#stand-up comedian wedding

[shaadiwish]

Actress Maanvi Gagroo Marries Stand-Up Comedian Kumar Varun

[mellorcomic]

Wedding traditions in Pakistan

Patreon

https://www.patreon.com/TommyMellor?utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator

[blackbat05]

Real or Not Real?

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Plot: You need a plus one for a wedding. Who better than your boss and perhaps the most hated person on your list.

Genre: PG-13, Enemies to Lovers (I would like to think so😬)

A/N: I’m on a roll. Also, I always wanted to do this trope! This is longer than usual. Reblogs and feedback appreciated!💜

“Shit!” Your phone bounces off the bed, landing inches away from another expensive repair.

“What’s wrong?” Jessica Drew looks up from the self help book that she was currently engaged in.

“An old classmate. I totally forgot about the wedding!” You groan, feet becoming more fidgety by the second.

“Right… and would you care to explain why you look like one of Norman Osborn’s pumpkins?” Your best friend looks at you cautiously, as if like you were a volcano waiting to explode any second.

“Well, she used to be great with everyone in school. Can’t say the same about myself.” You winced internally at the memories about your youth. “You know how it is. Everyone is either rich, successful or in love once they leave school.”

“Or maybe all three.” Jessica adds helpfully much to your chagrin.

“Thanks, Jess.” You refrain from rolling your eyes. “Anyways, the chat group got reignited and some genius started asking about ‘the girl who everyone always see but doesn’t really know’ and before I know it, everyone starts pestering me about how I’m doing!” You throw your hands dramatically in the air and Jessica can’t help but to look amused. “So?”

“So, I kinda told them that I have a reallyhotboyfriend.” The last few words are mashed into one big mess but still clear enough for Jessica to pick up. “You what now?”

Smelling the judgement from a mile away, you hang your head in defeat. “I know! I’m an idiot! I couldn’t help myself okay? This is what happens when you attend a private all girls’ school. You stand out for being weird and suddenly The Plastics start making your entire school life hell.”

“The Plastics?”

“It’s a movie reference.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Jessica chuckles. “So what now girl? How’s damage control going?”

“Terrible.” You splat face first into the pillow. “I was thinking of getting help from the guys but…” You hold up four fingers, ticking them off one by one. “Pavitr can’t pretend, Hobie’ too unpredictable, Miles is too young and Peter’s married with a child - a fact I can’t ignore even if this is fake.”

Jessica looks at your closed fingers, tapping her chin thoughtfully. If being friends with her taught you anything, this wasn’t a good sign.

“There is one more option. I think he would fit your description of a really hot boyfriend.” She deliberately gives you a meaningful look that makes you leap off the bed, throwing her an accusing look.

“Actually, I think I’m going to ask Gwen. Do you know where I can find her?”

“Long gone. She went to visit Captain Stacey.” Jessica quips. “Come on. He’s a good option. Besides, this is a great opportunity to know him better!”

“I rather tangle with the loch-ness monster instead.” You mumble, thinking about your very first encounter with the man of the hour - Miguel O’Hara. The two of you were a good representation of day and night.

While you were bright and upbeat, the leader of the Spider Society probably didn’t have the word ‘joy’ in his dictionary. As you attempted to introduce yourself to him at your first meeting, he had simply brushed you aside.

“Miguel isn’t that bad once you get to know him.”

“Very funny, Jess. You should be comedian of the year. Did you forget how he yelled at me when I pushed him out of the way from Kingpin’s gangbangers?”

Jessica opens her mouth slightly, only to shut it soon after. You frown, turning your back to see whatever she was staring at behind you. How you wished you hadn’t. Oh, if only the ground could swallow you whole as Miguel himself stands at the door, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“What- how long have you been here for?” You struggle to form that one sentence. “Jess…” You start accusingly.

Jessica shrugs, taking Miguel’s presence as a sign to leave. “I’ll leave you two to it!” She gives you a wink that results in your mouth hanging agape. Miguel closes the door and you quickly attempt to compose yourself.

“I’ll do it.”

“Do what?”

Miguel raises a brow. “Be your date.” He says it all too nonchalantly, as if choosing at empanada at the supermarket. You blink, pinching yourself out of his sight. The situation was very real. He stands in front of you, waiting.

“What do you want from me?” You blurt out. “You want something in return.” You clarify once more, trying to make sense of things.

The end of Miguel’s lips turn upwards slightly, and you’re worried that the sudden acceleration of your heart would unable to support your body to stand upright.

“I just want to apologize for my behavior and I happened to overhear your conversation.” He responds and you make a mental note to never trust Jessica again for not warning you about his presence.

“Am I in some kind of alternate dimension?” You laugh, trying to defuse the awkwardness. Miguel remains impassive, eyes staring intently into yours.

“What’s it going to be? You can take me or you can look like a liar to everyone. It’s your choice.”

You hate to say it, but he’s right.

***

“You came!” Your old friend comes barreling into you, giving you a big hug.

“Lils! You look amazing!” You gushed, returning the hug. “Congratulations. What a beautiful place.” You refer to the beachside wedding that she insisted on.

“Thanks! Jeju Island was always on my bucket list. I’m so glad I get to share this memory with all of you!” She gushes, turning to your plus one. “I mean, I finally get to see who has stolen your heart!” She extends a hand. “And who may you be?”

“Miguel O’Hara.” He extends his own hand for a shake. “Congratulations.”

“No need for the formalities!” Lilly smiles brightly. “What I do want to know is how you two got together! You can be away from her for a little can’t you?”

