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babybottlepop96 · 3 years

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Tattoos at First Touch (Soulmate AU) Shino Aburame x Reader

Summary: Once you turn 16, the first touch you make on another human being, your name will appear on your soulmate, exactly where you touched the person. Hopefully it won’t be too embarrassing.

Warning: Swearing, Accidental groping.

a/n: This idea came from another blogger who had a dream/idea about this, and I got permission to use it! They will be tagged at the end if the story!

Your parents always told you, "once you turn sixteen, be careful of your first touch on another human being. Your soulmate will get a tattoo of your name where you touch another person and vice versa." Your birthday was coming up in a few days and you were praying that your clumsy ass could make it through without something bad happening. I mean, just the other day at school you accidently touched someone's ass because you slipped on a singular bead someone missed when they were picking up the pieces to a broken bracelet. A singular bead. Yeah, it was awkward. You would rather not have your name tattooed on someone's butt cheeks thank you very much. You stared down at your arm, staring at the name that had been tattooed on there just a couple years ago, meaning he would be around eighteen now.

Shino.

Unisex name, so you had no idea whether your soulmate was a male or female, not that you cared, they were your soulmate after all. You would love them no matter what. Shino is also of Japanese origin meaning Stem of Bamboo. Which also gave you no indication of what your soulmate was like. It drove you insane trying to figure it out, but there was only so much you could do, especially just by a name. But you were glad the name was on your arm, imagine having a tattoo on your boob. Like, why are you feeling up other people, Shino? But you stared at your arm for what felt like hours, daydreaming about the day you would finally meet the one you were supposed to be with for the rest of your life.

"(Y/n)! Time for dinner!" Your mother called from down stairs.

"Coming!" You called and made your way downstairs. You and your family sat around the table eating the food prepared and made some small talk.

"So," your sibling started, (y/n), your sixteenth birthday is coming up." They smirked and you groaned.

"Yes, I know." You put your head on the table. Your family has been teasing you non stop about it for a year now. "I'm clumsy, my name could be somewhere weird, I get it." Everyone laughed and continued on with dinner and some more teasing.

~~~

It was here, the day you had been worried about. Your birthday. You were so careful, you swear on your great great grandmother's grave you were being so dn careful. You had avoided everyone. But the universe just had to give you the finger and laugh in your face.

You were carrying your lunch tray towards your normal spot with your friends when someone pushed their seat back standing up. You pumped into them and not only did your food land everywhere, you fell on top of him. Your face on his side, your left hand on the floor and your right hand? Directly on his dick. Yeah, you read that right. The first touch on someone else on your sixteenth birthday, had to be an accidental dick grope.

You blush profusely and apologized and ran. You fucking ran. Not to the bathroom or to class. You ran all the way the fuck home. You burst through the doors startling your parents. Your parents came around the corner, looking ready to beat someone (probably thought it was an intruder). But once they saw you and your red face, they got worried. "Hey, pumpkin. What happened?" Your father asked.

"MY FIRST TOUCH WAS AN ACCIDENT I SWEAR I DIDN'T MEAN IT!" You shouted, once again startling your parents. They looked at each other and back at you.

"Where did you accidentally touch someone?" Your mother questioned.

"His… his…. PENIS!" You covered your face from embarrassment. Your father busted out laughing while your mother scolded him while trying to suppress her own laugh. You ran to your room and locked yourself away. "I am so sorry, Shino!"

~~~

When Shino got home from lacrosse practice, he decided he was going to take a shower. He was sweating and sticky and just felt nasty altogether. He stripped down and went to the sink to set his sunglasses down when he noticed. "What the…" he held his dick and looked at it. "(Y/n)" the name read. His face turned red and he was so confused. Why was his soulmate's name on his…… dick? Suddenly his phone rang and he answered it while still holding his dick, looking at the name. "Hello?" He answered.

"Shino! Dude! I finally got my soulmate's name! Right over my heart! Like fuck that's the perfect spot!" His teammate, Kiba, practically shouted through the phone.

"Yeah, I got mine too." He answered, not really paying attention to the fact he said it.

"Bro! No way! Where is it?!" Kiba asked, excited that his best friend finally got his name too.

