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hollyethecurious · 3 years

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CS AU: The Duke and His Swan (5/5)

Summary: Dearest Reader, the ton is abuzz with speculation that the new Duke of Ironhook will be remaining in town for the duration of the Season. Second born of the illustrious Jones family, Killian Jones has quite the legacy to live up to now he has inherited the dukedom from his late elder brother. Also entering Society for her first season is Miss Emma Swan, ward to the Viscount Nolan’s family. Gifted with a respectable dowry, Miss Swan’s financial worth and uncommon good looks will surely make up for her rumored prickly disposition in the eye of more than one fortune seeking suitor. Stay tuned, Dear Reader, for this author has it on good authority His Grace and Miss Swan shall cause quite a sensation, perhaps even resulting in… scandal!

A/N: Sorry I didn’t post a sneak peek this week! I know I promised I would, but when it came down to it everything seemed too spoilery. I hope posting early will make up for it, though! With all the Memorial Day events we have planned tomorrow, I wanted to make sure the final installment got posted sooner rather than later.

Thank you all for coming on this journey with me. I SO appreciate all the reblogs, comments, likes, kudos, and reviews. Thanks so much!!

Much love to @artistic-writer for the gorgeous pic set she created to accompany this fic, and a thousand rainbow hearts and unicorn stickers to @kmomof4 and @ilovemesomekillianjones for being my cheerleader and beta, respectively. Love you ladies to bits!!

Rated M for language and smut / Available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Part Five

What a whirlwind of a week, Dear Readers. One filled with tantalizing tales that I, Lady Priscilla Candlewyck, promise to convey to you even as they continue to unfold within the ton.

First, it seems Mr. Neal Cassidy has found himself no longer in possession of a membership at Aesop’s. While speculation runs rampant, I can tell you his honor has been called into question. It seems he owes vast sums to a number of debtors, a problem he likely sought to solve by marrying an heiress, which would explain his relentless pursuit of a certain Duke’s Swan. While such circumstance is not unheard of within the ton, it appears that is only the beginning of Mr. Cassidy’s misfortunes. This Author has heard it rumored the man recently engaged in an act of such cowardice and despicable character, he is no longer welcome in any respectable home or business and is, at this very moment, embarking on an extended journey abroad where we can only hope he will have the good sense to remain in exile.

But let us not dwell on these unpleasant topics, Dear Reader, for there is reason to rejoice! Like many of you, I confess a most undignified sound of pure elation escaped me when I read the Pronouncement of Engagement between Miss Emma Swan and The Duke of Ironhook in yesterday’s evening paper. I must tell you, though, Faithful Reader, that is not the most exciting and intriguing bit of news regarding the Duke and his Swan. For by the time you read this, the two will have found themselves, not simply intended for one another, but pronounced husband and wife! At this very moment, they are likely on their way to the Duke’s country estate to begin their honeymoon, and I am sure you will join me in wishing them every happiness and satisfaction in their wedded bliss.

~/~

A warm, orange glow filled the cab of the Duke’s carriage as it gently rocked and swayed the two inhabitants sitting in quiet resolve within. Other than when they’d exchanged their vows earlier that morning, Emma and the Duke had not said much to one another. Pleasantries mostly. Expected and necessary comments of polite and proper discourse as they entertained the few guests invited to the ceremony and modest reception. Overly civil and formal exchanges when they’d stopped for dinner on the road. Emma thought she might go mad from the silence, but was at a loss of how to break it without causing greater damage to their already fractured existence.

Silhouettes of towering trunks flickered past the carriage window, alerting Emma to the change of scenery. Killian had told her his lands lay just beyond a forest where the occasional vagrant or bandit would attempt to waylay coaches at night, thus their need to leave out from the city by midday so they could reach the estate by nightfall. She supposed he did not relish having to spend their wedding night at a roadside inn, and was quite frankly glad of that.

Nerves fluttered through her chest and down into her stomach at the prospect of what awaited her once they reached the estate. Churnings of both apprehension and anticipation had made it difficult for her to consume much of anything that day, and with the sun’s descent towards the horizon and the pace of the carriage seemingly increasing in speed, her heart soon matched their swiftness with its strumming beats racing beneath her breast.

Perhaps sensing the mounting tension permeating the cab from her attempts to quell her thoughts regarding their wedding night, Killian shifted in his seat and finally broke the silence hanging heavily between them.

“Not much farther now.” His own gaze was fixed on the blur of trees sweeping past. “I sent word yesterday to the housekeeper, Mrs. Tremaine, that a formal welcome and introduction of the staff can wait until tomorrow. I imagined you’d be tired upon our arrival and would wish to be shown to your room so you might turn in for the night.”

Emma’s head snapped toward his, her brow creased in confusion as she questioned, “My room?”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed and his eyes remained focused on the landscape which had begun to change back into golden fields as they left the shadows of the forest. “Aye. It is customary for the Duchess to have her own chambers, and I would not presume to expect duties from you until--”

“But I am perfectly prepared to meet those expectations,” Emma assured him. His eyes fell shut and a heavy exhale shuddered from his chest, prompting her to reach forward and place her hand over his, balled up into a fist atop his thigh. “Killian,” she said softly. “I know you do not love me, that this is a marriage born of duty and not something you truly wanted, but I am determined to make the best of our situation. I know what is expected of me, what is required of us, in order to secure the future of the Ironhook name. You need an heir, and there is only one way for us to produce one. I may not have been your first choice as Duchess, just as being a wife and mother was not something I had ever anticipated wanting, but we both must find a way to compromise the expectations we had for our lives and make the best of the one we find ourselves forever joined in.”

Squeezing his hand tighter, she looked at him pleadingly, needing him to meet her halfway in this commitment and the forgiveness she desperately sought from him while wishing to impart her own absolution for the part he played in their current predicament. The desire to confess the fullness of her heart to him remained firmly planted on her tongue. She was certain he felt trapped enough as it was, and did not wish to add to the burden of his responsibility to her by making him feel as though he must reciprocate the love she held for him. Perhaps, if she were truly fortunate, he would come to love her with time.

“You think I…” Killian’s words, even as they trailed off, pulled her attention back to him. She flinched back when he raised his other fist and pounded on the wall behind him, the one that separated the cab from the driver. The carriage slowed to a stop, and before Emma could pose an inquiry as to why, Killian stepped out and demanded the reins from the coachman.

Emma jostled when the wheels began to turn once more, her hands gripping the bottom of the window as she peered out to see where Killian was taking them. They had not traveled far when a lane appeared on their right, its destination leading to a grand manor house Emma could barely make out in the waning light of the day. After coming to a stop once more, Killian alighted from the driver’s seat and opened the carriage door, assisting her from the cab with an expression full of trepidation.

“Where… Where are we?” Emma asked, taking in the vast house and sweeping lawns. “What is this place?”

“This,” Killian said, leading her away from the carriage and to a better vantage point where she could appreciate the manor and all its amenities better, “is my wedding gift to you.”

“What?”

“I was planning to show it to you tomorrow, but after all you said in the carriage, I knew it could not wait until then.”

“I do not understand,” Emma replied, casting her perplexed expression upon him. “My wedding gift? Why would I have need of--”

“The east wing would be an ideal place to keep the orphaned children. It has multiple levels of rooms so you could have a floor for boys and one for girls.” He stretched out his arm and gestured towards the other side of the manor, suggesting, “I thought the west wing might serve as a place where you could house women who find themselves in similar circumstances as your mother had. Provide them with a safe place where they can bring their baby into the world with dignity, giving them options on what they think might be the best chance for them and their child. Whether it’s leaving them in your care here at the orphanage, or perhaps making a fresh start with a proper reference from a Duchess, no less.”

Words caught in Emma’s throat, impeding her ability to draw in a full breath. When she did not respond to his vision for what he’d had in mind with his wedding gift, he stepped before her, taking her hands in his own, and ran his thumbs soothingly along the backs of her knuckles.

“I told your brother to put your dowry in trust, so you might use it as you see fit,” he told her in a hushed and gentle tone. “And as you’ll see, the manor is only a short distance from our estate, making it convenient for you to be as hands on with the orphanage as you wish to be.”

“I don’t… how did you… is this manor not part of your--”

“It used to be August’s,” he confided. “It belonged to his mother’s side of the family, but he lost it gambling many years ago.”

“To you?”

“No,” he replied with a soft smile. “To a man who passed on some time ago, and through whose solicitor I acquired it the day before yesterday.”

“The day before…” Emma’s breath caught at the earnest look in Killian’s eyes, the way he waited for the full measure of understanding to settle over her as she parsed. “Before the Camelot Ball? Before we… before the gardens and our… before Mr. Cassidy witnessed us and you… before--”

Her words cut off when Killian leaned in and rested his forehead against her. “Aye,” he breathed. “Before all of that.”

“Why?”

His tongue darted out and wet his lips, his eyelids fluttering closed as his chest labored from a fortifying breath. “Because, love. This is your heart’s desire.” Opening once more, Emma felt herself getting lost in his forget-me-not depths as he continued to profess things she never found herself brave enough to dream he’d say to her. “I promise that’s all I want you to have. I did not want you to compromise anything of your wants and desires to be my wife, and had hoped, once I had a chance to convey that to you, it would have been enough to convince you to say yes.”

“Say yes?” Emma parroted breathlessly. “You mean… you already had intentions of proposing?”

“Of course I did, Swan,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over her lips as darkness enveloped them. “I love you.”

His hands released hers in favor of holding her face within their gentle grasp. His eyes bounced between hers as he unburdened himself of all the things she imagined he’d been holding back from declaring, afraid of the weight such proclamations might add to her perceived disappointment in being forced to marry, just as she had refrained from expressing similar sentiments to him.

“I love you, and there is nothing I will not do to ensure your happiness in the hopes that one day you might return my love.”

Emma opened her mouth, but her response stuck in the back of her throat, overcome by the emotion welling up from within.

“I will not deny my desire for children, but the legacy of an heir can wait until such a time you are ready. Indeed, I am willing to wait in regards to all aspects of our marital bed until you are comfortable with the notion, despite how much I want you.”

His jaw tightened, the muscle above flickering in time with her pulse as his words, the veracity of which she could see swirling in his darkened gaze, sent her own longings thundering through her veins. Dusk had begun to cast its nightly spell, leaving the air around them charged with wistful promises of possibilities long yearned for. Possibilities Emma determined to take hold of, not wishing to let another moment go by where doubt or misconstrued intentions might rob them of the happiness they had already delayed with their foolish presumptions.

Surging upward onto her toes, Emma fused her lips to Killian’s. After a moment’s pause, getting over the shock of her unexpected action, he slipped a hand to the back of her neck and tentatively returned the kiss. It occurred to Emma she had said nothing since his declaration, and while clearly not opposed to what she had hoped to convey with her kiss, Killian had always been a man of words and, therefore, would need the assurance of hers before he would allow himself to read too much into her actions.

“Take me home, Killian,” she breathed against his lips. “Take me to our bed. Make me your wife.”

His fingers dug into the back of her neck, his grip tightening there and at her waist where his other hand had settled. “Are you sure, love?”

“As sure as I am of my love for you.”

He pulled back slightly, eyes searching hers as an expression of reserved hopefulness swept over his features. “What?”

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, Emma raised herself up a bit higher on her toes so she could press her forehead to his. “I love you, Killian. I love you, and I… want you, too. So, please, Your Grace. Take me home.”

An audible gasp, tinted with laughter and surprise, rushed over her lips when Killian bent down and lifted her into his arms, marching a quick path back towards their carriage with a growling, As you wish… Your Grace, rumbling from his chest.

~/~

Emma’s lips tingled and her skin was flushed from the simmering heat coursing through her veins. Mindful to not put any extra sway in the carriage during the short ride to the estate, Killian had tried to keep their interactions somewhat chaste, but by the time they rolled up the long drive leading to the grand house, Emma had found herself on his lap making a right mess of his hair as he plundered every bit of exposed skin his lips could reach. The heat at her cheeks intensified when she took in Killian’s disheveled appearance as they entered the house and greeted the Housekeeper and Butler, imagining she likely looked in quite a state as well and hoping they wouldn’t judge her too critically.

“No need, Mrs. Tremaine,” Killian waved off the woman’s offer to help the Duchess get settled in. “I’ll see to my wife’s needs this evening.” Placing his hand to the small of her back, he steered Emma towards the grand staircase and murmured huskily in her ear, “Each and every need, even if it takes until dawn.”

A shudder of wonder ran down her spine and anticipation fluttered through her chest and low in her belly. How she managed to make it up all those stairs with her legs wobbling, she’d never know, but their tremble was nothing in comparison to the quiver taking hold of her entire body now that she was alone with Killian in his - their - bedroom.

“Are you still certain, love? I can show you to your room if you’d rather--”

“No!” Emma protested, perhaps a bit too vehemently. Her brazen insistence and his amused expression made her blush once more. “That is… I’m sure.”

“Good,” he murmured, stepping closer with a confident swagger. His eyes swept over her with a predatory hunger, making her feel like a hare caught in a wolf’s sights. “Turn around,” he commanded, softly but firmly.

It did not even occur to her to inquire the reason as she immediately obeyed, turning her back to him with the soft crackle of the fireplace attempting to combat the shiver that skittered over her arms in the wake of Killian’s fingertips. Without a single word spoken between them, he meticulously and reverently removed each of her garments. His deft fingers made short work of the closures at the back of her traveling gown and his determined tugs at her laces divested her of her corset in record time. All that was left was her underskirt, but he seemed in no rush to add it to the pool of fabric at her feet just yet, too intent on trailing his lips, teeth, and tongue over the slopes of her shoulders and down her spine, making the fine hairs of her body raise to attention as she fought to keep air in her lungs.

“Positively stunning you are, love,” Killian whispered into her skin, his hot breath rippling over her hip as he placed another kiss above the fastening of her underskirt. “Perfection.”

He popped the button out of its closure then followed the material as it slipped down her legs, the rough calluses on his hands contrasting with the soft texture of the linen as both brushed her skin with a feather light touch. Her flesh broke out in hot waves of prickled goosebumps when he stood behind her, his hands continuing to map the lines and curves of her body. When he turned her back around to face him, she thought she might combust from the desire burning in his eyes and the way his gaze traveled over her breasts.

