#but when we started talking again it was exclusively on facetime. i’ve seen him in person twice and only one time was intentional | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

haikyutiehoe · 3 years

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thank you for your support! i really like it here and want to celebrate what for me once was a childhood nightmare (writing) + i hope you enjoy ! below you will find an extensive list, it’s smut central down there

☞ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

◆ please provide the prompt (various if needed), a scenario, setting and characters involved when requesting. in addition to general character x reader smut requests, i am writing threesomes, poly, gangbang

◆ (optional), include a description of the outfit of the reader and any subsequent lingerie or a photo image.

◆ this event is mainly open to the haikyuu fandom but i will accept a few jjk requests too

◆ these posts will feature the #haikyutiehoeevents and have a “read more”

◆ minors, dni

◆ these are all my own prompt creations, they are original and special, and took a while to come up with, been busy with tests and assignments

☞ 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒

◆ characters of interest include; aran, kita, suna, daichi, kenma, sakusa, hinata, bokuto, asahi, akaashi, kunimi, [ for the sake of making more content with these characters that i haven’t written for much, i include them here as a general note, you can ignore it easily lol! ]

◆ i am aiming to write 300+ words per request and challenging myself to write 1k+ (possibly beyond, hehe) as well. the requests with more details and plot will likely produce a larger word count, however if you’re not certain of ideas just indicate in the request if you’re interested in a longer fic.

☞ 𝐄𝐗𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓

(this is an example of a longer request that hopefully helps you frame your idea with the context of the prompt! thank you @bakugohoex)

maybe like suna with dont speak to me like i haven’t made you choke on daddy’s cock before after reader spends all day teasing suna on their day out together and he gets so pissed off that’s he finally has enough and drags reader to a semi public location and makes her suck him off unable to speak and yeah he’s just a teasing shit not letting her get off as he gets his release

☞ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒

this video says differently sweetheart

i found your underwear in my pocket, thought you might need it

you can close your legs now

if you wanted my face between your legs, all you had to do was ask nicely

i only fuck freaks

put on the new makeup, i wanna watch the mascara run down your face as i fuck you

put that mouth to good use and make me cum

don’t speak to me like i haven’t made you choke on daddy’s cock before

brats belong on their knees

your kinks are basic

there’s really no explaining this to our friends, they predicted we’d sleep together eventually

take one for the team

touch yourself and don’t stop, not until i’ve cum

liars don’t get to cum

get to work

if you still think this is just sex, then why am i still here

i know i fuck you stupid, but i haven’t even touched you yet and you’re babbling nonsense baby

creaming on my fingers alone, i’ll have to teach you some manners before our guests arrive

i fucked you on a facetime with my friends and now you want to be shy about them coming over?

it’s only fair that if i caught you, i should be the one to make you cum

say please

i’ve already seen you naked, don’t worry about how you look, worry about how it feels

oh? that’s the only thing you have to say after seeing my cock for the first time when i know you’ve been thirsting over it for weeks? better get to praising my dick baby or you’re never seeing it again

that was very selfish of you baby, and you know i hate selfish people

you should have chosen your words more carefully

use your words, we’re among friends, no need to hide

i came to see a show

your friend said you’ve done this before

i prefer your legs around my neck

for someone who hates how i gawk at your tits you sure do wear a lot of low cut tops around me

i’m going to eat you out right next to your bestie, and if you behave, i might just give you a taste of my cock

is this piercing new?

are you gonna dry hump me all night or are you gonna fuck me like you hate me?

i wanna hear those pretty lips say my name and ask me to breed you like the slut you are

i heard you can show me and friends a good time

you’ve been a very busy baby, lying, evading, tricking me, time to learn a valuable lesson

let’s see what you’ve learned

we only bang on the weekends because you’re so uptight about your parents, i think i’ve been patient enough

i can’t stop looking at those lips, wondering how deep you can take me before you start crying

we...we weren’t supposed to fuck...you’re my best friends ex

dare? get on all fours and i’ll show you why you shoulda picked truth

you look so fucking sexy keeping my dick warm

has anyone touched you here before?

i’m not going to fuck you, i’m going to ruin you

it’s breeding season and i’m only getting started

you keep pretending like you don’t know me but we both know i’m the only one in your bed every other night

this ass was made for fucking

show daddy’s friends a good time

i distinctly remember you fucking my thigh last night

no wonder the rumors are so vulgar, look at that [genitals]

bondage? you really trust me to be kind to you when you’re spread like that?

what did we say about making daddy angry?

that’s really fucked up ... when do we get started?

you gonna give me a sloppy handjob all night or throat me like a real whore?

i...i don’t know how to cum (reader exclusive)

can you really blame them for talking about us? we fuck like rabbits

you have no idea of my bedroom tastes pillow princess

keep taking that cock like i know you can, good … so fucking good

shy sweetheart? why? before long i’ll be burying you in the mattress

kiss you? i can’t do more?

the teams been dreaming of these tits all year

look at the mess you made

how do you run out of condoms?

bring your legs higher, c’mon-fuck not like that, like this

i can shave it for you

i’ll fuck the attitude out of you if you don’t drop it now

one...two...don’t let me get to three

your mouth ruins it, stuff them (spoken to someone else)

stop crying, i know you like choking on me

if you keep touching yourself we’re going to have a serious problem baby, and no ones gonna come to help you

“i can fuck you better than a miya” - kita/aran exclusive quote

you’d cum in front of my friends if i told you to

i taught him how to fuck whores,

i had the volleyball manager begging on her knees for me to fuck her stupid, why should i fuck you?

don’t talk to me with that breedable mouth baby

get used to luxury of these legs baby, you’re gonna be using them tomorrow

you’re gonna be finding marks where you didn’t even know they could be

that’s not what you said on the phone last night

say that again while you’re riding my face

more? you need more? selfish brat. you’re lucky daddy loves you or he’d let his friends have their way with you at the party, you’d deserve it too, watching daddy fist his cock while you took his whole team

breeding brats like you is just another saturday night for me

threaten me again and i’ll breed you in front of your parents

holes like these were made for us

i don’t care if someone sees us, you should have known better than to aggravate me

stop dancing around, do you wanna fuck or not?

shit-wait, i think there’s a security camera in this room

no walking around naked, i have roommates

keep quiet, you don’t want the professor to hear daddy wrecking you

you’ve never looked more like the whore i know you were than letting daddy’s friends fuck you stupid

that picture was meant for me, don’t try denying it

you’re cuffed to the bed, how are you possibly going to dom me?

stupid cumslut, i don’t think you know how fucked you’re going to be when i get a hold of that mouth

you can’t argue with me and expect to win when you’re dicks that hard already

oh? you like it like that? fuck baby, we’re never doing it the other way again

i’m not surprised, you’re all bite and no bark

bring your friends, we can make it a party

i like breaking virgins

i’ll cock warm you three thousand times if it takes learning daddy’s name

no amount of makeup is going to hide that sweetheart

call him, i want him to hear you scream my name and take me

you have a smart mouth for a brat, lets see what it can do

how could you ever forget my cock, i’m the man who made you fuckable

lose the glasses, and the shoes...the gloves too...actually, just take it all off

someone’s a hungry whore today aren’t they?

you could go viral

there isn’t going to be any more confusion as to whose bitch you are after this

you fuck like a pornstar

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1ddotdhq · 4 years

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🧙‍♂️ Wed Sept 23 ‘20 🦁

Z3 Z3 Z3 Z3 Z3 HOLY SHIT Z3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Okay, I’m not certain about an album, but we’re definitely getting a single on Friday! I’m just keeping my hopes up! Um, okay. How do I start? So at 9:30 am EST (or 2:30 pm BST, depending on where in the world he is!) Zayn dropped a teaser trailer for a new song, with the caption #better, which is the name of the song! This follows last night's movement, where he changed his Spotify header, as well as his twitter icon. I’m gonna be honest here: when I saw his new twitter profile picture, I thought it was a picture of Liam and I was SO! CONFUSED! But it’s not! It’s Zayn pulling an angsty face that Liam often pulls in HIS modeling gigs, so it looks like they have a similar bag of tricks haha! ANYWAYS, the song will drop on Friday, 9/25!!! Place your bets: will the song or the baby drop first???

If THAT wasn’t enough Zayn movement, he posted a SPONSORED AD for the new Harry Potter game both on Instagram AND on twitter (both at 7 am EST), and then he did a taped ad for it, too! It...looks to be some wizarding version of Candy Crush, but you know nerd!Zayn and his Harry Potter tattoo - he only had good things to say about it: “[During quarantine] I’ve been doing...music, recording, painting, but my main pastimes has been playing games, and that’s how, like, I keep in touch with my friends...you get to choose which House you want to be put in. I picked Gryffindor...so yeah, it’s really cool.” He says he likes Gryffindor because he’s always been drawn to “the hero types”. Sounds like the start of a bad rom com, doesn’t it?

Anyways! Zayn’s not the only one that has spent his quarantine making music, painting, and gaming: LIAM went live at 8 am BST to do his promised zoom meetings with fans and announce that his rewatch show is on Saturday the 26th at 8 am BST. Oddly enough, Harry Potter (and the new game!) was a major talking point in this live. Before we get further into the discussion, the Intern would like to say that JKR is a massive TERF and I think we should be reading queer fantasy novels and uplifting the queer community rather than focusing on her worlds/making he more profit, but that discourse didn’t come up in Liam’s live, funnily enough! What did come up? Well...the online games did! Someone in the chat said: “What’s your Hogwarts House?” and Liam (love him lots) took that as an invitation to talk about the new Harry Potter games: “I’ve done a lot of those online...like, online Harry Potter games (so has Zayn!), and I always end up in either Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, but no one wants to be in Hufflepuff...I want to be a lion”. And then - and I cannot make this up - he GROWLED. Those hero types, huh? Can’t do a thing about them! He also suggested that he do a Harry Potter watch along in his next live, and guys, it takes me long enough to get through his lives taking notes NOW, MY HANDS WILL NOT SURVIVE A TWO HOUR LIVE.

Other fun moments from the live show included his reveal (slip?) that he did not live with Maya! When asked what his morning routine was, he said it was “to get up in the biggest mood ever and then hope he has an hour to himself before he sees anyone”. But? That would almost CERTAINLY not be the case if you had a live in girlfriend! He also gave a brief reaction to Harry’s Calm story, and had a bant with Conor (his cameraman) about it (“Imagine you’re in the tour bus,” Conor said. “Shut UP! You’re RuInINg it for ME.”). Also, the chat told Liam to tell Niall to “strip that down”, to which Liam replied: “Niall’s been stripping it down a lot at the moment! he’s been stripping it down a lot! I’ve seen his Instagram stories, and I know it’s hot at the moment but the shirt has been off 24/7, which used to be my tactic.” Niall, even LIAM wants you to put a shirt on, buddy, so idk what to tell you. He also said, about Bear, that “he’s fantastic! [He’s] a sweet, lovely little boy, and I don’t know how that happened, given that he’s my son. Must get it from his mother ‘cuz it’s not from me!” He mentioned - again - doing a paint along with fans, as he’s ALSO been doing a lot of painting during quarantine. What do you think I would have to do for a joint Ziam paint along live? And he was unsure if “te amo” was a real thing in Spanish. Yes, Liam, it is, y te amo a ti también!!

And, if that were a normal day, that would be it! That’s more than enough after all, but NOPE! No rest for the wicked, I guess, so on we go:

Harry was seen shooting his music video in Italy in a white V-neck nightshirt that could be seen billowing in the wind as he ran dramatically. New pictures also show him in a long purple nightgown and a fedora, as well as driving a little speedboat (with a bright, Vespa blue interior) off of the Italian coast. As far as I can tell, his rings are not back (probably a smart choice, given the amount of handwashing he’s hopefully doing) but his pearl necklace is (love to see it!). In one of the boat pictures, he can be seen on his phone, either taking a picture or on a facetime call, but I, personally, hope he brings photographer!H back, too! Gotta tell you, and I know we said it for Watermelon Sugar, but I really hope this is a continuation of the Eroda universe - any comments @/visiteroda? Fan reports say that his Italian is very good, and that he’s kind. Nothing new there, but always great to hear it!

AND! In a ONE DEE DISCOURSE EXCLUSIVE: I can reveal ~exclusively~ that Nick Gordon, of yesterday’s clown car, has a TWIN BROTHER, named Nathan! Good bye Gretchen, Tina, and Eleanor and HELLO Nathan and Nick. Imagine the shenanigans that they can pull with THIS in their back pocket! The thing is - the more we learn about the situation, the less we seem to know - TMZ reports that Nick and Briana have had an on again off again relationship for the last ten years, but Nick Gordon has had a long term girlfriend for at least three of those ten years, until they broke it off last year! In fact, TMZ continued in a bemused tone, BRIANA has been seen with multiple men over the course of the last year. Guess they were VERY off, huh?

#zayn malik #liam payne #harry styles #briana #nick gordon #and the rest of the clown car #also louis' merch is restocked!!!#i gave in and bought some its soooo cool!!#my hogwarts house is Gryffindor #if that comes as a surprise to anyone #ERODA VERSE ERODA VERSE ERODA VERSE #song of the day!#all my heroes by bleachers

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pterodactylterrace · 3 years

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Guys Like You Chapter 9

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 9

Chapter Summary: What happens when a busy schedule leaves you lonely?

Rating: 18+

Chapters: {Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6} {Chapter 7} {Chapter 8}

It had been weeks since Faye had seen Henry outside of work. Henry's schedule was packed with choreography practice, training, filming and hush hush phone and zoom interviews he refused to tell Faye anything about. She was starting to get the feeling he had given up on her and was moving on. Why else would he refuse to tell her anything about this 'project' he was working on? Not a single clue was dropped. He continuously sited 'not wanting to jinx it' as his reasoning for not telling her. She was banned from his house for the last three weeks, finding herself right back where this had all started. Could it even be called a relationship? They had never agreed to be exclusive or anything, so it wasn't like she could lay some sort of claim on the man. It seemed he was drifting further and further away with every passing day.

Briar was taking it harder than her mother was. He was the first male presence outside of her grandfather and uncle she regularly had contact with. To say she had quickly become attached was an understatement. One particularly heartbreaking evening, she had convinced herself he would be coming over and bringing "Princess Kal" as she had dubbed the poor canine. She sat by the front window, clutching her stuffed bunny stubbornly until far after her bedtime, finally breaking down into hysterical sobs when she realized he really wasn't coming. Faye's texts to Henry about the child's expectations went unanswered.

A few days ago, Mrs. Anderson was unable to babysit, leaving Faye no choice but to either call in sick, or bring her daughter with her to work. Last time hadn't caused much of a problem, so hopefully she would be able to get away with it again. Just as long as it didn't become a habit, it wouldn't be a problem, right? It really wasn't, either. For the first hour or so, the child sat in the corner of the makeup trailer, mesmerized by the movie playing on her tablet. Faye had breezed through the battle wounds on some dwarves and applied the prosthetic ears on the elves in that time, her daughter calmly tucked away the entire time.

Then came time for Henry to get into the makeup chair. The second he stepped foot into the trailer, Briar had latched herself onto his legs, sobbing and clutching his pant leg like her little life depended on it. To say Henry panicked would be an understatement.

"I told you she missed you." Faye shrugged. In fact, she had mentioned several times how Briar kept asking about him. It was a bit of a wakeup call as far as her dating life was destined to go. If Henry was only around for a few months and Briar had attached herself so firmly to him, what would happen if Faye actually dated someone and spent even more time with him? Briar would be devastated if it didn't work out.

"I'm so sorry, princess." Henry soothed, detaching the toddler from his leg and scooping her up, letting her continue to cry into his neck. "I've been busy, I wasn't trying to make you sad." He assured, sitting in the makeup chair with the little girl still clinging to his shirt.

Faye may have failed to mention the multiple meltdowns she'd had to endure due to his sudden absence, but why should she bother the man with it? It's not like it was his job to pacify her daughter. She just wished the little girl hadn't grown so attached to him in the short time she had known him.

Briar completely refused to be apart from Henry for the rest of the day, perching herself in his chair while he filmed, staring intently at him as she clutched her bunny to her chest, whimpering unsurely the first few takes of a particularly rough fight sequence. Thankfully, she had calmed quickly, Faye explaining to the little girl that he was just playing pretend and wasn't going to get hurt.

She had reattached herself to him the second he drew too close, practically climbing him like a monkey to cling to his neck again. Faye was past the point of trying to stop her by then. She had been the one dealing with it ever since he had decided to vacate the little girl's life. At least now he could see first hand why Faye had been so irritable with him lately.

He vowed to Facetime later that night to say goodnight to the little girl when he had strapped her into her car seat that evening, the child unwilling to let her mother take her to the car by herself. His promise didn't stop her from sobbing the whole way home. The poor girl cried herself out by the time Faye had pulled into the driveway, half asleep all the way through dinner, ultimately passing out at the table, a forkful of pasta clutched in her chubby fist.

