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alheria · 11 months

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Fresh wind on a hot day (3/9)

*Hey, it's Buck! I really wanted to wait a day or two before texting, but turns out I can't stop thinking about you. U free on Sunday? I almost suggested a hike, lol. Not with that ankle, huh? Next time then! How does chilling on the beach sound? 🥰*

Jim couldn't stop reading the message over and over again, every time feeling fucking butterflies wreak havoc in his poor stomach.

Buck asked him on a date.

Not even five hours after they parted their ways.

Took him nearly twenty minutes to respond, overthinking every single word he wrote to make sure it didn't somehow sound stupid. Which totally made him feel like a teenager interacting with their first crush. So what? It was reasonably overwhelming that he managed to impress someone so much, they wanted to see him again on their next day off. And the fact that person happened to be a handsome, likeable Alpha firefighter only added more stress to the raging anxiety fire.

Street couldn't even remember the last time he was on an actual date. Perhaps it was the awful one last year. Tan was bothering him for ages to meet with some gay cousin of his good friend, so to once and for all make him shut up, he agreed. It was a horrible mistake. That Alpha dude, who was apparently a very respectable neurosurgeon, clearly wanted to own a what he called "a rare object" in a form of a jacked, intimidating Omega working a manly job. This statement, voiced barely fifteen minutes after they met, left the officer utterly speechless. He was baffled by how confident in his deep arrogance that man must have been to say such offensive bullshit with absolute nonchalance. Just...wow. Tan was obviously fired from any further matchmaking, and all Jim's following encounters were purely physical because he had no mental strength left to deal with some people's stupidity. He really hoped the upcoming one won't be another disappointment, which was an odd thing to suspect since they already spent a significant amount of quality time together. Still, Street was nervous.

The next three days of doing absolutely nothing productive, because he was on that stupid medical leave, were a constant struggle as Jim couldn't fully focus on anything, too distracted by his Sunday plans. It was not clear what the exact idea was until Saturday evening, so various speculations filled his forced freedom. Not a single was correct, but at least the daydreaming killed the time.

Beer and sunset was what Buck suggested. How convenient, those were Street's two favourite things. Unfortunately, it also meant the firefighter wouldn't come to pick him up before the afternoon, which equalled lots of silly anxiety amplified by Luca being at work, thus not providing much-needed distraction. Fucking hell.

To muffle the ruckus in his head, the officer had to turn for help to the ultimate brain-numbing activity: watching reality TV. It's something Chris made him do on their days off before she moved in with Amelia and even after, the habit stayed, doing wonders to his noisy brain. So, hopefully dressed adequately for the occasion, he sat on the couch and fully immersed himself in a silly show until someone loudly knocked on the door, startling him terribly.

Fuck.

He lost track of time.

Nervously shaking only a teeny-tiny bit, Jim opened the door and almost whined when his stomach did a flip. No way that guy looked better than last time. How is that even possible?! Why is he so damn hot?!

-Hi there. Ready? -Buck asked softly, a wide smile instantly brightening his handsome face.

Nope. Not at all. Can we cancel and forget we ever met?

-Yeah. -Street lied, quickly going back to grab his almost forgotten phone. -You alright Buck? You look tired. -observed upon returning, without thinking cupping the younger man's cheek and gently rubbing it as he examined the darkness prominent under the blue eyes.

-Might get better in a sec! -informed the firefighter, pulling the Omega into a long hug, with nose pressed to his neck, deeply inhaling the comforting scent. Jim could clearly feel when the tense muscles slowly started to relax in the tight embrace. -I had the longest shift ever yesterday, can't wait to forget all about it. People can be really stupid sometimes. -explained vaguely once they parted.

-Tell me about it. -Jim rolled his eyes, turning away to lock the door. -Most of the people I get to "meet" are not only stupid, but also armed. Idiots and guns do not mix well. -he sighed, shaking his head in disapproval. -Let's go?

The whole drive to the beach, they talked about everything and nothing, mostly work related anecdotes interrupted by Buck's shockingly bad singing. It felt so natural to be around him, like if they met years ago, not a few days. There was no tension, no awkwardness, just pure comfort between them. Even on arrival, as they walked towards their destination and the Alpha casually held his hand, it didn't feel weird at all. Which was actually strange, since the officer was not used to the romantic part of intimacy, never experienced anything "relationship like", so this whole situation should be throwing him off. But it somehow wasn't.

They sat down on a blanket thrown over the sand, cracked open the cold beers and in complete silence enjoyed the beautiful view of an orange orb vibrantly glowing from behind the pinkish clouds, hanging over the horizon, nearly touching the line of calm water splashing lazily near them. The wind was a little chilly at this hour, although nicely refreshing, ruffling their hair with its slow gushes as their shoulders met, exchanging pleasant warmth. Watching that breathtaking sunset next to the most incredible person he's ever met was truly a dream come true. A dream that seemed too good to be reality.

-Buck, why are you single? -Street blurted out of the blue, unable to contain curiosity any longer. He had to know what is wrong with that seemingly incredible man before they moved any further with this relation.

-Ugly truth? -the firefighter chuckled after taking in a fairly deep breath. Street only nodded in response. -Well...for the past few years I've been hopelessly in love with my best friend and work partner Eddie. Ever since we met, and he introduced me to his amazing kid, Chris, I desperately wanted to be a part of this beautiful family, have those two incredible boys all to myself. Even if it meant giving up on my dream of having kids on my own. Eddie is a Beta, y'know? He had a wife, but she died last year. Anyway, for the longest time I've been hiding those feelings to not ruin our friendship, until one day I started noticing we've gotten closer than any friends should be. Around five months ago, I finally stopped lying to myself and everyone in our team, for whom it was obvious there is something between us. I told him how I truly feel, and he said that despite having feelings for me, he's not ready to start another serious relationship just yet. That's why I am single, Jim. I was too busy waiting for Eddie to change his mind. To let me love him.

And, oh.

Jim could feel his heavy heart drop all the way to the ground.

And then Buck grabbed his fucking hand and squeezed it so tenderly it almost made him cry like a fucking baby because suddenly it started to feel like he chose him over the possible love of his life and all the chaotic thoughts of being a temporary replacement or a rebound or whatever else instantaneously vanished.

-I'm done waiting. -the Alpha smiled, fondly looking at the cop with those bright, blue eyes, and Street just melted. -Few weeks before we me met, I decided it's enough. My patience has officially run out, and I am more than ready to move on. -he assured, probably sensing or even seeing the Omega's already fading distress. -What about you? Why are you single, Jim?

Oh Lord. Why didn't he think beforehand that this question might absolutely shoot right back at him? Dammit.

Ugly truth, huh?

Very ugly indeed.

-I...almost killed someone once. -he whispered after gathering the much-needed courage, his jaw impossibly tense as he stared at the darkened waves. -It was back at the police academy. Everyone except me in my class was either a Beta or an Alpha, so they were giving me a pretty hard time, trying to force me to quit because apparently Omegas have no place in the force. I was changing by my locker one day when out of nowhere that one especially obsessed with harassing me fucker showed up behind my back, said "Maybe I should make you my obedient little bitch." and bit my neck. Hard. I fucking lost it. Next thing I remember is him lying on the ground, blood all over my hands, his face beaten into a pulp. They told me he developed a severe brain bleed, couldn't become a cop afterwards. And I couldn't trust any Alpha anymore, in fear they will try to forcefully make me "normal", an obedient little bitch. -revealed, quickly wiping a single tear rolling down his cheek. -If I am not interested in Betas and wary of Alphas, who do I date, huh? -Jim laughed nervously, not daring to gaze at the other man out of unnecessary embarrassment. He's never told that story to anyone but Chris. She was furious.

-Damn, and I thought, I'm a hot mess. -Buck whistled, swiftly pulling the cop into his arms. -Guess we both are. -sighed, resting his cheek on the top of the other man's head.

-Not quite. I'm definitely hotter. -joked the officer, shifting himself to look at that pretty, slightly concerned face.

-I'll give you that one. -chuckled the firefighter, capturing Street's lips in a quick kiss. -Fuck, Jim, you make me wanna keep you.

-You like damaged goods? -the Omega snorted in response, entangling his fingers into those soft blond strands.

-Duh! -Buck exclaimed. -No one should pretend they're perfect. It's really cool that you're not afraid to share your truth. -added with a wide smile, making Jim feel dizzy from all the affection he's been receiving. There is nothing more pleasantly overwhelming than being held by your crush while they tell you they wish to be with you. Nothing.

-Keep me then. -he offered. -I enjoy you Buck, a lot, actually. Even though we barely know each-other, around you I finally feel truly respected and...safe. It's not like I'm one hundred percent sure we would work, but I'd love to at least try. You don't have to respond... -tried to explain, but got promptly interrupted by a rather possessive kiss. -...right now.

-Are you for real?! -shouted the younger man, gazing at the officer in pure disbelief, his watery eyes sparkling with raw happiness.

-Do you seriously want me to repeat those most cringeworthy words I've ever said? -Street frowned, trying very hard not to blush after realizing what he's just shamelessly confessed. Buck laughed in response before leaning down to kiss his boyfriend one more time, stopping for a second to whisper:

-I'll take it as a yes.

---

They stayed on the beach until it got dark and too cold for sitting there in thin hoodies, the chill crawling under their skins despite being in close contact. Driven by the desire to go somewhere warmer, the two of them literally stormed through the apartment door, like some horny teenagers unable to stop touching even for a moment all the way back there.

Plastered to the wall, Street could barely breathe as their tongues mixed, unbelievably hungry and equally needy as their lower parts. Already hard in his pants, he hopelessly thrust into Buck's matching erection, causing him to growl and suddenly break the kiss.

-Carry me upstairs? -Jim immediately requested, wrapping his muscular arms around the taller man's neck, gently brushing the silky hair.

-Didn't you say you would let me do it only that one time? -chuckled the Alpha, firmly grabbing onto the sturdy hips while gazing into those foggy, starving eyes looking at him expectantly as they stood there pressed together, their dicks desperate to get some heavenly friction.

-Well, in my defense, I didn't plan on seeing you more than once. -revealed the cop blushing subtly. He certainly didn't predict they would meet ever again, let alone start dating, and was pretty sure it was a mutual feeling. Because who could've possibly predicted them instantly clicking? No one.

-Ouch! -Buck whined dramatically before obediently slipping his large palms under the beefy thighs and effortlessly picking his boyfriend up. -Are you aware you're not the lightest person in the world?

-Aren't you firefighters supposed to be like...super strong? -teased the Omega, tightening the legs around his lover to put pressure on their aroused cocks while the younger man hurried them to the bedroom. -You're gonna save on gym with me.

-I have free gym at work! -the firefighter giggled, carefully putting Jim back on the floor. -I do like that you are so ripped tho. It's really fucking hot. -added, unexpectedly pushing the officer onto the bed that creaked dangerously under his weight.

-Did I perhaps hit a nerve? -Street hummed after quickly recovering from the initial shock of being violently shoved. Buck only snorted in response and swiftly took off his white hoodie, soon joined by the bottoms on the ground. Gloriously naked, he then climbed over his fully dressed boyfriend and instead of helping him get rid of the itching material, focused on marking the round jaw with kisses. The cop whimpered in annoyance, desperately needing complete skin to skin contact, not merely a hint. His hands erratically wandered along the uncovered spine, gently caressed the warm flesh as his lover made him squirm, bruising the extremely sensitive neck. But still, it was simply not enough. So, he grabbed a fistful of golden hair and yanked them. Not too hard to cause any pain, but enough to grab attention.

-Buck, sweetheart, if you don't start fucking me anytime soon, I'll probably lose my mind. -he groaned, looking right into the visibly darkened, slightly surprised blue eyes that instantly widened upon hearing Jim's complaint.

-On it. -assured the Alpha, and as promised began to undress him, starting with the hoodie. Once it was gone, Street shivered from the rapid change in temperature, the colder air unpleasantly licked the burning skin. Seeing the tremble, the firefighter started kissing his chest, tender pecks one by one led a trail all the way to the strained pants he easily pulled down, revealing the soaked underwear hiding the prominent erection. Jim was so hard it was physically uncomfortable. A loud moan escaped him when the suffocating penis finally got some air. Even louder one when Buck confidently licked it from the very bottom up to the leaking tip. The moment it disappeared in its entirety inside the velvety mouth was so intense, everything instantly went dark. He could only feel the utter ecstasy and hear himself produce the most shameful, erotic sounds forced out by his dick being skillfully sucked. There was no doubt he would not last long. The orgasm was approaching quickly, fueled by two fingers entering him in preparation for the main event. When they spread open, that did it, came on the spot, pressing deep into Buck's throat.

-Sorry. You okay, baby? -Street asked, seeing the younger man cough once he pulled away, his eyes visibly watery. -C'mere. -he ordered, extending an arm towards his boyfriend, who eagerly lied down on the heavily breathing chest, inhaling the familiar scent until the fact he was yet to release started bothering the recovering officer. -I'm pretty sure I mentioned something about fucking me. -he whispered suggestively, laying a gentle kiss on the sweaty forehead, more than ready to resume the fun.

That's all Buck needed to hear. Joining their lips, he pushed himself up and shifted to comfortably fit between Jim's spread legs. Without them parting, the Alpha lined his coming back to life penis with the loosened opening and effortlessly slid right in, completely filling the incredibly hot, twitching insides.

-Fuck, you feel so good. -he huffed, withdrawing a little before thrusting back in, his moves shallow to avoid falling out of the immensely wet hole. The Omega could feel his cock harden again as the other man began the unrushed rhythm and leaned down to bury his nose in the fragrant neck, nibbling on the skin from time to time. It was ecstatic, having such a sensitive body part played with, marked subtly by someone he truly cared for. He wrapped his arms around Buck and lightly grazed the arching spine while the firefighter's penis rubbed the throbbing prostate. Their mixed groans and moans started to slowly increase, but neither of them was interested in ending it fast. The new couple wanted to enjoy themselves. So, in tight embrace they leisurely followed the blissful release's path until the friction became unbearable, overwhelmed all the senses and forced the powerful orgasms out.

Later on, they curled up together, aching terribly, however insanely happy. Street had a hard time dozing off, tormented by disbelief in what has happened over the past few days. He met a guy in the weirdest situation possible, randomly saw him at the bar on the same day, slept with him, and then, after barely one date, became his fucking boyfriend. How crazy was that?! And even though it surely sounded insane, Jim didn't care in the slightest, being reverently held by a man who made him laugh was all that mattered, and he couldn't wait to get to properly know him.

The first "new" thing he learned was that he did not like waking up alone in someone else's house. Still half asleep, he rolled over, reached for his phone and with a good yawn checked the time. 9:17. Now it made sense - Buck's shift started over an hour ago. He couldn't believe he slept through him getting ready for work, and that he was even allowed to do so. Maybe they were together now, however, it was quite odd to let someone you barely know stay in your home without supervision. At least that's what Street thought. Not really keen on doing anything after having quite a night, it took him another forty minutes to get himself out of the comfortable, pleasantly smelling bed into the shower and then downstairs for a coffee. To his surprise, on the kitchen island, a single key lied next to a vibrantly pink note neatly folded in half with his name written on it, containing the cutest, most heart-warming message he's ever received:

Dearest boyfriend ♡

Work :(

Stay as long as you want!

Close the door pls

Jim couldn't stop a fond, intrusive smile from growing as he kept looking at the piece of paper.

That man's adorable sincerity surely will be the death of him.

#ao3fic #m/m smut #m/m #9 1 1 fanfiction #SWAT fanfiction #Buck x Jim #omegaverse fanfiction #omegaverse

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otp-holic · 2 years

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COUCH CUSHIONS ON THE FLOOR 1.5Ks, Stucky, Fluff, G.

Summary: Mindless domestic fun with cushions and pillows. I wrote this on a plane, and it's absolutely just pointless fluff for @somanywords who sent me the "wish you wrote a fic where..." with the request “ i wish you'd write a fic where steve and bucky have a pillow fight and alpine breaks a cup to get them to stop ;)” Title, obviously from Bucky himself: “We can put couch cushions on the floor like when we were kids, it'll be fun." I do hope it's a bit of silly fun. For@stuckybingo SB045 O5 "Avengers Assemble!"

"I'm bored,” Steve says after a long time of not looking at the screen where they are supposedly watching a reality show about very strange houses, and (more specifically), about people building the house of their dreams. It's the early afternoon, but dark clouds and rain make the world outside uninviting, and (in all honesty), Bucky is having fun. Cuddling Steve on a couch that fits them both, inside their habitually bright and big brick-walled apartment is beyond the house he once dared to dream, so watching those dedicated house-building dreamers on TV warms his heart more than he would ever confess. "You don't understand the world you live in, Steve," he answers. "People vibe to watch those things on TV. Seeing people chasing their dreams and living vicariously through them while risking nothing." Steve huffs and stands up at that.

To the rest of the fic :)

#stucky #fanfiction #fluff #steve rogers #bucky barnes #domestic fluff #stuckybingo2021 #painfully created by me #the only adult here is alpine #alpine #fic by yours truly #edit by yours truly

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

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soft prompt ideas: comforting each other, cuddling, waking up together/going to sleep, going on a date, idk just being in each other’s company? i’m terrible at being specific but i hope these help!

hi bby<3 thank you so much to u (and everyone else!!!) for sending in prompts, they brought me so much joy and now i have SO many little soft things in the works:’)

yesterday ended up turning into a long day and i didn’t get to finish most of the things i started, but i wrote this while i was freshly showered and in bed and wanted to quickly whip up some bedtime softness to end the day right!! so here is the softest, quickest pre-11x07 bedtime one-shot and ode to the gallagher house, i hope u enjoy<3

Ian turned the creaky handle to shut off the shower, stilling the scalding water that had been beating a steady stream onto his body, soothing his aching muscles and weary bones. Ian was tired—after he and Mickey had gotten back from their various security stops around the outskirts of the city, he’d promised to help Lip track down and deliver parts to the people who’d bought the odds and ends of the stolen bikes, and then he’d somehow ended up in Lip and Tami’s living room that was half-packed into boxes for hours, silently sipping a beer and listening to them tag-team their attempts at persuading Ian to convince Debbie into wanting to sell the house— an effort that was a lost cause, and they all knew it.

It was kind of funny— they’d all gotten so close to losing the house so many times before, from being pulled out by DCFS officers to being kicked to the curb by fucking Patrick, to feeling desperate ripples of fear as they watched the house be put up for auction for a bunch of Northsiders and boujee fucking families who picked through the bare skeleton of the rooms as they pleased— so it was funny that after all of that, after their front door being plastered with more bright orange eviction notices than they could count, that the eventual thing driving them out of the house in the end would be a Gallagher himself, just because Lip wanted some extra cash. Ian got it— they were older now, and Lip had a kid to worry about— but he couldn’t help but feel a soft pang in his gut, something muted and dull but still there, every time Lip nonchalantly mentioned “fixing the house up” and “making gentrification our friend” and “getting on with our lives”—even though he and Mickey had readily agreed, at the family meeting that Mickey now had a right to be a part of, that it made the most sense to sell the house and for the two of them to find a place of their own.

And honestly, that prospect was a little terrifying; it sounded silly, but this crumbling house, with its paint stripping away and its roof nearly caving in, had pretty much been the only constant in Ian’s life for as long as he could remember. He had memories, ones that were soft around the edges, of him and Lip and Fiona sleeping curled in the backseats of cars and, on a few of the worst nights, on playgrounds or stoops or streetcorners when Frank and Monica were too far gone— and then inevitably one day, one sunny afternoon, they would come home to this sturdy gray house, and even then Ian understood that this was a place he could always return to. He didn’t really know what a world without the Gallagher house looked like; he always found his feet leading him back to these four walls, even those months when he was living with Mickey and he’d walk the silent moonlit city blocks back home to splash in the pool with everyone on those muggy, late summer nights. Thinking about the comforting sag of the Gallagher house was one of the few things that kept Ian going in the colorless cinderblock walls of his prison cell; the concave mattress of his single bed at home wasn’t much better than the inch-think foam pad he scrunched onto each night in his cell, but it was still familiar, it was still home, it had still held him through all of these years.

Lip wanting to sell the house was just another bitter reminder, along with the changing storefronts of the Southside neighborhood stores, the people walking by with baby strollers and shopping bags of organic groceries, the notches on the closet door that showed how much Franny had already grown, and the tinny sound of Fiona’s voice wafting through a Facetime call, a voice too small and too quiet to fill the absence she’d left behind—that things were always changing, that life wasn’t going to stop for any of them.

Ian clambered out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, scrubbing his face with his hands to try to clear his head. The hallway outside the bathroom was still, the only sound the soft hissing of the radiator—when the fuck did this house get so quiet? There was no boisterous laughter wafting up from downstairs, no clanging in the kitchen, no WWE blasting from the TV at full volume; Lip and Tami had moved out, Liam was grown up and preferred steady conversation to the classic Gallagher screeching, and Carl was either off at the station for the night or doing god-knows-what in the basement— when did silence start to sink into these walls, without anyone really noticing? Even Frank was getting quieter, somehow, giving more blank stares than quick replies when they talked back and forth in the kitchen.

Ian stepped out of the bathroom and crept down the hallway, walking carefully in case Franny was sleeping; there was a comfort in the melody of the creaking floorboards, reminding him of all the nights when he’d lay awake staring at the ceiling, sometimes gripped by the swirling black thoughts he thought he’d never be able to shake off, and he would hear Fiona tiptoeing around in the hallway, checking in on everyone while she tried not to wake them. Ian gripped the handle of the flimsy accordion bedroom door and slid it open as quietly as he could muster, ready to crawl into bed and hopefully snap out of all this wallowing.

And… oh.

The lamp on the bedside table was still on, shining a soft glow into the cramped room— but Mickey was curled up and fast asleep on Ian’s side of the bed, his mouth half-open and his head tucked to his chin, his hair slightly mussed and ruffled by on the pillow he was gripping onto. Ian smirked—he knew it was getting late, and Mickey might be asleep when he got home—but there was something so soft and innocent about the way Mickey was laying, like he was breathing in the scent of Ian’s pillow, that made him stop for a moment before mindlessly crawling into bed next to him. Ian let himself linger in the doorway for a moment, just listening to the steady waves of Mickey’s breathing, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and the innocence in his sleeping face that was so bare and open that it almost hurt to look at.

Instantly, Ian felt something bloom in his chest from the pit of uncertainty that had been planted there. The Gallagher house had always been his home—but he realized in a sweeping moment that his best days here, ones where he felt solid and settled and himself rather than someone he was pretending to be, were the days when Mickey was nearby, the days when Mickey was just down the road.

Mickey made up the only other home he’d had, the only other place he’d felt this safe; they’d built a cocoon around themselves in the equally-as-shitty Milkovich house, smoking and laughing and whispering into each other’s skin in the darkness. Even as Ian’s grip on reality felt like it was slipping through his fingers, Mickey’s warm body next to his kept him rooted, in the same ways Mickey’s thrumming presence beside him kept him safe in all the blaring uncertainty of federal prison and imposing cell walls and the press of too many strange bodies in orange jumpsuits. Ian had always felt safe in the Gallagher house—but so much of that, since he was a scrawny fifteen year old, was because of the nights he spent awake in bed thinking up pipe dreams of a future with the loudmouthed kid he worked with at the convenience store, or when he could crawl into bed after a late night EMT shift and feel the solid, grounding weight in his chest as he remembered his road trip with Mickey to the border, and thought about Mickey having some kind of a better life in Mexico. So much of that feeling of home, especially through all of the epic highs and colossal lows, was just knowing that someone out there, by some miracle, loved Ian as deeply as Mickey Milkovich could— knowing he had a doorstep to run to when his own house was infiltrated by Monica and some stranger threatening to take Liam, or a bed to crash in for months when everything else in his life felt like shifting, unstable ground. So much of home was right here, and it always had been.

