#martini logo

[conformi]

Harold E. Edgerton, Bullet through Apple, 1964 VS Robilant Associati, Martini & Rossi, logo rebranding, 1995

[rabbitcruiser]

International Cabernet Sauvignon Day 

The world celebrates International Cabernet Sauvignon day every year on August 30. This holiday honors the fine quality and the deep berry flavor that have come to define Cabernet Sauvignon wines. This grapevine variety dates back to the 17th century, the offspring of a chance crossing between the Cabernet Franc and Sauvignon blanc. Cabernet Sauvignon is now one of the most renowned grape varieties, and synonymous with class and refined taste. Overall, Cabernet Sauvignon deserves more than just a day to celebrate its enduring legacy.

History of International Cabernet Sauvignon Day

Red wine is perhaps one of the oldest beverages known to man. It’s no wonder that Pliny The Elder, a Roman historian, coined the phrase ‘In Vino Veritas’ which translates to ‘In wine, there is truth.’ Up until the mid-90s, most people believed that Cabernet Sauvignon was the renowned ancient Roman wine. Although today we understand the history of this grapevine variety and how it was created, the allure and mystique of Cabernet Sauvignon wine has not diminished.

In the 17th century, an accidental crossing of Cabernet Franc and Sauvignon blanc gave the world its first taste of what would later become a staple for wine lovers and winemakers alike. Then, in the 1800s, Cabernet Sauvignon saw its first rise in popularity, particularly in France. Winemakers were consistently looking for grapevine varieties that were resistant to weather changes and easy to grow. The rich and dark fruit flavor that characterized most Cabernet Sauvignon wines became highly sought after by wine enthusiasts, and the grape quickly rose to the status of noble grape.

The Bordeaux wine region became the hub of Cabernet Sauvignon production. Nowadays, this variety is produced by most wine-producing regions. Today, France, Italy, the U.S., and many Latin American countries are among the top producers of Cabernet Sauvignon. In 2009, marketing guru, and Cabernet Sauvignon aficionado, Rick Bakas organized the first International Cabernet Sauvignon day. The purpose of the celebration is to bring together the community of Cabernet aficionados and winemakers. Several countries, including Mexico, Canada, and South Africa, began observing this day shortly after.

International Cabernet Sauvignon Day timeline

17th Century First Cabernet Sauvignon Is Created

An accidental crossing of two grapevine varieties creates the first Cabernet Sauvignon.

1820s Rising Popularity

Cabernet Sauvignon becomes a grapevine of choice by producers in Europe.

1880s Oldest Cabernet Sauvignon Planting

Penfold’s establishes Kalimna Block 42 in South Australia, the oldest Cabernet Sauvignon planting to date.

2009 First Cabernet Sauvignon Day

Rick Bakas organizes the first International Cabernet Sauvignon Day in the U.S.

International Cabernet Sauvignon Day FAQs

What is special about Cabernet Sauvignon?

Cabernet Sauvignon is considered one of the noble grape varieties, grown internationally and preferred by consumers. It is also easy to grow and resistant which makes it relied upon by many producers.

Why is it Called Cabernet Sauvignon?

The Cabernet Sauvignon grapevine is the offspring of Cabernet Franc and Sauvignon blanc. Sauvignon is believed to be derived from the French word ‘Sauvage,’ meaning ‘wild.’ Cabernet Sauvignon would translate as Wild Cabernet.

What does Cabernet Sauvignon taste like?

Cabernet Sauvignon has several sub-varieties and has been crossed with other grapevines, giving several distinctive tastes. Generally, Cabernet Sauvignon wines have dark fruit undertones of black cherry, and sometimes green bell pepper. Cabernet Sauvignon wines can also have a wood and vanilla aroma, as it is aged in oak barrels.

International Cabernet Sauvignon Day Activities

Invest in a quality vintage

Read about the history

Go to cabernet sauvignon tasting or wine country

Although Cabernet Sauvignon wines are generally associated with fancy restaurants and expensive wine retreats, they are not always as expensive. Grab a bottle of a budget-friendly Cabernet Sauvignon blend and enjoy good company on this holiday.

The history of Cabernet Sauvignon is essentially that of modern wine culture. This variety is not the oldest in the world but is an essential one. Reading about its history can be a fruitful and engaging experience for wine lovers.

Cabernet Sauvignon is one of the most popular grapevine varieties among wine lovers and producers alike. So, it wouldn’t be difficult to find a wine estate or tasting dedicated to Cabernet Sauvignon vines.

5 Interesting Facts About Cabernet Sauvignon

Most widely planted grape vine

France is the top producer

Cabernet Sauvignon is a relative of Merlot

Its origins were discovered in 1996

Higher levels of aroma compounds

Cabernet Sauvignon is the most widely planted grapevine in the world, surpassing the     Spanish variety Airén in 2014.

France has always been a center of wine production and is the largest producer of Cabernet Sauvignon with over 55,000 hectares.

It is often blended with Merlot, and most people can hardly tell the difference between the two.

A group of scientists at U.C. Davis used D.N.A. typing for the first time to study the parentage of Cabernet Sauvignon, which had previously been obscure

Cabernet Sauvignon is noted for higher levels of pyrazine, an aroma compound, which is why Cabernet Sauvignon wines have a rich dark fruit flavor.

Why We Love International Cabernet Sauvignon Day

It is a staple wine

It has health benefits

It pairs well with food

Cabernet Sauvignon is often regarded as one of the best wines. It is indeed a necessity for every wine lover. It is, without a doubt, a must-have for any wine enthusiast. If you're not sure what wine to try, Cabernet Sauvignon is almost always a good bet.

Cabernet Sauvignon is noted for its health benefits. Other than aiding the digestion process, and blood circulation, moderate amounts of red wine, particularly Cabernet Sauvignon, can also reduce risk factors associated with Alzheimer’s.

As with most wine varieties, pairing with food certainly complements the culinary experience. Cabernet Sauvignon is widely paired with a variety of foods from steaks, mushrooms, and different kinds of cheese.

Source

[chukys-mouthguard]

I’m obsessed with Quinn and Nico, can you write something with them?

nice to meet ya

2.4k words | not proofread

featuring: nico hischier x female reader x quinn hughes (semi-featuring luke and jack)

genre: fluff

summary: after the hughes bowl, Jack invites Nico out with your group in hopes of you two hitting it off. However, once he sees the way you and Quinn interact, he’s afraid he’s got no shot

The Hughes’ bowl had to be one of your favorite times of the year, it was quite honestly your Super Bowl.

Having grown up with the Hughes family, the boys were practically your brothers. And getting to see them all play under one roof, for one night, you always made sure your schedule was clear.

The game never being about who won or lost, though the boys would beg to differ, simply being an opportunity for all of you to get together. You’d taken a half day at work so that you had plenty of time to get ready and off to the arena. A couple of your friends tagging along as Luke was always sure to hook you up with good seats.

“The boys are actually going to crucify you for showing up in Canucks stuff.”

“Especially after Luke got us such good seats.”

You rolled your eyes as you and your girlfriends hung out in the family area, waiting for the boys after a hard fought Devils win in overtime.

“Please, Luke definitely didn’t have to pay for those seats. And, Quinn is practically my twin, they should expect nothing less from me at this point.”

The three of you laughed as you continued your waiting. Quinn was your age, and the two of you had always been inseparable. Like you said, you were practically twins. Your personalities meshed so well, and you were much closer to him than Jack or Luke. Your friends often joked that you and Quinn should date, but the thought of that made each of you want to vomit. Never once having any type of feelings for one another other than those of love for a sibling.

“There they are!”

Your friend called out as Jack and Luke emerged from their locker room. Hair still slightly damp as it clung to their foreheads, now dressed in more casual clothes versus their suits as you’d all planned to head to a bar for drinks after the game.

“Y/n, again with the Canucks gear? They are gonna stop letting me give you tickets if you keep pulling shit like this.”

Luke playfully scolded you as he wrapped you in a hug, then pulled your leather jacket tightly shut to cover the Canucks logo.

“Quinn needs to hurry up, I feel an espresso martini calling my name!”

Your friend urged as she playfully stomped her heel into the floor, all of you waiting to see Quinn emerge from the visitor’s hallway.

“Jack, you have a second?”

Looking up your eyes met those of a familiar face, but not one of the guys you’d met before. Jack looked up and saw you eyeing the man, figuring you were expecting an introduction.

“Nico, this is y/n, I apologize for her Canucks apparel, she was supporting Quinn tonight and not us apparently.”

Playfully you stuck your tongue out at Jack before accepting Nico’s hand that extended towards you.

“Nice to meet you y/n, I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

“If it came from Jack, don’t believe a word he says.”

Now Jack was the one sticking his tongue out at you before stepping to the side to chat with Nico. Your girlfriends immediately noticed your eyes following the two of them, pulling you to the side so no one else could hear their comments.

“Girl, if you do not take advantage of that gorgeous man eyeing you up and down like that, then you are certifiably insane.”

Rolling your eyes you turned your attention to the hallway, searching for Quinn in hopes his presence would rescue you from the interrogation of the girls. His damp brown hair clung to his forehead as he made his way down the hall, slightly jogging as he knew he had made everyone wait on him. A shy smile on his lips as he saw you standing with your hands on your hips playfully scolding him.

“Sorry, sorry. Captain’s duties, I couldn’t dip out early.”

He wrapped you in a hug before noticing the outfit you’d chosen for the night, a huge smile on his face as he looked at you.

“How mad were they?”

“Luke threatened to stop giving me tickets.”

“Well, there’s plenty of tickets for you in Vancouver should he stop bringing you to his games. We know you’d rather attend mine anyways.”

Luke simply rolled his eyes as you and Quinn continued your jokes, the group waiting on Jack to finish with Nico so you could head out.

“Hey, do you guys care if Nico joins? I figured the more the merrier?”

Everyone looked to one another, shrugging as if to say what’s the hurt in an extra person.

“Okay, it’s decided then, you’re coming with us Nico.”

The group headed out of the arena, Quinn riding in your car along with one of your girlfriends, the other choosing to ride with the rest of the group as she and Luke were slowly becoming a thing, which you were happy to see. Always wanting the best for the boys, especially when that was in one of your friends that you know and love.

You’d all parked down the street from the strip of bars, Jack and Luke knowing exactly which ones to go to that wouldn’t result in mobs of fans crowding or bugging them all night.

You and Quinn had come up with the brilliant idea to race each other in the parking garage, one of the many dumb things you two found yourselves doing just because. Though you immediately regretted it when you rolled your ankle in your heeled boots. Slightly stumbling as you whined, Quinn just laughing as he crouched down, signaling for you to get on his back.

The others had made their way out of Jack’s car, watching Quinn carry you and not even questioning it. Nico simply laughed with the group as you explained about your ankle, sticking close to Jack as he’d noticed how Luke and Quinn both seemed to be coupled up with you and your friend. The other friend of yours had mentioned her boyfriend once earlier telling Nico it was likely just him and Jack for themselves.

“You don’t ever feel like a third wheel around them?”

Jack looked to Nico a bit confused, shaking his head with a laugh.

“Absolutely not, those two are off in their own world. They’ve always been that way for years.”

Nico watched as you threw your head back laughing at something Quinn must have said, the smile on your face making you even more beautiful than you already were. The way your laugh echoed in the parking structure like music to his ears, but he feared he’d not be able to get close to you seeing you attached to Quinn’s hip.

Jack had invited Nico out to join you all, thinking perhaps you and the Captain would hit it off. To which Nico happily accepted after seeing how gorgeous you were, his knowledge of you only from the stories Jack and Luke told. Never once having seen a photo of you or met you. But his excitement about getting to know you faded as he’d begun to sense something between you and Quinn. The piggy back ride, the way you looked at one another, the way Quinn made you laugh. However, what the man didn’t know was that there was nothing behind the interactions. Jack just sucked at explaining anything, leaving Nico to think he didn’t have a chance with you.

Settling into a somewhat private section of the bar, you snagged an extra bar stool to elevate your foot and rest your ankle. Quinn immediately attempted to get ice for you as the others found their seats. Nico was seated to your right, smiling at you as you looked up at him laughing.

“I promise, I’m not normally such a klutz. I’m usually pretty light on my feet.”

“Well, running in heels I think changes that a bit.”

His voice was soft as he spoke back to you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he looked at your foot elevated on the bar stool.

“Does it hurt much?”

“It’s okay, nothing some alcohol can’t fix.”

“You want a drink? I can go get you one?”

Nico gestured to the bar, to which you kindly accepted as you gave him your drink order. Watching as he approached the bar and struck up a conversation with Quinn. Unsure what the two of them would talk about since you hadn’t known them to cross paths much.

“Oh, hey man. Quinn, I don’t think we’ve ever officially met.”

Nico shook Quinn’s hand with a smile, mentioning something about one time when Quinn knocked Nico on his ass, breaking the ice between the two of them.

“Are you getting drinks or?”

“No, trying to get a bag of ice for y/n. Hard to believe that if you need something that you aren’t paying for, they serve you slower.”

Nico laughed as he looked over his shoulder at you, your eyes wide as you were clearly telling some elaborate story. Your excitement showing through your body language, making him smile softly to himself.

“You and y/n have known each other for awhile yeah?”

“Practically our whole lives, we’ve been told by our families we were destined to get married ever since we were like ten.”

