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wilwheaton · 10 months

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When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

#tw abuse #tw child abuse #tw exploitation #child actor #still just a geek #lucio fulci #trauma survivor #speaking up for the child who was silenced by his abusers

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holllandtrash · 10 months

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in you, i trust | mick schumacher social media au

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

after the it couple of formula 1 go months without any interactions, the fans start to speculate what's going on. there's no way mick and you are over...right?

wagupdatesf1

liked by jemmaf1, formula1wags and 23,403 others

tagged: dbook & yourusername

wagupdatesf1 (ex?)Girlfriend of Mercedes Reserve Driver, Mick Schumacher seen with a man during her Cabo trip - pictures taken 14 hours apart

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orangelando "with a man" YOU MEAN DEVIN BOOKER

44hamilton how does she go from f1 driver and certified lover boy mick to a phoenix suns basketball player HOW DO THEY EVEN KNOW EACH OTHER

mickisbabyboy so does this mean her and mick are over...? 🥺

michschumacher added to their story

yourusername

liked by riabish, lissiemackintosh and 54,203 others

yourusername i'm doing better than i ever was

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schumyys only here to see if mick commented

boxboxpls remember when mick used to comment 500 heart eye emojis i miss those days

sebbymick am i reading into the caption too much or is this her fr announcing she's single

liked by mickschumacher, mercedesamgf1 and 580,024 others

f1 Mick Schumacher is going to drive father Michael's @mercedesamgf1 W02 from the 2011 season at the Goodwood Festival of Speed! ✨

Now this, is special 🥹

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mercedesamgf1 can't wait to see it!!

formulafanclub sooo exciting!!! complimentary tissues better be given with each ticket purchase

wtf1jemma so if yn doesn't show up to the goodwood festival of speed then we know something's up

mercedesamgf1

liked by yourusername, lewishamilton and 312,384 others

tagged: lewishamilton & georgerussell

mercedesamgf1 Blimey! It’s British GP Race Week at Silverstone. ❤️🤍💙

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freepracticespls Y/N LIKED THE PHOTO THIS IS GOOD RIGHT

lewishamilton ❤️

lightsoutmick if y/n isn't there this weekend i will actually throw myself onto the track at lights out she HAS to be there

yourusername

liked by landonorris, mickschumacher and 36,024 others

yourusername good vibes good friends good city

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whoislewis it has officially been 5 months since we got any mick content from y/n

formulanever no i think it's been 6

samgoesracing BESTIE ARE YOU STILL WITH MICK OR NOT

mickschumacher added to their story

yourusername

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yourusername As many of you know, I spent majority of 2021 and 2022 traveling the world with Mick for formula 1. Because of that, my life was put on hold. While I cherish those days, I lost sight of who I was.

Six months ago, Mick and I amicably decided to take a break. While the decision wasn’t easy, it was what was best for both of us as we both were in transitional points in our lives. During this time, I have traveled the world, for myself, and started to journal what I learned from locals, friends and strangers. Early on into this journey, I realized that my experiences were something that should be shared as I know we all go through times times when we feel lost and unsure of who we are.

‘In Me, I Trust’ is available now and is a collection of my stories, thoughts and advice. I hope you take what you need from it ♡

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dbook 10/10 stars

yourusername dev you're only saying that because there's a whole page dedicated to you dbook only a page??? i thought i had a whole chapter

slowdowninthepits SHE WAS WRITING A BOOK THIS WHOLE TIME!! sneaky sneaky

kissformick wait so does this mean her and mick are officially over 🥺🥺🥺 we really are children of divorce

mickschumacher

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mickschumacher worth the wait

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paddockbabes THE BOOK WAS WORTH THE WAIT OR SHE WAS

hamilgrussell IS THAT AN OLD PICTURE OR A NEW ONE I CAN'T TELL

0304mclarenss stop did y/n really send him a personalized copy im sobbing

ricciardoscafe "much like this book has found its way to you, i know my love will too" THAT MEANS THEY'RE GETTING BACK TOGETHER RIGHT?? RIGHT???/ SAY YES RIGHT NOW

yourusername

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yourusername in you, i trust

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mickschumacher did you re-name your book?

yourusername no that's the sequel, limited copies though, probably just for your eyes only

mcnorris all is right in the world!! mom and dad are reunited!!!

lovelylewis only y/n would write a book on being single and how to grow while being alone and then go right back to mick

formulanever i don't blame her

haven't done a smau in a while, hope ya'll liked it ♡

#mick schumacher x you #mick shumacher imagine #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher smau #mick schumacher instagram edit #mick schumacher social media au #mick schumacher instagram au #f1 smau #mick schumacher x reader #holllandtrash #mick schumacher x yn

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books · 5 months

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Writer Spotlight: Jamie Beck

Jamie Beck is a photographer residing in Provence, France. Her Tumblr blog, From Me To You, became immensely successful shortly after launching in 2009. Soon after, Jamie, along with her partner Kevin Burg, pioneered the use of Cinemagraphs in creative storytelling for brands. Since then, she has produced marketing and advertising campaigns for companies like Google, Samsung, Netflix, Disney, Microsoft, Nike, Volvo, and MTV, and was included in Adweek Magazine’s “Creative 100” among the industry’s top Visual Artists. In 2022, she released her first book, An American in Provence, which became a NYT Bestseller and Amazon #1 book in multiple categories, and featured in publications such as Vogue, goop, Who What Wear, and Forbes. Flowers of Provence is Jamie’s second book.

Can you tell us about how The Flowers of Provence came to be?

I refer to Provence often as ‘The Garden of Eden’ for her harmonious seasons that bring an ever-changing floral bounty through the landscape. My greatest joy in life is telling her story of flowers through photography so that we may all enjoy them, their beauty, their symbolism, and their contribution to the harmony of this land just a bit longer.

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

How do your photography and writing work together? Do you write as part of your practice?

I constantly write small notations, which usually occur when I am alone in nature with the intention of creating a photograph or in my studio working alone on a still life. I write as I think in my head, so I have made it a very strict practice that when a thought or idea comes up, I stop and quickly write the text in the notes app on my phone or in a pocket journal I keep with me most of the time. If I don’t stop and write it down at that moment, I find it is gone forever. It is also the same practice for shooting flowers, especially in a place as seasonal as Provence. If I see something, I must capture it right away because it could be gone tomorrow.

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

You got your start in commercial photography. What’s something you learned in those fields that has served you well in your current creative direction?

I think my understanding of bridging art and commerce came from my commercial photography background. I can make beautiful photographs of flowers all day long, but how to make a living off your art is a completely different skill that I am fortunate enough to have learned by working with so many different creative brands and products in the past.

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

Do you remember your first photograph?

Absolutely! I was 13 years old. My mother gave me her old Pentax 35mm film camera to play with. When I looked through the viewfinder, it was as if the imaginary world in my head could finally come to life! I gave my best friend a makeover, put her in an evening gown in the backyard of my parents’ house in Texas, and made my first photograph, which I thought was so glamorous! So Vogue!

You situate your photographic work with an introduction that charts the seasons in Provence through flowers. Are there any authors from the fields of nature writing and writing place that inspire you?

I absolutely adore Monty Don! His writing, his shoes, and his ease with nature and flowers—that’s a world in which I want to live. I also love Floret Flowers, especially on social media, as a way to learn the science behind flowers and how to grow them.

How did you decide on the order of the images within The Flowers of Provence?

Something I didn’t anticipate with a book deal is that I would actually be the one doing the layouts! I assumed I would hand over a folder of images, and an art director would decide the order. At first, it was overwhelming to sort through it all because the work is so personal, and I’m so visual. But in the end, it had to be me. It had to be my story and flow to be truly authentic. I tried to move through the seasons and colors of the landscape in a harmonious way that felt a bit magical, just as discovering Provence has felt to me.

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

How do you practice self-care when juggling work and life commitments alongside the creative process?

The creative process is typically a result that comes out of taking time for self-care. I get some of my best ideas for photographic projects or writing when I am in a bath or shower or go for a long (and restorative) walk in nature. Doing things for myself, such as how I dress or do my hair and makeup, is another form of creative expression that is satisfying.

What’s a place or motif you’d like to photograph that you haven’t had a chance to yet?

I am really interested in discovering more formal gardens in France. I like the idea of garden portraiture, trying to really capture the essence and spirit of places where man and nature intertwine.

Which artists do you return to for inspiration?

I’m absolutely obsessed with Édouard Manet—his color pallet and subject matter.

What are three things you can’t live without as an artist?

My camera, the French light, and flowers, of course.

What’s your favorite flower to photograph, and why?

I love roses. They remind me of my grandmother, who always grew roses and was my first teacher of nature. The perfume of roses and the vast variety of colors, names, and styles all make me totally crazy. I just love them. They simply bring me joy the same way seeing a rainbow in the sky does.

(Photograph: Jamie Beck)

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nightprompts · 1 year

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&. 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( dialogue prompts taken from the script of everything everywhere all at once (2022), directed by daniel kwan and daniel scheinert. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ you look really pretty right now. ❜

❛ stop changing the subject. ❜

❛ every day i fight, i fight for all of us. ❜

❛ what are you doing? what is wrong? ❜

❛ if i have to think about one more thing today, my head will explode. ❜

❛ you may be in grave danger. there is no time to explain.❜

❛ we can make our own way. please, come with me. ❜

❛ don't even talk to me about this because i won't remember.❜

❛ i am not your husband. at least not the one you know. i am another version of him from another life path, another universe. ❜

❛ i’m here because we need your help.❜

❛ sorry, very busy today. no time to help you– ❜

❛ all those years of searching have brought me here. to this universe. to you. ❜

❛ i’m here to tell you every rejection, every disappointment has led you here. to this moment. ❜

❛ i'm not ready to fight yet. ❜

❛ maybe we don't have a choice. ❜

❛ now, you can either come with me and live up to your ultimate potential, or lie here and live with the consequences. ❜

❛ i... want to lie here. ❜

❛ how often do people literally die laughing? ❜

❛ my husband won't even kill a spider. how are you the same person? ❜

❛ we are talking about infinity. if you can imagine it, somewhere out there, it exists. ❜

❛ how did i die? ❜

❛ i've seen you die a thousand ways. in a thousand worlds. in every single one, you were murdered. ❜

❛ what!? who wants me dead? ❜

❛ you’ve been feeling it too, haven’t you? something is off. your clothes never wear as well the next day, your hair never falls in quite the same way, even your coffee tastes... wrong. ❜

❛ maybe we would have been better off if we had never gotten married. ❜

❛ i never said that. ❜

❛ you didn’t have to. it’s the way you look at me. ❜

❛ can’t you see it? how wonderful it would be if you came with me? ❜

❛ i saw my life without you. i wish you could have seen it. it was beautiful. ❜

❛ shhh, you're not thinking straight. ❜

❛ what is worse than death? ❜

❛ i saw your face on a billboard and — this is silly — i wondered if you remembered me... ❜

❛ is it that i can’t be here, or that i’m not allowed to be here? ❜

❛ there is no good, there is no evil. there is only “goovil”. ❜

❛ if you can imagine it, you have fucked it. ❜

❛ do not be so closed minded that you blind yourself from the truth! ❜

❛ don’t make me fight you. i am really really good. ❜

❛ you're capable of anything because you're so bad at everything. ❜

❛ you can't remember anything because your bodies were under the control of other universes. ❜

❛ you were like puppets. and you could do things you normally can't do. you were like, what's that movie... raccaccoonie? ❜

❛ how can you defeat her in every universe, if you can't even kill her in one? ❜

❛ the sacrifices necessary to win this war... i know all too well. ❜

❛ i cannot lose another loved one to the darkness. ❜

❛ i know you have feelings. feelings that make you so sad. that make you just want to give up. that is not your fault. ❜

❛ i'll see you again soon, somewhere out there in all that noise. ❜

❛ just think happy thoughts. ❜

❛ you okay? caught you staring off into space again. ❜

❛ i'm the one you've been looking for. ❜

❛ i’m the one who will defeat you. ❜

❛ you’re finally free, like me. ❜

❛ you don't have to choose anymore. between loving me or hating me. you can do both at the same time. ❜

❛ before, you were asking about "our daughter". it's crazy, but it really got me thinking. what if you had come with me all of those years ago? ❜

❛ all of this time, i wasn't looking for someone who could defeat me. i was looking for someone who could see what i see, feel what i feel... ❜

❛ oh, good, you're here too. ❜

❛ i'm sorry about ruining everything, i– ❜

❛ we're all stupid. small stupid little humans. it's like our whole deal. ❜

❛ everything is going to be okay. ❜

❛ you think i’m weak don’t you? ❜

❛ when we first fell in love all of those years ago, your father would say i was too sweet for my own good. maybe he was right. ❜

❛ please! can we just stop fighting! ❜

❛ you tell me that it's a cruel world and we're all just running around in circles. i know that. i've been on this earth just as many days as you. ❜

❛ the only thing i do know is we have to be kind. be kind. especially, when we don't know what's going on. ❜

❛ i know you go through life with your fists held tight. you see yourself as a fighter. well, i see myself as one too. this is how i fight. ❜

❛ in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you. ❜

❛ you know what i say? cold, hysterical, unlovable bitches like us make the world go round. ❜

❛ you aren’t unlovable. there is always something to love. ❜

❛ even in a stupid, stupid universe where we have hot dogs for fingers, we’d all be very good with our feet! ❜

❛ in a universe where we both agree that no one could love you, if we look hard enough, something will prove us wrong. ❜

❛ we are all useless alone. so its good you're not alone. ❜

❛ maybe you win in this universe. but in another, i beat you. or we tie. or we eat crepes. ❜

❛ i don't want to hurt anymore. and for some reason when i'm with you, it hurts both of us. ❜

❛ out of all of the places i could be, why would i want to be here with you? ❜

❛ i still want to be here with you. i will always want to be here with you. ❜

❛ i will cherish these few specks of time. ❜

#everything everywhere all at once #sentence starters #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #rp starters #rp memes #dialogue prompts #ship sentence starters #ship memes #ask memes #inbox memes #movies

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derehono · 2 months

Text

24.02.2022.

The day that changed my life forever.

24th of February 2022 should have been my usual day. No, not usual. A wonderful day. I should have been checked with a doctor, gave notice to teachers in high school of my absence, and then fly away on vacation, my parents wanted it so much.

On 23rd of February 2022 I felt happy. I had a secure, happy life, preparing to finals, hanging out with my friends, already having an offer from university.

Until 5AM 24.02.2022.

I had not a single class in my school since then.

I haven’t seen my friend group in 2 years.

I didn’t have my finals.

We did not have that vacation.

“Daughter, wake up. This old psychotic man attacked us. We are leaving.”

That was my first photo of the day, trying sarcastically keep myself normal. I remember that actual emptiness, reading my classmates texts about how their windows were shaking because of explosions, the sky was orange. They sent that video.

He called it “a special military operation”.

I collected random clothes, some hobby stuff just to keep my sanity, grabbed my pet, emptied my safety locker. I was scared that russians would intrude into our home and steal all my savings, so I throw away key to that lock. This key became my symbol of war, I have never found it even after return.

When I with my parents and pet got out of flat to car we heard for the very first time air raid siren. We would hear so many more of them, we would learn to differentiate them, but then we were confused.

It was my second photo. People were going away. Foot, cars, bicycles. I remember such a surreal picture. Some moms were carrying their toddlers, one woman was carrying a bucket of water with turtles, other people were carrying cages with parrots, with dogs, with cats, with exotic pets despite air raid siren, temperature, rain. Everyone was so confused and scared.

Few days later the road we were riding was occupied. Bridges destroyed. Factories burnt. Supermarkets demolished. Houses in ruins. Road in holes. On the side of the road burnt cars with “DO NOT TOUCH, POSSIBLY EXPLOSIVE”. That gut wrenching feeling seeing photos of dead bodies and recognising the place.

But back then it was still lively, not a road of death. I remember reading news then. First victims, first shelling. Invasion from East. Invasion from Kharkiv region. Invasion from Crimea. Invasion from Chernihiv. Invasion from Zhytomyr. And we were in Zhytomyr region at that moment. Explosions in Kyiv. The border was destroyed.

I felt nothing. Just emptiness.

This precious girl was keeping my head cool all the road. She was also scared and irritated, but she was so strong, such an amazing girl. I am so proud of her.

We were heading to my grandparents who lived closer to West Ukraine, so we would be safer. The road that takes usually just 4 hours but that time it took 13 hours. 13 hours of driving exhausted and nerved. We saw soldiers, trucks, jets, how barricades were built, signs were removed.

But we made it. We were lucky. Lucky to be alive, to have family alive and mostly close to West, further from russia. Even though, part of my extended family still was under occupation in Chernihiv region, suffering from such close border with belarus.

When we arrived, we were just silent. Then collected mattresses for shelter, asked grandpa to grab some patrol (we knew that they would definitely destroy reservoirs and literally next day the started doing that), and just fell asleep in something that we arrived in, being so scared.

That day I also cut ties with russian friend who I am shamed to admit having. He was proving me that this is just a military operation, no one would be harmed.

Then, arrived spring that I will never forget but at the same time never remember. I remember 10 people in one floor house. I remember the whistle of rocket that woke us up. I remember sirens. I remember news. I remember losing hope. I remember first photos after deoccupation of Kyiv region. I remember how forgotten friend of my dad suddenly called him saying that his city is fully destroyed, his neighbour right on his eyes was exploded attempting to get into the car and evacuate.

I remember my first mental breakdown. How I was crying in the darkness, but quietly so no one would notice.

We were able to return home three months later. But we are just lucky. Someone would never return. Someone is not even alive to see their home again. Someone’s home is forever destroyed.

