the door open. This definitely wasn’t your delivery person. You slammed the door on their face, trying to figure out if you were hallucinating. Did you purchase weed brownies? Unlikely. Looking at the junk food, there was nothing you could think that would be laced with drugs seeing as you bought them all yourself.

A couple knocks brought you back to reality. Shit. You tried to calm your heart rate before you opened the door once more.

Harrison still stood in front of your door, looking confused as ever. “You do this to all of your guests?”

“Just the ones that aren’t welcome.” The words came out easier than you expected.

He smiled and rolled his eyes as you pulled the door open wider. The two of you had only seen each other once since the “normalcy agreement”. Tom had invited all of you to get dinner together a couple weeks ago, and you couldn’t say no to a free meal. It was surprisingly easy to slip back into your old ways, groaning at Harrison’s narcissism and stupid quips. He, in turn, teased you back and this somehow seemed to ease the rest of the group. Things could finally go back to normal.

But it felt strange seeing him at your door. Was showing up unannounced part of the new normalcy? Or was there something else going on?

“...Really?” he asked, tugging slightly on your oversized shirt and pulling you out of your thoughts.

“What?” Your face heated up. Obviously you hadn’t expected any visitors. Was he expecting a ballgown?

He looked behind you at the mess surrounding your couch. “Really?” he repeated, judgement clear in his voice.

“This is my apartment! You can’t insult me in my own place!”

He strolled into your living room surveying the state. You were tempted to tidy up, get everything neat for him. Then you realized he wasn’t even your guest. If anything, he technically barged in. If you felt like it, you could totally call the cops on him. You weren’t going to, but you liked knowing that was a possibility.

He placed a hand on the couch, looking at all the junk food surrounding the couch and table. “It’s a bit of a pathetic way to spend Valentine’s Day, really” he critiqued shaking his head. Like you needed his damn sympathy.

“Bitch, you’re here too!” you snapped.

“Yes, but I had a date planned.” You eyed him suspiciously. Why on earth would Harrison Osterfield skip a date just to come and criticize your single lifestyle? That was unless he didn’t have an actual date. No, he probably did. But maybe he cared about your wellbeing? Sounds fake, feels fake.

“Go on your date then” you insisted, wanting him to leave.

“Nah.” He took a seat in the center of the couch - your favorite spot - and sprawled his legs onto the table. “I think I’ll just relax here” You rolled your eyes as he spread his arms on the tops of the cushions like he was king of the upholstery.

Bouncing onto the couch, you shoved him to the side claiming your rightful middle space. If this was your house, you were at least going to enjoy that while he was here. As he argued that guests should get whatever space they chose, you pointed out that he wasn’t actually a welcome guest.

Harrison scoffed, pretending to feign sadness. “I’m not welcome here?”

“When were you ever welcome here, Lil Shit?” you laughed.  

And as the two of you continued to bicker, there was something friendly in the feuding now. There was no malice in your words, just a teasing nature the two of you enjoyed. You couldn’t help but sarcastically give him grief about his supposed “hot date” and how he just abandoned the poor girl.

“Of course Osterfield would break another heart. And on Valentine’s Day! The scandal!’

He snickered at your comments, shaking his head.

“What about you, huh? You should’ve at least called someone over for a date! That way Tommy wasn’t freaking out that you were crying by yourself.”

“Oh, so you admit you didn’t come out of concern but because Tom forced you to?”

“I came here because I knew how much you missed me.”

You burst into laughter. Of course his narcissistic ass would make this about him. “You wish.”

“I know. I’m truly the greatest gift to mankind. Your welcome.”

You couldn’t help but crack up at that. Had he always been this funny? Or had you been so focused on hating him to notice that Harrison could surprisingly make a joke. You always assumed it would be at your expense, but things seemed different.

Even as he jokingly gave you a difficult time about your choices - “Really? Just this chocolate? And where’s the alcohol, Y/N?” - it was..fun. By the time your food came, you hadn’t realized how half an hour had passed so quickly.

You grinned when you opened the door to the delivery man. Turning to Harrison, you announced “Finally! A welcome guest in the apartment.”

Harrison stood up, raising a brow at the amount of food ordered. “You were going to eat all of this?” he questioned at the large bag.

“Don’t judge me” you scowled, taking the heavy container.

“When do I not?” Fair point.

As you rummaged around for your purse, Harrison pulled his wallet out. “What’re you doing?” you asked, still searching for your own.

“I’m paying for the food.” He pulled out a couple twenties and slid his wallet back into his jacket. You furrowed your brows, putting your hand on his.

“Hey! You don’t have to do that-”

“I’m doing it because I want to.” Why? That’s not what normalcy was for you two. Normalcy would be you paying and him continuing to mock your ravenous appetite.

“Yeah, but it’s my food. I’m obviously going to pa-”

“Y/N, I got this.” He smiled at you, and it made you soften. You could let this slide this time. After all, it wasn’t like you got treated out very often. You could think of a million reasons to justify that this was fine and that nothing special was happening. Just let him do this one nice act. That’s all.

“I’m not gonna share with you just because you’re paying” you commented, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Even with those stubborn words, it took no more than five minutes for you to crack and share the food with him. You told yourself that it was a lot for you to eat and that you’d still have leftovers. Not like you cared about Harrison starving or anything.

The two of you chatted during the movie, him giving useless commentary while you pointed out how annoying he was. Somewhere in the midst of all of this, both of you came to the conclusion that you needed to have a snack and alcohol run. And as the movie ended, he waited patiently for you to throw on a jacket before heading out to the nearest grocery.

It was strange to think that the last time you had been in his car, you had been crying over a boy that broke your heart. Yet here and now none of those miserable feelings lingered. It was just a comfortable ease around one another. The car was filled with pop music from a local radio station, both of you humming along till you got to the store.

As he pushed a cart around, the two of you squabbled about what to get. Either you wanted something that he didn’t or vice versa. As you chucked in a pack of Oreos, he picked them up and tossed them back at you. “No. Absolutely not.”

You scoffed, putting them back in. “First you reject my idea of gummy worms, and now you don’t like Oreos? What kind of monster doesn’t like Oreos?”

“Someone who enjoys actual good snacks. Tell me, Y/N: how is it even possible for a person to think that Cadbury isn’t great, hmm?”

“Excuse you, Osterfield. I said it was fine, but we have chocolates back at my place. Why waste money on a different brand of chocolate?” This earned you an eye roll. “Also Oreos are certifiably the best snack. Sorry your bland British taste buds can’t taste joy.”

“I’m sorry you somehow enjoy artificial sugar and the taste of cardboard.”

You flipped him the bird and smacked your lips together before squeezing the box of Oreos to your chest. “I say it goes.”

“Then by all means put it in the cart, love.”

You froze hearing that nickname. That definitely wasn’t part of your normalcy. He saw your tense position and immediately began pushing the cart pretending he hadn’t said that. “C’mon now, Lil Skunk. Haven’t got all night.”

Taking a deep breath, you followed him acting like that hadn’t flustered you. Things were fine. Things were normal. So you decided to go back to hounding him about how he should’ve let you get those amazing gummy worms.

The two of you proceeded to act relatively normal, arguing about your wine choices at check out. He insisted on buying a full bodied red while you knew that a good (and preferably cheap) white or rosé was the only way to go. As you lightly elbowed him - he deserved it for saying you had the worst taste - the cashier woman smiled at both of you.

“Oh, the two of you are so cute together. You remind me of me and my husband twenty years ago” she reminisced.

Your face flushed at the comment, taking a step back from him.

Harrison on the other hand just politely smiled as he swiped his credit card.

Neither of you wanted to acknowledge the comment, pretending as if it didn’t happen. If you ignored those thoughts, it was as if they didn’t exist. Things will stay normal if you remind yourself to keep them that way.

Arriving back at your apartment, the two of you decided to go back to your original Valentine’s Day plan and watch more movies. Scouring through the DVD options, you deviously grinned as you held out the next movie to watch.

“‘What’s Your Number’? Isn’t that one with-”

“Chris Evans!” you squealed excitedly. “God, he looks so good in this movie.”

Harrison groaned as he tried to find another option. ‘The Proposal’ or even ‘27 Dresses’ were films he’d rather watch, but you shook your head at his suggestions. You were set to drool over a shirtless Chris. Either Harrison could watch with you, or he could leave. Without any fight at all, he chose to stay. You told him how you had every intention of pointing out how dreamy Chris was, so much dreamier than Harrison. He just scoffed, telling you to just put in the damn film.