Before the two of you can even say anything, you find yourself being pulled away by Lilly while the groom effortlessly picks up the conversation with Miguel. She brings you aside, within the sight of the two men.

“Tell me everything!” She pounces on you like a tiger, demanding to know your first encounter. You give what you hope was a easy smile. “We’re… colleagues.” You don’t think exposing both your superhero personas would do well, not especially when you got here by inter dimensional traveling.

Your friend seems to be satisfied by this as she squeals. She hits your shoulder a little too aggressively, wanting more. You sigh, hoping that Miguel wasn’t being interrogated this intensively on his end.

“We just had the same interests and kind of clicked.” You prayed that the questioning would stop soon. “Everything was just a blur after.”

Lilly nods, throughly invested in your fake love story. She’s about to ask another question when a sharp voice pierced through the air, causing you to be rooted to the ground. You really wanted to run away at that moment.

“What is this that I’m hearing? You’re actually seeing someone?” The clack of heels come to a stop and you find yourself facing your tormentor.

“It’s nice to see you too, Becca.” You grit through your teeth. The woman remains oblivious to your discomfort as she addresses the two others trailing behind her. “I wonder who’s the lucky man nice enough to pick her up!”

“That’s enough, I invite you to my wedding out of our friendship but this doesn’t give you the right to insult her.” Lilly shoots back, keeping her eyes trained on your curled fists.

“It’s alright, Lils.” You try to remain calm. “Let’s go. I’ll tell you everything later.” You take the lead to escort her back when Becca’s comment brings you to a halt.

“I bet he isn’t even real!”

Although she was right, you couldn’t help but to turn around, wanting to give Becca and her posse a piece of your mind. Something that you should have done a very long time ago.

“Oh, I’m very real alright.”

You see Miguel walking up towards the trio. Was it just you or did Miguel look… angry?

He composes himself, giving a charming grin to the trio who looked like they were going to start falling at his feet any moment.

“Miguel O’Hara. She has told me a lot about you three.”

“Oh, she has?” Becca twirls the edge of her skirt nervously and you don’t know where Miguel is going with this.

“Sure. She’s told me all about how you three dimwits made her entire life hell. Honestly? I don’t even know how that happened when she’s a hundred times classier with more substance than you plastics claim to have.” Miguel catches your eye and gives a quick wink.

“Excuse me?” Becca stutters. “Oh, I get it. She must have paid you to say that!”

Miguel walks over and gently loops an arm over your shoulders. By now, the conversation seemed to have attracted every guest who were lining up at the buffet table.

“Nope. But you know what she is? She is the most courageous and selfless person who wouldn’t hesitate to help others. I don’t think you three would even come close to understanding what that means.”

Miguel has done it. He’s left them speechless and every guest is know giving disapproving looks to the trio who can only storm away in embarrassment.

“I think I’m not that hungry yet. How about we take a walk?”

You realize that Miguel is asking you, so you nod numbly and find yourself being led out of the venue. You see Lilly standing at the entrance greeting guests.

Catching your eyes, she gives you a thumbs up and a mischievous grin, not bothered at all about the verbal altercation that was inadvertently caused by you. Amidst the chaos, one thought was clear in your mind.

Just what is going on?

***

The rainbow colored blocks providing as seats for families, friends and couples to take photos makes the sea look even clearer. Silence overtaking the two of you, you busy yourself with noticing how the jagged edges of the rocks are a wonderful addition to the waves crashing near the shore.

“What’s going on up there?”

Finally. You prepare yourself, stopping beside the statue. “I was just about to ask you the same thing O’Hara.” You take a brave step closer towards the hulking man and he briefly looks away before staring back at you. “Not that I’m ungrateful but that wasn’t like you.”

“Then, what am I supposed to be?”

You paused. “Well… you’re supposed to be grumpy and grouchy and keeping me at arm’s length I guess?” You search for the right words as Miguel contains a chuckle seeing how flustered you were becoming by the second. “And you’re suddenly being nice to me? Hell would have to freeze over.”

Miguel closes the already small gap between the two of you and you suddenly feel hot at his gaze. He examines you for a while and you think he’s about to deliver another sharp retort.

“I did try. I tried to keep you away but you were too bright and cheerful for your own good.” Miguel gruffly tells you. “You were so much like her.”

You knew that he was referring to his past. His wife whom no one really dared to talk about. You finally understood. To him, you were a walking and living painful reminder.

“I’m sorry.” You breathed out. The air suddenly constricts in your lungs and you feel the need to get away. Anywhere but here. You turn around and find yourself being pulled into him. Miguel hugs you, and he hugs you tight.

“No, I’m the idiot. I punished you for seeing you as someone else.” He confesses. “I should have just seen you as… you. You were so bright and so brave, I almost lost it when you took the bullets from Kingpin. That’s when I knew my behavior had to stop. I wanted to tell you and I guess I saw this as the perfect opportunity.”

“Oh.” You don’t know how else to react to this sudden revelation.

“But I meant every word. About me apologizing for my past behavior.” Miguel continues. “And that. Earlier on.” He refers to his relentless counter attack on your tormentors. “I didn’t know that you had to go through all that.”

“Hey, we all go through things right? Kind of a ticket to join the spider society.” You try to lighten things up. “Besides, it’s nothing big.”

Miguel pries you away gently, a slight frown on his face. “Don’t minimize your struggles. You are a hundred times stronger than those three combined. After all, that’s what made you stood out to me in the first place.”

Your heart swells at his statement. As you hear the waves crashing, it felt as if like it gave you a sense of newfound confidence as well. It was all or nothing now. You’re inches away from Miguel, his rosy cheeks prominent from the strong breeze that the coastal city offered. “I just have one more question.”