I was lucky that I have secured my place at foreign university before war, but my whole family is still in Ukraine.

War is not over at all. 20% of Ukraine is occupied. So many displaced civilians, so many deaths. No one could even count, we do not have any access to bodies. Only way to identify is to deoccupy and find mass graves. No other means. Children are suffering from PTSD even in such a young age. Almost in every city, big or small, you would find graveyards covered in Ukrainian flag, grave of the soldier.

Maybe media does not talk that much of us, but it doesn’t mean that everything is alright. Avdiivka is destroyed, right now operation searching for people under debris of the civilian house after attack is undergoing.

And this is happening all the time.

Who was punished for Olenivka? Who was punished for destruction of Kakhovka Dam? Who was punished for all fully destroyed cities? Who was responsible for all that absolutely atrocious videos torturing Ukrainian soldiers?

Please, remember, Ukraine is still on fire. People are still dying. Soldiers cannot even counterattack because they do not have enough ammo, just for protection. Information war is also waging, sharing all that misinformation, Nazi narratives, russian propaganda.

Remember.

Help.

Share.

russia is a terrorist state.

Glory to Ukraine.

Glory to the Heroes.

#personal #russia is a terrorist state #russo ukrainian war #ukraine #russia #war crimes #war #glory to ukraine #slava ukraini

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dreamescapeswriting · 2 years

Text

𝗦𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘆 𝗞𝗶𝗱𝘀 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ⪼ 𝗛𝗲 𝗖𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗖𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘆

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - September 2022

⤜MASTERLIST

CHAN:

A flight home with his partner in order for you to meet his family was supposed to be relaxing but so far the plane journey had everything but. Ten hours on a flight and you had spent the last two getting on his last nerve about trying to get some sleep. It wasn't as though there was a massive time difference but you'd hoped if he got some sleep now while you were on the flight it would make him feel good about everything. That and you knew your boyfriend's sleeping patterns weren't exactly something he was known for.

"All I'm saying is, this is a ten-hour flight, at least get some sleep and you can work later." You told him when you noticed Chan's hands working away on the laptop in front of him, instead of getting some sleep. There were plenty of hours for him to do this but he insisted on working. This was supposed to be something that was relaxing for him but all of your naggings were starting to get on his last nerve and he ripped his headphones from his ears

"I'm just saying if you sleep now you can work later-"

"I don't need a fucking babysitter." He snapped, suddenly the people in front of you turned around to look in your direction and your entire body heated up. The thought of Chan snapping at you like this made your entire body feel numb, he'd never snapped at you so much before much less in front of people.

"I never should have asked you to come, god, you're being so fucking clingy and annoying." The words hit you like a freight train and you stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds not knowing what to say or even do in response to that so you just nodded. Slowly putting up the privacy screen when Chan put on his earphones and went back to work on his laptop. It was going to be a long 8 hours of not speaking to one another and you hated the fact that you could hear murmurs from other people around you. Biting down on your lip you rolled over on your seat, leaning it back as you tried to at least get some sleep before you landed.

[X]

After the plane landed and you'd collected everything from baggage claim you'd silently made your way to the taxi bay and to the hotel. Since his parents were more than likely asleep right now you were both just going to wait in the hotel room until later on in the morning. It was barely 4 am and Chan didn't exactly want to wake his family up so early.

"Hey we got a balcony, that's pretty cool," Chan said as he broke the almost deafening silence that was between you but you just headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you as you did your best not to cry. You'd cried so much on the plane that one of the stewards had asked if you needed to go and sit somewhere else but you stayed where you were at the time. All you wanted to do was get away from Chan for a few hours, just to let yourself calm down since he clearly wasn't going to apologise for what he had said earlier.

"Babe?" Chan called out when you emerged once again, changed into different clothes and headed for the exit of the room, you were going to go for a walk and clear your mind.

"Hey...Babe!" He called out before he grasped your wrist in his hand and stopped you from leaving. You stared down at his hand holding onto you but you didn't dare move,

"Where are you going?" His thumb smoothed across your skin and as much as you loved that you couldn't stand that he was doing it right now. Did he not remember what he'd said on the plane?

"Out." You grumbled trying to pull your hand free but he wasn't going to let you go that easy. It wasn't as though you knew your way around and not much was going to be open so he was confused.

"Out where?" He frowned at you,

"I don't know. Just out." Your tone was sharp and he knew that there was something wrong with you so he wasn't going to let you just walk away from him when you were in this mood.

"Wait and I'll come with you." He said as he pointed to his laptop, all he needed to do was save the project he was working on,

"No. Don't. I know how important your work is to you, I'm going to go for a walk and be clingy and annoying somewhere else." You snapped before you got your wrist out of his hand and headed out of the door and into the hallway but not before Chan chased after you.

"Look. I'm sorry," He told you as you stopped just outside the elevator together, you stared at him as you waited for him to continue with what he was saying.

"I didn't mean it," That was the oldest excuse in the book.

"If you didn't mean it you wouldn't have said it in the first place," You grumbled, hitting the button repeatedly in hopes it would somehow speed the elevator up.

"Come back to the room, let me show you how sorry I am?" You stared at him and looked at the doors that opened, you debated jumping inside but you were also exhausted from the plane.

"Chan-"

"Please. I don't want us to start our trip this way. I-I was just stressed and I know it's a terrible excuse but I was and I'm going to spend every second making it up to you." You stared back at him as the doors to the elevator slowly shut,

"Start by getting us breakfast. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse." You whined a little as you both headed back to your room to order something from room service.

MINHO:

With comeback season right around the corner, the boys were getting busier and busier with each passing day which meant they were starting to neglect their self-care more. You figured that you could make yourself useful by being the one to bring them lunch every day, you knew when they would take their lunch break and you knew what each of them liked to eat. All of them were pretty happy with your effort to bring them a home-cooked meal, even if they had a canteen it was a sweet gesture from you.

"Thank you," Jeongin chuckled as you handed him the small box with his favourite meal stuffed inside, freshly cooked and all ready for him to eat with a giant grin on his face. Chan and Felix were switching food with one another once they got halfway done and the others were complimenting you on the food.

"Anytime, I thought you guys would want something to eat after Minho works you so hard," You softly teased but Minho didn't look impressed, he was just staring at you while all of the boys sat on the floor and ate their meal. They were behind on their training and he wasn't impressed that you had just dropped by completely unannounced and distracted them from the work that they were supposed to be doing.

"Can I speak to you outside?" He questioned, not giving you a chance to answer as he headed out of the door and waited for you to follow after him. You walked out and quietly shut the door behind you, bowing a little to the staff members that were walking by,

"Did you not like what I made? I thought it was your favourite," You pouted a little but Minho folded his arms over his chest and stared at you, his expression unreadable.

"Can you please just go away? I don't know what it is but just lately you're being clingy." The word was like a knife to your gut and you stared at him. Clingy? He knew that your love language was acts of service and that you loved being able to look after other people that you cared for.

"I was just bringing you guys food, I figured you would want something to eat." You tried to justify it but in Minho's eyes, you were wrong for it, especially when there was plenty of food in the canteen that they could have been eating instead of wasting their time.

"With have a canteen with plenty of food, you're just looking for an excuse to come and see me just to give us all food and it's irritating." He murmured without seeing how much it was hurting you to hear these words falling from his lips. The man you loved had just called you clingy and that your love language was irritating him.

"We don't need someone to look after us, just go home." He mumbled before shutting the door to the dance studio, so that was exactly what you did. You went home.

[X]

"Yn! I know you're in there!" Minho called out as he banged on your apartment door again. All week long you had been giving him the cold shoulder and ignoring him and he finally had enough of it. Not only were you ignoring him but the boys had been complaining about missing your food breaks and if he was being honest with himself, Minho missed them too. He didn't know what he had until it was gone.

"What are you doing here?" Your voice came from behind him and he spans around to see you struggling to carry grocery bags in your hand.

"I came to see you, why have you been ignoring me?" He questioned, struggling to keep the bags up but he was doing his best not to show you his struggles.

"Maybe because you called me clingy and irritating?" You grumbled, ignoring him as he took the bags from your hands, you unlocked the door and were about to take the bags back from him when he made his way into your apartment.

"Come on in." You grumbled sarcastically, kicking the door shut before taking the bags from him and going to put everything you had bought away.

"The boys miss you and your food." You should have known better than to think Minho was going to apologise for something.

"They have food in the canteen." You grumbled coldly, putting all of the fresh vegetables into the sink to wash up, you began to run the tap when you felt Minho stand behind you.

"I miss you," He whispered as your entire body tensed up, his arms slowly snaked around your waist as he pulled you back into him.

"M-Minho...You called-"

"I know and I didn't mean it. We've been behind and I just snapped at the first thing I could, it was wrong and I am so sorry...Just, please...Please don't ignore me," You heard him sniffle, followed by a tear hitting your shoulder causing you to spin around and face him, it wasn't often that he cried and you knew that if he was allowing himself to be this vulnerable in front of him, he was clearly upset with something he'd done.

"It's okay," You whispered, slowly running your thumbs under his eyes as you tried to get the tears away,

"J-Just wash up the veg okay...You can stay here tonight and we can cuddle all night," You suggested as he sniffled again, simply nodding his head before he kissed you.

CHANGBIN:

Ever since Changbin hadn't gotten hurt on stage you had been looking after him, trying to make sure that he had everything he could possibly need and helping him around the dorms. You'd practically moved in while his leg was broken since you wanted him to have everything he needed from you.

"Can you just leave it?" Changbin asked when he noticed you cleaning up around the dorms. It wasn't as though the boys were messy a lot but since it was close to comeback season they'd been getting a little slack on everything.

"Once it's done, it's done and I can help you in the bath," You said with a bright smile on your face, walking over to him and kissing the top of his head.

"I get this thing off in a week and it'll be the happiest damn day of my life," He grumbled harshly as you rolled your eyes at him. He'd been getting irritable lately with not being able to do things for himself even though you'd reassured him plenty of times that it was fine for him to just sit back for a little while.

"I thought you enjoyed spending some quality time with me," You teased, bending down to pick up some of the clothes that were on the floor while stuffing them into the basket.

"When you're not being so god-damn clingy. I don't need help with everything," He mumbled, thinking that you wouldn't be able to hear him but you did and you almost dropped the basket that you were carrying around. You didn't want him to know you'd heard him so you played it off, heading over to the counter and stuffing everything into the machine. You knew how much stress he was under because of his leg and you didn't want to make it into a bigger deal than it was. You knew he was just lashing out but still, it didn't need to be at you.

"What are you doing?" Changbin called out when he heard you grabbing your keys and heading to the door.

"Forgot something," You mumbled dryly, opening and slamming the door behind you before Changbin even had a chance to protest about you leaving him behind and he just stared at the door in silence.

[X]

The door to the dorms pushed open and you stared down at Changbin who was struggling to lift himself up onto the sofa, letting out small grunts as he tried not to slip on his cast.

"Hyung...Why are you on the floor?" Hyunjin laughed as you two walked into the dorms together. It had been six hours since you'd left Changbin alone and you finally came back with Hyunjin after you'd cooled down a little. Deciding to go back to the dorms to see if your boyfriend had chilled out a little yet.

"Because YN left me here alone." He mumbled while staring over at you, his bottom lip poking out a little as you sighed. You carefully made your way over to him with Hyunjin and stood on either side of his body.

"You called me clingy. I figured you didn't need any more help from me." Changbin's cheeks flamed when he heard what you said, he hadn't meant for you to hear him but it didn't make what he said any better.

"You heard?" He asked, sounding completely sympathetic as you nodded your head,

"Oh yeah," You giggled bending over and helping him back into the wheelchair he'd been given while his leg was broken, he grunted softly as you got him seated again.

"I'm sorry," He said quickly as he took your hand into his and gave it a small squeeze. It wasn't something you were just to get over quickly but it wasn't something you were going to get completely hung up over when you knew he was upset with himself.

"I know...I know you're stressed with your whole leg but don't take it out on more or next time I'll leave you on the floor," You joked before he lent forward and pushed his lips against yours.

HYUNJIN:

For weeks now, Hyunjin had been hurled up inside of his home studio trying to work on something but it seemed as though he was having a major creativity block himself and couldn’t bring himself to work on anything.

“Hey, I bought you-” You froze as you walked into the room, knocking over the pot of oil paint that was right by the door and spilling it all over the blank canvas that Hyunjin was sitting in front of.

“S-Shit…Hyunjin,” You whispered trying to say sorry but was staring at you, his face turning red as he slowly got up and began cleaning everything up,

“You’re so fucking annoying! I told you to leave me alone because I’m trying to work on something but you just have to be so clingy!” Hyunjin snapped at you angrily as you stared down at the spilt paint, at least it hadn’t gone onto anything he’d been working on for hours, at least it was on a blank canvas.

“I didn’t know the paint was right behind the door,” You defended yourself, you weren’t going to let him blame you for this when he was the one leaving paint out all over the place.

“You should have just left me alone as I told you to do!” He yelled, refusing to look at you so you walked out of the door, slamming it hard behind you as you headed home where you would be more appreciated.

[x]

You gave Hyunjin exactly what he wanted, you left him alone for two weeks. Two whole weeks and he’d been constantly texting you and calling you trying to get you to talk to him but you weren’t having any of it. Not once had he said sorry for calling you clingy and you weren’t going to get over something that quickly without an apology from him.

“So your phone still works then?” He questioned when he noticed you inside of a cafe, he’d tried ringing you only to watch you send it straight to voicemail.

“I decided to give you what you wanted, now am I not clingy?” You asked bitterly before he took a seat in front of you and let out a sigh, he never meant for it to come out the way that he did. With everything going on, he just snapped at the closest thing to him and it happened to be you at the time.

“I was just annoyed,”

“Everyone gets annoyed Hyunjin but they don’t go around calling their partners clingy.” You told him while sipping on your drink. This might be something he was going to forget and move on from but not you. It killed you inside to know that your boyfriend thought of you that way and you weren’t going to forgive him so easily for it either.

“I’m sorry…I really am, I don’t know how I’m going to prove it to you, but I’m going to spend every day trying until you forgive me.” He placed his hand on top of yours and you smiled weakly, you liked the fact that he was willing to try and make this better was warming to you.

“Did you manage to get anything done?” You asked while moving your chair closer to his and leaning your head on his shoulder,

“We did,”

“We?” You asked while laughing, he nodded pulling out his phone and showing the canvas you had spilt the oil paint onto that was now transformed into yet another masterpiece by your wonderful boyfriend.

JISUNG:

Ever since he had called you clingy last night you’d been giving him the silent treatment and all of the boys knew it.

“Are you going to answer me?” Jisung asked as he pouted out his bottom lip and followed you into the kitchen. Maybe he’d completely forgotten what he’d said to you but you weren’t ever going to forget it. He’d been sitting with Chan when you’d asked nicely if they wanted anything to eat or drink, only to have your boyfriend turn around and call you annoyingly clingy when he didn’t think you were listening.

“I think she’s giving you the silent treatment,” Felix told him since it was obvious Jisung wasn’t completely understanding why you were suddenly not talking to him anymore and going about your business as though he wasn’t there.

“Why?” Jisung asked sounding totally perplexed as to why you were ignoring him and you let out a loud laugh and a scoff at him,

“Calling me clingy last night?”

“Oh, you heard that?” You rolled your eyes at him as if that was the first thing he would say about it instead of saying sorry for something that had caused you to hurt so much. You’d stayed up for most of the night debating on walking home because you were worried that you truly made him hate you for something you did. You didn’t mean to come across as clingy, it was just your way of showing affection to him.

“I was trying to do something nice for you and you called me annoying and clingy in one sentence and all you have to say is “oh”?” You questioned not caring how harsh you seemed to be grilling him over it,

“I didn’t mean it, I-” He let out a small sigh as he made his way over to him,

“I was busy and stressed…Y-You and I both know how much I love when you’re like that with me…I-I love it when you care for me like that,” He admitted shyly, blushing when he heard the boys beginning to tease him and call him a simp for you but he didn’t care. It was the truth, he adored it when you would pamper him and constantly bring him drinks and food to show him how much you loved him.

“Well, now it’s your turn…I-I don’t quite forgive you just yet,” You whined before he nodded and kissed you all over your face, promising you that he was going to make it all up to you.

FELIX:

Since moving to Seoul you didn't really have many of your own friends and it was hard to meet people when you couldn't tell them about your personal life. You'd tried to meet up with different groups but you'd never really seemed to click with anyone except the boys and you figured that they liked you too.

"Yn? What are you doing here?" Felix asked when he walked into the dorms to see you playing on the switch with Jeongin and Seungmin, all three of you yelling at one another as you crashed on Mario Kart.

"Playing Mario Kart, I got all of the new maps and wanted someone to play with," You told him before falling off the edge of the map and grumbling something under your breath about Seungmin using a red shell on you.

"I thought we agreed that you'd take some time away to go and make some friends," Felix said slowly, trying to be as nice about this as humanly possible. The last thing he ever would want to do was hurt you, he was just tired of you constantly hanging around him and the boys all of the time when they were his friends and not yours.

"I tried that group this morning but it's kind of hard when I can't tell people about my life...or at least all of it," You told him when the match ended, you finally looked at him and you could already sense that he wasn't exactly thrilled with you being in his space.

"Are you even trying hard enough? Why do you have to constantly adhere to me and the boys all of the time? Do you have any idea how clingy it makes you?" The room fell into silence and Jeongin stared back at his hyung completely stunned that Felix would say something like that to you.

"Hyung...That was a little mean, they're not clingy." Jeongin defended quickly,

"We like having Yn around!" Seungmin added while you shook your head and slowly got up,

"He's right...I-I should leave you guys alone, you're busy and me hanging around is only going to distract you," Your voice was barely coming out above a whisper, you were so worried if you spoke any louder, that you were going to start crying.

