#so many talented people here and nothing to do thanks to this stupid script

[omnivorouscinephilia]

I’m honestly shocked that The Idol (Sam Levinson, 2023-) is seen as so shocking considering how bland and tepid it is. It feels like someone wanted to remake Perfect Blue (Satoshi Kon, 1998) but got lost along the way and ended up with 50 Shades of Hannah Montana, in the same way, that not only are its touted sex/kink scenes shockingly chaste and bland but also feels as substantive as a gormless sitcom meant to sell you a soundtrack (the Weekend interjects has a few self-insert needle drops throughout). The show's most obnoxious sin, like a bad children’s show, is that it frequently has characters deliver exposition that in turn informs important characterization, often indicating that they should’ve been depicted as part of the narrative proper, or announcing what commentary they are attempting. Characters try to sell us on the depth of the material, and why we should care, often in a cynical way as to say “this is what you should be talking about,” like a rather crass evocation of Brittney Spears in the first episode. 

Like the paparazzi with Spears, there is a lecherous survey of Joss’ (Depp) body present in almost every sequence she is on screen, but only in as much as it is being sold to us as sexy or broken. When it is not a temple for heroin chic fetishism, there are some decent attempts to show the damage her endless physical labor does to her, as emphasized by a sequence where we see the bleeding callouses and bandages on her feet. Yet frequently, her body is meant to be a sight for erotic titillation, her personality vacuous beyond unironic “cool girl” talking points that there is little else to focus on according to the series but her physique. It is almost as comically puritanical as some of its most vocal detractors, as any real depiction of sex is off-screen or so tepid that you imagine these are the fantasies of men who only know sex from the pornos they watched when they were teens in the nineties. Campion, Lynch, Cronenberg, and the Wachowskis were doing wilder erotic depictions decades ago.

What The Idol appears to be most substantively about are petty grievances against those who have slighted Sam Levinson in the past, i.e. an intimacy coordinator and women with authority. In the much-touted intimacy coordinator scene, wherein they are seen as obstructing Joss’ bodily autonomy (it’s conservatively clever, you almost have to applaud it), they are locked up in a bathroom by her manager Chaim (Azaria). This unintentionally sets up a throughline in the series where Joss keeps going against prior legal agreements. In this case, the intimacy rider for what she does and does not want to do, which the coordinator even states that they can redo and begin work again the next day. This paints Joss as indecisive and unprofessional, which the show seems to agree with, but also believes that what she needs is strong (patriarchal) guidance after her mother’s death. Her older woman manager Nikki (Jane Adams) is seen as a cruel taskmaster who wants to drop her at the earliest opportunity, and several women with power over Joss are seen as temperamental and unprofessional (like the director at the music video shoot). Whenever Joss needs comforting she either finds it in the arms of a man (usually Chaim, sometimes Tedros (a charisma-leaching Weeknd) away from a woman who was stressing her out. When it is not a man, it is a black woman (Destiny (Randolph)) effectively acting as her mammy. 

Speaking of race, there are some off dynamics at work. A brief torture scene in the second episode feature Tedros electroshocking Izaak (Sumney) when he fails to perform to his liking. Izaak is surrounded by white women, watching him gyrating above them, as Tedros continually hurts him. In effect, it is a scene of a light-skinned black man brutalizing a dark-skinned black man, seemingly for his own amusement and that of the white women. Further demonstrating this colorism, shots with Izaak are frequently so underlit that they obscure his features. True the show’s look is that of a low-rent neo-noir pastiche, but certainly some creative lighting could have mitigated the problem while also giving the series a better visual identity than what it has.

The fact it is so dour while unintentionally hilarious makes the series perversely entertaining, but exclusively in terms of ironic aesthetic enjoyment, divorced from its repressible messaging and politics. The style is likewise nothing to write home about, functional without much expressiveness. It seems at points most of the more expressive stylistic techniques like quick cutting and panning shots are used to obscure poor dancing quality from Depp. Otherwise, the bare minimum in terms of composition and structure is just around barely subpar. 

Seeing as the series is intended as a limited run, I do not think it will overcome these hurdles in the long run. However, I do believe in at least seeing where the series goes from this point. Odder situations have happened than a series becoming good after the first third, so we shall see.

[simpliao]

hi darling, how you doing? i’m so in love with your domestic series, i can’t stop reading it!! also i feel like schlatt saying he hates sharing has been a bit of a theme,,,,, if possible, could you write something about him being jealous with some nice fluff at the end? thank youu 🤍

your hero in shinning armour ; (irl) schatt x reader

– part one , – part two , – part three , – part four , – part five , – part six

summary : so what if it was a stupid fake relationship in a stupid game? knowing he couldn’t stomaching his lover with someone else even in a fake world was enough motivation to hijack her stream.

info : jealousy, fluff, swearing, sugary sweet pet names, minecraft, and an afab + she/her pronouns reader.

a/n : it's always wonderful to hear ! jealous schlatt is honestly one of my favourite things in this world, it fits with my own hc's of his character being insecure with his relationship; and his undying love and yearn to show off the most gorgeous thing in his life.

Schlatt was always a believer in privacy; he hated when other people harassed him to know his business. And yet, there was one personal aspect of his life he felt the urge to always overshare; his beloved wife. Perhaps it stemmed from his mere denial that he could ever land such a woman, one of strong will, refreshing sense of humour, and looks that could instantly have him on his knees. It was more likely that he felt the need to assert and remind everyone in the damn world who owned his pretty girl's heart, not to say she didn't have his over lock and key either.

She made numerous appearances on stream, and having been a guest in every podcast he owned while also appearing on others alongside him. And yet for a lot of their careers it was just that: appearances. They each had their own friend group that they interacted with and made content with, hardcore fans would know, but newcomers or part-time viewers could easily not know of her marriage to the other big Internet personality. It wasn't that they were ashamed to show off each other to viewers, every other tweet or post from either would be a photo of their lover usually in candid photos. It was just that marriage can feel suffocating, draining even when you see the same person all the time at all hours of the day; not to say that either of them regretted it.

They both needed time to be their own person and not just 'that one streamer's husband/wife', this was their way of keeping their relationship outside of work. And it generally went pretty smoothly, schedules needed to be rearranged for it to work, but in the end everything worked out. Or at least it should have. Although the fact was they both discussed their big projects amongst each other, not everything tended to get mentioned; likely because there was just so much to talk to and one could only talk about work for so long. This happened on Y/n's part, with so many things she balanced in her online career, it was bound to be that she forgot to mention something.

And really she didn't think it was that big of a deal, she was a minor character in a role-play smp composed of her friends and friend's of those friends, and it involved a fake relationship that she genuinely thought nothing of. They followed a loose-ish script, she was here on a favour from a friend that figured she could play the role of innocent female that had an arranged marriage but actually falls in love with her arranged husband role pretty well. The problem was that she was playing the role too well.

Their interactions spread like wildfire, and the ship between her character self and her friend's grew exponentially that in inevitably ended up on Schlatt's timeline. He followed a few fanart accounts that he found especially talented, and one had retweeted a very good piece of art that depicted his wife in a romantic scene with someone who was not him. When they had first revealed their relationship, he thought that all other ships between his lover and anyone else died out; because she was married. Although this seemed less than dead, and scrolling through the tag of their ship name (just knowing it existed made him shudder) he found many detailed artworks (and some discussing fan fictions) about this.

He of course ran to his darling about it, trying not to sound sour about it. She was laid out on the couch, cuddling with Jambo whilst mindlessly scrolling through her phone. "Hi sweetheart, hi Jambo– what the fuck is this?" He took a seat near her legs, while extending his phone for her to see; it was the fanart he had originally seen. "Oh, yeah, I'm like married on the SMP I told you about." She had set down her phone and moved her position upright as she moved Jambo off her chest to hold him like a baby, their baby. She thought nothing of it, but seeing her husbands (half) jokingly pouty face she made sure to lean in and kiss his cheek. "It's sorta like the Dream SMP you were apart of, people marry each other for story purposes and whatever. I'm only there as a favour, we both know the kind of fanbase doing Minecraft content can attract nowadays." A light chuckle left him, but he was certainly still salty. "I trust you toots, you know the thought of you with anyone else irks me."

In said tag that he scrolled through until his eyes burned, there were very real stream clips of his Y/n jokingly flirt with this guy. He wasn't mad at her, and he certainly wasn't going to stop based on his own insecurities; she was just doing her job. However... That didn't exactly stop him from messaging this SMP's creator on Twitter.

I want to join your SMP.

Back and forth was exchanged, going through this creator, their friends who managed the story and being practically begged to not drag them into some kind of controversy (his name alone had a chance to stir uproar). And with some convincing, maybe just a little bit of 'if you have me you know viewers will spike', and he was scheduled to make a surprise appearance and literally crash her Minecraft wedding; all while only the SMP's creator, and a handful of others knowing. Y/n and her fake fiancée not having been told.

The day of the lore stream, inside the Schlatt household nothing seemed amiss; in fact it seemed to be oddly cheery. An ear-to-ear smile retained on his face, she knew he was hiding something but couldn't imagine what it could be. "You seem in a good mood today. Wanna share what's got your spirits so high?" She questioned lightheartedly, she loved seeing her husband happy but he just wasn't the type to be for no reason. He set down his steaming mug of bitter black coffee upon the counter, moving in closer to cradle her movingly. "I reminded myself that you're mine." A soft awe escaped the smaller woman's lips, completely oblivious to what should happen once she starts work. "I told you about how I'm marrying this guy on stream today right?" A soft mhm left his lips, "at the end of the day you're mine." She hummed in agreement to this, his comment flying over her head cause how was she supposed to know he was going to crash their wedding?

The stream was going fairly good, in-game text having been turned off to look more cinematic; the notification of a jschlatt joining the game completely not shown. The reasoning behind their union being that of alliance between nations, and just as she'd say those fateful words that she hadn't uttered since her actual wedding; a tnt explosion went off.

And who else's Minecraft character came running in but that of her husband? "WHAT'S UP FUCKERS?" Immediately was heard after he had joined the discord call, having joined the server mere moments before. The name of her lover slipping off her lips in surprise "Schlatt?" This was not apart of the script. "Y/n! Darling, who is that?" "I could be saying the same thing, get your hands off my fucking wife!" Maybe some part of his over the top persona was real burning jealousy, despite the fact they were all interacting in a children's game. It unravelled into a duel to the death, and a subplot he made up along the way that they'd been sneaking out to meet in the dead of night, and that they were true soulmates. He described himself as her hero in shinning armour, proclaiming that he would save her from the forced matrimony. It was adorable, and playing along she didn't miss a beat. "It's true... I'm sorry, I never really wanted to marry you." And the whole thing ended with Schlatt up and killing her would be husband and running away with her.

Once the cameras stopped running, each left their home offices (he didn't want to actually go to their rented out office space out of laziness) and met up in the kitchen, cheeky grin akin to that of earlier that morning. A small smile upon hers, "so that's what had you in such a good mood?" "Maybe a little." He was quick to wrap her up in his arms, catching a glimpse of the wedding ring that she never took off; a flood of warmth and glee washed over him. His own wedding band reminding him of who always waited at home for him. Even just the quick peck of her lips was like a surge of dopamine; just having her around tested his self control. "Were you jealous, by chance?" Her teasing words spoke a rhetorical question, she already knew the answer to that. She expected him to vehemently reject the notion; but with those eyes of pure devotion he spoke without a speck of sarcasm.

"Yeah, I really was." A toothy grin accompanying his words, hands gripping at her upper arms in a gentle hold. "I... It's so fucking stupid, I know. I watched your stream clips and you looked so radiant and... I was scared he'd make you happier than I would. I know maybe ruining some part of whatever narrative they were trying to write was slightly extreme, but I'd do anything not to lose you." Her eyes had this soft gaze upon him that made everything feel okay, "I'm sorry I ruined your stream sweetheart, know that I asked permission first." "There's nothing to be sorry about, if anything I'm sorry." She huffed out, a feeling of guilt overcoming her heart. "I should've asked you how you felt about it first, no one could ever make me happier than you can. Please don't worry yourself over it, and I'm sorry for making you feel like that."

It may have felt slightly dramatic and cheesy, lord knows Schlatt would never let this kind of tender moment between the two ever get let out as to not damage his macho persona. But he was human too, and at the end of the day sometimes he needed those sappy sweet words of reassurance; he knows he isn't perfect but it's nice to know he's enough.

[daisiesandshakes]

Good day my dear and first of all, let me thank you and praise you for your beautiful HC! I really enjoyed reading each one of them, and I'm grateful to have your posts filling my dashboard!🥰

If I may leave a request in your ask box... I would like to have a HC reaction of Le Comte, Shakespeare, and Theodorus with MC who gets all nervous and anxious with getting skinship from them for the first time (but eventually can handle it in time).

Thank you beforehand and do take your time and no rushing things! Stay safe and have a nice day~! 🍀✨

Hi sweetheart!

I am so honored to have you in my ask box 💝 thousand thanks for your praise, I am so happy you liked my HC!

Sorry it took a few days to write yours, and I really, really hope you enjoy it!

Here you go:

Ikevamp reactions to a MC who is afraid with skinshipping (Shakespeare, Theodorus & le Comte)

Shakespeare

At their introducing to each other William notices the hesitation as he reaches for her hand to blow a kiss on it. Might this dazzling, little dove be scared? Immediatly he interrupts his action and only bows with a warm smile on his handsome face to comfort her.

Shakespeare can read people very well and recognizes instantly that she gets scared when someone touches her directly. Dealing with his own fear (he's afraid of the dark) he knows how hard it can be to live with anxiety.

"Feareth nothing mine own fair maiden, I wouldst nev'r toucheth thee without p'rmission."

Enchanted by her sweet personality he's very eager to please and comfort her. When she's in town William tries to join her as much as possible, always walking on the side where people could touch her by accident. He would offer his arm when she needs to secure her steps and walk in front of her when it's crowdy (while glaring daggers) to guide her safely through.

Searching for ways to know her better Will arranges many, long walks at the Seine and dinner at a restaurant at a late hour when it's less crowded, chatting with her for hours. Seeking for possibilities to create a pleasantly warm and welcomed atmosphere for her, he asks her also for dinner at his Villa, reading out his newest script and teaching her old english.

Soon after William invites her to his rehearsals (he instructed his troupe members to avoid touching her), hoping that his kind and open troupe makes her feel more safe with the time. And to his greatest pleasure it seems to work. Everyone treats her like a precious, lost little sister and she starts to lose her inner tension around them.

It begins with small gestures, like helping the troupe members getting dressed with their costumes, passing over the props without flinching when they accidently touch her.

One evening she tells William how much she enjoyed the day with a bright smile while she lays her hand on his for a second. "I am so joyous to heareth those honest w'rds from thy fair lips" He turns his face away from her, so she couldn't glimpse the suspicious glistening in his eyes.

The day the play should start an actress has an accident and is not able to take part. Although she's got only a short performance, it presents an important twist in the play. Shakespeare is desperate and about to cancel the whole play, but then...

"I could do her part." MC's voice is faint but firm. Shakespeare's eyes grow wide with surprise. "Art thee sure about yond?"

She plasters a confident smile on her face. "Yes, I saw the rehearsals so many times, I could speak all lines backwards" she giggles, "and there is only one line for myself, so..."

William closes the gap between them, gazing deep in her eyes, frowning.

"T's not the line yond conc'rns me, I am sure thou art able to mast'r t. But the act'r hast to holdeth thee in his arms and I wonneth't confronteth thee with aught yond maketh thee feel uncomfortable."

She swallows hard but replies: "I can do it. When the embrace is soft and he won't press my body against his... I should go along with it. You all worked so hard for it, to see the play cancelled would hurt me much more than his arms around my waist."

The actor appears next to them "Princess, I swear I'll only hold you with the wings of a butterfly!"

With a warm and lovingly glare Shakespeare whispers "So t shouldst beest as thee wisheth. Thee can't imagineth what t means to me yond thee art willing to confronteth thy fears f'r our success."

As the stage play ends the audiance gives standing ovations. After every actor and at least William bows to the public, he rushes backstage for laudatary words. Spotting her his expression lightens up even more "Mine own muse, thee madeth t! Thee enchant'd ev'ryone and hath brought us most wondrous success!" he declares smiling. Laughing joyfully she hurries towards him, throwing her arms around his shoulders and Shakespeare freezes. "I am so, so happy for you Will! Everything went smoothly! Listen to the applause, Will! It seems it won't end!" As she lifts her head to meet his gaze he takes her delicate hand softly into his, and suddenly she realizes that she hugged him without any hesitation.

"Thee not feareth mine own toucheth anym're, little turtledove?" he asks barely audible.

Lost for words she only shakes her head, thightening the grip around his shoulder. Leading her hand slowly up to his face, Will  watches her reactions closely, ready to stop at any second when her features show displeasure. But the radiant expression in her eyes and the smile on her lips stays, and he nuzzles his cheek into her palm with a sigh. Resting her cheek against his chest she clings to him and both close their eyes, enjoying this special moment, knowing there are a lot more waiting for them to explore.

Theodorus

At first he's just annoyed by the "new, helpless hondje" that stays with them at the mansion. But after a few days he learns from a conversation between Vincent and her that she loves art as much as he does, what awakens his interest. Paying more attention to her  now he feels attracted to her charming personality and repartee (mostly when it comes to repel Arthur's salacious remarks).

In one of those moments he notices her unusual pale face and the tension in her body, trying to keep a distance between her and Arthur. Although his "threatening words" and his advances are supposed to be merely a jest, she looks like a cornered animal. It clicks in his mind.

Pulling Arthur back at his collar he growls "That's quite enough, get your besotted mess off her. That little hondje will only bark for me." A bit confused and wide eyed Arthur leaves you both alone.

Theo sighs. "You can't bear the touch of someone, am I right?" She didn't expect that he of all residents would recognize it first and in her surprise she only nods. Theo buzzes "Then stay around me and Vincent, that should be safe for you. I'll talk to the others, there is no point in hiding your anxiety. You shouldn't look over your shoulder in fear like a scared, helpless puppy everytime someone gets close to you."

Theo talks to the other residents the same day (threatens Arthur to beat the sh*t out of him if he dares to come too close to her again). From now on everybody still treats her kind and caring, but keeping a respectful distance.

Taking her right away everywhere with him he makes sure no one touches her, even by accident. In crowded places people make quickly room for them only due to his intimidating, beaming glare, ready to spread some black eyes if somebody should be so stupid to lay their filthy fingers on her.

She asks him why he's doing all that for her but Theo only replies "You can't bear it to be touched, I can't bear to have a sad, whining puppy around me. That's all."

But she realizes real soon that he is a very caring and soft person despite his harsh words.

Taking King out for a walk - "Hondje come with me. You need some fresh air and King likes you, so he might behave a bit when you come with us."

"You don't think you could go to town shopping without me, don't you? You need someone to take you by your leash. I'll come with you. We need more sirup either."

Sharing the love for art he'll even invite her to join him in his search for new talented painters. The more time they spend together, the more she seems to lose her anxiety around him, feeling comfortable in his presence. One evening both strall down the Seine he calls her near "Look at this picture hondje!" He stands close to the canvas, his left hand stroking over the frame. She rushes over to his right side and leans in, her shoulder touching his chest. "This is beautiful, Theo!"

"Yes, it is..." he mumbles into her hair, not sure if he's still talking about the picture, inhaling her sweet scent.

After they both discovered this talented painter Theo invites her the next evening into his favorite bar to celebrate this occasion.

It only takes a few drinks (although the bartender had the instruction to water her drinks down) and she's already tipsy. "Oi, hondje! We should leave now, I don't want to carry you back to the mansion!" She only giggles at this imagination and to his surprise no snubbing remark follows. Leaving the bar she stumbles soon, losing her balance. "Watch out, hondje!" He grabs her by her arm before she could fall to the floor. "Ouh, I feel dizzy Theo... would you mind to take a rest at this bench over there?" Nodding he immediatly leads her over, not letting go of her arm. As they sit down next to each other he mumbles "I hope it was okay to hold you at your arm, but I was afraid..."

She cuts him off, giving him a sweet smile "Nah, it was okay Theo. And at least you didn't have to carry me. I am not that drunk..." suddenly a hickup interrupts her. "Oooh nooo..." she whines.

Theo bursts into laughing "I see..." after a second she joins into his laughter. When the last giggle fades, she closes her eyes, resting her head at his shoulder. "I feel so tired all of a sudden."

"Don't mind. You can rest here with me for a while if you need to." he replies with an unusual soft voice. Very slowly he puts his arm around her, in case she wants to raise an objection. "I am not scared of your touch anymore." She murmurs, "I have to admit I'm really enjoying this right now." her words are almost inaudible while she nuzzles her face at his chest. Theo freezes in disbelief, an unknown warmth spreads through his entire body and his heart feels like bursting, relieved that she can't see the heat in his cheeks. Listening to her steady breathing he knows she fell asleep and he kisses her temple ever so slightly "So I have to carry you nevertheless." he mumbles with a grin. In the future he'd make sure no one ever gets the opportunity to touch her. But from now on his actions comprises a further reason.

Le Comte

He's living for centuries now and is able to read in people's heart almost like in an open book. Le Comte recognizes her reserved way when it comes to physical touch immediatly and invites her to his room for a talk. After he gives her a graceful and encouraging smile she tells him hesitantly about her anxiety, feeling embarressed to tell him about her inner demons.

"Ma cherie, don't feel ashamed. There's no reason for that. I'll ensure that everyone in the mansion respects your fears. And please don't hesitate to talk to me about anything that might concern you. Anytime."

This day all residents have a personal conversation with Le Comte in his room.

He will buy her several pair of exclusive leather gloves, so it might be easier for her to get along with her fear to be touched at her hands.

Knowing that public and crowded places are going hand in hand with the fear of being touched by accident he makes sure that almost everything her heart desires would be delivered into the mansion. A few days after her arrival she stumbles over a bunch of new dresses in her room and quite surprised she asks him how he knows her dress size. With slight flushed cheeks and avoiding her gaze he answers that he only has a good eye. (Liar... he observes her so intensly he could tell how many eyelashes her left eye has even when Sebas would wake him up from his deepest slumber...)

He will gladly take every opportunity talking to her, hoping that knowing each other better will reduce her tension and anxiety. Treating her like a princess with the utmost respect and warmth, she begins to relax in his presence. Strolling with Comte through the garden, taking tea in the gazebo, chatting about nothing and everything. Everytime they spend time together the space between them seems to melt a bit more.  

Taking a walk early through the garden together became a morning routine in the meantime and today it's warm and the sky bright blue. Suddenly King rushes playful towards them and jumps on her, trying to lick over her face. Totally caught offguard she loses her balance and stumbles backwards but le Comte immediatly catches her at the waist. "King, come here you stubborn beast!" Theo yells but King is already rushing further into the mansion. Theo apologizes quickly to them as he runs after his dog. "Are you hurt, ma cherie?" Concern lies in St.Germain's glance and voice. She giggles. "No, I am fine. King is such a cute "beast". Thank you for catching me Comte." At this moment he realizes that his arms are still around her and with an almost inaudible sigh he pulls his hands off her waist. "I am so glad nothing happened to you, ma belle." Then it comes to his mind, that she didn't complain at his touch. She didn't even flinch... pure happiness spreads through every nerve of his body and with a joyful smile on his lips they continue their walk.

A week later the weather ist still nice and warm, so she decides to visit the market place in town, getting some fresh air and maybe some fruits. The market is almost over as she arrives and less crowded. With a happy smile she studies the remaining goods as a salesman appears directly in front of her, eager to sell her one of his scarves. "A little dove like you  should wear a scalf, the wind still can be chilly..." Smiling politely she refuses, but the seller doesn't give up. "Here, this one matches your beautiful eyes" he goes on, his hands almost around her neck with the scarf. She freezes in panic, her face pale with shock as suddenly someone appears behind her, grasping the sellers'hands, holding them away from her neck. "Sir, what do you think you are doing, to harry a young lady like this?" Comte pushes the hands of the seller with one arm away, his other arm already protective around her shaking form. The burning anger in his eyes makes the salesman flee in panic without another word. Comte's gaze softens instantly as his eyes roam over her body with utmost concern. "Cherie, did he hurt you?" Still shaking she replies sobbing "No... It was o- only ..I was only scared he would touch me." Without thinking his grip around her tightens but in the next moment he takes a step away with a flustered expression on his graceful features "I'm begging your pardon, ma cherie, I shouldn't ... It wasn't my intention to embrace you without permission."

Shaking her head softly she closes the gap and leans back into his arms, her voice faint and pleading "Don't worry Comte, I am not scared of your touch anymore. If you don't mind, would you hold me a bit longer? It makes me feel safe." Stunned by her words he softly put his arms around her, his heart swelling with affection. As she rests her cheek against his chest with a sigh he whispers "I would so anything for you, ma cherie. And to hold you in my arms is my greatest pleasure." Slowly she lifts her chin to meet shiny golden eyes, in their dephts swirling so much love, adoration and yearning it takes her breath away. She answers his unspoken question with a lovingly smile.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Won’t You Stay (Part 4)

Summary: The reader enjoys lunch with Jensen as strictly friends but the pair both know something is still there. The reader and her dad end up having a slight argument later on in the day when she tries to give him a few notes...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 3,100ish

Warnings: language, mention of car accident/death

A/N: Please enjoy!

______

“Good evening,” said Jensen, smiling as he popped up behind you in the line for lunch, albeit, dinner break. 