To his credit, Henry had called later that night, well after Briar's bedtime. Again, he apologized profusely for his insane schedule in the voicemail he had left. Faye wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, too drained from her daughter's most recent meltdown.

Now, here he stood at her doorstep five days later, his shoulders slumped in defeat and a pleading look on his face as Faye blocked his entry into her home with her tiny body.

"Can I help you?" Faye asked calmly, crossing her arms and leaning against her door frame.

"Faye, please, can we talk?"

"What's there to talk about?" Faye brushed him off, fixing him with a cold look.

"You're avoiding me."

"Excuse the fuck out of you?" Faye hissed, stalking toward him and shutting the door harshly behind herself. "I'm avoiding you? Are you seriously going to pretend the last three weeks never happened? One second, you're around all the time, the next I only see you at work. You dodge my calls, refuse to see me and break my three year old daughter down into hysteria thinking she did something wrong. Please, go on, tell me how I'm the one avoiding jack shit here!"

"I deserve that." Henry sighed, roughly shoving a hand through his untamed curls.

"Goddamn right you do." Faye hissed, fury burning intensely in her usually wide, innocent brown eyes.

"Please, Faye. Can you hear me out?"

"What's there to talk about? You got bored and you left me behind. I don't want your fucking excuses."

"I promise, I wasn't trying to avoid you, and I didn't get bored of you!" Henry growled, anger taking over his once apologetic face at her accusations.

"Then what the hell is it? Please, tell me why I should be okay with only being in your life when it's convenient to you."

"I've been busy, Faye! My life doesn't revolve around you!" Faye's entire body tensed at his outburst, returning his fiery gaze with a cold stare.

"And mine doesn't revolve around you either, Mr. Cavill. If you don't have time for us, that's fine. I understand we aren't a priority for you. You've made that much clear. That doesn't mean I have to be at your beck and call whenever you can fit me in. I have my own life. I have a daughter to take care of, and I don't need you breaking her heart every time you can't spare a goddamn second for her."

"I wasn't trying to hurt her. I wasn't trying to push you away." Henry seethed. "You think I enjoyed being away for this long? You think I liked not spending time with you?"

"You make time for the things that matter, Mr. Cavill. Clearly, that's not us." Faye replied, her calm tone slashing through Henry's heart worse than any previous rage or hostility could. These were not words created by anger and meant to hurt him in the heat of the moment. This was coming from a detached, practical place in her mind. This was something she had thought about, long and hard.

"Faye." Henry sighed, his tense shoulders falling in defeat. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt Briar. The time I've spent with you two these last few months have been the happiest I've been in years. I understand if you don't want to see me, but I really wish you would. I... damnit, I fucking need you two." He admitted shakily, his eyes falling to Faye's feet, taking notice of the black ink covering the top of her right foot for the first time. Had he really paid so little attention that he hadn't even noticed that? Was he really that detached from something that brought him so much unconditional joy?

"And what am I supposed to do when you vanish again? It's the life you live, Mr. Cavill-"

"Henry. Please, call me Henry." He pleaded softly, each utterance of the removed name feeling like a knife to his heart.

"You aren't tied down to one place. You travel all the time. Why should I let you continue hurting us? What promise can you possibly give us that you won't just leave again?"

"I never left, I've been right here." Henry whispered, unsure hands coming to rest on her hips, slowly lowering his forehead to rest against hers. He had no idea when they had gotten so close during their argument, but he had to admit, it felt good to hold her again. "Please. I promise, I won't vanish again. If I can't be here in person, I'll call, I'll Facetime, I'll send video messages, I'll text. I will do anything and everything I can to be here for you."

"Then what happens when you find someone else?" Faye countered, remaining stiff in his hold, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, subconsciously trying to block him out and build a wall between them.

"I'm not looking for anyone else." Henry assured, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head.

"Doesn't mean you won't find her."

"Then this mystery woman can sod off. I'm not interested." Henry hummed, pulling Faye closer to wrap his arms around her, resting his cheek atop her head, her tension slowly fading away with his embrace. "Can you forgive me for being an ass?" He asked hopefully, peppering the top of her head with kisses.

"This time. There won't be a next time. I don't have time to invest in someone that won't make any time for me."

"I promise, I will make time for you two." Henry vowed, reluctantly taking a step back to look into her face. "Would it be too much to ask to come inside? I sure could use one of Briar's special cups of tea."

"Mmm, you might be out of luck then. She's decided she wants to be a knight instead now." Faye informed him, slipping away from his desperately clutching hands to push the door open, Briar freezing in the middle of charging through the house on her hobby horse, sword in hand when she saw the man standing outside.

"You're back?!" She gasped, dropping her toys and bolting past her mother, Henry catching her as she rushed him, hoisting her into his arms and letting the little girl sling her arms around his thick neck. "I sorry... I be good." She sniffled, her chubby hands gripping his collar tightly.

"Oh, sweetie. Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." Henry soothed, rubbing her back softly. "I was the one that was naughty, can you forgive me for being mean to you and your mommy?"

"Don't go." Briar whimpered, burrowing further into his neck, her sobs only increasing at his apology.

"I won't, I won't." Henry promised, smoothing down her wild, uncombed hair, looking fearfully up at the child's mother. Was this what she had been dealing with since he had been away?

"She got it in her head you were mad at her, and that's why you weren't coming around anymore." Faye explained, nodding him inside.

"I'm so sorry." Henry repeated, holding the toddler a little tighter as he slid past her mother, perching himself on the arm of the couch as she sobbed into his neck.

"You understand why I'm not too keen on second chances?" Faye sighed, locking the door behind herself. "I'm not going to keep putting her though this. I don't expect you to change your lifestyle, so when we fall to the backburner again, please, do me a favor and stay gone. It's not fair to her."

"I didn't mean to hurt anyone. I truly have been busy."

"I know. That's your life." Faye shrugged, leaning against the archway to the living room.

"What can I do to make it up?"

"You can't. You just have to understand that this is the last time I will allow this to happen. If you get too busy for us again, I won't open the door the next time you come knocking." Faye's declaration hung in the air, the sureness of her voice leaving no room for argument or further exchange of words. A desperate sort of silence befell the two adults, the only noise in the house being made by the small girl in Henry's arms.

Briar's sobs slowly gave way to small sniffles and hiccups, her tiny hands refusing to release his shirt, unashamedly wiping her nose on the fabric. Henry was the one to finally break the suffocating silence that had taken over the room.

"Could I ask for your help with something?"

"What might that be, Mr. Cavill?"

"Please, Faye. Henry. Call me Henry, or anything else really. I didn't mean to hurt you or set us back months. Call me any number of mean names, just... not that." Henry pleaded, resting his head against Briar's.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need to shave my head." Henry sighed after a long moment, turning sad eyes up to her.

"You want me to shave your head?"

"You're the only one I trust to do it right now."

"You literally have a hairstylist on set."

"This is different." Henry insisted.

"How is this different?"

"Believe it or not, I like my hair. Shaving it off isn't exactly a fun time for me."

"Is the tape getting to painful to remove?" Faye asked, raising an inquisitive brow.

"I mean, it will be a plus not having to deal with that for a while, but no. I... I have a screen test in a few days. Over zoom, but a screen test none the less."

"Oh, congrats."

"But the role calls for a military style cut." Henry continued. "Which means it all has to go."

"What role is it for?" Faye asked, crossing the room to run her fingers through his unruly curls.

"Mass Effect." Henry divulged, leaning into her touch.

"So you showed up for a haircut?" Faye asked, detangling his hair with her fingers.

"I showed up because I missed you, but it made me realize you're the only one I'm comfortable with doing it. I've been dreading it for over a week now."

"I only have scissors here. The best I can do is a hack job." Faye informed, continuing to play with his hair absently. It was so soft when he didn't try to tame it. The products that kept it in check, looking so neat and orderly, always made it stiff and crunchy. His natural hair was a thing of beauty.

"I have clippers back at my house. You're both more than welcome to stay the night."

"You know Briar won't stay in the guest room." Faye sighed, rolling her eyes.

"I'm fairly certain I'm not in good enough standing with you for us to be doing anything that young eyes shouldn't see." Henry chuckled, looking hopefully up at the woman gently running her nails over his scalp.

"You are not." Faye confirmed around a giggle of her own, playfully tugging at his hair.

"Easy, love, the baby is right here." Henry lightheartedly scolded, raising his brow at her.

"You should have mentioned you enjoyed that sooner. No time to take advantage of it before I chop it all off now." Faye sighed, reluctantly letting her hand fall away, Henry reaching out to pull her closer, looking up at her hopefully.

"What are the odds I can talk you out of a kiss?" He asked, staring longingly at her mouth. Faye smirked and rolled her eyes in mock annoyance, leaning down to allow him to press a slow, affectionate kiss to her lips, reluctantly pulling back when Briar began to stir from her crying fueled power nap against his neck. "There you are, sleepy head." Henry chuckled, easing the child down to his lap instead.

"You here?" Briar asked, rubbing her still red eyes, staring up at him with a wobbly lower lip.

"I'm here. Would it be ok if you and Mommy stay at my house tonight?" Henry asked, wiping away the dried tears from her face.

"I bring Bunny?" She asked, her face finally splitting into a grin when Henry agreed to her request.

"You go get Bunny, I'll pack you a few things." Faye instructed, Henry reluctantly setting the girl down so she could do as her mother asked.

"Thank you, so much." Henry sighed, pulling the tiny woman against his large frame, dropping his head to rest against the top of her chest.

"For letting you use my tits as a pillow?" Faye teased, running her fingers through his hair again, wanting to memorize the feel of his curls before she had to chop them all off.

"Secuititty." Henry chuckled, pulling her in to straddle his hips, needing to be even closer to her. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

"Try not to blow it."

"I'll do my absolute best."

@Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #guys like you #witcher #guys like you fic

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lahyene · 4 years

Text

A Hollywood Love Story.

Pairing: young!chris evans x reader

Summary: Making it in Hollywood is hard, and when you run into the up and coming Chris Evans at a party, you can’t help but be a little intrigued by the frat boy vibes he practically emanates. You never knew you’d actually fall in love with him while both of you climb the ladder to the top.

Themes: romance, fluff, alcohol, smoking

Word count: 2208

You’re sitting on the kitchen counter, your crop top barely covering your breasts and your shorts practically the size of underwear. As a girl must dress if she’s trying to make it big in Hollywood, being nothing but an Instagram model. Cigarette in your mouth, you take a drag and let the smoke blow out rather close to the face of the man who’s desperately trying to chat you up right now, but you couldn’t care less as your eyes wander the scene of this house party. You’re here to network, to find connections. If you can’t make this work, you’re going to have to move back home and that’s the last thing you want after being exposed to so much freedom.

You saw him the second you walked into this party. He hasn’t quite made it big yet, but he’s probably the most famous one here. Chris Evans. He’s appeared in a few movies, nothing blockbuster, though he’s very well known for his incredibly handsome features and well defined body. You’re sure the two of you have more in common than one would think, being seen more so for your appearance than your personality or talent. People assume you to be trashy and shallow, but they don’t realize that in this world, you have to come off that way in the beginning. No one’s going to wait around to get to know you or the level of depth you have. It’s all about your looks until you finally make it.

When you last saw him, he was on the couch with a girl on either side of him, taking turns making out with each. You’ve heard he’s quite the party boy, dabbling in drugs and alcohol, and practically drowning in female companionship. You thought he was dating Jessica Biel, but seeing his tongue shoved down this blonde’s throat as his hand snakes up the thigh of the brunette, you figure they’re not as committed or exclusive as they let on.

Quite honestly, you’re not interested in him in terms of networking. He isn’t going to do you any favors, he’s probably in a phase where he needs to look out for himself before anyone else. And you completely understand. It’s what Hollywood does to you-- makes you selfish, desperate, twisted. You know there’s a light at the end of the tunnel, but damn, is it a long tunnel.

You’ve barely even realized the male in front of you is still talking. You’re about to shut him down when you see Chris enter the kitchen, without his little playthings, surprisingly enough. The two of you make eye contact. You don’t even have to try; you can already tell he’s intrigued. You aren’t sure whether that’s flattering or concerning. He seems like he’d be intrigued by a hobo, as long as said hobo were to have a vagina. He walks over to you with a gait of confidence, corner of his lips already tugging upwards. He steps in right next to the man, his presence shutting him up.

“Hey there. Haven’t seen you around here before. What’s your name, beautiful?”

You take another drag as you listen to him, your expression barely changing. This time, you turn your head to blow the smoke out before looking to him again. “Y/N.” You tap the cigarette in the ashtray next to you, arching an eyebrow. “And you’re Chris, if I’m not mistaken? It’s nice to meet you.”

“So you already know who I am.” He states, and you’re almost amused by that arrogant twinkle in his eyes. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Y/N.” The male standing next to him finally speaks up in annoyance, “Excuse me, I was in the middle of a conversation with-”

“It’s not a conversation if only one person is talking.” You cut him off, disposing of the cigarette entirely before handing him your empty cup. “Make yourself useful and toss this out for me, would you?” He scoffs incredulously but takes it, grumbling as he walks away. Chris looks at you with a grin, clucking his tongue. “Damn, baby girl. Ice cold. Not that I can blame you, you looked bored as fuck sitting over here.”

“Were you watching me?” you ask innocently, your voice silky as you gaze up at him. His eyes are gorgeous, you have to give him that. His whole face is, really. As much as you’d love to say that he’s overrated, you can’t. He’s handsome, and he knows it. “A little bit, yeah.” He admits shamelessly, glancing back to the spot where he was sitting on the couch, the area slightly visible from where you are in the kitchen. “Those little kittens over there are great and all, but… I dunno. Something about you is more appealing.” He looks back at you and smirks, continuing, “Probably the fact that everything about your beauty is natural.”

He’s right, but you imagine he probably says this to even the most Botox-ed of Hollywood women.

“Thank you.” You practically purr nonetheless with a small smirk. “Wanna step outside with me for a bit? It’s getting kind of hot in here.”

“Sure. Let me grab us a drink too. What do you want?”

“A beer’s fine, thanks.”

His eyes practically light up, his smirk growing wider. “Oh, yeah? Damn, I’ve never met a girl at one of these parties that drinks beer. Always complaining about how it’s going to make them fat or whatever.”

You shrugged nonchalantly as you slid down from the counter, tapping your lightly toned stomach. “Fast metabolism, I guess. Those fruity cocktails and shit have way too much sugar, I’d probably get less sick if I just drank rubbing alcohol. Beer’s good.”

He laughs and you can tell he’s already impressed. You feel strangely good about this. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll meet you out on the deck.”

____________________

It’s a whirlwind of a romance.

You never thought this would happen to you. You constantly hear about celebrities getting together after knowing each other for ten seconds, getting married after dating for eleven. You’d scoff at the thought. That’s infatuation, not love.

Now as you’re holding Chris’ hand as he uses his other one to shield you from the lights of the paparazzi cameras flashing in your face, you wonder how the hell you got here. Going on dates every week, spending the night at whomever’s place is closest- you’ve even Facetimed his parents a few times, for God’s sake, and you’ve only been dating for three months.

You haven’t told him you love him yet, nor has he told you. You’re not ready for that. He’s clearly still dripping in the residue from his playboy days, and you’ve simply always had a difficult time with… well, emotions.

It’s the main cause behind any arguments you two have. While he still has a very frat boy-esque mentality, he’s also very sensitive to feelings. He’s a romantic at heart; he’s like an open book, and he surprisingly has no problem being vulnerable. You, on the other hand, keep everything bottled up. It’s what you’re used to.

Still, you make it work. You’ve never been in a relationship that feels so serious. Even the arguments only furthermore make it seem real, like you've been dating for years rather than a few months.

The two of you finally approach the gate of the apartment complex, entering as you let out a little breath upon being free from the paparazzi’s clutches. “I don’t know how you deal with this everyday.” You shake your head, barely laughing. “It’s exhausting.” He chuckles and guides you inside, raising a brow. “Well, baby doll, it’s going to be your life pretty soon now that you’ve found yourself an agent- you know that, right?”

You can’t hold back your smile, even though you’ve been strictly telling yourself not to keep your hopes up. “I don’t have one yet, it’s just a meeting. I can’t get too excited!” He scoffs and suddenly grabs your waist, playfully tackling you down onto the couch as you squeal. “Well, I’m going to be excited for you then. C’mon baby, look at you. You’re fucking gorgeous, and you’ve been gaining more and more followers by the second. And the agency reached out to you first to set up a meeting, you didn’t even have to send your headshots in. You know how good of a sign that is?” He playfully starts tickling your sides and you practically shriek in laughter, squirming through your giggles. “Chris!!”

He finally stops and you exhale, breathless but smiling as you reach up and hold his face lightly. “You really think I’ll make it big one day? That I’ll eventually be walking that runway during Paris Fashion Week?”