"Babe..." Felix trailed off as he walked with you toward the front door of the dorm,

"I didn't mean clingy like that," He told you while the other members looked anywhere except at the two of you, trying to pretend as though they didn’t hear what the two of you were speaking to one another about.

"There's no other way to mean it Lixie," You whispered but he took your hand in his,

“I just want you to have your own friends…For when I’m not here and on tour, you’ll need someone to hang out with,” You knew he was right but it still hurt you deep inside that he had called you clingy.

“I just need some space, okay? I’ll call you later,” You pressed your lips to his cheek to let him know that things between you were okay, you just wanted to have a little time to yourself to think over what he had said to you.

[X]

“Because of you, Yn is no longer our best friend!” Jeongin called out as you cuddled into Felix’s chest later on in the week. It turned out that after you’d left the dorms you’d run into someone in the coffee shop next door and struck up a conversation with one another when you’d noticed her looking a little lost. It also just so happened that she was Changbin’s girlfriend and she’d been wanting to move her stuff into the dorms since his leg was broken and she was going to be caring for him for a while.

“I’m still your best friend, I just happen to be theirs too,” You laughed softly while shaking your head at the youngest member, Felix chuckled deeply and kissed the top of your head.

SEUNGMIN:

It wasn’t that Seungmin was annoyed with you around him all of the time but lately it was just starting to all get a little too much for him. Everywhere he turned you were there and it seemed as though he couldn’t get away from you. If the two of you weren’t at home together then you were at the studio hanging out with Felix and Chan since you were quite close with the two of them. Even tonight, you weren’t scheduled to hang out with Seungmin and he was quite looking forward to going back to the dorms and having a chill night, only when he walked inside the dorms he found you in the kitchen with Felix. The two of you singing loudly and baking cookies together and Seungmin sighed, he just wanted one night where he could have a little peace. One night where he could be in his own quiet space.

“What are you doing here?” It came out a little harsher than he had intended but he didn’t say anything else after that, you glanced over at him.

“Lix invited me, we’re going to make cookies and then sit and watch the new “black phone” movie together, you wanna join?” You quizzed, not hearing the anoyance in Seungmin’s previous question.

“No. I want you to go home. Can’t you see you’re annoying us all?” Seungmin asked as you suddenly stopped stirring the batter you were mixing, Felix froze in place as he stared at the side of your head waiting for you to say something.

“They’re not annoying me,” Felix stated as he tried to make you feel a little less upset about all of this but you were stuck on what Seungmin had said.

“Yes, they are. They’re being so clingy lately and it’s not just to me now, it’s to you too.” You looked down at your hands as you walked toward the sink, deciding to wash off everything you could and head home for the night since you weren’t wanted here.

“Seungmin! Take it back, you know that if they weren’t here you’d be upset,” Felix told the younger member but you were already walking toward the exit, not wanting to stay there anymore.

[X]

You hadn’t expected Seungmin to say sorry for everything he had said that night but he did. Every day for the last week flowers had been arriving at your door, as well as your favourite meals and snacks all made by him and delivered by Felix or Chan on their way to work except for right now. Instead, seungmin stood at your door holding up a bouquet of chocolate roses while he smiled at you.

“Did you really think flowers and food were going to make me forgive you for what you said?” You questioned as you let him into your apartment, every surface was covered in flowers and food containers that would no longer fit inside of your fridge.

“No, but I was told to give you space and time before I came to see you.” He told you before he put the flowers down on your coffee table and looked back at you.

“N-Now, I’ve come to say sorry.” He walked toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist as you relaxed against his touch. As much as he had hurt you last week, you’d missed him and you could kind of see why he was so annoyed with you being around all of the time.

“I promise to give you more space, I know that you like to be alone.” You told him as you snuggled your head into his chest, just enjoying the feeling of being close to him after all this time.

JEONGIN:

“Jeongin and you going to meet his parents, that’s a big step,” Chan said as you sat down beside him on the sofa,

“What are you talking about? I’m not going with him.” You laughed weakly, Jeongin had told you that he had a family emergency next weekend and that he was going to be gone the whole time and probably not answer his phone.

“He’s got a family issue, so I’m going to be at my place that weekend.” You told Chan who clearly was confused thanks to the frown that was on his forehead, he shook his head. That wasn’t what Jeongin had told them, he’d told the boys that his mum was dying to meet you.

“Maybe you should ask him, 'cause that's not what he told us,” You slowly got up from the sofa and made your way over to Jeongin’s room, about to knock on the door when you heard him talking on the phone. It was rude to eavesdrop and you knew better than to do so but you’d already heard your name being mentioned,

“Mum, I already told you, I’m not bringing Yn. Because they’re always clingy and it’ll be nice to get away for one weekend.” Your heart was completely shattered as you heard what he was saying to his mother about you.

“I’m not being mean, I’m telling the truth. Sometimes you need a break from dad,” He told her before freezing when he heard the floorboard outside of his bedroom door creek but when he got up to investigate you were already gone and out of the dorms.

[X]

The weekend away from Jeongin had gone as quickly as it had come and he was doing everything he could to get in contact with you, even the boys had tried to get you to call him back but you were too hurt. If he’d been honest with you about it maybe it wouldn’t have hurt as much but to say it to his mother too? You felt as though you were a big letdown in the relationship department and not only that, but now his mother knew he found you clingy. You knew for a fact that she wasn’t going to like you anymore.

“Yn?” You glanced up when you heard your name being called by an unfamiliar voice and you froze when you saw Jeongin’s mother standing in front of you in the store. It was the first time you’d left your apartment this week because you were in desperate need of supplies and you just so happened to run into her.

“Mrs Yang, it’s lovely to meet you.” You said while bowing to her, she smiled and brought you into a tight hug.

“I hope what Jeongin said the other day didn’t hurt you too badly, I scolded him for it the whole weekend he was with us, the boy can be so rude sometimes. You know, he gets it from his father.” You let out a weak laugh as she began to walk with you beside your trolley, making her way over to Jeongin who was looking around for his mother,

“Look who I ran into, now...I’m going to make myself busy while you say sorry.” She told him before disappearing down another aisle, you stared at Jeongin who was already flushing a red colour.

“Yn.”

“I know,” You said before he could even tell you that he was sorry, you knew by the look on his face that he was.

“I never meant for it to hurt you. I was just- i needed some space and I didn’t know how to ask for it,” You smiled weakly and nudged his arm softly,

“Next time just be honest…I’d rather find out from you, than overhear it while you tell your mother,” You told him before he nodded and quickly kissed the top of your head. The two of you finished your shopping together while his mother walked around proud that you had made up.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @illicee @army24--7 @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @kimahnjung98 @halesandy @aerastus @lost-leopard-beanie @ethereallino @afternoonteabiscuit @dhyanavati @itmehc @rubberduckieyourtheone @heeseunger24 @laylasbunbunny @lovelychann

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month

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Happy with the staff content this year but am I the only one who is disappointed with the PV we got? It's basically a slideshow of art we've already seen, major downgrade from the year 1 PV that had literally all the events. There was a drop in quality of the anniversary PVs over the years and it really shows this year. Sorry if you find this too negative I don't mean to hate I just wish Twst would do better for it's ANNIVERSARY.

[For everyone's reference, here are the anniversary PVs in order of release: 2021 / 2022 / 2023 / 2024]

Mmm, now that you mention it, I noticed this trend with the Halloween PVs 🤔 For year 1, there was a video that showed all members of the NRC casy, even those that did not receive cards at that time. There were then several short variants of the PV released for year 2/Endless Halloween Night (part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4). Altogether, they feature all of the characters, including the students from year 1 but heavily shadowed and with glowing eyes to indicate ghostly possession. Even Glorious Masquerade features all of the students that get new cards for the event plus Rollo, although there are notably more still shots here. The Stage in Playful Land CM, by comparison, is significantly shorter and only shows us the three SSRs (Ace, Ortho, and Kalim) as well as the two new characters (Fellow and Gidel).

As this anon has said, the anniversary PVs have changed a lot over time too. The first one was the most animated and integrated several event outfits. The second one was also animated a fair amount, but you can tell corners were cut in some places where they transition to photographs/still images. This alone works thematically given that the player is a photographer, but you can still catch dips in quality when it comes to the art style. I remember finding Deuce running and the Kalim + Silver flying scene odd, as well as Jade and Trein's faces strange in general. Then the third PV rolls around and it only features the third years; the animation also seems to be much more sluggish (although this could be a stylistic choice; not sure). A friend actually recently pointed out to me that Lilia's pose looks like he was pulled straight from other assets; his artwork in the animation is almost the exact same as his smiling expression in the game. This year's is the most different (+ most static) and, like year 3's PV, only provides "new" content for a select few characters (the dorm leaders). They also reuse pre-existing illustrations already found in the game that don't seem to be picked for any particular reason (like, there are random Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles groovies in there). This direction, I'm guessing, is less costly and more efficient than making an entirely original animation, which is what was done in previous years. (Not that Disney or Aniplex is hurting for money to fund this, lol) Would I have preferred another PV in the style of year 1's? Yeah, for sure. I want to see other events and their outfits animated! Was what we got this year bad? Not necessarily; I think the production and editing was very technically impressive, but I'm still sad we didn't get anything substantially "new" to chew on (as someone who isn't a fan of most third years or the dorm leaders). Maybe it's just something we perceive as a deficit only because year 1 set the bar so high. It is what it is; whoever was in charge of the anniversary PV was probably doing the best they could with whatever budget they were given 😔 Let's hope that next year's will be a return to form, or that at least the money/effort is being redirected to other bigger projects (maybe the anime?).

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sgiandubh · 3 months

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Friends and friends of friends a network make

Boys are back in town, no rings (Real Life, not Instabuzz) and active networking:

In this case, those who are missing from the pic are as (if not more) important as those who made it, riding in the rain.

Let's unpack:

John Laurie, Managing Director at the Glenturret distillery, where my personal favorite blend (oh, well, The Famous Grouse - I know, really LOL, but it is what it is) is made. A long, interesting career that started in 2000, as General Manager of a fitness club network headquartered in Irvine, California (LA Fitness) and got him more and more involved in whisky business since 2014, as General Manager of Edrington, the Macallan distillery. If it sounds familiar to you, well... always remember that #silly old slogan on the Pall Mall cigarette packs: 'wherever particular people congregate'. I know I do 😎.

Something immediately piqued my interest in this short bio: 'opened a fine dining restaurant that achieved a Michelin star inside 7 months'. And it is, of course, true: part of the reasons I am always using LinkedIn to place people, is that it would be counterproductive to blatantly lie, there. Or childish: even McSideburns knows that, with his very empty page and 1 contact - but what the hell do I know, though, he's more private than if he worked for the MI-6.

The one starred Michelin restaurant who got 'le macaron' in seven months is The Glenturret Lalique Restaurant, that opened in July 2021, on the distillery's premises and got it by February 2022. The first time a distillery wins a Michelin star, by the way:

Now, where did I read a similar business story, not so long ago and wrote about it? Oh, that's right, Tom Kitchin's first restaurant in EDI apparently followed the same yellow brick road to instant success, back in 2007:

Again, I am sensing a theme, here. Associating with young, dynamic and daring entrepreneurial voices in the whisky business. Not exactly the manwhore, closeted gay, peasant and crook some hypocrites would like to portray. I have to say, I am always, always over the moon glad to see the real thing showing up from time to time: a consistent effort to get things done, properly.

But sure, you believe what you want. I cannot force anyone to go beyond a sometimes very limited world view.

Second person being missed is David Coulthard, F1 legend, but also...

Company Director at Whisper Films, one of the most dynamic, fastest growing UK media groups. He founded it in 2010, along Jake Humphries, BBC F1 commenter extraordinaire and Sunil Patel, a former BBC producer, but also a Board Member of the Edinburgh TV Festival:

And for those who might not know it (I didn't), Coulthard hails from Dumfries & Galloway. Mmmhm. Well done, S. Well done.

S knows exactly what he's doing, where he's going and when and with whom he is seen. By this point in time, I think we might safely think his somewhat lackadaisical recent Insta follows (Romanian female MMA athlete? ROFLMAO, really and I howled) as gently trolling this very obsessed invested fandom. As I wrote it many, many times already, the Scottish Mafia is a reality - and good for him, really, to use what is readily available. And if you still had any doubt that was a business informal meeting, The Highland Chieftain tagged SS in his story.

He's going to laugh all the way to the bank, this one. You'll see. Great news and I will always be here to put it in context. Some of the things being heavily peddled around in here might not be very interesting to me - but this yes: this is exciting.

Also, many, many thanks to the two of you who immediately keep me up with these: you know who you are and you are loved, of course, why even ask?😘🙌

#fandom #shitshow #boozewars #business

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ask-the-royal-absol · 4 months

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(It has been one year since I joined the pokeask community with my silly absol. One whole year. How did I get here? Like, damn. It’s just been such a lovely community and I’ve met some truly wonderful people.

I’m sorry I couldn’t get more of you on here. I wish I had the time to draw each and every one of you. This is why I needed the head shot so thank you to everyone who sent it over. Thank you to everyone in this community for being my inspirations, my joy and my friends. I cannot thank you enough. If I could make you all something more to say thank you, I would. (Also forgive me if the image quality is garbage. Tumblr does that sometimes. If you click on it, it'll be clearer.)

I suppose I’ll just go on and say I’ve always admired the community from afar. So many stories I was following. So many inspirational people. The events. The characters. They are all so wonderful. And I followed these blogs for years.

Getting hooked into everything about the ask blog community. At first, I was going to making an ask blog about a royal Goodra/Vespiquen fusion who goes to other places to make political connections for their hive. I drew up a couple of concepts but I didn’t go ahead with it.

I kept following the community, constantly being inspired and amazed by everyone inside of it. I’d wanted to join a community for a while. At first, I joined the Pokémon fusion community. It was fun. I met some great people. But, after a few years, it didn’t fill me with joy. I did fusions on multiple platforms, even making some fusions for the infinite fusions game (they’re still in there). I had a go with commissions. It just became a bit of a chore.

I tried making my own region. It only lasted a month. It left a gap which I didn’t know how to fill. I also did dnd with friends which mostly satisfied this but we didn’t do it consistently enough. I definitely miss doing it. I probably did fusions for 6 years. The blogs are still up. There was nothing I wanted to draw consistently.

Near the end of last year, I had a really tough time. My mental health took a really big dip and I was struggling. It was an incredibly dark time. I didn’t have much going on. Maybe we were doing dnd. I don’t remember though. I started drawing Pokémon because I wasn’t in the mood to draw dnd art.

I don’t know why but I started to draw an absol. I think it may have been inspired by my current dnd character. As I was drawing this absol, ideas started to form in my mind about who this absol was and the world they were from. Ideas kept flowing and flowing.

Once the absol was finished, I drew another character, and another and another. And I just kept drawing. Soon, I started drawing maps and a prophecy for this absol and their world. The name Destino came from the word Destiny. It brought me so much joy. I worked on it for a few days and put it to the side.

Then came around the 27th December 2022. I looked back on my planning for this world and thought perhaps I could turn it into an ask blog. At first, I was so nervous. I didn’t want to go through with it. My partner convinced me to make the blog. That’s when I began to draw the first post. And on December 29th 2022, I created the blog and made a reference post for Destino.

Soon, the first post was posted and I got asks. Exciting stuff! And it was so much fun deciding how Destino would respond. More asks kept coming and I eventually started sending asks to others. The most exciting part would have to be seeing people follow me who I was a huge fan of. Gonna be honest, I’m still so incredibly excited when talking to these people and when they like my stuff.

My love for this blog grew and I’ve spent a lot of my time working on it. I have loved each and every moment of it. It was fun having this smug, egotistical absol interacting with many characters who I am a huge fan of and entertaining to see their reactions. Destino was becoming a bit of a thing. Memes were made of Destino. Destino was insulting every legendary they could come across. For me, it was hilarious. And it seemed others were enjoying their antics too.

I am incredibly thankful each day with every interaction, every like, every follow, every reblog, etc. I’ve had. I’m grateful for this entire community. Every one of you has been so friendly and I love talking to you. This community has filled a void which I wasn’t sure would be filled. And I hope I can continue loving being in this community for a while. Destino is going to stick around for a while. I’ve got big plans for them and I hope to enjoy this journey with you all.

Thank you everyone. I hope I can continue to work with you all and have fun! Let’s get ready for another year of Destino.)

#pokemon ask blog #pokemon #pokemon askblog #pokemon oc #ask blog #ask the royal absol #destino the absol #pokeask #ask #askblog community #pokeask community #mod goomy #long post #fanart Friday

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kithtaehyung · 2 years

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starry night (m) | jjk

title: starry night pairing: jungkook x reader(f) rating/genre: m(18+) ; fluff , smut ; established relationship, gamer au summary: all you wanted to do was take your boyfriend on a super late date. warnings: fluff, language, a tiny bit of overwatch lingo, thigh riding, a cute ass date :’)), fingering, penetration, protected sex, tit play if you squint, spanking, they’re both competitive af, hickies, praise, body worship, self-conscious reader argh, multiple orgasms, jk has a big dick but what’s new!!, tatted jk is a warning in itself, koo is a softie for his baby girl :(((, idk this really is just soft smut lmfao note: this is for all the koo lovers out there! also, this is a revamp from the last version bc that one was a version i wasn’t entirely happy with :’)) can’t even describe how much happier i am with this now dsjklf if you’ve read it or not, hope you like the newest version and happy jk day! drop date: september 1st, 2022, 9am est total word count: 7k

“One more game, okay?”

