#Victoria has so many bones I can break | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ethan-torchio-angelo · 3 years

Text

Oh, love

Summary: It takes a year of trial and error, of love and heartbreak, for the two to finally realize there's no one else they'd rather be with. Or in which she becomes they're photographer for a summer tour and falls in love with the dark haired drummer.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: swearing, angst, sexual content

A/N: I just want to say a huge thank you to @ethanesimp for proofreading and hyping this fic up, thank you so much amore! This is the first piece I've written for any of the members of maneskin, and also the longest thing I've ever written! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

January

It’s a call in the middle of the day that begins it all. She’s been in a shoot all morning, running around snapping photos of a wanna-be teen idol. She’s been here many times, being hired to do promo shots for someone who never makes it farther than this. But this call, she knows it’s different. She’s heard the name, seen some videos, she knows this won’t be like the rest. She’s instructed to clear her schedule for the week and to be in Rome by the end of the day.

The cold air hits her as she leaves the building, suitcase and camera bag in hand. This is the moment she’s been waiting for since joining the company, the chance to become a permanent fixture instead of hopping from gig to gig. She’s told that they requested her specifically, that one of the band members saw her collection from a festival last summer and was dead set on booking her for their summer tour. It’s all new to her, the feeling of being the first choice and not second best. She barely hears anything that’s said on the plane by their manager, too busy trying not to freak out.

It’s only a few hours plane ride, but it feels like a lifetime. Thoughts run wild in her head as the seconds tick by, she can’t remember the last time she’d been this excited, or nervous, for something. She’s greeted by more people from their team as she steps off the plane, and is quickly ushered to the villa they’ve been staying in. She barely has time to process the beautiful new city she’s in before she’s hidden by walls of an even more beautiful place.

They give her time to relax and unpack, but clear instructions to not leave the property without security. Things have been crazy, she’s told, since their winning last year fans have become more clever with their tactics. She laughs at some of the stories, but heeds the warning all the same. She’s seen quite a few things that have shaken her to her core, so she knows to be careful and wary.

Music floats through the halls and into her room, the band practicing on the other side of the villa. The music fills her veins with a feeling she can’t quite place, but it’s a welcome humming that gets her blood pumping. She grabs her camera and follows the melodies, laughing at the jokes thrown around in english whenever someone messes up. She angles herself behind a corner just right where she can take pictures while still being hidden from the band.

Her heart races at the scene in front of her. It’s a family like she’s never seen. They all seem to orbit around each other, pushing and pulling each other into their atmospheres. She watches Victoria dance around the room, bass in hand, strumming the lines to an old song. Thomas lays on the floor with a notebook reading off words, Damiano repeating them as he draws on eyeliner. And Ethan, who sits at his drum set, twirling the drumsticks in his hand as he observes the scene before him.

She captures picture after picture of their dynamic, taking the most of Ethan, who seems to have a magnetic pull to him. She only pulls herself from the moment when she’s spotted. “Sai, qualcuno chiamerebbe questo strano comportamento.”

The words are warm against her ear, and she jumps at the unexpected presence. She turns around, laughing to hide her embarrassment, trying to translate the words in her head. She freezes when she sees it’s Ethan, trying to figure out when he slipped away from the rest of the group.

“Ah, niente italiano. Er, it’s unusual, what you are doing.”

Another nervous laugh leaves her lips, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be creepy. There’s something about the way the group is when no one is watching, it’s hard to ignore, it needed to be captured.”

He smiles at that. It’s soft and warm and she feels as if the world has stopped spinning. A song plays between their hearts as a silence falls over them. There’s a beauty about him that makes it hard to focus on anything but him.

A series of crashes followed by loud curses in Italian breaks the spell that they were under and Ethan pulls himself away from her to go and manage his friends. She uses this moment as an excuse to slip away and tour the rest of the house, ending in the kitchen where dinner is being prepared. She snaps a few photos of the chefs cooking, already envisioning the blog post they’ll go along with.

When everyone has made their way to the dining room a toast is made; to new adventures, to new friends, and to family. Sweet wine and light rain makes the time pass faster and the evening flows into night easily. The group parts only moments after midnight, long days ahead calling them to catch up on sleep now.

The month flows by with days and nights blurring together. It seems the studio is really the only place they call home, spending every waking moment in the room that houses their instruments. She stays with them through the long hours, snapping photos of the weird things they get themselves up to. Her hard drive slowly fills with collections of each band member, ones for the public eye and ones she sends to them to make them laugh.

The end of the month brings a party, something small to celebrate sold out tour dates. A night out to a local bar and far too many drinks. She dances with Victoria, who has become her best friend in the few weeks she’s been with them. Damiano and his girlfriend are not far away, but much more caught up in their own world. Thomas has disappeared somewhere, no doubt warming someone's bed for the night. But through all the commotion, she can’t stop watching Ethan.

He’s sitting at a table nursing the only drink he’s had that night, planning to take on the role of babysitter at the end of the night once everyones had too much to drink. He drums his fingers on the table, following the beat of each song that plays. He seems lost in his own world, content with being by himself. She moves away from Victoria, who easily finds another partner, and makes her way to the table.

“Sembri solo,” the words fall from her lips quietly as she takes a seat beside him.

He smiles at her, “Seems your little lessons are paying off.”

She blushes at that, not realizing he’d picked up on her daily lessons with their English tutor. “Only enough to not seem like a tourist.”

A small chuckle escapes his lips, and she wishes she could bottle the sound.

“But don’t change the subject. Tonight was about having fun, celebrating a big accomplishment. Yet you’re sitting here alone.”

He sighs at her insistence, “Sometimes we don’t need to celebrate everything so publicly.”

Something pulls at her heart. She can’t imagine having such a public life, but she understands how it must feel to never have anything to yourself. Before she knows what she’s doing, she places a hand on his arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze, a light tingle shooting between the two of them.

She pulls her hand away quickly, a small blush forming on both their cheeks. He offers her a small smile to make the moment less awkward, and she returns it.

The night ends not too much later, the rest of the crew having decided that warm beds would be much more comfortable than the crowded bar. She helps Ethan herd their friends home, laughing along with him at their drunken antics. Victoria jokingly calls them mom and dad as they help her to bed, and the blush that was plastered on her face earlier that night makes a second appearance.

It’s almost morning by the time she makes it to her own room. Ethan isn’t far behind her, realizing for the first time tonight that they share the same hallway. “Buona notte,” comes his voice from down the hall.

She turns to face him, catching herself stuck in his stare. She can’t quite place the look in his eyes, but it gives her butterflies all the same.

“Buona notte.”

February

February brings more time in the studio and less time outside the walls of the Villa. While winter in Rome is not like the ones you’d experience in colder places, it still brings a chill to her bones. She steals one of Victoria's sweaters after a night spent lounging under the stars, a small break from a busy schedule.

A fire had been lit and a bottle of sweet wine was making its way around the group. She’d set her camera aside for the evening, planning on enjoying a night without the calls of work. She doesn’t know when it happens, but suddenly she’s swaying to a drunken beat in the arms of Damiano who can’t stop giggling at her two left feet. The man had not believed her when she said she couldn’t dance, but was now biting his tongue as they moved around the courtyard.

As the night seemed to come to a lull, a game of truth or dare was proposed and all were in agreement. She finds herself sitting beside Thomas on the floor as Victoria begins the game, a stupid dare aimed towards Damiano that earns him a new haircut. The night drags on in a flurry of laughter and silly dares. By midnight half the group is wearing someone else’s clothes, and the others have barely any on.

She’s moved to be sitting by Ethan, who has an arm casually draped across her shoulder. It shouldn’t feel so electric, his skin touching hers, but it does and it’s the only thing she can focus on. Her heart feels like it’s almost beating out of her chest and the blush on her face isn’t caused by the alcohol in her system.

Damiano is the first to notice her situation, and starts poking fun at her whenever it was his turn to ask her something. It started off innocent enough, small questions aimed towards her love life, but it soon caught the attention of Thomas who was the first one to issue a dare towards the girl. This was how she’d ended up sitting beside Ethan, cuddled into his side. Ethan was oblivious to the things going on around them, until Victoria dared her to kiss him.

It seems as though time stops, the laughter fades and the silence becomes deafening. She turns towards Ethan, a mixture of panic and excitement painted on her face. He smiles at her, “We don’t have to, amore.”

“A dares a dare.” She shrugs at him.

A round of cheers raises up around them as the two lean in. It’s meant to be only a small peck, something good enough to count in the eyes of those around them. But as she goes to pull away his hand reaches up to tangle in her hair and he pulls her closer. Their lips meet again without any hesitation and it’s like the world lights up around them. Blame it on the alcohol, but if she were to die right now she’d be happy.

They pull away a second later, a small laugh leaving both of them, chests rising at an unsteady rhythm.

“Awe, they’re blushing! How cute!” Comes the voice of Damiano, further pulling a blush from the girl.

She grabs one of the pillows beside her and aims it at his head, laughing when she misses terribly.

The night fades into morning and they all climb to the roof to watch the sunrise. It’s a moment she wants tattooed in her memories forever. She’s got her arms wrapped around Victoria and the three boys huddle around them, alcohol still flows through their veins and they’re all singing different versions of the same song.

March

The beginning of spring in Rome is magical. Flowers start to bloom, mornings are coated in a light dusting of rain, and clothing starts to become less of a necessity. She takes photos of the band trapezing the streets. The Villa studio has become too familiar, moving instead to a studio in the city.

By now, a routine has been put in place. Mornings sipping coffee and eating fresh pastries while she laughs at the varying states of wake the band is in. Afternoons in the studio, recording their new album while she collects photos and videos for their ‘making of’. Evenings spent in restaurants and bars, eating some of the best food she’s ever had, and she swears she’ll never eat anything better.

She’s never fallen in love with a city like this before. Maybe it’s the city, or maybe it’s the people she’s with, but she swears she never wants to leave. It suffocates her in the best way possible, the feeling of being home. She hopes that when the tours over and her contracts up, that she’ll move here, maybe even keep these people she’s grown so close to in the past few months.

She’s thrown out of the daydream by Thomas yelling at her in a mix of italian and english for not paying attention. It’s the middle of the afternoon, they’ve taken a lunch break at a restaurant down the block, and Thomas is expressively telling a story. His hands are in the air and he’s almost knocked his wine glass over too many times to count.

Damiano sits across from her, fiddling with her camera, snapping his own photos that he presents to her proudly. She laughs at every one, but never discourages his actions. Victoria is on her left, Ethan on her right, both vying for her approval as they argue over something. She’s overwhelmed by the different directions her brain is being tugged, but the hand that snakes its way into hers calms her.

She looks down to see Ethan rubbing his thumb along the back of her hand, a soft smile grazing his lips as they make eye contact. She returns it, whispering a small thank you to the boy.

That night, she lays in bed, in the room she’s begun to finally call hers, thinking of the boy with stars in his eyes. She doesn’t know if it’s feeling like she finally belongs somewhere, or the wine that still coats her veins, but there’s something about him that she wishes she could become a part of. She wants to wrap herself in it and never leave. She’s falling for him, hard. Vaffanculo.

April

It is Victoria's birthday and everyone has decided that she must be princess for the day. Ethan and Damiano have been up since dawn making an extravagant breakfast, something that should be put in a five star restaurant. Her and Thomas had disappeared shortly after waking, returning with a stack of presents that was almost as tall as him, and the best bouquet of flowers she could find.

After decorating the patio with anything and everything they could find, it was a mad dash to Victoria's room to wake her up. She protested, claiming that sleep was more important than being awake, but at the mention of presents she was the first one out of the room.

It was a morning of happiness, and a much needed break from their hectic schedule. She recorded the entire day, from the dramatic wake up call to the celebratory sparklers that were set off that night, it was all captured.

After breakfast the princess requested a trip to the beach, and no one would dare refuse her. They found something private, a little hidden oasis an hour's drive from the villa. They spend hours there, switching between swimming and laying in the sun. She finds herself alone on the sand with Ethan at one point, watching the others like proud parents.

She tries not to think about how close his body feels to her, how she can feel the heat his body is radiating seeping into her, the smell of his body wash. He’s invading all of her senses and she’s trying so hard to focus on anything but him. “Let’s go on a walk?”

His voice is warm as the question escapes his lips. She turns to look at him and she’s thankful to be able to blame the sun for the blush on her cheeks. She nods and gets up to follow him, brushing off the sand that’s clinging to her bathing suit and wrapping a towel around her shoulders.

They disappear down the beach, walking side by side, a comfortable silence enveloping them. It’s not till they’re halfway down the beach that either of them speaks. “Are you enjoying your time?”

She doesn’t miss the hint of worry that laces his voice, and she’s quick to reassure him that she is. “Yes, very much. This is probably the best job I’ve had in years.”

He softly chuckles at her words, “Good. Good. We’re trying to make you feel like one of us, don’t want you running away.”

She’s grateful for the confession, glad that they don’t see her as just another person that works for them. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

He bumps her shoulder with his, a small smile forming on his face, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They head back to the group soon after, realizing they’ve let the day slip away and need to leave soon if they want to make their dinner reservations.

A small vineyard hidden in the valley, they’ve booked the place so it’s just them, and ordered every bottle of wine on the menu to taste. They laugh away the night, enjoying plates of delicious food and letting their minds wander. A gorgeous cake is brought out at the end, half of which ends up destroyed thanks to an impromptu food fight. More presents are opened and Victoria starts tearing up, blubbering about how much she loves the idiots she’s surrounded with.

They walk through the dark streets of Rome, singing happy birthday loudly in every language they know. It’s unusually cold, but she’s somehow been wrapped in Ethan’s jacket, his arm slung over her shoulder. She’s holding Vic’s hand, Damiano and Thomas taking turns with her camera.

The air surrounding them is electrified, she looks up into the sky and thanks the stars for the life she’s living.

May

The summer tour is fast approaching, and nerves are starting to set in. The already high energy group somehow is bouncing off the walls even more, making for an interesting collection of photos. Nerves are starting to get the better of them, and she often finds one of them wandering around the Villa at odd hours of the night. She’s good at being able to channel her nerves into something else, focusing all of the energy on a new project.

One night though, it gets the better of her. She tosses and turns in her bed for hours before she decides that sleep isn’t coming. Instead of lying in bed willing her brain to shut off, she throws on a pair of shoes and heads for the front door, thinking a walk in the warm spring air will do her some good. What she doesn’t expect to find is Ethan sitting out on the terrace, cigarette in one hand and a book in the other, lost in his own world.

She doesn’t mean to catch his attention, hoping to allow him this little bit of uninterrupted peace, but he spots her anyway. “Buona serata,” He rasps, voice laced with the quietness of the night.

“Buona serata, Ethan.” She returns the greeting.

He motions for her to sit down in the chair beside him, closing the book and placing it on the table. “What’s troubling your mind tonight?”

She’s not used to the way someone can read her so well, but there’s something about Ethan that brings her comfort in the fact that he can. “Nerves, I guess. I’ve never done a gig this big, never spent so much time with one group. I’m used to being moved around a lot, still getting used to being a permanent fixture I guess.”

The words are heavy on her tongue, never having voiced her worries out loud before. He takes a long drag of the cigarette hanging from his lips, “La vita ci dà solo ciò che sa che possiamo gestire.”

“Some would think you were a poet in a past life.”

A small laugh escapes his lips, and he shakes his head. A comfortable silence falls over them and she wishes she could bottle this feeling to keep with her forever. He turns to look at her, and it’s hard to put into words the feeling that washes over him. He’s not sure where it comes from, the urge to kiss her, but it sends him spiralling.

He reaches his hand up to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, “Le stelle brillano più luminose nei tuoi occhi, amore.”

The words and his actions cause her heart to raise and her breath to hitch. They’re close now, the closest they’ve been since that night in February, and all she can think about is that kiss that they shared.

Neither knows who leaned in first, but suddenly their lips are touching and it is everything and nothing like they remembered. While the other kiss had been hesitant and brief, this one was full of purpose. Their noses brush and their breaths tangle together, he bits her lip for a moment and a small moan escapes her. He swears it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

He grabs at her hips, lifting her from the chair and placing her so she’s straddling his lap. She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs softly, earning a groan from the man. The sound sends shockwaves through her and she rocks her hips against his almost involuntarily. His lips move from hers to the side of her neck, pulling small whimpers from her as he nips and sucks at the skin. It’s everything she’s ever imagined and more. The feeling of his body pressed to hers, the pleasure he can so easily give to her.

She moves her hands down to fumble with the hem of his shirt and that’s when he pulls away. “While I would normally love to do that here, how about we continue this somewhere more private?”

She nods eagerly and removes herself from his lap. He all but drags her inside the villa and towards his room. She trips over her own feet and they both laugh at her clumsiness, falling into each other as he tries to catch her but trips over his own feet in turn. He leans in to kiss her again as their bodies collide, this one sweeter and softer than the previous one.

The moment passes quickly and soon she’s being dragged through the halls again, only to be met with a half asleep Damiano standing in the doorway of his room. They stop in their tracks, jumping apart, trying to act like nothing was happening. “It’s rude to have a party and not invite everyone, you know.”

She lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, glad that he didn’t know what had been happening moments prior. Ethan is quick to explain that they were just having a cup of tea on the terrace and were now heading to bed, and thankfully the lie is believed. Damiano wishes them a goodnight, heading back into his room, and the two are left in silence in the hallway.

“Maybe we should go to bed,” he whispers to her.

Her heart sinks, but she nods her head in agreement and turns to walk back down the hall to her room. She’s not really sure how the night was going to end, but this was definitely not how she wanted it to; walking in silence next to someone her heart aches for, pretending that nothing had happened between them.

He walks her up to her door, still ever the gentleman, and places a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Buona notte, amore.”

The words should not sound as sad as they do, and she tries her hardest to keep the tears welling up in her eyes at bay as she watches him turn and walk away.

June

How do you go back to being just friends after making out with someone? Well, you don’t. At least, not fully. They dance around each other without knowing it, avoiding any contact that could lead to something more or allude to something else, but there are still moments where the world seems to slip away and it’s just the two of them.

The tour kicks off at a festival in Amsterdam. Blue skies and sunny days greet them as they get off the plane. They have a day to explore before their first show, and no one can decide how to spend it. In the end, Victoria drags Thomas off to do some shopping, Damiano plans a trip to a few museums with his girlfriend, and she is left with Ethan.

She’s not truly stuck with him, but she doesn’t feel like wandering a forgein city all by herself. Since the night in the Villa, they haven’t spent longer than a few minutes alone together, both refusing to acknowledge what had happened.

A trip to the beach seems like the best place to be, and within the hour she’s lounging in the sun listening to Ethan read a book. It’s peaceful, the sound of the waves and his voice lulling her into a half sleep. She’s got a drink in her hands, something sweet and fruity, and she’s sharing a cigarette with Ethan. It’s a scene she thinks one would find in a movie.

She rolls herself over so she’s laying on her back, staring up at Ethan who sits beside her. She places her hand on his leg and traces random shapes into his skin. Goosebumps rise in the wake of her fingertips, and he tries to stay focused on the book in his hands but finds it hard to do so. “You are very distracting, amore.”

She looks up at him innocently and she can’t help but admire him. His hair is tucked away in a bun, but a few pieces have fallen out and are flying in the gentle breeze. He’s only wearing a pair of swim trunks, broad chest on full display. He catches her roaming eyes as they make their way back to his face, a smirk slowly forming on his face. “Or maybe I’m the one distracting you, no?”

She smiles shyly and looks away from him, because yes, he is distracting her, and she’s finding it very hard to not kiss him right now. He chuckles at her, reaching his hand towards her face and turning it back towards him. He leans down towards her, “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?”

All she can do is nod, and a second later his lips are on hers. It’s sweet and slow, she can taste the tobacco on his lips and it’s intoxicating. She moves so she’s sitting up, leaning into him more, the world around them fading out until all that is left is them.

A few days later they find themselves in a hotel room in Munich. There’s music playing and everyone’s laughing. Her camera hasn’t left her hands all night, every moment needing to be captured as they ride the after show high.

She’s in the middle of recording Thomas’ one man act when a pair of arms wrap themselves around her waist. She knows exactly who it is by the scent that invades her nostrils and sends her brain into overdrive. She lets out a sudden, loud laugh, as his fingers trace themselves up and down her sides, collapsing into his chest as she struggles to breath.

He picks her up and spins her around, letting out an equally loud laugh at her protests. He’s happy, and it’s something that looks better on him than any designer outfit he could ever buy.

He falls onto one of the beds, pulling her down with him. She lands beside him tangled in his arms, he’s looking at her with a goofy grin on his face. The world seems to silence around them as their eyes lock. Her smile softens and she reaches her hand over to brush an eyelash off his cheek, he catches her hand before she can pull it away and brings it to his lips, kissing it gently.

He looks ethereal in this moment, hair strewn all over the place, a wild look in his eyes. She reaches for her camera and brings it up to capture him, never wanting to forget this moment.

The streets of Prague are empty, save for the two of them walking hand in hand down them. It’s early, almost too early to be considered an acceptable time to be awake, but they continue on nonetheless. A wild craving for something sweet had brought upon their adventure, and with the look she was giving him, he couldn’t say no to accompanying her.

They had been sitting on the balcony of her hotel room, watching the sun starting to peak out over the horizon and sharing a cigarette when she had turned to him with a mischievous look in her eyes. “I want something sweet.”

The comment had earned her an offer to order room service, but she shakes her head at the idea, standing up and walking back into the room. “No. Something real, maybe a coffee too.”

He follows her in, watching her pull on a shirt to cover the bralette she had been sitting in. “È presto, amore. Let’s go to bed. We can order something when the sun is awake also.”

She smiles at his words, but makes no move to stop dressing. She grabs her wallet and room key before heading to the door, stopping to turn and look at him, a question in her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll come with you.” He says after a moment, throwing on his jacket and walking over to her.

It’s 7:30 in the morning, the sun is starting to make it’s daily appearance, and they are happy. The small bakery they stumble into is just opening for the day and they’re greeted by the owner, an older lady with the sweetest smile. She speaks in broken English, an obvious language barrier between the group of them, but no one seems to mind.