Miguel cocks his head to the side, curious. He doesn’t interrupt, giving permission for you to go ahead.

“You love me. Real or not real?”

He takes you by the waist, lips on yours. It could be minutes or hours before he lets go, leaving you in a daze. But the movement of his lips are as clear as day. One that would be forever etched in your memory.

“Real.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON) - CHAPTER ONE: CLOSURE

“IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME, AND SEEING THE SHAPE OF YOUR NAME STILL SPELLS OUT PAIN.”

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: strong language, angst, alcohol consumption, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.1K+

☆ A/N: this will make a whole lot more sense if you've already read the one shot that this entire series is based upon! and thank you to @fracturedarkness and @munson-blurbs for beta-reading <3

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

It had taken nearly two hours, and even as the aerial platform is finally lowered from scaling the side of the building, there are still remnants of the graffiti paint scattered across the crumbling brick. 

You’d watched the workers scrub at the rusted shades for ages, ignoring the new emails beginning to pile up in your inbox on the screen, only to be left completely dissatisfied. You hadn’t really thought the graffiti was ugly so to speak – it was just there. It was blatant and something that demanded to be seen, a stain on that stretch of wall that made up your desk’s entire viewpoint each and every day. And it wasn’t ugly, but it wasn’t pretty. 

You’d even been a little excited when you saw the cleaning crew. A little hopeful. 

But the hope had been wasted, as it always was, as you watch the crew give up the battle and the paint win the war. Go figure. Another day and another stain that can’t be erased. 

“You know, I’ve heard of dreadfully boring people watching paint dry, but never seen someone look so enticed by paint being removed.” 

You look up quickly from where your dead stare had zeroed in, a chipping splash of vibrant scarlet that hardly stood out against tired and faded red-turned-pink bricks, to face your coworker. 

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan, spinning your office chair so your entire body now faced her, “Have you ever considered a career change, Romina? Maybe you’re better off a comedian rather than an event planner.” 

Romina, your coworker, only smiles brightly at the monotone joke. She holds a mug of coffee in her hand as she rests her hip against the edge of your desk, lips pursed as she takes a slow sip from her steaming cup. The sharp, bitter scent of the coffee wafts across the space before she lowers the mug right onto your desk – completely disregarding the coaster available. 

Sure to leave behind a stain; a ring of light brown on your pristine desk. You can’t help but cringe. 

“Apparently they sent out an email about that new secretive project,” Romina continues on without addressing your sarcasm, “Said whoever’s got the account has been notified.”

“Awesome.”

“I didn’t get an email.”

“I’m sorry?”

Romina sighs, realizing you weren’t going to take the bait. “Have you received an email?”

You shrug in a silent succession of, probably not. 

Your pessimism keeps your hand from reaching out and wiggling your mouse as an attempt to wake your desktop computer back up. You highly doubt you were the one to be elected for this new project that had the entire office buzzing. You’d only been working here for a little over a year, hardly earning any attention with the small weddings and local business grand openings you had taken on during that time. 

And that was fine.

You were fine flying under the radar for the time being. It’s not that you weren’t good at your job — you were excellent at it, even — but whatever this top secret project was was the farthest thing from your expertise.

You didn’t do secretive projects. You did simple. You did small. The exact opposite of what you’d heard about this elusive opportunity. 

“Have you even checked?” Romina presses, leaning down and tapping your space bar herself, making the screen come to life before you could protest, “C’mon, babe! Aren’t you at least a little bit curious?” 

Another honest shrug. “Truthfully? Not at all.” 

She makes no move to grab her coffee cup as she pushes herself off your desk, standing over the screen now with intent and focus. All you can really think about is that damn faded ring that’s going to be left behind.

You really wish she would have used the coaster.

The login screen stops her in her mission, making her take a step back and wave you forward, pointing excitedly at your keyboard, “You know, I heard it might have something to do with a very popular band. One rumored to be dropping an album soon. Possibly the album release party. Doesn’t that sound dreamy?” 

Your stomach drops.

Romina is all wistful sighs and dreamy eyes as she says it, still pushing that keyboard closer to you as she looks out the window you had been before her arrival. It’s clear she’s looking right past that stained wall. She probably doesn’t even notice the evidence of graffiti that was left behind. The marks are lost on her eyes; but she hadn’t spent hours waiting for it to all be cleaned away, to be fair. No, it’s clear the only thing on her mind is this popular band.

And you know which band it is. It’s not just the prospect of a larger project that has kept you out of this rumor mill — it’s the prospect of the client.

Everyone knew you didn’t care for the band. Or at least, you said you didn’t care for the band.

Nearly a year ago, several coworkers had invited you to a sold out show. They had an extra ticket, and had so kindly extended it to you. A flag of friendship billowing in the wind, outstretched to you in such a welcoming manner. And you’d shot them down — you’d lied, and you’d said you had plans before you’d spent the entire night throwing your own personal pity party.

“I don’t think I’d be the first choice for an album release party, Ro,” you murmur as you finally tug your chair in closer to your desk. You ignore the knots forming in your stomach, that heavy weight that presses into your chest. There was no way you’d be assigned the project. You’d simply log in, show Romina, and then maybe she’d leave you alone, “I usually just take on weddings. That’s my forte. Not arranging open bars and booking rooftops for some shitty band.” 

Romina scoffs, “Some shitty band? I know you don’t like them, but Corroded Coffin is not just some shitty band.”

Corroded Coffin. The weight makes your ribs creak, makes your lungs ache. 