As Chris popped up within the first five minutes practically naked on screen, you screeched and smacked Harrison’s arm in excitement. At first you were so absorbed in the movie that you didn’t notice how Harrison didn’t care about it in the slightest. Instead he watched you, observing your face light up comedic moments and cringe at embarrassing scenes.

“Oh my God! I forgot that Chris Pratt was in this movie too!” you awed as you turned towards Harrison. You flushed realizing that Harrison hadn’t been paying attention at all. He simply smiled at you refusing to break eye contact. He wasn’t ashamed to have been caught looking at you. This consistent staring rattled you, and you turned back to the screen.

Just pretend things are normal. That was a goddamn struggle. You could feel him watching you now, and suddenly you were self conscious about the way you were eating the snacks. You found yourself leaning forward, almost trying to get away.

“Y/N, is your eyesight that bad you have to get that close to the screen?” he teased you.

“Fuck you. If anything, I’m just sitting up close to take in all of Chris Evans.” You could do this. You could be normal around him. You could at least pretend that you weren’t nervously sweating.

“I’m just saying. Your television screen isn’t that small. You can relax, you know?” Of course you could. Except no, you couldn’t. Not with how you were now watching him out of the corner of your eye. Who the hell eats chocolate that sexy? Still you wanted to prove to him - to yourself - that you could do normal.

So you scooched back, finally letting your back rest against the cushions. You settled into the plushness, still continuing to pop in a chocolate bar into your mouth. This is normal. It was easy enough. Just focus on the handsome man on the screen and not the one sitting right next to you.

Then he yawned loudly - almost comically really - as he stretched out his arms, letting one gently rest on your shoulder. He was doing the oldest clichés in the book. It was so transparent. So idiotic. But if you knew this, why let him do it?

What made it worse was how you liked his arm around you. You eyed it, almost unsure if it was really happening. Hadn’t the two of you decided to go back to the way things were? If that was true, Lil Skunk never would let this happen. Lil Skunk would’ve kicked his ass and told him to keep his hands off. Lil Skunk would’ve forced him out of the apartment telling him to stop being such a flirt.

Yet none of that was what you wanted. That aggressive normalcy wasn’t there anymore.

So you leaned in to his side, snuggling closer to him. He said nothing, only wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

You leaned into his chest as he gently rested his head on yours. This unbelievably comfortable presence felt nice. And you knew it wouldn’t have been the same if it had been anyone else.

As the movie played on, you enjoyed being there in that moment. Everything just felt...right. You didn’t mind him whispering comments, his breath brushing against your hair. You enjoyed the way his hand gently rubbed your arm. You felt safe and sound. But was this right? Was this your new normal?

You pulled away slightly, causing him to raise his head. You turned and looked at him, meeting his gaze. The two of you lingered a couple inches away just searching each other’s faces.

“I thought you were gonna tell me how much dreamier Chris Evans was compared to me” he reminded you, voice soft as it gently tickled your face.

“H-He is” you swallowed nervously.

“If you say so” he murmured, looking at your lips as he moved in closer. Your eyes fluttered shut, feeling him closing the gap between the two of you. This wasn’t part of your normal in the slightest. But normal was highly overrated.

BANG. “-and she said that too!” Your eyes flew open, whipping your head around to see Kimberly and Sarah stumbling into the apartment giggling like maniacs.

“Oh! Hey, Harrison!” Kimberly greeted the Brit as she gave him a polite wave, still clutching onto Sarah’s hand. “Always nice to see you here.”

Are you fucking kidding? You wanted to throttle Kimberly, toss the snacks at her, and tell her to get the hell out of here. Eat your girlfriend out somewhere else.

No, you loved Kimberly, but she had ruined...Something. You weren’t even sure what would’ve happened after. All you knew was that you wanted to kiss him. But did he feel the same way?

You looked over at Harrison whose face reddened as if he got caught doing something naughty. He obviously hadn’t been expecting them to show up. Harrison muttered something about needing to go as he hastily stood up and threw on his jacket. Don’t go. You couldn’t find yourself to say those two words, just wanting to keep him there for a little bit longer.

Before you could do anything, Harrison was rushing out the door. You slipped on a pair of flip flops and scampered behind him as you tried to catch up. The flimsy shoes made it difficult for you to run.

He fumbled with his keys, only turning as he heard you clacking up behind him. He looked nervous, flexing his left hand open and close as he glanced from you to his car. He looked so unsure of himself, brows knitted and mouth in a hard line when you finally caught up. It was the same look that he gave you in Vegas before he stormed off. This time you weren’t sure what you could’ve done to warrant that expression.  

You opened your mouth to say something. Don’t go. Come back inside. Stay with me. But you couldn't ask him to do that. That wasn’t fair to him or to you.

Maybe fate intervened at the right time. Maybe you weren’t supposed to kiss. The two of you wanted to keep things normal, and that would’ve messed everything up again. Kissing wasn’t normal. Having his arm wrapped around you wasn’t normal. Asking him to stay? Those words definitely weren’t part of your normalcy. 

The wind breezed by, brushing roughly against your bare arms and legs. Your teeth chattered as you rubbed your arms for warmth.

Harrison sighed, taking his jacket off and putting it around you.

“Oh, you don’t have to” you tried taking it off, pretending like the cold didn’t bother you.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, pulling the jacket closer on you. “I already told you. Take better care of yourself, Lil Skunk.”

You watched as Harrison gave you a weary smile before slipping into his car and revving it up. It took off and down your street. Leaning out, you watched it turn into a mere speck in the distance.

As the wind nipped against you once more, you put his jacket on properly. Raising the oversized sleeves up to your face, you inhaled and took in his familiar scent. Your eyes closed wishing that it wasn’t his jacket but him holding you. Everything from his smile to his touch had you wanting more. You wondered when you’d see him next, just wanting to be around him.

Oh, fuck.

The awful realization set in: you definitely fell for Harrison. You dumb bitch. 

tags list: @sleepybesson, @tomhaz, @supernatural-girl97 | @almostrosadiazz, @alt-ernativewonderland, @blackstarryroses, @butithasntkilledyouyet, @chims-kookies, @choke-me-sweet-pea, @deleteidentity, @divosterfields, @highladyjel, @hollandhearts, @jessiq31, @kateelyse96, @kayla-m1996, @mylifesucksbuthereiam, @otheenglishsetters, @sadnoelle, @sarcasticvodka, @sleepwalkingdragon, @soccerstud004, @spider-mendes, @thefallenbibliophilequote, @wolvesofthewinter

bold means that i couldn’t tag you

part ten

[softwrite]

♡ pairing; amusement park worker!namjoon x reader (f)

♡ genre; fluff, romance, sorta unrequited love? high school au, summer break au

♡  wc; 6k+

♡ summary; namjoon, aka “joonie,” the sweet boy who is known for being a teacher’s pet and gaining straight A’s at school, decides to gain some money over the summer by working at an amusement park. the job is really nothing all that special, just an easy way for some cash, that is, until you come along.

The park grounds were unbearably hot.

As the weather progressed throughout the day from the beautiful, dew dropped morning to the blistering heat that everyone knew would come, the children running around were still squealing in delight, seemingly oblivious to the scorching sun that was currently pounding down on Namjoon.

His uniform consisted of a simple white button-up shirt with the amusement park’s signature sea crab with cute, large eyes printed on the breast pocket along with khaki shorts. It barely did anything to relieve him of the terrible summer weather.

He worked the infamous ferris wheel at his town’s seasonal theme park, although this was only his second year operating it, so it wasn’t like he was an expert. He typically got plenty of traffic to the ride since lots of couples like to come and make out at the very top, the exception of a few people who just want to genuinely enjoy the ride, but he doesn’t allow himself to complain.

Oh no, Kim Namjoon, or “Joonie,” the sweet boy who never lets a smile slip from his giftedly plump lips and always says “please” and “thank you” when appropriate, would never let a single complaint out. He was eternally grateful for the owners of the park for allowing him to keep this job, since he tended to be pretty clumsy with the equipment. He lost count how many times he accidentally lost the keys to the machine.

So as Namjoon stood stiff in front of the machine which controlled the ferris wheel, the pleasingly tanned tone of his skin practically glimmering against the afternoon light of the sun, he continued his usual routine.

Smiling and greeting the waiting people in line, those who were excited to catch a less-than-exciting glimpse of the town they’ve lived in for probably their whole lives, Namjoon wasn’t quite prepared for when his eyes slowly drifted along the awaiting crowd before him. What he saw sent his mind into a nervous frenzy, his palms almost instinctively beginning to moisten with perspiration.

What he saw was you.