“You’ve no idea how long I have wanted to see you like this, my darling,” he said, something strained and barely controlled tightening his tone. “I’m going to touch you now, and you let me know if there is anything that isn’t to your liking when I do.”

Emma’s breath caught at the sensation of his touch, running the backs of his fingers along her collarbones then over the swell of breasts. He palmed one breast, kneading it in his hand as his mouth followed the path his fingers had tread, his tongue circling the outer edges of her nipple before he slipped it between his teeth. Certain this time that her legs would fail her, Emma gripped Killian’s arms in an effort to support herself, but the action caused him to rear back, a pained hiss falling from his lips.

“Killian, what…” Her eyes widened with realization when she saw him place his hand over the upper part of his bicep. Gasping, she recalled, “Your wound! Oh, Your Grace, I am so sorry.”

“It’s nothing, Swan,” he assured her with a small vestige of a grimace marring his features. “As the doctor said, I was fortunate, and so long as we are mindful of it, my injury will not detract from the enjoyable activities I have planned for us this evening.”

The image of him hurt and bleeding in that field sprang to mind, and the accompanying emotions of terror, rage, and guilt threatened to consume her once again as they had yesterday morning when she had nearly put a bullet in Neal Cassidy for his treachery.

“Hey, no,” he soothed, cupping her face in his hands. “I will not allow him, or anything else, to cast a pall upon this night.” Resting his forehead against hers, he breathed, “Just you and me, love. Tonight, it is just you and me.”

“You and me,” she echoed back, letting the soft caress of his thumbs over the apples of her cheeks bring her back to the sensations of the moment. Like the pleasant heat of the fire playing against the coolness of the room, and the way her skin came alive at the reminder she had not a stitch of clothing on while Killian was still fully dressed.

Running her hands up his chest, she slipped them beneath the lapels of his coat and carefully guided it over his shoulders and down his arms. He watched her, his gaze intently focused on her face, searching for any trace of hesitancy or uncertainty as she undid the buttons of his waistcoat then moved to the ones at his shirt. When both garments landed on the floor next to his coat, he reached down and grasped the backs of her thighs, lifting her into his arms before she could set work upon his trousers.

Impatient sounds reverberated through Killian’s chest as he laid her atop their bed, his lips desperate in their need to pay homage to every inch of her skin. Emma’s back arched, her hands balling the bed coverings in her fists as he licked and nipped and kissed his way down her body. The tip of his nose trailed from her knee along the inside of her thigh, a silent command that she open herself up to him asserted on the hot breath drifting towards her apex ahead of his mouth.

“Relax, darling,” he imparted, spreading her legs wider as he settled between them. “Lie back and let me taste you.”

When the rough, heated texture of his tongue met the soft dampness of her sex Emma nearly dissolved within the mattress. Head thrown back and eyes clamped shut, she gave herself over to the depraved way Killian was devouring her and all the previously forbidden desires his actions were releasing within her. Sounds she never would have thought herself capable of echoed through the room as her body began to move wantonly in response to each flick and flutter of his wicked tongue, but those utterances and gyrations were nothing in comparison to how she reacted when he slipped a finger into her center, curling it along the inside of her walls before removing it and then thrusting it, and a second, back in again.

“Oh, God! Killian!” she panted, on the verge of begging him to stop, though she felt as though she might die if he did.

While her mind warred with her desires, her body knew full well what it wanted, continuing to chase the release as her hips desperately ground against his mouth. A series of vibrations tormented the sensitive bundle he was currently lavishing his attentions on, hums of appreciation and encouragement from his lips while his free hand skimmed up the heated flesh of her form until it found her breast and squeezed it tightly before rolling her nipple between his fingers.

White spots of dazzling stars exploded behind her eyelids, and a tidal wave of pure pleasure washed over her in waves of relief as an icy fire rippled over her skin in the wake of its ebbing. Her chest heaved, her panting a faint rhythm against the thundering of her blood in her ears. Small tremors coursed their way through her body as Killian finished his ministrations, leaving her one last kiss amid the soft curls above her sex.

She scarcely felt the mattress move when Killian climbed off of it, but his absence forced her eyes open in search of him. He hadn’t gone far, standing beside their bed with his lust filled and hooded gaze raking over her, a shimmer of her essence still clinging to his chin.

He hummed decadently when his tongue swept over his lips. “You have a beautiful taste, my love.”

A fresh swell of desire prickled her skin, flushing her a deeper shade of pink and reawakening the ache between her thighs. When his hands began to work the fastening of his trousers, her gaze remained fixed, her breath coming in labored pants of anticipation laced with apprehension over that which was about to be revealed. The sight of him, rigid and proud and much larger than she had expected made her throat go dry, making it nearly impossible to swallow her surge of panic.

“Don’t be afraid,” Killian murmured in a half plea, half directive tone.

“Isn’t it meant to… hurt, though?”

Crawling back onto the bed, he positioned himself atop her, his hips settling into the space between her still splayed thighs with his weight braced on his forearms, his hand caressing the side of her face. “I would never intentionally cause you pain, love,” he promised. “The initial sensation will feel foreign, like an intrusion, and perhaps be a tad uncomfortable until your body has become accustomed to mine, but once that has passed-” he rolled his hips, allowing his member to slip between her folds and make contact with the pleasure point that had once again begun to throb, pulling a moan from her as rapture ran up her spine. “-all you’ll feel is my love for you. Filling you.” Another tormenting thrust brushed against her, causing her back to leave the mattress. “Worshipping you.” His mouth latched onto her breast, pushed upward from the arch of her back and another wanton sound fell from her lips as he sucked hard on her painfully erect nipple before releasing it with an indecent pop to darkly impart, “Giving you everything you need until these trepidations you feel are a distant memory.”

“What trepidations?” Emma groaned, bucking her hips against his, no longer feeling anything but a fierce desire to be filled and worshiped and given everything he had to offer, just as he’d promised.

He chuckled and shifted his hips. “That’s my fierce lass.”

Reaching down, he lined himself up with her entrance, his eyes never wavering from hers as he pushed inside ever so slightly. At the first hint of her body’s reluctance he withdrew, repeating the languid actions of gliding his length through her slick sex and taunting her bud before attempting his advance once more. It did feel like an intrusion at first, but the mixture of delightful bombardments he was assaulting her with - from the press of his lips slanting against hers, to the touch of his hand now applying pressure to that wondrous place between her legs, to the feel of his cock stretching her in a way that burned with exquisite agony - had her relaxing her guard and welcoming him fully into herself after a few deliberately controlled thrusts.

“Bloody hell, Emma. I’ve never experienced anything as luxurious as the feel of you.” His forehead pressed against hers, damp from the exertion of keeping a tight command upon himself, the strain of which crept into his voice when he told her. “I have to move. Have to feel your walls sliding against my cock. Feel the way you cling to me each time I thrust into your depths. Making you mine as you claim me as yours.”

“Yes!” Emma exclaimed, her nails clawing at his back with each change of pace and rhythm his hips orchestrated.

The scratch of his chest hair against her nipples, the burn of his beard rubbing against her cheek, the grip of his hand on hers, fingers tightly woven together above her head as the snap of his hips jarred her body with fresh pleasures, and his words uttered all the devotion and depravity he wanted her to have from him had her instinctively hitching her legs higher against his waist. The slight change in position unlocked a new trove of unexpected pleasure, shockwaves of bliss bursting up her spine each time his length met the spot she knew would send her over the edge once more.

“There,” she exhaled, not sure her breath had been strong enough to carry the clarity of the word to his ears with his own pants and vocalized breaths ringing in her own. “Right there,” she repeated. Pulling her hands free of his, she grasped his backside and held tight, her nails digging into the firm flesh, causing his rhythm to stutter.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “Please, Your Grace! Don’t stop!”

“I wouldn’t dream of it… Your Grace,” he growled teasingly, his hips pistoning with renewed vigor, making her body stiffen as the final elements of her release gathered at the base of her spine. “That’s it, love,” Killian praised, feeling her walls clamped down around him. “Take your pleasure.”

He was relentless, drawing out every ounce of pleasure from her as she felt that same current of pure satisfaction sweep her away within a riptide of euphoria.

“Gods above, Emma,” Killian cried out with a jerk of hips, his length pulsing in her depths, spilling his seed into her as she continued to convulse around him.

With a grunt of exhaustion, Killian collapsed beside her, his hand covering his face as his chest, like hers, fought to find breath.

“That was…” Emma began, not sure how to even begin putting the experience into words.

“A one time thing,” Killian muttered, his tone professing the self-reproach he was inexplicably feeling.

Emma’s heart clenched and her stomach fell away at the thought she had somehow disappointed him, but before the feeling of despair could take root, Killian seemed to realize how his words might have affected her.

Rolling over, he gathered her in his arms, face cupped in his large hand with nothing but love and apology swirling in his eyes. “I meant, my finishing inside you, Swan. I shouldn’t have done that. An heir can wait until after you’ve established your orphanage. I don’t want you becoming pregnant to be an obstacle towards your heart desire. I never meant to--”

Emma cut him off with the press of her mouth, unwilling to relent in her assault against his kiss swollen lips until he was thoroughly distracted from the train of thought he’d allowed himself to traverse.

“You are my heart’s desire, Your Grace.” She brushed the fringe of his hair off his forehead and swept her hand through his riotous strands until her fingers curled around the back of his neck. “You. Killian Jones. The Duke of Ironhook. My husband.” A wide grin broke across his face at her use of that particular moniker. “You are my heart’s desire. You and our future together, whatever that entails, is all I will ever desire. Do you understand me, Your Grace?”

“Aye, love,” he replied with a soft, contented smile. “I understand you perfectly.” Pulling her in tighter, he placed a kiss at her temple and tucked her against his chest. “Because you are, always have been, and always will be, my heart’s desire as well.”

~/~

The ballroom was buzzing with a pleasant murmur of the Duke and Duchess’ friends and family, gathered to celebrate the end of The Season, the arrival of the Nolan heir, and the upcoming nuptials of those among their circle who had found their own match. Killian sipped his champagne from a quiet corner, amusing himself with the way his and Emma’s worlds were colliding right here in their home.

Lord Nolan balked and hovered nervously as his wife handed off their fussing son and heir to Jefferson, who had always had a way with children, able to calm them despite the chaotic nature many within the ton associated with him. Once The Viscount seemed convinced his son was indeed in good hands as Lady Nolan and Jefferson jointly cooed over the quieting infant, Nolan turned back to the conversation he’d been engaged in with Robin, though Killian could not fathom what commonality the two men had found to discuss.

A smile quirked Killian’s lip when he moved his attention to Will, stammering hopelessly as he tried to converse with Miss French, who had been shocked to receive their invitation, given the scandal that had erupted around her after he and Emma had wed and left town.

It seemed her father had lost everything in a series of bad investments and had hoped to marry her off to Gold before the truth was revealed. Fortunately for Miss French - at least, Killian believed her to be most fortunate anyway - the news of Maurice's dire straits broke within Candlewyck’s pages before a contract of betrothal could be drawn up. Unfortunately, it also meant Miss French’s prospects had plummeted, but given the way she seemed receptive to Will’s clearly smitten advances, perhaps things might turn out well for her after all.

A booming laugh pulled his focus towards Nemo, assembled in a group that included Lord Huntsman, Miss Lucas, and the Widow Lucas. No doubt Granny had made one of her off-color remarks, catching Nemo by surprise and thus eliciting such a guffaw it had pulled everyone’s attention to the furiously blushing young couple who were mere weeks away from their wedding and the start of their own happily ever after. The thought of happily ever afters had him instinctively scanning the room for his Swan, his breath catching like it always did at the sight of her bright smile and glittering emerald eyes.

Over the past several weeks, he and his Duchess had revelled in the joys and delights of their honeymoon, exploring every inch of the other’s body while christening a number of the estate’s rooms and various locations upon the grounds. He’d dismissed the staff from the dining room one morning before breakfast, electing to feast upon his wife, splayed out across the dining table, rather than the fare the kitchens had provided. They’d made love on the sprawling grounds of the estate numerous times, even got caught in the rain once and ended up fucking in one of the garden pavilions in which they’d taken shelter.

The memory of his wife’s wet, naked body bent over in front of him as he pounded into her like the deluge had against the stone structure had him stirring to attention. As did the memory of her on her knees beneath his desk in his office one afternoon, taking him into her mouth for the first time; a result of her curiosity and a challenge he’d issued, knowing she would never back down from it and just needed an excuse so she could do the thing she had not been bold enough yet to initiate with him.

Then there was the library, the grand staircase, and the random closet they’d ducked into when things had turned heated in a hallway and a maid was about to happen upon them, all locations they’d left well used, though not by their intended purposes.

Downing the remainder of his champagne, Killian cleared his throat and took a moment to collect himself. He needed to rejoin the party and interact with his guests or else he’d find himself dragging his wife away in search of some new corner of his estate to take her in.

With a slightly stiff gait, he made his way towards the object of his desire. Like a moth to a flame, he was playing with fire by going to Emma while his blood still ran hot in his veins, burning for her, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be than by her side. Thankfully, the conversation she was currently occupied in with August had more of an affect on his heart than his groin.

“Mr. Hopper believes we can begin hiring the rest of the staff now that renovations to the manor are well on their way. We hope to be able to care for children and wayward mothers by the first of the year.”

“It’s a remarkable thing you’re doing, Your Grace,” August praised.

Killian well recognized the look of admiration and awe within the man’s eyes, it was a common expression people wore when his Swan told them of her plan and how much she had accomplished towards her goal of opening an orphanage thus far. In fact, he was certain he’d worn it many times himself.

“My mother and father would be thrilled with what you are doing with the manor. Especially my mother. The place meant so much to her,” he said in a tone faintly tinted with remorse and contrition.

Emma gave August a warm and understanding smile, then started to ask him something, but was interrupted by Jefferson coming up behind August and wrapping his arms around his waist before setting his chin upon his shoulder.

“Are you ready to turn in, darling? We have to depart rather early tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry you both can’t stay longer,” Emma said, and it warmed Killian’s heart to know she absolutely meant it, despite the nature of their relationship which others would have severely condemned them for.