Ian quietly slid shut the squeaky folds of the door, discarding his towel and throwing a threadbare t-shirt over his head—and then he gingerly stretched out onto the opposite side of the bed beside a sleep-soft Mickey, his body radiating heat and the ends of his hair still damp from his own shower, smelling of the fresh scent of cheap shampoo and very slightly of toothpaste, mingling with the earthy smell of cigarette smoke and the other scent that Ian could only just describe as Mickey. Ian let himself lay there for a moment, listening to Mickey breathing— just breathing.

He reached over Mickey’s torso and shut off the bedside lamp, enveloping the room in a heavy cloak of darkness—but this time the silence didn’t seem so bad with Mickey’s steady breaths punctuating the quiet. He slid a hand over Mickey’s waist, resting his chin on the crook of Mickey’s shoulder and breathing in deep—he could feel Mickey’s heartbeat vibrating into his own chest, feeling the rise and fall of his ribcage as he held him close. Ian felt all the latent tension, the lungful of air he didn’t even know he had been holding, drain out of him—and it started to make him feel weirdly light and giddy to imagine sometime in the near future when he and Mickey would actually have a place of their own, a place where they could ride out the silence together just like this— a place with clutter and creaking floorboards and slanted moonlight of their own.

If the Gallaghers were “getting on with their lives,” like Lip had said—then this right here was the only thing that Ian was moving towards, just like he always had been.

#lol this was very contemplative and not very narrative heavy #but i hope u enjoyed??#i wrote 90% of this in my phone notes lol #also the fiona hall of shame got me feeling weirdly emotional about how much ian must miss fiona!!!!#anyways ty so much for the prompt<333 #gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fic #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

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cakejots · 3 years

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Unstained, Chapter 2

After certain events that happened in the day, Chat Noir revealed to Ladybug that he knows who she is under the mask. Her reactions astounded him. After certain events that happened in the night, Ladybug unveiled to Chat Noir why she can’t do what he asked of her. His reactions astonished her.

Rating: T, Words: 6938. Chapters: 4/4

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4

Read on AO3

“So, are you going to take my Miraculous away?”

“I suppose.”

Chat immediately stiffened his relaxed posture and whipped his head to look at her, moon-eyed. “You—”

“But, if that’s supposed to happen, I wouldn’t be here talking to you as Ladybug, would I?” Ladybug finally faced him with a small smile hanging on her lips.

Seeing her smile, Chat felt even more perplexed than he already was. “What do you mean?”

“I know who you are, Adrien.”

Adrien didn’t think his day would get any crazier, but it just did. “C-come again?”

“Adrien, that’s you under that mask. Marinette, that’s me under this mask. And I’m not going to take away your Miraculous, silly,” Ladybug, Marinette, teased. She seemed to be genuinely enjoying his reactions to all these.

“Sorry, but this is a lot to take in, I need a moment.” Adrien pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes to internalise this new information that Ladybu—Marinette just dropped on him.

“Take all the time you need, Minou. We have time. But—”

“But we need to move if there’s an Akuma attack,” he recited.

“You know me so well, but patrols rarely have those, so you’re good.” Her attention was now back to the glittery sky above.

Silence, until…

“My lady? M-Marinette? Argh, I don’t even know which to use now! This is all so new to me,” he whined and pulled his hair while making distressed faces.

“You can use whichever you want Chaton, we are still the same person under the masks,” she giggled.

“I’ve got a few questions if you don’t mind?” He asked with hope in his eyes.

“Of course not, go ahead.”

He started to fidget. “How did you find out?”

“Well, it wasn’t like I actively sought out your identity or anything. It just happened, to the point I simply couldn’t ignore it any longer,” she stated.

Chat was looking at her curiously. But he was listening attentively and signalling for her to go on, and she did.

“Wow this is such a long list, where do I even begin?” She mused.

“Start from your earliest memories of it?” He suggested.

“That’s a good idea. Remember when there was a design competition for bowler hats and your father—”

Chat gagged.

“—got to decide which is the winning piece you’ll wear for your next photoshoot?” Ladybug raised an eyebrow.

Chat’s eyes widened with realisation and nodded. “It was the first time we fought Mr Pigeon.”

“Yeah. And Chat Noir was sneezing non-stop due to the allergies he had against feathers. Guess who I found that had the same allergies after we defeated the Akuma?”

Chat blushed.

“But it wasn’t enough of an evidence to give away that you’re Chat Noir. After all, plenty of people are allergic to feathers.” He nodded. “Next, was when as Chat Noir, you worked with Marinette to take down Evillustrator.”

“Oh! So that’s your secret mission. How did I expose myself? I’m pretty different in and out of the mask.”

“Indeed you are. Thing is, no one knew Marinette and Chat Noir worked together that night. Yet, Adrien-you approached Marinette-me and asked what I thought about Chat Noir.”

“Please tell me there’s no more of my reckless behaviour that could possibly scream Adrien Agreste is Chat Noir,” he grimaced.

“You’ll be surprised,” she winked. And he groaned.

“Those two might have been coincidences, but not this next one. Does ‘Tom Style: Booyah!’ remind you of anything?”

“Wow I really need to stop being so careless, who would have thought!” Chat was hiding his face behind his hands.

Ladybug started listing more. “There’s also that time where Jagged Stone tried being a baker on a reality show, and basically flashed my room full of Adrien’s photos on national TV. And you were acting all smug about it the next day, very Chat-like might I add. And our train ride to London, Chat Noir—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. I leave tons of clues, sheesh.”

It was quiet again and Ladybug went back to admiring the many glimmers that hung above. Ladybug sensed a change in the mood surrounding them and hoped that he wouldn’t ask what she thinks he’d ask.

“So, how long have you known?”

And there it was. “You know how long, Adrien,” as if pleading him to drop the questioning.

“Yeah, but do you know since when?”

“S-since the first year we got our Miraculouses,” she confirmed, hugging her knees.

“Is there a reason why you didn’t tell me in the first instance possible?” He asked gently.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Adrien. I do, I really do, but Master Fu said… he said our identities must remain a secret.” Ladybug tried to reason with him.

“I know you do, and I have no doubt about that. And Master Fu did say that, didn’t he? But you still knew about Rena Rouge and Carapace.”

“They were needed for our battles, and you knew about Queen Bee.” But her determination was wearing thin, and she knew she wasn’t making any sense.

“And so did you.”

Ladybug kept quiet and was looking at everything else but Chat.

“Marinette, if identities were so important, Master Fu would have made sure you didn’t know about Rena Rouge’s and Carapace’s, you know that.” Adrien's voice was really soft, the softest it has been the whole day. “Queen Bee was an unfortunate case that the whole of Paris knows.”

She still wasn’t looking at him.

“Marinette, is there something you’re hiding?” Chat shifted towards her.

And yet, she didn’t utter a single word.

“My lady?” He had begun to hold her as he witnessed her eyes welling up.

She wiped her tears with the back of her hands, but they continued falling.

He looked at her earnestly before he went ahead to wipe her tears with his thumb, mindful of his claws. Chat then placed a hand at the back of her head, and pulled her into his embrace, rubbing circles on her back. He figured that if she didn’t want to talk about it, the least he could do was calm her down.

“I-I’m guessing that you figured out my identity this afternoon? When y-you were almost akumatised?” She started.

Ladybug felt a nod at her shoulder, and she continued.

She heaved a deep sigh and wrapped her arms around him. “In… in another timeline, we knew each other’s identities in the first year we got our Miraculouses. And we were in love.”

Chat went rigid with his ministrations.

“I… I don’t really know the details, but it… it was our love that destroyed the world.”

He felt a vicious chill spread through his core. Chat pulled back to look at Ladybug, eyes conveying desperation that this where it stopped, that it couldn’t possibly get any worse than this.

Ladybug held his gaze for a while before looking up. “This moon above us, it’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Chat didn’t know where this was going, but he looked up nonetheless. The moon was indeed very pretty, gleaming brightly against the clear blue-black sky that made sure all focus was on it.

“In that timeline, this very same moon was split into half," she paused. "By you. Akumatised you.”

Chat whipped his head back down to her, gaze wavering as a feeling of disorientation blanketed him.

Ladybug fiercely pulled him back into her embrace, instantly regretting the way she had delivered the news to him. “Do you see it now?” She wept. “The reason why I was so hesitant to reveal myself to you?" She gripped on him firmly, afraid that he'd run away.

Chat’s vision had turned blurry, and he squeezed her. “Then why did you reveal yourself now? If you knew this was going to happen.”

“I… I figure the reveal was going to happen sooner or later, and y-you were akumatised because of something entirely different. And honestly, I am so exhausted about everything.”

They basked in the silence together, sniffling and trying to stop their tears from flowing.

“So what are we going to do now?” Chat whispered.

“I really don’t know, I’m just glad that you didn’t get akumatised and I didn’t have to fight you.” She hugged him tighter than what he thought was possible.

Chat slowly pried himself away from her to look at her. With his hand at the back of her head, he pulled it forward and kissed her forehead. She froze.

“Adrien, what are you doing?”

“I love you.” Ladybug opened her mouth but he cut her to it. “You’re always thinking about others even while going through hell all by yourself. You’ve been through so much. I’m so sorry for not being there for you, and I thank you for sharing this with me, Marinette. I love you, so, so much. For being so brave, for being all that you are.”

Her tears flowed down her face like a river escaping a dam, comparable to the speed of her thoughts running through her mind. All the ‘could haves’ she might have experienced with Adrien if it wasn’t for her fears. And the possible devastation that may happen if she went ahead with what her alternate self did.

“Adrien, I don’t know if you know this, but I love you too, romantically. Ever since the first day we’ve met. But...”

To say that didn’t break his heart would have been the joke of the century, but…

“I understand Marinette,” he smiled weakly, “but please stop pushing me away. Even if not romantically, I want to be there for you every step of the way.”

“I’m doing fine Adrien...” She looked away.

Adrien felt disheartened. But he didn’t want to give up, not yet, never. He cupped her face to look at him.

“Marinette, you’ve been waiting all this time, haven’t you?” Marinette didn’t think Adrien’s voice could go even softer than before, but it did. “Since 3 years ago, for someone to save you from this helplessness, for someone to share this burden with you. Let me be that person for you.”

Marinette sometimes could perfectly explain what she saw in Chat. His desire to lighten up other people’s day, his unyielding trust in her, among many many others. But other times, she wasn’t able to, because it was indefinable. It’s just the way he was able to take her to places where no one else could. Maybe, it's time she finally let go of all the burdens she has had and shared them with someone, with her kitty.

“I’ll always be here, my lady.”

She raised her arms to hold his face in her hands—

“I am so sorry.”

—and pressed her lips onto his.

#mesfics #miraculous ladybug #fanfic #mlb fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #ladybug #chat noir #post chat blanc #hurt/comfort #unstained

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commonalex · 3 years

Text

future ready

future ready by common alex

Listen/download: future ready by common alex

It was around three months after I've been fired. I didn't dare to talk about it much, but it wouldn't that much of a mystery for someone to figure out why the short chick with the plaited hair isn't on the cash register giving wrong change to the old ladies anymore. To be perfectly honest, I was pretty devastated that I managed to fail even at working at the supermarket, where all you needed to get a grip was knowing how to count, wearing an "Olga" tag like a war medal, and acting like everything's okay at all times. Maybe that's why I ended up sneaking into it like a thief that day, out of stubbornness. It was the last sense of routine I had while everything was going under outside the window.

I could barely get out the bed before four in the afternoon. And when I did, all I had planned was dragging my body before the tv to catch some telemarketing and dumb commercials until the sun was out again and I successfully forgot who I am and what I'm going through. Because what other choices did I have really? For the last two years I was jumping from one dead end job to the next, either until I get fired or until I quit. I was leaving on benefits and a sad amount of savings, and I was starting to accept the fact that this would be my life from now on. Like, what else did I really have to rely on? Studies? Big deal, the world wouldn't end with just one english teacher less. Friends? Don't get me started. Family? All I was left with was a mother with a mission to make me feel horrible every time we spoke on the phone because I wasn't bothering to go see her. But even if I did, what would I have to say to her? I was mentally collapsing. So I said "leave it for now" and kept the thought pushed back for later. That's the reason why on that particular day I didn't pick up whenever my mom was ringing this cherry ericsson I had at the time. It wasn't like I really needed to answer, I already knew everything by heart.

"Have you seen how this girl you used to hang out at school does lately, Olga?".

No, mom, I haven't. It's been like ten years since I finished school.

"She's studying this thing you used to like, she got settled, she even has her own house".

Well done for her I guess, and?

"And you?".

I don't know what the hell I'm doing with my life anymore, mom.

"But don't you ever think about your future?".

My long awaited future, huh? What a glorious future that was. It was so good, half of the people I used to know didn't make it halfway through.

Outside things were a bit more casual that the deep existential turmoil that was described by the news at the time, yet I was indeed shocked by that eerie amount of silence that was stretching through the cold winds that was piercing my purple coat. I could hear a tv screaming from two blocks away and the screeching roars of the phone lines echoing around the city, but there was barely any human voice left. I was only catching some mumbles and grunts here and there as I was jumping out of fear every time I had to turn around a corner. So it was just like everyday Athens, only with a little more of snow and fear of getting mugged. My social atrophy made me feel like I was being chased as the surrounding landscape was rapidly being stripped from anything that was reminiscing of a typical day. Like, that was the first time I ever saw people looting kiosks and butcher shops. I only managed to see like three to five people with their backs hunched, covering their faces while carrying those huge gray tv screens with the vhs player still attached or fifteen bags of chips, with their eyes moving around uncontrollably. All I had in my mind seeing these scenes was the word "brutalization". Maybe because all this time I wasn't fully aware of what was going on, or maybe because the news told the truth for once.

I snuck from the side door where the staff entrance was, because all the glass on the front of the supermarket was smashed to pieces and I didn't like the thought of my hands sliced open. It was a mess on the inside and the aisles stood empty like sad metal canyons. People must have broke in trying to get all the toiler paper and canned foods left in the previous weeks. From the expired milk bottles at the back to the unstoppable static noise of the refrigerators in front of me, there were all those special little touches to make me feel like I was working in this hole of a job again. And no, I did not bother searching for supplies. Instead, I walked around like I was out shopping with my mom, opening the boxes of the diabetes flavored cereal that no one bother to take, just to steal their toys. I also found a bunch of unopened boxes of the supermarket's very own faux chocolate milk (yes, the one with the dark industrial waste left on the bottom) that was probably expired as well. But, I was a lady, right? So I took some of them to the cash register, because Olga ain't no petty thief. I got around my place of work and scanned the bottles to find out that they cost something less than three hundred and seventy-five million. "Luckily, I don't have to calculate any change now", I thought. Never before have I ever experienced such relief while being there. I was sitting in the same place I was rotting for hours before the world turned to shit, and I was patiently waiting for a huge line of old ladies to pop out of nowhere just to ruin my vibe with their pension money bills. I almost started to miss all of those stuff. This must meant that things have really turned to shit.

The new millennium have begun just like any other year, against the disappointment and secret eagerness of some people. All that screaming about the revelation, the second coming of Satan, the aliens, and the revolution of the machines faded miserably as the days went by and absolute destruction was not to be seen. Yet, at least. Because the first planes that crashed mid-flight in South Africa and Indonesia didn't appear before the end of January, but all were like "okay, technical problems". And when missiles were accidentally landing on Iraqi cities, people were like "well, what to do, technical problems yet again". Only when the bank deposits got erased people started to cry and run like headless chickens. Young people now would call me cynical, but you had to be there to see it. It was crystal clear that people had all of their hopes and dreams for tomorrow stored into a single digit of a computer. A kind of tomorrow which was now failing to promise anything anymore in front of millions of simultaneous personal bankruptcies. Then the reactors in Italy exploded due to a system failure and tomorrow officially died. This tomorrow that we were told would bring everything to us, from cancer treatments to all of Britney's music stored in a tiny mini-disc. From flying cars to underground metros. From huge tv screens for each living room to the giant digital information highway better know as the INTERNET. Nowadays all of these sound so silly, but the pain in the faces of people from the betrayal of their dream did not seem to go away. Until mid-February, everyone lost their minds. Those who saw all of this coming ran away in fear of the new Chernobyl to leave the rest of us behind to die. Shops, services, offices, all ceased to have any actual reason to exist in from of the impending disaster. All you could see around anymore were padlocks, deflated bodies on the street from people that couldn't take it anymore, and some shadows of people left to wander like animals while pretending to be alive. Maybe that's why the tv was constantly playing commercials and other irrelevant bullshit during all of this, it was the last useful thing they could show to the people that were preparing for the grand finale.

But that grand finale wasn't so tangible for me. Everyone had this type of end predetermined, but this panic of theirs seemed more like a slightly less shallow version of the preexisting self-preservation to me. I wasn't convinced by those who screamed that the world was over simply because it already happened to their world. Like, just as Rome wasn't built in one day, their illusions weren't shattered overnight. I mean, at that time the supermarket was filled with those obnoxious promotional banners featuring the new slogan that was everywhere lately, before things change for the worse. They had the "FUTURE READY" catchphrase in large white letters that spread noisy and ridiculous lacking any particular meaning as everything was collapsing. What future exactly was that slogan referring to? The future in general, as a concept of time and space? They wouldn't have thought that out that much. Was it the future of humanity from now on? I wouldn't be so concerned for this with all those rich fucks that had already kissed as goodbye from their shelters, we were far from being extinct and in maybe less that ten years we could wake up with someone like Will Smith ruling the world. No, the catchphrase probably meant that future with the flying cars and the internet. The future only fools would believe it would come (and yes, people actually believe that). That future we lost just as fast as we were promised for it.

So in short, we were crabs in a bucket, pulling each other down in excruciating depths. This wasn't living nor surviving; we more or less kept on functioning like bio-robots with depression. But for me, things weren't looking so grim. "Look at me", I would say, "I reached twenty-nine and haven't done crap to be proud of, I drink expired chocolate milk and I'm secretly glad the world is ending because every day was borderline unbearable for me anyway, so how good would the future be for someone like me?". Nowadays the denial of any form of reality in this reasoning stands out, but at that moment I was reaching redemption. I was now reassured by the thought of the end, acting like a barrier that could block this endless loop that was running relentlessly against me. "So finally", I said to myself, "let's calm down once and for all". I was spinning around in the cashier's chair like a silly kid and was finishing up the bottles of milk like there's no tomorrow, while convincing myself that once everything goes to hell, my torment is over.

My phone’s vibrating through my coat cut me off the carefree twirling around my craziness. "Mom" was flashing on the screen again, but by that point I couldn't be bothered for explanations. Still, the dialogue kept running automatically like a script inside my head.

"I just can't get you. Do you keep on acting unbothered by the world? Even now? Who are you trying to convince anymore, Olga? Me? Because I know you have roughened up out of fear".

Well, truth is I was actually fearing you would start with that kind of shit again.

"You are getting more and more difficult to talk to. You are basically denying something we both clearly see at this point".

We seem to say the same exact thing, ain't that something? I guess I was kinda doomed from the start to be and look just like you.

"You really do me dirty with all these conclusions you're drawing out of anger".

Okay, so what? Did you get upset?

"Why are you angry at me, Olga? Can I hear you say it, just for once?"

I don't have the time for this thing again, mother, I need to enjoy my remaining days over here.

"How much do you think this will last for you? When will you stop stalling and start looking after you and your future again, Olga?"

What future do I have, really, are you kidding me?

-Are you talking to yourself, ma'am?

I almost slipped out of the chair. I had never experienced such horror before. I was barely held off the bench to help me get up again slowly with my heart sinking to my stomach, only to see a little girl with plaited pigtails looking at me half-frightened. She wasn't over nine years old, judging by the face and the childish dress she wore under this puffy purple coat.

-Why are you here? Where are your parents?

-Over here, come and take a look! But mom told me not to talk to strangers!

That of course made zero sense to me. Just like it made zero sense for a child to be left alone in a destroyed supermarket with the sun setting outside. I asked for the girl's name, nothing. I asked again, she hid her puzzled frown behind her pigtails trying to playfully imitate my posture with her hands on my waist.

-I'm Olga, I work here. And you?

She started to say something and suddenly changed her mind, running like hell to the back. I was confused thinking how would I look like to someone who saw me chasing a little girl in there, but then I reminded myself that probably nobody would be left to live to the end of this month, so I wouldn't be considered crazy for too long. I began running under the flickering ceiling lights and with each step I had to swallow my vomit. This little girl felt sorry for me in the end and stopped to wait for me at the end of the far right aisle, leaving one sleeve of her huge coat to stick out on purpose. I approached with an awkward smile and glanced at the strange grace she had on her face, with those weird baby hair that can't be caught for nothing in plaits pointing upwards. Despite my awkwardness, the girl stood unworried and expressionless as if I put her on timeout. I asked her name again. She slips away from a second time and runs like the wind, squealing something at lime while zigzagging the aisles.

-You should probably pick it up!

My phone was stabbing my pocket. It was "Mom" yet again, but I really wasn't in the mood for "Mama". I had to pick up my lungs from the floor at the top of my priorities, because this little devil wasn't running but galloping like a damn horse. I finally caught up with her in the aisle with the products of the day and tightly grabbed her by the shoulders. The little devil screamed and was banging her feet in pain. My hands had been too coarse for people after all this time.

-Hey, ma'am, did you get angry? I was just playing with you.

-I'm don't have time to play right now, please go to your mom.

-But I told you, My mom's right here.

"Where is "here"?

With just one finger sticking out of the sleeve, she pointed to the right middle shelf at the end of the aisle. She put her finger before her mouth to stop me from talking and I followed her on tiptoes. When we approached the end of the aisle and my eyes got used to the darkness I saw a woman laid inside the empty shelf. She was in her sixties and wearing an old black nightgown with holes on it. From her short hair down to her nails, there were ice flakes stuck everywhere as if she was just found buried in the snow. Her face with her eyes closed was carrying such an expression of pain and torment. I was so weirded out that something made me want to follow those ice streams that filled her skin's scratches with my fingers, however her body felt so stiff I jumped back. She looked more like a porcelain doll than an actual person.

-Ma'am Olga? Are you alright?

I threw up all the chocolate milk I drank. My body got the chills and my teeth were trembling so much that my breath was coming out in sharp puffs in front of the flickering lights of the refrigerators. I must have look like shit, because I scared the little girl for good and made her get five steps back from me while I was going crazy and trying to clear my eyes from the shock.

-Why is she here?

-Nobody wanted her. Nobody called to take her.

I didn't pay much attention. I pulled out my cherry ericsson to call for help, but the chaotic hum of the phone lines echoed in the aisle before I even put the phone to my ear.

-Who put her here?