He hadn’t seen you for about a week now, since summer break had just begun, but he was most definitely not expecting to see you here. You were the girl who was always seen with the bubbly, loud kids at the large table at his lunch period. He never dared to speak to you in person, but he has practically memorized such small, little things about you already. Like the way when you laugh, you immediately cover your mouth with the back of your hand and tilt your head back, the creases on the bridge of your nose always sending his heart pounding like crazy in his chest. Or when you get frustrated with something, such as trying to solve a problem in math class, you huff under your breath and twirl your hair around your finger as a sign of stress.

But most of all, he loved watching you talk.

You were such a loud, flamboyant talker, most people would find it annoying.

But when you talked, everyone listened. It seemed like everyone was interested in what you had to say, because you were interesting. You were fun and loud, and you always tried your best to include everyone in the group in the conversation. He couldn’t find a single damn thing wrong with you.

He remembered a single time in debate class, one of the few classes he actually had you in, the room was discussing a topic regarding the way school boards are currently handling issues. You had been expressing your own views, making eye contact with every person involved, while his own head was down, although he was desperately hanging onto every word you uttered (without your knowing of course.) Suddenly, you had shifted your attention elsewhere, and you had stopped talking. He thought to look up, to see what had caused you to stop so abruptly, when the most foreign sound passed through his eardrums.

“Joon, what do you think?”

You had spoken to him. Directly spoken to him, and even called out his name.

He still counts that as one of the happiest days of his life in school, even if the only response he managed to give was a rushed shrug of his shoulders and a rushed out “Uh, I’m not sure, may I go to the restroom please, Miss?” as he pathetically tried to conceal the glowing rosiness of his tan cheeks.

Just thinking about the memory causes his heart to drop into his stomach and his sharp features to begin turning red. However, before he could barely even bring himself back to the present, the sudden waving of a hand in front of his eyes caused him to jump, his fluffy, light colored hair flopping out of his vision.

Looking down, due to his tall stature, his throat tightened at seeing your frame standing directly in front of him, although cool iron bars that reached his hips blocked your bodies from making contact.

Your giggle filtered through his ears, your voice high pitched in a teasing tone. “Hey, are you still here? We have our tickets to ride, it’s four per person right?” You had asked, your soft lips curled upwards in a patient manner.

You always smelled so nice. He could smell your perfume with you so close - it was intoxicating, and he could breathe it in all day if he could.

“O-Oh! Yeah, s-sorry about that,” he struggled to speak, his large hands fumbling as he reached out to take up the tickets which you and your group of friends held out, each in a straight line behind the other, with you standing in the very front.

“It’s okay, it’s because of the heat right? It’s almost boiling out here today! After we ride some rides, we’re probably going to head over to Minwoo’s house to cool off in the pool,” you casually had stated to him, handing over your individual four tickets for him to take up.

Controlling his shaky hands at your beautiful, close presence, he released a nervous laugh as he stuffed them inside the box dedicated to collecting the riders’ tickets.

“Yeah, uh, that sounds nice!” He attempted to sound happy for your activities for the day, although he could barely contain the slight upset that struck his vocal chords due to remembering the one fact he hated the most.

He would never admit this out loud, but he liked you, a lot. He always was grateful for your happiness, but he couldn’t ever bring himself to accept some of your reckless decisions you liked to make.

Such as dating the one guy he truly could say he disliked the most out of everyone he’s ever met at this school; Minwoo.

He was extremely narcissistic, and quite possibly the most obnoxious person at school. Of course, like the nice boy he is, he powered through it, and accepted his fate as the guy who’ll never be able to hold your hand or call you his girlfriend. Just thinking of your name and that word in the same sentence causes tingles to rise up his arms.

As he accepted the last ticket, the last person being Minwoo himself, Namjoon sighed, the corners of his lips begging to twist downwards, but like always, he fought it. He could never bring himself to say how he feels around you. You made him weak to the knees.

Glumly watching you and your equally as loud friends excitingly climb the level of steps that led up to the available ferris wheel pods, you and Minwoo gathered together in one, huddling beside each other, huge smiles adorning your faces as your small hands wrapped firmly around his bicep.

His dark eyes traveled across your gentle, genuinely happy face, and couldn’t help the searing want that ripped through his beating heart as he activated the ride to move onto the next pod to allow your remaining friends to scrunch together. As your figure got further away as the ride gradually kept rising upwards, taking occasional pauses to allow the riders a look around, his lips pursed together in disappointment as he realized he would never be able to be the one to be pressed against your side.

He imagined your delicate hands wrapping around his waist, palms flat against his back as you raised upwards on your tiptoes, your heated breath brushing against his slightly parted mouth, practically begging for your own to advance. He would be able to feel your chest confined to his own due to his arms having looped around your smaller body, leaning down to accept the divine sensation of both of your lips connecting in a passionate, lingering kiss. A kiss that would leave him wanting more, more of you and your taste.

Is it getting even hotter out here?

Swinging his arm up to his forehead, he compressed his palm to the heated flesh, roughly dragging his limb across his head to get rid of the faint sweat droplets that had gathered there due to the blistering sun, and of course, no other reason.

As the ferris wheel continued to slowly drift upwards, revealing more of their simple yet quaint town, Namjoon paused in taking up tickets as there was no longer any room on the ride. Thinking quietly to himself of all the fantasies he wish were true, he barely noticed when the ride had made a full loop.

Quickly pressing his long fingers into the buttons, he followed the routine, memorized movements that allowed each passenger to get off before giving the next pod a turn. With no hesitance or lack of confidence in his actions, the final pod had leveled with the staircase. However, his Adam’s apple momentarily bobbed in anxiety upon hearing your squealing laugh breaching his eardrums.

He wonders if he could ever make you laugh like that someday.

Once your group had begun to step down the steps on the opposite side of the machine he operated, he barely had began taking up tickets for the next round of people before he felt a strange sensation along his shoulder, nearly touching his shoulder blade. Blinking, his small eyes squinted against the bright rays of the sun as he turned around, craning his neck to glance behind him.

Oh god. It was you. You were touching him. He might actually pass out.

“Y-Yes?” He choked out, his eyebrows abruptly shooting upwards in a tense, surprised motion as your fingers eventually drifted away from his covered shoulder.

“I was just wondering, would you want to come hang out with us after your shift at Minwoo’s place? You look like you’ll need some relaxation after this, especially standing out here in this heat. You don’t have to if you don’t want to!” You kindly suggested, the corners of your lips turned upwards in a friendly, considerate grin.

He could barely believe what he was hearing. You were....inviting him to hang out with you guys? This is it. This is the day he officially lost his mind. Is this real life?

“O-Oh, really..? Are you sure? I-I mean my shift is over soon, but is Minwoo okay with it?” Namjoon stuttered, hardly able to keep his mind in check as it was running a million miles a minute. Your short giggle was what broke him out of his dizzying trance.

“Of course! He doesn’t mind. I’ll meet you at the front gates after your shift then?” You clarified, already beginning to twist your body to turn back towards your friends.

“Yes,” he breathed out, his pupils dilating as the situation fully registered in his brain.

“Great! See you later!” You called out, excitedly waving your smaller hand in the air, rushing back towards your boyfriend and your friends, your high-pitched voice gradually dissipating the more distance you put between each other.

“Oh my god what the hell did I just get myself into? I can’t act normal in front of her! I’m going to fall in the pool or...or they’ll think I’m some sort of square or something that doesn’t know how to talk to people and embarrass myself and then she’ll never invite me to hang out ever again-” he rambled, his lips frantically forming each word as he clutched the sides of his head, scrunching his strands of blonde hair. In the middle of his mental breakdown, he heard the deep clearing of a voice from behind him.

Swiveling around, he realized he still had a line of customers to attend to. Once again, his tan cheeks flared up in humiliation.

“Sorry about that uh- enjoy the ride,” he mumbled, keeping his dark eyes pinned downwards in order to not further embarrass himself as he took up the tickets handed out to him.

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The jingling of keys was the only sound that surrounded him, the metal dangling from his fingers as he spun on his heel. This was always what happened at the end of his shift. He had to transfer the keys to the guy who worked the night shift, while Namjoon worked the morning/afternoon. He preferred it that way too.

Quickly hanging up the keys in their correct place for the other guy to come pick them up when he came to work, he lingered in the back momentarily, the clicking sound of his locker opening reverberating in the small room. There was two walls of lockers for all of the workers at the park, as well as two long benches situated in the middle. He always brought a change of clothes with him to work, thankfully, so he didn’t have to worry about wearing his ugly work clothes to the swimming pool.

Oh god, the swimming pool. He nearly forgot. Maybe..Maybe he can do a raincheck? Would that make him even more lame?