She orders herself a poppy strudel and a coffee, Ethan ordering a croissant and an espresso, before sitting down at one of the small tables. He sits beside her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her into his side. He presses a soft kiss into the crown of her head and she sighs in content.

Moments like this are what she lives for. She might only be here because she works for them, but somewhere along the way she’s become part of their little family. She looks over to Ethan who’s lost in conversation with the owner, and she whispers to herself, “Penso di essermi innamorato di te.”

She doesn’t know that he hears her, his smile spreading wider across his face.

July

The turnover from June to July happens mid concert in Stockholm. She swears she can feel it, the sudden shift, a slight change in the air. She’s running around in front of the stage capturing pictures of the band in what she’s come to call their ‘natural habitat’. There’s an indescribable buzz in the air as they perform, the crowd becoming louder and louder with each song.

She keeps catching Ethans eye and there’s something primal in the way he looks at her. During a song switch, while Damiano rambles to the crowd, he motions her on stage. He tells her to get closer to everyone, promising that they won’t bite, and she giggles at him. She does what he says nonetheless, capturing some up close photos of the band and a few great shots of the crowd.

All too soon the show is ending and everyone’s piling into the car, a small party taking place in the backseat. Damiano has music blasting from his phone, Victoria and Thomas are dancing along to the beat, and Ethan is belting out the lyrics. She watches the group of them, laughing so hard her sides hurt, and she’s never felt more at home.

When they get to the hotel he’s quick to pull her towards his room, thankfully void of a roommate for the night. The second they get into the room, his lips are on hers. He pulls her close to his body and her hands tangle themselves in his hair. It’s nothing like any of their previous kisses, it’s heated and fast, every thought trying to be conveyed by the fever of it. She pulls back slightly to catch her breath and he leans in to whisper in her ear, “Join me in the shower?”

It’s not so much a question as a statement, but she nods her head eagerly, quick to follow him into the bathroom. He strips himself of the few clothes he’s wearing (most having been thrown off during the show), before turning to her. He reaches his arms out towards her, pulling her close to him and tugging on her shirt. She barely registers him pulling off her clothes, too focused on his body in front of her.

She’s never seen him so bare, and she’s having a hard time focussing on anything else. It’s not until her body hits the warm water that she snaps back to reality. He looks wild, eyes blown with lust, a wicked smile on his face. She firmly plants her lips on his, moaning into the kiss as he grabs at her. His hands are skilled and know every way to pull those delicious sounds from her lips.

It’s quick and dirty, and it is everything she has ever imagined it would be.

An hour later, she’s tangled up in the sheets of his bed, his entire being engulfing her as they watch the stars outside the window. She wonders if they are watching them too.

Paris is the city of lights, a statement she’s never been more sure of. The streets are lit with every light, shining brighter than the stars. She’s in a permanent state of bliss, after the night she shared with Ethan. Their relationship is hidden from the public, living in stolen moments and nights in hotel rooms, but she’s never been happier to be someone's dirty secret.

The band is electric on stage, something about the city they’re in taking their performance to a whole new level. The show goes on longer than it should have, but none of them even care when their manager comes over to reprimand them. They hang around to greet fans and take photos with anyone and everyone, and it’s not until security has to kick them out that they finally leave.

They find themselves in a bar, not sure what part of the city they’re in, but no one cares when the night feels like this. They drink expensive drinks that they can’t pronounce the name of, dance to songs they don’t know the words to, and feel more alive than they’ve ever felt. It’s like the world turned itself up to 11 just for them.

She dances with Ethan, not caring who sees because the night is theirs and no one cares. She kisses him in the middle of the dance floor and he pulls her into a vacant bathroom. It’s hot and heavy and the smell of alcohol envelopes them, but they couldn’t care less. Is this love? They don’t care. They’re young and dumb, and well, you only live once.

Back at the hotel they spend the night wrapped in bedsheets on the balcony, a bottle of champagne and a pack of cigarettes shared between the two of them. He points to the stars, a stupid grin on his face, “Le stelle brillano solo per noi.”

She snorts, throwing an abandoned pillow at him. He grabs her arm and pulls her into him, tickling her sides until she’s begging him to stop, tears staining her cheeks but a laugh like no other leaving her lips.

As the night bleeds into morning, and both are hazy with sleep, he whispers to her, “Sei il mio universo.”

They walk down the streets of London, his arm slung over her shoulders as she rambles away, both blissfully unaware of the few fans snapping photos down the street. They don’t notice the group of girls following them, cameras and phones in hand, capturing picture after picture of the couple.

By the time they reach the shop, the photos are already out into the world.

As they order, reposts and comments start flowing, and their phones start lighting up with notifications.

Before they can pay, she’s crying.

Rule number one of being in the public eye; never look at the comments, distance yourself from social media as much as possible, it will never end well.

The final stop in Rome was supposed to be a welcome home. A big celebration was to occur after their last concert, but now, it’s nothing more than finding the quickest way back home. She sits in one of the dressing rooms the entire show, waiting for it to end, scrolling through her social media.

She knows she shouldn’t be, that’ll all it’s doing is hurting her, making her feel worse. But she can’t stop. The comments aimed towards her and the drummer are terrible, and she wishes she could just delete herself from existence. They aren’t even dating, at least not officially, but she’s been deemed the girlfriend from hell. She’s unknowingly stolen something that never belonged to anyone to begin with.

Damianos girlfriend is in the room with her, telling her of her own horror stories dealing with fans, and she knows she’s just trying to help, but she really wishes she would just shut up. She loves the girl to death, she’s been a blessing this entire time, but she feels her mind is too far gone to be saved from the madness.

It’s only a few minutes later that the band wanders in, the usual after show high replaced with a sudden heaviness. Ethan comes to stand by her after putting his things away and pulls her into a tight hug. “Amore mio.”

He’s sweaty and could definitely use a shower, but the hug is comforting. She rubs his back soothingly, knowing this is just as hard on him as it is on her. Their management team has told everyone to remain quiet about it, disappearing from the internet until further notice while they figure out how to manage the situation. It’s maddening, the inability to speak out and protect her. He wishes he could snap his fingers and everything would be fixed, but he knows nothing is ever that easy.

They make their way back to the villa in silence, the car filled with a strangeness. She’s sandwiched between Victoria and Ethan, leaning on the bassist's shoulder, watching her play a game on her phone. It’s not how anyone wanted to end the tour, but the world is a strange and cruel place. Everything good always comes burning down.

August

There’s a party at the villa one night. Things have calmed down enough that she doesn’t spiral every time she looks at her phone, but there’s something in the way Ethan acts around her that makes her uneasy. She’s standing out on the patio, trying to avoid the questioning eyes from everyone in the house. She hasn’t spoken to Ethan all day, and the alcohol coursing through her veins makes her even angrier than she knows she should be.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees him walk out the door beside her, a small scoff leaving her lips as he tries to speak to her.

“Couldn’t be bothered to talk to me all day, what’s changed that you’ve decided to grace me with your presence?”

He looks at her, stunned. “I don’t get what you mean.”

She scoffs again, placing her glass on the table across from her. “Since London you’ve done nothing but ignore me. I get that this wasn’t easy for you, but it wasn’t exactly a cake walk for me. I needed you, Ethan, and you left me.” Her voice is raw and scratchy, the feeling of wanting to cry tickling the back of her throat.

“I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how Dami does it, how he can deal with the comments and messages. My brain won’t shut off, I can’t stop thinking about how if I had been more careful, I could’ve protected you and none of this would’ve happened. I feel stupid for thinking I could have. I hate seeing you like this, I wish I could take you away from all of this.” His voice slowly lowers, till it’s nothing more than a whisper, words meant only for her.

“I was never what you wanted, was I? This was just all some stupid game to you. I was just someone you could use to get off.” Her voice is laced with pain, a small crack coming out as she speaks.

He shakes his head, laughing slightly, and turns to look away from her. He walks a few steps before turning to face her again, “No. No, you were exactly what I wanted. You were everything to me. We were the same type of crazy.”

“I don’t understand Ethan, then what was the problem? This feels like a confession and a break up all in one.” She crosses her arms and leans against the wall, watching as he pulls a cigarette out from his pocket and lights it.

The familiar sight creates something warm in her chest, memories of summer nights like this flash through her mind. Spending the evening sitting on the balcony of different hotel rooms, sharing a cigarette between the two of them while they let the events of the day soak in. She’d give anything to go back to one of those moments. He blows a breath of smoke out and starts to speak again, “I don’t know, amore. I don’t. I want to tell you I love you, to hold you and call you mine. But I can’t.”

“Can’t, or won’t.” It’s not a question, but a statement.

“No, don’t do that. Don’t turn this into something it’s not. I want to, believe me, I do.” He steps towards her and reaches out his arms, “But we both know we can’t.”

She doesn’t know where the tears come from, but they’re there, pooling in her eyes. It’s only been a few months since they’ve met, there were no promises to be anything more than a summer adventure, but this doesn’t feel right. Her heart should not be breaking at the thought of losing someone she barely even knows.

He stops when he notices her state, reaching out to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks. “Merda. Merda! This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.”

She looks up at him through clouded eyes, “Then how was this supposed to go, Ethan? Breaking my heart wasn’t supposed to hurt me this bad? I was supposed to smile and tell you that I'm not madly in love with you and these past few months meant nothing to me?”

His heart breaks slowly at her words. He never meant for the night to go this way, and he wishes he could just pull her into his arms and tell her he loved her, that everything could be okay. But he can’t, so he pulls away from her, “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

They’re the only words he can manage to get out without breaking down. He takes a second to watch her, memorize all the features of her face, before turning around and walking away. It’s a sight that rips her heart out, watching his form disappear back into the house. She knows this is it, the goodbye she’d been preparing for these past few weeks, but it doesn’t hurt any less.

Before she can help herself, she’s calling after him. “Being in love isn’t a weakness, you know!” But the words fall upon deaf ears.

Vic finds her standing in the same spot an hour later. She’s got a smoke lit in her hand, the third one from the pack. She hasn’t touched her lips to any of them, but the smell and the feeling of holding it brings her comfort. She was never really one to smoke, but she found it entrancing to watch Ethan do it, and right now, it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. It’s silly, how something so small can mean so much.

Her heart aches in the most unbearable way, but she can’t bring herself to do anything about it. Vic doesn’t speak, just stands beside her. She doesn’t need to ask to know that she is well aware of the events that have just unfolded, she’s just grateful for the company.

September

It’s stupidly hot in London for the time of year, but mother nature loves her unexpected heat waves. She’s home now, having left Rome shortly after the fight with Ethan, assuring their manager that she would be able to edit and upload all of the photos and videos from the comfort of her own flat.

Vic and Thomas had driven her to the airport, had walked her all the way to security and hugged her tightly before letting her go. She’d promised to keep in touch and Victoria had made her pinky swear that if she was ever in Rome again, she’d come visit. The flight was short, and she was glad the time difference was only an hour.

Her sister had picked her up and dropped her off at her flat, and she’d immediately collapsed into bed. That was three days ago, she’d barely moved since. Someone had caught her at the airport and the photos were everywhere, articles upon articles had been released, she’d had non stop messages from everyone, but all she could bring herself to do was turn her phone off.

Her photos make it to the front of magazines, her articles getting featured all over the globe, she’s made a name for herself. She gets emails from prospective clients wanting to book her in at shows, her boss sending her information for more high end gigs, but all she can think about is her drummer boy.

Her phone still sits turned off on her desk, she refuses to turn it on for anything, resorting to using only her email, but she knows everything that’s going on with the band. She’d been asked to join them again in a few months, to become a permanent part of their team. She hasn’t been able to reply.

She gets panicky thinking about seeing him again, about the things people will say if she’s caught in the same country as him. She’s stopped receiving death threats, but there’s still comments that creep in, fans thanking whatever gods made them seperate.

Victoria tries to reach out every few days, worried about the state of person she’s become, but she can’t even manage to type out an I’m okay. The world seems to be too fast and too slow, too bright and too dark, too much and not enough. Her heart aches and it’s a pain so deep she thinks she’ll never be okay again. Love is a cruel, cruel creature.

October

She finally brings herself to go back to work at the beginning of the month. She books herself in for a small band, someone no one really knows but she hopes they will one day. She’s in Amsterdam now, trying hard not to think of the memories the place brings. The band is good, the music heavy and the beat strong. They find a way to tell a story that leaves everyone with a soul searching question by the end of the night. Do you know who you are?

She’s only with them for a few nights, a short gig, but something she needed to get the ball rolling, to remember why she was doing this in the first place. After submitting the photos and writing an article that sends another wave of offers her way, she takes a few days to explore the city. It was wonderful before, when the air was warm and it felt like there was magic enveloping the city. But now, with the change of seasons, it’s even more beautiful than she remembers.

She walks the empty streets one night, huddled in the safety of her hoodie, camera in hand, and captures moments. A couple standing under a street light, a cafe closing for the night, kids running. It’s not until she hears a laugh she’s all too familiar with that her heart stops and her blood turns cold. She turns, ever so carefully, hidden behind the side of a building, and sees him.

He’s beautiful, even more than she remembers, and he looks happy. He’s walking with two girls, the resemblance making her sure it’s his sisters, but in this light she can’t be sure. She’s never met them, but he talked about them often, and she felt a pang in her chest for the homesickness he must have felt.

She tries to run, tries her hardest to get away, but she’s in an alley that leads nowhere and he’ll for sure be able to see her no matter what. The voices of the three get closer and she starts to panic, but there’s nowhere to go and she knows she’ll have to pull on her big girl pants and face him. But her heart won’t stop beating so loudly and she’s afraid she’ll break if he looks at her.

She pretends to be busy with her camera, focusing all of her attention on settings she knows are perfect, but a voice carries it’s way to her ears. “Hey stranger.”

It’s soft and it makes her knees weak and she hates herself for it. She looks up at him and his expecting eyes and her heart breaks all over again. She can’t help it, but suddenly there are tears running down her face and she can’t breathe. “Hey, hey. It’s okay.”

He places a hand on her shoulder but she pushes it away, “No it’s not.” She says between breaths.

“I shouldn’t be here, I should not be here. I have to go.”

She turns to leave, but one of his sisters stops her, “Let us walk you home, please. My brother may be a dumbass, but we have good genes. Let us make sure you get back safe.”

She doesn’t know why the words calm her, but she nods her head and lets the girls lead her in the direction of her hotel. The twins, Eleanora and Lucrezia, talk to her in fits of italian and english, trying to keep her brain occupied. But her whole body is on high alert, too aware of the man trailing behind them and how much of a fool she must look like. She feels like a mess, like someone drowning in a foot of water, but she can’t help it.

They walk her into the lobby of her hotel, the girls wish her a goodnight before shoving Ethan towards her. She doesn’t want to talk to him, and he must see it in her eyes because he tries to leave. But his sisters won’t let him, they stand tall and he looks like a child being scolded by his parents.

“Can we sit?” He asks, pointing to a couch.

She doesn’t want to, she wants to run up to her room and cry, but she nods. They sit and it is silent. Her stomach is in her throat, her eyes hurt from trying not to cry, but she sits and she waits. She studies his face, the crease in between his eyebrows that only forms when he’s confused or thinking, she wants to reach over and smooth it out. He turns towards her and catches her staring, a small smile forming on his lips.

He takes her in, allowing himself to really look at her for the first time in months, and something in his heart breaks. How did he ever let her go? Why was he so stupid to ruin something so beautiful?

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. “I’m so sorry, amore. I know I can’t say it enough, I know it’s not as easy as that, but I’m sorry and I love you. So much it hurts.”

The words hit her like a truck, they knock the air out of her lungs and the tears she was trying so hard to keep at bay start falling down her cheeks. She stands up so fast she gets light headed, “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

She turns and starts walking towards the elevators. He calls after her, but she’s determined to leave, to get away. He runs after her, catching her right before the doors of the elevator close, and he wishes she didn’t look so broken. The doors slip close and she is gone and he feels like he could break something.

Her room is cold and she wishes she was home in her flat. She throws herself into the shower, the water burning her skin, and she sobs. She sobs so hard her body shakes, she screams and hopes no one can hear her.

He’s still standing by the elevator, crying now, too. His body aches in a way he’s never felt before and he hates that he isn’t holding her right now. He knows he messed up, he beats himself up for it everyday, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He can’t just say sorry and expect everything to be okay, but he has to do something.

November

The ground is covered in snow. It is peaceful and quiet. He’s not used to this, the cold and the snow, but he understands the appeal. He’s standing outside her flat, or at least what he hopes is her flat, Victoria wasn’t exactly sure which one was hers. He’s bought her favourite flowers and he’s prepared to pour his soul out to her.

He paces outside her door for what feels like hours, trying to get himself to knock, but before he can, she opens the door. “Ethan?”

Her voice is soft, his heart sings at the sound of it. He turns to face her and the sight before him takes his breath away. She’s wearing a dress that shows off everything he loved about her, a coat thrown over her arm, she looks like an angel on earth. “Do you have a moment?”

She’s running late for dinner with her sister, but she’s afraid if she says no to him, she’ll never see him again. She hasn’t forgotten that night in Amsterdam, wishes she would have been brave enough to stay and talk, but she can’t change the past. “Yes, yes. Come in.”

She lets him into her flat, taking the flowers he hands her, and brings him over to her couch. “So.”

The script he’d had prepared in his head is suddenly gone from his memories. “I’ve thought this through a thousand times, planned this out a million different ways, but I can’t figure out the right words to say. I’m sorry, amore mio. I can’t say that enough. I never should have left you, shouldn’t have let things happen the way they did. Loving you was easy, and I think that scared me.”

She takes a deep breath, not sure what to say. She feels tears bubbling in the back of her throat and she hates that this is her response to everything revolving around him. He notices the shift in her, can tell she’s about to cry, “Amore mio, please don’t cry. I’ll start and then neither of us will be able to do anything else.”

She laughs quietly at his words, “I don’t think there are any tears left inside of me. I cried them all for you.”

His heart breaks at her confession. He moves closer to her and wraps himself around her. She hates how easy it is for her to melt into his touch, but she enjoys the comfort of it. “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me. I’m yours amore.”

“Please, don’t leave me again.” The words are barely more than a whisper, but he hears them.

He pulls her tight to his chest and holds her. She doesn’t care about anything else but this moment and him.

She wakes up the next morning in her bed. The sun is streaming in through the windows and she can smell Ethans body wash laced in the fibres of her bed sheets. She rolls over, expecting to see him beside her, but is met with an empty bed. Her heart sinks, afraid that everything he’d said was too good to be true, that he’d left her, again. But the sounds coming from her kitchen prove her wrong.

She gets up, quickly changing out of the dress she was wearing the night before, and follows the sound of clinking dishes. She’s greeted by the sight of a shirtless Ethan, back turned to her, hunched over her stove. There’s the smell of coffee brewing and something soft playing from the radio. If she doesn’t think too hard, she can almost imagine this being a daily occurrence.

He turns around when he hears the floorboards creak, a smile on his face, “Buongiorno amore mio.”

“Buongiorno.”

He hands her a cup of coffee and plates the pancakes he’s made. She smiles at the domesticality of it all. He sits down beside her on the couch and they eat in silence, leaning against one another. Afterwards, she washes the dishes and he dries them. Neither one of them says anything until the sun is high in the sky and they are laying in bed together. “I love you.”

It is the first time she’s said it in such a permanent way, she recites it like it is a fact written in history books. He looks down at her, she’s curled up on his chest, a hazy look on her face. He reaches down to tuck her hair behind her ear and leans his head towards her, “Ti voglio bene.” He seals the statement with a soft kiss.

It’s light and barley there, she chases after his lips as he pulls away, and he chuckles in a way that sends butterflies into her stomach. She places herself on his lap, weaving her fingers into his hair as his tether to her waist. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

He stares at her, memorizing all of the features of her face. He loses himself in thoughts of days spent exactly like this, of a life he hopes isn’t just a dream. He flips them over carefully, laying her down on the bed. He hovers over her, arms on either side of her head, “I’m going to show you how much I love you.”

December

“Move in with me.”

It’s early in the morning and they’re sitting in bed sharing a pot of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. His arm is wrapped around her shoulders, she’s leaned into his side, and he whispers those words.

She hasn’t yet told him about the offer from the band's manager, to become their permanent photographer, but it seems like the perfect moment to. “Yes.”

“Really?”

She laughs at his shock, “I was offered to come and work for the band full time, I haven’t replied yet. But I want to take the job.”

A goofy grin makes its way onto his face, “Do it! Right now. Tell them yes, come and stay with us. Be my girlfriend?”

He’s rambling and he doesn’t care. She smiles at him, her heart bursting with love for the man. “Okay, yes! Absolutely!”

Christmas is celebrated in their apartment in Rome. The band is there, her sister flies out and his family comes too. It is a day filled with love and laughter. They eat a grand lunch that they spent the previous day cooking, his mom brings a homemade panettone. They exchange gifts in the evening, and it is everything she’d dreamed of.

On New Year's Eve they make a trip to the villa. They sing songs and drink expensive wine. Fireworks light up the sky brighter than the stars. They sit out on the porch and tell stories of things that seem so far away. He’s sitting beside her, hands intertwined. He tells her about all of the things he wants to do in the new year and she is mesmerized by the way he talks.

There will be a moment in time when the world stops spinning and everything goes quiet, and she thinks that if that were to happen now, it would be the perfect way to go. Surrounded by the people she now calls family and the person she loves most in the world.

Fireworks go off in the distance, someone shouts out a drunken happy new year! and as time flows from one year to the next, she realizes that this is all that will ever matter.

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3desiderium3 · 3 years

Text

For your love

chapter six - Spring day

[ series masterlist ]

previous chapter | next chapter

pairings : reader x damiano david

story summary : damiano and reader are in very loving relationship that sometimes almost too quickly becomes too toxic for anyone likings

chapter warning (s) : this is sad af i made myself sad once again , some strong language and violent behavior , mentions of alcoholism , suicide and depression

They say healing takes time .

For Y/N time felt cruel . It was cold and slow .