She was just staring at me. I asked again and again. She let her lower lip half open. I grabbed her by the shoulders like before and she pulled out a choked scream due to my clumsiness. She started crying and feeling loose in my hands. It was then that I felt like something broke inside me and I crawled away from her because she would pass out in any second just by looking at the state that I was. I sat on the floor watching her wipe her tears from a distance, all while fixing her plaits and stressfully straightening the dress inside her coat. Every now and then she would throw these incoherent excerpts from conversations that seemed weirdly familiar, waiting for me to remember the answers I had given to each of the discussions. I felt sick, like my insides would explode at any moment. My mind was working overtime and I started seeing red. I understood, but I did not want to accept it.

"But how?" I was saying again and again. I can't just live through this stuff. I was thinking that maybe that's it, we are officially past this tomorrow. Maybe that was the end of the world and the time I had at my disposal. Only instead of cloud islands or pits with flames I was stuck inside this supermarket with a little girl and a dead woman. Was this fitting? Not really. It might be considered symbolic, but still not at all subtle. That's why I was stuffed with anger and distress. I couldn't digest what to feel after all that I saw. And what was the meaning of all of this? To make me feel remorse? To help me maybe? But how? So many questions hanging above my head I began to feel like I was melting from the uncertainty. Luckily, the little girl found some courage to pick me up from the floor.

-You still don't recognize her, do you?

-I recognized her just fine the first time.

-Are you sure, ma'am Olga?

-I don't know, what do you say?

-You tell me.

-We have to get out of here, kiddo. We can't get through it like this. Even now, with everything else going to hell with us.

-Do you really want me to come with you?

-I don't know. Maybe I want to, maybe I should.

The phone started screaming again. It was dimming "Mama" with small flakes of ice filling its broken tiny screen. The girl bent down and put this in my palm with no emotion on her face. I answered it. I waited for an eternity so thin you could fit it inside a moment like this. "Hello? Mom?". Eventually the same confusing static noise creaked from the other side of the call, and I stuck there waiting through the buzzing to find her smoker's coughing that she used to do before starting to complain about how I constantly forget about her. Waiting just to tell her that I was here, I was fine, and the world might not end there. Maybe, somewhere, somehow, there's even some future we can fit in it.

-So are we ready now, ma'am Olga?

-Ready for what?

She pointed at the banner hanging from the ceiling.

-Future ready.

I didn't catch my mother's voice at the other end of the line, of course. I hung up and weakly threw the phone on the shelf where the woman was laying, just to hear its dying snout. This felt way more fitting.

-Nah, not really. But it probably does not matter right now.

-But. I'm scared.

-I'm scared too, being in here and all.

-So when will we be back? When everything was normal again?

-"Normal" may no longer exist. We'll just have to see. For now, get up.

-You know better, ma'am.

-Ma'am my ass.

The little girl glanced just once at the self with the phone on and continue to walk with me, with her palm lost and warmed up somewhere inside my own palm. An analog clock on the wall pointed somewhere after nine o clock and the sky was bruised from the clouds that were pouring snow on everything around us. I put my hand with hers in the pocket of the miserable purple coat and lifted our hoods to escape the cold on the way home. I don't really remember how long we walked with our backs hunched over somewhere between the white and the gray. I only recall that we took the long way home, like a punishment of some sorts.

Thinking that I would never hear again the saltiness in my mom's voice was my most bitter torment. I never thought of such a possibility. I always had in the back of my mind that she would find a way to defy any rule of the universe, just so she could care for me. That's science fiction, after all. It seems I was holding on to my illusions for so long, so waking up hurts like hell even today. And if my mom died, I believe she must've left with that pain and concern during her last moments. "Look at me now", I catch myself saying here and there "I avoided her only until I had to mourn her". Until then, the only thing I had on my mind was working on what I should say when I would get asked about her, only to answer that we "fell off" with no emotion. What exactly happened to fall off with her would be like unnecessary little details. Still, to this day, that's exactly what I tell people when it's being brought up. I can't talk about it without sinking in remorse. I can't get the right words to come out anymore, not even by force.

Of course I tried to find her. Especially with the years that were to come upon me, I needed this to have my mind calibrated just to not go crazy over the batshit hysteria that was building up inside of me. Deep down, though, I knew I didn't have the courage to look at past trauma anymore, and I was secretly hoping I would never fine here. Maybe because the end of the world not coming anymore, at least as I thought it would, and now I have to live with it forever. Maybe because the worst that could have happened to me in the end was the postponement of the apocalypse. And this falls heavily on my shoulders to this day. Every day I have to justify why it was worth it to stay behind, either as punishment or by luck, trying to convince myself that there is something left to do with the leftovers of my future.

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years

Note

Also saw you're doing requests so yay!!. Any chance of jercy bakery au? Love your work sm hope you have a great day ☺☺

My Darling Anon how dare you make me fall more in love with Jercy???????? I squealed when i saw this and then promptly started writing even though i should be studying for my (ironically) Greek Mythology test.

i hope you love it because if i fail at least i know it’ll be worth it :) Also this was honestly supposed to be a quick drabble and it somehow ended up as 1,5K+ words so??? #isanyonesurprisedthough

Masterlist

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

Jason Grace smiled as the birds beside his head chirped and then swiped his phone to cut off the amusing sound. His fiery friend, and co-worker thought it was hilarious to steal his phone and change his alarm tone every few weeks. Usually it was something inane and silly like a cartoon laugh track or just a repeating “It’s time to get up BakerBoi” that gets increasingly louder. He had arrived to work with a scowl on his face only to see the shit-eating grin of Leo Valdez waiting at the door.

Now Jason stumbles out of bed, letting his limbs loosen as he pads softly to the bathroom, feeling cool tile and a winter breeze on his exposed skin. He loves mornings like this, when the world isn’t quite awake, and the sky hasn’t decided what colour it wants to be for the day. He knows in is baker’s bones that it’ll be cold and rainy, but he has time for a morning jog before the world starts crying.

“Good morning boss,” A bright eyed, fidgeting Leo greets as he steps into the bakery.

Jason had been there at seven thirty, pulling down the café chairs and cleaning the counters. He already had a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies and about three different types of muffins in the oven. The bread was waiting for the busy hands of Leo and Hazel who somehow always seemed to make heavenly fluffed, soft rolls and the deliciously crusty baguettes. Hazel jokes that it’s the New Orleans blood that flows through her veins. They’re all half inclined to agree.

“Morning Valdez, I like the alarm this week.” He tosses a grin over his shoulder before going back to his icing ritual. Mix, taste, mix, ice.

“I figured you would old man. Even though i much prefer my ASMR food audio from last week. What’s the specialty today?”

“We need to get beignets out and the pain au chocolats before the breakfast crowd. Also the fruit stuffed pastry twists and the honey bread have to be prepped before we open so we can bring them out hot in time for the brunch crowd. Specialty today is a new thing I’ve been working on. Blue blondie doughnuts with Oreo cream filling and sugar glaze.”

“Gods boss, you tryna give people heart failure?”

“Just trying to insert some sweetness into the world,” He winked.

Before Leo could give an undoubted snarky reply a bubbly head of dark brown curls and glittering eyes popped around the door.

“Goooood morning everyone,”

Jason couldn’t help the smile that graced his face at her cheeriness, “Hello Miss Levesque, glad to see a prettier face around here,”

Leo made a strangled noise of indignation from the other side of the kitchen but didn’t get the chance to voice his offense before the last member of their little group walked in.

“Ah there you are Miss McLean, I do wonder how you arrive with Hazel and still manage to get in after her.”

She gave him an exasperated look, “I have to say goodbye to my girlfriend before I come in Boss. You’re the one who banned couple calls in the bakery.”

“Well maybe if we didn’t have to hear you and Annabeth explicitly planning your night’s activities I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

Piper just rolled her eyes and went to grab her apron and a cloth to wipe down the tables.

"Everyone ready?" He asked, from the door of the kitchen an hour later.

"Ready for the storm boss," They all yelled back, as they did each morning.

"Then let's roll like thunder," He grinned, flinging the doors to Ambrosia Bakery open.

"Oh thank the heavens, I could smell the goodness from here and it was a struggle to keep the drool in," One Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano breathed in deep.

"Good morning my favourite customer," Leo smirked from behind the counter.

"Jason tell your bread boy to stand down before I make him,"

"Is that an invitation?" Dark eyebrows wiggled in amusement.

"That is a threat," She growled.

"Well mark me down as scared and h—"

"Valdez I swear if you finish that sentence I'm putting you on wash-up duty for the next week."

A faint "you got it boss" followed Jason into the kitchen, where he allowed himself to smile. It was an ongoing amusement that Leo flirted with Reyna and in return she came up with increasingly terrifying threats.

"Jason, your sister is here to see you" Hazel said, gently shoving him out the way so she could take over rolling the pastry.

"Get the doughnuts ready for the fryer I'll be back soon, thank you!"

He maneuvered around a blushing Leo who had icing on his nose and a suspicious lipstick stain on his cheek, finally making his way to the confectioners stand.

"What's up loser?" He said by way of greeting.

"Hey you're only allowed to call me that if you come baring nice things." Thalia Grace frowned.

"I am nice things," He pouted.

"Not even on your best day." She snorted, "I want to know if you're coming to the gala this weekend. I need a date to steal extra bread-sticks for me."

"Why can't I just make you bread-sticks and we can sit in your lounge and watch bad reality TV?" He groaned

"Because I have to show face or the sponsors aren't going to sponsor. Besides you need a night out. You're gonna start smelling like bread if you don't take a break."

"It's insulting that you think I wouldn't want to smell like breadsticks."

She laughed at, that ruffling his hair, "Just be ready by seven. You better be wearing a suit."

And with that his sister had grabbed her daily croissant and cappuccino and vanished into the drizzling day.

Before he could make it back to his safe haven beside the ovens and marbled counter-tops a flash of black hair caught his eye.

Turning around he couldn't contain the grin that tugged at his lips; standing by the counter already staring intently at the newest creation was Jason's favourite customer.

"Hello Percy Jackson,"

"Jason," A dazzling smile revealed pearl white teeth and the tiniest dimple on a cheek the color of rich toffee.

"I see you've already found Neptune's Tridoughnut,"

A bright laugh escaped a wickedly beautiful mouth, "Oh I love that. How'd you come up with that one?"

Jason smiled softly, debating whether to tell the owner of the 5-Oceans Conservation Company that he was the muse behind all of his latest creations, hence the variations of green and blue.

Instead, as he did every time Percy asked, he lied, "My sister went to an opening ceremony for a new exhibit at the Education center all about Mythology so I thought I’d offer my services and well, they were a hit."

Piper who was walking past at that exact moment coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "Liar" but with a pointed glare she disappeared behind the counter.

"That sounds great. Guess I'll have to recruit you for all my functions," He winked, a small smirk playing at his lips.

Jason cursed his pale cheeks and hoped the blush he now sported wasn't too noticeable, "What can I get you besides a specialty doughnut?"

"Can I get one banana and walnut muffin, a dozen chic chips, and I'm gonna go see mom this afternoon so maybe a couple of caramel pastry twists and some blueberry muffins?"

"Sure. I guess Estelle is off her carrot cake faze?" He laughed, remembering how Percy had to stop at the bakery twice a week to grab carrot and pecan mini cakes just for his little sister.

"Ugh she's onto wanting fruit in absolutely everything now so my mom has been frantically buying boxes of peaches, strawberries and apples to cut up and send with her for lunch at school." Green eyes rolled in fake annoyance.

"Well if she likes fruit things maybe she should try the raspberry and orange pastry twists?" He pointed to a display stand piled with various pastries coloured by blackberry jam, apricot pieces, kiwi slices and mango syrup.

"I could kiss you right now!" Percy exclaimed rushing towards the display, unaware that the baker was frozen to the spot.

I could kiss you, could kiss you, kiss you, kiss...

Jason's brain had short-circuited, his neurons too busy having a dance party with his hormones to process the world.

I could kiss you.

A lazy, unconscious smile took over his face as he stood there in the middle of his bakery, arms slack, head lolled, and eyes crinkled.

"Jason?" A faraway voice called.

"Jason? Hello?"

And suddenly a hand was waving in front of his vision trying to get his attention.

He pulled himself out of his reverie, blinking back into existence, "Right yes the pastries"

"Didn’t get enough sleep last night?" Percy teased, slugging him softly in the shoulder.

He snorted at the implication, "Unfortunately I'm a bit of a grandfather. Sleep early, rise early."

"Oh guess you like morning activities then,"

He sputtered, head snapping up to stare into twinkling eyes, "N-no, I just meant—"

"I'm kidding Mr BakerMan," That brilliant, bright laugh again, "I know you're a homebody. Your sister likes to tell me how boring you are."

He huffed at that, "We'll see if she gets her pear tarts this weekend."

"Speaking of this weekend," A sly grin played at Percy's mouth, "Are you coming to the gala?"

"Yea," He sighed, "Thalia says she needs me to steal bread-sticks ."

Sea green eyes widened before Percy burst out laughing. In a matter of moments tears were streaming down his face.

If Jason wasn't so smitten with that gorgeous smile and those mischievous eyes he may have been inclined to laugh too. But Percy Jackson was a vision he half believed only his dreams could conjure.

When the laughter had mostly seized Percy wiped his eyes and managed to gasp, "That sounds exactly like something Thalia would ask. When we worked on the marine life project together she always stole the mints from every CEO’s office because she said they had enough money to buy a mint factory, they could afford to replace a single bowl."

"Yep, her life goal is to end capitalism. I swear if it wasn't for Annabeth, Thalia would be walking into office buildings with a sack like some reverse Santa Claus where she steals the office supplies and fruit bowls."

"Well I can't wait to see you stuffing your pockets with bread-sticks on Saturday so I guess I'll see you then," He gave another dazzling smile.

"Yea, and say hello to little Estelle for me. Tell me how she likes the pastries."

"Don't worry I'm sure I'll be back soon with a long list of request."

"Can't wait." He grinned.

Percy chuckled, "Me neither, see you Friday." And then he was gone.

Oh gods, Jason thought, how am I ever gonna survive Percy in a suit?

***

Spoiler alert past-Jason: you didn't.

#Okay but i lowkey love baker jason and big boss percy #Thank you Anon #this ask was too cute #PJSSG asks #she speaks #jercy fic #baby fanfic #baby fanfic series #jercy fanfic #percy jackson #jason grace #jason #grace #percy #jackson #PJO #HOO

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akaiaowl · 4 years

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Happy Stranger Things Day!!

It’s been 4 years since Stranger Things was first premiered on Netflix! (already?) This series is very close to my heart, since it managed to inspire me after 3 long years of writer’s block. To commemorate that, I’ll be posting the epilogue to my first fanfic on AO3: Reality in Motion (also known as RiM by some in the ST fandom). Here goes the summary and first chapter:

Reality in Motion

Modern College AU.

It hurt her to listen to the ruthless voice in her head, but, as much as she hated to admit it, El knew it was probably right. It had happened countless times before. Well, actually two. Two times in which El found herself feeling funny and giddy and hopeful about someone, only to be disappointed. It always ended that way. She was destined to be alone and it was probably for the best.

AKA: Socially awkward Jane Ives' first semester in college. Also AKA: Not your typical nice-boy-meets-drunk-girl-at-a-party Mileven fic (because of all the angst and slowwwww burn, be warned).

Chapter 1: Changes

Wednesday 29th, November 2017

If there was something El Ives put her mind to, she was sure to accomplish it. Always.

Well, most of the times.

As a matter of fact, today was one of the few rare exceptions to that rule. This, since Will Byers, El’s best friend, had managed to convince the otherwise socially awkward El to finally come with him that weekend to some party at a friend’s house.

They were both currently seating on the beige colored carpet of her dorm room, supposedly trying to be productive by getting their History 102 assignment done before the due date.

“Pleeease El! I’m about to beg you, it’s almost Christmas break and, for once, I’d like for you to come meet my friends and not stay locked up here again like a loser”, Will had been pouting at his friend for over two hours.

“Hey, I happen to like being a loser”, said El feigning indignation and scowling at her skinny best friend.

Will managed to hold back his smile at his oldest friend’s antics and maintained a serious expression for the sake of getting his point across. They’d been friends since the age of twelve and both knew just how determined the other could be. Holding each other’s stares defiantly in a silent challenge, neither of them wanted to give in.

As she stubbornly stared into Will’s lively brown eyes, El suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia wash over her. She had been having a few of those for a while now, especially whenever she thought back on their high school days on Hawkins High School. Actually, the biggest irony was thinking about how much she had looked forward to graduating and moving as far away as humanly possible from that hell hole she called hometown. Whereas, now, she couldn’t help feeling strangely homesick. As a matter of fact, lately, El was often ambushed by random flashbacks from her teenage years and usually found herself wishing she could somehow go back and do it all better.

She regretted everything, actually, except for her friendship with Will.

Their friendship was yet another reason El kept thinking back in nostalgia to her high school days: even though Will and her had managed to get accepted into their dream college together and even lived in neighboring dorm buildings, she felt him more distant than ever before. Worse than that, El was painfully aware that she was the reason of the increasing (figurative) distance in their friendship and she loathed herself for it. Now, more than ever, she hated herself for her apathetic and awkward personality. Why couldn’t she be a normal eighteen year old? Why couldn’t she just stop feeling so nervous around other people? Because of this she was finally managing to drive her best friend away, her partner in crime, after being the closest of friends for over half a decade.

For most of their first semester at college she had declined Will’s enthusiastic invitations to parties and any social events, preferring to skip them in favor of spending her afternoons in the solitude of her room either reading ahead or watching some movie or TV show. It was just easier that way, it seemed. El had never really been a social butterfly and she knew how much Will loved meeting and bonding with new people. So, she just figured that she could give him some space by making herself scarce.

However (and she’d never admit it out loud), as Will started spending less and less time with her and his invitations became rare occurrences, El began feeling terribly lonely (which was weird). She usually cherished her alone time, often glad she wasn’t out there fake smiling and making small talk, getting emotionally drained after overthinking and worrying over every tiny detail of her social interactions. Nonetheless, now, it just felt like a very different kind of loneliness.

El felt lonely in a bad way, a way she hadn’t felt for quite a long time: the kind of lonely she used to feel before meeting Joyce Byers and befriending her son, Will.

Finally, after glaring at Will some more, El lowered her gaze in defeat. Mostly because she missed spending more time with him, and also because she was a bit curious about going to a college party.

“Ok. Fine, I’ll go. BUT I’ll only stay until a reasonable hour and you better not be dragging me up there so I can be your designated driver”, answered El with an annoyed huff, hurling one of her fluffy pillows on Will’s general direction and feeling quite annoyed (mostly at her pathetic, abnormal self).

Her friend easily managed to catch the pillow midair and offered El a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. She knew he was worried about her spending so much time by herself – the fact that she had no roommate made it easier for her to just hide away for hours on end without any excuse.

“I’m only doing this for your own good El, you know I look out for you and it’s about time you start having a normal college experience and, you know, getting to know people. After all, the semester is almost over”.

--….--…--…---

Friday 1st, December 2017

El bit her lip as she stared at her reflection on the mirror critically. Was her top too revealing? Was her midsection looking gross and bloated? Should she put any make up on? Was her hair ok? Were jeans and sneakers too casual for the party?

Man, I badly needed a School of Life 101 crash course, El thought with a groan.

It was always on times like this that El really wished she had a roommate or a best friend who could actually give advice on these kinds of things. It was also on times like these that El regretted not learning about this stuff back on high school. Finally, after examining her reflection some more, she decided to change her sneakers in favor of her black leather boots and apply some lipstick to her dry lips.

Feeling quite nervous, she turned her phone screen on and was surprised to see several messages from Will.

8:02 pm U excited yet for your first college party?

8:03 pm Totally getting drunk as skunks 2nite.

8:46 pm Waiting for the guys, we’re coming to pick u up

9:29 pm On our way, expect a call in 15

9:44 pm Almost there

9:59 pm Ok, let’s go

*3 missed calls from MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD*

10:03 pm Pick up the phone

10:11 pm We’re waiting downstairs

10:27 pm What the hell u doing? We’ve been here for ages

El was surprised to find out how long she had taken to get ready, her nervousness was really not helping. As quickly as possible, she grabbed her tiny purse and keys and made her way out. At that very moment, her phone screen lit up and the contact name Will had programmed for himself popped up.

*incoming call from MY FAVORITE PERSON IN THE WORLD*

Smiling, El answered.

“I’m sorry, I completely lost track of time, that’s all. I’m almost there”, she said breathlessly while making her way down the flight of stairs.

“No problem El, just making sure you were still up for it”, answered Will sympathetically.

“Wait. So did I actually have an option?” replied El only half joking.

She really was terribly nervous, like she always was whenever she had to face a new social situation.

Will laughed at her lame attempt at making a joke and was silent for a bit, maybe trying to empathize with his best friend’s nervousness.

El could hear Will’s friends talking loudly on the background:

“We need to hurry if we want to get wasted before the night ends, that’s kind of the point of tonight”, a loud male voice whined pathetically.

“Hey, I’m actually enjoying watching this show”, another male voice answered in fake annoyance.

“Booooooring”, someone else interjected.

“You’re too lame Wheeler”, the first voice teased.

The conversation on the background grew faint as El realized Will must have walked away from his friends to talk to her privately.

“Everything will be fine and you’ll have fun, you’ll see. If you feel uncomfortable or something you have us”, finally whispered Will before hanging up.

El had really tried to avoid meeting Will’s friends for a while now, feeling resentment and jealousy towards them because her best friend spent most of his time with them now and talked all the time about how fun and loyal they were.

It actually made sense that they spent time together since they were all taking science related careers and had most of their classes together – Will was an engineer major, like Lucas, while Dustin and Mike were physics majors.

It was silly, she knew.

Calm down El, it’s going to be ok, Will’s friends are probably as nice as him.

Finally, El got to her building’s common area. She saw four guys sprawled comfortably all over the beige couches, two of them were fighting over the remote and the other two were trying to watch whatever show was on TV.

They didn’t notice her presence until she started timidly approaching Will, who was gazing at the screen with mild interest. He was the first one of the group to notice her and his face was instantly filled with a broad smile.

“You’re finally here!” he exclaimed, startling everyone.

“Guys, this is El”, Will said loudly. Then, pointing at each of the guys next to him, he introduced them, “These are Lucas, Dustin and Mike”.

“Thanks for waiting”, El managed to smile at them without making eye contact. She hoped they didn’t notice her nervousness.

“No problem”, said the smallest one of them, Dustin, “honestly, we were all dying to finally meet you”.

“Yeah, we had a bet going on about Will’s friend being imaginary”, laughed Lucas.

Upon hearing that last comment, El snorted while trying to contain a laugh and turned to look at Will with amusement. Her friend merely shrugged.

“See how you make me look bad El?”

“Oh, it was only for the sake of making the bet more interesting”, answered El with a laugh, “it would have been no fun without the mystery, now would it?”

The guys smiled, amused, and the air significantly relaxed. She felt a tiny bit more comfortable, and the voice in her head repeating her own doubts and fears in a loop grew quiet for the first time that night.

“So, who won the bet?” asked Will, looking at his friends.

“Me”, said the tallest boy, Mike, smiling.

He was the only one who hadn’t spoken up yet, but she recognized his voice from her phone call with Will – he was the one who claimed to be enjoying the TV show while they waited for her to arrive.

Overcome by curiosity, El risked a glance up at him and was surprised to find him already looking at her, matching her interest. They made eye contact.