“Why am I such an idiot? Why can’t I just..speak to her for once like a normal person?” He huffed aloud, speaking to himself as he threw his shirt off, cringing at the cheesy picture of the crab. Throwing it inside his duffel back he carried, he quickly switched into a casual button-up black and white striped shirt, ruffling his hair back onto his forehead as he focused on buttoning his clothes.

As his legs now acquired simple dark shorts that reached his knees, he easily slipped his regular shoes on, slamming his locker closed as he began to hear the other workers situated elsewhere in the locker room doing the same, the shuffling around him becoming background noise.

Making his way out of the employees only area, Joon shyly glanced around, unsure if you and your friends were still out and about. Maybe you had left already and got impatient waiting on him. Although he definitely wouldn’t mind having to skip this unexpected, yet expectedly embarrassing situation, he still couldn’t help the slight disappointment at the thought of you having given up on him. Maybe you had been messing with him.

As these thoughts entered his mind and lingered there, his steps crunched along the grass and gravel walkway, passing by the other rides that were still operating, their neon lights shining against his irises, enhancing his features.

Breaching the gateway that separated the amusement parking lot from the regular roads, he blinked, hardly able to believe his eyes at what he was seeing.

You, again.

You were waiting for him, by yourself. All alone. Where were your friends?

“Oh, there you are Joonie!” You shouted above the faint screams and giggles of adults and kids alike in the background. “Everyone else got tired of waiting outside so they’re already in the car. I volunteered to wait for you!” You stated casually, shrugging your shoulders as your infamous smile continued to grace your gentle features.

His heart immediately increased in pace at your words. You..volunteered to wait for him?

“T-Thanks, Y/N,” he mumbled, scared if you had heard him or not as he began to step closer to your being, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag along his skinny yet tough shoulder.

Your teasing laugh pleasingly passed through his ears as you began to lead the way to your boyfriend’s car.

“That’s funny, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say my name before! I was scared you didn’t know who I was and I was just making you uncomfortable. Sorry for just asking you to hang out so randomly earlier, I just figured you might want to have some fun with us after having to work here all day. You don’t mind, do you?” You blabbered, his mind barely able to keep up with the fast pace of your feet, as well as your mouth.

Namjoon really doesn’t know how long he’s going to last with you. This might just be his death day.

“It’s totally fine! I-uh, I was really bored so no need to worry,” he laughed nervously, trying to get into a joyful mood and not express the inner panic that poked at his brain.

Before he knew it, you two were standing in front of a large truck, conveniently big enough to fit all of them. He could see the faint outlines of your friends’ heads inside of the dark windows, moving around.

“Come on then! I hope you’re okay with getting wet in those clothes,” you reminded casually, barely noticing the abrupt movement of Namjoon’s throat at the thought of possibly seeing you in a swimsuit.

“You’ll be in the back with Mina and Hyeon, hope you don’t mind,” your voice called out to him as you stepped around the nose of the truck, maneuvering to the other side in order to gain access to the passenger door, your boyfriend situated in the driver’s seat.

“Nope,” he sighed, gripping the door handle with his right hand and tugging the door open, the sound echoing throughout the vehicle as he hesitantly lifted his legs to step inside, ducking his head to avoid hitting the roof of the car due to his tall height.

“H-Hey,” he stuttered, already beginning to feel the sweat break out along the back of his neck as six eyes immediately darted to his figure, your own too busy focusing on clicking your seatbelt around your frame.

“Guys, this is Joonie, he’s in our lunch and my mathematics and debate class. He’s hanging out with us, remember?” You reminded calmly, probably trying to get them to stop staring at him like he’s the worst possible thing that could have possibly opened that car door.

Silently climbing into the back seat next to Hyeon, his lips remained pressed tight together in a flat line as he passed the stretchy material of the seatbelt over his torso.

Feeling the movement of the tires beginning to take off, exiting the compound of the amusement park, he swallowed a rather small portion of saliva in an attempt to calm his nerves, his throat seeming rather parched all of a sudden.

“Hey man, I’m Hyeon, don’t know if we’ve ever spoken before but I think I’ve seen you around,” the teenager next to him introduced with ease, oozing confidence. Why does it seem like everyone in this car is literally the last person he would ever be seen hanging out with? His friends would never believe him when he told them about this later, Jesus Christ.

“Nice to meet you,” he responded politely, flicking his wrist upwards in a gesture of some sort of handshake, expecting it to be reciprocated only to realize that Hyeon had already turned back to his right, speaking with the equally as good-looking girl beside him.

Hurriedly lowering his hand in absolute embarrassment, his features flamed red as he sharply turned his head to view out the window, the soft notes of music playing through the speakers the only thing stopping him from sinking into his seat in utter madness and despair.

Eventually, the car reached an unfamiliar neighborhood, parking in front of a rather nice looking house with a simple yet clean front yard, the grass very kept and neat, almost looking like someone measured each individual blade. Namjoon doesn’t come from a very rich family either, so why is he still getting the feeling even this guy’s house is mocking him?

Before he could continue to complain inside his head about how terrible of an idea this is, he realized that everyone was beginning to unbuckle their seatbelt, noisily scooting out of their seats to rush towards the backyard of Minwoo’s house. Rushing to follow in pursuit, he threw his seatbelt off him, clumsily pushing open the heavy door beside him and stepping out.

Shutting it behind his tall figure, he walked towards the dark wooden gate, pushing it open as he saw the shadows of the other teens disappear around the side of the house, the sounds of cheering and their talking passing through the air.

Hesitantly coming around the corner, he peered at the rowdy group, already beginning to witness Hyeon grip the hem of his white t-shirt, his flat yet slightly muscled chest revealing itself to the setting sun in the background. With a loud yell, he ran across the pebbled sidewalk, launching himself into the pool, causing an abrupt splash to sound out and water to ripple along the edges of the designed pool. With droplets of the clear, lukewarm water scattering across the sides, the laughter of the others easily cut through the afternoon atmosphere, setting a relaxing yet comfortable vibe.

Nobody really paid attention to him, so he slowly made his way to the small glass table set off to the side, a large umbrella poking through the top to block the sunlight. Placing his black duffel bag on top of the smooth glass, he shyly sat back down, pressing his still clothed back against the comfortable chair, purposefully trying to avoid eye contact with the others.

Before he could fully disappear into the background of the loud teenagers however, another equally loud yet alluring voice snapped him back to reality, his plump lips parting in awe at what lied before him.

“Joon, are you coming in?” You asked, as if you weren’t currently peeling off your own shirt right in front of him, as if it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Oh my god. You were actually trying to kill him. This was your plan all along.

“U-Um, I’ll probably join you guys in a minute. I need to go to the bathroom first. W-Where is it?” He blurted out, using his common excuse of needing to go, since it was the only thing he could ever think of to get himself out of situations he couldn’t handle.

“It’s right through that back door and the first white door on the left, next to the laundry room,” Minwoo informed him, gesturing his hand to the door that was built close to the table Joon was seated at.

“Thanks,” he quickly rushed out, compressing the soles of his shoes into the pavement of the back porch, moving too fast to witness your eyes slowly trailing along his retreating figure, worry etched onto your usually enthusiastic features.

“Come on babe, get in already. Or do I have to throw you in again?” Minwoo’s teasing voice filtered through the evening summer air,  his masculine features glinting mischievously at your distracted frame as his bottom half was already submerged in the water.

Your soft, hesitant “yeah, ‘kay,” was the last thing Namjoon heard before he breached the threshold of the backdoor, the cool air of the house blasting across his heated cheeks as the screen closed behind him.

Inhaling a shaky gust of AC air that floated through the vents above his head, Joon followed the directions in which your boyfriend had given him, his heart beating faster and faster inside of his chest as he neared the location of the guest bathroom.

Upon opening the pale door, the nearly freezing touch of the doorknob against his fingers sent reassuring chills through his body. Closing it behind him, he hurriedly faced the mirror built into the cabinet that contained most likely useful bathroom items. He barely had time to ponder on it before he compressed the smooth palms of his hands against his face, a muffled groan of distraught slipping through his lips.

“I can’t do this..I can’t do this,” he repeated, a common mantra he gave himself when he was in over his head. “How on Earth does she expect me to keep my cool out there when she...when she looks like that! Her boyfriend being here is making me feel even more guilty because he’s being so nice to me,” he whined, his eyes scrunching together in annoyance.

“Maybe I should just tell them that I’m too tired from working all morning and that I’m just going to call one of my friends to come pick me up. That’ll save me from this disaster, yeah,” he mumbled, attempting to calm himself down from the possible antisocial breakdown he was about to have inside of your boyfriend’s bathroom.