From your spot in the doorway, you wait as your boyfriend pushes half of a clearly worn down headset aside.

“What did you say, babe?”

“One more game!” Giggling at his befuddled expression, you surge on, “Then get dressed. There’s somewhere we have to be.”

Jungkook glances at his monitor before shifting meaningful eyes back toward you, stoic. Very, very stoic.

“It’s 2am.”

You wave off the obvious reluctance. This is something you'd been planning for a week, ever since you read that damn article on your phone.

“Seems so,” you decide to tease instead. “Just let me know when you’re ready!”

In a rush, you bound back into the hallway—the door left wide open in your springy wake. Judging by the yell followed by a quick grunt, you assume he got thrown into another match before he could scold you properly.

Perfect. You have time to get everything ready.

Excitement fizzles along your bones as you scramble around the apartment, gathering things in your arms.

Do you have the date and time right? Yes. Are you absolutely sure that your boyfriend is going to slink out of his cave? Probably.

Well.

He’s coming along this time, whether he likes it or not. So no matter what his response is, you’re gonna make it a yes.

But your answer arrives a mere ten minutes later, sweats and three layers of clothing swallowing its form.

“Wait, that was quick,” you observe. “Were there leavers?”

“Two on our side,” he complains, frustration tugging his beanie down a little too far. "So boring.”

“Lame. Well, you can queue again after we get back from our date.” Snatching a blanket off the leaning pile next to your couch, you join Jungkook in the entryway.

But it’s only then that you realize something’s missing. “Oh, wait. Lemme get one more thing.”

While you poke your head in multiple rooms and rummage, your boyfriend continues his whining, “This date couldn’t wait until tomorrow? It’s freezing outside.”

Oh, it absolutely cannot. Not this time.

Offering a look of pity from a doorway, you sigh, “It really can’t.” You go back to your search, voice wrapping around the walls and furniture, “And we have a ways to go, so. You can sleep in the car if you want.”

His poor tone raises in pitch a couple pegs, “How long is this gonna take?”

“You’ll see!” Finally victorious, you secure the outdoor pillow you wanted—remembering it haphazardly flung into the dining nook during an impromptu pillow fight—and rejoin your boyfriend at the door. Flicking his nose with your free hand, you chuckle, “Always so impatient.”

The pout you receive is almost crushing, but you have to push forward.

However, as soon as you open your front door, you definitely think about chickening out.

Jungkook’s absolutely correct.

It’s bitingly cold outside.

“Shit, babe,” he winces, and you throw him an apologetic glance. “Are you sure you’re okay going?”

You nod while stepping out first, too affected by the chill to verbally reply. After you lock the door behind you both, you frantically follow him in a stilted race to your car.

Why does it have to be freezing? Why couldn’t you have gotten this idea during spring? Or summer!

Gritting your chattering teeth, you envy everyone in possession of a car with automatic-start.

But your jealousy is swiftly smothered, your boyfriend’s half-jog, half-hop form of travel pulling laughter from your throat instead of grumbles. With his puffed jacket swallowing his whole top half, he’s not far off from resembling a skittering ball of boba, and you can’t help but grin until your cheeks burn as much as your ears.

Your happy breath coalesces into the wind in soft tendrils. Even now, when it’s decidedly frigid, Jungkook somehow finds a way to keep you warm.

Just like he always does.

Goddamn, you love him. Though thrusting the two of you into near-subzero conditions in the dead of night may imply the opposite.

Regardless, you don’t have much of a way to go. After all, you had been meticulous in your planning, your vehicle a noble steel steed occupying the closest spot in the lot.

When you both settle inside with rapid puffing and shivering, you toss your pile of date items onto Jungkook’s lap. “Close your eyes for me, okay? You can’t know where we’re going.”

“Seriously?” He frowns in earnest now, shoulders knocking against his ears. “This feels more like an attack than a date.”

But despite his complaints, your boyfriend shifts the bedding in his possession before obeying, kicking his head back on the headrest and shutting his eyes. When you look over, you notice he’s already comfortable, arms slung around the pillow and blanket draped over his still legs.

There is still a downward slump to his lips, though. And while you can’t blame him, you still giggle because you know what’s coming. “Just trust me, babe. I’m sure you’ll like this place.”

Ugh. His tiny pout is still your favorite. “I bet not. But since you’re driving...”

After you pull out of your spot, a smirk carves into your features. “Bet for real, then,” you goad, tempting his competitive spirit. “If I win, you spend the whole night with me.”

It doesn’t work.

Without opening his eyes, Jungkook frowns with his whole face. “It’s the end of the comp season! I’m already pushing it not playing now.”

“Love the confidence, Kookie,” you chirp. “If I lose, I’ll never tear you away from your precious gaming chair again.”

A single sigh serves as his white flag of surrender. “Deal.”

And you don’t miss the grin in his tone.

Because if he’s thinking the same thing you are, he’s remembering the night you gifted him the damn thing.

Neither of you left that chair for awhile.

Finally, the car warms comfortably, and the accompanying music has you bopping your head and drumming gloved fingers on the wheel.

Jungkook’s melodic singing proves indicative of his content—a sign that he isn’t entirely against your mysterious scheme.

Scheme? More like a calculated risk. Either way, you can tell Jungkook’s interest is decidedly piqued, and it’s enough to make you even more thrilled.

Knowing the directions to the location by heart, you take necessary and unnecessary turns, twisting and winding through the city streets. Whether these cheeky moves throw your annoyingly observant boyfriend off or not, you can’t say for sure.

Regardless, you make sure that the trip is much longer than it needs to be.

Checking the time on your phone, you figure five songs is a good enough length of time to keep driving. So you finally decide to arrive.

When your destination comes into view, you roll into a parking spot and announce—proudly—“We’re here!”

As soon as Jungkook opens his eyes to survey the area, confusion mingles with relief across his whole demeanor, his brows moving in a stilted dance.

Reaching a breaking point, he outright laughs. “Seriously?”

The only thing you can do is cackle at his reaction.

You’re right back at your apartment complex, after all.

“Technically, this isn’t exactly where I wanted us to go,” you explain, smiling even harder at your boyfriend’s conflicting emotions.

You know he doesn’t really go out, and you knew that not giving him much to go on was going to frustrate him. But you thought of this idea and wanted to attempt it, since you both at least liked trying new things.

It’s so endearing to see him relieved that you’re home. But your date isn’t quite located somewhere inside. “We’re gonna hang out on the roof tonight.”

A blip of hesitation flashes across his eyes. “It’s even colder up there,” he notes, back to being the boy that didn’t wanna leave in the first place.

“It’ll be worth it! But we have to hurry, or else we’ll miss it.” You scramble out of the car without another word, and groan when Jungkook blatantly takes his time to get out of the passenger seat—slow, unhurried, annoying. “Oh my god, babe!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Follow me.”

The pair of you rush to get to the roof of your building—not without a barrage of complaints from him as you keep discovering stairs—and choose a spot to lay the blanket and pillow out. Lying down, you shuffle as close to your boyfriend as your puffy jackets allow.

You made it on time.

You think.

Crap, did you?

At least the wind isn’t too harsh tonight. This truly would’ve been a nice experience regardless if it wasn’t exceedingly and utterly cold.

But no matter.

Because above you, the sky is vast, and majestic, and speckled with tiny pinpricks of light. Not normally able to observe the universe at its fullest, you take in the current night with amazement, mouth opening in surprise as it claims your entire vision.

And you aren’t the only one steeped in wonder.

Beside you, Jungkook exhales, his awe leaving him in wisps. “Wow.”

“You like it?”

“This is nice.”

“It’ll get better,” you hope, recalling the article you based this entire night around. “Should be in just a moment.”

And you couldn’t have been more timely.

On cue, a wintry meteor shower graces the skies. Streaks of white, orange, and yellow soar across the dark expanse—tiny light trails carving bright, uncharted roads through an indigo ocean.

And the cold only makes this mesmerizing procession more memorable. Both of your bodies remain frozen, subtly forced to focus solely on the spectacle overtaking your eyes.

Extraordinary. Stellar.

Fully enraptured, you almost forget to gauge your boyfriend’s reaction.

So when you drink in his appearance, your heart flutters so rapidly that it threatens to collapse or burn out like a dying star.

All the celestial bodies congregate in his orbs, the meteors from above suddenly swimming in his pupils and sparkling across his irises.

Does he really encapsulate more in his soul than what exists in the heavens?

How is that even possible?

Your breath hitches without your permission, and you aren’t sure if it’s the weather that coaxes tears from your eyes or your love for the boy gasping skyward.

When Jungkook turns to face you, you know the answer is both.

Noticing your features, he simply smiles. One cheek is wiped. Then the other.

“I win,” you proclaim in a cracked voice, and he only laughs and tugs you in for a crushing hug.

“You win.”

Immersed in his warmth, you allow more tears to fall sideways, your adoration sliding straight into the rough material of his jacket.

There isn’t another place in the world you want to be, no other marriage of latitude and longitude that can coerce your bones. Curling your fingers around his coat, you whisper,

“But seriously, this is all I wanted to show you. You can go back to playing when we get back inside.”

“Look at me.”

Tilting your head, you aren’t allowed a second to think before soft lips descend upon yours, conveying everything from gratitude to love in the span of seconds. Before you can respond in kind, your boyfriend pulls back, his voice a plush tenor as he explains,

“A win is a win.”

“But you said—”

Another peck halts your tiny excuse.

“There’s always next season,” he murmurs, nudging your chilly nose with his own. “And I didn’t know you were showing me this.”

Thankful, you sigh, “Okay. Well, let’s go back inside, at least.” Attempting to sit up, you get tugged back down in a blankety heap. “What!”

“The meteor shower! Is there more?”

“Oh. No,” you sigh. “It’s already over.”

“Aw, man! Really?” Jungkook flops back to scan the galaxy again, as if some blazing trails would still be lingering in the dark.

Huffing out a laugh, you admire his childlike wonder, never wanting it to leave him behind.

“That was so cool.”

“It was,” you agree, getting to your feet. “I read about it last week. I figured you’d like it.”

Beaming up at you, your boyfriend gathers the blanket and pillow under his arm before standing, cradling one of your gloved hands in his sure fingers. “I like anything with you,” he admits, reserved in his expression but confident in his words.

And even though your body’s frozen, your heart is positively melting.

“Good thing, then.” You chuckle as you both approach the stairwell door, deciding to test his statement, “I’ll remember that when I ask you to knit with me.”

“Uhh.” Jungkook simply offers a cocked brow. “Warning you now. Don’t get mad when I end up better than you.”

“I have smaller fingers. You’re never gonna surpass me.”

“Maybe I already know how to knit.”

“Prove it.”

Jungkook yanks the ponderous exit open, holding it for you to pass through first. “When grandmas love you, do you ever have to prove anything?”

Tossing a disgruntled look over your shoulder, you scoff, “That’s not fair! Grandmas love you anyways.”

There’s a flash of teeth when he giggles at your glowing accusation. Rolling your eyes, you decide to catch him unawares. “But whatever. You know what I’m better at?”

“Mm, coming in second?”

“Running down stairs.”

Bursting into a sprint, you hightail it down the metal steps, chortling at the whiny shouts behind your descending form.

Down, down, down. Turn after turn.

Holy shit, how many flights are there?

You counted four on the ascent but it feels like a miscount at that moment. Your boots squeak with every stride, the stairwell thrumming with the two of you tearing through its indents.

Jungkook’s heavy shoes paired with the floofy baggage should slow him down, but his determination seems to grant him an extra boost. Hauling yourself forward, you expend every last drop of energy to reach the bottom floor first, huffing and puffing your victory brag when you achieved your goal.

A few steps behind, Jungkook breathily accuses, “Chea—”

“And the score is two to zero!” You abruptly cheer as you pompously shove the building door aside, steamrolling his wrong words with raised arms.

“Maybe I will go and queue again,” Jungkook teases behind you, earning an instant mini-grovel. At your whiplash display of emotions, he blows out a laugh, admitting,

“I’m kidding. But don’t test me.”

Your apartment is just in reach. Still breathing hard from the long descent, you retrieve your keys, hearing them jangle before you slot them into the door.

As much as you enjoyed your short-lived date, it’s nice to be back inside. The pair of you shuck off your coats and winter accessories as soon as you cross the threshold, both winded and thinking of the stellar event.

A stark difference in temperature, the warmth inside only tickles your iced cheeks. Slipping off your boots, you place yours next to Jungkook’s on the front mat before ambling to the living room.

It’s absurdly late, but the adrenaline from your sudden competition has you firmly alert.

Good. You’re sure to crash beautifully in about thirty minutes.

Puffed cushions greet you as you plop onto the sofa, and you curl your legs while waiting for your boyfriend to join. Your fuzzy sweater bunches around your waist, and you tut as you tug it back down, still self-conscious even after all these years with his assurances.

Light humming wafts from the entrance, and you simply bask in the soft notes, serene.

While you consider yourself pretty average in the choir department, your boyfriend truly is otherworldly. Your affection has reached the point where you’re thoroughly convinced he was a siren in his past life - or at least the reason behind those myths.

Tugging off the last of his overshirts, Jungkook joins you with only a simple tee. You shamelessly admire the way his chest and arms resist the material - and the way his waist does not.

Dumping himself by your side, he rests his fluffy head on your shoulder, and your body’s response is to hum on contact. “What now, miss two-zero,” he queries, giggling when you scoff.

“I dunno.” You lay your head on his, feeling the silkiness of his dark locks on your thawing cheeks. “I honestly thought you were gonna go back to playing, so. I didn’t make any other plans.”

Tenderly, you place a kiss on his crown of hair, your lips straying a beat after.

When he visibly perks up, you immediately know that, despite being holed up in that damn game room all week, Jungkook missed your touch significantly.

Which is perfect. Because you’ve been wanting his, too.

His eyes lift, traces of stars and diamonds embedded within their depths. Flitting his gaze to your lips, he seems temporarily spaced - a look he had been wearing recently. It’s like he has something he wants to say, but either has the words jammed in his throat or not there at all.

If he didn’t melt at your touch, this definitely would be where you started to worry. Instead, you’re just downright concerned.

“What, baby,” you whisper, slipping right into a sigh as a strong hand cradles your neck and smooth lips connect with your curiosity.

Jungkook takes his time, lazily kissing you as if he was destined for nothing else in existence.

And you respond, matching his relaxed strokes and letting him skip over the subject. Even as he lowers your bodies onto familiar cushions, you’re okay if you talk about it later.

Besides. You’re most definitely crashing soon.

This man will make sure of that.

Bunching your hands in his shirt, you tug him a tad closer, sighing through his hot breaths when you feel his chiseled weight on your stomach.

Leaving your wet and pouting lips, he only smiles before pecking your forehead, stilling in a delicate pause before dragging his nose across your countenance to kiss both cheeks.

And you can only shudder under his tenderness. In an attempt to hide—bashful nature taking over—you duck your head into the safety of his neck.

But you can’t run for long because Jungkook swoops in to reclaim your lips, the sudden move causing heat to swirl between your thighs and desire to fill your pupils. “Kookie.”

“Yes, baby girl,” he answers, a tiny trail of saliva between your mouths as he pulls away.

Your response comes out a sigh, “Nothing.” Reaching up to shift a long bang out of his face, you drink in his beauty, never running out of sips. “I just love you.”

Grinning, Jungkook’s eyes twinkle as he proudly reciprocates, “I love you, too.” He hauls his body up before taking one of your hands. “Come here.”

Wordlessly, you acquiesce for your self-proclaimed siren, letting him lure you from the couch to embark on a telltale journey to your bedroom—depths you would endlessly dive.

Glancing at your conjoined hands, you roam your eyes over his veiny forearms, admiring the ink on his canvas. Your favorite work of art. No museum in the world was worthy enough.

Jungkook turns in the doorway before pulling you close, bending to capture your lips in a shockingly heated kiss. Jerking your arms up to hold his biceps, you bury your digits into his muscles, dragging them hard the way he loves so much.

And it awakens a sleeping beast: inked fingers clawing at your pants.

“You want them off, baby?” When you receive a nod in response, you pause your movements to slip out of the material, letting your bottoms puddle around your feet.

Without warning, Jungkook dives in to lather your neck with hot breaths, wordlessly letting you know he wants the sweater gone next.

And, without fail, you resist and want to keep it on.

“You’re so beautiful,” your boyfriend mutters into your skin, fighting off those familiar thoughts he knows lurk in your conscience. “You don’t ever have to hide from me.”

“I know, but...”

“It’s okay.”

As he leads you both to your comforting bed, you melt into his increasingly searing nips and sucks, moaning as his tongue licks all the way up to your ear.

“We can make you feel good first.”

You don’t even register Jungkook sitting on the edge until your underwear comes in contact with his sweats, his erection rigid against your soft sex.

How can he get hard so quickly? How does this happen, time after time? He always blames you, but you never quite believe him. Then again, you never get enough time to—

A deep chuckle rumbles within his ribcage as he repositions you, body hovering over one of his thighs. His gorgeous, upsettingly tight thighs.

Teasingly, he asks, "This is where you like it, huh?”

“Yes,” you admit in a moan, wasting no time in sliding your slick core over his pants. “I like this.”

A hand comes up to slap your ass, and you buck forward on his leg when he rasps out, “Show me how much you do.”

Unsurprisingly, your underwear proves thoroughly soaked already, and you call yourself a hypocrite for wondering how Jungkook manages to get turned on so fast.

Under your boyfriend’s lidded observance, you only want to grind hard, with purpose. The friction you want exists in his bulging muscle, rubbing against your covered clit with each thrust, and you can’t help but squeeze yourself around his leg. Harder, tighter, stronger.