“So thank you for being real, I guess”, he said smiling kindly at her.

She quickly averted her gaze, not knowing what to do or how to respond, and tried to keep her upcoming blush from actually showing on her face. It wasn’t even a compliment, why was she reacting like this?

Social awkwardness truly sucked.

There was a short moment of silence, which was (thankfully) quickly broken by Lucas.

“Ok, let’s get going”, said Lucas enthusiastically as he strode to the nearest exit.

--….--…--…---

Saturday 2nd, December 2017

She’d drank too much, too soon.

Of course, the fact that Will kept refilling her red solo cup with mysterious mixes of liquor didn’t help at all. But she wasn’t complaining at all. All things considered, El found the whole experience quite interesting. Actually, she was pleased to realize that the alcohol numbed that voice that constantly reminded her of all her insecurities and flaws. She found this quite liberating.

She felt like she could do anything. Be anyone she wanted.

Will’s friends had left them to join a game of beer pong not so long ago, which had also helped El feel a whole lot more relaxed. Up until then, she had been too scared of acting like a weirdo around the guys and so she had barely talked.

For the first time in a long time, no worries or guilt lurked El’s mind.

As time went by, the music surrounding her stopped being too loud and the vibration of the bass on the floor actually made her lively in a way she had scarcely felt before. Before she knew it, her foot was tapping the floor to the beat of the unknown song. She tried to pay attention to whatever Will was saying (maybe a funny story about someone in one of his classes? What was that about a teacher?), but words kept jumbling around making it hard for her to understand anything at all.

My thought process is screwed up, El thought.

Suddenly, it occurred to her that that was the funniest, wittiest thing she had ever come up with, so she giggled uncontrollably.

Will smiled affectionately at the giggling girl beside him. He had really tried to be a good friend that night, staying with her the whole time – probably suspecting that if she got to feel too awkward, she’d escape the party.

“I loooooove you so much Willy Will”, said El hugging her friend, “do you know that?”

El’s ears suddenly caught onto a tune, alerting her of something.

Something quite urgent.

Do you recall, not long ago We would walk on the sidewalk? Innocent, remember? All we did was care for each other

“BYERS!!!! COME ON!” she exclaimed giddily, standing up clumsily and dragging her skinny best friend to the middle of the room, “IT’S OUR JAM!”

But the night was warm We were bold and young All around, the wind blows We would only hold on to let go

Will could only smile at her random behavior. He had never been a good dancer and he had not drank nearly as much as El had, so he just sort of awkwardly tried shuffling his feet and swaying his body to the catchy song.

“BLOW A KISS FIRE A GUN, WHEN YOU NEED SOMEONE TO LEAN ON”, El was screaming while swaying her hips wildly, her eyes were closed, “BLOW A KISS FIRE A GUN, ALL WE NEED IS SMEBODY TO LEAN ON”.

Will tried his hardest to keep up with El’s moves, but she was like a woman possessed, jumping around and twirling in every direction. It seemed that all those months of pent up energy – probably gathered after all those afternoons of voluntary isolation – were finally finding an outlet. After a couple of songs and happy to see his friend finally having fun, Will decided his job there was done.

“El. El! EL!!” he screamed to get her attention.

She faced him, smiling wildly. Her face shiny with sweat from the exertion and the warmth in the room. Will couldn’t help mirroring her grin.

“I just can’t keep up with you!” he said teasing her, “I’m gonna go find the guys”.

El stuck out her tongue at him and waved goodbye.

“YOU’RE SUCH A KID ELEVEN!” Will exclaimed as he headed to the other room, where he last saw his friends heading to.

--….--…--…---

Her feet were killing her.

El made her way to the nearest sitting space she could find, a couch on the left side of the room. She sat down for a minute in the crowded couch, slowly trying to move her toes so she didn’t feel them cramping anymore. She was currently sandwiched uncomfortably between a sleeping guy and a couple making out. She tried to ignore the snores and the sounds the couple were making.

She hadn’t seen Will or any of his friends for at least a couple of hours and she was not about to go wandering off looking for them. Will was probably drunk by now, maybe talking to the cute guy from their History 102 class that he always rambled on about. El smiled fondly, remembering how much of a hopeless romantic her best friend was.

She tried laying back on the couch and closing her tired eyes, but everything was too hot and her feet hurt too much. It was way too uncomfortable.

El glanced hopefully at the glass doors that led into the balcony. With any luck, there wouldn’t be anyone out there smoking.

She hated the smell of tobacco. It reminded her of him.

El shut her eyes tightly, desperately trying to chase away the memories that begged to be replayed on her mind, and massaged her throbbing temples. She tried to take a deep, calming breath and relax somehow, but the air felt too moist and everything smelled like alcohol and sweat. Suddenly, she was too aware of the extremely loud music and the annoying presence of the people around her. And there were too many people. Too many unfamiliar faces. Frustrated, El opened her eyes slowly, glancing around at the room full of strangers.

Dejection filled her thoroughly, tonight had been great so far and she just happened to ruin it by opening a door she had closed more than five years ago. She’d promised it would never haunt her, never hurt her again. But it was always there, lurking. It was always him, never allowing her to escape his choking grip.

Without even thinking about it, she had started walking on the opposite direction of the balcony, towards the main door of the house. As she stepped outside of the house, she couldn’t help noticing the wide brown door was ajar. El moved forward taking slow, deliberate steps, knowing her balance was far from being the most stable.

She glanced around quickly.

Sighing in relief at the fact that she had apparently managed to escape the smokers, El leaned on the nearest wall and stared off into the darkened streets and houses. Her body still felt light, but most the energy she had at the beginning of the night had ebbed away by now, leaving her exhausted. Soon enough, she noticed that the volume of the music and the noise from the house was once again bearable for her. However, without the loud (loud! loud!) music infecting her thoughts, she was left at the mercy of the familiar cold voice in her head: it was her own voice, but ruthless and emotionless, and it never tired of always repeating everything she didn’t want to hear.

She wondered what time it was, she was too lazy to get her phone out and check the time. Her fuzzy brain was making everything a lot harder.

“You ok?” a familiar voiced questioned.

El found herself staring up into the freckle-covered face of one of Will’s friends.

“Just tired and hot”, she replied, “it’s like a freaking oven in there”.

He just chuckled.

“Why are you out here?” she suddenly asked.

“Oh, just getting some air to clear my head”, the tall guy answered shrugging, “I am the lucky soul who gets to be the designated driver for tonight”.

El smiled in amusement.

His name is Mike, El suddenly remembered, her scattered, hazy thoughts becoming a tiny bit clearer.

“You know, I was convinced the only reason Will invited me here was so I’d have the honor of being the DD”.

They remained in a comfortable silence for a while, both staring off and busy with their own thoughts.

“Will is worried about you”, Mike stated after a while.

“I know”, El answered sadly, “it’s just hard for me, you know?”

Mike furrowed his brow in confusion.

“No matter how hard I try, it’s hard for me to feel comfortable or relaxed or even normal around new people or in new places”, she explained almost in a whisper.

“It’s ok to feel that way”, he said like it was the most natural thing in the world, his gaze showing empathy.

El snorted, fully aware that no, it was not okay to be such an introverted freak. She was not stupid. She knew it was a limitation, something that held her back from experiences and people and things she really wanted. She was all too aware that it was what isolated her from everyone and ultimately stood like a solid barrier, shielding her even from the ones she deeply cared about.

“I felt very lonely coming here at first”, Mike confessed smiling crookedly in her direction, “I consider myself a lucky guy, having Dustin as a roommate and meeting Lucas and Will on my first week here”.

“Will is an amazing friend”, El answered smiling, “and all of you seem like pretty cool guys”, she added honestly.

Mike blushed a bit and lowered his gaze, focusing on his wristwatch.

Who even owns a wristwatch these days?, wondered El with amusement as she glanced at him with the corner of her eye.

“Hey, it’s barely 1 am, how do you feel about going for a drive and coming back to pick up our friends’ drunken asses?” suddenly asked Mike.

Full story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12840366/chapters/29318523

#stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #mileven #mileven fanfiction #mileven fanfic #stranger things angst #stranger things day #mike wheeler #mike and eleven #eleven #jane hopper #el hopper #el and mike #eleven and mike #mileven fluff #st #fanfiction

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mk-wizard · 4 years

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Kids’ TV Now (An Essay)

When it comes to the media, one of the hottest topics that has been prevalent for decades and still is prevalent as it has influence is what TV shows are ok for kids. As a storyteller, a cartoon fan and a new parent herself, I will be the first to admit that there is a lot of rubbish on TV aimed at kids.

However, I am not talking about the shows with violence and harsh content. I'm talking about the other kind of shows that are bad for kids. The ones that are so watered down that the quality of the storytelling drowns out and coddles the audience to the point of disrespecting the viewer's intellect. Kids at any age deserve good quality in what they consume and TV shouldn't be the exception because children are much more perceptive and much more observant than we realise. The shows they watch should be giving something to them not be a means of taking our money away from us and I say this because a lot of these shows that I see on Disney Jr. are just overglorified toy commercials. And many other TV shows like Peppa Pig are no better. Yes, the concept of cartoons sneakily trying to sell toys isn't new and as a child of the 80s, I can tell you which cartoons were guilty of doing that, but at least even they would tell a story properly. If you were to try watching G1 Transformers or 80s He-Man now, I guarantee that even as an adult, you will appreciate the storytelling and quality of the characters. I have watched the "Junior" TV shows now, I am not even a quarter impressed and I often feel like it is the same story being told again and again.

If that's not enough, I feel the way the characters act, talk and handle things are no good. There is a reason baby talking isn't advised anymore because it stunts or negatively impacts the way children learn to speak. What is wrong with characters speaking like normal people while using good grammar and giving the characters real names? For example, back in the day, Cookie Monster was the exception not the standard for naming character, but more on Sesame Street later. If baby talking and speaking funny is bad for kids, then we shouldn't have characters speaking that way especially not when they are supposed to be mature adults. Moreover, kids need to be shown that not everyone has our best interest at heart and not everyone is willing to change for the better in which case you have to protect yourself from those people. Yes, it is a part of the real world that isn't cheery or happy, but it is still important for kids to learn that as long as they are left with hope that they can rise above the dark parts of life and still find joy in life as well as learn to appreciate the value of goodness and doing the right thing, I think it's ok to make that part of their "intellectual diet". Another thing that is good for kids to see is that even good people have flaws and make bad decisions, and that is ok as long as they make up for their mistakes.

Also, kids' TV doesn't have to always be educational. Let kids have make believe to escape lessons and reality sometimes. Let kids practice escapism in the form of going to another world and getting lost in there for a short period of time. I mean, are adult shows always serious and informative? It is ok for kid's show to just be fun and just be there to make them laugh or use their imagination. Getting to play is a very precious thing for kids, so let them play while they still can. And for goodness sake, not every TV show needs to have the characters break out in song. That's annoying and at one point, it gets silly. And if you could believe it, I think sometimes even the kids agree. I say this as someone who recalls cartoons from the Disney Afternoon, Transformers, Jem and the Holograms, The Muppet Babies, the Ghost Busters (both The Real and the Filmation), the Hanna Barbara cartoons and Tom and Jerry. They didn't have singing and when they did, it was once in a while as a treat. Other than that, it was on with the show which is EXACTLY what it should have been.

Going back to Sesame Street, there is a reason it not only stood the test of time, but is still ongoing and is still an amazing show for kids. It is because it has and still is inclusive to all kinds of children in every way without becoming preachy, watered down or disrespecting the audience. Heck, at times, even it went into serious topics like divorce, incarceration, poverty and even death. For that, it will have my love and respect and the same could be said about the Disney animated movies.

Yes, I am all for protecting our children from content that may traumatise or scare them, but treating them like fools and always making everything about educating them isn't protecting. Plus, sooner or later, your child will see something that will scare them in which case, you have to be there to comfort them and remind them that none of it is real. And sometimes, that can happen even in the tamest of shows. Also, it is our own responsibility to teach our kids not to copy TV and not to believe everything we see on TV not the entertainment industry's. Monitor what your kid watches, set rules on what is allowed and if all else fails, watch TV with them as a family activity.

And most importantly of all, know when they've had enough TV because TV shouldn't be any child's only or favourite toy.

#tv #tv shows #tv series #children #kids #family #parenting #children's film #children's television

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thecomedybureau · 4 years

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The 100 Best Things in Comedy We Were Witness to In No Particular Order of 2019

OK, 2019′s officially over and we’ve wrangled our 100 truly favorite things in and around comedy (and it really spans all of comedy) that are not ranked whatsoever. It’s just like the title says and, it’s, as it is every year, quite long, so we won’t waste any more time with this intro.

Oh, in case you forgot and/or curious and/or need a quick refresher, here’s our 2018 list.

1. Rory Scovel Live Without Fear-This documentary follows Rory Scovel and his journey through six nights of completely improvised hour sets. In a single word, it’s inspiring. You see the way Scovel truly connects the audience and keeps it that way through his indelible charm and endless curiosity. The near unbelievable story of the Relapse Theater in Atlanta is also beautifully threaded in the doc as well. The clips of the improvised performances capture the magic that stand-up comedy can be that’s absent from the majority of comedy specials. You should be required to see this whenever and wherever it comes if you have any level of interest in comedy at all.

2. Naomi Ekperigin-From her own stand-up, to her podcast with husband Andy Beckerman, Couples Therapy, and her writing across TV, and everything else she does, Naomi is such an thoroughly commanding, yet delightful presence that we love seeing every time anywhere (and she should already be way bigger of a star already).

3. Cait Raft’s Presentation on “Bradley Cooper’s a Star Is Born Takes Place in an Alternate Reality Where 9/11 Never Happened”-Witnessing the imagination of Cait Raft up close was a privilege for us. This amazing dissection of the zeitgeist left us in stitches and with our mouth agape for how thoroughly it proved its point.

4. Corporate Season 2-The second season of the ultra dark workplace comedy delivered once again on its hysterical nihilistic satire that’s so prescient, yet still so unbelievably funny.

5. Mom-Prov Presents Family Therapy-Improviser Izzy Roland was daring enough to have her mom and her grandmother, both of whom are also in showbiz, to join her on stage for one of the most madcap, fourth wall-breaking, entertaining improv shows we’ve seen all throughout 2019.

6. Jena Friedman-So, this year, Jena delivered yet again with her subtle delivery and calm demeanor that hides her absolutely killer jokes. The follow-up to her Adult Swim special, Soft Focus, upped the ante with an interview of a gun-toting John McAffee and her brilliant Conan set about everyone’s true crime obsession.

7. Brendon Walsh’s Afternoon Delight-This last year, Brendon Walsh let everyone know that he was and still is one of the best at pulling prank calls, which is so much harder now than it was even ten years ago. This live show actually has Brendon place live prank calls in between stand-ups and the ride you go on is absolutely thrilling.

8. Jacqueline Novak’s Get on Your Knees-Novak’s solo show has more than earned its spot as an Off-Broadway show with bringing such an exquisite, almost never before seen comedic sensibility to the topic of blow jobs.

9. #F*ckF*ckJerry-Props to Vulture Senior Editor Megh Wright for sparking the fire to take out the egregious social media accounts of F*ck Jerry that just lifted jokes from comedians all across the Internet without pay or attribution.

10. Lorelei Ramirez-We’ve known distantly about Lorelei Ramirez for so many years, but seeing them up close was a breathtaking experience that had us laughing so hard. Their artistry in comedy that gracefully borders on performance art and even horror is absolutely inspiring.

11. Aaron Urist-Denver’s Aaron Urist is such a killer joke writer and joke teller and has been for years. We just were reminded about that with his burning bush joke during his latest LA trip.

12. Booksmart-Olivia Wilde’s directorial debut was not only a reinvigorated take on movies that specifically hone in on the end of high school, but also had a sincerely hopeful vision of the future generation. We hope that Booksmart finds its way to the top of the coming-of-age comedy films pantheon.

13. Rachel Mac on Lights Out-One of the highlights of Lights Out with David Spade is how unfiltered and raunchy they let comics get during their sets on the show. Rachel Mac took that amount of comedic license and thrived in getting into the nitty gritty about her last teaching job.

14. What We Do In The Shadows-The FX TV adaptation of the seminal Taika Waititi and Jemaine Clement film in 2014 exceedingly succeeds in nailing the comedy of minutia in the world of the undead that also happens to be in a (somewhat) grounded reality.

15. PEN15-Maya Erskine and Anna Konkle’s vision of 2000 and their performances as teens were so spot on that PEN15 would deserve acclaim just for that. However, the heart of this show made its humor stand out in an ever crowded field of coming-of-age comedy.

16. Tiffany Haddish’s Black Mitzvah-A lot has happened for Tiffany Haddish since her last special (she’s a legit A-list celebrity now), but it’s clear that she is still her unapologetically positively, life loving self. This special is evidence of that, especially with her bit about her New Year’s show that she got undeserved flack for.

17. Straw Men-Lindsay Adams, Danny Palumbo, and Sam Wiles (and producer Kimmie Lucas) put on what is our favorite imagining of a comedic debate that we’ve seen thus far. The encouragement to make the most ridiculous, baseless arguments and being transparent about the whole thing is a golden goose of comedy.

18. The ending of Gloria Bell-Well, we can’t very well give away the ending to this English language dramedy remake from Sebastián Lelio that has Julianne Moore shine as bright as she has ever shone before, but just know that we stood out of our seats, applauding what she did to John Turturro right at the end.

19. I Think You Should Leave-Tim Robinson’s unflinchingly absurd sketch series unequivocally has many of the best sketches of 2019. The hot dog costume and Mexican restaurant sketches will have us busting up through, very likely, the next decade.

20. Les Miz and Friends-Bonkers (and we mean that in the best way possible) doesn’t begin to describe how wild this meta and great this puppet and human hybrid take on the theater institution of Les Miserables. The sheer cleverness on every level is awe-inspiring.

21. Dave Ross’ The Only Man Who Has Ever Had Sex-Ross has been a longtime favorite of ours for the contrasting bounciness and darkness of his comedy. His debut album captures this dichotomy perfectly.

22. Nikki Glaser: Bangin’-Nikki Glaser’s first Netflix hour special started off with a bang, pun intended. Her frank, but heartfelt exploration of all facets of sex is so damn funny that Glaser gets away with being as blue as she wants.

23. Super Dating Simulator-This live, interactive version of various Japanese video game dating simulators is one of the more innovative and surprisingly charming things we saw this year. Creator Sam Weller did a bang-up job not only making a video game work as a stage show, but doing so with a very off-beat sub-genre of video games

24. Emmy Blotnick’s Party Nights-Blotnick’s latest album shows Emmy at the peak of her delightful observational powers. The concept of a “Self-Potato” is just priceless.

25. Tammercise!-Folks in comedy are getting all sorts of clever these days to redefine traditional formats and disciplines and push the art form forward. Madeline Wager does this exquisitely with a solo show of a woman unraveling that doubles as legit aerobics class.

26. The Cherry Orchard w/Chad Damiani and Jet Eveleth-Damiani and Eveleth explore a new angle on postmodern clowning by supposedly doing a Chekov play going through dress rehearsal without any of the players knowing what they’re supposed to do. The back and forth between the live direction and the tomfoolery on stage is truly hysterical.

27. Bake Stuff with Lindsay LIVE-It’s about time for a comedic cooking show that actually does teach you a wonderful recipe and also explores and resolves(?) childhood trauma. Lindsay Adams’ Bake Stuff with Lindsay, which we indeed saw live, accomplishes all of that and inspires all those watching to cook through their feelings.

28. Shalewa Sharpe’s So, You Just Out Here?-Shalewa imbues homespun wisdom with marvelously colorful descriptions all throughout this very satisfying album.

29. The Amazing Johnathan Documentary from Ben Berman-The Amazing Johnathan’s life story is pretty captivating as is. The story about Ben Berman trying to tell his story amidst several other people trying to tell his story is absolutely engrossing and is somehow all true.

30. Julio Torres’ HBO special “My Favorite Shapes”-Torres’ special is simultaneously one of the most daring and silly hour specials in recent memory and his elevation of prop comedy to a whole new level is to be commended.

31. The Underculture with James Adomian-James Adomian has been one of comedy podcasts’ most in-demand and bright shining stars. It comes as no surprise that his own podcast that revs up all his characters has some of the best, most dynamic, absurdist interviews in political and pop culture satire.

32. Daniel Van Kirk’s Thanks Diane/Together Tour-Van Kirk’s first, complete hour that he both toured with and released as an album is so impressive with how deftly Dan manages a balance of sincerity and mischief from wire-to-wire.

33. Conan in Greenland-Conan marvelously turns his travel specials series Conan Without Borders on its head by attempting to buy Greenland based off of Trump’s stupid tweets.

34. Mary Beth Barone’s Drag His Ass: A F*ckboy Treatment Program-Mary Beth Barone’s live show exploration into her dating life is illuminating and hilarious throughout, but the actual interview that she does live with a “f*ckboy” is transcendent.

35. Obvious Plant’s Carnival of Toys-Jeff Wysaski AKA Obvious Plant really outdid himself this year in his quest to permeate everyday reality with a satirical twist. He not only made a whole line of custom toy figures that satirize pop culture on so many levels, but opened up a whole pop-up museum for several days to exhibit them in all of their bizarre glory.

36. Sports Without Equipment with Coach Keith Alejo-This Dress Up Gang sketch is one of those ideas that are simple, yet so out-of-left-field. Literally, they take sports without equipment to its funniest conclusion.

37. #Squatmelt-Howard Kremer’s desire to keep the spirit of The Meltdown with Jonah and Kumail alive has evolved into its own very special thing in the form of a DIY stand-up comedy show/walking tour that periodically migrates around LA.

38. Catch-22-Trying to adapt such a monumental literary work like Catch-22 is almost a fool’s errand, but writers Luke Davies and David Michôd do a smash-up job for not only bringing Heller’s immortal words to life, but also sticking the landing for all the darkly absurdly comical moments that run rampant throughout the story.

39. Get Rich Nick-Even if they didn’t have the fantastic banter, riffs, and asides from the very funny duo of Nick Turner and Nick Vatterott, this podcast that explores how to make money real quick is one of the best new podcasts of the whole year. Fortunately, Nick and Nick’s humor runs rampant through every episode and makes Get Rich Nick engrossing and makes you actually laugh out loud.

40. MK Paulsen-The comedy of MK Paulsen can be faster than a bullet, but as satisfyingly silly as a gun that shoots a flag with the word ‘bang’ on it. Every time we see him do stand-up, it’s a fun, rollicking ride that’s equal parts offbeat whimsy, clever wordplay, and an agile sense of timing and play.

41. Father Figurine by Matt Kazman-The dour faces of the family in this dark comedy short play to the highest comedic effect perfectly. A dead patriarch and an apathetic family make for some of the best dry humor in 2019.

42. Funk Shuffle-Danny Cymbal, Dennis Curlett, and Michael Gardner comprise Funk Shuffle, an improv group that manages fly freer and more untethered than almost any other improv group that we’ve ever seen. They make their defiance and experimentation with improv forms really work due to the trio’s unflinchingly playful spirit.

43. Gary Gulman’s The Great Depresh-Gulman, as one of comedy’s premier craftsman, of course, delivers an hour of stellar comedy with this special. He also manages, this time around, to destigmatize depression and, in general, be hopeful. That particular comedy trifecta is such an impressive feat that very few can accomplish.