Nodding his head in determination to go through with his plan, he eyed himself in the mirror before him one last time before he twisted his torso, facing the door. Reaching outwards, he gripped the door handle, pushing his weight against it in order to walk through. However, he immediately paused upon hearing a strange ‘thud’ sound on the other side.

Blinking rather quickly in confusion, he peeked around the door, only to freeze in shock.

You were currently standing on the opposite side of the large, white door, rubbing your forehead with your fingers with a pained expression settled on your face as you groaned softly.

“Y/N! Oh my god i’m so sorry a-are you okay? Did I accidentally hit you with the door? Oh my god-,” he began to freak out, hurriedly releasing his hold on the side of the door before confusion began to overtake his own features.

“Wait a second, why were you right behind the door?” He questioned, furrowing his defined eyebrows together at the situation, noticing the droplets of water that slid down your body. Your rather revealed body as well. Gulping, he attempted to restrain himself from eyeing your lack of a shirt, the water from, he’s assuming the pool, still attached to certain parts of your small figure.

“I-I was just seeing if you were alright. You were gone for a bit so I didn’t know if you got lost, so I decided to make sure you made it back,” you eventually responded, sliding your hand away from your face, dropping it against your side. You seemed completely confident with just casually standing before him like that. He’s not surprised though, you had every right to be.

You were beautiful. You always had been. The faint setting orange light of the sun gleaming through the glass, mural like windows situated in the hallway were only heightening your attractive frame. He drank in your hair situated along your shoulders, fanning across your collarbones in a disheveled like state, the ends still occasionally dripping from your previous dip in the pool.

It’s getting hot again.

“Are you ready to come back? Everyone’s wait-,”

Before you could even finish your sentence, shock and disbelief spread throughout your body at the sudden sensation of something compressing against your slightly opened mouth due to you having been in the middle of speaking.

It took you several, slow seconds to realize the sensation against your lips was Namjoon’s desperately clinging onto your own.

“Wh-,” you attempted to speak, your pupils dilated immensely, your artery practically about to shoot out of your chest at the foreign sensation and sight of Namjoon, the typically quiet and shy boy, suddenly pressing his lithe body against your bra clad one as if his life depended on it.

Suddenly you felt shaky fingers caressing the sides of your face, slightly squishing your cheeks as the tips of his fingers dug into your flesh, nothing harsh or forceful at all by the movement. It was almost like a plea for something. For a reaction, maybe?

Namjoon wasn’t able to define your rigid movements as disgust or just shock from what was currently happening, but it was almost as if his mind just shut off. He couldn’t help himself as he hesitantly took a small step forward, ultimately causing your own to take a single one backwards, the chilling temperature of the cold window grazing your bare back.

Your eyes remained open the whole time as the kiss progressed, Namjoon hesitantly tilting his head to the side in order to devour more of your mouth, savoring the taste of the chapstick you had applied earlier in the afternoon, the soft flesh prodding against his own sending his mind into overdrive.

However, witnessing the tense squeezing of Namjoon’s eyelids, your eyes soon widened as your own brain suddenly switched, finally processing the drastic situation that was occurring.

Hurriedly fisting your smaller hands into the fabric of his neatly buttoned up shirt, you allowed your weight to lean against him as a sign of rejection, your head forcibly leaning away to separate your mouths.

“N-Namjoon stop,” you choked out, your lack of air from the extensive kiss apparent as your chest heaved up and down in order to catch your lost breath. You shouldn’t have let that last for so long. How could you let this happen..?

The dazed look in Namjoon’s eyes explained everything to you in that instant, the moment he acquiesced, slowly dragging his large hands away from your tense shoulders.

Soon enough, his eyes peeled open, the silence in the air almost suffocating him, unable to hear the group outside having the time of their lives, unaware of the situation which had occurred in the hallway several feet away.

“..Oh my god..I-I’m so sorry, I..I didn’t mean to do that, really. I really have no idea why I just did that, please forgive me Y/N,” Namjoon pleaded, the humiliation and disbelief apparent in his own features as he hurriedly distanced his body away from your own to provide you a respectful amount of space. Twisting his hands together nervously, he weakly pressed them against his chest, his heart beating erratically.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

Watching your focused, yet stressed face contort as you attempted to process what just happened, Namjoon was slowly falling apart. How could he do this to you..?

“I-I have to go,” you choked out, cupping your mouth from his view with your right hand, the unusual shakiness in your voice doing nothing to relieve him of the overwhelming guilt he felt for what he just did. This wasn’t like him to act so rashly. Why did he have to be so stupid? Why did he kiss you?

“Y/N please..I-I’m so sorry,” he repeated, his throat feeling unbelievably tight as the urge to cry began to build up within his system.

“I-I think it’d be best..if you went home Namjoon. I’m..sorry but I don’t, feel that way towards you. I-I’m dating Minwoo, so please..don’t touch me,” you breathed out, attempting to control your emotions and gather yourself before him.

You didn’t even say his nickname like you always did. He truly messed up.

“I-I know, please, Y/N, please believe me when I say I didn’t mean to do that. I-I’ll let myself out,” he whispered, loud enough for his voice to reach your eardrums as you began to step away from him, your bare, now dry, feet sticking to the tile of the hallway.

Soon enough, you were out of his sight, the sound of the screen door loudly clanging against the wood as you were outside once more.

As he began to make his way towards the front door, opening it and stepping out into the slightly cool night air now that the sun had fully gone down, Namjoon realized he left his bag on the table outside by the pool.

“I’m such an idiot,” he choked out, containing the tears that begged to breach his eyes, whipping his phone that was luckily inside of his pocket. Texting his friend Hoseok to come pick him up, since he still was unable to drive, he waited in the unfamiliar driveway with a heavy heart, his eyes red and his throat tight in regret.

Eventually, as his long-time friend pulled up on the curb, he hurriedly climbed in, mind swirling with thoughts of how he wishes he could turn back time while buckling his seat belt at the same time.

“What happened?” Hoseok asked, beginning to drift the car along the road once more.

“I fucked up, big time.” He replied plainly, his voice hoarse with the surprising curse word that he rarely let slip through.

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A few days later, Namjoon was lounging in his living room, his parents currently out shopping. He was manning the house by himself, lazily watching the TV.

He definitely didn’t go a day without thinking about what he did to you. It haunted him every time he looked in the mirror and remembered the look on your face as he pulled away. It felt like a heavy rock in the pit of his stomach.

Groaning aloud at just briefly thinking about the crystal clear memory, he almost missed the sound of his front doorbell ringing, the chime singing throughout the house for a few extended seconds.

Figuring it was his parents coming back home from the store and they needed help opening the door, he gradually lifted himself off of the couch, swinging his legs off the edge and making his way towards the door.

However, his eyebrows scrunched together in slight confusion at the lack of two silhouettes on the other side. He didn’t recognize it.

Hesitantly gripping the golden doorknob, he twisted his wrist, hearing the click of the locks inside the door before creaking it open, peering his head around the corner with his blonde locks momentarily falling directly above his curious eyes.

He almost didn’t believe what he saw.

You were standing on his front porch, almost looking nervous as your teeth dug into the corner of your bottom lip. In your hands, you held his black duffel bag he had left at Minwoo’s house.

“..Y/N? W-What are you doing here? How did you know I..lived here?” He questioned, hesitance evident in his voice due to your unexpected visit.

“Hoseok told me. I have his number,” you informed quickly, almost in a rush. “Y-You um, forgot your bag at Minwoo’s house and I’ve been meaning to give it back to you but I didn’t know where you lived, so I had to ask around first. I-I hope you don’t mind Hoseok giving me your address,” your mumbled, your shy behavior almost completely new to him.

“..N-No I don’t mind. Thank you,” he breathed out, reaching with his large hands to take up the bag, tossing it onto his shoulder as you transferred it to him.

As your two figures continued to stand in a somewhat awkward silence, it was your voice, like always, that broke the silence.

“Can we start over?” You blurted out, the question something that completely threw him off guard.

“What?-” He attempted to ask, confusion immediately taking over his expression as he was hardly able to believe you were actually wiling to talk to him after what he did to you. Before he could continue however, you spoke before him once more.

“I’d like to..formally get to know you. W-We can get coffee or something, I don’t know. I just..feel bad for how I left so abruptly that time and..I’m sure I really hurt your feelings by it,” you sighed out, almost sounding like an apology for something you didn’t even need to apologize for.

“What are you talking about? I..I kissed you without your consent, a-and you have a boyfriend-,” he stuttered, baffled by your behavior.

“Had,” you corrected quickly, Namjoon almost not having caught it.

“What?”

“..Had a boyfriend.”

It was like a line connected in his brain, the sparks flying everywhere and nearly blinding his eyes, yet he attempted to keep himself calm and collected.