Drinking in your movements, Jungkook parts his lips, tensing his thigh at the perfect moment and chuckling darkly when you react.

“Don’t be shy,” he murmurs. “Wanna hear you, too.”

Mewling, you clasp your hands around the back of his neck, rolling your hips repeatedly and wordlessly thanking your boyfriend for working out so often. Fuck, just his thigh is almost enough to make you come. The tautness feels delicious under your clit, and sighs cascade out of your mouth like pretty waterfalls.

“God,” he groans, finally lifting your sweater and yanking it off your raised arms. When he realizes you opted not to wear a bra underneath your thin shirt, he kicks his head back in agony. “Fuck, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree with a nod of your head. Biting your lip, you rejoin your hands behind his neck and continue to swivel your hips, clenching your thighs around his when your bundle of nerves hits just right. “Feels so good,” you gasp, your breath ragged and steeped in hunger.

“I know.” Your boyfriend tugs your shirt up until your breasts are freed, mouth encircling a nipple and sucking with a lick.

Fuck! Want gushes from your center as he admires your chest—each lick, each suck, each swirl of his tongue—soaking through your underwear and staining liquid white on his pants.

More.

You need a lot more.

Your core aches for a deeper intrusion and you both know it. “Kook,” you whimper, pressing your sweaty forehead to his. “I can’t. I need you.”

“Then lift up for me, love,” he responds, lightly patting one plump side of your ass.

Obeying, you release a drawn out moan as you feel him slide your panties over before one of his deft fingers slips into your folds. Rubbing your clit slow, he collects your sweet juices before lodging his digit in your cunt.

Fucking hell, he knows your body better than you do.

But of course he does. The times before have made him an expert. All those beautiful, tender, countless times before.

Watching your little jumps and tweaks seems to bring him joy, eyes alight with hunger for your pleasure. Inserting another finger, he starts to pump them in a steady rhythm until you felt that hidden spring in your body tighten alarmingly quick.

Shit! There’s no way you’re gonna come so soon, is there? Is there?

“Baby, I’m close,” you whisper in warning anyway, forehead hot and perspiration starting to coat your face. “You’re too good at this, fuck.”

“Come then, baby,” he coaxes with a smile.

You snap your lust-heavy eyes to his. “You sure?”

“Promise.” His smile tilts to the side as his confidence drips from the corners. “I’ll just make you come again.”

Fuck.

Chasing your high in earnest, your sticky thighs burn as you launch into a quick pace, outright fucking his hand as his slippery digits show no mercy. Your essence leaks out from between his fingers to stain your thighs, but you can’t think about anything else other than release. Release release release.

And it consumes you whole in an instant. Strong. Pulsing. Endless.

Swallowed by your high, you barely register Jungkook’s hushed praise and encouragement. Pleasure is the only thing you know as it surges through you, twisting across your locked limbs and leaving you weightless, elevated, teetering on the edge of a precipice.

Only the sight of your boyfriend licking his fingers clean is your sole, solid grasp on reality.

Because oh. That’s you he’s licking off his fingers.

Why does that always make you feel both turned on and embarrassed all at once?

Slumping forward into the crux of his shoulder, you inhale the heady scent that mingles with his cologne. “Holy shit, I think I saw stars.”

A breathy laugh cascades down your back. “Mm, let’s make that two-one then.”

“You would still keep score,” you huff, dragging your lips across his sweaty skin before attaching them to the base of his neck. As soon as your heated mouth latches on, Jungkook grants you better access, his reaction coming out in a low groan.

Taking the opening, you lick a trail up his column to his ear, sucking on his pulse once you venture back down. Feeling him sigh beneath you creates an urge, and you nip at his skin with more force than usual.

Arms tighten at your sides with a hiss. “Baby, yes.”

You alternate between nips and sucks along his smooth neck, imagining how beautiful it would be if he got it inked, too. Sliding your burning tongue up the shell of his ear, you bite down before pouring praises inside.

To your delight, Jungkook’s cock twitches on your thigh.

Humming, you ask with glee, “Did we find something you like, too?”

“Not sure.” He hisses again. “May need further tes—Fuck.”

You chuckle with joy as you lick his pulsing ear, the skin bright and angry from the torturous nick you just inflicted.

Experimenting and learning Jungkook’s body is something you will never tire of. It remains one of your favorite hobbies, and will stay that way for a wonderfully long time.

Worked up, your boyfriend finally yanks his shirt off, pulling you back in for a searing kiss when it’s thrown onto your laundry chair. Molding yourself into him, your nipples scrape his bare skin—the friction creating another set of swells in your core.

Hugging you close, Jungkook softly falls back onto your bed, keeping you aloft his rippling abdomen. Finally stretching out your legs, you feel relief in your thighs, wincing at the burn from strenuous use.

Goddamn, you’ll be surprised if you can walk to the next room when everything is over.

Jungkook isn’t privy to your thoughts. In this new position, he slips your underwear off before grabbing your ass, marveling at its plush curves like he’s never touched you before.

“You see it everyday, Kook,” you murmur between unhurried kisses.

“I do...” He presses his pelvis into yours, his hardened length sliding torturously against your dripping core. Your mewl harmonizes with his groan before he sighs, “But it’s just so perfect.”

You want him. You want him now.

Despite already reaching the summit, you’d plummeted back down and vow to climb again. “I’m still in a shirt and you’re still in pants,” you complain. “Take them off.”

Beneath you, Jungkook’s laugh reverberates through your chest. “You’re the one that held my thigh hostage!”

“Yes, and?”

“It was hot as fuck.”

“Exactly. Hurry up!”

“Okay, okay!” He huffs out a laugh. “Grab a condom then.”

Puffing, you push yourself up before slipping out of your already rumpled shirt. Chucking it as close to the laundry chair as you can—both of you humming in pride when it actually gets there—you start crawling across the bed to reach one of the nightstands.

“Ow,” you heave out, met with another light chortle. “My thighs.”

You hear the shuffling of clothes behind you as you retrieve a package from the drawer, sliding it shut before dropping your body in a tired heap.

Damn. There’s a lot of ground to cover between you and him. How the hell are you gonna get over there?

Deciding on the easiest course of action, you literally roll toward your unconcerned boyfriend until you mush into his muscular, bare form. “Hey,” you puff. “Feel sorry for me.”

As he situates himself on an elbow, your boyfriend’s lips mush just to keep a laugh from escaping. But he fails massively, his outburst above your nose causing his eyes to crinkle.

“That was the cutest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Pouting and trying to ignore the tingling you feel, you slap the condom wrapper against his chest. “Those stairs took a lot out of me. My thighs are officially tapping out for the night.”

Long fingers still on the metallic packaging. “Did you still want to keep going?”

“What? Duh.”

“Oh, okay. Just making sure.”

Tilting your head and smoothing out the covers underneath, you lament, “We haven’t even started on you yet.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Bending down to plant a heartwarming kiss on your forehead, Jungkook only smiles. “This is about you. I’m already happy.”

“Ugh, stop,” you whine, reaching down to take his velvety cock in your fingers. “Don’t be lame.”

“Babe.” A stern look darts your way and, after you hum in curiosity, he cocks a brow. “You literally made us get in a car so you could drive us back home.”

Laughing in earnest, you quickly admit defeat. “Damn, you got me.”

Your mirth is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips as he descends, an overwhelming appetite for everything you can offer. Pushing his cock further into your palm, his kiss deepens just as much.

His length always feels so weighty in your hand—so comforting, so familiar. But even in its smooth familiarity, you’ve never, ever gotten tired of pleasuring him. You were sure you could stay in and rub his cock until your arm fell off—or if he asked, sucked on it until he begged you to stop.

But he doesn’t ask for either of those things in that moment—solely focused on exploring your heated mouth until he maps it all. Jungkook really is orbiting around you and you alone, and you want to gift him the universe in return.

Relishing in the smoothness of his limbs and feeling safe in the embrace of his build, you stroke him in earnest—pulses in your core in sync with every groan you tug from his throat.

Suddenly, feverish lips leave you chilled.

“Hold on, babe.”

Leaning back, Jungkook effortlessly rips the wrapper open with his teeth before tossing it, his elbow digging into the mattress. After you retract your sticky hand, you watch with a small smile as he covers himself before hovering his beautiful body over yours.

But that’s all he does, and it’s intriguing.

What’s he thinking?

You’re about to ask when his words cut you off.

“You’re…” His eyes roam over your form, the heat of his gaze causing your arms to furl over your chest instinctively. Gingerly halting your limbs, he whispers,

“You’re the love of my life.”

So many things could’ve been said in that moment. So many phrases he has said before in similar situations. But what does he say? What does he go with?

You weren’t expecting that at all.

“Baby,” you murmur, blinking to quell the burn in your ducts. “If you keep saying stuff like that, I’ll cry.”

Gently nudging your legs apart, he slots his body in between. “I mean it,” he pledges, lowering himself to cage you in. Molding his entire body into your naked form, he shuts his eyes in wonder before regarding you with a loving gaze. Soft locks tickle your cheek as he kisses your neck, licking and sucking in the spots that affect you the most. “But I’ll stop.”

“For now,” you correct. “You can make me cry after.”

Jungkook’s breathy laugh will always be one of your favorite sounds. “Deal.”

Sighing, you reach up to clasp his flexed biceps, tightening your holds whenever he starts sucking on your pulse. How he went from worshipping you to devouring you was always intriguing. Maybe to him, they were one and the same.

Between your legs, your folds flutter with want, and you lift your hips as a tiny hint.

“Say what you want, baby girl.”

“You know what I want.”

“Nu uh.”

Feeling the abrupt girth of his head protruding your folds, you grunt with a harsh shot of breath. “Fuck,” you gasp. “I want you, but not all at once, fuck.”

“How are you always so tight,” your boyfriend wheezes, rubbing his length up and down your cunt before nudging in slow. “Holy shit.”

You whimper at the intrusion until you feel yourself adjusting.

But this was expected. Jungkook’s so damn large that you go through this every time. The only times that have been different have come after he’s eaten you out, and even then he’s still a bit big.

However. You know what proceeds the slight ache, and it’s completely worth it. The euphoric feeling of being completely and utterly together. One.

Your core molten and clenching around him, you purr at the way he goes deep, deeper, bottoming out. Above you, Jungkook starts perspiring in earnest, grunting as he keeps himself still. Sheathed entirely inside, he goes back to ravaging your neck, and you encourage him to finally move with a rock of your hips.

“So fucking big,” you praise, mewling when he chuckles during a deep thrust. “I love your dick, baby.”

“It’s yours,” he offers with no hint of hesitation, rolling his hips until you see another set of stars. With each long thrust, his ridges rub like heaven, your lower lips singing their gratitude in tight spasms. “I’m all yours.”

“You can go faster,” you mention in passing, though the breathiness of your voice gives away your desperation.

Maybe you are desperate. May as well lean into it. “Go faster. Faster.”

“If you start being bossy, I’ll come.”

“That’s the point, Kookie.”

Grunting in agreement, he slips a strong arm underneath your hips, lifting you at a slight tilt. The new angle allows him to penetrate deeper, and you sing his name in a continuous hymn with every other plunge. Again and again and again.

His lips connect with yours for the upteenth time that night, as if he was continually magnetized and couldn’t stay away for too long. Your breath’s stolen away with each pass—his soul pouring into yours to make up for its absence.

With each fleeting second, your skin proves slicker with sweat and effort. Exertion appears on Jungkook’s own body in the way his muscles and veins bulge, pulse, shove against the confines of his skin. Ever faster, his hips never tire as he finds a steady rhythm.

“Babe, fuck—”

“So fucking tight.”

Your breasts bounce each time he penetrates, and he curls his body to take one of them in his fiery mouth. You arch your back to aid his hunger, and you moan with every intentional lick and swirl of his tongue.

Nipping your bud, Jungkook smirks at your squirming before attacking the other, shoving his cock far into your sex just to see how loud he can make you whine.

Breathless, you go limp and take his hard rhythm in stride, riding the high of feeling so incredibly full. Only the sounds of your small mewls and his reserved grunts permeate the air, thickening the room and layering more sweat on your skin. You’re sure you look as fucked out as your boyfriend appears, lust manifesting in passionate blooms on his slick skin.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he lauds. “Love when you relax for me.”

“Feels so good, Kookie.”

“That’s what I want for you.”

Lolling your head to the side, your lidded gaze latches onto his inked arm. So pretty, just like him. You gnaw on your lip as you contract against his pulsing length, your body bumping with the knocks of his thrusts.

The desire that had been unleashed before coalesces again with a vengeance, sneaking up from the earth and balling itself inside your core. Sliding your eyes to meet Jungkook’s wanton expression, you whimper, “I’m close again, baby.”

“Fuck, I can tell.” He dips his forehead down to yours before sliding his hand to your hip. Gripping your skin, he’s sure to leave tiny bruises with how rough he holds on.

But you don’t care. You love when he loses control.

His heated breath ghosts down your features as he rolls in exaggerated thrusts, and his heavy hums clue you in to his own chase.

“You, too?”

“Ye... Yeah,” he grunts, voice high in pitch.

“Good. You’re so hot when you come.”

Your praise coaxes a whine from him before his motions became unpredictable and erratic.

There it is. He’s so close. Just one more push.

Abandoning your squelching sex, you suddenly use both hands to claw at the rippling muscles of his back. Angry red scratches tear through his nearly-unmarked skin—the only other scars from more passionate ones you inflicted before.

A strangled groan empties out above you, and his mouth flops open in unhinged desire. Darkened, blown out orbs bury into your sweaty face, and you squint to fire heavy lust in retaliation.

Contained energy threatens to burst inside of you. Another high in plain sight. Tugging at Jungkook’s long, wet locks, you shove his mouth onto your ravenous lips, impaling him with your furious tongue.

His breath shoots out between your fervent demands, “Gonna. Gonna come.”

“Do it, baby.”

With the next thrust, you’re pulled under instead, tumbling under the currents of your orgasm and spiraling out of control. Your boyfriend follows close behind, and you can feel him twitch furiously inside of your walls.

The moment only lasts mere seconds, but you feel afloat for much longer, your body wracked with release. Words of affection tumble onto your heaving chest before Jungkook slides out of your exhausted core, and his body dumps into an exhaustive heap right next to you.

Always a new and ethereal experience with him. You can’t explain how beautiful it feels to have him in your arms when you come, or when he reaches his own high.

In a way, you could say it’s touching. Laced with enchantment. Something deeper than love, if that were even possible.

But there aren’t any words in existence that can describe the feeling, so you only settle with conveying how you feel in your actions.

Lightly raking your hands through his sweaty hair, you smile before kissing the tip of his nose, nuzzling it before thumping your head back onto the comforter.

“We should clean up.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook agrees, his body not conveying the same willingness.

And you can’t blame him: your own limbs didn’t feel adequately attached to the rest of your body. You’re essentially strewn about the bed in parts yourself.

“How are your arms,” you grunt, struggling in your quest to achieve a sitting position.

Your boyfriend nudges your back with his floppy hair, helping you straighten in the most adorable way possible. “They’re okay. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

Sliding off the bed, your entire body feels like gelatin for bones, Jungkook jutting an inked arm out to steady your wobbling.

A giggle punctuates his inquiry. “That bad, huh?”

“Shut up. This is your fault.”

“Nu uh.” Standing and guiding your fawn-like feet to the bathroom, Jungkook counters, “I wasn’t the one hauling ass down four flights of stairs.”

“Yeah. That’s why you lost.”

“Brat.”

“You like it.”

As you both go through your clean up and bedtime routines, the light banter continues. It quickly transforms into delirium from being the dark early hours of morning, nonsensical quirks and giggles puncturing the apartment walls.

When you’re settled back into your bed, you curl your body into his. But you still aren’t quite comfortable: throughout your small time in the bathroom, your feet somehow managed to freeze over again. Seeking immediate thawing procedures, you slot them between Jungkook’s legs.

“Hell no!” He wiggles rapidly and attempts to run from your iced extremities, whining when your toes chase him down under the sheets. “So damn cold!”

“I’m trying to get warm!”

“Damn it... You’re lucky I love you.”

“I am,” you hum, your face smug.

Even with his protests, your boyfriend clamps his limbs around your feet to give them heat.

Silence settles like a light dust over your bodies. Heavy with contemplation and satisfaction, Jungkook quietly slings an arm over your body to pull you closer. Though he absolutely doesn’t need to keep his voice low, he whispers to your forehead,

“Thank you for the date tonight.”

Heart fluttering, you nuzzle into his chest. “Thank you for joining me. Sorry for ruining your rank.”

“Fuck my rank,” he huffs with a hint of mirth. “This was the most fun I’ve had in months. It made me even more sure of…”

Huh?

Of what?

Confused, you tilt your head within your small space. “More sure of...?”

“Umm.”

Feeling his hold tighten around you, you aren’t positive if you felt a slight shake of his fingers or not.

A slight, prickling feeling skittered over your skin, goosebumps flaring like your heart knew what he was going to say without him uttering a word.

“I was gonna save this for a better time, but, uhm.” He pauses, a million moments in between. “I just know I wanna marry you.”

Oh.

You still—only for a small beat—before relief bubbles from your throat.

When Jungkook regards you with a confused face, you breathily respond, “Is that what you’ve been wanting to tell me this whole time? I thought that was already the plan, silly.”

“Really?” Solace floods his features, and you can’t for the life of you understand how he didn’t get that impression before.

Does he really not know how incredibly and unabashedly threaded he has you around his tattooed finger? Who the hell else would you stand out in that weather for more than a millisecond for? For who else would you traverse the galaxies if he ever lost his way—tearing through planets just to find him and bring him home?

“Yes, really,” you giggle, wetting your lips before capturing his. “Just let me know the date and time and I’ll show up.”