It felt like winter . Y/N hated winter . That cold cruel and monstrous time of the year always left deep cuts on her brain and her soul . Every year for her was separated in 2 parts .

One was surviving the winter and having to deal mentally with all the problems and abnormally painful experiences . Constantly drowning .

The other part was trying to swim out of that freezing lake of trauma before she suffocated .

She hated the winter cause that was the time Damiano and her met .

She was never going to erase that day from her head and she was never going to forget each individual pain she felt in that period .

The pain he caused .

She always felt so melancholic and dizzy in that time of the year . Lost . Alone . Fragile .

One and half month has passed since she left Damiano and that month felt exactly like winter.

' I miss you

Saying this only makes me miss all you more

Even though I'm looking at your photo

Time's so cruel , I hate us

It's all winter here , Even in August '

She didn't hear a word from him . From almost no one actually . She disconnected from the real world fully . Only keeping the contact with Thomas , her parents and Vic of course .

Ethan had a hard time figuring out on his own what was happening . But he remained silent .

He didn't wanted to pick up the bleeding wound .

Y/N spent that month in her room . Crying . Trying not to focus on the sharp pains in her chest each night as she would listen over and over again Damiano's voice messages and Måneskins songs . She restored all the deleted pictures . She stopped eating and drinking water . She was just smoking in her bed and sleeping next to an overfill ashtray . Her hair always greasy and tied up . Her eyelashes always soaked up in tears . She avoided human touch the best she could .

Thomas was trying so hard to get her out of that depressive state along with Victoria .

They failed each time . And every other .

So they stopped forcing what the couldn't get .

Måneskin wasn't having rehearsals yet . Well I mean they did sometimes . But without Damiano .. Not because they weren't in touch but because every time they schedule one he cancels it .

He never showed actually up . Always having some lame excuses behind him .

Y/N was constantly playing their shared memories in her head like a dusty retro movie .

It was all she was thinking about . Nothing else . Everything was black and non existing beside him .

Just him .

How is he ? Did he ate today ? Is he sleeping well ? Is he having fun without her ? Is he with someone else ?

She often found herself lost in thoughts filled with suspicion , such as was he ever cheating on her etc etc .

The more time she spent with Victoria the more she became obsessed with an idea that Damiano and her used to have thing .

Some of Damiano's stuff appearing in her apartment such as jewelry and clothes .

An idea of going through Victoria's messages with him was also on her mind all day .

Y/N was always one click away from sending him that ' Hey I miss you , how you've been ? ' message . But always deleting it and putting her phone away .

When she was not thinking of him she was dreaming him . She was dreaming of his apologizes . All the things she wanted him to say to her he only spoke in a dream .

' I miss you

How long do I have to wait

How many nights do I have to pass

To see you ? '

Every day passed so slow because every day was the same .

She would woke up , trying to memorize and analyze all the dreams she had about Damiano , cry because she misses him and his sweet praises , maybe eat something , go back to bed and cry , smoke and drink , vomit if she feels like it , shake from all that stress until her stomach aches , cry and sleep for the rest of the day and at the end she goes back to sleep while thinking of him and later on dreaming of him .

Very often she questioned if this was the best option . Was it a good thing that she just went ? Was it a good thing that she broke up ? Maybe she should've given him second chance .. Maybe she should've at least tell him she planned on leaving , or leave a not whatever .

But he gave up so easily ..

He gave up ...

He never bothered finding her or searching for her ..

' I try to exhale you

Like white smoke

I say that I'll erase you

But I can't let you go yet . '

Y/N felt confused and like her tongue was cut off . She craved for some answers and explanations feeling like she was left unfinished with her words .

Would her even consider responding to her call ?

It was easy for her to explain how she felt but it was hard to understand .

She felt like she had her lungs overfilled with air , like someone kept pouring hot gelatin water on her head , like her bones where heavy , she was exhausted , paranoid , lonely , scared ...

But healing takes time ..

Already two full months passed . Y/N felt like the winter inside of her slowly started to turn into spring .

She gathered some hope for her , she felt like she was able to bloom and breath again .

The final day came . The day she left the house . Well the day she left her room . She washed her hair , she dressed nicely and cleaned up her disgusting room .

Victoria was proud . She almost shaded tears of joy . Her friend started the healing process and she was there by her side .

Y/N went in town to buy some simple groceries .

The day was hot and sunny , people had smiles on their faces . She hasn't landed a thought on Damiano for the past 2 or more days .

She was almost done with shopping when she entered one larger store to buy one single thing she couldn't find anywhere .

And oh boy ... She had what to see ...

She saw him . For the first time she saw him . How didn't she manage to spot his car outside ? Why today ? ?

She felt overwhelmed . Lump in her throat as her clothes became tight on her . She tried pretending she didn't saw him .

But she did . And she memorized every detail from his head to toe .

He looked flawless . No sight of fatigue on his face , no sight of suffer or regret . No nothing . He looked fine . Like he hadn't spent a night without sleep or day without shower . He looked fresh , rested and glamorous .

It awoke rage in Y/N . She was so sure he was feeling at least a bit of the pain she felt . But she saw that he was wrong .

That one fucking ingredient she needed was in a row in front of him , there was no way that he didn't saw her ..

She kept walking , gaze straight ahead pretending she didn't spotted him . But with the edge of her eye she saw him looking at her and making his direction towards her .

Y/N panicked . She practically ran towards the cashier and out of the store felling like all the air she felt overfilling her lungs disappeared .

" Do you need a drive ? " That voice . That velvety sweet voice sent chills to her spine , she was mad . So god damn mad that he was fine doing just fine . Who knows ? Maybe he even moved one with someone else by his side .

' Is it you who changed?

Or is it me?

I hate even this moment that is passing by

I guess we are changed

Just like everyone you know '

" I gotta go to another store it is really close . " Y/N tried lying . " Oh no problem I can drop you off . " He sounded so normal and casual .

Like they where fucking acquaintances not ex lovers .

At this point she didn't felt like resisting . So she just simply went in his car praying that there indeed was some store near .

" How've you've been Y/N ? " " Good. " There was a certain moment of silence . " And you ? " "Just the casual you know . I went to see Ethan this morning and I stopped by to buy bear there is a game tonight . "

" It's here . Thanks for the drop out . "

Y/N said and almost ran out of the car slamming it hardly behind her.

She entered that store and pretended to search for something until she saw him leaving behind the block .

She sighed , tears running gently down her cheeks . She felt so ashamed and so betrayed . How dumb was she actually ? Thinking that he cared for her . ' If he wanted to call he would do it . If he wanted to see how I was he would do it . '

Somehow she dragged herself back to Victoria's . She didn't shared a word with her as she was making her way back to her bed .

Back to that cold room . The room that smelled like winter .

* meanwhile damiano's p.o.v *

Damiano was not doing well . He was sleeping in his stuff that still barely had any of Y/N's fragrance left . In 2 months since their break up nothing good happened to him . He moved back in in his and Y/N's house . Keeping it clean and in peace . He pretended as if they never broke up . He started talking to himself pretending like Y/N was listening . He had no one to yell at .

He slept on her side of the bed , ate on the same spot at the table she used to sit . Read her books on her chair in living room . Sleep in her t-shirts , walk around the house in socks and her hoodies . He cried every damn night . It was eating him alive .

How he let her slip through his fingers . How he made her run away .

When he wasn't sad he was mad . He was cursing her he was yelling and shouting in an empty room . Because he was simply broken and sad . Disappointed and unsatisfied . Mad at himself .

At first he was so determined to find her . There was not a person he asked where she lived , with who she was staying , did she changed her number . He searched for her everywhere . The other band members didn't wanted to tell him however . They knew but they pretended like they had no idea even if they where in touch with her every day . He was slowly losing hope for her .

Even in those toughest moments he tried not to come out as too soft or caring . He never dared to let anyone know how he truly felt . He always pretended like he was doing okay and like he was fine like he didn't care . He put extra effort in his personal looks so it appeared like he was glowing .

But it was eating him out alive every night .

Where is she , how is she , is she alive , is someone taking care of her and her needs ?

' Yeah, I hate you

You left me

But I never stopped thinking about you

Not even a day

Honestly, I miss you

But now I’ll erase you

Because it hurts less than to blame you '

He prayed he could just see her one more time .

And his prayers have been granted . He saw her . He finally did .

She seemed tinier than he remembered , dark circles under her eyes and her posture bended . He offered to give her ride just so he could see where she lives . He wanted to know if she was safe .

After she rejected him coldly he turned around the corner and waited in his car until she was back in his sight walking towards the very familiar path .

He was trying his best to remember how he knew this path .

And once he saw her entering Victoria's house he bit his tongue . He was gripping the wheel with such force his knuckles went white .

' So she was the one hiding you from me . '

Then it clicked inside of his brain .

Thomas knew , Victoria knew and Ethan knew .

They all knew where she was . And no one wanted to help him reach her . They made a fool our of him that day , letting him go in their house while knowing she wouldn't be there .. They made a fool out of him every day when they told him that they had no clue where she was .

He sat there and smoked at least 3 cigarettes before driving off to Thomas's place .

He was going to make a scene .

Måneskin gathered at Thomas's house for the game night .

Damiano silently went in . Prepared for the cold war . Three of them sat on a couch in living room across the huge TV , laughing . " Ay man did you bought the bear ? " Thomas asked still smiling .

Damiano huffed . He was so annoyed , he walked closer to Thomas almost towering him .

" I will fucking kill you . " Those words where followed by Damiano slapping his friend and Victoria letting out loud scream . Ethan gasped and tried separating them .

These two where on the floor wrestling with each others hands around their necks .

" Daminao stop what is wrong with you for fucks sake ! " Victoria yelled . Once they separated , she was rubbing Thomas's back , the golden boy was all red in his face and his eyes teary .

" YOU FUCKING KNEW ! ! ! ALL OF YOU FUCKING KNEW ! " The other members watched their friend in shock as he was exploding from rage . This type of behavior he didn't surfaced in months .

" ALL OF YOU ! FUCKING KNEW ! WHERE SHE WAS , HOW SHE'S BEEN AND YOU HELPED HER GET AWAY FROM ME ! ! ! "

Not only Damiano was shouting but he was also crying .

He was crying and sobbing with his lips visibly shaking , his hands in his hair . This was the first time he cried in front of them in 2 months .

" I WAS THE WORST ! I STILL AM ! SHE DESERVED BETTER ! BUT NONE OF YOU WANTED TO TELL ME IF SHE IS EVEN ALIVE ! "

" Dami - " " SHUT UP ! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS IS ! "

He was breathing very hard now . Not only his lips but his whole body was shaking now . " I need her .. I need Y/N ... I will rather die than not be in her arms again .. I - I want her back .. "

The only sound in the room was the background TV sound . Thomas , Victoria and Ethan watching Damiano cry in front of them and scream his pain out . They felt guilty .

" I need to call her .. "

A/N i used BTS song spring day in few references . Hope you like it and leave a heart on if you do <33

taglist : @ella-nordstrm3 , @urskaa , @lovelysaltyland , @littleachaos , @whoreforhenrycavill , @13journals , @onceuponparrilla , @21nell , @davedace101 , @vainbimbo , @aliyeaz , @vandafabryova , @miriampraez , @foggyhottubcandy , @daringovangel , @inr89 , @fanfictioncafe , @mrsllshhb , @ over-themoon , @theclavvofaraven , @annika0-o , @thxtsclxssified , @goddessofthem0on , @ellabeth , @vandafabryova , @olivera-gajic

#damiano david #ethan torchio #eurovision italy #fanfic #relationship #thomas raggi #damiano maneskin #eurosong #eurovision #maneskin #victoria de an #victoria de angelis #love #breakup

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 4 years

Text

Hero Complex | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested by anonymous: Hi!! Can you do one where the reader is Jeremys little sister and she comes to set and hits it off with Owen and they start to hang out a lot and Jeremy gets really protective of her

A/N: I hope this is what you were looking for!

Pairing: Owen Patrick Joyner x Little Shada!Reader, Jeremy Shada x Little Sister!Reader

Warnings: fluff, big fight, anxiety

Words: 7,084

Reader’s POV

Jeremy and I have been the best of friends ever since the day I was born. He might be my older brother, but I’ve always considered him more like my best friend. We used to play games together when we were younger where I’d pretend to be a princess and he was the knight protecting my castle from dragons and dangerous monsters. Or, when we were in a swimming pool, I’d pretend to be a mermaid and he was my dolphin. We played so many pretend games, I’d lost track of most of them. When we got older and made a lot of new friends, we still tried to take at least one night in the week where we’d spend time together, whether it was watching movies together or jamming or just chatting about absolute nonsense or going out together. I even got to be his best (wo)man when he married Carolynn about a month ago, and we’ve been calling each other non-stop since he started this new project of his with Netflix called Julie and The Phantoms. I helped him prepare for his audition and was equally as excited as he was when he got it. This role was written for him. Though, when bootcamp and filming started, it did mean I’d have to miss him for a very long time since he was all the way in Vancouver for months on end. So, now I’ve come up with the idea to go and visit him and Carolynn in Canada. I’d called Carolynn to help me out and surprise him. She picked me up from the airport just a few minutes ago, and as we’re catching up in the car, I can’t help but feel giddy at seeing my brother again. It feels ages since I’ve last seen him at his wedding. That’s also when I saw the rest of the cast last. Jeremy had introduced me to the ones that were at the party, and I loved hanging out with them. It felt like being introduced to one big family that quickly became part of my own family. That was one fun night, but that’s all it was. One night of spending time with all these people and then never hearing or seeing them again. To be fair, they were all really busy with rehearsals and filming and everything. “Are you ready?” Carolynn asks when we’re at the door of their Vancouver apartment. “Yes!” I reply in a hushed voice, just to make sure Jeremy doesn’t hear me. Carolynn unlocks the door and walks in first, I follow suit. My eyes dart around quickly to take in as much as possible before the two of us turn a corner to the living room here Jeremy’s on the couch, watching something on the tv. “What’re you watching, bro?” His head snaps up at the sound of my voice, his eyes widening as he takes in my presence. “No way!” he exclaims as he gets up quickly and rushes over to me, taking me in his arms in a bone-crushing hug. “I can’t believe you’re here!” he mumbles in my ear as he twirls me around. “I wanted to surprise you,” I tell him as he puts me down again, taking my hands in his instead. “I don’t go back to college until like next week, so I figured, why not?” I’m overexplaining again, I know it. Jeremy doesn’t care how I’m here, he just cares that I’m here. “You wanna come to Set with me today?” he asks with this sparkle in his eyes he only gets when he’s really excited about something. “I’m sure the others would love to see you again!” I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips as I think about how much fun they all were at the wedding. There’s no denying that I’d love to see them again too. So, I nod my head eagerly, earning an excited squeal from the boy in front of me. “The driver will be here in half an hour, you need some time to freshen up after your flight?” “Yes, please!” Carolynn guides me to the bathroom where she puts out a pair of towels for me. I shoot her a thankful smile and when she’s out of the bathroom, I get into the shower. Once I’m all dressed and ready to go, the driver is already in front of the building. “Hey, Darren,” Jeremy greets as he gets in. “My little sister’s coming with me today.” He buckles himself into the seat as I do the same. “Hi, I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” I say to the driver. He gives me a kind smile through the rearview mirror, letting out a small ‘hi’. He must not be very talkative. “What scenes are you filming today?” I ask my brother instead whilst the driver heads down to the next stop. “I think there’s a gig scene we’re filming today,” he answers, and the car comes to a standstill. “We’ve got about ten more minutes before Charlie and Owen head down. You want some coffee?” My eyes bulge out of their sockets at the thought of caffeine alone. I’ve been up for so long, I could use a good shot of wakeup-juice. “Guess that’s a yes. Let’s go!” he lets out a chuckle before getting out of the car with me in tow. “Do I need to remember anything I can or can’t do on set?” I ask the only thought that’s been haunting my mind since coming up with this idea. I knew he was going to have to work, and I also knew he would want to bring me to set. As a newbie to this entire world of filming a show, I worried I would be in the way or say the wrong things or break something. I knew I needed some pointers from my best friend to calm me down. “Just try not to trip over anything, Clumsy,” he simply answers before turning to the barista. This coffee shop seems really quiet at this time of the day, there are no customers at the counter. Just a few at the tables, most of them with their laptops open. “A large coffee with two extra espresso shots, and a medium black coffee to go, please,” he tells the man behind the counter. “Can I get your names, please?” he asks with the pen in hand. “You can write Shada on both of them,” Jeremy answers. The man nods his head curtly before scribbling down the name on both cups. He pays the barista and then moves to the end of the counter, pulling me along. “Filming with Kenny Ortega is really chill, Lil’ One, no need to worry,” he reassures me, taking me into a side-way hug, planting a kiss to my hair. “I’m just really nervous to be on a set, does that sound ridiculous?” I ask, twisting the bracelet around my wrist. It’s the one I got from Jeremy and Carolynn for Christmas last year. “No, I think that’s pretty normal. I ought to bring you to set more often, get you used to it all.” “Yeah,” I agree in a hushed voice, going over every possible situation that could go wrong. My train of thought is interrupted by the barista calling out our last name, sliding the two cups over at us. I grab the large cup whilst Jeremy takes his, and exit the joint to head back to the car. “Oh, seems like we’re right on time,” he points out, waving at two boys near the car. The brunette I know as Charlie, waves back before hopping into the front seat next to Darren. The blonde guy, better known as Owen, doesn’t get in yet, and instead waits for us to reach the car. He holds the door open for me, letting me get in first before hopping in himself. Jeremy jogs to the other side, getting in there. Now I’m squeezed between the two boys, clutching my coffee as if my life depends on it. “It’s good to see you again, lil’ Shada,” Charlie says, turning to face us. I giggle at the nickname. They’d called me that at the wedding. The entire night. “Surprising your big brother?” I nod my head in response. “Yeah, I didn’t have anything better to do, so… Came to annoy my brother and his buddies at work.” This makes all three boys laugh, which, not going to lie, makes me feel ten times more at ease. I thought seeing the boys again would be awkward. It’s anything but that. They make me feel so relaxed, and as though I’m a part of their group. Once we’re at the set, Jeremy introduces me to most of the crew and the rest of the cast, but especially Kenny Ortega. “Oh, look at that! Lil’ Shada’s here!” he says, opening his arms for a hug, which I gladly give him. I did meet him at the wedding, but it was so brief, I didn't think he’d remember me. “Hi, Kenny!” I greet excitedly and then let go of him. “You don’t mind if I hang around the set the next couple of days, right?” He inspects me from head to toe, eyebrows raised, and I can’t help the anxiety that’s welling up inside of me. I knew I shouldn’t have come over, I knew this was a bad idea. Kenny doesn’t want me here. I’m just going to be in the way of his mastermind working its magic on this show. I’m going to be a distraction for the actors, especially Jeremy. “Of course I don’t mind, Lil’ Shada! Jeremy's family is my family!” The pressures and intrusive thoughts wash away immediately. Those are the words I needed to hear. I sometimes think I need too much affirmation and confirmation, that other people get annoyed. My therapist told me that’s just my anxious brain speaking. He said if I want confirmation, I need to ask for it. Jeremy has been a great sport in my mental health journey from the very beginning. He took me to my sessions, did the exercises my therapist gave me with me. He’s always making sure I’m okay and gives me the confirmation I need whenever he feels I need it. Which is always at the right moment. “See, Lil’ One? Told you it would be okay!” I shoot both the men a thankful and relieved smile. Kenny places a hand on my shoulder as he passes me, leaving Jeremy and me all by ourselves. “You wanna go to makeup and wardrobe with me?” he asks, to which I nod. He then grabs my hand and leads me to the destined trailer. The second I step inside, I hear an ear-piercing screech coming from one of the chairs, and before I know it, I’m engulfed in a group hug by two pairs of arms. The sweet floral scent entering my nose tells me who it is without having to look at them. Savannah Lee May and Victoria Caro. “Hi, girlies,” I giggle, hugging them back equally as tight. The two let go of me, keeping me at arms length to inspect my entire being. Their make-up is only half done, Savannah’s hair is curled to perfection whilst Tori’s is put up in curlers. “I can’t believe you’re here, Lil’ Shada!” Savannah says, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. “We were just talking about you last night,” she points at Tori, who nods vigorously. “Yeah! We were wondering when we’d see you again because we missed you after your brother’s wedding!” the smaller girl explains. My heart melts at the idea of these two girls caring so much about me, they’re wondering when they’d see me again. “Aw, you guys! I missed you too!” I pout, trying my hardest not to start crying from happiness. “Hey! What about us?!” Owen’s voice sounds from the back of the trailer. I turn around to find him in the last chair, getting his hair done. “I missed you too, Owen, but I already saw you earlier!” I tell him whilst making my way to Madison and Jadah in the other chairs. I hug them each from behind, making sure not to ruin their neatly-done hair. “Yeah! But you didn’t say you missed us!” he exclaims. His bottom lip sticks out in a pout. Shaking my head, I make my way towards him and place my hands on his shoulders as I stand behind him. “I thought that was a given,” I whisper in his ear and then turn again to find Sacha and my brother near the doorway. The latter is looking at me with happiness emanating from his eyes. “Hey, Sacha!” I offer the boy a wave, which he returns with a smile. A busy-looking woman squeezes past me towards Owen, so I take a step back to give her more room. I watch her as she plays around with his hair, using spritzes of hairspray to keep it in place. I always loved doing other people’s hair when I was younger. I braided all of my cousins’ hair or used curlers on them whilst playing ‘hair-dresser’. My love for hairdressing went out the door as I got older and more anxious, but seeing this woman play around with Owen’s hair so determinedly, it reawakens the desire and enthusiasm. “This is Teresa,” Owen says when he catches me staring at his head and Teresa’s fingers. “She’s a magician when it comes to hair.” Teresa shoots me a kind smile through the mirror, which I nervously return. They caught me staring, that must’ve been a weird -- and kind of creepy, let’s be honest -- sight. “Y/N used to dream about becoming a hairdresser,” Jeremy informs them when he’s taken a seat in one of the chairs too. As both Teresa and Owen look at me with surprise in their eyes, I feel the heat rising to my cheeks. “You wanna give it a try?” Teresa asks, stepping aside from Owen. I open my mouth in pure horror, not knowing what to tell her. There’s no way I could ever do what Teresa’s doing. What if I mess it up entirely? What if I ruin all the work Teresa has put into his hair? What if I ruin Owen’s hair? “There’s not much you can do wrong with Owen’s hair. It pretty much just does what you ask,” Teresa tries to reassure me after probably seeing the absolute horror in my face. I glance at Owen in the mirror. He gives me an encouraging nod. “Okay…” I mumble and step up to his chair. “How do you need his hair?” I ask Teresa. Owen’s character Alex probably has a specific way to how he wears his hair. He’s a ghost from the 90’s, I’m sure it’s a little different from his usual hairstyle. “Leonardo DiCaprio from Titanic,” Teresa simply replies, which is enough for me to know. I nervously raise my fingers to Owen’s head, suddenly anxious about the fact that I’m going to be touching this attractive man’s hair. My eyes dart over to his reflection in the mirror, our eyes locking. He licks his lips before they curl up into a smile that gives me enough encouragement to just go for it. I play around with it a little and grab a comb to guide me before asking the hairspray. Teresa hands me the bottle and I spritz some more of the product onto his blonde locks. Though Teresa has already done the works, pretty much, I’m just left with the finishing touches. It takes me about five minutes to get it in perfect shape. “You can tell you’ve had years of practice,” Teresa says, impressed at my work. “I mean, you pretty much did the gist, I just… finished it…” I trail off shyly. I avert my eyes from Teresa to Owen, who’s checking himself out in the mirror. “No offense, T,” he starts, turning to Teresa, “But I think someone’s coming for your job.” I’m frozen to the floor from the compliments that I don’t even move when Owen gets up from his chair and turns around. Suddenly, he’s mere inches away from me and all I can do is crane my neck to look up at him. A vibe I never felt around him when I first met him surrounds us now, resting down on us like a blanket. I don’t know why this is happening or how, but all I can see for a good minute is Owen and his tender smile. Until he places his hands on my waist, picks me up, and puts me down again a feet further. “I gotta go,” he says with a smile, “See you around, Lil’ Shada.” He boops my nose. The sudden movement startles me a little. I watch him walk out of the trailer before I come back from my daze and find everyone else in the trailer looking at me. “What?!” I ask, confused at why I’m being stared at. “What was that about?” Jadah asks, chuckling as she turns to face me. “What was what?” I ask again, seriously unaware what had just happened. “You, pretty much drowning in Owen’s eyes,” Madison reminds me. The thought of Owen’s eyes looking into mine just minutes ago warms me up from the inside out. Especially the nose-boop. “What?! No, I wasn’t,” I deny, but I don’t think I can hide it from either of these people. Thank God Jeremy had left before Owen. He would not have liked that. Jeremy is an amazing brother, but he can get a little overprotective when it comes to love-interests. “I’m gonna go…” I cough awkwardly, trying to come up with a good excuse, “Find my brother…” That feeling I had in that trailer doesn’t subside for the rest of the day. Sometimes I think it does, and then Owen looks my way or sends me a wink from the other side of the room and I’m back to feeling absolutely and utterly mushy. “Hey, you wanna go get lunch with us, Lil’ One?” Jeremy asks around noon when they’re done filming the scene. I take a look behind him, Owen and Charlie standing there, awaiting my answer. I lock eyes with Owen again, and he offers me a beautiful smile that persuades me. “Yeah, sure,” I reply and link my arm with Jeremy’s. The two other boys fall into step with us, Owen on my left, Charlie on Jeremy’s right. “Where are the others?” I ask. Not that I don’t like the idea of having lunch with these three boys. I just really like hanging out with the others too. “They had to start filming another scene, they had lunch earlier,” Jeremy informs me as we enter the restaurant on the other side of the street from the lot. Owen takes a seat next to me while Jeremy and Charlie sit down on the opposite side of the table. “So, Lil’ Shada,” Charlie starts after we’ve ordered our food and drinks. “I heard you did Owen’s hair this morning…” I am taken aback by his subject of choice, especially since he makes it sound so teasing. My eyes dart from my brother to Charlie and back, unsure of what to say. Owen jumps to the rescue then, feeling me tense up beside him. “Yeah, she did a wonderful job! Her fingers are kinda like magic.” I look up at him, earning a smile from him in return. “Yeah, well, what can I say? It’s a talent,” I flip my hair over my shoulder confidently, though in my mind I’m wondering where all this confidence comes from. Even Jeremy is a little surprised by it whilst the other boys just laugh. “Maybe you should ask Kenny to start next week,” Charlie suggests with an excited grin. “Yeah! Then you could stay with us longer!” Owen’s enthusiasm dazzles me even more so than the words that come out of his mouth. He wants me to stay longer… “I still have to get through college, you guys. I can’t just quit?” I’m catapulted back into reality as those words roll off my mouth. “Do you know how much college costs?!” Owen and Charlie share a glance, wondering if either one of them knows. “I’m an actor, Lil’ Shada, so no…” Owen whispers in my ear without breaking eye contact with his buddy on the other side of the table. I let out a laugh, shaking my head in amusement. “How long are you staying?” Charlie then asks, his eyes flickering from me to Owen and back. “A week. I start college again next Monday,” I reply when the waitress finally brings us our food. “Thank you,” I say to her with a smile, the others doing the same. “So, you’re just gonna stay a week?” Owen queries before taking a bite from his lunch. “Yep… Going home on Sunday,” I answer. The disappointment in his face is prominent. “But I might come back soon if Jeremy will let me.” My eyes dart over to my brother, who hasn’t said much since we sat down. “Can’t really say no to Lil’ Shada, can I?” My lips curl up in thankfulness. “Besides, I think the rest of the cast would hate my ass if I took you away from them.” His eyes flick towards Owen for a split second. He has caught on to the vibe Owen and I have been giving off towards each other. Maybe it’s not just in my mind. “That’s very true,” Owen agrees, his mouth full of food. I turn my head to look at him, eyebrows raised at his immature way of eating his food. My eyes then fall on his chin, which has a little dressing seeping down it. I raise my hand and swipe my finger across his skin, taking the sauce away. He freezes at that moment, halting mid-chew. “Dressing,” I show him before licking it off my thumb. He swallows harshly and when I look back at the boys on the other side of the table, they’re staring at me too with wide eyes. “Someone ought to get this dude a bib,” I joke, trying to take the tension away. Charlie lets out a laugh, nodding his head agreeingly before turning back to his food. My brother, however, just raises his eyebrows at me. He doesn’t love the idea of his little sister being intimate with anyone. Especially not one of his best buddies. I can’t help it though. I’m a twenty-one year old woman, I have feelings. I have hormones. Jeremy’s overprotectiveness isn’t going to take away the fun from this week. I’m not going to let it.