"Oh, umm… well… it's not important. I gotta go. Getting a shower." He hung up the phone and sighed. Well this was just great.

~~~

Two years have passed and you still haven't met your soulmate. It was kind of infuriating at first, but you just thought that it would happen eventually. And boy did it happen.

You and your friends were walking through campus heading towards your classes. You were taking entomology classes as a minor to your criminal justice major. Bugs always fascinated you, even if they were a bit creepy. But it was always a big help in your major, so you figured, why not?

It wasn't until you tripped on your untied shoelace and fell into a tall man. Both of you toppled over. Your friend's called your name has his friend's called his. You laid on top of him and realized that his hand had grasped your arm, right over the name and your hand, yes… on his dick. You both blushed and you quickly got off of him.

"So, you're my soulmate huh?" Shino asked, blushing madly. Not that you were any better off, your face also felt like it was on fire.

"Y-yeah, (f/n) (l/n). Sorry about the uh.. tattoo.. actually it happened almost like this." You laughed nervously and rubbed the back of your neck.

"Shino Aburame. And it's quite alright." He blushed a bit more. "What class are you heading to? I can walk you there."

"Entomology, room seventy-six." You answered more confidently this time.

"Same, shall we?" He held out his arm and you took it.

"Wait… THEIR NAME IS ON YOUR DICK?!"

(Yes, I googled what Shino meant, lol) @underworldsheiress

#shino aburame #shino-aburame-x-reader #reader insert #bug boy shino #shino needs more love #stem of bamboo

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lightthewaybackhome · 3 years

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Sorry this is so long. Probably should have done a 2 parter.

"My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage!" - Aunt Frances, Practical Magic

My whole life, as far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be artistic. I’ve wanted to create. I love beauty. I love artistry. I love creation. I love the artsy look: jewelry, tattoos, flowing clothing, and funky hair. It is a personal aesthetic I keep returning to, especially as I get older. As a child, I tried so many different forms of art—painting, photography, drawing— but none of them seemed quite right. None of them got what was in my head out. All of them fell short until I started writing. Writing was a flame, a fire, a drug. Writing allowed me to express what was in my imagination. This is the first thing to understand.

Everyone is artistic and art is everywhere. I’ve believed this as long as I can remember. There are amazing artistic feats in our world: books, movies, video games, paintings, sculptures, and magnificent pieces of music. Yes, art can be very high and very special. But, art can also be found in charcuterie boards, homemade quilts, sourdough bread, cocktails, soup, and all ordinary things if we but look and see. Art can be high magic and art can be ordinary. This is the second thing to understand.

As I’ve embraced being a homemaker, a HearthKeeper, a woman where she’s meant to be, I came across the term domestic artist. As much as I didn’t like the book Eve in Exile by Rebekah Merkle, it gave me this. It gave me the term domestic artist. That stuck with me. It spoke to me because it captured both the first and the second thing. It captured the never-ceasing call to create which haunts me at all times, and it elevated and honored the ordinary in a sprinkling of fairy dust. It said, “Yes, you have to cook today. Three meals plus snacks and drinks. It’s your job, but, but, what if, what if instead of looking at it as some drudgery, some Cinderella enslavement, what if you looked at it as an opportunity to create beauty?”

Not every meal, every outfit, every moment of your day can be a work of art. Some days you just have to do what you have to do. Some days get upended in the opening credits with a broken washer or a sleepless child. Some days plans change. Life changes. One minute life looks like this, and then the next it’s on to something completely different. But, the beauty of being a domestic artist is that you can create art in any of these moments and in any setting. You can find art in any moment and in any setting.

See, the world tells us that homemaking, HearthKeeping, is boring. It tells us it’s pointless. A waste. You could be changing the world. Only dumb useless women keep their homes. And that’s because they’re either tied down by a dictator of a husband or the demands of children or the cultural trappings of their religion. Courage, dear heart. Courage! Homemaking is magic. Homemaking is flexible. Homemaking changes with the seasons and the woman. I, I am a bit bohemian, a bit rustic, a mixture of rugged and romantic. I grew up a tomboy, but have embraced being a woman in her home since I was a child. I love leather and lace. I love cottage-witch aesthetics. I love boots and long flowing things. I like deer heads, linen, skulls, and ruffles. I like feathers and dreamcatchers, but I also love to decorate with open space. I love pies and feeding my husband. But, look at this, one of my best friends is a classic. She loves clean lines, traditional and timeless pieces. She loves modern accents. She loves beachy highlights and hammocks. She’s not into farmhouse, rustic modern, or raw-edged wood. On any given Sunday, she’s in a pencil skirt, simple top, simple heels with her three daughters in matching dresses while I’m in distressed boyfriend jeans, a mullet-tucked top, and wearing my crow skull. We’re very different, but we’re both homemakers who love making our homes.

I have a woman in my life who quilts and that flows out into their decorating. So many of her things are beautifully hand sewn. If she wants it, she makes it. Another friend grew up in Africa and her home is filled with her love of that culture. One dear friend loves plants and grows amazing flowers that she uses to create Instagram-worth bouquets. Another woman isn’t super fluffy-feminine but she has an eye for remodeling and so is constantly making improvements on her home: flooring, painting, and more. My sisters, like me, both enjoy a minimalist approach to decorating and all three of us have a special place for coffee. Both my sisters’ homes are welcoming and peaceful even with kids running around like crazy.

That’s the point, the world tells women to band together, that we’re a sisterhood, that we should go out and change the world, abandoning our homes before we’re relegated to only kitchen and nursery work, but reality tells me that the most amazing women I know are busy in their homes. This is sisterhood. This is where we bloom. It is here that we have flexibility. For over five years, I’ve struggled with chronic health issues. Homemaking lets me decide each day what I can do and how I’m going to do it. Homemaking lets you change what you do for each season of life. Lots of littles? Keep it simple. Empty nest? Explore. Somewhere in between? Keep growing. Lots of energy? So many things you can expand into if you just refuse to believe the lie that homemaking is beneath you. Don’t be normal. Don’t believe that homemaking is a waste of time. Don’t buy into the lie that you are somehow being less than everyone else when you raise your children, love your husband, and create beauty. Have the courage to be strange. We were made for this! It suits us. This is an environment women thrive in.

When I got over my grammar inhibitions and started writing, I felt like my soul came alive. I felt like I’d finally found what I’d been searching for since I came into this world. It doesn’t matter whether I’m writing an epic story or writing about HearthKeeping or just word doodling, writing, words, stories just flow from me. Wonderfully, homemaking is like that for me, too. I want to read books, I want to learn, I want to talk about it, I want to do it. It’s not perfect. I don’t always feel glorious, but I do feel ‘right’ when I’m doing this. I feel like I’m where I belong. I feel like this is a place I can both rest in and grow in. I feel safe when I’m having a fatigue flare up and I feel excited when I think about all that I can do.

A real-life example: Sundays are long hard days. They’re days that generally spike my fatigue and my husband is worn out. They’re both the best and hardest day of the week. When we get home I make a cocktail and we crash. Inevitably, the minute I sit down my man asks for a snack and what we’re having for dinner. For several years, this drove me up a wall. It is Sunday. The day of REST, why is it my responsibility to always make food? Epic sigh. Epic whiny sigh. I would meal plan for the whole week and then wing it on Sunday and Monday, always with poor results and grumpiness on my part. Then, one week as I meal-planned, I realized that I could also prepare for the weekend. Lightbulb. Facepalm. Really? Why had it taken me into my 40th year of life to realize that if I want a quiet, restful, happy weekend, I should just plan snacks, drinks, and meals ahead of time? I’m going to blame it on my chronic health, brain fog addled mind. I’m going to blame it on laziness. I’m going to blame it on being a young homemaker. Some are understandable, some are inexcusable.

Sundays now involve way less stress because I can immediately prepare snacks and know what we’re eating the minute we get home. No more attitude issue. No more stress. Easy and nice.

Did this change the world? Does this matter to anyone but myself? Did my husband even notice? Maybe not, but this is homemaking. This is HearthKeeping. It is my job and my calling. Even without notice or world-shattering consequences, I’m pleased with the outcome. More than pleased, I’m really happy about it. It brings me joy and delight to find a better way to take care of my family. It allows me to sprinkle my Sunday afternoon with just a little bit of artistry. I make drinks, snacks, dinner. I feed my family.

See, one of the lies that the feminists preach is that we’re wasted in our homes. And yet, the majority of the women I know who work outside the home aren’t doing glamorous jobs. They’re not travel bloggers or world-renowned chiefs or CEOs. They’re cosmetologists, retail workers, bank tellers, nurses, teachers, and such. Now, none of those are bad. Working outside the home isn’t bad. (I think each family has to decide what family looks like to them.) Please, please, don’t read that as degrading. I worked retail and I think retail is important. These are all God-honoring employment in which you can strive and serve. I’m not bashing any of those jobs. I have many many dear friends who work outside the home. What I am saying is that I think we as women need to ask ourselves if leaving our homes en masse was worth it. Has it given us all the joy, delight, and fulfillment the feminists promised us?

I’ve done both. I’ve been a co-owner of a business that I helped grow from nothing to something amazing. I’ve worked as an everyday retail worker. I write and am the main editor for a small neighborhood magazine. And I’m a HearthKeeper. I will tell you right now, no qualifications, that HearthKeeping is the most satisfying job I’ve ever had. It not only challenges me every day but it also works with me. The boundaries are what I set in place and so I grow as I can. The work never ends, yes, but it also never ends. There is always something else to explore.

I think being a homemaker is largely attitude. You can buck against what you do, and most women do. Just spend two minutes on Pinterest looking at doing laundry or dishes and the bitter hatred comes pouring out. Look at the complaints women make against their churches: we’re relegated to doing nursery work and kitchen duty. What if, just for a moment, we decided to be Domestic Artists? What if, for just a moment, we tried loving our jobs instead of complaining? What if we thought that dishes meant food and good times and healing of the souls around us? What if we saw laundry as a way to keep beauty and cleanliness around us? What if we saw it as our privilege and delight to take care of the food, children, clothing, cleaning, cooking, gardening, growing of the next generation, and the men of the world? What if we embraced the domestic arts and saw them as truly magnificent, glorious, unique arts? How many of us would be able to say with a straight face that working retail is more fulfilling than managing a small world? Is it more fulfilling to go work in an office than it is to orchestrate a place of welcome, rest, and renewal for your husband and yourself? It might be more visible, but is it truly more long-lasting?

I can say that it isn’t. I can say that I think being a homemaker is uniquely suited for women and that we should have the courage to go against the grain of our world and say no. No, I’m not going to give all of myself to work outside the home when the home is far more challenging and interesting. No, I’m not going to believe the lie that homemaking is oppression and boredom. I will find beauty in the ordinary and I will embrace art in the everyday. This is one of those amazing jobs where it is what you make it. It is what you pour into it. If you think it’s boring or demeaning you won’t get anything out of it. If you think it is challenging and rewarding, you will get the world out of it. You will grow yourself and those around you. Think about what a wonderful thing it would be if we made our homes our careers! If we women really took on the label Domestic Artist in our own individual ways.

#homemaking #hearthkeeper #housewife #prose #trad wives #traditional femininity #domestic artist #writing #artists on tumblr #art

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misssophiachase · 3 years

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You Make My Heart Smile

So, happy (belated) birthday, Tina @tnapki Your edits make me smile (pardon the pun) and I wanted to thank you for that and everything you bring to the fandom.

I based it on your GORGEOUS EDIT

I also made it about food cause it’s SO you. On AO3 HERE

Also thanks to the gorgeous Kait @an-awesome-wavve for being amazing and my part brainstorm, part beta, part researcher and part undercover partner in crime.

Renowned Chef Klaus Mikaelson has a bad reputation until he meets food blogger Caroline Forbes and has no idea how to handle her or the unfamiliar feelings she evokes, especially that annoying ability to make him smile.

3 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 3pm

“I’m not going to do some stupid interview, you know I have other, more important things to do, right?”

Klaus Mikaelson didn’t do interviews. He didn’t need to because his accomplishments spoke for themselves. He hadn’t slogged away in kitchens since he was twelve and worked his way through culinary school and some of the best restaurants to waste his time.

Being a world-renowned chef owning not one, but four, three-Michelin-starred restaurants across the globe meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

But yet here she was running his life.

Still.

“Like yell at me? I mean, you’ve been doing that since we were little so I guess it’s nothing I haven’t experienced before. ”

“I knew I should have never mixed business and family,” he snapped. “You always throw our childhood back in my face as an excuse to insult my life choices.”

“Because it’s too easy not to,” she pouted, flicking a stray, blonde lock over her shoulder. “And, while I am unfortunately related to your sorry ass, I am also your publicist and this interview is good for your career.”

“I don’t need publicity.”

“Correction, you do need publicity,” she argued, her fork now attacking the very veal he’d cooked with more fervour than needed.

“Easy on the product, little sister,” Klaus growled, his protectiveness for his art on full display.

“Oh, silly me I thought it was already dead,” she shot back, tartly. “And before you interrupted, I was going to say that, yes maybe you shouldn’t need publicity given your career achievements, but that was before you dropped an entree on the food critic’s lap from the Chicago Tribune, fired your sous chef in front of the entire restaurant and insulted Gordon Ramsey on national television.”

“Ramsey is a sell out, I stand by my comments,” he muttered. “The critic had it coming and, now you mention it, so too did that sorry excuse for a sous chef.”

“You realise people call you the angry chef, right?”

“Better than the naked chef I suppose.” He shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Klaus wasn’t in the business for gimmicks or to secure his own cooking program. He took his food seriously and there was nothing wrong with that.

“At least people like Jamie Oliver,” she replied, arching her eyebrows knowingly. “Anyway, there’s no point in arguing because she’ll be here in five minutes.”

“Please tell me you didn’t just schedule an interview without my permission?”

1717 N. Halsted St, 3:10pm

“What’s with the expression of impending doom, Care Bear?” He asked, lugging his camera equipment as they walked up the block toward Alinea.

“What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Not to do it but it’s too fun not to, Care Bear.” Given his general maturity level, Caroline decided it was a losing battle and she had more important things on her mind.

“Anyway, it’s not doom,” she muttered. “It’s just the overwhelming desire not to do this interview but given I don’t want to get fired and also pay my rent, there’s no other option.”

“Is someone afraid of the angry chef?”

“Oh, puh-lease, I’m not afraid. Although, I might not be able to bite my tongue if he decides to insult me like he did Gordon Ramsey.”

Caroline wasn’t one to judge but his indiscretions were well-known and well-documented. Although, chefs with egos weren’t an entirely new phenomenon to the industry or to Caroline given interviewing them was her job.

“You and I both know Ramsey deserved that dressing down, if anything Mikaelson earned my respect that day.” Caroline couldn’t argue with that.

Although this one was another kind of beast.

The effortlessly attractive kind.

For Caroline, this was an unsettling prospect. Until she reminded herself why she was here in the first place.

Caroline loved food. Sometimes, she thought, more than life itself.

So, when she became a food blogger after graduating with a journalism degree from Northwestern, it wasn’t a surprise. She was currently the senior blogger at popular food blog Delicious.

“You love food and writing about it,” Was Enzo reading her mind? “How about instead of focusing on the negative, remember that this will be your biggest interview yet. Think about all of the exposure this will garner.”

The upper echelons of Delicious had decided that an interview with Klaus Mikaelson would be a big scoop. Caroline was all for interviewing chefs about their food and the passion behind it but she knew her editor wanted something less about his craft and more about his bad boy reputation.

“Yes, but I want to write about food, not produce tabloid fodder.”

“Just think, once you do this then maybe you’ll have enough of a following to start your own blog and write what you want and not what someone tells you to do.”

“Mmmm, you do have a point.”

“Of course I do because Enzo knows everything. Also, take me with you because you’d be lost without me, sweetcheeks.”

“Third person, huh? That ego of yours knows no bounds, Lorenzo.”

“You know it, Care Bear,” he joked, flashing his most dazzling smile. “Well, looks like we’re here.”

“Looks like it,” she murmured, noting the intimidating sign overhead and wondering what she’d gotten herself into. “Here goes nothing.”

3:15pm

“Caroline Forbes?”

“You must be Rebekah and this is my photographer Lorenzo St John.”

Klaus, who’d been throwing a temper tantrum not one minute ago, found himself looking up into the blue eyes of one Caroline Forbes. Suddenly, all of the white noise of the moment fell away and it was just the two of them in the room together and the blonde in question was looking at him expectantly.

It was paralysing.

But good paralysing he decided.

“Nik?” Rebekah questioned. Now they were both looking at him. Had he zoned out and not realised it? Well, if so, this was all kinds of embarrassing. “Caroline is the senior blogger for Delicious and she’s here for that interview, you know the one we talked about earlier?”

Yeah, ten minutes earlier, he thought to himself doing everything he could not to bite back in front of the new arrival.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr Mikaelson, I have to say I’m a big fan of your…”

“Look, it’s not going to be possible, I have to prep for dinner service,” he lied, although regretted it immediately when he noticed her expression. Klaus wasn’t used to being nice, it wasn’t in his DNA and usually it didn’t bother him.

Until now.

Klaus decided to blame it on the foreign feelings she was causing. As soon as he got some distance between them it would be fine, especially that vanilla scent he couldn’t ignore given it was infiltrating his first line of defence.

Klaus liked women, in fact he slept with many when his busy schedule permitted, but that was sex and nothing else. Just the way he liked it, easy and unemotional.

“Why don’t we multitask then? I’m happy to help. ” Her voice was light and melodic. Klaus was hoping it wasn’t going to sound so enticing. He also wasn’t expecting that response. “I worked in a restaurant kitchen for years, I can do dishes, polish cutlery and peel a mean potato and an onion, well almost without crying.”

Why was he buoyed by that ridiculous statement and increasingly trying not to flash her a goofy smile?

Klaus didn’t smile. He just didn’t. Ever.

This wasn’t how he saw his day going at all. He was going to kill Rebekah. Before he could reply, the current subject of his ire spoke.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea,” she grinned. “How about Lorenzo and I make ourselves scarce then?”

“It’s actually Enzo, darling, you sound a bit too much like my mother and my oppressive boss Care Bear here.”

Klaus hadn’t even realised there was someone else in the room up until this point but it was clear Caroline wasn’t too impressed by his nickname or the oppressive part. Maybe they had more in common than he thought?