“Hi Jens,” you said, returning the smile he was giving you. “Having fun today?”

“Oh, there’s nothing I love more than being tied to a chair and screaming my head off,” he said. You looked him up and down and started to laugh, Jensen rolling his eyes. “Alright gutter mind, take it easy.”

“I couldn’t help myself,” you teased, getting a hot bowl of soup and bread tonight. You rubbed your arm and Jensen smiled as he threw a few meatballs in his styrofoam container. 

“You uh, want to eat in my trailer with me?” he asked. You looked over your shoulder, most of the tables filled up. “It’s a little cool in here anyways.”

“Sure,” you said, securing a lid on your food and grabbing a spoon. You followed him out of the tent and across the lot. He held the door open for you as you slipped inside. His was certainly smaller than your dad’s but it wasn’t horribly outdated like some of the other ones that were for the rest of the rotating cast.

He pushed some papers off his small table and onto the seat, waving for you to take a seat. You hummed as you felt warm air come out of the vent nearby.

“I love a toasty trailer on a cold day,” you said.

“You know us LA types. Can’t handle the cold,” he chuckled. “I’m glad we’re inside today.”

“It’s supposed to get a bit stormy next week,” you said. “We’ll have to get some heaters on set for night scenes.”

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he said as you took off your lid and dipped your bread in the soup. “I’m sure this is nothing compared to how it was on Freeze.”

“Oh my God,” you said with a smile. “I loved Freeze! I was seven when my dad did that movie. You know the sled dogs? I got to go on a ride with them. It was one of the few movies of my dad’s he let me see when I was little.”

“Well it was a children’s movie,” said Jensen as he set a drink down in front of you and started to eat. “I used to watch it all the time with my brother. We both had the flu once and we watched that thing four times that day.”

“It was a good movie. I was excited because we lived up in Alaska for about two months. I built so many snowmen and I think I dragged my dad sledding every single day,” you said. “I don’t know when he slept.”

“Probably when you were at school,” chuckled Jensen.

“Actually I was homeschooled on occasion,” you said. He raised an eyebrow and leaned back. “Most of the time it was studio tutors that did the teaching but my dad got all certified to teach elementary school. Up in Alaska I think he did it on his own. I had recess a lot.”

“Ethan is a man of many talents,” said Jensen. “Not to brag but I mean, I can drive a stick shift.”

“He can do that too,” you said.

“Alright. He’s frustratingly good at everything.”

“He can’t sing for shit if that makes you feel better,” you said.

“I can,” he said. You tilted your head and he shook his head, cheeks pink for a moment. “You know, average. It’s really not good.”

“Now who’s the one underselling themselves,” you said. “I thought that was my thing. I bet you sing better than you think.”

“I can’t really do it in front of other people,” he said.

“I understand,” you said. His face returned to it’s normal color and you went back to your meal. Green eyes stared at you though and you looked up through your eyelashes as you slurped your soup. “Something on my face?”

“No,” he said. You caught him staring a few more times, enough that you checked your shirt to make sure you hadn’t spilled anything on yourself. He smirked when you looked down. You rolled your eyes and caught him frown, his body stiffening up while you ate in silence.

“Thanks for letting me eat in here,” you said. You gathered up your trash when you finished, Jensen letting out a small breath.

“You just...look nice today is all,” he said, taking a bite of his breadstick. You looked down at yourself. You thought you looked like crap but whatever. He was free to his opinion. 

“Okay…I’ll see you on set,” you said. You grabbed the bag of trash and left the trailer, hearing a groan as soon as you left. 

“I’m an idiot,” you heard him say. You smiled briefly before you wiped it off your face. You were nothing more than work friends. It was very clear and obvious that would be for the best. 

Which was of course why he completely threw that out the window and said you looked nice and couldn’t stop looking at you. You sighed and heard the door open behind you, Jensen standing there with his script in his hand.

“Oh. You’re still there,” he said. You hummed and quickly hopped off the steps, squeezing your eyes shut as you walked. Great. He’d probably heard that.

You nearly tripped over a cable, your eyes flying open. 

“Uh, you doing alright?” he asked. You gave him a thumbs up and got out of there quickly, your dad whistling as he headed into his own trailer nearby.

“You look like you’re having a day,” he said.

“I am so looking forward to the weekend.”

“Sorry kid,” said your dad in the middle of a scene later on that night. Jensen turned his head and shook it out. “You okay?”

“Yeah. My fault, should have turned quicker,” said Jensen, his cheek probably decently sore after that hit. After the dinner break, Jensen had gone back in the chair and you’d continued with the rougher parts of Hale’s interrogation of Lyle. The movie was going for a PG-13 rating but that didn’t mean it was going to be pretty.

“I was the one off the mark,” he said.

“You guys okay?” you called. 

“Accidentally popped Jay in the face. He says he’s okay though,” said your dad.

“Jensen, you good to keep going or you want medical?” you asked.

“I’m good,” he said, giving a quick thumbs up. You knew he was ready to get out of the chair. He’d been squirming the past half hour and not because he had to use the bathroom. Getting yelled at and fake beat up for eleven hours today wasn’t all that fun.

“Alright, reset. That was good but dad, go harder on Jensen,” you said.

“I was going pretty hard before,” he said with a scoff.

“Pretend some guy killed your kid. How pissed would you be? Do that,” you said. He looked over at the camera, a strange look on his face. 

Oh shit.

He was not happy and you knew it.

“Hey, let’s take a quick fifteen minute break. We’re all due,” you said. “Jensen, you need out of the chair?”

“Nah, I’m okay,” he said even though you knew he’d prefer it. “Just want a little bit of a drink.”

“Alright,” you said, your dad already walking past the cameras and headed outside for the trailers. “We won’t be long.”

“Why’d we break? We just started this scene,” said AJ as he leaned over to you.

“Just give me ten minutes please,” you said as you hopped out of your seat. You turned off your radio and went to your dad’s trailer, knocking a few times. “Dad. Can I come in?”

He was quiet and you rested your head against the door. 

“Dad, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

You heard him on the steps and moved back, the door creaking open. He stared at you before he held it open and you stepped up. He went to his couch and took a seat, reading over his script and clearly giving the cold shoulder.

“Wow. You’re forty five years old. Act like it,” you said.

“Don’t give me notes like that,” he said as he stood up. “In fact, don’t give me notes at all. I know what I’m doing. I know your book. I don’t need you to tell me how to play Hale. I have been doing this your entire life.”

“Well sorry. I know you were forced to take me in. I’ll be sure not to give you any notes on caring about children again,” you said, turning to go when his hand caught your arm. “Let go.”

“I have thought about that night a lot and I would pick you over Kim every single time if I was given a choice. Do not try and spin this that I don’t care about you,” he said.

“Well why’d you get so pissed off?”

“Because you almost did die. I know what that feeling is like and I never want to feel it again, even pretend,” he said back.

“You didn’t even know she was pregnant though,” you said. “She was never going to tell you about me. I’m not even supposed to be here with you. Her parents didn’t want to raise her bastard child that the doctors chose over her and that’s the only reason I am here.”

“You know I love your mother, that I love Dani,” he said.

“Yes, dad. I was in the wedding,” you said as you rolled your eyes. “What does that-”

“I love her. She was the first woman I’ve ever truly loved but I would shove her in front of a train for you or Anthony or Ella. Do not ever doubt that I wouldn’t put my children first, ever,” he said.

“Just...forget this happened. Obviously I shouldn’t have said what I did. Come back when you’re ready,” you said, his hand tugging you into a hug. “Dad, it’s fine.”

“I’m still sensitive over Kim. I snapped and I’m sorry. Please give me notes and direction. You’re not a little kid and you’re the boss, not me,” he said. 

“Sorry for being bitchy,” you mumbled.

“I’m sorry for being bitchy first,” he said, giving you a smile. “It’s alright. There was nothing wrong with your note, kiddo.”

“Why didn’t she tell you she was pregnant? You never talk about her,” you said after a few minutes.

“We were stupid high school kids that broke up when I moved away. I was out in LA by the time she realized she was pregnant her parents always said. She knew who the dad was and finally told them but she didn’t want me in your life,” he said. “She was probably angry at me for leaving and scared to do it alone. I never blamed her.”

“She got hit by a drunk driver right before I was due. I know you felt guilty over not knowing about me but-”

“I never said that,” he said.

“Well you didn’t have to say it,” you said. He leaned his head back and sighed. “I know you must have still cared about her from the way you barely talk about her.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I remember that night. I’d just gotten my first movie deal and I was supposed to start real soon. I got a phone call though and that all changed. I had to quit, told them my daughter needed me. Bryerson delayed the project for me actually.”

“Studio owner Bryerson?” you asked.

“He didn’t always own it. He was just a junior vice president back then. He liked me. He liked my priorities. NICU baby was hard to ignore,” he said, giving you a smile. “I’ll go harder in there. You’re right. I was holding back. I don’t need to pretend to know what it’s like to lose a child though. I almost lost my first one, more than once.”

“I grew up healthy though,” you said with a frown. “Right?”

“Yeah. That first week was rough though. You survived the car accident and birth but then you were so little. There were a few days where I almost lost you again. But you pulled through and we got lucky you did,” he said, smiling to himself. He still looked off though and you gave him a hug. He held on tight, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Dad? Are you okay?” you asked. He hummed, squeezing you too tight.

“Alright, alright. We got a long night ahead of us. Let’s get back to it.”

“Very good job tonight!” you called out a few hours later. Your dad jogged off set and grabbed his backpack from his chair, taking off quickly as you saw Jensen stand. “See everyone in the morning. Jensen, please hold back a minute.”

He sighed as he walked off set and gathered up his things from his chair, waiting there while you spoke to the AD for a moment.

“Yes?” he asked wearily when you went over to him.

“You alright? Today’s stuff wasn’t easy. My dad’s a veteran actor and I know it got to him a bit,” you said. Jensen stared at you and nodded. He looked exhausted and tired from shouting and crying most of the day. He looked away and let out a breath.

“I’m okay,” he said, his voice sounding a bit raw and scratchy. “I really want to go home and go to bed is all.”

“Don’t bring it home with you,” you said. He rubbed his eyes and nodded. “Jensen.”

“I’m not,” he said. “I’m fine. I want to be left alone if that’s okay.”

“For a great actor you make a horrible liar,” you said. Jensen sighed and you grabbed his hand. “Let’s get an early breakfast. My treat.”

“I would rather we don’t see each other outside of work. Simpler that way,” he said. You stared at him and dropped his hand. 

“Jensen, come on. This isn’t...you need to get out of Lyle’s head for a minute. It’s not you. You’re okay.”

“Y/N, I appreciate the concern but I’m fine and I don’t want to see you anymore tonight,” said Jensen. You frowned as he started to walk away. He was still upset but you couldn’t make him do anything about it. Thankfully your dad walked over just then and slapped Jensen on the back, giving him a smirk. Jensen sighed but forced a smile onto his face. “Hey, Ethan.”

“Come on, kid,” he said, throwing an over his shoulders, leading Jensen towards the actor’s parking lot. “Let’s go walk.”

“Where?” asked Jensen quietly. “I want to go home, Ethan.”

“Just come on,” he said. “I’ve been there. I’ll take care of him, Y/N. Don’t worry about it.”

“Good afternoon,” you said when you saw Jensen get to set the next day around lunchtime. He looked happier and rested, giving you a small smile. “Feeling any better?”

“Yeah. Your dad gave me some tips and stuff on dealing with emotional scenes. We went and got waffles at some diner nearby. He told me Lyle’s not me so I don’t have to carry his crap,” he said. You hummed and he kicked at the ground with his sneaker. “Sorry I was an ass last night. I wasn’t really myself.”

“It’s okay. I could tell you were a little off,” you said. He nodded and started to head over to the hair and makeup trailer. You bit your bottom lip and frowned. Great. He was only barely talking to you again.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said as he spun around on the blacktop after a moment. “Sorry for being an ass the night before that too. I shouldn’t have given an ultimatum like that about seeing each other.”

“You weren’t an ass,” you said. “It’s not a good time to do this is all, like you said. I barely remember to eat, let alone date.”

“You know, your dad sort of invited me over for dinner at your parent’s place on Saturday,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. “For surviving my first week and all.”

You smiled to yourself. Often your parents had people over, studio executives, producers, directors, actors. A lot of times it was work related. It was rare for them to invite someone over to the house on a Saturday though. Ordinarily those things took place during the week. Saturday meant it was supposed to be fun.

“Jensen, I think maybe we should forget about the not seeing each other outside of work thing. Obviously that’s kind of silly considering the situation. We can be friends though,” you said. He nodded, his features soft. “Friends hang out.”

“Yeah, totally. I’m down for being friends,” he said with a smile. 

“Maybe when this is all over…” you said, Jensen’s face blank, not sure if you should actually try to push it. “Maybe I’ll be ready then.”

“I uh...to be honest, Y/N if you’re not ready for a relationship now, I don’t think two months will change anything. You’re still gonna be busy with editing and scoring and maybe we’re better staying in the friend zone, for both of us,” he said. “No offense. I mean I’d like to and obviously there’s...something there between us but time’s always going to be an issue.”

“Oh, sure,” you said, Jensen nodding and biting his bottom lip. “You’re right. I’m going to be pretty busy for the next few months. Um, I have to run to a meeting. I’ll see you on set.”

You quickly left and rolled your eyes at yourself, your dad raising an eyebrow when he walked by with a coffee.

“Bad day?”

“Don’t ask.”

______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

[omgjasminesimone]

Platinum/Open-heart au where Raleigh is doing a concert in Boston and gets hurt, so he needs surgery and our magic hands husband Bryce is there to operate. Sorry I just really want the two sexiest choices love interests to meet so bad.

Word Count: 1,200

Bryce makes his way up to the group of Edenbrook staff congregating at the end of the hallway. They’re trying, and failing, to look subtle as they glance around the corner at something.

“What are we looking at?” Bryce asks, starting to make his way around the corner to find out.

Casey pulls him back with a surprisingly strong grip on his arm. “Bryce! We’re trying to be stealthy! Celebrities don’t like when you ogle them!”

“Celebrity?” Bryce questions.

Sienna’s eyes widen. “You haven’t heard?! Raleigh Carrera is here!! At our hospital! Right around that corner!!”

“He sings that song Famous, right?” Bryce asks, once again trying to see around the corner.

“That’s just one of Raleigh’s many masterpieces. He’s so talented. And incredibly sexy.” Casey praises. Her expression can only be described as lovesick. Which Bryce definitely doesn’t love, considering he definitely has a crush on the internal medicine intern.

“You a Carrera groupie Dr. Valentine? I had you pegged as one who goes for the intellectual type.” Bryce quips.

“Hmm...like a surgical intern maybe?” Elijah adds, with a smirk that alerts Bryce that he hasn’t hid his crush on Dr. Casey Valentine as well as he thought he has.

But seems like Casey isn’t even listening, she’s staring at Raleigh Carrera again. “How likely do you think it would be to get back to Dr. Ramsey if I asked Raleigh for an autograph? After his surgery, of course. Less unprofessional to ask after the surgery.” Casey mutters distractedly.

“Surgery?” Bryce’s interest is piqued now.

“According to TMZ, he was celebrating post sold out concert at a nightclub, drunkenly started grinding on some model on top of the bar, fell and broke his foot, and now he needs open reduction internal fixture surgery.” Danny explains.

“Well, if you have to break your foot, grinding on a model is a good way to do it.” Landry quips with a slightly lecherous grin.

“You think this is some desperate ploy to get Cadence Dorian’s attention?” Sienna directs her question at Casey.

“Possibly, I hope not though. How am I supposed to score a date with him if he’s not over his ex?” Casey returns.

Bryce frowns at that, changing the subject. “Who’s doing the surgery?”

“Harper Emery, a special treat for a VIP patient.” Jackie answers.

“I wonder if she’ll let me scrub in.” Bryce wonders aloud.

An older surgical resident scoffs. “Keep dreaming Lahela. They don’t exactly let interns operate on celebrities.”

“I’m not just any intern.” Bryce counters, tossing his colleague a confident grin that makes the resident roll his eyes.

Suddenly, Bryce confidently rounds the corner, ignoring the shocked whispers from all the medical staff still hiding around the corner.

Bryce makes his way over to Dr. Emery, who’s writing on the surgical board. Raleigh Carrera sits in a hospital bed a little ways behind her.

“Good evening Dr. Emery. I couldn’t help but overhear about Mr. Carrera’s accident, and I’ve heard he needs an ORIF? That’s a technique I’m very interested in, I’ve actually recently been reviewing the procedure. And it would be such an incredible opportunity to learn from you, one of the best in the field.”

Harper smirks. “Alright Lahela, you can stop schmoozing, you’re in.” She announces, adding his name to the board. “You can go prep the patient.”

Bryce turns back to grin at his friends, who are leaning a little further into the hallway now as the hospital’s most confident intern makes his way over to the Raleigh Carrera.

“Hi Mr. Carrera, I’m Dr. Bryce Lahela, and I’ll be assisting with your surgery.”

Raleigh glances up at Bryce from the video he was watching on his phone. “Nice to meet you man. Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“Sure, what?”

“Can you take a picture of me for my pictagram? I need to get this picture trending instead of the embarrassing TMZ video of me falling off a bar.”

Bryce grins, taking the offered phone. “If you have to fall off a bar, it must at least be nice to be important enough for it to get major press.” Bryce takes several pictures, from different angles.

The phone starts to ring before Bryce can hand it back. A candid photo of Cadence Dorian smiling prettily flashes across the screen as her contact into comes up.

Raleigh subtly winces as Bryce hands over the ringing phone. “Not my finest moment.” He mutters as he lets the call go to voicemail. “Feeling pretty fucking stupid. I did want to get her attention, but I was hoping to make her jealous, not concerned.” He adds.

Bryce has a feeling Raleigh doesn’t have a lot of people in his life to discuss Cadence Dorian with. “Might’ve been easier to just call her. Or write her a song.”

Raleigh smirks. “I’m working on the song, but perfection takes time. It has to be a hit.”

Bryce gently moves the blanket to reveal Raleigh’s foot, which is bruised almost completely purple. Bryce gently palpates the skin, and Raleigh hisses in pain.

“Sorry. You broke that foot good.” Bryce notes.

“What can I say? I go big or go home.” Raleigh quips. Raleigh lets out a sigh when Cadence calls again, sending the call to voicemail quickly. It immediately starts ringing again.

“You know, you should probably take that. Post op, you’re going be all drugged up and who knows what you’ll say to her then.” Bryce advises.

Raleigh smiles, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Maybe I’ll be so loopy I’ll finally be able to be honest about my feelings.”

“Man, even the Raleigh Carrera has girl problems? What hope is there for the rest of us?” Bryce jokes, hoping to raise Raleigh’s spirits a little.

Raleigh laughs. “You expect me to believe you don’t have women throwing themselves at you Dr. Ken Doll? I bet you can get any girl you want.”

“The girl I want unfortunately seems to be infatuated with you.” Bryce informs Raleigh as he gently marks where they’ll need to cut into Raleigh’s foot.

“Is she the pretty one with the curls who keeps poking her head around the corner?” Raleigh questions.

“Subtlety isn’t exactly her strong point.” Bryce notes, just as Casey peers out at them again.

“I bet you’d be her hero if you could get her a Raleigh Carrera autograph.” Raleigh quips.

“Wouldn’t be super professional of me to ask, probably against some Edenbrook VIP policy.” Bryce counters. “But of course if you offered, there’s nothing stopping me from taking you up on it.”

Raleigh smirks, shaking his head fondly. “Smooth Dr. Lahela. You got paper?” Bryce hands Raleigh a prescription pad. “What’s her name?”

“Casey.” Bryce answers, pushing Raleigh’s hospital bed towards the OR as the singer writes a fairly long message.

Raleigh folds the page, turning to tuck it into Bryce’s white coat pocket. “Next time I’m in Boston, I’ll get you guys concert tickets.”

“Thanks man.” Bryce replies, passing Raleigh over to the surgical nurse.

Before he washes his hands to scrub in, Bryce pulls the note from his pocket to read it.

Casey,

I don’t just sign autographs for anybody, but I made an exception for you. Thanks for being a fan.

Raleigh Carrera

P.S Dr. Lahela is a cool guy and he’s totally into you. He’s got friends in high places Casey. And he’s a handsome surgeon. You could do worse.

Bryce chuckles and shakes his head, placing the note back in his pocket. He’ll have to decide whether or not he’s going to rip off that post script before giving it to Casey.

...

Raleigh Carrera Breaks His Foot

Raleigh Carrera Returns to Boston

[punz4lyfe]

Wasted Plotential: Cameron/Vertress Conference

Out of inspiration for my favorite MK YouTuber; The4thSnake, I’ve decided to do my own Wasted Plotential take with the Pokemon Anime series, so let’s see how this turns out!

The Best Wishes series is quite... something to the Pokemon Fandom. Many go as far to outright claim it’s the worst out of all the Pokemon Seasons. Whether you go or don’t go by that, I wholeheartedly respect whatever your opinion is, but to me personally, I think it’s just fine. Yeah, it’s not perfect, but then again, nothing in media is, but I will agree with many that there are still plenty of things that could’ve been dealt with a whole lot better, starting with one of Ash’s BW rivals: Cameron.

Oh Arceus, where do I even start with this character? To me, he is absolutely the worst, the most horrible rival Ash could ever get in the anime as a whole. Worse than absolute jobbers like Stephan and Nando, worse than no-personality and motivation Bea, worse than shoehorned Tobias, this little good-for-nothing twerp is just THAT bad. Let’s start with his intelligence... or lack of any, to be more precise. This dude thought you needed 7 Gym Badges to qualify for a league instead of 8, a remote controller was his Pokedex, 5 was the max limit of your team for a Full Battle, and that Unova’s league would take place in an entirely different region. This isn’t just plain incompetence, this is Team Rocket levels of incompetence. Heck, these are all things that freakin’ Original Series Ash knew before he started his journey! Just... how can you be this dense? And the writers want us to take him seriously by making him a rival? Freakin’ no! And despite showcasing himself to be an absolute idiot 24-7, he’s somehow a competent battler as well? Talk about an example of inconsistent character.

Besides being an absolute moron, Cameron is also shown to be... just like Ash: brash, competitive, hot-headed, and fun-loving. Yeah, because in terms of rivals, it’s not like that’s unoriginal at all *coughRitchieandMorrisoncough*. Many people say one of his redeeming qualities is that he has pretty awesome mons on his team like Lucario, Samurott, and Hydreigon, though to me, that just raises his dislikability even more, because how would someone as stupid as Cameron have such mons on his team in the first place? Writer’s pet much?

Anywayz, in terms of the whole Wasted Plotential thing, there really wouldn’t be all that I would change for Cameron pre-league. I mean, Ash already has an intense rivalry with Trip, so I don’t see a reason giving him another one in the form of Cameron. With that said, things would largely play out the same as they did originally: Cameron shows up, proves to be an absolute dope, but showcases at least a semblance of talent through his fight against Marlon. At this point, this is when things take a slight change. After giving Cameron his badge, Marlon talks with Ash in secret afterwards to tell him that at the near-end of the battle... he actually had his Pokemon take a dive (har-har) for Cameron. Ash is surprised and Marlon tells him that throughout the battle, he saw how determined Cameron was despite many seeing him as a brainless dope, so with his goal of reaching the Unova League being so close, he felt sorry for the young trainer, which is why he intentionally lost to him in order to help the kid out in his quest.

This whole conversation adds more depth to Ash and Cameron’s friendship. After leaving Marlon’s gym, Ash keeps a close eye on Cameron from there on out, wanting to make sure his friend stays on a steady path to the league without getting himself lost by his own incompetence all the while falsely praising Cameron on his win in order to keep his confidence up.

At the league proper, Cameron manages to make his way through some fodder trainers and Bianca and these wins make Ash a little proud for Cameron for a bit... until he realizes that his win against the fodder trainers were mostly dumb luck and that literally anyone can beat Bianca, considering her incompetence is about almost as on-par with Cameron’s. When Ash and Cameron’s battle starts, everything plays the same with Cameron, like in the original script, realizes he brought the wrong amount of Pokemon for the Full Battle, and this time, he loses. Badly. Even with Riolu’s evolution.

This defeat crushes Cameron. So much so, that after he recalls Lucario without so much of a word, he admittedly turns around and bolts for the exit, tears streaming down his face. Despite the win, Ash can’t help but feel sorry for Cameron, feeling this devastating defeat was partially his fault due to his previous inflating of Cameron’s ego after his battle against Marlon. After Ash gets his Pokemon healed up, he finds Cameron sitting outside the league with his Lucario, sulking. Ash sits with them and that’s when Cameron tells him just how embarrassed he is, considering he went into a Full Battle with only 5 mons and lost horribly in front of a live audience. Not wanting to hurt Cameron even more by revealing Marlon’s false defeat, Ash decides to humble Cameron by telling him this: Cameron, you’re a great trainer and you care so much for your Pokemon. That’s why you now have Lucario here. But while it’s one thing to train your Pokemon, you also must train yourself.

Cameron is confused by this at first until Ash brings up all the incompetent moments Cameron had ever since they first met. This makes Cameron realize just how poor of a trainer he can be to his Pokemon if he doesn’t improve on his own faults. This whole conversation, I feel, would add even more depth to Cameron’s character and put a little touch of majority on Ash’s part. And this is when Ash reveals the truth of Marlon’s defeat. Cameron is shocked at first, but quickly regains his confidence when Ash tells him that, once he feel he’s ready, go back and show him how Cameron wins.