Nico slightly nodded, taking in the words of Quinn as he felt his heart sink a bit. Not realizing that you and him were so serious.

“Wow, that’s crazy. I mean, she is a beautiful girl, can’t blame anybody for wanting to have her all to themselves.”

“Yeah she’s definitely beautiful, but marriage is a little crazy for people to say I think.”

“You don’t want to get married?”

“I mean, maybe one day, if she’s the right girl. But, right now I’m not thinking about that at all.”

Nico looked at Quinn confused, as if they were having two different conversations. But before he could follow up Quinn’s statement, he was headed back to the table with a bag of ice for your ankle.

The bartender tapping the wood top to get his attention, Nico quickly ordering drinks as he’d felt bad you’d been waiting.

“Thank you so much!”

You took the drink from Nico as you smiled up at him, he’d sat down with a sigh as he eyed your ankle. The bag of ice in its place, hopefully helping soothe your pain along with the vodka lemonade he’d just brought you.

“How is it?”

Nodding your head as you stirred the drink, you looked to Nico with a laugh.

“It’s vodka lemonade, so, you can’t really mess that up.”

He playfully smacked his head as he laughed at himself, realizing he’d not been clear in what he was asking about.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so stupid, sorry. I meant how is your ankle? With the ice?”

“Ohhhh!”

You threw your head back laughing as your hand rested on his forearm, the two of you amused by the miscommunication as Nico took note of the feeling of your hand on his arm. Appreciating the time it took for you to finally put it away, but missing your touch as soon as you did.

“It’s better! Ice was definitely needed, that's for sure.”

The night continued on with drinks, funny stories from the game, and even a few shots. Luke and his girl left early, not being night owls, and your friend had to get home to bed for an early workday. Leaving you and Nico at the table while Quinn and Jack took part in a very competitive game of darts.

“So, y/n, how long have you and Quinn?”

Nico’s voice trailed off as he sipped his drink, your expression a bit puzzled. Not sure if it was the alcohol or possibly Nico’s accent that had you confused as to what exactly he was asking. You were sure he knew that Quinn was like a brother to you, he’d mentioned the fact the boys had spoken about you before. But then again, Jack was notorious for leaving out key details. Which in this scenario, could be why you’d felt an awkward vibe from Nico all night. As if he was unsure what he could or couldn’t say to you.

“I’m sorry, do you think that Quinn and I are, dating?”

Nico’s expression quickly turned to one of confusion mixed with embarrassment, as if he’d missed out on some obvious joke amongst you all.

“Well, yes? I mean, hearing the way he talked about you I thought so. But he did say something about everyone telling you two to get married, but then he said he definitely wasn’t gonna do that anytime soon, which I thought was weird if you’ve been practically dating since you were ten years old.”

You tried your best not to laugh, knowing that Nico clearly had no clue that you were in fact not dating Quinn, and you were simply friends. Feeling bad as you could see how respectful he’d been trying to be all night.

“Nico, I’m so sorry, Jack clearly sucks at providing pertinent information.”

His nervousness settled as you’d rested a hand on his cheek, your smile comforting him as he was sure he’d have to leave and never speak to you again because of this mixup.

“No, Quinn is not my boyfriend. He’s simply my best friend. I am single as a Pringle.”

“Pringle?”

He looked at you confused, you simply told him to forget the joke as you both erupted in laughter.

“Well, okay, that changes things for sure.”

“Changes things?”

You looked at him with wide eyes as you sipped your cocktail, unsure as to what he’d be referring to.

“A lot of things actually. Starting with the fact that I’d love to take you on a date sometime. Miss single Pringle.”

You held a hand to your mouth as you tried not to let your laughter cause you to spit out any of your drink. Already embarrassed at the fact you’d had to sit next to Nico all night icing your ankle.

“And if it goes well, maybe I can be your source for Devils tickets? I wouldn’t mind having you around the rink more often.”

A slight blush crept over your cheeks as you smiled at him from behind your glass, trying not to seem too excited at the offer of a date with Nico. Mentally thanking Jack for inviting him tonight while still cursing him for fucking up the details on who exactly you were.

“But, if you do let me take you out and start coming to my games, no more Canucks gear okay? I think a Hischier jersey with number thirteen on the back would look much better on you!”

[celestialprincesse]

🍸♧

You hum absently along to the song that plays through the glossy speakers in the casino bar, a song you recognise faintly but most certainly couldn't name if you were asked. Condensation has long come and gone along the rim of the pretty glass you currently trace your finger absently up and down, long having ditched searching the bar for your date who'd vowed that he'd turn up this time, and foolishly, you'd believed him. Now you're stuck paying for your own overpriced martinis in a dress which is far too uncomfortable to have sat here for so long in. You were hoping someone would've taken it off pretty quickly, hence the equally uncomfortable lingerie that currently sits underneath.

As you play absently with one of the dainty straps of your dress, something - someone - slips into your periphery. The glossy eyed, mohawked bartender with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms gives a nod to your empty glass and solemn look and a boyish smile kicks up the corners of his lips. "Ye're empty." He observes, already sweeping up your glass and retrieving a fresh one.

"Oh. Yeah I guess." Your sullen response makes him chuckle warmly, already leaning his strangely sexy (what are you? an 18th century man seeing an ankle?) forearms on the edge of the bar, halfway appraising and admiring you.

"And would ye like another?" The bartender coaxes in an accent that has heat crawling up your chest and your thighs clenching absently. "Yes. Please." The sound of your voice is foreign to your ears as you manage to shamefully muster a response, unable to meet his cerulean gaze as you blink down at the cool onyx bar below you, perhaps in some subconscious more code begging it to save you before you get swept away in the rip current which is the man before you's eyes.

"And what is it that yer drinkin' - and dinnae tell me 'martini' 'cause there's all sorts of martinis and I dinnae wanna fuck yers up. Ye already look like yer evening 'as been shite enough."

His little tangent has you blinking out of your daze, trying to catch the last dregs of what he's just said, clearly to no avail when he looks at you in amusement, leaning close enough that you can smell his musk of cedar cologne and liquor.

"How'd ye take yer martini, princess?" He coos, already swilling a large cube of ice, monogrammed with the casino logo, around your glass, causing it to frost over with his deft movements. His hands look huge over the stem of the glass, and for a moment you allow your mind to wander to how they'd look running over the dainty little straps which hold up your slip of a dress, or maybe how they'd feel running through your hair.

"Gin - with a twist please."

Not even a minute later, you're sipping on the most delectable martini you think you've ever had, the cool alcohol slipping down your throat like medicine, the bartender eyeing you like you're the most delicious looking thing he's ever seen, which makes your tummy flutter.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Unlike some I've no got a habit of letting beautiful women buy their own drinks."

𐦍༘⋆

Building on the casino 141 au teehee. Thinking of doing like some oneshots to establish how they all meet their individual readers and then going from there but I'm def overcommitting.

Oh well! 💕 Big smooches

[call-me-eds]

The Boy is Mine (call-me-eds version)

I was not tagged in @carolmunson 's writing challenge, and encourage with her for other small writers to jump in and participate in anything that sparks interest or creativity! Find the guidelines here and check out her ongoing masterlist to see all of the other incredible editions :)

Masterlist

A romantic night in at the trailer. 

Fluff | WC: 2.5 K

“I ran out of, like, nice cups, is this okay?” Eddie extended a plastic souvenir cup with the Cubs logo half chipped off, and it took everything in you not to slap it out of his hand. 

The gravity of this night was not being taken seriously by anyone, and it was driving you up a wall. You could only give your own 100%, nothing more, but apparently you’d need to drag the effort from the Munson’s with your bare hands.

“No, it’s not okay! This is a date, you need to make a good impression,” you abandoned your station at the counter to start rifling through cabinets. There were three open bottles of whiskey in the trailer but not a single cocktail glass. Eddie’s soft voice barely pulled your wandering thoughts from wondering how long it would take you to run home to get two of your own glasses.

“Baby, do I need to remind you that neither of us are going on this date?” he asked, avoiding the urge to come behind you and put his hand on your shoulders to manually relax them. He didn’t want to lose a limb and you were dangerously close to the knife block. He looked on, feeling helpless in his own home while you ran around like the queen was coming over.

Whatever, it could have been possible that you were going a little overboard, but all you wanted was for Wayne to have a good night. He was so kind and hardworking, and putting up with Eddie was an exhausting job. The man was a saint.

So you messed with one of the lightbulbs to dim the light, fluffled the one throw pillow that the men had, and convinced Wayne to take his time getting ready while you and Eddie made a round of drinks that didn’t come with a tab or need a bottle opener. 

“We don’t have time for reminders, just line the rims,” you said, carefully putting down the only two matching drinking glasses. They weren’t the martini glasses in your vision, but they would have to do. 

“Vanilla frosting?” he confirmed. “What, is this Christmas-themed?” he joked, but took care in looking at the photo on the recipe you ripped out from an old home magazine you found. He gently inserted the glass and spun it around. No matter how much he teased you, you knew that he wanted the night to go well for his uncle just as badly as you did.

“So what if it is? Who doesn’t love Christmas?” you asked, going back to arranging the food you put on a tray you found that might have been older than Eddie. He finished his task, taking the care he knew you would have, quickly swiping his finger through the sugary substance when you were turned away.

“Everyone does, it’ll be a hit,” he said, maybe just to make you feel better, and licked his finger clean before you could catch him. “But if you don’t relax, you’re going to hit the floor,” he side-swiped you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, going to the sink.

With the self-imposed expectations you put on yourself to ensure your boyfriend’s father figure had a great night was the guilt that came from forcing your man to anticipate your wants for the night. There weren’t any canceled plans, and just a few snippy comments, but you were sure there were other ways Eddie would want to be spending his Saturday night off from work. Between ironing the one tailored shirt in Wayne’s closet and taking your own laundry down from the clothesline, you told Eddie to call Steve and make plans to meet him and Robin at The Hideout for a few drinks. 

Non-peppermint drinks. Which smelled like Macy’s in December and were definitely from the holiday edition of the magazine. You didn’t have time to overthink your out-of-season choice, though, because Wayne was coming out of the bathroom smelling suspiciously like Eddie when you went out on special occasions. A mental note fleetingly popped into your head to buy your boyfriend his own, different scented, bottle of cologne.

“I could have sworn I told you two to scram,” Wayne said, a hint of sincerity in his mocking tone. His eyes scanned over your spread with equal parts appreciation and confusion. Fine, maybe wintery cocktails, carrots, and crackers didn’t exactly go together, but you were working on a tight timeline and whatever you could scrounge up from the Quick-Mart.

“We’re going soon, I swear,” you promised, mixing the combination of ingredients that you thought might be on the sweet side for Wayne’s preference, but were sure that his date would prefer to a Heineken. There wasn’t a cocktail shaker at your disposal, a measuring cup and a fork would have to get the job done.

Eddie could read the two of you like a book. The nervous energy you were emitting had him wanting to stay out of the way, so he washed and dried the few dishes you dirtied in record time. The domestic act may not have been as exciting as ripping a guitar solo, but it was just as sexy to you, especially when you didn’t even need to ask. Not that you were paying a speck of attention to him at the moment.

“Now Sally’s just coming over for a little while before we go to our rummy game,” Wayne said, sounding like he was warning you both to behave before leaving you with a babysitter. “So you don’t have to be out all night, but I don’t want you making her feel crowded,” he pointedly looked at Eddie this time, who couldn’t even pretend not to understand.

The last time the two of you had been around when Wayne’s “friend” Sally came over, Eddie wouldn’t stop asking her questions about her job, her family, her weekend routine, and you feared he was getting dangerously close to inquiring about her medical history and savings account.

“We’ll be out of your hair, don’t worry,” you confirmed, doing one last sweep to make sure there wasn’t a trace of Eddie in the living room. As endearing as he might be, your boyfriend had a tendency to leave anything that belonged to him in the shared space of the trailer. 

“Now listen, here, partner,” the dark-haired Tasmanian devil strode up to his uncle in imitation and smacked a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not going far, so if there’s any funny business going on under this roof I will know about it.” The two of you heard a version of the same speech any time Wayne was going to the bar or leaving for a shift and you two would be by yourselves. It had the opposite effect, making you act all the more quicker so you’d be put back together when he came back home.

“Son, I was getting into funny business before you were born,” he responded, knocking Eddie’s bravado right off its kilter.

“Oh, ew, I don’t want to think about that!” he whined, blush appearing faster than his hands could cover his face.

“Well, if you don’t quit it, we’re going to have a problem, then.”

“Leave him alone, let’s go,” you said, grabbing the bag of snacks reserved for you two from your grocery trip. “Have fun, Mr. Munson,” you smiled. Even though you were setting him up for a night of romance and intimacy, you still couldn’t bring yourself to call him by his first name. 

“Thank you, Darlin’, I’ll see you later,” he said, reaching out to ruffle Eddie’s hair before he was out of reach. 

“Hey!” You opened the door to separate the two before a wrestling match broke out and a button popped or a hair came out of place.

“And if you don’t start opening doors, boy, you won’t even be in amusing business, nevermind funny!” he called after the two of you, making you laugh. He kept walking, grabbing your hand and waving it around so his uncle could see the small act of romance.