Care Bear. Klaus thought it was adorable. Then he could feel it, that idiotic urge to smile again.

Before he could object again, Rebekah had made a quick exit with the photographer and she was just standing there. Klaus could feel the awkward tension between them and knowing he’d caused it wasn’t helping matters. But he didn’t know any other way to act.

Then the words he’d struggled with just tumbled out.

“How do you feel about fish?”

Not the most suave topic or question but this was his ‘uncomfort’ zone.

“Depends on the context.”

“The context?”

“I mean, if you think I can clean, fillet and debone a fish, you’ve obviously overestimated my cooking talents.”

Klaus had to practically eat the smile that was threatening to appear. Again.

“Everyone has to start somewhere and get their hands a bit dirty, otherwise what’s the point?” He advised. “But, if you don’t want to then…”

“Oh, I never back away from a challenge, chef,” she promised.

Again, the pesky smile was hovering just beneath the surface.

Leading her towards the kitchen, Klaus told himself that preparing a fish was definitely going to keep his emotions at bay and also block out that perfume which was throwing him off balance.

4:45pm

“Why do I feel like this was a ploy to distract me from my interview?” Caroline asked, dipping the fish into egg wash and then flour as instructed by her cooking mentor for the day..

This was not how she saw her day going. It was surreal to say the least. This guy was supposed to be an ogre but Caroline was realising he was something else entirely.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shot back. “But you filleted that fish like a professional, maybe you’ve missed your true calling?”

“I suppose I had a semi-good teacher,” she admitted wryly.

“Wow, tell me what you really think, Forbes.”

Caroline was trying not to to get too caught up in the moment but Klaus Mikaelson had challenged every judgment she’d ever harboured about the temperamental chef. He’d been unusually kind and patient.

The one thing she’d noticed was that his overall demeanour didn’t match his expression.

He didn’t smile.

Not once.

A few times, Caroline could swear it was close or maybe she was just imagining it?

“So, why do you like food?” It was a question she wasn’t expecting. Especially seeing as she was the interviewer and him her subject.

“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be asking you?” He was silent for a moment, almost like he was contemplating it. “But I get the impression you don’t like that question much?”

“I’d much prefer to hear your story first, call it a warm-up.” Clearly he was nervous and Caroline was happy to oblige if it helped.

“My grandmother,” she smiled knowingly, visions of her nana filling her head. “When I was younger I’d go to her house most weekends and we’d cook together. She could make anything and everything. She died last year and it’s been tough without her but at least I still have those memories.”

Caroline didn’t mean to get personal, especially with the so-called “angry chef” but for some reason she felt nothing but comfort in his presence, even if he didn’t smile.

“What was her specialty?”

“Banana cream cheesecake,” she smiled, the taste of it rushing back in all its delicious glory.

“Hard to beat,” he murmured. “Have you ever eaten a Bananas Foster? My restaurant in New Orleans does a modern version over flame. According to my maitre’d there’ve apparently been a few proposals over dessert.”

“Over your dessert?”

“Someone sounds dubious. Let’s just say it’s fireworks but without the danger. Well, unless the tablecloth is accidentally set on fire but the fire department down there are pretty good first responders I understand.”

“I just didn’t take you for the romantic dessert type.”

“I suppose there’s a lot of things you don’t know about me then.”

“So, why do you like food then?”

“Well, of course I like food, I wouldn’t be a chef otherwise,” he shared, moving swiftly in behind her and taking the fillets from her hand and placing them in the hot pan, Caroline was trying not to react to his touch or that welcoming and heady mixture of sandalwood, spices and soap . “But one interview isn’t going to even begin to answer that question.”

He had a point and Caroline knew it. How could you sum up what food meant to you in one interview?

“So, what exactly are you trying to say? I do have a deadline to meet.”

“How about we schedule a follow-up interview tomorrow morning? Dinner service is imminent and if you stay I’m going to have to ask you to do more than fillet a fish. My pastry chef Lucien is also very needy, requires constant gratification, and you don’t want to be on the receiving end of that.”

“Not gonna lie I’m intrigued and by that I’m talking about Lucien. Did you insult his choux pastry or something?”

“Not if I want my patrons to eat dessert this century. But, if you insist on staying, there’s a whole pile of onions there with your name on it and we can call it even.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He raised his left eyebrow by way of response. Caroline was trying to ignore just how good he looked, even if there was no smile forthcoming.

“Fine,” she conceded. “Tomorrow morning but that’s it otherwise my editor might fire me.”

“Great, let’s make it 10:30, you can poach an egg, right? And I also expect extra crispy bacon.”

Caroline knew she was possibly in trouble and not because he was tasking her with cooking. Enzo would also parrot that particular concern but she couldn’t help herself.

Today was probably the best day she’d had in a long time and she didn’t want it to end. She told herself that she’d return tomorrow and get her interview, that’s all she wanted from him, right?

4 May - Alinea - 1723 N. Halsted St, Chicago IL - 11am

Klaus Mikaelson was in uncharted territory.

That’s what scared him the most.

Caroline Forbes was seated across from him at his best, window table in jeans and a cream sweater, her plate empty and a very full but satisfied look on her face. Klaus decided to add that to his favourite expressions file. It was fast filling up and he’d only known her for 20 hours.

He wasn’t this guy.

At all.

But she’d consumed his thoughts since their first meeting and all night through dinner service and beyond. He’d barely slept, but it wasn’t a bad thing. He’d been looking forward to seeing her as soon as she left.

The only problem? Not smiling because it was that difficult when she was in his presence. He had his reasons of course.

“So, why do you love food? And no arguments given I poached a mean egg and also let you have a reprieve yesterday.”

“The bacon could use some work, just saying.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to cook itself yourself, Mikaelson. Are you always such a critic? Last time I checked that was my job. Also enough with the distractions. So?”

“My mum,” he admitted quietly, even if it took a minute or so to verbalise. For some reason her opening up about her grandmother had filled him with courage. He didn’t do feelings or talk about them for that matter. “She cooked with me practically from birth until she got too sick last year.”

Those last words wobbled, it was unfortunate as it was expected. He’d struggled for a long time and losing his mother had been difficult.

“What was her specialty?” Klaus recognised the question he’d asked himself yesterday, but the fact her hand squeezed his at the same time filled him with the confidence and warmth he needed.

“Rosemary braised lamb shanks, it was her favourite protein. I’ve tried to pay homage on all my menus since.”

‘So, that explains the Saddle of Elysian Fields Farm Lamb with Babaganoush, Romano Beans and Harissa Jus on your menu then?”

“You’ve done your homework clearly?”

“That and the fact it’s the first time I’ve seen you smile, and I have to say it’s really nice.”

Klaus didn’t even realise he’d let it slip but suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. He didn’t want to hide it, not with her.

“She used to tell me to smile all the time because I was too serious, you could say it’s something I’ve battled with ever since she passed.”

“All the more reason to smile, even just to introduce those dimples to the general public. Has anyone ever told you they should come with a warning?”

“No, but more than happy to discuss further.”

“If only, but I have to get going.” Klaus felt almost deflated that she was leaving as quickly as she’d arrived. Maybe he’d shared too much. “Deadlines and all that. But if you could just consult the email I sent confirming the details of our interview that would be great.”

Klaus felt disillusioned, he’d opened himself up to someone and she was running away. She was out the door before he could even move from his seat. Checking his emails was the last thing he felt like doing, but his hand went to work on his cell checking it anyway and dreadfully waiting for its contents.

“As of three minutes ago, I no longer working for Delicious. It wanted a story I wasn’t prepared to write. I like your smile and dimples too much and I also want a Bananas Foster.”

His chest constricted as he read each word and his grin was unmistakable. It didn’t take long for him to reply.

“You make my heart smile.”

Tabloids would report months later that famed food blogger Caroline Forbes married famed chef Klaus Mikaelson in rural England after proposing over a dessert of Bananas Foster in New Orleans.

#you make my heart smile #happy birthday #tnapki #klaroline fanfiction #misssophiachase

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cosmiccutie18 · 3 years

Text

Request: Just a cute Creighton Styles one, please.^^

Alright @crystalgemgirl , I got you!

Prompt: With Quarantine putting you down, Creighton won’t allow you to send your time alone.

Quarantine Blues

Quarantine sucks. You can't open your restaurants, you can see anyone, and worst of all everything is being either cancelled, rescheduled, or going on hiatus. It's all terrible.

A few things were okay though. You had games that you played with your friends, your dearest pet was there for the lonely nights of binging romantic comedy's, and there was also....

"-And they had to audacity to kick me out, Don't they know who I am?!" Crieghton continued to rant on a topic that you were no longer paying attention to.

Your rival didn't want Quarantine to stop your banter. So, he made sure you guys regularly FaceTimed to continue it.

You let out a sigh and smiled softly.” Creighton, it’s Quarantine. No one is opened right now, remember?”

He pouted and looked away from the camera. “They could have at least given me a croissant for my troubles.” He mumbled, causing you to giggle.

“Alright Grumpy Pants. I’m going to get off, I promised Vivian she could visit my Island on Animal Crossing.” You say, preparing to get off of the call with him.

He looked slightly offended.”Wow, you’re leaving me. I’m hurt. You’re blogger friend can wait, I should be the most important person in your life! Just look at me!” He rambled, gesturing to himself.

“Look, I’m not saying your not important to me or anything like that. Right now the most important person to me is my Grandfather, and maybe later on, my husband. But just be-“

“Oh! Is that all it takes? Then I’ll be your husband!” He said it with such confidence. You couldn’t help but choke on your words.

“Creighton... you know what your saying, right?”

“Of course I do. I need to be the most important person in your life. If that means marrying you, then I’ll happily take that opportunity.”

Your face became redder by the second as he began to plan this out.

“ I honestly see nothing wrong with this plan.”

“Um... Creighton-“

“We’ll be the cutest couple, don’t you think!”

“Creighton-“

“And a power couple at that! No restaurant in the world can compete with-“

“CREIGHTON!”

The yelling made him freeze and he looked over to you.”Y-yes?”

“We aren’t even a couple and you’re already talking about marriage! Aren’t you taking this a bit too fast?”

He was quiet, and you instantly felt bad. He looked like a kicked puppy.

“We... weren’t dating?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and guilt had taken over. You looked away from your skin and thought everything over.

The game nights.

Staying up late.

Gossiping.

All in all, being together even though you were apart.

Creighton noticing how quiet you are began getting nervous. “Um... let’s just forget I said anything! I’m gonna go-“

“No wait! “ you stopped before he could end the call.”Creighton... I’m so sorry! I had no idea you were courting me.”

He blushed even more as you continue.”When I thought of you asking me out I thought it would be this big show, probably even prodcast it on T.V.”

He got his mojo back when he heard you say that.” Well, of course I would. However that’s not possible right now, if you couldn’t tel- Wait a minute.” He gave you his usual cocky smirk. “When you thought of me asking you out? You’ve thought about it?”

You were blushing like crazy.”Oh! Well would you look at the time! Muffin needs to be fed! See y-“

“Now hold on there dearest.” He smirked and chuckled.” Give me me thirty minutes. You get dressed. I’m getting dinner for us, okay? It’s time you have a proper date.”

Before you could say anything he ends the call leaving you stunned. Did that just happened?!

You smile and then start getting ready, happy to finally be with him.

#creightonfanfiction #creighton x reader #fanfic #cooking diary fanfiction #cooking diary #oneshot

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dreamxeyes · 3 years

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Tagged by @the-actual Thank you!

1. Why did you choose your url? Because it is pretty sounding. I have always had this URL and I’m glad to have it because it’s just general and doesn’t reflect anything but myself. I am a big dreamer.

2. Any sideblogs? Nope and I see no reason to. Everything I want to post is here.

3. How long have you been on tumblr? Since April 2012. I only used it casually because I wasn’t in to it at first. Then I became wildly active in 2019 when the new Rise of Skywalker trailer dropped. And now I actually love using tumblr.

4. Do you have a queue tag? No, I hardly que my posts. And I am sorry.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place? Because my friends were using it. I used to be a heavy blogger since high school and I would write in my online journals all the time, but then people sort of just stopped to move to other new things and tumblr was one of them. I didn’t like it at first because tumblr felt more like a place to share other people’s posts and not just for blogging about you. However as I have grown older I find no need to blog and share my thoughts as much and actually have grown to enjoy tumblr as a fun place to share interests.

6. Why did you choose your icon or pfp? Because I just got into the new series, Shadow and Bone and I absolutely love it and the character in my avatar is Kaz Brekker and for anyone who follows me, you’d think you would be familiar with him by now? He’s a cool character. I have a thing for villains. While he is not a villain, he is definitely a bad boy.

7. Why did you choose your header? Because I love astronomy and outer space. I definitely post a lot of aesthetics related to space. Again I am a dreamer.

8. What's your post with the most notes? An appreciation post for Winona Ryder. The gifs aren’t even mine, and suddenly it became so popular I had to find a way to turn off notifications for that post, or maybe people stopped reblogging. I don’t know.

9. How many mutuals do you have? I just counted and 163... damn I had no idea.

10. How many followers do you have? 510 and I do block p0rn blogs and spam bots and eventually blank blogs if it’s clear they are not active. So if I never did, I would have a LOT.

11. How many people do you follow? 606 and I do go through once in awhile to unfollow inactive blogs. and I even did a purge once because I was just following too many things.

12. Have you ever made a shitpost? Maybe? I think so?

13. How often do you use tumblr everyday? I would say at least an hour or two? I check it while I am inbetween gaming and watching TV and get it in spurts.

14. Did you have a fight/ argument with another blog once? LOL um yeah. I have argued with Terf blogs and even some sexist blogs. Legit there was this dude who complained about feminism and said how this country was all literally built by men and how women can’t do that.

15. How do you feel about 'you need to reblog posts'? I find them a bit annoying, but I blog what I want to blog.

16. Do you like tag games? Um yes. Why would I be doing this?

17. Do you like ask games? Kind of, but I feel like people don’t notice when I post them so I hardly get asks.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? I have no idea.

19. Do you have a crush on a tumblr mutual? Now that’s a secret! =D

20. Tags: @onetine @scatterbrainedhypatia @buffshipper8490 @radioactive-raptor @yeahhiyellow @neverseenaspaceshipbefore @stcrmborn @thisbitchinthecorner @spinnenpfote6 @healthy-collection-of-keyrings @spocks-gay-little-eyebrows @mgummy @alittlebirdandhersecrets @hurtslikeyourmouth @peritwotone @blindlyjump @cosmicbread0 @junkie7004 @blog-anxiousscreenwriter @nerdyben @5boyheaven

and anyone else that wants to do it

#tag game #tumblr #tumblr game #about me

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Tired of Feeling the Blues

The stress is a recipe for disaster, but thankfully Calum’s there to help her all through it.

This is what we call self-indulgence 101. Enjoy soft Calum.

It is a female reader, only referred to as ‘she’. No specific race.

Please stay safe during these uncertain times. Drop a sweet message to your favorite blogger. Reblog your favorite fic. Recommend a fic to me if you want! We need to spread some joy. If you feel so inclined and have the means, you can support me on Ko-fi.

Enjoy my masterlist as well!

___________________________

The tension resides at the base of her skull, creeping its way up the back of her head, pulsing in her temple and right behind her eye. It beats the back of her skull on the left side of her head and the left side only. Her neck is heavy and not even the pillow beneath her neck is able to support it or alleviate the pounding. Closing her eyes hurt. Rolling onto either side hurts. It does not help with the lingering twinge of cramps in her lower back. Physically, she is falling apart. And mentally, she isn’t doing much better. The world in a panic to the pandemic and with her job now closed, she worries about bills. Thankfully right before the shutdown on her job, she had figured housing arrangements with Calum. But that didn’t stop the dizzying worry about her student loans, providing basic necessities for herself and her dog, Ace.

The room is still dark when Calum peaks his head inside. She lays still, not fully under the sheets with Duke on her chest and Ace curled up on her side. It was a slight worry when she first moved at the end of February that Ace would be just too big of a dog around Duke with the German Shepherd abundantly clear in him. There were a couple other things, the best guess was Australian Shepherd. But the vets hadn’t been too sure and the people at the shelter couldn’t quite place it either. And though Ace did like to play rough, the moment she felt like he was getting too rowdy and called for him to cool it, he listened immediately. He was well trained and there was no doubting that.

“Head still hurting?” Cal asks, stepping into the bedroom more. He uses his body to block the light from the hallway as he shuts the door close.

“If you have a guillotine hiding out anywhere, feel free to break it out.”

The bed dips as he settles and his hands settle onto her clothed leg not covered by the sheets. He rubs soothing circles over the black cloth. “You take something for it yet?”

She nods and it’s a fucking mistake. Immediately, it feels like needles in her neck. She groans, throwing her arm over her face. “Yeah. I did.”

Duke picks his head up and upon spotting Calum jumps up. Calum grins, petting the top of his head. “Taking care of Mamas?”

“He has great bedside manners,” she jokes.

“It’s a little past noon. Care for lunch?” Her headache had been plaguing since the night before and she thought sleep would ease the ache. But now it was proving more stubborn that impeded her from going on their morning walk. Calum handled the dogs with ease. But he did worry the entire time about her. Part of him doesn’t want to admit that some of it was out of a panic that somehow she had contracted the disease. But a larger part of him knew that between temporarily losing her job, her period, and overall panic, that the stress wouldn’t be nice on her physical body either.

Her reply is soft. “I’ll take leftovers.”

“I do have soup if you want. Easier to get down.”

“Hmm, I’m a chicken noodle soup kind of gal.”

“Chicken noodle soup then.”

She can feel the bed lifting again. From her lifted arm, she watches him. “You don’t even eat meat. Why do you have chicken in this house?”

“Because you do.”

“I told you you didn’t have too,” she calls as the door starts to creak close with Calum slipping out of it.

“It’s like a treat. A little chicken as a treat,” he winks and closes the door.

Though it makes her feel like one of the dogs, she has to laugh. “A little chicken as a treat.”

There’s a few moments of silence before Duke climbs off her chest. He pitters over to the door and a whine leaves his throat. Though it hurts, she stands and opens the bedroom door. The house isn’t in too bad of shape. She managed, in the time it took Calum to walk the dogs, to collect the trash bins from the curb. She washed the dishes from the late night snacking, put one load of laundry into the washer and scrubbed down the bathrooms. She had meant to sweep too but it hurt to be upright after that so she retired to the bedroom.

Calum hears the click of paws and when he glances down there’s Duke at his feet. “What happened to Nurse Duke?”

“Missed his pops,” she returns sliding into the bar seating. Ace settles onto the couch, but keeps his attention trained onto her.

“You could’ve stayed in the back. I was going to bring it to you.”

