#mid city los angeles

[matthewgrantanson]

Thriving, Los Angeles -- June 11th, 2022

[damn-these-eyes]

pico/crenshaw

[retropopcult]

Walt Disney sits on a bench in his new theme park and stares down Main Street at ongoing construction, July 3, 1955.  Disneyland’s grand opening was only two weeks away.

[capoeirainmidcity]

Every week we meet in Mid City Los Angles for Capoeira Classes. This multi-cultural gathering is great for the body, the mind, and the soul. Capoeira is a Martial art that mixes dance, music, sparring and playfulness, all the while creating a heck of a workout. Sign-up to get info on your first FREE class

[teapartyprincess4two]

your writing is sooo good! i NEED a johnnie smut omg please write one💞

Monster- J. Guilbert

pairing: Extrovert!reader x Shy!Johnnie

classification: SMUT w/ a plot

inspiration: request^^, Monster by Lady Gaga

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of y/n, dom!Johnnie (kinda), “slut,” alcohol use, slight cursing, Jake and Tara are dating in this

summary: Tara plays matchmaker, earning Johnnie the night of his life with you in a bar restroom.

—

Johnnie’s been watching you all night, but he’s waiting for the alcohol to settle into his bloodstream before he finally walks up to you. You sit at the bar in a black, backless dress that allows a few of your tattoos to peak through. Bouncy curls are swept onto your shoulder, framing one side of your face as you chat with the bartender.

“Gonna keep staring or are you finally gonna make a move?” Jake nudges Johnnie’s shoulder.

Nights out like this are common for the pair, especially when living a fast paced life in the city of Los Angeles. When they’re not filming or editing, they’re usually out getting drunk, and they’ve managed to creat regular rotation of bars.

Today they find themselves at the Magic 8 Ball, the least crowded bar in L.A on a Friday night. No matter what unfamiliar faces that fill this place, though, yours is always constant. Every Friday, without fail, you saunter in and take a seat at the bar.

Johnnie can tell, just from watching you, that you’re an extrovert. You never seem to stay at the bar, you always wander onto the dance floor and lure a random stranger in for a quick bop around the room.

That’s what intimidates him, because as an introvert he’s not sure he’ll be able to keep up.

“I’m not staring,” Johnnie quips quickly, taking a swig of whatever alcoholic mixture swirls in his glass. He hisses as the liquid goes down.

If it were just Jake and Johnnie, the conversation would’ve died there. But tonight Tara joined them and she isn’t so adamant on letting the topic go.

“You should invite her to sit with us! You never know what could happen,” she prods teasing fingers into Johnnie’s sides, “plus she looks nice! I need a girlfriend to hang out with!”

“Johnnie needs a girlfriend, Tara. Not you,” Jake jokes. Johnnie rolls is eyes, scooting away from Tara as her fingers continue digging into his sides.

“I’ve had a girlfriend,” Johnnie replies, eyes darting back to where you sit at the bar.

“Yeah, had,” Jake says.

“It’s just hard to—“

“ALRIGHT! Enough!” Tara interrupts Johnnie mid sentence, slamming her hands onto the table as she stands up. “If you won’t make a move, I will,” she says, shimmying out of the booth.

Johnnie’s eyes are blown open in shock. He tries grabbing Tara before she can get too far, but she’s small and sneaky.

“That’s one way to do it,” Jake laughs, watching in amusement as his girlfriend does what his best friend doesn’t have the balls to do.

Johnnie, on the other hand, watches in horror.

There you are, sipping on your drink and chatting with the bartender, blissfully unaware of Tara’s approaching figure.

Tara sits at the bar, taking the seat directly next to yours. She interrupts your conversation with the bartender to order two drinks, one for you and one for her, before swiftly turning her attention to you with a warm smile.

Johnnie can’t bear to watch, but he also can’t look away.

You seem to like Tara, because you’re quick to engage in conversation with her. In the matter of seconds Tara has managed to learn your name, your favorite drink, and even your favorite song (it’s the one that plays over the club speakers).

“Oh God they’re coming,” Johnnie whisper shouts, trying to look casual. Tara’s arm is looped with yours as she leads you to their table, an accomplished look painting her face.

“What the fuck do I do? What the fuck do I do?! Fuck!”

“Just act casual. Don’t be weird— Oh fuck! Just shut up!” for some reason Jake finds himself just as nervous as Johnnie. Maybe he was just being empathetic, but they both scramble to get themselves together.

“Don’t be weird? What the fuck does that—”

Johnnie can’t seem to catch a break, because as soon as Tara reaches the booth she’s interrupting him. “Guys. This is Y/n, my new friend,” she gestures towards you, “Y/n, this is my boyfriend Jake and this is our friend Johnnie.”

The moment Tara says your name it’s engraved in Johnnie’s mind. He’s already in love.

Your smile is so big it could light up the room. You extend a hand to the two, immediately introducing yourself and falling into the booth next to Johnnie.

His heart is pounding and his ears are red hot with embarrassment.

“Well, while you two get acquainted, Jake and I are gonna go get drunk,” Tara says, pulling Jake out of the booth before he can get any more comfortable than he already is. She shoots Johnnie a wink before sending you a small wave, leading a confused Jake into the crowd of people.

“She’s nice. I like her,” you comment, watching until the couple disappears. “She’s… something,” Johnnie coughs, he’s so unbelievably awkward.

You chuckle, mostly because you think he’s cute and you find his fiddly personality amusing.

“Johnnie, huh? I had a friend named Johnnie once,” you say, attempting to make conversation. Your manicured nails tap against you glass cup, silver hoop earrings reflecting the strobing lights as you try catching his gaze.

“Bet he didn’t look like this though,” Johnnie replies, clearly referring to his all black attire.

“Hmmm, no. He definitely didn’t,” you giggle. You take a sip from your drink, a lipstick stain remaining once you place the cup back onto the table. Johnnie wonders what it’d feel like to kiss you.

“You’re much cuter,” you continue. Johnnie can’t tell if he’s dreaming, were you actually flirting with him?

Maybe it’s the surge of confidence your compliment gives him, or maybe the alcohol finally kicked in, but Johnnie suddenly finds himself being flirtatious.

“So do you flirt with all the Johnnies you know?”

He’s surprised at how fast you quip back, “Nope. Just the cute ones.”

You’ve subconsciously leaned closer to him, your faces dangerously close.

“Okay, so we’ve established that I’m cute,” he smirks. “What else am I?”

You giggle, a sound that Johnnie swears he can listen to for forever.

“Well clearly you’re not shy anymore,” your finger traces the rim of your drink. A drunk smile and sultry eyes lure him in, pulling him close enough for his lip rings to press against your skin.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmurs, a wandering hand finding your thigh. You shiver at the sensation. His fingers were ice cold, but they still managed to ignite a fire deep within your core.

“Like this?” you tease, batting your eyelashes.

You never made it a habit of sleeping with strangers, but Johnnie was the sheep in wolves clothing that played innocent until you were close enough to bite.

“I warned you,” his breath fans against your lips one last time before he’s capturing your lips in a heated kiss. It’s the first kiss Johnnie’s had in years which makes it that much more exciting.

Your plump lips chase his as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. The club is loud, but you’re so immersed in the man in front of you that you forget you’re not the only two people in the room and lose all control.

Johnnie’s hands find your waist, tugging until you’re straddling his lap. He pulls away breathlessly, silently thanking Tara for working her magic once he sees you on top of him.

Your dress rides up slightly, revealing more of your backside than you’d like. The sight earns you a few whistles from bystanders, breaking you from your lustful daze. “Oh shit,” you squeak, trying to scramble off of Johnnie, but his grip is firm enough to keep you in place.

An animalistic, monster-like need has overtaken him and he’s willing to sacrifice his self image to fuck you in front of all these strangers. But he simultaneously doesn’t want anyone else to see you, to enjoy you, the way he’s about to.

“Restroom. Now,” he growls, pinching the soft skin of your ass. You squeal in excitement, allowing the desires of your flesh to cloud your judgement as you hop off of him and wiggle your way out of the booth. You adjust your dress as you wait for Johnnie to follow before taking his hand in yours and leading him towards the restroom. He makes a mental note to let this be the only time you lead him tonight.

Everyone’s watching, yet you can’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. If anything it excites you more.

You find the restroom quickly, a wave of gratitude washing over you when you realize it’s a single stall. This means you can be as loud as you want, and from the look in Johnnie’s eyes, you can tell you’ll also need the extra room.

He’s quick to lock the door and immediately engulfs your face in his hands, bringing you in for the second heated kiss of the night. Johnnie’s eager and it shows in the way he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip.

His left hand remains on your face while the other travels down to your ass, squeezing firmly against the material of your dress. A moan escapes your lips, providing him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes surprisingly sweet, like pomegranate and pineapple.

He leads you to the sink counter, your bodies bouncing back slightly when they hit the cold marble. “Up,” he commands.

You hop onto the counter, giving him enough room to fit between your legs. Johnnie’s erection presses against your inner thigh, but he gives you no time to comment on it before his lips are back on yours.

Johnnie’s hand’s find your boobs, massaging your mounds slowly as he deepens the kiss. “More,” you murmur against the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer to you. He smirks against your mouth at your neediness.

“So needy.” He pulls your head back, providing him with perfect access to your neck. Sloppy, open mouth kisses trail from your jawline down to your exposed collarbone. Each one gives you goosebumps.

“Fuck me please,” you whimper, feeling your panties become more soaked by the second. “So polite,” he teases, sucking on your skin until it bruises.

The rough material of his jeans comes in contact with your clothed pussy. He dry humps you just to hear the strained moans that escape your lips.

Finally, when you rut back, he decides he’s teased you enough. Your dress is bunched up around your waist, exposing the wet underwear that he pushes to the side.

“So fucking sexy,” he grunts, kneeling in front of you to get a better view. He’s in love. What he wants to do is eat you out, but there’s no time for that in a club as crowded as this. Especially not when there’s only one restroom.

You watch in awe as he presses a quick kiss on your bundle of nerves, immediately licking his lips right after. “Yummy,” he chuckles, bringing you in for another hungry kiss.

Your hands find his belt, unbuckling it with fervor and tugging at his belt loop to bring him back in to you. He gets the message and helps you in unbuttoning his skin-tight jeans. Your forehead is flush against his as you watch his dick spring up, it bobs back and forth as you take in the sheer size.

“Holy fuck,” your voice is full of exasperation. How was that meant to fit inside of you?

Maybe it’s because he hasn’t done this in a long time, but Johnnie suddenly feels self conscious. He hides his face in your neck before you can notice how red it becomes, but you’re quick to push his shoulders back.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. Where’d that monster go?” you place a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. His dick twitches and cries precum at the reassurance.

He pulls you back in for a kiss, feeling confident once again. He lines himself up tentatively with your entrance, rubbing the tip along your folds before slowly pushing himself in.

Your eyes are screwed shut, small tears forming at the corners as you struggle to adjust to the stretch. “Fuck Johnnie, wait,” you say, pushing against his stomach slightly. Suddenly you’re not sure you want him to fuck you dumb, his size alone was enough to have you seeing stars.

Your words fall on deaf ears, though, and before you know it he’s pushed himself all the way in. You gasp, throwing your head back against the bathroom mirror. Your pussy clenches around him as you try to hold him in place knowing the longer you keep him there, the more time you’ll have to adjust.

It’s no use though, because he begins thrusting into you at a relentless, unforgiving pace. The pain is quickly replaced with pleasure, the tip of his penis kissing your cervix every time his hips slam into yours.

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he grunts, strong hands gripping your waist so he can fuck into you even faster. You whimper at the sensation, his fingers were sure to leave bruises.

“Just like that, Johnnie. So good,” you egg him on, holding onto his neck for support. He hasn’t slowed his pace, instead moving one hand from your hips down to your throbbing clit.

Your legs instinctively push together, but his body moves them back into their previous position as he continues. “Such a slut,” he purrs, watching the euphoric look that paints your face when he rubs his thumb against your sensitive nub.

“Yes! Such a slut,” you’re drunk on dick, babbling whatever will get you closer to your pending release.

“My slut?” he asks, using the hand that was previously gripping your waist to take a firm hold of your face. Your eyes lock with his, taking notice of the way lust clouds his pupils. “All yours,” you whisper.

He smirks, leaning down to kiss you. Your tongues collide in a heated mixture of moans and whimpers. All the while he continues pounding into you and rubbing circles on your clit.

One particularly hard thrust has you dumb, a string of curse words and chants of his name being the only thing you can manage to say. “C’mon baby, c’mon,” he growls, sloppily kissing you as he feels his climax approaching.

“Johnnie!”

Your walls flutter around him, your entire body trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

Your hair falls in front of your face and you find yourself holding Johnnie’s wrist, pushing his hand away as it continues working on your clit. “Almost there,” he moans, pulling his hand away to focus his attention on fucking you.