The two make up afterwards and Cameron watches Ash’s battle against Vergil. In order to not change the narrative too much, Ash will still lose, but unlike in the original script, he will go down with a whole lot more dignity. It’s a fairly close battle and the climax will ultimately with Pikachu facing off against a mon that even catches Ash’s friends by surprise: Sylveon. Being a new type, Ash and Pikachu are completely unaware of how to properly deal with it and not even Iris and Cilan are able to help that much either. While Ash does learn that Pikachu’s Iron Tail is super-effective, thanks to their previous struggles combined with Sylveon’s powerful fairy moves and healing, Pikachu faints at the end, albeit, during some serious damage to Sylveon beforehand.

Introducing a new Eeveelution, combined with a new typing, would’ve honestly been great way to get both Ash and the audience interested in what Gen 6 could offer. Sure, Alexa in the Decolore Islands and her team kinda did that, but I feel things would’ve been a lot more interesting had Gen 6′s tease been introduced in the form of a league. I mean, they did the same thing in a way in Johto with Harrison’s Blaziken and Kecleon, so I don’t see why they couldn’t do it here. Anywayz, after the lost, Ash and Vergil congratulate each other for their efforts, with Vergil telling Ash that he pulled up one of the most intense battles he ever had in his life. Ash thanks Vergil and then asks him about Sylveon, with Vergil telling him he got it while exploring a region called Kalos, sparking Ash’s interest.

And there we go! That’s how I would improve Cameron’s character and Vertress Conference without changing up the narrative a bit. Hope you enjoyed reading this little experiment and thanks for listening to my random anipoke thoughts.

[jalapeno-princess]

Right By My Side

Bodyguard Jackson X Actress Reader

Word Count: 2.4k 

Summary: After tip toeing around each others feelings for months, you and your body guard Jackson end up confessing your love for each other after an incident that causes Jackson to lose his patience.

A/n: Here you go anon! I hope you enjoy it! 

“Y/n! Look over here!”

“Give us a smile y/n!”

“Come on y/n, don’t be such a bitch. You celebrities think you’re better than all of us. You’re nothing but a pretty face—hey man what the fuck?”

From the time you were a little girl, you’ve dreamt of being a movie star. The idea of starring in movies and moving to Hollywood excited you. You begged your parents to put you in acting classes and after months of doing everything and anything they asked of you, the day came where you began working one on one with acting coaches. 

From sun up to sun down, you memorized lines, acted in front of mirrors, recited scripts to yourself and anyone you were surrounded by. When your parents felt like you were old enough, they allowed you to start auditioning for roles in your hometown. There was a point where you were auditioning for five roles a week but you were never getting any calls back. 

You soon grew discouraged and you felt like there was no hope for you. In all honesty, you wanted to give up. There were hundreds and thousands of girls who held the same dream as you, so you didn’t think there was any hope of making your dreams come true. That was until one day, you got an email from a casting director telling you that you got the job. 

To say you were excited was an understatement and although it was just a small part in a movie, it helped you learn the tricks and trade of the acting business and helped you get your foot in the door for other acting opportunities. From that day on, you’ve been booking roles left and right to the point where your schedule was packed. 

You were one of the most talented and highly praised actresses of your generation. The more acting roles you accepted, the more popular you became. Unfortunately, with the fame and fortune came paparazzi and unwanted publicity. At first, you didn’t think you were all that famous to have people following you around asking you questions while shoving cameras and microphones in your face. It was all too much for you to handle and that’s when your manager told you to hire a bodyguard. 

Both you and your manager interviewed dozens of men who were interested in sacrificing their life in order to protect you. For hours, you’ve listened to the potential applicants talk about their lives and why they felt they were right for the position. However, nobody was sticking out to you and you were ready to hire anybody at that point. Just as you were about to call it a day, the most handsomest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on came through the door and just about took your breath away. 

He had dark brown hair, a defined face with soft features, the prettiest brown eyes and a breathtaking smile. He was also extremely well built; his broad shoulders and his thick thighs made it known that he probably worked out at least twice a day. Your manager motioned for him to introduce himself and every word that felt from his lips went through one ear and out the other. 

You found yourself staring at him during the entire interview process and didn’t care that he probably caught you practically drooling over him. If he wasn’t there for a job interview and you were to see him on the street, you would’ve thought he was a celebrity. Your manager thanked him for his time and let him know that your staff would get back to him as soon as possible. Right as he was about to walk out the door, you spoke up for the first time since he entered the room and sat down. 

“You’re hired.” 

You knew it was stupid of you to hire someone based on his looks, but there was something about him that intrigued you and you found yourself wanting to learn more about him. The cheeky smile that he sent your way sent chills down your spine but the kiss that was placed on the back of your hand caused your mind to go in to a frenzy. 

“I’ll take good care of you. I promise.” 

That was almost a year ago and Jackson never failed to keep his promise. Wherever you went, he followed no matter where or what time it was. His main priority was you and your safety. 

One time, you told him you wanted to go on a target run at three in the morning and he was at your house just a few minutes later. As much as you wanted to do things on your own without needing security, you knew Jackson was very anal about protecting you. The two of you went grocery shopping that morning and it was actually in those moments of him pushing you in the cart, playfully arguing about the best ice cream flavors and talking about getting a dog together that made you realize you were falling in love with the older boy. 

He wasn’t a typical bodyguard. Most security detail you’ve seen that were assigned to other celebrities seemed stern and extremely strict. You could’ve sworn you’ve never seen any other body guard crack a smile or even just a little giggle before; but not Jackson. Jackson was your own personal ray of sunshine. 

Whenever you had a press conference to go to or a movie premiere to attend, he tried his best to calm down your nerves by telling you embarrassing stories from his childhood or using cheesy pickup lines on you. It was hard not to develop feelings for him because you were around him all the time and he both did and said the right things to set your bones on fire. You were happiest whenever he was around. Hell, there were times where you forgot he was just your bodyguard and you would invite him over to your house to play video games or to bake cookies with you. 

You loved being domestic with him and loved having him around. Sure, it was his job to protect you and keep you safe from the dangers of the world, but he was your safe haven. You felt like you were invincible with him by your side.

Over the course of him being your bodyguard, there were constant flirtatious banter thrown back and forth between the two of you with stolen glances and soft touches here and there. To him, it probably didn’t mean anything; but to you it was everything. 

Whenever the two of you would watch movies, he would pull you in to his embrace and wrap his arms around your waist. If you were in the kitchen cooking lunch or dinner, he’d playfully hide specific ingredients where you couldn’t reach it so he’d have to get it for you. 

When the two of you would play video games together, he would prop you on to his lap and hide his face in the crook of your neck. There was one instance where you suffered a panic attack when you got in to a car crash after speeding away from a bunch of reporters trying to stir up a romance story with you and one of your co-stars. 

Jackson hated that he wasn’t there for you when it happened, but he did not leave your side once the entire weekend. He held you as you cried and left soft kisses against your hair in order to get you to calm down. 

As much as you wanted your relationship with Jackson to go beyond your working partnership, you didn’t want him getting involved with all the unnecessary hate and drama that came with dating an actress nor did you want people to bother him or attack him if they were to find out the two of you were dating. You also didn’t know where he stood when it came to your relationship. For all you knew, you were just his boss. Someone he was being paid to protect. He was just being friendly and doing his job. You pushed back the negative thoughts and your made up scenarios to the back of your mind not wanting to make things complicated. 

You were so focused on walking in to the building that you failed to notice that Jackson was no longer following behind you until you heard screams and a cry for help. The man who had degraded you earlier was now on the floor and so was Jackson, swinging countless punches at him. Your heart rate increased at the sight and you felt your anxiety growing. 

Absentmindedly, you made your way back to Jackson and tugged softly at his wrist, trying your best to get him to pull away. You knew that Jackson could get in legal trouble for assaulting someone and you didn’t want him going to jail for something like this. You refused to live without him. 

“Jackson—Jack. Let go of him! Please! Jackson that is enough! Do it for me—please.” It was obvious that Jackson had the biggest soft spot for you and the soft caress of your thumb broke him out of his thoughts. 

“Don’t you talk bad about y/n or come around her ever again. I’ll make sure you regret the day you were born.” He got up and reached for your hand, quickly intertwining your fingers together and roughly yanked you towards the studio. 

The amount of anger and hatred that he held in his eyes scared you, but you knew it was because the paparazzi was overstepping his boundaries. Sure, Jackson was a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, but he could be aggressive when the situation called for it. After making your way through the halls, you found your dressing room and pulled away from Jackson’s grasp. 

The atmosphere was tense and you had so many thoughts running through your mind. As you were about to open your mouth to speak up, Jackson beat you to it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know I was going to attack him like that. It was irrational and unprofessional of me—“ you gave him a sad smile before making your way towards him and ran one of your hands through his hair. 

“You were trying to protect me. That’s what you’re supposed to do. He took it too far, there’s nothing for you to apologize for. If I’m being honest, I found it really cute how you defended my honor. It was kind of hot actually.” He giggled softly as he placed his chin on top of your head. 

“I’d do anything for you, you know that. I’m sorry he said all those things about you and that I acted on it instead of letting it go. I just hated the way he was talking about my girl—ah shit—“ The blush that rose on his cheeks made your heart flutter and you found yourself pulling away from his embrace in order to cup his cheeks and connect your lips together. 

Kissing him was an indescribable feeling; especially because you’ve been wanting to know what his lips felt like against yours since the day you laid your eyes on him. His lips were soft and tasted like the sea salt caramel ice cream the two of you had before coming here. His hands made their way down to your hips and all but gently gripped against your back while nipping and sucking on your bottom lip. 

The kiss was extremely passionate and definitely worth the wait. Feeling him smile against your lips did wonders to your heart and to Jackson’s dismay, you pulled away. You placed your forehead against his chest and snickered when you looked up and saw the flustered expression on his face.

“Your girl huh? I like the sound of that. Took you long enough.” He rolled his eyes at your comment while pulling you closer to his body if it was even possible. 

“I’ve always had feelings for you. You’re extremely beautiful y/n, but my feelings for you go beyond your beauty. You’re the most hard working person I know. You’re extremely generous, charismatic, funny, talented, passionate and you have such a genuine and kind heart. I never felt like I was ever good enough for you. Look at you. You’ve accomplished so much for someone at your age. You’ve done so much for so many people and travelled all around the world. You’re a marvelous human being y/n and I’m just your body guard. Just a normal guy, whose madly in love with you. I’m nothing special—“ the chaste kiss on his lips prevented him from continuing to degrade himself. You hated that he thought so little of himself when you thought the world of him. 

“When I became an actress, I did so because I loved acting. I didn’t care about becoming a celebrity. I was always somewhat of an introvert. Sure, I love having fans and so many supporters, but I miss being able to do things I used to do without having to worry about my safety or being followed. I want to go shopping or to the ice skating rink without cameras being shoved in my face or feeling as if I’m under a telescope being scrutinized for every little thing that I do. Everything changed the day you walked in to my life. I always feel like I can be myself around you. When I’m with you, I’m not afraid to joke around, laugh and be free knowing you won’t judge me. I’m happiest when I’m with you Jackson. You never fail to make me smile and my stomach always seems to swarm with butterflies at the mere thought of you. I love being around you. No matter how nervous I can get sometimes or if I feel like I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown, just one look at you can ease my mind and make me feel better. You’re the best body guard a girl could ask for. Don’t ever feel like you’re not good enough for me. You’re such a wonderful human being and it doesn’t hurt that you’re extremely good looking, kind hearted and quite the joker. I’m in love with you too by the way.” 

He grinned at your confession and began to leave wet kisses all around your face. “How about this, after your interview, you and I can head back to your place, order some take out, watch a couple of movies, kiss a little and I can go to bed with you in my arms?” 

You hummed in contentment against his jaw. “Just a little?” 

He smirked. “Or a lot. Yeah, maybe a lot. I lose my sanity when I’m around you. Come on, the faster you’re finished, the sooner we get to cuddle and make out. Now go baby. Make me proud.”

[earstwo]

hi hun, hope you are doing ok. what do you love the most about our beautiful adam?

hi friend! i am doing pretty well, thank you for checking in. i hope you’re doing okay and staying safe/healthy, etc.

as for your ask - i need you to know that i’ve been thinking about how to answer this question since you asked it last night bc i am nothing if not overdramatic. much like with ‘what is your favorite adam look’, there’s no way i could ever narrow it down to just one. it’s physically impossible for me. 

as such, here are a few things i love most about adam driver. these are in no particular order and i will try to not gush…too much, but no promises:

- his sense of humor and the fact that he doesn’t take himself too seriously. you’d think that for how serious and intense he is in general that he’d be like, a stick in the mud when it comes to comedy but he’s just not. i love the fact that he’s hosted SNL 3 times and just gets more and more ridiculous each time. he’s effortlessly funny in a way that we all we wish we could be. 

- he’s very self-deprecating. he makes fun of himself constantly (”that’s a bad joke”, “i’ve derailed this interview and now i can’t remember your question”, “i would be jabba the hutt if i weren’t kylo ren”, etc), and he’s god AWFUL at taking compliments, even when he absolutely deserves them. it’s something that makes me want to bear hug him and tape little post-its on his mirror that say “you are the best human on the planet” so he stops ever thinking otherwise.

- i love how much he lights up when he’s comfortable in his environment. if you haven’t yet, watch the VICE mini documentary about AITAF and his interviews during the logan lucky press tour with channing tatum and you’ll see what i’m talking about. that adam is probably more who adam actually is IRL and it’s literally just…i don’t even know. he’s funny and giggly and silly and absolutely fucking magnetic in every way. it’s almost hard to watch.

- i’ve honestly never tried to put this into words before, so i might fail miserably, but here goes: adam is the kind of dude that i’d be into IRL (putting his looks aside here because duh) because he’s strong and smart and masculine in a way that’s never once felt toxic to me. i love when a guy is self-sufficient and independent. i love when people don’t talk just to talk. that’s something that i struggle with often and i admire so much about him because he thinks about what he says for a long time before he says it and is always thoughtful and considerate with the words he does choose, so they always carry so much more weight. it’s so fucking attractive to me it’s insane. 

- i think it’s so fucking amazing how he’s able to fully transform himself into whatever role he’s playing. he disappears as adam and becomes his character. a perfect example of this is adam sackler, who was my intro to him as an actor. i thought for so long that adam driver just was adam sackler because that was long before i ever watched any interviews/learned about him as a human being. his ability to fully immerse himself in whatever character he’s playing is so incredible that i genuinely can’t see where he stops and his character begins when he’s acting. it’s so goddamn impressive.*side note: i fucking love how dedicated he is to each character he plays, too. doing all his own stunts as ben, learning to drive a fucking bus as paterson, losing 50 lbs for silence. that boy never does anything half-assed and it’s so fucking admirable. 

- his work ethic. don’t judge me too much here, but sometimes when i’m feeling lazy about work or exercising or literally anything, i think about adam driver and how hard he works constantly and it motivates me to get my shit together. i will literally probably never meet this dude, but i still want to be the type of person he’d be friends with and therefore try to always work harder than anyone else in the room. lmao i’m such a mess

- i promise i didn’t intentionally save his looks for the end of this post, and i feel like that’s very telling of how wonderful i think he is as a human, BUT IN ANY CASE, he is obviously incredibly handsome. that goes without saying. people that say he’s ‘weird hot’ can take a long walk off a short bridge, because no. he’s just hot. not ‘unconventionally’ or ‘nontraditionally’ hot. JUST HOT. beautiful. gorgeous. rugged. dark and tall in every way that a heartthrob should be. i love his crooked teeth and his ears because they make him more human; if he didn’t have them it would honestly just be too much. he’s already like a fucking greek god walking among us, we need these little human imperfections (can we even call them that?) to remind us that he’s not actually adonis. i love his hair. i love his eyes and how he can convey 19389294 things with them in mere seconds. i love his stupid half-smiles and smirks. don’t even get me sTARTED ON THE WINKING. men winking in general is something that sends me - watching adam do it had me on the fucking floor gasping for air and wondering when death was going to finally take me. 

- HONORABLE MENTIONS: *he always signs autographs or makes time to go talk to fans*he always turns conversations regarding his talent around so that someone else is receiving the praise instead of him (see: him complimenting noah baumbach’s marriage story script) *the thing with ben affleck’s son and how good he is with kids in general. christ on a cracker, as if i needed more reasons to be obsessed with him*dogs love him too and that’s just not a thing we should take lightly*the fact that he’s not on social media at all and actually hates it*HIS VOICE. JESUS FUCK. HOW COULD I FORGET THAT VOICE??phew, okay - 

i’m not gonna sit here and act like you asked for this, because you didn’t. you asked for me to tell you what i love most and i’ve written you an essay about ALL THE THINGS i love. and i also hope you know that i really did have to pull back here and stop myself from piling more things onto this.

TLDR: adam driver is a devastatingly talented, humble, intelligent, gorgeous, and kind dude. he’s everything that i think a ‘celebrity’ should be and even though i know he doesn’t really care about this kind of stuff, i hope he knows how inspiring he is in so many ways. he’s gotten me to write and create again by simply being my muse and he’s gotten me to be more thoughtful and intentional with my words and actions because of the level of commitment that he gives to everything in his life. i don’t actually know if you can love someone you’ve never met or spoken to, but if you can, i love him. a lot. 

also, i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: i miss him and hope he’s doing okay. knowing what i know about him, he’s probably enjoying the time he’s got to sleep and spend with his family but also probably itching to go back to work. whatever the situation may be, as long as that boi is safe and healthy, i’m gucci. 

[ladywinterwitch]

Dead Girl Walking

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Actress! Reader  (Teather AU)

Summary: The reader is the sobstitute in a off-Broadway production for the Musical Heathers. The female lead can’t do the show, so she gets called in her place where she’ll met the male lead, a charming blue eyed man.

Warnings: musicals, cursing, mentions of smut, mentions of drugs, making out, Seb’s a little minx, other people from the Marvel cast are in here.

Word Count: 5007 (long AF)

A/n: Okay so the idea obviously came to me when I was listening to the song Dead girl walking from the off-bway musical Heathers. It’s my favorite song from the musical and where I find it really enjoyable and funny to listen to, it made me wonder how two actors would be dealing with the performace which is A LOT. I recommend you to see this video if you want to understand better how the dynamic works and to listen to the song.

The songs mentioned in order are Beautiful, Candy Store, Freeze Your Brain, Big Fun, Dead Girl Walking and Seventeen (reprise) 

ps: Yes, that’s an actual gif from the show

                                                (gif not mine)

It was a normal day, calm, average. You woke up, read a few times a script for a new audition, went out for lunch with your best friend, came home and started to read some pages of your last purchase, Stephen King’s Gerald’s game.

Now you were chilling on your sofa, with your cat sleeping near your feet, when suddenly the cellphone rang, scaring the shit out of you.

You jumped a little scaring off your pet which ran away. You sighed and streched to reach your phone on glass coffe table in front of you. The number was unknown, but you answer anyway.

-Hello?- 

-Y/n? Thank God, that’s the right number.- You recognized the voice of the director of the theatrical show you auditioned for, Heathers. Unfortunately you didn’t get the part, but you were called back to be a reserve for the main role.

-Theresa? Is everything all right?- you asked, sitting straight and putting your legs down the sofa, two of your fingers used as bookmark.

-Yeah it’s just, you got anything planned tonight? Or, well, right now?- the woman asked a little nervous. You could hear noise in the background.

-No, no. Absolutley nothing, uhm, why?- you basically jumped up.

-Perfect. Then we’ll wait for you at the theatre in like, ten minutes, yeah? See you.- Before you could ask anything else, she hang up. 

-Fuck.- you cursed loudly, literally throwing the book on the table and running to your bedroom. How the hell were you supposed to be ready and get there in ten minutes, when you were in your pajamas, had messy hair and didn’t have a bit of make up on? 

You think quickly and take from the wardrobe a military green dress and a pair of heel boots. Comfortable and quick, but still presentable. Then you rushed to the bathroom, brushed your theeth and your hair to make them look at least deacent. You decided to stuff into your bag you mascara and a dusty pink nude lipstick and you went to your car. You had already put on the musical’s playlist, listening to it while you drove there, just in case.

-

You arrived some minutes later, parked the car in a miracolously free spot and went inside. You entered the stage room and saw that the cast was rehearsing the song “big fun”. Theresa, which was at her director spot under the stage, turned around and when she saw you she motioned for you to come closer. You did, while the others continued to perform.

-I’m sorry, I’m a little late.- you apologized keeping your voice low. She shook her head.

-Don’t worry, our JD hasn’t arrived either.- she said with an hint of irritation, referring to the leading male part. She sighed recomposing herself.

-You can already imagine why I’ve called you, but still. Our actress for Veronica just broke her ankle, so she won’t be able to perform for a while. Are you still available? Tell me right away because you either would have to jump right on the stage and reharse all day until tonight or I’ll have to call reserve number three, which to be honest I wouldn’t be really thrilled to do.- she askedlike someone who definetly didn’t have time to lose.

You were in seventh heaven. You wanted that part so bad. You didn’t have a long resumee yet, and a show so popular like Heathers would’ve opened many doors to you as well as helping to make yourself know to the public. For a moment you didn’t even realized what she had just said. She gave you a side eye and you suddenly came back to your senses.

-Yes!- you said a little too loud, gaining a few eyes from the crew in the pit, but not from the cast on stage who were still singing. You calmed down a bit, before widening your eyes.

-Wait, you said tonight?- Theresa checked her phone while answering with a ‘yes’. You felt stupid for forgetting that.

-Tonight’s the premiere, honey. C'mon now, get on the stage, you have to rehearse and meet the cast.- you did as you were told, going up the stage. The guys were dressed with their own clothes and a man was on the piano. They were just singing and not doing the whole thing, which worried you a little, despite the fact that you knew all the choreographies and lyrics thanks to the rehearsals you did with the ‘backup’ cast. So you didn’t knew anyone from the actual one.

-Guys, we have our Veronica.- you head a few ‘thanks God’ and sighs of relief. 

-Five minutes break then we resume.- she clasped her hands going off the stage to make a call. A little group of people came to you. There were two blonde, fair skinned girls and one with dark curly hair and dark skin.

-Hey, I’m Scarlett, I play Heather Chandler. Those are Elizabeth and Tessa, and they play Heather McNamara and Heather Duke. Nice to meet you..?- she efficiently introduced herself and the other two girls with enthusiasm. You smiled at them, waving slightly.

-Y/n. And well, you already know I’ll be Veronica Sawyer.- you chuckle a little and they smiled. Then two guys joined you introducing themselves as Chris and Anthony, which respectively play Kurt and Ram, the two stereotypical frat boy douchebags. But they were all but that, instead they were both quite attractive and funny, and nice above all.

Then Hayley, a nice british girl, introduced herself too and said she was going to play Martha. You honestly could’ve never pictured her as a stereotyped loser with a few extra punds like the character. She was too pretty and definetly not fat. She had curves and she was stunning. But you knew that the voice was the main requirement to be choosed in this type of castings so you imagined that that was the reason they choosed her. Also, the make up would’ve done the rest.

The director interrupeted your conversation saying that it was time to resume the reharsals, so you all got in position, this time adding the dancing to the singing.

-

You started with the song “beautiful”, then the Heathers trio sang “candy store” and so on, until you got to your personal favorite, “Dead girl walking”. It had gone all pretty smoothly, the director intervening a few times to give advices and correct something.

-Okay y/n, you’re on your own now, I’ll sing for JD. Start at the note.- the piano man said and you nodded, clearing your throat slightly to prepare yourself. He started to play and on the right timing you began to sing, standing next to him since your partner wasn’t there to perform and doing it on your own would’ve been kinda awkward.

You performed beautifully and at the end the crew even clapped. You knew that was one of the hardest songs, so you felt a pinch of pride at their reaction.You blushed a smiled grateful.

-I see you found my new partner in crime.- you heard a deep, amused, voice coming from behind you. You and the rest of the cast turned around. A guy was standing on the door jamb with a smirk. He was tall, had brown hair, a little long just under his ears, and they were pulled back. He was probably the most attractive guy you’ve ever seen.

-What an honor for you to join us mortals. And you guessed right, Sebastian. Y/n will be your Veronica. Probably for the rest of the plays.- Theresa said shocking you. Your head snapped towards her which was looking at you with a grin. You smiled widely, a hand covering your mouth from the surprise.

-What about the other girl?- you asked walking to her. She shrugged.

-We don’t know when she will be able to walk and dance again, plus, your talent is pretty much the same. Only you’re nicer.- she confessed, you shook your head a bit in disbelief and gave her a hug.

-Thankyou, that’s an honor.- you thanked her sincerely. She nodded and tilted her head to the side.

-Don’t thank me, thank your preparation. Now go meet your partner. He’s a bit presumptuos, but he’s good deep inside.- 

You left her with the some other cast member and got closer to the group that surrounded Sebastian. Chris saw you coming and smiled.

-Hey y/n, congrats. We’re happy you’re going to stay with us.- you laugh a bit.

-Thankyou Chris, I still don’t realize it.- 

-Aw c’mon, you deserve it. In any case, we’ll leave you talk, from Veronica to JD.- Tessa held your arm for a second before going away with the rest of the people.