“Me too,” Jefferson lamented. “Priscilla always loved this part of the countryside and I haven’t been in this part of the realm in many years. Perhaps I could bring Grace with me next time? She’d love it here, too.”

“Priscilla?”

“My late wife,” Jefferson informed her. “Grace’s mother.”

“I see.” Emma nodded. “Of course you can bring Grace with you next time. You are all very welcome here any time.”

“Well…” Killian drawled, reaching up to scratch behind his ear as he gave the men a significant look beneath his pointedly raised brows. “Perhaps not any time.”

“Point taken,” August replied on a laugh, taking hold of Jefferson’s hand and bidding them goodnight.

“Oh! My Lord Booth,” Emma said before they could go too far. “I meant to ask you something about the manor.”

“I’m happy to answer any question you have, if I can.”

“On the official papers, the manor has a name. I haven’t found anyone who is familiar enough with the tongue of the land your mother was from in order to pronounce it, much less translate it. Do you know how to say it and it’s meaning?”

“Lucignolo?”

“Yes, that’s it!”

August’s eyes slid slyly towards Jefferson, the two of them sharing a conspiratorial look before the man confessed…

“It was actually my mother’s maiden name, and in Misthavenian, it means… Candlewyck.”

The Duke and his swan’s mouths dropped open and their gazes bounced, first to Jefferson - Priscilla… my late wife - and then to August - Lucignolo?... it means… Candlewyck, then uttered in perfect unison, “Bloody Hell,” as the two men held their fingers up to their lips and implored them to remain silent with a soft shushing sound before linking arms and strolling from the ballroom with self-satisfied smiles plastered to their faces.

The End

Tagging the Curious Crew: (add to tag list)

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#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #cs bridgerton au #cs regency au #duke!killian #lady!emma #the duke and his swan #words by hollye

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popculturebuffet · 4 years

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House of Mouse: The Stolen Cartoons Review (Patreon Review)

Hello all you happy people! It’s Patreon Review Time. Since my 5 dollar or higherr patreons get 1 review a month, Kevin my 10 dollar patreon is using one of his to celebrate the 20th anniversary of House of Mouse by having me review a random episode a month. And for this month we’re going all the way back to the start with The Stolen Cartoons!

I already introed house of mouse back when I reviewed “The Three Cablleros” episode but for a refresher: House of Mouse is a 2001 cartoon about Mickey and Co running a club. Mickey is host, Minnie plans the show and runs the books, Donald tends to the VIP”s and co owns the club with Mickey, Goofy is head waiter, Daisy runs guest services, Horace is technical support, Clarabelle is a gossip monger with no clear actual job, and Max is Valet. The show was used to repackage shorts from the short lived show Mickey mouseworks, using the club setting as a wraparound and said club was attentend by all the various characters from the disney canon. It’s as awesome as it sounds.

The voice cast, which I didn’t intro thorughly last time, was equally awesome with all the actors for the characters at the time, all legends in the industry. Wayne Allwine as Mickey,who played the character from the late 70′s to his death, Russi Taylor as Minnie and the Triplets, who did the same and was also married to wayne, Tony Anselmo, who should be thorughly familiar to readers of this blog and donald duck fans as his voice since Ducktales, Voice Actress Tress Macneile as Daisy, likewise, Jason Marsden as Max and Voice Acting Legend Jim Cummings as Pete. All except Allweine i’ve profieled before on this blog in various other series, but Wayne, outisde of a very minor role in black cauldron, only voiced Mickey, and to me is the defntiive voice for the guy, though Chris is getting close.

The other notable members of the cast i havent’ covered are April Winchell, who while tremendous, I will save for an episode Clarabelle is actually in more, and Bill Farmer. I have a great amount of Love for Bill and like everyone here, he was a vertran of the industry by the time he showed up in this series. His defining roll far and away is goofy, who was, to my delighted surprise his FIRST voice audition, having studided PInto Colving’s voice well to the point you can barely tell the difference between the two, and having inherited the roll around the same time as Russi and Tony. He’s the voice of Goofy I and most kids from the 80′s onward have grown up with and is the best at the roll by far, having chances for depth and nuance Pinto wasn’t allowed with the Goofy Movies and other works. IN general he’s just THE goofy to me. He’s also the voice of horace and pluto, and currently voices Hop Pop in Amphibia which is super noteworthy as looking at his filmography like a lot of the sensational 6′s va’s he’s only voiced goofy or Pluto for most of his career. But hey like Tony, if you only do one charcter might as well be the fucking best at it. He also has a show on Disney Plus with him and dogs I need to watch yesterday.

So with our cast out of the way, and not much history to go into, join me after the cut and we’ll see how House of Mouse got it’s start and if it was a good one.

Breaking from my usual format for House of Mouse and doing the shorts as they come up int he main story for two reasons: The first is that the shorts are integral to the plot and the second is that there’s way more main story this time around than usual, likely to properly set things up.

So we open at the House of Mouse with Mickey Adressing the club and showing off the general premise of this being a club for all of the various heroes and villains of disney to hang out and what not. He also presents the house rules which are no smoking (Fair and should’ve always been a thing), no villianous schemes and no eating the other guests, all helpfully demonstrated as he says them. We also get to see the others in action: Minnie handling the schedule and the crew, Donald welcoming the guests, and Daisy running the desk and getitng brainwashed by Jafar into giving him a table. Max also is providing his job as Valet which surprised me because I genuinely thought he didn’t join the cast till season 2.. despite the fact he’s right there in the credits.. which are the same for ALL THREE SEASONS.

So things are going well.. so naturally that’s when Pete shows up to try and ruin things. Look he’s having a hard time after the divorce.. several years ago. Okay maybe he’s always just been a dick and that’s why he’s divorced in the first place. Point is he naturally wants to shut the club down, boot them out, and wreck up the place like any natural cartoon villian or real estate scum bag landlord. Pete just happens to be both because he can multitask. .and because it’s basically the same thing you just have to be animated for one of them. Thankfully whoever the previous Landlord was, i’m going with Shere Kahn given the setting, his roll in tailspin and the fact the obvious candidate, scrooge, would make no sense here given a later episode where he guest stars, wrote into the contract that as long as the show goes on, they can stay in business. Pete stews over this and naturally plans to stop the show while Minnie, in a cute bit, comforts a nervous mickey and just tells him to play some cartoons. So...

Pluto Gets the Paper: Wet Cement and Donald’s Dynamite: Magic Act I”m covering both of these at once. But as I said the animated shorts this time are one big sized one and two of the shorter ones to make more room for the story. Which is fair: this is the first episode, and thus needs to set up the premise. The series isn’t story driven but your first episode should still feel like one, ease you into the world and get you situated and THEN can do the normal format. It’s also in the episode’s favor as the heavier story focus meant a BETTER story than most season 1 episodes, on par with the two season 3 episodes i’ve covered so far.

The shorts themselves are fine. So far this is the only Pluto Short i’ve liked as it has a neat enough gaga: Pluto has to get the paper in wet cement. Why did the paperboy throw it in wet cement instead of in the driveway, I dunno but given this short is well.. short and just meant to deliver on some quick gags, I’m not going to question it. It’s the first Pluto short i’ve covered without any dog sexual harassment, i’m not looking a gift dog in the mouth.

The other short short played right after is part of a series where Donald ends up trying to get rid of a round bomb that shows up wherever he is....

It’s pretty damn funny, though being a huge Donald fan i’m obviously biased, but even removing my donald duck brand sunglasses, I will concede this was objectively fun.

But the cartoons stop as, true to the title, they’ve gone missing! Horace is found tied up, the cartoons are gone and Pete is obviously responsible. and hilariously so as the rope has his name on it and he says “I don’t know horace horsecollar” There are a LOT of good gags in this one, i’m leaving a lot out for time’s sake.

So Mickey and Minnie come up with a plan: Mickey sends the.. Quackstreet Boys.... to stall. Now it may shock you but I actually LIKE the backstreet boys. Not to an extreme amount but I did grow up with them, and even now find their music pretty damn good. No my issue is this parody is weak, mostly running entirely on the title pun. The most I can give them credit for is using the outfits from their second album cover. No I wasn’t kidding I did grow up with them. You saw that everywhere so even if I didn’t enjoy their music then and now, i’d know it. But it just feels really weak, like they had no idea what to DO with the boys and instead just slapped them in a lame parody. It dosen’t help i’m not a fan of the classic version of the boys outside of the comics, as I feel later productions should’ve had them actually be distinct, and it took until 2017 to pull that off with the reboot, something I fear may be undone in future productions. Please.. don’t.. you can have Cristina Vee voice them all, I don’t care about the voice I just want to be able to tell them a apart. So yeah I don’t like it but it dosen’t drag the episode down. Just something I wanted to have a moan about.

So they split up: Mickey, Minnie and Goofy go to shoot a cartoon while Donald runs the club. Naturally he rebrands.. but what really is telling is everyone boos him when he tries to mc.. just for not being Mickey. While Donald does have a massive inferiority complex here, desperately wanting to one up mickey.. with moments like this it’s hard not to see why> He’s JUST as big a star, just as talented , maybe not as nice but just as likeable. He even co-owns the club. But ironically only Mickey Himself, and Daisy of Course, treat him like an equal. To everyone else it’s Mickey’s world and he’s just the sidekick. It’s no wonder he spend sthe entire show desperately trying to outdo mickey: he doesn’t hate the guy, even if he wouldn’t admit it.. but he just wants to be loved too. Sure it’s part ego.

Mickey does return though with the new cartoon. And our only sizeable one so.

Hickory Dickory Mickey: This is a REALLY good one with a simple enough premise; Goofy wants Mickey to take him to the airport at 6am tomorrow.. which Mickey balks at.

Seriously i’ve woken up at 3-4am to go to the airport or on road trips. Waking up at 5:30 is pretty standard. Goofy also has good reason to ask as he once BROKE MICKEY OUT OF JAIL. And as seen up top the flashback is done in black and white AND with their old models. I just.. love everything about this and it had to have taken extra effort to make new models for the old models and thus extra money for a quick joke. So kudos best part of the episode. But with his hands tied Mickey is forced to take him and Goofy leaves him his clock which won’t stop ticking. So we get just.. nonstop good gags as Mickey tries to sleep with standouts being his trying to drown it out only to get the tick station, the tock station on the radio and the clock channel on the tv. He also tries to mail it and naturally it comes back thanks to a kangaroo when he ships it to Australia..a nd then get’s progressively batshit as he mails it to HADES (comes back in a puff of smoke) and to the 1920′s (It comes back in black and white with arms and legs). It’s just.. really damn good and I suggest seeking it out. I have liked other shorts better but this was a good one.

Pete still gloats as they’ll need more cartoons.. only for one to fall out of his jacket and Mickey to shake the rest out. We then get a fun chase between the two, SO many good jokes, my favorite being him dressing up as a dalmation only for Cruella to take measurements, before being cornered by the three and the elephant from tarzan who throws him out.. right next to pepper-ann and her mom “Don’t touch the villian dear”. Good crossover.. and another show that like House of Mouse is not on disney plus don’t ask me why.

So our heroes win, we get our usual sponsorship and unusually we see the guests leave, a nice bit I wish they did more. All’s well that ends well.

Final Thoughts: This episode was fantastic. It introduces the cast well, sets up our villian, our basic premise and while only having one major cartoon, uses that as a plot point and it’s a damn good one. A fantastic start to the series and frankly the best place to start if your curious about the show. I’d like to thank Kev for sponsoring this review. If you’d like your own review you can look at comissoin details on my blog or get one guaranteed every month by becoming a 5 dollar patreon. You get one guaranteed review a month, acess to my discord server for my patreons, and to pick a short when I do birthday specials. And contributing to my patreon gets me closer to my stretch goals, even one dollar helps. Next goal not only gets reviews of the super ducktales mini series, but also a darkwing duck episode EVERY MONTH. And with the plug done, i’ll see you at the next rainbow.

#house of mouse #mickey mouse #donald duck #peg legged pete #pete pete #minnie mouse #bill farmer #daisy duck #2001 #horrace horsecollar #tarzan #pluto #max goof

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fanfic-inator795 · 5 years

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RotTMNT/Baron Jitsu fanfiction: Dating… With Children - Chapter Eight

(Also on AO3 if you want to leave a comment or kudos)

Plot: Benjamin Draxum hardly considered himself a man of high social standing. Not because he was uncouth or unworthy of it, mind you, but simply because he didn’t have much of a social life. Hard to have one when he usually spent his days at work, cooped up in a lab for so long that he often had his lunches in there, and his nights at home reading or doing research for more personal projects. But perhaps meeting handsome semi-retired movie star - as well as his four young sons - could change all that…

((Apologies for the long wait! Writer's block hit me hard this time around... But not only have I finally finished this chapter, but I managed to get a couple drabbles written out as well to make up for the lack of content, which I should have posted shortly. Anyway, hope you enjoy both them and this chapter! ^v^ Also, shoutout to @halloweennut, whose own celeb AU inspired a few small bits for the beginning chunk of this chapter, heh))

Lou could still remember when he was a younger man, fresh off the set of his first movie. A passion project from an already decently famous director with a foreign, previously unknown actor as the face of it. Lou had been so excited when he first walked into that small LA television studio, only half listening as his manager tried to ‘suggest’ answers to certain possible questions, and instead just tried to take it all in. Not only was he going to be a movie star, but now he was going to be on one of the most well known talk shows in America! Talk about a good head start! As was to be expected, he'd ended up completely acing his interview, charming both the live audience and viewers at home and cementing himself on the path to stardom.

But that had been years ago, the excitement and ‘newness’ of it all being long gone, even after taking a bit of a break from the business. As far as Lou was concerned, you be on one talk show, you've been on them all.

Still, the experience wasn't necessarily a bad one - especially when the studio put in the extra money for a decent backstage spread. Licking his lips slightly, Lou picked up another ham and cheese-topped cracker, quietly munching on it as he watched the various stagehands pass by. He was moving over the dessert side of the table when one of the show’s managers finally approached him. “Five minutes until you’re on, Mr. Jitsu!”