You’re sensitive. You’re whimpering. You’re so fucked out that it’s overstimulating.

“Cum for me, handsome,” you moan, still coming down from your own high. He continues rutting his hips into you, chasing his release until finally it washes over him.

Hot spurts of cum paint your insides, lazy hips rolling against you. He’s panting from above you, hands falling from your body and latching onto the counter for support.

“Fuck that was… that was amazing,” Johnnie says, pulling out of you reluctantly.

He knows the sooner he pulls out and you two get dressed, the quicker you’ll become strangers. And that’s terrifying.

“You were amazing,” you reply, using your finger to pull his pensive gaze back towards you by his chin.

“Don’t tell me it’s a one and done,” you pout, “I was hoping to have more moments like that.”

Johnnie still stands between your legs, his limp dick resting on your exposed thighs. He lights up at your suggestion. His hands have opted for a much softer hold on your hips, thumbs massaging your skin. He knows he was rough, but he couldn’t help it.

“I mean— I’d like to— we could— fuck I’m so bad at this,” he stutters, suddenly reverting back to his natural, awkward state.

“You’re cute,” you giggle, pecking his nose and hopping off the counter. His ears flush red again.

“How about we get cleaned up and then we’ll worry about the rest later, yeah?”

“Yeah,” a big goofy smile adorns his face. His rosy cheeks make you wanna pinch him and gush over how cute he looks.

“Weren’t you just fucking my brains out a second ago?” you tease, only making him more flustered.

“I’m shy, I can’t help it.”

“Not that shy apparently,” you pull him in for one more kiss.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: Tara the goat, the best wingwoman ever!

I locked in. Thank you for ur kind words bby, I LUV U!

Enjoy 🎱😜 - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @aurizp @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @certifiednatelover @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @mimi-luvzyu

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[fluentmoviequoter]

Popstar Protection Program

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x singer!fem!reader

Summary: As a young popstar performing in LA for the first time, you don't expect to need police protection. A very reluctant and grumpy sergeant keeps you safe and gives you inspiration.

Warnings: brief angst, fluff, vague mention of heavier topics (nothing specific)

Word Count: 2.8k+ words

Picture from Pinterest (from such a good episode, too)

Los Angeles can be scary. The aerial shots in movies and TV shows make it look inviting, and the focus on the glamorous aspects tends to hide the dangerous underbelly of the City of Angels. Even scarier, you think, is walking through Los Angeles when a large percentage of the population knows your name.

When you started singing, you never expected to become a “star” or be on the covers of magazines, and you absolutely never thought you’d be playing a sold-out show in Staples Center. While you should be focused on practicing and ensuring the show goes well, you can’t think of anything else except the incident in the airport when you landed.

✯✯ 2 Hours Ago ✯✯

Getting off the plane in LAX, you first notice the lack of fresh air. After playing on the East Coast and opening in smaller venues in towns on the other side of the country, you expected this to be similar. Los Angeles is nothing like Charlotte, Boston, or even Nashville. Taking a deep breath, you grow excited to see Staples Center and all the other sights of Los Angeles.

But you don’t even exit the airport before your hopes and plans are shattered. A large crowd of paparazzi are blocking the area outside your gate. You try to navigate through them with your head down, but one of them knocks his camera into your arm, tilting you off balance and making pain radiate down to your wrist.

“Alright, back up! LAPD, move back!” somebody yells on the other side of the crowd.

Slowly, you notice that no one is pressing up against you now, and when you see a man in a police uniform, you release a shaky sigh.

“Thank you,” you say.

He says your name, glancing over your shoulder. “Where’s your protection detail?”

“My what?”

“Oh boy. I think you should probably come with me; there’s some people that can keep this from happening again.”

“Why- why did it happen?”

“Paparazzi are practically vultures. They get paid by the picture to take advantage of people, invade their personal lives, and the closer the better. My guess would be one of the smaller papers or magazines heard you were coming and wanted to get a feature out before your show.”

“So, where are we going?”

“LAPD. Mid-Wilshire station is your best bet to get good cops and stay far enough from the center to avoid the cameras that seem to live there.”

“And then what?”

✯✯ Present ✯✯

“Absolutely not!”

Sitting outside an office with glass walls, you try not to look over as you eavesdrop. Your arm has been iced and wrapped, but the pain is now the least of your concerns. Three groups of officers entered the room after the cop who saved you explained the situation to the watch commander. At least one of them seems opposed to being your protection detail for a few days.

“We’re cops, not bodyguards! There are dozens of places in this city that cater to people like her!”

“Um, excuse me,” you interject, knocking on the open door. “I’m sorry to have caused all the upset, but I will find another way. Thanks for your time.”

Sergeant Grey says your name, gesturing for you to stay. “We’re going to take care of you. It’s your first time performing here and after your less-than-ideal welcome, you deserve someone to show you that LA isn’t all bad.”

“It’s not all good either though,” one of the officers adds.

“I don’t…” you begin.

“Why does this require three teams?” Bradford asks. You recognize his voice as the one that was wholly against the idea a moment ago.

“Bradford, this is your assignment. If you have a problem with it, take it up with IA,” Grey answers.

Bradford’s jaw clenches harshly, and his eyes flit to you before shaking his head and looking away.

“This is your protection team until after your show,” Grey explains, “Harper and Thorsen, Nolan and Juarez, Chen, and Bradford works with Metro so he knows this city inside and out.”

You nod along with the names, and a few of them offer their first names as well. After introducing yourself to the five officers who seem to care, you’re directed to an unmarked SUV.

“Aaron and I will be your mobile detail. You don’t go anywhere unless we take you there. Nolan and Juarez are more peripheral, unseen, protection. Lucy will stay with you as close to 24/7 as possible, and Bradford- well, Bradford’s here,” Nyla explains.

Chuckling, you thank her for the clear explanation and climb into the passenger seat after Aaron opens the door for you.

“I love your music, by the way,” he whispers.

“Thank you. I really appreciate that, and all that you’re doing for me,” you reply.

Aaron nods, closing the door and climbing into the backseat behind you. Your hotel reservation has been changed, booked under someone else’s name, and located farther from Staples Center. Watching the streets of Los Angeles from a police car window is, at the least, safer than the alternative, but it’s certainly nothing special.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Any idea as to why Bradford hates me without meeting me?” you ask Lucy.

“Tim is grumpy. He’s protective and loyal but he’s- he’s like a dog that wasn’t socialized enough as a puppy. Vicious until he gets to know you and then he’s the best friend you could ever ask for,” she answers, holding up one of your dresses.

“You’d look great in that color,” you muse. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Bradford wants to get to know me.”

“You think so? About the color? Because I need a new dress,” she replies.

“Take that one. Get it altered or just use the fabric, whatever you want.”

“Thank you!” As she hugs you, she lowers her voice to add, “You’re also young and beautiful and famous… Tim doesn’t always deal well with people who are different than him.”

You nod, but you don’t believe her. You’ll only be with Tim Bradford for a few days anyway. It shouldn’t bother you… but it does.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’re changing things around,” Nyla announces as she enters your room. “Lobby’s swarming with paps, but there’s also a crowd of men screaming your name.”

“So, what are you doing?” you ask.

“Bradford is taking point. He’s got some big plan that, and I quote, ‘no will catch on to.’ I won’t repeat the rest of it for your sake, though.”

“Grey is making him do it?” you guess.

Nyla hums, neither a yes nor no, but you know the answer. When he barges in a moment later, you stop talking, preferring not to give him another reason to hate you.

“Get your stuff, we’re leaving,” he demands.

You nod, walking into the suite's bedroom to gather your things. Part of you wants to know what Nyla and Bradford will say behind your back, but you’re also terrified that Nyla is just better about hiding her true feelings.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What is your problem?” Aaron demands. “She’s in danger and you’re not helping any!”

“This isn’t the job I signed up for. I am a Metro Sergeant but I’m stuck on- on princess protection duty! She’s just a kid who sings,” Tim answers.

“It’s about her age then,” Nyla repeats.

“No! Well, yes, but she- what makes her special enough for a team like this? Why does she get a real protection detail?”

“Tim,” Lucy says quietly. “Have you listened to her music?”

“Why would I?”

“Her specific genre, what she sings about has made a lot of people angry,” Aaron explains. “Those paparazzi weren’t there for a ‘Taylor Swift is in LA’; they were looking for a much bigger story.”

“Spit it out, Thorsen.”

“Plenty of people have reason to try to kill her.”

Tim falls silent, looking at Nyla. She tilts her head in a ‘we can’t prove it but it’s probably true’ gesture. He looks back toward the bedroom.

“Look, I’m doing my job. I’ll be civil and that is it,” Tim concedes.

“That’s all we’re asking,” Lucy replies. “We’ll be in the neighborhood. Nothing can happen to her with our protection, right?”

“Right,” Aaron and Nyla answer, looking at Tim.

“Right. Because it is our job, nothing more.”

You come out with your single suitcase, waiting until Tim takes it from you to speak. Thanking him softly, you listen to his quick explanation that you’ll be staying with him rather than Lucy, and the rest of the team will be patrolling nearby in case of an emergency.

“You’ll be fine,” Lucy promises. “And thank you again for the dress. I can’t imagine how much that cost and I can’t thank you enough.”

Tim’s brows furrow, but he doesn’t ask any questions. Wondering why someone in your position would be willing to give away an expensive dress days before a concert confuses him. Tim reminds himself that he can’t start caring.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim’s house is incredibly comfortable. You can tell that he doesn’t want you here, and when he disappears into a back room with his phone and earbuds, you assume it’s his way of getting as much space as he can. Pulling your songwriting journal from your bag, you start writing, disappearing into the emotions and the story you want to share. Time falls away when you’re writing, and you don’t hear Tim reemerge or walk to the doorway before you.

Tim clears his throat, and you look up from your place on the floor. You look small and as young as you are, sitting on the carpet and leaning against the bed with a journal in your lap. Tim has something to say but nearly forgets what it is when you look up at him through your lashes.

“I will admit that I judged you prematurely, and I’m sorry,” he begins.

“It’s okay,” you offer.

“No, just, let me finish. Please?” You nod, and Tim continues, “I thought you were just an entitled kid who found a way to convince the cop from the airport that you needed special attention. Craved it, whatever. And you’re just, you’re young and famous and that confuses me. I don’t know what life is like for you, I can’t relate to any part of that fame.”

“I can’t relate to your life either, but I didn’t shut you out because of that,” you whisper.

Tim licks his lips before speaking again. “I’m sorry. Aaron told me that you sing about- that you- uh-“

“Write songs for people who will never relate to the love songs or the ‘thank God for my parents’… who will never relate to a song on the Billboard 100 or feel protected by a song? Yeah.”

“And I diminished that. I listened to your last album-“

“That’s what you were doing back there?”

“Don’t- don’t laugh at me,” Tim replies, finally smiling. “It was really good. And I truly am sorry.”

“Consider it forgotten.”

You raise your hand, and Tim chuckles as he shakes it. He sees the nearly full page of your notebook and leans down. You slam it closed, and he shakes his head at your sudden movement.

“They’re private until they’re available on iTunes and all major streaming platforms.”

“Got it,” he replies, mock-saluting. “And, just so you know, I needed songs like this as a kid. Still do, so thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Throughout the next 48 hours, Tim ebbs and flows. One moment, he’ll talk to you for an hour straight, but by that afternoon, he won’t even look in your direction. It’s dizzying, and you don’t realize how much you’re thinking about it, about him, until you reach the last page of your notebook.

“Ready for the show?” Lucy asks, dressed in an event security uniform.

Shrugging, you run your finger over the edge of your journal.

“Songs?”

Lucy sits beside you, offering a hand. You lay your hand over hers, taking a deep breath.

“I thought I was making progress with Tim. He apologized and he was being nice to me and then it all stopped. Like we backslid. And, for some reason, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Sounds like you don’t want to,” Lucy says softly. “Maybe you should talk to him.”

“I can’t.”

“Then maybe you should sing to him.”

Laughing, you argue, “That would be even worse.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim is humming while he and Aaron stand outside your dressing room door. 

“You listened to her music,” Aaron accuses, placing the song.

“Yeah. Even apologized,” Tim answers.

“You haven’t talked to her at all today. Did something- oh my- did you kiss her?”

“What? No, I didn’t kiss her, and keep your voice down! I had to pull back.”

“Why?”

Tim doesn’t answer but glances over his shoulder to your door.

“You like her.”

“No- maybe.”

“You need to tell her. We don’t know when or if she’s leaving.”

“That’s why I can’t tell her. If she’s leaving tomorrow there is no point, and if she doesn’t know, telling her could influence her decision.”

“What about the effects of not telling her?”

✯✯✯✯✯

You open the door suddenly, and Tim and Aaron turn toward you quickly.

“Whoa!” Aaron exclaims.

“You look beautiful,” Tim says, sending you a small smile.