At that point you were left alone with Sebastian. You felt a bit intimidated for some reason. You didn’t know if was for his confident behaviour or the amused look that he was giving you.

-Well, hello there.- he clearly checked you out, keeping his smirk. You understood that he didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, it was just his way to be friendly.

-Hi.- you said a bit embarassed. 

-I would say congratulations, but it would be probably the tenth time, so I’ll just settle with nice to meet you.- he offered his hand and you shook it a few times, a lopsided smile on your lips.

-Likewise.- he didn’t take his eyes off of you. Before you could talk again, one of the producers spoke to everyone.

-All right folks, it’s time to get ready. The people will arrive in two hours and the stage must be prepared. To the changing rooms.- Your eyes widened and your heart started to race.

-Hey now, don’t panic. You were amazing earlier. Just take a deep breath. It’s time to get ready. It’s going to be alright.- he spoke in a reassuring tone that made you automathically smile a little. He started to walk away, then turned back for a split second.

-Well, actually maybe a few drops of alchol would help, just in case.- you laughed and he winked at you.

-

You shared the room with the four girls. It was a bit chaotic, but everyone did their thing professionally and without losing time. After a good forty-five minutes of make up, which was included: foundation, mascara, eyeliner, blush, and a pale cherry lipstick. The red lipstick was actually a tint, because you would have to kiss a lot and certainly there wouldn’t have been time to clean the mess and re-apply it over and over.

 The rest of the time was left for the hair to get done. First they tied up your hair with a few bobby pins, then applied a bald cap fixing it, and last but not least, they slipped on a raven black, shoulder lenght wig on your head. The hairstylist started to curl the black locks in loose curls at the tips. In the mean time the make up artist gave the last touches to the make up and then applied the tiny mic at the top of your forehead. applying some foundation to try to blend it better with your skin tone. 

During all the process you talked and had fun with the girls. You found out that Scarlett was dating Chris, that Tessa was excited because her new girlfriend would’ve been here to see her perform, that Hayley was originally from London but came to New York because her dream was to be on Broadway and that Lizzie was from a family of actors but that she was the only one who sang.

When the hairstylist had finished curling and styling the wig, she applied a blue hairband with a very simple knot on the right side.

Lastly, it was time to get dressed. You thanked God when you finally stood up from the make up chair, you couldn’t take to be seated anymore. The costume designer took yout plastic covered costume from the trolley hanger and uncovered it. 

-Tak off the robe, please.- the lady asked you nicely.

-Sure.- you responded right away taking it off. She passed to you a blue lacy bra and you rose an eyebrow. She shrugged.

-You know, that scene.- she responded, and you understood right away. She covered you with a jacket and you took off your current bra putting on the blue one. It was a bit tight, but it wasn’t uncomfortable thankfully. Then she helped you put on the rest of the costume which consisted in a plain white shirt, an electric blue elegant jacket, a light grey pleated mini skirt which barely arrived at your mid-thigh, a pair of white parisian stockings that reached just above your knees, and last but not least a pair of black heels. Not too high, thankfully.

You heard a whistle and turned your head. The girls were all ready except for Hayley which was still getting her, probably fifth, layer of clothes fixed. Scarlett wore red, Tessa green and Lizzie yellow, as their characters. They looked stunning.

-Look who’s gonna kick all asses tonight.- Tessa said. You all laughed. The costume designer helped you fit into a loose wool pullover with some ygly designs on it, then a scarf and an equally loose pair of brown sweatpants above your current costume. You started to feel a bit hot, but your told yourself that it was just for a few minutes of the first song.

-You don’t look bad yourself.- you talked back. Then there was a knock on the door.

-Girls, it’s time. Y/n on stage in ten.- a member of the crew opened the door and then quickly went away.

You breathed in and out to calm yourself down while you and the girls went to the backstage.

-So, all here? Good, good. So, just a few words.- Theresa spoke and you felt a hand on the small of your back. You tought that it was one of the girls, but you couldn’t be more wrong. You looked at your side, and got face to face with an incredibly sharp jawline. You turned back to look at Theresa, not wanting to embarass yourself, even if Sebastian’s touch was making you freak out a little.

-We worked very hard to get at this point. So behave and don’t screw up, kids. Love you all! And break a leg!-

A few seconds later you and the cast got called for the first song, 'beautiful’.

-See you later.- a shiver ran down your spine when he whispered in your ear. You looked at him. He had his hair back, just like before. He was now wearing combat boots, black jeans, a black t-shirt and a black long coat. And a smirk was painted on his face. The perfect Jason Dean.

You hated yourself for letting him have this effect on you, so you got your shit together and smiled seductively, gazing him straight in the eyes.

-Later, bad boy.- you teased referring to his role. had just a flash of his amused expression before walking away. You got on stage and began to sing.

- September 1st 1989. Dear diary…-  at first you were alone on stage, then some extras joined you, then Ram got introduced.

Anthony wore a pair of blue jeans, a white t-shirt, nikies and a red and white bomber jacket with a big W on the left side. He hit the prop lunch tray you were holding with a fakely innocent ‘oops’.

-Ram Sweeney, third year as linebacker. And 8th year of smacking lunch trays and being a huge dick.- you talked to the audience as planned with an annoyed tone.

-What did you say to me, skank?- he got closer, menacing. You jumped a bit and put on a scared face.

-Aagh! Nothing.- you responded quickly. You sang a few words of the chorus and then Hayley got on stage. She was almost make up-less and with some baggy and pastel colour clothes, glasses and and ugly liliac t-shirt with an unicorn at the front which could’ve easily made anyone at least two sizes bigger. She was almost unrecognizable.

-Martha Dunstock. My best friend since diapers.- you talked again to the audience, then to Hayley. 

-We on for movie night?- she replaced her british accent with the american one and pitched her voice a bit.

-Yeah! You’re on Jiffy Pop detail.- 

-I rented the princess bride.- she responded timidly. You laughed slightly raising your eyebrows.

-Ooh! Again? Wait, don’t you have it memorized by now?- you cross your arms against your chest, listening.

-What can I say, I’m a sucker for a happy ending.- she answered sadly. Then Chris came running from the right part of the backstage, and smacked Hayley’s prop lunch tray just like Anthony, and like him he was dressed with the same pants, shoes and bomber jacket except for his shirt that was grey. 

-Martha Dumptruck! Wide load, aah!- he screamed mockingly.

- Kurt Kelly, quarterback. He is the smartest guy on the football team, which is kind of like being the tallest dwarf.- you addressed the audience again, gaining a chuckle. Then you returned to spoke to Chris.

-Hey! Pick that up! Right now.- you ordered loudly. 

-I’m sorry, are you actually talking to me?- lucky enough that you knew that he wasn’t a real douche, because at this point you would’ve already slapped him. You noted to make Chris compliments later.

-Yes, I am. I want to know what gives you the right to pick on my friend. You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen, a future gas station attendant.- you said with the most insulting tone you could master. He furruwed his brows and narrowed his eyes a bit, looking down at you. 

-You have a zit right there.- he states. All the extras laugh out loud and you all resume to sing. 

Then after a brief instrumental pause everyone but you start to chant softly the name ‘Heather’. Scarlett, Tessa and Lizzie walk slowly on stage, almost in slow motion.

-And then there’s the Heathers. They float above it all.- you start to talk to the public as a narrator while you introduce them one by one. 

-Heather McNamara, head cheerleader. Her dad is loaded, he sells engagement rings.- the spotlight is on Lizzie, then it shifts to Tessa. 

-Heather Duke, runs the yearbook. No discernable personality, but her mom did pay for implants.- you continue, then do a shot pause and the light shifts on Scarlett, which was in the middle. Their costumes were basically the same: very short mini skirt, a white shirt underneath an elegant short jacket, parisian white stockings that reached above the knee and black high heels. The only differecies were the colours, yellow, green and lastly red. 

-And Heather Chandler, the almighty. She is a mythic bitch.- the music gets a bit faster while you keep going. Another piece of song goes on and you get introduced to the Heathers, you ask them to sit at their table so that no one could pick on you and in the end they accept and decide to transform you. So while another chourus goes on, you four get behind the scenes and the costume designer is quickly at your side, helping you to take off the scar, pants, pullover and to put on the heels, fix any eventual crease and in the end she brushed a bit the wig while you put on a rosy lipstick. Just in time, you go back on stage after Scarlett, Tessa and Lizzie.

The song ends and there’s a little banter between you and them which want Veronica to give Martha a fake love letter form Ram to bully her. You refuse and they get angry, which leads to their song.

After another song, finally is JD’s turn to be introduced. He and Veronica meet in a gorcery shop and you start to eat some red licorice while he was drinking a frozen slushie. He looked charming. You were also having a lot of fun, which was ideal for your chemistry. A few lines later he began to sing.

-I’ve been through ten high schools, they start to get blurry. No point in planting roots ‘cause you’re gone in a hurry. My dad keeps two suitcases packed in the den, so it’s only a matter of when.- he begins, and boy, was he talented. You smiled at him, not only because you felt like it, but also because it was in the script. 

-Freeze your brain, suck on that straw get lost in the pain. Happiness comes when everything numbs, who needs cocaine?- he sang a few words, then came back to talking. 

-Care for a hit?- he raised the plastic glass, pointing the straw towards you.

-Does your mommy know you eat all that crap?- you smirked teasingly. He tilted his head to the side, raising his eyebrows.

-Not anymore.- he resumed singing along with the music. -When mom was alive, we lived half way normal, now it’s just me and my dad, we’re less formal. I’ve learned to cook pasta, learned to pay rent, learned the world doesn’t owe you a cent.- the note got a bit high and his voice changed in a more teasing tone. 

-You’re planning your future, Veronica Sawyer. You’ll go to some college and marry a lawyer. But the sky’s gonna hurt when it falls, so you better start building some walls.- he sings the chorus towards the audience, then the song ends, and on the last note he snaps his head towards you, his arm stretched offering you the slushie.

-Try it.- the public applaudes and the lights go off, giving you the time to prepare for the next song. It’s a very crowded and messy song, set in a house party. At some point you refuse to obey Scarlett’s Heather Chandler and she says that you’re over. You go away from the party feeling lost. The song ends and the lights go off to give the time to the everyone in the cast to get away.

You were slightly getting more and more nervous for the next song, which woul’ve been a lot more challenging, both to sing and perform, considering that you had to basically ride Sebastian in front of the audience.

You were left alone on stage, if you didn’t consider Sebastian pretending to sleep on the higher stage behind you on a mattress.

-The demon queen of high school has decreed it. She says Monday, 8 am I will be deleted.- you start, the music fastening a little. -They’ll hunt me down in study hall Stuff and mount me on the wall. Thirty hours to live, how shall I spend them?- You walked near the lockers, your voice dripping worry.

-I don’t have to stay and die like cattle,I could change my name and ride up to Seattle. But I don’t own a motorbike.- you stopped suddenly, a lopsided smile sppearing on your face -Wait.- you looked at the audience.

-Here’s an option that I like. Spend these thirty hours getting freaky!- you hit the fist high note, pointing at Sebastian’s, fake, sleeping figure.

-Yeah! I need it hard, I’m a dead girl walking! I’m in your yard, I’m a dead girl walking! Before they punch my clock, I’m snapping off your window lock. Got no time to knock! I’m a dead girl walking..- the line getting softer.

You went up the stairs to the upper stage and walked towards him. He opened his eyes and sit up, straddled.

-Veronica! What’re you doing in my room?- he exclaims confused. You went closer and he got on his feet. Now he didn’t have shoes, had a pair of white boxers and a white tank top.

-Shh...- you put a finger in front of your mouth, shushing him seductively. -Sorry but I really had to wake you. See, I decided I must ride you 'til I break you ,'cause Heather says I got to go. You’re my last meal on death row, so shut your mouth and lose them tighty whiteys!- you start with a sweet tone that goes higher and stronger ‘til you hit the last note. You pointed at his boxers.

-Come on! Tonight I’m yours, I’m your dead girl walking! Get on all fours! Kiss this dead girl walking!- You pushed his shoulders with your hands until he got on his knees in front of you. The public laughed slightly.

He looked up at you, starting to caress your tighs with his surprisingly soft hands. They were going up and up, until he reached your ass cheeks. He wasn’t taking his gaze away from yours.

-Let’s go, you know the drillI. I’m hot, and pissed, and on the pill.- you snapped your head towards the audience, raising an eyebrow, gaining a chuckle. Then you returned your attention to Sebastian. -Bow down to the will-Of a dead girl walking!-

You both got on all fours and you gave him a little push to make him sit back, and crawled between his legs. 

-And you know, you know, you know. It’s 'cause you’re beautiful, you say you’re numb inside, but I can’t agree.-  You changed tone and got sweet, placing a hand on his heart. -So the world’s unfair? Keep it locked out there! In here it’s beautiful, let’s make this beautiful!-  

He looked at you and smiled, then exclaimed  -That works for me!- 

An instrumental moment began, and you both knew what would’ve come next. So you just did it, without thinking too much. He cupped your cheeks and forcefully pulled you to him, kissing you. You responded right away, trying to think straight and follow the script you started to take off your jacket and then his t-shirt, leaving him in his underwear. If your faces weren’t stuck together you woul’ve probably been jaw dropping at his tanned and muscular figure, but there wasn’t time for that. You pulled away and started to sing again.

-Yeah! Full steam ahead,take this dead girl walking!-

-How’d you find my address?- he asked scared. The public laughed.

-Let’s break the bed! Rock this dead girl walking!- you ignored him.

-I think you tore my mattress!- again, the crowd laughed.

-No sleep tonight for you, Better chug that Mountain Dew! Get your ass in gear, make this whole town disappear!- you motioned a ripping movement with your arms and hands. 

-Okay, okay!- he gave up, still scared.

You got on his lap, your legs on each side of his hips. The only thing that separated your intimate parts were your panties and his boxers, but it wansn’t actually enough.

-Slap me, pull my hair, touch me there, and there , and there and no more talking! Love this dead girl walking!- you hit another high note. This moment should’ve been arranged between you two before, like every performer ever does when he had to play scenes like that, but you had to improvise now.

It all happened rather quickly: He gave you a not-so-light spank on the butt, then put his hand in your hair and gently pulled to expose your neck, to the first 'there’ he cupped your breasts, then your ass and at the last one he tore open your shirt, that thankfully had clasp buttons and not normal ones.

In the end your lace covered breasts were exposed to him. You didn’t even had the time to blush, 'cause you started to ride his lap automatically following the script. He helped your movement with his hands on your hips.

-Love this dead girl walking!- you sang.

-Yeah!- you said together. -Yeah!- thrust -Yeah!- again.

-Ow!- he cried when you grazed on his neck with your teeth as you were planned to do, and then one last harsh thrust.

-Yeah!- you hit the highest note and the song ended. The audience cheered as the lights went down. You and him wnr behind the scenes while the crew collected the clothes and came back to the backstage, you didn’t dare to look at him as you both were getting dressed again with the help of the assistants.

-

The rest of the show went perfectly, even if you had a little bit of trouble looking in Sebastian’s eyes after that song. After the ’Seventeen’ reprise the show ended. You all came back on stage for the salute, and after that you went straight to the dressing room to change.

Scarlett was kind enought to let you borrow one of the two dresses she brought from home for the after party. You choose the first, which was mid-tigh, rose gold and sparkly, and had a collar to which the spaghetti straps were attached, leaving the back bare til the lower part. And abviously high heels. You fixed your make up and put on a quite deep shade of pink on the lips, then you were ready.

The girls continued to tease you about Sebastian. They haven’t seen the performance really well, but they did see the faces of you both when you came back to dress up. And that was enough. You shushed them while finishing to fix your now wig-free hair.

You arrived and many poeple made theri congratulations and compliments on your performance. Then you went outside to take a bit of air, your champagne in your hands.

-Hey. Nice play up there.-  you had learned to recognize that voice by now. You turned around. He was wearing a suit, the first few buttons of his white shirt unbuttoned.

-You weren’t that bad yourself.- you smiled briefly. He inched closer and whispered to your ear.

-Y'know it was a miracle that I didn’t get hard on the last bit. Your pussy grinding against my cock like your life depended on it.- you blushed from head to toe. You felt fire on your cheeks and not only there, if you’d had to be honest.

-And I know you did enjoy that too. The little wet spot on my boxers is proof. Am I wrong, babygirl?- he asked, his voice like velvet. You were a bit taken aback, but finally decided to do something. Fuck it.

-No.- you answered. The courage, didn’t even know where that came from. All that you knew, was that in that exact moment his lips were on yours, his hands on your waist and yours on his chest, leaving the glass to fall to the ground.

Someone must’ve heard that, 'cause Chris went outside to check and found the two of you quite occupied. He smirked and closed the door, going to Anthony to retrieve those twenty dollars they bet on you two.

This was a bit of an experiment. I really like Broadway songs and this looked like fun to write, so I did it. Obviously the musical’s plot, characters and lyrics do NOT belong to me in this case. Hope you liked it ;)

[itsclydebitches]

A fifth of the way through! Who’s proud of me? :D

Noisy - After a certain seance Aziraphale is feeling insecure about how much he talks.

Aziraphale was speaking.

Had been for the majority of their meal, pausing only to take bites of the Norfolk crab with ossetra caviar, veal fillet with asparagus in a wild garlic sauce, chocolate and hazelnut mousse for dessert with a second order of the fruit sorbet because he hadn’t been able to decide and really, why not both?

Why not both?, Crowley agreed. He adored watching Aziraphale eat. All those quirky mannerisms that positively screamed his personality for all to see. The way he would slide each fork-full from his mouth with agonizing slowness, ensuring that he’d picked up every morsel from between the tongs. Raising his napkin after every fourth or fifth bite, whether there was a mess to clean up or not. Aziraphale went deathly still when he ate, as if he couldn’t bear to distract from the taste with any unnecessary movement. Except when he’d taste something new or unexpected and then it was all wide-eyed surprise; that absurd little wiggle. Aziraphale flipped his spoon before taking a bite because, “The mousse should hit my tongue, dear, not the roof of my mouth. Obviously.”

Obviously. On nights like this Crowley was grateful they hadn’t had to keep up their ruse any longer. One look at Aziraphale-as-him digging into that popsicle and the whole jig would have been up.

And Crowley could never hope to re-create this.

So yes, he loved watching Aziraphale eat. He loved hearing him speak more though.

Why not have both?

“So I told the dear girl—quite firmly, I should say—that we would have to undergo a true apocalypse before I gave her those sigils. Hell would need to freeze over and such. Though I suppose you could manage that if you put your mind to it.” Aziraphale took another bite of his sorbet and dropped a wink that sent a flush rising up Crowley’s neck. “Anathema is a brilliant young woman but really? Giving her access to Enochian symbols? I can only imagine the horrors that would produce! And trust me, dear boy, I have quite the active imagination.” Another bite; another flipped spoon. “She swore she only wanted to study them, but if any mortal is capable of sketching out a true celestial circle it would be that witch. Then where would she be? Accidentally killed, that’s what. Or worse, getting through to them! Can you imagine Anathema summoning Metatron into that little cottage? No, no, no. We’ve had quite enough upheaval for one millennium, thank you.”

Crowley had long ceased trying to get a word in edgewise. In truth he didn’t want to. Six-thousand years together, but so little of it spent together. They’d meet randomly or clandestinely and it would never matter which because they knew it could only be for a brief moment or two. One side could always be watching them. Both, even. And it took Crowley decades to realize how much of that precious time was just spent posturing. Aziraphale feigning shock at their latest arrangement. Crowley pretending like that actually annoyed him. They had their routines down, a script they read from, and though Crowley had learned to love that for its familiarity, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d been missing. Hearing Aziraphale wax on about oysters or give summary accounts of Hamlet couldn’t compare to this: hours upon hours of meandering, casual thoughts.

Crowley settled his chin further into his hand. Beneath the table his free fingers circled in a clockwise motion, a bit of extra energy spent on slowing down time. Nothing terribly noticeable. It wouldn’t even affect the humans. Much. Just a devilish little miracle that would give Aziraphale more time than what the real world had to offer.

Because they’d been sitting here four hours now and Crowley was fully prepared to sit another four.

“What do you think?” Aziraphale asked. He downed the rest of his La Grande Année and smiled over the rim of the glass. Like he somehow knew that, whatever Crowley’s answer, it would be well worth knowing.

Problem was, Crowley hadn’t the faintest idea what Aziraphale had just said.

Hmm. Distraction via flipped spoon. It happened. Not that there was much danger here. Aziraphale had the distinct talent of being able to talk about a single topic for hours—if not days—on end. Always easy to slide into.

“Really, angel? Giving me a say?” Crowley pushed his own, untouched tart across the table. “I thought you’d already made up your mind about the witch?”

He’d meant it as a bit of light teasing. Poking fun, making jokes, being a nuisance and all that. So watching Aziraphale’s expression fall took the breath right out of Crowley’s lungs.

“Oh,” he said, voice suddenly soft. “Yes. I have been prattling on, haven’t I?”

And Crowley, in a moment of incredible insight and sensitivity said,

“What?”

Aziraphale had been reaching for the tart but now drew his hand back, beginning to fiddle with the edge of his vest instead. “I’m terribly sorry. Rather rude, isn’t it? All things considered. I promise to make more of an effort in the future and you must stop me if I suddenly start rambling once again. You deserve to—” Aziraphale’s mouth suddenly clicked shut, eyes popping wide as he realized what was happening. Crowley could see his jaw working for a long moment. “I want to hear what you have to say too,” he said. Simply.

Meanwhile, Crowley’s elbow had slipped off the table and he nearly took the rest of the food with him. When he came back up there were splashes of champagne on his sleeve.

“I—why—?” Crowley tugged his glasses just low enough to take a good, long look. “I haven’t got anything to say.” Which wasn’t true exactly. Plenty of ribbing to indulge in when it actually managed to land, but right now Crowley had bigger fish to fry. Flay ‘em, cook ‘em, and serve 'em up with lemon butter so his angel would actually smile again. “What precisely are you on about?”

Aziraphale shrugged. He never shrugged. “Just thought I might be...”

“Be?”

“...talking too much.”

Crowley slipped off the table a second time.

“It’s just—”Aziraphale said, clearly trying to explain without continuing to talk. Which most people will realize is rather the lost cause. “Madame Tracy. Or rather, her friend. Or perhaps not a friend exactly. A client? Follower?” Aziraphale scowled when Crowley just went on blinking at him from halfway out of his seat. “A woman asked to speak to her dead husband and being an angel currently existing between planes I accommodated her and he told her to shut up.” He exhaled after all that, lips trembling. “Separated for who knows how long and the only words he had for her were ‘shut up.’ Because she’d never let him have his say. I... I would never want you to feel the same way, dear boy. I couldn't stand it. ”

Jesus-H-Bloody-Fucking-Are-You-Kidding-Me-Christ.

If Aziraphale wanted him to talk more he was shit out of luck because Crowley’s voice had died a mangled, embarrassing death. Giving up the ghost via shock was like that. And oh sure, sure, plenty of things he could say if his vocal cords kicked back in. Like how Aziraphale was stupid for thinking he could compare them to some random human couple who clearly needed therapy. Or ask if Aziraphale had ever paid one ounce of attention these last six thousand years because if Crowley wanted to say something? He’d damn well say it. No fussy angel was going to stand in his way.

(Not unless he asked really nicely. Or looked at Crowley in that particular way of his. Or so much as thought about wanting him to shut up. Because those were all entirely different situations.)

Speech seemed to be the enemy now. Which was all kinds of horrible since Crowley liked Aziraphale speaking and had hoped to soak up another couple hours of it before the night was over. Who could put something like that into words though? Even when words were an option? Not Crowley.

So instead he summoned up a small black book and slid it across the table.

Aziraphale blinked. "What's this?"

"Read it."

Just a small, ironically innocent notebook. Every demon had one. Standard issue for the bastards lucky enough to go topside. Recounting your deeds was all well and good provided you actually remembered what evil deeds you’d been up to each day. Too often demons melted back into hell having forgotten half of what they’d done. They might not be good at record keeping down there, but there was something like an effort. So, yeah. Write it all down like a good little worker bee.

“Go on,” Crowley said, keeping his voice at a whisper. Aziraphale hesitantly took the book in hand. “Out loud.”

Crowley hadn’t written a deed down for thousands of years.

“June—” Aziraphale paused, having opened to a recent date. He swallowed hard. “June 3rd. Angel went on about gilding again all through lunch. Improper heating techniques and wet vs. depletion. I currently know more about pretty books than any decent demon ever should. Good thing I’ve never been decent.

“June 4th. Got reamed out for going over 90mph again today. Wonder how many times I can get Zira to squeak like that? Half-hour lecture to follow. Gonna start just as soon as he gets back with the shawarma. In three... two... one...

“June 5th. Talked a lot about knitting today. Thinking of picking it back up before winter. Zira had a whole pro/con list for crocheted vs. knitwear but honestly? If it’s warm?? Who cares??? Angel, apparently. There were many thoughts on socks.

“June 6th. Some bugger on the bus had his music blasting while I was trying to hear Zira’s latest Gabriel impression. The kid is gonna end up with wet jeans one way or another for the next week.

“June 7th. Right. Zira might have been onto something with the whole crocheted socks rant. Pretty sure this is one of Beelzebub’s inventions—Crowley.”

Aziraphale finally looked up, his eyes wet in a way that made Crowley shift uncomfortably in his seat. “You keep a diary.”