The two of you strolled in between the trailers as the sun was dipping below the horizon. You let the stillness of the evening come over you, decompressing from your few high-string hours. The adrenaline seeping out of you made you more tired than you should have been before sunset, and you accepted that your actions were a bit overkill. But you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Your uncle looked really nice,” you commented, smiling at the thought of him deciding what to wear and pulling out his fanciest belt buckle. “Like a real gentleman.”

“And you like that?” Eddie asked. “You’re not exactly dating the swankiest guy in town,” he flicked the hand that wasn’t holding yours up and down, gesturing to his sweatpants and t-shirt. You wouldn’t dignify his self-deprecation with a response, so you just squeezed his hand.

“He was nervous, it was cute,” you deflected. Eddie sat down in one of the chained-down adirondack chairs that the trailer park had surrounding a few singed logs that were last tended to before you had even met the Munsons. He reached down to grab the security measure and tug another chair as close as it could possibly get to his.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have just stayed in my room or something,” he said as you sat down. “I could have behaved myself.” Even as the words came out of his mouth, his mumbling was evidence even he didn’t believe it. “Whatever, I’ll just read about it in his little notebook later that he pretends isn’t a diary.”

“Eddie!” you laughed. “Let him have some privacy, he’s a grown man.” As you and Eddie got older, he tended to treat his uncle more like a roommate than an elder. When you first started dating he would have taken his arm from being around your shoulders when Wayne walked into the room, where now he tried to convince you that walking around in his boxers wasn’t weird, it was like wearing your own shorts.

“You love him more than me,” he deduced, flopping in the chair like a depressed fish.

“Aw, don’t be like that. that’s not even true,” you swung your leg over the arms of your chairs, and his hand drew like a magnet to your calf, starting to rub it with the amount of pressure he learned you preferred.

“Yes it is, that’s why you always want to come over to my place. You’re using me to get to him and his union insurance,” he teased, sending you into a further fit of giggles.

“Would someone that bought you your nasty snacks be using you?” you asked, handing him the plastic bag with the beef jerky he loved so much.

“You do always say this will give me a heart attack,” he smiled, ripping open one of the packages with his teeth. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, Eddie’s massaging hand lulling you into a level of relaxation that let you both know you wouldn’t be joining Steve and Robin at the bar like you originally planned. With all of his talk of malintentions on your front, you were pretty sure that he was trying to lull you into the state you were in now so he wouldn’t want to go out. 

Eddie talked a big game, but when faced with the decision to hit the town or stay curled up in bed with you, he was hiding your shoes, boiling water for tea, and putting a blanket on the radiator for maximum comfort. 

“Hey, you know I appreciate it, right?” he asked through his chewing. 

“What, the snacks? They were like, two bucks,” you told him. He pinched your skin lightly, chastising you for making him talk about how he truly felt,

“No, you doing all of that for Uncle Wayne.” You kept your eyes on the stars that were starting to dot the sky. It was always so much easier to spot them from the trailer park, even more so with Eddie by your side.

“I was happy to,” you reassured. It wasn’t a secret how much you loved spending time not only with your boyfriend, but with his uncle. He always made space for you in his home and trusted you with the most important thing in his life. 

“I know, but it still means a lot, Sweetheart. I love you,” he lifted your leg slightly so he could lean down and press his lips to your ankle where your leggings separated from your sock.

“I love you,” you answered automatically.

“Next week I’ll make sure he goes out so I can give you a romantic evening,” he promised.

“This is a romantic evening,” you hummed.

“Baby,  I know I’m white trash, but don’t let me drag you down into thinking this is romance,” he laughed. You sighed and finally took the bait from all of his negative quips.

“Okay, what’s your idea of romance, then?” 

“Not helping my uncle get laid,” he scoffed. You pulled your leg from his grasp to lightly kick at his chest. “Alright, alright. If I had unlimited cash I would start by hiring a chef to cook for us so we wouldn’t even need to leave the house,” he started, cajoling your leg back into his grasp to continue his massage.

“Does that mean I wouldn’t have to dress up?” you asked.

“Ideally, you wouldn’t be wearing anything,” he said, fully meaning it. “I’d have a new piece of jewelry come out with every course, so I guess you could wear that. And after we ate, maybe I’d hire someone to play us a concert, like Prince or someone. Then we’d go fly to France for dessert on my private jet and come home to the penthouse and watch the sunrise,” he finished.

“That’s not romantic at all,” you said. “That’s just expensive.” You pulled away this time not to punish him, but to get closer. His hand was warm from the work it was putting in on your muscles as opposed to the normal chill. 

“Okay, so then what was the right answer?” he asked. 

“This, just being together,” you said, knocking the air from his chest and the canned response from his lips. 

It was a simple answer that held much more beneath the surface. What you weren’t saying was that every time you were with him felt like you were winning the lottery. The idea of a five-star meal and some diamonds were nice, but you’d take Eddie heating up a can of soup on the stove, a bracelet made of string and beads, and him playing the same guitar riff over and over for hours over anything he could cook up in his mind.

Despite the nice picture he painted, running through his mind was a more similar scene to yours, except there was a ring on your finger.

“I guess that sounds good, too.”

[danielfuckingricciardo]

23 + Fernando Alonso (can't wait to see what you come up with!)

Hi anon! Thank you so much for the request ♥︎

Sorry this is a little late, but better late than never, right?

When I saw the song I instantly knew what I wanted to do for this one, it practically wrote itself and I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoy reading it too!

+ Much like the Esteban fic, this is my first Fernando fic which is super fun! I really want to write more Fernando so if anyone has any more inspiration or any ideas do drop into my ask box and say hi!

Song 23 - These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ // Nancy Sinatra

Pairing - Fernando Alonso x Reader 

Word Count - 1.2k

Content Warnings - Swearing, sex references

These boots are made for walkin' And that's just what they'll do One of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you

To you, rich men were boring. Each and every man who would aim to win your affections was just a carbon copy of the next, from the immaculately coiffured hair, to the gaudy watch they would flash to prove they were moneyed, and to the Maserati they had stashed away in their garage hoping it would make up for their tiny cock.  

The vast majority cared about little but themselves. Their egos sat atop mountains of cryptocurrency and NFTs. Mountains that were just as fragile as the identities they held up. A slight gust of wind could send them toppling to the ground, their masculinity destroyed and their wealth worthless. 

You were a hurricane, a destroyer of men. You knew exactly how to do it, and would leave a trail of destruction and male tears wherever you went. In the past, you had enjoyed watching as they fell from their pedestals, the silver spoon they were born with falling from their mouths with a clatter. But now, it was simply boring. You had lived out the same story over and over again, and you wanted something new, something exciting and different. 

And you had found that something new on the day that Fernando Alonso had approached you in a bar in Monaco. 

———

“If you’re looking for a sugar baby, you should know I make six figures a day, so you’d better be offering me seven. Then I might consider it.” You say, not lifting your eyes from your half-empty espresso martini on the bar. 

“I was going to offer to buy you a drink, but I see you don’t need me to pay for you.” He says, and you finally look up from the counter and raise your eyebrow. 

“Hm. How about you buy the first drink, and if you can prove to me that you’re worth my time, I’ll buy you one in return?” You say, and he offers you a sly smirk. 

“Deal.” He says, and he flags down the bartender who immediately makes his way over to the two of you. 

“I’ll have a martini. Dirty.” You say, and the bartender nods.

“Make that two.” Fernando says, and you smile to yourself. 

“What’s so funny?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“Are you always this easily influenced by the women you meet in bars?” You ask, and he smiles. 

“Only when they have good taste.” He replies. 

“Correct answer.” You say, before finishing the remains of your espresso martini, setting the glass down before you. 

You fish out the remaining candied coffee bean from the bottom of the glass and pop it on your tongue, before biting down with a satisfying crunch. Fernando’s eyes watch you intently as you do so, gazing at your lips with a look filled with hunger. 

The bartender returns with your drinks and you give the man a small smile as Fernando taps his bank card. You notice the familiar logo of a private bank reserved only for the most affluent of society emblazoned on the top of his card and smile to yourself. 

“I must say you’ve lasted longer than most men who agree to play my little game. I usually end up getting stuck with the bill when Daddy’s credit card declines.” You say, and Fernando smiles at you, raising his glass. 

“I have never played a game I cannot win.” Fernando says, and you raise your glass to his, gazing into his dark brown eyes as you clink them together. 

“Well I’ll drink to that.” You say, before taking a sip of your martini. 

“Are there any rules to this game I should know?” Fernando asks, and you press your index finger to your lips in thought. 

“There are no rules. I find life to be more fun without regulation and restriction.” You say, and Fernando nods. 

“Then I can ask your name, yes?” Fernando says, and you nod. 

“It’s (y/n), (y/n) (y/l/n), feel free to google me when you next go to relieve yourself. You’ll find a nice little article from Forbes designating me the seventeenth most successful businesswoman in the world.” You say, and Fernando tuts. 

“I don’t care about that.” He says. 

“Correct answer once again. Now, may I ask your name?” You say, and Fernando smiles. 

“Fernando Alonso.” 

“Wow, you’re three for three so far, and I think you’re the first man to do so in my extensive experience of being approached in bars.” 

“What would be the wrong answer?” He asks, and you chuckle slightly. 

“The most common one is, ‘don’t you know who I am?’ Had you said that, I would have pretended I had no clue who you were and walked away.” You say, and Fernando laughs. 

“So you do know who I am?” He says, and you nod, taking a sip of your drink. 

“I know of you, but I don’t know you. Yet.” 

“You would like to know me?” 

“You intrigue me, I’ll admit. You quite clearly have a strong ego, but you aren’t intimidated by me and my equally large ego in the slightest. So you’re as secure in your identity and your sense of self as I am, and I find that to be incredibly attractive.” You say, and Fernando nods, clearly impressed by your honest assessment of him. 

“Your honesty is welcome. I like it.” Fernando says, taking a final sip of his drink and placing the empty glass on the counter. 

You give him a small smile and empty your glass, placing it beside his before standing from your bar stool. 

“So, will you be buying me a drink now?” Fernando asks, and you chuckle at him as you store your phone away in your handbag and tuck the handle into the crook of your arm. 

“I already have. There’s a bottle of champagne on ice in my hotel room. Let’s go.” You say, and Fernando smiles, clearly holding back a laugh. 

“How are you so sure I would come back with you?” 

“You approached me in a bar, signalling that aesthetically, at least, you were interested in me. You then proceeded to stay while I nursed my martini, made some rather cutting remarks, and played the part of the aloof millionaire. If you weren’t still interested in sleeping with me, you would have excused yourself by now, presumably under the guise of catching up with the man in the booth over there who I believe to be Nico Rosberg, and promptly made a swift exit.” You say, and Fernando laughs in disbelief. 

“You are very good at this game. I think you win.” He says, and it’s your turn to chuckle.

“Oh, love, I invented this game, I always win.” You say as Fernando opens the door to the bar and allows you to step out first into the night before following you onto the street. 

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Porsche 911 Dakar Historic Decorative Wraps, 2023. Porsche is offering vinyl wraps that reprise the look of the 1971, 1974, and 1978 entrants in the East African Safari Rally. The Rallye 1971 decal set adds the competition number 19, which belonged to the most successful 911 in this rally – a car that came 5th, driven by Polish drivers Sobiesław Zasada and Marian Bień. In 1974 a 911 Carrera 2.7 RS driven by Björn Waldegård came second. The decals of the main sponsor were the blue stripes that traced the shoulder lines of the otherwise white car. The 1974 wrap takes up this theme augmented by the Porsche logo on the lower edges of the doors. The 1978 wrap relates to the Safari Rally in which Vic Preston Jr. came second driving car number 14 sponsored by Martini whose wave-shaped surfaces in orange and light blue have been reinterpreted by Porsche designers

[reflectismo]

Paul’s letter to Allen Klein

❝ Incensed by the delays, Paul waited until the problems were sorted and the album [Wild Life] was released, and then he reminded Klein who had won the lawsuit. On a piece of Kidney Punch Music stationery, bearing MPL’s London and New York addresses and the publishing company’s logo—a martini glass with a boxing glove in it—he dashed off a quick note, by hand, that read:

Dear Pig,

You have nothing to do with my affairs, so keep out of them!

Fuck off.

P.M. ❞

— The McCartney Legacy, Volume 1: 1969 – 1973 by Allan Kozinn and Adrian Sinclair (2022)

[golden-forge]

Ao3 is acting up for me so take chp 2 of Wedding Planner au (Meljay Microfics)

Prompt: Happy Hour

There were aspects of wedding planning Mel liked, and parts not so much.

Right now, she was stuck in the part she didn’t like. She internally sighed and withheld the urge to rub her temples. “No, magenta is not an accepted color.” Elora showed her something to sign. She continued to talk into her wireless earbud while signing off on the reorder of the ghastly mummy yellow table cloths to actual white. “I’m looking at the order right now.” She looked at her tablet that was connected to her phone. “It clearly states - You have it as well? Then why are you asking me what the color was on the order?”

At the top of the screen was a text message from a new number.

‘Hey, it’s Jayce. I know you’re busy but we’re hitting the happy hour today at the bar in the hotel like 5-ish. I can’t take anymore groomsman training.’

“Perhaps I can simply take my business elsewhere if you -“

‘Though if I’m part of Cait’s party does that make me a bridesmaid?’