She doesn’t quite have the energy to respond, though she does simply wave off the comment before resting her head on her forearms. Calum stirs the soup on the stovetop for a few moments before walking over. His fingers take up the soft muscle of her shoulder. She hums as he guides two fingers up her neck, up and over the tension. It hurts just a little but it helps. The pressure combatting the pounding that seems to have taken up the whole residence of the entire left side. She knows amongst all this, the worry about her, Calum has meetings and promotion to do. She knows he’s got a million other things to juggle but he stopped his world for just five minutes for her.

“I love you,” she sighs when his fingers run up her neck and even into her scalp.

Calum’s laughter is a soft exhale. “You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not.” And it’s not that he ever thought that she was kidding. But his heart still jumps a little at the furrowed brows that face him as she lifts her head and turns. “I do love you and I would never just say that. Never. You got that?”

It was easy to just say a phrase. But it wasn’t lost on him that it was her that brought in the cans, or did the laundry, or washed the dishes. That was how she always showed her love, helping around the house, doing something to take it off his plate. “I know,” he says. It’s softly and she notices the tears pooling just slightly at his lower lashline.

“Good,” she murmurs against his lips before pressing a soft kiss. “Don’t burn my soup being a sap though. I don’t think I have the mental capabilities to handle that.”

As their noses brush, Calum can’t help his grin. That’s his girl, forever honest. “On it.” The kiss is brief, yet again. His fingers are still kneading at her neck and though it hurts when he pulls away, she knows it’s better than burnt soup. She drops her head on her neck, eyes closed again. When is the pain going to end? When is she going to find relief? From everything really and not just the headache. She needs relief from debt, from social distancing, from panic.

Calum can only watch as she carries herself to the couch. Wrapped in one of his hoodies, she curls herself around Ace. He’d offer sitting outside with him but the sun’s not going to help her headache. There’s almost nothing to do but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do whatever he can. With the soup warmed and in a bowl, he carefully carries it over to her. Her groan is heavy and drawn out as she sits up. “Yeah, just decapitate me please.”

“I’m sorry, love. Eat, try to sleep, okay?”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about me right now, okay? Cuddle Ace. They look so sad that Mamas is not in tip top condition.”

The lip roll is exaggerated, pulling out and down. Calum kisses her forehead, gently cupping the back of her head with the action. His breath is a whisp against her skin as he whispers something. She doesn’t even catch it, not if it were English or Maori. He turns out the lights in the living room for her and soon he’s gone. Not without draping a blanket around her shoulders. She assumes another meeting. He’s taken to sitting outside during those calls. Maybe it’s so she’s not interrupting with the cleaning and that noise and he’s not in the way.

She has every intent to wash the dishes from her quick lunch. But once the soup is settled and she’s curled up again with Ace, it’s just so much easier to sleep. The bowl rests on the coffee table and she can’t find it within herself to get up. And she thinks it’ll be a quick nap too, by the time she gets up, Calum will still be on his conference call. It’s just a quick nap that wraps her up.

Until she finally blinks awake and the living is dark. The kitchen light is one still but there’s no sun peeking in from the blinds and she swears she couldn’t have slept the whole day away. When she pushes up, there’s less pounding in her head but a manageable dull ache. Her bleary eyes try to find the clock in the room to let her know what time it is but it’s much too far. She stands, eyes squinting against the light of the kitchen. It’s just about three and she spins, not sure if it’s three pm or three am. But there’s no way Calum would’ve just left her on the couch.

The blinds are drawn up and the curtains closed. When she pulls them apart, the sun comes blaring through. Her racing heart finally settles. “Thank fuck,” she grumbles.

“Ah, she lives,” Calum teases, peering into the living with a basket on his hip. Laundry. Not the load she started.

“It was dark and I thought I slept the entire day away.”

“No, just a few hours.”

She remembers the dishes, throwing a quick glance down to the coffee table. The bowl and spoon are gone. As her eyes scan, the pot and everything sit in the drying rack. “I can fold laundry,” she offers.

“It’s the last load.” And it’s meant to deter her, but she wiggles her fingers, stepping out from the couch. Calum shakes his head. “I got it.”

“I was supposed to clean my dishes and I didn’t. Let me, please?”

“How’s your head?” He knows as she walks closer that she’ll fight tooth and nail about making up for the dishes. But it’s not a big deal. She continues on and Calum shuffles into the bedroom to hide the basket from her. “Hey, no, you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“Give me the basket and no one gets hurt Hood.”

“It’s the last load, baby. Really, it’s okay.”

“You fixed me lunch and cleaned my dishes. Just give me the basket.”

“You’re not feeling well, so of course I did all that.”

She stands toe to toe with him, the basket behind his back pinned between him and their shared dresser. “Basket, Hood.”

“You can use my last name all you want, love. I’m not giving up this fucking basket.”

This happens all the time with them. And she should’ve learned to give up the good fight a long time ago, but giving in was not in her nature. So they stand there, staring, sharing breaths. But neither one of them budges. Calum doesn’t give in and let her take the basket and she doesn’t walk away.

“I have to pee but I’m not walking away,” she utters. The second she goes to pee, it’s over. Calum will start folding.

“Don’t burst your bladder.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Calum watches her, the way her leg starts to shake and he knows she’ll wait this out. There’s no sense in making her prove that point any further either. “Go pee, Christ! I’ll let you help, alright?” She sticks her tongue out, before racing to the bathroom. Calum hollers as she goes, “That’s not a victory for either one of us though!”

“Gray sock,” Cal calls before tossing the sock in her direction. It arches and lands in her waiting hands. To her left are all the unpaired socks. As she finds the matches, she rolls them together and places them into a pile to the right of her. The living room is scattered with clothes. Piles of underwear, separated by owner, and further separated from there, t-shirts rest on the top of the coffee table, alongside the bath towels.

“Who’s shirt?” she asks, wiping the cotton material out so she can get a better look at it.

“Merch,” Calum explains, holding his hand out for it. It takes more effort to toss, so it doesn’t land on their piles incorrectly. He folds it, like she taught him, hooking his pinkies to flip the sleeves back behind. It folds in half once and he folds it half again, creating thirds so that the screen print of the top of the faces peak out. The same thing that graces the cover of the album.

Softly behind the quiet sounds of the dogs clicking about, is the hum of the latest binge that’s already been long forgotten. They’ll restart it again later on when they’re better focused. Calum sits with his laptop open and facing him. Notes for another meeting and he’s bored already just looking at the text. “Where’s the pile for kitchen towels?’ she asks.

Calum, with his eyes still locked on the screen, thinks for a moment. “There’s no pile.”

“You have more space than I do.”

That’s all he needs before he tears his gaze away and catches the towel floating through the air. “What do you want for dinner? And you can’t say whatever is fine.”

In the midst of folding a bath towel, she huffs. “I’m fine with anything.”

He knew she’d find a loophole. She’d find a way to shove off the responsibility onto him. “Burgers?” he suggests, thinking of the patties that might’ve been lingering in the freezer. Her only response is a nod accompanied by a soft sound of agreement.

It’s back to the notes, back to barely listening to the voices on the TV. When all the clothes are folded and tucked away, Calum pulls her onto the couch, into his chest, arms winding around her body. His fingers gently cradle her head. “Any more pain?”

“Just a little pressure.”

His heart is beating against her ears, the steady beat comforting as she burrows into his chest. All it would take to curl up inside the cavity, tuck herself away from everything. Though she can’t physically shrink herself, she happily accepts the soft brush of his fingers over her scalp. “Tomorrow we can make it a mile and a half walk, since you missed out today.”

“You are trying to kill me.” The sentence is punctuated by a kiss to his jawline.

“Ace got scared by a bush today,” Calum relays with a soft laugh. “Some birds were in it and when they flew off, it shook the bush. He got a little freaked. I guess he was too occupied by the couple walking their dogs on the other side of the street.”

“He’s big but he’s a baby. Sounds like someone else I know.” The jest isn’t lost on Calum but he lets it slide for the moment being, taking in the feeling of her tracing patterns on his chest with her fingers.

311 notes · View notes

spooky-z · 5 years

Text

NETi

NeTi au is from @rhub4rb Maribat (Daminette) from @ozmav

The songs NETi sings are Shameless & Easy by Camila Cabello.

Warning: This is 4K and has brief mentions of suicide in the "EXTRA".

The red carpet was full of journalists, fans, curious and bloggers. It was the night of the Paris Music Awards, where musicians like Jagged Stone and Clara Nigthingale competed for the biggest prize of the night.

But beyond expecting to see Jagged, there was also another buzz. One that could be bigger even than the prizes themselves and competitors.

NETi. The musical revelation of 2028, the sweetie of almost every artist (even non-artist), the girl who broke records and records in less than a year.

Someone who, despite all the explosive success, still kept her personal life private and secret identity. No one had found out who NETi was, and she had made it clear that she would only reveal herself at PMA. Then the mood was high.

At any moment the exclusive of the year would happen.

The red carpet had already passed some other important personalities, both from the music industry and the entertainment industry.

Even people from the fashion world was here.

People like Mayor Bourgeois and his family; Kagami and Tomoe Tsurugi; Luka Couffaine and his girlfriend Aurore Beauréal, TVi's new climate host; American tycoon Bruce Wayne with his wife Selina Kyle; the four Wayne heirs had also passed the red carpet. They were accompanied by their loved ones.

Among the four couples, Damian Wayne and his wife, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, stood out. Also known as MDC, a designer who had entered the fashion industry shaking the structures of everything.

The couple had dressed to impress. There was no doubt that these were original MDC.

Damian Wayne alone would not have attracted much attention had it not been for the red kufiyyah on his head. He was wearing a completely black suit, as was his tie. So, the highlight was all in his head.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was her own show. With a front slit in her black dress, the highlight went to the upper torso. The gold and red details, the raised feathers, the tight belt at the waist. She made it clear where the inspiration for her outfit came from.

Their passage across the red carpet had been a blast. Everyone wanting a piece, an interview, a photo of the couple, as Wayne's family was famous for leaving their personal lives in private. Apart from what they purposely let others know, the rest was a complete mystery. So everyone was euphoric to get some of their attention.

A pleasant surprise on the red carpet had been the famous couple of reporters, Clark Kent and Lois Lane. They were accompanied by son Jonathan (another reporter in the family), who was holding hands with another sweetie from Paris, Adrien Agreste. All four with huge smiles on their faces.

When a more fearless reporter got an opportunity to interview them, she jumped at the question everyone was asking.

“Adrien, could you please tell us why you are holding hands with Jonathan Kent?” She waves the microphone at the model's face. All cameras facing them.

The blond looks at the brunette, who smiles and blinks mischievously, before returning to the reporter. He looks straight into the camera, a shitty smile on his lips.

"He's my boyfriend." And leaves. Waving to everyone, signing some posters and fan notebooks. The boyfriend firmly by his side, never failing to smile.

When all the guests had arrived and there was no one else to walk the red carpet, the rumors that it was possible that NETi would not actually appear began and that made everyone upset.

Until, well, notification of an official tweet from NETi.

NETi @NETiOfficial

Are you ready? Because I am!

#NETiatPMAs

And they all went crazy again.

She had passed without anyone noticing. Probably using the entrance to the paying audience to keep everyone expectant.

Nadja Chamack and her team were the ones covering the event inside. She was standing at the camera, waiting for the signal from Jean (the cameraman) so she could finally start talking live with viewers.

Some interviews had already been done, ready to air as the event unfolded and when Jean “ok” with his fingers, pointing at her, Nadja smiles.

“Good night, Paris!” She begins. “I am Nadja Chamack at a special event. The Paris Music Awards, or rather PMAs. Where our greatest talents come together in wonderful performances and awards are given to those who stand out!”

“I'm so happy for Lila!” Sabrina squeaks.

"My girl will be the highlight of the night." Alya brags and Nino laughs at his girlfriend.

"Too bad she won't walk the red carpet." Mylene sighs sadly. "It would have been a triumphant entrance."

"She already explained why, My." Ivan comforts the girl.

Nathaniel says nothing, but laughs at his friends.

Although they were busy with their careers, they had found time to gather to attend the PMAs. Watch when NETi-or rather, Lila, revealed herself to all of Paris.

Yes. They were proud to be friends with such a talented person as Lila. She could have time to be such a good friend! Even when her schedule was so tight being a humanitarian and now a successful artist. Besides being a model.

“And is Adrien Agreste there? Oh my gosh! Is Adrien Agreste holding hands with the famous American journalist Jonathan Samuel Kent?!” They were startled by the reporter's scream and went back to watching the live TV shoot.

They sigh in surprise.

"I didn't know Adrien knew Jonathan Kent!" Alya shouts.

"And who is Jonathan Kent?" Nathaniel asks.

She turns to him, a familiar fire in her eyes.

“He's just the youngest voted best journalist in the world!” She replies, hysteria in her tone. “Adrien Agreste will pay for hiding it from me!”

“Could you tell us why you are holding hands with Jonathan Kent?” The reporter asks, placing the microphone toward his face, waiting for an answer.

Adrien exchanges glances with Jonathan before turning to the camera, a mischievous smile on his face.

"He's my boyfriend." And keeps walking the red carpet.

The reporter is speechless, looking shocked. She shakes with the screams of the fans and goes back to interview other famous as they passed. Pretending the embarrassment had not happened.

In the living room of Nino's, everyone's mouth was open. Without understanding.

"Wait- Is Adrien gay?" Sabrina asks, looking at Nino.

He looks as lost as the rest of the room.

"He never said anything to me." He says. "I'm his best friend and he never told me!" The anger in his tone.

Alya feels sorry for her boyfriend, not knowing how to comfort him.

“Maybe he wanted to make a big revelation?” He says. "Do you know how he is-"

“It's MDC with Damian Wayne! Hey, MDC!”

Once again, their attention was diverted back to the TV and there was the camera focusing on a couple posing for the photos on the red carpet. Of the two people, one was recognizable.

"Marinette...?" Alya sighs, not believing what she saw.

The couple finish taking the pictures together and start posing alone, turning only to get a better angle for all photographers.

"These are Damian Al-Ghul Wayne and Marinette Dupain-Cheng." The reporter says, looking at the camera. “Damian, son and one of Bruce Wayne's heirs, came with his wife MDC, the newest successful designer in the fashion world. They are known for not being very open about their relationship, but it is obvious that the two love each other and make a powerful couple.” She blinks, wiggling her eyebrow.

“What-” Nino chokes.

“Look! They are coming. I'll try to get an exclusive for you!"She squeezes among other journalists, almost falling on the red carpet after tripping over someone's feet, but is saved by none other than Marinette.

Damian right behind her like a shadow, his face serious. The camera takes everything.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The girl moans as she stands up. "I hurt you? Pardon. I'm very clumsy.” She doesn't even fake an act for the camera, nor does she notice Marinette's affectionate smile.

“It happens to the best of us, Manon. It's okay.” Marinette says, the flashes doing nothing to diminish her beauty and kindness. "Good to see you. You look beautiful."

The reporter-Manon straightens, her face red. She seemed to have forgotten she was live.

"Thanks. You look awesome too.” Coughing, straightening her clothes and hair, before turning to the camera again. “Would you mind giving a little interview? In the name of the old days when you took care of me.” Teases.

Marinette laughs, dyed red lips and flowing hair. Damian's expression softened at that.

"What I don't do for those puppy eyes, isn't it?!" Marinette plays with Manon, making the girl blush.

“So, could you tell us something about your relationship? I don't want to be invasive, but a lot of us are curious.” Manon says. “I know you've been together since you were fourteen, but a lot of people don't know that. There are plenty of rumors about you with Adrien Agreste and Luka Couffaine.” She extends the microphone to the designer, looking more professional than a few seconds ago.

Marinette rolls her eyes. This was clearly a subject she was fed up with.

“Like you said, we've been together since I was fourteen. Eight years of dating, one of marriage.” She responds, raising her left hand to display the gold ring with a huge blue diamond in the center. The sassy expression on her face. "About Adrien and Luka... Well, you got your answer when Adrien came in with Jon and Luka with Aurore."

Manon jumps when Marinette mentions Jonathan Kent. The eyes shining.

“Can you tell us something about Adrien and Jonathan? Like how long they've been together.” She asks. “Just for everyone to cry over from missing the start of such a good ship.”

The designer looks at Damian quickly, eyebrow raised, and he responds for her.

“We had to put up with them being gross for five years now.” Despite the laid-back affair and the funny speech, his voice was pure steel. "I don't understand why nobody noticed this before, it wasn't as if they were hiding."

Manon moans, upset. (She hadn't really seen it coming. Of course they had photos together on Instagram, funny tweets to each other, traveled together, but she was sure it was purely platonic.)

“FIVE YEARS?” Nino gets up from the couch, indignant. “FIVE YEARS AND I DIDN'T KNOW NOTHING. MARINETTE DID KNOW! EVEN DAMIAN WAYNE KNEW AND I, THE BEST FRIEND DIDNT!” He shouts in frustration.

"Marinette has been dating for almost ten years and I didn't know." Alya whispers, still not believing. "I was her best friend and she never told me."

"Guys..." Mylene mumbles, heartbroken for her friends.

“Thank you for giving us this interview, Mari! Hope to see you at family dinner on Thursday! You too, Damian.” Manon nods, a bright smile pasted on her face.

Marinette smiles, returning the wave with her hands and Damian with his head. They walk until they enter the theater, disappearing from camera view.

Other famous people were passing and being interviewed, but no one else was paying attention to it. They were more focused on understanding what had happened. Alya, especially, was the one that was most shaken, because she was a journalist (intern, but journalist) and was proud of it.

But here were things she didn't even realize. Things that were no secret, but that everyone seemed to know but her.

The break came and went, no one daring to say anything. Each trying to assimilate what had happened, when suddenly the cell phone of the six began to beep, signaling messages. Chat messages from former students of Ms. Bustier.

Sabrina was the one who got the phone first.

[Alix 8:40]: Hey, did you guys see Mari on tv? [Max 8:42]: Yes! She said she would show up with Damian. [Alix 8:42]: Dude. They were beautiful. [Kim 8:42]: Adrien had texted that he was nervous. [Max 8:44]: Nervous?! [Juleka 8:44]: I think it was because of Jon. [Rose 8:45]: They are both so cute! [Kim 8:46]: Damian was very funny with the question about them. [Juleka 8:46]: Luka said he's still complaining about both of them. [Rose 8:47]: He sent pictures!

Mylene looked up from her cell phone, confused.

“Does that mean they knew? I don’t understand."

"There's only one way to know." Ivan replies.

[Ivan 8:49]: Did you know? [Alya 8:50]: HOW DID YOU KNOW AND I DON’T?! [Nino 8:51]: Why would Adrien tell you and not me? [Sabrina 8:51]: Can you explain that? [Mylene 8:52]: I'm very disappointed with you. [Nathaniel 8:52]: Guys.

They waited for answers, seeing the "writing" balloon disappearing and appearing several times before a single answer appeared.

[Alix 8:55]: Shit. Wrong chat. Sorry guys.