He winced. “It’s not a diary!”

“It most certainly is,” Aziraphale crowed, flipping through some of the older entries. “I'm astounded at what a faithful record this is—especially since Armageddon—and so many of them are about me. They're...” The impact of that last bit seemed to hit Aziraphale all at once, stilling his hands. “Oh. They’re all about me.”

Talking.

Crowley shrugged. Because he was the one who shrugged in this relationship. He pressed the little book back into Aziraphale’s hand when he tried to pass it back. Crowley’s fingers ran over his knuckles then, soft and slow.

“Keep it awhile,” he said. “For the next time you get some ridiculous idea stuck in your head. Now, what were you saying about the witch girl? My memory’s worse than a goldfish’s, angel. You know that. Best you start from the beginning."

Aziraphale wasn’t much for public displays of affection, but he did bring their still-intwined hands up to his lips, resting them there for a moment.

When he started speaking again Crowley’s skin was gifted with the very first words.

[wittystarkk]

The Last Five Years || Bucky Barnes || Part Five

Author: wittystarkk

Word Count: 3k+

Relationship: James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader

Chapter Title: A Part of That

A/N: Sorry for the long period between updates.  Life got busy and I got a puppy. I really like the way this chapter is written though, so. Enjoy! (-:

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

(Y/N) accepted a glass offered to her by a girl who had a tray balanced on the flattened palm of her right hand, giving her a grateful smile as she sipped from the flute. She was lost in the crowd again, watching everyone move around like snakes in a pit, slithering past one another. They all had the same fake smiles plastered on their lips, the same painfully forced expressions being made from face to face. She wondered if they were all as tired of the charade as she was. 

She found herself a seat at one of the unoccupied tables, noting how ugly the blue table cloth was. There was a spattering of confetti on the table top, looking tacky and out of place in the otherwise nicely decorated party. She’d become used to the way that these parties were decorated, to the way that these elites wanted things. She could have taken up a business as a high end party planner if she wanted to, sure that she could make a pretty penny by actually spicing up the parties for once. (Y/N) thought bitterly that if she had to see another ugly centerpiece with fake gems she would bash her brains in. 

She finished the champagne she’d accepted from the waitress and set the glass down near the edge of the table, watching someone take it almost immediately. She rested her clutch across her thighs and sighed, returning her attention to the people wandering around. She perked a little hearing a laugh that was too familiar to her. Her eyes found him in the crowd, their eyes meeting after a beat. He winked, giving her a warm smile before his attention was taken by someone else. Again. 

God, that was it. That was all it took for her to be willing to do this all of the time. It was always the same routine. Bucky would get a call from his publicist inviting him to another party. He would always agree to go. And then he’d turn to her and tell her that he needed to go, and ask her if she would come with him. Say, “please babe. I don’t wanna go to this stupid thing alone.” And of course she would, she always did. Always agreed to come with him, and play the role of loving, doting wife. Because that’s what she was. That’s what she would always be. His happy, loving wife who supported her husband in everything he did. Everything he pursued. She would put on one of the many dresses she’d been forced to buy, and do her makeup nice. He’d compliment her, tell her she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Though, the adjective always changed. He always made sure she felt wonderful about herself before they left. And they’d file into his car, and he’d thank her for coming with him, she’d say it was no problem. Because, really, it wasn’t. How could it be? He was her husband, hadn’t she agreed to this? For better or for worse, according to her vows. She couldn’t tell which one this was. 

(Y/N) frowned a little when she saw someone approaching her, forcing herself to wipe it off of her lips in exchange for a smile. The woman who was walking towards her gestured to the seat across from her and she sighed, nodding her head to let the woman know she was welcomed to sit down with her. The woman looked familiar in a passing way, like she’d seen her around once or twice before at one of these parties. She pulled the chair out and sat down, making herself comfortable on the cushioned seat. She looked her over appraisingly, wondering who she was and how important her title could be. She didn’t look like she was a big-wig or any type of executive, but she seemed interested enough in (Y/N). The woman set her clutch down atop the table, licking her tongue over her lipstick that was beginning to get flaky. “Hello,” the woman greeted, smiling at her. “My name is Cat, I’m one of the dozens of reporters they invited here tonight.” Cat introduced, holding her hand out to (Y/N) to shake. She did. 

“Nice to meet you, Cat. I’m (Y/N).”

Cat nodded, like she already knew who she was talking to. She figured she did. It wasn’t often that people talked to her without already knowing who her husband was. It was an absolute rarity that someone came up to her without an ulterior motive. They never wanted to just talk to her, become her friend. They always had some story they wanted to get, an exclusive they hoped that she would give them. And she never did. Nothing too interesting at least. Never told them something that wasn’t already well known by everyone else. She respected her husband's privacy. Their privacy. Didn’t feel comfortable sharing anything that she and Bucky hadn’t discussed would be okay before. 

“So,” Cat began, holding her hand up for a waitress to see. Someone came over and put a glass in her hand. “You’re Bucky’s wife, right?” (Y/N) consciously made an effort to keep her expression cheerful, nodding her head in confirmation. She didn’t need a reporter telling the world that the wife of Bucky Barnes was some kind of standoffish-bitch. She felt it was her duty to make sure that she never was the reason he got bad press. 

“What’s living with him like?” Cat inquired, and (Y/N) wondered why she hadn’t pulled out a recorder or a notepad or something to take down her exact statement. Maybe Cat just had a really good memory, she decided. 

“It’s uh, it’s interesting. I mean, one minute he and I are just like leave it to beaver. We have a typical life. We both work, we both come home exhausted, we make time for each other. And then suddenly, almost over night, he’s this… This someone.” She shrugged her shoulders, pushing her (y/h/c) curls away from her brow. “Then the next thing I know he’s off on a trip to some other world. Some place off in Bucky-land where he removes himself from me, from the world, and engrosses himself in his character.” 

“That sounds like it can be upsetting,” Cat observed, sipping from her glass. 

She shook her head, “oh. No. I mean, no.” She looked around and hailed down a waiter, getting another flute of champagne from them before she continued to speak to Cat. “He’s still the Bucky I love, you know? It’s like they’re just moments to him, seconds where he just disappears and then he’s back. To me it could be hours, but. It’s fine.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s like. When he’s practicing for his role, he’s not my husband anymore, he’s that role. It could happen one day, and then the next it’s like it never even occurred at all. He’s my same old Bucky. And of course I never say anything about it because, why would I? He’s an actor, he’s practicing his role. I’m proud of him and I support him, and I don’t want to take him out of his element. You know?” 

(Y/N) sipped from the flute, adjusting her legs to cross them at the ankles. “It’s like we could be making dinner one night, making plans, just talking. And before I know it he’s on the mule train to fantasy-land and he’s checked out again. He’s decided he wants to go over his script or run his lines, and so I let him. I sit back and I watch him, because I love him. And it’s such a wonder getting to see someone do something they’re really talented in. It’s such a private and intimate thing and I love that I am the only person he shares it with. I’m the one who gets to watch him shovel handful after handful of doritos into his mouth while reading over his script. I’m the one that gets to watch him circle the apartment, logging miles. Rattling off his lines in different tones with different inflections to his voice. I get to be a part of all of that. But… I don’t know…” She trailed off, voice getting lower. “Sometimes, it feels like I’m just a member of Bucky-land. You know?”

Cat finished her drink, smiling warmly at her. She couldn’t tell if she was oversharing or not, though she knew she wasn’t sharing anything bad. Cat had asked what it was like living with him, she was just giving an honest answer. Her fingers began fiddling with the hem of her skirt, bunching it up between her fingers. A part of her felt bad for sharing this much information, this much of a look into their personal life. However a bigger part of herself, a part of herself that felt like it was getting lost behind the shadow of her husband wanted to share everything. Felt wonderful finally having an outlet for everything she’d been experiencing. Everything that she had to deal with on a constant basis. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t like her husband was mean to her or hurt her. It was just like he forgot about her. Like she was an afterthought in his big expansive life. 

“How do you continue dealing with that?” 

She looked from her dress up to Cat, taking a moment to try figuring out the best way to answer her. The reason why she puts up with everything, puts up with being lost to her husband. Puts up with being at these stupid parties, with these people she doesn’t know or like. Always slightly tipsy and completely bored. Ignored by her husband save ten minutes of the night when he can slip away and see her. Why she didn’t throw the towel in and give up when things got to be a little rocky. She sipped her glass before answering, “because I love him. But, beyond that… It’s his smile…”

“His smile?” Cat repeated, sounding more confused than anything. 

She nodded, shrugging her shoulders like her answer was obvious. “Yeah, his smile… His eyes light up, and his whole face softens. When he smiles at me it’s like I’m the only thing that matters to him in that moment. And how can I complain? How can I ever give that up? Not want him to give me that look every single day?” She shook her head, smiling softly to herself, thinking of the man who owned her heart. She would put up with nearly anything for him.

“You must really love him,” Cat observed, getting another drink. 

“I do.” 

The two girls sat in silence for a moment while her eyes scanned the crowd for her husband again. She was beginning to get worried when she didn’t immediately spot him, wondering where he had gone or if he’d forgotten her completely. He’d never gone home without her, but there was a first time for everything she was sure. When her eyes finally found him he was leaning against the bar set off to one side of the room, talking animatedly to a few people while holding onto a glass. She sighed, watching him for a moment while he talked. He was flailing, awkward mess most of the time until he got a drink inside of him. He would loosen up, become more of the man he was at home. 

Bucky realized that she was watching him again, realized that her eyes were on him and he gave her a loving smile. A smile that once again sent her heart soaring. She was reminded of how he was her sun, of how she was just meant to orbit around him. That she was just this small little planet being moved around the man of her dreams, the love of her life. God, she hated herself for being such a cliche. For making her love sound like something from generic romantic comedies. Calling Bucky her sun? She wanted to smack herself for being so annoyingly boring. 

She had no other way to describe him, though. Had nothing better in her writers mind to encompass the man that she had married. To describe their relationship. She didn’t know what other analogy she could make that would encompass the two better. 

She was about to stand from her seat, to make her way across the party and join her betrothed at his side, when she became aware of Cat’s presence again. She had managed to get herself another drink. Was lazily sipping at it. She watched Cat set her glass down on the blue cloth, focusing on her nicely manicured fingers. In that moment she realized Cat wasn’t a reporter, like originally told. She was another tag-along. Another girlfriend or wife dragged around like luggage by whomever had her heart. She wanted to pity the girl across the table from her. 

“What do you do?” Cat asked, catching her off guard. Her eyebrows furrowed, her confusion evident in her face. 

“What do I do?” She repeated, processing what Cat had meant. “Oh, I’m uh. I’m a writer, sort of… I haven’t been published or anything but I am certainly working on it.”

Cat nodded, dancing her finger around the rim of her champagne flute. “Right, that’s cool. Does your husband encourage you?” 

(Y/N)’s heart sunk a bit. She let out a heavy sigh, gnawing on the inside of her lip anxiously. “Of course,” she responded instinctively. It wasn’t like she was lying, she figured. He did support her. Bucky always supported her, in everything. That was what he did. He was her supporter and she was his. That’s what marriage was, wasn’t it? A support system. She went back to fiddling with her skirt again, taking deep breaths. (Y/N) thought about all of the times she gave up staying home to write, to work on her manuscripts, to edit and rewrite. Of all the countless hours she could have been working on her own career wasted because she chose to put it on the back burner for his. Chose to go with him to another party, to another show, another premier. When she would leave the room to allow him to practice his lines alone. 

Her stomach knotted. She always seemed to follow in his stride rather than side by side with her husband. He was the big-shot movie star, the one who was starring in major motion pictures. The top billed name on the roster, and she? She was a struggling writer who couldn’t even sell something to a television show. Couldn’t ever get past the ‘we appreciate you sending this in’ stage. And she wasn’t mad. No, she would never be mad at him for that. She understood that everything happened for a reason. That she wasn’t as successful yet because she wasn’t meant to be. She was content with allowing herself to be shrouded by his shadow, to be just ‘Bucky Bucky’s wife’ rather than ‘(Y/N), the writer’. She would never blame him for that. He had never asked her to put her life on hold for his. Though, secretly, she wished for a thank you. An acknowledgement. 

She lifted her eyes, struggling to keep herself from getting upset. “Would you excuse me?” She asked Cat who simply nodded her head. She grabbed her clutch off of her thighs and stood, walking away from the table. She held her clutch close to her chest, carefully winding her way through the party, searching for the balcony where she could get some fresh air. No one stopped her, no one even acknowledged that she was walking past them, brushing against them as she walked. They were too engrossed in their conversations, in their elbows rubbing and their ass kissing. She wondered if they ever got tired of the sounds of their voices. She knew she certainly did. 

She threw the door to the balcony open, stepping out into the chilled air. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a few beats of her heart. She didn’t know why she felt so upset. It was stupid. She’d thought about everything like this before. Had realized that her career and her life came second to her husband, and she’d never been bothered by it before. 

Then again, she felt particularly ignored tonight. A few of his wonderful smiles wasn’t enough to keep the pit of her stomach from aching with longing. She wished that he would come back to her. Would forget the parties for once and just be content to lay in their bed together watching Gilmore Girls reruns and eating junk food. Would be happy just to hold her in his arms and let her love him. 

Of course, that was only a pipe dream. Any advancement he could make in his career he would take. He would smooze with the rest of them until he was the best of them. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder that made her jump. She turned to look at the owner of the hand, smiling softly when she noticed it was him. “Hi, baby.” She smiled sweetly and allowed him to give her a hug, kissing his cheek before he let her go. “Why’re you out here?”

“I saw you come out so I wanted to check on you, make sure you’re doing okay?”

She nodded, “oh, yeah babe. I’m fine.” She reassured. She didn’t need him thinking that he’d upset her or that he needs to leave the party because of her. It would just cause a fight, inevitably. Would push the two apart for a night or two rather then make them happy, make them realize they needed each other. Bucky rubbed her arm softly, giving her shoulder a squeeze. 

“I’m gonna head back inside then, baby. I’ve got to talk to a few more people about this upcoming project they might bring me in on. But, I promise. We’ll leave soon. Okay?” 

She nodded, letting him kiss her cheek again before retreating back inside. There was no point in arguing. No use in pointing out that his ‘we’ll leave soon’ always meant they’d be there for another two hours at the very minimum. That they were never going to get out of this constant loop of parties and schmoozing and talking and drinking. She tilted her head a little to the side when he stopped the door from closing, “and baby.” Bucky said, smiling at her. “Remember I love you.” 

She returned his smile with as much love and affection as she could muster, “I love you too.” 

He disappeared back inside, back to the party, back to them. And she let him, she always let him. Because there was nothing she could do to stop her heart. No rules that applied to them that made any sense. She would do anything he wanted, and she knew that. So she followed him inside. And she smiled at everyone who greeted her. And she exchanged pleasantries. And she played her part like he played his. Because that’s what she was meant to do. That’s what there marriage was. And she’d be damned if she wouldn’t try for him. She took a deep breath as she accepted another glass. She was good at playing her part, too.

~

Feedback is always appreciated (-: If you’d like to be tagged, please, let me know!

Tags:

@petlaufeyson​, @lovely-geek

[minaminokyoko]

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil--A Spoilertastic Review

Disney: *shuffling through records* Hey, Hollywood.

Hollywood: *drunkenly burps, throws empty beer can behind the couch* Yup?

Disney: What’s that really well written, well acted, beautifully shot, feminist movie we made with Angelina Jolie that one time?

Hollywood: Oh, the broad with the wings and the horns? Maleficent.

Disney: Yeah, yeah, her. Do something else with her.

Hollywood: Wait, you don’t want to give it to her? *points to Talent, who is sitting at the table typing* Or her? *points to Effort, who is in the kitchen baking souffle* I mean, they’re the ones who made the first one.

Disney: Nah, you got this. Go for it.

Hollywood: Alright. *farts and a script falls out of his ass* Here you go.

Disney: Thanks, fam.

*END SCENE*

In case you can’t tell, I’m extremely disappointed in Maleficent: Mistress of Evil.

Overall Grade: C-

As always, spoilers below.

Pros:

-Probably the only reason a few straggling fans are showing up to Maleficent II is finding out that the legendary Michelle Pfeiffer was cast as the evil queen. She is just as smug and cold and awful as she seemed in the trailer, so kudos. They don’t share enough screen time, but Mal vs. Ingrith at that dinner table was some of the shadiest, pettiest shit I’ve ever seen. Ingrith is That Bitch. You really wanted her to have a harsher fate considering the monstrous shit that she does in this movie.

-Though they are seriously few and far between, I did like the tiny domestic moments we got from Diaval and Maleficent. I’m sad to say that the hype was once again wrong. They were teasing that perhaps Diaval and Mal would get a little more of a romantic spin, but either it was cut for time or they changed their minds. Diaval and Mal are apart the entire movie. It’s the worst. However, the bits we do get of them in the beginning, like him giving her the bad news and her trying out her smile in front of him and her telling him he missed her was nothing short of adorable. I especially loved it when they were served bird and Mal gives him that mean little side-eye. It feels very comfortable and domestic, and less like they’re mistress and servant and a little bit more like the mother and father pair that they actually are. I’m just sad there is so few scenes of them together.

-Expanding Mal’s backstory has very mixed results, but the bits we do see and understand aren’t half bad. The phoenix thing is way under-explained, but it is a neat concept that the dark fae came from a single source. It was also a believable story that they were hunted to near extinction, especially during this era of time when white people were at their most fucking ridiculous killing every new people they found on every fucking continent they found them on. It made sense they hid from them and wanted revenge, since we pretty much see that the humans for the most part are utter shitheads anyway. I also loved the diversity of the dark fae, coming from all continents and all peoples. Nothing drives me crazier than the idea that all fantasy creatures should look like pale white folks. This was very nice to see. 

-At least Diaval didn’t die. I was afraid of that since bad sequels often kill someone you like just to “raise the stakes.”

-Tying the cursed spindle into the sequel isn’t half-bad an idea. It’s kind of neat that it’s how Aurora ends up discovering the truth.

Cons:

-Fucking everything else in this movie, basically, is a negative point. Goddammit. Why did they squander all this fucking talent?

-Having Mal, Diaval, and Aurora separated the entire time is the first huge mistake. I was hoping from the trailer that Mal getting hurt and finding her own kind was something that happens in the second act. Nope. First act. Fucking hell. All the reasons why Maleficent was a great movie was the dynamic between these characters and the development of their relationships. It was so easy to love them. They were a family. They had struggles and they all put in effort and they won the day. And then this movie happened. Mal and Diaval first and foremost were done dirty, especially since behind the scenes they had been teasing that maybe the hints of romance between them might finally get a brief spotlight, but no. Didn’t happen. Either it was cut for time or they changed their minds. Then Aurora just blindly believing that Mal cursed the king despite knowing her mother for fucking five plus years, not counting how Mal raised her from afar, just massively pisses me off. Aurora has shown no signs of wanting to just be a normal girl. She loves her mother faithfully and it feels very OOC for her to just instantly assume the worst, especially since she should know things about magic by now and would have heard that Mal has to verbally curse someone, not just with a gesture of magic.

-Almost every part of this story has our leads being passive as hell. I hate passive stories and I hate passive characters. Remember, a good story is one in which your protagonists affect the plot and the outcome and each other. This movie is borderline boring. It’s so much of people looking out the window at the sky and fretting and being moody. All of our characters just sit around for two goddamn hours barely doing a thing until the war at the end, as if the movie is just waiting for itself to end. It’s such a fucking shame considering how many creative, engrossing scenes are in the first film. The first film perfectly paced the character development with the three main leads alongside the action. I loved seeing Diaval’s different forms. The action was fantastic and the story was deeply personal. Everything built towards the end goal of showing the full scope of who Mal is as both the hero and the villain. Here, it’s just miscommunication. That’s it. It’s so stupidly basic and it doesn’t do anything but open the door for her backstory. It’s such a lazy method to introduce them. There were much better ways to go about it and I’m sad that none of our beloved three barely does anything over the course of the movie.

-The tone is all over the fucking place. I actually would not recommend this movie for kids. It’s much too harsh for the little ones when we reach the war in the third act. It’s unnecessarily cruel to a bunch of characters. It even has the nerve to outright KILL one of the three fairy godmothers with little to no reverence for what a big fucking deal that should be. It’s a nasty, unpleasant feeling when she dies and when the other moorfolk and the dark fae die as well. And yet some of these scenes have slapped together “wah-wah-wah” moments, like the evil queen simply being turned into a goat. Ha-ha. Yeah. There are dozens of soldiers and innocent townsfolk and fairies dead. But she’s a just a goat. Sure. That’s not a whiplash of a fucking tone at all. What the hell is the matter with this movie? How dare you actually kill a fairy godmother. And it was one of a few stupid sacrifices while we’re at it. I mean, Magical Negro Fae went full Piccolo standing in front of Mal when all he had to do was yank her out of the way. Same for the big tree fae who died. Not to mention the fact that the giant tree fae just had to walk over to that fucking pipe organ and snap that stupid redhead’s neck, easy peasy, in three seconds. Problem solved. Fuck this movie for showing such flagrant deaths for innocent characters.

Oh, excuse me, one second.

*grabs Hollywood by the ear, shoves him into a chair, and breaks his nose*

Hollywood: OW! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!

Me: IF YOU PUT ONE MORE GODDAMN FUCKING MAGICAL NEGRO INTO ANOTHER MOTHERFUCKING MOVIE IN 2019 OR BEYOND, I’MMA FUCKING KILL YOU.

-Magical Negro Fae makes me want to kill something. I’m tired, y’all. I’m tired of writers in Hollywood continually making wise black characters teach white people life lessons and then promptly die to advance their story. Go to hell. All of you who keep writing this wretched cliché go straight to hell. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Take your ass to hell and rot in the lake of fire. Stop. Fucking. Doing. This. To. Black. Characters. You. Fucking. Assholes.

-It feels like there is a movie between the first Maleficent and this one that we missed. Seriously, the characters spout backstory that sounds interesting and important, but it’s off-screen, and we’re constantly fighting to understand something that the characters clearly do. Show, don’t tell. Show me Aurora and Philip being in love. Show me Aurora’s longing for Philip and Mal to get along. Show me Mal wondering about her heritage and feeling like an outcast. Show me the dark fae’s backstory. Show me Lickspittle being forced into betraying his own kind. I cannot connect with these characters if you do not give me a reason to do it like you did in the first film.

-Is it just me or did Hollywood deadass steal a whole bunch of this from the Gargoyles animated series? I’m just saying. Go back and watch that and then watch this and tell me it’s not similar.

-Nitpick: God, Disney, I am so tired of you filming all your live action movies on one sound stage with zero practical effects and zero sets. Yes, we can tell the fucking difference when you film everything indoors and there’s no sets. Can we go back to actually giving a shit about how movies look?

-Nitpick: There’s plotholes everywhere. I already mentioned how the tree fae could have ended that church massacre in a total of 3 seconds, if that. Where have the dark fae been? Why did they just act that one time with those mercs stealing the moorfolk? What was Lickspittle actually doing to the trapped fairies? We never see him experiment on them or anything. How did Magical Negro Fae see Mal fall in total darkness? Was he just hovering around the area? Why? They seem very far away from their stronghold, so how did he see her and why have they never attempted contact with her before even though they apparently know the moors very well? I could go on like this for some time.

-Angelina Jolie is given very little material to work with and it’s depressing considering how emotionally attached I became to Mal in the first movie. Her struggle was so sympathetic and her reaction to Stefan’s cowardice and cruelty was arguably justified. Here, she’s not having some kind of revelation about herself. It’s cookie cutter right and wrong. It’s very little struggle. She’s not barely doing anything for long periods of time and it’s honestly boring and disappointing as hell considering what a force of nature she is in personality and in abilities. They took all the zest and spice out of her. She’s a hollow, empty version of herself here and it’s probably the most insulting thing of all.

-Nitpick: The title is a big fat lie. Mal does not turn evil or become evil. She swats some fools around at the end, but that’s all. I hate misleading titles.

Overall, the word to describe this movie is unnecessary. It’s not bad, but it is nowhere near good at all. It reduces all its characters into passive roles in a dull story that tries to make up for it by heavily loading the ending with very distasteful, cruel war scenes that are frankly too harsh for children. It’s not asking any deep, sympathetic questions from its audience. It’s just spinning its wheels, mostly. If you’re curious, sure, go ahead and rent it. I would warn you from paying full theater price since it adds almost nothing to something that was frankly perfect the way it was already. I went in with low expectations and while the movie didn’t go below them, it was still a letdown. Mostly because I wanted some Maleval scenes to wake up the tiny, dormant fandom, and I highly doubt this is going to do that.

Sigh. You deserved better, Mal. At least we’ll always have the first movie.

Kyo out.

[arysafics]

if u do take requests please: a fic where clarke and bellamy are in a stable relationship but someone makes a comment about her body figure, and she starts to feel unconfortable and make diets, not feeling good on being naked in front of him and he notices

loose lips sink ships all the damn time

Summary: Clarke has always known Bellamy is too good for her, but it still hurts when strangers on the internet think that too.

Rated T, ~4000 words

Clarke has always known that Bellamy would make it bigsomeday. They’ve been together since he was in drama school and he starred in ashort film she wrote. It’s still the best thing she’s ever made, and it’s notbecause it’s her best writing (far from it), it’s because he made it amazing.