“Mm,” Lou nodded. He took a cookie to go and then stood at the designated spot behind the curtains, knowing the drill well. Popping the treat in his mouth, he took a moment to smooth out his outfit - a crisp white shirt with a light blue jacket and pants and a loose red tie, making the whole thing a sort of call back to the jumpsuits he used to wear - and make any last-minute quick fixes to his hair before the commercials ended.

Finally, the stage lights came back on just as the cameras began rolling, and the audience cheered as their favorite New York hostess strolled back on stage. “Welcome back, everyone,” Jessica grinned, soaking in the cheers from her audience. Jessica Jacklynn was more of a local famous favorite than a national one like other late night talk show hosts, but she still had plenty of fans thanks to her cool demeanor and always being on the search for exciting drama with her guests. “We’ve got a pretty special treat for you all tonight, a man who I'm sure needs no introduction, but I guess we’ll give him one anyway-” The audience gave a bit of a laugh at that. “Here to celebrate the seventeenth anniversary of his film, ‘Teriyaki Shakedown’, give it up for… LOU ‘JITSU’ HAMATO!”

Huh, it wasn't often people included his real last name - and even less often, if ever, his real first name. Most people just introduced him by his stage name. Heck, Lou himself usually did that too, not having much of a connection to his family name and only using it to sign official papers. ‘Guess she did her homework,’ Lou thought as he walked out onto the stage, a professional grin plastered on his handsome face.

He struck a couple ‘action poses’ for the cheering audience and shook hands with Jessica before setting down on the dark red couch opposite her desk chair. (From what he heard, Jessica was somewhat famous for actually standing on her desk when things got really exciting, and wondered if she'd end up doing that tonight at some point.)

“So Lou, seventeen years,” Jessica began, smiling sweetly now, “It’s been a while, though I bet the time just flew by for you, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Lou nodded, “Seems like it was only yesterday I was tossing stunt doubles into bowls of soup.” The audience laughed again. “Heh, it's kind of funny that that film is more remembered than my first just because it started my catchphrase. But hey, it's a good catchphrase! And apparently still pretty applicable to non-soup situations.”

“Mmhm,” Jessica nodded, “Well, we all love a good action-hero catchphrase. But, we aren't just here to celebrate the past, we want to know what you've been up to since! After all, it has been a while since your last film-”

“Yeah well, you can thank the box office for that,” Lou joked, earning more laughs.

“Fair enough, but I understand that you've had other things keeping you busy as well?” Jessica inquired, leaning in a bit on her desk, “Things like trying to take care of four little boys, maybe?”

Lou’s smile faltered ever so slightly as he nodded. “Yes, I suppose you could say that…” Lou never minded the spotlight of the press, and could even handle the paparazzi! But when it came to his kids, well… It was a whole different story.

Even without reporting it to the press, the news that Lou Jitsu had adopted four young sons had still broken a few days after he signed the papers. Almost immediately, news and celeb magazines wanted info and pictures. They'd pop up like a nasty swarm of gnats, hoping for several pictures and wanting to ask the boys questions after questions.

The first time it happened, it caused poor three year old Mikey to hide his face in his father’s chest, obviously freaked out by all the sudden people and flashes, while his only slightly older brothers were still a bit too surprised and confused to know what to do, the three of them crowding around Lou’s tall, protective legs. It took threatening to throw their cameras into the nearest tree to get them to finally leave, though even that didn't discourage much of the media circus.

He had accepted one interview, hoping to relieve some pressure, from a local New York newscaster who simply wanted a cute fluff piece from the semi-retired action star (as well as to get the full story first before any other media outlet could). ...Unfortunately, said newscaster ended up being a huge jerk, doing everything from asking if Lou purposely chose to adopt ‘minority kids’ (as if Lou himself wasn't a minority? The guy was an idiot too) to asking if he was trying to ‘prove something’ to other celebs who had adopted kids by adopting so many at once, even going so far as to imply that his kids were simply charity cases. Honestly it took all of Lou’s self restraint not to just rip the stupid poofy blond hair right off the guy’s head by the time the interview was over.

And of course, once he allowed one reporter to talk to him, everyone else just tried even harder to get an interview too. It eventually took Tang Shen - as well as several other people in the industry who considered themselves Lou Jitsu’s friends - threatening the various members of the paparazzi on social media, as well as the public finding some other piece of celeb news to obsess and gossip over, to finally get it all to stop somewhat.

Though, thinking back on all that, Lou was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake accepting the invitation onto Jessica’s show, possibly inviting that whole mess back into his life... However, Jessica was calm and professional as she continued. “I think we all remember a couple years ago when we all heard that action superstar Lou Jitsu was suddenly a father, and for what it's worth… We couldn't be happier for you!”

Lou blinked. “Oh… Well, thank you!” He nodded, quickly composing himself, “Yes, they are very good boys, even when they don't always listen. But hey, what kid does?”

“True, true,” Jessica agreed, “And I bet they love having fun just as much as you did, eh Lou?”

Lou chuckled. “Well, fun for them, and maaaybe a bit more on the side of stressful for me. But what can I say? I love my boys, even after the hundredth time I’ve told them to take off their shoes before running into the house.”

Chuckling along with his listeners as he relaxed on the couch, he began spinning various anecdotes about fatherhood and his new family that were funny and even relatable as they were heartwarming. The audience was practically eating out of his hands - not that Lou really cared, he just liked talking about his boys! Though, if he could entertain people with them then, hey, two birds with one stone.

“-and oh, you should've just seen the mess they made, and the faces they made when I caught them. They knew they were in big trouble - they got cheese and sauce on the CEILING! It was unbelievable!

"Ha! I can imagine!"

"Yes, and all over a ‘which pizza topping is the best’ argument! I wanted to be mad, believe me, but at that point, it felt like all I could do was laugh!" Lou shook his head at the memory. "Heh, I am sure I must have seemed crazy, but then again I was pretty crazy for leaving four kids under ten in the kitchen alone anyway. And it is like I told Ben, if you are going to have a food fight, you might as well do it as a child so you have a better chance of getting away with it-”

“Wait,” Jessica stopped him, “Ben?” She raised an eyebrow, smirking a bit. “Who's Ben?”

Again, Lou’s grin fell ever so slightly. Had he said Ben’s name? Shoot. “Well, ah… A-Anyway, after all that-”

“Oh, don't tell me you've been holding out on us, Lou!” Jessica told him, her eyes curious and mischievous as her now-curious fans throwing in a couple encouraging cheers, “Come on, you can tell us! Is there a new certain someone we should know about? Someone we already know?”

“Heh, I doubt it...” Lou mumbled. Draxum definitely wasn't the public type, he barely even had a social media page! There was no way he'd want his and Lou's 'story' shared with the whole city, much less the rest of the world. However, even knowing this, he also knew that his hostess wouldn't let it drop if he tried to play dumb and completely deny it. So, he decided to just choose his words carefully.

“I… may have started dating again-” The applause and surprised shouts were practically thunderous- “but, I want to respect my boyfriend’s privacy. It is what he deserves, after all. He is fun, smart, good with the boys-” he cracked a smirk, “Definitely handsome, aaaand… That is all I am going to say.” And his smirk only stubbornly remained as groans filled his ears.

“Are you sure you can't give us anymore?” The so-called Queen of Drama inquired, batting her eyes a bit, “I just know our audience would-”

“Now, I believe your people found some deleted scenes from the studio that you wanted me to give some insight on?” Lou asked, not even looking at her now, effectively ending the conversation, “Because, hey, isn't this supposed to be about ‘Teriyaki Shakedown’? I have got plenty of stories about that story too, you know! Does anyone here want to hear about how I came up with my Hot Soup finisher? Maybe a little demonstration too, if we can find some soup?”

Much to their hostess’ dismay, the audience unanimously answered, clapping and cheering once again. Remaining professional as ever, Jessica just smiled as she tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. “Well, I guess we know what we’re doing after commercials. Stay tuned for more stories and stunts with our favorite butt-kicking star, Lou ‘Jitsu’ Hamato!”

----------

“Great show tonight, Ms. Jacklynn!” “Wonderful job, Ms. Jacklynn!” “That was such a good idea, finding an excuse to get the Lou Jitsu on the show!” “I'm just surprised he said yes! Feels like it's been forever since he's been on something!” “And yet the moment someone says his name, his fans go totally rabid! Now that's what you’d call someone with star power!”

Jessica nodded as she continued making her way through her stage crew, only briefly acknowledging their comments and praise. Even the executive producer of the network only got a minute of her time. “I just really have something I need to get done before I head home,” she explained, not bothering to reveal anything else as she finally made it to her private dressing room.

She sighed, kicking off her high heels. Hosting a show was nice, but now it was time for the real fun. After all, content for shows and blog posts didn't just fall out of the trees most of the time. Sometimes, you had to go searching for it… And other times, you had to make it yourself. She had been hoping that with enough flirting, perhaps she could make some viewers see sparks between her and the semi-retired star, leading to plenty of publicity for the both of them and possibly start certain favorable rumors. But this… This was MUCH more interesting!

“Funny, Lou,” Jessica mused as she turned on her laptop, “You never used to shy about who you dated…” Even before she got into the showbiz game, she could remember seeing and hearing about all the various arm candy he’d have at movie premieres, award shows and Hollywood parties. Whether they were a new face on the movie scene, some beautiful model, a rich heir or heiress or even a co-star, Lou simply had no problem showing them off and having fun in both public and private for however long the fling lasted.

So what made this ‘Ben’ guy so special? What was he trying to hide?

Jessica went to Lou’s social media page first, naturally. She ended up scrolling through four months worth of content, but unfortunately came up with nothing. All Lou seemed to post were cute pics of his kids, random opinions on random things, Lou Jitsu memes and the occasional food or outfit pic when he had something to show up. Guess he was just as private about his personal life online as he was in person. Jessica scowled a bit at this, but didn’t give up yet. There was information out there, she knew there was! She just had to dig a little deeper…

She began searching for anything Lou Jitsu related on all social media sites. Most of it was useless - a fan mentioning they were doing a #JitsuMovieMarathon or someone taking a pic with an obvious Lou Jitsu impersonator. Those were the most frustrating. But finally, after over an hour of searching, she finally found something.

The Facebook page of a nobody with a followers number that indicated that anything he posted most likely stayed trapped within his circle of friends no matter how interesting or cool it was. There, she found a picture of Lou in a fighting ring with some guy she didn’t know, the caption explaining that this guy just couldn’t believe someone as awesome as Lou Jitsu was fighting in their gym.

But that wasn’t the most interesting thing. No, what was most interesting was the slightly blurry face in the background of the pic, tall with auburn hair and eyes wide with amazement. Jessica hummed to herself. He could’ve just been another fan… But there was something about him that seemed to claim otherwise.

This hinting feeling was indicated about twenty five minutes later when she saw the tall, redhead man again in another picture, this time on Twitter. It was slightly out of focus and far away, and Lou was wearing sunglasses, but it was them, there was no doubt about that. “Can’t believe it! A celeb date night on MY shift!” the girl had tweeted, adding an obnoxious amount of emojis and wishing the former star luck before adding “#HotSoupLove!” .

Jessica smirked. Hot Soup Love, indeed. “Now we’re getting somewhere…” It took some cross referencing and a lot more digging - whoever this guy was, he had little to know social media presence whatsoever, which made it even stranger that he was dating LOU JITSU of all people - but finally, she found him.

His stern, serious picture stared back at her as his information was revealed, thanks to the research lab website that introduced him: Dr. Benjamin Draxum, head of Genetics and Biochemical Research. “Doesn’t exactly seem like the ‘dating’ type, or the type of guy that a guy like Jitsu would go for,” Jessica commented, opening up a word post on her own social media page, “But hey, that just makes it all the more interesting.”

She always did love being the first one to break the story on any potential celebrity gossip, and this was certainly a story twist that no one would see coming…

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

Draxum’s eyes shot opened at the sudden alarm. He groaned, hating how early these Monday mornings always seemed to be. His eyes then shifted towards the windows, his body still lazy enough to ignore the alarm. Even behind the curtains, he could tell the sun was just barely starting to rise. So then, why was his alarm-?

It was then his tired brain finally realized that it wasn't his alarm going off, but his simple ringtone. He reached over and picked up his phone, and then glared at the screen when he saw it was a number he didn't recognize. Why they were calling over an hour before he had to wake up, he had no idea. It was probably a telemarketer, but just in case it wasn't, Draxum reluctantly answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello,” a seemingly human voice replied, “Are you Dr. Benjamin Draxum?”

“Yes, and who is this?”

“My name is Samantha Vics. I work for the NYC Inquiry and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

A newspaper? (Or, maybe a magazine, he didn't know for sure given that he didn't really read many of either.) Well… He wasn't expecting that. Better than a telemarketer, at least. “About what?” He asked, wondering if perhaps something happened at his lab and they needed a statement from someone who worked there.

“Well, I was hoping you could tell me a little about your relationship with Lou Jitsu.”

…………… What .

“Excuse me?” He asked after several seconds of silence. Maybe he just misheard-

“Your relationship with Lou Jitsu. You are dating him, aren't you? I was hoping maybe I could ask you a few questions about that. How you two met, how long you two have been dating, what it’s like dating an action star as famous as him-”

Draxum took a deep breath through his nose. “...Excuse me for asking but, which section of the paper did you say you worked for?” He was just barely managing to keep his tone even.

“Oh, it's not a paper, sir. It's more of a local and national pop culture and celebrity-focused magazine, why-?” Draxum hung up, releasing his sigh. He wanted to go back to bed for the next hour and pretend that the whole incident was just an annoying dream.

...That's what he would've done at least, had it not been for the two more phone calls he received that morning. One from some talk show host named Jessica, and another from the Today Show, asking for a comment to use during their ‘Trending Now’ segment. Those two simple words sent enough dread down into Draxum’s stomach to switch his phone to silent, effectively ignoring it as he got ready for what was sure to be a long day.

His temper only rose when he ended up running into more people outside of his apartment, at least three or four. More ‘reporters’ - weren't these people supposed to be researching and reporting REAL news?! - trying to ask him questions, as well as ordinary people passing by, whispering as soon as they saw him and watching him as if he were some sideshow. He lost track of how many times he said “No comment”, practically shouting the words by the time he got to his car. At least they were smart enough to get out of his way once he got behind the wheel.