Chuckling, he presses a tender kiss to your nose before padding around for his phone. His curious, determined face illuminates like a single star, and you fill the bed with mirth when he ponders aloud,

“Then when’s the next meteor shower?”

end.

A/N: YAAAAY if you made it to the end, welcome!! thank you so much for the support and always feel free to let me know what you thought. this is a revamped version and i am way more happier with this result, so if you’ve read both, thank you twice :D as for more jungkook content: it is coming!! got wips in the works and should be putting out updates/teasers soon. of course, any feedback will definitely be appreciated. my ask box is always open<3 ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here! ++ ⇥ masterlist

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ateliersss · 11 months

Text

I wish I could stay in the Past

Pairing: Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader Summary: Who would have thought that 27 years after the first Woodsboro massacre, you still couldn't live in peace? Now, you have been asked by Agent Kirby Reed to come to New York, where apparently a new Ghostface killer was on the loose. For you, this meant going back into your past and meeting the person you were trying to protect from your life since she was born. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Spoilers for Scream VI, English isn't my first language Word Count: 5,890

Kirby stood in front of the white board plastered with photos of every Ghostface killer from 1996 to 2022, of the masks found at the crime scenes, and of the victims killed so far.

“…Mickey Altieri, Nancy Loomis, Stu Macher and Billy Loomis. Number One and also the father of our chief suspect.”

Detective Bailey, arms crossed before his chest, nodded before adding, “It’s all leading us back to Sam.”

“What about the girlfriend?” Kirby suddenly mumbled, more to herself than addressing the Detective.

“What? Who’s girlfriend?”

“(Y/N) (L/N). She and Billy were childhood sweethearts. Although she was never personally involved in any Ghostface incidents following 1996 she could never quite live her life in peace. I mean, come on. The mourning love interest has to be a main suspect. His mother tried to avenge his death and no one thought about that either. Then boom! Dead teenagers everywhere.”

Bailey turned his face to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What? It’s just an idea.”

“Hm.” He hummed, “It could be worth a shot.”

A totally stupid shot, because what sane person would suddenly seek revenge after 27 years? Well, if it keeps her occupied, who am I to stop her?

“Any idea on how we can reach her?”

Kirby smirked. “Of course I do.”

New York was far too loud, far too big and far too dirty for your liking. You preferred the calmness and the quiet of a nice little town somewhere far away from any crime or even the smallest hint of being dragged into another drama. You really thought you would finally be at peace, having that calm and quiet life, until you got a call from Agent Kirby Reed. You remember that name well. Besides Sidney and Gale, obviously, she was the only victim who survived the Second Woodsboro Massacre. On the phone she told you that someone had put on the Ghostface mask again and was after a group of teenagers. She wanted you to come to New York right away so you could be questioned.

It wasn’t the first time you were a suspect but being one again after almost 30 years? You were about to give vent to the familiar old feeling of simmering anger for being falsely accused again when…

“Your niece was among those who were attacked.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m on my way. It’s going to take a few hours.”

“That’s alright. When you arrive in New York go straight to the NYPD and tell them you are here to see Agent Reed. Someone will show you the way to the office I’m currently occupying.”

You were just about to open the car door and leave the parking lot near the police station when you got a text.

[Agent Reed]: Change of plans. Someone thinks you need to see this too. Come to this address.

So now you were standing in front of some kind run-down movie theatre, not knowing if you were ate the right place. You read the text message again… nope, still the same street name and the same house number. You were about to dial Kirby’s number when someone called your name.

“Over here!”

You turned to the blonde woman standing a few meters away from you, holding open a metal door. “Agent Kirby Reed?” You asked.

“The one and only.” She nodded for you to follow her. “Come in, the others are already inside.”

It’s strange, you thought. I’m actually meeting Samantha.

You stopped at a metal bar door that already allowed you an insight of the room ahead of you. There was tingling feeling in your belly.

“You’re ready?”

You nodded as an answer, not trusting your mouth to form a decent sentence.

It felt like you were pushed back into your 18-year-old-self. Mannequins, display shelves and cases were set up and lead to a stage. It was impossible to take everything in at the same time so you walked through the row that was closest to you. Years of evidence put together like it was a museum, like a fucking…

“A shrine.” Kirby said from behind you. “Dedicated to every killer that put on the mask.”

You barely registered what she just said when you saw what was displayed at the end of the row. You almost couldn’t believe your eyes. There… There were Tatum’s clothes, the ones she wore when she was killed… and there was the robe Stu wore at his party… and Billy’s bloody t-shirt. You walked past a sitting mannequin looking exactly like Steve Orth until you were standing right in front of the white cloth still covered in blood. Huffing out a shaky breath, you reached out to touch it. Your fingers traced from every hole where he was stabbed until it stopped on the chest of the mannequin. You almost expected to feel a heartbeat underneath your skin…

Oh Billy.

Maybe it was the overwhelming, morbid nostalgic feeling that almost crushed you seeing all those reminders of your past, but you still hadn’t noticed the small group on the stage next to you watching you either with curious or wary eyes.

You were still caught up in your head, thinking back to that afternoon on September 28th in 1996 — you, reading another true crime novel and playing with the brown curls of your boyfriend’s hair while his head rested on your lap, napping. You two had stayed in this position until the sun went down. The clock read 6 PM when you decided to make dinner and he left the kitchen to make a quick phone call. When he got back…

“Billy, are you serious? There is a killer outside!”

“Stu lives only 10 minutes away. I’ll take the car.”

“Are you sure? Shouldn’t we call the police?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just gonna make sure he doesn’t overdo it. You know how he is.”

You laughed, “Yeah, I do and I love him for that.”

Billy tilted his head, an amused glint in his eyes. “Oh really? I thought you loved me.”

The smile on your face grew brighter as he bent down to place a gentle kiss on your lips. “I do love you. So much.”

You snapped out of your thoughts.

It would have been perfect. A concerned Billy wanting to make sure his best friend was okay so he goes to his party to check on him, but is surprised by the killer. Both, he and Stu, are fighting to survive and in the end, sadly, they are the only ones still alive. The police would have believed them that it was Sidney’s father all along and you and Billy could have lived a happily ever after in another town, away from all that traumatic shit he ‘went through’.

But the reality was different. Billy had been a psychotic serial killer, murdering friends and class mates and even Sidney’s mother. He had been the one getting addicted to the feeling of killing someone after Maureen Prescott, he had been the one who had done all those horrible things…

“Kirby, who’s that?” A female voice asked.

Kirby gave you a quick look before answering, “This is (Y/N) (L/N)-“

“(Y/N)?” Gale interrupted her and watched you climb the stairs of the stage.

You first inspected each of the 9 Ghostface mannequins — your eyes lingering on the middle one a little longer — before acknowledging her. You still held a grudge against her considering how much she had turned your life upside down.

“Hello Gale. Long time no see.” You greeted her with a tight smile on your lips. “And since I was ordered here for an interrogation, let’s be honest. It’s actually (Y/N) Carpenter.”

Everyone but Gale suddenly straightened up before the teenagers of the group looked at the two girls closest to the Ghostface costume in the glass case. Both looked at you with furrowed eyebrows as if they were trying to somehow place you in their family tree.

Looking at her made you tear up. You smiled. “Hi Samantha.”

“It’s… just Sam, actually. I’m sorry, do I know you?” She asked you, confused, still trying to remember where and when she met you.

“You don’t, but I know you. Christina told me everything about you, always kept me up-to-date.” You took a quick breathe to control your emotions. “God, you’ve grown. You look so much like him.”

Sam shifted on her feet, not liking where this conversation was going. “Him? You mean my father.”

“How do you know our mom?” The short girl next to her butt in. She seemed just as wary as her sister.

“Christina is my older sister.”

“So you’re our aunt.”

“Not exactly. I’m your aunt, Tara.” You said before addressing Sam directly, “Christina called me when you found out who your real father is in those diaries.” You were really about to drop the bomb. “You know, those diaries weren’t hers… they were mine.”

“What are you saying?”

“That the one who got pregnant by Billy Loomis wasn’t Christina. It was me.”

Sam looked at you like you've grown a second head. “So what? You’re… You’re my mother?”

“Biological, yes. In any other way, probably not.”

“Oh my God.” She started to walk up and down with her hands gripping her hair. “Oh my God.”

“I know it’s a lot, but-“

“A lot? You just come here, a total stranger, and tell me you’re my mother when the woman who raised me all those years isn’t actually my mom but my aunt!”

“I don't expect you to replace her with me and accept me as your new mother, Sam. I’m not planning on taking you with me to force you into mother-daughter-relationship after 26 years. I’m here to help you.”

Sam’s head whipped around to look at Kirby.

“She’s on my suspect list, Sam.” Kirby shrugged, “Apparently no one thinks about the revengeful love interest.”

“But I have an alibi.” You defended yourself, “I wasn’t even near New York when the teacher and the students were murdered. Same goes to the therapist and your two friends. I actually expected being questioned at the NYPD, but if you actually want to interrogate me here, go ahead.”

“Then why are you here? This very place?”

You looked back at Tara. “Because Agent Reed told me to. From what she told me we experienced similar situations and she thought I had a right to see this too.” You looked around the room. “My past is on display here as much as hers or Gale's.”

Sam shook her head, taking a step forward. “So, just to get this straight. You get knocked up by a serial killer and then just leave the baby with your sister? You found out you were pregnant with me and dumped me because what? You didn’t want to be a mom at such a young age? Or was it because you were disgusted by me?”

Your eyes widened. Of course you expected some resistance and some accusations, but it was still like a knife to your heart to see her betrayed expression and hear her furious voice. “No, of course not. I loved you the second I held you in my arms.”

“Then why?”

“I had no other choice! Do you know how hard it was, living like I had to after your father died? The names they called me? And you… you were the size of a grape and they already called you the Devil’s Spawn. No one wants to raise a child in an environment like that.”

“So you just abandoned me? Left me behind so you could get away from everything?”

“I didn’t abandon you, I gave you a safe life away from every threat that could hurt you or even corrupt you. After that night when… when it all happened, my normal life was over. Either all those blase do-gooders in Woodsboro treated me like I put a Ghostface mask on and killed all those people myself, or I was viewed by these Stab-obsessed lunatics as some sort of precious artifact left behind by their idol. I was ambushed by dozens of assholes in costumes and got 3 or 4 calls a day. Even after I moved to other towns, fuck, even to another state, and I still couldn't live my life in peace. Thanks, by the way.” You turned to Gale.

“What, me?”

“The tirade of hate you wrote about me in your damn books. First the boyfriend, then the mother of the boyfriend, and then even Roman Bridger just because he was the one who stirred Billy on into going on a killing spree. You even mentioned me in your fourth book when I literally had no connection to anything that happened that year! You made it look like I pulled the strings, egged on every Ghostface, and was planning every murder, Gale.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did. Just like you called Sam a born killer, you called me the secret Ghostface that got away who will someday get revenge on Sidney for killing the love of her life.”

Gale opened her mouth, but having nothing to reply with, she closed it again.

Using the following silence to return to the current problem, Chad asked, “So, just to make sure before that–” He awkwardly gestured to you and Sam “–happened. Someone killed these chucklefucks and took over?”

“Someone who believes that Sam masterminded Woodsboro.”

“If this would be a movie this would be the killer’s lair.”

“Which means this isn’t a normal Stab movie.”

Apparently that gave Tara the rest, as she left the stage with brisk steps and disappeared into an adjoining room. Sam was hot on her heels.

Shortly thereafter, the rest of the group split up — Kirby joined Mindy to sit on the edge of the stage, Ethan and Chad were on different sides of the room, looking at the displayed evidence, and Detective Bailey was talking to someone on the phone.

You finally had time to walk to and look at the glass case in front of you. It was a bittersweet feeling, knowing that the one you had loved the most in this world killed four people and thereby started a future death streak, all committed in costumes of his alter ego.

You were so deep in thought that ten minutes had passed and you hadn't noticed that Sam was back and was standing behind you.

“Are you married?” She asked, attracting your attention.

You took your eyes off of Billy’s name plate and looked into her brown ones that reminded you so much of her father’s. “What?”

Sam nodded down to your hand. “Do you have a family?”

Ahh…

“Oh, no. No, I don’t. That’s a promising ring. You know, when you promise someone to stay together forever and maybe get married one day. Do you kids still do that?”

“Yeah, when we’re like twelve, not fifty.”

You chuckled. “Ouch. I still have six years until I’m that old.” Sighing, you touched the ring and rolled it around your ring finger. “No, I was actually twelve years when… well, when your dad gifted it to me. So young and he already wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. This one–” You held the hand with the ring at eye level, “–was never ever replaced since then. His is right here.” You pulled the silver chain from underneath your t-shirt and revealed a similar ring just slightly bigger.

A shiver ran down Sam’s back, before asking in disbelief, “You kept it?”

“I did. And I know it seems like I went crazy or something while grieving, but I was young and devastated. I just lost the love of my life. Some grow distant and want to avoid anything that has to do with their lost loved one or being constantly reminded of them. Others, like me, have to hold onto every little fiber of them. I wore his clothes, put on his cologne… God, it was really a terrible way to cope.”

Sam grimaced.

You smiled slightly. “What?”

“It’s just strange hearing someone talk about him like he was…”

“Human?”

“He killed people, he was murderer, and you… you loved him.”

“Do you think it’s easy to stop loving someone in mere seconds? Minutes, hours, days, weeks? You have that person who you would die for, who you would kill for. This person is your everything, and you can’t imagine a life without them. So you plan it with that person; how you will graduate, how you will find a job, how you will leave both your parent’s houses to move together, maybe move to a new town, how you will have children with them, how you will marry them, and how you will grow old with them. Billy was my person, the one I wanted all those boring normal things with. And you have those normal things. You hold hands, cuddle, kiss, go on dates...” You stopped and took a breath. “Until the police shows up at your door and tells you that the one who had murdered your friends was him all along. There’s a sliver of hope that maybe, maybe you can visit him in prison so you can talk to him. But that won’t happen because the police tells you right after that he had been killed by your best friend, Sidney Prescott, and that they have some questions for you.”

You still remember how they interrogated you and asked you if you knew about Billy’s doings, if they were signs that seemed suspicious, asked you about the places you have been when he and Stu killed another victim and if there were people who could vouch for you. After two hours they finally let you go, saying they would call you if they had any more questions. You asked if you could see him, his body. Since his mother left, his father was nowhere to be found and Billy had no other close relatives, you were the next best option.

The moment you saw him, lying there cold and pale on that metal table, your whole world crumbled. With slow shaky steps you had walked closer and closer to him. Almost relieved for something to hold on, you had supported yourself by grabbing the table. At that moment you didn’t care who could see you or who could hear you… you just cried. Your sobs and hysterical breathing had filled the room, your knees buckling and your knuckles turning white from how hard you had clutched the table.

“No. No, no, no.”

You had started to hyperventilate. It got harder and harder to breathe. The walls seemed to grow closer.

And then everything went black.

When you woke up in a hospital bed you were greeted by a nurse who tried to calm you down. She told you, according to the coroner, you had passed out after having a panic attack. Just to make sure that was the actual reason they ran a few tests — nothing special, just the usual hospitals did when patients arrived unconscious. She had reassured you after you gave her a concerned look.

“Don’t worry, honey. The results of blood tests didn’t show anything worrying, but I can give you my congratulations. You are pregnant.”

Pregnant.

With Billy’s…

“You are three weeks along. The embryo is as tiny as a poppy seed, just a millimeter.”

You had gaped at her still in disbelief.

Pregnant.

You were pregnant.

You were pregnant with Billy’s baby.

Billy…

Tears had started to form in your eyes and the nurse got blurry. Again there was this feeling in your chest that there was not enough air around you and it got harder to breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay, sweetie. Since you’re only eighteen, we called your parents. They should be here soon.”

Your mom and dad had been more or less supportive. They had always loved Billy. There had been many get-together’s with his family — barbecue, picnics, movie nights. Your parents got along well. But when Billy was revealed as the Ghostface killer, yours had cut ties with the Loomis family and sheltered you from any contact from them.

What they couldn’t shelter you from was Nancy Loomis’ surprise visit three months later. Thanks to Gale’s book — because she somehow managed to find out the reason for your visit to the hospital and because this heartbreaking twist would boost her sales — everyone knew you were pregnant. Including Mrs. Loomis.

You were still stuck deep in your depression. You went from mourning him to call everything into question — was it all a lie? Every touch, every kiss, every I-love-you, every time you made love and talked about the most intimate things — to mourning him again. You were a mess.

It was too much when Billy’s mother was suddenly standing on your doorstep. You had slammed the door right into her face when you saw who was interrupting your crying fest, but through the door she had convinced you to let her in so you could talk. Your hormones got the better of you and you opened the door. Her eyes flew instantly to your belly, but your baby bump wasn’t visible through the white tee and the blue flannel.

“You have his clothes?”

“I have all his stuff. His clothes, his posters, his movies.”

You had talked to Hank and begged him to have some of his things. He had stopped you mid-rant and said you could have everything you wanted; he didn’t want it in his house. So you grabbed everything you could. When you saw the pictures displayed in his room — of you and of you and him — you turned into a crying mess and collapsed on his bed. His pillow still had smelled like him.

You must have fallen asleep because the next thing you remember was Mr. Loomis shaking you awake, looking into your bloodshot eyes and asking you if you were okay.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to-“

“(Y/N), I asked you if you’re okay.”