After that she went offline, as did the other four.

"They just...?" Nathaniel muttered incredulously.

"What the hell is going on?!" Alya screams in frustration.

“-and awards are given to those who stand out!” Nadja Chamack's voice comes from the tv. “Now what everyone was expecting: NETi. The presentation of the latest music discovery will start anytime!”

"Oh my God! It's now.” Alya shouts, forgetting what had happened.

The stage light goes out, everyone screaming for NETi.

The screen turns on, starting a quick sequence of indistinguishable images before stopping on an empty avenue.

The camera begins to slowly approach a person standing in the middle of the street. The sound of the bass playing rhythmically. The camera focuses on the person dressed in white in the middle of the street.

NETi.

MDC.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“What the hell is going on??” Ivan snorts, already annoyed by everything he has seen.

She walks slowly, powerful and barefoot. The sharp eyes. Her lips move and she whispers "Shameless" before the screen goes out and red lights take over the stage.

The audience screaming at the top of their lungs. The cameras filming the reactions of guests and fans, each one more surprised than the other.

Don't speak, no, don't try It's been a secret for the longest time

NETi's voice echoes through the theater, the audience calms down.

Don't run (oh), no, don't hide Been running from it for the longest time

The camera focuses on NETi standing on the stage, her hair loose and wild. It was not possible to distinguish the color of the dress she wore, but it was noticeable in certain parts of the fabric and had sleeves. The cleavage dropped to above the navel, details with flowers on the side of the ribs and a dangerous slit in the thigh.

She was still barefoot.

So many mornings, I woke up confused In my dreams, I do anything I want to you My emotions are naked, they're taking me out of my mind

She squats on stage, the slit in the dress giving wide mobility in her movements and the microphone was firmly in her right hand. The left arm resting on the bare thigh.

Right now, I'm shameles Screamin' my lungs out for ya Not afraid to face it I need you more than I want to Need you more than I want to

She closes her eyes, running a hand through her hair and pulling tightly. Showing despair.

Show me you're shameless Write it on my neck, why don't ya?

The hand goes down to the neck, showing that there was something written there.

Damian Wayne

The camera focuses on him standing next to his family, the Kents, Adrien, Luka and Aurore.

Jonathan and Jason tease him with pats on the back and malicious smiles. He just remains mesmerized by the presentation.

And I won't erase it I need you more than I want to I need you more than I want to

She opens her fierce eyes and stands up. The dancers come in, circling her, dancing to the powerful beat of the music.

No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now No, uh, uh, don't wanna do this now

She swings the hips to the beat, the camera surrounding her with the dancers and she never looking away from the camera.

There's just inches in between us I want you to give in, I want you to give in, oh

The camera comes closer to her as to her face be the only thing in sight, before pulling away again.

There is tension in between us I just wanna give in And I don't care if I'm forgiven

She reaches the middle of the stage, where a microphone stand rested and the dancers leave. That's when the melody cuts off abruptly, before a softer one starts. More innocent.

NETi attaches the microphone to the stand and the lights brighten.

Her dress was lavender with purple accents.

(Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha)

The camera refocuses solely on her and she does not take her eyes off the lens.

You tell me that I'm complicated And that might be an understatement Anything else? (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha)

She blinks at the camera. A sly smile on her face.

You tell me that I'm indecisive Fickle, but I try to hide it Anything else? (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha)

NETi shrugs, demonstrating that she didn't care.

You tell me that I overthink 'Til I ruin a good thing Anything else? (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha)

She tilts her head, daring. Never failing to look at the camera.

You tell me that you'd rather fight Than spend a single peaceful night With somebody else (ha-ha-ha-ha-ha)

The camera zooms out a bit to catch a full-length scene. The whole dark stage, just her lit up.

You really, really know me The future and the old me All of the mazes and the madness in my mind

The voice rises a little and she closes her eyes, feeling the letters.

You really, really love me You know me and you love me And it's the kind of thing I always hoped I'd find, yeah

A satisfied smile appears on her face and she squeezes the microphone in the hands.

Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy

She dances along with the beat of the drums, the melody rocking her body. It was hard to take the eyes off.

Touch me 'til I find myself, in a feeling Tell me with your hands that you're never leaving (no)

She pulls her hair, showing once again, despair.

Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy I never liked my crooked teeth You tell me they're you're favorite thing (mm-mmm) Anything else? (Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha)

The eyes back open and she smiles at the camera.

The stretch marks all around my thighs Kiss 'em 'til I change my mind About everything else (ha-ha-ha-ha-ha)

Her hands navigate the bare skin until they close around her waist in a single hug.

The camera returns to film Damian, capturing a rare smile from the man.

You really, really know me The future and the old me All of the mazes and the madness in my mind

She stares at the camera.

You really, really love me You know me and you love me (uh, huh) And it's the kind of thing I always hoped I'd find

She winks and the audience screams again in delirium.

All I know is you Heal me when I'm broken, heal me when I'm broken, oh

Eyes closed, she intones the voice.

All I know is you Saved me and you know it, saved me and you know it

The raw emotion in her expression and voice.

Always thought I was hard to love 'Til you made it seem so easy, seem so easy

The song ends and there is hysteria. Screams, applause. It is a mess.

NETi moves away from the microphone to take a breath before returning.

“Thank you, PMAs. That was amazing.”

She waves her hand at the audience, greeting everyone gratefully before having to leave the stage.

The camera goes back to Nadja Chamack who was the example of the confusion.

“Well, great day to know that my daughter's old nanny is a designer and a pop star.” She jokes blandly. “Now we are going to take a break and we will be back with Luka Couffaine's performance.”

The group of friends were sitting motionless. A hard lump to swallow stuck in their throats.

Sabrina is the first to speak.

"There has to be some explanation for that."

Nathaniel smiles weakly.

"Yes. Of course, there is.” But there is no conviction in his voice.

Alya quickly pulls out her phone, typing something and waiting.

“Al, what-” Nino is interrupted by Alya's hand spread out in a “stop” sign.

Her cell phone beeps and she chokes, her eyes teary.

"Alya, what happened?" Mylene asks, already desperate.

She doesn't answer, just passes her cellphone to her friends before leaving the room.

"I'll go after her." Nino says and leaves.

Mylene, Sabrina, Ivan and Nathaniel come together to see what had left their friend in that deplorable state, but they regret not long after.

[Alya 9:26]: Did you lie to me? [Lila 9:28]: ...I didn't lie. [Lila 9:28]: Just said what people wanted to hear.

Sabrina sighs, her eyes wide.

"Does that mean she-"

"Yes." Ivan whispers shaken.

Marinette and the others were right. They were blind.

Alya returns to the room next to Nino, eyes red and unrivaled fury.

She reaches for the phone and Mylene gives it back.

“She lied to me for years. Fool me all these years. If she thinks this is going to be it...” She says. "Then she better gets ready, because I'm going to destroy her life."

"And how do you intend to do that?" Nathaniel questions.

Alya stares at her friends.

“I have everything recorded. Everything. And I'll still look for more.” Growls. "She'll regret everything she did and said."

She would do not only for her, but also for Marinette.

Alya owed it to her former best friend.

It was the least she could do.

EXTRA:

“Earlier today, the Italian model Lila Alois Rossi, was arrested by the Parisian police. It is still unclear whether she will remain in prison here in Paris or be deported back to Italy, but we have had access to the prosecution and I tell you: there is no way she can escape it by just bailing.” Nadja Chamack was sitting in the armchair her studio. The expression was hard as stone.

"Along with the prosecution, irrevocable evidence was attached, giving no breach for Ms. Rossi to mount a defense."

Nadja's image is placed in the corner, highlighting the video of Lila Rossi being handcuffed in the police car to the police station.

The Italian had lost the healthy tone of her skin. Her pale lips and the obvious discomfort with the flashes. They didn't realize they would ever be able to see this: Lila Rossi hating the attention on her.

“Among accusations of defamation, there are also many about sexual harassment, blackmail, bullying and… accomplice of murder. Apparently, she was the reason for some suicides in the schools she studied, told no one and even encouraged the victims.”

Damian raises his eyebrow at the television, turning to Marinette and Adrien, sitting beside him on Chloe's couch.

“How do you think this happened?” He asks. He was right that Lila Rossi would get over after all these years of trying to knock her down.

Adrien tilts his head, thinking.

"Alya." Marinette doesn't even have to think before answering.

Adrien nods frantically.

"Certainly, Alya."

"She must have finally discovered Lila's lies and that's her way to get revenge." Marinette says.

"And raise a white flag for us." Adrien continues.

Damian turns his attention back to the TV. He was impressed by Césarie's work. She could be a decent reporter when she researched and checked her sources first.

[tag list]

@northernbluetongue @crazylittlemunchkin @cynicalwonders @casual-darkness @auradonfairy @bitterheart12224 @mycupisbroken @virgil-is-a-cutie @luciferge @crazylittlemunchkin @2sunchild2 @unholykrow @poshplumcot @ayuchan07 @michellemagic @tazanna-blythe @slytherinsheashire @roseinbloom02 @xxmadamjinxx @momo456200 @mewwitch @kuroko26 @sassdowflame @neko249 @wookiestephen @wookiestephen @captainmac6 @yamadochie @emjrabbitwolf @alvaery @yin-390 @dragonfruit2017 @st0rmy-w1th1n @vixen-uchiha @iggy-of-fans @indecisive-mess-named-me @im-here-for-the-content @seraphichana @mochinek0 @g-arya @taleeuuhhh @ezio-demon @quipsquaps @elspethshadow @normal-piece-of-shit @sweatyruinsstudentbored @interobanginyourmom @elliecake5 @resignedcatservant @theatreandcomicfreak @hetalia-lover-is-here @yazz-frost @astoryyettotell @blue-peach14 @ivymala07 @spider-person95 @kandi-pie @zebrabaker @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @skyel0ve @bigcheeseyboi @octoberscorn @certainvoidsludgeskeleton @superrrpc @romanoff-queen @saphiraazure2708 @ladybug-182 @mjisntme

#daminette #maribat #damian x marinette #damian #marinette dupain cheng #ml Alya #ml Nino #ml mylene #ml nathaniel #ml ivan #ml sabrina #ml salt #NeTi au #oneshot #ml nadja #ml manon #ml lila #miraculous ladybug #one shots

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gleekto · 4 years

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Full Fic: Even Better Than the Real Thing

Words: 18,295 (how did that happen?)

Full fic now on AO3

Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA, and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12

Even Better than the Real Thing (13/13)

They decide to tell Rachel first. Aside from being the obvious choice, she would be a nightmare if she ever found out she was second shrift to anyone in Kurt’s life. He would definitely not be able to handle her moping around the apartment wondering if he even really considered her a friend in the first place - last week he finishes her oat milk, this week, he’s dating her co-star and she’s the last to know. Of course, in this scenario he never had any of her oat milk, and she wouldn’t be the last to know, but regardless, not telling her first certainly wouldn’t be worth the headache.

“So you think we should just let her walk in on us?” They’re still lying half naked in Kurt’s bed hours after their “reunion”, Blaine lying on his front, Kurt on his back, with Blaine’s butt as his pillow. “I mean she should be home in what - 20 minutes?”

“Oh shit,” Kurt looks at his watch. “More like 10. And I think my breakfast dishes are still sitting on the table.”

They scramble to put on clothes, quickly make Kurt’s bed, and Kurt amusedly watches Blaine try to figure out how to arrange his throw pillows, while he finishes cleaning up his dishes. By the time Rachel waltzes in the front door, they’re sitting across from each other at the kitchen island, each with a cup of hot lemon tea, and trying to look casual.

“Hi Kurt. I have had the busiest day. Let me tell you I’m completely exhausted-” Rachel finally looks up and sees them. “Blaine?” Kurt can feel Rachel trying to come up with a way to phrase her obvious question.

“Hey Rachel,” Blaine smirks, amused, but doesn’t offer any explanation. Kurt kicks him under the table. “Ow.”

“So you’re um-” Rachel purses her lips. “Both feeling better now, I take it?”

“Much better,” Blaine smirks again.

“Okay yes,” Kurt huffs. “We are feeling better and we are,” Kurt motions between Blaine and himself. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Rachel claps her hands excitedly. “This is so great - can you imagine the PR headlines for the show?” Kurt glares at her and she stops. At least for the moment. “I mean, I’m very happy for you. So anyways. You have my blessing.” Kurt laughs out loud.

“Thank you?” Blaine looks at her suspiciously.

“Well, Kurt is my best friend and I do have inside knowledge that you are a good kisser.” Now Blaine laughs out loud. “So may you be blessed with all that goodness.”

“Oh I will be,” Kurt says and Rachel at least looks slightly embarrassed. So he’ll take it as a win.

...

The fun part is telling Mercedes - it’s always so satisfying to have her approval. They FaceTime her.

“You look better,” She notices right away.

“I am,” Kurt beams, Blaine standing behind the computer out of her view. “We talked and-”

“And?” Her eyes go wide.

“And, yeah,” Kurt shakes his head still in a bit of disbelief. We’re seeing what happens.” She squeals in the best way. “And actually,” Kurt smiles even wider, “There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to.” Kurt’s favourite part is watching Mercedes’ jaw drop as Blaine saunters into the frame.

“Hey Mercedes,” He smiles his warm smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“And you, Mr. Blaine Anderson.” Mercedes smiles reflexively shaking her head back and forth. “I am just - wow. Hello.” Kurt remembers being starstruck. It feels like a long time ago.

“No need to be so formal,” Blaine dismisses. “Kurt just calls me Mr. Anderson.”

“You wish,” Kurt elbows him in the side.

“And he even has a sense of humour,” Mercedes is still smiling dumbly.

“Well, maybe next time we’re alone,” Blaine whispers so only Kurt can hear and he gets elbowed even harder, Kurt trying to remain casual.

“So we do need to ask you not to mention this - or any of our future hang outs - on your blog,” Kurt adds, half in jest all in earnest.

Mercedes nods but Blaine chimes in, “Though if you did say that you had a friend who met me, and that I do have a much better sense of style than Colin Red, I would appreciate it.”

“You did get yourself a comedian, Kurt.”

“My style is better,” Blaine huffs.

“And you can mention that ‘your friend’ said the guy Blaine was with was at least a 9/10,” Kurt says.

“You mean a 10?”

“Aren’t you sweet,” Mercedes nods at Kurt, impressed.

“You think I would date a 9? Please. It will all be confirmed when I talk to my publicist, anyways,” Blaine says nonchalantly.

“Your publicist?” Mercedes and Kurt repeat at the same time. Mercedes in shock, Kurt curious.

“Just give me five minutes.”

...

Who is the pretty face having coffee with Sing!’s favorite heartthrob? You asked and JustJay has the answers. His name is Kurt Hummel and we have got the SCOOP!

Kurt laughs as he clicks on the link the next morning. Blaine had spoken to his publicist for a total of five minutes and said a sum total of seven words. Kurt Hummel...Dating...19...LAADA...Rachel’s roommate.

Sorry to any of the hopeful fans out there. Blaine Anderson of Sing! and That’s So Rachel fame, officially confirmed that he is off the market. At least for now. He is dating Kurt Hummel - and he’s his co-star’s roommate. Awkward!

But good luck to the happy new couple!

And that’s it. Kurt Hummel is dating Blaine Anderson. And some of the more ‘high end’ entertainment bloggers note that Blaine requests privacy about his personal life at this time. At least that way they can decline couple selfies when a fan sees them out to eat.

...

Kurt isn’t able to see Blaine again until the weekend, thanks to a lengthy location shoot. He has the week to catch up on his school work, only being mildly distracted by Blaine’s flirty texts - He laughs out loud to his empty apartment when a pic of Blaine shirtless in his trailer, with the top of his boxers showing above his jeans, pops up.

Blaine: Finally gets to see me shirtless whenever he wants.

What an ego.

Kurt: Definitely not as often as I want.

Kurt is pretty sure that’s what makes Blaine come right back to Kurt’s apartment with Rachel that Friday, rather than at least dropping his bag off at home first. “First weeks of dating are always the hardest,” Blaine says as he shuts Kurt’s bedroom door and pulls Kurt on top of him and kisses him long and slow.

Kurt pulls back. “The hardest?”

“Mmmm,” Blaine mouths along his neck. “Very hard not to want to be naked all the time.” Kurt can’t really argue with that. Despite his sense of romance, he definitely does not want to go out right now.

It doesn’t take them very long to shed their clothes and crawl into Kurt’s bed to wrap around each other. Then it slows down as if in slow motion. The last time they were together was desperate - Kurt was surprised and nervous and unsure of what was happening. Now he’s calm (in a horny sort of way) and he lets Blaine wrap around him as Blaine explores his body - the sensitive spot two inches under his armpit, the strip below his belly, even his balls which Blaine cups in his hands. He moans in appreciation and Blaine likes it. He likes it too.

He lets Blaine finger him open that night while Blaine gives him a blowjob and it doesn’t even feel like a thing. Kurt is on his back and Blaine is sinking up and down on him, wet and slow, slurping in a sort of grotesque satisfaction. Kurt lifts his knees up to see what might happen andBlaine pops off momentarily and stares at Kurt’s open legs, then stares at his eyes as he grabs the lube. When Kurt nods, Blaine sinks back down and touches him so effortlessly that Kurt forgets to be nervous. Light presses turn to one finger, then two. In and out. So many sensations and then he’s coming in Blaine’s mouth.

There is just something very easy about being with Blaine Anderson.

...

Rachel is the one who convinces them to do the interview.

They’ve been dating uneventfully for half a year when That’s So Rachel gets renewed for a second season. Other than the occasional photo request or silly headline - Blaine Anderson buys some strawberries while out for a walk with his beau - Kurt feels like he’s having a pretty regular first relationship. They spend several nights a week together, but not every night, they see plays, bake cookies, hang out, have spectacular sex thanks to Blaine’s well honed skills (It’s not my skills, it’s you, Blaine says over and over but Kurt still thinks he’s indulging him). Tumblr seems like a distant memory though Mercedes tells him there is an active RPF fandom writing fics about them - Klaine, she says. What on earth is a klaine? And he’s still acing all his classes.

Then one day the request comes from good old JustJay, and Rachel is all in.

“It will be such great publicity for our new season,” Rachel insists. “The true love behind the show. Come on, you know it will be fun.”

Kurt definitely does not know that. Neither does Blaine. But they give in mostly because Rachel is pure enthusiasm and what really is the harm? So they find themselves sitting on a little couch in JustJay’s small rented studio, arms crossed on their laps like the little old couples in When Harry Met Sally.

“It’s true. He was a fan,” Blaine confirms. “Of my first TV show, Sing!”

“That’s his false modesty talking. I was a fan of Sing! But mostly, I was a fan of Blaine Anderson - young, out, gay. Not bad looking,” Kurt teases. “But I was Rachel’s friend and roommate long before I knew anything about them working together.”

“It was serendipity,” Blaine squeezes his hand and the camera pans in. Kurt can just imagine the fics that will come out of this.

“It was random luck.”

Blaine continues, “We have a lot in common - growing up gay in Ohio, love of musical theatre. We even both sang in show choirs. I’d never date a fan, though.”

“But,” Kurt continues his sentence. “When we met through Rachel, I was too embarrassed to admit I knew who he was. I was just trying to get through a five minute awkward conversation with my celebrity crush without making a fool of myself.”

“But I wouldn’t let him go.”

“He wouldn’t let me go.”

And the rest is history.

#ahhh it's done!#I will reblog with AO3 link once I post there #full fic here we go #even better than the real thing #gleekto writes

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tsuna-sora · 3 years