He didn't drive to work right away though, curiosity finally getting the better of him as he instead pulled into an empty alleyway where he could check his phone - four missed calls now - in peace. All he did was type in his name into a search engine, and about half a dozen articles from various blogs and gossip rags came up.

“Beautiful Brawn Meets Brain! Lou Jitsu Dates NYC Doctor!”

"Just WHO Is Jitsu’s New Boyfriend?!”

"Hot Soup Love!”

"Is Lou Jitsu Into Scientists Instead of Supermodels These Days? These Pics Would Say Yes!”

“What the hell?!” Draxum scowled, reading title after title before finally clicking on the earliest post. Honestly it was more speculation than an actual article, with the only ‘facts’ being the two pictures that included both him and Lou, as well as his name - which was only used once. After that, he was just referred to as ‘Jitsu’s Boyfriend’ or ‘The Scientist’. That definitely irked him.

And one of the photos… That was the diner they liked going to. The diner that would no doubt be swarmed often now in the hopes of getting another shot at seeing the Big Apple’s newest celebrity couple, the public and media alike most likely not caring if they disrupted a date. This made Draxum’s heart ache as much as it made his anger rise. He really liked that diner...

“How did they even find out about us?” He wondered out loud as he continued scrolling through. Sure there were the pictures, but something would have to prompt people to go looking for them, given they weren't originally posted by paparazzi. It was then, in the back of his mind, he remembered Lou saying something about having a talk show gig.

His eyes narrowed as he immediately switched from the Internet to texting. “We need to talk,” he typed.

Thankfully, Lou didn't wait long to reply, his words serious for once. “I know… I have to take the boys for school, but I will meet you at your lab for lunch. Maybe before then I can call up a couple people, do some damage control.” So he already knew. Draxum texted back that he would see him then. Just as he started his car back up, he received one last text.

“Ben… I am so sorry.”

Draxum didn't reply back.

The drive to work was average, save for his still-set-to-silent phone getting more unknown callers. He would have to start blocking numbers soon, maybe even change his number. He scowled just thinking about it as he walked up the walkway to the research building. It was ridiculous, couldn't these people just take a hint and leave him alo-?

* CLICK ! CLICK !*

Draxum’s whipped his head to the side so fast it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash. His eyes had just barely caught the tail end of a flash of light, and as he stared at the seemingly-normal bush that sat near the parking lot, he could see hints of black and plastic within it. Unable to help himself, he clenched his fists. “HEY!”

The scrawny figure didn't hesitate to move, jumping out of the bush and dashing down the street with their camera in tow. Had he not been in work clothes, he might have chased the photographer down. But he was as tired as he was furious, so he settled for simply letting the lab’s security desk attendant know that he'd spotted a ‘suspicious person’ outside.

His interns thankfully were smart enough not to say anything, stiff in their seats and already engrossed in their daily tasks. That's what Draxum tried to do as well, to just pretend that everything was normal despite feeling like the entire city - the entire world - now had their eyes on him, desperate for any little scrap they could get. ...Naturally this made focusing on work fairly hard. In between in-putting data from current tests and doing research on upcoming projects, he’d switch to social media, reluctant yet too curious to stop himself.

By this point most of the ‘articles’ had stopped, given that there was no new information coming in and nothing new to add. But that didn't mean people didn't have anything to say - the comments sections were an absolute nightmare...

Some people claimed Lou was only dating him so Draxum could (somehow) get his kids into a good college, or free medical care (he wasn't that kind of doctor, morons). Others simply called Draxum out for only wanting to date Lou for his status and money, with some speculating that he was only faking being a doctor. They wondered what they saw in each other, how Lou could possibly think of ‘going out with someone like that’. Every quality or accomplishment Draxum had or might have had was just ripped to shreds by fans and gossipers alike, all of them agreeing that the famous action star could certainly do better.

Draxum wasn't the type to care what people thought of him. ...He had to keep reminding himself that. That these opinions were worthless in the grand scheme of things… Still, even the least social people could still feel the crushing weight of words and insults if enough was thrown at them. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, his anger more numb now even as his disheartened frustrations remained.

The morning hours of his shift took an eternity to get through, but eventually the noon hour rolled around, and there was a knock on his doorway. “Hey,” Lou quietly greeted, holding up a logoless bag. With the media circus going on around them, it made sense that his boyfriend would pick making a sandwich for him over stopping somewhere and buying one. Draxum nodded, thanking him as he took the bag, but didn't open it.

As soon as they were alone in the room, his interns heading to the cafeteria faster than he had ever seen them go, Draxum asked his first question: “Why did you think it was okay to just… To just tell the whole WORLD about me without even-?”

“It was an accident,” Lou told him, as apologetic as he was defensive, “I-I was on that show, just telling stories about the boys and, well, your name just… slipped out.” He winced, silently berating himself for such a stupid mistake before continuing. “But I swear to you, Ben, I did not give them anything! All I said was that I was dating someone and left it at that. I didn't say what kind of job you had, or any personal information about you, or even your last name!”

Draxum was still scowling, though at least it didn't seem to be directed completely at his boyfriend now. “And it would seem they didn't need you to tell them that stuff, when they could just find it on their own.”

“Hmph, right…” He still wasn't sure how Jessica was able to find all she did about Draxum with just a first name, but he did know one thing: He was NEVER going on her show again. ...Unfortunately, whether he made a reappearance or not, the damage already seemed done. “Ben, I… I am so, so sorry. I never wanted something like this to happen! Especially not to the man I care about.”

Draxum stared at him for a moment longer before sighing. “I know… And I forgive you.” It would be unfair to keep blaming him for such a minor mistake.

Lou managed a weak smile at that. “Thanks… So uh, I was able to get in touch with a couple of my old managers, and they are going to try and get the story pulled.” Though by this point, it was already far too late. The original reporters had done their job, and it wasn't as if they could control every single person on social media. They had lost the war before starting a single battle. “I, I could still make a public statement. Not sure how much it would help, but…”

“Couldn't hurt to try,” Draxum agreed. Still, while Lou didn't even attempt to ask it, it still hung in the air between them, and the idea of it still sort of broke Draxum’s heart. Even worse, he didn't even have a solid answer to it.

“So, uh… A-Are you still coming over tonight?” Lou asked, “Because if you are, there is this back road behind my house, which may help with-”

“I think,” Draxum suddenly began as he forced himself to not look away, already feeling cowardly enough as is, “that I need some space.”

Lou’s glasses were at just the right angle to catch the fluorescent lights of his lab. Between that and the shading from his poofy hair, Draxum couldn't quite tell what his expression was. Still, the man’s voice remained steady. “Take all the time you need,” he quietly insisted. He then said his goodbyes, and walked out the door - and both of them hoped it wasn't for the last time.

Draxum stared at the open space where his boyfriend had stood, and nearly followed him out the door - but stopped when his phone lit up yet again with another unfamiliar number. He glared at the device, blocking the number before slamming it down on his desk.

Some space between them was for the best… It was for the best...

----------

The nice thing about the media machine was that new news became old news pretty quickly.

Sure, it still took him a couple days and blocking at least a dozen more numbers, but eventually Draxum stopped getting calls asking for interviews or comments. His co-workers made sure to stay out of his way as well, even though he could tell they were VERY curious and we're just barely holding back questions. And even if Draxum still made it a habit to look over his shoulder while walking around, the attempts that various members of the paparazzi made to try and get a shot of him also became few and far between.

After all, there was no point to the pictures if he was the only one in them...

“...” Draxum sighed, his eyes once again going from the book he was reading (a book he'd already read twice over, and was only trying to force himself to read it again as a distraction rather than for pleasure) over to the coffee table, where his phone sat, its silence adding to the much too quiet atmosphere of his apartment. Part of him almost wished it would ring or alert him about a text, but he knew it wouldn't happen. It hadn't happened for nearly two weeks.

“I wonder how he's doing,” Draxum mumbled to himself, eyes going from the device to the dark sky outside his living room window. He wondered about Lou and the boys both… He was sure they’d had to deal with twice as much hounding from the paparazzi, if not more, but he really hoped that they were enjoying some well-deserved peace now too. With days of silence from both sides of NYC’s newest hot couple, the media and celebrity gossipers alike eagerly moved onto the next scandal, leaving #HotSoupLove in the dust.

It was a relief… But there was also little actual comfort to it, for Draxum knew as soon as there were signs of the two of them being together in public again, the cameras and microphone-wielding pests of the city would pounce on them once more like snakes from the shadows. Each date outside of one of their homes would be a spectacle for the world to see, and Draxum hated that. What he hated even more, however, was the fact that if it weren't for these vultures and the mess they would bring to his life… He would've probably called Lou as soon as the coast was clear...

Draxum had never needed space, he just refused to give the paparazzi a chance to get what they wanted! He had just wanted some peace and quiet, some time to hide from the prying eyes of his newfound public audience. But Lou… He had never wanted to be away from Lou, not for this long at least. He truly did forgive him for his mistake, and each time Draxum thought of him - of the fun conversations or the things Lou would do to make him smile, of all the small gestures meant only for him and the moments they would also share with Lou’s young family - it only made his heart ache… God, did Draxum miss him. He missed ALL of them, and wanted nothing more than to see them again. To go back to the way things were.

And yet his hand refused to pick up the phone.

Draxum growled, carelessly tossing the book aside before leaning back on the couch and shutting his eyes. He hated it… Hated that to be with the one he loved, he'd have to risk being exposed to the world. Hated that a single phone call between them or a simple night out could also invite thousands of eyes and invasive questions. Hated that, for their relationship to work, he would have to also most likely deal with dangerous rumors and insulting comments and possibly even threats (depending on how rabid that particular part of the Lou Jitsu fanbase was) on a daily basis.

...But most of all, he hated himself for being such a coward. He didn't care how reasonable it was to hide, he was still allowing them to control this part of his life. He was giving them the power to decide the fate of his relationship instead of fighting for it... But since when was Benjamin Draxum not a fighter?

Deciding to do what he should've done two weeks ago, Draxum stood up and got his laptop. It didn't take very long, about an hour at most. Editing was minimal, and as he prepared to post it on his rarely-used Facebook account (which had amounted followers in the thousands in just a few short days with the number continuing to rise), he finally picked up his cell and sent a simple text:

“Hello, Lou. Sorry for taking so long.”

It only took a couple minutes to get a reply. “It's fine, do not worry about it.” It was a normal enough reply, yet something about it still made it seem like Lou was walking on eggshells with him rather than being his normal, carefree self.

Draxum scowled slightly as his thumb flew across the keys. “No, it's not fine. Yes, I was upset and-” Scared? Angry? Disgusted by society? “-worried about dealing with… this whole situation. But not anymore. By the way, I’m posting something online right now, and I just wanted to give you a heads up. I'd suggest you watch it though.”

That time, Lou’s reply took several minutes. “Should I be worried about this?” He finally asked. He could almost see the man raising an eyebrow at him, wondering whether or not the scientist was about to do something that could get him anything from a bunch of flame comments and haters to getting arrested.

Draxum chuckled despite himself, not exactly being able to blame his boyfriend for being concerned. “No, if this blows up in my face, I should be the only one in the crossfire. That being said, I did want to ask one last thing. Are you free to go out tomorrow? I'd like to take you back to the diner we like.”

He could see Lou thinking it over (thanks to the ellipsis word bubble) before giving him an answer. “Yeah, sure, I should be free...but are you sure u want to go back there? and not somewhere else?”

“Yes. Very.” He was certain that Lou was still a bit unsure, but nevertheless they agreed on a time that Draxum would pick him up before saying goodnight. With that taken care of, Draxum made his post and then promptly shut off his laptop, letting his video do the rest…

-----------

“Hello. My name is Dr. Benjamin Draxum - though I'm sure most of you out there don't care about that. You'll just call me ‘The Scientist’ or ‘Lou Jitsu’s boyfriend’. Speaking of Lou and my relationship with him, that will be the subject of this video. You all want answers? Then fine, you've got them.

“We first met about five months, at an art museum auction event. When we first met each other, he invited me to join him and his family for the rest of the evening. I accepted. Afterwards, he gave me his phone number, and after a long conversation over the phone where we got to know each other, he invited me over to his house for supper. Again, I accepted.

“Ever since then, we've been spending time with each other and going out on dates when we can. We talk on the phone, visit each other’s homes, and do all the normal, average things that literally any other couple would do on dates. Those are the facts. And because I have revealed all the facts that are there, I will not be accepting or answering anymore questions, from the public or the media, in this video’s comments section or through the phone or email. However, I understand that this will not keep people from asking anyway or from speculation, nor will it keep mine and Lou’s relationship private despite the more intimate details of it not being anyone else’s business. I fully expect candid shots of us together the next time we go out, no matter how much I may ask of others to respect our privacy. ...But again, I accept this, and I will give you all one last fact about me:

“I care about Lou Jitsu, fully and genuinely, and as long as he will continue to allow it and as long as I still have these strong feelings for him, I will continue to be with him. Thank you and goodnight.”

Jessica had watched the video three times now, and each time she found herself a bit hollow afterwards. It hadn't been the first time someone famous (or even just in the middle of their thirty seconds of fame) had made a video to help clear up certain things or vent about something. But those were usually a lot more dramatic, where they'd eventually start screaming or crying or insulting people - But Draxum had done none of that.

He had spoke as if he was giving a lecture on whatever it was he studied. He was clear and concise, only presenting the facts with little emotion whatsoever. Even how he presented himself on the camera was professional, sitting up straight on his couch at home, well dressed with brushed hair. This was hardly some dramatic speech or him boasting about how he was sure ‘their love could conquer anything’. ...At least, it wasn't that in words or tone.

But in his eyes and the way he stared down the camera - not caring how many were watching or judging - revealed his true feelings. His passion, his determination to fight for his relationship, maybe even his love.

“I gotta hand it to you, Jitsu,” Jessica smiled, finally closing the screen, “You sure know how to pick them…” She also had a feeling that they'd be one of the few celebrity couples to stay together - and if that were indeed the case, she'd definitely have to come up with a better couples name for them than #HotSoupLove.