“Hell yeah I do, cupcake.” He murmurs, leaning down to peck your lips, “And I’m going to be sitting front row at every single fucking show.” You smile, briefly shutting your eyes before opening them again as you trail your fingertips along the stubble of his jawline. “Oh, yeah? What if you forget all about me because you’ll be a big Hollywood star by then? What if you show up front row, sitting next to your girlfriend Megan Fox?” He blinks and laughs deeply, moving his mouth down to kiss at your neck. “Mm… I’d be watching you walk that runway and dump her right then and there to beg for you back, that’s what.” You hum softly in delight as he nibbles on your sensitive skin, his husky voice continuing, “But you know that’s not going to happen, right baby? I can’t imagine doing this whole Hollywood thing without you by my side. You support me so much, and I want to do the same for you. I just… have a really good feeling about this relationship.”

You lightly move his head to look up into his eyes, reading his expression. He looks nothing but genuine.

“Me too.” You whisper, caressing his cheek lightly with your thumb. “I think we’re both gonna make it big one day. And we’ll be doing it together.”

____________________

“He was my first.” You laugh softly as you wipe at your eyes, looking up towards the ceiling of the lavish five star hotel room as if that will stop the tears from returning. “I was only eighteen when we met. Still new to LA, only had a few thousand followers on Instagram. God, why am I crying right now?”

Your friend Taylor hands you a tissue, shaking her head. “It’s okay to cry sometimes, you know. It’s good to have feelings.”

You scoff through the tears, taking the tissue and wiping at your wet eyes. “I just can’t believe everything we’ve gone through. Me becoming an international model, him becoming Captain freakin’ America, adopting a dog together, traveling the world together for his press conferences and my photoshoots, meeting each other’s families…” You sniff, finally letting a tear actually slide down your cheek. “Do you remember when I had to get an appendectomy? And I was so fucking freaked out about the surgery, I had never had one before- but he was there with me the entire time I was recovering. He even told the director of Gifted that he needed a few days off.”

“Yes, Y/N, we remember.” Jasmine sighs, handing you a glass of wine. “Drink up girly, you clearly need it tonight.” Candice raises an eyebrow, questioning, “Hasn’t she drank enough? I think that’s why the crying is happening…”

“And we even talked about having kids together. We just knew we’d make it, you know? That our relationship would last forever. It wasn’t delusional, we knew it.” You sniff, taking the wine nonetheless as you take a sip. “Oh my God, remember when I had that pregnancy scare? And it looked like I’d be having a baby, and I was so nervous to tell him, but when I did he was so fucking ecstatic. Guys, he was so happy. Literally jumping for joy. He told me he wanted nothing more than to have a baby with me, even though we hadn’t planned for one that early.”

“Well, thank God you weren’t actually pregnant,” Meng pipes up, a glass of wine in one hand as she goes to open your closet door with the other. “Because then shopping for this would have been a lot more difficult with a baby bump.” She pulls out the wedding dress, playfully moving it from side to side in front of her body. All the girls immediately laugh, cheering as they raise their glasses. “Hell, yeah! Our girl’s getting married to the love of her life tomorrow!”

You giggle through your tears. Your happy tears, to be exact.

“C’mon, Y/N, stop crying already!” Elsa laughs, shaking your shoulders lightly. “You’re acting like Chris dumped you!” You laugh too, wiping at your eyes. “I can’t help but be a little emotional, okay? God, this is his fault. I never used to be such a crybaby until I met him.” You lift up your glass for another toast as you smile widely. “To the best damn bridesmaids in the world. Thank you for dealing with my sensitive ass during this whole marriage process.”

“Anything for you, soon-to-be Mrs. Evans!”

#chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans x you #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #writing

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honeyymistt · 3 years

Note

I know this may be a lot, but I need an outside perspective. I have a friend who I was really close with, I trusted him more than anyone else, and we talked about everything. He knew more about me than anyone. We were best friends for a year and eventually we started an open fwb relationship. Things were great for a while, but then he got upset with me for hanging out with other guys, even though that was within the bounds we had laid out and discussed pretty extensively because we had a really good setup for open communication. He brought it up once near the end of last semester but told me not to stop seeing other people because he didn't want to say he wanted to be exclusive and then change his mind on me and have caused me to cut other guys off. I listened to him but cooled it on talking to other guys because I didn't want to hurt him. We went home for the summer (but he lives in the town where our university is so really he stayed there) and we talked every day like we have since we became friends and we facetimed every night just like we had over winter break (before the fwb situation). I wasn't really talking to other guys until I went on a date with a guy I met on tinder and felt too scared to say no to when he asked me to hang out with him so I got coffee with the guy. Apparently, me talking to other guys bothered him more than he had told me, and instead of talking to me about it, he went and started exclusively dating a girl he had known for a week. He waited a week and a half after they decided this to tell me and, when he did, he admitted that part of him did it to hurt me. I don't want to lose him because I've never trusted someone as much as I used to trust him, but it hurts to know that any part of him was willing to hurt me to any degree especially for someone he barely knows and admits that he's not even sure he really wants to date. I don't know if I'll ever be able to trust him the same way again. We go to a small university so I won't be able to avoid him, but still being friends is proving difficult. I have a process for forgiveness, and I'm usually pretty good at moving on, but I've never had to do those things with the expectation that I will still be close with the person after. I don't forgive him yet, but I am trying to work on it because I know we can't be friends still if I don't. I've seen him once since he told me because he only told me two days before he was scheduled to fly out to visit me and at that point, I couldn't ask him to cancel his flights. In the two days before he arrived I was so anxious I barely ate and I was so angry I thought about just trying to make him miserable the whole time he was visiting. We ended up talking about it because he kept pushing me because he knew I was upset and he didn't want to be miserable the whole time he was visiting. Things were a bit better after that. It was really weird to be around him and we don't know how to interact because both of us are normally super affectionate with our friends, but we're afraid of crossing lines since we used to be fwb and other people (namely the girl he's dating) might read into it. We just don't know where the lines are/should be in a situation like this. We've had a few conversations about everything so I know that he really regrets what he did and that this situation is painful and difficult and confusing for him too, but that is only making it harder for me to figure this all out. It hurts to be around him because I miss how comfortable and safe it used to feel and how much I trusted him. We talk less now since he's back home and I have the paranoia of 'maybe he actually hates me' that I used to never have with him but have always had with other friends. I just don't know if it's worth the emotional labor it requires if I'm just working towards a worse relationship than we had before. I don't want to talk to my other friends about the details of this because, like I said, it's a small school so stuff gets around. I also don't want them to treat him differently because I know that would hurt him. Any advice on

how to navigate all this? Am I doing the right thing in staying friends with him?

oh gosh, i just want to give you a big hug :( this sounds really challenging mentally and i'm so sorry that you don't feel comfortable with talking about this with your uni friends. you can always come to me <3

to actually give my perspective on this, i've never been in a fwb situation so i'm not sure how helpful my advice will be but i'll try my best! i'm not gonna lie, there are a lot of things in here that popped out to me as major red flags: him not wanting you to talk to other guys even though that was allowed, you feeling like you needed to cut off other guys, him not being able to communicate his hurt/anger/betrayal (?), etc., him dating a girl (partially to hurt you) and then not telling you. all of these are things that display his immaturity in your fwb situation. he messed up pretty bad and there's no denying that. you are totally valid in your feelings of confusion about whether or not you want to continue your friendship with him because he hurt you and he was unfair to you.

to offer another perspective on this whole situation, i think that not a lot of people will admit to their mistakes. not a lot of people will admit that part of them did something to hurt you. and yes, he did do some very bad things, but like you said, he feels sorry for what he did and i think that he's going to learn and mature from his faults.

i'm all for second chances in relationships (platonic, romantic, platonic & romantic, etc.) but the final say is ultimately up to you because i think that deep down, you already know whether or not you want him in your life. currently, i think that there are two ways that you could navigate this. there are definitely more choices but these are the two that i think are best.

1. you have 1 conversation with him where you lay everything out on the table. you both give each other a chance to say your side of the story, your true feelings, your mistakes (there may be some things that you did that were hurtful to him that you hadn't noticed or that he didn't communicate) and you both put your thoughts together on how to move forward. what do you both need from each other to get to how you were before? i know that you mentioned that you've had a few conversations with him before but do you feel like you held back a bit? are there things that were left unsaid? if there are, then it's likely that he feels the same way. i would suggest talking out this whole thing with him one last time if this is the case.

2. if continuing your friendship with him is causing you stress to the point of not sleeping or eating, i would say to distance yourself. if you need a temporary break from each other to reflect on what you did and/or recover from what was done to you, then do it. there's no rush in being friends again. there's this quote that i saw awhile and it said: "A break from someone will either make you realize how much you truly miss/love them or how much peace you have without them."

people make mistakes all the time and sometimes you ask yourself what you or the other person was thinking before doing it and the truth is, they probably weren't and they definitely weren't thinking about the potential consequences; but there's this tweet that i saw and it said "y'all be beating yourself up about the mistakes you've made in the past as if you been here twice or something. this is your first time living this life. give yourself some grace as you've learned to navigate through it. you don't know what you don't know til you know better." (IamKiraJ via twitter) i think the same thing goes towards other people's mistakes. they don't know what they don't know until they know better. you can call me too forgiving, but i think he knows better now. he has been good friend to you for a long time and i'm sure he's done a lot of good in your life. it's just up to you to decide whether or not the bad that he did was a deal breaker.

#chat with honeyymistt #there was also something that popped out to me #you said that you wonder if he actually hates you and i dont think he does!!! i think that part of him hates himself for how he treated you #if you decide to forgive him and continue this friendship make sure its because you want to and not because he wants you to #he should consider himself very lucky if he earns your forgiveness #but deep down i think you know what you want to do!!! i hope that my message offered a different perspective on this whole situation #and gave you some clarity on what your next step should be #sending you love and strength and happiness <3

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

ACITW AU one-shot “Locked Down” (Rated M)

Summary: Kurt and Sebastian have been locked away in their penthouse for weeks. When it all started, Sebastian thought they'd be having the time of their lives, but with anxiety looming, it's been a little farther from that than he'd imagined. (3109 words)

Notes: A lovely Tumblr anon requested a quarantine fic set in the ACITW AU universe, something along the lines of the Bash fic I wrote a while back - with lots of caring, protective Sebastian.

Read on AO3.

“Hey, babe! You up yet?” Sebastian asks from underneath his towel as he scrubs his hair dry, a second towel tied tight around his hips. He usually doesn’t shower without Kurt if he can help it, but it’s been an off morning. But they’ve had a lot of off mornings, even before lockdown officially began.

Sebastian is ashamed to admit he didn’t take the whole lockdown thing as seriously in the beginning as he should have. Not with regard to his actions - he did everything they were advised to: arranging to work from home, washing his hands eighty times a day, wearing a mask religiously, even bleaching the soles of his shoes and leaving them to dry out in the hallway. It was in his mindset - the idea that being locked indoors with Kurt for weeks would turn out to be one endless, naked, drunken orgy, the best time of their lives, a time they’d look back on fondly.

It only took a week for Sebastian to realize it would be nothing like that at all.

Kurt is at his best when he sticks to a routine, and since everything is pretty much shut down and canceled for the indeterminate future, he’s become emotionally derailed, reverted back to old habits of counting and sorting Stevia packets when he makes his tea, wearing exclusively sky blue socks because they’re a happy and calming color, looking at his face in the mirror then away three times before he leaves the bathroom.

Sebastian does his best to help. He’s tried several times to wrangle together a schedule of some sort, get them back to a sense of normalcy even though things are far from normal and won’t be for a long time.

But he failed.

Kurt barely sleeps anymore, and when he does, he knocks out so hard, he doesn’t wake till close to dinner time. He didn’t stir when Sebastian climbed off the bed to take a shower, and seeing as Sebastian couldn’t rightly remember when either of them finally fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning, he figured he’d let Kurt get his rest.

That was two hours ago.

“It’s almost …” Sebastian peeks up, stifling a chuckle when he catches sight of a mournful Kurt awake and dressed all in black, standing at one of the bedroom windows, his fingertips lightly caressing the glass as he stares longingly down at the street below “… two,” he finishes as he drops down onto the bed, invitation for Kurt to join him implied. Kurt doesn’t turn to look at him, but Sebastian can see his face via the reflection in the glass. It’s a gloomy day outside, gray in a way that would have inspired them to venture outside if it were months ago, take a walk to the park, sit under a tree with a steaming hot knish and wait for the rain to start.

“Do you think Bloomingdale’s misses me?” Kurt queries with the dramatic air of a Victorian widow (unbeknownst) waiting in vain for her husband to return from the war.

“Definitely. You and your credit card. But good news! Online shopping’s still a thing.”

“It’s not the same,” Kurt mutters. “Most stores aren’t shipping non-essentials for months, and I’m not giving Jeff Bezos one thin dime.”

“And I fully support you on that.” Sebastian knows it’s not shopping Kurt misses as much as hanging out with his favorite spending buddy. They haven’t seen Sebastian’s sister Olivia in the flesh since this whole lockdown fiasco began, and even though they FaceTime nearly every single day, it’s not the same as strolling arm-in-arm down 34th Street, ducking into Macy’s and manhandling everything on the racks while they talk and gossip and laugh out loud to the annoyance of strangers.

“What’s with the black outfit?” Sebastian asks. “Did I miss a dress code memo or …”

“I’m in mourning. Neiman Marcus applied for bankruptcy.”

“My condolences.”

“Thank you.” Kurt sighs. It’s heavy, steeped in something more substantial than the loss of a favorite designer retail chain (which, of course, they both know will probably not stick). “I’ve never seen the streets of Manhattan this empty before. It’s unsettling. Like something out of a horror movie.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees with a sigh himself. “It is.”

“You know, I think I could stand quarantine, the solitude, being locked indoors without a physical connection to humanity …”

“Kurt!” Sebastian balls up his wet towel and tosses it at the window beside Kurt’s head. “I’m right here!”

“Humanity, dear. I said humanity. Anyway, I could bear it better if everything didn’t look so desolate. And depressing.”

“You’re from Ohio. You should be used to desolate and depressing.”

“Yes and if we were in Ohio, I’d say this is another day ending in ‘y’. But this is New York. It’s not supposed to be so empty. So quiet.”

Sebastian watches Kurt’s eyes scan the city below - his city. The city he’d worked so hard to get to, going so far as to even date Sebastian for money. But it’s not for the loss of his daily non-fat mocha at Starbucks that he’s staring out the window, not for want of a shopping date with Olivia that his hands are trembling.

Sebastian sits up straight, mildly concerned by what he might hear when he asks the question, “That’s not all, is it?”

“Of course it’s not,” Kurt says, more breath than voice. “I’m …” A dozen words catch in the pause - bored, despondent, terrified “… worried.”

“I don’t think you need to be. You’re healthy, you’re young …” Sebastian tries harder to sound reassuring than he would normally because he just doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if what he’s saying is true. Every morning he wakes up and reads the news, there’s a different dumpster fire blazing somewhere in the world, burning his beliefs and the things he knew logically to be true the day before to ash “… you have no social life to speak of.”

Kurt shrugs. “Well, I’m living with you so …”

“You can’t blame me for not wanting to share you, babe. Besides, a night in bed with you is nine times better than dinner and the theater.”

“Can’t wear my new Gucci suit to bed.”

“Not with that attitude you can’t.”

“I bought it at Neiman Marcus, by the way.”

“And yet you couldn’t save them.” Sebastian tuts. “Pity.”

“I did buy it on sale - fifty percent off, marked down from four thousand. Livvie agreed it was a good deal.”

“You animal! No wonder they’re going out of business!”

Kurt’s lips twitch at the corners. Despite himself, he manages a small smile. He knows Sebastian is teasing to cheer him up. The man deserves something for his efforts.

“I’m worried about my dad mostly,” Kurt says in a voice that bounces off the glass to reach Sebastian on the bed. “It’s kind of hard not to. I mean, he suffers from all the things the news says makes a person vulnerable to this disease. Then there’s Carole, your parents, Olivia and Brian, the kids …”

The sentence fades into condensation on the window. Sebastian waits for more. When it doesn’t come, he asks, “What about Julian?”

“I’m not worried about Julian,” Kurt replies in a tone that says otherwise. “Nothing bad can happen to him. The Dark Lord won’t allow it.”

Sebastian snorts. “Can I tell him you said that?”

“Absolutely. With all the spare time I have, I might even embroider it on a pillow for him …”

Kurt tries to keep it together, act like business as usual, maintain this back and forth banter that sustains their relationship. He tries hard. But his lower lip wobbles; every word he can think of, every punchline he’d prepared sticking in his throat. His voice hitches with the threat of tears. A second later, Sebastian is behind him, hands on his shoulders, shushing him gently.