You swear she’ll notice the way you freeze in your typing. The mere mention of them, of him, curls around your body and easily triggers your fight or flight response. 

Well, fight or flight or freeze. A new option, a new and drifting cold, has made itself clear as ice keeps your knuckles from continuing to type in your password. 

It’s funny. You used to fight for them, then you’d flown as far away from him as your pathetic diner wages could get you. Clearly, only moving across a city you once thought to be so vast wasn’t far enough. You could move across oceans, and something in your gut tells you his ghost would only be a few steps behind. 

“You know, I still don’t get your issue with them, by the way. Are you just not big on rock music?” she asks, and you can imagine his offense and correction that it was metal, not just rock, “I get it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. I don���t know. Just seems a little personal, the way you avoid them like the plague.”

It is personal.

Your vendetta is so, so very personal when it comes to Corroded Coffin. 

When it comes to Eddie Munson.

His name echoing in your mind finally has your fingertips slamming keys again, suddenly eager to bring up your email and prove Romina wrong. To get her as far from your desk as possible and end this conversation before you can spiral.

“I’ve never been a fan of that type of music,” you lie through your teeth. You had been. You had been their goddamn number one fan once upon a time. 

Your work email can’t load fast enough when she continues on, “I’d argue they have at least one song for everyone. You just gotta give them a chance.” 

No, the voice in your head screams. I do not need to give them a chance. I gave him a chance, and he blew it. 

“I’m sure there is,” you grit out, those knots in your stomach wound so tightly they might just snap, “But not for me.” 

Never for me.

They don’t know. No one in your life now knew about your past, about your ex, about the truth between you and Corroded Coffin. 

They didn’t know that you’d been their first fan, standing in that stuffy garage at the Emerson’s residency through the scalding Hawkins’ summers. They didn’t know how you’d spent every Tuesday and Thursday night occupying a stool at the Hideout that had all but your name engraved into it. They didn’t know the way you’d packed up your entire life, the way you’d only moved to this cursed concrete jungle to see all of their wildest dreams come true. They were unaware that Corroded Coffin had nearly turned down the tour that triggered their breakout for you. All because their leading rockstar hadn’t wanted to leave you behind.

Funny how life works out.

Romina is unaware of your discomfort as she leans down over your shoulder to peer at the list of new emails you’d received this morning, “Oh, oh! That one! Click that one!” 

Her long, blood-red stiletto nail taps at the screen excitedly, pointing out an email from your boss with an eye catching subject line.

Meeting at Noon — New Project Assignment. 

“Holy shit!” Ro exclaims, getting ahead of herself before you’ve even clicked on the email. You can’t click on it. You’re petrified. “Oh, holy shit! You definitely got the project! Are you fucking kidding me?” 

For a moment, you’re silent, staring at the screen in buzzing shock. It rings in your ears and it blurs the edges of your vision, the weight of the possibility finally causing the first snap within your chest. 

No. No, no, no. 

You don’t want this project. Not the rumored client, and certainly not the attention that it has attracted from all your peers. No.

“We don’t even know if it’s going to be what everyone says it will be,” you choke out, white knuckling your mouse. Romina can’t see your face — she can’t see the year of practiced indifference crumbling so easily, “It- It probably won’t be Corroded Coffin, Ro. It can’t be. They wouldn’t assign me something so huge. Th-They probably just have another wedding for me. Maybe another bakery opening up in town — I think I heard about one on Third Street-“ 

Ro’s hands come down on your shoulders, giving what should be a reassuring squeeze, but it only smothers you during your breathless rant.

“Babe,” she emphasizes, “This is a good thing.” 

It’s not. It’s really, really not. 

But you don’t know if the project is what everyone has been murmuring about. You don’t know for sure that the email has anything to do with it. The contents of what your boss had written to you have little to no specifics; nothing more than a request to come to her office at noon to properly discuss the details of this assignment. So you convince yourself it’ll be fine, that it really is just about that bakery opening up on third street. You convince yourself to shake away any thoughts of chestnut curls and honey brown eyes. You convince yourself to untense your shoulders and smile up at your coworker, faking enough enthusiasm to satiate her until she’s walking away from your desk giddily, taking her coffee cup with her. 

Your eyes avert to the expected coffee mark that had formed a perfect ring on your stark white desk. 

Stained. What a pesky thing to become. 

—

“I’m not going out tonight,” you repeat yourself for the millionth time over the line, pinching the phone between your shoulder and ear as you opened your fridge to dig around for whatever leftovers you might be able to salvage into a dinner for the night, “I don’t feel well.” 

“But we need to hear about the new project!” Ro’s chirp comes over the line. You can hear the buzzing of a bar in the background. Glasses clinking, strangers chatting. Hell, you could probably pinpoint the song playing lowly if you focused hard enough.

You weren’t focusing on the call, though. It was the last thing you wanted to offer up your dwindling attention to, desperate to get off the line and resume your very exciting night of cold pasta with a side of whatever sitcom was running old episodes on the television. 

The phone nearly slips from your half assed attempt to keep it against your cheek as you sigh, “It went fine. I already told you guys it did. Nothing exciting, okay? It was the bakery on Third that’s opening up, just like I thought it would be.” 

A lie.

The meeting went anything but fine. Your boss, Lydia, has just been plain secretive. And normally, that wouldn’t bother you, but it meant your worst fears were coming true. 

The bakery on third wouldn’t have needed such secrecy, and they sure as Hell wouldn’t have insisted on you signing an NDA prior to even meeting and discussing the event you’d be planning. 