Since then, Clarke has given up writing scripts, findingshe’s better suited to novels, and Bellamy has had a lot of small roles in TVshows. There were a couple of recurring characters, and once, the villain in asci-fi show that ended up being cancelled after a season. But finally, his fucking agent did somethinggood for once, and got him an audition for a big action trilogy, which of course he got the lead for, starringopposite the mega-famous supermodel/actress, Echo Whiting.

The premiere was last night, and people are already goingcrazy for it. Bellamy has never been the type to keep up with social media, orread reviews about his work, but Clarke loves it. She gets a thrill every timeshe sees his name pop up on her Twitter or Facebook feed, whether it’s a reviewof his brilliant performance or just a fan screaming about how much they lovehim. Sure, it gets weird sometimes, especially because a lot of his fans arethirsting after him, but she hardly ever reads anything negative about him.

He’s still asleep, and Clarke elects not to wake him up. Hefinally has some time off after weeks of interviews and appearances, and Clarkeisn’t about to ruin his first day to sleep in.

She opens Twitter on her phone, and searches Bellamy’s name.The latest tweet is a link to an article of the best and worst dressed from thepremiere last night, and Clarke clicks on it, already knowing Bellamy will bein the best category. She finds himat number two, after Echo, and she stares at his picture, smiling to herself.She loves him because he’s kind and selfless and funny and talented. But he’salso really hot as well.

The caption reads: BellamyBlake can do no wrong when it comes to fashion. We don’t care what he wears, aslong as he keeps showing up to give us that dreamy smile.

Clarke continues scrolling, until she reaches the worstdressed. Okay, if it were up to her, these lists wouldn’t even exist. But also,secretly she kind of likes judging other people’s clothes. She has to agreethat number one on the list is kind of awful. There are just too many colourson Ontari’s dress, and all of them clash. The second one Clarke doesn’t thinkis so bad, but then, she’s no fashion expert.

She continues scrolling, and her stomach drops when she seesnone other than herself at number three. She hadn’t even realised anyone waspaying attention to her. She’s not even in the movie. She’s not a famous actor.She’s just Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend.

She doesn’t even think she looks that bad in the dress shewore last night. She felt sexy at the time, in skin tight red, and if the wayBellamy pulled her out of it after they got home last night was any indication,he thought she looked sexy too.

Her eyes scan the caption, wondering why she’s made theworst dressed list.

Look guys, we havenothing wrong with the dress itself. But Clarke, honey, it’s not for you. Sheneeds a stylist that can dress her for her body type, and hide all theunflattering bits. Oh, and by the way, this is a red carpet, not the red lightdistrict. Put those things away!

Clarke feels sick to her stomach. She looks at the pictureagain, and suddenly she can see what they’re talking about. The dress stretchesover her stomach and thighs, making her look bigger than she is. Or maybe shereally is that big. And the dress probably is too low cut for someone withbreasts like Clarke’s. Echo would probably look really good in the dress.

“Hey,” Bellamy says sleepily, cuddling up to her. Clarkeexits the article quickly, blinking back tears.

“Sorry,” Clarke says. “Did I wake you?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so. What were you reading?”

“Just a stupid article,” Clarke says.

“You’re not googling me again, are you?” Bellamy grins.Clarke smiles back at him. She has to remind herself that it doesn’t matterwhat one dumb article says about her. Bellamy’s opinion is the one thatmatters, and he loves her and thinks she’s beautiful.

“Someone has to do it,” Clarke says.

“Well, thank you for being my biggest fan,” Bellamy says,leaning over her to kiss her. He takes her phone from her hands, placing itaside, continuing to kiss her, letting his hands roam over her body. She tenseswhen he grips her thigh, and he stops. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says quickly. God, she’s so stupid. She can’tlet the words of some bitch pretending to be a journalist get to her. They’rejust jealous that Clarke is with Bellamy. And who could blame them?

Even knowing this, she pushes him off her and scoots out ofbed.

“I just really need to pee,” she says, shooting him a smileto show him she’s okay.

Bellamy raises an eyebrow at her, but he doesn’t push it.“Okay,” he says. “We should probably get up anyway. I still have to pack.”

“We have time,” Clarke says. “Go back to sleep.” He givesher that dreamy smile everyone is so in love with, then falls back against thepillows. Clarke heads to the bathroom, wondering if she should have told himabout the article. Except she already knows what he’d say. He’d tell her thearticle is wrong, and that they’re just trying to get attention, and that sheneeds to stop reading that shit. And he’d be right, obviously. Which is why shedoesn’t tell him.

  Clarke decides she’s going to go social media free for acouple of weeks, while she and Bellamy are in Fiji. He has some time off, andwhile he loves his job and his fans, Clarke knows he tires of being the centreof attention. It will be good for the two of them to disappear, even if justfor a little while.

“No Twitter, no Facebook, no Instagram. I’m not even goingto use Google,” Clarke tells Bellamy, putting her phone on the charger. They’restaying in a tiny little private villa, close to the beach, and Bellamy isalready dressed in his swim shorts. It’s a distracting sight.

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but I also know youvery well. If you last the day I’ll be surprised,” he grins.

“That sounds a lot like you don’t believe me,” Clarke pouts.

Bellamy laughs. “I believe you want to try.”

“I’ll show you,” Clarke says, poking her tongue out. “I’mnot even going to take my phone with me to the beach.”

“That sounds like a brag, but I don’t get why you would evenneed a phone at the beach.”

“Photos,” Clarke says. She picks up her phone and snaps oneof him to prove her point. “That’s going to be my new lock screen.”

Bellamy shakes his head, amused. “Come on,” he says, holdingout his hand. “The ocean is calling to me.”

Clarke takes his hand, grabbing her towel from the bed onthe way. They make the five minute walk to the beach hand in hand. It’s perfectbeach weather, warm and not too windy, and yet there is hardly anyone else onthe beach. They lay their towels down, and Bellamy waits for Clarke to take herdress off so they can get in the water. She hesitates, just for a moment. Thewords from the article run through her mind, reminding her about all her unflattering bits. She’s just wearing abikini underneath the dress, and it doesn’t cover all that much. She hadn’tlooked in the mirror when she put it on, and she’s suddenly worried about whatshe looks like in it.

Steeling herself, Clarke hurriedly pulls the dress over herhead and puts it down on her towel, trying to keep her stomach covered with herarms as long as possible. When she looks up, Bellamy is staring at her.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head. He smirks. “Just wish we wereback at the villa instead of on this very public beach.”

“You wanted to come to the beach.”

“Yeah, but that was before I saw you in that bikini.”

“Stop it,” she says, giving him a playful shove. She stillloves it when he gets all flirty with her, looks at her like he wants to devourher. Yet part of her wonders if he’s just putting it on. Acting like he wantsher more than he really does. He grabs her arm and tugs her close, kissing her.“We shouldn’t do this here,” Clarke murmurs between kisses.

“Why?” Bellamy whispers back.

“You’re famous. People might recognise you and takepictures.”

“I don’t care.”

Clarke breaks away from his lips, trailing her fingers downhis arm and taking his hand. “We’re going swimming first,” she says, pullinghim towards the ocean. “And then when we get back to the villa you can dowhatever you like to me.”

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees, and he lets Clarke lead him into theshallows. He grabs her around the waist, and she shrieks, laughing as he kissesher, then pulls her down into the water. He loves her, Clarke reminds herself.He loves her and he wants her, regardless of what anyone else says. She has toremember that.

  Out of stubbornness and nothing else, Clarke makes it thewhole two weeks without social media. She does feel proud of herself, but thetrue prize is Bellamy admitting he was wrong for doubting her.

Of course, the first thing she does when they get home isopen Twitter, while Bellamy does the responsible thing and starts unpacking hissuitcase.

She goes through her notifications, liking questions fromfans about her next book so she can answer them later. She reads every tweetshe’s mentioned in, which usually isn’t that many, seeing as it’s been a whilesince her last book came out, and though she’s on Twitter a lot, she doesn’tactually tweet that much. Occasionally she’ll get people asking her aboutBellamy, but she never replies to those ones.

There is a tweet from what looks like a Bellamy Blake fanaccount, judging from the username.

Give Bellamy Blake anOscar @bblakefan291

@clarkegriffinwritesdid you see this? people are so mean

Clarke clicks on the tweet, wondering what mean thingspeople could possibly be saying about Bellamy. She doesn’t want to get into aTwitter war over it, and she probably won’t tell him if it’s too harsh, but shefeels like she needs to know anyway.

She finds the tweet is a reply to a picture, a photo takenof her and Bellamy while they were at the beach. Her first thought is that theyboth look really happy. They’re standing in the shallows and he’s got his armaround her and she has the biggest smile on her face. Then she reads thecomment that goes with it.

Kelly @bechorise

No offence but he cando so much better lol. What is he even doing with her?

Clarke rolls her eyes, trying to ignore the sinking feelingin her stomach. It doesn’t matter to her what some random on the internet hasto say about her relationship with Bellamy.

She knows she should just exit the app and forget about it,but she sees the tweet has three hundred likes already, and fifteen replies,and she can’t resist scrolling down to see what other people are saying.Perhaps some part of her hopes there are people defending her.

Bellamy and Echo @bellamyandecho

He should be withsomeone actually hot. Like Echo!!!!!

Georgia @georgiagg55

She actually has apretty face but she really needs to lose a few pounds

hell is empty @ladygagaisshakespeare

lmao someone finallysaid it

Bellamy Blake’s Wife @wifeofbellamyblake

I’m hotter than she ishe should be with me!!!

becho are secretlydating @bechoes

don’t worry, this isjust a cover, he’s actually with Echo. It would literally make no sense for himto be dating this nobody lol that’s all the proof you need

frankie @franksfornothing

you can tell she’s waymore into him than he is into her. He’s going to break up with her soon I canfeel it. Then we celebrate ladies!

There are a couple of tweets defending her, but the repliesto those tweets are just other people telling them to shut up. The worst one iswhere someone has reposted the picture, but they’ve circled and labelled allher flaws. Her cellulite, her stretch marks, the rolls of fat around herstomach.

Her chest is tight and her eyes well with tears. It’sstupid, she knows it’s stupid. They’re just strangers on the internet whoseopinions shouldn’t matter. But the thing is, she’s always kind of suspectedshe’s not good enough for him. When he first asked her out, she had troublebelieving it wasn’t some kind of dumb prank. Guys that look like that don’tdate girls that look like Clarke. They date girls that look like Echo Whiting.

And it’s not that Clarke thinks Bellamy is cheating on her,or wants to cheat on her, or is secretly planning to break up with her when thetime is right. But she can see what everyone else sees. That he’s better thanher. He’s more talented, he’s more charismatic, he’s more attractive. Clarkedoesn’t deserve him, and she’s always kind of known it. Deep down, there’s thisfear that one day he’s going to wake up and realise he can do better, and thenhe’ll leave her. To have other people validate that fear, to have strangers onthe internet voice her worst and darkest thoughts about herself and herrelationship—it just makes it seem more real.

The thought of losing Bellamy makes her ache. What if hesees this picture, sees how out of her league he is, starts seeing her the wayshe really is? How long would it take him to stop touching her, because hethinks she’s too fat? Stops taking her as his date to awards shows andpremieres because he realises she makes him look bad?

“Okay, I’m done unpacking,” Bellamy says, strolling out fromthe bedroom. Clarke quickly brushes the tears from her eyes, swallowing. Shecan’t tell him about this. He’ll think she’s stupid, or he’ll think she’sright, and either way she doesn’t want to deal with it. He stops, frowning, hisface etched with concern. “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” Clarke says. Evidently, she hasn’t hidden her tearsas well as she would have liked. “Just watched a dog video.”

Bellamy smiles. “Cute. You want to get pizza for dinner? I’mnot really in the mood for cooking.”

Clarke hesitates. Pizza does sound good. But perhaps sheshouldn’t be eating pizza, if she actually wants to keep her boyfriend. “Youcan get pizza if you want. I’m not that hungry.”

“I can just order you some garlic bread if you want.”

Clarke huffs. “No, Bellamy. I don’t want garlic bread.”

“But you love garlic bread. And you might be hungry later.You can heat it up—”

“I said I don’t want it,” Clarke snaps. Bellamy snaps hismouth closed, frowning. Clarke takes a deep breath. “Sorry,” she mutters. “Ithink I’m just tired from the flight. I’m going to take a shower and go tobed.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says. Clarke doesn’t look at him as sheheads to the bathroom, but she knows he’s watching her, confused as to why shesnapped at him. Clarke doesn’t even really know herself, except that he’sencouraging her to eat things that will make her fat, and that annoys her.

While she’s in the shower, she decides she’s going to starta diet in the morning. Cut out carbs completely maybe. Only eat things that aregreen.

She towels herself off and puts her pyjamas on and gets intobed. She can smell Bellamy’s pizza when it arrives. Her stomach grumbles. Whenhe comes into the bedroom to offer her some, she pretends to be asleep.

  Clarke starts her diet the next morning. While Bellamy isstill asleep, she plans out what she’s allowed to eat for the for the week andsticks the chart on the fridge with a magnet. She’s already hungry just lookingat it. But she’s sure she’ll get over that.

Breakfast today is just half a grilled tomato. Bellamywanders into the kitchen as she plates it up.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“A tomato.”

“What’s it for?”

“Breakfast.”

The look Bellamy gives her is sceptical. “That’s notbreakfast, Clarke. At least have some toast with it.”

“Can you stop telling me what to eat?”

Bellamy actually flinches. Clarke stabs her tomato with herfork, feeling guilty. “Sorry.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh huh,” she says. She doesn’t look up from her plate. “Ijust really have a craving for grilled tomato,” she says. She keeps talkingbefore Bellamy can say anything else. “Anyway, I need to get some writing donethis morning, so I’m going to be in my office for a few hours,” she saysquickly, picking up her plate and hurrying to her office.

She hardly gets any writing done. She’s hungry and she can’tthink straight and she feels guilty for snapping at Bellamy for no reason. She’swritten two sentences in two hours by the time she hears Bellamy get back fromhis run. She sighs to herself, leaving her work and finding him in the bedroom,stripping off his sweat soaked shirt.

“Hey,” she says, poking her head into the room. Bellamylooks up, throwing his shirt into the laundry basket. “Sorry about before.”

“It’s fine, Clarke,” he says. He folds his arms over hischest, his biceps bulging. Clarke quickly meets his eyes. This is a seriousconversation. “Are you going to tell me what’s really going on though?”

Clarke shrugs. “Must be getting my period.” All manner ofweird behaviour can be excused that way, right?

“That’s it?”

Clarke nods. Bellamy sags. “Fuck, Clarke,” he says. “You hadme really worried.”

“You were worried? About what?”  

“Yeah,” he says softly, walking over to her. He takes herhands in his. “I thought—I don’t know. It doesn’t matter.” He kisses her softly,then a little harder. He presses her against the doorframe, crushing heragainst his sweaty chest. Clarke’s heart races as she kisses him back, her needfor him growing.

“Bellamy,” she whispers, her voice husky. He presses a kissto each of her cheeks.

“Yes?”

“I need you.”

“Come and shower with me,” Bellamy says, his lips againsthers again, his hands still holding hers. He tugs her towards the bathroom, andClarke lets him pull her with him. He doesn’t even bother shutting the bathroomdoor before he’s kissing her again. His hands slide under her shirt, and she tensesup instinctively, thinking about the circles that person drew on her picture,pointing out her chubby stomach. Bellamy stops instantly, pulling back.

“Clarke?”

“It’s okay,” she says, even though it’s not. She wants him,she really wants him. But the thought of him seeing her like the rest of theworld sees her makes her sick. She looks okay in her baggy shirt and jeans, butshe doesn’t want him to see her naked. Not until she’s lost some weight, andshe can look like a girlfriend he can actually be proud of. “I just—um,” shesteps back, away from him, eyes on the floor. “I changed my mind. I—” she feelsher throat closing up. She tries to swallow, so she won’t cry.

“Clarke, baby,” Bellamy says softly. “What’s going on? Tellme.”

She looks up at him, just as a tear rolls down her cheek.She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to think I’m ugly,” she says, and itsounds so stupid she could laugh, if her chest didn’t ache so much.

“Ugly?” Bellamy shakes his head. “Why would I ever think you’reugly?”

Clarke sobs, though she tries to hold it back. The truthspills out of her. “Everybody thinks I’m not good enough for you. And they’reright. Why are you even with me, when you could have anybody you want? Someonewho’s actually in your league?”

“Clarke—” Bellamy says, searching her eyes, confused andconcerned. “I don’t understand. Who thinks you’re not good enough for me?”

Clarke pulls her phone from her back pocket and opensTwitter. It only takes her a moment to find the tweet.

“I don’t get it,” Bellamy says. “This is a good picture.”

“Read the comments, Bellamy.”

Bellamy looks back to the phone, his eyes scanning thescreen as he scrolls. His expression gets darker and darker as he reads. Helooks up, his eyes hot with rage.

“Clarke,” he says. “This is a load of bullshit. I love you and I want to be with you. Just the thought of you thinkingyou’re not good enough for me—” he cuts himself off with a huff. “Fuck anyone whomakes you think that,” he growls.

Clarke shrugs. “But look at me,” she says. “And look at you.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, his anger turning to anguish. “Don’tsay that. You’re beautiful. What can I do to make you believe me?”

“Nothing, Bellamy,” Clarke huffs. “It’s not your fault. I believeyou believe that. But one day you’re going to wake up and realise you should bewith someone who makes you look good. Someone like Echo.”

“I’ll quit the movie,” Bellamy says. “I’ll quit actingentirely. None of it means anything if I don’t have you.”

Clarke shakes her head, tears falling again. “Don’t give upyour dream because of me.”

“Don’t leave me,” Bellamy says, his voice trembling. “I loveyou. I love you.”

Clarke’s heart misses a beat. “I’m not leaving you,” she says.“God, Bellamy. This isn’t a break up.”

Bellamy exhales, his relief evident. He takes her face inhis hands. “Clarke. You have to know, I think you’re gorgeous. I don’t want youto ever doubt that. But I don’t love you because of the way you look. I loveyou because of you. All of you. Ilove you exactly as you are, and I will love you if you change entirely, and Iwill love you if you stay the same.”

Clarke’s heart thrums in her chest. She puts her hand overhis. With his words, the fierce sincerity in his eyes, her doubts vanish. He’snever once made her feel like she’s not worthy of him, and the fact that shelet some childish internet trolls make her believe any different fills her withshame.

“Bellamy, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should never evenhave read those comments. I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you, or thatI think you’re shallow—”

“Hey, hey,” he says. “You don’t have to be sorry. You feelhow you feel. But I want to know how you feel too, okay?”

Clarke nods. Bellamy drops his hands from her face. “Wouldyou really quit acting for me?”

“I would do anything for you.”

“You know I would never ask you to do that, right?”

“I know,” Bellamy says. “And that’s why I would.”

Clarke shakes her head, smiling. “I’m the last person whowould want you to give up acting. You know I’m your biggest fan, right?”

Bellamy smiles. “And I’m yours.”

[jj-ktae]

Erotica - Part 4 - (M)

Pairing: Im Jaebum x Reader Genre: SMUT Summary: You’re a rookie porn actress on the rise and everything goes well until you get offered a role in a big-budget porn movie, starring the most famous actor in the porn industry. Words: 4758 Warning: Read at your own risk Lots of love for @demongyeom who beta-ed this for me because i’m a mess  <3

- Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Epilogue -

- Part 4 - 

“Just this time, please. Save us.” Your manager tries everything. Apparently, he just received a call about one of the actress being sick and cancelling on a short scene. No one is available, half of them being busy and having no time to film today. “It’s not going to take long, it’s a quickie but we need it for the website, we’ve been teasing this for so long.”

You sigh, eyes scanning through the new lines of the scene the director wants you to film again. They called you yesterday, claiming that you need to redo a couple of talk scenes with Jaebum.

This movie is never going to end.

“But I’m stuck here, we don’t even know when we’ll be done!” Maybe it’s going to discourage him. Maybe he will give up and ask someone else because you really don’t want to run around for one thirty minutes scene when you were initially supposed to rest today.

“I called the director, he said they can come. The studio is okay with lending us a space to film. You only need to agree and I promise I’ll pay you back for that. If we don’t help we’ll be in trouble, you know how the boss works.” He speaks fast, already grabbing his phone because now you’re doomed, you can’t reject the idea for you have no other arguments.

“Fine.” You’re already exhausted. Today was an off day. How come you ended with re-filming scenes plus doing a quickie?

“Great, thanks, I swear I owe you big time, Y/N.” he flies away, smile carnivorous and you know he is going to get big money for what he just did.

A head pops from behind the door, apologetic. “Miss Y/N, we’ll start soon.”

You nod their way, walking away and grabbing the new script you have yet to memorize before you start.

It’s only a couple of scenes. The director said he wasn’t satisfied with the way it was filmed and grabbed the opportunity to change the script. You received a call yesterday night which made you cancel your initial plan to visit your mother.

You don’t see Im Jaebum. Actually, you didn’t even catch a glimpse of his lazy figure ever since you arrived. He usually sits in a corner, concentrated yet idle, with headphones and sometimes carrying a book. Today he is nowhere to be found and you let a sigh of relief at the thought.

When you started filming this movie, your wrath toward Im Jaebum was stronger than the plague. His behaviour and cockiness made you think of him as nothing but an arrogant guy with a thick dick and no compassion for anyone that isn’t him.

He acted like you were going to ruin his career, like you were a greedy girl rebelling against a wealthy family and taking the job lightly.

With time he became less hostile, even friendly as he often sat back to chit-chat with you. He shared a bit of his real personality, which you found to be rather opposite to what he had shown so far. He wasn’t that much into sex as you thought he would, his main topics revolving around music and walks around town.

Im Jaebum revealed to be warmer with time. He wasn’t keen on being officially sweet, his smiles more teasing than cute in your opinion.

Yet he felt comfortable as time passed.

The sex scenes were less of a showdown and softer. Jaebum allowed himself to let his guards down, movements now composed and understanding. It helped greatly, turning the crazy adventure into something less annoying and as much as you would like to be satisfied with his new self, something feels off.

Something feels off because you’re starting to enjoy this. You never truly enjoyed a sex scene. You had your fun moments with co-actors who actually made you feel more at ease with the task at hand, but never to the point of enjoying the ministrations.

Maybe it’s because he is a professional. Im Jaebum is very famous in the porn industry even though he barely appears in sex related media. Maybe it’s why he is famous. He must be one hell of a good actor if he can make you believe that he cares.

This is why you refuse to speak to him more than necessary. Your last sex scene in the shower turned out to be very productive, tearing a very strong and realistic orgasm from a very intimate Jaebum; and pulling your barriers down.

So naturally, you decide to stay away from any trouble. Im Jaebum is nothing but talented at what he does which has nothing to do with you, hence, you shouldn’t even think about how he might be genuinely affectionate.

But you know nothing about the real Im Jaebum.

He is thankful that you stopped acting like you hate him. He admits he went too far and jumped to conclusions, but he can’t be blamed, in all honesty. He has seen so many young actress trying to become popular and acting dirty just for the sake of fame. He had to deal with clingy girls trying to get into his pants outside of work, running after him and thinking he spends his time pounding into whatever breathes.

So, thinking about how your relationship started, he doesn’t understand how his behaviour changed. He is used to being distant; he knows what people think of porn actors and doesn’t mind staying on his own – or with the only two people he can call friends. He blames it on the situation and the movie itself. He blames everything on how stupid and mushy he has to be for the sex scenes.

He ignores how enjoyable and soft you feel under his hands.

Jaebum knows it can happen. It’s the perks of making love for a living. He’s touched and kissed many people in his short life so obviously, he may feel attracted occasionally. It’s perfectly fine and natural, if he refers to his non-existent love life. He shouldn’t worry, even when he catches himself thinking about how you’d feel in a more intimate mind-set, or how strong his orgasm had been back then in the shower.

Yet, he doesn’t appreciate how it never happened before.

When he receives a call from his manager asking him to come and film a couple of scenes again, he doesn’t nag him. He usually complains, not caring about how ‘unprofessional the staff is’. Today he comes with no resentment towards the staff, hiding his evident eyes scanning the area, only to find it empty of your presence.

“We’ll start in ten.” The staff runs around, unpleased with the probability of having to pay for another day of filming in the studio. Everything is rushed, from how he gets pulled to the hairstylist, to how discreetly his makeup is done.

He catches you walking away from the restrooms, hands flattening the hems of your dress and eyes busy scanning for any imperfection on the thin clothing. You seem distracted, hurried even, like something is on your mind.

“We’ll start with the kitchen scene, please head to the studio.” One of the staff pulls him out of his thoughts, making him turn around and aim at the busy room.

He thinks everything will be alright when you step into the room, sitting on the kitchen table while he starts preparing food, just like the script wants him to. He turns around while the cameraman gets ready, along with the gaffer who doesn’t seem to be satisfied with the bright lightening. He tilts his head, catching your attention and you can only greet him, timidly.

How uncommon.

Jaebum knows something is off. You usually either ignore him totally or talk to him like he is your friend. You never act like there’s something you shouldn’t be doing, or like talking to him is something that makes you uneasy to the point of turning silent.

“Starting in two.” The director adds, making you both nod in his direction.

It’s going to be a long day.

--

It is a long day indeed. Jaebum has to deal with you ignoring him and he is torn between bluntly ask you or ignore the uneasiness. He decides not to push it. He isn’t the type of person who can be petty to the point of asking for justifications to a person he isn’t sure he is close to.