And I don’t. I spend the entire week on set, either hanging out with some of the girls or with my brother and the other boys. Teresa lets me help out in the mornings with the cast’s hair, teaching me some new tips and tricks. If anything, it just brings me closer to the cast, which is a nice bonus. Mainly because it also brings me closer to Owen. The connection we created during my time in Vancouver has only grown from that first day. Whenever Jeremy’s not around or he can’t hear it, the two of us harmlessly flirt with one another and, whenever he doesn’t have a scene to shoot, we hang out together. One day, he took me to Julie’s bedroom set where we sat on her bed and talked until we fell asleep huddled up into a cuddle. Jeremy wasn’t happy when he found us like that. Even though I did tell him it was just an innocent nap. He didn’t take it. My brother’s disapproval didn’t stop us though. We just kept going to that set to take a nap together. It has become my favorite part of the day. “Hey,” he captures my attention. We’re cuddled up on Julie’s bed, legs entangled. My head’s resting on his chest, one arm slung over his stomach whilst the other is squished between our bodies. He has his left arm draped around my shoulder, his fingers trailing up and down my arm. “What?” I ask, looking up at him. He’s staring at the decorative lights above us. “Do you really have to leave tomorrow?” His voice sounds so soft, I’d almost believe he’s sad. “I mean… Yeah… I don’t think I can miss my first classes of the semester,” I whisper as though it’s a secret. My fingers start drawing patterns on his chest and abdomen as my eyes focus on them instead of his face. I’m too scared I might kiss him if I keep looking at him. “Can’t you follow them online? Or just… I don’t know…” he exhales deeply, my head bobbing along. “I just don’t want you to leave yet.” I want to reply, but people bursting in the room cut me off. I scramble upright, terrified it might be Jeremy. Instead, Owen and I are tackled by Charlie, Savannah and Madison. “Group cuddle!” they scream, making me and Owen giggle. I go back to my previous position while Charlie comes to rest his head on my thigh, his arms around my waist, the rest of his body curled up between Owen and me. Savannah takes Owen’s other side, mirroring my position while Madi rests her head on his stomach. “What were you guys chatting about so intimately?” Savannah asks, followed by a yawn. “Me leaving,” I sigh joylessly. I feel Charlie’s arms tighten around me and Owen tense beneath me. Savannah’s eyes lock with mine, a pout forming on her face. “I don’t want you to leave. It’s been way too fun with you around,” she whispers. “I agree,” Charlie mutters. “Ditto,” says Madison, making me smile widely. Even more so when Owen presses a kiss to my hair. This is where I want to be for the rest of my life. Not on some stupid campus studying for a job I don’t even want to do. I need more time with these people. And I’m going to get it. It’s about time I did something for myself instead of constantly doing shit for others.

“Can I talk to you guys for a moment?” I ask Carolynn and Jeremy at the dinner table. Jeremy halts, his fork lifted mid-air, while Carolynn simply places her cutlery down, giving me her undivided attention. I inhale deeply, trying to gather all of my courage. “I was wondering if I could stay here a little longer? I haven’t talked to mom and dad yet, but I wanna do an independent study this year while interning with Teresa.” Jeremy drops his fork on his plate, a loud clatter echoing through the place. “She asked if that would be something I’m interested in, and to be quite frank, I am. Helping around this week really reminded me of how much I loved doing it.” I glance at Jeremy, noticing how tense and frustrated he’s becoming with every word I say. “Being a doctor was never my dream, Jer. It was mom’s. I think I need to do this. I need to do more things for myself instead of wanting to please others.” “I agree, sweetie,” Carolynn chimes in, offering me a supportive smile before the two of us turn back to the man of the house. He has his lips pursed, clearly mulling this over in his head. “This is about Owen, isn’t it?” he finally asks. The mention of the boy I had grown so attached to startles me at first, I didn’t expect him to be brought up in this conversation since it has nothing to do with him. “He put you up to this?” I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. I have no clue what to tell him. On one hand, I do want more time with him and Charlie and all the other cast members. I want more time with my brother. But I can’t hide that it’s mostly Owen that’s drawing me here. Spending time with him made me feel so much more connected to myself, in some way. He calms my anxiety. He makes me feel happy. Genuinely happy. “Of course he didn’t, Jer. Why would he do that?” I finally manage to bring out. “Because you’re clearly in love with him, Y/N!” The loudness of his voice and harshness of his tone makes me flinch. “But he’s not right for you! He’s distracting you from your goals, making you think this is what you want! You don’t know what love feels like but you think you do! You and Owen can’t happen, and you can’t stay here. You have to go back home!” The anger and frustration builds inside of me, and pours out in the form of tears. “You don’t have a say in this, Jer! I am twenty-one, I’m not a child anymore! I can decide what I want to do with my life and I can decide who I love!” I’m surprised by the words that flow out of my mouth. “I get that you wanna be the protective brother, Jeremy, but this is going too far. You have to let me make my own mistakes! You have to let me live my life the way I want it to!” He angrily shoves his chair back when he stands up in frustration, making Carolynn flinch. “You’re still a child, Y/N!” he shouts at me. I stand up too, leaning my hands on the tabletop. “I’m not even a year younger than you, Jer! If I’m a child, so are you!” I yell back. “At least I’m married and have a family!” he aggressively points at Carolynn, who’s rubbing her face in desperation. My eyes flicker from my sister-in-law back to my brother. “I would be in a relationship if you didn’t scare off every person I ever brought home!” “I didn’t want you getting hurt, but did I ever get a thank you for that?!” I scoff at him. He’s not playing the petty card right now. “That’s just life, Jer! People get hurt! People break your heart! But you never even let me experience that pain because you’re too obsessed with being the good brother!” My heart is pounding out of my chest. Jeremy and I have never fought like this. Sure, we used to bicker when we were teenagers, but it’s always been something stupid. This screaming match sounds like years of bundled up distress from both of us. “You have a hero complex, Jer…” I lower the volume of my own voice. Jeremy lets his head drop, knowing all too well I’m right. About everything. About the hero complex, about him meddling in my life. Everything. “I think it’s better if you go to your room for a while, Y/N,” Carolynn orders sweetly. The pent-up anger still hasn’t gone completely, it makes me want to lash out at Carolynn too. “Still not a child,” I mutter instead before grabbing my bag and leaving the apartment. Once the cold Vancouver air hits me, the realization of what just happened does too. The tears escape again, along with anger and regret. I don’t regret what I said to my brother. It’s the truth. It’s exactly what I’ve been thinking for years. What I do regret is telling him all of that in a burst of anger instead of a civilized conversation like we used to back in the day. That’s the only thing I really do regret. After a while of roaming the streets of Vancouver and getting riled up about the whole situation again, I find myself aggressively knocking at Charlie and Owen’s door. I don’t know where else to go and Owen’s the only one who could calm me down from the anger and frustration I’m still holding inside for my brother. I still can’t believe he even dared to say that to me. “Lil’ Shada!” Charlie greets excitedly, but his smile quickly disappears upon seeing my state of being. Jaw clenched, balled fists, tears running down my face. “Hey, Gorgeous, are you okay?” Owen appears in the door too after hearing Charlie utter my nickname. Upon seeing the boy, I race into the apartment, grab his face and bring him down to meet his lips. He’s startled at the force and aggression I’m putting into this kiss, but that soon dissolves when he kisses back. His hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer and closer until I can’t do anything else but wrap my legs around his waist. He holds me tight, scared he might drop me while my fingers find their way into his hair. I pull back from his lips, but keep my forehead pressed to his. Both of us are panting from the intensity. I can tell from that sparkle in his eyes he has no clue what happened, but he wanted it to happen for a while. “I’m gonna stay,” I tell him in a whisper, which only makes the sparkle in his eyes more earnest. Without another doubt, he crashes his lips on mine again. This time, he takes it a little slower, making it more sensational without depriving it from the sizzle from before. I try to forget about the fight I’d just had with Jeremy and focus solely on Owen, but my brain counteracts. His words are on repeat in my mind like syncopated beats. This time Owen pulls back when he no doubtedly tastes the saltiness of my tears mixing in with the passion. He looks at me, the sparkle in his eyes making room for worry. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he whispers, putting me down on my feet again but keeping his arms around me and my body close. “I’m sorry, I just…” I inhale sharply, “I had a major fight with Jeremy and I just can’t shake it. I have never seen him like this…” Owen snakes his arms around my shoulders, pushing him closer into his chest. He lets me cry for a while, holding me in his arms until I’ve calmed down a little. He takes me to the couch where Charlie’s sitting too. I hadn’t even noticed him still in the room, let alone that he moved. “Talk to me, Gorgeous,” Owen whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. He’d stopped calling me “Lil’ Shada” a while ago, which makes me feel like I’m more than just Jer’s little sister. Savannah told me it was what he did to anyone he liked. Those little details are his way of showing his appreciation or love to someone. I like the small details in Owen’s love language. “I wanted to ask him and Care if I could stay at their place a little while longer, and I told him about the independent study and internship I wanted to do while here. For some reason, he thought I was doing all of this for you, that you put me up to this.” Owen inhales sharply at this. I can tell he hates being part of a fight between two people that mean a lot to him. “I told him it had nothing to do with you, but he didn’t believe me. He was shouting and screaming that I was still a child and that I couldn’t make my own decisions. I told him he had a hero complex,” I scoff at myself. This whole fight sounds even more ridiculous now. “Told him that he wants to be the good brother and that he has this idea of being a good brother that doesn’t let his little sister live… or love.” Owen’s eyes flick at mine, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I shouldn’t have shouted at him though… This was all just pent-up anger and frustration from the past twenty-one years. I should’ve just told him to back off like an adult instead of yelling at him like a child.” I glance at Charlie, who had been listening to the entire conversation. His eyes look somber, almost heartbroken. These two boys are just too good for this world. I can’t imagine a life without them anymore. “We both acted like children,” I mutter, shaking my head. There’s rap on the door, shaking all three of us awake from the somber cloud we’re all on because of me. We exchange glances, knowing exactly who’s at the door. Charlie goes first, Owen and me following suit. The anxiety welling up inside of me must be visible to him because he takes my hand, intertwining our fingers as we stand a little behind Charlie as he opens the door. “Hey, Char… Is Y/N here?” I hear my brother ask. The Canadian boy opens the door a little further, presenting Owen and I. Jeremy had been crying too, I can tell. His eyes are red and puffy, his lips swollen from biting on them in distress. “I’m so sorry, Lil’ One,” he mutters from the door. That’s enough for me to let go of Owen and launch myself into my brother’s arms. He’s stunned at first, but then wraps his arms around me too. “I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes, but you have to know it’s only because I love you,” he whispers in my ear, followed by a sniffle. “You’re an adult, just like me, and it’s time I treat you like one.” I push him back slightly but keep my hands on his shoulders. “It’s about time you figured that out.” He lets out a chuckle, dropping his head in defeat. “Hey,” he looks back up. “Thanks for looking out for me. I know you mean well.” “We’re family, Lil’ One, we’re supposed to look out for one another,” he looks past me at the two other boys, “We’re all family.” Charlie and Owen walk up to us, the latter scratching the back of his head with a pained expression on his face. “Yeah, can we not call it a family? Because otherwise, I’m in love with a family member.” He places his hands on my shoulders and presses a kiss to my hair. I meet his eyes whilst my heart beats faster. He’s in love with me. A boy I’m in love with is in love with me too. I mean, of course he is, he wouldn’t have kissed me like that. Jeremy glances from me to Owen and back, trying to decide what to think about this entire situation. I can tell it’s hard for him to let this idea of his little sister go, but he’s trying. “Be careful with her, alright? You might be my best friend, but I will not hesitate to kill you,” Jeremy’s pointing at Owen, a harsh look on his face. “Bro, I could never hurt her,” he reassures my older brother, and me at the same time. “You better keep that promise, Joyner!” That night, Jeremy calls Carolynn over too, and the five of us sit on the couch all night, talking and watching movies. I love being in Owen’s arms so much. Though we used to cuddle and be flirty with each other before, it really does give a whole different vibe knowing I could just turn my head and kiss him now. My parents allow me to stay in Vancouver and go through with my plan, much to all of our relief. Days on set are amazing. I help Teresa and the other hairstylists every morning and during all the scenes when they need touch ups, spend every night at Owen’s and Charlie’s place, and have the most fun I ever had in my life with all these people around here. “Cuddle session?” Owen whispers in my ear when we’re rounding up the scene. His sudden hands on my shoulders and lips against my ear makes me jump at first, but I calm down just as quickly. “Baby, I’m working,” I giggle, clearing all the hair products from the table, knowing he’ll convince me within five seconds. Teresa really is a very loose mentor and wouldn’t mind if I escaped now. “But you’re almost finished though? And Teresa is here to take over from you?” he tries, which makes me look up at him, and then at Teresa. The woman I call my Canadian mother winks at me, letting me know I’m good to go. I turn around in Owen’s arms, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You are so lucky Teresa’s this awesome,” I tell him and peck his lips quickly. “Thank you, T.” I grab Owen’s hand and guide him to the bedroom set we’d used so many times for cuddles, whether that be alone or with the others. The second we’re in the room, Owen tugs at my arm, making me stumble into him with a squeal. Before I can ask what he’s doing, he cups my face with his warm hands and brings me in for a passionate kiss. He pushes me backwards when I kiss back, right until I feel the bed push into the back of my knees. I crawl backwards, Owen following suit as he’s still attached to my lips. He pulls back for a moment, looking me in the eyes with those tender eyes of his. He’s holding up his weight by placing a hand next to my head, using the other to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I love you,” he whispers, causing the corners of my mouth to curl up into a smile automatically. “I love you too,” I whisper back and diminish the space between our lips by pulling him down by the back of his neck. My fingers tangle up into the blonde hair I styled this morning. Doing his hair might just be my favorite part of the day, along with this. “Group cuddle!” Our intimate moment is disturbed by a mop of our friends attacking us on the bed. With a groan, Owen drops next to me, the others piling onto us. That lunch break, all of us take a collective nap on Julie’s bed, some on stomachs, on chests, shoulders, thighs. All our limbs are tangled up together, no bystander would be able to tell which limb belongs to who. To say my new job is the best ever would be an understatement.

Taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg @thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @caitsymichelle13 @thedarkqueenofavalon

Lemme know if you wanna be on my taglist!

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wanderlustinwonderland18 · 3 years

Text

Stepanova & Bukin: “Our Fans Really Want Us To Be Together”

How do you feel about being the new Russian National Champions?

Vanya: Wow! To be honest, we didn't get enough sleep. It was a busy time. We sat, talked with the team, discussed a lot. This was our first competition in a long time, so we were a little exhausted.

Sasha: So far, we don't really feel that something major has happened, but the assessment of our coaches is very important for us. They didn't know how we would perform. Yes, the coaches did everything to make us perform well. But from the very start, everything depended only on us... And we managed to perform well so many thanks to our team for this.

Vanya: In general, we liked everything very much. We missed the audience a lot and we hope to perform somewhere else soon. Yes, there are nerves, but they are very pleasant nerves. Competition is great.

Is this national title the main award of your career?

Sasha: No. We have silver and bronze medals from European Championships. We have also performed well at World Championships. The situation here is completely different in all aspects. We had a different task... But overall, we are very pleased with the title of Russian National Champions.

Vanya: Yes, indeed, this is the first time for us. The support was great. Even though the arena was only 35 percent capacity, we felt incredible warmth.