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

As far as he knew, no one had followed him to the Jitsu household. No paparazzi desperate for interviews, and no cameramen hoping for candid shots. Though, if there had been someone, he wasn't sure how much he would actually care. At this point, nothing was going to stop him from finally seeing his boyfriend again.

So, Draxum walked up to the house, moved to knock on the door, and-

The door opened, Lou already knowing he was there. He was smirking, but there was gratitude and admiration in his smile. “Well well well… Don't we know how to make a viral splash?”

Draxum smiled back at him. “Well, I didn't exactly have much of a choice. I had to let the world - and you - know where I stand.”

Lou’s smile fell a bit. “...Except you did have a choice. You know that, right?”

“I do… But it wouldn't have been a choice I'd be happy with,” Draxum told him, taking a step forward. He took Lou’s hands, squeezing them with care. “I want to be with you, no matter how much I may have to deal with from everyone else.” Though, after a moment, he frowned. “Of course, I'm not the only one this affects… Even if I'm not around you all the time, I'm sure you and your family will have to deal with all of that extra attention as well, so-”

Suddenly, Lou was grinning ear-to-ear. “Wow, last night really was the first time you have been on social media in a while, huh?”

“...Yesss, why?”

He chuckled. “Tang Shen saw what was going on, and heard about how our house was practically swarmed with people wanting comments that first day. And well, heh, you're not the only one who can make an online video. Just recently she decided to, ah, 'renew' an old threat directed at the entire paparazzi community, and told them that anyone who tried to talk or take pictures of my children without my consent would be VERY sorry. My boys will be just fine.”

Draxum was grinning now, holding back his laughter. “Well, that settles it. I definitely have to meet that woman one of these days.”

“She always flies in around Christmastime, just a heads up. And as for me, I am pretty much used to the whole ‘rabid fanbase, occasionally stalked by media people’ thing by now. Although…” His smile softened. “It really is easier when you have someone helping you deal with it.”

Not willing to hold himself back anymore, Draxum closed the distance between them, kissing Lou softly. Lou deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Yes, this was where he belonged: Beside his boyfriend, taking on whatever came their way together.

As they broke apart, they could hear tiny feet coming down the stairs. “I will have to go drop the boys off at O’Neil’s place, and then-”

“Draxum!” “Dr. Draxum!” “Drax!” “DRAXUMMMMM!”

From out of nowhere it seemed, he felt one, two, three, four small bodies (though that last one was pretty heavy) run into his legs, knocking him off balance and onto the ground. “Wh- Boys?!” Lou shouted.

Of course, his sons just ignored him, too excited as they all shouted at once. “We haven't seen you in forever, Dr. Draxum!” “See, I told you guys he'd come back!” “Yeahhh well, I always knew.” “Nuh uh, Leo!” "Yuh huh!" “DRAXUM I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE BAAAACK!”

Unable to help himself, Draxum laughed, managing to wrap his arms around all four of them. “I've missed you boys, too…” And that was the truth.

It took about fifteen minutes to calm the boys down and get them to April’s house (and to get Mikey to let go of Draxum), thanks to Draxum happily promising to visit them again later. With that settled, the reunited couple made their way to the diner.

As was to be expected, the diner was pretty full, now infamous for being #HotSoupLove’s ‘place’. But the two barely gave anyone else a second glance as they caught up with each other and enjoyed their meal, nor did they hesitate in taking a nice walk through the open Central Park afterwards. Not even the annoying occasional flash of a camera out of the corner of their eye or the whispers as they passed people by could sour their mood.

They were dealing with it all together, and that was all that mattered.

(( I know Jessica Jacklynn was just a referee/commentator, but I feel like she would totally be the type of character to host a late night talkshow and just be all about the celebrity gossip and drama. Lol, anyway, hope this chapter was enjoyable and not too wordy. please leave a comment if you can!))

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #baron jitsu #baron draxum #lou jitsu #my writing #human au #fanfiction

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letsriottogether · 5 years

Text

Silence, part 5 (Chernobyl fanfic)

Can also be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868920/chapters/47678032

Pairing: Valana, Ulana Khomyuk/Valery Legasov Characters: Ulana Khomyuk, Valery Legasov, Boris Scherbina, KGB Charkov, Sasha the Cat Warning: Strong language, explicit scenes

Big thank you for all comments and kudos/likes! My apologies for the wait, This past week and half has been a bit more hectic than I’ve anticipated. ________________________________________ There’s something tickling his face. Valery stirs in his sleep, frowning at the weird sensation. His hand rises to push the tickling thing away, only to realize it’s Sasha doing her morning routine. He grunts and opens his eyes to find a pair of light green ones, staring at him. He smiles for a brief moment, stroking Sasha’s soft fur. The lazy morning sun peaks through the closed curtains. As the cat jumps off of him to the floor, heading to kitchen, Valery lets himself to close his eyes for a few brief moments. Then the meowing begins and he knows that he indeed has to get up. His normal daily routine before he can return to the Kurchatov is quite simple. Get up, go to the bathroom, splash his face with cold water, brush teeth. Change into a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, give Sasha some leftovers from yesterday, go to near grocery shop for some basic food. It felt weird, knowing he’s being watched. The first three days he kept checking his window one or two times per hour, almost unable to go to sleep, his eyes glued to the blue car standing on the street. The KGB agents did not even try to hide at that point. His days are long, and he’s desperate to keep himself occupied. He’s re-reading his old books, going through old notes, picking up the theoretical problems he was solving before the bloody phone rang on 26 April 1986 and he heard Scherbina’s voice for the very first time. He still has two days before he can start working at the Institute. He’s not quite sure what to expect, but one thing is for sure - he’s definitely not going back to his office, most likely he will end up in some ridiculously small shared space with carefully handpicked colleagues who would eavesdrop on him and immediately share anything suspicious with the right people. Damn it, it wouldn’t even have to be suspicious, it would be good enough if it was anything that would help them move up the party ladder.

He’s sure that there are no more exciting projects for him and that he will most likely stay away from all labs and researches until the radiation decides to kill him. Buried deep within paperwork, for nothing, watching over his shoulder endlessly, alone, returning back into an empty apartment every day. Wouldn’t that bullet into his skull be better in the end, more merciful?

His eyes wander around the apartment that still looks the same, but for some reason the colors sound more blunt, faded. Maybe it’s because of the thick cigarette smoke? He knows he should try to quit, but hey, you have to die of something, right? Something other than radiation related disease. He used to be just fine living all alone, but then she waltzed into his life, so damn confident and sure of herself. Thank god to that, thank god she had the guts to fight him and make him see that the tanks are full, horrifying fact complicating everything. Her with those wise eyes, seeing through him. And that was only the beginning. He was a careful man, not letting anyone into his life simply because it didn’t feel comfortable, because books could not hurt you as much as people and also because they would not blame you for coming back home late at night. After the evening at the hotel when be basically offered her his apartment (not to mention almost kissing her), he knew there was no way avoiding this bullet. And with the same confidence there was suddenly the presence of her everywhere. In his home, in his mind, in his soul, nestling into every single atom of his existence. There were so many moments of sacred silence, when he would look at her, study the expression of her face, memorizing her curves, the way her hair framed her beautiful face when he would just want to stop the time, erase the past and rewrite the future. Sometimes it felt like she was the raging fire and he was a bottle of gasoline - a deadly combination.

When the reading gets too boring and radio too annoying, he walks around his apartment. He tried walking outside, but the KGB agents were too noticeable, not even caring about staying hidden somewhere in the shadows of the big city. Inside the apartment he could at least pretend he was alone. And alone he was. Well, at least he thought so. When checking his mailbox he found small carefully folded piece of paper snuck into a small hole in his mailbox. He looked around, as if expecting to find someone who would give him some sort of explanation, but the hallway was empty. He nonchalantly put the paper into the pocket of his coat and went back home. Maybe it’s just KGB’s way of playing with his mind? To falsely lure him into a trap? That could be definitely possible. He walked the stairs up to his floor, not daring to unfold the message before being safely inside. Sasha happily greeted her human by waltzing around his legs. Over the years he got used to this habit of hers, being extra careful not to stumble over her. He put down the bag with a fresh loaf of bread and some other groceries. Usually he would put everything into its place right away, but now there was something more important.

After hanging his coat onto the hanger, he goes over to the windows facing the street, checking the KGB car. The agent is inside, reading a newspaper. Good.His palms are sweating as he opens the hand written message. “Your friend hasn’t forgotten you. Keep your head down for now. Belarussia is under supervision to improve the outcomes.”

Oh Boris, my dear Borja. Chernobyl might have stolen the peaceful and quiet days of his life, but granted him a friend instead in Boris. Valery just hopes that Boris is careful enough not to end up similar to him, or worse. Especially given to his health. The red blood marks on his handkerchief still frighten Valery, knowing there’s no escape to their fate. He knows Boris could be hardly the one to appear in his apartment building, meaning he has to have someone to do this for him. Of course, if this isn’t a trap. But Valery wants, needs to believe this is real, and the faint connection to the outside world, to the people he loves and cherishes pour some faith and joy to his veins. He re-reads the last sentence again. Ulana. He hopes that this sort of supervision that is mentioned is just Boris. Or did he write it like that on purpose not to scare him? He made it clear to Charkov, doing his best that she nor Boris had nothing to do with his testimony. Or did Charkov want to convince himself personally? He pushed that thought aside, not being able to bear that he wouldn’t be able to protect at least them.

He notices that the door of the car outside that never leaves his street open and a man gets out. He briskly moves to the sink, setting the small paper on fire with his lighter, washing the ashes down the drain with water. In a few minutes there’s a loud banging on his front door. Valery already knows their manners, but still cannot help but jump a little at the loud sound. Sasha jumps down from her spot on the sofa, annoyed and angry at the harsh awakening. She eyes the room curiously, partly hidden behind a ficus. Valery walks to the hallway, opening the door. The agent doesn’t even bother to clean his shoes on the mat, and bursts inside as if it was his home. He stops at the door to the kitchen, sniffing. “Hope you’re not trying to set yourself on fire, Professor.” the man says, frowning at Valery. He realizes that the smell of burning paper must be lingering in the air and chuckles nervously. “The cat jumped into my lap when I was lighting a cigarette.” he replies, pointing at the hiding cat.. Only her muzzle is showing, and she starts to hiss at the unwanted guest in her territory. The agent is clearly disgusted with the animal and turns back to Valery. “Tomorrow at 8 you will pick up your new badge at the reception of Kurchatov. They cannot wait, Proffesor.” he scoffs, looking around the apartment for one last time, before storming out again.

Valery lets out the breath he realizes he has been holding. That could have been interesting. He’s actually looking forward to have a daily job again, silently praying it will help him stay sane. Because already now he’s over his head looking forward to the next message from his companion. He has to get inventive enough to be able to respond to him, maybe even ask some questions? How is Boris doing? Is Ulana ok? Does she miss him as much as he misses her? Has she forgiven him?

That night he has troubles falling asleep, too many scenarios playing over in his mind. He tries walking around the apartment, sorting his notes, his books. His mind is restless. He went for a brisk walk earlier in the evening, suddenly desperate for the fresh air outside, not caring if the whole Kremlin is following right behind him. He was just around the corner of his favourite park when he noticed a lady. late thirties maybe. Quite tall, dark brown hair in soft curls, graceful but confident step. She turned around a man was running up to her to catch up with her. That’s when the air left his lungs, fleeing at the speed of light. He could have sworn he moved back in time, ten years ago to the streets of Minsk, as the woman looked so much like Ulana in one of her earlier pictures he found in her flat. His heart started beating fast, his senses flooded with her scent, the taste of her lips, her laugh ringing in his ear. He started to run after them, realizing how stupid and pathetic he is. Well, so much for staying on the rational and calm side. That’s when he decided it’s high time to go back home.He still cannot shake the memory out of his mind, silently cursing himself that he didn’t secretly steal at least one of her pictures. He wanted to, he truly did, but he just thought there will be more time, that he doesn’t need one, cowardly hiding behind security reasons (because blaming everything at KGB was so easy sometimes).

The need to be near her, to feel her fills his senses as he returns back to the bedroom. He collapses across the mattresses, his back hitting a weird bump. His hand slides there, searching for the source when in the gap in the middle he feels creased fabric. He pulls it out, sitting up. A smile lights up his face. It’s her shirt he stole from her, that got pushed between the mattresses and was forgotten short after. Ulana’s faint scent still lingers on the fabric and he feels like some pathetic teenager, who is hiding from his parents in his room, replaying the memory of his girlfriend, suddenly all tense and aroused. No one ever warned him that this is what his fifties would be looking like. His mind wanders back to the last time she wore that. Well, before she took it off.

Valery’s aparment, Moscow, late 1986 The soapy scent spreads from bathroom to the rest of the apartment. Ulana’s just taken a bath, allowing her sore muscles to relax in the hot water. She forgot her nightgown in her bag in the living room, so she decides to put and old shit she found after drying herself. The mirror is covered in fog due to the humidity in the small room. She takes a bath like this as an unnecessary luxury she would be able to spare herself of, but Valery has been too pushy to drop her practical self and try to enjoy the things they have while they still have them. She wipes the mirror with her palm, staring at her reflection. A small doubtful voice resonates through her head. And for how long are they going to have each other?