“Thank you. All of you, for everything these last few days.”

“Break a leg,” Lucy says, waving as you walk toward the stage entrance.

“Everybody in position? This job isn’t over yet,” Tim radios.

✯✯✯✯✯

You notice Tim standing in the wings during your second song. As if your energy has been zapped from you, you fight not to collapse. Tim’s eyes narrow as he watches you.

“Instrumental,” you tell your bassist, who communicates it to the rest of the band.

Rushing toward Tim, his eyes search your face. His hands raise to your sides as he waits for you to speak.

“I-“ you stop, turning off your microphone. “I thought something was happening.”

“When?”

“No. Between us. I thought maybe there could be something there but then you stopped talking to me. What happened?”

“You’re supposed to be singing right now.”

“I have a journal full of songs about you, Tim!” you exclaim. “I can’t come out here and sing without knowing if those ideas have a chance of coming to life!”

“You wrote songs about me?”

“Tim,” you beg. “Just answer the question.”

“Nothing happened. We’re too different and I didn’t want to push too hard.”

“Who gets to decide if we’re too different? Because I disagree.”

“Don’t tell me you have a song about it, I’ve heard that one.”

You sigh, beginning to accept that Tim is skirting around a rejection.

“You can do better,” Tim says quietly. “No point in me showing you how I feel when you could have any man you wanted.”

“I don’t want any other man!” you yell over the music.

Tim’s eyes widen, and his hand leaps to your waist to your mic pack, turning it off and tugging your microphone down.

“Thorsen, your badge is mine,” he grumbles.

Tossing the microphone onto a nearby chair, Tim raises his hands to cup your face.

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve been sure since you said you didn’t want to deal with me.”

“That’s- I don’t think I put it like that.”

“No, you said you were a cop not a bodyguard. But I think you’re a pretty good bodyguard too.”

“I tried not to,” Tim admits. “Tried not to feel this way, I mean. But every time I see you, it’s like I see another part of you. You’re beautiful, and your music is beautiful, and I’m sorry for pushing you away and being-“

“Worthy of a breakup song?”

Tim sighs, leaning toward you. “You need to finish your concert.”

“Promise to be here when I’m done?”

“I promise.”

You grab your microphone, hooking it on quickly before waving at Tim and returning to the stage.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Aaron,” Tim radios, “Did you turn her mic back on?”

“Those things are tricky,” Aaron replies.

“Then maybe you should go talk to the tech department and stay out of my sight.”

“Yes, sir.”

✯✯✯✯✯

The lights dim, and as the crowd applauds, you run to Tim, crashing into him as you hug him tightly. His arms wrap around your waist, smiling as he congratulates you for your first sold-out show.

“You’ll come to the next one?” you ask.

“Only if you sing one of those songs you wrote about me.”

“I’ll sing them all. Even if you’re the only one in the audience.”

Tim cups your cheek, pressing his palm against your cheek as he pulls you in. His kiss is the opposite of earlier; a look that sucked the energy from you has become a kiss that breathes life and love into your very being. You pull back before leaning against Tim and can’t hear anything except your shared heartbeat.

“I think they’re calling for you,” Tim whispers.

The muddled yells of “Encore! Encore!” greet you, but you’re warm and happy in Tim’s arms.

“I don’t want you in my audience,” you correct. “I want you at my side.”

“Then I should be easy to find. Knock ‘em dead. Again.”

Tim kisses you again, and you credit that as the reason your encore was better than your performance (LA Times’ words, not yours).

[utilitycaster]

look, I know polls are silly and fun and so I want you to understand writing this rant is silly and fun for me but EMON? Emon is the Critical Role Entry for Most Place of All Time? I must call bullshit. And so:

Friends, fellow critters, and people who have me blocked but hate read my blog each morning over breakfast: Emon is not even the Most Place on the Material Plane. It is not even the Most Place in Tal'Dorei. Hell, it's not even the Most Place on the fucking Bladeshimmer Shoreline, which includes a destroyed city now overtaken by bandits, and a cave system that hosts both a rift to the Far Realm and a different rock than residuum that can make a different magical drug than suude. Emon is if you took the aggressively mid vibes of Washington, DC and transplanted them to the inconvenient location and city of refuge for flaky people who avoid gluten for non-medical reasons of Los Angeles. The second Percival Frederickstein von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III invents the motorcar that sumbitch is going to have traffic bad enough to summon Tharizdun. Also there's a literal pit of fire that's been burning for 30 years that both hasn't been adequately addressed but also doesn't really seem that interesting. Like oh a bunch of dragons destroyed your city? Big deal. Draconia got so fucked up it doesn't exist anymore, and at least Westruun has some fucking charm. At least Pike and Grog actually lived there, whereas Vox Machina got a house in Emon and proceeded to spend their time literally anywhere else.

Here is a brief list of places on the planet of Exandria in the Material Plane - not even across Critical Role's main campaigns/EXU, which includes such non-Exandrian places as "living city of people who mind-melded and escaped to the Astral Sea during a century-plus-long war of the gods"; "Ligament Manor"; "Ryn's groovy pied-a-feu, man I wonder what made the scorch marks on that furniture, anyway", and "THE MOON THAT IS ACTUALLY AN PRISON FOR A THING THAT EATS GODS AND IS POSSIBLY HATCHING" - that are more of a place than Emon:

Jrusar: 5 spires no waiting, sweet cable car system, city almost entirely destabilized by goo creatures as part of an overly complicated plot to blow up the aforementioned moon

Bassuras: (literally "garbagetown") Run by Mad Max gangs and everyone is cool with it; regular sandstorms; one of those gangs apparently sits atop a hive mind and NO ONE has examined this (except for them)?)

Whitestone: has a tree planted by one god over a buried temple to another god that was corrupted in the name of a third, shittier god; overrun by zombies but it's fine now; streetlights and two bears that are allowed to do whatever the fuck they want.

Yios: The canal system of Venice meets the colleges per capita of Boston meets the orcs from your fantasies, also there's some kind of kitchen-based organized crime ring so intricate it could be its own campaign (so, also like Boston).

Vasselheim: literally no one understands what the fuck its government system is. Old as balls. Temples everywhere! Temples full of trees. Temples full of blood! Temples full of an old guy who will kick your ass. A sphinx that regulates the monster hunter mini-game. Presumably the giant titan full of the ancient cannibal dwarf city is like, still there, as a new fixture, since I don't see how they're moving that.

The arctic: where teleportation doesn't work, there's a river of lava in the middle of the snow, ancient ruins full of snow globes full of actual people, and the Chaos Bisexual Emerald - and that's just a smattering of what Eiselcross has to offer.

Since this is about space and not time we can toss Aeor and Avalir too, since they once were places, and while we're at it whatever the fuck is going on with the Shattered Teeth and its permanent fog cloud and fish dream cult and capitalist shipwrecked merchants.

And, of course, any arbitrary square millimeter of Wildemount, frankly, has more Mostness than the entirety of Emon could muster under absolutely ideal conditions. But for the sake of one place per region, let's hand it to Rosohna (city of eternal night for practical purposes, built over the Evil God Headquarters); Uthodurn (underground! Giant goats! Elves and dwarves, living together, mass hysteria!); Hupperdook (steampunk gnome party city); Nicodranas (Fjord, Jester, Veth, Marion, and Yussa literally all live there at once; plumbing used to be courtesy of an imprisoned marid...but watch out); and Blightshore (Blightshore).

In conclusion: Emon is boring, nominating it was a mistake, there are literally sealed gods in other parts of the world and also way better taverns, good night, and what the fuck.

[cryptotheism]

I’ve been doing some of my own research particularly on the formation of the new age religions. One name I see come up a lot, especially in relation to high control groups, is Edgar Cayce. Do you know much about him, his beliefs, and his followers? I would understand if he’s kind of outside your wheelhouse but I figured it’s worth asking, who else would even have a chance to know what this stuff is.

Cayce is an early to mid 20th century clairvoyant and spiritualist who is interesting because of how inoffensive and boring he is.

He managed to thread the needle of "out there enough to be interesting" but also "not so weird it rots your brain." He's espoused Atlantis beliefs, and some oddball race essentialism, but compared to his contemporaries, he's downright white bread.

He was notably pretty careful about how he presented things like his claims of clairvoyance, often sticking to claims like "I believe" or "I feel" to avoid getting semantic trapped. Or sued.

Honestly his most outlandish beliefs are stuff like "crystals contain magical energy" and "there is an afterlife" and "I can talk to ghosts Sometimes". Which are all beliefs you can find on the average Los Angeles city bus.

He was still a spiritualist grifter, but compared to the average televangelist he's almost cute.

[atvace]

Lady Dior and the Seven Dilfs

Chapter 9: Arrive and Ride

Masterlist

Warning: sex

The sound of the plane landing finally becomes music to everyone's ear. the ass of the plane opens up revealing a few cars and new people you're not familiar with. Let's talk about you, who wouldn't be in shock after getting edged by your lieutenant's knee? yes, that's it. that is the reason why you've been SLIGHTLY quiet for the rest of the ride. But a girl had to be honest, you want more than that.

Soap and Ghost walked towards an athletic man and greeted each other, "Alejandro!" He smiled, "Sergeant Mactavish." The guy looked like in his mid-30s, had a Mexican accent. from afar, You could see he has a wide forehead, a perfectly balanced sharp nose, keen sharp eyes with perfect jawline. his shoulders are broad. he had those compression shirts beneath his vest which made you melt staring at his bicep is well seen. his haircut, God his haircut is perfectly aligned with the shape of his head. you wanna ride-

"Dior!" Soap's calling dragged your senses out of the daydream. You shyly reveal yourself to the sun and walk towards the others. Alejandro has his eyes locked on your figure as you walk by. "This is Dior, a new re-" "Assigned FBI." You smiled at Alejandro and lent out your hand. "Ay, ¹Dios Mio. Nice to meet you, ²cielita." He locks eye contact with you, softly accepting your hand kissing your knuckle like a gentleman. "I am pleasured too, ³señor." You smiled at him.

You deducted him deeper in up close. you could smell his bergamot musky scent, his eyes is brown but turns amber when hit by sunlight. His hair is neatly combed and his hands are veiny. you wonder how they feel when it's playing your cli-

Alejandro chuckles and lets go of your hand slowly before looking over to Ghost. "Lieutenant! Laswell says they call you Ghost."

Soap pointed his thumb to Ghost and laughed, "Actually, I think he prefers to be called-" "That'll do." Ghost cuts Soap off. which made you raised your eyebrow. Huh, you do in fact had any no idea about Ghost's whereabouts except him being british, tea person, ginger biscuit and all.

He gestured the three of you to follow him. "Welcome to City of Souls." He exposes his cheeky smile while walking towards his truck. Soap looked around at the military activity thats going on around them, "I've never been to Mexico." Alejandro raises his eyebrow at his remarks.

"This isn't Mexico, this is Las Almas." He raises his hand showing a few green hills from the distance. "Shepherd's contractors are inbound to reinforce. They're bringing hardware. It'll need a room." Ghost looked over Alejandro. "Relajar Hermano, my base is your base." The Mexican man stops in front of his car.

"Good, now Where can we know anything about the missile?" Ghost asked again. "Cartel safe house. We'll talk about that in my base, hermano." He opened the door and lent his hand to you. "Ladies first, please." He smiles at you softly. "⁴Gracias, el señor." You blow a kiss to him as you enter the car.

Soap got around the car and entered by your left side as Ghost on your right side. there was a driver already inside whilst Alejandro giving orders before entering the shotgun of the car. The air in Las Almas was a little less polluted than in Los Angeles back in your FBI days. you had no trouble settling in the environment hence you're quite used to it.

"This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra," He looks at the three of you from the rear mirror. "Ola, señor." You cooed and Rodolfo smiled at you. "⁵tengo miedo de los fantasmas" Rodolfo said quickly shifting his gaze to Ale.

You snorted to yourself and felt Soap and Ghost's eyes on you, "Ah, 'm sorry." you rubbed your eye. Alejandro pursed his lips and looked back at Soap, "You know Spanish?"

"Uhh, no." "No." Soap and Ghost answered. "Well, a green bird taught me how to form a word or two." You shrugged. He laughs softly and puts on his seatbelt, "You'll manage." And by that, Rodolfo pulls up to the destination.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You were enjoying watching the scenery that extends in the mirror of the car watching small shops, flower shops, little cafes, and restaurants that you passed by. but eventually, you got a little tired of keeping your head to yourself trying not to lean to either of the men by your side.

Soap notices your little gesture of uncomfiness and slides his rifle to the other side of his legs so it won't bug you, "You can lay your head on my shoulder if your neck is sore, Dior." He softly said to you. Ghost bit the inside of his cheek while side-eyeing the two of you.