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Hi, yes hello. Good day all my gender and none gender darlings <3 This is gonna be a long winded salt post about the current state of mlb and the fandom and if that’s not for you feel free to skip this post as you please dear. I want your comfort as a priority and you do you. And for people who disagree with me I’ll kindly ask you not to engage on this post please keep scrolling and don’t let me have any bearings on your day. I will not interact to dispute this post cause I’m kinda tired of stuff if that’s alright with you. Love you. OKAY. *breaths* As someone who when it comes to Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction only goes into the Adrienette tag and never got the urge to see other ships in fics ever since the start of this show till now, I can safely say that I am indeed an Adrienette shipper.... yah know EXCEPT FOR CURRENT CANON. Because, this may shock everyone who likes this ship, the relationship they have in fanfiction and canon is not the same thing anymore. This series canon writing has been atrocious since the start of S3 (if not the middle of S2 where I could notice things were in the start of going in a weird /later confirmed bad/ direction)

So this is just a thing I wanted to say, hey like could y'all kindly not deliberately go into tags of your notp’s and harass shippers in their own tags/blogs? Cause that’s like, not raaad my dude. \(uwu)/ And tag stuff accordingly if you disagree? Please and thank you for being an amazing human being? And be polite if you wanna debate them? And if your not sure the poster is open to it please first ask/check with them for consent for that debate? :3c

Also can we like not dismiss someone’s extremely valid points and logical points that they wrote/pointed out as flaws and/or good points and well written parts just because *le gasp* they ship Adrienette or Lukanette and/or Adrigami instead of what you ship or is endgame in canon! Blasphemy!

Okay now for the serious note, Marinette is always punished for shit she didn’t do to the point her embarrassment and distress in Truth made me cry and have an attack that later made me finally quit the show. (if you want to see that distress post it’s here) One of my bff’s who writes Adrienette fics on AO3 also hates the writing and destruction of characters in this entire show at this point and agrees that the writing for the characters has been shit, Marinette is both a great person and then suddenly a freak for plot reasons, Adrien is a saint except he literally is not and him not learning lessons is the worst representation and image for young boys ever, every single character has been distorted to fit plot instead of providing it, but they keep watching for lore for their fic and have been explaining to me what happened since then. So yes I know about Lies through them and osmosis of bloggers I follow. And some of them holy molly are Lukanette or Adrigami and even Marigami blogs because that doesn’t matter to me one fucking bit because they’re freakin’ darlings of people who tag stuff properly and aren’t rude to others or have ever been rude to me and the points they make are valid. Just as I also follow a lot of dedicated Adrienette only blogs and in fact what all of these have in common is that when I interact with them or ask stuff they all have been nothing but fluffy bunnies I wanna kidnap into my home.

Just as some other people have also pointed all these things out even tho they are also Adrienette shippers.

( Tipo EU, e outras pessoas muito giras que só shipam Adrienette )

Who have been silenced by the other majority. If you don’t agree with me that’s FINE. That’s why I put that first part of the post informing you that if you read this till this point I don’t want to debate out my experience of Miraculous if it doesn’t mirror yours. And you don’t see the same things I did. That’s okay my dude. :c

IT’S FINE I LOVE YOU ANYWAY AND I WANT YOU HAPPY.

MY POINT IS *deep breaths* someone being a Lukanette shipper saying that Truth is a bad episode and presenting reasons outside their ship for it is valid. An Adrigami shipper pointing out that Lies is badly written and posting logical points that have nothing to do with the ship is valid.

You know what’s not valid?

Dismissing someone’s argument cause you went into their blog and noticed they shipped a certain ship even tho their debate/post had no ships involved as points of argument to begin with and then decided to harass/dismiss them and their post directly at them.

Guys we need to be kinder to each other. We need to respect each other. We need to understand that some people only like the shipping in a show. Some people only like to discuss writing of shows. Some people like to salt, others not at all. Some post things as an outlet not wanting different interaction/debate, others do want people to discuss and debate. ALL OF THIS IS GREAT AND FINE. BUT WE NEED TO RESPECT AND BE KIND TO EACH OTHER.

I have not been a perfect example of this and I am a mature person who can admit this. So if I unintentionally did this to you? I’m sorry. I will hear the person speaking to me and check myself and correct my behavior for next time. And so can you because I believe you are a good person.

I had proof of this very recently where me and someone else had a misunderstanding within a post and we ended up talking and we cleared up stuff. Turns out that person did not want to make me feel bad at all. We just had a case of me being a none English speaker and not being able to make my entire point super cohesive and them getting a wrong idea and it snowballing from there.

Which is also something I wanna point out. Please don’t forget that some people aren’t native English speakers and may not be able to explain themselves fully to you or cohesive enough. Be patient and before you think they are debating something without pointing out this thing or x forgot to point out something in their post ask them about it politely if they have an opinion on it or if maybe they forgot to mention? Jesus where am I going with this post at this point. Okay what I want everyone to take away from this is that we shouldn’t be fighting each other. We shouldn’t be dismissing and harassing each other. You know what we should be doing? Beating up Thomas Austruc and his writing team with sticks and DEMANDING BETTER WRITING FOR THIS SHOW AND ALL OUR SHIPS BE THEY CANON OR NOT ALL OF US TOGETHER---- Okay pitch fork revolution idea aside I just wanted to stop people from using a ship as a means to hurt each other. We all liked or still like MLB and I want us to be above this stuff. I believe in us cause I’m a stupid shounen protag whose hopes die last when it comes to people. I love you all okay? I seriously do. I’ve had a lot of fun when it comes to the fandom of MLB. I love seeing people post cute art of my ship. I love seeing cute art of Lukanette, I love seeing cute art of Adrigami and Nino and Alya, and Nino or Adrien and JuleRose. I love the gifs, the salt, the cute content, the mostly lore debated stuff etc. I LOVE IT ALL. And I’m not giving up on us. And I bet 100% that you aren’t either you stupidly beautiful human being. *kisses your cheek with your consent* This has been again a very rare self post. And I bid you all goodnight.

#miraculous ladybug #Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir #ml salt #ml positivity #personal post #All ships are valid #I love you #I believe in this fandom #We will get there #Don't let others dictate how you feel about this show and that includes myself #I have no idea what to tag and it's very obvious #Can yall tell this was written very poorly thought out cause my brain is fried?

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1-800-get-sherlocked · 3 years

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this was supposed to be an incorrect quote but it spiraled out of control

note: im american idk if yall brits have cuties (kidding im sure ur all cuties ok im sorry i couldnt resist) but i really had to alright pls be-ryllium ar-gon with me yes im sorry we are revisiting chem lads dont worry i will provide you translations/i will make it obvious also theres switching povs & im telling you ahead of time: the puns are very, very bad

also i wrote this at like late 5am un-beta-ed so please forgive me for any mistakes, i have 0.5 braincells left and i used up 0.279 for academic papers

kind of a crackfic btw

ok without further ado bc i ramble too much, other notes at the end:

*on Valentine’s Day*

John woke up to the sound of clinking and the faint sound of rustling of papers, the other side of the bed empty and cold. Ah, probably on that experiment again with those oranges he said were also a good pet name for me. What was it again? Right, cuties. A small smile appeared on John’s unshaven face. His hubby was too endearing for his own good sometimes.

In the kitchen, Sherlock paced back and forth, eyeing his failed experiment with disdain. Which he was totally worrying more about rather than whether his plan would work. Would John like these? Maybe he should have just gone with George’s advice and went to get some takeout Angelo’s like they often did during quarantine, but Sherlock wanted to make this special. He nervously adjusted his shirt collar, looking down to check that he was indeed wearing the purple shirt John loved so much. Apparently it was called the purple shirt of sex or something? The detective honestly had no idea how or why but that wasn’t important, what was important was John. John. He still couldn’t believe the brilliant, patient, and gorgeous army-doctor was....his husband. After the drunk night they had that one day, things got a bit heated and...well, you could say they definitely had a good time and cleared up their feelings for each other, much to Donovan’s chagrin who lost Scotland Yard’s bet by just a week. Mrs. Hudson was the winner, obviously.

Thank god for Mrs. Hudson’s and Gavin; he didn’t know what he would do without both of them giving him advice, though the DI wasn’t always pleased to be summoned in the middle of a case to help Sherlock out.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Sherlock scanned his surroundings to make sure everything was in place. Ah, he could now hear John about to step into the aisle, right on time. Quickly, Sherlock went back to pretending he was working on his experiment.

Just a few moments later, John padded into the kitchen, clean shaven, and as expected, looked at Sherlock pointedly. Of course, the detective was used to this and promptly ignored it, waiting for John to say something.

“Sherlock,” John said, tilting his head to the side a bit, “What is going on here? Why are there little sticky notes all over the place?”

Sherlock simply shrugged. “Why don’t you go take a look for yourself, John? I’m sure you would be able to find out that way.”

Sighing, John went back into the living room and perused the various bright colored sticky notes. Sherlock’s scratchy handwriting was on all of them, along with small drawings on some. Stepping closer, John took the first one off the wall above the couch and read the note out loud:

“Jawn, you’re small and angy, just like the bunch of Copper (Cu) Tellurium (Te) Iodine (I) Einstieinium (Es) we got the other day. Will you be my clemenvalentine?” Belatedly, John noticed a small orange drawn next to it, with a small >:[ face. Sherlock still wasn’t going to let him ever live it down, huh?

Shaking his head with the faintest hint of a smile crossing John’s expression, he moved on to the next one.

“John, the first time we met and dined at Angelo’s, I said girlfriends weren’t really my area. What I really wanted to say was that I was Gallium (Ga) Yttrium (Y), John. Obviously, I am married to my work and love of my life now, but would you still be my Valentine again, for the 11th time?” This one was written in rainbow ink, probably one of those pens Rosie got for Sherlock, insisting that he would have some use for them someday. Which he did, evidently.

As John picked up more and more notes strewn around the room, and read more and more puns, some of his favorites being, “Forget Hydrogen–you’re my number one element” and “Why don’t we go back to the bedroom and form a covalent bond ;) Or we could do it on the table, periodically” he didn’t know whether he should have laughed or cried. Maybe both. Some were so bad they were hilarious but the fact that they were that bad just made it more funny and endearing. Oh Sherlock, where would I bee without you? who would I be without you?

Oh god, John realized with horror. Sherlock’s terrible puns were rubbing off him and invading his thoughts. Typical of him, that bloody cute charismatic arse.

Finally, John reached the last one.

“John, I know I’m not very good with expressing my affection for you, but I want you to know, especially today, that Iodine (I) Lutetium (Lu) Vanadium (V) Uranium (U). You are my best friend, my lover, my husband, and my lifelong partner. You’ll always be my doctor and blogger at heart.” On the side, a small smiley face was drawn.

The entire time, John knew Sherlock’s eyes were on him, even though he pretended to be busy with his experiment. The doctor knew those telltale signs: tense shoulders coupled with a nervous biting of his lip. Watching closely, trying to gauge his reaction after reading all of them.

“Sherlock, were you trying to test my chemistry knowledge again? You know it’s been awhile since I’ve studied all this, right?”

Of course, Sherlock knew this. Sherlock always knew but was somehow still an oblivious idiot. My oblivious idiot, John thought affectionately.

“Well yes but I-” a beat. Sherlock took a deep breath. “Well, it’s always you making plans for Valentine’s, and I thought, maybe I should take charge this time, with something other than Angelo’s–don’t worry, I’ve already ordered takeout for dinner, I know you love their food, John, so I still did it. But I wanted to do more for you this time. Mrs. Hudson and Rosie agreed it would help me express myself better, so I tried it out. Um-” Sherlock stopped mid sentence as John walked up to him, and put a finger over those pouty lips.

“Sherlock, you amazing, adorable, gorgeous man, you’re so cute, you know that? And I did in fact notice your shirt–we will be making use of that later, obviously.” The detective gulped visibly. “But for the record, I want you to know that I know how much you love me, and you know how much I love you, so don’t ever feel bad about having trouble expressing it verbally; I can always tell through the small thoughtful gestures you do for me and the looks you throw my way when you think I can’t see. What you did for me today was very sweet, and it made my day–I will always cherish this memory on this Valentine’s, but I can assure you my love for you will never change no matter what, whether or not you do gestures like this for me. My love is of the same magnitude as yours to mine, and it never stops growing everyday”

Sherlock beamed, that charming crooked grin of his slowly spreading across his face, and John pulled him down for a kiss, both laughing against each other’s lips lightly as their mouths clumsily crashed together.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#my posts #my post #my writing #johnlock #sherlock bbc #fics #my fics #johnlock fics #also this is technically my first fic? i wrote a small drabble for another fandom beforre but uh #yeah #so please forgive me if it's not very good #i would love comments! tell me about stuff you like/don't like!#i stayed up till 7 writing this oops #instead of writing analysis for my data project due tomorrow or technicallyt oday lmfao #anyways #i hope u enjoyed reading my brainrot #also 0.279 was not a mistake #i chose it on purpose #i didnt read through this after writing this so i apologize for any mistakes #i'll fix them tomorrow or somethng i mean techncally today #ajsadlkf anyways yea ok iim kinda scared but my 7am brain is shameless so here we go #oh no it is light outsde now oops #prob coulda come up wth better puns but like i said my braincells almost out of stock xD

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dracoignisworld · 4 years

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A little white (wine) lie

As Jon entered the shop, he caught sight of a small, silver-haired woman carefully studying a bottle of Merlot. Whilst she twisted and turned the wine between her hands, he casually walked up behind her, pretended to read the label, and drawled:

“Oh, that one - that’s an excellent one.”

A pair of violet eyes gazed back at him curiously. “Is that so?” she replied, smacking her apricot lips with a pop. “And what can you tell me about it?”

That it’s red, Jon thought though he retained a brilliant smile as he lied: “Whatever you want to know.”

Corked was perfectly placed in between two student accommodations. The owners knew how to make the best of their situation; though barely more than a narrow room, they’d managed to cover every wallspace with shelves stocked full of £5 bottles of chardonnay and prosecco, tinned gin and tonic, local ale sold by the litre, and, naturally, a barrel full of tequila.

Like the students, Jon had dragged his arse out of bed that Tuesday afternoon for some bargain booze. Having spent the last three years freelancing, he considered himself a bit of a connoisseur when it came to cheap alcohol - mostly because it was all he could afford. All the more reason he found his smile faltering a little when the woman popped the bottle back on the shelf and he noticed the price displayed below.

Who the fuck pays fifty-eight pounds for wine? Jon thought before sneaking another peek at the woman and, with a resigned sigh, realising: Someone like her.

Whoever she was, she was stunning; her hair was brightly silver and tied back into several elaborate braids which cascaded down her narrow shoulders like streams of water. Her small body was wrapped in a pale pink dress, the pleated hemline teasing just above her knees which were perfectly tanned from the sun. Yet it was the intense colour of her eyes which kept drawing Jon’s gaze back to her face.

Like a lavender field, Jon thought, and he felt an immediate urge to write it down in case he was to forget. At once, he sensed it was something he could use for his work. Some day, at least.

“Do you know a lot about wine?” the woman asked and cocked her head. Her braids slipped to her right shoulder, the movement causing the many golden beads in her locks to glimmer.

Jon licked his lips and sensed how dry they were. “I know something,” he said with confidence.

“I like a man who knows something,” she replied, but before Jon could tell whether she was mocking him or not, she continued: “I’m Daenerys.” She offered him her hand. Her nails were delicately manicured. Pale tangerine gel. Of course.

Jon shook it with his own rough hand, suddenly aware of how sweaty his palm was. “I’m Jon,” he said.

“Well, Jon,” Daenerys spoke, “perhaps you can help me. I am looking for a wine that will go well with my dinner.”

“Merlot goes well with everything,” Jon said.

“Maybe if it doesn’t have a lot of acidity, I am inclined to agree,” Daenerys said, and Jon found himself wondering:

Is wine acidic? - but he couldn’t linger on the thought because she spoke with cool haste:

“However, I am planning on serving a salmon dish, and I’m sure you’d agree that a full-bodied white wine would be more appropriate in this instance.”

“Of course,” Jon said without thinking, feeling a tad flushed. He pushed his fingertips into the collar of his shirt to let in some air. Despite the aircon whirring above them, he sensed the shop was heating up. Perhaps I’m finally feeling the sun, he decided.

Daenerys rested her hands on her lower back as she slowly walked alongside the back-shelf, her eyes scanning the many bottles on display. Jon found himself mimicking her posture as he too strolled alongside the wines, his eyes desperately searching for something he could recognise. Everything seemed to melt into one. From a distance, he could scarcely make out the small flag signalling ‘country of origin’.

“Now, I haven’t decided on how I’m going to prepare the salmon, and I know this will definitely have an impact on my choice.”

“Definitely,” Jon repeated.

“I thought of making glazed salmon, which naturally makes me keen on a dry Riesling.”

“Naturally,” Jon said. He was starting to feel like a parrot.

Daenerys was undeterred. “But,” she said, turning on her heels in the same and almost colliding with Jon on her way back toward the beginning of the shelf. She sent him a small apologetic smile as she brushed past him, the soft skin of her bare arms brushing to his knuckles and making him shiver. “But, I do also like a simple, plain salmon, because I enjoy a white Burgundy.”

Jon touched his knuckles where a warm feeling had started to spread and muttered: “Who doesn’t,” as it was the only reply he could come up with.

Daenerys turned on her heels again, and Jon paused as he waited for her to walk past him once more, sharing names of wines he’d never known to exist. But she remained standing, cocking her head to the other side as she said: “So, what do you suggest?”

Jon slowly dragged his tongue around his mouth, trying to wetten it, but he found himself completely parched. He wasn’t sure why, but the way she was looking at him made his heart skip a beat. He felt like he was back in school, and the teacher had just called on him, and he didn’t know the answer though he desperately wanted to impress. So he did the only thing he could - he avoided the question.

“Do you live around here?” he asked, and he felt smug when she blinked. He could tell he caught her off-guard.

“I do,” Daenerys replied. She narrowed her eyes as if she was trying to read him. “I moved back recently.”

“Where from?”

“I was living in Spain for a bit,” she said.

“Studying?” Jon asked. He popped his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he waited for her reply, but if he’d felt relief at moving away from the subject of wine, that sensation was soon squashed as she hummed:

“You ask a lot of questions and say little.” Daenerys’ eyes twinkled as she twirled a braided lock around her hand and rested her other arm over her waist. “Your turn - do you live around here, Jon?”