Is the lack of vivid emotions due to the fact your main competitors were not here?

Sasha: Yes, many skaters were missing in Chelyabinsk. It’s a pity that this is the case. We, ourselves, were not able to participate in early competitions such as the Grand Prix in Moscow.

Vanya: For instance, Dima Aliev did not compete here although we were expecting him. We are friends with him, and we communicate a lot. We hope to meet the entire Russian team after the New Year.

Did this situation personally blur the impression of the Russian Championships?

Sasha: Of course. In addition, the federation indicated that this is not the final selection for the World Championships. We simply perceived it as a certain stage where we need to show what we are capable of.

Vanya: On the other hand, the fact that it was our first competition in a long time added more importance to it.

Is it a shame that Europeans got cancelled, while everything goes well in other sports?

Vanya: Of course, it's upsetting.

Sasha: I don’t really follow what is happening in other sports, but the cancellation of our Europeans was not a surprise. Everything pointed towards this direction gradually. We were ready for this news. We understand that holding a competition in such conditions is difficult and unsafe.

How do you feel now?

Sasha: I’m good now, thanks.

Vanya: Yes, we have already recovered.

You guys joked at the press conference that you were unlucky, because you were ill with COVID at different times.

(Sasha and Vanya laugh)

Sasha: Well, yes, we were really out of luck.

How did this happen? You spend so much time together.

Sasha: At first, I just caught a cold. There was bronchitis or something like that. I got better and then fell ill again, but with COVID. I don't know why that happened, but after I got sick, the coaches and Vanya fell ill.

Vanya: Why this happened is still a mystery to us. It is very incomprehensible.

How did you handle the disease?

Vanya: It was not easy. I had palpable lung damage. The temperature was monitored for a very long time, and the dose of antibiotics was quite strong. The hardest part is not how I got sick, but how I went back to the ice. It was very strange and a little scary.

Sasha: You may be fine at home, but as soon as you go out on the ice, you immediately start coughing due to the cold air and the slightest exertion. Usually for us, skating in circles is nothing at all... But after the illness, the body perceives it as a serious threat and reacts instantly. It is scary. You start thinking: "How am I going to skate now?"

Did it come to hospitalizations?

Sasha and Vanya: No.

Vanya: Fortunately, it didn't come to that. I didn't have extreme temperatures (around 37.5 to 38 only). The only problem is that it lasted a long time. Sasha’s condition was different though. High temperatures in the beginning, but the illness quickly disappeared.

Sasha: In my case, it started with a common cold, then the whole body began to ache. I came back from training and it felt like someone was breaking all my bones from the inside. Then, body temperature began to rise. The maximum was over 39. I immediately took antibiotics. The state itself was unpleasant - you go to the kitchen, or to the bathroom and you are already very tired. You also hear how you breathe.

Sasha, I looked at your Instagram and came to the conclusion that you love black and white tones. Why is that?

Sasha: In black and white, there is...

Vanya: Magic.

Sasha: Yes, some kind of charm. Many photographs look better in black and white. I like the lines and shadows.

Do you hear from fans a lot?

Sasha: Very much! Just yesterday, one fan gave gifts through the coaches. She loves our group very much, follows us to all competitions. From my understanding, she is not alone. It is just her who communicates with us. I called for a photo session, but unfortunately, this has not yet happened because of the virus situation. But yes, they write a lot! They post stories, write long messages. Sometimes I read and tears come, people give a lot of themselves. You think how this is possible. Many are busy with family and work, but they take time for us.

Vanya: Most of the times, they post our reactions to performances. This has already become a meme! We have been compared to animals. Sasha recently reposted a picture where I am a dog who smiles, and she is a serious cat. In many shots, myself and Irina Vasilievna (Zhuk) are explosive, and Sasha and Alexander Vasilievich (Svinin) are more restrained. It’s cool and funny!

Does this reflect your nature?

Vanya: I’m probably more emotional after performances. I keep everything to myself so much that it just breaks at the end. Sasha, on the other hand, gives so much to the performances and at the end, she has nothing left.

Are you offended by any comments?

Vanya: Some comments are very interesting. There have certainly been times where I wanted to respond, but realized that it was pointless. It is nonsense.

Sasha: Because you will be invested in it.

Vanya: Now, I laugh at such comments. If a person doesn't like something and expresses their opinion, please, especially if it is really constructive criticism. When you see that this is not the first time a person has written, and really understands figure skating, you can listen to this... But there are some that just write for the sake of saying something.

Sasha: Yes, there are some who throw out unnecessary emotions based on nothing.

Has it ever happened that thanks to a person's comment, you changed something in your performance?

Vanya: A couple of times.

Sasha: It is not with regards to steps and technical issues though. Most comments are like “I want power, brightness.” At such moments, you can reconsider and decide that, indeed, something is missing somewhere.

It happens that unpleasant things are written by fans of other teams.

Vanya: I'm okay with this, but if you like another couple, why are you writing under our post? Go to your guys and write good things.

Sasha, you are sometimes compared to Victoria Sinitsina? Are you okay with this?

Sasha: Yes, absolutely! We sometimes laugh about our similarities. We also have common views on wardrobe sometimes.

What about the comments that you and Vanya would make a good pair in real life?

Sasha: It's fun too.

Vanya: On one hand, that is a compliment because it means that we can show real emotions on the ice. People believe in our story and think that we are also together behind the scenes... But we have already said many times that we are not a couple in real life, so it is quite strange when people ask about this.

Sasha: It's very cute though!

Vanya: Those who have been with us for a long time know that we are not together, but our fans really want us to be together.

Do you follow the situation regarding Russia's two-year sentence? You guys already had some bad experiences in the past with this decision.

Sasha: Yes, we heard this news. As far as I understand, the consequences could be much worse - all athletes from Russia could be expelled indiscriminately. They could say, "Russia, goodbye." But we are still allowed to compete. Let it be without the anthem at the World Championships and the Olympics, but on our form, the name of the country can still be written. This is already pleasant for us. I do not know all the little details, but in this situation, I want to find something positive.

Vanya: Of course, we are upset, because this is our country. We would very much like to perform with the flag and anthem. But the decision has been made, and nothing can be done. We will calmly prepare for all the major competitions. It remains to be seen how athletes will be admitted to the Olympics.

What would you change in ice dance to make it more popular?

Vanya: Ice Dance is a very creative sport. Everything should look simple, easy, and unpredictable with us. In my opinion, to make our sport more popular, teams must be given more freedom for creativity. Then, the couples will not be alike. We have many rules that do not allow us to go beyond.

Sasha: In general, the rules are made for judges. Previously, ice dance judging was based on "like it or not like it."

Do you have long-term career plans?

Vanya: This season has shown that it is difficult to plan the future. We have decided to live day by day, and prepare for specific events. There have been many times where we plan a lot, and in the end, the plan does not come true.

Do you think about life after sports?

Sasha: I do not have any serious thoughts. Maybe participate in shows, but there are no specific plans. However, I can definitely say that I want to stay in figure skating and take a new role in the sport. For now, we still have a lot to accomplish. We have just reached the top level. We have just started receiving recognition from the audience.

Vanya: And we are very grateful to our fans. When new broke out that we were sick, many wrote to us and supported us. It is really motivating!

Do you have plans for the New Year holidays?

Sasha: I would like to go to the skating rink in front of the Red Square. I have never been to massive street skating rinks, so I want to feel this atmosphere.

Vanya: Oh cool! Let's go and invite everyone!

A small wish to your fans at the end of the interview?

Sasha: Health and love. Be happy no matter what. Live everyday.

Vanya: To make all your dreams come true in the New Year.

#MY BABIES ❤️#Stepanova Bukin #Alexandra Stepanova #Ivan Bukin #Figure Skating #Ice Dance #Dance #Skating #Sports #Arts #Interview #Partnership #Love #Life

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ghost-in-the-hella · 3 years

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Could I get "39. holding hands in a museum to pull them to the next exhibition", Chasemarsh, Bless this Mess AU?

As you wish :) Same AU as Bless this Mess, but early days. (For those who haven't read Bless this Mess, it's an AU where Victoria and Kate didn't meet until they were adults and therefore Victoria had never bullied Kate) The museum in this ficlet is fictional but based on my own favorite museum, the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art.

---

“This… is a museum?” The building before her has nothing of the grandeur that Victoria has come to expect from museums. It is neither cold nor imposing, just a modest one-story building with some whimsical decorative frills around the entrance. Bright colors show through the large windows. There are bronze statues scattered around the grounds, but they’re all of creatures that look like they’d be more at home in a fairytale than at a museum. Children run around the grounds, screaming and frolicking.

“Of course it is, silly!” Kate stands next to the entrance sign and Vanna Whites a hand across the bold letters. “The Leo and Diane Dillon Museum of Children’s Book Art. See? It says ‘museum’ right there.”

Part of Victoria wants to roll her eyes, curl her upper lip, and unleash a comment so scathing Kate will feel flayed to the bone for having the temerity to call this obvious travesty a ‘museum’. Fortunately, this is the part of Victoria that - with the help of her therapist and years of hard emotional labor - she’s gotten better at catching and overcoming before it can claw its vicious way to the surface. She searches for something nice or at least neutral to say instead. She likes Kate. If she didn’t like her, she would be home marathoning something on crunchyroll in her pajamas instead of getting dressed up on a Saturday morning to go out on this date with her. She doesn’t want to scare Kate off by being needlessly rude. “It’s… not quite what I’d pictured when you invited me to go to a museum with you.”

Kate’s smile doesn’t falter as Victoria had feared. Instead, it softens into a grin that does frankly criminal things to the state of Victoria’s heart. “I know what you mean,” she says so fondly that Victoria is both certain and relieved that Kate has taken her comment as a compliment instead of a barely masked insult. “The first time I came here, I couldn’t believe my eyes.” Her eyes - such warm, lovely eyes; Victoria can’t imagine a work of art that holds a candle to those eyes in any museum - sparkle. “It’s been my favorite museum since I first set foot inside. I come here at least once a month.” She sighs rapturously and Victoria’s heart gives an embarrassing squeeze. “We’re so lucky to have such a special place so close by.”

Victoria makes a noncommittal sound, not wanting to quash Kate’s enthusiasm. Kate smiles at her and beckons playfully for Victoria to follow her as she leads the way inside. They’ve only gone on a handful of dates so far, but already Victoria suspects she’d follow Kate just about anywhere.

The museum truly is unlike any that Victoria’s ever been in before. There are so many children, for one thing. The security guards just smile at them benignly, for another. The last time Victoria was in a museum, she watched someone get chewed out by a security guard for having the audacity to take notes with a pen instead of a pencil. Had a parent been foolish enough to bring a small child inside, they would’ve been stalked by security and stared at so ominously they would soon think better of their faux pas, and perhaps reconsider their decision to reproduce altogether.

But here… Here, the children are not only encouraged to run free, they’re allowed to touch things with their grubby little child hands. Encouraged to, even; there are kiosks set up all over the room they’re in with interactive exhibits, as well as cozy reading areas all around full of children’s books, where parents and children can sit together and paw through museum property with their bare and presumably unwashed hands.

“Isn’t this place amazing?” Kate asks, her voice as warm and gooey as melted chocolate. “You can practically press your nose up against the art and not get in trouble for it. I love it. I can really get in there and see how the artists used all their different materials. It’s so inspiring!”

“I’ve never seen a place like it,” Victoria replies neutrally. Honestly, the idea of children near artwork makes her break out in nervous sweats. She tries to imagine how her parents would react to children running loose at the Chase Space. They’d probably have a coronary each. She herself wasn’t allowed to set foot in the gallery until she was solidly in double digits, and even then she’d always been treated like a disaster waiting to happen, a ticking time bomb in Mary Janes.

Kate nods in satisfaction. “It’s really special.” She gestures at the room they’re in. “This gallery always has a show of Leo and Diane Dillon’s works, plus the interactive exhibits. The specific stuff changes periodically. The gallery across the hall has shows of different works by children’s book illustrators.” She smiles bashfully, a delicious pink tinge warming her cheekbones. “It’s one of my biggest dreams to be included in one of those shows.”

Victoria stops short and blinks rapidly, trying to process. “Here?” she asks, dumbfounded. Here, where children run amok? Where your artwork will never be hung alongside that of a truly great artist?? She remembers Kate mentioning minoring in illustration in undergrad, but somehow that had never really clicked in Victoria’s brain as something important. It’s not like she’d studied photography or even painting, something Victoria would be able to sustain a deep conversation about.

“Of course here!” Kate giggles. “I illustrate children’s books. Well,” she avers with a shy shrug, “a little bit, anyway. It’s only a side hustle right now, but someday I’d like it to be a bigger part of my career.” She looks around the room and sighs dreamily. “It would be such an honor to show here.”

“Here,” Victoria repeats, her brain still struggling to compute. She’s fully being rude now; she can hear it in her voice, a shift from merely confused to straight up condescending.

But Kate just giggles again and rolls her eyes, not looking remotely fazed by Victoria's attitude. “Not every artist needs to show at the Guggenheim, Tori. Some artists dream of being showcased in the Whitney Biennial, and some dream of showing in, well, the Leo and Diane Dillon Museum of Children’s Book Art.”

The nickname throws Victoria even more than Kate’s good natured response to her blatant rudeness does. It distracts her so much she almost doesn’t notice when Kate’s fingers suddenly thread into her own. “Come on,” Kate goes on, “I’m really excited about this month’s exhibit. Have you ever heard of Mary Blair?”

There’s a firm but gentle tug at Victoria’s hand leading her toward the doors separating exhibition rooms and Victoria’s awareness sparks to life. Kate’s holding her hand. Her heart dances a little two-step as she fumbles for words. “N-no, I haven’t.” Heat flushes her cheeks and she clears her throat self-consciously. “My art history degree didn’t cover children’s book art.”

Kate nods thoughtfully as she pushes the doors open and returns the security guard’s smile and wave. “She was actually more involved with animation and concept art, especially for Disney. Murals, too. But it’s true; art history classes tend to leave illustration out as a whole. It’s such a shame, really. There’s some fascinating history there.”

Victoria’s never given a shit about illustration - for children’s books or otherwise - before, but she’s pretty sure Kate could deliver a four hour lecture on the subject and she’d have Victoria’s undivided attention for every minute. “Photography gets the shaft, too, especially in survey courses,” she says. “Anything other than art history courses specifically oriented toward photography, really. It’s like if you’re not a white cishet male painter, you don’t matter.” She shakes her head in aggravation. “As though the advent of photography didn’t change the entire course of art history, and painting in particular. Such bullshit.”

Kate gives Victoria’s hand a little squeeze, and Victoria is floored once more by the realization that Kate is holding her hand. Still. She’s not even leading Victoria anywhere anymore; they’re just standing there, holding hands. It’s astonishing. “We should write a book,” Kate suggests. “Shed some light on the more underappreciated aspects of art history.” Her tone is light and teasing but Victoria finds herself considering it seriously.

“I could probably sell that pitch,” Victoria muses. “I have some contacts in publishing. You could cover illustration, I could cover photography, we could tap my friend Taylor to cover--” She’s snapped out of her brainstorming by the sensation of Kate’s thumb rubbing softly over her knuckles. “Uh, but we can work out those details later. If you want to. In the meantime, why don’t you tell me about…” She gestures with her free hand. “...whatever’s going on here?”

Kate grins and gives her a warm nod, not letting go of her hand as she leads her to the nearest artwork. “Don’t be scared to get up good and close,” Kate instructs her, tugging her closer. “We’re not at the Met, don’t forget.”

Victoria scoffs. “As if I could forget that.” She lets Kate pull her closer til she’s scant inches from the art and her shoulder is pressed firmly against Kate’s. “Close to the art… or to you?” she asks softly. She doesn’t know how to look at art this closely; it all blurs to abstraction as she waits for an answer.

“Both,” Kate replies seconds before a tender kiss presses bold and warm against Victoria’s cheek.

#ghost writes #prompt fic #prompt fill #life is strange #fanfic #prompt ghost #chasemarsh #victoria chase #kate marsh

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heavensenthearty · 3 years

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🔥ZK Book Recs 🌊

I have talked time and again about the many published authors whose works are inspired by Zutara (yes, the one and only Zutara) or that they have admitted to be Zutara shippers themselves. And there are even authors who aren't ATLA fans, but their works give BIG Zutara vibes (said every book blog entry titled "Book recs for ATLA fans" ever). Since all of those books are some of my faves, prompted by @that-turtleduck and @aurithearmy I decided to make this Zutara published books rec list. Let's start:

Books written by Zutara shippers:

Legacy of Orïsha trilogy by Tomi Adeyemi:

Children of Blood and Bone

Children of Virtue and Vengeance

TBA

It's the trilogy I was celebrating in this post when it was published amongst the 100 best fantasy books of all times. The worldbuilding and mythology are inspired by West African culture since the author is Nigerian-American and a public, unapologetic Zutara shipper. She has talked how she is aware people tends to call her books "Zutara Fanfiction".

She has made it very clear that she doesn't mind that they do. ☺️

Oh! And the books are already in the works for film adaptations! 😁

The Witchlands series by Susan Dennard:

0.5. Sightwitch

Truthwitch

Windwitch

Bloodwitch

Witchshadow

TBA

Is it too obvious that these were written by an ATLA fan? 😅 The magic system in the books is inspired by ATLA's bending; these are perfect for the ones who still wanted some more feminism and girls supporting girls dynamics in ATLA. The main protagonists are best friends with a sisterly bond, but one of them has a very interesting relationship with a certain scarred prince/vigilante with a treacherous sister...

And Susan Dennard approves her books to be recommended as "a romance with those Zutara feels"! ☺️

Red Queen series by Victoria Aveyard:

0.1. Queen Song

0.2. Steel Scars

Red Queen

Glass Sword

King's Cage

War Storm

Broken Throne

It's the series I'm always hyping over!! 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

As you can see here 😅.

As I said, “stubborn brown-skinned girl with powers and an overprotective warrior older brother who joins a resistance against a tiranic goverment in a world at war/dark-haired, golden-eyed prince with fire powers, an evil, abused sibling and an abusive parent, who then joins the resistance” dynamic.

Besides, the books have their own version of Mailee going.

I can't say for sure if Victoria Aveyard is a Zutara shipper since in all my time following her I haven't seen anything ATLA-related from her... but that trope is way too specific for it to be a coincidence 🤨🧐

Jade Fire Gold by June CL Tan

It's the book I've been talking you about, the one that's scheduled to come out next year and that is being marketed as a Zutara rewrite by the author herself.

There's little info about it so far, safe for the few updates I've been giving you. The worldbuilding is inspired by Chinese mythology for the author's heritage, the female lead looks like a cinnamon but could actually kill you, male lead is way too extra for his own good, "there's only one bed meets there's only one cave" trope, and see the recent Shipping Bingo that June CL Tan tweeted.

Looking good so far! 😉

Six of Crows duology by Leigh Bardugo:

Six of Crows

Crooked Kingdom

TBA

I know I called it a duology and then listed three installments, it's just that Leigh hasn't talked much about the third book save for some few times, and she's one of those "I'll break your heart so you don't break mine" people, so I want to be cautious about it 🥺🥺🥺

Still, I absolutely adore these books!! If you follow me, you've probably seen me reblog content about them; the main couple give me such HUGE Zutara vibes, and with reason! Leigh is a multishipper: she ships Kataang and Zutara — (which explains some disagreements I may have with her other romance plots 😒)

Special mention to: Joe Abercrombie.

He hasn't written anything ZK-like, but he has tweeted about shipping Zutara and wanting to write some Zutara fanfiction, so you might as well want to give his books a chance.

Before you go, know that I'm not done yet 👇🏽

Books not written by Zutara shippers but recommended for the Zutara shippers:

These Violent Delights by Chloe Chong

Did anybody say Mafia!Romeo and Juliet retelling set in 1920's Shanghai?

We hunt the flame by Hafsah Faizal

Enemies to lovers parallelisms are everything!! 😍😍😍

A Song of Wraiths and Ruin by Roseanne A. Brown

Also West African inspired.

Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Just 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍!!!!!

Special mention to: Shatter Me series by Tahereh Mafi.

Must-read for every enemies to lovers fan 😎

*tired panting*

Feels good to be a bookworm! 📚🤓

#zutara #atla #katara #zuko #zuko x katara #avatar the last airbender #zuko/katara #*purple heart emoji* 💜

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freebooter4ever · 3 years

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A fic inspired by @kanhatomame 's Lovely Drawing of Eugene dreaming about Snafu ^_^ Set in Mobile after the war, Eugene deals with pining and memories, and that wordless connection to another person that never really leaves you. (angst ish with happy ending)

__________

There are so many ghosts in Eugene's head it's quite crowded there. But the only one he clings to is Snafu's. Naturally, this also means it's the one that feels most nebulous and impossible to chase down. Sometimes, when Eugene sees other couples together, touching each other, looking at each other, the connections to his own vivid memories feel stronger.

But he and Snafu were never a couple, should never have been a couple. Their few kisses were stolen behind doors and in the shadows. They could never have danced hand in hand like the boys and girls are doing now at the OMM ball.

Eugene stares at the dancers, himself half hidden behind a potted plant. A silly form of camouflage, and one that wouldn't even work if someone looked his way. It certainly fails to hide him from his brother. He can see Edward eyeing him disapprovingly from across the room. Edward's arm is wrapped lovingly around his wife's waist. She leans into his shoulder slightly - Martha is small and petite and fits perfectly.

Eugene takes a deep breath and refocuses his eyes to the center of the dance floor. He slowly allows himself to relax, concentrating on one memory of a touch. Snafu was never one to lovingly cradle Eugene, but whenever they would sit down around camp - at the slop shoot, or the movies, or when naked on the beach after a swim - Snafu would sling his arm behind Gene's back and angle his whole body in Gene's direction. He kept it casual, usually joking and laughing as if using humor to distract the rest of the guys from this habit of his. Except there were always times when Snaf would make a particularly ridiculous wisecrack and Eugene would feel compelled to turn his neck to roll his eyes at Snafu, and the minute his eyes would meet Snafu's, the other guy's face would be glowing with joy. Joy reserved only for one person - Eugene.