"Oh, no no no. the cielita can use this." Alejandro opens and rummages the inside of his car dashboard quickly. You tilt your head in curiosity and perk up when he reveals a pink Hello Kitty neck pillow. Your heart instantly melts and you reach it from his hand.

"Alejandro, this is so cute," you wore it around your neck and closed your eyes. "Fluffy too.. Thank you so much." You squeezed the pillow as Alejandro chuckled. "I got that from gift exchanging. Los Vaqueros does that every time we celebrate an achievement." He leaned back to his seat.

Soap patted your head before looking back at the window. His pupils constricted at the sight of a white carry truck with 4 men holding guns. His palm grasped at his own rifle and looked straight at the 'target'.

"White truck, four armed in the back-" Alejandro quickly tilt to Soap, "Ay, hey- ⁶tranquilo." He held his palm as Soap let go of his rifle again. "Easy... that's normal here." He said leaning back to his seat.

You were looking at Soap's sudden tension and then back to Alejandro. "Guns on the streets are jurisdiction of the police. " He marked, "Where are the police?" Ghost asked.

Alejandro clears his throat, "Well, Las Almas has a very serious problem. There are few here to uphold the law and many of those who resist corruption..." Ghost looks at Alejandro, "... disappear." He ends.

You look at Soap, "What about the military?" He asked. "Well, because we are well-trained, soldiers are recruited by the narcos." Alejandro rested his head watching the streets. "Why not you?"

Ghost's question made you and Soap glared at him. Even Rodolfo sighed in defeat whilst Alejandro tried not to smile, "We grew up here. They call us Los Vaqueros...cowboys." You raised your eyebrow at his answer.

"Save a horse, ride a cowboy." You said in a relaxed tone. now they're glaring at you but Alejandro nervously rubbed his forehead, "I like you, cielita."

A few minutes went by, your group found themselves waiting for a red light. On the other side of the road, there was a mother and a kid buying balloons with someone holding a gun beside them. Ghost and Soap exchanged looks, "Kids, guns, and balloons.."

"That's a new one," You replied at Soap's remark. "⁷Narcos use generosity to win over the people," Alejandro cooed in. "Even the children?" Soap raised one of his eyebrows. "Especially the children." Rodolfo continued.

Another red light made Rodolfo stop the car. You peered over to Ghost's side of the window and gagged after seeing a dead body being covered with written white cloth, smeared red with blood. "Jesus, what the fuck is that." Ghost looks down on you, 'She tortures people with her heels but gags at a covered dead body...' he thought.

"Narcomantas." Alejandro shortly replied, "Cartel Cloths." Rodolfo translates. "Messages from El Sim Nombre, warnings, marking territory." You saw another narcomantas as they passed by, "Our streets are laced with death." Alejandro narrates.

"Whose El Sin Nombre?" Ghost looks at Alejandro from the rear mirror. "El Sin Nombre, The Nameless. leader of Las Almas Cartel." He replied while biting his lips, looking at the huge beautiful graffiti saying 'EL SIN NOMBRE'

"Where can we find him?" Soap tilts his head. "...or her?" You pursed your lips, poking the neck pillow. "You can't. No one knows who they are but they are everywhere." Alejandro said whilst Rodolfo nodded in agreement. "Is this person an individual?" You raised your eyebrow. "Perhaps, we still never know because they're everywhere." He shrugged.

"And that is a challenge. Los Vaqueros loves challenges!" Alejandro snickered and gazed at Ghost from the rear mirror. "With your mask, you'll fit in well here, Ghost." He finishes. but as he said that, you saw Soap doing the 'cut it out' hand gesture. which made you knit your eyebrow at the sudden awkward pause. you tilt your head to Ghost who now has his eyes down to his knee.

'Ghost's mask is a sensitive topic, no good.' you thought to yourself.

Rodolfo slowed the car down watching a road blockage just a few ahead of them. Alejandro seemed frowned at the sight but he gestured to take a turn, "Military checkpoint. Turn right, don't engage them." He ordered. "Yes sir." You watched a few civilians being stopped by the military.

"Why?" Soap looked out of his window, "Some troops are in the pocket of El Sin Nombre. Like I told you, they're everywhere." Alejandro explains again. "My resources is still finding clues and intels regarding of El Sin Nombre. let's hope they found something important."

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Settling into Alejandro's base, he said it was sectioned into multiple buildings to make it slightly more private. You walked towards the light spacious hallway that connects the kitchen and the meeting room. You saw your duffle bag already gently placed on top of your bed. "Finally, inner peace..." You mumbled before falling into the soft mattress. "Dior? This is Rodolfo. Colonel Alejandro wants us to regroup in the meeting room." He knocked on your door softly which made you irritatedly punch the bed. "Ay, coño." You mumbled while getting up again, "Coming!"

You got out of your room with an unpleasant mood, as Soap walked towards you with a small metal box in his hand. You were a bit puzzled about his gesture, "Could you brew this for Ghost? I think he had a car sick." He said in a concerned tone. You held back your laugh, "the lieutenant? Car sick? What is he, five?" You took the metal box and made your way to the kitchen with him.

"Aye, I used to get car sick too in my early 20s." Soap filled the kettle pot with tap water and placed it into the stove, "He's in his early 30s? I thought he joined the military earlier than all of us combined." You furiously tapped your foot to the floor. "Let's not be mean to him, poor guy went through a lot." He turned the stove in.

You scoffed and cackled at his statement because hell if he knew what Ghost did to you whilst he was deep asleep, he would had a stroke on the floor. "Soap, what do you think about him." You watched him lean to the counter next to you. "Ghost? well, he's serious all the time. You know it." He shrugged and playfully tapped his finger to the counter.

"I mean, I've been here for less than a week. people be 'Ghost is scary, Ghost is this, Ghost is that' and I wouldn't find him scary at all" You rub the back of your head. "He's goofy, trust me. Whenever we went to a bar, He would be there just to eat the peanuts." You tilt your head slowly to Soap and scoff in laughter. "What?" "You heard me right. I bought a bag of peanuts as a joke once and he ate them all in the base." He smiled at your reaction.

"You hate Graves, why" Soap looks down on you with a cheeky smile. "Thought I told you already." You fiddled your finger to Ghost's metal box of tea. "That was Shepherd," You parted your mouth into an 'Ooh'.

"He's American." You stated coldly.

"Dior, you're from Los Angeles."

the two of you paused for a few moments before letting out a muffled laughter. "Could you tell me a little about LA?" He leaned closer to you, "Well, It's twice more chaotic than New York. gamblers everywhere, drugs are illegally normalized, and so many kidnapping cases. It's wild crazy but I managed." You shrugged yourself, "I had a...colleague, once." Your voice faded a little lower. "She was detecting...some kind of illegal explosives transaction. It's in Chicago but one of the parties was in LA." Your gaze falls to the floor.

"...She was ambushed." You muttered but still loud enough for Soap to hear. "Could've saved her if only I was tall enough to climb a certain window. I was wearing flat combat boots that time, I haven't worn any heels to work." You weakly looked up at Soap who softened at your story.

"And since then I learned how to run, jump, and even kill people with my heels." Your eyes sharpen. "Was underestimated, but those people are six feet under now." You bit your lip and looked up at Soap, "Am I talking too much? I'm so sorry-" "Dior, it's okay." Soap rested his hand on your head, giving you a gentle pat.

"I'm sorry for your loss, must be...hard for you." He smiled at you softly. "I think doing those.. stuff in heels must be hurt. and you defeating me and the others back in that field showed enough that you are capable of being who you are right now. I think your...colleague would be proud of you, right now." Your eyes moisten a little at his comforting remark. you laughed it off softly at the comfortable moment he built for you.

He's right, no matter how the demotion has taken a chunk of your mental, you're still as perfect as you were back then. you should be proud of how far you've become. Losing or missing a piece along the way might hurt you, but one day you'll find a bigger brick to build yourself even better.

As you two were locking eye contact, out of a sudden you both screamed in terror when the bakelite top bead flung into the air from the overheated kettle pot, hitting the hanging lamp and dropping right in front of your foot. You jumped to the counter as Soap quickly turned the stove off preventing boiling water from splashing all over the stove.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"And with that being said, does anybody have any question?" Alejandro turned his tablet off as Rodolfo turned the projector off and stood behind Alejandro. Soap shrugged whilst Ghost was just sitting in the corner and you were doodling random drawings in your notebook. "I think that's enough. All we had to do was wait for your intel, no?" You raised your eyebrow. "Correct, I think they should be back by tomorrow before sunrise." He sat on his seat, sipping coffee. There was a slight silence before you realized something.

"Soap do you remember when we tried to eavesdrop Price-" "Captain..." Soap sipped on his Gatorade. "...I mean, Captain Price." You bit your lip in regret, "I overheard missiles were from Russians." Alejandro raised his gaze at you. "Your point is?" Soap smiles at you, he likes it when you get into critical thinking. "...Ghobrani was talking with Russians when Ghost marked him off with the missile that Graves drove..?"

You created a staring contest between Rodolfo, Alejandro, Soap, and you. Alejandro re-opened his note and cleared his throat, "Ghost what do you know?" Everyone gazes at him wearing sunglasses and a cup of tea in his hand that you brewed for him earlier. "Is he...asleep?" You held your chest in concerned. "Nah... I'm pretty sure he's dead."

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

The night washes over the sky, your laptop clock shows '22:13'. you rolled over your bed with a slik light green robe to find a working comfort food. the good 'ol American mac n cheese. your mini mission is simple; sneak to the kitchen, use the microwave, leave. then you can continue to watch Scream Queens in your tab. And that's when it hit you. "This is the best idea I've ever had in my entire life!"

That's the worst idea you ever had in your entire life. You spat out the warm mac n cheese out of your mouth to the trash bin, wiping your lips with a tissue. it tastes unpleasantly weird. you figured that it tastes like that because it's been in your bag for nearly 3 days, it probably got soaked or expired. You washed your dishes after throwing away all the remaining mac n cheese.

"Cielita, why are you awake?" Alejandro walked passed you and rested his palms to the top of your head. "I uh, I'm sorry for using your kitchen without your permission. I craved something out of the sudden..." You looked up at him while turning off the sink. "Instead of asking for my permission for the cocina, could've ask me for food instead," He ripped out a napkin and took your hand. gently drying it from the water.

you watched his hand brushing against yours with the dry napkin as a barrier, he then toss it to the trash. "Let me show you a comfort food my mama used to cook." He smiled at you.

God, you're melting to his words. Hes the finest act-of-service man you could ever imagine God has created. You watched him going through his kitchen cupboard taking out a few ingredients.

olive oil, conchas, tomato sauce, parmesran and 2 jars that you're unsure of the content inside. "What's in this?" you pointed at it whilst he was heating up the pan. "The green one is jalapeño, exotic spices and his friends," He tapped the other jar with yellowish liquid inside. "This one is chicken broth with blackpepper, red pepper flakes, and dried oregano." he explains.

"I have my sopita salsas half-ready in the fridge for moments like this." He gave you a cheeky smile. You watched him closely. heating the oil into the pan, adding the shell pasta in, pouring a cup of water and waiting for the pasta to soften. "You wanna watch closer here, cielita?" He patted the empty kitchen counter. You pursed your lips into a thin smile and walked towards him.

You did what he said, sitting in the kitchen counter watching him cook. you could smell the jalapeño doing God's work into the pasta. you felt guilty that he heard your stomach growling.

After a few minutes in, he poured in the chicken broth and let your stir it. "Smells good doesn't it cariño?" He rested his hand to your thigh watching you taking a good sniff of the soup with the wooden spoon. "Yeah, it does." You put down the spoon and stir it gently.

"I think it's ready for the tomato sauce." He effortlessly opened the canned red sauce and began pouring it gently before continuing stir. When the soup formed, You took a smaller spoon and took a small amount of the soup, blowing it gently to cool off before tasting it. "...I think it needs garlic?" He raises his eyebrow before taking your spoon and licking it himself. Your face blushed fifty shades of red as he hummed to himself, "Must agree, I'll get the cloves."

After a few minutes of brewing, he decided to turn off the stove and let you taste it first. "Have a bite." He took smile pieces from the pan with a spoon, aiming it at you. Smiling in excitement, you leaned and blew the hot pasta from the spoon he held for you.

After chewing and shifting the pasta around your mouth for a good moment, you raised your eyebrow in surprise, "It's flavorful but in a good way, wow you're a good cook." He laughs at your compliment, "And a good cowboy." He quickly turned the stove off and shifted away to get the bowls.

You'd be lying if you say you're not flustered. He knew how to scoop your heart once in a while. "Come, have a seat." He dragged the chair for you.

He lit up a scented candle and lit it, "Is this some kind of a candle-lit dinner?" You smiled at him settling down to his seat across from you. "Now that you find it that way, then consider it as a yes." His sharp eyes soften every time he sees you.