44. Greener Grass-The scope and ambition of Jocelyn DeBoer and Dawn Luebbe’s directorial debut hints at some really special things to come from them in the future. Their absolutely demented, pastel drenched absurdist vision was a shocking delight through and through.

45. Jenny Slate’s Stage Fright-Slate’s best comedic strength is her unshakeable vulnerability. This hour special lets Jenny present that trait as intimately as she has ever presented it and gives an in-depth look as to where that hilarious vulnerability comes from.

46. Heather Anne Campbell swatting a baby out of someone’s hands in an improv scene-At this point, it should come as no surprise that Heather Anne Campbell is one of our absolute all-time favorite people in comedy and thus, she kind of just ends up making it on this list annually on her own someway, somehow. This year, during a performance of her improv group, Heather and Company, we laughed as hard as we’ve ever laughed at Drew DiFonzo Marks initiating a scene by rocking a baby back and forth and then, Heather insanely swatted it out of his hands and stomped on it. It sounds ludicrous, but trust that Heather made that so unbelievably funny.

47. Adam Cayton-Holland’s Happy Place-Cayton-Holland’s live solo show based on his critically acclaimed book of the same name pulls off oscillating between cleverly wrought and self-aware comedy and some of the most heartbreaking stories you’ll ever hear about his late sister. Holland’s focus and calm make it all miraculously blend together.

48. The Authorized Unauthorized My Favorite Murder Musical-In the world of unauthorized musicals about things that you wouldn’t really think about being adapted into unauthorized musicals (it’s a bigger ever-burgeoning world every month it seems), the staged reading of this My Favorite Murder-inspired musical that we saw was phenomenal. The full stage production to come in 2020 will undoubtedly be something really great.

49. Pedro Gonzalez-Pedro’s jokes are so expertly written and crafted that you forget that he immigrated to America as a teenager from Colombia and learned English as a second language.

50. Garry Starr Performs Everything-UK comedian Garry Starr’s solo show is a genius send-up and celebration of theater as a whole. The physicality and the sheer madness of the whole show are so thoroughly hysterical.

51. Kira Soltanovich-We just want to take a moment to appreciate the agility of the comedy of Kira Soltanovich. Not only does Kira play any room or any show as far as we’ve seen, but her drive is just unstoppable (see ep. of The Honey Dew).

52. Mike Birbiglia’s The New One-Though it seems almost too routine that Birbiglia comes out with a new hour special that garners tons of acclaim for its ornate and complex and, ultimately, very satisfying tapestry of stories, Birbiglia delivers exactly once again with one such solo show/special on fatherhood.

53. Michelle Buteau-We saw Michelle headline just a few months ago at Dynasty Typewriter and were reminded of just how good Buteau is. She combines being heartfelt, having a fun bit of attitude, and an absolute command of the stage in such a beautiful way.

54. Gareth Reynolds’ Riddled with Disease-Many folks know how great Gareth is from his madcap riffing on The Dollop, but Reynolds shows he is fantastic with a sharp, hilarious, yet still fast-and-loose-feeling hour.

55. Sara Schaefer’s LIVE LAUGH LOVE-Sara, above most folks working in comedy today, goes to great lengths to be considerate, inclusive, and vulnerable in her comedy and it’s so, so wonderful because of that. This album is yet another great example of that mix.

56. Sean Patton’s Scuttlebutt-Sean Patton’s latest album is a fantastic note to any and all that Sean is, hands down, one of the best comedians ever to spin a yarn (and also share some damn fine true stories) and deserves way more accolade and attention for that now and going forward.

57. Matt Rogers’ Have You Heard of Christmas?-Rogers had quite a 2019 in putting culture on notice, but his queer and subversive holiday musical extravaganza might be one of the best pieces of holiday themed comedy of all time.

58. The Chris Gethard Show with Robby Hoffman-Not only does Robby Hoffman keep the punk rock, conventions-be-damned spirit of TCGS alive, but she makes it so much her own and lets her hilarious, domineering persona transform the show into another very special, unique round of controlled chaos.

59. The taping of Eddie Pepitone’s latest special-Eddie’s sound and fury and his irreverent stream-of-consciousness-seeming comedy were flawless in this latest hour. Everyone in attendance, including ourselves, were in stitches for the whole taping. Props to director Steven Feinartz for one of our favorite looks of a special that we saw last year (which you’ll all get to see soon in 2020).

60. Eric Dadourian’s closer on Nebraska 2-Dadourian is always all in for the sake of a real bold, imaginative bit and, as such, pulled off one of our favorite closers of the year on his very first full length album.

61. Jessica Kirson: Talking to Myself-Kirson’s hour special on Comedy Central really let Jessica cut loose and let her showcase her stand-up expertise. From the way that Kirson contorts her face to her deep well of voices/characters to razor-sharp quick wit to, of course, her signature asides to herself, Jessica really kills it in this hour.

62. Brody Stevens-Long live the “jock doing performance art” comedy (one of our favorite descriptions of Brody’s comedy by his dear friend Zach Galifianakis) and may he rest in peace. Yeeeees! Enjoy It!

63. Byron Bowers on Colbert-Byron Bowers and his clever, yet sincere, dark, vulnerable comedy put up one of our favorite late night sets this year. From the opening to his frank jokes about his dad make us think that it’s just a little crazy that this is his network TV debut.

64. Desus and Mero on Showtime-With the upgrade of being on Showtime, Desus Nice and The Kid Mero are having the most fun in late night with the freshest voices and format (and they’re able to pull that off with only being twice a week).

65. Fleabag Season 2-creator and star Phoebe Waller-Bridge assuredly has more masterpieces ahead of her, but managing to top herself from one masterpiece season of dark romantic dramedy with another one is something that deserves all the accolades and awards that it has gotten.

66. Kenny DeForest on Corden-Kenny dismantles toxic masculinity so incisively through the whole set that he most certainly earns all the applause breaks he gets the whole way through.

67. Josh Gondelman’s Dancing on a Weeknight-Gondelman is often thought of as one of the best, sweetest people in comedy. This latest album, for all of its being clever and genuine, is proof that he indeed really is that sweet and funny.

68. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel Season 3-The perennial prestige comedy from Amy Sherman-Palladino earns its keep by having some of the best writing (it’s almost impossible to write jokes that are contextualized for the 50s/60s and make them actually funny for 2019 audiences) and also being one of the most gorgeous looking shows in all of television.

69. Nick Ciarelli and Brad Evans-Whether it be pulling pranks on Twitter, their plethora of hysterical sketches doing an impression of Jack FM on shows around town, or their monthly live sketch character showcase Atlantic City, Nick and Brad are a damn fine comedy duo and have been for quite some time.

70. Caitlin Gill’s Major-It’s quite the magic trick to make an hour of comedy that’s entirely clean and have it being clean not be a thought that you’re thinking about at all when listening or watching it. Caitlin Gill spectacularly does just that with this album as Gill can make all of her earnest rants, imagery, and observations work in any way that she needs to.

71. 97.9 The Rat Race-Ben Roy’s satirical reimagining of a morning radio “zoo crew” is so spot on, then gets real twisted to make this one of the most surprising and rewarding podcasts of 2019.

72. Mike Lane’s Picture Frames-This short film from Lane heightens the idea of remembering those you love after they’ve left this mortal coil to such a ridiculous level every step of the way (and is more and more enjoyably unpredictable the further it goes).

73. Paige Weldon on Corden-Paige’s upbeat self-deprecation is just hard to resist and it makes the best impression in this late night set on The Late Late Show with James Corden.

74. The Righteous Gemstones-Danny McBride’s latest HBO series that darkly and comically dissects the South might be his most ambitious yet, but, of course, he nails it. The constant suspense perpetuated by hysterically tragic characters in the world of televangelists is profound.

75. My Friend Chuck-Comedic erotica author Chuck Tingle (one of the absolutely most unique voices and cadences we’ve heard in awhile) and friend McKenzie Goodwin celebrate their friendship every week for a podcast that’s preposterously funny and, also, more heartwarming than almost anything we’ve heard or seen.

76. Joey Clift’s Telling People You’re Native American When You’re Not Native Is a Lot Like Telling a Bear You’re a Bear When You’re Not a Bear-Clift makes such biting, pun intended, commentary with this short film/PSA that is also so playful that the message about Native identity will undoubtedly stick with you.

77. Megan Gailey’s My Dad Paid For This-Gailey strikes a wonderful balance of charm and attitude and fervent desire to burn down the patriarchy. Such a mix accents her very delightful observations about herself and the world around her in this marvelous debut album.

78. Robin Higgins as Baby Yoda at Tournament of Nerds-Higgins might have made one of the best, first attempts at Baby Yoda cosplay. She also, for what’s supposed to be a roast-style competition between fictional/pop culture characters, perfectly imagined how Baby Yoda would roast someone while maintaining Baby Yoda’s sweetness that has captured the hearts and minds of the Internet.

79. The Man Who Killed Don Quixote-Terry Gilliam went through hell, did a few laps, and came back over several years to get this meta-quixotic tale about reimagining the legendary novel Don Quixote made. The finished film, for us, was worth the wait.

80. Jo Firestone on The Tonight Show-Jo’s sense of play is so pure and present that it’s kind of irresistible. Combined with a perfect amount of self-deprecation, Jo really delivered a terrific set we’ll probably never get tired of.

81. Paul Rudd continues his time honored tradition of playing that one clip of Mac & Me on Conan-Rudd evolves the arc of this long running bit on Conan where, instead of playing a clip of what he’s on Conan to promote, he plays the same exact clip of the universally panned alien comedy Mac & Me. We all know what’s coming and yet, without the benefit of surprise, Rudd’s annoyance of Conan still keeps on being so damn funny.

82. Billy on the Street featuring Reese and Mariah-This year, we were lucky enough to get two instantly classic episodes of Billy on the Street with Reese Witherspoon and Mariah Carey that gave us our fix for our obsession with Billy Eichner yelling at strangers on the streets of NYC.

83. The Dollop England & UK-As Dave Anthony and Gareth Reynolds embarked on an entire England & UK tour of The Dollop, they thought it prudent to do a mini-series specific to Great Britain and did a smashing job making fun of British history. The Cyril the Swan episode is particularly brilliant.

84. Lost Moon Radio-The live musical sketch comedy theater troupe (Lost Moon Radio truly lives up to such a description) marked their 10th anniversary and put on an absolutely fantastic “Summer Block Party” this year that both showed that they still got their ingenious musical sketch comedy chops.

85. Nate Bargatze’s The Tennessee Kid-The calm with which Bargatze pervades all of his comedy is part of what makes it beloved by nearly any and all that see or hear Bargatze’s stand-up. That’s such the case now that Nate gives updates to stories from previous specials on this latest hour.

86. Beth Stelling on Kimmel-Every detail of this set on Jimmy Kimmel Live is pretty stellar. That includes Beth, in general, for her warm demeanor, smile, and cleverness, the Chippendale’s story, Beth’s mom being there in the crowd, and, of course, the surprise guest at the end.

87. Liz Climo’s Please Don’t Eat Me-This illustrated book is just the latest in a long line of uber-adorable and genuinely-funny-for-all-ages books from Climo. Liz seems to have quite the knack for making unlikely animal friendship jokes.

88. John Hodgman’s Medallion Status-Hodgman’s journey through the various statuses of airline privilege/celebrity is a superb serving of existential humor, done up with Hodgman’s painstaking attention to the exactly right details.

89. Jane Curtin’s 2019 New Year’s Resolution “My New Year’s Resolution Is To Make Sure The Republican Party Dies”-Said during a CNN interview with the SNL alum, this was the first thing to make us heartily laugh in 2019.

90. Alex Kavutskiy’s Squirrel-Kavutskiy’s short film dives into the concept of forgiveness unlike we’ve really seen and, as is Kavutskiy’s style, is so darkly spellbinding and so pointedly funny at the same time.

91. Astronomy Club: The Sketch Show-The long running comedy troupe known as Astronomy Club really ran with their chance to do a full-fledged sketch series on Netflix. They’re so endlessly clever on in their sketches, especially when it comes to the subjects of identity and oppression, and pack in so many jokes and sight gags that you’ll definitely want to watch it more than once so you don’t miss anything.

92. Dolemite Is My Name-Eddie Murphy seems poised to make a real return to comedy (and stand-up comedy in particular) and this marvelous biopic of comedian and blaxploitation star Rudy Ray Moore AKA Dolemite is the perfect way to start.

93. Anna Drezen on Corden-Drezen has such a perfect sense of farce and misdirection and puts on a beautiful display of those two things from start to finish in this set on The Late Late Show with James Corden.

94. BUTT’s Yoda themed dating app sketch-This sketch is so prescient of the resurgence of the world’s current (baby) Yoda obsession. Also, while this is so absurd with its deep dive into various Yoda fan art and cosplay, Joe McAdam and Chris Stephens’ take on dating apps is so sharply and deeply funny.

95. Mel Brooks Unwrapped-The never ending bit of attempting a documentary between Mel Brooks and the BBC’s Alan Yentob is yet another display of the true, unquestionable genius of Mel Brooks.

96. 50 First Stephs-The amazing, hysterical Steph Tolev kicked off 2019 with a show where 50 or so of her compatriots and contemporaries did various impressions and characterizations of her. Part roast, part loving tribute, part amazing showcase of the depth of creativity in LA comedy, Tolev’s night for herself was something really special.

97. The Bongo Hour with Sandy Honig and Peter Smith-Honig and Smith brought their wild variety show that featured such wonderful bits, characters, drag, and burlesque to LA and showed, truly, how much better life is when you’re fluid about nearly everything.

98. How Did This Get Played?-Hosts Nick Wiger and Heather Anne Campbell and their take on the “worst and weirdest” video games do their namesake, the beloved How Did This Get Made?, proud. Even if you’re not a gamer, the way they dissect the most bizarre video games ever made along with Heather and Nick’s chemistry is very, very enjoyable.

99. Joe Pera Talks With You Season 2-This second season of Joe Pera’s unique talk-to-the-viewer series is so calming that the comedic twists sneak up in the most delightful way possible. There is a certain beauty to Pera’s show that makes us want to have Joe Pera Talks With You playing on a loop in a contemporary art museum.

100. John Mulaney & The Sack Lunch Bunch-John Mulaney does “it”, yet again. “It” being releasing another hour of comedic brilliance that’s so markedly different than whatever he did before, yet, somehow still stamped with an indelible mark of Mulaney’s comedy of obtuse hyper-specificity.

#top 100 #100 best #best of 2019 #2019 comedy #best sketch #best stand up #best improv #best comedy specials

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des-dabbles · 5 years

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Meet Tiara Hightower for @fataleromeo bachelorette challenge Renaissance Sim| Genius| Love the Outdoors| Cheerful

More under the cut.

Tiara, Tee to everyone but her family, just turned 21 and not a moment too soon. All she needs to do is finish signing the paperwork surrounding the release of her trust fund and then she can finally put the distance she’s always wanted between her and her parents. She’s just incredibly grateful that her grandmother hadn’t included some silly clause like she must be married before getting the money.

Tee doesn’t necessarily hate her family, she’s just more the black sheep. She was raised that her role in life was to become a trophy wife. She was molded and trained in all those Stepford Wives duties. Her brain not meant for anything more difficult than what wine pairs best with the dessert for the evening.

True, she could have left once she was of age, but would it kill her to wait those few extra years for the money that would help buy her first house? Clearly it didn’t, since she’s alive and well. It just worked out that her parents attention has been a bit more focused on her older brother. First with his marriage to a woman they deemed fitting and then helping him in his political career.

So how did Tee keep from becoming a mindless drone? She read, constantly. Any book or magazine she could get her hands on, she devoured. Though she enjoys skill and non fiction books, her favorites are Fantasy novels. She might not know the difference between the Doctors (The only tv in her house growing up was in her father’s office and only the news was ever played on it), but she’d go into great details about the worlds created by her favorite authors.

Tee’s other passion is figure skating. Though it wasn’t her mother’s first choice, she signed Tee up when she refused to do any other physical activity. The moment she first touched the ice, she knew she was in her element. She’d close her eyes, fling her arms out and twirl in a circle. This is what it must feel like to fly on the back of the great dragons her favorite books always spoke of.

So why sign up for the bachelorette challenge? Tee’s sure that her parents will think it’s because she’s rebelling. Going onto a reality show is not the proper way to find a good match and if it was, Layla is not exactly the type of person they would approve of her their daughter. Besides thinking Layla is an absolute cutie, Tee think this will be a chance to experience some thing new. If she doesn’t find love, maybe she’ll at least make friends with people who have deeper thoughts than which table setting to use for the charity auction.

Quick Facts:

She’s never owned a pet.

She loves winter and snowfall.

Her perfect day starts with the morning being spent out on an ice rink, followed by an afternoon curled up with her favorite book in a pair of leggings and over-sized sweater.

She wears contact to appease her parents, but prefers her glasses.

Her favorite color is purple.

Her dream house must include a library with floor to ceiling bookshelves and a window seat that she can curl up. If it over looks a garden, all the better.

Her brother knows of her distaste in her parent’s ideology and agrees with her. It worked out for him that their parents approved of the woman he considers the love of his life.

PRIVATE DOWNLOAD

#ts4 #my sims #Tiara Hightower #fataleromeo #instead of working on my sim dump i'm creating bc enteries

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sugarcoated-pain · 5 years

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Heavy Rotation Part 3

Hey guys! I know it’s been a minute since I posted a new part, but here it is!

Part 1

Part 2

Warnings: Mild drug and alcohol usage, cussing.. that’s about it. lol.

Best Friends to Lovers- original character + Ashton

Huge shout out to @sublimehood for always making sure my shit doesn’t suck LOL

My first autumn in Los Angeles came and went. Seasons are weird here, since the weather barely changes. The air outside is getting slightly cooler, but nothing like back home, and I admittedly missed having a white Christmas. Though I could definitely get used to 60 degree Decembers.

Our whole group has been excited about the epic New Year's Eve party we plan to hold at our apartment. That afternoon, Ashton, Calum, Georgia and I make a supply run for the party. This proves to be quite an adventure in which we lose Cal for almost thirty minutes. After over an hour at the grocery store, we load Ash’s car full of booze, snacks and some other random shit nobody needs.

Within a few hours, our apartment is filled well past capacity mostly with people I have never seen before. Georgia and I had agreed that even though we were technically staying in for New Years Eve, we wanted to get all dressed up anyway. I can’t resist any excuse to wear sparkles, so I’m in a skin tight little black sequin dress, and I’m looking smoking hot if I do say so myself. My stupid brain can’t help but wonder what Ashton is going to think of my in this. As I wade through the waves of strangers, I get my answer. There is a split second when Ash first sees me that his eyes basically pop out of his head. I can’t help but smirk.

“Damn girl, look at you!” Georgia is standing and talking with Ash and Calum.

“NO, look at YOU!” I reply, grabbing her hand and leading her into spin to show off the sexy little green number she is wearing. I notice Ashton is still staring so I decide to bring this back to reality. “Hey Ash, where’s Camille tonight?”

His eyes focus on my face now. “Out of town for work.”

“Aw, bummer.” I say, trying with everything I have to hide my sarcasm. Georgia and I exchange a quick look. The party is a huge hit. There’s a million people here and everyone is having a blast. At some point, we decide to set up beer pong downstairs in the warehouse space where the band practices. Ash and I are on a team and we completely annihilate EVERYONE. We are seriously unstoppable. After eleven matches of no one being able to beat us, we run out of people willing to go up against us and decide to head back upstairs.

Ashton and I have spent the whole night side by side. It’s really nice, actually, without having his girlfriend hovering around making sure I don’t get too close to him. Aside from kicking ass at beer pong, we’ve just been talking about anything and everything. We could talk for hours, and we do. A little voice in the back of my mind is throwing up all the warning signs that I have entered dangerous territory, but I ignore it.

We are standing in the kitchen getting more drinks when Georgia walks over with a mildly concerned yet amused look on her face.“Hey guys… do either of you have any idea how a live penguin got in the hall bathroom?!”

Ashton happened to be taking a sip of beer at that exact moment, and spews it everywhere.

“Personally, I’m not even surprised. And I’m definitely about to go take a selfie with it. But no, I have no idea where it came from.” I reply, grabbing Ashton by the arm and dragging him to the bathroom to meet our new friend. We both agree that this little guy is too cool (haha get it?) to get rid of and accept him as a welcome guest of the party, and also, someone else’s problem.

After the penguin excitement wears off, we head back to the living room. Someone has turned the TV on and apparently the countdown to midnight has now begun. Ashton and I grab the silly string, noise makers and confetti poppers we bought at the store earlier in the day and start handing them out. We all chant the final ten seconds to midnight along with the TV. As soon as we get to one, everyone goes crazy. Ash and I attack each other with silly string as noise makers and confetti are all set off around us. It’s the perfect moment, until an awkward silence takes over the room. Most of the group has coupled off and are all sharing their perfect midnight New Year’s kiss. I shift awkwardly for a second, and glance up at Ashton. He’s noticed it too and looks almost as awkward as I feel.

I decide to break the awkwardness between us by shooting him right in the face with silly string. Instinctively, I dodge through the kissing couples near as to run away from him as quickly as possible before he can retaliate. He laughs and immediately chases after me, which doesn’t really work in my favor because he’s a lot faster than I am and catches up to me almost immediately. Grabbing me by the waist and holding me within shooting distance with one hand, he uses the other to silly string me to death. It's no more than I deserve. Georgia and Calum have finally stopped making out and she catches my eye from across the room and raises an eyebrow, apparently noticing our little flirting session.

The rest of the night goes by pretty quickly. Around 1 a.m., people start to slowly trickle out, but I’m too busy sitting on the couch talking to Ashton to care about anybody else. The penguin has mysteriously disappeared and I can only hope he was safely back where he belongs, though it’s more likely that he is wandering around the building.

As per the usual, Ashton and I are the last ones standing at the end of the night. Adrenaline still pumping from the excitement of the party, neither one of us is ready for bed. We decide to do a favor for our future selves and start picking up the mess. Though it only lasts maybe ten minutes.

“I’m bored… wanna finish the rest of this tomorrow and go get high on the roof?” I ask him with a smirk.

“Why yes, yes I do.” Ash replies, dropping the trash bag in his hands to the floor.

The night air feels amazing on my skin after being inside all night. Ash and I share a joint and laugh about various situations that occurred throughout the evening. I realize that without even meaning to, I’m sitting with my leg touching his again, but he hasn’t moved away. It’s probably the weed but small details start to stand out in my mind. His hair moving in the breeze. His gorgeous eyes shining in the moonlight. The way his whole face lights up when he smiles, dimples and all. He seems to notice me watching him eventually, but instead of saying anything, he just watches me right back, a small grin on his face.

The moment was too perfect. It was too much to take. I lean in quickly and press my lips firmly against his. He seems stunned for a split second, but then next thing I know, one of his hands is on my cheek, the other on my lower back pulling me closer to him. Everything about this kiss is perfection. The way his lips fit against mine, the way they move together in sync, the gentle pressure of his hand on my face. This is the way people were meant to be kissed. This is what kissing should be like every single time.

“Shit.” The word falls out of my mouth as my brain catches up to the rest of me and I pull away from him. Without hesitating, he leans in again for more. I stop him, “Ash,” I start breathlessly, staring at him, our faces just inches apart. “You have a girlfriend.” He opens those flawless hazel eyes, locking them with mine, then sighs and turns his head away from me slowly.