You find it hard to stare into space between each scene. So far you both were at least familiar enough to talk about your lives, so obviously, he would find it weird that you ignored him all of a sudden.

You almost regret it when you hear him sigh, forgetting about your previous will to get away from the illusion of a caring person. Maybe you’re overreacting. Maybe Im Jaebum really cares and is filming those sex scenes genuinely.

Maybe he likes making love to you.

That is stupid.

And even if he does, what’s the matter? It’s normal to be caring between co-workers. It’s even good to have a correct relationship at work.

So why is it that you’d rather escape from him?

You know the answer but you don’t even dare thinking about it. Im Jaebum is nothing but a very professional human-being.

--

“There you are!” You manager claps loudly, interrupting your train of thoughts as numerous people enter the studio. It’s been an hour since you finished re-filming the scene for Erotica and you were still waiting for them to arrive.

The director rushes inside, shaking hands with your manager before waving at you. “Is the studio ready? We are late, let’s hurry.” You know him, he is one of the youngest director working with your company. At least he is easy to work with so you won’t have to spread your legs for too long.

“Where is he?” Your manager asks, peeking behind to crew to look for the actor you’re supposed to work with. You didn’t even ask, the information not important enough for you to be enthusiastic anyways.

“Jackson should come any minute.” The director runs toward the people preparing the equipment and you follow, ready to listen to whatever they would want you to do. As if on cue, your manager arrives behind you, rubbing his hands excitedly. “It’s a quickie, doggy style, a little bit of hair pulling and that’s pretty much it.”

You nod, kind of relieved that it’s Jackson who is going to come and not another cocky actor from your company. There’s only a few you get along with, most of them are too self-centred to even act like you’re worth their time and it irritates you every time you have to film with them. They’re not unfriendly though, just very conscientious.

Jackson is different. He has a bubbly personality built to become friends with anyone who smiles at him at least once. He doesn’t mind filming at ungodly hours and respects all the decisions without complaining. He is a hard-working guy yet always makes the situation less dramatic.

Jackson is the only actor who has the ability to make you laugh in the middle of a sex scene and you enjoy how casual he is without being too laid back.

It’s natural when he throws an arm over your shoulders as soon as he enters the studio. He seems exhausted like he filmed non-stop for the past month – which he certainly did – but doesn’t act like he is annoyed to be here.

He smiles warmly, licking his lips and taking his cap off. “I didn’t know you were the one who agreed on taking Vera’s part. She came this morning and started throwing up all over the place,” he shivers, making a face. “Horrible. I heard you’re filming this movie everyone is talking about, how is it going? “

You shrug, mouth falling downwards in hope to keep the most neutral face. “Different? I don’t know, it’s my first time acting in a full movie with a storyline and actual dialogue.”

Jackson hums, parting from you so he can take his jacket off. “I like it when I feel more of an actor than a walking dick.” He raises a hand to get your manager’s attention. “I’ll go wash up real quick.” One wink and a boyish smile later, he is gone.

Jackson does a lot of ‘amateur like’ scenes. They’re mostly short and focus on sex only, but he also did movies with storylines and dialogues that had nothing to do with moans only. Despite his growing notoriety, he is still the same guy. You like how nothing feels creepy and dirty with him.

You aim for the bed, undressing slowly. Your underwear are the only barriers to your intimacy, making you shiver and wrap yourself into the deep red sheets. The staff is still busy with the lightning and camera placement while you wait for your co-actor to get out of the staff room, clean and perfumed.

Jackson always feels the same. After all those scenes you filmed with him, he always wore the same perfume and used the same body lotion. He wears strong notes of musk, with a sugary and fruity body lotion.

You made fun of him when he told you he was addicted to Victoria’s Secret’s products.

He comes back whistling. You’re lying down, body covered and head against the pillow. The staff is finally ready so Jackson jumps on the bed, covering himself too.

“You start with oral, then doggie style next to the bed. We need you to be quick, thirty minutes maximum. It’s a free video for our premium members so don’t overdo it.” You both nod at the director, Jackson already approaching you and wrapping an arm around your waist.

It’s a common sex encounter. Jackson groans yet massages your flesh with care. You purr against his neck when he starts touching you, earning an amused chuckle from the aroused boy.

It gets more intense when your lips wrap around his swollen tip. He grabs the sheet and bites his lip, watching you play with his penis hungrily.

You add more dramatic moans when he starts licking you. He is on the floor while your upper body is on the bed and he dives right in, groaning and parting your legs so wide you almost yelp at the sudden stretch.

He smirks against your folds and you want to smack him. It feels good to film without tension or uneasiness. Bless him for being somewhat normal even though he also has sex for a living.

The doggie style scene arrives quickly. Jackson jerks himself and rubs his dick playfully against your folds while you position yourself against the foot of the bed. The staff is quiet, busy even, as they start talking about when the video will be up.

You whimper when he fills you up to the hilt, head rising in an exaggerated blissed expression but you freeze when you open your eyes.

--

Jaebum was supposed to go. He didn’t even need to shower and changed himself fast, rushing to get the hell out of here and rest before meeting with his friend for a drink later that day.

He didn’t mean to peek but when he heard you had to film an unexpected scene, he put his bag down and stayed. It’s weird, he was never the type to be into voyeurism but something tickled his curiosity.

So eventually he sticks around, hidden behind the huge camera, looking like the biggest pervert in town. He watches intently, from the moment you start sucking your co-actor to that climax point when he starts pounding into you at full force.

And against better judgement, he scoffs. It looks rushed, tacky and everything he hates. He rolls his eyes at Jackson when the latter grunts and rotates his hips against your face, shakes his head when he spreads your legs and observes your unnatural face when you start moaning way too loudly.

It’s not natural. It’s not how you usually react, it’s definitely not your honest, flustered face when you close your eyes and lick your lips in false lust.

He doesn’t like it but somehow takes pride in the situation. He has been doing this for a long time now and he recognises a good actor when he sees one. Jaebum’s seen and felt too many fake orgasms to see you’re only wet because you must be. It’s pleasant in a way, because he remembers clearly how much you contracted around him, how you grabbed his arm for support, how you licked your lips to muffle the needy moans.

There’s no connection.

He ends up feeling torn. One part of him wants to laugh at how ridiculous that scene looks yet another part wants to grab your co-actor by the collar and drag him out so he can show everyone how you really act when you’re turned on.

It looks different though, when you look and find him staring. You’re bent over the bed, sweaty and panting yet you don’t seem to be into it. Jaebum knows he shouldn’t be here, but he finds it hard to ignore how disturbed it makes you look. You almost fall when you receive a particularly hard thrust and look away, head low.

“You must find this boring, right?” Your manager walks next to him and talks politely, like he wants to apologize for showing such as shameless and cheap scene.

Jaebum shakes his head, a smirk growing on his not so peaceful face. “It’s instructive.” It’s not. He doesn’t find anything interesting about a muscle-boy pounding into a girl who seems as dry as the desert.

When the scene ends, you fall on the bed, thoroughly ignoring Im Jaebum, who you hope is now gone. Jackson stretches and yawns, slapping your butt. “Get up, lazy girl.” He laughs at you and you smile back, grabbing his hand so you can stand up.

Jackson has no boundaries, for he already throws an arm around your shoulder, bowing at the staff and thanking everyone. “Let’s get a drink. It’s been ages.”

You make a face, shaking your head. “I’m exhausted and tomorrow is my last scene.” You peek around and Im Jaebum is nowhere to be seen, so you relax, muscles now soft and yet conscious of your surroundings.

“I didn’t say we would go to a nightclub. My schedule is packed for tomorrow, let’s- Oh, JB! The famous daddy.” Your eyes fly from Jackson to peek at an unamused Im Jaebum, arms crossed over his chest and smile tight. “I didn’t know you were still around!”

Jackson is dense, Jaebum thinks. He tilts his head and looks down at your bare body, the one you always hide from him whenever you’re done filming. How is it that you have no trouble walking around a naked and noisy guy when you dash out of his sight every single time?

Jaebum keeps his reproaches for himself, nodding at a smiley Jackson who doesn’t seem to mind showing his now floppy and dirty dick for everyone to see. “We met already, I believe.”

Jackson thinks for a minute, before clicking his fingers. “We did? Great! I was about to take Y/N for a drink right in front of the studio, why don’t you tag along?”

You part from him, shaking your head. “I told you I’m busy tomorrow. He is too, Jackson. Maybe some other time?”

Jackson looks disappointed from the way his arms go limp by his sides. “I can’t believe you-”

“Fine, let’s go.” Jaebum cuts him, eyebrows raised and watching you for any type of reaction. “The director said we only have filming in the afternoon, it’s our last scene, after all.”

You open your mouth, bewildered. What the hell is he thinking about?

Jackson claps his hands, proud. “So! It’s settled. Let’s take a shower and get out of here.”

--

You don’t know how you end up in a bar with two porn actors and a financial consultant. Jaebum was apparently supposed to meet his a friend and asked if it was okay for him to tag along, as to which Jackson agreed, of course.

He is also currently making the poor boy – whose name is Jinyoung - laugh with lame jokes and weird facial expressions. Jaebum is quiet, watching the place and sipping his drink. You try to make yourself look busy, but it’s hard considering you don’t want to be here.

“Of course not, we do get into stable relationships!” Jackson laughs, “Right, Jaebum?” He started calling him by his name as soon as he felt comfortable, which means ten minutes after meeting him in the studio. “People think we only care about sex.”

Jinyoung scoffs, “Of course you don’t, Jaebum himself has a mediocre love life. Is it true that sex becomes a chore once you become a porn star?” he looks at Jaebum and shakes his head. “Everyone thinks he is a Don Juan with too much stamina but he lives like a grandpa.”

Jaebum doesn’t have the time to answer as Jackson is already laughing loudly.

“It’s true, I guess? We don’t have sex the same way we do for the cameras. I mean, personally, it became that way for me. I’m so lazy when it comes to real sex.” Jackson nudges you, pulling you out of your thoughts. “How about you?”

You observe the three, your glass still clutched between your fingers. Jaebum seems also interested, because he stopped looking at the wall to stare at you.

You try to play it cool. “I guess it’s true. I wouldn’t know, it’s been a long time since I had personal sexual intercourse.” You don’t know why should share that information with two people you barely know and a guy you fuck with professionally.

Jackson gasps. “See? Most of the people I know who are in the sex industry aren’t thinking about sex non-stop.”

Jaebum hums, playing with his now empty glass. “Some people do think of us as creepy and perverted though.” You almost choke, hoping no one would notice how he was referring to you.

Jackson agrees instantly. “It’s hard to find someone who would accept our situation. What do you think about your friend’s job, Jinyoungie?”

You sigh when you hear the pet name. Jackson is so shameless.

Jinyoung doesn’t seem to mind. He thinks for a minute, before putting his glass down. “I’ve been friends with him for a long time so it’s not like I don’t know who he really is, but I admit I would have been freaked out if I met him under any other circumstances.”

“Right?” Jackson muses, amused with the situation. He turns to an upset Jaebum, “Still, you film some nasty shit.” He laughs after his witty remark, facing a now uneasy boy who is close to punching him in the face.

“It pays well.” Jaebum mutters, avoiding your stare that he knows must be judgemental, now. “It’s not like I’m into this.”

You chuckle at his sulky face. He doesn’t look like the cocky guy who made fun of you the first time you met.

The evening ends fast thanks to Jackson who can make the conversation for everyone. You laugh from time to time, teasing Jackson when a woman in her late fifties offers him a drink and he gladly accepts it, winking at the lady.

Jackson runs around once you’re all out of the bar and sings with an amused Jinyoung who looks like he has been friends with him for forever.

Jaebum stays behind, shocked to see how easily the pair became friends. He turns to you after a while, “Do you want me to drive you back?”

You stop, frozen. Maybe it’s a bad idea. You’ve had a couple of drinks and you don’t remember him drinking to the point of being drunk. It isn’t like him to ask when you could get a cab and head home.

“I mean, I took my car to come to the studio today.” He adds, pulling his key from his back pocket. “It’s easier than finding a cab.” He acts like he is detached and is asking purely out of convenience for you. “Unless you still think I’m a creep who will jump you.” He tries humour because it’s incredibly embarrassing and he has to find a way to get out of this if you ever reject his proposition.

Before your brain works, your mouth opens, rapid. “Okay.”

Jaebum smiles, surprised, and turns around to yell at the duet. “Want me to drive you back home, too?”

Jackson stops dancing, shaking his head at you too. “CAB! THANKS!” He pulls on Jinyoung’s hand to make him waltz, the latter barely able to answer as he is basically being pushed around everywhere. He notices the situation though and smirks at Jaebum, before shaking his head too.

“I’ll just find him a cab and head back.” He laughs when Jackson almost trips, forgetting about whatever was happening and Jaebum is glad he doesn’t have to deal with these two.

He presses on a button and a car makes a sound among all the parked engines by the street. It’s a nice yet simple car, in which you enter swiftly. Jaebum steps in a second later, spending no time in turning it on and you give him your address.

The ride is silent, the only sound coming from the soft music enough to make the situation less awkward. Jaebum is focused on the road, taking turns and listening whenever you give him directions. He discovers you live quite far from the studio but doesn’t comment on it, unsure of what your reaction would be.

You focus on the outside world, peaceful and lit with endless lights. You don’t expect him to become a chatterbox, but it’s true you didn’t think he could be so chill and silent. He does seem like the petty type, the guy with too much confidence and gusto, but he has none of it. He lives simply and has a cool friend, a guy who has nothing to do with the porn industry.

He also seems a lot softer than the first time you met. Maybe it’s because you know more about him and finally started to see him as something more than a jerk who fucks numerous persons per day.

It’s funny that he is the exact opposite of what he seems to be at first. It’s also crazy that he seems to avoid any sort of relationship and claims he isn’t that much into sex. You can understand though. Having sex became too much like working — and now that you spend your time faking orgasms, there’s not that much flavour left in it.

“What you usually do is different from what you filmed today.”

Jaebum’s remark makes you look away from the streets to glance at him. He barely peeks at your face and smirks “From what you told me, I thought you were more into soft porn than quickies.”

You smile. “What makes you think that?”

Jaebum peeks again, stopping at a red light and finally giving you his full attention. “It looked like you were forcing yourself. You don’t seem to fake it with me.”

Of all the embarrassing things that he could have said, this is the worst one. You stutter, the hint of an answer stuck to your throat.

“That’s why I thought you were more comfortable with soft porn.” He tries. Maybe he went too far.

You wait for a good minute before you open your mouth. “It’s funny coming from someone who hates soft porn yet seems to enjoy slow and delicate sex.”

He chokes on air, turning around another corner. “I hate filming delicate sex.”

“Then you’re a very good actor.” You add, making him smirk. “I live here.”

Jaebum leans to look at the building before stopping the engine. He then presses on the central locking button so you can open the door.

You grab your bag, glad you can finally run away from the sticky situation. You get out of the car and lean to thank him but he makes you freeze with his next words.

“I wasn’t acting.”

You blink, not getting if you’re imagining things or if Im Jaebum just admitted he made love to you for real. He notices the way your body stiffens and when you don’t move, he decides to end your misery.

“See you tomorrow, rookie.”

--

[darlingnisi]

Celebration 2019 VIP Day 1

Opening Session

Joel W welcomed us to Paisley and introduced Sharon and Omar Nelson. He noted that it will be the family’s responsibility to manage P’s legacy in the future and we should be kind to them, especially on the internet (Randomly quite direct about this?)

The MC is JD Steele of The Steels (frequent contributor at Paisley...ie Graffiti Bridge, Diamonds and Pearls, Symbol, etc.) He was energetic, fun, and did a great job!

Opening screening : The Time October 4, 1983 First Avenue. The lineup of the band included those who would be in the movie Purple Rain. Set list

777-9311

Girl

Jungle Love

Wild & Loose

Gigolos Get Lonely Too

Cool

The Bird

Omar Nelson thanked everyone for coming and Alfred Nelson said a few words

Tour Part 1

Studio A

Sound engineer Jason greeted us and we listened to isolated instrumentals for Rock n Roll Love Affair. Started with drums, then added on guitar, bass, then voice. It was a rough mix so you could really hear P’s voice! We listened to about 3 and a half minutes.

He then played the version from the album with the horns added. (P played everything except the horns of course).

People asked Jason questions while smaller groups went into the control room of Studio A where we heard them play Stare

Most meaningful moment : “Don’t overthink. Does it sound exciting or not? That’s what matters” – Prince

Studio C (Purple Rain Room…noting new things)

Prince’s ideas notebook for Purple Rain is on display here. It’s a regular ole blue Mead spiral notebook

Patterns for his trench coat are here

UTCM Room

Mountains felt hat is here

UTCM script is here

Nothing New in the Graffiti Bridge Room

History Hallway

Jeff Katz prints are here now, much bigger

This one in particular was interesting. We spent time here looking! Cool to see in detail!

Jesse Johnson Panel

Andrea : What do you remember Prince telling you about his plans for Paisley Park?

Jesse  : (all of the following bullet points lololololol) This is going to be in the order it was said. Yes it’s all random he was doing a Princely stream of conscious monologue. Andrea couldn’t get another question in! :

Only inside Paisley twice. Last time was Graffiti Bridge

Before, he’d left the Paisley team the day of the Purple Rain premiere. (He didn’t go). He knew if Prince knew he wouldn’t go “he would have had my shit on the cutting room floor”

In the first edition of Sheila E’s debut album he is listed in the credits for Strawberry Shortcake. Subsequent issues, his name is removed due to Prince being mad at him

The songs for Sheila’s first album were intended for Vanity 6

“When you get a divorce you don’t go back and marry the same lady…when you leave you leave for a reason.”

Didn’t really make money from Purple Rain or The Time.

First visit to Paisley : Prince ran over and hugged him “Damn about time somebody who knows how to dress show up”

P and Jesse used to rent a Cadillac Seville and put on big hats and ride down the street playing Sly and the Family’s Stone’s There’s a Riot Going On when they went to California

Back to first visit at Paisley, Prince took him around and showed him everything. P was super excited, but Jesse was still guarded and untrusting of Prince. He felt strange about the hug Prince gave him.

“I have brothers I don’t love like I love you” Prince to Jesse…Jesse didn’t feel the love

“People can be mad but this comes from my experience.”

Jesse was proud of Prince for building Paisley Park despite his other feelings about Prince at that time

Jesse came to Minneapolis in 81 the Time wasn’t the time yet, they were called The Nerve…and it was just Jesse and Morris at first “The Black Hall and Oats”

When he first met the rest of The Time, they didn’t like him…and he didn’t like them.

Got along with Prince right away. “He didn’t have to do anything with me”

Morris went out on tour with the gang for the Dirty Mind Tour. His job? To videotape the concerts

The Time’s personalities came from people they knew, Hollis Woods “Yay-yes” (say it aloud), Ronnie Robinson, “I know that’s right!”

One particular time Ronnie said “I know that’s right Prince Nelson!”

Prince : “Man why you gotta say my whole name?!”

“Ya’ll have no idea how hood he was and how funny he was”

“I never take credit for anything I did not do”

“When I left he had it out for me...I was a young father and needed to feed my kid.”

I made 5k from Purple Rain

When I went to his house and saw his raggedy gear back in the day I realized “it’s not about the gear it’s about the talent”. It encouraged him to strike out on his own.

“It looks like animosity but I was hurt…I was crushed.”

He knew D’Angelo since he was a kid

Jesse and Prince always had an honest relationship…same with Jamie Shoo, Denise (Vanity), they all left because they weren’t “yes men”. They would often call P out.

Harold Bloom, booking agents, others wouldn’t work with Jesse. “If we work with you, Prince will leave.”

2008 Prince was there when The Time performed with Rihanna. Jesse could hear Prince talking to Jerome “What’s up with Jesse, why won’t he speak to me?” Jesse remembered he was still holding that grudge.

“Prince, Morris, and I were as tight as any heterosexual men could be”

Read the same books, liked the same foreign films, liked other films (ie Eraserhead)

Couple of weeks before P passed, Jesse was in Wellington, NZ. Prince called and left a voice mail “I love you…you need to do you…the people you’re working for are beneath you…”

Tried to call back, but he’d called from an unlisted number

P passed 2 weeks later.

“Now I’m saying how much I love Morris. I feel stupid for wasting so many years…”

“Thank yall for being my therapy…I was terrified to come here.”

“Coming here heals my soul”

“We’d be out at the club and then the studio. Prince and Morris would be behind the console laughing and happy and my ass would be on the couch sleep.”

Prince woke him up “Jesse I need you to hit the gong… Yall know you gotta do a w-4 for the session? I filled that shit out to make sure I got paid!”

“I adored them…Prince and Morris”

Time rehearsal… “I wish I could hear what he said but it explains our dynamic so much. We’re playing and all the sudden it stops and Prince goes Jesse…(mumble I wish I knew what he said) and then I go “Man! I ain’t doing that!” Morris : Heeehh hehh….

“He was always telling me to do crazy stuff… he’d be like “If you dance then the girls will be like ‘man that means he’s good in bed!’”

Jesse Johnson Concert

Love Struck

Be Your Man/Controversy

Jungle Love

I Want My Girl

I Feel For You (Used to jam with Prince on this but playing bass)

Brand New Day

My Life

Can You Help Me

Addiction

She (I Can’t Resist)

Crazay

Licking Stick

Being Black in America

“You’ve given me such appreciation, forgiveness and love. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

And that’s day one! Like I said elsewhere, Jesse was completely gracious, thankful, and humble...and heartbroken. This was absolutely a healing experience for him. He put on an AMAZING show and his panels were honest and transparent. I kept looking at P’s symbol behind him as he spoke or played...and my heart broke for his guilt about all the “wasted years” as he called them...the music they could have made together and the frank brotherhood they shared...but still this was his opportunity to say goodbye to his friend...and he did...and it was beautifully done.

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (Part 11)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office's annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn't expect is for him to say yes

Rating: Mature

A/N: Have I ever told you guys how awesome I think you are? Because I really do think that!

We’ve got some more fluff and some conversations and a baseball game. And in the next chapter, we meet the friends...dun dun dun :D

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Tag List: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic​ @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91@branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“Oh my God,” Emma groans, swiveling in her desk chair and burying her face in her hands, hoping that if she doesn’t move away from the desk that maybe Ruby will get up and walk away. When she doesn’t hear any movement, she peeks up, opening an eye to see Ruby still sitting in the chair in the corner with an absolute smirk on her face. “Are you five years old?”

“No, but I just saw your boyfriend slobber all over you in your office like you two are horny teenagers, so I really think I’m the mature one in this situation.”

“First of all,” she begins, sitting back in her chair and tugging at the loose strands falling out of her bun, “it was not slobber. He is not a dog. That would be disgusting. Secondly, why the hell were you in my office? I feel like you’re never down in the therapy center.”

Ruby shrugs before she blows on her nails, the picture of nonchalance as always. “I don’t have a session for thirty minutes, and I wanted to see your sex glow.”

“You get creepier by the minute. Mary Margaret is obviously the better best friend.”

“Hey, rude,” Ruby scoffs, throwing the pillow she’s holding over at her only for Emma to catch it. “We are both equally good best friends. I am the fun one who convinces us to do things like skydiving or barhopping, Mary Margaret is the mom friend who doesn’t let us go home with creepy guys, and you, my little Swan, are our brutally honest companion who, despite your sometimes prickly exterior, is a wonderful mix of both me and Marg. And come on, how can you get better than being like me?”

“How did you manage to turn that from a quasi compliment about me and Marg to it being about you?”

“I’m a woman of many talents.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She turns to her computer, logging into her account and waiting for everything to boot up so she can answer the emails that she’s sure have come in since last night. “Why the hell do I have emails from people past midnight? Who is working at midnight and thinks, ‘huh, I want to come visit a children’s center?’”

“People who don’t sleep,” Ruby answers, getting up from the chair and perching herself on the side of her desk, the hem of her dress falling over her knees. “Speaking of that, I want to talk about how you didn’t sleep last night and still have this whole glow about you. You look refreshed, except for this whole hair situation thing you’ve got going on.”

“It dried all on its own and when I brushed it out this morning, it was like a frizzy bush. So the messy bun it is.”

“It looks like sex hair.”

“It is sex hair.”

“Ha,” Ruby laughs, slapping Emma’s shoulder, “I knew it.”

“Well, obviously, Rubes. My boyfriend just came into town after me not seeing him in weeks. What were we going to do? Have him sleep out on the couch after a quaint dinner full of small talk? Maybe a little handholding?”

“I bet you did all of that too.” She rolls her eyes, trying to keep her lips in a straight line. “Maybe.” “You know, I only ask because I’m the entire reason that you’re getting some. The world should thank me.”

“How the hell is that?”

“You met him because of me.”

“I got drunk and lost a stupid bet. You just happened to be…less drunk than me.”

“And then I picked your suitor for the night, who is now your suitor for…awhile? I’m not sure if we’re talking, like, the Nolans type of relationship or the Bachelor type of relationship.”

Her face immediately heats and she squirms in her chair, adjusting herself and suddenly finding a junk email about a sale on cars the most interesting thing in the world. She does not want to answer Ruby’s question, or statement really. She knows her answer, but saying it out loud seems like it’s too much too soon. She feels…a lot for Killian, her feelings teetering so close to love that she could easily be knocked over and fall head first in if she’s given the right push, but she doesn’t want to admit it too soon. She’s not sure where Killian is in that whole regard, but it’s not something she’s actively thinking about. They’re working how they are, and there’s no need for her to think otherwise.