You both ate the warm sopita in silence. It was a comfortable atmosphere, you two enjoyed each other's company. A few times whenever you took a bite, he could've sworn he saw a star being born in your orbs. the way you hummed and glinted a smile at his food, softened his heart.

"You like it, cielita?" He looked down at his bowl, "If I don't, I wouldn't be here. Honestly, I never expected someone like you to...cook. I thought you were the take-out kind of guy despite all the military stuff" You scooped up the pasta to your spoon again. "Well, no offense. I went through military too." He raised one eyebrow and chuckled.

"I aspire to be a good son for my mama. That is why I started to learn how to cook for her every time she's too sick to cook." God, something about this man is drawing you in. You should ask him what kind of hex he's using on you because it's damn well working. "Your mom must be proud of herself to have someone like you as her son," You smiled softly and picked up a spoonful of the food you both made.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance before realizing he hadn't prepared a drink. "Is there any preferred drink you'd like to have? Forgive me, I got carried away." He finished his food and got up. "Honestly, I don't mind anything." You ate the last few remains of the sopita in your bowl. "Wine?" He opened a fridge with multiple bottles that worth hundreds. "Red, would probably do..." You took your bowl and stood from the chair.

"Ay, no no no. You don't do this." He stops you while taking your bowl out of your hand. "Sit, princessa. let me serve you."

You are MELTING like an iced slushie under a hot summer in Florida. Watching his athletic figure swaying in the kitchen back and forth, his back muscles and bicep are wrapped nicely in a black collared shirt he is wearing with the sleeve rolled to his elbow. If he's giving you these gentleman treatments again, you're definitely folding.

Popping the bottle and pouring it to the glass, he places it down for you and one for him. You both clink the wine glass. After spinning it slowly and smelling the scent, you look at him with a glinting smile. "Chåteau Camou?" He raised his glass to you and sipped, "You know your drink."

"Well, I must." You laughed and shrugged it. He examined you for a few moments, giving a pause for a few minutes. You looked up at his eyes gazing deeply to you. his eyebrow is intimidating. at this point, it seemed like a staring contest, but you don't really mind. You like the way he looks, he's deadass a hot Mexican.

"Stop looking at me like that," You chuckled and leaned to the seat. "Like what?" He smirked and took another sip of his wine. "Like you want to have sex with me." You hid your smile by biting the tip of your thumb.

His smirk slowly turned into a cheeky smile, flashing you with his teeth. He laughed and rubbed his forehead, "Ride a cowboy to save a horse? how about you come sit here and we'll see where we going." He shifted his knee and tapped his thighs. You're fearless, You've got nothing to worry. It's not like he means his word anyway.

You got up from your seat and walked slowly towards him, watching his veiny hands slithering his knee up to his thigh. You bit your bottom lip and lend out your hand, he held it softly and pull you gently towards him. You sat in his lap as he places your hand to his chest.

"Eager, are we." He whispered as you leaned closer. You brushed your nose close to his cheek, breathing softly to his touch. you rammed your fingertips from his chest up to his neck, he tilts his head to you and stare. He has a brown dimming eye, the way his warm breath surfaced to your chest and neck sent electric down your spine. He grinned and placed his thumb on your chin.

There was a heavy tension between the concerning amount of space you two had. He wanted to lean closer but you kept on teasing him by dodging his lips away from you. He grunted before getting a hold of your jaw, "Stop moving, ⁸niñita."

"Make me, papi." That snapped something inside of him.

He gripped your ass, getting off the chair and carried you whilst you wrapped your legs around his waist. with no waiting, he bit your neck devouring every spot exposed. You whimpered at the pleasure hes giving whilst he still carried you with his other hand in the back of your head, stilling it so he could get a taste of you.

walking towards his presumably his room, he pushed open the door with one leg and locked it. He shifts his mouth and bites to your chest making you whine, gripping his broad shoulder like there's no tomorrow.

"You asked for it, cielita." He whispered to your ear, dropping you to his bed before kissing you passionately. you slithered your hand around his chest, up to his shoulder and bicep, feeling every single one of his body heat against yours.

nibbling your bottom lip furiously, he unbuttoned his shirt and left his chest exposed. Your abdomen and his brushing against one and another, stroking you dry but enough to make your panties damp. "Holy shit-" you pulled away from his kiss. "May I?" He tugged the ribbon that ties your body to the robe. "Only if you can make me cum." You pinched his cheek and he gave you a smug laugh.

"Bet." He pulled it off and witnessed a goddess in her lingerie, "Like what you're seeing?" You smirked at his parted lips. "The 141 has been keeping this treasure all to themself, ⁹no lo hacen?" He chuckled while tugging the vibrant color of your panties.

taking his time, Alejandro snucked his nose to your briefs, taking a deep breath to get ahold of your scent. you yelped when he slid his index into the entrance of your folds. "¹⁰huele tan bien, cielito." You raised your eyebrow and chuckled, "Nah, they don't...touch me. I mean Ghost did but not this far." you admitted. You saw his eyes rising from your thighs in surprise. "Then let me give you what Ghost didn't, no?"

He finally lifted the lace before devouring you down to his bed, flicking your clit and gripping your inner thighs defensively. You gasped softly at his moves and muffled groan. "Dios, ¹¹sabes tan dulce." He muttered beneath you.

Impatiently, he yanked your panties away and gruesomely polished your entrance. he stretched your folds with his finger, sucking you inside out while you tugged his hair holding back your moans.

His hitched breath brushed against your sensitive clit which made you feel a knot building up in your stomach. he pushed himself deeper as your release melted against his face.

"¹²Chica come so easily, hm?" He got up licking your remaining sweet sextillion-dollar fluid. "I bet you come easily too, papi." You smirked under him. His lips slowly pursed into a smug smirk, "¹³Ay coño, you don't know what you signed up for." He quickly unbuckled his belt, pulling it away from his pants before pushing both of your wrists down the mattress.

"What are you-" Your words were cut off when he flipped you over and tied your wrist down with his belt. "Let's see how far ¹⁴puedes ir." He slids his thumb to your entrance as you whined into the mattress. You could feel him taking off his pants but every time you tried to peek, he would grab you by the jaw and make you look front.

"No peeking, princesa. Let me.." 'SLAP' He spanked your entrance followed by your loud moan. arching your back enough, you could feel his tip trying to fit into your trench. "¹⁵Preparar, cielita." He pushed it in which made your ass slightly vibrated. "Fucking hell- It won't fit." you whimpered trying your best to keep your knees up.

"Really?" He smirked and pushed more of his length in, "Jesus- Please tell me tha' all- Oh Lord." You whimpered between your moan, feeling so stretched from the inside. "That was just half, ¹⁶hermosa." He pushed his length in again. "This is full."

You let out the loudest, softest moan you could ever let out. Alejandro was triumphant witnessing that. He kissed your shoulder and placed his hand on your lower stomach, circling it between. "You feel this bulge, ¹⁷cariño? you're tightening around me..." He pulled out half of his length and pushed it back slowly, grunting every few moments.

You rolled your eyes to the back of your head feeling high up in the sky, whilst he filled the void of your insides so slowly and rhythmic. "Faster, papi." His eyes widened. "Say again, ¹⁸belleza?" He stops with his whole length inside. "I said, Fas-"

He pulls out and slams himself into your cervix mercilessly. You had to gawk out a messy moan while feeling him holding back your tied wrist, bullying your insides wildly. The sound of wet skin slapping at each other filled the room, the way you felt ecstasy and a knot building inside you had gone dumbfoundedly filthy.

As he thrusts into you like a little fuck toy, you couldn't see shit. you were buried into the mattress deeply, feeling yourself overstimulated to the point where you couldn't tell if you had came or not. He fucks you so good you turned dumb at this point.

"¹⁹ven aqui, guapa." He flipped you over and pinned your wrist above your head. Now you're seeing the beautiful man above you, fucking you with your legs above his shoulders. His sweat forming around his forehead, the way he grunted and his ears turning red. you loved the way his abs and abdomen moved and smashed against you.

"This is what you longed for, cariño? this is what the ²⁰maravillo Ghost can't give you? let me show que hombres de verdad looked like."

He kissed your mouth while fucking you like a whore, squeezing your blowsy breast that peeked out of your bra. You let go of the sloppy kiss and moaned uncontrollably. "Ah, 'm gonna come."

"Then fucking come for me, mami." He whispered and bit your earlobe which made you feel tingles. He thrusted in you, slamming your insides a few times before you let out another loud lament as your juices came out. He pulled out and dunked his 7-inches to your stomach being proud his sword had weakened you, letting his thick vanilla ooze around your stomach and hips.

You breathed out heavily, feeling so much emotions penting up in your head and sex. He chuckled before leaning down on you to take his belt off your wrist. feeling freed, you closed your eyes and bit your lip. "Wow.", He places his forehead to your knee, planting soft little kisses around you before looking up at your gaze. "Wow?" He smiled.

You tilt your head to his bedside, looking at the digital clock that drew at 2.30 am. he noticed this and layed beside you, not forgetting to give you a peck on the lips and forehead. "Rest?" He spooned you from behind. "Rest." You smiled weakly.

"I'll wake you up in an hour and half so we have enough time to clean up, como suena eso, chica?" He presses his nose to the back of your hair and wraps his hands along your waist. "²¹si si..." Your head was too high in the clouds to translate any words outside English.

As the moonlight shines through his dark curtains, you and Alejandro were sound asleep. enjoying each other's company, one and another. Clearly unaware of someone hearing you moaning a little too loud.

some spanish translation 101໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

(forgive if I got some wrong)

~ Relax - Relajar

~ How does that sound - como suena eso

~ What real men - Que hombres de verdad

1. Oh God - Dios mio

2. Sweetie - Cielita

3. Sir - Señor

4. Thank You - Gracias

5. I'm scared of (him) Ghost - Tengo miedo de los fantasmas

6. Easy (calm down) - tranquilo

7. drug trafficker - Narcos

8. little girl - Niñita

9. dont they - no lo hacen

10. smells so good - huele tan bien

11. taste so sweet - sabes tan dulce

12. (beautiful) girl - chica

13. oh fuck - ay coño

14. (this) can go - puedes ir

15. prepare - preparan

16. beautiful - hermosa

17. dear - cariño

18. beauty - belleza

19. come here beautiful - ven aqui guapa

20. marvelous (masculine) - maravillo

21. yes yes - si si

[mapsontheweb]

Number of Spanish Missions in California and Baja California by county/municipality

by mexidominicarican8

<div class="md"><p><strong>California:</strong></p> <p>The Spanish missions in California formed a series religious outposts or missions established between 1769 and 1833 in what is now the U.S. state of California. The missions were established by Catholic priests of the Franciscan order to evangelize Indigenous peoples backed by the military force of the Spanish Empire. Civilian settlers and soldiers accompanied missionaries and formed settlements like the Pueblo de Los Ángeles. Indigenous peoples were forced into settlements called reductions, disrupting their traditional way of life and negatively affecting as many as one thousand villages</p> <p><strong>Baja California:</strong></p> <p>The Spanish missions in Baja California were a large number of religious outposts established by Catholic religious orders, the Jesuits, the Franciscans and the Dominicans, between 1683 and 1834 to spread the Christian doctrine among the Indigenous peoples living on the Baja California peninsula. The missions gave Spain a valuable toehold in the frontier land, and introduced European livestock, fruits, vegetables, and industry into the region. Indigenous peoples were severely impacted by the introduction of European diseases such as smallpox and measles and by 1800 their numbers were a fraction of what they had been before the arrival of the Spanish.</p> <p><strong>Mexico:</strong></p> <p>The First Mexican Republic secularized the missions with the Mexican secularization act of 1833, which emancipated indigenous peoples from the missions. Mission lands were largely given to settlers and soldiers, along with a minority of indigenous people. Most of the missions in Baja California were abandoned and are currently in ruins. Cities like Loreto, Mulegé, La Paz, and San José del Cabo were formed near/around Spanish missions</p> <p><strong>USA:</strong></p> <p>Many of these missions were restored in the mid 20th century. They have become a symbol of California, appearing in many movies and television shows, and are an inspiration for Mission Revival architecture. Concerns have been raised by historians and Indigenous peoples of California about the way the mission period in California is taught in educational institutions and memorialized. The oldest European settlements of California were formed around or near Spanish missions, including the four largest: Los Angeles, San Diego, San Jose, and San Francisco.</p> </div>

[matthewgrantanson]

True Grit, Los Angeles -- January 16th, 2023

Etsy

[damn-these-eyes]

garcia mini market

[happyoracle]

Apartment for rent in Mid-City Los Angeles

[vintagelasvegas]

The Desert from Arrowhead Trail, Nevada, 1931

Postcard from Oakes Vegas Studio, Las Vegas.

Routes though the southwest in the 19th and early 20th century were known as the Old Spanish Trail, the Mormon Trail, the Old California Trail, and the Arrowhead Trail. All of them passed through Las Vegas, which offered water from its Big Springs and green grass for animals.