You had pressed your wobbly lips together and shook your head. He had engulfed you in his arms and tried his best to comfort you. After all, you were still you and despite every negative thought and feeling he held for his son and his deeds, you were not at fault. You were still the little girl from next door he had hoped to be his future daughter-in-law. You left that day with most of his stuff carefully packed up in the trunk of your car. You knew this wasn’t healthy, morbid even — the girl who grabbed the belongings of her dead killer-boyfriend to put everything in her room to have at least a hint of his presence, a imaginary possibility of him still being here with her. Now there were even more pictures of your smiling faces on your shelf, your desk, the table next to your bed and on your walls. Your closet was fuller with the addition of his t-shirts and his jackets. His movie collection was proudly placed next to yours on your shelf.

There was also a box under your bed. When you went through Billy’s tiny walk-in closet you found a cavity hidden behind the wallpaper. Inside of it was a black costume, a Ghostface mask and a knife.

A bloody knife.

Whose blood was that?!

Before you could muster another thought you scrambled to the garbage can and emptied your stomach. When you were done you felt a wave of guilt wash over you.

What were you doing? How did you not notice any suspicious change?

Well, there was this one time after his mom left. He had been so distant, strange, and there had been a dark glint in his eyes when you had cornered him after a week of radio silence. The look he fixed you with gave you the heebie-jeebies. He came around a few days later and acted like nothing had happened between the two of you.

Going back to Mrs. Loomis’ visit, you took your time warming up to her. Seeing her cry and listening to her begging you for forgiveness in Billy’s stead. Under the influence of, again, your stupid pregnancy hormones you gave in and made her a cup of tea. You two talked for hours, mostly about her son and how much she regretted leaving him behind, then Mrs. Loomis wanted you to tell her everything about what happened after leaving and what happened that night in Stu Macher’s house. When you ended your story with your pregnancy, she smiled.

“Even though he’s gone there is still a part of him with us. There is still something important I have to do, but after that I will take care of you and the little one and support the both of you in any way possible. I promise, sweetie.”

As it turned out, the important thing she had to do was to kill Sidney. The target on your back you thought had disappeared returned with Gale Weather’s second book. Again, you were harassed and threatened until you couldn’t take it anymore and you moved away. It got harder each time since you were in the last stages of pregnancy. It hurt thinking about it, but you would never put your baby into a life like this. So you did what you thought was right.

Your sister was more than happy to take her in. Christina would inherit their family’s home and would be able to raise your daughter — now your niece — safely.

Snapping out of your thoughts you continued, “Back then I was at the lowest point in my life and out of all people Sidney was the one who got me back on track. My mom and dad, your grandparents, must have asked her to come over to talk to me. I actually thought she would just turn around and walk away when she saw my room, considering it was crammed with Billy's stuff. He was in every corner of it, the man who killed her mother and almost killed her. She should be the one staying in bed, crying until she passed out. After all she’s the one who survived all that traumatic shit. ”

“Sidney visited you?”

You huffed. “Of course she did. I was her best friend. Randy and I were the only survivors out of our friend group. He and Sidney were the only ones who still treated me like a normal human being.” You shrugged. “Anyways. Sidney was there for me. At first I wasn't sure if I even wanted to see her. Inside, I knew she had no choice but to kill Billy, but I still held a grudge against her. I was afraid I would take all my anger and sadness out on her. But the second she put her arms around me, all negative thoughts disappeared and I realized how much I needed my best friend at that moment. She got me out of bed, made me go to see a therapist and kept reminding me of you, Sam.” You looked at your daughter. “I couldn’t allow myself to be selfish. I had to think of your well-being, too.”

Sam nodded in understanding and then looked around the room. “I… I'll go check on Tara.” It looked like she wanted to add something, but she apparently she couldn't find the right words.

You gave her a sanguinely smile. “You do that. When this is all over, I promise you that we can talk about everything in peace and I will answer any question you might have. Only if you want, of course.”

“I’d like that.” Sam said before turning around to go looking for her sister.

You watched her until she disappeared from your sight and turned back to Billy's costume. It didn’t even look that scary from your point of view — which might have been due to the lack of a mask — but almost 30 years ago you had thought of it differently. You looked to the Ghostface costume on the right, your eyes slowly dragging down the black fabric until they reached the name tag.

Stu.

You looked up again, scrutinizing the whole look.

You remember the first and only time you were face to face with it. Your parents were on a once-in-a-blue-moon date in a nice restaurant, leaving you alone for a few hours. They only had been out of the house for 30 minutes when you got the infamous call. You skipped to the living room, letting you dinner heat up in the microwave, and picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello.”

“Yes?”

“Am I talking to (Y/N)?”

“Yeah. Who is this?”

“You could say a secret admirer.”

“Oh yeah? Well I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I have boyfriend whom I love very much.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.” You giggled, lazily playing with the phone cord.

“That’s a shame, really. In that little dress you look like a girl a guy would kill for.”

The smile completely disappeared from your face as you turned to every window the living room possessed.

“What?”

It felt like someone had punched you in the gut, knocking all the air out of your lungs. You abruptly remember the things Sidney had told you about what happened that night when she was attacked — the smooth male voice, the things he said that gave her the chills, him in a black robe and a white ghost mask, trying to kill her.

Before you could think twice you slammed the telephone handle on the hook.

“Okay, okay. Just relax. Just some weirdo trying to scare you. It doesn't necessarily have to be-”

You shrieked when the doorbell rang.

“Jesus.” With a hand pressed against your chest, you walked to the door. “Who’s there?”

No answer.

“Billy, is that you?”

There was no other possibility than him, considering you casually mentioned to him that your parents weren’t home with a mischievous smirk on your lips. This time he wouldn’t have to sneak through your window. You were just opening the door, pondering whether you should tell him about the weird call or not, when you were met with a white ghost mask.

Screaming, you slammed the door shut and locked it. You could hear his body colliding with the door, kicking against it, trying to open it. You didn’t even think about waiting for him to successfully gain access and ran up to your room. You locked the door of your room too before grabbing your cell phone and dialing Billy’s number.

“Billy, please. Billy, please. Pick up, please.”

You ran to the window that was facing Billy’s. His room was completely dark.

You let out a whimper. “Come on, Billy, please. Please pick up.” Tears streamed down your face. When you heard the door slam against the wall downstairs, you clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle a scream.

“(Y/N)?”

Relief washed over you. You swirled around, seeing Billy standing at his window with his phone pressed against his ear.

“Billy…” You tried to control your breath. “T-There is someone in the house… the killer. He is wearing the mask Sidney told us about. He is… He is…”

You watched your boyfriend disappear, presumably running out of his room to get to you.

“It’s okay, baby. Is your door locked?” He asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. Push your dresser in front of the door and hide in the closet. Stay there until I tell you it’s safe. I’m coming, baby, you hear me?”

You heard him skipping down the stairs, listened to his reassuring words.

“I-I’m scared, Billy. I don’t want t-to die.”

“You won’t, I promise you. Just do what I told you. Now!”

Nodding, you ran to your dresser and pushed against it with your whole body weight until it was in front of your door. Next you ran to your closet, pulled open the door, closed it and crouched in a corner far back against the wall.

“I’m in the closet.” You whispered and when you got no answer you added, “Billy? Bill-”

You were interrupted by a loud “Hey!” and something that sounded like fighting noises. Whimpering you fought with yourself — on the one hand you wanted to disobey Billy’s wishes and help him out of concern that the killer might hurt him; on the other hand you wanted to do what he told you and stay hidden.

Meanwhile, Billy was seething as he grabbed his best friend by his collar and forcefully pushed him against the wall in the narrow floor leading to your room. He pulled down the mask and revealed Stu’s jolly face.

“What the fuck did I tell you, huh? (Y/N) is off-limits!” Billy whisper-yelled, pulling Stu lightly to himself before slamming him hard against the wall, not releasing his grip.

Stu groaned. “I just wanted to scare her a little. I thought it would be funny.”

If he weren't Billy’s best friend and if they didn't have big plans ahead of themselves, Billy would have strangled him by now. He tried to channel his rage and took a deep breath before saying, “Listen, dipshit. She. Is. Off. Limits! Killing your ex? I’m in. Her new boy toy? No problem. But keep your fucking hands off of her or I’ll cut your fingers off one by one and push them down your throat, got it?”

Stu gulped and nodded, his big smile morphing into a smaller one. He wasn’t scared of Billy, but Stu had to admit that there were some moments when his aggressions got worrisome.

“Now get out!” Billy hissed and let go of Stu. He waited a moment before knocking on your door.

“(Y/N), it’s me. It’s okay, he’s gone.”

There was shuffling behind the door and a minute later you ripped it open and flung yourself into his arms. Billy was shushing you, caressing your back while listening to you crying. “It’s okay, I’m here.” He kept saying.

When your breathing calmed down, he pulled away from you and placed his hands on both of your cheeks while looking deep into your eyes.

“You’re stupid, you know that?” You mumbled, “Without thinking you ran into a house with a killer in it.”

“The only thing I could think in that moment was you.”

You slightly shook your head with a small smile. “You’re so cheesy.”

Billy huffed a laugh before turning serious again. “Are you hurt?”

“No. I was fast enough to close the door, ran upstairs, lock my door and hide in the closet just as you told me. There won’t even be bruise.”

“Good.” He nodded and kissed you forehead. “It won’t happen again, I promise.”

You, of course, had no idea what happened that evening outside of your room. You didn’t know about the lengths he would go for you to keep you safe. You didn’t know he would have killed for you. You didn’t know that Billy’s feelings and his love for you were genuine, something you truly questioned after the things Sidney had told you about that night. You didn’t know that he felt scared when he realized that his plan was failing and he maybe wouldn't be able to see you again. You didn’t know that you were his last thought before he was shot in the head.

#scream #scream movies #scream 6 #billy loomis x female reader #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis x you #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for writing a paragraph on how I want to drop my friends?

(15F for ref, everyone in here is also F and around the same age)

In 2022, I returned from a six-week camp session with friends I only see once a year (pretty shitty experience ngl, but I still had fun), A couple days later, they accused me of stealing this girl's shirt since I was the last one to wear it. I told her I didn't and I wouldn't. I had a similar steal it because. They proceed to accuse me, so to get out my feelings I write this lengthy paragraph in my notes app expressing my thoughts and what I don't like about the group. This never gets sent out, and we stay friends.

In 2023, they went to camp again (for the last eligible year so it was very special to them), but I stayed home due to pre-existing commitments. This was also the time when the notes app trend was going on, a.k .a. where people would post their notes app and all the antics they wrote. I also posted a video like this, and on the sixth slide, I put the paragraph that I wrote in 2022 (it said 2022 at the top). They didn't immediately see this because they weren't allowed to have their phones, but I private the video before they got back due to a mental health issue I had accidentally aired out. At this time, I saw nothing wrong with the paragraph being included because all the issues had blown over.

A couple months later, I un-privated the video because YOLO and the group found it and immediately got hated on so hard for the video. They post pictures of me to social media stories write paragraphs about how awful of a person I am, create lies about me, and comment on all of my Tiktok posts where I talk about the issue, despite me being vague.

I don't know where I stand in this issue because yeah, I didn't go to the trip this year, and the paragraph was admittedly rude, but they didn't even give me a chance to explain, and getting body shamed on a private Snapchat story when they know I had an ED isn't something i think I deserve, but I need outsider perspective.

The paragraph for reference:

I’m sorry but I can’t do this anymore. The whole entire time I was at camp I felt isolated because I was not as involved and as social with the boys as you guys were/are, and that might not be your fault, but you guys have no care in that being the only thing you discuss on this group chat. Every time I text about something else, it always gets pushed to the side and now you are accusing me of stealing (name)’s top. I agree, I was the last on to wear it, but distinctly remember throwing it back into (name)'s trunk. I am sorry it did not make the trip back home, but it is not my fault. I don’t want your slutty top anyways, I only borrowed it because my ebb to street wasn’t going to work. I have done so much for you guys, like letting everyone borrow my clothes, giving away my lululemon, and while some of my pieces were stolen, I am not pointing fingers at random people because I have control of my feelings. So many words have been wasted protecting the reputation of Cabin 10 from others who think you guys are attention-seeking whores (you want names? It’s the whole fucking camp), and everyone looked at me in pity when I cried into my hands because I was so sad. I have heard you guys talk shit about me in front of my face (*giggling and whispering* Are you going to try out for the play? No that’s weird. Both heads turn towards me, and laughter erupts out of the two mouths. You know who you are), and you guys have talked shit about each other to me, so I can only imagine what has been said about me. I felt ashamed about my passions, the only personality trait you guys addressed was that I was so mean and I was smart (you only revealed the latter on in private, the former was told to everyone). I am done feeling horrible about myself because you guys are so wrapped up in what every (camp) boy thinks of you, so I am cutting contact. You have ruined my camp experience to the point where I am not coming back.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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celemilii · 28 days

Text

NOT IN LOVE- FERNANDO ALONSO| 00;CUPID TEAM

WATTPAD | INSTAGRAM | MASTERLIST

warnings: curse words; in this universe Sebastian Vettel is getting divorce and starting dating Alessia (this is part from SHS saga on wattpad); english not being my first lenguage so my apologies if you see any mistakes :)

taglist: just tell me in the comments if you wanna be tagged in the following parts!

a/n: I hope you like this chapter!

⇚previous part next part⇛

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

2022

At a very young age I discovered that love is an illusion that, sooner or later, disappears without saying goodbye. It's just a mirage that shows how false it is when you get closer. I never understood how love can outweigh common sense and passion override logic, and how it's so disconcerting that no one else really knows how you feel when the only person you can trust with your back is to yourself, always. That's why when my intuition told me to send my resume to Mercedes, the Formula 1 team, without having any idea about the sport, I listened to it. Even when that didn't make the slightest sense.

I check my reflection in the mirror of the narrow bathroom in the Mercedes garage before heading back outside. There is a dress code that we must comply with when we come to the paddock. According to Mr. Wolff, we are the face behind the drivers, even when I am not involved in any way with them or the cars.

The clicking of my heels against the floor catches the attention of several of those present there, who turn to look at me strangely. The only ones I had had the opportunity to meet were the pilots and a few engineers who from time to time had meetings with Toto that I had to take care of.

"Mr. Wolff, I'm sorry to interrupt," I say in a strong voice, drawing the attention of the Austrian and the man I was with, who I believe is called Bono.

“Victoria, no problem. What's happening?” he crosses his arms and waits impatiently for what I want to say. The first warning I got as soon as I started working here was that Toto would try to intimidate me to prove what I'm made of, but he has no idea who he messed with.

“Interview with Sky Sports on 10,” notice, “with Webber and Chadwick,” pats the man's shoulder in farewell and tells me to follow him.

"Okay, this is what I want you to do today," he says as we leave the tent. “When you're in the garage, keep an eye on Roscoe…”

“Hamilton 's dog?”

“Yes, you have to take care of him. Besides…”

“With all due respect, I wasn't hired to be a babysitter, sir. I sort papers, schedule and remember appointments, I'll even bring coffee, but, as much as I love animals, I'm not anyone's caregiver.”

"It seems fair to me," my boss exclaims. “And you can tell me Toto, Victoria, that we are going to be together too long not to call each other by our names.”

"Of course, Toto," I say forcefully.

“Now, bring me a coffee like the usual ones for when the interview is over,” I look at him waiting for him to say what I want to hear and he seems to understand it. “Please.”

I walk away from the Austrian to look for wherever they sell coffee here.

I started working with Toto as soon as the year started, so we haven't been around for long. During pre-season I stayed at the England base because I was "not ready" to go to the paddock, as it seems I am now.

"Excuse me," I caught the attention of a girl who was walking around. “Do you know where I can buy coffee?”

"I'm looking for exactly the same thing as you," she tells me. “I've never been here.”

“Yeah, me neither, but my boss sent me to buy him coffee,” we started walking together almost without realizing it, so I guess we would look for it together.

“Your boss? Do you work here?”

“Yes, I am the assistant to the Director of Mercedes.”

“You are Toto's assistant!” she exclaims as if he had discovered the most interesting thing in the world.

“Are you a fan?”

“No, it's just... let's say I'm dating one of the pilots.”

“Oh, you're a wag.”

“No, my God! I hate when they say that. Besides, Sebastian and I are taking it slow,” Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian, which one was Sebastian?

“Sebastian... Vettel?" Fortune teller.

“Yes, exactly! By the way, I'm Alessia,” she introduced herself. “I'm already talking to you about my relationship and I don't even know your name,” I giggled at how nervous she had become and introduced myself as well.

“I am Victoria.”

“You are Spanish,” Alessia notes. “I like the accent. I am italian.”

“Oh, that's great.”

"Yes... I'm trying to learn Spanish," she says with excitement.

"I can help you if you need it," I offer.

When I left Spain, I left everything.

Friends, family, acquaintances, customs. It wouldn't hurt to have someone to talk to, someone who is in a similar situation to mine.

“Oh really!? I'd love to. Let's do this,” she says, taking her phone out of her bag, “save my number. We can go out if you want,” she smiles shyly at me and I nod. “There's Seb. Come let me introduce him to you.”

"Alessia, it's not necessary," I say as she drags me towards her boyfriend and his friend, whom I recognize from several advertisements they show on Spanish television.

His gaze crossed with mine and I didn't need words because I saw it all there.

Fernando Alonso

An idiot, a womanizer, who thinks he is better than anyone else just because he won two championships and because the national press idolizes him as if he were some kind of God.

I know I said I don't know things about sports but I don't live under a rock either.

Also, it's not the first time I've seen him. A few years ago, my ex-boyfriend and I went to a club where famous people used to go, to see if we could meet someone and, indeed, we did. Fernando Alonso with his hand under a girl's skirt in the middle of the dance floor.

A very good first impression.

"Mein Leben," the German exclaims when Alessia enters his field of vision and she laughs like a teenager in love.