There's a specific shine in Snafu's eyes that he saves solely for Gene. And those delicate bits of eye contact were more intimate than all the loving touches in the world. And often they preceded Snafu pulling Eugene into some dark hideaway, and pressing his full body up against Gene, still teasing him, tempting him with no kisses, no gentle lover's touch until Eugene finally got fed up and molded their mouths together.

Eugene will never forget the shape of Snafu's hands.

"Eugene? Baby brother?" Edward is snapping his fingers in front of Eugene's face.

Eugene blinks rapidly, comes back to himself, completely loses the relaxation in his body, and glares at Edward.

"Thought you were in a trance or something," Edward grins lopsided.

"I was thinking," Eugene sighs.

"No duh," Edward says, "You do too much of that, little brother."

"What else is there to do?" Eugene sighs continuously. He shouldn't have opened his mouth because the next thing he knows Edward tells him 'don't move' and disappears further into the house to find some poor victim to foist awkwardly on Gene.

It's been like this all evening. Eugene's talked to more girls in the past hour than he ever has in his life. All of them brought to him by Edward, eagerly introducing the girls to his younger, naive brother.

This latest one is named Victoria, and she's got long curly brown hair that looks soft to touch, and a porcelain face like a doll.

"She's very pretty," Eugene says truthfully when Edward corners him and demands to know what he thought after Victoria is called away by friends.

"Gene, I don't understand you," Edward shakes his head, "You're the son of the city's best doctor, you've got all your limbs intact, you're a war hero… why I'll bet you're the most eligible bachelor here. If you just learn to play it up a little bit…"

"I'm going outside to smoke," Eugene interrupts flatly, "Come get me when it's time to leave."

His voice brooks no argument, and he promptly ducks out of the house with only one direction in mind. He fills his pipe, lights it, and slowly lets the smoke start to relax him again. His lips suck on the wood between them, and the ghost of Snafu seeps in with the nicotine. The memory of the first time when Eugene sucked Snafu's finger clean (of mashed potatoes) - after Snafu tried (and failed) to start a food fight. It pairs well with the memory of sucking off other parts of Snafu too… certain parts he doesn't have a clear picture of in his mind. He sort of blurred the image as it happened, out of embarrassment or sheer awkwardness. If he ever got the chance to do it again, he'd memorize every square inch.

"Eugene, your brother asked me to come find you," his mother breaks his reverie, "Your father is having the car brought around."

Eugene nods, his shame from his thoughts bright red on his face, but luckily hidden in the dark. He follows his mother to the driveway and wordlessly climbs into the backseat. Martha and Edward are taking their own car. So Eugene has plenty of room to forego seatbelts and lie down across the back. His head is swimming a little bit, from that punch he kept drinking. He couldn't taste it, but he suspects it was spiked.

The car starts up, and starts rumbling, shaking his entire body. The seat is warm - the heat from the engine flows through the entire undercarriage. Eugene closes his eyes. He listens to the sound of the road under the wheels, a smooth wash like constantly crashing waves.

Waves lapping at the toes of his feet, and bathing half of Snafu's entire leg in water up to his knees. Snafu lying naked on his back in the sand, with Eugene straddled on top of him bouncing vigorously. All Eugene remembers is the intensity, the sounds, and the feeling. Half weird gritty discomfort, half absolute pleasure.

The car turns and rolls Eugene against the back of the car. He turns his face to the smooth leather, seeking that pressure of something - anything - against his skin.

Eugene recognizes when they reach their house's street because he can feel the jittering rumble as the car crosses the wooden bridge. The jitter shakes him to his bones, and he shivers although the night is hot and sticky. He closes his eyes and counts the streetlights behind his eyelids until they reach the driveway.

Had Eugene been paying attention at all, looking out the window of the car instead of losing himself to ghosts, he might have noticed the beat-up rusted brown truck parked just outside his family's gate at the end of Georgia House's long private drive. Though truthfully, even if Eugene had been looking he might not have seen it. The cloud cover darkens the sky until the only light source is the single lamp marking the start of the Sledge's driveway. And the truck is parked under a tree, throwing even more shadow over it. The only hint that someone is there is the soft glow of a cigarette luminating a haunted face and skinny legs dangling over the truck bed where he sits.

Snafu arrived in town hours ago - just in time to watch Eugene leave. He's been sitting on top his parked truck ever since. Judging from their fancy clothes, Snafu knew they'd likely return that night from an outing and sure enough. Here they are. He wedges the cigarette tighter in his mouth and jumps down from the truck bed.

Eugene's window is on the first floor, so it shouldn't be hard to reach except for the damn kudzu covering a mass of bushes and thorny plants underneath. Snafu suspects they might have been roses at one point. They're dead now. There's live ones elsewhere in the garden, but the ones under Eugene's window are long gone.

Fucking symbolic maybe.

Snafu shoves the window open unceremoniously and throws his leg in. He sits on the sil and stares down at Gene in the bed. Eugene didn't bother to change, he's still in that same expensive looking suit, his tie askew and his shoes kicked off with one sock missing. Snafu settles himself comfortably against the window frame, puffs on his cigarette, and watches Eugene sleep.

He doesn't get to watch for long - Eugene sleeps fitfully, just as Snafu remembers, and ends up kicking and thrashing in his bed. Snafu watches him with intense regret. When Eugene fell asleep peacefully on the train, for the first time since that initial week on Pavuvu, Snafu thought maybe civilization had kicked Eugene's nightmares. That maybe Eugene was gonna be able to go back to 'normal'. Clearly Snafu was wrong.

He waits a few more seconds, till Eugene's fit is at its peak, and whispers sharply, "Sledgehammer."

Gene sits bolt upright immediately and silently. He stares blankly for a split second, till his eyes snap to Snafu's. Then he stares silently at Snafu.

Snafu takes his half finished cigarette and grinds it into the wood of Eugene's window. It leaves a mark. Eugene watches this without expression.

"You're real," Eugene whispers.

Snafu shrugs.

"I mean you're not a dream… for once," Eugene says.

"You've been dreaming about me?" Snafu grins.

Eugene lunges forward, grabs Snafu's forearms and drags him onto the bed. Snafu falls awkwardly on top of Eugene, but it's easy to shift their positions and overpower Eugene to pin him to the bed. "I really hope those nightmares of yours wasn't you dreaming of me, cause if they were we might have to figure out a way to give you better ones."

"My dreams of you only come during the day," Eugene says, much more serious in tone than Snafu.

"Good ones?"

Eugene nods.

"It isn't enough… is it?" Snafu asks. He already knows the correct answer. That's why he's here.

In response Eugene pulls him down into a kiss.

#Sledgefu #Bad germs

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ladydarklord · 3 years

Text

The Mighty Boosh on the business of being silly

The Times, November 15 2008

What began as a cult cocktail of daft poems, surreal characters and fantastical storylines has turned into the comedy juggernaut that is the Mighty Boosh. Janice Turner hangs out with creators Noel Fielding, Julian Barratt and the extended Boosh family to discuss the serious business of being silly

In the thin drizzle of a Monday night in Sheffield, a crowd of young women are waiting for the Mighty Boosh or, more precisely, one half of it. Big-boned Yorkshire lasses, jacketless and unshivering despite the autumn nip, they look ready to devour the object of their desire, the fey, androgynous Noel Fielding, if he puts a lamé boot outside the stage door. “Ooh, I do love a man in eyeliner,” sighs Natalie from Rotherham. She’ll be throwing sickies at work to see the Boosh show 13 times on their tour, plus attend the Boosh after-show parties and Boosh book signings. “My life is dead dull without them,” she says.

Nearby, mobiles primed, a pair of sixth-formers trade favourite Boosh lines. “What is your name?” asks Jessica. “I go by many names, sir,” Victoria replies portentously. A prison warden called Davena survives long days with high-security villains intoning, “It’s an outrage!” in the gravelly voice of Boosh character Tony Harrison, a being whose head is a testicle.

Apart from Fielding, what they all love most about the Boosh is that half their mates don’t get it. They see a bloke in a gorilla suit, a shaman called Naboo, silly rhymes about soup, stories involving shipwrecked men seducing coconuts “and they’re like, ‘This is bloody rubbish,’” says Jessica. “So you feel special because you do get it. You’re part of a club.”

Except the Mighty Boosh club is now more like a movement. What began as an Edinburgh fringe show starring Fielding and his partner Julian Barratt and later became an obscure BBC3 series has grown into a box-set flogging, mega-merchandising, 80-date touring Boosh inc. There was a Boosh festival last summer, now talk of a Boosh movie and Boosh in America. An impasse seems to have been reached: either the Boosh will expand globally or, like other mass comedy cults before it – Vic and Bob, Newman and Baddiel – slowly begin to deflate.

But for the moment, the fans still wait in the rain for heroes who’ve already left the building. I find the Boosh gang gathered in their hotel bar, high on post-gig adrenalin. Barratt, blokishly handsome with his ring-master moustache, if a tad paunchy these days, blends in with the crew. But Fielding is never truly “off”. All day he has been channelling A Clockwork Orange in thick black eyeliner (now smudged into panda rings) and a bowler hat, which he wears with polka-dot leggings, gold boots and a long, neon-green fur-collared PVC trenchcoat. He has, as those women outside put it, “something about him”: a carefully-wrought rock-god danger mixed with an amiable sweetness. Sexy yet approachable. Which is why, perched on a barstool, is a great slab of security called Danny.

“He stops people getting in our faces,” says Fielding. “He does massive stars like P. Diddy and Madonna and he says that considering how we’re viewed in the media as a cult phenomenon, we get much more attention in the street than, say, Girls Aloud. Danny says we’re on the same level as Russell Brand, who can’t walk from the door to the car without ten people speaking to him.”

This barometer of fame appears to fascinate and thrill Fielding. Although he complains he can’t eat dinner with his girlfriend (Dee Plume from the band Robots in Disguise) unmolested, he parties hard and publicly with paparazzi-magnets like Courtney Love and Amy Winehouse. He claims he’s tried wearing a baseball cap but fans still recognise him. Hearing this, Julian Barratt smiles wryly: “Noel is never going to dress down.”

It is clear on meeting them that their Boosh characters Vince Noir (Fielding), the narcissistic extrovert, and Howard Moon (Barratt), the serious, socially awkward jazz obsessive, are comic exaggerations of their own personalities. At the afternoon photo shoot, Fielding breaks free of the hair and make-up lady, sprays most of a can of Elnett on to his Bolan feather-cut and teases it to his satisfaction. Very Vince. “It is an art-life crossover,” says Barratt.

At 40, five years older than Fielding, Barratt exhibits the profound weariness of a man trying to balance a five-month national tour with new-fatherhood. After every Saturday night show he returns home to his 18-month-old twins, Arthur and Walter, and his partner Julia Davis (the creator-star of Nighty Night) and today he was up at 5am pushing a pram on Hampstead Heath before taking the train north to rejoin the Boosh. “I go back so the boys remember who I am. But it’s harder to leave them every time,” he says. “It is totally schizophrenic, totally opposite mental states: all this self-obsession and then them.”

About two nights a week on tour, Fielding doesn’t go to bed, parties through the night and performs the next evening having not slept at all. Barratt often retreats to his room to plough through box sets of The Wire. “It’s a bit gritty, but that is in itself an escape, because what we do is so fantastical.”

But mostly it is hard to resist the instant party provided by a large cast, crew and band. Indeed, drinking with them, it appears Fielding and Barratt are but the most famous members of a close collective of artists, musicians and old mates. Fielding’s brother Michael, who previously worked in a bowling alley, plays Naboo the shaman. “He is late every single day,” complains Noel. “He’s mad and useless, but I’m quite protective of him, quite parental.” Michael is always arguing with Bollo the gorilla, aka Fielding’s best mate, Dave Brown, a graphic artist relieved to remove his costume – “It’s so hot in there I fear I may never father children” – to design the Boosh book. One of the lighting crew worked as male nanny to Barratt’s twins and was in Michael’s class at school: “The first time I met you,” he says to Noel, “you gave me a dead arm.” “You were 9,” Fielding replies. “And you were messing with my stuff.”

This gang aren’t hangers-on but the wellspring of the Boosh’s originality and its strange, homespun, degree-show aesthetic: a character called Mr Susan is made out of chamois leathers, the Hitcher has a giant Polo Mint for an eye. When they need a tour poster they ignore the promoter’s suggestions and call in their old mate, Nige.

Fielding and Barratt met ten years ago at a comedy night in a North London pub. The former had just left Croydon Art College, the latter had dropped out of an American Studies degree at Reading to try stand-up, although he was so terrified at his first gig that he ran off stage and had to be dragged back by the compere.

While superficially different, their childhoods have a common theme: both had artistic, bohemian parents who exercised benign neglect. Fielding’s folks were only 17 when he was born: “They were just kids really. Hippies. Though more into Black Sabbath and Led Zep. There were lots of parties and crazy times. They loved dressing up. And there was a big gap between me and my brother – about nine years – so I was an only child for a long time, hanging out with them, lots of weird stuff going on.

“The great thing about my mum and dad is they let me do anything I wanted as a kid as long as I wasn’t misbehaving. I could eat and go to bed when I liked. I used to spend a lot of time drawing and painting and reading. In my own world, I guess.”

Growing up in Mitcham, South London, his father was a postmaster, while his mother now works for the Home Office. Work was merely the means to fund a good time. “When your dad is into David Bowie, how do you rebel against that? You can’t really. They come to all the gigs. They’ve been in America for the past three weeks. I’m ringing my mum really excited because we’re hanging out with Jim Sheridan, who directed In the Name of the Father, and the Edge from U2, and she said, ‘We’re hanging with Jack White,’ whom they met through a friend of mine. Trumped again!”

Barratt’s father was a Leeds art teacher, his mother an artist later turned businesswoman. “Dad was a bit more strict and academic. Mum would let me do anything I wanted, didn’t mind whether I went to school.” Through his father he became obsessed with Monty Python, went to jazz and Spike Milligan gigs, learnt about sex from his dad’s leatherbound volumes of Penthouse.

Barratt joined bands and assumed he would become a musician (he does all the Boosh’s musical arrangements); Fielding hoped to become an artist (he designed the Boosh book cover and throughout our interview sketches obsessively). Instead they threw their talents into comedy. Barratt: “It is a great means of getting your ideas over instantly.” Fielding: “Yes, it is quite punk in that way.”

Their 1998 Edinburgh Fringe show called The Mighty Boosh was named, obscurely, after a friend’s description of Michael Fielding’s huge childhood Afro: “A mighty bush.” While their double-act banter has an old-fashioned dynamic, redolent of Morecambe and Wise, the show threw in weird characters and a fantasy storyline in which they played a pair of zookeepers. They are very serious about their influences. “Magritte, Rousseau...” says Fielding. “I like Rousseau’s made-up worlds: his jungle has all the things you’d want in a jungle, even though he’d never been in one so it was an imaginary place.”

Eclectic, weird and, crucially, unprepared to compromise their aesthetic sensibilities, it was 2004 before, championed by Steve Coogan’s Baby Cow production company, their first series aired on BBC3. Through repeats and DVD sales the second series, in which the pair have left the zoo and are living above Naboo’s shop, found a bigger audience. Last year the first episode of series three had one million viewers. But perhaps the Boosh’s true breakthrough into mainstream came in June when George Bush visited Belfast and a child presented him with a plant labelled “The Mighty Bush”. Assuming it was a tribute to his greatness, the president proudly displayed it for the cameras, while the rest of Britain tittered.

A Boosh audience these days is quite a mix. In Sheffield the front row is rammed with teenage indie girls, heavy on the eyeliner, who fancy Fielding. But there are children, too: my own sons can recite whole “crimps” (the Boosh’s silly, very English version of rap) word for word. And there are older, respectable types who, when I interview them, all apologise for having such boring jobs. They’re accountants, IT workers, human resources officers and civil servants. But probe deeper and you find ten years ago they excelled at art A level or played in a band, and now puzzle how their lives turned out so square. For them, the Boosh embody their former dreams. And their DIY comedy, shambolic air, the slightly crap costumes, the melding of fantasy with the everyday, feels like something they could still knock up at home.

Indeed, many fans come to gigs in costume. At the Mighty Boosh Festival 15,000 people came dressed up to watch bands and absurdity in a Kent field. And in Sheffield I meet a father-and-son combo dressed as Howard Moon and Bob Fossil – general manager of the zoo – plus a gang of thirty-something parents elaborately attired as Crack Fox, Spirit of Jazz, a granny called Nanageddon, and Amy Housemouse. “I love the Boosh because it’s total escapism,” says Laura Hargreaves, an employment manager dressed as an Electro Fairy. “It’s not all perfect and people these days worry too much that things aren’t perfect. It’s just pure fun.”

But how to retain that appealingly amateur art-school quality now that the Boosh is a mega comedy brand? Noel Fielding is adamant that they haven’t grown cynical, that The Mighty Book of Boosh was a long-term project, not a money-spinner chucked out for Christmas: “There is a lot of heart in what we do,” he says. Barratt adds: “It’s been hard this year to do everything we’ve wanted, to a standard we’re proud of... Which is why we’re worn to shreds.”

Comedy is most powerful in intimate spaces, but the Boosh show, with its huge set, requires major venues. “We’ve lost money every day on the tour,” says Fielding. “The crew and the props and what it costs to take them on the road – it’s ridiculous. Small gigs would lose millions of pounds.”

The live show is a kind of Mighty Boosh panto, with old favourites – Bob Fossil, Bollo, Tony Harrison, etc – coming on to cheers of recognition. But it lacks the escapism to the perfectly conceived world of the TV show. They have told the BBC they don’t want a fourth series: they want a movie. They would also, as with Little Britain USA, like a crack at the States, where they run on BBC America. Clearly the Boosh needs to keep evolving or it will die.

Already other artists are telling Fielding and Barratt to make their money now: “They say this is our time, which is quite frightening.” I recall Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer, who dominated the Nineties with Big Night Out and Shooting Stars. “Yes, they were massive,” says Fielding. “A number one record...” And now Reeves presents Brainiac. “If you have longer-term goals, it’s not scary,” says Barratt. “To me, I’m heading somewhere else – to direct, make films, write stuff – and at the moment it’s all gone mental. I’m sort of enjoying this as an outsider. It was Noel who had this desire to reach more people.”

Indeed, the old cliché that comedy is the new rock’n’roll is closest to being realised in Noel Fielding. Watching him perform the thrash metal numbers in the Boosh live show, he is half ironic comic performer, half frustrated rock god. His heroes weren’t comics but androgynous musicians: Jagger, Bowie, Syd Barrett. (Although he liked Peter Cook’s style and looks.)

“I like clothes and make-up, I like the transformation,” he says. Does it puzzle him that women find this so sexually attractive? “I was reading a book the other day about the New York Dolls and David Johansen was saying that none of them were gay or even bisexual, and that when they started dressing in stilettos and leather pants, women got it straight away with no explanation. But a lot of men had problems. It’s one of those strange things. A man will go, ‘You f***ing queer.’ And you just think, ‘Well, your girlfriend fancies me.’”

The Boosh stopped signing autographs outside stage doors when it started taking two hours a night. At recent book signings up to 1,500 people have shown up, some sleeping overnight in the queue. And on this tour, the Boosh took control of the after-show parties, once run as money-spinners by the promoters, and now show up in person to do DJ slots. I ask if they like to meet their fans, and they laugh nervously.

Fielding: “We have to be behind a fence.”

Barratt: “They try to rip your clothes off your body.”

Fielding: “The other day my girlfriend gave me this ring. And, doing the rock numbers at the end, I held out my hands and the crowd just ripped it off.”

Barratt: “I see it as a thing which is going to go away. A moment when people are really excited about you. And it can’t last.”

He recalls a man in York grabbing him for a photo, saying, “I’d love to be you, it must be so amazing.” And Barratt says he thought, “Yes, it is. But all the while I was trying to duck into this doorway to avoid the next person.” He’s trying to enjoy the Boosh’s moment, knows it will pass, but all the same?

In the hotel bar, a young woman fan has dodged past Danny and comes brazenly over to Fielding. Head cocked attentively like a glossy bird, he chats, signs various items, submits to photos, speaks to her mate on her phone. The rest of the Boosh crew eye her steelily. They know how it will end. “You have five minutes then you go,” hisses one. “I feel really stupid now,” says the girl. It is hard not to squirm at the awful obeisance of fandom. But still she milks the encounter, demands Fielding come outside to meet her friend. When he demurs she is outraged, and Danny intercedes. Fielding returns to his seat slightly unsettled. “What more does she want?” he mutters, reaching for his wine glass. “A skin sample?”

#I hadn't seen this one before so I thought I'd share #noel will never dress down #ah yes the patient boyfriend Julian Barratt

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hazzabeeforlou · 3 years

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Really long ramble about music. If anyone wants inside my brain right now :)

I kept dreaming of flying, after the surgery. I would get these beautiful wings and I’d fly out my back door and across the field and forest, and it was a beautiful world, like a little garden, myriad colors and flowers, pastel yet brilliant in a way only dreams can be. But then I’d soar near the blue sky and realize it was solid, a dome, a ceiling, and I couldn’t break through.

I’ve been struggling recently not only with the question of where I fit in the classical music world (that’s been an ongoing issue) but the very nature of my career in general. The classism and elitism have always marked me as an outsider, and I’ve suffered my fair share of imposter syndrome, but I’ve also studied at the most elite schools and with the most elite teachers and played with one of the most elite orchestras, and seen just how my career is funded; namely, by very wealthy (endowment wealthy) white people. We say eat the rich all the time, and often I think those that are offended by that don’t quite realize how the rich get their money, the blood and genocide and slavery that are the base of all capitalistic gains. If only the richest of the rich fund the arts with their (excuse the overused term) blood money, then perhaps this is why I’ve always felt such a disconnect with the outreach efforts that so many symphonies and organizations do with minority groups, why that has always felt so icky, so like trying to foist the ‘right culture’ upon them as if the music of the colonizer was so much better than their own.