In the mid-1910s, the Arrowhead Trail or Arrowhead Highway was created for automobile traffic. This was the first all-weather road in the west, connecting Salt Lake City, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles prior to the establishment of the numbered highway system. Las Vegas Blvd North mirrors the former the Arrowhead Hwy north of the city. South of Las Vegas the hwy traveled close to the future paths of Boulder Hwy and US 95.

Arrowhead Trail, americanroads.us. The Arrowhead Trail Highway to Las Vegas, quehoposse.org

[anna-scribbles]

was about to read chap 2 of call it even but ao3 decided to self destruct anna how will i go on

that is so tragic that i will just have to post a whole sneak peek of ch 2 for you here!!!!

Adrien loved Ladybug.

He loved the smooth timbre of her voice and the firm set of her eyes, the way her mouth would dig its way deeper into a scowl the more she tried not to laugh at one of the rare jokes he managed to pry beneath her red-and-black spotted armor. He loved the way she spoke of justice with such reverence, of peace with such passion. Adrien loved the idea of Ladybug, at least—the thought that there could be a person who embodied so much of what he cherished, the grace and goodness and compassion of his childhood. He loved what Ladybug stood for. What she pretended to stand for.

Sometimes, Adrien thought that he could have loved Ladybug if he didn’t hate her so much.

There were times, though—like now, her red fist redder with his blood, cold disdain smeared across her face—when Adrien thought that he’d have hated her regardless, this nameless thief who masqueraded around his city as a hero. There were times when Adrien was certain he could never have ended up anywhere but at the other end of her fist, if only so that no one else would have to bear the brunt of her brutality.

“Get up,” his father’s voice hissed into his earpiece. “Don’t just lie there like an invalid. Take her miraculous!”

“Me-ouch,” Adrien wiped some of the blood off his face and grimaced, rising to his feet. “I guess your pledge to protect the citizens of Paris from danger doesn’t extend to animal cruelty.”

Fury lit up across her face, instant and red. Of all her buttons he’d learned to press, none ever worked quite as well as calling her out on the hero facade. And today, now that he was getting a good look at her, she was more agitated than usual, all her movements impatient and sharp.

“Don’t you talk about danger and cruelty,” Ladybug spat, setting her yo-yo spinning in a razor-sharp circle of light. “That misunderstood-tragic-kitty act is as fake as your stupid smile. We all know you could put an end to the danger anytime you felt like it.”

“Then you have misunderstood me, my lady,” He watched the time-worn nickname worm its way beneath her skin, upheaving a vulnerable, messy sort of frustration. Adrien lengthened his baton and lowered his stance. “This can’t end until I have your miraculous.”

Ladybug let out a yell and swung her yo-yo in a blinding arc at his torso. Adrien intercepted it mid-air with his baton, pulling the staff loose from the wire and scampering past her to the other end of the rooftop. He would do almost anything to avoid getting entangled in that thing; it was near indestructible and Ladybug wasn’t usually very keen on treating her captives kindly. His father, also, was not very keen on his cataclysm being used outside of their specific battle strategies. Adrien, in general, was not very keen on making either of these people any more angry at him than they usually were.

“Eat up, my angels!” M. Pigeon yelled up from the sky, riding atop a massive cloud of pigeons. “Taste the delicious cuisine you were always meant to have! No longer will the pigeons of Paris be resigned to breadcrumbs and cat food!”

“Hey!” Adrien yelled indignantly. “Nothing wrong with cat food!”

Ladybug made a sound that could almost be taken as a snort, but when he looked back, her expression had schooled itself back into righteous anger. She lifted an eyebrow, challenging him, but pulled herself into more of a defensive stance. She always liked to take everything in before she made a move.

“It’s okay to laugh, you know,” Adrien grinned wide and assumed a jovial stance, taking stock of the angle of her feet, the aim of her gaze. She was smarter and stronger than him; he’d always known that. But he was quicker with words and knew where to aim them. “It must be an incredible drain on your energy to keep pretending you don’t find me funny.”

“You sure think a lot of yourself for someone who just admitted to eating kibble,” Ladybug scoffed, eyes trailing the flock of birds passing over their heads.

“Don’t knock it until you try it, my lady,” Adrien said. “For a hero, you’re incredibly quick to judge.”

“For a villain, you sure do love stupid small talk.”

“Well,” Adrien mused, “Maybe there’s more to both of us than meets the eye.”

“Doubt it,” Ladybug said lightly, and she spun out her yo-yo, knocking Adrien’s feet out from under him and leaping to the roof of a neighboring building.

Just then, a fleet of pigeons swooped down from the sky and descended onto a nearby outdoor restaurant, littering the rooftop with feathers in their wake. Pulling himself up, Adrien watched with a measure of horrified wonder as the pigeons devoured all the food on the tables in a matter of seconds like a pack of feathered piranhas.

“Are they supposed to be, like, carnivores?” Adrien yelled, the image of a pigeon tearing through a sausage burned into his mind. Ladybug, predictably, didn’t answer.

He vaulted after her, trailing her from rooftop to rooftop as they both dodged the swarms of pigeons terrorizing tourists and stealing every bit of food in sight. Sometimes, the akumas remembered that they were on Adrien’s side and actually tried to help him take Ladybug’s miraculous. But just as often, it seemed, they were more interested in general destruction and chaos, causing as many problems for Adrien as they did for Ladybug. The pigeons, Adrien tended to think, were more of a personal handicap than anything.

“ACHOO!” Adrien sneezed, his still-broken nose sending an unexpected jolt of pain through his system. “Ow,” he groaned.

“Ha!” Ladybug spun around and kicked him in the chest, flinging him several meters back and over the edge of the rooftop. Slamming into the side of the building, Adrien dug his claws into the brick to slow his fall, pulling himself back up. When he finally made it over the ledge, Ladybug had her feet planted firmly and was throwing her yo-yo into the sky.

“Lucky charm!” she yelled.

In a shower of luminescent pink and white light, a polka-dotted Easy-Bake Oven landed primly in Ladybug’s hands. The way the hope sort of died on her face was almost enough to make Adrien burst into laughter, and it was really only years of media training that kept his expression schooled.

“Happy… ninth birthday?” Adrien offered, and the glare that Ladybug shot him honestly made the whole thing worth it.

“Shut up,” Ladybug snarled, and then she turned her gaze back to the battery-powered confectionery oven as if it might start speaking to her. “How the—”

“On your right!” Adrien yelled, and Ladybug glanced in his direction as a swarm of pigeons slammed into her from the left, knocking the lucky charm out of her hands. Adrien quickly scooped it up and vaulted to the next building.

“You menace!” Ladybug growled, swinging behind him in swift pursuit.

“Name-calling!” Adrien tutted over his shoulder. “Not very heroic of you, I have to say.”

“I’ll show you heroic,” Ladybug muttered, and then Adrien felt a sharp tug on his left ankle. He’d only just looked down to see her yo-yo line wrapped around his leg when she sent him flying backward through the air, the toy oven flung from his hands as he braced for impact.

Adrien slammed into the pavement, pain rocketing through his shoulder. His baton clattered down next to him, and he blinked the black away enough to see Ladybug standing up on the roof again, staring at her lucky charm like it was a math problem she was trying to solve.

“I, for one, am loving this game of kitty-in-the-middle we’ve got going,” Adrien called up at her. He extended his baton and vaulted back up to the roof where she stood, ignoring the splintering pain in his muscles. “My turn next?”

Ladybug groaned, shoving the oven under one arm and setting her yo-yo spinning with the other. She swung it out at him and he jumped, almost stumbling when he landed on his throbbing ankle. He could try using his cataclysm to disintegrate the roof and make her lose her balance, but he wasn’t supposed to activate it until she had three minutes or less left on her timer.

“Get it?” Adrien asked, swiping his baton at her legs. Ladybug jumped deftly away. “Because we’re throwing the lucky charm back and forth? Like, monkey-in-the—”

“I get it!” Ladybug snarled, wrapping her yo-yo line around a nearby balcony and tugging, hard. Adrien had only seconds to lift his baton up in a makeshift shield when the bricks all came clattering down on him, along with a few tables and chairs and plates of food.

Suddenly a swarm of pigeons separated from the huge flock in the sky and descended upon them, devouring the sandwiches and chips at alarming speeds. Adrien’s stomach panged with hunger—while the rest of him panged with pain—as he remembered that he hadn’t actually gotten to eat lunch.

“Hm,” Ladybug said decisively, like the feeding pigeons had imparted some sort of divine wisdom upon her. “Yeah, okay.”

She was gone before Adrien could dig himself out of the rubble, swinging away with her magic Easy-Bake in tow and leaving him to deal with her mess.

“What are you doing?” Father yelled into his ear. “Follow her! Don’t let her out of your sight!”

“Of course,” Adrien muttered, unearthing an arm from the mess of rubble and feathers. “Resident bug-catcher, on it.”

Loud-mouthed and brightly colored as she was, Ladybug could disappear when she wanted to. And, though he’d spent the better part of his teenage years committing her habits to memory, Adrien could swear that tracking her never got easier.

Sometimes, when she’d do this—try and shake him off while she figured out her lucky charm—Adrien would spend the whole five minutes looking for her, tearing through the city until a wave of light flooded the world and let him know that he’d lost without even putting up a fight. Those were the times he’d be punished the worst for losing. The punishments had only gotten worse as he’d gotten older; Adrien had a lot more to lose these days.

After the seventh or eighth building or alleyway Adrien had ducked into, he started to feel the familiar tug of dread in his gut, mud in his veins. There couldn’t be that much time left, now—he’d been stupid, and reckless, and now it would all have been for nothing. His father’s silence in his earpiece was deafening, ice-cold and heavy. He was doing it again. And especially now, especially today, he couldn’t—he swallowed down his panic.

On a whim, Adrien landed on the roof of a pavilion near the park, circled with concrete pillars and backed up to the brick wall of a building. He ducked his head in and bit down a gasp when he saw a flash of red inside. She was—she was here.

He waited, breath frozen in his lungs, but the attack didn’t come. Ladybug was murmuring to herself, fussing over what he presumed to be the lucky charm. Ladybug was here. And she hadn’t seen him yet.

“Cataclysm,” Adrien whispered, setting his palm alight with inky destruction. And then he charged.

In one swift motion, Adrien used his baton to knock both the yo-yo and the lucky charm from Ladybug’s hands, sending them clattering across the pavement as he slammed her body into the wall. She growled and pummeled her fists into his face and gut, sending stars of pain shooting through his vision.

Adrien extended his baton and smashed one end into the pavement at their feet and the other diagonally into a concrete pillar of the pavilion. He shoved the length of it as hard as he could acoss Ladybug’s torso, pinning her against the wall. She coughed and spluttered, ripping at the baton and hurling expletives his way.

It wouldn’t hold her for long, but maybe for long enough that he could—

Adrien lunged for the lucky charm—that stupid, polka-dotted Easy Bake oven—and scooped it up with his left hand, hovering his right palm in the air just centimeters above it.

“Careful,” Adrien warned, and Ladybug’s eyes widened.

“You evil, idiotic, worthless waste of breath—”

“Yes, fine.” Adrien waved her off. “I’m not interested in that. I don’t want to fight. I think we should talk.”

“What are you doing?” Father snarled in his ear, and Adrien winced. “End this and take her miraculous!”

Ladybug looked like she agreed; the glare she leveled at him sent ice down his spine.

“Talk,” Ladybug laughed humorlessly, fists still tight around the baton. “Right. You always want to talk.”

“I want to talk,” Adrien agreed, keeping his composure level despite the anxiety in his bloodstream and Father’s voice in his ear. He even threw in a smile for good measure. “Obviously we both know how this”—Adrien gestured to Ladybug and himself, and then to the greater generally-in-shambles city—“goes. And I imagine that it involves many more people than we’d both prefer.”

Ladybug looked at him with some intense combination of anger and bewilderment.

“Are you… trying to apologize right now?” Ladybug asked. “For being a terrorist? The thing you’re currently doing?”

“No,” Adrien said, taking a great deal of effort to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I’m not apologizing. I’m just recognizing that you seem to care about the safety of civilians, and so do I, and so I think we should be able to find some common ground and settle this in some way that doesn’t involve them.”

“The only reason they’re involved at all is because you keep attacking their city!” Ladybug shouted, her voice a lit flame. Her earrings beeped—two out of five. “What are you talking about?”

“Adrien,” Father growled dangerously in his ear, “stop this immediately.”

“Don’t play dumb, Ladybug. We both know you’re smarter than that,” Adrien pressed on. “There’s no one here to fool. If you give back what you stole, this can all end—”

“Adrien, stop!” Father yelled.

“You’re insane!” Ladybug shouted. “I never stole anything, and—and the very last person I’d ever trust to talk things through with is you.”