“Vita mia,” greets the Italian. “This is Victoria,” she introduces me. “She is Toto's new assistant”

Sebastian barely looks at me when Ale greets me. He can't take his eyes off Alessia, who keeps talking about how we met by chance looking for coffee. The love in the blonde's eyes is evident, idyllic and I would even dare to say nostalgic. It looks real.

“The coffee shop is over there,” Alonso comes in, who doesn't take his eyes off me. “I'm Fernando,” he introduces himself.

“I know.”

“You are Spanish. A sports fan I guess," he says in a humorous tone.

“I can't be further away.”

"Wow, that's good too," he laughs nervously. He definitely wasn't expecting that answer.

"Alessia, I have to go," I warn her. “If when the interview ends, Toto doesn't have his coffee, he's going to get annoyed.”

"No, wait," the brunette man stops me.

“What's happening?” I ask confused.

“I…” he tries to find the right words while his hazel eyes merge with mine, as if he were looking for what he can't say in them, “nothing. I hope you find your coffee.”

[...]

I see Victoria go towards where I had pointed a few minutes ago wanting to go after her.

"You two have to help me," I ask the couple.

“To what?” asks my friend.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” I question before agreeing with them.

“No.”

“It's stupid,” supports Alessia.

"I didn't believe in it either," I admit, "but I just fell in love with Victoria.”

___________________________________

taglist:

@bellinghamsbitch

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #fernando alonso #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x female reader #fernando alonso fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader

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writingshushf1 · 1 year

Note

enemies to lovers w lewis!! trope just fits him so well imo

Line without a hook

Summary: I don't really give a damn about the way you touch me.

Rating: +16

Warnings: enemies to lovers, a bit of asshole!lewis and the reader is also a bit of an asshole, some mature language. W13 and W14 being shitty cars.

Word count: 3.8k

Note: WE COULDN'T NOT HAVE A CLASSIC HERE, RIGHT? I'm a sucker for enemies to lovers, so here we have one! Honestly? My best enemies to lovers written, mostly because I spent a little time ressearching about it (I started writing this afternoon) and building around it.

masterlist

Guilt. That's what you felt, but another feeling managed to override it. Anger.

You were at the head of the W13 development and it was terrible, a complete disappointment. And the worst part?It was your first year in a high position in a manufacturer, all the other years you spent locked up in laboratories, you never even got to meet the race tracks or even the Mercedes drivers - unless there was some publicity they had to record inside the factory. I mean, you became friends with Mick because he was often there, but this story isn't about him.

W13 had failed and the blame fell on you and the other staff who worked on it, so you decided to put your heads down and rebuild everything, make the ideas from 0 for W14. Into that came your stress, it had a name - a powerful name - Lewis Hamilton. He spent a whole 2022 criticising the car, making suggestions that were promptly ignored by engineers higher than you, which resulted in him getting a bitter feeling about you all.

"He arrived with heavy steps inside the luxurious factory, his voice with the strong English accent bursting through the walls, he was indignant. You took a deep breath, ducking your head and went back to fiddling with some parts of the car, trying to avoid Hurricane Hamilton. But to your misfortune, he opened the door to the room next to Russell and Toto - who were just as frustrated. Unfortunately, you were the only person still in the room, it was already late at night, but you wouldn't sleep until you found out what the damn problem was with that wagon they called a car. Obviously none of them would remember your name, so you kept tidying up with your headphones blasting Beyoncé until impatient taps on your shoulder ended your moment of peace.

"Sorry... Well, I'm not the boss of that area yet, so unfortunately I'm not the one who decided that, sir." You replied, turning back to the car and sitting down on the ground.

"You guys didn't listen to my suggestions and now the car is shit." The black pilot sighed, crossing his arms.

"But you are important in that sector. That I am sure of."

"I commented to Lewis and George about who was in charge, so if they wanted to come with their questions, they could turn to you and the others." Wolff replied, which made your blood boil with hatred.

"How would you know that?"

"Sorry, that still doesn't give you the right to come at me with an accusatory tone, after all I'm not the one giving the final answer." You rolled your eyes, fitting the piece you had noticed and pulling out another to take to the analysis. "I know the car wasn't what you expected. Honestly, none of us expected it to happen. After the tests, we thought it just needed some repairs."

"I understand you're feeling that way, we're all working day and night to fix it."

"A few repairs? Wow. That's pretty subtle thinking that it underperformed. Compared to 2021 and 2020, it's useless."

"And where's the rest?"

"For God's sake!" You looked at the other two who were trying to distract themselves with things in the room so as not to focus on your argument with the number one Mercedes driver that could have you fired in a few seconds. "It's Saturday, almost 10 o'clock at night, the factory is far from the city, don't you think people deserve a rest? I stayed here because of my role as one of the heads of this project. I don't have the luxury to rest, I don't know if you understand that."

His eyebrows drew together and you could have sworn he would start shouting at any moment and cuss you out for the reaction you had, however he kept quiet and left the scene without another word. You stared at Toto for a few seconds and he told you to go home, working tired and hot headed wouldn't do you any good. And it was from that day on that you started to hate him."

2023, the first race of the W14 left a lot to be desired, George was still positive and willing to sacrifice his year for the evolution of the car, however not the seven-time champion, he wanted a competitive car. Half way through last year you were getting more seats and now you were the co-creator of the W14, which was heavy on your shoulders. Again, Hamilton and you were almost at each other's throats during the team briefing until Wolff gave you both a timeout. You quickly left the room, grabbing a coffee and sitting on the hospitality stairs. Within seconds, Mick sat down next to you.

"Yeah, Maybe he's taking it too heavily, but I don't take away the whole reason the car is missing the essentials. Competitiveness." The German huffed.

"Honey, you say that like I don't know.... Of course I do! But he could stop being a spoiled little boy. He's a grown man who needs to learn that we're constantly evolving and yes we're going to have some tough years and that can only be solved by us changing the car, which can sometimes take hours, days, months before we get back into our pace."

“I know, but in this meantime, Red Bull and Ferrari will be overcoming new things while we are stuck behind Aston Martin.” Lewis commented, passing by you two.

“No shit, Sherlock.” You snapped, walking away from both of them.

“That was too much, man.” Schumacher said, crossing his arms.

“I know… But that’s the reality, she knows what’s happening, so… It’s not my fault.”

“So it isn’t hers alone.”

………………………………………………………………….

It was late at night again, you had been up for almost 48 hours, sorting people, analysing statistics, fiddling with parts. Your body was screaming for rest and this could be seen clearly by anyone passing you. It was almost dawn and you were still in the pits, sitting on the floor with a few empty energy drink cans around you, four computers in front of you, and your headphones on. You heard footsteps, but at first you decided to ignore them, it wasn't important, the focus was to understand what the fuck was going on with W14. Suddenly a "tsc" could be heard, it was then that you turned your face and found yourself face to face with Lewis Hamilton, his body inches from yours - and what a body. You took a deep breath and backed away.

"What's wrong, your majesty?"

"There." He pointed at the screen.

"Yes. I'm trying to fix it."

"But you're not succeeding, excuse me." He placed his hands on the keyboard and you were completely distracted, sleep was catching up with you.

He kept typing and changing things, clicking, even removing the headphones from your head and putting them on it, staying for a few minutes, until he looked at you.

"For someone who's in such a high position, I can't believe you missed that." He cracked a cocky smile.

"Oh! I'm sorry Sir Hamilton for being up for almost 48 hours straight, trying to fix your car first because apparently it was put on my list against my will, however as a good employee for this team, I dedicated myself exclusively to your car." You retorted, sitting on some tires. Throwing your head back, you let out a big sigh and ran your hands over your face, feeling that if he was the slightest bit ruder, tears would leak from your eyes and you'd make a fool of yourself in front of him.

"Go back to the hotel, for God's sake. The race is tomorrow and no one can be tired, because that results in failure." He trailed off, looking you up and down. "And take a shower, you're in need."

"Fuck off!"

The other day, you were still exhausted, yet better than a few hours ago. With a strong cup of coffee, clean clothes and a shower, you arrived still early in the morning, ordering everyone to do their respective jobs, while your stomach was screaming for food - you couldn't even remember when was the last time you'd eaten, so you quickly went and grabbed a sandwich to get through the day.

The race was okay, a podium, a fifth place. Could do better.

In that two-week gap without racing, you spent as much time as possible inside the factory, trying to fix the unconscionable and getting frustrated every time. This happened so often that there were moments you would disappear and hide to cry, feeling like a failure in that place - maybe a dismissal wasn't the end of the world, some other lesser team might want you.

Surprisingly, in the meantime, Lewis started showing up daily at the factory, working with everyone else - and charming everyone with his silly charm that made anyone fall in love with him. He chatted to people, asked them to bring snacks that you barely touched, your hunger seemed to disappear when he was near - along with all the tranquillity. Obviously, whenever he could, you exchanged insults and dry replies, something that could be observed from afar, but nobody dared to comment, for fear of being annihilated by one of you.

One fateful night he decided to stay late, so it was eleven o'clock at night and only the two of you were in the room. The silence was uncomfortable, deafening and suffocating, it seemed that in a few exchanges of glances you were stabbing each other. The passive-aggressiveness passed the moment you cried out in sort of relief, which caught his attention. Finally you had managed to solve a problem that had been bothering you for weeks and no one seemed to solve it. It seemed like a small victory, of many you wished were coming.

"What happened?" he asked in a dull tone.

"Look here! I managed to solve that one.... That..." It seemed as if the words had escaped his lips from so much euphoria he was feeling. "That shit that made Russell's car break down in the last race! It was so simple, but it needed a general approach, not so thorough..." You let a laugh escape your lips as he walked over to where you were standing.

"Oh." He was speechless too. As much as you said that this was a simple problem, he knew it wasn't, he had noticed your effort and frustration in the meantime, it was something extremely difficult that required patience and intelligence - things you had. "Let's take a break then, to celebrate."

You cracked a smile at him - the first time since you had met, which made him return the smile. The two of you walked together to where there were some tables after grabbing some food, no one else but you two. The silence settled again, but not as uncomfortable as before, it was neutral.

It was two am, and you still were working on the W14, but this time was improving, he made some hits and that was when you started to tease each other.

“Oh, I didn’t know that drivers could be this smart, I thought you guys dropped after a while and finished on homeschooling.” You teased him.

“Hey! I even studied engineering, you could pay some respect.” He held back a smile. “And it’s Sir Lewis Hamilton for you, I didn’t give you intimacy to just talk to me like that.”

“Someone’s feisty.” You chuckled. “Okay, sir.” You licked your lips, throwing yourself on the sofa. “Oops, sorry… Okay, Sir Lewis Hamilton, I’ll only call you like that now, majesty.”

He sucked in his breath, closing his fists before chuckling too. “And someone’s really going off the limits, maybe you should take care you know… I’m still your boss and I can do whatever I want.”

“Kinky. Power dynamics? I always thought you would want to be called daddy.” You played it off, holding your laugh.

“Oh God.” He started laughing loudly, joining his hands against his chin, before moving his head in a ‘no’ “We’re too sleep deprived to keep this.”

“Or too sober.”

“Don’t even try it, girl.” He rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I’ll ask the guard to close the factory.”

……………………………………………………………………….

After that night, your relationship became calmer. Sure, you still constantly traded insults and irony at every opportunity, but it was an evolution nonetheless - now they weren't aggressive, with a passive-aggressive undertone, it was more jokes and banter to take the edge off the team's rebuild with W14 - which by now, had made more decent progress, a win in the pocket.

You were working through some analysis of the car, when suddenly, a Lewis removing his t-shirt because of the heat caught you completely off guard, which made your cheeks boil with embarrassment and your eyes stare longingly at his pecs to the point where he noticed.

"See something you like?" he commented, flashing you a smug smile.

"I just think it's inappropriate for you to be shirtless in a workplace. You have a trailer for that." You shrugged, feeling an unbearable heat hit your body. He was hot and unfortunately your body agreed with that.

"All right then, Miss Goody Two-shoes." You pointed your middle finger at him as the British pilot walked off, while he returned the gesture still with that damn smile.

That night, he dreamed of you. Our brains like to play tricks and make us think crazy things. And that's exactly what it played with the black driver that night. Her hands roamed his body, laughter from both sides filled the room as he could see her silhouette in just purple lingerie, while he was only in his underwear. Your bodies were glued together, moving at an incredible pace, it was just about you two and no one else. No hate, no failing cars, no guilt.

He woke up panting, before the dream had its proper end. A tent settled in his shorts, which made him groan in denial, running his hands over his face, trying to forget the scene he had just dreamt, however it was almost impossible, it was something so sexy he couldn't let it go.

For the next few weeks, he ignored you almost completely, only showing up to talk about car stuff - be it suggestions or just complaining that they would never catch up with Red Bull by the end of the season, which made you even more stressed. It felt like you guys were back to stage one. At first, you even tried to ignore it and think that he wasn't in a good mood, but when it persisted, you were ready to strike back. Meanwhile, Hamilton's mind was a mess, he wasn't supposed to have dreamt about you, let alone gone on and on and on having recurring dreams about the two of you, let alone him noticing when the white shirt was too see-through and he knew what colour your bra was. It was getting to be too much for him and his defence mechanism was to try and walk away and go back to square one. He knew he'd been rude to you at first, but part of him didn't want to apologise, to accept that you could be friends-or even the possibility that he wanted something more.

It was another early morning at the Mercedes plant, now you were already thinking about the W15, because you knew that everything had gone wrong, but you refused to tell anyone. Early in the morning, Lewis went to his usual room and found you pacing back and forth, stressed about the possibility of them never getting out of this hole, of her never being able to make him win his eighth championship.

"Did someone fall out of bed? It's six-thirty in the morning." He said, soon sitting down at one of the desks and turning on his computer.

"To fall out, I should at least be asleep first." You retorted, banging your fist on the table in anger that again, the program was giving data that was incompatible with what you had planned.

"Again? Aren't you working too fucking much?" He questioned, which honestly was the last straw you needed to freak out. Even if he wasn't being rude.

"Yes, I've been working my ass off, Hamilton. I'm on the verge of burnout and you know whose fault it is? Yours! It's all on you!" Because I work day and night, I don't rest, I keep planning and recalculating everything just to please you, to make the car you want and still nothing is good, nobody is satisfied! You felt tears fall from your eyes, but this was not the time to care about that. "Do you know what it's like for a whole team to depend on your team of engineers and you're constantly letting everyone down? No! You don't." Her voice was already cracking with sobs. "I can't take it anymore! I can't stand living like this anymore. And still have people telling the world that I'm incompetent!" You completely lost the strength in your legs, falling to your knees on the floor and putting your hands to your face to cover your crying.

He waited for you to say everything you needed to say, to get your anguish off your chest, so that after you had stopped talking, he would get up and go to the floor with you, hugging your body and passing his free hand over your locks, letting you cry as much as you needed, just being comforted by his presence.

…………………………………………………………

Your relationship got better after you had a breakdown in front of him, he understood you were going under a very stressful moment, because everyone seemed to only count on you, forgetting that they were a team. That day, he took you to your house, waited for you to get some comfortable clothes and ordered food. You didn’t talk about it, just enjoyed each other’s company in silence. And that’s how it worked between you two, until it didn’t work again.

Hamilton was restless, he felt the need to talk with you by text, calls, in person, would oftenly walk with very revealing looks and take off his shirt around you, just to see your face red with embarrassment and the deep looks on his torso.

He knew there was something more, but he waited. He tested the waters first, became slowly sweeter by the time, calmer and actually never complained to you again, he tried to be more positive and improve his work with the car you had. And that made you warm up towards him, he was actually capable of change, to be a very caring person when he liked the person.

When you started to have this sort of friendship, you felt guilty for snapping at him multiple times, the same way he felt bad for being so rude towards you the year before.

One day, he asked if you wanted to stay late on the paddock, so you could work on some things about W14, little things to improve for the race on Sunday afternoon. Of course you agreed, you have been doing that for months now, one night more it wouldn’t kill you.

The comfortable silence between you two was broken by him.

“I owe you an apology.” He whispered, like that was a forbidden subject.

“I…” You took a few seconds to realise. “I think I owe you one too.”

“So will we both be forgiven then?”

“Yeah…”

“I’m sorry. For being a brat and an entitled asshole… For not seeing you as a person, someone amazing that works like hell because she wants the best for everyone.” He got closer, touching your forearm.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you, multiple times. I should’ve been more mature.” You avoided looking at him, as much as his eyes were so hypnotising.

When you least expected it, your bodies were together in a very intimate hug. His hands around your hips, while your arms pressed his body against you.

“I’m not the only one feeling this, right?” He muttered, alternating his look between your eyes and lips.

“Unfortunately, no.”

And that he took as a consent to crash his lips against yours, in a desperate kiss, like he waited for such a long time to do that, in reaction, you intertwined one of your hands in his braids and the other lowered to his back, holding at his Mercedes black t-shirt. He soon lowered his hands to your thighs, pulling you to sit on top of some tyres. Your tongues were moving against each other, slow and needy, like a dream coming true. When air made it necessary, he held your waist and smiled.

“It took so long…” He whispered against your ear. “If I knew we only were horny for each other, we could have solved this a long time ago…” You could hear his cocky smile.

“Fuck you.” You muttered back, letting your fingers run on his neck. “If it was months ago… I would have denied it until my deathbed. I’m happy being in this state now.” You left some kisses along his jaw.

“Angel… Not here. Maybe my hotel room may be a more appropriate place for you to get all touchy like that.”

“Sad… I would love to have some risky sex in the paddock, sir.” You joked.

“Maybe someday. But let’s start at the most obvious place. A bed.” He held your hand and guided you to his car.

So… Sir Lewis Hamilton wasn’t so bad after all.

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