“It’s okay,” he says, giving Kurt the space to decide if he wants to turn around and be held. Kurt doesn’t - not because he doesn’t want Sebastian to hold him. It’s simply too difficult to convince himself to move.

“Why do things like this happen?” Kurt asks, his brow pulling with disgust at how childish those words sound. And they do. As a child, he’d said them - when his mother died, when he got bullied in school, when Blaine broke up with him, when his father had his heart attack, when he thought he’d never make it to NYADA. Over and over he’s been slapped to the ground, and he still managed to get back up on his feet again.

Because he’s Kurt Hummel.

He’s unstoppable.

But things like this - he can’t control this! He can’t predict a fucking virus! Or the devastation it could cause! How do they escape something like this? It’s not like there’s a whole other planet they can run off to! Sure, they’ve locked themselves away for weeks. They’re fortunate that they can when so many people can’t. But that doesn’t mean they’ve completely kept the virus out of their lives. They still order in from time to time, have their groceries delivered, pass by neighbors on their way to get the mail. And even with Kurt’s obsessive house cleaning, his disinfecting every package that UPS drops at their door, his demands about hand washing, and the masks that become permanently fixed to their faces the moment they even think of opening their front door, they could have been exposed to it without them being any the wiser.

They went to the pharmacy for Sebastian’s allergy medication when the delivery service dropped the ball, waited outside in a long ass line to get into the market down the block when there were no Instacart time slots available and they’d run out of everything. They’ve been jogging a few times when the stir crazy got to them so bad they almost did something drastic (Sebastian was a hair’s breadth from shaving his head and Kurt was on the beveled edge of borrowing Sebastian’s only flannel shirt). They both wore masks the whole time. Sebastian almost passed out trying to keep up with Kurt, grumbled something about erotic asphyxiation being more fun at home. Afterwards, they took the masks off correctly, washed their hands the way the doctor who visited The View told them to, and then jumped in a shower and washed each other, just to be sure.

But doesn’t the virus linger in the air for thirty minutes after an infected person exhales? And doesn’t heavy breathing through exercise exacerbate it, send it up higher so it hangs in the air longer? What if they passed through the invisible cloud of someone who had jogged by earlier, someone who was a carrier without knowing it? Kurt had made their masks by hand, added a pocket for a filter, and then bought the filters in bulk. But what if the three layers of cotton he’d used aren’t finely woven enough? He couldn’t see through it when he held it up to the light, but what if? He’d sacrificed one of his best bed sheets on the advice of the CDC but what if it isn’t enough!?

Kurt takes a deep breath in and let’s it out shuddering. Sebastian is right (as far as they know). They’re both young and healthy. They’ve kept their distance from every human being in the vicinity as best they can. They both have excellent health insurance if things start to go south.

After reading a handful of heartbreaking news stories, they’ve both written their final directives.

They’re as prepared as they’re going to be without building a bunker.

From what Kurt has heard, who gets it and how bad it turns out seems like the world’s cruelest game of Russian Roulette, but they stand a decent chance of fighting this thing if they catch it. But things like this - the life threatening things, the things that could potentially strip Kurt to the bone and destroy him - don’t ever go after him, do they?

They always go after the people dearest to him.

This one could actually kill his dad.

“I don’t know,” Sebastian admits, resting his chin on Kurt’s shoulder. “I don’t know why things like this happen. It seems like the universe has it out for us sometimes. And considering the havoc we wreck on the environment and ourselves, I don’t exactly blame it.”

Kurt harrumphs. “It’s good to know you’ve come to peace with Mother Nature pulling an Order 66 on all of us.”

Sebastian grins. That’s a Star Wars reference. Sebastian made them watch all of the movies (in chronological order) three nights ago. Kurt adores the original trilogy but feels the rest of the movies are sacrilege. He claimed forcing him to watch them when he was in no position to leave the premises was against the Geneva Convention and therefore grounds for kicking Sebastian to the curb even if the penthouse was originally his. But he’d suffered through anyway.

“I know you’re down. It’s difficult not to be. And I know this is going to sound hella lame, but I think we should focus on the good things we’ve got going on in our lives. We’ve got such a long road ahead of us. We can’t give up here. We need to live our lives from distraction to distraction, find a way to take our minds off things until they get better. Because they will get better.”

Kurt rolls his eyes, knowing instantly where Sebastian is heading with this. “So sex it is, I guess?” he says halfheartedly.

Sebastian scoffs. “Again, not with that attitude!” He smiles when Kurt does, but too quickly, Kurt returns to near tears. Sebastian softens, backs off the teasing, even the good-natured variety. “Only if that’s what you want. We’ll do whatever you want. We can make brioche, I can kick your ass at Scrabble, we can FaceTime your dad or Liv or one of your asinine friends from high school ...”

“I think, right now, I just need to know that everything’s going to be okay.”

“It will be,” Sebastian answers too quickly.

Kurt sniffs. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“Yes, I do.” Sebastian swallows hard before he adds, “I do believe that. With all my heart.”

Kurt leans his head back on Sebastian’s shoulder and tilts his face up to look at him. “I love you, Sebastian. And because I love you, I’m required to tell you that you’re a horrible liar sometimes.”

Sebastian’s jaw sets. He doesn’t argue. He wishes he felt more optimistic so he could put up a better front for Kurt, but he doesn’t. Not a hundred percent. He can’t say he hasn’t thought the same things Kurt is and about the same people. Every day they wake up, he’s afraid Kurt will receive that dreaded call from Carole saying Burt is in the hospital.

Burt is on a ventilator.

Burt didn’t make it, not even long enough for Kurt to say goodbye, which he’d have to do over the Goddammed phone from their penthouse several states away because hospitals aren’t letting loved ones visit their dying fathers, mothers, husbands, children …

And what about his folks? Greg and Charlotte Smythe are the picture of health. But didn’t a 53-year-old marathon runner recently pass away? They’d had no symptoms, no cough, no fever, no shortness of breath - none of the harbingers they’d been told to look out for. They’d reported feeling a slight uneasiness in the morning, were on a ventilator by noon, and before eight in the evening, when most people are sitting down for dinner, they were gone.

They’d left behind a spouse and three teenage children.

Sebastian doesn’t even remember their name but their story hit him a little too close to home.

Is this how Kurt feels when he hears about the covid deaths on the daily news?

Probably nothing close to it.

Sebastian has always admired Kurt his strength after losing his mother so young, a mother he’d loved more than life. Kurt talks about her from time time, reminisces about the things he can remember - the scent of her perfume, the books she’d read to him, the things they’d bake together after a hard day at school.

Kurt is a stronger person than Sebastian will ever be. Losing his mom and almost losing his dad? Those are two of Sebastian’s biggest fears. If he ever lost his parents before they lived an extremely long and fulfilled life, he’d never recover.

He doesn’t think Kurt ever has, but he hides it well.

“I like the brioche idea,” Kurt decides, taking the pressure off Sebastian’s shoulders to do or say something that will make him feel better, knowing that his fears aren’t likely to be assuaged by anything Sebastian comes up with - honest or no. Nothing is going to be solved in the next ten minutes here in this bedroom no matter how hard he wishes it. “And instead of me kicking your ass at Scrabble, let’s jump online and drag Julian and Cooper into a game of Words with Friends.”

“You know Julian will demand we play strip Words with Friends.”

“Yeah, well, we can rib him about how that’s the only four-way he’s getting from us. Besides, we’ll win.”

“That’s the spirit,” Sebastian says, kissing Kurt on the forehead. Kurt’s gaze meets his, fear and exhaustion brimming in intelligent blue eyes. Sebastian sees him thinking, sees his forehead wrinkle, then smooth, sees the apples of his cheek rise as he comes to another decision.

“But first …” Kurt turns around slowly, sporting a wicked grin, biting his lower lip in that irresistible way that’s both blushing virgin and smoldering tempter. He tugs the towel tied around Sebastian’s waist free, lifts it to eye level, then drops it on the floor. He slides his gaze down Sebastian’s body, grinning appreciatively when he reaches the start of an impressive erection.

Sebastian grins over Kurt’s staring. “Does that mean you want to …?”

“Fuck? Yes, please.”

“Great! I’ll climb into bed while you get dressed.”

Kurt’s eyes snap to Sebastian’s face, wide with confusion. “What? Why? What am I changing into?”

Sebastian winks. “We’re gonna get some mileage out of that Gucci suit.”

“Sebastian!” Kurt gasps. “You can’t be serious!”

“Serious as those murder hornets up in Washington.”

“Sebastian!”

“Kurt! Neiman Marcus is circling the drain because you decided to buy an overpriced suit on sale! Don’t let their sacrifice be in vain!”

#acitw #acitw au #kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt

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allie1804-fan · 4 years

Text

A Doorway is Opened (Chapter 1)

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

Some time in the Autumn of 2019

“Hey Hannah, great to see you”

“You too”

“Are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

“Just nervous I guess” Hannah laughed “Silly really after the book tour and interview, you’d think I’d have gotten used to it!”

“Well this is Keanu Reeves we’re talking about – he’s enough to make even an old pro like me catch my breath! Come on” said Ella, “let’s get this meeting started”

Ella was Hannah Johnson’s publisher and Hannah had written a book for which Keanu Reeves’ production company, Company Films, was interested in buying the rights. The book chronicled a couple’s journey to having a family through infertility to having their first son followed by three miscarriages before a second son finally arrived. They were due to meet with the actor himself and his partner Stephen Hamel that morning to talk more about a possible deal.

As it turned out, there was no need for nerves. The minute Keanu arrived and introduced himself, he put everyone at their ease. His focus on the work and his enthusiasm for it took the attention off him plus he seemed a little shy himself.

The first thing he’d said on shaking Hannah’s hand was “Hi I’m Keanu, I really loved your book, I can’t wait to talk to you about it!”

“Thanks, it’s an honour to meet you. I’ve been a fan of yours for a long time”

At this, a flush rose up, starting from Keanu’s neck and pretty soon turning his face quite a bright pink as he softly muttered his thanks.

“First thing you learn about Keanu” Stephen joked, “The man cannot take a complement”

They all laughed including Keanu who covered his mouth with his hand before looking down at his feet.

“All right, shall we get this meeting started” he said.

“Can we start with the origins of the story, how much if it is autobiographical? It’s so beautifully raw …..”

Now it was Hannah’s turn to blush.

“Thanks, well yes it is largely auto-biographical. I did research too and changed some of the details but it’s essentially my family’s story”

“Wow, I’m sorry you went through all that” Keanu said sincerely. “You did a great job with the pain but also the anger and err, the err”

“The nasty side?”

“Yeah I guess” he replied looking a tad embarrassed

“infertility, baby-loss – it tends to bring out the less balanced side of one’s persoality” Hannah sighed. My husband often referred to it as the dark years!”

“I can imagine” Keanu said softly and the room went quiet. Everyone knew what was on Keanu’s mind. Even 20 years on, everyone remembered the loss of his daughter to stillbirth.

“Look don’t worry, I’m not offended” Hannah rushed to reassure him. “I wanted to show the full experience, the light and the dark.”

The conversation thankfully turned to some of the lighter moments - even infertility treatment can have some comedy in it after all.

“I’d have loved to have played the husband but I think I’m too old now unless some of the details about the couple’s ages were altered. Do you have a view on that?”

“Err well I’ve not really thought too much about it, it came as a surprise that anyone was interested in turning it into a film if I’m honest”

Hannah could see out of the corner of her eye that Ella was rolling her eyes skyward at this since it didn’t exactly make it seem like the book rights were in demand! Keanu picked up on it and smiled catching Hannah’s eye who blushed and looked down at her hands before adding:

“I guess the only impact could be on the sense of exclusion that comes from not being part of the club, you know. not having a child at all when everyone else does, not completing your family when everyone else has. That kind of relies on the friendship circle also being at that stage and driving that sense of exclusion. But there are many people who start later or where the husband is slightly older so I don’t see necessarily why it couldn’t work as people tend to be drawn to make friends with others who are at the same stage of life regardless of age.

“Ok, well if we could make it work, do you think your husband would be willing to talk to me about his perspective?”

As Ella drew in a sharp breath, Keanu knew he’d said something wrong and looked to Hannah who was momentarily speechless.

“Erm, sadly no, you’ll have to rely on me for that ….. errr, Mark died, 18 months ago.

“Oh god!, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know, shit”

“Don’t worry, please don’t worry, it’s not like that fact is all over the back cover. The book was published before his death and we didn’t update the bio with the 2nd edition, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for” she reassured him.

“Thanks” Keanu said “well even if we can’t make that casting work, I’d still like our company to bring the story to a cinema audience. Would you be interested in writing the screenplay?”

“Gosh, again that’s something I hadn’t anticipated … but it could be a possibility. Can I have time to think about it?”

“Sure, I mean we have a roster of writers we can call upon - I think even if you decide it’s not for you, we’d still want you to consult, would that be OK?”

“Absolutely”

The talk finally turned to finances and both Keanu and Hannah held back from the conversation until the meeting drew to a close. As they packed away their papers, Keanu asked Hannah if she’d be free to join him for coffee at the shop across the street from the offices.

“It’s the least I can do after being so crass earlier”

“You weren’t crass and you don’t have to do that! Not at all. Anyway wouldn’t you get mobbed out there in public at a coffee shop?”

“Not at all, I can go about my business day to day as a private citizen - people tend to give me space if they can see I’m busy and especially when I have company – in fact you’d be acting as my personal bodyguard”

Over at the coffee shop they settled into the booth with their coffees. Keanu encouraged Hannah to have a stab at writing the screenplay.

“I mean, I bet you didn’t think you could write a novel before and then you did!”

“OK, OK, I take your point” she laughed. “If I do, would you be willing to look at a first draft?”

“Of course, it would be my pleasure”

They chatted some more. Keanu wanted to see the boys who’d brought such joy to her life. Hannah shared some pictures – the ‘boys’ were now 21 and 16 years old.

“They’re handsome fellows, I can see your eyes in the older one. Do they favour you more or their dad?”

“Their Dad more, especially Josh. He’s the younger one”

“Right - that must be, a mixed blessing I guess”

“Yeah, yeah, yes is it can be. Actually Toby sounds just like him so when he comes home and says “hello” it can throw me for a loop!”

“Wow, I can’t imagine. I’ve never lost anyone that close, I mean where I lived with the person and had that kind of constant reminder of their absence…. unless you count my Dad”

“Your dad died?”

“Well, yeah actually but that was more recent, I meant when I was young, he left. We had been estranged for a long time by the time he died”

“I’m sorry – I’m glad my kids didn’t have that loss – it almost seems more cruel than death, that he chose to leave I mean” Hannah checked herself “sorry, sorry – we seem to be making a habit of putting our feet in it don’t we?”

Keanu laughed “no, no, I can see exactly what you mean – and don’t worry, no hard feelings”

Soon after this exchange, they each needed to leave so phone numbers were shared and Hannah agreed to contact him when she had some scenes to share.

Over the next 3 months, Hannah met Keanu in that same coffee shop every couple of weeks or so as she worked on her ideas for the screenplay. The theme she liked best was that of closed and open worlds. As she’d navigated infertility and baby-loss, at each stage there had been a sense of being welcomed into a world and then excluded from the next natural place. She hoped a director could capture that sense of being trapped and unable to move forwards somehow.

In their conversations she also tried to explain as best she could the different perspectives of the many people directly and indirectly involved. There was her husband who had wanted to keep the troubles they had in perspective and, especially when they had their miscarriages, to look to the future. Whilst Hannah had needed to wallow in the grief of their first loss in particular, he’d not felt that loss so much. She understood that for her, the future would have looked much different day to day with a new baby. She would have been taking her eldest to kindergarten with a new-born in tow. Yes, he would have been a dad of two but would still be going to work day to day as usual. Her work colleagues had sent her flowers after that miscarriage and he’d been angry. “why are they sending you flowers, nobody died” he’d yelled. They’d argued after that, the difference in their perspective magnified. But in the long term she’d understood his desire to ‘fix’ things. She’d been through grief before when her dad had died when she was just 16. She understood the need to wallow and let the grief breathe. His desire to move on felt like an attempt to stifle that but she understood the emotions behind it.

Then there were in-laws also willing things to be normal, not wanting to face the pain, telling her that she should be grateful to have her eldest and focus on him. Hearing that from people who already had 2 or 3 kids and no infertility was a bitter pill to swallow – you only really ‘get it’ if you’ve been there too after all.

He was a good listener and obviously enjoyed the process of empathising and learning about how other people processed these traumas.

By the end of the year the screenplay was really taking shape but in January their FTF meetings had to stop as Keanu had to go to San Francisco for the Matrix 4 Shoot. They had one more coffee shop meeting in early March before he went to Berlin but otherwise, all connection was via e mail and FaceTime as they were either separated by miles or by the Corona Virus lockdown. Through the months, their conversations and correspondence helped a close friendship to grow. Hannah felt the clouds of grief lifting and recognised Keanu’s part in that for her due to having the screenplay to focus on and his friendship.