“-if you…” she trailed off as Jayce’s texts distracted her.

‘Wait what am I saying? They’re both women so it doesn’t matter which side. This wedding’s training is making me dumb. Forget I said something.’

Mel lightly chuckled. The rep on the line voiced their confusion. “I’m sorry, a….friend. Sent something.” She cleared her throat. “Well? What are our options to correct this?”

‘But don’t forget about happy hour.’

***

Mel wasn’t going to go.

She really wasn’t.

It was almost like she was under a spell as she calmly made her way to the hotel bar. It was convenient, she told herself. The wedding reception was in the ballroom of the hotel and she did actually need a drink with how much she got done today. It had nothing to do with who invited her.

He had his back to her. She stood half behind him, half next to him as he laughed at something the bartender said. He had a good, hearty laugh. Made the air around him feel lighter and brighter somehow. The bartender was looking at her, which made Jayce turn.

She rarely saw someone’s face “light up” at the sight of her. Except maybe Kino’s when they were younger. Usually it was more thankful tears because of how much of a disaster their wedding would have been….or the sight of her would bring sobbing and spite after a case. But that was not her life now. Right now, Jayce’s brows went up and a smile threatened to split his face.

”Hey you came!”

”So I did.”

”Oh, here let me.” He quickly leaned over and pulled the stool out for her. “That too far out?”

”No. Thank you.”

She put her purse on the hook under the bar and calmly laid her hands on the bar top. It was a memorable place with the amber glass bottles along the walls and the logo of The Last Drop.

”Sorry, I started without you.”

She looked at the empty glass and the nearing empty one he was currently working on. “It’s expected. I’m two hours late.”

”It’s an informal thing.” He finished his second glass and turned to her with an elbow on the counter. “So what’s your drink? Martini? Wine? Champagne?”

She looked at the bartender. “Noxia Prime, top shelf.”

”Whoa, top shelf on day one?”

“It’s a short time frame to complete this project.” The bartender poured the amber liquid in a glass for her. She took a sip, letting it burn on the way down. She could feel Jayce’s eyes on her. “Have you tried this before?”

“No. Heard it’s strong.”

She offered her glass. He turned it and drank from a clean side - only to cough it up as soon as it hit his throat. She took it back with a sharp laugh.

”It’s an acquired taste,” she demurred. “Don’t feel too bad.”

He gave her a sour look as he drank his water. “That supposed to be a metaphor?”

She flashed him a quick smile with teeth showing. “Take it how you want.” She looked at the fresh glass the bartender brought for Jayce. “May I?”

He was still clearing his throat from her drink so he gestured ok with his hand. It was an interesting reddish-magenta color with a slice of dried pineapple for a garnish. She took a considering sip of it.

”Sweet and tart. What is that flavor?”

”Hibiscus.”

”I see.”

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “Bit like you?”

“Aw geez,” he let out a chuckle, his hand going up along the back of his hair. “Am I?”

Cute.

”I mean, I don’t know. Maybe? I just like hibiscus drinks.”

She took a longer sip. “It’s growing on me.”

[racingliners]

for the unpopular opinions ask game: your favourite liveries! -- roscoehamiltons

Yay for more livery yelling!!!

(gonna self promo both my Livery Watch tag where I've been rating all of the liveries on the grid for the past two seasons, and is where I do the bulk of my livery chatter. And my Fave F1 Liveries edit series which I also take requests for! It's been in the back of my mind for weeks to bring it back I just have so many fics going on atm)

I think if I had to force myself to narrow it down into a Top 4 I would pick:

Brawn GP BGP001

Mercedes W11

Aston Martin AMR23

and the Williams Martini Racing livery

They all just scratch a particular itch in my brain. They're all so sleek and clean and more importantly they all look good despite the addition of sponsor logos which for me is where so many liveries falter (on the Williams they're all navy blue to match the Martini stripes, on the Merc and Aston they're all white which goes with anything, and honestly nothing would look bad on the Brawn car. Even at the end of the '09 season when the car was covered in logos it still looked stunning).

They're all just sooooo *mwah*

reverse unpopular opinions: send me a topic and I'll say something nice about it

[zarry-fics]

Promete mesmo? - w. Harry Styles

avisos: conteúdo +18, possível linguagem agressiva.

masterlist

Harry passou literalmente a noite inteira te observando, a forma como seu corpo se movia em sincronia com a música, juntamente com os outros corpos das garotas que estavam com você, te acompanhando em uma dança que de longe poderia ser considerada sensual, mas àquela altura do campeonato, onde ele estava tão sedento e com saudades de você, ele te viu com outros olhos e sentiu como se o seu próprio corpo estivesse ardendo em chamas. Harry olhou em volta e passou as mãos pelos seus longos cabelos, encarando Louis, que se aproxima com duas bebidas em mãos, lhe estendendo uma delas. — E aí, cara? Você não veio aqui pra ficar parado feito um idiota, vamos aproveitar a festa. — o rapaz repreendeu o amigo em um tom humorado, sabe muito bem o que ele está fazendo.

— Não estou afim, de verdade, Louis. Não queria estar aqui, eu só vim por causa da S/N, você sabe. — explicou, tomando um longo gole do que descobriu ser martini, no momento em que o líquido desceu pela sua garganta.

— Você deveria ao menos fingir que está gostando. Ela parece estar se divertindo, de qualquer modo. — o moreno deu uma breve olhada para você, sorrindo minimamente ao perceber como você aparenta estar animada.

— Não estou me sentindo bem, quero ir embora. — reclamou como uma criança mimada, observando a sua noiva com uma admiração fervorosa. Já faz tanto tempo que vocês não têm tempo para si mesmos, isso quer dizer que já não transam com tanta frequência como quando faziam logo quando optaram por morar juntos. Harry não se considera um viciado em sexo, mas tem lá as suas necessidades e não se sente confortável com a situação em que se encontra, principalmente por não ter você do jeito que tanto ama. Ele está com tesão, e não vê a hora de poder colocar as mãos em você e finalmente saciar o desejo irrefreável que sente.

Louis não falou mais nada, preferiu ficar em silêncio. Como resposta, ele apenas sorriu e deu de ombros, não dando a devida atenção a situação. Não se passaram tantos minutos, quando você se sentiu cansada decidiu voltar a área vip, de onde seu noivo te observava, quando o viu, caminhou com pressa em sua direção e sentou em seu colo, lhe tomando o copo que tinha em mãos - que já havia sido abastecido - bebendo um grande gole do que estava ali. — Está cansada? — Harry te perguntou baixinho, bem próximo do seu ouvido. Você sorriu e se afastou um pouco num movimento involuntário, por sentir sua pele se arrepiando com o contato repentino.

— Um pouco. — respondeu no mesmo tom, se virando completamente para ele. Encontrou-o com uma expressão divertida no rosto, mas não tanto, ainda chegava a aparentar estar um pouco sério. Você sentiu como se diversas borboletas estivessem eufóricas em seu estômago. Harry não te respondeu de imediato, apenas envolveu a sua cintura com seu braço tatuado, lhe trazendo para mais perto, de modo que seu braço direito ficou grudado ao seu peito, visto que você estava sentada de lado no colo dele.

— Vamos embora? — questionou, com a boca próxima demais de seu pescoço. Você fechou os olhos e suspirou, sentindo como ele te pressiona na direção de seu íntimo, que já está parcialmente rígido. Foi instantâneo, você conseguiu entender o que ele queria no momento em que o sentiu desse jeito. — Eu não aguento mais estar aqui, S/A. — seu apelido soou de forma arrastada ao escapar de seus lábios deliciosos, então você concordou, sem saber exatamente o que estava acontecendo ao redor. Foi como se você tivesse perdido a noção de qualquer coisa, somente pelo simples toque de seu noivo em você.

Ao contrário do que imaginou, Harry não se levantou para que pudessem se retirar da boate ou qualquer coisa do tipo, ele apenas enfiou as mãos por baixo de seu vestido, acariciando a sua coxa em um lugar estratégico, bem próximo à sua virilha, o que te fez tremer na base, segurando o seu braço com certa força. — Harry, não faça isso. Podem nos ver. — você o repreendeu, em um tom que não parece nem um pouco firme. Na verdade, você não queria que ele parasse, mas ao mesmo tempo sabe que é perigoso tentar qualquer coisa em público, afinal, existem muitas pessoas ao redor nesse momento, principalmente os seus amigos.

— Quero te comer. — ele falou, ainda em sussurros próximos ao seu ouvido. Harry mordeu a pele de seu pescoço, encostando sua testa em seu ombro por breves segundos, só para acariciar sua calcinha, sentindo a sua umidade aumentar à medida que ele continua te acariciando. — Eu estou com muita vontade mesmo, amor. Você quer?

— Quero. — respondeu sem rodeios, seu desejo parece arder em seu interior. — Vamos embora, Hazz. Agora. — você implorou, segurando um monte de seus cabelos pela parte de trás, os puxando com um pouco de força, o ouvindo gemer baixinho.

— Ok. — respondeu, tentando a todo custo disfarçar o quanto está ansioso por isso. Harry saiu andando na frente enquanto você se despedia dos meninos. Ninguém desconfiou de nada, até porque estavam bêbados e distraídos demais para prestar atenção em qualquer coisa. Você foi logo atrás e o encontrou conversando com seu motorista, ambos entraram no veículo e pela pressa, Harry ao menos conseguiu esperar que chegassem em casa, rapidamente te tomou em um beijo urgente, te puxando para o seu colo, sem te deixar retrucar.

As ruas estavam escuras, Thomas, o motorista, não poderia vê-los nem se quisesse, mas mesmo assim você não se sentiu totalmente confortável com o fato de começarem algo ali, mesmo que os lábios de seu noivo fossem extremamente convidativos e gostosos agora. Você queria mesmo pedir para que Harry tivesse paciência e esperasse que vocês chegassem em casa, mas a cada minuto que se passa, você se sente ainda mais fraca, incapaz de resistir a ele. Seu perfume masculino invade seus sentidos de uma maneira surreal, te deixando um pouco embriagada, estava completamente entregue ao momento, Harry poderia fazer o que quisesse com você ali - mesmo que uma parte de você tentasse se convencer de que fazer sexo no carro enquanto seu motorista os leva para casa é meio desrespeitoso.

— Harry, hm… — você tentou falar algo assim que separou suas bocas, mas foi impedida e quando que voltaram a se beijar, Harry te trouxe para mais perto e ergueu um pouco o quadril para que você sentisse o quanto ele está excitado. — Porra. — ao perder o controle, você se deu por vencida e decidiu se deixar levar, visto que em poucos minutos vocês estariam em casa.

— Amor, você não tem ideia do quanto eu estou com saudades… — ele sussurrou próximo aos seus lábios, manhoso e muito carente, você se sentiu culpada por estar o negligenciando, somente nesse momento você percebe que também sentiu muito a falta dele. Você levou as suas mãos aos primeiros botões de sua camiseta, os abrindo com pressa, aos poucos conseguiu ver seu peito ser revelado diante de seus olhos. Você mordeu o lábio e se curvou um pouco para que pudesse beijar o pescoço de seu noivo, mordendo-o levemente ao mesmo tempo, chegou até a sugá-lo um pouco, na tentativa de o provocar e conseguiu, pois o ouviu suspirar em alto e bom som. — Por favor, me-

— Chegamos. — Thomas falou alto e formalmente, da mesma forma de sempre e isso obviamente te assustou, então você se afastou rápido de Harry, abrindo a porta do carro e saindo do mesmo, assim que ajeitou o seu vestido. Atrapalhados, vocês rumaram até a entrada de seu lar e por sorte não precisaram abrir a porta, seus seguranças já fizeram isso por vocês, logo após os cumprimentarem com um simples “boa noite!”

Você quase não pôde retirar seus saltos, Harry veio até você e te agarrou pela cintura, a trazendo para mais perto depois de virar-te na sua direção. Você sorriu e o selou algumas vezes, terminando de tirar a sua roupa, ansiosa para vê-lo nú de uma vez por todas, era tudo o que você mais queria no momento. — Não quero ir pro quarto. — Harry avisou antes que você sequer pensasse em o puxar até lá. Bem, você se deixou ser levada por ele, então logo estavam os dois se jogando no sofá-cama na sala. Você não perdeu tempo e subiu em seu colo, o agarrando pelo pescoço para que pudessem se beijar com ainda mais pressa que antes, vocês estavam sedentos um pelo outro, de forma que não conseguiam sequer dar atenção a qualquer coisa que estivesse acontecendo ao redor. Se houvesse uma 3ª Guerra Mundial do lado de fora vocês ao menos perceberiam.

Seu vestido poderia ser facilmente arrancado de você na posição em que estavam, Harry não perdeu tempo e fez exatamente isso, admirando por longos segundos o seu corpo, revestido apenas por uma lingerie azul marinho que, honestamente, caiu muito bem em você e contrasta perfeitamente bem em seu tom de pele. Um sorriso sacana, ao mesmo tempo orgulhoso surgiu nos lábios de Harry. Ele se sentiu o homem mais sortudo do mundo por ter essa visão somente para ele. Muitas coisas sujas passavam pela sua mente no momento, você ao menos imagina. Styles não falou nada, apenas segurou a extremidade de sua calcinha, brincando um pouco com aquela área, enquanto te olha profundamente. — Não me provoque. — você cuspiu as palavras, soando realmente rígida e impaciente.