It’s like what Killian told her this morning, just before Ruby apparently saw him “slobbering” on her, he makes her happy. It was cheesy and made her cringe a bit, but then she saw the emotion in his eyes, heard it in his voice, and she realized how sweet it was, how sweet he is. Killian’s had some screwed up things happen to him in the past, things that make her blood curdle that anyone could try to take advantage of a man who’d do anything for anyone, and he still has the ability to be that kind, if not a bit self-loathing when he doesn’t need to be.

Not that she has any right to call someone out for being self-loathing.

She pretty much has that one in the bag.

“So what’s lover boy doing while you’re working?” Ruby asks, obviously sensing that Emma did not want to talk about how long she thinks her relationship is going to last.

It’s forev…nope. She’s not going to even think it. That’d be crazy.

“I’m not sure. I gave him some suggestions on places to go, so he might go explore the city a bit on his own. But honestly with how tired he was, I’m thinking he’s going to go back to my place and crash before doing a bit of work.”

“Sounds like a hell of a vacation.” “I have Netflix and food. What more could he ask for?”

Ruby eventually has to go do actual work, as does Emma, her day passing by at a snail’s pace with little more to do than twiddling her thumbs and cleaning out her desk drawers. Some days are like this, slow and steady, something to do coming in every few hours, while others are nonstop, making her feel like she can never get a moment to breathe. If it were a perfect world, those days would blend together to make a day where she’s never overwhelmed or underwhelmed. To quote Gabrielle Union in 10 Things I Hate About You, she would just be whelmed.

(That movie came on twice in a row the other night, and she was too lazy to get up and find the remote to change the channel.)

But the world isn’t perfect so the rest of day goes by achingly slow with nothing to do, and like it’s some kind of karmic payback for her complaining about her day on Tuesday, Wednesday is a nonstop day that has her so frazzled she forgets to eat lunch and doesn’t realize it’s far past six thirty in the evening, nearly an hour and a half after she should have gone home, until there’s a knock at her office door and Killian’s standing there in a suit with two cups of coffee in his hands.

Oh shit. They were supposed to go out tonight. That’s what they’d decided on when she got home from work yesterday. He’d spent the day catching up on emails and reviewing new scripts even though he apparently promised himself he wouldn’t look at anything new for at least a month. So since he didn’t explore Boston last night, especially with the way they stayed in bed continuing to make up for lost time, they were supposed to tonight.

But she screwed it up.

She groans, throwing her head down against the desk and hiding her face in her arms, hoping that she can somehow go back in time and meet Killian back at her apartment when she was supposed to.

“I am so, so, so, soooo unbelievably sorry. Ah, fuck, I’m really late, aren’t I?”

“Well, you were supposed to be home two hours ago, so yeah, I’d say the fact that you’re still in your office means you’re pretty late.”

He doesn’t look angry or disappointed, the smallest of smiles gracing his face, and she wonders how the man who is on time for literally everything could somehow not be irritated with her.

She’s irritated with herself.

“How pissed are you at me?”

He hums, taking a step away from the door and making his way over to sit on the edge of her desk, his thighs spreading out and gray pants tightening with the movement. That’s not distracting at all. Nope. She doesn’t find the muscles in his thighs in any way attractive. She’s also a liar. “Well, I wouldn’t say pissed is the right word. I’d say more concerned.” “Why?”  

He hands her the coffee then, and she notices the cups are from Iron Bank. He must have gone back there instead of going to Starbucks or something. “Because it’s seven, Swan. And I know you like your job, but I don’t think you like it enough to stay here because you want to. Not when you have a devilishly handsome date waiting for you, especially when he got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Killian’s waggling his eyebrows and smiling down at her, his hair coiffed up in a way that makes her know he put some effort into it, which only makes her feel worse. Obviously Killian doesn’t take as long as she does to get ready for a date, but still. He was at her apartment getting ready and waiting for her all while she was trying to understand why her Excel programming decided to glitch and malfunction and make none of the numbers align.

She feels like an awful human being.

“I’m sorry,” she whines again, saving the program and exiting out, figuring that she’ll fix it in the morning. She’s got to fix this now. “What time is our reservation?”

“At eight.”

“Okay,” she sighs, getting up from her seat and straightening out her pants, “if we break, like, every traffic law or maybe just make a run for it, we can get me home to change and then get there in time. Of course, if we just went to, like, one of my usual places we wouldn’t even need a reservation. So maybe if we don’t make it to Sorellina’s then we can do that. Or we can go and be late and hope they don’t give up our table, or I’ll just wear what I have on. This is fine, right?”

Killian chuckles, not even moving from his perch on her desk while she’s gathering up all her belongings, running through the scenarios again. Before she gets the chance to walk out the door, Killian grabs her wrist, pulling her closer so that she stands in between his splayed knees. Before she can even say anything, he’s pulling her wrist up to his lips and kissing right under her palm. Her eyes flutter closed at the touch, the contrast of the softness of his lips and harshness of his whiskers causing her skin to tingle the slightest bit. She didn’t realize how quickly her heart was beating, how heated her face was, but she can feel it all now as she cools off.

“Swan, calm down.”

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just…I’m sorry.”

“Love, do not apologize again.”

“I’m – never mind.”

He smiles, running his thumb back and forth over her wrist. “You lost track of time at work, something you do all of the time. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just a dinner reservation. I don’t care if we miss it. But luckily for you, I called and traded it out with someone else for a nine o’clock one.”

“You could have told me that before I felt like the worst person in the world, KJ.”

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t have seen you sweat.”

“You’re not a kind man.”

“Never claimed to be.”

Traffic takes forever, the roads on the way back to her apartment seemingly staying at a standstill for over forty five minutes, but they do eventually get back to her apartment. Luckily, she washed her hair this morning, even curled it a bit, so all she really has to do is slip out of her blouse and pants and slip into a black dress she’s had for years. It’s a little tight, looks more like something she’d wear out to a bar, so she throws on her red leather jacket and favorite ankle boots to look a bit nicer. She knows that she has time to redo her hair and makeup, but all she does is flick on another line of eyeliner and reapply her lipstick before heading back out into the living room where Killian is typing away on his phone.

“Okay, I’m ready to go, though I think we might actually be early now.”

He looks up at her then, his phone dropped into his lap while his lips part and his eyes trace up and down her body. A shiver runs down her spine, something that happens a lot when he’s around, and she reminds herself that they absolutely have to go out tonight. She’s not messing this dinner up again.

“You look – ”

“I know.”

“And you say I’m cocky, love,” Killian laughs, looking back down at his phone and typing a few things in. “I’ve got an Uber coming to pick us up in five minutes.”

“I can drive.” “Aye, I know, but this way we don’t have to worry about parking or if we have anything to drink.”

“I like the way you think.”

It’s a relatively cool night as they wait outside for their Uber, so she’s glad that she grabbed her jacket, but they’re not outside long before loading up into Devin’s car as he takes them across town to Sorellina’s. She’s been in more Ubers than she should for someone who likes to drive herself places, but Devin is definitely the quietest driver she’s ever had. He doesn’t say much, just asking how their evening is going while they chat in the back, but she does notice him continuously looking back at them through his review mirror.

She has no idea why until they’re pulling up outside of the restaurant, and he asks, “Hey, are you?”

“Yeah,” Killian answers, quickly sliding out of the backseat and holding his hand out for her so that she can easily get out of the car. Maybe he is the gentleman he claims to be. Okay, so he definitely is. “Have a good night, mate.”

Before they go inside, she grabs onto his jacket sleeve, tugging at him to look at her. “Hey, is it okay that we’re out? I didn’t think about people recognizing you.”

“It’s fine, love.” He leans down and kisses her, making her forget her worries for the moment. “As long as you’re okay with the possibility of people seeing us together, I’m fine with it.”

“I’m fine with it too.”

“Good.”

Despite being fine with it, she does notice how Killian’s reservation is for a booth in the back, the lighting not as nice as it is everywhere else in the restaurant. But whatever works for him works for her, and she really doesn’t have any complaints about tonight. It might be a nicer place than she usually frequents, but that’s not going to keep her from having a nice time.

She gets a lasagna, though it’s definitely got a fancier name than that on the menu, while Killian gets gnocchi, which she definitely would have pronounced wrong if she had ordered it. Maybe she needs to expand her palate a little bit. But it’s fine for tonight. The food is good, the wine great, and even though she’s never been one for fancy restaurants, she finds it doesn’t matter when you actually like the person who’s sitting across from you.

Maybe that’s been the problem.

Or maybe the prices.

Probably both.

Definitely both.

“ – no, no, I’m serious. I won the spelling bee when I was in primary school. I was quite the little academic. Top five in my class, too.”

Killian’s been telling her all about his academic prowess and all of the clubs he was in when he was younger. He played a green bean in a play about how eating your vegetables is important, and she thinks that’s where he got his penchant for healthy eating. And maybe why he’s such a good actor.

“Who knew you were such a little genius, KJ?”

“I did. My entire life.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her wine to hide her smile. “So why’d you never go to college…or university? That’s what you call it, right? I know you moved here when you were eighteen to get away from…everything, but I bet you could have gotten a scholarship. That’s what I did. And a hell of a lot of student loans.”

Killian takes a sip of his rum before reaching up to scratch behind his ear, his lips ticking up on the right while his eyes squint. “Eh, it was the money, the fact that I didn’t know what to do. Liam had busted his arse to pay for me to live after he managed to get me into his custody, and I didn’t want to burden us anymore. I was good at manual labor, so if I hadn’t found the set building job, I think we would have both worked in construction. I like being able to work with my hands.”

Oh. She didn’t think of that. She should have. She went through doing it all on her own, worrying about finances and how to live, and she should have known that Killian did that too. She knows enough about his childhood to know how rough he and Liam had it for a few years. But sometimes the words just slip without her thinking.

“I’m sorry that I asked, if that brought up bad memories of something you didn’t get to do.”

“Hey,” Killian soothes, reaching across the table and twining their fingers together, his palm warm in hers, “it’s fine, love. It’s not a sad story or something I’m ashamed of. It’s my past, and I kind of like my job situation now. I don’t think I would have gotten it if I’d studied somewhere.”

“What…what do you think you would have studied? Hypothetically speaking.” “Then? English. Would have been dirt poor for my entire life, but I would have liked to have been a teacher. Now? Definitely acting. I’m pretty self taught, but the academic in me likes to always know more, to be learning.” He squeezes her hand before releasing it and moving it back to his side of the table. Sometimes she sees little flickers of darkness behind the brightness of his eyes, but he either hides it well or truly doesn’t let his past affect him too much. “But I don’t regret anything, Swan. I spent too long being bitter, and I’m not going to complain about how Liam and I made it here. Though, I would take having my mum back.”

“She’d be proud of you.”

“I’d like to hope so.” He smiles softly, almost sadly, and it breaks her heart like it does every time she thinks of Killian losing his mom, someone he very obviously loved with his entire being. “She’d love you. You remind me of her, actually, and not in some kind of weird, psychologists would study it, way.” “Well that’s good to know,” she laughs, messing with the leftover food on her plate so that she has time to process all of this. She kind of wishes she could have met his mom, too. Mostly she wishes that she was here for Killian. And Liam.

She may have never known her parents, may not know anything about them, but Killian knew his mom. He grew up with her and had to watch her die when he was ten. She can’t…she can’t imagine. But at the end of the day, she and Killian have both been left, abandoned by people who were supposed to love them and be there for them, so they understand each other. And she’s known that from the night they met when he shared with her that he’d been in foster care for awhile, something people don’t know.

He trusted her from the beginning, and that’s not an honor she takes lightly.

Oh God, she’s kind of thinking like him now.

“I just mean that you two are both bloody brilliant with huge hearts and a quick wit. And, you know, the ability to knock me back down to earth when my head gets a little too big.”

“So all of the time?”

“Aye, so all of the time.”

“All of the time, KJ.”

After they get the bill, she and Killian walk outside and wait for their Uber, not really wanting to walk around the area. She can feel the wine buzzing through her the slightest bit, not anywhere near enough to be drunk, but definitely enough to be a little wine happy. Killian wraps his arm around her waist, tugging her a little bit closer so that she can rest her cheek against his shoulder.

“You know, darling, I don’t think I tell you this enough, but I think you are phenomenal.”

“Hmm, I feel like you should just tell me that every day. You may not need to have an inflated ego, but I certainly can.”

“I’m serious, Swan. You’re a badass. The life you’ve made for yourself, all by yourself, it takes a strong woman to do that, and you deserve all of the credit in the world. And in case no one has ever told you, I’m proud of you.”

Oh shit.

She wasn’t expecting that. Not at all. Not in the slightest. And she’s not going to cry. This was supposed to be dinner, a night out that’s fun, not something that’s going to make her cry. But she doesn’t think anyone has ever told her that. Maybe Mary Margaret and David, but she’s not sure right now.

She’s barely able to even tell herself that sometimes, even if she is damn proud of herself.

And then another thought comes to her, the very one that was teetering on the tip of her tongue that she was trying to push down, and it nearly takes her breath away. She thinks she loves him. No, she does love him. She…expected it in a way, but really, in no way could she have ever expected this, expected him.

In no way could she have ever expected herself to even want to love again, not after everything, but she’s here and weirdly, she’s not scared of it.

Okay, so maybe she’s a little terrified, but the voice that’s telling her to run away is oddly quiet. Maybe it’s replaced by the sound of Killian telling her he’s proud of her.

She turns in Killian’s embrace and wraps her arms around his neck before capturing his bottom lip with her mouth, feeling the softness and warmth that always accompanies him. He gasps a little when her lips move, almost like he wasn’t expecting it, and she smiles into the kiss, not able to help herself from her teeth clanking against his before she moves back in with fervor, trying to let him know how she feels even if she can’t say the words yet, if she wants to hoard them and keep them to herself for now.

For tonight at least.

“Hey, are you, um, Liam Jones, who ordered the tan Toyota Camry with Madeline driving?”

She pulls back a bit when a girl yells at them from the restaurant’s driveway, her face red enough that Emma knows she’s been watching them for awhile. Oops.

She’s not at all sorry.

“That’s us,” Killian laughs, quickly kissing her once more before pulling back from her.

“Liam Jones? That’s definitely not your name.”

“Aye, I know, but this way if I ever get a bad review, it’s under Liam’s name.”

“But it’ll still be under your account. I don’t think that’s – ”

He dips his head and kisses her again, making her almost lose her balance on the sidewalk. “Aye, I know that’s not how it works, Swan. Let’s just get in the car and hope Liam doesn’t get a bad review from me not being able to resist you until we get back to the apartment.”

“I think the bad review might be worth it.”

-/-

“So who are we playing tonight?”

“The Orioles. If you’d come, like, a week and a half later we could have watched the Astros, but nooo, apparently you have schedules and things like that.”

“I mean,” Killian begins, wrapping his arm around her shoulder while they walk down Van Ness, the sidewalk crowded with people heading toward Fenway, even if tonight isn’t a big game, “I do occasionally have to work. Meetings and such. And family obligations.”

“Excuses, excuses.” She reaches over to pat his back, rubbing up and down in circles. “Have you ever been to a baseball game?”

“Aye, I’ve been to several Dodgers’ games.”

“Okay, better question. Have you ever been to a baseball game and not sat, like, behind home plate?”

“Are you asking if I’ve ever sat up in the cheap seats?”

“Yep.”

“Well, believe it or not, I was once a poor young lad.”

“From a poor family.”

“I don’t think Bohemian Rhapsody is really the song to quote here.”

“Okay, go on, go on.”

“So Liam and I, when we first moved to California, would go and buy the nosebleeds for the Dodgers, and go a couple times a summer. Yeah, we could have just watched on TV, but there’s only so much time you can sit in a small apartment with your older brother who was very hot and heavy with his girlfriend.”

“Elsa?”

“Oh no, this was long before Elsa. Liam was quite the ladies’ man when we first moved here.”

“Really now?”

“Oh yes, think about it. A British transplant fresh out of the Navy with those stunning Jones looks.”

“You’re either conceited or confident. I can’t decide.”

“Maybe a bit of both.”

They get to their gate, Emma pulling up the tickets on her phone and scanning them before going through. She thinks Killian gets a few weird looks, but he’s got on his aviators and a hat, which is obviously not a complex disguise or anything, but he says that it works, which is a really weird thing for her to think about. She sometimes (all of the time) forgets what he does for a living, or really, the consequences of what he does, even if that is how they met. But then they’ll be out and he’ll tug his hat down on his forehead or, like the other night, make sure their table is in the back corner of the restaurant.

After going through security, they wander around in the concrete halls, passing by all of the food and souvenir stands until they find the staircase to lead them to their seats. Only a few people are in their area, the stadium mostly empty, but she didn’t really expect anything else. She’s been to enough of these games to know that some games just are pretty empty. But it is Friday night, so as the first few innings go by, the score staying steady at one run a piece, people begin to filter in, the red seats slowly being filled with people as the sun sets over the stadium, coating the Boston skyline with pink clouds and a red sky that would almost look creepy if not for the way that there’s still light blue mixed into sky.

She looks to her left where Killian is holding up his phone, very obviously taking pictures of the sunset over the stadium.

“You are so basic, KJ.”

“Basic and getting a picture of this sunset.” He turns to her, holding the phone right in front of her face in what she knows is an unflattering angle. “Smile, love.”

“No,” she groans, covering her face and letting her hair fall in front of her eyes. She should have never taken her sunglasses off. “That’s going to look gross.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Killian laughs, pulling back and flipping through the photos where she pretty much looks like the girl from The Ring with a double chin and only one eye that opens, “I think these look pretty good.”

“Delete those.” “Oh no, I’m keeping them forever. Might even post them online.” “That is a threat that I do not like, and I will unfollow you. That’s one less like on your artsy pictures of your food.” “Oi,” he reaches over and pinches the skin on her inner thigh, “that was one time, and you won’t let it go.”

“You stood up over the table and turned your flashlight on to get good lighting.” “It was a good breakfast.”

“Sure, babe,” she laughs, placing her hand over his on her thigh. “I know you’re just a basic girl on Instagram.”

“Well, in that case,” he yawns, dramatically stretching his arm over her shoulder and yanking her closer, “let’s take a selfie.”

“Oh my God, you are so not smooth.” She can’t stop laughing, is sure that her face is heating from the constant movement, but that doesn’t stop her from leaning her cheek into his and smiling while he holds the phone up and takes several pictures. “But I like your basic girl tendencies.”

“Good, and now I have photos so I can scrapbook my big trip to Boston.”

“Stop,” she groans, burying her head in his shoulder while his entire body shakes in laughter underneath her. He is not going to make a scrapbook. That would just be…ridiculous.

“Never. You want something to eat?”

“Obviously, yes. I thought about just waiting until afterwards so I didn’t spend the money on the overpriced cheeseburger, but I want the damn overpriced cheeseburger.” She gets up from her chair, pulling her shorts up and making sure her sweater is still tucked in. “What do you want?”

“I was going to go get it, Swan.”

“Nah, my treat, KJ. You can stay here and watch this riveting game. There’s so much happening.”

“You say that and something will definitely happen while you’re gone. And I’ll just eat whatever you’re having, but with a water.”

“How do you know I wasn’t going to get a water?”

He taps his forehead, smiling up at her so that his eyes crinkle. “I just know.”

She rolls her eyes before grabbing her purse and maneuvering her way out of their row of seats, apologizing to everyone as she steps over them and blocks their view. There’s a concession stand just outside of their gate, so she quickly slides into line, pulling out her phone and scrolling through Instagram. Maybe she’s a basic girl of Instagram too.

There’s a picture of Leo at the top of her timeline. He’s holding a sign saying he’s going to be a big brother. She likes it, laughing under her breath. Maybe they’ve all fallen into the trap of being basic. It’s whatever. She likes the cute pictures. As she continues to scroll, she sees a hell of a lot of pictures of her old classmates from college standing in front of colorful murals, cheesy captions with them all, as well as one from Victor where he’s posted all of the used coffee cups in his office. Kind of gross but whatever. He works weird shifts.

And then suddenly there’s a picture of her. Well, kind of her. Or at least her hair. Her face is buried in Killian’s shoulder while he smiles at the camera. It must have been when he was taking the pictures and she couldn’t stop laughing. When she slides to the right, there’s a picture of the stadium with the sun setting over it. It really is a good picture.

KillianJonesOfficial: She knocks my (red) sox off.

Her cheeks immediately blush while she likes it, knowing better than to click on the comments. They talked about how things with them would likely go public the more they go out, and she said she was fine with it. She doesn’t necessarily like it, especially if there’s going to be the occasional person following her around, but she also doesn’t want to have to hide away in her apartment when they can go out and do things like this.

Though, Killian probably shouldn’t have posted this while they’re at the game. That doesn’t seem like a good idea.

She eventually gets to the front of the line, ordering their meals and waiting for them to be made until she’s got all of the junk food she needs (she’s definitely going to have to go for a run in the morning) and is making her way back up the stairs, hoping that she doesn’t drop everything while navigating the small aisles.

“Thanks,” Killian says as she hands him his tray and his water, holding down her seat so she doesn’t do something klutzy like fall on her ass.

“Mhm,” she hums, popping a fry in her mouth. As good of a time as she had at dinner the other night, this is her kind of date. “So, um, I see that you’re stealing my jokes for your captions.”

“You are not the only one to ever say that joke.”

“It was still my joke.” She eats another fry as Martinez hits a homerun, something finally happening in the game. Everyone around them cheers, a few wolf whistles thrown around, while music plays over the speakers and the hit is replayed on the jumbotrons. “But I’m glad I make you write cheesy captions. Aren’t you worried about people coming to find you, though? Isn’t that a thing?”

“Aye, but those girls down in front of us have been sneaking pictures of me all night. I figured it was just a matter of time.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, love. I’m having a bloody good time even if this is the most boring game I’ve ever been to. I was expecting more from the team who beat my Dodgers for the World Series.”

“Ah, I get it now. You’re just salty that you lost.”

“Damn straight. I was at the game.”

“And things just make all the more sense.”

The game finishes a little before nine, most everyone having cleared out already, so as a breeze washes over the night, they make their way back to the parking garage she parked in a few blocks over. Most people are beginning to settle into bars and pubs, a Friday night just beginning for most, and when she suggests that they go to a pub, Killian almost falls out on the sidewalk talking about how his ass hurts from sitting in tiny plastic seats for three hours and how he absolutely cannot sit on anything that’s not a soft cushion. When she teases him about thirty-three hitting him early, he doesn’t say anything, stretching his legs out only for his knees to pop…and then to pop again when he settles down into the passenger seat of her car.

She doesn’t say anything then, just silently reaches over and pats his thigh while they wait in traffic to get out of the garage. He grabs her hand only to put it down and reach over to take her left wrist in his hand, quickly kissing the inside of her wrist. She doesn’t know why he does that, but she’s noticed it over the past week. It happens about as often as he reaches up and scratches behind is ear, and it makes something inside of her flutter. She’s not sure if anything in her body is supposed to flutter, but something does.

Maybe one day she’ll ask him why he does the wrist thing.

Maybe one day she’ll tell him she loves him too.

Once they get away from Fenway, the traffic thins out and it’s a quick drive home, Emma easily pulling into her parking space in front of her apartment and grabbing her bag of work clothes out of her backseat before unlocking the front door of the building and taking the stairs up to her apartment with Killian behind her.

“I’m going to go take a shower, okay?”

Killian nods as he settles himself down on the couch, and she quickly makes her way into the bathroom, turning on the shower and waiting for it to heat while she strips away her clothes and tosses them into her hamper. It’s been a long week, and as much as she loves having Killian here, she hasn’t gotten nearly as much sleep as she usually does. She really likes her sleep.

It’s probably the fastest shower of her life, just a quick rinse off of the sweat and grime collected at the game, before she’s hopping out and wrapping a towel around her chest and in her hair so she can wash her face. She usually does a face mask once a week, and she’s definitely neglected that this week and can already feel herself breaking out. So she slathers on the cream, covering herself in the green mask before sliding on pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt.

When she walks back into the living room, she plops down next to Killian, who is watching Live PD for some reason. Kind of weird but it’s whatever. One of her favorite things about him being here are discovering his weird tendencies that she doesn’t get to see when they’re apart.

“How was your shower, Jim Carrey?”

She turns to look at him, and he’s smirking at her, his lips ticking up to the right while his eyes slant. “What now?”

“Jim Carrey,” he repeats, waving his hand in her face, “you know, like the Mask?”

“Oh my God,” she groans, having to restrain herself from hiding her face in her hands so she doesn’t mess her mask up while it dries, “I knew I should have stayed in the bathroom until I wiped it off.”

“Yeah, that was a horrible mistake on your part, love.”

She chuckles, leaning down into the cushions and watching someone get pulled over for driving without a license or a license plate, which is definitely not a smart move. She lets out a large breath, her stomach extending with the movement. Another thing about Killian being here is that she’s eating a hell of a lot more and going to the gym less.

And sex only counts a little. She’s not going to be one of those weird people who says their gym is the bedroom. Like, why are there people who not only think that but who feel the need to share it with others?

“Do you want to get up and go running in the morning?

“It depends.”

“On what?”

“Are you still going to be wearing that mask? Because I’m just not sure I can be seen with you looking like that.”