“I broke up with him just a day after you kissed me. He..He found out. He could tell I was feeling bad about something and he ended up asking me about it. I told him the truth and he got really angry with me. H-He had every right to be mad, of course, but I realized in the midst of us yelling at each other in the car that I..didn’t feel all that bad about it anymore. Isn’t that messed up of me?” You weakly laughed as your voice began to drift off.

“I-Isn’t it wrong of me to want you to kiss me again, Namjoon..?” You whispered.

If his ears hadn’t been straining so hard to hang onto every word you were saying to him, Namjoon might have missed your breaking voice due to the rushing of blood through his eardrums.

“..I want to kiss you again too, Y/N,” he hesitantly breathed out, his chest constricting with mixed emotions. The only thoughts swarming in his mind right now were the night he kissed you in the hallway. How your lips felt against his own and how badly he wanted to feel it again.

At the sound of his honest words, you couldn’t help but to look up in surprise, your hair partially covering your gradually reddening features.

Slowly, it’s like every other sound and person disappeared. Namjoon felt like he was falling from somewhere high, hundreds of feet in the air. As if he was taking a sharp dip on a rollercoaster, his stomach lurching.

Soon enough, all he could feel and sense was your body taking slow, hesitant steps towards his own, your shoes beating against the hollow wood of his front porch. Despite his towering height, your aura regained confidence as you leveled yourself on your tiptoes, bringing your face closer to his desperate yet anxiety filled one.

Was this a dream?

As that thought entered his brain, he felt a gush of warm, comforting wind engulf his body, rustling his clothes as the chimes on his top porch jingled, the sounds surrounding him and filling his body with a giddy-like feeling.

The moment your soft, pink lips brushed against his own, giving each other equal amounts of time to pull away, Namjoon felt like he was truly experiencing the most heavenly feeling on Earth.

The sensation of your fingers delicately tracing the faint muscles lining his arms, stepping even closer to his body, he inhaled through his nose, leaning further into your warmth as he accepted the gentle, sweet kiss.

He ignored the sensation of the sun’s rays breaching his already tan skin. Your fragrance that you applied every day was the only thing he could breathe, and you were suddenly the only thing he could think of in that moment.

You reminded him of the delicate sunflowers that grew in the field across the amusement park. The way the sunlight shined on each individual petal. The vibrant color of yellow, and how it always caught his eye. You made him happy. 

You were happiness. 

You were summer, and he hoped with every electrified and buzzing fiber in his being in that moment, that it never ended.

a/n: GHJFKDSKGHJFKDL;S it took me way longer to write this than i was hoping, since this was an idea i randomly came up with at like 3 am one night like a week or two ago. I RLY HOPE?? THIS WAS OK??? im sorry if its like rly short or cheesy or idk i hope it was enjoyable in some way for u. i haven’t written in a long time and this is my first official like..story? in years. so i hope this didn’t suck too much! i look forward to writing more ❧

[sprpcg-blog]

ALIAS: Tyler Gray AGE: 30 BIRTHPLACE: Southport, NC. EMPLOYMENT: Unemployed FACE CLAIM: Chris Wood

                                             Biography

triggers: mental disorder, death, suicide

In a way the Gray’s were Southport royalty, Tyler being raised into a wealthy family caused the young boy to grow up not knowing the hardships and struggles most people had to go through to have the lifestyle he was lucky enough to be born into. That wasn’t to say Robert Gray didn’t have to work for everything he had, Tyler’s father came up from the dirt and made a name for himself as one of the bigger lawyers and best in town. He became known to the small town in North Carolina. Not long after his name began to become more well-known around town, Tyler’s mother Natalie came into the picture and did what she had to do to stick around the fortune of Robert. Did Tyler’s mother trap his father into marriage and a lifetime commitment when having Tyler and Tyler’s sister Annabel? Yes, but Robert had always genuinely believed that his wife was in it for him and their family, not the money. Tyler on the other hand, found it easy to see the dysfunction in his family when he got a little older.

The knowledge of knowing your mother was a gold digger and your father was oblivious to all of it was a burden Tyler didn’t like having but one he willingly pretended to ignore. Tyler had never been the best person in the world. Growing up the way he did, it was difficult not to be selfish and in someways a manipulative liar — or maybe he was just learning from his mother? Mother knows best, doesn’t she? Even Tyler could see that his mother was the smart one, playing the long game, taking care of herself. Meanwhile, his father, although his morals were more grounded and he never lost sight of where he came from or the discipline that came with having money, Tyler didn’t look up to his father all that much. He instead saw the man as pathetic and weak. He really was his mothers son.

When Tyler was sixteen, the male already had a car that costed more than most people’s homes to his name, a steep allowance and heavy wallet, and a thrill for something more devious. There had always been a lack of morals to the male. Something about him that didn’t click quite right. Some would blame his mother for what she let him see, what she let him learn, and the very little ability for the family to talk to each other like a normal family. Tyler being left alone for most of his life while his mother spent another check, his father worked, and his sister ran off to do her own things. For the most part the young teen was simply processing things in his own mind and growing up on his own. Which wasn’t the best idea for someone with a mind like Tyler’s. That wasn’t to say Tyler didn’t have some sense to him, he did, but the way he thought wasn’t exactly the way most decent people thought.

Tyler’s behavior had only gotten worse as time went on. His lack of care for others around him, the selfishness in the younger male only got worse, the little emotion he felt towards certain things, especially when it involved other people. It was like there was something turned off in Tyler’s mind and he couldn’t get himself to feel genuinely for others unless he was involved in the situation. It wasn’t until his older sister, Annabel’s death that Richard and Natalie really started to notice just how disconnected Tyler really was to the emotions of others. The male shrugging his shoulders at the whole situation as if his answer to the suicide of his sister was no big deal or expected. Seventeen and being put in front of doctors and therapists wasn’t a highlight for Tyler. Although, it was the moment he and his family found out about his Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

It wasn’t long after the realization that Tyler’s brain worked a little differently from others that he was put on different medications and things started to slightly normalize for the male. Although, he wasn’t at all cured, he wasn’t as on the edge as he once was. He may have still used his parents money to his advantage, he didn’t work a day in his life, and he still found ways to make himself the center of attention, but that was more due to his upbringing and not his illness and he was able to see things a little differently these days. He was able to see something a little more moral. In his twenties, Tyler for the most part did his own thing, still living off his parents money. It became easy to get whatever he wanted and not have to work for it. He knew his father was a pushover and would make sure he had money and a roof over his head. He’d pay for the nice studio apartment he purchased, he’d make sure he had the latest technology, and the best cars.

Around the ages of twenty-four and twenty-nine, Tyler’s father cut him off. Going on a rampage about how the male had to learn how to live and make money for himself. Tyler being the person he is, did what he knew best, he looked out for himself. He did what he had to do despite the things he had to do being shady or iffy. There was honestly no regret in what he had to do to get what he needed to keep everything he had — that possibly being his ability to dissociate from himself. There had always been something charming about Tyler. He was a master manipulator, there were times he truly believed that he could get someone to believe in aliens if he wanted to. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t some redeeming qualities to the male, there was a point in his life when he tried to be something better than what he was but there had also been a time when he realized he was fighting an uphill battle. He knew who he was and honestly, he wasn’t upset about it.

Thirty years old and back on track, money was rolling in from different things he had set up, no matter how illegal or wrong and his father was back in his good graces. Like stated before, Tyler could convince any man or woman of anything, he knew how to manipulate and if manipulating his father got him what he wanted, he didn’t have any regrets about that. Although, using the fact that one child already offed themselves wasn’t probably the most delicate thing Tyler could’ve went with but nice wasn’t really his forte, unless it got him something he wanted. That being said, the male still had demons he either refused or didn’t care enough about looking at but all his demons were things that were surely likely to catch up to him. Like a ticking time-bomb.

but Tyler has a secret…. When he was cut off from his parents he spent some time as a male escort and honestly isn’t against the notion if he ever needed the cash again. 

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 17/09/2022

Lewis Capaldi debuts at #1 on the UK Singles Chart with “Forget Me”. Truly a national tragedy. Welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

This should be an interesting week, though maybe a bit of a depressing one... though not for any non-musical reasons: we’ve got Lewis Capaldi and homicide coming up. You can decide if they’re related. As always, however, we start with the notable dropouts, songs exiting the UK Top 75 – which is what I cover – after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40, of which we have just a few. We bid farewell to “Man in the Mirror” by D-Block Europe, “Narcissist” by Lauren Spencer-Smith, “Rainfall (Praise You)” by Tom Santa – both of those feel cut short – and to wrap it up, “Don’t Forget My Love” by Diplo and Miguel and “Where Did You Go?” by Jax Jones and MNEK after 31 weeks... which may have been the slowest 31 weeks of my entire life.