“I’m SO sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m drunk and a little high. That was so stupid of me. “ I stammer, flustered. He is uncharacteristically quiet for several moments as he stares straight ahead at the glittering city skyline. “Ashton, say something..”

“It was just because you were drunk and high, huh?” He says, almost in a whisper. The tone in his voice surprises me- he sounds.. Hurt?

“Ash, you have a girlfriend and we are roommates and you’re my best friend. I absolutely should not have done that. It was a huge mistake.”

“Sure. okay. A mistake. Right.” He almost sounds sarcastic.

I sigh, “I uh.. I should go to bed now…. Shit.. I really am sorry.” I add as I quickly make my way back down the fire escape.

Back in my bedroom, I close my bedroom window, slam my body face first onto my bed and scream into my pillow. Once that is out of my system, I pull out my phone to text Georgia.

If you’re awake and not having sex, come to my room NOW. please.

After about three minutes, I hear a soft knock at my door. I open it to find Georgia there, and swiftly pull her inside, shutting the door hard behind her.

“G. I fucked up.” I say quickly, making my way back to my bed.

“Why? What happened?!” She asks, sitting down next to me.

“I… I just kissed Ashton.” It comes out as a panicked whisper.

“YOU WHAT?!”

“SHHHHHHHH”

“Are you kidding me?” She asks, a look of shock on her face.

“Nope. Definitely not kidding... I told him that it was just because I was drunk and it was a total mistake.” I squeeze my pillow and sigh into it heavily.

“Well that’s pretty stupid of you considering that it wasn’t the alcohol’s fault at all and this would have been the perfect opportunity to be honest with him about how you feel.”

“Georgia, HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND! And he’s my roommate and my best friend. It would make things way too weird. And you know I’m not looking for a relationship.”

“Oh so I guess you’re still working on convincing yourself of that lie too, huh? Does that mean you haven’t admitted to yourself yet that you don’t just have a crush on Ashton, that you’re actually madly fucking in love with him?”

“I AM NOT.” I snap defensively.

Georgia sighs. “Okay. whatever you say. But I just have one question for you.. How was it?”

I let out a deep breath and glare at her for a second before giving in. “Literally the best kiss of my entire life. It was like something out of a fucking movie. You know how people always talk about seeing fireworks and hearing angels sing and all that bullshit? Yeah, that all happened.” I let out another sigh and bury my face in my pillow again. I feel Georgia’s hand on my back sympathetically. “UGH what have I done?” I groan.

Georgia consoles me a little while longer before eventually heading back to Cal’s room for bed. I lay awake for a long time, going over the night’s events repeatedly in my head. Eventually, I drift off to sleep with the last thing I see in my mind being Ashton’s lips.

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Taglist: @cheyenne-in-wonderland @drummerboy794

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the list!

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #5sos fic #ashton irwin #ashton irwin 5 seconds of summer #ashton fanfic #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

Natural Opposite: 11/16

This chapter has been a long time coming, and I am so excited to finally share it! Though Emma and Killian’s relationship doesn’t escalate in the physical sense yet, some walls still come down emotionally. This chapter is also one of the reasons for the M rating as we find out more of Emma’s back story.

Huge thanks as always to my awesome beta @distant-rose, and a shout out to everyone in the CSBB for the discord chat to help me pick the song for this Halloween dance. Especially @katie-dub who recommended “Dark Waltz” by Hayley Westenra. Be sure to check out her CSBB story, Princess of White Chapel, because it is SO good! Actually, everyone in the CSBB put out exceptional work, so be sure to give them all the love and attention they deserve.

I can not fully express how much I love the chapter art that @optomisticgirl did for this. It was the first piece she made, and I was just blown away the minute I saw it! So be sure to go over to her blog and like and reblog because she deserves all the love!

Here is her other chapter art for this story:Two Four Five Six Seven Nine

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be added to my tag list) @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @kday426 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules

Chapter Eleven: Dark Waltz

Emma was a nervous wreck arriving at the studio to rehearse with Killian. She wasn’t sure how she should handle the gossip. Should she bring it up? Would he? Should she just pretend not to know and ignore it? Would it make things awkward between them? Killian was always flirting with her, trying to get her to open up, but he had never actually asked her out or made a move. She liked things where they were: friendship with innocent flirting. She didn’t want those stupid pictures to mess up the delicate balance they had struck.

But when she stepped off the elevator on the top floor, the sound of loud shouting from the studio at the end of the hall had all thoughts of paparazzi pushed from her mind. She raced down the hall, along with several other celebs and pro dancers towards the room where Jefferson and Belle rehearsed. Emma was shocked to find Robert Gold on the floor, Liam Jones on top of him. Killian was trying to pull his brother off as he threw punches at the older man. Belle was crying and begging Liam to stop. Finally, Jefferson and Graham joined Killian and the three of them managed to pull Liam back and calm him down. Security then rushed in and ushered Liam, Gold, and Belle out of the room. Jefferson followed along with his partner.

Once they had gone, Emma turned to Killian in shock. “What the hell was that all about?”

Killian ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Apparently Gold has been stalking Belle. Liam came to bring her coffee this morning, and he caught Gold in here with her. Liam said he was touching her somehow, but my brother wasn’t exactly focusing on talking, if you know what I mean.”

Emma’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “Poor Belle.” She reached out and laid a hand on Killian’s arm. He was clearly agitated. “Security will sort it all out, okay? We’ve had crazy shit happen before, believe me.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I just hope Belle’s okay. She has such a kind heart, and she’s good for my brother. I’d hate for him to have to go home so soon over all this.”

Emma just rubbed his arm in silence for a moment. “Do you want to cancel our rehearsals for today? Go make sure Liam’s alright?”

Killian shook his head. “We’ve missed so much rehearsal time already. And aren’t we choreographing the group number this afternoon?”

He had a point, so despite Killian’s obvious worry, they headed back to their usual studio. They jumped right into their waltz, working hard all morning. It seemed to calm Killian to have something to focus on. In the midst of everything, Emma never did bring up the TMZ pictures.

******************************************************

Emma and Killian had been teamed up with two athletes for the group dance: figure skater Aurora Briar who danced with Sean Herman, and NFL football player Lance Knight who was partnered with Gwen Pendragon. They had to dance to the song “Somebody That I Used to Know” by Goyte. Gwen had been on the show almost since the beginning, and kind of took charge. Emma wanted to do a vampire themed paso doble, but Gwen decided that they would do a dance patterned more after the song’s music video. So the number ended up being a combination of a tango and a modern piece, and the story was about three widowers looking at the paintings of their deceased wives. The paintings came to life, and the dance ensued.

Killian argued that after Emma’s incredible choreography with “Heart Shaped Box,” she should have more say. But Emma pulled him aside to talk him down.

“This is supposed to be fun,” she hissed at him.

“Your idea was way better, Swan,” he argued, “and the judges still score this dance.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Emma told him, “but Gwen’s been on this show for a really long time. She’s already won the mirror ball twice and gotten three Emmy nominations for her choreography.”

Killian’s jaw clenched. Lance teasingly asked if they were finished kissing in the corner. Emma turned bright red, thinking back to those TMZ pictures they had never discussed.

“Shut up, Lance!” Emma shot back.

Killian deflated and gave Emma a sheepish smile as he scratched behind his ear.

“Sorry, love, I just see so much talent in you. I hate to see it underappreciated.”

Emma felt her heart soar at his words. She had worked so hard for so many years, yet always felt under other people’s shadows. Namely her brother’s and her sister’s. The fact that Killian saw so much in her was both encouraging and terrifying.

They went back to the rest of the group, and Killian behaved himself. He and Aurora were the stronger celebs when it came to picking up the choreography, but Lance was determined, as athletes usually were on the show. Killian provided good balance for the two intense competitors, getting both Aurora and Lance to laugh and enjoy the group dynamic. Emma marveled at his ability to get along with everyone so easily. She wished she had that quality.

The rest of the days leading up to the Halloween episode flew by. They filmed the requisite clips of their team trash-talking the other one and pretending to “spy” on the other group’s rehearsals. In the frenetic pace of everything, those pictures on TMZ never came up. Even the media seemed to lose interest as news that Belle French had put out a restraining order on Robert Gold consumed everyone’s attention. Killian had been worried that Gold would press assault charges against his brother, but when the obsessive content of the man’s texts and emails to Belle became public, the billionaire had other things on his mind. And Emma hated herself for even thinking it, but part of her was glad that the drama with Gold would be at the forefront of everyone’s minds in the studio come Monday afternoon.

*****************************************************

Emma and Killian, for the first time all season, were scheduled to dance first for the Halloween episode. The set department, like every Halloween, had outdone themselves. Emma had asked for a graveyard, and they had delivered. A black iron gate flanked the dance floor, and in between were an assortment of tombstones. Dry ice sent fog billowing throughout the scene.

“Did they have to use my actual name?” Killian whispered in her ear as she took her place in front of the largest of the tombstones. It read in large, block letters: “Killian Jones.”

Emma just shrugged at him. “Better you than me,” she teased, “now go find your mark.”

He squeezed her hand before walking to the other side of the dance floor and taking his place behind one of the iron gates. The premise of their dance was fairly simple: Emma was a bride widowed on her wedding day. The costume department had made her a gorgeous lace wedding gown that was tattered and stained with blood. Black roses adorned her hair, which was down in a messy mass of curls. Killian, the deceased groom, was dressed in a tux that was in similar shape, and the makeup department had rubbed his skin with white foundation. But the truly gruesome part were the bloody wounds they had added to his face.

“The makeup team sort of knocked the handsome out of me,” he had joked to Emma when she first saw him.

Emma had just shaken her head and laughed. “No make-up artist is that good.” She swore she could see him blush through his heavy foundation.

The video package this week was fairly innocuous. It focused more on the storyline of their dance and silly Halloween jokes than on the actual content of their rehearsals. As it wound to a close, Emma knelt before the tombstone, a black rose in her hand. Camera angles would make it appear to the viewing audience at home that Killian’s ghost appeared out of nowhere to dance with her.

The strains of “Dark Waltz” by Hayley Westenra began to play as Emma set the rose on top of the tombstone. As she always did when performing, Emma reached deep inside of her, to emotions that she normally kept buried. My character has lost her lover, Emma lectured herself internally, She’s alone and grieving.

Later, Emma would try to pinpoint exactly what opened the floodgates of pain, but she could never decide if were the first melancholy notes of music or the gentle touch of Killian’s hand on her shoulder. Whatever it was, she danced the waltz with a raw emotion she had never experienced before. It wasn’t just the grieving widow who was desperate to hold onto her lover, it was Emma as well. Killian fed off her energy, and they both grasped for one another in an almost desperate way. It was truly a dark waltz, just like the song said.

At the end, when Emma spun back around to find Killian’s “ghost” suddenly gone, her own choreography called for her to collapse to the ground in grief. It didn’t, however, call for tears. Yet they came anyway. Something about the character being so utterly, completely alone - abandoned forever -tore at Emma in a way she couldn’t explain. Emma choked, attempting to hold the tears at bay, yet they streamed down her face anyway. She put a trembling hand to her mouth, taking deep breaths through her nose, but they wouldn’t stop. Soon, Killian was there, helping her up to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest where her tears wet his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, making no move to steer her towards the judges.

Emma took a long, shaky breath and nodded as the tears finally stopped flowing. She gave Killian a wobbly smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He gave her a gentle smile in return, reaching up to brush her tears away with his knuckles. “Are you sure, love?”

She nodded, her cheeks flooding with heat. She turned towards the judges with shaky steps, Killian’s arm a strong support at her waist. The judges and most of the audience were on their feet. Marco asked her a question – something about her emotions - and she stumbled over some kind of answer about being swept away by the story. She wasn’t entirely sure due to the roaring in her ears. She barely registered what any of the judges said. Tiana had to deduct points for an illegal lift, but otherwise, the feedback was positive. Upstairs, the roaring in her ears continued as Ashley interviewed them. It mostly consisted of Ashley marveling over Killian’s disturbing makeup. Emma had a feeling her partner was trying to intentionally pull the attention away from her and her emotional outburst because he laughed and teased Ashley for several minutes about his fake bloodied face. Then the scores were announced: two tens and a nine. Emma was still numb as Killian grabbed her in a tight hug, pulling her up off her feet. The second Ashley announced a commercial break, Emma dashed for the backstage area, ripping off her mic as she went.

Emma found a corner behind the plywood sets and lowered herself shakily to the cold concrete floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in the circle of her arms. She felt the black roses atop her head slip down over one ear.

“Please mates,” she heard Killian’s voice behind her, “give her some bloody privacy.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and thinking back to the start of their dance, shuddered at his touch. “I sent the camera guys away,” he told her softly, “so if you want to tell me what happened out there –“

“No,” Emma cut him off, “I don’t.”

“I’d like to help –“

“Killian,” she snapped, “leave me alone. Please.”

She heard him release a long sigh, then his hand slipped from her shoulder. It fell silent around her again, and she assumed he had done as she had asked. Then a hand touched her elbow.

“Damn it, Killian, I said –“ Emma’s words died on her lips when she lifted her face to see her brother kneeling beside her. “Oh,” she muttered sheepishly, pushing hair out of her face, “I didn’t know it was you.”

David shifted so he was sitting on the floor next to her, his arm around her. Emma sagged against him, resting her head on his shoulder like she used to when she was a kid. For several minutes, they just sat there. Ariel appeared at the far end of the corridor, her silhouette outlined by the stage lights behind her.

“David, we’ve got a troupe dance in five!”

“Gimme a minute!” he snapped back in irritation. Ariel shrugged and headed back towards the stage.

Emma dug an elbow into her brother’s ribs. “You better get going.”

David made no move to leave. Finally, he leaned over and whispered against her hair. “It was about Neal, wasn’t it?”

Emma stiffened.

“You don’t have to be so tough, Emma,” he told her gently.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Emma groaned, “and the last thing I want to do is talk about this on some therapist’s couch.”

David actually chuckled. “Oh, I think Mom and I have given up on trying to get you to do that. But you know, you’ve got a family of four people. Five, if you count Mary Margaret, which she would. And not one of us would mind being a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. We may not be a conventional family, but we all love you.”

“David, come on!” It was now Ruby shouting for her brother.

“Go,” she told him, giving him a shove, “before you get fired.”

He kissed the top of her head and left her. Emma yanked the crown of depressing flowers off her head and threw them aside. Black roses. No wonder it brought back memories of Neal.

**************************************************

It was past two in the morning, and Emma couldn’t sleep. And after how the show ended today, she desperately needed to. The results had been a shock to everyone: no one had been eliminated. In retrospect, Emma should have seen it coming. The producers hadn’t given the pros even a hint of what the theme was for the week. Turned out, it was one that always proved dramatic: partner switch week. Instead of dancing with Killian, she had been paired with baseball player August Booth. Emma groaned as she stirred her hot chocolate. Baseball players were notoriously stiff dancers. It could be Leroy all over again. At least the guy was attractive.

Emma shuffled over to the couch and settled down with a heavy quilt draped across her legs. She took a sip of her cocoa as she sagged against the cushions. Retrospection wasn’t one of Emma’s strengths, but she attempted to at least pin down what was bothering her. Knowing she had to dance with a new partner was stressful, so it could be that. Or maybe it was the second dance she would have to do with Killian: a dance off against Elsa and Graham of all couples. They were definitely going for drama next week, that was for sure.

Then Emma remembered her embarrassing meltdown on a live television show. She set down her mug and buried her head beneath the covers. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t sleep because her emotions were too close to the surface. Fear and pain that she had pushed aside for ten years had come bubbling up without warning. Why now?

Emma’s phone, which was lying on the coffee table, lit up with a text message. She snatched it up, curious as to who would be contacting her at such an ungodly hour. She blinked to see a message from Killian.

I’m outside, but I didn’t want to wake anyone up.

Emma’s brow furrowed in surprise. Everything okay?

I’m actually here because I’m worried YOU aren’t okay.

Emma let out a long breath. She gnawed on her lower lip, considering, then rose from the couch with the quilt still wrapped around herself. She opened the door to see Killian on the other side, his gaze hesitant. She was surprised to see him in a baseball cap.

“How did you even know I would be up?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Lucky guess? You seemed pretty shaken up today.” He shuffled his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And I couldn’t sleep either.”

Emma gave him a teasing smile. “That worried about switching partners?”

He smiled back. “Maybe I am. I’m sure Jasmine is a fine dancer, but there’s only one Emma Swan.”

Emma felt inexplicably shy all of a sudden, standing there in her plaid pajamas with a ratty old quilt draped over her shoulders. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Look, Killian, everyone’s asleep –“

“I know,” he interrupted quickly, “I was wondering if you’d come with me.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Not really in the mood for partying.”

He shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “I had something else in mind. You can even stay in your PJs, and . . . are those wookie slippers?”

Emma chuckled as she shuffled her feet, “A Christmas present from Henry.”

“Ah, I see.” She suddenly realized that Killian himself was in a long sleeve tee and jeans, in addition to the cap. It was the most casual she had ever seen him.

“Um,” Emma mumbled, letting go of one end of the quilt so she could tuck her wayward hair behind her ears, “I’ll go change. Just wait here.”

Emma quickly threw on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, then pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. She slipped into a pair of flip flops, joined Killian outside, and they headed downstairs to his car.

“Never seen you in a hat,” she commented.

He shrugged. “I didn’t want any more pictures getting out.”

Emma felt herself blush as he opened his car door for her. “So you saw those.”

“Aye,” he said as he slid behind the driver’s wheel, “I’ve gotten used to that sort of thing, but I know you’re not. I hope you weren’t too upset by it.”

“I was at first, but nothing came of it, so . . . “ Emma trailed off, unsure what else to say. The pictures honestly seemed like a whole lot of nothing compared to the memories that wouldn’t quit invading her mind since their waltz that afternoon. Silence settled between them, but not an uncomfortable one. Emma leaned her head against the window, looking up at the hazy LA sky.

“I just want you to know,” Killian said softly, “that I’m doing this as a friend. I can tell your heart is troubled, and I’d like to help if I can.”

Emma turned to examine his profile as he concentrated on driving. She pulled her knees to her chest as she took in the sincerity of his expression. Neal had made her cynical, untrusting, and yet here she was driving through LA with an actor of all people at 2:30 in the morning. She closed her eyes and waited for the panic to set in. She was shocked when it never came.

The rest of the twenty minute drive was a quiet one. Finally, Killian pulled up to a marina on the coast where a row of sleek yachts were moored. Emma got out, eager to feel the sea breeze on her face. Killian came to walk beside her, resting his hand at the small of her back to guide her up the pier.

“You have a boat?”

“Aye,” Killian answered, stopping in front of a yacht with gold trim and the name The Jewel of the Realm painted on the side in navy blue, “and here she is.”

“She’s not The Jolly Roger?” Emma teased as he helped her on board.

“No, but Jewel of the Realm,” he replied, emphasizing the first letters, “see what I did there?”

Emma nodded, “I get it.”

“Now, Swan,” Killian told her, guiding her up a ladder to a deck area on top of the yacht, “I want you to relax while I get us out a little ways from shore.”

Emma looked at the pile of cushions and blankets artfully scattered around. She arched a brow at Killian. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Killian reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his expression earnest. “I meant what I said in the car. I find the sea calming. That’s all I want to give you, Emma. A little bit of peace from your troubles. If I can.”

Emma swallowed nervously, taking a quick step back. She hadn’t been expecting him to sidestep such an open invitation to an innuendo. This kind offering of friendship was almost harder to deal with than his flirting. Emma masked her discomfort with a joke. “Well that’s good because I may just fall asleep.”

Killian ducked his head with a soft chuckle. “If so, then my work here is done.”

He turned to go down to the wheel, but Emma stopped him. “Wait. You – you’ll come back up in a few minutes, right?”

He smiled softly. “Aye, love, as soon as I lay anchor.”

Once he had left, Emma sank down to the cushions and drew a blanket around herself. The air here on the water was a bit chillier than in the city. She leaned back, tilting her head up to look at the sky. As they headed farther out to sea, she could see stars twinkling overhead. Killian was right; it was calming. The rocking of the boat and the repetitive whooshing sound of the water caused Emma to drift off for a moment. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the cutting of the engine and a loud splash awakened her. Killian came back up the ladder, smiling softly at her as he settled in next to her. They both lay there, looking up at the clear night sky. Killian said nothing, and Emma appreciated the silence. When she finally spoke, she could only manage a whisper.

“His name was Neal.”

Killian turned to look at her, “Henry’s father?”

Emma nodded, looking away from his gaze and up at the stars instead. “I was sixteen when I met him online. I had a MySpace page, and that’s where we started talking. He said he was eighteen.” Emma fiddled with the edge of the blanket across her lap. “I was young and stupid, shared too much personal information. He wanted to come to one of my dance competitions.” Emma let out a long, shaky breath. “That’s when I found out he wasn’t eighteen.”

Still Killian didn’t speak, but he brushed his hand against hers. Emma grasped it, threading her fingers with his like they always did on the dance floor.

“He was twenty-five,” Emma continued. She chanced a glance at Killian, but his only reaction was a slight clenching of his jaw. “Anyway, Ingrid never knew he was at that competition. He made me promise not to tell anyone about him. He said people wouldn’t understand. He kissed me and told me I was beautiful. Said that watching me dance was mesmerizing. I convinced myself it was love.”

Killian squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to,” he told her softly.

“No,” she said in a shaky voice, “I want to. I need to.” The next part was the hardest to tell. “It was always at my competitions that we would meet. This went on for a year. When I was seventeen, he asked me for a dance lesson. So I snuck out of my hotel room where the competition was being held . . .“

Suddenly, Emma felt as if a weight had settled on her chest. She sat up, struggling to breath. Killian sat next to her, rubbing her back soothingly. She put her head between her knees, breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth, the way Ingrid had taught her.

“Did he rape you?” Killian asked gently.

Emma shook her head as she let out a long, cleansing breath. “No, but it was the night I lost my virginity. Like I said, I thought it was love. After that, he . . . changed. He became more demanding of my time, more intrusive, more critical. It became harder and harder to hide things from Ingrid, but Neal kept saying that she would never understand the way he loved me. But Ingrid knew something was wrong. I was skipping rehearsals, my grades were dropping, I was tired all the time. She and I were always fighting. It was the same with David and my sisters. I started pulling away from them. Neal encouraged it. Only now can I see that he wasn’t who he said he was.”

By the time Emma finished, tears were pouring down her face. She turned towards Killian, who let her fall against his chest as ugly sobs tore at her. She hadn’t cried like this in over ten years. His arms tightened around her.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” he told her brokenly. “Does he know about Henry?”

Emma pulled back, rolling her eyes as she scrubbed at her tear-stained cheeks. “Why do you think he disappeared? I told him I was pregnant, and that was it. I couldn’t reach him; not online, not by phone. It was like he took what he wanted from me, and when things got complicated, just like that, he was gone.”

Killian said nothing, putting his arm around her again and drawing her close. She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the soothing sounds of the water.

“I guess, that dance. . . Neal left me broken. Somehow, I tapped into that pain today.”

Killian still didn’t let her go, and Emma felt herself go limp against him. She had never felt so safe in a man’s arms before. “Did he go to jail?” Killian asked.