Chapter 2

#keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #fluff #keanu reeves imagine #romance miscarriage heartache

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rena-rain · 5 years

Text

Reverse Crush Copycat

Marinette looked down and saw a crowd gathering in the park from her balcony. “What is going…oh! Oh, oh, oh! The unveiling’s happening in just a few minutes!” She lurched toward her trap door to get onto her loft and transform in private.

“Time to transform, Tikki.”

“You’re sure excited to get to this ceremony,” Tikki said.

“It’s so cool that an actual sculptor made a statue in our honor! Let’s go, Chat Noir might already be there!”

“Ohhhhh.” Tikki got up in Marinette’s face. “That’s why it’s so important to you.”

“It’s just that I never get to see him unless there’s an akuma attack! The whole fighting evil and secret identities thing doesn’t exactly let us hang out much. Besides, I can’t let the people of Paris down – Alya’s going to be filming the whole thing. Spots on!”

Ladybug twirled in the air and landed gracefully on the covered statue’s pedestal. Cameras flashed, the crowed cheered, and she waved at them, just a little embarrassed at all the attention. She looked around anxiously but Chat Noir was nowhere to be seen.

“H-hi, Ladybug!”

She looked down. “Oh! You’re Theo, right? The artist? I can’t wait to see these sculptures, I’m sure they’re amazing!”

“Thank you Ladybug I’m so happy you came! I just wanted to ask you – ” Theo got cut off by a new wave of cheers.

Chat Noir had arrived, waving cheerfully at the crowd in that cute little kitten crouch he liked to perch in. Ladybug’s heart leapt and she almost lost her balance jumping to her feet. Trying to school herself, she cocked a hip and looked down at her partner. “Hi Kitty. I was afraid you weren’t coming.”

“And miss seeing my beautiful face cast in bronze? No way. I’d never let the people of Paris down like that.” He winked at her.

Ladybug blushed and giggled. She sat down when Mayor Bourgeois stepped up before the crowd, so as to not block the view. “Ladies and gentleman. It is only proper that we pay homage to those who keep us safe from evil. Ladybug and Chat Noir!”

The sheet got pulled off, revealing a truly stunning bronze statue. Ladybug marveled at how her metal counterpart looked like she was actually flying. Even her yoyo practically floated in the air. Also, sculpture-Chat’s face was right in front of her. Like right in front of her face.

“It’s amazing,” she exclaimed.

“Yep. Sure is,” Chat Noir agreed. “Awesome job, man.” He and Theo fist-bumped then he leapt toward the crowd. “I have time for a couple of questions. Hey, I heard you run the best blog in town, want an exclusive?”

Ladybug smiled at him. It was so sweet watching Alya vibrate with excitement while Chat Noir cheerfully answered her questions.

“Ladybug?”

She turned her attention to Theo and kicked herself for getting distracted. Again. She slipped to the ground. “The statue’s absolutely beautiful, Theo. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, maybe you could, if I could get an autograph?” He shyly held out a photo of her swinging through the city skyline.

“Of course. Can I borrow a pen?” Ladybug signed the photo and handed it back to him, careful not to crinkle the paper. She thought she should leave – there was no rest for the homework-swamped – but Theo started talking quickly.

“Thank you, I’m so happy you liked the statue. I just wanted to tell you, I admire you so much. You’re so passionate and brave…I feel like we have a lot in common. I put everything I had into your statue.” He stared down at her with huge, smitten eyes and a soft little smile. Oh, no. Oh, this is awkward.

Ladybug folded her hands trying to look calm for the onlookers. “I’m flattered, Theo. Truly. But there can’t be anything between us. I have to keep my secret identity safe, and…” Unbidden, her eyes slid toward Chat Noir, who was still talking to Alya and striking goofy poses in front of the camera while she laughed at him.

“And you’re in love with Chat Noir.” It wasn’t a question.

Ladybug immediately stammered out something intelligible. Theo sighed. She tried to play it off. “I’m ver-very – I’m fond of Chat, he is my partner after all!”

“Even though he’s flirting with other girls.”

She whipped her head around to see what Theo was talking about, but Chat and Alya were still mid-interview even as the rest of the crowd steadily dissipated. The reporter said something with a quirked eyebrow (her classic gotcha face) and he gave her a playful, over-the-top bow. A little defensive fire for her kitty flared up in Ladybug’s stomach. That wasn’t flirting. He just likes to make ridiculous jokes to redirect the press, that’s all!

“Chat Noir is my partner and vitally important to keeping Paris safe. He’s kind and selfless and he deserves the sculpture you made just as much as I do.” She put a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’re really sweet and really talented but it’s just not possible. I hope you understand.”

Theo nodded and left without meeting her eyes. She felt guilty for hurting his feelings, but what could she do about it?

“Whoa, he doesn’t look happy.” Ladybug jumped and squealed at Chat’s voice right next to her. “What were you two talking about?”

“I – I think he likes me. You know, likes me likes me. And I had to turn him down. Kitty, I think I hurt him.”

Chat Noir wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against him. She gasped, heart pounding against her ribs.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s a celebrity crush, he’ll get over it. I’ve seen it a thousand times. Besides, between you and me, he’s a little too old for you.”

As quickly as her whole body had gone into crisis mode, a wave of comfort washed over Ladybug. Chat was weird that way. He set her on fire then in the same minute set her completely at ease. “Oh yeah? How do you know how old I am?”

Chat put his other hand on his hip. “Well, I have a feeling you and I are about the same age, Bug, and he’s definitely too old for me.”

She laughed and regretfully slipped out from under his arm. “Thank you, Chat Noir. My friend’s probably looking for me, so I should go.”

He gave her his signature bow. “Until next time.” He took out his staff and pole vaulted over the rooftops, disappearing from sight.

Marinette’s phone rang with a facetime from Alya. She swiped it open. “Hey. I thought you’d be over here showing me all the footage from the unveiling ceremony. Where are you?”

“The Louvre! I’m waiting for new deets on the Chat Noir robbery.”

“Somebody robbed Chat Noir?” Marinette asked.

“No! Chat Noir stole the Mona Lisa in broad daylight!”

“What? No way. Chat Noir would never do something like that!”

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either, I interviewed him just an hour ago! Ladybug’s sure to show up so I’m gonna be here a while, sorry girl.”

“Don’t worry about it. Is there any actual proof of this ‘robbery’?”

“The video’s all over the web. I’m shocked you haven’t seen it yet.”

“I’ll go watch it now. Let me know what you find.”

“See you later!”

The line went dead and Marinette stood up. “This has to be a fake. I don’t buy Chat Noir’s a thief for a second. Time to transform; Tikki, spots on!”

Her suit flashed onto her body and she booked it to the Louvre as fast as she could. She landed next to Mayor Bourgeois; hopefully she could talk some sense into him. “Mr. Mayor, there has to be some mistake. I know Chat Noir, he’s a superhero, not a thief.”

“Kitty’s in the slammer, Ladybug.” The policeman who spoke, a man she recognized as Sabrina’s dad, sauntered up to them with a pleased look on his face.

“But – ”

She got cut off by a large pudgy hand in her face. “Now, now, let the experts handle this. We’ve got the situation under control.”

“Obviously you don’t, because you’ve imprisoned the wrong cat.”

The cop radio bleeped. “Chat Noir’s getting away.”

Good kitty, she thought. Ladybug sprinted inside and down the stairs, finding at least a dozen cops spread across the floor.

The policeman came huffing and puffing behind her. “Great, he’s gone. If he’s so innocent then why is he running away?”

She glared at him. “Wouldn’t you run if you were wrongly imprisoned? I’m telling you, there’s a copycat out there somewhere!”

He wasn’t listening to her anymore but giving instructions into his radio. Fuming, she felt her yoyo go off at her hip. If Chat was calling her, hopefully that meant he’d gotten away. She slinked off somewhere deserted to answer it.

“Kitty, do you know what’s going on?”

“Hey LB! So, I’ve been framed…”

“Is now really the time for art jokes? The police are trying to arrest you!”

“Which is all kinds of messed up. Just because I’m a cat doesn’t mean I’m a cat burglar.”

“I know you’re innocent, Kitty, but we need to find out what’s really going on. I’m thinking someone got akumatized.”

“Yeah, and I think I know who.” Chat held up a partially chewed lollipop stick in front of the camera. “Look familiar?”

“Ew, no, should it?”

“It’s the same – ” Loud sirens drowned him out from his end and he looked upward, panicked. “Cops are on my tail, I’ll get back to you!” The call cut out abruptly.

Ladybug followed the police helicopter and the sounds of sirens as far as she could, but eventually came to a dead end. Five cop cars were jammed at a metro entrance. She looked around on the ground but she couldn’t see him. She hoped he hadn’t detransformed and called him.

Thankfully, Chat answered.

“Ladybug, I’m at Theo Barbeau’s workshop.”

“What? Why?”

“He was chewing on that lollipop stick at found at the Louvre, and it’s the same one Copycat had in the video. What I don’t get is why he got akumatized after the mayor himself unveiled his statue today.”

Ladybug groaned. “I think I have an idea. Send me the address.”

“Gotcha. Meet me here, I’m going in.” Chat hung up.

“Chat, no, wait for me! Ugh.” Ladybug checked the location he sent her and swung in that direction.

After the battle (and Ladybug would admit to no one that watching two Chat Noirs fight each other was a little bit distracting), and as the miraculous ladybugs cleared, Ladybug saw Chat Noir catch Theo in his arms and set him gently to the ground. He handed him back the newspaper photograph and talked quietly with him. He leapt to his feet when Ladybug approached.

“Hawk Moth’s got a sick sense of humor. Poor guy was jealous ‘cause he thought you and I were in love.”

Ladybug laughed nervously. “Wh-w- what? Like us, together? Where did, hehehe, I have no idea where he got that idea!”

Chat gave her a friendly shoulder bump. “Don’t worry, Bug, I straightened it all out with him.” His ring beeped with one flashing paw pad left. “Gotta go, I’m about to transform back.”

Ladybug knelt next to Theo as Chat ran off. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Ladybug.”

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone gets jealous. Just run as fast as you can next time you see a black butterfly, okay?”

He smiled at her. “Promise.”

“Besides, I’m sorry for hurting your feelings.”

“I understand. You can’t help who you love.”

Ko-fi

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glitterandsummerdaze · 6 years

Text

My Paradise

Pairing: Ashton x Reader

Word Count: 3,485

A/N: Hi! So I started writing this as sort of a celebration for hitting 3.5k (which is crazy to me), and now I’m about to my next hundred! So thanks for that. S/O to DJ @singledadharrington for being my beautiful beta and for your encouraging words♥♥ This is the first serious thing I’ve ever written and I hope you enjoy it!

Based On: This Girl by Hunter Hayes (x)

I love this girl, watching that throwback movie with a glass of wine

Thunder crashed over Ashton as he pulled into your driveway, his studio session not going quite as planned. The band had been reluctant to call it a day, but they also weren’t being productive. A streak of lightning flashed in the horizon, but he was almost to your apartment now. The rain had started suddenly about halfway through his drive back from the studio. He’d been annoyed beforehand, but didn’t mind the rain. The rain meant you being wrapped in his arms, legs intertwined with one another. His favorite kind of day.

Sure enough, when he walked into your apartment, there you were: wrapped in a blanket, one hand cradling a glass of wine and the other keeping the blanket wrapped tight around you, eyes affixed to the television playing Pretty Woman. A soft smile spread across Ashton’s face as he watched your lips move in time with the lines. Shedding his jacket and his shoes, he places his keys in the key dish, and plods over to the couch.

“Mind if I join you?” He asks, already sliding in beside you. You shoot him a glance, place your wine glass down, and hold your finger to your lips, “Shhh babe, this is my favorite part!” Ash rolls his eyes, wraps his arm around your shoulders and places a kiss to your temple. A grin the size of the Cheshire Cat begins to spread across his face as you emphatically recite Vivian’s speech to Edward, never missing a beat. This moment made him glad that he’d come home early, otherwise he wouldn’t have realized that he was overwhelmingly head over heels for you.

I’m falling more and more every minute, and I don't think I can live without her

You were curled up reading by the light of the bedside table lamp, when you got the text from Ash.

Ashhole: Stay w u 2nite?

You knew he was out with the boys, it was Thursday night after all. They’d probably been drinking for a couple hours. Ashton liked to think he could hold his liquor, but really it just took longer to hit him.

Y/N: Sure babe, be safe. Make sure you’re drinking water my love xx

Your lip perks up a bit, you hadn’t been expecting to see Ashton until at least Saturday. You wondered what drunk Ashton would make an appearance today: philosophical Ashton or energetic Ashton. Half an hour passed before you found out.

The front door unlocked and you could hear several sets of feet enter, walking towards the bedroom. You set your book on the night table, as the bedroom door opened and in stumbled Ashton being partially carried by both Cal and Michael.

“Y/N! Light of my life, muse for my soul, fire of my loins!” Ashton called out, the boys dumping him on his side of the bed.

Calum giggled as Michael made a disgusted face, “Dude! I don’t wanna hear about your loins!” Calum wraps his arm around Michael’s shoulders, “Hey, Ash can’t help it. The loins want what the loins want,” earning him a punch to his arm from his friend. You laugh at their stupid antics and gave Ash a once-over to see if you could handle him on your own.

“Alright boys, I’ll take it from here.” You get up from the bed, much to Ashton’s chagrin.

“Baaaabe,” he whined, “they know how to leeeeave.”

You roll your eyes, “yeah but I gotta lock the door you bum.”

The three of you leave him pouting, as you walk Calum and Michael to the door.

“He wouldn’t shut up about you y’know. The whole night.” Calum says, as he hugs you.

“Yeah, he was like that annoying song that gets stuck in your head. We only put up with it because it was about you.” Michael says, giving you a tired smile.

You beam back at them, letting them out only after they ensure you that they’ll get home safe. You lock the door, shut off the lights and head back to your room, shutting the door.

You look at Ashton, who’d gotten his shoes and shirt off, working on his pants. He was looked back at you, with the dopiest smile. You take in Ash’s appearance: his hair messy and falling, his hazel eyes were glassy, and cheeks flushed from the alcohol. His chest was out, boasting his dark chest hair, shirt hanging on by a single button. You raise an eyebrow as you meet his eyes.

“You good there?” You question, walking towards the bed.

“Oh I’m beautiful, y/n,” finally undoing the button, taking off his pants before sliding into the bed, “Of course I’m nowhere near as beautiful as you.” You scoff as you lay down in bed next to him. Ash pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist, placing your head on his chest.

“Did you have fun tonight bub?” You ask, playing with the hair on his chest.

“Yeah...missed you though.” He candidly answers, kissing the top of your head. “What’d you do?”

“Nothing exciting really. Spoke to my sister, FaceTimed my mom. They both say hello. Mom wants to know when you wanna…” you trailed off, noticing how slow his breaths had gotten.

You reach over to turn off the light on the beside table. You lay back on Ash’s chest, and you’ve almost drifted to sleep yourself when Ash pipes up, “I like this,” his voice laced with fatigue, “coming home to you. Going to bed with you. Almost like it’s meant to be easy,” he yawns, “just like this.”

You look up at him, his eyes are closed, lips slightly raised in a content smile, dimples shadowing on his cheeks.

“Night, Ash” you whispered, placing a soft kiss on his lips.

“Night y/n, I love you.” He replies, causing your breath to stop. You two had been seeing each other for a couple months, dating exclusively for a while but hadn’t said the L word yet. Neither one of you wanted to put expectations on the other by saying it too early, knowing you had both been hurt by previous lovers. You’d wanted to say it a few times, but didn’t want him to not say it back. With a sad smile, you chalked it up to him being drunk, and soon found yourself in slumber.

How lucky am I that I get to love this girl?

I get to see that side of her that no one knows but me

When you were upset, the number one rule was to not let people see you be anything but poised. They didn’t get to see you in your moments of weakness because you felt that damaged the strong, independent woman image that you’d constructed around yourself. When Ashton found you, you were sitting in the bathtub. He could see the tension in your shoulders, smell the lavender bath salts in the air as you were attempting to cool down. You looked like you were a ball of stress, and Ash felt bad that he couldn’t do anything about it. You had seen him walk in, yet hadn’t said a word to him, which was uncommon for you. So, he left you to your bath and waited until you were ready. You found him on the couch, waiting for you. Taking a seat in the armchair, you wrapped your arms around your legs, and stared aimlessly at whatever Ashton was watching, not really caring or understanding what it was going on.