She studies the wrinkles on her face, her tired eyes, silver hair shining from her auburn color every now and then. It’s not just age that’s written all over her body, but it’s easier to pretend. At least with herself. But when she looks at him in the bad times, her thoughts fly to all the books and articles about radiation exposure. She finds herself studying him, calming herself no, this is normal, but this, is this already…? She shakes her head, frustrated with herself. Not now, not tonight. When she steps outside and appears in the living room, he’s sitting in his armchair, glasses on the very top of his nose, reading some book. He doesn’t notice her, and she smiles.Her steps are quiet, and almost like a cat she sneaks up to him and suddenly tears the book from his hands. Valery looks up at her with mixture of surprise and outrage. But when his eyes wander over her, his expression changes to a sly smile. She chuckles at him, places the now closed book on the shelf and takes his hand into hers. With the other one she slowly starts to unbutton her shirt. Her smile fades away, she bites down on her lip. She shakes her shoulders to push the fabric down. He lets go of her hand, helping her to get rid of the stupid piece of clothing. For some reason he doesn’t let it fall to the ground, instead he grabs it, taking Ulana by her hand, leading her to the bedroom. Let’s forget for now who they are. Soon after his finger follows the curve of her spine, touching the soft creamy skin of her back, so soft and warm, so inviting to be caressed and kissed. His lips follow shortly after, placing open mouthed pecks. When reaching her lower back, he decides to change things a bit, using his tongue instead. She shivers in surprise and pleasure, soft moan escapes her lips. He straightens his back, looking down at her. She’s simply beautiful from any possible angle you could think of. And right now, on all four, trembling with anticipation, skin slightly glistening with sweat, her brown hair messy.. That’s simply sight for gods, and right now it belongs to him, she belongs to him and he feels like on top of the world, because this precious woman loves him and trusts him. It’s as simple as that. He strokes her cheek with his palm, sliding down to her thigh and then back up. She parts her legs a bit more, back arching up, silent gesture to urge him where she wants him the most. It’s the sound of his name on her lips, an urgent moan full of passion, and he simply cannot hold himself any longer. His grip on her hips gets tighter as he slams into her in one swift motion. She’s so perfectly wet he could cry. World starts spinning and it’s so tempting just to come in that very moment, her walls clenching around him in sweet pleasure. She grips on the crumpled sheets, eyes closed. All the gossips were right, this was much better than the normal missionary position. She could feel him everywhere, filling her to the top, then leaving her completely, making her feel so empty out of sudden just to slide back into her. Sex sounds fill the silence of the room, how his hips meet hers, skin on skin, their uncoordinated moans and whispers. So this is what good sex feels like? He keeps one of his hands on her hip, following her small motions as she meets him in his thrusts, while the other one wanders up her back to the nape of her neck, tickling her hair. She knows what he wants to do, but maybe is too worried she wouldn’t like it and asking questions in the middle of sex seems just too ridiculous. Instead she just tilts her head backwards in a simple gesture and he just knows it’s a green light from her. Within a second his fingers comb through her hair, before clasping them, tugging gently just to cause a small pleasurable amount of pain. Breath hitches in her throat, as the shockwaves start to flow through her body, she collapses on her arms. He has to adjust himself, bending over her back. His hips move a bit higher and suddenly he’s hitting the perfect spot. Her muscles grip him even tighter and it’s too much for him. She whimpers loudly, not interested if anyone hears them. He swifts his leg, putting it foot down to get better angle, to be able to slam into her even harder and faster as he comes undone. Any barriers that would hold him back are gone, pure animal pleasure taking over him, over them both. That’s all it takes for her, and it takes her a moment to realize it’s her voice that fills the room, shouting his name. His breath is heavy on her back, as he tenses for the last time, filling her to the top. Her hair is sticking to her forehead and cheeks, smell of sex and sweat in the air. He wraps his arms around her waist, pressing her up to him, still deep inside of her. She finds the last piece of strength in her, as she sits up with him. He lays his forehead against her shoulder for a moment placing soft kiss. She turns her head around a bit to be able to see him and smiles. He looks up at her, his eyes meeting hers, the corners of his mouth up in a grin. Suddenly her arm moves up, bending in the elbow to be able to reach him and caress his hair. None of them speaks, enjoying the intimate silence. It’s their moment where nothing else exists apart the two of them and the bed they are sitting on.

He shifts up a bit, cupping her round breast, thumb encircling her sensitive nipple. He loves finding her favourite spots, burning them deep into his memory alongside with her expression, her eyes rolled back and gently biting on her lip. He decides to continue with his experiment, the other hand sliding down to where they are still joined, mix of her wetness and his seed sliding down both of their thighs. He flicks her clit one or two times, his hips bucking on their own as she clenches aroundt his softening cock. He then lets her go, deciding not to torture her anymore and also painfully realizing that he will need some time to go another round. She understands and just collapses into the covers, exhausted and content.

“Can you imagine what it would be like if we met 20 years ago?” she chuckles and turns her head to face him as he lies down next to her, propped on his elbow. “I think our scientist careers would be in real danger, because I wouldn’t be able to let you out of the bed,” he smiles and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Then it’s good we’ve met only now. It would be hard to choose between all the good sex and my job.” she jokes, but they both know it’s hint to an actual problem they would have been facing. It’s hard to imagine how the two of them would be able to work out when they were younger. Both too eager and dedicated to their job, making all the sacrifices to keep moving forward. But would you be able to sacrifice a relationship with someone who is possibly your soulmate to the job you love and that you feel is your vocation and vice versa? She quickly shakes the thought away from her head. “Scherbina says that ever since our visits started to be regular,I don’t seem as grim,” he suddenly blurts out and Ulana gapes at him. He shakes his shoulders apologetically. “What, that’s a good thing.” he grins and she kisses him on the jaw. “Please just tell me that Boris is the only one with whom you talk about this. Not only it would be dangerous, but I wouldn’t be able to talk to Tarakanov or Pikalov again, knowing you’ve been discussing our sex life,” she says, covering her eyes with her palm in desparation.He laughs out loud and starts kissing her, making a path from her belly to her neck.“Nah, they would be jealous and would want me to share,” he mumbles in between and Ulana looks at him, horrified. He laughs again at her expression and finally kisses her on the lips.

They both get more comfortable on the bed as Valery places a big cover on both of them, making sure Ulana’s back is all covered. He outstretches an arm towards her, she already knows this small habit of his and lifts her head so he could sneak his arm underneath. He needed to keep her close. She needed to be in his arms.They lie in silence, staring at each other. She counts the wrinkles on his face, memorizing them all over again. With every new one she makes a silent prayer before she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

#chernobyl hbo #fanfic #fanfiction #silence fanfiction #ulana khomyuk #valery legasov #valana #ulana/valery #Ulana Khomyuk/Valery Legasov #writings #multichapter #ao

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redditnosleep · 7 years

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I Ran Into My High School Sweetheart Tonight At My 10-year Reunion…The One I Married?

by ImJustC0nfused

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (Final)

Apologies for the delay everyone. I don’t like where this is going. Some of your theories are pretty wild (well done), and I don’t know how much of it I even want to document going forward. The support is appreciated.

I fell asleep in my car Thursday night after my first post, I was pretty shaken up. When I woke up Friday morning (yesterday) I had dozens of missed calls and texts. A vast majority of them were from Stacy, and she was not happy. She saw me asleep in my car in the morning when she left to take the kids to school. She thought I was drunk from the reunion, and fell asleep in the car. I feel like I really dodged a bullet there, as it bought me a little more time to think clearly before addressing this head on. I know a lot of you recommended I bring it to light immediately, but I need to investigate and come up with a game plan.

There was one text in particular that caught my attention – it was from a number I didn’t recognize:

619-xxx-xxxx: Why did you run off so fast last night? There’s something I need to talk to you about, and it’s important. Can we talk?

I didn’t respond – I’m feeling like I need to be very careful with what I do next

Anyway, I got my shit together and went to work Friday (yesterday), but obviously got nothing done. The only reason I actually went is because I thought the normalcy would help to preserve my sanity throughout the shit storm I was about to endure.

I called a couple of my friends that were at the reunion (there aren’t many that I’m actually friends friends with). I nonchalantly asked if they saw Stacy – being careful not to specify which Stacy. Nobody saw her – they asked if we were having issues at home and why I wouldn’t have known if my wife was there / who was watching the kids… etc. So, that was no help.

As kind of an aside, it sounds like there was a bit of commotion at the reunion around somebody that showed up that wasn’t on the original guest list. In fact, her name wasn’t listed in the year book either when they checked – her name was Beth (fyi, I switched this name too for anonymity). She insisted that she had graduated with our class, so they let her in and didn’t put up too much of a fight (especially because so few people from our class actually showed up). Doesn’t sound like she hung around long though.

The calls and texts continued to roll in from my wife, Stacy, throughout the day, and I ignored them. I realized I had three options:

A.) Bail. This would mean leaving my kids behind. Obviously not really an option at all, as I don’t think there is such a thing as life for me without my kids.

B.) Confront her in some way – share what I’m going through / explain everything.

C.) Play it all off until I can gather more info to make a solid decision.

I’m going with C. If I don’t rock the boat, I’ll be able to coast a little longer without any permanent impact on my life. That is unless my wife has knowledge beyond what I know or has plans to kill me. If she’s logical in any way still, I don’t think this is a real threat. If it is, then I have to give her kudos because she has moved mountains, and stars have aligned to pull this thing off.

Since I’m rolling with the path of least resistance – I decided it would be best to go with the story that she already believed to be true. This would mean telling her that I drank too much at the reunion. One drink lead to several, I drove home like an asshole, and I fell asleep in my car. We all know that this is not what happened (and I don’t condone drinking and driving) but it seemed like it was easier to go with this than it would be to make up another story and sell her on it.

When I got home, she had dinner ready like she normally does. She and I spoke briefly about everything in private, and I confirmed what happened the night before / why I was in the car. She was disappointed, I pretended to be ashamed and embarrassed, all was okayish.

When we sat down for dinner with the kids, she asked me a little more about the actual reunion. I played it cool, and told the story exactly as it happened – everything up until the piece where Stacy tapped me on the shoulder at the reunion. It’ll be much easier to keep all of this straight if I keep it as close to the truth as possible. I have no idea what she knows, I have no idea if there are others involved or what. So, I want to minimize the opportunities for getting caught in a lie.

I’m getting the impression that she doesn’t really think anything is up. I’m pretty good at staying cool under pressure; however, I am a bit nervous. Based on her responses and body language, I suspect that she probably wrote it off in her own mind as a result of the drinking and driving incident (i.e. me feeling ashamed/embarrassed).

This is good – things are kind of coasting along, and it feels like I can ride this out and keep digging as long as I’m careful.

I went to bed shortly after dinner. I obviously didn’t sleep well in the car, and things were still a bit hazy so I felt like this was best.

This brings us to today. So, I woke up this morning, and felt pretty good about everything. I feel normal. If I wanted I could legitimately pretend like I never saw Stacy at the reunion, and I think life would continue on as it did beforehand. At least, that’s the vibe I’m getting from everyone around me (nobody close to me is really asking weird questions). That said – I’m going to dig because I want to know more. I went ahead and finally responded to that text this morning…

619-xxx-xxxx: Why did you run off so fast last night? There’s something I need to talk to you about, and it’s important. Can we talk?

Me: Hey, what do you mean? Who is this?

I figured it would be better to play dumb and fish for information before divulging anything that could be potentially damaging to my situation.

I’m still waiting on the reply now. I have no idea what happens from here. If they don’t respond, maybe I just go back to living life the way I was and forget any of this ever happened.

#creepy #horror story #author: ImJustC0nfused #series #I Ran Into My High School Sweetheart Series

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kelleyandmickey · 5 years

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October 2, 2019

I have passed the one month mark! Things are challenging, but I am doing my best to battle through.

My mental health has been taking me for a ride lately, and I have also been pretty homesick, and then actual sick. I have been told that pretty much everyone gets sick in their first month here, so I guess it’s a bit of a rite of passage.

I don’t get along amazingly with my roommates, and I feel a bit alienated because I am not Mexican. They have friends over late at night a lot, which is not something I love, especially after I’ve just come home from work. But I don’t want to be “that” roommate, so I’ve just been living with it. Since I have passed 30 days, Taylor and I can put in a voluntary move request and possibly get a room together, which would improve things significantly.

But among the not great things, there are some great things!

On my one month anniversary (September 26), I completed the “Mormon Challenge”, which is inspired by the musical, The Book of Mormon. In the song “Two by Two” (listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_T_NYZesRdY ) Elder Price sings about his dream mission location being Orlando because of SeaWorld, Disney and Putt Putt Golfing. Well, the challenge is just that, all three of those things in one day. My steadfast cohorts from the pavilion, Eric and Eva, and I started the day at SeaWorld at 10am (I got lucky, and an annual passholder gave me a guest pass he wasn’t going to use, so I got in for free!). We rode all the roller coasters (I have been told that they’re the best in Orlando, and I agree), saw the Sea Lion show, and then my early childhood dreams came true with a visit to SeaWorld’s newest land: Sesame Street! We walked through the land (very immersive and interactive!), and met Cookie Monster, Elmo, Big Bird, and my preschool favourites: Ernie and Bert! It was probably one of the best themed lands I have been to! Kudos, SeaWorld! After about 5 hours at SeaWorld, we hopped a Lyft to Disney’s Hollywood Studios. We were already feeling pretty spent, so we only did one attraction: we had a FastPass for Toy Story Midway Mania. From there, we took the Friendship Boat to the Swan and Dolphin to play a round of Putt Putt at Fantasia Gardens. Despite working 4 summers at a Mini Golf course, I am still pretty terrible at it. Challenge complete! But we were hungry after all that excitement, so we added a bonus stop at Disney Springs to have Guy Fieri’s Chicken Guy, which is my favourite place to eat on property as of now. This day was my first proper adventure off of Disney property. Overall, a very tiring, but fantastic day!

This week has been a crazy one at Epcot, with the Food and Wine Festival, the final shows of the IllumiNations fireworks show (which has been running in some capacity since 1988, and in the most recent version, Reflections of Earth, since 1999) and the opening of a new temporary show, Epcot Forever. The park hit capacity on both Saturday and Monday, meaning we had more than 60,000 guests come through the gates! Crazy! For the final IllumiNations show on Monday, we had guests staking out their spots as early as park open at 9am (the show was at 9pm!). I was upstairs at post 1 (inside the shop) for most of the night, so I missed most of the nuttiness down on the promenade, but I can only imagine! It’s pretty cool to be working at Epcot during this time of significant change, we get to see so many things happening. I’ll have been here for THREE different fireworks shows on the World Showcase Lagoon in my time here, with the opening of HarmoniUS next year.

Yesterday, I finally got to see my wonderful actor friend from back home, Justine and her husband Evan, who came to visit me at work. Justine and I have known eachother since we were in the same year at MRU, and we have done Naughty but Nice for 3 seasons. I am so excited that she’s recently moved here, and I hope we get to hang out lots! We’re already planning to go to shows together, and to see our friends in the We Will Rock You tour next month :)

Also yesterday, I was feeling a bit down, and I got an e-mail from the service centre saying I got a package. I didn’t order anything.... I went to pick it up, and lo and behold, it’s an envelope full of my favourite Canadian candy sent to me by my amazing best friends, Tori and Connor. It was just what I needed, and I am so grateful <3

I think that’s all for now. Talk soon!