“It’s all just precautions,” Lydia had insisted as she slid that damn paperwork over to you, “Just to protect the client. They’re a bigger name than we’re used to dealing with. If you sign, we’ll have a proper meeting with them tomorrow and dig into all the nitty gritty.” 

“You phrase it like I have a choice,” you had muttered before picking up the pen.

You knew you didn’t. And Lydia’s smile had confirmed it. 

Romina continues on with more convincing, but you’ve stopped listening. There’s not a single thing she could really say now that your mind was made up — you were staying in tonight. 

“Ro,” you finally snatch the phone back up into your hand, straightening out as you pick out a random tupperware that you think holds chicken parm from that fancy lunch date you’d gone on over the weekend, “I’m not coming out. I’m sorry.” 

Complete silence on her end. You worry for a moment that you had been too harsh. 

“Okay,” she finally gives up.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” the word continues to echo back and forth between you two, “That’s fine. I’ll just have to bother you about it tomorrow. At work. Where you can’t use bullshit excuses to escape me.” 

You consider snapping back about how you absolutely still could, until you consider the fact that you have a real excuse, “Good luck with that. I have a very real meeting with… with a client.”  

You don’t even know the name of the client, technically. You can only guess. 

You still hope you’re wrong.

“Right,” she laughs over the line, “See you tomorrow, babe.” 

“See you tomorrow,” you repeat back, staring at your now closed fridge before you’re relieved by the sound of a dial tone, signaling that she’s finally hung up. 

What you should do now is plate the leftovers, arrange yourself on your sofa, and numb your mind with The Office reruns. What you should do is leave well enough alone and continue in your delusion. 

You don’t. 

It starts innocently; you do transfer the cold chicken parm onto a plate and you do curl up on your sofa before flicking on the television. You do set the channel to the reruns. You do – and you swear you do it all with the best intentions. 

But then your mind wanders. 

As you stare straight ahead at the television, you’re not processing a single image that flashes across the screen. Your thoughts are a bit preoccupied with different images, movies and snippets from a point in your life that now feels like a lifetime ago. Conspicuous dimples making an appearance from across the room at a joke you had made, unkempt curls flying recklessly in the driver’s seat beside you on late night drives with the windows down, wild eyes shining like sunlight through a whiskey bottle as he catches your gaze from a stage much smaller than what he must be used to now. 

Everything from before. Before the not-fight, before the fame, before the move. Images of when Eddie had been yours and only yours, not yet a precious gem to have to share with the world. 

“Are you busy tonight?” 

Your locker had been slammed shut by a hand that didn’t belong to you, knuckles adorned with familiar rings and distinct callouses along the fingertips. 

“Hello to you, too, Eddie,” you smiled as you clutched one of the unnecessarily heavy textbooks to your chest, turning to face the boy who stood impatiently at your side. He was all jitters, rocking on his heels and nearly incapable of standing still as his body buzzed with excitement.

It rolled off him in waves, contagious as he leaned into you, “Yes, yes. Hello, sweetheart. How was your day?” you opened your mouth to answer him, but Eddie comically steamrolled right on, hands waving erratically, “Good? Good! Excellent! Now, are you busy tonight?”

“I was planning to study for O’Donnel’s test-“

“So you don’t have plans!” he exclaimed, throwing an arm around your shoulders as one of the annoying warning bells chimed. He may have been in an interruptive mood, but he knew you hated being late to class — less about being anal about punctuality, and more about the stares you’d practically burn under from the attention of other students when you’d barge in on the teacher mid-sentence, “Perfect. Absolutely perfect. In that case, I have fantastic news!” 

You allowed him to guide you amongst the bustling student bodies, only gaining a few stares from fellow peers, “You do, do you?” 

He nodded before he reached out and snatched that heavy textbook out of your arms, “Here, let me carry that for you, darling.” 

“Darling?” your nose scrunched, “Oh, no. You’re trying to sweeten me up. What did you do?” 

“Nothing!”

Liar. The crack in his voice would have given him away if his hyperactive energy hadn’t already done so.

“Oh, really? Then what’s your fantastic news, rockstar?” 

His grin that broke at your nickname for him could have destroyed the Earth you walked on just as easily as it could have mended it. Something groundbreaking, something to churn the dirt and raise the dead. Something made of pure sunshine and static happiness. But the only thing that cracked was your chest as it tried to contain the residual joy it felt for him in that moment. 

“Well…” he trailed off, leaving just enough room for a suspenseful pause that could have suffocated the room without that damn grin on his face, “Let’s just say you’re looking at the frontman of the Hideout’s newest Thursday night entertainment.” 

You took a moment to catch on, Eddie keeping you pressed closely to his side as the two of you stopped outside of your next class. 

“Thursday nights?” you questioned, brain working overtime to piece together what he’d just said, “Wait, I thought you guys only played Tuesda-“

When you had processed what he had meant, all that animated elation that had been consuming him became shared. Every jitter in his bones became your own, your own lips speedily spreading into a proud smile to challenge his own.

“Oh, holy shit,” you gasped, “You guys got the gig.”

One more bounce of his heels, curls quivering with the movement as his arms fell from you and the two of you faced one another.

“We got the gig.”

“You got the gig!” 

People had been staring more obviously at the sudden rise in volume from you, but you hadn’t cared. Because in that moment, all you focused on was the eager boy in front of you, and the way your broken chest mended from the same grin that had burst it wide open, only for it to swell with inexplicable pride.

“We got the fuckin’ gig!” he shouted right back, laughter slipping from between his lips that started to echo your own. 