Jon liked the way his name sounded on her lips. She spoke it in the same way she referred to the wines - with confidence, as if she already knew everything it entailed. “I live down the road,” he said.

“Student?”

“Those discounts are sadly long gone,” he replied with a wry smile. “No, I graduated a while back. Been freelancing since.”

“Doing what?” she asked.

“My turn,” Jon deflected the question, and he enjoyed the pout that shaped on her lips. “Did you study in Spain?”

“I visited family, mostly. Ate and drank,” she said this with a light laugh, “what else would you do in Spain! Lived life, really.”

“Must do well for yourself to just travel,” Jon pointed out.

“Must do well for yourself,” Daenerys retorted, “being a freelancer and knowing so much about wine.” This time, he could definitely sense the mocking in her tone, so he stuck his nose up a little and said:

“You asked me what I’d suggest.”

“I did,” she agreed and raised her brows. “Have you decided?”

“I suggest eating out and letting the waiter choose the wine pairing. In that way, if it’s right, you feel smug, and if it’s wrong, you can blame it on bad service.”

Daenerys let go of a short laugh before covering her mouth. Her violet eyes sparkled. “You’re such a bad liar,” she spoke through her fingers, but even her hand could not hide her large smile. “You know nothing about wine, do you?”

“I’m actually a blogger,” Jon said with a slight blush to his cheeks. Before she could say else, he quickly clarified: “Not like a popular read-my-essay-to-see-my-stew-recipe kind of blogger. I blog for companies.”

Daenerys lowered her hand and looked amused. “What kind of companies?”

“Any that pay me,” he shrugged. “Right now, I’m helping a florist get off their feet, so I’m reading all about wedding bouquets. It is the season for marriage after all,” he said and gestured toward the windows at front. Outside, the sun shone sharply. Heat seemed to rise off the asphalt in waves. “I’m also doing some work for an IT start-up, and some hand-soap seller.”

“And it pays well?”

“Let me put it this way - I don’t normally shop here,” he gestured at the shelving unit beside them where the cheapest bottle he could spot was priced at thirty-five, “but there,” he pointed toward a barrel at front. It was full of plastic-flasks with store-branded whiskey.

Daenerys tapped her manicured nails to her lips as she looked the way he’d gestured. Her face was folded in thought, and Jon took the pause to take in the plump shape of her lips, her rounded chin, her slim neck.

When she looked back, he hurriedly looked down at his sneakers. “Well, anyway,” he said, “sorry for barging in on your shopping.”

“You said I must do well for myself,” Daenerys spoke, seemingly not hearing him, “and it’s true. I actually own a business.”

Jon stopped himself from gawking. “Oh,” he said, trying to remain cool, “that’s nice.”

“I used to do it on the side, but I want to really focus my attention on it and make it something great. That’s why I moved back from Spain. I need to be more involved.” As she spoke, her eyes narrowed and her fingers dragged from her lips to rest beneath her chin in thought. “I could actually need some help on the media front.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Jon said again, though her words were slowly dawning on him.

“You know, I think you’re right,” she said at once.

Jon blinked. “About what?”

“The whole wine-pairing thing. Asking the waiter and all that? Not a bad idea.”

Jon chuckled: “It was a joke.” Still, when he met her gaze, he found her staring back at him mischievously.

“Would you like dinner? Purely business, of course. Then we can see if you’d be any help for me.”

Jon felt his ears redden. Is she asking me out? he wondered as he stared back at her, gleaming eyes and all. He popped his fingers back into the collar of his shirt. “Just business?” he said, before stuttering: “I mean, sure. Of course. Just business. Is all.”

“Is all,” Daenerys agreed. She grabbed a bottle off the shelf, to Jon seemingly at random, and handed it to him. “Take this,” she said as he eyed the label, “it’s a beautiful wine from Chile. Taste it, and then meet me outside this shop tonight and let me know what food will go well with it.”

“That’s nice,” Jon said, looking at the price out of the corners of his eyes. Fucking sixty-five pounds! “But I can’t afford it.”

“My gift,” Daenerys said and gestured for him to follow. They slowly walked through the room toward the till at the front. “To help you understand my business.”

“Right - what is it, anyway?” Jon asked, but he felt the words die on his lips. Because instead of waiting with him by the till, she slipped behind it, typed something into the laptop, and then handed him a receipt which stated the name of the wine and the final price of £0.

“This,” she said with a brilliant smile as she gestured around the shop.

Jon felt his heart drop. “You own the shop?” he mumbled and watched as Daenerys leaned in over the counter with a smirk. He felt his face go completely red. “Did I just-”

“-mansplain wine to me? Sure tried,” Daenerys laughed. She reached out, her fingertips brushing a curly black lock out of his face.

Jon looked down as he murmured: “Sorry.”

“Eight o’clock tonight okay?” Daenerys asked and, when Jon nodded, she sent him a customer-service smile and chirped: “Thanks for shopping at Corked!”

As soon as Jon had bowed out of the shop and back into the sunshine, his fingers grasped tightly around the bottle of wine, he walked with steady steps across the road, straight into the bookshop across from Corked, and requested: “Any and all books you have on wine, please.” It was going to be a long afternoon.

#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #writing #writings #just a small silly thing #trying to get back into writing again

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thattimdrakeguy · 3 years

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I am very sorry for what you are going through, think that in adittion to that unpleasant people who attack you, there are also many more who enjoy, respect and follow your content, and want the best for you. I really like your reviews and opinions, and although I do not always agree with you, I respect and validate your opinion as much as anyone's because that is to be respectful with others and have common sense.--

--You should not take into account what people who are unable to respect another human being like them say, that they cannot even separate reality from fiction, all for a simple opinion different from theirs about a FICTIONAL CHARACTER, you cannot even take them seriously. If those people need to insult, despise and make someone feel less for a reason like that, it simply speaks of how miserable they are as humans on and off the internet.--

Please don't take into account what these people say, listen to those who appreciate you and show respect. I hope you feel better and I am sorry for what is happening in your life, but you can always forward with your will and the people around you.(Hugs)

I only read these ones this morning, or afternoon more accurately cause I have a very bad sleep schedule for weeks cause I been playing video games too late into the day, but I’m slowly working on it. I’m just really bad at it.

And all I can really say to accurately give my reaction to it, was that it was something I definitely needed to read first thing in the morning. If it wasn’t for those messages yesterday, and a friend helping me out I may not have even been calmed down enough to go to bed at all. I could’ve easily not gone to sleep literally at all and had been even worse today because of it to the point of having another meltdown of a day.

Like I don’t wanna make myself sound too good, because if I did, I’d feel like I was lying, because my mind feels like a bloody nose filled up with tissue paper, if that even makes a darling lick of comprehension.

I find it so entirely weird, and patronizing, and frustrating how the fandom can be, if not worse. Like I say something unpopular, I do it a lot, probably with literally every freaking character. Even Tim, because I know that quite a few Tim fans don’t like me either.

I don’t read every comic and go “Oh this must just be how it works”, because that’s not how my brain is wired. I’m Autistic, I go in-depth, I do a lot of research, that is how I am wired when I get a hyperfixation, I want to know everything. So I say a lot of unpopular stuff because I don’t just accept things, because I don’t work that way.

But it goes like this when it comes to people just being miserable, they have to make me out to either be a bigot or bias, they either don’t even read what I say, or just don’t acknowledge what I say.

My biggest point they will leave out completely to focus on other things that are either completely irrelevant and just there to make me look bad even though it doesn’t really make sense what it has to do anything once you think about it a lick more, or just make me look straight up like a crappy person.

I got really ranty and rambly after this, and I try not to take up people’s dashboards as much. So I’ll put this here. If it’ll work, cause one time I don’t think it did, and it made me panic once cause I felt really bad. But it just would not show up.

Because trying to make a bad face out of a real life living person isn’t that bad, compared to the horrors of having to acknowledge the arcs and actions that their favorite character been through evidentially.

Sorry to say and everything, but I don’t see how on Earth Tim cheating on Ariana has anything to do with a literal whole other arc of Steph being abusive and doing really horrible things, or all those “teases” that were actually flirts that were making Tim genuinely uncomfortable to the point of sexual harassment, and told her not to do, which she didn’t actually always listen to sometimes, surprisingly to some. I also don’t see why it’s so hard to comprehend that Tim kissing Steph just because he got ahead of himself because he was euphoric he was about to die, yet it was made clear he didn’t do sexually or romantically, isn’t as bad (comparatively because it’s still insanely inappropriate and weird, but I wouldn’t call him a pervert over it) to me as Steph literally pinning Tim down during a gun fight to kiss him against his will, or taking advantage of Tim believing she was dead and giving her CPR to do it again. Like I don’t really see why saying “Just read the comics” has to do with anything, because I don’t have the art skills to just make all those panels up like that. Which by the way, I don’t give a single fuck about what bad thing Steph has done. I don’t like her because a lot of her stories are badly written, and a lot of her fans are straight up assholes. Which they conveniently ignore, because I must be villainized, because they can’t handle me acknowledging something that isn’t their idealized image. But let me also state that there are assholes in literally every fandom, I just have certain ones that decide to be assholes to me. And I don’t remember the part where I said teasing was bullying either. I can’t find that on my list of thoughts in my brain. Almost like they don’t actually know how I think or what I meant.

And I don’t know why on Earth Tim not trusting Damian to the point of being kind of scummy has much to do with Damian doing horrid things in comics they like as well. They’re their own separate people ya know? I’m not comparing characters, because I’m not actually trying to shit on the characters you should realize. Not every negative thing is formed out of toxicity. Toxic positivity where people act like not just enjoying everything is so bad is actually a thing. And I see it quite often in fandoms, and it comes from a good place, but my goodness, just let people express themselves sometimes. It’s not going to hurt anybody as long as they’re not actually an asshole or you just have a fragile ego.

It seems pretty irrelevant to me. Implying that I hate the characters because of these actions is also pretty dumb to me as well, because that’s not the case nor how it works. They keep acting like me not acknowledging the bad thing Tim does in the same posts is some showing of my bias, but no, I just view it as fucking irrelevant, because I do bring up when Tim does something bad when ever it is relevant. It is that simple. I think the only time I’ve ever even could truly come across as trying to baby and defend Tim was me saying Tim cheating on Ari with Steph was out of character, which I still hold that opinion too, but I don’t simply make shit up, I just notice how rushed it was, and how it goes against how Tim is about morals, Steph, and his literal stance on cheating. Stuff that you would actually judge what’s in or out of character on.

I just give everything the same standard. I’ve never denied Tim wasn’t passive aggressive or conscending to anyone, or has violated privacy, or was immature. If I had it was probably me caught up in the moment, and pretty weird, because I’ve actively talked about it before.

And I’m referencing stuff in the past with these oddly specific examples, that hasn’t bugged me truly in a while, but when I find a new example of stuff, I can’t help but have it come back to mind and make me question how people got to just be shivery little jerks over things like made-up characters.

I’ve acknowledged the fact that my blog was too anti-Steph plenty of times, even as it was happening, because it was mostly through anons and not me. Some of which I defended Steph on. I just had too much anxiety not responding to them, because I’d feel a sense of guilt for ignoring someone. Which I’m over and past.

I’m not going to be held down by stuff I already corrected about myself.

It’s been so heavily implied to me before, that groups just talk mad shit about me, and made up this horrendous little reputation for me among themselves, and it is so disheartening, considering I’m just this baby faced geek that read too many comics, simply explaining stuff that had happened in actual comics without actual bias. I don’t run DC Comics. I’m just a blogger that they really really don’t like, and take it as a personal attack of some kind, at least going off of how they act.

Maybe it’s what I get for expecting people to treat fiction as fiction and not a big freaking deal when I say something or don’t say something, because they’d understand the context I’m trying to explain literal events in comics as they are, and other things that happened in other situations have no relevance to what I’m saying, because I’m not making a bashing piece like they seem to think.

I know I take fiction very seriously, because I just really want good content again. But I don’t make real life people’s lives miserable. Do ya think I talk shit about Bendis all the time? Not really. I’ve genuinely probably sang his praises more than otherwise. I think Tynion’s the closest example of when I could’ve, but that was years ago at this point. I’ve made it so much more clearer it’s about the comics than them, because simply I’ve realized how scummy it is to mock an actual person, who’s probably actually a really cool guy to know. Do I fuck that up sometimes, probably. But I’m definitely not telling him to kill himself.

If they can’t acknowledge what I actually say, and continue to just try to make me look bad. I don’t personally view myself as the bad one. That’d be utterly redundant.

It always boils down to that I just acknowledge stuff they refuse to, and they just play ignorant about, and pretend they just can’t possibly understand why anyone would say it. I didn’t pull the stuff out of my ass, I have the panels. I didn’t skip anything out. At most I just don’t find the excuses they have to be freaking relevant or over power the action at hand or sometimes the literal motivation she/he had going into it.

And it’s 100% okay, but even though this is a space on the internet, and I’m practically a loser shut in. I still live in the real world and when I’m not having a bad anxiety attack or whatever else, I try to be as reasonable as possible.

I just look at it, look at the context and past contexts, look at the motivations, judge it for what I see, and move on. And never consider it a big deal until someone else makes a big deal about it.

I don’t even view every person that does it against me to be a bad person, some of them most definitely are because they go too far with it, but some of them literally have no idea proper context anymore, or they’re just very very insecure.

It’s very difficult to outright go ‘THEY’RE ALL EVIL’, but when there’s so many that are just putrid humans that want me to take my own life, it’s a wee bit overwhelming, and understandably so, yeah?

People sometimes just don’t properly process what they’re doing, because they’re so caught up in their insecurity, or possibly even a mild ego, but there’s others that will do it because they’re so quick to anger and hatred over fucking nothing.

Welcome to reality. It’s a lot like taking a train ride through a diseased rectum sometimes. But other times it’s like taking a trolley though a nice field. It’s a mixed bag, but it’s a ride that never stops but once.

An important thing I do wanna say though, is that I have everyone who supports me in my heart. I may lose my sight of that when I’m going through an episode I’m having a heckuva lot of trouble controlling, but I’d be in a much worse spot without them. Some of them are so dang respectful, and some are just so legitimately sweet and kind that it’s a blessing to have ever had an interaction of any kind or level with them.

I don’t take any of you for granted even if sometimes I seem ignorant of it during a terrible depressive episode.

You often don’t agree with me and can make it very clear, but it’s the respect you give me nonetheless that I take as precious, because it’s some of the best stuff to receive when all else seems so bleak and lifeless. It’s not an honor everyone sadly receives, so I treasure that a lot. And when I’m feeling so down and out, it sometimes can be the one thing that keeps me even near level, and that’s such an honor that even if it’s such a small amount, because obviously it’s a Tumblr blog I’m always aware of that, it just does mean a lot to me, because it genuinely is an honor to me.

I love you guys a lot. I hope that’s always obvious even when I’m making a mess out of myself. You guys are some of my favorite people on this planet.

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clairecrive · 4 years

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Let’s stay home| Quarantine AU

A/N: I know it’s been ages since I’ve updated this story, sorry guys. I don’t even know what this is but someone asked for Bronson so here it is. I’ve decided that I’m going to finish up and edit what I already have for this story, 4 or 5 chapters, and then end it. So, yeah. Anyways, hope you enjoy this!

Tag list: @evelynshelby, @mollybegger-blog, @br0ck-eddie, @of-love-and-of-the-sea, @deaflikehawkeye, @shadow-of-wonder, @fandom--0verdose, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @sopxhiea, @fuseburner

Chapter 6 - “Bronson”

Emma was laying in her precious bathtub for some very much needed me time. Since lockdown started, she had found herself needed some kind of relief from dealing with this whole situation. Living together with the guys wasn’t proving to be too bad. She was actually happy that he had invited them over, if she had had to face this whole quarantine on her own she would have probably gone insane. Not that living with four men didn’t put her on edge but it was bearable. As long as she could carve out some time for herself, she would be fine. Sighing contently, she basked in being in the water while the comforting smell of lavender filled her nostrils. but of course, her peaceful moment was short-lived.

“Oi, have you drown in there or something?” Alfie’s voice and vigorous knock startled her and disrupted the moment.

“This is my self-care bath, Alfie. What do you want?” But she won’t give it up easily if she could help it.

“Yer what?”

“Stop shouting and get in Alfie. You’ll annoy the neighbours.” Keeping her eyes closed she tried her best to not get the vibe lost.

“Aren’t you naked?”

“I’m covered in bubbles, don’t worry. Not that you haven’t seen it already.” And as a matter of fact, she was covered in bubbles, her long hair covered her breasts and she gathered her knees close to her chest to prevent an embarrassing situation; but the truth was that Emma had always been comfortable with Alfie. Yes, even being half-naked in front of him when nothing sexual was happening didn't bother her. And since they had done this before, when Alfie sat on the toilet next to the tub, she didn’t feel embarrassed at all. He plopped down, groaning for his bad back and looked at her face.

“So what’s all this then?” His gruff tone made her smile lightly and even if she had her eyes closed she could imagine him gesturing at her questioningly.

“I told you, this is my self-care bath.” She repeated finally opening her eyes, finding him exactly as she foresaw.

“Didn’t know there were different kinds of baths.” He mumbled scratching his chin.

“This includes shaving and scrubs and other stuff that of course you wouldn’t know about.”

“Seems like you’re dolling up,” he pointed out looking at his feet but Emma could sense that there was something else he wanted to say so she waited, “is it ‘cause that guy is coming over?” and here it was. By now, Emma knew Alfie too well to not know when something was up. And yeah, the man was naturally grumpy but his behaviour these last few days was too much even for him. And knowing him, she should have known that he was going to eavesdrop her conversation with Bane.

“Did nobody tell you that it’s impolite to listen on to other people’s conversation?” She avoided his question and decided that it was better to make fun of him. His unruly beard could only cover so much of his face and luckily for her, it didn’t cover the redness of his cheeks.

“You were talking in the middle of the fucking sitting room, everyone heard you.” he scoffed.

“Well, that doesn’t explain why you’re so bothered by it though.” She promptly pointed out putting him on the spot.

“Who said I’m bothered?” He scoffed again but Emma could see right through him.