“Y/N, honey, you need to eat something.” Ashton urges as he set spaghetti down on the coffee table in front of you. You had no idea when the movie had ended or when Ashton had started cooking, but you knew he was right. Ash himself sat down across from you with his own plate, face etched in worry. You pick up your fork, and twirl the spaghetti on the fork. “Okay, that’s step one.” He jokes. “Step two is lifting it up and getting it in your mouth. Like this,” Ash says, demonstrating by putting his fork in his mouth as if you were a child. “Step three is to chew like this.” He began to chew emphatically, loudly smacking. This garnered him an eye roll, which made him feel like a kid in a candy store because at least you were reacting. You put the spaghetti in your mouth with a sarcastic smile, “Happy?”

“Not if you’re not.” He replies, shocking you thoroughly. It’s been a couple of weeks since his late night confession. He didn’t seem to remember it, and so you’d been acting like he never said anything. You look down, playing with the noodles on your plate, pushing them around. “Hey,” he says tenderly, “we don’t have to talk about it. It might help you but I’m not gonna push you. Okay?” You look up at him, gratitude and anger and sorrow all swirling in your eyes.

“Yeah, okay.” You gave him a sad smile, and tried to eat because he wanted you to. He chatted nonchalantly about his next tech-free vacation in a cabin in the Nevada mountains, complete with fishing and bonfires. You’d finished what you were going to eat, satisfying Ashton who whisked the plates into the kitchen.

When he returned you were feeling a little better, so you joined him on the couch. On a commercial, you begin to speak. “Thanks Ashton. I’m not used to this...the whole ‘someone cares when I get into a funk’ thing?” His hand intertwined with yours as you continued, “I really,” your voice began to wobble as tears threaten your eyes, “a-appreciate you being here for me, but also giving me my space. So thank you. And thank you for not making me talk about it.” You gave his hand a squeeze and tried to fight the tears in your eyes, but a few fell anyway.

“Hey,” Ash said wiping the tears, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, or to anyone else for that matter. It’s my job to be here for you, it’s what people do when they’re in lo…” he took half a hair of a pause, “relationships.” Your eyes widened slightly, wondering if you had imagined him almost saying the L word again. You wanted him to say it again, consciously, so you could say it back. He tinged a bit pink before continuing, “It’s okay to cry Y/N, you get to withdraw. You get to be sad, you don’t have to be so damn strong all the time. And when you need someone to tell you that, I’ll be here. No matter what.” Ash pulled you into his side, wrapping his arms around your frame, kissing your temple. Internally, he was cursing himself for almost saying he was in love with you. What if you weren’t ready for that yet? He didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had. You pulled back and placed kisses on his forehead, his nose, and finally placed a soft kiss on his lips.

“Thanks Ashton, I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

He tinged a deeper pink as his cheeks, “I ask myself that all the time Y/N.”

My paradise is that bedhead beauty with the sleepy eyes

My best night is any one that ends with her

You had spent the day at Ashton’s, you’d come over the night before and it had been too late to drive home. When you awoke, you were facing Ash with his arm wrapped around your waist. You took this moment to look at your boyfriend. Ashton’s eyes were closed, his eyelashes splayed a crossed his cheeks, his lips slightly parted as he breathed. His hair was a curled bird’s nest atop his head, making you smile as you remembered running your hands through it last night during a heavy makeout session. Even with the bedhead, he was still one of the most beautiful people you’d ever seen. It was more than his appearance though, it was who he was as a person. Ashton was patient and kind, he didn’t push you when you were upset. He was optimistic, trying to see the good in everything, even when the chips were down. You knew this was something he’d had to adapt and it could be hard sometimes, but that didn’t stop him. Ashton was open minded and took all facts into consideration before making decisions, a quality that is rare in a person, never mind a 24 year old rockstar. That rockstar passion of his carried over to more than just his drumming. Ashton would no questions bury a body for his friends and family. He was exactly the kind of person everyone needed in their life.

And as a boyfriend? You couldn’t ask for much more. He was attentive to you without being overbearing, listening intently to you talk about things he had no clue about or interest in. He made sure to send at least a good morning and good night text everyday. Whenever he saw something that made him think of you, whether that be flowers on the side of the road or a new notebook, he made sure to get it for you. Everything between the two of you was mutual, and talked about. You were still getting used to having a boyfriend who wasn’t just in the relationship because of the sex or the fact that you didn’t ask their every move; one who didn’t try to control you. Ashton was a breath of fresh air. The calm after many storms had hit you, and you knew a couple of weeks in, you loved him. Point blank. It scared you how much you wanted, no, needed him around; how much he constantly took up your thoughts, wondering what he was doing and he was remembering to eat and sleep properly. You’d wanted to tell him a couple of times, but didn’t know how to slip it in. Everytime you thought about saying it, you chickened out. You wished you could just say it, but you didn’t want to scare him with these big feelings you were having. But you wanted to shout that you loved Ashton from the rooftops. As he stirred awake, his eyes opening slowly, a smile when he saw you beside him, you knew you had to tell him and you had to tell him soon.

My real deal girl with her hair up, guard down, telling me what's on her mind

Ashton turned the key to unlock the door to your apartment, feeling like he’d been using your key more than his own lately. But as long as you weren’t turning him away, he’d keep coming back. You were sitting up against the headboard on your bed, reading something on your phone when he came in. You’d changed from your work clothes and were chilling in sweats, glass of wine on your bedside table. Ashton took off his shoes and jacket and joined you on the bed. You finished the article, locked your phone and turned your body to give him your attention. He took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers. He looked a bit off, not his usual happy self.

“Ashton, what’s wrong bub?” Worry laced your question, he had been fine when he’d left a couple hours ago to go shower and grab some clothes from his place. He shrugged in response, fiddling with your fingers in his hand. You were confused, had you said something? Was he regretting this?

He sighed and turned to look at you, his eyes dulled. Ash was not one to hold back, so he took a breath, before speaking.

“It’s just...what are we...what is this that we’re doing?” He was making direct eye contact, making you squirm a bit.

“Um…” you hesitated, “Where is this coming from?”

“It’s just I can’t tell if we’re on the same page. If we’re in this together. What is this to you? Is this short term? Is it long term? Because if it’s short term...let me know now. I can’t risk it again.”

Your heart began to break in your chest, you cleared your throat, and move from the bed. Pacing the room as you begin to answer his question. “I don’t know about you, but I’m in this for however long you are. I go to sleep thinking about you, I wake up wondering if you’re up. I miss you all the time when you’re in the studio for days on end. I worry about if you’re getting enough sleep and if you remembered to schedule your appointment for the optometrist like you’ve been saying you would for months.” “I…” Ashton tries to interrupt, but you hold your hand up to stop him because if you don’t, you were never gonna get this out. “I feel safe with you, unguarded. Like I could say anything in the world and you wouldn’t question it. I love how open you are with your fans, and how affectionate you are with your family. I love how passionate you are with your beliefs, but not so passionate that you’re dogmatic. I love the way you listen no matter what, and you know when to back off. I love that you call me out when I’m being outrageous. I love that you pull me closer when we sleep. That you cuddle after we have sex, and you don’t just turn over. You ask if I’m okay with plans all the time. You kill the spiders that I will not touch,” this elicited a giggle from Ashton. You give him a smile and go back to intertwine your hand with his, “Ashton, I love your mind and how thoughtful you are. And apparently it’s taken way too long for me to say it when I’ve felt this since the beginning,” you rushed, “but I love you, I am in love with you and I am falling for you more and more every day.” You finished, heart pumping rapidly. The room was silent, you were sure Ashton could hear your heart’s rhythm. You nervously began to fidget with the comforter, waiting for Ashton to say something.

“Ash, can you say something? It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way, I’ll be fine...I just. I can’t lose—“ it was his time to silence you, with a soft finger to your lips.

“Wait...why didn’t you say anything when I told you I loved you that night I stayed over? After the night with the boys?” Ashton inquired honestly.

“I didn’t know if you would remember and I didn’t want to tie you to something you said when you were drunk. What if you were just saying it y’know? I couldn’t do that to myself, not again…” you were rambling again and Ashton stopped you again.

“Would you hold on a second so I can tell you officially that I love you too? I love that you go on long winded rants and that you pick out all the orange and yellow skittles to eat first so that the rest of the pack is only the good flavors.” He smiles at you, making your heart warm. “I love that you fight me on things all the time and that I can come to you at any point and you’ll drop everything. I love that you let your guard down, you let me see the real you. The strong and beautiful, caring and sarcastic version of you that you try to hide. I love that you don’t start driving until you pick the perfect song, and that you sing off key to my music when you’re in the shower and you don’t know I’m here.” Ashton gets closer, stroking your cheek and making sure you were listening. He leaned in a little bit, before dropping to just above a whisper, his eyes searching yours as if looking for answers, “I’m in it for as long as you want to be, because I love you too.” You leaned the rest of the way in and met Ashton’s lips with your own. You wound your hands in his hair, as he pressed his to your back, pulling you in, trying to get your bodies as close as possible. This kiss was full of all the love that you guys had been negligent of admitting, it was hard and soft. You pulled back for air, and placed your foreheads together, giggling,

“I love you” you said.

Ashton placed kisses all over your face, eliciting giggles from you. He beamed at you, “I love you too. God am I gonna love hearing that all the time.”

138 notes · View notes

fanforthefics · 6 years

Note

tyler/jamie childhood best friends au

Jamie eyes the building skeptically. It’s not, he guesses, actually particularly intimidating–it’s just a Boston apartment building–but it is…well, it has a doorman. Jamie was lucky his last apartment had doors.

But he’d known, sort of, what to expect, coming up to visit Tyler, and Tyler’s at the end of it, he tells himself. Tyler makes everything slot back into place.

So he shoulders his old duffel bag of shit that he’d brought, and goes up to the doorman to give his name.

The lobby is–again, it’s not like, super sparkly or anything, but it’s nice. Sleek and modern. Jamie feels ratty and conspicuous here, waiting as the doorman rings up to Tyler’s apartment; he hunches his shoulders but the basic fact is Jamie’s always been too big to be inconspicuous.

“You can go up,” The doorman tells him, with actually a pretty nice smile. “Elevators are to your right.”

“Thank you,” Jamie mutters to him, and goes to the elevator. It’s got mirrors in it, reflecting up and around and back and him staring at himself a thousand times, which no one needs to see.

He goes up to the fifteenth floor, gets out. He’s halfway down the hallway when a door swings open, and there’s a yell. “Jamie, fuck! Jamie!” Tyler shouts, and then Jamie’s opening his arms on instinct and Tyler’s barreling into them, the same warm solid weight as always, and Jamie ducks his head into Tyler’s temple and breathes as everything slots into place, like it has since they were ten and playing street hockey until everyone else went home.

“You’re here, fuck,” Tyler mutters into Jamie’s neck. His aftershave is different–it’s spicier now than it was before. “God, I’ve missed you.”

And that’s Tyler, always so quick to say shit like that, the shit that gets stuck in Jamie’s throat. “You too,” Jamie says. It’s been–fuck, it’s been years, because Tyler’s schedule never quite overlaps with school breaks, and they’ve both been so busy. They text all the time, of course, and they try to Facetime at least once a month, but–it’s not the same.

Then there’s barking, and another body comes out of the room. Jamie lets go of Tyler to kneel down to meet him, ducking his head as Marshall starts licking at his face. “Hi, yes, hi boy,” Jamie tells him, petting his head and laughing. “Yes, you’re a good boy.”

“Okay, Marsh, share some of Uncle Jamie’s love,” Tyler tells his dog, but when Jamie looks up at him, he’s grinning down at them, like he’s never seen anything better.

“Okay, come on.” Tyler bounces back. He’s put on muscle since Jamie’s seen him last; he’s always been ripped but now he’s sculpted too. Because what Jamie’s sanity really needed was for Tyler to be even more gorgeous.

But Jamie’s had a long time to ignore that, when Tyler beams at him and tugs at his arm like an eager dog. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, and as always, lets Tyler pull him along, into his orbit. It’s always been like that, since they were kids–Tyler was the exciting one, who made things happen, who drew people in, who was going to be the big NHL star. And Jamie was–well, Tyler was loyal and held onto people, Jamie guesses. So even when they stopped living down the street from each other, even when they should have outgrown each other, Tyler held on. And Jamie’s spent years trying not to remind him that maybe he shouldn’t.

“Here we go.” Tyler leads Jamie into the apartment, gestures around. “It’s–I mean, I can give you the grand tour, but it’s pretty open concept. Uh, kitchen, dining room, living room.” He wave to each part of the sweeping main room as he names it. “Then, here, down this hall is the bedrooms.” He points out his, the guest bathroom–of course he has a guest bathroom–and then the spare bedroom, where Jamie will be staying. Jamie drops his bag there, on the center of the queen bed, before Tyler’s ushering him back out into the main room.

“So?” he asks, and he has that look he gets sometimes, like he’s so anxious for approval. Jamie worries about that look, more than sometimes–worries what would happen if he started looking for the approval of the wrong people. Tyler likes to be liked, and that’s dangerous.

But for now, he’s looking at Jamie. “What do you think?”

Jamie looks around. It’s all big and high ceiling-ed and sleek, and it’s very much the product of NHL money, but it’s also–Tyler’s shit is everywhere and there are empty beer cans and gatorade bottles on the counter and unwashed dishes in the sink and Marshall sprawled out on the couch. Those are the important things, he reminds himself.

“It’s great,” Jamie tells Tyler, with his most sincere smile. “Really, Segs. Great.”

“Well I needed something to do with my signing bonus,” Tyler grins again. “Want anything? Water? Beer? I figured we could chill for a while or we could go sightseeing, then there’s a party tonight we can go to, and I’ve got a game tomorrow that I got you tickets for, and Blacker’s having a thing after that, and if you need something to do Brownie can show you around, and–”

“You don’t have to amuse me, Tyler,” Jamie laughs, and shoves at his shoulder to shut him up. “You know me, I’m fine with just like, a video game setup and some wifi.”

“I want you to enjoy yourself,” Tyler insists, but he gives Jamie the wifi password anyway. It’s a very Tyler thing–he tolerates, but has never really understood, that Jamie doesn’t need to always be moving to be entertained. Tyler always needs people, action. And that doesn’t seem to be a problem here.

“Want to play Call of Duty?” Jamie suggests, and Tyler smirks.

“Yeah, you can remember how much I always kick your ass.”

“Fuck you,” Jamie retorts, and Tyler shoos Marshall off the couch so that they can sit on it. Tyler’s TV and game set up is fucking massive, but that’s settling, in a way. This is something Jamie’d always known Tyler would spend money on the second he got it.

Tyler wins the first game, because maybe he always has been better, but then Jamie starts winning the next one so easily that he looks over at Tyler to make sure he’s still there.

He is, but he’s also looking at Jamie, not the screen. “What?” Jamie demands, suddenly on edge again. He’s too big, too awkward, too–

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Tyler says, ducking his head a little so he doesn’t meet Jamie’s eyes.

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, and nudges Tyler’s knee with his. “Me too.”

///

They spend the rest of the afternoon playing video games, and Tyler bullies Jamie into taking a picture with Marshall in exchange for just hanging out and not going sightseeing or anything, and it’s fun. It’s like they’re back home, back before Tyler became Tyler Seguin, #2 draft pick of the Boston Bruins, and Jamie didn’t change at all. They order dinner from an Italian place Tyler likes so he can sort of keep to his meal plan and Jamie can eat what he wants too, even if Tyler refuses to let Jamie pay him back for his half–”Bro, I ate most of it anyway, and you’re the one who travelled, come on”–and then Tyler herds Jamie into his room to get ready to go to the party.

Jamie, knowing Tyler, did actually pack clothes for a party, even if his clothes for a party are just dark jeans and a black button down that Jenny says look good on him. He messes with his hair a little, but really there’s just not much to be done with that, so he finishes before Tyler does, then wanders back out into the living room to mess around on Twitter and play with Marshall.

“Here’s my two favorite guys,” Tyler says, finally coming back in. Jamie glances up–and swallows. Tyler always looks good, but this is a different sort of good. The sort of good that comes from money and comfort in that world, that easy confidence in himself Tyler’s always had that Jamie’s leached off of for more than ten years.

Jamie straightens, goes to run a hand through his hair before he remembers all the shit in it. “Hey, ready?”

“Hm?” Tyler blinks. He’d definitely been staring at Jamie. “Yeah, let’s go, the guys’ll meet us there.”

“Do I look okay?” Jamie asks. Tyler’s still stealing looks at him, and Tyler’s a dick sometimes but he wouldn’t let Jamie leave the house not looking right.

“Um. Yeah. Definitely. You look hot.” Tyler leans down to kiss Marshall’s head, then ruffles his fur. “Be back soon,” he tells his dog.

“Good to know you still spoil him rotten,” Jamie says, as Tyler closes the door behind them. Tyler raises an eyebrow at Jamie.

“So you didn’t give him any treats?” he asks, and Jamie shakes his head, trying and failing to look innocent.

“Nope.”