You were the one bouncing then, hands instinctively reaching out to press on his shoulders in gentle slapping motions, unable to contain or conventionally express this pounding excitement. 

“You got the fuckin’ gig!” you were just parroting each other now, but you were just as delirious as he was as that final bell signaling you were late rang out. That certain embarrassment you were sure to have to face had become a distant memory.

Eddie had wanted this for a while. He’d been bugging the owner of the bar on the edge of town about Corroded Coffin earning a second night of residency for months, only taking the repeated rejections as encouragement to ramp up his convincing charm. You’d seriously doubted it would work, but had never voiced the concern aloud to Eddie. You’d always figured that the worst that could have happened would be another no, fuck off, kid. But the best that could have happened had been this — he would be told yes and secure his band two weekly performances at the Hideout rather than just the single one they played before. 

You didn’t know it then, but it was the first step down the path that would lead to inevitable heartbreak. 

“I haven’t even told the guys yet,” Eddie admitted once the two of you calmed down to the best of your abilities, “I… Uh, I wanted to tell them after school today. Was wondering if you might, I don’t know, maybe- do you wanna be there when I do?” 

And that made sense. Eddie inviting you made sense when you attended every single band practice in Gareth’s garage as religiously as he did. When you knew every word to their whole three original songs even better than him at times. 

He wanted you there. You were important to him, to the band, and he wanted you there. 

“I- Is that even a question?” you stared at him in disbelief, “Of course I wanna be there, you fuckin’ idiot. I can’t believe you told me before you told them, honestly.” 

His demeanor softened, the ghost of his exuberance still stubbornly lingering. But your eyes were on him, glowing with such high regard that it was impossible to not let it creep beneath his skin and trigger a blush across the bridge of his nose. All that love, all that pride. So genuine it could have made him cry. 

“Of course I told you first,” he whispered in a finally empty hallway, “You’re always the first person I tell any good news to, sweetheart.” 

When had you stopped being the first person he shared his forthcomings with? 

Probably the day you had decided to leave him, leave the entire life you two had built together, under the guise of best intentions. 

The TV continues to play as you stare at the wall, mind and heart alike locked up with nostalgia. The plate of leftovers has long since been sat down on the coffee table. 

You hadn’t let yourself reminisce like this since the very first night you had spent in your apartment. That first night, you’d allowed yourself to wallow. You had sat on this very same sofa, the entire apartment pitch black as you weren’t brave enough to turn on a single light and face yourself, and told yourself that any and all tears or regrets had to be purged that night. A funeral for all that you had lost, a single night to mourn all that you had left behind. 

Clearly, one night was never enough to let go of years of memories – of love. 

You don’t shut off the TV as you impulsively grab your phone, not thinking the action through before you do the one thing you had forbidden yourself from over the last few years; you’re going to Google search Eddie Munson. You’d created the rule as a make-believe step in the right direction. You told yourself if you didn’t google him, if you didn’t track down his every move after you’d left behind the damage done, then you could move on easier. 

From the first headline, you realize that it might have never been about moving on. 

FINAL NAIL IN THE COFFIN? HAS EDDIE MUNSON, LEAD SINGER OF CORRODED COFFIN, FINALLY GONE TOO FAR?

EDDIE MUNSON — ARRESTED AGAIN?

HOTEL COMES FORWARD ABOUT DAMAGES DONE BY ROWDY ROCKSTAR EDDIE MUNSON

HOW TO BURY A CAREER: A DETAILED TIMELINE OF CORRODED COFFIN’S EDDIE MUNSON’S DOWNFALL

“EDDIE MUNSON GAVE ME A CONCUSSION” - VICTIMS OF THE ROCKSTAR’S CLUB TANTRUM COME FORWARD.

Each headline sends your head reeling, eyes widening impossibly without even clicking on the stories. 

The boy you had known wouldn’t have done half of the things these accusations stated. Violence, trashing hotel rooms, public temper tantrums taken too far — it doesn’t feel as though you’re reading about someone you once knew, someone you once loved. The man in these paparazzi photos is a stranger, completely unrecognizable with his red eyes and middle fingers held high. 

A particular photo catches your attention. He’s standing outside what you assume is a club, in handcuffs. His hands are locked behind his back, an officer not far behind and his face bathed in glows of blue and red lights flashing from a car half blocking the camera’s view of him, and he’s grinning with dead eyes squinted to the sky. It almost looks as if he’s midlaugh — as if the entire scene was funny to him.

The one time he’d nearly been caught while pedaling drugs for Reefer Rick back home in Hawkins when you’d still known him, he had nearly burst into tears. Had panicked as he scrambled to shove everything, even just the weed, into every possible hiding place within his van. He hadn’t laughed in the officer’s face; he had been petrified, face transforming to that of a terrified little boy as you had told him to calm down and play it cool. 

You should stop scrolling. But you can’t.

Another photo, one that makes your chest echo with another hollow pang. It was clearly taken without him realizing it, the quality atrocious as the camera had attempted to focus in on him through a balcony sliding door of what must be a hotel. But despite the terrible blur, you can clearly pick out the details that were meant to be exposed. 

A speckle of white coating the ring of his nostril. Made even more obvious by that midday sun shining in on him. 

It was clearly the middle of the afternoon, and Eddie had clearly been caught snorting cocaine.

It’s a bit much. You haven’t even scrolled far enough to catch sight of all the pap photos of him with different women, or the photos of him clearly inebriated at major events that had been meant to celebrate him and the band’s success. You lock your phone, you set it down on the table with the screen facing down. You hardly recognize him. 