Of course music, like the art produced by shitty artists, can also be universal, and can’t wholly bear the responsibility of its makers or producers. I still don’t know why I begged my mom to play my instrument at age three, but I do know that, like in my fic Flawless, there’s something magical that has always happened to me while performing, something that is musical, not cultural, not performative, but raw and real, and as the harp is one of the most ancient instruments in the world, that magic resonates with the part of me searching for meaning in classical music beyond what its gatekeepers have preordained. Right now I find myself in the middle of a competition. It’s been years since I’ve competed, and as I got older, contrary to what everyone told me, my stage fright just increased. After my surgery it was nearly unbearable, as was the pain I dealt with while playing. The anti-anxiety drugs helped a bit. And five years later, acupuncture has helped with my pain. Yet there’s a doubt within my bones, and I know where it comes from, from the last recital I did before my surgery when my brain couldn’t breathe, when my organs were falling asleep, crushed to death like that lady-in-waiting of Queen Victoria’s. I just found this quote by Dr. Mariel Buque today:

At the root of trauma is the belief that you can’t trust again. That belief serves a purpose: to protect your wounded soul from any future pain. But it also keeps you from every experiencing the fullness of joy.

In my case, trauma makes me not trust myself. It’s an odd thing to mistrust your body, or to hate it, or constantly tell it to stop, to work better, to quit being in pain. As I work on trying to practice radical self love, I’m forced to realize the abuse that I shower on my body and brain constantly. While accepting that I’ll likely always deal with chronic pain, I’ve failed to forgive myself for being in pain. The guilt is compounded by the demands of capitalism, of personal pride, of status; it was expected that I would be successful, and look at me now. If I had enemies in the music world, they would gloat.

My brain has split into two, and on one side I tell myself that life could be so much worse, I am privileged and educated, I have security and food and a job; on the other I compare myself to my elite friends and their careers and houses and status, their runnings within the circles of power players, their posts posing with the famous and rich. Do I want that? Am I so shallow? So petty, so proud? Why did I even do this to start with. Why am I competing? Why am I driving my mental sanity and strength to its limits to impress a jury and win a prize in a world where nothing I could ever do in this career would ever actually MATTER?

I don’t think I could accurately describe it to you, but playing the harp can feel like flying. There’s a euphoria that takes you over at certain points in a piece, and you can fall into it like diving off a cliff, and sometimes it pulls you down, but god, when your fingers hit the right strings and your brain keeps up with your feet, you fucking soar. And this thing, this magic washes from your chest down your arms and up to your cheeks and it’s like kicking off from the pavement and finding you’re no longer bound by gravity. I’m standing under a cold shower tonight and I thought, it really is the closest I’ll ever get to being able to fly.

It hit me then, one of those realizations that makes your eyes water for no apparent reason; perhaps that’s why I do this, why I still want to, need to, perhaps it’s not to break through that ceiling/sky, perhaps it’s just to fly. Maybe I was never meant to leave that dome, and maybe that shouldn’t be my focus or goal. After all, it is beautiful there, and I can fly, and how many people can say that? What a gift, after all. A gift that no one owns, that no one culture or class can claim from me, a gift that is so magical and so mine.

Fear of failure holds us back from so many things. But why should I be beholden to their judgements when the seas are rising and they don’t give a shit? The future pain I would experience from failure is quite literally my own wounded pride, the idea of who I am in the eyes of my peers. But what if I forgave my body for imperfection? What would it look like to compete and not beat myself up over an outcome? What would it look like to not give a damn.

I know it’s a famous quote, and I can’t even think of what it’s from, but this evening it’s been echoing around in my brain: what if I fall? Oh but darling, what if you fly.

#personal

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ana-benn · 3 years

Text

Sequel to:

Warnings: Jamie Benn, pregnancy, fluff

Can you keep a secret?

When you found out you were pregnant the second time around your son Wyatt was only 18 months old, and Jamie was on the road. This time it was a little bit less of a surprise. You'd has a headache and felt nauseous for days by the time you went to the doctor, but you hadn't said anything the Jamie before he left because you hadn't wanted him to worry. It was exciting because you knew how great of a father he already was, and you knew that he'd be just as amazing this time around. He was always talking about how Wyatt needed a Jamie to his Jordie, if only to make you laugh.

So this time while he was away you had more time to plan your revelation. You knew your son had to have a part in it, and you also knew it needed to be a little different. So you got to work. Wyatt was just picking up words like crazy and he was loving it. He had "Dada", "mama", and "cookie" down pat. So you started getting him used to associating your belly with "baby". You'd take his chubby little hands and pat your belly cooing, "baby" at him.

Finally you were convinced that he understood when he looked up from his blocks and pointed at you and said , "Mama, baby." Then giggled.

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

When the guys got back from their road trip the plan was to go out to dinner and celebrate. So as you loaded Wyatt into the car you talked to him.

"Okay buddy, we're going to go see daddy!" That got him clapping his hands. "But we don't want to tell him yet about the baby, can you keep a secret for mommy?"

"Mama, baby!" He giggled.

"Shh," you grinned at him.

On the way to the restaurant you and you son sang silly songs, and when it was safe you made silly faces at him in the mirror. It wasn't far and you made it there relatively quickly and without issue.

As you got out and began unloading Wyatt you felt familiar, strong arms wrap around your waist.

"Hi baby," Jamie murmured placing a kiss on your neck.

"Hi yourself," you replied, smiling as you turned around and kissed him properly. Just before you could deepen the kiss at all you heard Wyatt in the background.

"Dadadadada!"

"Sorry Captain, he's playing your song," you smirked at him, stepping aside so he could greet his son.

"Hey little guy, how you been? Where you a good boy for mommy?" he asked, chatting with the baby. You more or less tuned out their conversation, allowing for the father-son moment, and just watched this big strong man be so gentle and tender with Wyatt. He was animatedly listening to the baby babble, and even providing his side of the conversation, causing sweet baby giggles to erupt.

As you got seated in the restaurant you listened to the guys talk about their road trip, and heard the regaling of their victory over both the Lightening and the Red Wings. It was in some ways like men who'd come back from battle. They would cheer and laugh with one another, while the wives and girlfriends would be rolling their eyes and laughing, even though secretly they were all proud. This was your little found family, so far away from all of your actual family in Victoria.

Jamie was also very attentive to Wyatt, he would cut up little bits, and allow the baby to eat from his plate. Allowing you a little break after two full weeks of round the clock mommy-duty to enjoy youself. You watched them enraptured by the sweet moments they shared. It was momentarily shattered by a shocked and alarmed look on Jamie's face. It took you a moment to realize what had just happened.

Wyatt giggled as he pointed at you and repeated, "Mama, baby!"

You looked Jamie in the eye, as you smiled, "That's right buddy, Mama's going to have another baby!" It was a little bit earlier than you'd planned, as you thought about the carefully crafted plan involving a "Big Brother" Stars jersey carefully hidden for after Saturday's game, but in it's own way as Jamie enveloped you in a bone crushing hug this was perfect. Plus it allowed you to share the excitement with all you hockey family, which was perfect.

@captainbenn How many babies do you want, because I really like writing these!

#Jamie Benn #oh captain my captain #Ana Writes #Dallas Stars #Dallas #Dallas Sports #jamie benn x reader #Stars #Captain cow eyes #chubbs #daddy chubbs

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papergirllife · 4 years

Text

Let Me Show You

Johnny Suh oneshot (M)

Requested

warnings : body insecurities, dieting.

" You sure you don't want a wooper burger? "

" Yes, I'm sure. "

" Are you really, really, really sure you're just going to settle for a salad? "

" Yes. "

" You literally just said salad was like eating grass a month ago. "

" I changed my mind. "

Johnny looked at you skeptically, but decided to not push your buttons today.

" Okay, whatever you say baby. "

When the food came and you started picking at it, Johnny laughed.

" You could've at least settled for a wooper junior. "

" I'm not hungry. "

" Then why are you eyeing my fries like that?"

You looked at Johnny wide eyed, shocked at the fact that you were caught by your own boyfriend.

" No, I wasn't! I was just thinking of what to cook for dinner. "

" Right. You know you can take some right? I purposely ordered a large. "

" Why made you think I'll eat your fries? How are we going to finish it? "

" Chill, babe. If we can't finish it, I'll just bring it over to the dorms, I bet someone would eat it. "

You rolled your eyes at him, continue munching on the salad that you utterly despise.

" I told you there won't be any fries left. "

" All your fault. "

" It's your mouth and your stomach babe. I only tempted you. "

" And that's where you crossed the line, Mr Suh. "

" But you like it when I hop over the lines you drawn, Future Mrs Suh. "

" Shut up! No teasing me. Who says I'm marrying you, huh? "

" My mom. "

" You and your jokes. I'm going to shower. Are you fine with washing up the plates? "

" Yeah, go ahead, babe. "

' God, why did I eat those fries? ' You thought to yourself.

You took a look at your own reflection in the and cringed at your appearance. These past few days of quarantine has not been helping your weight at all.

It wasn't the fact that you gained weight, it was the fact that even doing so many exercises, learning dieting tips, reading weight loss methods on self care blogs and all the other crap you tried still hadn't taken an effect on your body.

It's hard having a hot boyfriend like Johnny, all your thoughts these days have been about the fact that your body doesn't match a perfect one like his. What would people say when they find out the Johnny Suh's girlfriend wasn't up to expectations?

Before stepping into the shower, you looked your naked self in the mirror.

' Why can't my waist be tinier? '

' Because you're a fat ass who can't resist food. '

God you hated that voice in your head, even though it's just you scolding yourself. It feels like there's always this monster in your head, telling you all your woes in another horrendous form.

Fuck it.

You stepped into the shower, wishing you could wash away all your worries like the dust in your hair.

After drying your hair, you decided to take a nap.

You lived by the motto that sleep is the solution to all problems you don't know or don't wish to deal with.

Your nap was short lived however. You could feel Johnny's body snuggled close to yours, his face nuzzling into your neck.

" Baby. Why don't we have a little fun? "

His fingers were toying with the hem of his shirt.

" Johnny, no. I'm not in the mood. "

" I can get you in the mood. We haven't been intimate for so long. I miss your beautiful body. "

' It's horrible. '

Fuck, you said that aloud.

Suddenly, Johnny sat up from the bed.

" Babe. I thought you haven't been eating as much because you ate earlier on without me as you always told me. But it's actually dieting? You've been dieting behind my back? "

Fuck.

" No. I just... didn't tell you about it. I never thought it as something important. "

" How is it not important? God I should've guessed, I've been so busy with the comeback. "

" It's fine. There isn't anything you have to be worrying about. "

" Baby. Why are you doing this to yourself? "

" I've been showing you nothing but support for all the things you want to do, but I seriously can't accept the fact that your dieting for no reason. "

" I'm dieting because I want to, that's a reason. "

" But you don't have to. Why are you making yourself go through unnecessary hardships?"

" Hardships bring rewards. "

" What rewards will you attain other than hunger? "

" I'll be skinnier. Then I'll look nicer in my clothes. "

" You look gorgeous in your clothes. Being skinnier doesn't mean you'll look nicer. Look at me, babe. "

Johnny always told you look at him whenever he's talking about loving you or something important, it's good way of showing he cared for you. But it's also your weakness in giving into him.

" Give me your hand. "

" Why? "

" Just do it. "

He held your hand against his in front of your face.

" See how big my hand is compared to yours? "

He then moved his hand to hold onto one of your upper thighs.

" See how snuggly your thigh fits into my hand? Imagine if I let you go on a diet, and your body gets skinnier, there will be empty space left in my hand. What do I do with the empty space? Except it making me feel empty from the fact that I don't like thighs that small and that you suffered for nothing thinking that it'll make me happier. Babe I don't want you to go on a diet, I love you just as you are."

" But...

" No buts. You'll be eating Johnny's delicious cooking for dinner tonight. A healthy meal for my beautiful girlfriend. Are you hungry now? I can get you something to eat? "

" No it's fine. I'm not hungry. "

" Are you still insecure? "

" No. "

You didn't dare to look into his eyes, if you did Johnny would know that you weren't telling him the truth about your insecurity.

Even though you did so, Johnny could tell. He could read you like an open book. He knows you're still in denial. So he decided to take matters into his own hands.

" If my words can't take away your doubts, I'll use my actions. Let me show you how beautiful you are to me. "

Johnny starts kissing you slowly, hesitating just in case you were seriously not in the mood for anything physical.

Things were rarely this slow with Johnny as he's always either busy or too tired to drag on for a long period of time, but he has plenty of time for you now.

He slid his tongue inside your mouth when you reciprocated his actions, his confidence building up from your responsive eagerness.

His hands hold onto your waist, keeping you flush against his body.

You sucked in your stomach, fearing that he would find your waistline being too wide.

But you accidentally did it too quickly as you panicked when he touched you, making Johnny notice the sudden change.

Johnny pulls away from your heated make out session and cradles your face into his hands gently.

" Baby, I love you. You don't need a small waist for me to love you. I'm more than satisfied with your current body. Don't change or feel like you need to change anything about it. "

" I'm sorry, my reflexes kicked in. "

" It's okay, you have nothing to be sorry for. Do you still want to go on? We can stop if you want. "

" I'm okay. Keep going. "

Johnny peppered kisses down your neck and behind your ear.

" You smell good babe. "

" I smell like old laundry. "

" My old laundry. I wore this shirt yesterday. You smell like me. "

" Why are you smiling like you won the lotto?"

" Because you're my lotto. I'm the luckiest man alive to have won your heart. "

Johnny took off his shirt to admire your body. He gave your breasts a gentle squeeze, admiring the way it bounced lightly as he lets them go.

" Beautiful. "

He scatters kisses from your cleavage to your nipples, leaving no spot untouched.

You played with his hair as he was busy giving love to your breasts, basking in the love and comfort from your lover.

After concluding that your breasts had enough love, he moved down to leave a trail of kisses on your stomach.

Before taking off your panties, he places a kiss each on of your hip bones.

" Your hip bones are already showing, and you think you're not skinny? "

" I wanted to work on my stomach. I want waists like the Victoria's Secret angels on TV, like your female colleagues and fellow idols. "

" Babe, many of those models on TV are underweight, remember? Remember the article you read on the models opening up about suffering from eating disorders? I don't want you to have eating disorder. And female artists in my company are around your size as well. "

" No. Look at Taeyeon noona, she's so slim and small. I want a figure like that."

" Baby, her body's different from yours. Your bones are stronger, so they're a bit bigger. And you're taller, of course you'll have a bigger build compared to her. Okay? You're perfect, stop comparing your body to other people's. "

" I just want to be beautiful for you. I want you to feel proud when you introduce me as your girlfriend. "

" I always felt proud of you baby. That will never change. "

He gave you a warm smile before moving down to continue pampering you in his love.

He gave your clit a kiss, sending shivers down your bones. His hands start wandering on your thighs, lightly pinching and holding your part of your thigh in his big hand.

" Have I told you how much I love your thighs? They're soft and feminine, but also has a degree of muscularity. That must be from all the dancing work out routine we had. "

Johnny moved down to your lower thighs, kissing and hands wandering his way up. Until he was met with the exquisite sight of your pussy.

" I'll never get bored of this view. "

He began eating you out like his last meal, you what thought was mind blowing about Johnny in bed was his love for pleasuring you, even though he was not on the receiving end.

You let your hands hold onto his soft hair, encouraging him to keep going.

Johnny sucked at your clit, two fingers slipping inside you as you were distracted.

You bit onto your lip, not wanting to sound annoying during sex or breaking the mood.

But Johnny wasn't happy with what you done. Johnny halted his sinful acts on you and looked up.

The sight had you dripping for more. The way he looked slightly breathless, with your juices all over his mouth and chin. But it was his eyes that was the ultimate deal breaker, although he was eating you out, his eyes still cast a heavy sense of dominance in them, starting into his eyes left goose bumps on your skin.

" Be my good girl and let me hear your pretty moans, baby. "

" Yes, Johnny. "

" Good girl. "

When he went back down on you, he decided to turn things up a notch by sliding his tongue inside your warm walls.

It was always euphoric to have Johnny's tongue inside you, the way the warm wet muscle slides and slithers its way into your warm cavern has your legs shaking for Johnny.

The knot in your belly starts to coil as Johnny starts to rub eight motions on your clit, pushing you off the edge.

" Fuck! Johnny, I'm gonna cum. "

As you registered that he didn't let out any objections, you let all hell loose.

Johnny lapped up your essence, like a wolf finally getting its feed.

Johnny strips off his clothes, watching you as you regained composure from your high with a loving and proud gaze.

" You look like you're glowing, baby. "

" With tears running down my face and cum all over my legs? "

" Only I can see you this wrecked, that's why I love it so much. "

" You're crazy. "

" Crazy for you, babe. "

Johnny climbed over you, his hands brushing your hair away from your sweaty face, laying a kiss on the tip of your nose.

" I love you. "

" I love you too, Johnny. "

Johnny held onto your hips gently, and pushed himself into you.

He peppered kisses all over your face as you adjusted to his size. You love the feeling of being so in love and dirty with the man you adore with your whole heart.

" You can move now. "

You were curious, whether Johnny was going to continue the fast pace he set just now or go for the romantic way of things.

Johnny started to move out slowly, and thrusted back into you deeply, making your toes curl and fingers clasped around his strong arms.

" Johnny... "

You love making love with Johnny, although it rarely occurs. Most times the both of you fuck your brains out, but today was different.

Today Johnny wants to remind you how he loves you, and how he'll show you in the most intimate way possible.

Johnny continued his deep and hard thrusts into you, hitting your sweet spot every single time. Johnny has a knack for finding it, as the two of you have been this intimate for so many times.

Johnny feels like his in heaven, your voice chanting his name over and over again in that angelic voice of yours.

The mantra of your voice fuels him to go faster, wanting to chase both of your orgasms.

You could feel Johnny getting close, as he swells inside you. The friction from Johnny's thrust pushing you towards your high as your walls convulsed around him.

" Cum for me, baby. I want us to cum together. "

" Johnny, fuck. So close. "

Johnny gave one your nipples a squeeze to send you off your edge as he spills into you, your warm cavern welcoming him.

" Johnny! "

" That's it baby, scream my name. "

Johnny continued to lightly thrust into you, milking you until you're dry. Johnny always had a thing for creampies.

When you started to get sensitive, he stopped. He slowly slid out of your pussy, some of the mixture of both his and your cum leaking out.

He uses a finger to push the liquid back in, as his other hand takes some tissue to clean up your previous cum stains on your thighs.

Johnny slid your panties back up, as he finished cleaning.

" Don't let my cum leak out from those pretty lips, that's all my love for you. "

" Just get in bed, I'm so tired from all the action. "

" Okay, baby. "

Johnny wraps his arms around you as he takes a wiff of you once again.

" Stop. I smell like sex. "

" We both do, and I love it. "

" Thank you, for making me feel better about myself. "

" You deserve to love yourself as I love you, Y/N. I know it'll take time, these things. But I'll be here in your heart, to remind you how beautiful you are everyday. I love you, baby. "

" I love you too, Johnny. My life wouldn't be the same without you. "

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atlantablack · 2 years

Text

FAVORITE WORKS OF 2021

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

Tagged by: I wasn't tagged by anyone! i did this tag meme last year and wanted to do it again for fun!

Oldest to Newest:

1. no (wo)man is an island

Harry Potter | golden trio poly | 2,046

Holding someone’s soul next to your own for seventeen years leaves behind an echo.

An echo is all that’s needed to carry a voice across space (and time).

2. from blood and bone (to earth and sea)

Merlin | Arthur & Morgana | 2,090

Every time Morgana believes she’s rid herself of affection for Gwen and Arthur, that same traitorous part of her heart roars back to life, threatening to strangle her with guilt.

She was done with feeling guilty, this is what she had told herself, and yet Arthur is screaming at his father as if he would give the kingdom up now all for one serving girl. That is to say nothing of the look on Gwen’s face when she’d met Morgana’s eyes. The betrayal shining in her eyes had cut deeper than any knife ever could.

She had said she was done with this. The throne was hers, Uther corrupt, and she could not trust Arthur with it. She could not but— . . . “You won’t kill her,” she says calmly, voice ringing through the room. “You won’t banish her either.”

3. drawing lines

Merlin | Gwen centric | 2,900

"Just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the color of gold." - Victoria Erickson

Gwen has never forgotten that Camelot is not the place of her ancestors, but for a time everyone she had loved had been held within the city and she had been safe. She had been happy.

That time has passed and she finds herself having to decide how much more she is willing to bear for the sake of a kingdom that does not care for her. If she is willing to bear anymore at all.

4. (forever is) the sweetest con

Harry Potter | Sirius/Voldemort | 24,740 | in progress

Sirius Black graduates Hogwarts in 1978, two months later he looks James in the eyes and lies through his teeth.

"I’m going home, taking back my spot as heir to the Black family,” he says, the lie tasting like ash on his tongue. “I think it’s past time we grew up, James. I’m sorry you don’t agree.”

5. a god at an altar, a beggar full of faith

Merlin | Merlin/Arthur | 4,998

The dawn was breaking the bones of your heart like twigs. You had not expected this, the bedroom gone white, the astronomical light ... - Visible World by Richard Siken

For every person that sinks magic beneath Arthur's skin like an offering, another tries to murder him, always furious when the magic harmlessly bounces off, Arthur held safe by the sacrifices of those who have died for him.

He wonders if they knew that he was aware of what they were doing. He spends a lot of time wondering why they would protect him. His father has them murdered and still more come, always in disguise, sometimes only brushing past him in the marketplace, a finger to his wrist, a hand to his back, the sweet rush of protection burrowing beneath his skin and promising safety.

He wonders how long it is until they decide to stop protecting the son of their butcher?

Tagging: @queerofthedagger @kitastrophea @being-luminous @magicinavalon @kairenn-n

#tag meme #bbc merlin #harry potter #atlanta writes

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auror-lovie · 4 years

Text

I Won’t Say (I’m in Love) (Theseus Scamander)

━━━•✦.✧. Author’s Note.✧.✦•━

Second writing challenge??? LET’S GO.