“No,” Emma breathed out shakily, “I was so freaked out, it was weeks before I told Ingrid about the baby. By then, I had deleted my MySpace page. I just wanted to erase him from my life. Maybe his name wasn’t even Neal. Who knows?”

“But you didn’t let him stop you from dancing. You are so strong, Emma Swan.”

“And I have Henry,” she added, a wistful smile spreading across her face. “Being a dancer, and young, I was pretty far along before I knew about him. When I saw his little hands and feet on that ultrasound, I knew I could never give him up.”

“Does he know?”

Emma nodded. “I’ve always tried to be honest with him; explaining things as he was old enough to understand them. And he’s had a heck of an internet safety talk, believe me. Multiple times.”

“He’s a tough lad,” Killian said, “like his mother.”

Emma pulled away from Killian’s embrace, brushing at tendrils of hair that had stuck to her wet cheeks. “Ugh. I’m not acting so tough right now.”

“I disagree, Emma,” Killian told her, “I’ve never seen such strength.”

#csbb #csbb fic #csbb 2018 #cs ff #cs modern au #dancing with the stars au #enemies to friends to lovers #Natural Opposite #searching wardrobes

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brattywriters-anonymous · 5 years

Text

Spectacle. II

@chaneajoyyy

Inspired by our favorite hip hop couple, Offset and Cardi.

I was arguing with my best friend about what he did on her rolling loud set. I’m just gonna write this with Erik x OC (Black! OC);

Erik is a rapper as OC is a rising star. They recently married and his indiscretions have been publicly known via social media, Erik makes multiple attempts to make up for it.

June, 2018:

Erik Stevens, Stage Name: E. Kill. 31 years old. Married to Raelynn Stevens (Maiden, Johnson) They share one child, a 4 month-old Named Kire (Pronouced KYE-REE) Stephens.

Raelynn Stevens, Stage Name: Rae. 29 years old. Married to Erik Stevens. She and Erik share a daughter, 4 month-old Kire Stevens.

December 1, 2017

I woke up to the sun was on the opposite side of the house so I knew it was around 4 or 5 in the afternoon. All I could hear was a whispering back and forth between Shawna and Erik.

“I been calling her! I thought she was gone! I damn sure didn’t think she would wreck my shit!” “What did you think was gonna happen? You thought you were gonna come home to a home cooked meal, decent conversation, and some pregnant pussy? You had an affair, Erik. That’s worse than just fucking some slide tossing her some hundreds and never hearing from her again. You had this girl around you. You traveled for this girl. You traveled with this girl. You didn’t even tell Rae everything.” “If I told her everything, she’d burn this whole damn house down! You know that Shawna.” I shoot up from the couch yawning.

“Tell me what?” I direct the question at Shawna. Erik shoots over to me, bending to check on me, “Hey baby, how you doing?” My husband attempts to grab my hand, I push his hand away with my bandaged right one. “I wasn’t talking to you. What happened to my hand?” Shawna sits next to me, “Hey babes, don’t worry about all of that right now. How’s Kire?” I rubbed my belly, “She woke me up so, she’s good.” Out the corner of my eye I see Erik reaching out for me. “N’jadaka. Do yourself a favor, don’t touch me.” He stands up, “How you wanna move forward Rae? Because I love you. I want my family. Give me the chance to fight for it.”

It’s not until Shawna hands me some toilet paper that I realize I am crying, “I need time. Get out.” He grabs a bag I’m sure he packed while I was sleeping and exits through the front door, as he opens the door, paparazzi floods our front porch. I hang my head low, mortified and wondering how I’ll ever get out of my home. “How am I gonna get through this?” My bestie comforts me in a tight hug, “With help, mami. That’s how. Ya team gotchu baby. Believe that.”

December 2, 2017

My assistant Nessa strolls through my backdoor, knowing paparazzi weren’t that indecent to bum-rush my backyard, in awe. “Damn Rae, what happened in here?” I fold my arms shrugging watching TMZ covering my family’s demise for a second time. “I blacked out by the time I was swinging at the records in there”, I nonchalantly point at the dining room. She turns her attention to that, “Daayym! Did somebody burglarize ya spot?” I shake my head, “Nah. I did this. Fucked up that r8 in the garage too.” “What happened? You wouldn’t just do this finding out what happened with that chickenhead.” She holds her hands out looking for answers.

“E came home.” She sucks her teeth, “Forty-Eight Hours Later!” Her spongebob commentator accent makes me crack up at her silly ass, “I needed that” She clings onto me, “I know, boo. I’m sorry he had to be an asshole. How’s the baby?” “The baby is fine!” I succeed in keeping the sex a secret from my assistant, once again. “Dammit, I’m gon catch you off guard! I hope it’s a baby girl so we can get her fly like her momma!” I blush at her correct guess, “Anyway, let me work a miracle. Go take a seat!” I stroll upstairs to retreat back to my baby’s room.

When I reach the top of the steps I looked at the closed door to our bedroom, it had a folded paper in between it. I snatch it out of its place, it was a photo of our wedding picture we took after we eloped in the chapel in Las Vegas.

“Baby lets just do it!” Erik’s tipsy slur was apparent, “Do what, N’jadaka?” “Let’s get married babyy. Be my wife!” “Nigga, what?” He got on one knee in the middle of a busy Las Vegas strip, “You know I love you baby. More that I’ve ever loved any woman. I’m tired of spending time without you! We on tour at different times, back in LA at different times! I’m ready for us to live in our home. I’m ready to put a baby in yo fine ass, Rae.” I protested, “I think not! Boy, you tried it!” He sucked his teeth, “I’m gettin’ yo ass pregnant! Anyway, I’m ready to spend the rest of my life witchu babe. Let me make an honest woman of you tonight.” He pulled out my ring, “Baby, it’s just a band!” He shrugged, “Since we getting married tonight, I figured we’ll work our way up to the wedding ring.” I giggled, “Cocky ass, you just know Imma say yes?” “Will you?” I nodded, “Yes. Yes, N’jadaka!”

I love you. I love Kire. I love our family. Please don’t give up on us.

I swing the door open, “Shawna!” “Yes?” “Can you come up here please?” She met me in my room, “What’s up Rae?” “What was everything that E didn’t tell me?” she sighs, “Uhm, have a seat.” “I’m so tired of people telling me what the fuck to do! I want to stand! Tell me what he’s done, Shawna. Please? I can’t know what I’m doing if I don’t know everything!” She leans on the dresser. I hear my google alerts go off, “Has Rae fallen off the edge? What the fuck?” I click the notification which had a picture of the damaged r8 rolling out of our garage. Nessa jets to my room, “Girl. I had to get that car to the dealership! I’m sorry, they’re closing in less than an hour and if I didn’t get it there today it wasn’t gonna be ready until after the holidays.” “No. No. You good Ness. You’re doing your job! Thank you.” She exhales a sigh of relief, “Okay, cool. What’s going on though? Feels like I’m missing something.”

Shawna clears her throat, “Uhm.. So E. Solace didn’t expose everything that happened. She didn’t wanna publicly put that out, she wanted to have a conversation with you.” “With me? Tuh! The broad has nothing to say to me.” Shawna continues, “In May, she found out she was pregnant.” I blinked a few times, “Excuse me?” “E fucked up Rae. He got her pregnant. He immediately told her to get an abortion, her being an IG model and scared that a pregnancy was gonna ruin her image, she went through with it in July.”

Erik’s POV

I turn on my TV to see my wife being bombarded by paps on TV, her round shape shades covering her eyes, “Rae, have you decided what you’re gonna do about E’s indiscretions?” “Rae, are you gonna get a divorce?” “Rae, did you speak with Solace?” She ignored every inquiry walking into the Beverly Center. I get a notification on my phone, a text from Shawna, “E. Rae’s new number is 310-021-2231.” I texted her.

I’m on my way. Meet me at Farmhouse, please?

Rae Bae: Yeah. LMK when you get here.

That was simple. Too simple. Mac emerges from his kitchen, “Wassup, homie?” “I’m about to meet up with Rae.” He stops in his path, “Woah, you sure she not gon come at you with a bat?” I flinch at the mention, “Man, nah. We in public. She not gon go off the handle like that!” “Man whatever! Rae Rae went cray cray and whooped yo ass! And the r8?! Your other bae?! That was petty. She bought it!” I shake my head, “I think that’s why she destroyed it. She knew I had ol girl in it.” “My nigga.. I know you not that dumb.” “Yeah. I am.” Mack palms his face, “Wow.. Just... wow. Well, good luck on that meeting. I’d keep my distance. Sit at the longest table they got in that bitch!”

My phone rings, I see my wife’s face on the screen.

Rae’s POV

I’m just having the week from hell! My husband’s been cheating on me, it’s in the public eye, I got shows to do for the next month, I need to get in the studio, and now I lost my phone somewhere in this damn mall! This stress and prego brain has taken my irritation to an all time high. “Are Rae and you gonna work things out? Is she pissed off at you? Where are those bruises from, man?” N’jadaka simply answers, “Look, I’m having dinner with my wife, Hope you have a good evening.” I turn around to see him waving off the cameraman, “Hi.” “Hello, beautiful. How you holding up?” “I’m alright. Lost my phone today, but I’m good.”

N’jadaka digs into his pocket and pulls out my phone, “You left it in Saint Laurant. An employee used a picture of you to unlock it and called me.” “You get her number too?” He nudges me, “C’mon Rae. You know I didn’t.” “Whatever, Your daughter is hungry. Let’s go.”

The tension in the private room is so thick, it can get cut with a phone charger cord. I requested the waiter leave us a pitcher of water so he wouldn’t have to come in back and forth to check on us. Because I don’t need my business being spread all over the tabloids regarding my private life.

“Baby, talk to me. I haven’t ever seen you so quiet.”

I take a large piece of salmon and engulf it, “You got her pregnant.” “I--” “Think about your answer..before you think about lying.” he sighs, “I did.” “Did you tell her you were leaving me?” “Rae, it don’t matter--” “IT DOES MATTER, N’JADAKA!” “I didn’t tell her I was gonna leave. I told her that we weren’t as serious as we were in the beginning.” Erik is sitting on the opposite end of the dinner table, on purpose I’m sure.. That doesn’t stop me from trying to throw a plate at his head. The plate clashes with the wall, “Oh, so being married and having a child on a way isn’t serious to you?” I chuck the silverware at him, “I can’t fucking believe you!” “I was telling her what she wanted to hear! It was words with no action behind it!”

“Why? Why did you do this to me? To us?” He hangs his head low, “I’m scared. I’m scared of this fatherhood shit. I know I foreshadowed this when I proposed, but it becoming a reality is freaking me out. I guess I was running from it. I called it off with her before our shower.” I take one final bite of my meal, “It’s funny how you say you’re scared. You’ve been to every doctor’s appointment, you’ve been talking to her, reading to her, singing and rapping to her. You’ve been the father that she needs. And behind my back, you haven’t been the partner I need. You’ve been cheating on me my entire pregnancy. Now all of a sudden as of last month, you want your family? Nah. You gon have to show me. Until then, stay where you at. I’ll sync our calendars before I leave for doctor’s appointments. Other than that.. I’ll mail your shit to Mack’s place.”

“Are we over? We throwing away two years like that? Over some hoe I don’t even want?” “Don’t ever forget, YOU DID THIS.” I sync our calendars as I finish my statement. “Don’t contact me. When I need to see you, I’ll let you know.” I rise from my seat, flip over my plate and exit, stage left, through the restaurant’s back door, avoiding paparazzi.

Okay, III Is going to be the last one (I promise! It’s gonna tie everything together and Rae’s POV between how E got her back... ya’ll gon see, ya’ll gon see.)

#erik killmonger #erik killmonger x oc #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger imagines #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger fanfic #erik killmonger fandom #erik stevens #erik stevens x oc #erik stevens imagine #erik stevens imagines #erik stevens fanfiction #erik stevens fanfic #erik stevens fandom #black panther fanfiction #black panther imagine #black panther imagines #black panther au #black panther fanfic

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def-initely-soul · 6 years

Text

The Truth That Should’ve Been Said (M)

Inspired by {The Truth Untold (전하지 못한 진심)}

You know that I can’t Show you me Give you me I can’t show you a run-down part of myself I wear a mask again and go to see you But I still want you

Words: 4880

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Genre: Angst/Smut/Fluff

The silence is overbearing.

It wafts through the rose-colored walls of your living room, while the TV mindlessly plays in the background. The tap in the kitchen has gone loose and running, each drop matching to the beat of your heart, as your eyes stare aimlessly at nothing.

It’s not the kind of normal silence. Silences like this one are imposing, demanding unwilling attention. They’re loud, deafening, all the things a silence shouldn’t be, and yet your ears, your senses, your mind is overwhelmed with it.

It’s the silence caused by the emptiness someone left behind.

You’re sitting on the couch, a crumbled mass of tired limbs and broken spirit, covered by a faded-blue blanket. His blanket.

You drink the glass of whiskey in one go before that thought takes over your mind. Before it’s the only thing you can think about.

Although it’s all a futile attempt that collapses like a sand castle at the next moment.

Your eyes fall to the TV as the intro of a familiar TV series begins. Your eyes glaze as you listen to the well-known tune and unwillingly you reminisce.

He had caught you one day at this very couch, watching the old TV show and he had instantly begun pointing out why it wasn’t a good show and why you should stop seeing it, at which you had flipped him the bird. He had proceeded in sitting with you on the couch, his arms caging you to him as he watched the show with you, making comments here and there. It became a routine for you, watching that show late at night, even though he didn’t like it. He did it for your sake and honestly, you came to realize the show was problematic. But you enjoyed his comments and company. You treasured these calm moments more than the fun, more than the sex, more than anything. It’s how you knew you loved him.

It’s how you know you still do.

You grab the remote to shut the TV off and you throw it on the couch. Now there’s only the slight drip-drop of the tap.

It’s making the silence worse.

So quiet you can hear your heart breaking again for the millionth time.

One look at the bottle of alcohol informs you it’s empty. It’s been nearly two hours since you began drinking and you don’t know what that says about you. Actually, you do, you just can’t bear to acknowledge it.

You huff bitterly at the realization. Silly you.

That’s how it’s always been. Turning a blind eye to every little thing that needs attention. Acting like nothing really got to you. Refusing to face the reality of any given situation, even if it meant pushing away the people you cared about.

It’s how you ended up like this. It’s what’s driven him away from you.

Nearly a month has passed since that night. A night that started just like any other night. You were tired from work, exhausted by the number of creeps that tried to hit on you while you served them in that bar, done with that way of living while not seeing any way out. That had been going on for about a week, that bottling of emotions and rage and despair until you lashed out. Although now it’s like that week never happened. Those emotions seem so far away now, distant and numb as if they belonged to someone else. They can’t compare to how you’re feeling right at this moment.

You had come home only to find him sleeping on the couch, the dishes piled up in the sink, the TV still on, his shoes on the carpet. You didn’t live together, though you had given him a spare key to your apartment and it was a normal thing to find him on the couch after you returned from work. It used to relax you instantly, the image of him cozily snuggling up on your couch, bringing you relief. Only that time it didn’t.

The fight had quickly escalated to more, as he tried to coax out of you any sense of reasoning and compassion. But you were tired, cold and distant, treating him as if he was a stranger. Your eyes were dead, emotionless as you stared at him with silent anger.

He tried. He really, really tried.

But you never gave in.

And that’s when he lashed out as well.

Because he was as tired as you. Tired of feeling like the only one who loved, like the only one who tried. Like the only one who cared when your greatest expression of love was through sex. You two had great sexual chemistry but that wasn’t enough for a relationship. It certainly wasn’t enough for him.

“Fuck, why do I have to be the only one to try to fix everything? It’s like you don’t even care anymore! And I don’t think I have the mental capacity to deal with your emotional distance! Not anymore!”

“Fine. Let’s break up then.”

That’s what you had said. Eyes as cold as ice as you stared at his wide ones. Serious as ever, not an ounce of doubt in your words.

That was the finishing blow for him.

He had packed whatever little stuff he had in your house and he left.

And now you’re alone. You and that magnifying realization of your mistake. You and memories. You and this empty house.

Your eyes well up again but this time you don’t stop the tears from falling. You hope they will give you some sense of emotional release. Though as they land on his blanket, they only serve as a reminder that this was all your fault. You and your inability to convey just how much you loved him. Because there is no doubt you did. No doubt you still do.

You slowly stand up, gathering the blanket and your broken self as you slowly walk to your bedroom.

It’s dark, shadows dancing around the furniture and you remember how he always joked about having so much stuff in your room, it was almost asphyxiating. Then why does it feel empty now?

You let your exhausted body fall on the mattress, curling up in a fetal position as you gaze outside your window. The moon looks beautiful, the only source of light, drawing your attention to your bedside table. Where one single key rests.

His spare.

And this is the finishing blow for you.

Your hands move to grasp at your phone. Through teary eyes, you allow your drunk self to go through your contact list, searching for only one name. He might be sleeping, it’s too late after all. That’s what a weak voice in your head is trying to say, the one still holding onto your sense of ego. Though another, much stronger voice says something else.

The whole reason you broke down today after one month of convincing yourself you moved on is an encounter you had earlier in the day. You stumbled upon two of his friends, Yoongi and Jungkook, and since you were friends before you decided to say hello. It was tense and awkward admittedly since you made the mistake of asking “how is he doing?”. The younger man’s eyes had widened with a shocked expression over his features as he struggled to find the right words to say. Although Yoongi stared at you with fiery eyes.

“Maybe you should ask him yourself.”

And that’s what the stronger voice in your head repeats now.

With a shaky exhale you press dial.

It rings.

And it rings.

And he doesn’t pick up.

Instead, it goes straight to voicemail and you quickly (and quite drunkenly) make the decision to leave him a message.

“Um… hi…” you mutter to your phone with a small voice. “It’s me…”

You feel your voice going shaky and you breathe in.

“You’re probably wondering why I called you, I would’ve too honestly, I don’t blame you, I just bumped into Kookie and Yoongi this afternoon and I asked them how you were but Yoongi wouldn’t tell, instead he told me to call you myself, not exactly in those words but I downed a bottle of whiskey and I thought it was a good idea but obviously it wasn’t since you won’t even answer but I-” your lungs complain from the lack of air and you stop to gasp for breath. Fuck you talked too much. And yet you didn't say the only thing you wanted to. The only thing that’s been swimming in your mind since this afternoon.

A shaky exhale escapes you that you’re sure is audible through the speaker. You feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, but you don't stop. You need to say this. Even if it’s futile you need to let him know.

“I still want you…”

You’re aware of the croakiness in your voice. Of how utterly broken you sound and suddenly you’re overwhelmed.

This wasn’t a good idea.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called…” you mumble before hanging up.

You can’t stop the tears as you put your phone away and curl up closer to his blanket. Bringing it to your face, inhaling the familiar scent that simultaneously relaxes you and makes your longing grow.

You close your eyes, hoping that at least you can dream of him.

Thump, thump.

Your eyes flutter, trying really hard to grasp at the last few slivers of sleep but they’re slipping right through your fingers.

Thump, thump.

Your senses are still dizzy from sleep, all sounds blurred. You bunch up the blanket around you as protection from the outside world. But the sounds are getting louder, booming through the walls. Dragging you further away from that blissful state of numbness.

And as you sit upon your bed, you realize that thumps you keep on hearing aren’t that soft.

They’re deafening, urgent knocks on your front door.

What?

You’re up instantly, your bare feet connecting with the cold floor, sending shivers up your spine. Your legs wobble from the sudden movement, as you rub sleepiness away from your eyes. The knocks still resonate through your empty apartment and you don’t have time to think before your feet move towards your front door on their own.

Your eyes fleetingly pass the clock in your living room. It’s a quarter to four, making it almost two hours since you fell asleep. Who on earth has come for a friendly visit at four o'clock in the morning? That’s the last thing you need right now.

Even so, you still approach the door, as the knocks become louder, more urgent.

“Okay, okay! I heard you!” you yell irritated right before you open the door.

But as your eyes rest on the person on the other side of the door, your anger vanishes, instead being replaced by shock and disbelief.

Because right on the other side of the door, he stands.

Eyes wide and frantic, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, jaw clenched as always when he’s angry. But you can’t take your eyes off of him. It feels like he’s a mirage, a trick your eyes are playing on you because there is no way he’s actually right here before you.

He’s still breathing as if he run a marathon when his voice breaks through.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!”

His voice is furious, thick with emotion as he stares at you through blazing eyes. You’re not sure what to say. He’s obviously angry and yet your eyes don’t want to part from his image.

He approaches you quickly with heavy steps and you move back, instinctively. You’re too afraid to speak as he steps inside and closing the door with a loud bang. You flinch yet you make no sound.

“Why the fuck did you call me in the middle of the night? What part of your brain thought this was a good idea?!” his words are booming, resonating through the air and even though his rage is threatening to drown you, you don’t move your eyes away from him. From his body, from his face, from his lips, from his eyes.

He’s here. He’s actually here.

‘Namjoon…-” your voice is merely a whisper as you look at him in awe.

“And for what?! To ask how I’m doing?!” he stops to laugh, though it’s the wrong kind of laughter. It’s sharp, ironic, fake. “I’m gonna let you take a fucking guess at that. Honestly, what did you think would happen? I’d pick up the phone and everything would be alright? We’d get to play friends?!” he’s fuming, nostrils flaring up, eyes large and enraged. He’s close but not close enough and you yearn to stretch your hand out to touch him. To make sure this is all but a dream.

But your hands lay motionless, the only reaction is your wide eyes, staring at him as if he’ll disappear at any moment.

Please, don’t let him disappear.

“I was sleeping when you called! And I woke up to your message at two o’clock in the fucking morning when the rest of my day has been shit and all I wanted was some goddamn sleep!” his hands are moving, a form of self-expression he always does when he feels he can’t express himself through words.

At this point, you seem to awaken from your daze and realize what Namjoon’s telling you. He obviously wants nothing to do with you anymore and instead of leaving him at peace, you called him in the middle of the night.

“Oh my god, Namjoon, I’m sorry! I-I-” your eyes fall to the floor in guilt as your heartbeat quickens in realization he doesn’t care. “I shouldn’t have called, I’m so sorry…” your reply is quiet, timid and broken as your eyes remain on the floor. You can’t bear to look at him, knowing you’re nothing but a nuisance to him now. Not when you finally realize how much you care. And how much you should’ve shown that.

“I really am sorry…” you add when a question pops into your mind. One you waste no time in asking him.

“But… why didn’t you just go back to sleep?” finally your confused eyes meet his. Namjoon has grown still at the question, staring at you in shock as well.

“Why did you come…?” you dare to ask quietly, allowing a small glimmer of hope to bloom inside you. Wishing that somehow you can fix this. Wishing you can have him back and that he’s willing to have you.

Namjoon blinks at you, lost for a moment before he answers.

“You called me drunk as fuck, what did you expect me to do? I didn’t know if you were out blanked-out drunk. Have you checked your phone at all? I called you like a billion time!” he comments with a loud voice, but he’s less aggressive than before.

Even so, his words manage to stomp on that little fragment of hope. He only came to see if you’re okay. Due to his caring nature, he couldn’t leave you like that. Just like he would do for anyone. Just a small act of kindness and nothing more.

“Oh…” you whisper almost inaudibly and your eyes fall to the floor again, to join your heart.