The reality is you had never googled Eddie for the same reason most won’t look at the corpse of loved one’s at open casket funerals – you wanted to remember him when things had been good. You had wanted to convince yourself that you still knew him, some version of him, and that he hadn’t become a total stranger.

But, really, you’d known the moment you had walked out of that once shared apartment that you had lost the privilege of knowing him. Of loving him. The moment he had stopped telling you that he loved you, you had known something between the two of you had died. Losing Eddie hadn’t been a sudden thing — it had been a long, painful, torturous process. When all that love and all that promise had died, it hadn’t gone down without a fight. He had smothered it, but you had provided the extinguisher. You had pushed him to chase after his dreams, and you should have never been surprised when he did exactly that.

You should have never been surprised that one day, the space you’d claimed residency in in Eddie’s heart would become nothing more than an annoying prick to him. A thorn in his side, sharp and threatening all that he had worked so hard to achieve.

So you’d left. You’d left, told yourself it was for the best, and exited with more love for the memory of a man than the tangible person on the other end of that terribly lonely dial tone – on the rare occasions he did call. 

You didn’t know him. It’s a truth you should have long since swallowed, but hadn’t. Not yet. Not in the last two years.

Your appetite is gone as you stand from the couch and grab the leftovers, only pausing on your way to the kitchen to scrape the waste off into the trash can. What a waste. As you put away the plate into the sink, not bothering to wash or even rinse away the crumbs, you immediately grab one of your few wine glasses and set it on the counter. Drinking wasn’t the wisest idea, but your body has begun to move on autopilot. And it seems convinced that feeling the buzz from alcohol would be better than the feeling of nothing at all. 

You didn’t know him anymore. And the space you’d still let him occupy in your memories, whether you’d wanted to admit it or not, was now hollow.

You turn your back on the glass, still numb and still reeling as you open the fridge and pull out a half empty bottle of merlot, cork half peeking out the top of the bottle. You can see that stained bottom half, almost half hidden in a weak attempt to preserve the wine inside. Maroon. Deep, deep maroon bleeds up and feathers at the edges of that cork as you pull it out fairly aggressively, carelessly tossing it onto the white countertop and not watching it bounce as you pour yourself a drink. 

In your hollow staring off into the distance, you don’t realize you’ve missed the glass in your pouring until the chilled liquid splashes at your knuckles – until it’s too late. You panic, grabbing at paper towels and rinsing off your hand in the same breath, but it’s clear that it’s a useless battle in cleaning up the mess you’ve made. 

The damage is already done. As you soak up the wine and swipe away, a pink-tinged blotch is still left behind. 

Stained. What a pesky thing to become.

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @conquerwhatliesahead92

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain

[srbachchan]

DAY 5904

Jalsa, Mumbai April 17, 2024 Wed 11:25 PM

🪔 ,

For April 18 .. our love and wishes for the Ef on their special day .. to Ef Jonoon Alhob from KSA 🇸🇦 .. Ef Ninad Junnarkar from Dubai 🇦🇪 .. Ef Manoj Lahoti from Ahmedabad .. Ef Mahesh Ghantasala .. and Ef Amlan Goswami from Lucknow .. love always from the Ef Family .. ❤️🙏🏻🚩

.. and it seems so odd and uncoordinated when there is an effort to keep the timings of the Blog in time and space and effect .. the fingers move to punch all the words and dates and days and timings to the day next as is the recognised practice ..

but change took place and .. took place in time ..

It is a joy when there is express and question in express , and all of them barking up the wrong tree .. it's not the tree its the wrong bark ..

got it .. ??

the X and the FB !!

the thought is that to be humorous , without being humorous .. a funny thought but at times it works .. one could expect to announce that he or she are the greatest comedians of the World, and the audience is repelled into uncontrollable laughter .. and the comedian merely stands there in the glory and admiration of his own joke ..

that is if you comment ..

'no comment' was not invented by celebrities or answerable individuals without reason ..

comment ferments .. !!

hahaha .. that was funny .. just came out of the oven baked and fresh .. ready to be consumed ..

and fermentation ..

"a chemical breakdown of substance by bacteria , or other microorganisms, involving efference and the giving off of heat .."

🤣🤣🤣

aaah .. the epitome of mastered questioned answers , one that would bring great intrigue to the questioner and a 😀 for the responder ..

Not anymore though .. for social media has obliterated commented news ..

which is why the coefficient of linear expansion is juxtapositioned by the haemoglobin of the atmosphere .. sophisticated rhetorician and all, intoxicated by the exuberance of verbosity

LONG live the Industry of Film .. and its presence among us .. the strongest medium of communication ..

EVEN NOW .. !!

in the liberty to manufacture in its creativity of wondrous understanding and composure , towards the elements of a free will and mind ..

" enough no more .. tis' not so sweet as it were before "

Love to all .. and the bard 👆🏼

Amitabh Bachchan

[mindofharry]

a short blurb in which Harry is a stand up comedian doing crowd work and spots the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Harry loved his job.

From a very young age, he always knew he would be an entertainer. He didn’t care what it was, as long as he could be up on a stage making people happy.

When Harry was around ten or eleven, he realised he could make people laugh. He just had this charisma about him that had his friends and family laughing for hours on end. At first, he couldn’t quite grasp it. Why would they laugh at his jokes? Why would they tell other people how funny he was? Sometimes, he would even get embarrassed by the attention, not realising that they were laughing with him and not at him.

But when he turned eighteen, he started using that skill to his advantage.

Harry started posting on Vine. He got popular on there, but he still craved the socialising aspect of this career. So he put some feelers out online and one of his social media friends said there would an open mic night at a local club in Manchester. Harry couldn’t pass up the opportunity. At eighteen years of age, he traveled to the club by himself, with no material prepared. He took two shots and then went up on the stage.