Harry continuou te olhando profundamente antes de levar um de seus dedos ao seu clitóris, massageando-o com precisão, pressionando-o naquela região de forma estratégica, lhe arrancando suspiros e gemidos ansiosos. — Harry… — você implorou por ele, mas não ficou muito para trás e logo enfiou as mãos em suas calças, apalpando o seu volume, o apertando também. Seu noivo fechou os olhos e apoiou a testa em seu ombro, você sorriu e continuou a fazer isso, observando como ele parece se descontrolar a cada segundo que passa. De repente, você sentiu que precisava dar continuidade a isso, você realmente sente falta de estar de joelhos perante Harry Styles, digamos que esse pode ser um dos seus fetiches supremos.

Logo após tomar seus lábios em um selinho rápido, puxou as suas mãos para longe, você queria prová-lo e ele entendeu exatamente isso, por este motivo, se afastou um pouco para que você não tivesse nenhum impedimento para o que faria a seguir. Você se ajoelhou entre suas pernas, estas que foram abertas para te acolher melhor. Um sorriso luxurioso pintou os lábios de seu noivo e ele levou os dedos aos longos fios de seu cabelo, os jogando para trás para que pudesse ter uma visão melhor. Seus lábios se curvaram em um sorriso ladino e rapidamente você levou as mãos até a fivela de seu cinto, o arrancando de sua calça para que se livrasse desta última também, a puxando pelas suas pernas até que estivesse amontoada em seus tornozelos. Você olhou para seu noivo e o percebeu atento a todas as suas ações, concentrado e levemente nervoso pela ansiedade de sentir você.

Harry não perdeu tempo e levou uma das mãos ao seu rosto, acariciando sem pretensão alguma, apenas te olhando por alguns segundos. — Estava ansioso demais para te ver desse jeito, babe. — sussurrou sem quebrar o contato visual, você não o deixou na vontade pois sabe o quanto ele está querendo isso. Um beijinho foi deixado em seu pênis, algo superficial por ele ainda estar usando a sua boxer preta. Você o tocou novamente, massageando-o com cuidado para não machucar, logo passou a morder e beijar a parte interna de suas coxas, inalando o cheiro natural de sua pele, este que você simplesmente ama sentir. — Por favor… — Harry implorou por você como uma verdadeira criancinha, ele parece tão aflito, o tesão que você sente por vê-lo dessa maneira é surreal.

Harry se contorceu sob seu toque assim que você puxou a sua boxer para baixo, revelando seu pau duro que lhe fez salivar somente pela visão. Ele parece pulsar, Harry novamente está resmungando, suplicando por um mísero toque seu em sua excitação proeminente. Sem conseguir conter seus próprios desejos, você o tocou pela base, arrastando a mão para cima, massageando a glande com a sua palma em movimentos circulares, o encarando durante esta ação, apenas para ter a satisfação de presenciar um Harry descontrolado, realmente entregue e submisso. Ele parece fodidamente angelical dessa forma, é tão errado, mas tão certo ao mesmo tempo. — Caralho! — você sentiu muito bem a forma como seus músculos tremeram com o estímulo. — Amor… — sibilou ao fechar os olhos, está tão carente, você sente uma urgente necessidade de sentar em seu lindo rosto neste exato momento, mas sabe que não convém.

Você finalmente o levou aos lábios assim que o estimulou por bons segundos com as mãos, mas antes de o engolir você deu-se leves batidas na bochecha com o pau duro de seu amado, sentiu como ele arqueou o quadril pelo susto, se esfregando contra seu rosto sem o mínimo pudor. Harry está desesperado por você. — S/N, por favor, não me provoca assim… — sem dar a devida atenção ao que ele fala, você o trouxe para a boca e começou a sugá-lo, lentamente deslizando-o um pouco mais para dentro de você, simulando uma espécie de penetração contínua, onde você só precisou pegar o jeito para que saísse do jeito que ele gosta, Harry gemeu alto em resposta, apertando com mais força o monte de cabelos que tinha em mãos, ele não havia soltado-os e pela forma como fez isso, você acabou gemendo de dor e se engasgou por breves segundos em seu pau, mas o sorriso sádico de Harry lhe fez lembrar de como te ver engasgando com o seu pênis lhe dá prazer e aumenta o seu ego.

Você demorou muito tempo para se acostumar com seu tamanho, mas agora que consegue, você pode levá-lo para bem fundo em sua garganta e não engasga, nem ao menos sente vontade de vomitar. Só precisas estar bem concentrada para que isso aconteça. Como sempre, Harry não demorou a mover-se rápido em sua volta, domando-te com muita facilidade, ele ao menos te olha, permanece com os olhos fechados, tombando a cabeça para trás, murmurando algumas palavras desconexas, mas sempre fazendo questão de aumentar bastante o seu ego, lhe dizendo o quanto você é boa nisso, lhe dizendo como o deixa louco. — Isso, amor. Assim… — seus olhos já lacrimejam descontroladamente, tornando sua visão um pouco mais turva, mas nem isso lhe fez parar. Harry ergueu, impulsivamente, o seu quadril, lhe causando um breve engasgo de novo.

Com uma das mãos livres, você decidiu arranhar levemente a sua pelvis, descendo um pouco mais para poder acariciar os seus testículos, passando suas unhas levemente por eles. Você ouviu um gemido mais alto escapar de sua garganta, ao mesmo tempo que sua pele se arrepiou completamente, seu corpo tremer em completo descontrole, um sinal claro de que ele logo chegará ao seu ápice. Ainda sentindo certo desconforto nos olhos, você os fechou por breves segundos, abandonando as carícias anteriores para segurar a base do pau dele, massageando o que acabou não cabendo em sua boca, o trazendo para um orgasmo avassalador, o que o fez quase gritar de prazer, deixando-o mole, lhe tirando de órbita por breves segundos, mas o suficiente para arrancar um sorriso sincero e satisfeito de seu rosto. Mesmo com a sensação inebriante de um orgasmo, ele não deixou de se afastar bruscamente para que seu esperma escorresse por seu queixo e busto, o líquido se espalhou pelo seu rosto e seu primeiro impulso foi passar os dedos pelos locais sujos e os levar até a boca, observando-o durante o processo.

Harry sorriu e puxou o seu cabelo para baixo, dessa forma, você o visualiza melhor. Foram necessários alguns segundos para que ele te observasse, analisando cada mínimo detalhe seu, o ego inflado por te ver banhada em sua porra. — Levanta. — ordenou de uma maneira tão rígida, algo que fez sua calcinha molhar ainda mais, você ao menos conseguiu se sentir estranha por isso. Assim que levantou, Harry te puxou para mais perto pela cintura. — Tira o resto das tuas roupas. — você acatou essa ordem sem ao menos pestanejar, então ainda estando em pé, levou as mãos até o fecho do sutiã, o desconectando, sentindo a peça deslizar facilmente por seus ombros e braços. Você a descartou sem demorar, fazendo a mesma coisa com a calcinha, isso sem desgrudar os olhos de Harry, que observa seu corpo nú com a mesma fome da primeira vez que te viu sem roupas, sempre é como se fosse uma novidade para ele. — Venha aqui. — te chamou, batendo algumas vezes em sua coxa para que você se sentasse ali, então foi exatamente o que você fez.

Um gemido rouco deixou-te no momento em que sua umidade se encontrou com a coxa de Harry, você poderia facilmente deslizar por ali e se satisfazer, pela forma como está excitada, mas não o fez, apenas ficou parada. Harry mordeu o lábio e beijou o seu queixo, mordendo-o logo após, passando para seu pescoço, para que pudesse sussurrar, bem próximo ao seu ouvido: — Faça isso. — você não entendeu de primeira o que ele quis dizer, então enrugou as sobrancelhas mas não teve tempo de perguntar nada, pois seus lábios foram esmagados contra os seus, um beijo intenso e com muito desejo foi iniciado e você se entregou ao momento, o segurando pelos ombros, se arrastando para que pudesse chegar mais perto dele. Você precisou se afastar um pouco para gemer ao sentir a prazerosa sensação de fricção na coxa dele.

Foi realmente muito bom.

— Oh merda, Harry! — sem conseguir controlar a si mesma, você começou a cavalgar ali, apoiando-se nos próprios joelhos para se manter equilibrada, revirando os olhos à medida que sente seu corpo extasiado pelo prazer. — Eu…

— Shhh, quietinha. — os dedos dele se fecharam em volta de seu pescoço, apertando levemente a sua garganta, te restringindo o ar por alguns segundos. Você revirou os olhos e antes que pudesse continuar a fazer qualquer coisa, foi jogada do outro lado do sofá, então o corpo de Harry pairou sobre o seu, lhe tomando em um beijo sedento novamente, logo voltando a te estimular. Dois de seus dedos foram empurrados para dentro de você, estes que deslizam facilmente por causa da sua excitação. Um suspiro pesado deixou seus lábios e você abriu ainda mais as pernas para o receber. — Gosta disso? — questionou cínico, te observando atentamente enquanto te fode com os dedos, de uma maneira tão gostosa, tão boa, só não pode ser igualado a sensação do seu pau dentro de você.

— Sim, Harry. — respondeu-o, sem ao menos conseguir o encarar ou retribuir os beijos diferidos em seu rosto. Sua respiração estava ofegante, você mal consegue raciocinar qualquer coisa. — Por favor, eu quero-

— O quê? — ele te incita a continuar, distribuindo beijinhos por todo o seu busto. — Fala, amor.

— Eu quero montar em você. — falou ao abrir os olhos, sem saber exatamente de onde tirou coragem o suficiente para pedir o olhando nos olhos. Harry sorriu e, mesmo que não estivesse nos seus planos, ele concordou, se afastando um pouco para que você se levantasse e assim as suas posições fossem invertidas. Dessa forma, ele ficou deitado e você poderia montá-lo quando bem quisesse, faria isso o mais breve possível, mas antes preferiu masturbá-lo por alguns segundos para que estivesse devidamente excitado para o que estava por vir. Assim que você se sentou em seu pau, sentindo-o deslizar para dentro, você acabou sorrindo e gemeu baixinho, se curvando para que pudesse chegar mais perto, apoiando as mãos em seu peito. Ao começar a se mover, você observou a forma como Harry fechou os olhos e segurou a sua cintura, apertando-a com certa força, algo que não te incomodou no momento.

— S/N… — manhoso, ele gemeu o seu nome, te puxando para que pudesse estar mais perto. Você mordeu o lábio e como sempre fez, tocou os seus cabelos e os puxou um pouco, trazendo, dessa forma, o seu rosto para mais perto do seu. Mediante aos seus puxões, Harry resmungou em um tom plangente, erguendo o quadril para poder causar um atrito maior entre seus corpos suados. A forma como ele desliza para dentro de você, tão simplesmente, vocês se encaixam perfeitamente, como se realmente tivessem sido feitos um para o outro. Hoje você acredita veementemente nessa possibilidade.

Harry segurou a sua bunda com as duas mãos, apertando as suas nádegas, lhe dando alguns tapas também. Suas bocas estavam grudadas uma a outra, sem necessariamente estarem se beijando, então, para que pudesse gemer mediante ao prazer que sente, você se afastou um pouco, encostando seus queixos, se sentindo mais à vontade para sussurrar o nome de Harry, de uma forma que você sabe que ele não resiste. — Porra… — o palavrão foi engatado ao resmungo anterior. Seu tesão parece triplicar, então, movida pelos sentimentos que mais queimam dentro de você no momento, seus movimentos aumentam cada vez mais a intensidade, sobremodo que o som das suas peles se chocando é ouvido por toda a sala, se misturando aos gemidos e murmúrios que escapam de suas bocas, sem que possam controlá-los.

Como era de se esperar, Harry não conseguiu se manter submisso por muito tempo, então ao perder a paciência, ele inverteu as suas posições mais uma vez, tomando as rédeas da situação. Você ficou sem entender por um momento, foi tudo muito rápido mas você ao menos se lembrou de reclamar quando ele entrou em você, lhe causando sensações que você ao menos imaginava que poderia sentir. — Puta merda, Harry. — você resmungou e encarou por um bom tempo a corrente em seu pescoço, esta que paira sobre os corpos de vocês, até mesmo os seus cabelos castanhos. Você não perdeu tempo, sabe que ele ama quando você o toca, então não o deixou passar vontade. Segurou-o pelo pescoço, puxando os cabelos que existem na região de sua nuca, quase como se quisesse descontar todo o prazer que sentia.

Harry geme rouco pela dor causada por seus apertos em seus fios de cabelo, mas em nenhum momento pede para você parar. Uma de suas mãos agarrou-te pelo pescoço novamente, sua boca foi direcionada ao seu ouvido e seus gemidos eram ouvidos única e exclusivamente por você a essa altura, você se sente nas nuvens e com vontade de nunca desgrudar de Harry. A força e rapidez com que ele te fode lhe faz ver estrelas, uma intensidade a qual você ama e não faz questão alguma de esconder isso. — Não para, amor. Por favor! — você implorou, tocando a sua mão que livrou seu pescoço e entrelaçando seus dedos, o que o fez sorrir ainda mais e levar ambas as suas mãos para cima, as prendendo no topo de sua cabeça, finalmente liberando os seus cabelos. — Merda.