Namjoon sighs and it’s like he lets everything out with that little sigh. All the exhaustion, all the rage, and anger, everything that burdens him and tires his spirit.

“And because…” be begins quietly before taking a greedy breath.

“Because I still want you too…”

Your eyes don't move but you take a shaky inhale. One of surprise, longing, and relief.

Because I still want you too.

You can’t believe it.

You’re stunned beyond belief and when you raise your eyes to his, there rests a sense of yearning, one you’re too familiar with, one that softens his eyes as he looks at you, one that lifts your hopes.

“Namjoon…-” you begin again when he interrupts you.

“-But I can’t do this again…” he sighs tiredly, looking away from you worn out. You halt at this, feeling your heart heavy in your chest.

No.

You can’t lose him again.

“I can’t go through this again, knowing nothing is gonna change. Knowing I’m willing to give my all and yet be the one who won’t get anything in return. I just came to check if you’re alright and now that I did, I’m leaving,” his voice is timid, broken like yours and he turns around to leave you again. For a second you wonder if you should let him. If you should let him move on from you because obviously, you’re the one responsible for all his heartbreak.

But you’re also the one that can make it disappear. So you become selfish. Selfish and greedy and desperate.

“Namjoon, wait-” your voice cracks, urgent and pleading, refusing to give up so easily. Namjoon stops for a moment before he reaches the door. He turns to look at you, a pained expression on his features.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I can’t-”

“I love you.”

The room falls into silence. The only sounds being the tap and your out-of-order beating heart.

“What…?” Namjoon asks breathlessly. Eyes wide, wondering if he did hear right.

You never said that before. Never. There were times when you had thought of saying it but something always kept you back.

“I-I…” you stutter in panic.

“What did you say…?” his steps towards you are determined and you have to will yourself to stay put when he stops right in front of you. His eyes are piercing, demanding, as if half-expecting you to withdraw your words at any moment, and you look at the floor.

But you know they’re true. You do love him.

So you take a deep breath before letting your eyes meet his again. Staring at him and nowhere else, to convey the sincerity of your words.

To let him know he’s not alone in this anymore.

“I love you…” your voice is surprisingly steady when you say this. No stuttering, no avoiding his gaze, no more running away.

Namjoon has fallen still, eyes wide and lips slightly parted in astonishment and when he doesn’t respond, you let your words flow out freely.

“And I’m sorry, fuck I’m so sorry for everything,” your eyes well up and your voice thickens, “I’m sorry I never told you, I’m sorry I never showed it like I should, I’m sorry I made you feel like you’re not enough,” you blink to chase away the tears as you exhale in exasperation. Not with him, with yourself. “You’re so much more than enough and I’m sorry it took me losing you to understand that, I’m sorry I’m-” your words get carried away when Namjoon’s hands wind up in your hair and he crouches down to press his lips to yours.

All you can think of is finally.

You gasp in relief against his lips and when he presses your body closer to his, your hands fly to clutch desperately at the fabric of his T-shirt. To keep him close to you, afraid he’ll vanish again if you even as much look away.

His lips are reckless on yours, not caring about being soft, only wanting, needing to feel your skin against him. The tears you have been holding flow freely down your cheeks, out of relief out of contentment, because at last, he’s yours again.

Namjoon is breathless as he stops the kiss to rest his forehead against yours and your eyes remain shut, basking in his presence.

You lick your lips, his taste still lingering before you inhale shakily. “Please don’t leave me again…” you plead whispering, afraid your voice will break.

Namjoon exhales against your lips, his thumb grazing your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. Staring at you as if looking at the stars in the sky.

“I won’t.”

You nod at him before a breathless laugh of joy escapes you. You got him back. You really did.

And when Namjoon smiles at you, you know you’ll do anything.

He kisses you again, eagerly as you feel his smile against your lips. Your hands travel to his back to pull him closer and you feel the hard edges of his body against yours. It’s like you were made to fit perfectly against him.

Soon you both pant out of breath, but no one stops kissing the other one. No one dares, not after all this time you spent apart.

His hands graze your back as they follow your curves and they fall to grasp at your ass. An appreciative moan rolls of your lips and you press your chest against him. You open your mouth to grant him access and his tongue sweeps in to join yours. He hums in approval when his hands guide your groin to grind against his crotch.

Both of you moan at the friction and before you know it, you’re stumbling backward on the way to your bedroom. His lips fall to leave marks on your neck and you gasp, clutching at his body for more.

Your clothes disappear one by one and by the moment you reach your bed, you’re both bare. Namjoon lays you on the bed and hunches over you. When his eyes find your form, he stares unabashedly, drinking you up with his gaze, eyes swimming with lust.

“God, you’re so beautiful…” he mumbles against your skin as he dips down to press a feathery kiss on your collarbone. Your chest rises and falls with every heavy breath and your hands move to touch anywhere, just to feel his skin on your fingertips.

His lips move lower, kissing the top of your breasts and the valley between them, softly and carefully, afraid you might break beneath him. But you long for more, arching your back to coax him into giving you what you want.

He wraps his lips around one of your nipples and your mouth parts widely before you moan. Namjoon groans against you, clearly affected by the sound you made and you feel his fingers traveling to your abdomen, grazing your skin softly as they move even lower.

You inhale sharply when you feel him caressing your folds and your nails dig into the skin of his biceps. “Namjoon…” you moan his name out loud, wanting to make him feel just how much you want him.

“Yes, baby…?” he mumbles, letting your small bud free to look at you with heavy eyes.

Your breaths turn quicker and you can swear just his eyes can get you wet.

“More, please…” you breathlessly choke out, circling your hips around his hand.

Namjoon curses before his lips find yours in a fiery kiss and he guides his fingers to your entrance. He inserts only one at first and you whine against his mouth for more. Then shortly after that, he adds a second, stretching you out and you shiver at how good it feels.

Wanting to please him as much as he pleases you, your hand falls between your bodies to wrap around his length. Your thumb moves to smear the precum around the tip, and Namjoon groans as his head falls to your neck. His thumb moves to press against your clit as he drives his fingers in and out your walls and as you gasp out loud, your movements stop for a moment.

You try to recollect yourself but then his thumb starts moving and you become a mess.

Namjoon’s lips attack your neck, leaving marks behind for the next day and you messily move your hand up and down his length. You bite the skin of his neck hard as your eyes flutter shut when you feel your insides tighten in warning.

But then his fingers disappear leaving you empty and you whine before you feel him running his length across your folds.

“Namjoon, please baby…” you whisper, your hands running over his torso.

“Fuck, Y/N…” his breaths are heavy and then slowly, carefully his tip moves past your folds. You hiss at the stretch before a sudden wave of completeness washes over you. You gasp, your lips falling open in a silent moan and Namjoon groans lowly against your neck.

He begins moving slowly, languidly, stretching you out perfectly and you can’t help the moans that leave your lips. Moans of his name and his lips land on a small patch of skin on your neck to suck a new bruise.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pressing him against you to go deeper and his growl resonates against your neck.

His movements become frantic, sloppier as he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes trained on yours. Staring at you and you can be easily lost into the blackness of them, as his hands lay on each side of your face to tangle with yours.

His pants match yours as you feel your end nearing, your walls tightening against him as do your fingers around his own and he curses. Eyes still looking at you in utter adoration.

“Namjoon, I’m gonna…” your words hang in the air and your eyes flutter shut as you feel your high coming closer.

“You can cum for me baby…” he whispers against your cheek and with one last thrust, the coil in your belly snaps. A white light washes over your vision as you moan his name loudly.

Just seeing you reaching your end, just staring at the beauty of your face as you cum has him tumbling over the edge, joining you in your high as he pulls out to spill onto your stomach.

He remains above you, as you lay there both spent, trying to catch your breaths. He tries to support his weight onto his hands not to crush you and he presses a light kiss on your jaw.

“Namjoon~...” you whine when the stickiness on your skin becomes too uncomfortable and he chuckles when he realizes the reason behind your complaint.

‘Wait a moment…” he mutters before running off to your bathroom. After a second he returns with a wet cloth and he wipes the remains of his release off your skin.

While he does that, your eyes remain on his face, admiring his features as if seeing him for the first time. In a way you guess it’s true.

Namjoon catches on this and he chuckles. “What?” he mutters, still diligently cleaning you up.

“I love you…” you whisper but the volume is not due to your fear to say it. But because this moment doesn’t need anything more than these peaceful words.

His hand stops against your skin and his eyes move to focus on yours. Looking at you in almost awe before he lets a soft smile stretch his lips. He wipes your skin once more before throwing the cloth away and laying beside you.

Namjoon falls on his side, his one hand supporting his head, while the other runs through your hair and brings your face closer to rest a kiss on your forehead.

“We’ll talk about everything tomorrow okay? For now, let’s just go to sleep…” he mumbles against your skin and you nod when you feel his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace. His chin lays on top of your head as both your breaths begin evening out. Your eyes flutter shut, feeling safe and loved into his arms, letting sleep slowly wash over you.

And right before you fall into the land of dreams you hear a soft whisper fall from Namjoon’s lips and you smile tenderly against his chest.

“I love you too.”

When you wake up the next morning, you’re terrified.

Scared everything that happened last night was only a figment of your imagination, staining your dreams.

But as your eyes slowly open in the warmness of your bed, you find him lying next to you, sleeping peacefully.

Your heart swells at the image and you bite your lip. His hair is messy from last night. From making up for the time that went wasted.

His face is smooshed against the pillow, squishing his cheeks and making his lips puff out even more. Those are still swollen and on the skin of his neck, you see one single biting mark. Your cheeks redden as you realize you sport really similar marks on your neck as well.

You still can’t believe this is real. You still can’t believe he’s given you a second chance.

But you know you’ll do anything in your power to not let this one go to waste. You know you still have to talk everything out. But you’re not afraid of that anymore. You have much more to lose.

You shuffle closer to his body, to press a feathery kiss at the edge of his lips. You feel him move only to readjust himself to welcome you into his arms. He doesn’t say anything nor does he open his eyes, still sleepy from last night.

You let your eyes feast on him for just a moment before a soft smile takes over your lips and you hide your face into his chest.

Your breaths even out again and you find yourself falling asleep once again, next to the man you love.

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bewaremylove · 6 years

Photo

In Novermber (?) 1974, John Lennon interviewed himself for Andy Warhol’s Interview Magazine. The interview, as the title in the pictures say, is conducted by/on John Lennon, and/or Dr Winston O’boogie. For those who don’t know, Dr Winston O’boogie is a pseudonym John used to use.

Here, John talks about Walls And Bridges, seeing UFO’s in New York, producing other artists’ albums, Klein and how “he was unfaithful”,the other beatles, and sex with men... Of course Paul and Brian were brought into this... *snort*

The interview is rather long. You can enlarge the pictures above, or read the transcript that I will add below.

Disclaimer: The pictures aren’t mine. Credit goes by whoever originally released them on the internet.

INTERVIEW:

Q. Well, er, John it's been a long time no speak....

A. Has it been that long?

Q. Probably, anyway, what have you been doing since we last talked?

A. Oh, the usual.......

Q. I see, well, weren't you supposed to be making an oldies album with Phil (for is it he) Spector?

A. Yes, we started in '73, but it never ended, even Alex beeinhisbonnet Bennett noticed that.

Q. Then suddenly, as it were, you were working with that great radio star, Harry (Buckminster) Nilsson.

A. Quite right! I produced his album, "Pussycats" out now, at a reasonable discount, then went on to make my own reasonably wonderful album, "Walls And Bridges" out now, which includes the fast rising single, "Whatever Gets You Thru The Night" featuring my close friend and fiancee, Elton John, on piano and vocal harmony.

Q. Do you feel that you new album, "Walls And Bridges" is a step forward in your never ending search for artistic fulfillment, the struggle of the lonely........

A. I went to party in L.A., just to look at Liz Taylor, was I thrilled to meet her, and on top of everything, who, but who, do you think was all over her armpit? None other than the great, great show, David The Bowie! Wow! Was I thrilled to see that they were both smaller than me!

Q. The track I liked best was that miserable one about "Nobody loves you when......."

A. And Brian Wilson was there too and Ringo and Elton, and it was somebody's 21st.......

Q. Do you mean smaller physically?

A. I feel quite happy about the album. "Walls And Bridges" out now, the tittle of which, was sent from above in the guise of a public service announcement.

Q. How How! I was meaning to ask you, John, what you thought of the Bealtefest, and why you didn't go, and are you getting back together again, how's your immigration, and is it true about you and.......

A. Great. Nervous. You never know. Very appealing. If you want to help, write your congressperson, or some such similar.....

Q. About those dreadful stories that came out of L.A. with you and Harry, etc.....

A. Mostly fiction, with a grain of alcohol....

Q. I mean you don't have to answer, but did you rape a waitress in the Rainbow.....?

A. I never actually laid a hand on anyone, in fact, it was impossible, I was carried out...

Q. But.... But.... Todd Rudgren said that you.......

A. That's what you get for reading fanzines.

Q. Do you like glitter?

A. Yes.

Q. Talking of the Beatlefest, didn't you find it strange that David Peel and Alex Beeinhisbennet were both there playing 5th Beatle?

A. Yes! Considering that the day before I'd seen Peel on cable TV screaming about the Beatles ripping people off etc. etc... Alex? Well, he's sooo controversial! He's just getting into Andy Warhol you know, he's very deep.

Q. Didn't you produce an album of Peel's for Apple?

A. Yes, one of the highlights of my career!

Q. Who else have you produced records for in you astonishing but sometimes perfectly ordinary life?

A. Elephant's Memory, Yoko, Harry... myself.

Q. Now that you've been living in N.Y. 3 years, do you still....

A. If you look closely at the wonderful "Walls And Bridges", out now, album package, you will notice a little notice saying, "I saw a U.F.O..." why don't you ask me about that?

Q. Oh, I hadn't noticed, did you really... where you drunk? high? having a primal?

A. No. Actually I was very straight. I was lying naked on my bed, when I had this urge...

Q. Don't we all...?

A. So I went to the window, just dreaming around in my usual poetic frame of mind, to cut a long short story, there, as I turned my head, hovering over the next building, no more than a hundred feet away was this thing... with ordinary electric light bulbs flashing on and off round the bottom, one non blinking red light on top.... what the Nixon is that! I says to myself (for no one else was there)... Is it a helicopter? No! It makes no noise... ah then, it must be a ballon! (Frantically trying to rationalize it, in all my too human way) but no!! Balloons don't look like that, nor do they fly so low, yes folks, it was flying (very slow, about 30 m.p.h.,) below.... I repeat, below most roof tops (i.e. higher than the 'old building' lower than the 'new'.) all the time it was there, I never took my eyes off it, but I did scream to a friend who was in another room "Come and look at this" etc. etc. My friend came running and bore witness with me. Nobody else was around. We tried to take pictures (shit on my polaroid, it was bust) with a straight camera. We gave the film to Bob Gruen to develop, he brought back a blank film.... said it looked like it had been thru the radar at customs.... well, it stayed around for a bit, then sailed off.......

Q. Did you check to see.......

A. Yeh, yeh, the next day Bob (is it in focus) Gruen rang the Daily News, Times, police to see if any one else reported any thing. Two other people and or groups of/ said they too saw something..... anyway I know what I saw.......

Q. Aren't you afraid of people won't believe you.... crazy Lennon/Maharishi/etc....

A. That's just one of the many burdens I will have to bear in this day of waterbabies, inflation, generation crap, highly influential but not untidy....

Q. That's very brave of you, John, talking of Marharishi, what is the concept behind your new album, "Walls And Bridges," out now?

A. It's an unconcept album....

Q. But it has to have one.......

A. No it doesn't

Q. Yes it does.. take the first track for instance "Going Down On Love," that seems to be saying something....

A. Next you'll be asking me who "Steel And Glass" is about (3rd track side 2..).. I can tell you who it isn't about, for instance, it's not about Jackie Kennedy, Mort Sahl, Sammy Davis, Better Midler... Eartha Kitt, it's not about her either....

Q. It's not Paul again... is it? I mean you two are like... I mean grow up...

A. Wrong again.

Q. Everyone's saying this is your best album since Imagine... how do you feel?

A. I prefer the "Mother/Working Class Hero" then "Imagine" album myself.. Anyway, I suppose anything you do is either better or worse than something or other, I mean, that's how we seem to categorize things..... it's probably the way we remember.... it helps us remember... "this fish tastes as good as the fish we had in St. Tropez, but not as nice as the one Arthur caught off Long Island, do you remember that fish and chip shop in Blackpool..."

Q. I'm supposed to keep this up for a few more pages... when actually I'd finished the whole thing on "do you like glitter?"

A. Yes.

Q. It's so hard to think of questions to ask you, I mean, you must have been asked nearly everything over that last few year... is there anything you'd like to say, you know, instead of just answering these dumb... I mean you can say ANTYTHING YOU WANT.... I'm sure you mus have something to say that you haven't said already.......

A. Not really.......

Q. Oh.......

A. I'll ask you one. Why does Roman Polansky always wear the same suit?

Q. I'm stumped.

A. To get to the other side! Silly!

Q. My turn... What happened between you and Klein?

A. He was unfaithful.......

Q. I mean, you always seem to get in so DEEP, with things, then the next minute...

A. To get to the other side! Silly!

Q. That's deep... do you see much of the other ex Beatles? Or is it a sore point?

A. I love my little Beatles... I've seen a lot of Ringo... cause he comes to America a lot, as you know, I can't leave here or they'd do a Charlie Chaplin on me and I don't want an award at sixty, telling me how wonderful I used to be, but not quite wonderful enough to be allowed to live here now.... Paul, Ringo and I spent some nice afternoons in L.A. He (Paul and Linda) also came to visit in New York recently, and we had a great evening reminiscing.. in fact, it was two great evenings... which reminds me... only yesterday... to coin a phrase.... he and lovely Linda sent me a heartwarming telegram about my new album, "Walls And Bridges," out now...

Q. Don't you ever stop name dropping and plugging your album, "Walls And Bridges," out now?

A. Not if I can help it!

Q. It is rather gross, John....

A. 20% in fact....

Q. How cute! I see you never mentioned George... is there something....

A. No it's just that he hasn't been here in such a long time.

Q. Is it true you and Ringo are going to appear with him on his upcoming tour?

A. Not on your nelly! Just another rumour Dr.....

Q. Why not? It sounds like fun...

A. No one ever asked... and he probably wants all the loot for himself...

Q. That's a little bitter sounding, John, people might get the wrong idea....

A. No, it's just a pleasant reality, my dear, nothing more nothing less..

Q. Todd Rundgren said you were a "fucking idiot" in an english rock paper, what do you have to say to that?

A. I appreciate his concern...

Q. Is that all you're going to say.. I mean aren't you going to be bitingly witty or something?

A. Well.. I did write a little something... I sent it to the Melody Maker.. the trouble it.... I quite like the little rabbit....

Q. Have you any plans to go on tour? Like it's a long time since... what was it... Geraldo?..

A. I haven't got a band. It's not that easy without a band, I mean, you've got to start from scratch... I get a lot of offers to do benefits.. it makes me guilty to refuse... trouble is... the people that ask, don't understand the business...

Q. That sounds like a copout, John, if you don't mind me saying so...

A. Well, you're entitled to your opinion... I also get BIG MONEY offers too... but that doesn't make the job easier... slightly more interesting but...

Q. I HEAR YOU'VE BEEN DOING A LOT OF RADIO.......

A. In connection with my new album, "Walls And Bridges," out now...

Q. How do you like being a d.j.?

A. Actually... I really enjoy it.. I was brought up on it... Radio, I mean,.. I've been thinking of doing something regular... for a few years now...I don't mean just playing records... but like, making tapes and... I wouldn't like to get stuck in there, you know, with formats and such... I thought the best thing to do would be to, you know, just make tapes and put them on W.B.A.I., Pacifica or whatever, they could have any money etc.. and I'd have fun... maybe I will.... I just never seem to get around to it.... tho I was talking to an old ex radio friend, Elliot (after dinner) Mintz, on the west coast, he said he'd love to help.... you know... well who knows....

Q. I'm sure a lot of people would love to....

A. Yes, yes quite.

Q. Talking of radio, I heard that you and... of all people... Howard Cosell... were going to do something together...

A. On radio, yes, I only heard about it today myself... hmmmm.. interesting..

Q. It's your birthday soon and you will be 34.. doesn't that worry you... you know 'aging pacifist, rock star crinkles before our eyes'.. that kind of thing..

A. 9th of October... send presents to Lennon Music, 1370 Ave. of the Americas, 6th floor... I quite like feeling the way I do, since thirty etc., in fact, it feels better than say 24... it's the sound of it, it SOUNDS sort of scary... you know.. life simply flashing by... and me still trying to get in the top ten and all... but it feels ok.

Q. Do you think you'll make any more movies, I mean, appear in them, like that Dick LEster thing... "How I Won The War?"

A. The main thing I learned from that... when was it 66/67? was that it's BORING, sitting 'round waiting for the director.. he has all the fun... not that I'm actually inundated with offers... but the things that do come my way are sort of... I think shit is the word I'm looking for.

Q. How about writing music for movies?

A. Well obviously I get offered more of that kind of thing, but it would have to really interest me.

Q. Why are you typing this as if someone was here with you, asking all these things?

Q. It makes a change... anyway, I enjoy typing... I only learned it last year... but my neck IS beginning to hurt and it's getting a bit boring..

Q. I'm sorry. Just a few more questions MR. LENNON, I'm sure you understand I have a deadline... my editor... etc..

A. Alright then, GET ON WITH IT!

Q. Have you ever fucked a guy?

A. Not yet, I thought I'd save it til I was 40, life begins at 40 you know, tho I never noticed it.

Q. It is trendy to be bisexual and you're usually 'keeping up with the Jones', haven't you ever... there was talk about you and PAUL...

A. Oh, I thought it was about me and Brian Epstein... anyway I'm saving all the juice for my own version of THE REAL FAB FOUR BEATLES STORY etc.. etc..

Q. It seems like you're saving quite a lot for when you're 40..

A. Yes, there might be nothing better to do, tho I don't believe it.

Q. Your life must be so Glamorous being a superstar and meeting people like Howard Cosell and Mayor Beame...

A. I havent met either of them...

Q. Well, you know what I mean... because of my association with you, people are always asking me 'What's he really like,' how can I them you're just a beautiful, shy, modest, amazingly creative, paranoid pop star?

A. Shucks! You dont have to do that, just listen to my new album, "Walls And Bridges," out now..!

Q. Of course, on the other hand, you're a fucking ego maniac...

A. Of course, but who isn't?

Q. Off hand I can't name one...

A. Well, if you find one let's go and interview him/her/it...

Q. What a jolly idea. Perhaps we could get a commission.. you know a sort of wandering Jill Johnston.

A. I bought her a pair of shoes once, she's never forgiven me! Didn't somebody buy the Village Voice? It seems to have changed a litte, mainly in the way they squash the front page up... does Jan Wenner own it or what?

Q. No, it's just keeping up...

A. With the Times... we all know that one... I don't care what Lori Sebastian says, I've had enough of this... anyway it's not as if I'm on the cover or anything, I mean jeeze, I love Andy and everything, but this is it!

With that Mr. Lennon showed me the door, which was white. He was wearing jeans and a Mick Jagger tee-shirt. I wore a certain look.

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