“You’ve been acting like a jealous boyfriend Alfie.” she pointed out even though she knew he’d never admit it.

“I ain’t.” He childishly muttered while crossing his arms on his chest.

“Sure you are. Now be a good boy and tell me why, will you?” She asked him patronizingly while adjusting her position in the tub so that she could better look at him.

“C’mon Alfie, you know that you can talk to me.” she insisted when he didn’t say anything.

“It’s just- I didn’t understand I was going to be stuck in a house with a bunch of your exes.” He complained

“None of you is my ex,” since Alfie gave her a look that called her on her bullshit so she continued, “Eddie is my best friend. He has an on-and-off relationship at the moment but there’s never been anything between us.”

“What about Tommy?”

“We’ve had sex but we were never together. Just like you and me.” Alfie flinched but Emma didn’t notice.

“So, yer supposed to spend a weekend of sex with him too?” He spat and Emma knew that he hadn’t liked her answer but couldn’t really understand why.

“We have never labelled our relationship as exclusive or official, Alfie.” Emma reckoned as a matter of factly.

“That’s not what I said, innit?”

“Well, then why I get the feeling that knowing about my sex life sets you off?”

“And Bane?”

“He’s one of my best buds too. Never seen him naked, unfortunately,” she mumbled the last part but Alfie did hear anyway and threw an ugly glare at her.

“Why are you so interested in my sex life anyway?” she asked raising an eyebrow

“I’m not. You can do whatever you want,” he said not taking into consideration how she could read him so easily. Dismissing her and their conversation, Alfie got up and went to get out of the bathroom.

“Wait, Alfie, what time is it?” her voice stopped him

“Almost 4, why?” He said checking the time on his watch.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m late,” momentarily forgetting about the man’s presence, Emma pulled the drain of the bath and started to get up.

“What? Have somewhere to be?” Was Alfie’s attempt at being funny.

“I have an interview in half an hour. Guess who I’m interviewing?” Ignoring his cheeky tone, Emma kept drying herself. She didn’t have time to spare.

“Some beauty blogger?” Again, another jab.

“Charlie Bronson, Alfie. I’m so excited,” but Emma was too hyped about this opportunity she had been given.

“Why are you excited to speak with England’s most violent prisoner?”

“Exactly for that very reason. I mean, I know nothing of psychology but he ought to make an interesting subject, don’t you think?” Now wrapped in a warm towel, she was ready to leave the bathroom.

“Be careful, Em,” Alfie called out behind her.

“You can assist if you want to,” She offered, knowing that he could sit in the interview and she could get away with it.

“Oh, I also have an appointment but thanks.” Not thinking anything about it, she simply waved at him and rushed to her room to get ready. The interview was in ten minutes.

So far, it was going good. Sure there had been some problem with her wifi, then with his but it was all part of the job, wasn’t it? Despite his menacing look and intimidating physique, Charlie Bronson was very talkative and friendly. Or maybe he just liked talking about himself and being under the spotlight.

“So, with this current situation, everyday life has changed for everyone. Has life in prison changed too?” Was your final question, the one you were most excited to ask.

“Well, visitors can’t come anymore and also police officers can’t touch us, the cunts.” Flying over his colourful language, Emma reflected on his answer. It was a side effect that she hadn’t thought about but it made sense.

“It sounds like this virus has made life in prison easier, or am I going too far in saying that?”

“Yeah well, for me, it has and also for those people who have nowhere to go. It also helps us with police brutality.”

“Does it?”

“Of course. They’re the only ones that go out, aren’t they? So if one of us results positive to Covid then it means that it’s their fault, isn’t it?” Bronson points out with a raise of his eyebrow.

“That makes sense. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“No one really thinks about us.” The statement could have been filled with resentment but from his tone, it came out nothing more than a fact. However, Emma still felt a little guilty about it.

“Well, actually, there has been an uproar in Italy for this very reason. Families of inmates asked for their relatives to be released because they were not safe in prison. Do you agree?” Remembering an article she saw a couple of days ago, she thought it worth mentioning.

“Sounds like a desperate tentative to get them out. We’re as safe here as anywhere, if not safer.”

“So if you could, you wouldn’t want to leave prison?” Disbelief evident in her voice. Wouldn’t any inmate go back home given the chance?

“Why would I? Where would I even go?” But Bronson presented a fair point. Most of the lives of those who ended up in prison had always difficult stories behind them and in most cases, they don’t have a safety net to fall into.

“Well, I don’t know. Isn’t any place better than a cell?” Still, Emma thought, however difficult it may be to start again, wouldn’t it be ten times better than being in a cell?

“I’ve never understood people's disregard for prison. There’s nothing out there for me anyway.” Apparently, Bronson wasn’t of the same idea.

“If you’re fine and safe I guess it doesn’t matter where you are.” Not really convinced, Emma trying to meet him halfway.

“As lovely as it is to talk to you, my time is up. Gotta go.” Time had flown apparently because the hour the interview was supposed to last had already come to an end. It had been a conversation far more interesting than Emma had anticipated. Who would have thought. One should never judge a book by its cover, indeed.

“Thank you for speaking with me, Charlie. Stay safe,” saying her goodbyes she closed the zoom call. Staring at her desktop, she processed the whole conversation in her mind, the piece she had to write about it already forming in her mind. In order to avoid forgetting the words or losing inspiration, she immediately got to it. Typing away on her keyboard, words had never come to her as easily, she bashed in this sensation remembering why she loved her job so much.

#let's stay home #Quarantine AU #bronson #charlie bronson #charlie bronson x OC #charlie bronson fic #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x OC #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons fluff #alfie solomons angst #emma #OC

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doyouever-daydream · 4 years

Text

Since we’re alone

A/N Hello lovely humans, this is my attempt to write what I wish would have happened in s13ep12, I’ve had this idea in my mind for a while and at the end it turned out to be more, uhm, cheesier? intense? Something like that, and I blame this song because I was in the middle of writing it when it came on my Spotify and boy, did it change the direction of this fic lmao. But seriously tho, I love the song and it’s beautiful and if any of you already know it, I love you too. Anywho, let me know what you think and enjoy! GIF is not mine.

This is another oneshot for my BAU does blind dates series for the blind date prompt for my @cmbingo card

Summary: When blind dates go wrong and the universe conspires Penelope and Luke end up spending their evening together, bonding over french fries and burgers.

Pairing: Penelope Garcia x Luke Alvez

Warnings: Language (Luke says fuck once lmao)

Word count: 2801

Masterlist

“Since we’re alone, show me all that you are and if you get lost in the light, it’s ok, I can see in the dark”

“Everything happens for a reason”

Penelope stood outside the restaurant repeating those words to herself and feeling different things at once: disappointment, annoyment, sadness and hunger. She never even got to have dinner. She took a deep breath and started walking towards Esther, thanking God she had decided to meet her date here and not having him to pick her up.

Despite what everyone might think, she had other friendships at work, not only the BAU, and one of those friends, Betty, had offered to set her up in a blind date. Penelope was unsure if she wanted to be set up but her friend insisted she could find someone good for her but oh, what a mistake that had been. The guy was not only super late but incredibly rude to her. She held back the tears, but with her blurry vision she bumped into someone.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying atten- “ She couldn’t finish her sentence when she saw who was standing in front of her.

“Penelope? Hi, uh, what are you doing here?” Luke asked surprised but glad to see her.

“Uh, I was supposed to have dinner, what are you doing here?” For a moment she forgot the date gone wrong and was having mixed feelings about Luke Alvez being there wearing a black sweater and looking extremely handsome.

“I had a blind date” He replied with a blank expression on his face.

“Funny coincidence so did I” She looked less excited than him and he wasn’t that much excited.

“Was it bad?” He asked with a sympathetic look.

“Bad is an understatement, he was almost an hour late for starters” Her voice was full with frustration, she reminded herself to keep calm or she would end up crying in front of Luke and that wasn’t what she needed right now “Then when he arrived, he made it clear I wasn’t what he expected, he criticized my outfit, I won’t go in to many details but he made me feel like crap, now here I am, having wasted my Friday night with a guy who was not worth not even a minute of my time” Penelope closed her eyes and sighed, feeling less frustrated now that she had said everything out loud, maybe Luke wasn’t the ideal person to vent, but she was glad he was there.

“What the fuck is wrong with him? You should’ve left before he even arrived, he kept you waiting” He felt angry at the man who had done that to Penelope, she was so sweet to everyone she, out of all the people, didn’t deserve that kind of treatment.

“I know, I sat there longer being alone than with him and I am so mad at myself for not leaving before he got here it’s just…” She suddenly stopped, Penelope didn’t want to vent her insecurities in front of him.

“Just what?” He placed a hand in her shoulder, while searching for her eyes. “You need someone to talk and I happen to be here, please, tell me”

“It’s just I don’t date much, I’m not like, well other people, who have dates every weekend, I don’t get asked out a lot and I foolishly set my expectations too high and this clown, he was awful, he made fun of the way I dressed and…” She couldn’t keep the tears inside anymore and they silently fell on her cheeks, the whole scene had Luke feeling like finding the asshole and telling him off, but also he wanted to reassure Penelope that she was beautiful and deserved the world.

Suddenly Luke’s mind went somewhere he had been trying to avoid. Ever since he met Penelope, he knew she was special. As much as she tried to give him a hard time about being the new guy, she was really sweet. She cared so much for her friends, tried to see the silver lining in every situation and did anything she could to help others. Not to mention she was incredibly beautiful, more than once he had to force himself to stop staring at her, her eyes, her smile, her curves, her lips. Her lips were always a huge distraction for him whenever she was close, the times she presented a case, he focused on the casefiles rather than her.

But he was almost certain Penelope couldn’t see him in that way. She only saw him as a friend and he wanted to treasure that, it was the most he would have.

“Penelope, don’t pay attention to whatever he said about you, none of what he could have said is true, I’m sure” He wanted to lift her chin so she could see in his eyes he meant it.

“How could you know? You weren’t there” She tried to smirk, while dried her cheeks.

“It doesn’t matter, I just know, now, you said you left, did you have dinner?” Penelope looked at him with soft eyes and Luke just wanted to take her in his arms and wash away the sadness.

“No, but it’s ok, I have food in my apartment” Penelope held her bag and started to feel self conscious about being too sensitive in front of Luke.

“I’m not about to leave you like that, what would you like to have for dinner? We’re gonna get it” He stood in front of her with both of his hands in her shoulders.

“I honestly don’t know” She said in a small voice.

“Come on, there’s something you must want to eat right now” Luke was trying to cheer her up.

“I don’t know, you choose” Knowing Penelope was willing to spend some time with him made his smile grow bigger.

“French fries? I love french fries” Luke had already eaten but he was always willing to make space for french fries.

“Sounds good, yeah, comfort food to makeup for the awful date, I’m in” The mood was lighter between them now.

Penelope agreed to follow Luke so he could take her to the “best diner in town” according to him. When she got there, she was unsure if the feeling in her stomach was because she was hungry or she was about to spend one on one time with Luke Alvez and his brown eyes and killer smile.

“Here we are” He opened the door for her and guided her to his favorite booth, close the window and far from the people, not that there were many people but he wanted to have a nice conversation and didn’t want the fuzz to get in the way of it.

“There’s a burger I think you should try” Penelope cut him off.

“I’m vegetarian, Luke”

“I know, this is a vegan burger, I’ve tried it before, it’s really good” His expression made him look like an excited kid, she was unsure why he seemed to be that happy but she brushed it off.

“Ok, I’ll try it”

The waiter took their orders and he went off to tell her how he knew this place and why he liked it so much.

“You sound like a food blogger, Alvez, are you sure you’re not one?” She asked while taking a french frie into her mouth.

“No, I’m not, but I really love it here, besides it’s open 24 hours so sometimes after a case, this place saves me from starving to death” He took a sip of his soda.

“So dramatic, Luke, now tell me how was your date?” She was genuinely curious to listen about her friend’s night.

“Phil set us up, she’s really nice and beautiful but there wasn’t a spark, you know?” He stared at Penelope thinking how this felt more right than the date he just had.

“Maybe you should give it another try, have a second date” There it was again, her kind heart, Luke thought.

“I don’t think I’ll do it, I mean I wouldn’t mind hanging out with her and Phil but just that, nothing else” He spoke as if he was trying not to get into trouble.

“Ok, but don’t miss out on someone just because you’re afraid or something”

“What are you trying to say, Penelope?”

“It’s just, sometimes people prefer to run away before trying to see if there’s a future there, you know? You said she is really nice and beautiful, that sounds like a catch” He almost fell as if she was scolding him, which put a playful smirk on his face.

“Oh, come on, now I have to marry her just because of what I said?” He joked.

“No, listen what I’m saying, I say it out of experience, don’t give up on something that could be good just because you’re feel unsure at first”

“I’m not gonna argue with you, I’ll try to call her and see if she wants to go out some other day, alright?” He lied just so she would stop insisting.

“Alright, if you end up marrying her and having children, I want to be godmother” She winked.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, now let me show you how french fries should be eaten” Her eyebrows shot up in amusement at the sudden change of subject.

“What are you gonna do? You have a reputation that precedes you, you know?

Luke gasped feigning hurt. While he put barbecue sauce and caesar salad dressing on the side of the plate of fries they were sharing.

“That doesn’t look good” She admitted while scrunching her nose.

“Maybe, but it tastes really good, come on, try one” He put up the plate with one hand and with the other he took some fries dipped them in the mix and the ate them.

“Ok, just because you’ve been a great company tonight” She tried them and was pleasantly surprised it tasted good.

“See? I was right” He had a cocky smirk and Penelope rolled her eyes.

They ate the rest of their food in a comfortable silence, that was until Luke noticed Penelope was too deep in thought and the look on her eyes gave away she was still thinking about the earlier encounter she had.

“Watcha thinking about, chica?” He carefully watched her getting out of her thoughts.

“Should I be less… Uh, colorful? Wear less patterns?” She said in a serious voice.

“Not if you don’t want to” He replied with the same tone.

“I know I say I’m eternally young but does the way I dress or talk makes me look or sound, I don’t know, ridiculous?” She looked at him pleading honesty.

“No, no” He replied within a second she had finished speaking “Penelope, you are… I don’t even know how to describe it, you’re you, and that’s beautiful, you are beautiful and whoever doesn’t see that or tries to change the way you see yourself is an absolute moron, I cannot begin to explain how wrong they are” He licked his lips, knowing he was about to come out and say much more than he intended to.

“I am not lying when I say you are everything that is good in this world, and in my world, you are the light at the end of the tunnel, the color that brings my days to life, and I know I sound incredibly cheesy but it’s true, the whole reason why Phil set me up tonight was because I told him I had feelings for you and I needed to get over them because I know you won’t feel the same way, and seeing you beat yourself up over what some dickhead said is not ok with me, you are your own person, with your clothes and the way you talk and you’re million different glasses and your optimism, your way of loving people, your intelligence, I could go on and on if you wanted me to just so I can prove to you, how incredible you are, Penelope Garcia.”

Penelope was speechless and very touched by what Luke had said, never in a million years she would’ve thought he thought that much of her. He felt that way towards her.

Luke was also surprised that he had said all of that out loud, after trying to lock it in the back of his head for the past few months. He held her hand across the table and squeezed it.

“I-I-I don’t know what to- what…” Penelope was unable to speak coherent sentences. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming, so she just stared at him wide eyed and open mouthed. Luke had a feeling that maybe he wasn’t going to be turned down so he continued pouring his heart out now that he had finally dared to do so.

“Ok, since you’re not going to talk just yet, would it be crazy of me to ask you for a chance? A chance to see if something can go from here? Please” He pleaded with his eyes, not letting go of her hand.

She swore he could feel her heart beating faster and faster, for the second time in her life, she felt it was going to come out of her chest.

“Luke, it’s me you’re talking about” He looked at her trying to make sense of her words “I can be me, with all my quirks and my-” He cut her off.

“Didn’t you listen to me? That’s what I want, you, all of you, if you feel the slightest willing to try, let’s do it, I’ll do everything I can to not break your heart” She was still at loss of words and Luke’s confidence was wearing off but he had one more thing to say “A friend told me I shouldn’t give up on something that could be good just because I’m afraid”

“I told you I said it out of experience and that’s because I’m good at running, running away from relationships and commitment”

“It’s ok, I like the chase” And with that he leaned over the table and kissed her. If any of them needed proof that there was electricity between them, that was it. The feeling that went down their spines when their lips touched could not be compared to anything they’ve ever felt before.

When they pulled apart, it was Penelope’s turn to squeeze his hand.

“Alright, let’s try it then” Her smile and her eyes made him almost feel dizzy.

A month later, Penelope and Luke were feeling more than happy with the way things were, it had been a month of getting to know each other even more over date nights whenever they weren’t on a case. The team was ecstatic learning.they were together, everyone had a feeling they were good for each other.

“Penelope!” Betty, her work friend, called out to her and Penelope regretted coming down at that time.

“Hey Betty” She tried to be nice, it wasn’t her fault that her friend was an asshole.

“How are you, little liar?” Betty said with furrowed eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” She was surprised at the accusation.

“You stood up my friend, that wasn’t very nice, Pen” Her friend’s face softened.

“I didn’t stood him up, he was an idiot, I’m sorry but he was” She felt bad saying that about Betty’s friend but it was true.

“How could you know that if you never showed up?” Betty’s confused look mirrored Penelope’s.

“I did show up and your friend Ben was not only late but rude to me”

“He told me you didn’t show up, that he waited almost an hour for you” Betty knew something wasn’t right, neither of them lied “Are you sure it was Ben? The Ben I sent you the picture of?” Penelope hadn’t seen any picture.

“What? I didn’t see a picture, you told me his name was Ben” Penelope unlocked her phone and there it was, below the text that read Remember his name is Ben, was a picture of a man that wasn’t the one she had the misfortune to meet.

“Oh, Penelope, who the hell did you have dinner then?” Betty was now laughing, unaware that the first date she had that night went terribly wrong.

In that moment Luke walked by and saw Penelope, she also looked at him and smiled.

“It doesn’t matter, say sorry to Ben for me, ok? I have to go” She never took her eyes off Luke while he looked curious as to what she was saying.

She approached him and her smile grew bigger.

“What is making you smile so big this morning, Penelope?” He asked with his own smile adorning his face.

“Everything happens for a reason, Luke, everything happens for a reason”

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