In terms of notable gains and returns, whilst we do see residual returns for “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi at #75 and “Yellow” by Coldplay at #74, we also have a smattering of gains, including “Getting Started” by Sam Fender at #55, “Victoria’s Secret” by Jax at #41, “Atlantis” by Seafret at #40, “CUFF IT” by Beyoncé resurging at #38 thanks to TikTok virality, “Words” by Alesso featuring Zara Larsson at #37, “Calm Down” by Rema at #36 (good to see), “KU LO SA – A COLORS SHOW” by Oxlade at #24, and finally, entering the top 10 to round off our all-over-the-place gains is... “Under the Influence” by Chris Brown at #9. Good Lord.

As for Off the Charts, I’m not really sure what to do with this section. I might split it off or make it monthly but we’ll see for now. I still do listen to music outside of the charts, mostly in fact, but not a lot of it is new and I do need to get back into time regarding that, maybe some catching up is necessary and I can bring it back as a regular fixture but I do think this’ll be my last year bothering to keep up with new music anyway so I’m not really considering turning it into anything more permanent. This is just a hobby for me, after all. Regardless, the Top 5 of the UK Singles Chart currently consists of “Super Freaky Girl” by Nicki Minaj at #5, “I Ain’t Worried” by OneRepublic at #4, “B.O.T.A. (Baddest of Them All)” by Eliza Rose and Interplanetary Criminal, last week’s #1, at #3, “I’m Good (Blue)” by David Guetta and Bebe Rexha at #2 and finally, of course, “Forget Me” at the very top. Now considering I have listened to some albums from 2022 recently, I might as well write them off...

Off the Charts

a happy medium – lentra

You know, I didn’t expect bbno$’s primary producer to make a good project, but I also didn’t expect an EP’s length of vaguely sunny, frustratingly uninterested indie pop. It’s kind of pathetic, and that is some of the appeal, but with mostly generic or unlikeable writing, I can’t endorse it. My favourite track is “i could die”.

Lyfë – Yeat

Yeat still can’t put out a cohesive project of bangers yet, I suppose. I was kind of hoping something off of this would actually chart, but as it is, this is his most ambitious but given his unchanging flows and disinterested content and delivery, he’s still the weakest, least interesting part of his own music. Some of these beats are definitely out-there and I respect that, but the niche runs dry when repeated over different kinds of muted rage beats, borderline rap-rock cuts and cloudier plugg tunes with very little attempt to mesh or apart. My favourite track is of course “Flawlëss” where Lil Uzi Vert steals the show.

age/sex/location – Ari Lennox

R&B singer Ari Lennox comes out with a more polished project that has its moments and often really shines, like the sick groove on my favourite track “Outside”, and the comical interplay with Lucky Daye on “Boy Bye”. With that said, despite the consistent venom towards men who wronged her, and a generally awesome level of charisma, some of the vocal presence feels misguided and not all the songs pick up enough pace. With less attention paid to current R&B trends, this could have been great, but it also could have been shelved entirely, so I’m okay with it as it is.

Icarus – Cryalot

I wish Sarah Bonito had more gripping content or more fully developed, fleshed-out song structures, as that’s the one thing holding this back from being truly great. She’s partially in hyperpop realm here with the naive form of songwriting that is somewhat compelling and the maximalist approach to synthwork, as well as the stop-and-start rhythms she finds herself in. For a more reserved project, it does pretty well: a lot of it is damn near aspirational, “See You Again” is effectively mournful, and she never feels the need to go for a full-on synth blast because it really wouldn’t fit the content. Despite all of that, “Hell is Here” is barely even a song, the chorus on “Hurts Me” isn’t allowed to soar because of the trap beat and I mean, I love the comfy future bass of my favourite track “Labyrinth” but I don’t understand why it’s here twice. There are more ideas than actual songs, but they’re great ideas.

Keep on Smiling – Two Door Cinema Club

This is kind of out there for Two Door Cinema Club, right? Sure, there are just as many sticky pop hooks as, say, their debut, and it’s still flashy, sparkly new rave we’ve come to expect, but this is more often than not rooted in mutant disco more so than the dance-pop it was cribbed off of, and when it makes the shift in the second half to more car commercial music contrasted to the wonkiness of the first half, it makes thematic sense. A lot of that half is spent trying to reassure and reconfigure, the switch into buzzy synth paradise makes complete sense – and the songs are still great. They really have text-to-speech backing vocals on “Everybody’s Cool”. My favourite track is the unstable and shaky “Little Piggy”, which is in more dissonant bizarre territory than I ever expected from 2DCC. Hope to hear more like this.

EACH CRISIS A CATALYST – Boyfriend Needle

It’s kind of weird to say that a disturbed mess of compressed ideas that starts with a frantic blast of metal is a more simplistic, less ambitious EP from Boyfriend Needle but it really does feel like the conceptuality – and really, soundscape – is taking less time here, and there’s more effort into actually constructing songs, which comes with its pros and cons. Hell, I find the actual pop hooks on here less memorable than some of the absurdities on their last couple records. Oh, and of course, the dissonant, filtered pop shrouds itself in dread once those lyrical conceits lose themselves in droning industrial chaos by the closer. Typical Boyfriend Needle. My favourite track is “Corporeal”.

Älskar – Nina Nesbitt

And we end this section with a project I’m so glad to hear, and kind of glad I had the extra time to rethink and analyse because God, this is such a good pure pop record. Why nothing off of it is charting is beyond me. My favourite detail might be her breathy delivery, with the shaky falsetto runs and muted, sometimes even gasped vocal cadences, striking a great blend between the youthful effervescence she finds herself reminiscing upon and the exasperation of having to experience said youth and come to understand the vulnerable position she was in years later. Her looking at the past generations of women in her family on “Dinner Table” is a really great sentiment, and “Older Guys” is just devastating. “Heirlooms” is gorgeous – and probably my favourite track – as she starts to share how concerned she would be for her future family, learning from herself and those earlier generations and hoping that her kids won’t have to carry the weight of her own burdens. The harmonies blend into each other like scenic lakes, the production is damn near immaculate; if you listen to any pure pop or adult contemporary this year, make it this one. It’s incredible. Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

NEW ARRIVALS

#63 – “Static” – Steve Lacy

Produced by Steve Lacy

Okay, we’ve got just five new arrivals here, and none of them are particularly interesting. This one is barely a song, with a decent warping funk bass and a decent piano line but this kind of song – with one verse and an outro only – really relies on Lacy as a character and a voice and well, the guy is just annoying. I get that the song’s supposed to be toxic, but without that opposing voice, his bitchy whining in a sing-songy tone about this girl’s new boyfriend is just laid bare to sit there and be irritating. There are some really unpleasant, ugly lines and his vocals are just as flat as they are in “Bad Habit”, so when he coughs instead of saying the word “cough”, the detail doesn’t really come off as intricate – or even in character – just arrogant. The song basically ends a minute in and the rest consists of meandering harmonies that add a nonchalance to all of the whining which I guess could work – it’s kind of a villain song, but with that cheap-sounding acoustic guitar, it doesn’t have nearly the amount of menace or bombast it needs to pull it off. As it is, it’s basically an unfinished rant, and a waste of time.

#60 – “Sex, Drugs, Etc.” – Beach Weather

Produced by Alex Silverman and Sean Silverman

Well, this song is from 2016 because, well, of course it is. It didn’t gain any attention then but thanks to what I assume is TikTok we get yet another indie landfill sleeper hit, and what else is to be expected other than disinterest? I don’t hate the acoustic guitars but they’re not on the verge of a melody I’ve yet to hear before, and the vocals feel really oversold, especially as a mantra in that intro and chorus. It doesn’t help that the lyrics are just as condescending and arrogant, with the embarrassing chorus of “I’m floating on my lowkey vibe”... When that’s your hook, start over! It’s fine to have a song about resting and not partaking in destructive lifestyles, obviously, but when it feels so self-important and defensive over what really is cheap and unimpressive production, especially in that gross bridge, with the reverb-drenched vocals, squealing guitars and piercing synth that just gets to me. Listen, just because indie music is charting doesn’t mean I’m going to like it, especially if it’s going to consist of leftovers that barely function as songs. If you want more proof to that point...