Ao fechar os olhos, você suspirou e cercou-o com as suas pernas, sem ter força para falar qualquer coisa, ao menos tentar se soltar. Harry sorriu anasalado e beijou o seu pescoço, aumentando um pouco mais as suas investidas até que você finalmente chegou ao seu ápice, gemendo mais alto pela sensação de alívio que percorreu todo o seu corpo. Harry veio logo depois, sem conseguir ao menos se afastar, ele soltou as suas mãos e permaneceu deitado em cima de você, regulando a respiração, buscando até mesmo se acalmar um pouco para que pudessem se dirigir ao quarto. — Me desculpa por estar tão ausente, amor. Eu prometo que vou te dar mais atenção… — você lamentou e sentiu-o te agarrar, enterrando o rosto em seu pescoço.

— Promete mesmo?

— Sim! — você sorriu sem emitir som e deixou um beijo em seus cabelos — Eu te amo muito!

— Também te amo, amor.

✦ ✦ ✦

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Pseudologos (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- The False God, The Dark Deceit by the people of Olympius

Father by Dolos

Sue by Elpis

Grandfather by Pheme

Age- 70 (immortal)

Location- Olympia, Olympius

Personality- He's very observant with a strong attention to the most minute of details. He's also narcissistic, highly manipulative, selfish, uneasily fooled, as well as egomaniacal. There's only a few beings he genuinely cares about. He has many girlfriends.

He has the standard abilities of a god. As the god of lies his other powers/abilities include truth sense, vocal mimicry, lie proficiency, criminology mastery, telepathy (is able to read minds), fraud inducement (can manipulate others to lie), shapeshifting (his skill is on par with Empusa), being able to create a variety of auditory, visual, & sensory illusions, as well as being able to communicate with/shapeshift into animals associated with trickery- like rats, wolves, snakes, jackals, hyenas, weasels, foxes, coyotes, monkeys, crocodiles, etc...

Pseudologos' primary abode is his cliffside mansion in the state of Olympia. The mansion is built out of adamantine glass, white marble, & black onyx. There are a lot of streakless windows and glittering chandeliers while the flooring is white marble with Imperial Gold accents. The interior design is cool, modern, & sleek with a variety of artwork, photography, and sculptural pieces with leather furniture, & metal, lucite, Imperial Gold, jade, and obsidian furniture pieces. He has a LARGE garage that houses his collection of luxurious sports cars. Pseudologos also owns a beach house on Shimmering Tail Island and an apartment at Bolt Towers, located in the Skyline neighborhood of New Olympus. He also owns a yacht called Olympian.

He has an animal companion- a dragon named Nyroxion. He's the second oldest & fourth largest dragon in all the realms, widely known as "The Black Beast." After Xuvra, Nyroxion is the most fiercest and aggressive. He's primarily covered in black scales while his belly scales & spinal plates are a dark blood red. The dragon has black horns, claws, and crests with dark red eyes & black wings with dark red wing membranes. Nyroxion is usually Pseudologos' mode of transportation. Dragon and rider have an unbreakable bond.

He's fluent in all the languages spoken in Olympius.

Members of Pseudologos' immediate family includes his younger brother Logos (god of stories), his son Dolos (god of deception & treachery), his niece Eikono (goddess of iconography & literature), his daughter-in-law Elpis (goddess of hope), and his granddaughter Pheme (goddess of fame).

His breakfast is usually prepared & cooked by his personal chef- a mountainous centaur named Montague (called Monty for short). Some of Pseudologos' favorites includes almond poppy seed belgian waffles topped with peach compote, cinnamon & cardamom crêpes topped with powdered sugar, baked florentine egg white omelets, and tropical fruit sorbets.

His favorite "snacks" are smoking cigarettes & cigars. Pseudologos treats himself with buying a few of the most expensive cigars at Ygró Veloúdo- the wine bar/premier smoking room owned by Agathodaemon (Daemon) (god of vineyards, grainfields, & luck). At 1.3 million drachmas a pop, the cigar is meticulously filled with rare tobacco sourced from the Underworld infused with a prestigious black pomegrante cognac, wrapped gracefully with a gold leaf, and is secured by a band with dazzling diamonds totaling 5 carats. He also partakes in weed & lotus dust.

He's proficient at forging signatures.

Pseudologos takes great pride in his appearance. In spite of his advanced age, he lives an active lifestyle and is in peak physical shape. His silver gray hair is neatly trimmed, his clothes expertly pressed, & his shoes perfectly polished. Pseudologos is a firm believer of quality over quantity when it comes to his belongings.

A go-to drink for him is a dirty martini. He also likes champagne, red wine, manhattans, whiskey sours, scotch on the rocks, mojitos, negronis, and vesper cocktails. A usual from The Roasted Bean is an olympian sized iced americano.

He doesn't have a close relationship with his brother. Pseudologos hates his younger brother's "greater-than-thou" attitude towards his lifestyle and firmly believes that the moniker of "Olympius' Grandpa" has gotten to Logos' head. He only sees him when there are monthly family dinners hosted by Elpis.

The accumulation of Pseudologos' wealth is one of the best kept secrets in all the realms. There are whispers about his dealings in the black market, but nothing definitive.

His favorite frozen treats are rum raisin ice cream & champagne sorbet.

He has his own crew of stringers that gather intel and photos for the paparazzi. For fun it's rumored that Pseudologos will be in a shapeshifted form as a maintenance worker at the royal palace on Mt. Olympus to gather more information- which is then given to The Oracle Scoop, the tabloid magazine owned by Pheme.

Pseudologos has a few tattoos- a small dagger on the inside of his left wrist, the saying "trust no one" written in Old Greek on the inside of his right wrist, a black widow on his chest, and a bunch of nightshade flowers on his left thigh.

He quite likes his daughter-in-law Elpis. When she visits him, she always brings in a fresh bouquet of flowers. They'll go to the beach to surf & afterwards Pseudologos will enjoy Elpis' homemade smoothie bowl, the blueberry açaí one being his favorite. He doesn't mind the jokes she makes at his expense and thinks that she is too good for his son.

For lunch Monty will prepare Pseudologos' favorite- grilled snapper and asparagus with herb-caper vinaigrette. If he's with a date, he'll dine out, often at The Crown. From the menu he likes the steamed miso custard with mushrooms & soy dressing, herb crêpes with olives and spinach, & grilled garlic crusted oysters with beluga caviar.

Pseudologos' relationship with his son has always been tense. He honestly can't remember the last time he said "I love you" to Dolos or showed any sort of physical affection towards him. Pseudologos is proud of the fact that he taught his son about the harsh truths of the world. That for deities like them, their worth is made, not given. He also refuses to tell Dolos anything about his biological mother.

His all time favorite dessert is baked alaska.

Pseudologos loves buying gifts for his girlfriends, daughter-in-law, & granddaughter.

He has recently released his signature cologne called Mystique. The spicy fragrance has notes of violet leaf, cyclamen, amber, bitter orange blossom, orris, & narcissus. Another notable feature is the black obsidian bottle with purple jade accents. A 8.5 oz/250ml bottle sells for 1,300 drachmas. The release day for Mystique happened at a Pithos Department Store in the Skyline neighborhood.

Pseudologos adores his granddaughter- calling Pheme "My little diamond." They keep in touch through text all the time and they visit each other often. He was one of the financial backers involved in starting up her Diamond Ave. fashion brand. When they spend time together they'll go to the spa, go shopping, & dine at a restaurant. At times their relationship has been tested- due to Pseudologos' constant flirting with Pheme's friends. Lately, he's been trying to let up on that.

A guilty pleasure for him is a wagyu, foie gras, & black truffle burger that Monty makes.

He has quite the social media presence on Fatestagram.

Throughout his immortal life he's been married well over a hundred times! In the pantheon Pseudologos is infamously known as "The Collector of Wives." He's been engaged even more times. Pseudologos rejects the notion of true love, but understands the want and desire to have a warm body close to him at night. Now, he keeps things casual with many girlfriends of many creeds. His long-time girlfriend is Lycana (Titaness of lycanthropy).

Pseudologos has also propositioned Aisa (goddess of lot & fate) as well as Apate (goddess of fraud & deception). Aisa rejected the offer while Apate hasn't given him an answer yet. He does feel a little guilty about the latter- seeing how Apate is his friend's daughter and that she used to work closely with Dolos.

In the pantheon he's friends with Erebus (god of darkness), Astrape (goddess of lightning), Empusa (goddess of shapeshifting), Bronte (goddess of thunder), Hysminai (goddess of fighting & combat), Kydoimos (god of uproar & battlefield confusion), Clymene (Titaness of fame & renown), and Hyperion (Titan god of heavenly light). Pseudologos was the official mentor to Aplistos (god of avarice).

He met Lycana's daughter Lykos (goddess of wolves) briefly a few weeks ago. Pseudologos doesn't have much of an opinion about her.

His carnal appetites rivals that of Zeus (god of the sky, thunder, & lightning). Pseudologos has a "little black book" filled with the names of all his conquests. He has slept with Empusa a few times and has even slept with Gaia (goddess of the earth). An upcoming "event" Pseudologos is looking forward to is a video he's shooting with Philotes (goddess of sex, friendship, & affection) for her adult website. He and Lycana got into a HUGE argument about it.

He broke his only cardinal rule when he said "I love you" to Lycana while they were having sex. When she tried bringing it up a few days later, Pseudologos said that he was high on lotus dust when it happened.

In his free time he enjoys lovemaking, golf, watching TV, tennis, sunbathing, clubbing, going to the casino, playing dominoes, going to the cinema, sky diving, billiards, poker, and going to the opera.

His favorite meal is lamb ravioli with champagne butter and sage.

"The perfect lie is the one that no one suspects."

[the-wild-ego]

Little Darling - Part Two

Requested: No.

Fandom: Jacksepticeye

Paring: Reader/Antisepticeye

Pronouns: They/Them

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, Drugs, Gangs, Guns, Fake Blood

A/N: Keep in mind that this is fanfiction. It’s an A/U of a place I like to call ‘The Underground’. If you have any questions let me know. This is only part two, part one can be found here.. Enjoy! 

One Hour After Birdy's ‘Death’ 

“It’s been an hour and forty-five (45) minutes, where are they?” A growled as he paced in the back room of the empty bar. The woman, Agonia, remained leaning against the bar. She was busy reading a book that she had with her. When he went unanswered, he slammed back another shot of bourbon. 

"Easy there buddy, if we have to hunt down Birdy, then you'll need to be sober." Agonia scoffed, sipping her virgin martini- she was one for the looks rather than the feel of alcohol. If anything, the taste of alcohol brought up unwanted memories for her. Though she enjoyed a good vodka cranberry during her torturing sessions. 

"Quiet." came a gruff voice from the back. Their leader, a 5'8 male who didn't look like much- but was notorious for his brains. He created most of the drugs within the underground. His most popular was a variation of some kind of psychedelic made from mushrooms you could find up top. And of course his most popular drug up top was his pure, uncut cocaine. The cocoa trees down here provided darker, more bitter tastes, since their sunlight was limited. And their product was stronger. 

"Gear," a nickname that derived from his machine-like brain, "Birdy hasn't returned and our men lost sight of them after they stepped into that Serpent's brothel." 

"I've heard you two bickering about it for the last twenty minutes, I said be quiet." Gear huffed out, sliding his coat over his arms. It seemed as though he planned to look for them himself, but that wasn't the case, "Agonia, A, I am going to meet with Dark. There were reported shots at one of the Serpent's brothels. If what's suspected turns out to be true, we'll need to strengthen our ties with the Spiders." 

"Don't tell me the Serpents took out our Birdy?" Agonia groaned, marking her place in her book and moving to stand with her leader. Gear shrugged, knowing just as much as the other two did. 

"Maybe they ran off with the money." Apocalypse grinned, pulling his jacket on as well. The jacket was dark brown leather with the gang logo on the back. Every member had one, which included the gang's name and the head of a Dire wolf on the back. The color of the eyes determined ranking. Red was for the leader. Black for the second and third in command. Brown eyes for the fighters. Blue eyes for the smugglers. Green for the rest of the crew. Every tailor in the underground knew better than to recreate any one of the gang's insignias without explicit permission. 

"Let's not get too hasty," Gear hissed out, checking his .40 S&W before stuffing it down the band of his pants. "If it's true that they ran off with the money, then I want them back here alive so that I can pry the confession out of them myself." 

Apocalypse nodded, the look in his eye begging for blood to splatter from his hands. That's why Gear liked A so much. The man was crazy, crazy enough to kill and deal without question. That's what you get when you grow up in a kill or be killed world. 

The sun peeked through holes in the Underground, what little sunlight was had, had been fought for. The victors basked in the sunlight whilst the losers went to lick their wounds. It truly was a kill or be killed world down here, where only the toughest come out on top. 

Dark's part of the Underground was much nicer, to say the least. Closer to the Topside, where Dark had control of the merchants that came through. The Spider Bandits traded with the slimier of the merchants, information and stolen goods for weaponry and drugs. Cocaine was the biggest seller on Topside right now, which is why Gear was so jaded that he had lost his product and his money. 

Agonia was the first to approach the door. She was usually the informant that Gear sent out to do the dealings, A was too reckless and Gear simply did not have the time to do deal with the lessers from other gangs. Gear only came out to play when there was something to be won from a deal, otherwise his lackeys did the harder work. 