“You’re a shitty liar, Benny.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” Jamie asks, giving the lie up as lost. “I have to make sure he remembers his uncle Jamie.”

“You could come visit more,” Tyler suggests, as they leave the elevator to get into the cab that’ll apparently take them to the party. “Then he’d definitely remember you.”

“I don’t have the time or the money, Segs, you know–”

“I have the money, though,” Tyler cuts in, looking mulish. They’ve had this argument before. “It’s stupid to not see you for a year when I could–”

“When you could what, pay me just to sit around and hang out with you?” Jamie asks, and Tyler gives Jamie the irritated look he gets when Jamie says things he doesn’t want to hear. “It’ll be easier now I’m not in school, Ty. I’ll be able to take vacation when I want.”

“Maybe when I have bye weeks,” Tyler muses, looking out the window. “You can come with me to Cabo! It’s the best.”

Jamie will not make enough money to go to Cabo with Tyler and his new guys, who either have enough money or mooch enough money off of Tyler to just do things like that. To live that life. But it’s not worth starting the argument now, so Jamie just hums and nods, and then Tyler starts talking about the Red Sox, and Jamie has to give him shit for that.

They get to the party–at some club that looks exclusive but Jamie couldn’t pick out of a lineup that someone must have rented out–and indeed, Tyler’s guys are waiting there, a pack of bros of the type that Tyler collects around him.

“Seggy!” they greet him, with various back slaps and bro hugs and fist bumps, and Tyler gets a hand on Jamie’s wrist and holds him steady.

“This is Jamie,” Tyler announces to the group, “He in college so he has proof he’s smarter than all of you combined, and he’s my best friend so he’s awesome.”

“I thought I was your best friend,” someone objects, and Tyler grins at him as Jamie bristles.

“You’re my boy, Brownie,” Tyler tells the guy, “But Jamie’s Jamie, sorry.” It helps. To hear Tyler say that, like a fact. “Okay, Benny. This is–” He goes around, and the guys all do the nod or handshake or whatever, but the names honestly go in and out of Jamie’s ears. He won’t be here long enough for them to matter, and he doesn’t expect them to talk to him much either.

The only one he does register is Brownie, the guy who has said he was Tyler’s best friend. Jamie’s heard about him before, knows he’s one of Tyler’s closest friends, and from what Jamie’s heard he’s a good guy. That doesn’t mean it feels any better to see him joke with Tyler, to see how easy they are together, how well Brownie fits both into this space and with Tyler.

But honestly, Jamie’s had a lot of practice being awkward and holding up a wall at parties Tyler dragged him to, because that was most of high school, so he does well enough. He gets a beer and drinks it and chats with a girl who comes up to him about baseball, even though it’s not like he’s going to take her home, and then when Tyler comes over and throws himself onto his back and orders him to come get more tequila with him, he does. He takes the tequila shot, watches as Tyler’s adam’s apple bobs, as his lips get slick with the alcohol, and lets Tyler drag him over to the pool tables, where they run the old gag of Jamie acting like an idiot and Tyler acting drunk to fleece everyone out of their money, which has worked since they were barely old enough to see over the tables.

Tyler knows better than to try to get Jamie on the dance floor; he leaves him after pool at a table with Brownie and some of the other guys as he goes off to dance with a pretty blonde girl in a short skirt and pink lip gloss.

Jamie takes a sip of his beer. Brownie’s eying him.

“What?” Jamie asks, his back going up again. He knows he gets defensive, in spaces like this. He just can’t help it.

“I’ve just heard a lot about you,” Brownie says, with the sort of calm that comes from being pretty drunk. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Um. Sorry?” Jamie tries, because he doesn’t know what to say to that. “I mean, Tyler and I have been friends a long time?”

“I know,” Brownie tells him, then gets up. He stumbles a little, but he makes it to the dance floor, where he somehow joins Tyler and the girl he’s dancing with in a way that seems smooth and easy. Jamie takes another swig of his beer.

///

They make it back to Tyler’s late, with Tyler drunk enough that he’s hanging off of Jamie and Jamie drunk enough that he’s not quite steady enough to hang off of Tyler. It’s another move that’s comfortable–Jamie’s usually the DD, and he doesn’t mind. Drinking at parties often just makes him feel more awkward.

So Jamie digs the keys out of Tyler’s pockets, opens the door, pets Marshall when he comes to greet them, and then goes to pour Tyler into bed.

Tyler’s bedroom looks like it has everywhere he’s lived since Jamie knew him–messy and full of sports shit. There are pictures on the wall–one of him and his family, one of the Bruins with the Cup. One of him and Jamie, all of fourteen and decked out in hockey gear, with their arms slung around each other and grinning up at the camera.

Jamie sighs, and looks back to the bed, where Tyler’s lying, then turns to leave.

“Jamie?” Tyler asks, low.

Jamie freezes. “Yeah?”

Tyler props himself up. He’s staring at Jamie, eyes wide. “I just wanted to make sure you were really here. That I didn’t dream you.”

Jamie grins. “Really here, bro.”

“Good.” Tyler burps, and then drops back onto the blankets. “Did you have fun tonight?” he asks. Maybe more demands.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, because he did, for some of it, and it’s clearly what Tyler needs to hear.

“Really? I want you to have fun.” A yawn. “Want you to like it.”

“I like you,” Jamie assures him. “Now get some sleep, and drink water.”

“Yes sir,” Tyler raises a hand in what he probably means to be a salute, and Jamie goes back to his room, where he can face plant onto the big bed and sleep it off.

///

Somehow–Jamie’s guessing practice–Tyler’s gone by the time Jamie wakes up the next morning, and there’s a note on the table telling him that Marshall’s walked and that he’ll be home after morning skate but if Jamie wants to go out he can meet him somewhere, and there’s a key in the junk drawer. Being Tyler, of course he doesn’t mention breakfast or anything like that, but Jamie knows Tyler and so knows where to find the coffee and stuff to make himself toast.

Then he surfs the TV until he finds a shitty action movie he doesn’t really have to pay attention to, and stretches out on the couch. He should be doing homework, but it’s been a long senior year already and he’s dreading job searching, and honestly Jamie feels like he’d be happy just here for a week, lying on a couch surrounded by Tyler-things, with the knowledge that Tyler will be home later. Jamie’s lived near or at home most of his life, but somehow, just knowing Tyler’s nearby makes this more comfortable than his childhood bed.

He dozes all morning, and then is woken up by something crashing. Jamie looks up to see Tyler in the kitchen, juggling bags.

“You okay?” he asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah–sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“I’ve slept enough,” Jamie tells him, and gets up to wander over to the kitchen. “Anyway, I’d rather hang out with you.” That gets him a huge grin, one of the ones that takes over Tyler’s whole face and lights up Jamie from the inside out. He wonders if any of Tyler’s new friends can make Tyler smile like that.

They have lunch, then Tyler has to take his pre-game nap so Jamie writes an email home and attaches a picture of Jamie, Tyler, and Marshall, because his mom will like that.

Then they go to the game, and Tyler has to go down to the locker room but he gets Jamie settled in a box first–with the rest of the families, he says, as he waves goodbye to Jamie. It’s–Jamie’s been to Tyler’s games before. He played hockey, before he decided that juniors wasn’t the path for him. And he’s been to NHL games before.

But it’s not like being in the box. It’s full of WAGs and some kids and suits, and Jamie feels out of place in his jeans and Chara jersey–a joke, because Jamie had told Tyler once years ago that he’s not wearing his jersey until he gets a Gordie Howe, which they both know isn’t going to happen. Jamie would wear a Seguin jersey if Tyler asked–there isn’t much he wouldn’t do, if Tyler asked–but now it’s easier, just to wear the captain jersey. He gets fewer questions, this way, from all these fancy people who give him sidelong looks like they aren’t sure why he’s here. One–a nice older woman–asks who he’s here for, and he tells her he’s Tyler’s friend, which gets an eyebrow raise and, in a tone of surprise, an exclamation that he looks like a nice young man. Jamie doesn’t really know what to say to that, and so the conversation fizzles, and Jamie goes back to watching the game.

It’s a good game. They’re the defending Stanley Cup champions and it shows, and Tyler’s on fire, just lighting everything up. It makes Jamie want to yell and scream and make sure everyone in the booth is watching, that they all know just how brilliant Tyler is, just how fucking good.

But it doesn’t seem like he has to. All around the stands, people are cheering, and when Tyler scores he lifts his stick and the crowd cheers, and Jamie can see Tyler’s face on the jumbotron, his huge grin and how he’s feeding off of the crowd. He shines so bright here, and Jamie’s so proud of him, but–Jamie looks down at his scuffed shoes. He’s not nearly that bright.

Tyler had given him express instructions afterwards to come down to the locker room, so Jamie does, loitering by the door and getting some questioning looks while he mumbles something about being friends with Seguin, until Tyler bounces out in just a towel around his waist and tugs at his wrist.

“Great game!” Jamie tells him, ruffling his hair, and Tyler bats at his hands but he’s still beaming.

“All for you baby,” he says with a wink, and Jamie rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, put some pants on,” Jamie retorts, and Tyler laughs again and holds the door open so they can go into the locker room. Tyler’s clearly still keyed up; instead of actually getting dressed he tows Jamie around and introduces him to everyone, and Jamie barely has time to realize he’s meeting people whose hockey he idolized before Tyler’s pulling him over–”Z! Have you met Jamie? He’s your biggest fan,” and “Jamie, this is Marchy, he’s the worst and don’t listen to anything he says.” Jamie doesn’t know what he says in return, but it definitely isn’t anything that’s going to impress anyone.

The guys are all nice, of course, even if they also just played a hockey game and so don’t really want to meet Tyler’s random friend. But Chara smiles and nods and makes a few words of small talk, and Marchand makes a joke but trading notes on keeping Tyler in line, and Bergeron shakes his hand, looking dignified and serious and Jamie manages not to freak out but is definitely bright red.

“It’s good to meet you, Jamie,” he says, calm but with a smile in his eyes. “Tyler talks about you all the time.”

“All of it good, I promise,” Tyler adds. “I haven’t said anything about the thing with the goat.“

“Tyler!” Jamie hisses, going even redder. He rubs at the back of his neck. “Sorry,” he tells Patrice fucking Bergeron, “I swear he wasn’t really raised in a barn.”

“We’re used to him,” Bergeron says, laughing a little. “What are you boys up to while you’re here?”

“We’re going out tonight, then sightseeing tomorrow. I want to show Jamie all the sights,” Tyler pipes in, wrapping his arm around Jamie’s shoulders. He still hasn’t put pants on, or a shirt, and it’s a lot of skin pressed up close to Jamie. He’s not used to it, anymore. And fucking Bergeron’s right there.

“Well, have fun.” Bergeron says, with that dignified smile. Jamie swallows. “Hopefully I’ll see you again before I leave, Jamie.”

Jamie mumbles something, then turns into Tyler as Bergeron walks away. “You can’t just spring him on me, Segs!” he hisses, leaning down so that only Tyler can hear him.

Tyler gives him an impish smile back. “What, me?”

“I had the hugest fucking crush on him and now he thinks I’m an idiot–”

“I think that’s the wrong tense, Benny, and you didn’t come off like an idiot. Just maybe a little star struck.”

“Because I am!” Jamie glances around, then drops his voice to a whisper. “You hang out with them all the time, but I’m not used to meeting NHL stars!”

“You get used to it,” Tyler tells him, tilting his head up. His lips are swollen from his mouthguard, and he’s still lit up from the game. “Okay, I’m going to get changed, then we’re going out.”

///

Once more, Jamie’s not sure where they are. It’s quieter than last night, at least–less of a club and more of a bar, but the kind of place with a rope and a minimum in the quadruple digits. Some of the guys from last night are there, and most of them give him a friendly nod–or, in Brownie’s case, a wary nod, and Jamie isn’t sure what he did to piss him off but he’s not apologizing for nothing–but there are new people, too, crowding around their table with Tyler at the center of it, the sun everyone orbits. Jamie gets it. Jamie’s been orbiting him too, for over a decade.

But–they’re all talking, about people they know and parties they’ve been too and shit they’ve done, and it’s going fast and back and forth and Tyler’s in the thick of it, and there’s Jamie. Tyler keeps Jamie next to him with a hand firm on his thigh, and he looks over every so often with an eager smile, checking in–Jamie always smiles back, because he can’t not–but there’s nothing else for Jamie to contribute, here. This isn’t his life. This is as far from his life as it’s possible to be. His life is libraries and homework and a job at the end of it, something steady and boring and nothing that will give him this sort of lifestyle. Jamie doesn’t even want this sort of lifestyle.

So he drinks the shots that are put in front of him and he smiles when Tyler smiles at him and he knows he’s drawing inward, getting into his head, but he can’t help it. He just wants–he wants to be fourteen again and chasing each other around a rink, sleeping over and whispering secrets in the dark, back when everything was simple and it didn’t matter so much that Tyler was bright and Jamie was dull.

He really tries not to ruin the night, but Tyler knows him as well as he knows Tyler, and so he must see that Jamie’s flagging because he bows them out early–barely 1 am–and gets them in an uber home. Jamie’s not drunk, but he’s not not drunk either; enough not not drunk to slide a little too close to Tyler in the cab, so their shoulders are pressed together. When it’s just him and Tyler, it’s easier. Tyler’s hand rests on his thigh again, a warm heavy weight that Jamie knows better than to think too hard about.

They get to Tyler’s building, and then they’re up the elevator and greeting Marshall in Tyler’s big, high-ceilinged, gorgeously unattainable apartment, and Tyler follows Jamie into the spare room, takes a seat on the bed.

“Everything okay?” he asks, tentative but not unsure. “You’re doing the internal thing.”

“It’s fine.” Jamie can’t tell Tyler this.

“It’s not fine,” Tyler insists. “You’re sad, and I hate that, and just–look, it’s just me. You can tell me everything.”

Jamie looks down at him–at Tyler on his bed, with that bright smile and gorgeous everything and the NHL success clear from his shoes to his apartment. Maybe Jamie is drunker than he thought, because instead of more denial, what comes out is, “What am I even doing here?”

Tyler’s smile falters. “What?”

“Why am I here?” Jamie gestures around the room. “I’m not–this. This isn’t me. I don’t know how to be this.”

“What’s this?”

“All of it! Your brilliant shiny new life here!” Jamie waves again. “With your clubs and shiny new friends and I’m just–boring. I don’t fit. Maybe it’s time to let it die.”

“Fuck that!” Tyler on his feet now, and he looks really worried. “Did someone say something to you like that? Tell me who and I’ll–”

“No one needed to say anything.” Jamie sighs. He’s just tired. Tired of wanting, tired of knowing he can’t have. Tired of the slow, bleeding heartbreak that is loving Tyler Seguin. “What room is there for me in your new life, Ty? I’m just some college kid. I’m not celebrity material.”

“There isn’t room for you in my life,” Tyler says, and Jamie’s breath catches. Okay then. At least he said it. At least Jamie knows.

“Fine, I can–” he turns, gropes blindly for the doorknob. “I’ll–”

“No, shit, I didn’t mean that.” Tyler’s always been faster than Jamie; he’s up and between Jamie and the door before he can get a hand on it. “I mean that you aren’t–I don’t make room for you in my life, Jamie. You’re what it’s built on.”

Jamie blinks. “What?”

“Fuck, I mean–all of this?” Tyler waves his hand, like Jamie had earlier. “It’s fun, but–you being proud of me is the point.”

“The point of what?”

“Everything!” Tyler yells. “Just–fucking everything. Making you proud. Making you happy. It’s all I’ve ever–” he cuts himself off.

“I am proud of you,” Jamie tells him, because it’s true, always. “I’ve always been proud of you, shit, Tyler. You know that.” He must have, but Jamie can actually see how it hits Tyler, how his eyes widen. “But that doesn’t–I don’t get why you want me here. I’m not fun or exciting or anything else.”

Tyler swallows. “Do you promise not to hate me?”

“I think that ship sailed when you pinned breaking your mom’s lamp on me.”

“She always liked you better, you got off lighter.” Tyler’s looking at Jamie, and there’s a reckless light in his eyes. “Want to know why I want you here? Why I always want you here?”

“You don’t have to–” Jamie starts, but then Tyler’s closed the distance between them and their lips are touching. They’re kissing. Tyler’s kissing him, and it–Jamie hasn’t had a lot of experience with kissing, but he’s never had a kiss like this before, one that aches.

Tyler stumbles back. It can’t have been more than a few seconds, but Jamie’s world has turned upside down. Jamie knows what Tyler’s mouth tastes like, now.

“God, Jamie.” Tyler’s staring, and one hand comes up to touch his lips. Jamie can’t look away. He’s frozen. He never thought–it doesn’t compute. “I’ve been in love with you since I knew what it meant to be in love. Longer, probably. I think I figured out what love was because it was what I felt about you.”

“Tyler,” Jamie breathes. Tyler shakes his head.