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downmexicoway · 6 years

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tuesday

February 26, 2019

Day three in Mérida. I didn’t write yesterday or the night before because I went to sleep once my head hit the pillow. The sun was both my source and my zapper . We did nothing that first day, the three of us lazing by the pool until the sun made its full arc across the blue sky. Lisa was in her pajamas until past five pm, when she decided to order us all spaghetti bolognese to eat on the good china. I dipped in and out of the pool all day, deciding once my hair was dry, it was time to get it wet again.

It takes a long time to get here, but the hour time difference makes the jet lag much more tolerable. I was greeted by Lisa and Thad at the airport, then they whisked me away to dinner in a cafe in Santa Lucia square. Margherita pizza and a margarita - absolutely perfect.

As I type this, there are pigeons drinking lightly chlorinated water from the courtyard pool. They land on the (non-functioning) water feature on the rock wall, and if they see the coast is clear, they fly to the side of the pool and lean over to take a drink. These pigeons must be very brave, because the resident dog of the house is a schnauzer and he is protective of his space. The pool is in a place where the birds have to turn their backs to the house in order to get a swig. You must be really thirsty to even attempt this - so kudos to the pigeons.

At night, bats dive down and you can sometimes feel a wisp of their wing as they fly past. They are so prevalent at night that guano builds up on the sliding glass door that provides entry directly from the pool to my guest house. “We had to scrape it before you came," Lisa says, laughing. She is scared to death of the bats, but both Thad and I find them to be exquisite nighttime guests. He and I both enjoy swimming while the bats dive around us, seeing only blurs of black in our periphery and feeling the air change ever so slightly. It seems every avian creature finds a way to get water in the heart of this bustling concrete city.

I digress.

Today was filled with driving around the city, trying to get permanent license plates for their new Mini Cooper. The temporary tags expired on the 19th, which made them nervous to drive anywhere until they got the new plates. All of our efforts today seemed to have been in vain, though. The three of us were sweaty, hungry, thirsty messes as we limped back in through the front door. Lisa cracked open a small can of Coca Cola, and Thad sat at the table, fuming.

If there’s something I have learned how to do well, it is soothe an angry man. I cut up the fresh “Miel Pina” that I bought at the market that morning. Presenting it to my lovely hosts, I could feel the shift in attitude begin. Accompanying the fresh, sweet, succulent chunks of pineapple, I set my pen upright in front of Thad. “For whatever ails ya,” I said with a smile.

Then I sat down and watched my magic in action. Thad’s face softened with every bite., He got off his cell phone and tuned into the jazz I started playing through the bluetooth speaker. His posture became less stiff, shoulders slouching a bit as he ate more and more of the pineapple. Soon, he reached out and took my assured anger stopper: the pen. With one breath, the curtain closed on our shitty day, and the fresh air swooped in to fill our lungs. We made dinner plans, and then I jumped in the pool.

Water has a way of always baptizing me, no matter where I am. As soon as my body is immersed and I start to float, all of my muscles begin to relax. I become aware of my breathing, which anchors me totally in the moment. I shut my eyes and feel the power of the water overcome me. In this moment, I am born again.

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ecoorganic · 4 years

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Mailbag: Will the 2020 U.S. Open Have an Asterisk?

Should the 2020 U.S. Open have an asterisk next to it, given the circumstances? Plus the tennis equivalent of golf's Jordan Spieth, the possible advantages for players who were already infected with COVID-19 and much more.

Hope everyone is well, safe and masked.

• On our most recent podcast, Patrick Mouratoglou talked about tennis-during-COVID and Serena Williams’ return. Andrea Leand talked about World TeamTennis.

• Next up: Up-and-comer Jannik Sinner on his 2020.

• If you had Lexington on your tennis bingo card, you win! The first U.S. event since the U.S. Open has commenced….

• Trust me. This is worth six minutes of your day:

youtube

• I tweeted this yesterday but let me reiterate: the WTA communications team is doing an exceptional job wrangling players, sending around audio files and generally making the sport relevant and accessible. We—fans, players, media—owe them a shot of Kentucky bourbon and/or Czech beer. And a deep measure of gratitude.

Mailbag

The Shift 8 edition….

Assuming the U.S. Open takes place (nothing’s a given at this point) and if Serena finally gets to the Golden 24th Slam, do you think there would be an asterisk, given the circumstances? —@keithsd42

• Let’s do the asterisk question and then put a strikethrough in it. In fact, I would declare that from here on out, anyone who types or says the word “asterisk” in a tennis context must make a donation

here or to a similar charity.

I’m not a * absolutist. I am open to the possibility that the U.S. Open draw will appear to be moth-eaten. That players will advance when opponents are forced to withdraw. That without fans and the usual circus, the atmosphere will be flatter than a Czech player’s forehand. That somehow the title will feel hollow.

I am also open to the opposite: that the player who wins will have shown all manner of resolve and mettle and compartmentalization and persistence and focus. That winning seven matches in this cratered season, in this bat-guano-crazy context, should be adorned with an exclamation point.

I think we need to see how this unfolds. We need to see the quality of the draw and quality of tennis. We also need to see context. (Specific to Serena, I struggle to see how any major won by a 38-year-old is diminished.) It strikes me as ungenerous to tell players in advance that, even if they win, it’s a tainted title. It also strikes me as inconsistent with reality. Plenty of players have won majors under extraordinary circumstances. Wafer-thin draws. Medical flukes. Boycotts. Opponents having panic attacks and injuries and menstrual issues in finals. Especially with some time, we tend only to remember the winners, not the circumstances.

On Twitter, I saw a discussion about Jordan Spieth and whether there was a tennis equivalent. Care to weigh in? —Dennis D.

• I assume the context is a guy who won multiple majors in one year and is now struggling to make cuts? If Spieth comes back and mounts a comeback, there are obvious parallels, starting with Agassi. (Note: Spieth is 27, Agassi’s pivot year as well.) Otherwise…Maybe Ana Ivanovic, who reached three majors in one year, won the 2008 French Open and then—get this—made only three quarters in her next 34 majors. Marat Safin, who won two majors but never became the transformative player imagined. I guess you could suggest Roddick, though he didn’t self-destruct or go through a real crisis; he simply had the misfortune of coinciding with Federer and Nadal.

Italy seem reluctant to waive quarantine so Rome tournament should be moved to France so players can be in bubble like Cincy and U.S. —@chippoc_y

• Funny, a week ago, there was speculation that Madrid would move to Rome. It’s an intriguing idea you raise. (Hey, if Cincinnati—city of seven hills—can move to New York, why can’t the original City of Seven Hills move to Paris.) Let’s, however, be clear about this: the term “bubble” has become voguish but it’s also become misused. World TeamTennis was not truly a bubble, not with players walking the grounds and eating in the restaurant alongside other guests. The U.S. Open is a gallant attempt, but isn’t a true bubble, especially as players will have come from “hot zones” and flown commercial. The French Open certainly is not planned as a bubble, not with fans in the stands and players staying at Paris’ finest hostelries.

On the latest Craig Shapiro Podcast (right up there with Beyond the Baseline in tennis gold), Tim Mayotte made a great point that I'd never heard—in his era, he got zero support from his countrymen. McEnroe and Connors were no one's mentors. Compare that to the way Nadal, Federer, Djokovic and Murray (apparently) support the players from their country. We're starting to see this more on the WTA side among American women and across tours in Canada. There are probably other examples that I'm not aware of. Do you think this owes more to the character of the individuals or to the increase in prize money that makes it easier to earn a great living at the top? —Megan

• Interesting question. I think there are a number of factors here.

1) Some of this is our evolved thinking about mentorship in general and its value.

2) Some of this is the example set by so many players…. and then paid forward. Andy Roddick, for instance, hosted player after young player at his home in Austin. Anyone benefitting from that would be inclined to do likewise. (Same for Agassi and Federer and the Czech women and so many others.)

3) I wonder if this isn’t yet another virtuous outgrowth of the extended careers. If McEnroe, to pick a name, did some mental accounting and said, “I have a few years to make my bones,” you can see why he wouldn’t spend it helping to cultivate a potential opponent. When you play deep into your 30s, it’s easy to see how you are more giving of your time, feel less threatened and have more maturity in general.

4) Yes, there’s probably some noblesse oblige, but there’s also a financial factor. Federer, for instance, can afford to fly players to his base and work with them, much as a champion boxer would sparring partners.

5) Overall, the culture of both tours has become so much more collegial.

Here are a couple of underrated tennis records I like: The doubles team of Martina Navratilova and Pam Shriver went two years (109 matches) without losing. The streak started in 1983 and ended in 1985. Remember Rainer Schüttler, who lost to Andre Agassi in the final of the 2003 Australian Open? He went 9 consecutive years (1995 to 2003) with a year-end ranking better than the one he had the year before. That shows a commitment to hard work and improvement over a long period of time. I wonder how many other players have done that. —Earl Strickler, Houston

• Those are great. I always like this trivia question: how many Hall of Fame players did Serena beat en route to winning her first major, the 1999 U.S. Open? Also, Chris Evert and Martina won every women’s major held, save one, from 1982-86.

Interestingly, [the USTA liability waiver] would arguably have precluded Genie Bouchard’s lawsuit as well. I am surprised they are only now coming around to the idea. —@stephenbirman

• Yes and no. Not all waivers are valid and enforceable. We’ve seen this in all kinds of contexts including sports. Waivers are certainly a hurdle a plaintiff would have to clear in order to win a liability judgment. But there are instances of gross negligence that would supersede a waiver. Here’s my occasional collaborator and former (it hurts to write that word) colleague Mike McCann weighing in v/v a COVID-19 context. Note this as well v.v COVID-19 waivers and Hollywood.

I heard you and Chanda on Tennis Channel talking about Camila Giorgi. Can you think of a player who has a wider gap between their physical size and their power? —Charles T.

• In a word, no. Giorgi is listed at 5’6”, 119 lbs. And she absolutely pounds the ball. Not only that: she has no other gear. She reminds me of the MMA fighter who simply throws bombs and has no interest in winning by any means other than knockout.

There are other fighters who are under-sized and overpowering. Alex Dolgopolov is 5’11” and 157 lbs. and plays heavyweight tennis. Philipp Kohlschreiber is 5’10” and often among the ATP ace leaders. But Giorgi is really in another La Liga here.

I am SO confused. Why is Nadal traveling to New York for this tournament and not playing the U.S. Open? Why go to New York at all if the primary reason not to play is the pandemic? —Lucy M.

• I’ve said this before, but this COVID-19 period has doubled as a great Tennis X-ray, everything covered with barium and laid bare. One of the many lessons: an entry list is not a “playing” list.

Jon, thank you for helping us stay connected to the sport we love during a time when we miss both the professional tours and our community of tennis mates. Because of its Q&A format, the Mailbag also functions as a sort of tennis community ("we" are not just happy to be reading an article someone has written, but participating in the writing), and we really appreciate that now.

Our question/comment this week has to do with the possible irony that players who were infected with COVID-19 through the Adria exhibitions might in some cases have a unique advantage. As players all over the world consider whether or not to travel, players who were infected might have reason to feel less vulnerable or invulnerable to infection. I realize they still have team members to think of, and also that being sick could have hurt their preparation and could even hurt their performance. (Grigor Dimitrov seems to have struggled to get well.)

Kudos to Frank M. for reminding us about "the wonderful Mohamed Lahyani" and his role in the longest match. —Sherrie and David, Ukiah, Calif.

• I appreciate that. And, yes, all hail Mo Lahyani—and that best-in-class bladder. And, yes as well, to your question. Some of the players impacted by the debacle that was * the Adria Tour are, of course, compromised and have no doubt done harm to their prospects. But others might have a perverse advantage. For one: there is the invulnerability to infection and comfort that comes with that. (At least in New York, people who have tested positive and recovered can go three months without another test.) I wonder if this doesn’t translate to a mental edge as well. I don’t need to devote as much psychic energy to COVID-19 when I know the odds of my getting it again are minuscule.

Anyone else wonder how Adria—which looks to be a mobile home brand—feels about this unfortunate association? Virtually every reference is preceded by a modifier on the order of: “irresponsible” or “ill-fated” or “catastrophic” or “super-spreading.”

• Andrew Miller, take us out:

Dear Mr. Wertheim,

Andrew Miller here (Maryland), a reader of your column. Thank you for continuing to plow through the Mailbag as we all become the equivalent of supply chain logisticians and corporate risk managers in our everyday lives.

I hope as a reader to continue to hear more about the material on the cutting room floor that rarely gets enough press. I have a sense of some of what we're all missing in this year of limited sports and everything, but it helps when sportswriters point it out to us. So much in this sport gets short shrift when the focus is the final box score of every tennis tournament—there are actual tournaments and players! I am reminded of this in re-runs of tournaments such as the Australian, where huge birds circle the courts and wildlife, rather than wildfire, sometimes takes center stage.

Thanks for your take on the U.S. Open and the asterisk. My sense is years from now few will pay attention to this, but players will have stories and hopefully less harrowing ones than what has stormed everyone's social media feed over the last half year. It shouldn't take away from the winners should the matches take place. It should also prove a test to play without crowds, which players are capable of doing but not necessarily at this kind of highest profile event! It will be memorable.

As to the players themselves and especially the big guys, I think you rescued a point earlier this year that given their legendary preparation this kind of surreal context of the pandemic and so much time on their own may help them—these players need no motivation if their names are Djokovic, Nadal, and Federer—they play for other reasons and rely on their legendary competitiveness to keep their desire red-hot. I don't think one of them will ever have settled for less than another shot at a big title if their bodies are willing. They often speak of tennis titles as if winning the slams are always within reach and it's always a pity only that they didn't make it further in one tournament or another. Their losses keep pushing them. I am sure they still have some big matches in them when given the opportunity. Given we're all in overtime in their careers as it is, all this talk of their slam chances strikes me as gravy as a tennis fan, even if to them it's another milestone that they somehow want more than their last trophy! Another testament to their legendary careers and competitiveness.

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