#48 – “Romantic Homicide” – d4vd

Produced by Dan Darmawan

Again, this is just not a song. Sure, the dreamy guitars don’t sound awful... well, actually I say that all the time: in this case, they do. The bad Duster impression sounds really flakey and fake as the guitars stab barely onto the non-existent rhythm of this pathetic attempt at shoegaze-esque doomer music. The drums sound impressively awful as they just kind of plop themselves into the mix with no sense of groove or even catharsis, as d4vd’s vocals caress the mix with a slathering of emo whining that has very little substance – that’s fine – and very little character – that’s annoying. The mix is a mess too, with so many elements inorganically creeping up in the mix alongside a flailing harmony that proves this kid’s lack of ability, if the content about having a dream where he kills his girlfriend didn’t already act as a sign. Listen, messy and emotionally repulsive music can very much work, as catharsis, and depressive, hateful, possessive music has its place. I’ve listened to enough post-punk to understand that there’s a grit and heart-wrenching element to a lot of this kind of sonic hopelessness... yet those songs actually finish instead of abruptly cutting off. The vocalists and guitars have either a grandiosity or a massive depressive weight to carry. I’m not even a fan of shoegaze or dream pop, or slowcore or noise pop for that matter, but I know when it doesn’t work, and as someone who’s only really aware of the genre as “music for depressed nerds”, I don’t see this working for them. For a better introduction, I mean, My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive, The Wedding Present all have classics in this lane, Duster, Helvetia, Gravehurst and Low are right there, these aren’t exactly inaccessible, obscure bands; I’m not even a fan, and I know for a fact this kind of music is being made today – not that I listen to it because, well, I’m happy. So why give this teenage dreck the time of day?

#42 – “LA Leakers Freestyle” – Central Cee

Produced by Kendox

Once again, this is just not a song. Okay, this is actually true for this and not just hyperbole: Power 106 is a radio show in America, and the hosts, the LA Leakers collective, got Central Cee on to spit a single verse. Cee spends most of his time trying to “bridge the gap”, and I can kind of excuse the mixing considering this is a radio show and not an official streaming release – if you can ignore that, you know, it’s an official streaming release. So what’s he got to say about bridging the gap? Well, by that he means that he explains UK slang in a kind of unnatural way, explaining the difference between UK and US gang culture and slang. The beat feels very cheap and pots-and-pans, with a chipmunk soul sample that squeaks over a stock drill groove. I’ll say that he’s a confident voice and I’m not bothered that he seems to be the view of UK drill for the rest of the world, since his flow is consistent here, and the breath control is impressive, but it’s just not really a song, and I can’t really judge it as such. It’s just a decent verse over a cheap-sounding beat, and rarely will one of those radio freestyles ever reach greatness, so what was there to expect? Speaking of low expectations...

#1 – “Forget Me” – Lewis Capaldi

Produced by Chris Bishop, Lewis Capaldi and TMS

Making moves, yeah, on the dance floor. Got our groove on, dancing – yeah – real hardcore. From the front to the back, that’s where I was at. You know, you know, the Artful Dodger do it like that. With Craig David all over your – (boing!) – DJ, it’s all up to you. When the crowd goes wild, tell me, what are you going to do? Re-rewind, when the crowd says, “Bo Selecta”. Re-rewind, when the crowd says, “Bo Selecta”. Re-rewind, when the crowd says, “Bo-Bo-Bo”. Re-rewind: this goes out to all the DJs. If you know, you know.

Conclusion

Jokes and obscure self-referential bits aside, Lewis Capaldi had the best song here, so I suppose he gets Best of the Week for “Forget Me” even though I had so little to say about it that I just replaced my review with Craig David lyrics. Hey, it’s inoffensive enough for me to do that. As for Worst of the Week, it goes to d4vd for “Romantic Homicide” because Jesus has left us, and the Dishonourable Mention goes to “Static” by Steve Lacy for just being insufferable.

That was a rough week, and for no particular reason that is not related to these new arrivals. Nothing else happened in the UK that is important to the news or the chart show. Thank you for reading, rest in peace to PnB Rock – gone way too soon – and I’ll see you next week!

[serenesgrace]

“To be in the presence of a God must be quite the blessing!”

Because of some binch (@silicia) hooked me onto bayonetta i decided to hop in and make a lumen sage! Long story short he believes he’s the reincarnation of Aesir due to being groomed from birth by a cult and is an absolute asshole who expects the rest of the world to grovel at his feet and be awed by his glory (he’s the worst tbh)

Deets under the cut!

Remiel

✦ Age: 26 ✦ Height: 6′2″ (w/o heels) ✦ DoB: ,,, ✦ Clan: Lumen Sage ✦ Weapon: tbd

Personality

Narcissistic | Antagonistic | Entitled ✦ Expects everyone to grovel at his feet ✦ If someone does not grovel he gets confused and wonders whether that person lost their mind or is simply too stupid to understand when greatness walks in front of them. ✦ Barges into any space he deems attractive, will not listen to anyone trying to stop him, will get violent if anyone attempts to stop him. ✦ Lives lavishly, only the best for a god~ ✦ Where does he get the money? He doesn’t, he pretty much steals things because they already belong to him everyone else is just holding onto them for him,,, ✦ Morally grey ✦ loves gold, wishes he was made of solid gold probably, will wear any kind of gold as long as it fits with his “aesthetic”

History

Since birth, Remiel has been spoon fed the ideas that he is a reincarnation of the heavenly being and god of chaos, Aesir, by a reclusive lumen cult that resided in a dilapidated chapel on the edge of some deep and dark forest. Having had a knack for all things magic and power, the cult quickly realized the potential for creating the perfect weapon and groomed the child as he gained the mental capacity to understand what they were trying to teach him. All through his childhood he was revered and treated with the utmost respect, adoration, and “fear”, to instill the idea that he was a reborn deity, an authority without question, allowing him to grow up in a world of delusion. The cult poured everything they could into the child, forcing him to delve into magics no single being should know in a full lifetime. Full of arrogance and power, Remiel quickly settled into his role and with his entire being believed what the lumen sages taught him. 

(i have to decide but this might be the direction i’m going,,,,)Although it seemed like a nice concept, there was little the cult could do to actually contain their creation. Remiel grew tired of playing games with these “mere mortals” and decided the best path for him to take was one that didn’t have all these pathetic fools trying to control him and attempt to direct the way his life was meant to be, he was a god for jubileus’ sake! With a steady breath and a firey glint in his eye, Remiel made quick work of each and every living being in that chapel and went on his way, ready to let the world bask in his radiant glory. Knowing he truly had a divine power, he felt no need to fear what lie beyond the surrounding forest (although he was lost for like, a week after trying to leave)

He picked up some new accessories and took over some building he thought looked nice and at this point he is a deeply deluded sage that truly believes he’s some sort of god. He has, at this point, deluded a few others who raved and wept at their “reincarnated deity”. He has yet to meet the boy who will shatter his world,,, dun dun dun!

Relationships (?)

Jonah: (@ my babe!) Some 80s looking kid who walked in slurping a caprisun minding his own business. Remiel is baffled at the existence of this kind who will not listen or react to a single word that has ever come out of his mouth. He doesn’t understand? Who is this guy? He will do everything in his divine power to find out

Céline: (@silicia) Some bitch who thinks she has the right to exist. Actually cannot stand her probably because her personality mirrors his and that can never go well especially since he’s some bitch who thinks the world revolves around him. They’re two suns attempting to collide with each other and in his current state he looks down on her very existance. If his story goes the way i imagine i can see him looking at her like a younger(?) sister.

If any of your crew wants a piece of this action they can let me know how they feel about him and i can write a blurb on it ;)c

Extra

✦ Golden Collar contains a jewel that probably summons some sort of powerful angel, he stole it from the cult that raised him. ✦ He wears a gigantic puffy hood that wraps like a very small vest and trails down into the long cape you see behind him. (the fur has gold spikes along it yes,,,) ✦ Radiates a powerful aura, he (forcefully) learned some nifty magic tricks during his youth and one is a barrier that takes the shape of a halo . ✦ When angered his eyes take on a red tint to match the jewel on his neck, the halo also changes accordingly. ✦ Doesn’t understand pleasant emotions towards other people and would consider them bad or painful feelings at best.  ✦ He is a fucked up child who was forcefully put into the role of being a reincarnated god, he will eventually burn out due to the sheer amount of pressure on him from his magic. He is not meant to wield the power he has. ✦ He is actually probably stupid? i’m not sure how much higher teachings he would have that didn’t relate to him being a god. maybe he’s good at math if thats all they thought to teach him but i have a feeling if you put an old clock in front of him he wouldn’t be able to tell time. Or it would be the opposite and he can read old/dead languages really well but a lot of current modern day english would be lost on him.  ✦ I am waiting for the moment that someone comes in to kick him down a few notches