Adrien’s temper rose hot beneath his skin, his ears flat against his head. A rumbling began to shake the ground beneath their feet.

“And this is what you want instead?” Adrien shouted. “The whole city in danger? Us fighting like this, forever?

“Adrien!” Father seethed.

Something shifted in Ladybug’s gaze, her eyes set with an infuriating self-righteous zeal that dropped a rock in Adrien’s gut.

“I think forever is a gross overestimation,” she said. “In fact, I believe you’re already out of time.”

Ladybug smirked, and a high-pitched ding sounded in Adrien’s arms.

The Easy-Bake Oven exploded with popcorn all over the pavilion, and a torrent of pigeons descended on the microwaved feast, choking the air in beaks and feathers until cracks splintered through the pillars. Ladybug wrenched the baton from the pavement and jousted it into Adrien’s stomach, sending him gasping to the floor, but not before he kicked at her legs and took her down with him.

They tousled for a few seconds before a feather sauntered down through the air to brush right up against Adrien’s nose—he could swear his nose was like a magnet to the godforsaken things or something, seriously—and Adrien, with all his might, could not stop the earth-shattering, full-body sneeze that followed.

The sneeze—understandably—loosened his grip on Ladybug, who—also understandably—used the opportunity to pull her knee up to her chest and kick him in the stomach, sending him flying several meters into a pile of pigeons.

Adrien blinked, Ladybug’s red form hazy in his watery eyes. Why did the allergies have to happen, like, instantly? Why did it always have to be M. Pigeon?

“A ‘bless you’ would’ve been fine,” Adrien remarked, feeling around for his baton with his non-actively-cataclysming hand.

“Hmm. I’m not really in the mood to bless you, I think,” Ladybug said. Adrien blinked again, and she was closer than before, yo-yo spinning triumphantly at her side. “I’m thinking you could bless me instead.”

In a swift motion, she lassoed him by the waist and hurled him through the air, several seconds of freefall before he made contact with something warm and firm. He felt the moment his cataclysm was released and panicked for a second, thinking that he might have accidentally touched a person. But, no, when Adrien opened his eyes, he only found the ashy remnants of M. Ramier’s pigeon-feed bag in his palm. Despite himself, Adrien sighed with relief. Awful as she was, Ladybug was reliable. She’d never manipulated his cataclysm to hurt another person, only to deakumatize people. Though he knew Ladybug wasn’t above hurting innocents, she’d always seemed to care about her public image.

“Chat Noir!” M. Ramier screeched, now that all the black bubbles were gone. “What are you doing here?! Help! Ladybug!”

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you!” Adrien put his hands up, placating. M. Ramier’s eyes were still wide with fear. “Let’s get you down from here, okay?”

“You’re safe now, M. Ramier,” Ladybug landed firmly on the rooftop, polka-dotted Easy-Bake in tow. She snapped her yo-yo around the black butterfly and gave Adrien a pointed look. “He won’t hurt you anymore. Stray cats know when to scram.”

“I’m harmless as a declawed kitten,” Adrien told M. Ramier, pointedly ignoring Ladybug. “I wish you well.”

read the rest on ao3 (when it comes back up)

[emjayewrites]

Flashin’ Lights In A Midst of Darlin’ Nights (3/?)

A fated encounter in The City of Lights changed the lives of an actor and singer forever. And with those darlin’ nights comes even more delights.....

Synopsis: Will Poulter can count on his hands the amount of times he’s been rendered speechless, yet that was until he met singer-songwriter EmJaye. He soon finds himself speechless and dazzled every time he’s in her presence. For Mahalia-Joy, Will hooked her in with his quintessentially British banter. However, in this ruthless industry, a couple needs more to hold onto besides quick laughs and simple awe.

Pairings: Will Poulter x EmJaye (Mahalia-Joy Washington)

Warnings: cursing, adult content, mentions of drugs/alcohol. (Rated 18+)

Taglist: @vargskelegore, @pocfansmatter, @afro-hispwriter,  @unfriendlyblkhotti3, @sarcasticmrfox, @blackpearlbutterfly, @melancholymelanin, @mochachocolatteyaya, @goldentriostan, @multi-culti-girl, @chaneajoyyy, @mauvecherie-writes​, @4ftwonder, @jasmindaughteroftheworld, @valkryienymph, @colorfullydone, @earl-aive, @queenshikongo3, @blackreaderatrisk, @pulparindos, @cocobutterqwueen, @xsweetdellzx, @certifiedlesbianbaddie, @realhotgurlshit,   @aieshawilliams2001, @imatrisk

A/N: I do not know Will or his family personally. This is solely fiction and any similarities are coincidental. EmJaye was previously mentioned in a Yahya fic, but her character arc is completely different/changed to fit this fic. Thank you all so much for showing me love for this story! I missed writing and I’m happy to be back. If you would like to be tagged, please comment or DM me. Enjoy this chapter.

New York City, NY, London, UK & Los Angeles, CA — Mid/Late July 2022

Will reclined on the plush sofa in his London home, his injured knee propped up on a soft cushion. It had been a long day, starting off with a early gym session with his trainer, Dr. Benjamin Carraway, and the whirlwind of events and appearances afterward had left him longing for a moment of tranquility. His body served as a reminder of the injuries he had acquired over the years. The torn ACL and ligament in his ankle, the sprained rotator cuff — battle scars from his dedication to his craft. As he settled in, his phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime call. A smile brightened his face as he saw EmJaye's name lighting up the screen. 

With a swipe of his finger, he answered the call, and her radiant face filled the display. 

"Hey, Will," she greeted him, her voice filled with concern. "How are you feeling? I saw your text about having a rough day and dealing with those old injuries.”

Will chuckled softly, appreciating her thoughtfulness. "I'm hanging in there, sweetheart," he reassured her. "It's just a little sore today. Nothing I can't handle."

EmJaye's brow furrowed slightly, worry evident in her eyes. "I don't want you pushing yourself too hard."

"I know, and I appreciate it," Will replied, his voice filled with affection. "But you don't have to worry, Mahalia, I've learned to take care of myself. Besides, I have you to keep me in check."

A playful smile danced on EmJaye's lips. "Well, that's true. Someone's got to make sure you don't get too carried away."

Will feigned a dramatic sigh. "You know, I'm starting to realize that maybe I’m getting too old for all this," he said.

EmJaye's eyes widened in mock surprise. "Old? Please, you're just getting better with age," she retorted with a laugh. "And speaking of age, when's your birthday?"

A mischievous glint sparked in Will's eyes. "Well, I'll have you know that I'm twenty-nine. But not for long," he added with a smirk. "I’ll be the big 3-0 on January 28th next year."

EmJaye's face lit up with excitement. "No way! I’m turning twenty-six on January 29th!" she exclaimed.

Will's smile widened, their connection deepening with the realization of their shared birthdays. "Well, it looks like we have another reason to celebrate together," he remarked.

"That’s crazy,” she said in amazement. “Anyways, I may have something special to share with you."

Will leaned closer to the screen and he noticed that she was in the recording studio. "What is it?"

EmJaye's eyes twinkled mischievously as she placed her phone against a keyboard. From this new angle, Will was able to see the rest of the recording studio as well as her sound producer. “Do you want to hear something from my album?”

“Seriously?!”

She chuckled at his disbelief and shock. “Yeah,” she nodded. “I’m debuting a new single on Jimmy Fallon’s show later this week. I figured you’ll want to hear it.”

At a loss for words, Will gasped at this amazing opportunity she'd shared with him. “I’d be honored. Let’s see.”

“Alrighty then.” She gestured to her producer and he began playing a snippet of her latest single. The melodious sound filled the air, and Will's eyes widened in awe.

“I've been holding back, playing it safe, But now it's time to let go, find my own space. Gonna rise above the noise, break the chains, Embrace the unknown, no fear remains....”

When the song broke into the chorus, he watched intently as she mouthed the lyrics, her body moving in rhythm with the tempo and bass of the beat. As the music slowly dissipated, she let out a nervous giggle.

“So? What do you think?”

"Mahalia, that sounds incredible!” he exclaimed, his admiration evident in his voice. “Your voice, the lyrics...."

Her cheeks warmed from his praise, a mix of excitement and vulnerability washing over her. "Thank you, Will. Your support means the world to me. It’s still cookin’ though; we may change the hook and second verse, but I can't wait for you to hear the full song."

“I can’t wait,” he grinned. “I’ll try to watch your debut performance too.”

Her nose crinkled adorably in confusion. “Wait, how would you do that? I thought some American TV shows weren't available in the UK."

“I’ll find a way,” Will shrugged nonchalantly. “Better yet, if some things get switched around, I may be in L.A. by the time this week is over, so I can always watch from my hotel room.”

Their conversation meandered from music to their day-to-day lives. Will shared stories of events he attended in London, and EmJaye spoke passionately about her upcoming projects and the creative process behind her album.

“That single will be called ‘Get In The Way’”, she told him, slouching in her seat. “I have about a quarter of my songs and features done, but there’s still so much to do.”

Their conversation continued to flow effortlessly, and Will couldn't help but express his longing to see her again.

"I miss you, Mahalia," he confessed softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "Paris feels like a lifetime ago, and I can't wait to see you in Los Angeles later this month."

Her heart swelled at his divulgence, making her feel delirious and giddy. EmJaye adored how comfortable Will was with his feelings and his entire being. He never made her feel unsure or uneasy.

Her eyes softened, and a gentle smile graced her lips. "I miss you too, Will.”

Will couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation and excitement. The connection he shared with EmJaye felt deeper than anything he had ever experienced, and he couldn't wait to explore where it would lead.

With their conversation drawing to a close, they exchanged promises of continuing to stay in touch before saying their goodbyes and ending the call.

Leaning back in his sofa, Will raked a slow hand through his hair, smiling from ear to ear like a crazy fool.

             _______________________________________________

As the days flew by, Will and EmJaye stayed true to their promise of keeping in touch. They exchanged messages, photos, and even recorded video snippets of their daily adventures, bridging the distance between London and New York City.

Across the Atlantic Ocean, EmJaye found herself preparing for an appearance on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon. The anticipation swirled within her as she did a last-minute rehearsal of her performance, eager to share her new single, "Get In The Way," with the world. Donning honey blonde hair and an orange jumpsuit, she and her sound technician checked the microphones and her earpiece as the stagehands prepared for her performance.

EmJaye took a moment to compose herself backstage. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, electrifying her nervous system, and causing her chest to rise and fall with rapid breaths. The thought of sharing her new music with millions of viewers only heightened her anxiety, and even though she enjoyed making this song, she craved for the public to love it just as much as she did.

Minutes ticked by until the lights dimmed, and one of the show’s producers cued her to go. She stepped onto the stage with confidence, her vibrant presence dazzling the audience.

“And now singing her debut single, ‘Get In The Way’, please welcome EmJaye!” greeted Jimmy Fallon, earning her screams and shouts.

Meanwhile, in Los Angeles, Will watched the performance and interview in his hotel room with a mixture of pride and longing. As the opening chords of the song filled the room, Will's attention was immediately enchanted. The vibrant melody intertwined with the smooth, richness of her vocals, created a mesmerizing blend that resonated deep within his soul. He marveled at her, unable to tear his gaze away from the screen. Seeing EmJaye shine, her talent and charm evident for all to see, only intensified his feelings for her.

But it wasn't just her voice that enthralled him. Will couldn't help but notice how stunning she looked, her new hairstyle framing her face in a way that accentuated her radiant beauty. The way her bouncy curls cascaded around her shoulders and honey-blonde hair that complimented her rich brown skin left him wonderstruck.

The camera panned to the audience, and the thunderous applause washed over her, a testament to EmJaye's captivating stage presence. He could see the confidence radiating from her, the way she commanded the stage with an effortless grace that only added to her allure.

After the performance, EmJaye took a seat next to Jimmy Fallon, her smile lighting up the screen. The chemistry between them was undeniable, their playful banter drawing laughter from the audience. Will couldn't help but be proud of EmJaye, how she effortlessly connected with people, her genuine personality shining through.

As the interview progressed, Jimmy couldn't resist asking about EmJaye's recent trip to Paris and the connection she had formed with Will.

A blush graced EmJaye's cheeks, a delicate hue that made her even more invigorating. “Now, Jimmy...”

Her trailed-off statement earned her hoots from the crowd and she ducked her face behind her hand.

“We saw the pictures of the two of you on TMZ,” said Jimmy as he displayed a copy of a photo of them together at the sneaker store in Paris. “You guys look cute. Are you guys friends or....more than friends?”

EmJaye ignored his question at first, staring directly at the camera.

"Paris was a magical experience," she finally admitted, a fond smile playing on her lips. "I had the opportunity to explore the city and create lasting memories. That’s all I’m saying, Jimmy, sorry.”

Jimmy frowned at the answer but decided not to broach the subject further. Will let out a pleased sigh at her decision to remain coy and private about their budding relationship.