Also, I’m trying out a new editing thing. So may be I’ll be using a mix of moodboards and character banners??? I don’t know, tell me how the aesthetic feels.

Congrats Haley ( @wand3ringr0s3 )!!! To one of my lovely motivators, you deserve all the followers and so much more! Sending all the love and support!

A big thanks to @weasleysflowr and her fic for this challenge! Thanks to your fic, it gave me the motivation to bust my butt off and finish this AT 2 AM. Love ya, Ayli!!!

━━━━━•✦.✧. About .✧.✦•━

(Y/N) didn’t mean to fall in love with him- she was only doing her job.

━━━━━•✦.✧. Add- Ons .✧.✦•━

It’s about time I start sharing my man with the readers (Sorry I’m such a simp for Theseus-)

Preface: Theseus and Leta are not engaged in this universe.

Angst, but what’s new?

Dialogue heavy

Character death :)

(Okay, I REALLY LOVE WRITING ANGSTY THETORIA CONTENT, HUH. WHETHER IT BE PLATONIC OR ROMANTIC-)

I usually write Theseus and Victoria with perfect personalities… I hope this fic will change that and I can start writing more of their ugly sides.

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

Haley’s 1.9K Writing Challenge:

I Won’t Say (I’m in Love): Theseus Scamander x Reader

━━━━━━•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•━━━━━

“You’re so pretty, why don’t you have a boyfriend?”

Was the question that (Y/N) received on a near day to day basis. Some from colleagues, some from distant relatives, and some from random people who tried to ask her out on a date.

To answer that question would take a whole other story, but to keep it short: She was hurt by first love. (Y/N) loved him with all her heart and he repaid her by falling in love and running away with another woman.

(Y/N) was a hopeless romantic and she was aware of that. All the romance novels that the muggles always talked about- she read them. All the romance films- she watched them. When her fellow Aurors were in relationships, she felt joy and happiness swell in her heart.

Though she desperately wanted a boyfriend, she was afraid. Afraid that one day, he’d leave her. So she kept her heart locked away. Besides, there was no time for romance- not in the midst of a war. Rumors of Grindelwald gathering more members for his “organization” spread through the Auror department like wildfire.

Under the temporary direction of Head Auror Victoria Howard, missions were successful. Despite feeling anxious, she led her fellow Aurors with confidence and determination. Yes, there were casualties, but that was the price of any mission.

Victoria always had a weird feeling about (Y/N). (Y/N) was sweet, nurturing, and quite intelligent. She was a great Auror, but something didn’t sit right with her. These feelings amplified when War Hero, Theseus Scamander, came into the picture.

Theseus walked into the room full of Aurors behind Victoria and Travers. “As you all know, the Head Auror Howard will be stepping down and Theseus Scamander will be taking her place.”

Declarations of distress echoed throughout the room. “But sir, Miss Howard was leading us just fine!” An Auror argued.

Before Travers could stupidly respond, Victoria took a step forward. “I know some of you may not agree with the changes, but Mister Scamander is a great leader. I think he’ll bring us farther than I ever could.”

Theseus nodded and patted Victoria’s shoulder. “One of the reasons why I’m a great leader is because of her. She’s always pushing me to be the best. So I hope I can lead you all to victory to the best of my abilities.”

After the formalities, Victoria had led Theseus around the room to get to know his fellow partners. He got along with most of them. The ones he didn’t get along with were the ones still slightly upset about the change, but he paid no mind to it. Then they got to (Y/N).

“Hello, Mr. Scamander. I’m (Y/N) (L/N) and I’m looking forward to working under your direction.” (Y/N) greeted happily.

Victoria felt her stomach twist up in knots, but didn’t let it show. Was she jealous? No- something didn’t feel right about (Y/N) and she was determined to find out.

“Well, Miss (L/N), I’m looking forward to working with you as well. Victoria has said amazing things about you.” Theseus replied.

•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•

It had only been three months and he asked (Y/N) out on a date.

Victoria was in Leta’s office, pacing back and forth.

“Three months. Three months, Leta! And he’s already made his move on her!” Victoria ranted.

Leta sighed, rubbing her temples. “From what I’m hearing, I’m assuming you’re… jealous.”

Victoria stopped pacing and glared at her friend. “I’m not jealous, Leta. I’m over-protective. I trust my intuition and I know that (Y/N) girl is up to no good.”

“Have you talked to Theseus about it?”

“W-Well… No…” She trailed off.

“Then that’s your problem, Vi.”

Victoria sighed and plopped herself on a chair. “I swear… That girl’s got something to hide…”

~*~*~

To say he had a crush was an understatement. No- Theseus was in love with her.

“Wow. What a day. First that restaurant and then a nice walk in the park?” Theseus started as he and (Y/N) walked into a nearby park.

They both chuckled, Theseus shoving his hands in his pockets. “I didn't know that playing hooky could be so much fun.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Yeah. Neither did I.”

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

“Oh, don't thank me just yet. Oh!” She exclaimed, tripping on a crack in the pavement, falling into Theseus’ arms.

“Careful. I guess being quick and light on your feet only applies to the mission field, huh?” Theseus teased.

“Sorry,” (Y/N) laughed nervously. “I’m a klutz.”

“Oh? Well, maybe you better sit down for a while.” He said, carrying her to a nearby bench and they sat down.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, ignoring the blush rising to her cheeks. “So, uh, do you have any problems with things like… this?”

Theseus cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Uh…”

“Klutzes, I mean.”

“Oh. Uh, no. Not really.” He shrugged.

(Y/N) moved closer to him. “No weaknesses whatsoever? No mundane worries?”

“What are you getting at, (Y/N)?”

(Y/N), moving even closer to him. “No… insecurities?”

“E-Everyone has insecurities and worries. I worry about losing the people I care most about. My parents, my brother, Victoria, Leta…” He paused. “You.” He mumbled.

“What was that?” She asked.

“Nothing!” Theseus cleared his throat. “It was nothing.” He said, finally stood up from the bench. “Let’s just get back before people notice that we’ve been gone for most of the afternoon.”

~*~*~

Theseus and (Y/N) quickly made their way into the Ministry Headquarters, making sure to stay out of sight. They ran up to the Auror department without causing a scene.

When they reached the door to (Y/N)’s office, they stopped outside to catch their breath.

“Pretty Boy… You are... perfect.” (Y/N) said between breaths.

“Thanks…” Theseus paused. “You know, as a kid, I was expected to set high standards. I was Quidditch captain, Head Boy, and took as many NEWT level classes as I could. I think that’s why my brother dislikes me so much.” He chuckled, resting his head against the wall. “I just… I just wanted to be like every other guy.”

She scoffed. “You wanted to be petty and dishonest?”

“Not everyone is like that.”

“Yes, they are.” (Y/N) said softly.

Theseus turned his gaze to her. “You're not like that.”

“How do you know what I'm like?” She spat.

Theseus took her tone as a defense mechanism. “All I know is... You're the most amazing person I've ever met. (Y/N), when I'm with you I don't feel so... alone.”

“Sometimes it's better to be alone.” She said, rubbing her upper arms.

“What makes you say that?” He asked, pushing himself off the wall.

“Nobody can hurt you.” (Y/N) said, trying her best to not look at him.

“I would never ever hurt you.” Theseus quickly replied.

(Y/N) turned to face him, not realizing how close they were to each other. “And I don't wanna hurt you, so... let's both do ourselves a favor and stop this before we-”

Their lips moved in close for a kiss, but the moment before it happened, a voice interrupted them.

“All right, break it up! I’ve been looking all over the Ministry for you.” Victoria said as she came into view.

(Y/N) groaned in annoyance once she realized who it was. “Calm down, Victoria. It was all my fault.”

“I already have a bone to pick with you, so don't make it worse,” Victoria said, glaring at (Y/N).

“And as for you,” She looked at Theseus. Theseus looked at her before quickly avoiding her stare. “You’re lucky I saved your arse from Travers. We had a meeting today and you were supposed to lead it, but no. You decided to play hooky.”

“Okay, okay…” Theseus said, feeling like a child being reprimanded by their parent. As much as he deserved it, he hated it when she scolded him.

“I'm sorry.” (Y/N) said softly.

He let out a half-hearted chuckle. “Ah, she'll get over it,” Theseus said, facing her. He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and kissed her cheek.

“Come on, Theseus. We have work to do.” Victoria said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Theseus gave (Y/N) a smile before walking off with Victoria.

(Y/N) was left alone, her hand touching the cheek he’d kissed minutes ago. “Oh, what's the matter with me? You'd think a girl would learn.”

“(Y/N)! You’re finally here! I have things to discuss with you.”

(Y/N) quickly turned around to see Leta. “L-Leta!”

Leta smiled. “Don’t worry. Unlike Victoria, I won’t go all Mama Bear on you. Shall we discuss this in your office?” She asked, gesturing to the door.

She nodded. “Of course!”

Once inside, Leta and (Y/N) sat on the chairs. “So, tell me everything! How was your date?”

(Y/N) blushed lightly. “I-It was hardly a date. It was more of an… extended lunch.”

“Come on, spill the details! Do you like him?” Leta asked excitedly.

“What? O-Of course not.” She sighed, reminiscing on her first love. She would not fall victim to love- not again. “If there's a prize for rotten judgment, I guess I've already won that. No man is worth the aggravation. That's ancient history been there, done that.”

“Are you kidding? He’s the Earth and Heaven to you! You may try to keep it hidden, but honey, I can see right through you.” Leta replied.

“Oh, no. That’s preposterous! I can’t possibly be-”

“I know how you feel. I can see it in your eyes, (Y/N). You’re in lo-”

“No way. It's too cliche,” (Y/N) quickly interrupted.

“(Y/N), just listen-” Leta started again.

“Get off my case, Leta…” She trailed off.

Leta sighed, patting (Y/N)’s shoulder. “It's okay if you're in love…”

(Y/N) looked at Leta and smiled, relaxing in her chair. “At least at loud, I won't say I'm in love.”

After a while, Leta had left and (Y/N) sat at her desk to complete her piling paperwork. All was silent until-

“Hey, what's the buzz, huh, (Y/N)? What is the weak link in the Pretty Boy's chain?” A voice asked.

“Get yourself another girl, I'm through.” (Y/N) replied, exhausted.

“I'm sorry. Do you mind running that by me again? I must have had a chunk of stone wedged in my ear or something.” said Grindelwald as he came into view from the shadows.

“Then read my lips! Forget it!” She said, slamming her hands on her desk and glaring at him.

Grindelwald chuckled darkly. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N), my sweet deluded little minion. Aren't we forgetting one teensy-weensy, but ever so crucial little, tiny detail? I own you!”

“I’ll just apologize for snapping at them and not considering their relationship… Whatever they are…” Victoria mumbled to herself as she walked to (Y/N)’s office.

Grindelwald continued, “You work for me! If I say, "sing", you say, "Hey, name that tune" If I say, "I want Pretty Boy’s head on a platter," you say-”

“Medium or well done,” (Y/N) sassed back.

Victoria gasped softly as she heard a snippet of their argument from the opposite side of the door. “Oh! I knew that girl was trouble. This is gonna break Theseus’ heart.”

“I'll work on that.” (Y/N) mumbled.

Victoria quietly ran back to Theseus’ office to give him the news.

“I'm sorry... You hear that sound? That's the sound of your freedom fluttering out the window forever.” Grindelwald continued, his hand moving in a shoo-ing motion.

“I don't care. I'm not gonna help you hurt him.” (Y/N) said, her voice cracking.

“I can't believe you're getting so worked up about some guy.” He said nonchalantly.

“This one is different. He's honest, and-and he's sweet. He would never do anything to hurt me.”

“He's a guy!” Grindelwald said, making a last attempt to get it through her head.

“Besides, you can't beat him. He has no weaknesses-”

Grindelwald walked into her line of view and smirked. “I think... he does, (Y/N). I truly think... he does.”

~*~*~

Theseus sat in his chair, spinning around. “After Victoria and (Y/N) make up, we can put this all behind us.”

Victoria walked sad, slowly closing the door behind her. She whispered a silencing charm on the room before trying to figure out what to say.

“Hey, Victoria! What happened? Did you do it?”

Victoria cleared her throat. “Thes, we gotta talk.”

“Oh, Victoria, I just had the greatest day of my life! I can't stop thinking about (Y/N). She's something else.”

“Theseus! I'm trying to talk to you! Will you stop spinning in that stupid chair, calm down, and listen?”

He stopped spinning in his chair before trying to look at her- his head adjusting to the sudden stop in motion. “Aw, how can I calm down when I'm feeling so up?”

“What I'm trying to say is-”

Theseus grinned. “If it wasn't for you, I never would have met her. Oh, I owe you big time.”

“Will you just knock it off for a couple of seconds?” Victoria said, a bit agitated.

“Come on, Victoria, live a little! I’ve finally found happiness during this stupid war.”

“Listen to me! (Y/N)'s-” She started, moving closer to his desk.

“A dream come true?” Theseus quipped.

Victoria rolled her eyes. “Not exactly.”

“Absolutely beautiful?” He said, dreamily.

“Aside from that!” Victoria sighed, rubbing her temples.

“The most wonderful-” Theseus began.

“She's a fraud! She’s been playing with your feelings!”

“I know you're upset about today, but that's no reason to-”

She ran her fingers through her hair. “You're missing the point.”

“The point is - I love her.” He said, standing up from his chair.

Victoria crossed her arms over her chest. “She doesn't love you, Thes. She's nothing but a two-timing,”

“Stop it!” He moved around his desk.

“No-good, lying, scheming-”

“Shut up!” He yelled, shoving Victoria towards the bookshelf.

She lost her footing and her back slammed against the bookshelf, causing some of the books to fall. She yelped as her back made contact.

Theseus’ eyes widened at his actions. He looked down at his hands, which were twitching, before looking back at her. “Victoria, I- Oh, I'm, I'm sorry.”

Victoria hissed in pain as one of her arms reached over to rub the spot of impact. “You need to control your temper, Theseus, but besides the point. You don’t want to face the truth? Fine.” She winced as she slowly shoved herself off the bookcase and walked towards the door, not caring about the books on the floor.

“Victoria, wait. W-Where are you going?” He stammered.

“I'm going home.” She replied, wincing once again.

“What? Why? You can’t go home until you’ve been checked. I can take you to the Healer-”

“You know… You came home a War Hero and became the highly respected Auror that you are…” Victoria trailed off, stopping in her tracks. He took a step towards her. She turned her head slightly, Theseus now able to see the small, sad smile on her face. “But you’re not the Theseus that left me all those years ago.”

Theseus sighed. “Victoria, you can’t keep living in the past!”

Victoria turned around- quickly regretting her actions as her muscles ached. “So was our friendship nothing? All these years, since we were eleven- nothing?!”

“You’re making a big deal out of nothing! I thought you were my friend!”

“Of course I’m your friend! You’re just not seeing that… that (Y/N) is working for the other side!” She said, flailing her arms around to make her point, no longer caring about the pain it caused.

“She wouldn’t-”

Victoria grumbled. “Here we are again. Don’t believe me? So be it… But remember this: when the truth reveals itself? Don’t come crying to me.”

“Fine! It’s not like I needed you anyway!” He said angrily, but instantly regretted his choice of words.

Victoria gasped, her hands covering her mouth.

Now he’d done it. Theseus made his way to her. “V-Victoria, I didn’t mean that- I was just-”

Victoria put up her hand to stop him mid-sentence and mid-walk. “It’s okay. Just finish signing the paperwork and you can leave.”

“Victoria-” He called out, a pathetic attempt to keep her there.

“I’ve saved your arse time and time again- since the beginning. Years ago, that was schoolboy stupidity. Now? Hell, I don’t know what this is. I don’t even know who you are anymore. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mister Scamander.” She said before leaving his office.

•✦.✧.☾.✧.✦•

Months after their argument, things were back to normal- sort of. Auror duo, Howard-Scamander, had split apart. Even though it was odd not to see them on missions together, no one dared to question it or ask either person about it.

Then Victoria’s claim about (Y/N) working with Grindelwald had been proven. Theseus, Victoria, and (Y/N) gathered in Travers’ office. After a long interrogation, Travers had decided (Y/N)’s fate.

“Due to your affiliation with Gellert Grindelwald, you are therefore guilty of a treasonous-”

“You know I didn’t hurt anyone, you know that! You’ve seen me in the field! Or are you in such a high position where being deployed on missions is not in your job description?”

“You are therefore guilty of a treasonous betrayal of your fellow wizards and are sentenced to death.” Travers finished.

Two executioners step forward. They calmly, intrusively, press the tips of their wands into (Y/N)’s neck. (Y/N) was so overcome with shock and fear that she could barely speak.

“Just do it immediately. I will inform Minister Fawley myself.” Travers said to the executioners.

Victoria opened her mouth to speak, but no words could come out.

“Travers, she doesn’t deserve this!” Theseus yelled.

Travers placed a finger to his lips. “That’s enough. Miss Howard, please escort Mister Scamander out of here.”

~*~*~

A long, black, metallic corridor led into a pure white cell, which consisted of a chair suspended magically over a square pool of rippling potion. (Y/N) was forced into this room by the executioners. A guard stood at the door.

“Don’t do this. Nicole, please-” (Y/N) pleaded.

“It won’t hurt.” Nicole cooed softly.

(Y/N) was led to the edge of the pool. She began panicking, her breathing heavy and erratic.

The other executioner raised their wand and carefully extracted (Y/N)’s happy memories from her head. (Y/N) instantly calmed down, her expression now vacant. The executioner cast the memories into the potion, which rippled, coming alive with scenes from (Y/N)’s life.

A young (Y/N) smiled up as her mother called, “(Y/N)... (Y/N)... Come on, dearie, time for bed. Are you ready? You’re headed off to Hogwarts tomorrow.”

“I’m ready, mum…”

(Y/N) watched, smiling down at the scene.

“Doesn’t that look good? You wanna go to the chair?” Nicole asked calmly. (Y/N) nodded vacantly as she was guided onto the chair.

She now sat in the execution chair. She gazed down and beneath her swirled happy images of her at Hogwarts.

“(Y/N) (L/N)!”

(Y/N) hesitantly walked to the stool and sat down. She felt the hat being placed on top of her head.

“Difficult! Very difficult… Decisions, decisions…"

A small moment passed before the hat roared, “RAVENCLAW!”

(Y/N), still gazing into the pool, smiled wistfully. A small bubble started to form around the chair,

“(Y/N)!” Theseus’ voice echoed throughout the room.

A spell fired, hitting Nicole, who dropped to the floor, her wand falling into the pool. As it fell, the liquid rose up in viscous black bubbles, instantly engulfing the wand. In reaction, (Y/N)’s memories turned from good to bad: The memory of Grindelwald’s plan to use (Y/N) was displayed.

“See, he's gotta have a weakness, because everybody's got a weakness I mean for what? Pandora, it was the box thing, for the Trojans, hey, they bet on the wrong horse, okay? We simply need to find out Pretty Boy's.” Grindelwald said, walking around the room.

(Y/N) sat on the cushion of the bay view window. “I've done my part. Get your other imps-”

“They couldn't handle him as a soldier. I need someone who can... handle him as a man.”

“Hey, I've sworn off manhandling.” She replied.

“Well, you know, that's good because that's what got you into the jam in the first place, isn't it? You swore your allegiance to me to save your boyfriend's life. And how does that jerk thank you? By running off with some babe. He hurt you real bad, didn't he, (Y/N)? Huh?” He taunted.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Look, I learned my lesson, okay?”

Grindelwald circled around the room before stopping at her side. “Which is exactly why I got a feeling you're gonna leap at my new offer. You give me the key to bringing down that War Hero and I give you the thing that you crave most in the entire Wizarding World,” He stopped next to her and bent down. “Your freedom.” He whispered in her ear.

(Y/N), still enraptured by the pool, looked increasingly terrified. Her stool lowered closer and closer to the liquid.

Theseus managed to disarm and bind up Nicole, the other executioner, and the guard. He was about to save (Y/N) until

“Expelliarmus!” A voice shouted from the door.

Theseus’ wand was knocked from his hand. He turned around to Victoria standing at the door, catching her breath. She muttered the summoning charm before his wand was summoned to her hand.

Victoria quickly got hold of his wand before Theseus could reach it.

Theseus looked at her. “Victoria, I know we’re not on speaking terms, but please… My wand…”

She stared at him. A year ago, she’d give in, but not now. “No, I can’t let you save her Mister Scamander.”

“If you can’t beat them… then join them, right?” He let out a sad laugh. “If this is the last thing I tell you, I want you to know that even after this, you’re still my best friend. And you’re one hell of an Auror.” He said before making his way toward the edge of the pool.

Victoria gasped. “Damn it, Theseus!” She walked into the room and pointed her wand at him, “Incarcerous!”

Theseus was then bound by thick cords that came out of thin air, causing him to fall on his side. He hissed at the pain, but Victoria paid no mind. At least her friend was safe.

Victoria pointed her wand at the executioners and guard, unbinding them from their restraints. “Now get out of here.” The three of them nodded before shuffling out of the room.

Theseus looked at the memory pool, watching the last of (Y/N) memories. Victoria looked up at (Y/N), seeing the tears running down her cheeks. She almost felt pity for her- almost.

“Victoria, please…” Theseus pleaded for probably the last time.

Victoria then looked at the memory pool. It changed to the day where she and Theseus played hooky. She could see how happy they were together.

(Y/N) let out a sad laugh, causing Victoria and Theseus to look up at her. “I love you, Theseus… Sorry I didn’t tell you that day…” (Y/N) cried before the potion fully consumed her.

Theseus choked a sob as he held onto Victoria, hugging her torso, hiding his face in her shoulder. Victoria felt the tears building up before reality caught up to her. She gasped softly, tears running down her face.

Victoria was responsible for the execution of a fellow Auror. She was worried about her standings with Theseus, but that didn’t matter at the moment.

At that moment, she needed to comfort and be there for her friend. For her friend was mourning the loss of the one he loved the most.

#wand3ring1.9kchallenge #fbawtft #fbtcog #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander #writing challenge

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