One knock. Two. Thre- the door opened to a young man in a khaki jacket, both eyes were covered with a bandage that wrapped around his head. Don't let this fool you, he was one of Dark's most trusted, they were brothers after all. Host's inability to see let him smell and hear liars from a mile away, having lived in the Underground he trained his hearing to pick up on the most subtle of noises- including heartbeats. He took a deep breath and a brow rose from beneath his bandages, "To what do I owe this pleasure, Agonia? The boss isn't looking to see anyone right now." 

"Yeah, good to see you too, Host… Tell your boss that something has happened and we need to know if he has any information." Agonia smirked, knowing that would pique his interest. Host hummed softly, closing the door in her face. Before A could say anything, Agonia held up a hand, silencing him. Only a few moments passed before the door opened once more, this time wide enough for the three of them to walk in. 

The house Dark resided in, was a house big enough to contain all of the upper members of the Spider Bandits. A feat that could only be accomplished by building into an unstable wall of dirt and stone. The front portion of the house was visible to outsiders, while the house inside the wall stretched on, for what seemed like forever. Tall ceilings on each level of the house, two-stories, six rooms to each floor. The walls were red, to hide the bloodstains-- or that's what you'd been told a long time ago when you had visited Dark's mansion on a job. The representative, Wilford, said he was ‘too exhausted’ after ‘such a loooong day’. 

A small entryway gave way to a large foyer, a grand staircase curved its way up to the second floor. To the left of the staircase was the kitchen, where something with rosemary and lemon had been cooked, as well as the bathroom and another room used for training. To the right of the staircase were the other three rooms, members residing in their respective locations. Those weren't important to the three headed up the staircase. They wanted the conference room, a place that anyone that was anyone had been in a time or two. After all, Dark was the most powerful in the Underground. When asked about his success, he would laugh and state that 'knowledge is power'. 

"Gear, Apocalypse, Agonia," Dark greeted, appearing at the top of the staircase a vodka martini, with a twist, in hand. The theatrics that some leaders would put on, for show, "To what do I owe this pleasure?" 

"Let's wait until we get somewhere more… private." Gear responded in a soft hiss, his anger having grown since walking over. 

"But of course." Dark smiled, gesturing with his free hand and dipping into a mock bow. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever, but that was nothing compared to the architectural vastness of the conference room. Despite its innocent and kempt appearance this was some of the nastiest men, women, and others had met to discuss the darkest things you could think of. Dark didn't get his success from handing out roses, after all. 

Once the door clicked shut and everyone was seated, Gear and Dark at the head of the table. A sat to Gear's right and Agonia to Gear's left, "Right then," Gear started, fixing the sleeves of his jacket, "Let's get down to business." 

- - -

Just After Birdy's Death

Zombie was the first one to enter the room after the shots rang out, the scene before him nearly made him lose the lunch in his stomach. Anti sat with your head in his lap, careful not to get blood on him. The man had stumbled to catch you before you fell, but hadn't been successful because of the amount of blood you had on you. For a split second, it looked as though you had really been shot. 

"Boss?" Zombie questioned softly as DeadShot pushed past him into the room. Zombie approached his leader and crouched next to the man. Anti looked to be in shock, his fingers gently running through your hair. Maybe it had been too real for him, and now, before Anti could even check to make sure that you'd be okay, you needed to be whisked away to safety. 

"Some of the call girls are already spreading the information, Anti, we've got to get moving." DeadShot stated, always Anti's voice of reason. Those words were enough to have Anti getting up, resting your head gently on the ground and stepping back. 

"Right," Anti's voice sounded rough, like he had been holding back tears before the boys arrived. However his face was void of any emotions at all. Turning his attention to Zombie, he asked "Did you bring it?" 

"Yes, of course." Zombie nodded, tossing his duffle bag down on the ground. He rummaged through it for a second before pulling out two thin, pale, sheets. The Serpents needed to look sloppy, like they were struggling to cover up that they killed Birdy. 

Zombie was gentle with you, under the watchful gaze of his superior. He laid the thin sheets out on top of eachother, picking you up slowly before placing you down on the sheets. Your 'blood' was already soaking through the sheets as Zombie wrapped you up. He left the sheets loose around your head, so you wouldn't panic too much if you woke up. 

"Good. Take her to the car." Anti had bought one just for this purpose. Cars and phones weren't a thing in the Underground and only the elite could afford them, though phones were useless down here. 

Zombie nodded, lifting your body once more, giving a soft grunt as your bodyweight shifted over his almost healed hand. He moved quickly, ignoring the gasps and scattering patrons, right out the back door where the sleek black car was waiting. He placed you down in the back seat and moved the sheets down to just below your nose, so you could breathe. 

Up in the room DeadShot and Anti were cleaning the extra blood up and the blanks as well. To make this room spotless, for show. Though no crime had occurred, they had to cover up just like there had been. Which is why they put all of the duffle bags into the back of the car. They had to make it seem like Anti killed Birdy to keep his money and the drugs. It was all part of a plan. Anti just hoped that the plan wasn't for naught. 

As the trunk of the car was shut, Anti caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled, drawing his gun and aiming it at the... kid. A boy, no more than ten years old. Anti lowered the gun, seeing the fear in the boy's eyes, and the piss running down his legs, "Get out of here, boy, and forget everything that you just saw." 

The boy nodded, but both of them knew that the boy wouldn't just 'forget', how could Anti expect him to. Everything that the boy saw would fetch him a nice price with the Spiders. How could Anti deny the boy something as simple as enough money to eat on and a shower. Something that everyone in the Underground deserved. That's part of what this war was about, he wanted to fight for more territory, to offer the people of the Underground a fair chance at life. Something that he and his brothers had never seen before. 

Zombie took the passenger seat, allowing DeadShot to drive. Only Anti and DeadShot had seen the inside of a car, Zombie was simply just amazed at how they purred. Still, now was not the time to lament over the 'coolness' of a car. Zombie understood that, his head lifting to look at your body through the rearview mirror. How could someone he watched for weeks, someone so full of life, look so… dead. Surely this wasn't right, there must've been another way to keep you alive. You had a life down here, friends that will mourn your death, loved ones that would go aloof without your presence. 

"Zombie, did you hear me?!" Anti's shout startled the teen from his thoughts. Zombie looked to Anti, his leader looked pale, like he might be getting sick. Zombie knew better than to comment on this, "I said once you're up Top, don't leave their side until you know they're safe… please." 

The softness of Anti's voice had startled Zombie, the lack of hope in his voice. Anti knew that this war would cost him his life, and many of the Serpent's would die… but this way, now it made sense, Birdy was too important to him for them to continue to live in the Underground… and if anyone ever found out. 

"Of course, Boss." Zombie nodded, and the two men slapped palms twice before DeadShot climbed into the car and they were off. 

- - -

Timothy 'Tiny Box(er) Tim' Iplier

The little boy with the light blue eyes and fluffy brown hair crouched behind a crate in the back alleyway. He was little, even for only being ten years old, but he was smart and fast. The way he could bob and weave in the ring, it seemed like he had the fastest footwork in the Underground. He had to be smart and fast, though. His father was dead and his uncles were notorious Spiders. 

These skills of his made him the perfect spy for the Spider Family. He was their pet fly on the wall, and Timothy understood well enough. He knew that Spiders liked to eat flies, and that they would gobble him up at any moment if he were to lead them astray. And this is how he ended up crouched behind ‘The Serpent Den’, a notorious brothel in the Serpent’s Districts. Dark had wanted him to keep an eye on Birdy for a little while, one of the members of the Jaded Serpents was seen following them last week. He wasn’t there for too long when a sleek black car roared into the alleyway, Timothy only knew one other person that had one down here, and that was Dark. Said Serpent appeared as if on queue, along with two others he hadn’t seen before. The Serpent was carrying a body, that was certain, especially due to the mysterious red stain that was still bleeding through the sheets. 

“They shot Birdy.” Timothy whispered to himself, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Even more so when one of the unidentified Serpents turned his head in Timothy’s direction. Acting fast, Timothy moved to run, but the snake struck quicker. Frozen in fear, Timothy couldn’t help when the piss trickled down his leg. 

"Get out of here, boy, and forget everything that you just saw." the man said, embarrassed at being caught, and then urinating on himself, Timothy could only nod before running off. 

He went straight to Dark, after changing of course. The King of the Spiders was very pleased with this snippet of information. Not only had Birdy been killed, but the Wolves had lost two very valuable resources. And who was the culprit, none other than the King Cobra himself.

[little-big-fan]

Imagine com Harry Styles

Uh lálá olha só, quem é vivo sempre aparece kkkkkk Bem, já fazem anos sem escrever e hoje me deu uma nostalgia gigante, então decidi escrever algo pra ver se ainda sei hasuasu Não sei se perdi o jeito, mas espero que gostem sz saudades daqui <3 Boa leitura, Lari

Amaldiçoei Hailey pela milésima vez em menos de meia hora enquanto terminava de passar o batom vermelho nos lábios. Ela havia me convencido á ir a maldita festa de aniversário do namorado. Eu amo Hailey e Brad, são ótimos amigos, não só meus como do meu ex marido, e aí está o problema: Brad nunca deixaria de convidar o melhor amigo para a festa.

Saí da frente da penteadeira e fui até o guarda roupa que tinha o vestido vermelho pendurado em um cabide em uma das portas. Me vesti, coloquei os saltos, que provavelmente em algumas horas amaldiçoar tanto quanto a minha amiga. Soltei o cabelo que havia prendido para fazer a maquiagem e arrumei com os dedos.

Okay, estou pronta. Eu acho.

Desci do uber na frente da casa dos meus amigos, que já parecia lotada. Haviam pessoas por cada lugar que se pudesse enxergar. Respirei fundo e me dirigi á porta de entrada. Brad estava na cozinha lotada, me dirigi até ele e o abracei, oferecendo o presente logo depois.

— Achei que você não viria, s\a. — Ele disse apertando meus ombros em um abraço de lado.

— Acredite, cogitei isso até o último segundo. — Suspirei. 

— Tem muita gente aqui, vocês não vão nem se enxergar. — Ele me deu um beijo nos cabelos e me entregou um copo que estava em cima da mesa. Aceitei e disse que iria atrás de Hailey. Não foi difícil encontrá-la, estava em meio ás suas amigas da faculdade, todas pareciam já estar embriagadas, inclusive ela.

— s\n! Achei que você não viria! — Levantou do sofá e me apertou em seus braços. Definitivamente bêbada.

— Acabei de ter essa conversa com o seu namorado. — Revirei os olhos e ela riu. 

— Vem, senta com a gente. — Ela disse me puxando para junto dela no sofá.

Não aguentei mais do que dez minutos. Conversa de gente bêbada quando você é a única pessoa sóbria é um porre. Meu copo já estava vazio, então decidi ir atrás de algo para me deixar no mesmo nível dos outros presentes. Talvez isso fizesse com que eu me divertisse pelo menos um pouco.

No jardim atrás da casa havia uma grande mesa com algumas coisas para comer e tambés os cooler de bebida. Ao lado um tipo de stand com um barman. Fui até o moço e pedi um martini forte. Enquanto esperava pela bebida, observei as pessoas. Algumas dançavam totalmente fora do rítmo e dando risadas escandalosas. No final do jardim, próximo a piscina estava ele. Encostado com as costas em uma das mesas, com um copo na mão e dando seu famoso sorriso de lado para uma garota que eu podia jurar usar uma lingerie. Engoli em seco e agradeci o barman pela bebida.

Maldito Brad. Nem vão se enxergar. Mentiroso nojento.

Decidi voltar para dentro da casa, mas logo meu copo estava vazio novamente, e, três martinis depois do primeiro, eu estava no mesmo nível de bebedeira de todos na festa.

Decidi ir até o quarto de Hailey trocar meu salto por algum calçado dela, a fim de evitar um pé quebrado. Subi as escadas e me dirigi ao cômodo que conhecia muito bem, mas, ao abrir a porta uma bela surpresa. Harry e a garota da Lingerie estavam lá. Ela ainda estava vestida, mas ele já sem camisa, com todas as tatuagens do tronco a mostra. Quando viram que a porta foi aberta quebraram o beijo e me encararam com surpresa.

— s\n. — Ele disse se afastando.

— Desculpa, não sabia que estava ocupado. — Disse virando de costas rapidamente. Maldita hora que aceitei vir nessa merda.

— Espera, veio fazer o que aqui? — Ele disse segurando meu braço, fazendo com que eu o olhasse.

— Eu fui convidada. — Bufei.

— Aqui, no quarto s\n. — Ele suspirou sem paciência. 

— Ah, queria trocar de sapato. — Ele assentiu e virou de costas, abriu o armário de Hailey e pegou um par de sandálias baixas, as que eu sempre pegava quando usava saltos altos demais nas festas dela. — Valeu. — Peguei os calçados e saí rapidamente do quarto. Caminhei até o fim do corredor e entrei no quarto de hóspedes, trancando-o. Minha vontade era gritar, mas dada a distância do quarto principal, eles me ouviriam e eu não daria esse gostinho. Troquei os sapatos e me dei alguns minutos para a raiva cessar, o que não aconteceu. Decidi voltar para a festa então.