When the interview came to a close, Jimmy expressed his excitement for EmJaye's upcoming album and newest single. Will's heart swelled with pride, knowing that he would be there to support her every step of the way, and as the screen faded into a commercial, Will couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. He missed her deeply, longing to hold her in his arms and celebrate her success together. Yet, there was also a sense of anticipation, as he knew their reunion in Los Angeles was drawing near. 

Comic Con loomed on the horizon, and the excitement bubbled within Will's chest. The opportunity to promote Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.3, surrounded by passionate fans and immersed in the world of pop culture, was a dream come true. In the midst of it all, his mind wandered to the moments he would share with her.

He found himself daydreaming about their time in Paris — the laughter, the stolen glances, the effortless connection they had forged. The memories replayed in his mind like a movie, reminding him of the joy he felt in EmJaye's presence. Reaching for his phone, he dialed her number, smiling widely as her familiar voice greeted him on the other end of the line.

         ______________________________________________

EmJaye's plane touched down in Los Angeles, and as she stepped off the aircraft, the warm California air greeted her with open arms. Making her way through the busy airport, anticipation swirled within her. Her footsteps quickened, her eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face. And there he was, Will, standing tall and handsome amidst the sea of people, a smile spreading across his face as their eyes met.

They embraced tightly, their arms wrapping around each other as if they were two puzzle pieces finally finding their perfect fit. The warmth of his touch and the softness of his lips on hers whispered promises of the adventures that awaited them.

“How was your flight?” he asked as they parted.

“Not too bad,” she responded, adjusting the straps of her shoulder bag. Noticing her struggle, he extended a hand to help.

“Let me get that for you,” he states, taking the bag swiftly before she could react. “Do you have any others?”

“I have a few, but my driver should’ve gotten them by now,” EmJaye told him.

To their surprise, there weren’t many paparazzi snooping the premises for a photo and they managed to avoid them once word got out that one of the Kardashian sisters landed at LAX.

Walking towards the exit, they immediately found her awaiting SUV and hopped inside, and she let out a sigh of relief. With her flight from LaGuardia to LAX delayed by one hour, EmJaye thought that they wouldn’t have enough time to reach Van Nuys Airport to catch another flight to San Diego. Luckily for them both, they were on the highway in ample time, arriving at the next airport by the skin of their teeth.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, y’know,” EmJaye told Will as they walked into Van Nuys Airport from a private entrance. He gave her a dismissive wave. “I’m serious, Will, I don’t want you to get in trouble with Marvel.”

At this, Will let out a hearty chuckle. “I’m not going to get in trouble, Mahalia.” To ease her worry, he snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her close to kiss her cheek. “Besides, I told Feige and Gunn that you were hitching a ride; they’re cool with it.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “They are?!”

“Yes,” Will concurred softly. “We have a lot of space on this plane anyways.”

The private jet was settled on the tarmac as if patiently biding its time for their arrival. Emblazoned on the side, in huge font, was the Marvel logo. Jogging up the stairs, EmJaye reveled at the sleek aircraft.

Stepping inside the luxurious private plane, her eyes widened in awe at the sight before her. The plush seats, elegant decor, and the unmistakable air of exclusivity enveloped her.

“Fancy,” she drawled in delight, touching the wooden accents. “Marvel got that money-money.”

As she made her way through the plane's cabin, she spotted Chris Pratt, the charismatic star of the Guardians franchise. His infectious energy seemed to radiate, lighting up the whole space with his charm. He greeted her with a warm smile, instantly putting her at ease. His genuine warmth and playful banter made her feel like she was part of their tight-knit family.

Next to Chris sat Karen Gillan, whose captivating presence as Nebula in the film had left a lasting impression on EmJaye. Karen's vibrant red hair and fierce gaze mirrored the strong spirit she portrayed on screen. EmJaye admired her talent and found herself drawn to the kindness in her eyes as they exchanged introductions.

Pom Klementieff, the embodiment of Mantis's gentle yet powerful aura, greeted EmJaye with a warm hug. Her serene presence and contagious laughter instantly made EmJaye feel like they were old friends. Pom's genuine enthusiasm for the project and her fellow cast members was evident, and EmJaye found herself embracing the positive energy that surrounded her.

Maria Bakalova, a newcomer to the Guardians family, extended a hand in greeting. Maria's humility and down-to-earth nature resonated with EmJaye, and they quickly struck up a conversation about their shared passion for storytelling.

Amidst the group, Chukwudi Iwuji, a respected actor known for his versatility, exuded a calm and grounded presence. His warm smile and genuine interest in EmJaye's journey in the music industry made her feel seen and appreciated. Chukwudi's wisdom and grace created an atmosphere of profound respect, reminding EmJaye of the power of collaboration and the beauty of shared experiences.

Once their baggage was safely stored onboard, the plane soared through the skies and the conversations flowed effortlessly. Surrounded by these talented actors, she realized that she was not just joining Will on this adventure but becoming a part of something much bigger.

Comic Con greeted them happily, and as the plane landed in San Diego, EmJaye felt a surge of excitement. She knew that this journey was about more than just a film or a single event — it was about the connections they had formed, the stories they had yet to tell, and the impact they could make together.

At the convention center, the energy was electrifying. Fans gathered in droves, dressed as their favorite characters from the realms of comics and movies. Hand in hand, they ventured into the vibrant storm of Comic Con. The crowd buzzed with excitement, their eyes drawn to the magnetic couple strolling through the halls. Fans recognized them, their voices rising in joyous exclamations and the flashing of cameras capturing the magical moments.

They explored the various booths, their steps synchronized and their laughter contagious, EmJaye couldn't help but be swept up in the whirlwind of the event. It was a world unlike any she had experienced before, a celebration of pop culture that ignited the passions of fans from all walks of life. News outlets clamored to have them interviewed together with journalists lining up, hoping to capture the chemistry that emanated from the couple. But amidst the flurry of attention, EmJaye and Will remained grounded in their choice to decline.

In between Will’s interviews and panels, their love bloomed amidst the chaos. They stole moments alone, hidden from prying eyes, where their lips met in tender kisses, their affection a flame that burned brightly. 

The fans' excited cheers echoed through the halls as EmJaye and Will navigated the venue. She noticed the gleam in Will's eyes as he interacted with his fans, his genuine appreciation for their support was evident in every word he spoke. She admired his dedication and humility, realizing why he was so beloved.

As the day wore on, EmJaye and Will found solace in each other's presence, seeking refuge from the intensity of the event. They retreated to a quiet corner, their hands entwined as they shared their mutual excitement for what lay ahead for the two of them. The love that had blossomed in Paris had now spread its wings in the city of dreams, captivating hearts, and inspiring dreams of their own.

A smile played at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his voice a soft murmur. “Are you enjoying yourself so far?” wondered Will as he carefully tucked a wayward strand of hair back in place. “By the way, did I mention that you look gorgeous? I love your hair.”

“I am.” Her smile mirrored his own and she tilted her head slightly, appreciating the sincerity in his words. "Thank you," she added. "I wanted to try something different, and I'm glad you like it."

Their eyes locked, a gentle warmth filling the space between them. EmJaye's heart fluttered, affection swirling within her. The desire to kiss Will was undeniable, an unspoken longing in the air.

But before their lips sealed in that tender moment, a familiar voice broke the spell. "Hey, lovebirds! Mind if I join the party?"

Startled, EmJaye and Will turned to find Chris Pratt, grinning mischievously, making his way toward them. They exchanged a knowing glance, a combination of amusement and mild frustration dancing in their eyes.

"Chris, always finding a way to interrupt," Will chuckled, releasing EmJaye from his embrace, though their hands remained intertwined. "Of course, join us."

Chris playfully nudged Will on the shoulder. "Just making sure you're not getting too carried away. We've got interviews to do, buddy."

EmJaye couldn't help but laugh at the banter between the two friends, and she admired the genuine friendship that Will shared with his co-stars.

Following behind Chris, they made their way back to the rest of the group for their interview with Entertainment Weekly.

“I found them, y’all!” announced Chris as he entered the room.

The journalist from Entertainment Weekly greeted them warmly, eager to delve into the world of Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.3 and the dynamic between the cast members.

Will took his seat between Chukwudi and Maria, a smile playing on his lips as he glanced at EmJaye who sat away from the cameras, her presence a source of comfort and inspiration. The interview commenced, and the questions flowed seamlessly, drawing out laughter and insightful responses from the cast.

The journalist couldn't help but notice the undeniable chemistry between Will and EmJaye, their stolen glances speaking volumes. Sensing an opportunity, she decided to steer the conversation toward their budding romance.

"So, Will, there have been some rumors swirling about your connection with singer-songwriter EmJaye. Care to shed some light on that?" the journalist asked, a playful glint in her eyes.

Will's smile remained intact, but a subtle shift in his demeanor indicated a guardedness. He glanced at EmJaye, a mix of affection and protectiveness shining in his eyes. "I understand the interest, but I prefer to keep my personal life private," he replied, his tone polite yet firm.

EmJaye admired Will's commitment to safeguarding their relationship from prying eyes, and understanding the importance of maintaining a balance between their public and private lives.

The interviewer nodded, understanding Will's boundaries. "Fair enough, Will. Let's shift gears then and talk about your experience filming Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.3. What can fans expect from the film?"

The conversation flowed seamlessly from that point on, with the cast members delving into their characters, the intricate storyline, and the excitement of being part of such a beloved franchise. EmJaye beamed with pride as she listened to Will's passionate descriptions and watched his enthusiasm light up the room.

After an exhilarating day at Comic Con, EmJaye and Will found themselves in each other's company. Their connection had deepened, and they craved a quiet moment away from the hustle and bustle, deciding to head out for a romantic dinner. They approached a quaint Filipino restaurant tucked away on a charming street, the scent of delicious cuisine wafted through the air, enticing their senses. Will held the door for EmJaye, and she walked inside.

The ambiance was cozy and inviting, with soft lighting and intimate seating arrangements. They were greeted warmly by the restaurant staff and led to a private table adorned with flickering candles. They settled into their seats, their eyes sparkling with anticipation.

An attentive waiter soon approached, presenting them with menus filled with delectable dishes. Will chose to try the chef's special, a flavorful fusion of local ingredients, while EmJaye opted for a vegetarian delicacy that caught her eye.

As they awaited their meals, they engaged in lighthearted repartee, effortlessly transitioning from the joys and challenges of their respective careers to their dreams and aspirations. When their meals arrived, they delighted in the exquisite flavors that danced on their tongues, savoring every bite. The food served as a backdrop to their conversation, adding to the richness of the evening.

Will reached across the table, his hand gently grazing EmJaye's, his eyes sparkling with adoration. "This has been such a perfect day," he confessed, his voice filled with genuine warmth.

EmJaye smiled, her heart brimming with happiness. "I couldn't agree more. Thank you for this beautiful experience," she replied with gratitude.

EmJaye and Will’s lips drew closer for a passionate kiss, yet the familiar buzzing of their phones shattered the peacefulness of the evening. They reluctantly pulled away, their brows furrowing in confusion.

Her eyes widened as she read the message from her publicist, her heart racing. "Will, you won't believe this," she whispered, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"What is it?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. 

EmJaye held up her phone, showing him the tweet and an article that had just been published by People Magazine. A rush of emotions washed over them as they saw the headline, "EmJaye and Will's Blossoming Romance: Caught in a Moment of Passion at Comic Con!"

Their breath caught in their throats as they stared at the photo accompanying the article — a stolen shot of their kiss, captured by a stealthy paparazzo. The world had caught a glimpse of their private moment, and they were thrust into the spotlight in a way they hadn't expected.

Will broke the silence. "Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag," he said, his voice laced with a touch of irony. "We knew this would happen eventually, but it's still a shock."

"This can't be happening," EmJaye murmured, her voice trembling. "It's surreal seeing our private moments exposed like this.”

Will's hand found hers again, offering support and reassurance. "I know, sweetheart. It's overwhelming, but we'll get through this together."

After the initial shock subsided, they realized that they would have to face the consequences of their newfound exposure. They understood that their personal lives would now be scrutinized, analyzed, and speculated upon by the media and the public.

Exhaling a deep breath, EmJaye looked into Will's eyes, determination shining through. "No matter what happens, we'll stay true to ourselves," she vowed, her voice filled with resolve.

Will nodded, his grip on her hand tightening. "Absolutely. Our relationship is built on trust and honesty. We won't let outside forces define us."

With their phones still buzzing with messages and notifications, they made a silent pact to confront the situation together. Their publicists would guide them through the storm, but EmJaye and Will would hold onto their connection, staying grounded amidst the chaos.

Hand in hand, they left the restaurant, ready to face the challenges that lay ahead. The world may have discovered their romance, but EmJaye and Will knew that their love was worth protecting.

TO BE CONTINUED....