“And I know you’ve got your own life, and you don’t–” he gulps. “You don’t feel the same way, that I’m just an irresponsible kid, and that’s fine, but I’m still going to–you’re my fucking true north, or whatever, Jamie. And I’m not going to stop trying to make you happy however you need me too. Even if it’s just paying for dinner. Or giving you time with my dog. Or–”

It’s gone on too long, and Jamie recognizes when Tyler’s starting to spiral, and Jamie might not be able to get his shit together for him, but he can pull it together for Tyler.

“Tyler,” He interrupts, and Tyler stops talking and bites his lip as he looks up at Jamie, as open a book as always. Jamie should probably say more, give a speech like Tyler did, but Jamie’s always been shitty with words and it would probably come out wrong anyway. “Just–shit,” he says, and then pulls Tyler in to kiss him again.

Tyler kisses back, eager and with that same ache, until they’re both breathless, and then he pulls away, a bare inch. “Really?” he breathes.

Jamie nods. He doesn’t fit into Tyler’s life, and he doesn’t know if that’s going to change, or how. But he knows Tyler. Knows them. They’ve figured out worse. “Really,” he says, and pulls Tyler close.

#stars fic #my fic #hand-wavey ages and timeline #you know for two idiot bros I somehow always write them SUPER melodramatic #but i've been wanting to write this sort of famous/not famous trope for a while so thank you for prompting it!#Anonymous #stars tumblr fic

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pogueman · 7 years

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Pogue, Levy, Baig, and Mossberg on what it was like to review the first iPhone 10 years ago

–

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Ten years ago this week, the iPhone went on sale.

The decade’s statistics are pretty impressive: more than 1 billion phones sold, over 2 million apps written, more than 130 billion app downloads, $70 billion paid to app writers.

But the cultural effects are even more dramatic. With the iPhone (and Google’s imitator, Android), we became, for the first time, a society of people who were online continuously—wherever we went. Our communications blossomed from text messages to video calls, Snapchat, FaceTime, and Skype. Billion-dollar businesses like Uber, Snapchat, and Instagram sprang into existence. Distracted driving, distracted walking, distracted eating, distracted dating, and even distracted sex became things.

Steve Jobs had unveiled the iPhone onstage in January 2007, but the phone he displayed wasn’t anywhere near finished. His presentation followed a carefully scripted series of steps that had been programmed to work just for the demo. It took six more months for Apple to finish the phone—and to bring it to market on June 29.

Steve Jobs unveiled the iPhone in 2007.

By that point, the hype had grown to almost deafening levels. A thousand people stood in line around the block at the Apple Store in New York City, hoping to be the first.

I went into New York and persuaded the line-standers to participate in a parody music video called “I Want an iPhone,” to the tune of “I Did It My Way.” Remember this?

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Only four people outside of Apple already had iPhones. They were the four tech writers Apple had chosen to review the phone: Steven Levy, then of Newsweek; Ed Baig, of USA Today; Walt Mossberg, then of The Wall Street Journal; and me, then of The New York Times.

From left: Pogue, Baig, Levy, Mossberg. (Photos: Adam Tow, David Pogue)

For my “CBS Sunday Morning” story honoring the iPhone’s 10th anniversary, the four of us got together—for the first time ever on camera—at Yahoo’s New York office. To reminisce, to schmooze, and to reveal long-held secrets. Here’s an edited transcript of that conversation.

For your reference, here are the players:

Steven Levy (formerly Newsweek, later Wired, now editor-in-chief of Backchannel, which was recently bought by Condé Nast—as part of, once again, the Wired group. Here’s his reminiscence of the iPhone reviewing cycle.)

Ed Baig (then and now, personal tech columnist for USA Today).

Walt Mossberg (formerly Wall Street Journal, then cofounder of ReCode, then executive editor of The Verge—and as of today, retired.)

David Pogue (formerly New York Times, now tech critic for Yahoo Finance).

POGUE: We are assembled on the anniversary of a great event, the unveiling of the iPhone 10 years ago. Let’s start with the easy one. What have been the effects of the iPhone on society and culture?

BAIG: Well, for one thing, you can’t go anywhere without seeing somebody like this (mimes being hunched over the phone).

MOSSBERG: I think the effect is even broader. The smartphone is the personal computer now. The laptop, the desktops, are what we always think of when we hear “PC or Mac.” But really, the personal computer that people rely on, is the one that Steve Jobs introduced 10 years ago.

LEVY: It’s a universal prosthetic. It basically makes the computer part of who we are. It’s the way we get things done in the world. The way we communicate, how we call a car. How we do our our work, watch our entertainment. It’s like losing a limb to go out in the world without your smartphone.

POGUE: Were all four of us in the room when Steve Jobs unveiled the iPhone?

BAIG: I actually was not. I was at CES, Consumer Electronics Show.

POGUE: What’s wrong with you, man?

LEVY: Couldn’t you get a plane? (LAUGHTER)

BAIG: What was fascinating is I spent all this time in my hotel room writing about, guess what? The iPhone. My editor says, “So what have you seen at CES?” I said, “My hotel room!”

MOSSBERG: So Jobs unveils the iPhone six months before he’s gonna sell it. I get a call from the PR people, and they say, “Oh, we’re having an event.” And the date is right in the middle of the Consumer Electronics Show, which is a big deal if you’re a tech reporter. And I said, “Well, I don’t know if I can go to this.”

So five minutes later, the phone rings and it’s Steve Jobs. And he says, “Walt, you’ve gotta come.” And I said, “Steve, it’s the middle of CES—I’ve got all these appointments.” And he said, “You are gonna kick yourself if you don’t come to this.”

I go to the airport, and the 10 p.m. flight to San Francisco was filled with journalists and analysts who were going to the iPhone event.

POGUE: So Jobs took the stage, and he did that joke about, “we’re unveiling three different products today. A wide-screen iPod. A revolutionary phone. A cutting-edge internet communicator.” And then he said, “These are not three separate devices—this is one device!” What was your reaction?

LEVY: There were a lot of questions. I talked to him [Jobs] afterwards. I said, “Is this gonna be open to third-party developers?” He was arguing against that. Saying this is going to be like the iPod—you know, “we’ll build a few things in.” And if other people wanted to build things on the iPhone, they would build them on the web. They would be “web apps.”

POGUE: I’m sure Steve told all of you the same thing he told me as his rationale for not permitting other companies to write apps. He said, “It’s a security issue.” He always used this line, “We wouldn’t want some badly written app to take down the whole West Coast phone network.”

MOSSBERG: Of course, he caved the next year.

POGUE: There was a lot missing from this phone. People forget—it had no front camera. It didn’t have a flash for pictures.

MOSSBERG: It didn’t have cut and paste.

POGUE: It couldn’t record video. And you couldn’t even send a picture as a text message.

BAIG: And you couldn’t even stick certain headphones into the headphone jack without an adapter. We couldn’t do business email.

MOSSBERG: ‘Cause you were on Exchange.

BAIG: Right.

POGUE: All four us, for our respective publications, wrote these reviews [here’s mine]. And we all essentially said the same thing: it’s got a million flaws. But we all said, it’s clearly a new approach that nobody’s even taken before.

LEVY: Yeah, yeah. We understood that it could be transformational [Levy’s original review].

MOSSBERG: I think I called it a revolutionary hand-held computer. I wanted to make the point that it wasn’t just a phone. The core apps that Apple built in were pretty sophisticated for a phone. The weather app, the stock app. These things were colorful and fast for a phone. And I remember all of us said, “Wow, this screen is huge.” (LAUGHTER)

BAIG: I went back and read my review, too. And I said, “I thought I would miss that physical keyboard, but I really didn’t.” And that was one of the big breakthroughs of it.

MOSSBERG: I said, “After three days, I was ready to throw this thing out of the window for trying to type on glass.” It was just so hard. But all of a sudden, it sort of clicked in. And by the end of the test period, I was pretty happy typing on glass.

LEVY: You know, it’s 10 years later, and half the emails I get still have a little message underneath saying, “Typed on phone, forgive typos!”

MOSSBERG: The big Achilles’ heel for the first iPhone was AT&T. You had to be on AT&T.

BAIG: And it was their Edge network. The slowest!

LEVY: You would see that “E” [on the menu bar], meaning, you’re in the Edge network. You were in Molasses Town.

POGUE: It was so slow! I clocked it. It took a minute to pull up The New York Times webpage. Can you imagine someone today being patient enough to spend a minute for a website?

MOSSBERG: Right, so, this was Steve’s explanation: The chip sets for LTE [today’s fast cellular network, barely introduced in 2007] were too power hungry. And too physically large. They wouldn’t have had great battery life, and wouldn’t be able to fit in there.

POGUE: Yup.

MOSSBERG: Steve kind of made a deal with the devil. He did this very, very important thing: Apple was the first handset maker to be able to say to the carriers, “You have nothing to say about the design of our phone.”

POGUE: Yeah! In those days, Verizon or whoever would say, “Here’s what the menus have to look like.” And he said, “No. I have carte blanche, or no deal.”

MOSSBERG: Yeah, and he could do that ‘cause he had a brand, because of the iPod. He had a bigger brand than any of the carriers did. And AT&T was rebranding itself, and they needed something. They only saw drawings! He didn’t even show ‘em the phone before they signed the deal!

And so Apple was the first handset maker to get away with no carrier branding on the phone. No carrier input into those menus. No carrier input into the hardware. Nothing. But it was deal with the devil because for X number of years—

POGUE: It was four years.

MOSSBERG: —you could only get AT&T.

POGUE: So the deal with the devil was, “You give me carte blanche on design, and I give you, AT&T/Cingular, four years of an exclusive.” Would you say that that gave Google and Android their opening? Because they were able to come to the other carriers without that restriction?

BAIG: You can definitely make that case. It did provide an opening for them.

MOSSBERG: So we get the iPhone two weeks early. But we still have all these restrictions—

POGUE: We were not allowed to show it to anybody.

MOSSBERG: I’ll just tell you a story—

POGUE: And what did you go and do? You held up the phone in front of an audience!

VOICES: Yeah! (LAUGHTER)

MOSSBERG: I was giving what I thought was a closed talk. To who? To college presidents. And I thought, well, this is not a kind of blabby audience. So I just I held it up and, you know, waved it. And I was talking about it.

POGUE: You got in trouble for that!

MOSSBERG: I did. Yeah, he [Jobs] called and yelled at me.

BAIG: I was in my suburban New Jersey town. There was a town carnival or something. And people suspected that I had the phone. One very inquisitive neighbor comes up and says, “Let me see your pockets. Empty your pockets!” I said, “No, no. I can’t.” “I know it’s there. Empty your pockets!” I just walked away.

But I will say, we had two days between the time our reviews came out and the thing went on sale. I have never been more popular in my life. I wish I had this thing in high school, you know?

LEVY: My craziest story is, it was like the Friday morning. I did an interview outside the 59th-street Apple store. It was with FoxNews TV. Local news, not, like, you know, Sean Hannity. We were doing, you know, the interview. Someone went behind us. And I thought he was gonna grab the iPhone, but he grabbed the microphone from the Fox reporter and ran off with it. And they tackled him and arrested him!

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MOSSBERG: Today it would be, like, saturating Twitter.

LEVY: But not the phone. They grabbed the wrong device!

POGUE: Well, I have my own story. I guess after 10 years, I can finally reveal this shameful experience.

During the two-week period where we had the iPhones and no one else did, I had a talk to give in Lake Como, Italy. It was a red-eye. I was exhausted. It was a long cab ride to the venue of the talk. And during that cab ride, I fell asleep and I slumped into the chair. And little did I know, but that iPhone, which was a slick little device, slipped out of my pocket.

MOSSBERG: You lost the loaner iPhone?!

LEVY: You lost 25% of the loaner iPhones in the world?

POGUE: I did! I got out of the cab. And I said [patting pockets]—“NOOOOOOO!!!”

Fortunately, I had the receipt. I gave it to the organizer, who spoke Italian. She called the driver. The guy brought it back. I emptied my wallet to him. But he was livid at having had to come back. He didn’t know what it was.

MOSSBERG: He had no idea.

POGUE: (Italian accent) “Here’s your stupid device!” (LAUGHTER) I dodged a bullet this big!

MOSSBERG: So we’re all doofuses.

POGUE: I’m sure we won’t use that in this story.

MOSSBERG: If you keep my college presidents in, you have to keep that Italy thing in. (LAUGHTER)

The day Apple reps delivered the iPhone to my home office. From left: Greg Jozwiak (now VP of iOS marketing at Apple); me; Nat Kerris (now at Edelman PR; and Bob Borchers (now at Dolby Labs).

POGUE: So. Now iPhone sales, for the first time in 10 years, have reached a peak and are dipping down. What is that about?

LEVY: Well, I think on one hand, they’re waiting for iPhone 8. Apple has a cadence of coming up with improvements that sort of force us to upgrade. If you’re holding a phone that’s two years old, you know, wow, it’s time for something new.

BAIG: I mean, the fact is, they’re good phones. Yeah, we all may want a feature here or there or a tweak here or there. But they’re good enough to use for a very long time.

MOSSBERG: And it’s not to say if they bring out a spectacular 10th anniversary phone later this year, that they won’t see a spike. I mean, look, as recently as the last Christmas holiday quarter, they sold, I wanna say, 75 million iPhones. [Apple sold $78.3 million iPhones that quarter.]

POGUE: It seems like Apple, for many years, was basically a machine to execute Steve Jobs’ ideas. It’s a really rare thing for the CEO to be the chief product guy. And a lot of people say, since Steve Jobs died six years ago, Apple doesn’t have this idea man anymore. Is Apple’s sun setting now? Are they done with innovation?

BAIG: Well, I do think they’re a victim of their own success. How often can you come out with something that changes the world? I mean, we’re all unfair in the media sometimes. “Oh, they haven’t had a hit lately.” Well, who else had a hit lately? It’s not an easy thing to do.

LEVY: I think we’re gonna look back on the Apple developer conference a couple weeks ago and say, “that’s when Apple really started talking about virtual reality and augmented reality.”

MOSSBERG: Apple has thousands of people working on augmented reality. And the first fruits of that were, they didn’t bring out an augmented reality app. They didn’t bring out an augmented reality phone, which is what Google did. They brought out a foundational augmented reality system in their operating system, with a developer’s kit.

POGUE: They’re saying, “We’re not gonna make it—you developers make the apps.”

MOSSBERG: They claimed that overnight, when this comes out which in the fall, it’s gonna be backward compatible with hundreds of millions of iPhones. So overnight, it will be the biggest augmented reality platform.

BAIG: And they’re also going into the speaker market with the Homepod.

POGUE: That’s right. But I think we’d all agree Siri has some catching up to do.

MOSSBERG: They blew a big lead this year.

POGUE: We just have a couple minutes left. I’d love your closing statements. Ten years in, what’s the impact of the iPhone? Is it what we predicted?

LEVY: I was dazzled by it. I felt, wow, this is really going to change the way I work. But I would be lying to say I understood how big a deal it really would be 10 years later, how much it would change everything.

MOSSBERG: We don’t have Steve Jobs around to ask, but I don’t even think he foresaw the hugeness of it. I don’t think anybody did.

BAIG: In my original review, I wrote, “It’s a child prodigy that still needs some growing up.” And I think they grew up. Does that mean it’s perfect? Of course not. But think they grew up from that prodigy into something that was bigger than any of us or Apple could’ve expected.

MOSSBERG: I think there’ve been three big inflection points since the PC era started in around 1977. And Apple was involved in them all in one way or another. One is the popularization of the personal computer. Second was the web. And Apple didn’t invent the web, but they saved the Mac by calling the iMac an internet computer. And then, of course, the third big things was smartphones. Which is the thing that if you forgot it, you would turn around and drive home if you were driving.

POGUE: It’s my impression that all the tech news these days is not about gadgets anymore. It’s fields. It’s artificial intelligence and machine learning and computer vision. Are we passed the era where one product can change the world like that?

MOSSBERG: For anyone who cares, I’m about to retire. So I had to write a big column. And I took a few weeks to do it. And I talked about this there.

It’s a very funny period right now. There’s this giant boiler room going in these labs. At all of these big companies: Apple, Amazon, Microsoft, Facebook, Google. Artificial intelligence, machine learning, augmented reality, biotech stuff. All this stuff is going on. But it’s not hitting the consumer market yet. And it probably won’t in its fullness for another 10 years. Right now, there’s this lull in the consumer market, cause all the energy is being spent on development.

BAIG: A lot of this stuff coming out is gonna be invisible, too. It’s gonna be in the wall. It’s gonna be in the ceiling.

LEVY: I don’t think they’ll ever be a moment like this where a place picks four reviewers and says, “this is it.” All three of you have spent the next decade doing great product reviews. But to me, this is the peak of technology product reviewing there. We were up in the Himalayas there. And there will be no similar experience.