Tampei meus ouvidos ao passar pela porta do quarto, a última coisa que queria era ouvir meu ex marido transando com outra.

A festa parecia exatamente a mesma, pessoas dançando, rindo. Mas eu me sentia horrível. A vontade de ir embora era esmagadora, mas dar o gostinho de ir logo após vê-lo com alguém? Não daria isso á ele.

Caminhei até o jardim novamente e pedi mais uma bebida ao barman. Mais quatro martinis se foram, e agora eu me sentia mais “feliz”. Meu corpo parecia mole e a vontade de rir ela enorme. Até que eu o vi descendo a escada com a garota. A vontade de rir então virou vontade de chorar.

Francamente, mulher, já fazem dois anos.

— s/n? — Meu nome foi chamado, me fazendo sair do monólogo melancólico comigo mesma. Me virei para o dono da voz masculina, dando de cara com Dylan, um ex colega da faculdade. Talvez fosse a bebida, ou a dor de cotovelo, mas o loiro parecia extremamente gostoso na camisa branca com os primeiros botões abertos e na calça de cor clara.

— Dylan! Meu deus, fazem séculos! — Falei alto por conta da música e o abracei, sentindo o braço forte apertar minha cintura.

— Você está uma gata. — Ele disse em meu ouvido durante o abraço um pouco mais longo que o normal. — Eu observei você a noite toda. — Disse me soltando.

— E porquê não veio falar comigo? — Perguntei sentindo meu rosto corar.

— Achei que você ainda era casada. — Deu de ombro.

— Ah… fazem dois anos que não sou mais. — Fiz uma careta e ele deu um sorriso.

— Isso quer dizer que é desimpedida então? — Disse se aproximando um pouco, me deixando sentir o cheiro do seu perfume, que era realmente muito bom. Porém fiz a terrível besteira de olhar por trás do ombro de Dylan, enxergando um Harry vermelho e de punhos fechados. Talvez sua garotinha não tenha feito um bom trabalho lá em cima.

— Totalmente. — Respondi a pergunta dele. E logo senti seus lábios encostando nos meus. O beijo de Dylan era calmo, talvez até tímido e estava com gosto de vodka. Coloquei minha mão na volta de seu pescoço e senti ele me apertar um pouco contra si. Eu havia ficado com algumas pessoas depois do divórcio, era sempre uma experiência estranha, inconscientemente sempre comparava com ele. O beijo de Dylan não era ruim, mas não era urgente, não tinha o cheiro da colônia dele, não tinha a mão boba que eu fingia não gostar.

Que merda de feitiço esse homem jogou em mim?!

Quando nos separamos Dylan sorriu e me deu mais um selinho. Ele pegou minha mão e nos dirigimos até o jardim, onde ele pediu mais um copo da sua bebida e eu pedi apenas uma garrafa de água, chega de bebida por hoje.

Passei os olhos pelo jardim e o vi de novo, com outra agora. Porra. Talvez só mais um martini.

Eu não sei exatamente quando aconteceu, mas me vi encostada em uma parede do jardim, Dylan beijava o meu pescoço e uma das mãos estava na minha bunda.

— Dylan… acho melhor eu ir pra casa. — Falei tentando empurrá-lo.

— Na melhor parte? — Ele disse com a voz rouca. Sua boca não se afastou do meu pescoço, e seus braços me mantiveram ainda mais presa a ele. De repente pareceu que o efeito da bebida passou completamente.

— Dylan, sério. — Tentei empurra-lo.

— Você me deixou assim a noite toda e agora quer pular fora? Qual é, s/n ninguém vai nos ver aqui. — Disse esfregando sua ereção na minha perna, me fazendo sentir um nó se formar na minha garganta.

— Dylan, me solta. — Senti meu olhos arderem, e lágrimas se formarem. Minha pulsação acelerou. Gritar não adiantaria, a música era ensurdecedora. — Dylan, por favor. — Senti a lágrima quente escorrer pelo meu rosto. E então ele foi afastado de mim. Um Harry furioso apareceu, socando a boca de Dylan.

— Você não ouviu ela dizendo que não quer, porra?! — Gritou, fazendo as pessoas começarem a nos olhar.

— O quê? Tá com ciúmes, Styles? — Dylan riu com ironia enquanto limpava o sangue da boca com as costas da mão.

— Não é ciumes, idiota. Você estava forçando ela! — Ele gritou ficando ainda mais vermelho. Harry pareceu que ia para cima de Dylan novamente, quando Brad apareceu e o segurou. 

— Que porra tá acontecendo aqui?

— Esse babaca colocou a s\n contra a parede e ia abusar dela. — Harry disse passando a mão pelos cabelos e respirando fundo. Brad então o soltou e veio até mim, me abraçando e perguntando se estava bem. Percebi então que agora estava chorando copiosamente.

—  Eu vou pra casa. —  Falei pra ele.

— Eu te levo. 

— Não, Brad, fica. Desculpa estragar a sua festa.—  Me afastei deles antes que pudessem protestar. Saí da casa o mais rápido que pude, peguei meu celular e tentei chamar um uber. 

Ótimo, cinco da manhã, sem motoristas.

Decidi então que iria caminhando, de forma alguma voltaria para aquele lugar.

Caminhei algumas quadras quando um carro parou ao meu lado, o vidro foi baixou.

— Entra. — Harry falou com autoridade.

— Eu vou caminhando.

— s\n, são quatro quilômetros, deixa de ser teimosa! — Ele andava com o carro devagar, acompanhando meu passo. Na última palavra bateu com a mão no volante, furioso.

— Olha, eu agradeço sua ajuda lá, mas seu trabalho de super-herói já acabou, pode ir comer sua amiguinha de novo. — Senti minha irritação crescendo a medida que falava.

— É você quem está com ciúmes afinal. — Riu.

— Vai se foder, Harry. — Falei aumentando a velocidade dos passos, quase correndo.

— s/n, entra na porra do carro. — Ele disse bufando. — Você quer mesmo caminhar quatro quilômetros nesse vestido? Sabe o tipo de gente que está na rua essa hora? Eu te livrei uma vez, posso não estar por perto uma segunda vez. — Respirei fundo e parei de andar. Abri a porta do carro e entrei, contrariada.

Estava começando a amanhecer, mas ainda permanecia escuro, parecia que logo começaria uma chuva bem forte. 

Harry dirigiu tranquilamente, parando em um condomínio que não era o meu.

— Eu não moro aqui. — Falei pela primeira vez desde que tinha entrado no carro.

— Eu sei, eu moro. Vem. — Disse abrindo a porta do carro e saindo.

— Eu não vou ficar na sua casa! — Praticamente gritei.

— Eu não tô sugerindo isso, só vou aproveitar a oportunidade pra te entregar umas coisas. — Ele deu de ombros. Bufei e saí do carro. Minha vontade era dizer que não queria nada dele, mas a curiosidade era maior.

Harry abriu a porta do apartamento assim que saímos do elevador. Estava tudo surpreendentemente arrumado, eu sentei no sofá enquanto ele ia buscar o que disse que tinha. Para a minha surpresa Harry voltou com uma caixa consideravelmente grande, e a colocou na minha frente no sofá.

Abri e encontrei algumas das coisas que havia deixado na nossa casa quando fui embora. Algumas roupas, alguns livros. Olhei por cima e encarei uma caixinha vermelha, abri e encontrei nossas alianças. Meu coração apertou.

— Achei que você tinha se livrado disso. — Respirei fundo, tentando não transparecer que havia ficado abalada.

— E porquê eu faria isso? —  Disse colocando um copo de água e uma aspirina na mesinha de centro à minha frente. — Toma.

— Não precisa, eu vou pra casa. — Disse me levantando. — Essa hora já deve ter uber. — Peguei meu celular na bolsa, que aparentemente estava sem bateria. — Merda. — Falei baixinho. — Eu não tô longe de casa, vou indo. — Levantei e peguei a caixa. Harry foi me acompanhando e eu o olhei confusa.

— Precisa da chave de um morador para abrir a porta.

— Ah. — Assenti. Entramos no elevador e seguimos até a portaria. A chuva lá fora já havia começado. 

— Quer que eu te leve de carro? — Ele perguntou.

— Não. São só algumas quadras. Obrigado de novo. — Falei olhando para os belos olhos.

— Não precisa agradecer, eu teria feito por qualquer mulher. — Aquilo me acertou com mais força do que eu gostaria de admitir. Assenti e saí em direção da chuva. Caminhei cerca de vinte minutos até chegar em casa, totalmente encharcada. Coloquei a caixa em cima da mesa e me dirigi ao meu quarto. Coloquei meu celular a carregar e fui tomar um banho. Meu corpo inteiro doía, talvez devesse ter tomado a aspirina. 

Ao sair do banho, coloquei uma camiseta de Harry que havia trago sem querer quando fui embora, e uma calcinha apenas.

Liguei meu celular e logo uma notificação de mensagem. Dele

“Espero que tenha chegado bem e não se molhado muito. x”

“Cheguei bem e um pouco molhada, mas tudo okay. Obrigado pela preocupação”

“Sempre”

Decidi ignorar a mensagem e o aumento nos meus batimentos cardíacos que ela causou.

Voltei a cozinha e decidi abrir a caixa novamente. Fui retirando as roupas e deixei dobradas em uma cadeira. Separei os livros em um canto da caixa e observei o que mais tinha ali.

As cartas.

As cartas que Harry escreveu pra mim durante nosso tempo juntos. Foi como um soco no estômago. Fotos que antes ficavam nos quadros pela nossa casa e no painel do nosso quarto estavam espalhadas no fundo da caixa. As fotos do casamento, do namoro, tudo ali. 

As lágrimas já estavam escorrendo pelo meu rosto, a raiva crescendo. Peguei meu celular e disquei o número dele, que ainda era o mesmo que eu tinha decorado.

— Alô?— Ele disse com a voz rouca. Devo tê-lo acordado.

— Você teve essa merda toda por dois anos, porquê me entregar agora?

— Porque nos últimos dois anos não conseguimos conversar sem brigar. — Suspirou.

— Porquê não colocou tudo fora? —  Falei passando a mão pelo rosto, tentando enxugar as lágrimas, mas elas seguiram escorrendo.

— Eu nunca colocaria nossas lembranças fora, s/n.

— Você é um idiota, Harry Styles! O maior de todos! Eu te odeio. — Falei sentindo mais lágrimas escorrerem.

— O que eu fiz agora? — Ele disse parecendo ofendido.

— Porquê você me deu tudo isso? Quando eu junto os cacos você traz tudo a tona de novo! — Gritei enquanto soluçava. — Porquê não me deixou ir embora em paz? Nada dessa merda teria acontecido.

— Que merda, s/n? Eu não tô entendendo você! O que aconteceu? 

— Você! Você aconteceu. — Suspirei tentando me acalmar. E antes que ele dissesse mais algumas coisas, desliguei o telefone e o joguei em algum canto. Sentei no sofá e senti as lágrimas escorrerem mais e mais, pareciam nunca acabar, parecia que o meu coração chorava junto com os olhos. 

Dois anos, dois malditos anos e eu ainda chorava por aquele idiota. 

Ouvi a campainha tocar e me arrastei até a porta, inventando alguma desculpa para dar ao síndico que provavelmente iria me xingar por gritar tão cedo em um domingo. Mas não era o síndico. Era ele. 

Harry estava parado na minha porta, com a mesma roupa de antes mas agora um pouco molhado.

— O que você tá fazendo aqui? 

— Nós precisamos conversar. — Ele disse suspirando.

— Não, não precisamos. — Passei a mão no rosto ainda molhado. — Vai embora. — Tentei fechar a porta, mas ele a segurou.

— Essa camiseta é minha? — Disse abrindo um sorrisinho de lado. Merda, esse homem me deixa fraca.

Parte 2?

[supremeuppityone]

Klaroline fanfic update: Growing Up Original

Just posted a new chapter for my Klaroline story, Growing Up Original!

You can read and review here:

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Here’s a quick look:

Chapter 2: Two Years

           It was insane. Definitely in the top five craziest things Rebekah had done — somewhere between loaning Kol the money to buy that tentacle porn production company and telling Klaus she spilled nail polish remover on his Rembrandt. But Rebekah was determined to tell Matt everything about her and her siblings on the day of their anniversary and she wanted Caroline there in case things went badly.

           Caroline finally reached over and yanked away the martini glass Rebekah had been tapping at incessantly, wishing her friend actually could get drunk. That would make this whole thing better. Or, far, far worse. “Maybe you should wait,” she ventured again, hoping that this time Rebekah would listen. “I mean, Matt’s been working on your favorite cherry rosé eclairs for the past two days for your anniversary celebration, suffering through Elijah’s snide remarks as he tasted different vintages looking for the perfect wine to use in the pastry cream.”

           Rebekah yanked back the glass, refilling it past the whimsical logo of a cookie perched in a martini glass. Taking a huge gulp, she smiled humorlessly. “You really think he’ll deny me pastries just because I’m an ancient vampire?”

[celwellworth]

“No, I’m not the logo girl from Wendy’s,” Celeste sighed when someone suggested such was her costume. She had come to the distillery seeing as it was the place more her scene out of those hosting parties that night, although someone not immediately recognizing her outfit was making her doubt the clientele now. “Haven’t you seen the wizard of oz?” she sighed before picking up a new martini from the bartender.