Everyone loved him and he did multiple shows there every few weeks. Word got around about the young comedian and soon, Harry had a team and manager to help him find gigs. They advised him on moving to LA as there would be more real estate for him there. Harry was hesitant at first, but he knew he couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this.

So after just turning nineteen, Harry said goodbye to England and hello to America. He already had tons of gigs lined up, so he would be set for the next coming months. Harry loved his job. He loved the community he built in the last few years living in America. He most importantly loved doing crowd work.

So now, at the age of twenty one, known for his looks and cheeky nature, Harry was standing on stage leaning against the wall behind him, looking for someone to pick on a little.

Y/N loved comedy.

But she only ever watched SNL or a comedy special on Netflix. She never had the time to go out and actually see a show. But her girlfriends got her this for her birthday — all of them would go and they’d get dinner and drinks and enjoy the show. What she didn’t expect, was how sexy the comedian was.

She had never heard of the comedian before, but Y/N loves discovering new people. She didn’t even bother looking him up, just excited to be there and be apart of the gig.

Y/N and her three girlfriends sat at a table in the front row, it was very obvious and Harry would see them if he looked around long enough. The lights were blinding, so even though they were in the front row, it took a minute for Harry’s eyes to adjust to the crowd. But when they did, Jesus he couldn’t take his eyes away from Y/N.

He smirked and started walking towards the front, “Hello,” He said, leaning down to put the mic to Y/N’s lips. Y/N smiled softly.

“Hi,”

Harry sighed and looked around, “This woman is beautiful just so everyone knows,” He said and people laughed around him. Y/N blushed and giggled.

“What brings you here tonight, sweetheart?” Harry asked, Y/N bit her lip and then leaned in.

“Just out with my friends. Having a fun night,”

Harry nodded, smirking again, “Let me ask… Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

Y/N laughed, putting a hand to her mouth, “Nope, single,”

Harry shook his head, “Not anymore! You’re all invited to our wedding, guys,”

[djuvlipen]

It's so hard being a Romani lesbian. It feels contradictory at best, unthinkable at worst. You are raised with the explicit goal to become a wife and to have children one day. I can't remember the first time my mother talked to me about marriage, but I remember being around 6 and being told that I will have a wedding one day, that it will be the most important day of my life and that I would make my family so happy. Growing up I'd constantly, almost daily hear about having children and having a boyfriend and getting married some day. It was always one of the most important topics of conversation. Your relatives - even your female relatives - don't seem to think you can make decisions by yourself, for yourself. Everything you wear, everything you say, everything you do is about appealing to men. When I was 5 I asked my mom if I could wear a dress to go outside because it was very sunny and she just told me I wanted to dress that way because I was in love with the male friend that I had. If you want to wear jewellery, if you wear "revealing clothes", that means you want to flirt with a man. This is not even an inconscious, internalized mindset: it is very overt and I was explicitly told that anything I did was because I was in love with a man - a classmate, a friend, a neighbour, an adult family friend (yes, even if I was 8), a male relative. I felt disgusting anytime I wanted to dress the way I wanted because I felt I was inviting men to have sexual thoughts about me.

As a Romani little girl you are groomed to accept relationships with men, especially older men. When I was about 8, my then 15yo sister invited me to her bedroom and showed me condoms and told me that I would need them one day. When we were 12, my female cousins all had boyfriends. My female cousins usually got their first serious relationship at 14-15yo. Two of my cousins had their first kid before they turned 17 (one was with a 28yo man). And this is seen as normal and you're weird for criticizing them. Any heterosexual intercourse is seen as good, as a positive value. The majority of my Romani female relatives sided against another relative of ours who had been raped by her stepfather. My mother and my sister also sided with my abuser and told me that I was being unfairly mean to him because he is my stepfather and I should be nicer, actually.

When I was 12, I had never had a boyfriend. All my other relatives, both male and female, started piling on me. We had family gatherings almost every couple of weeks, and the conversation would always somehow land on me. I was told I was weird, I was a dyke, I was probably a lesbian, my mother usually said she didn't want me to be some ugly dyke but she would also say that I was so mean to her for not coming out to her. This was discussed among my relatives while I was in the room. My mother usually pressured me every couple of nights to tell her if I was a "dyke". Because even though my group doesn't practice child marriages anymore, it's still the norm for Romani girls to be in serious relationship with (older) men when they are in middle school, and you are the weird one for not fitting that norm.

When gay marriage was being debated in my country, I was in middle school and my mother's favourite joke was about a gay teenager committing suicide. It was a joke made by a stand-up comedian and she would listen to it once in a while when driving me to school.

And I am so lucky because my family isn't even very traditional. They aren't even religious. Most Roma are very intense about religion. In my country, there are a lot of Evangelical Christian Roma, who told me that lesbian Roma should be murdered, should be ousted, that gay Romani teenager should be beaten by their parents, should be thrown on the street, that lesbian Romani Holocaust survivors should have been killed. All under the guise of "culture". Because a lot of those people have a "let it be" attitude when it comes to non-Romani LGBT people, but they don't extend that attitude to their own kids.

And then I talk to antiracist and "progressive" Romani activists, usually male, usually straight, who tell me that "being Romani is about being raised with Romani culture and embracing and respecting that culture", but what does that mean for LGB Roma who are constantly being bullied and abused by their own family and community? Heterosexuality lies at the core of Romani culture and LGB Roma won't be free until we start challenging religions and the patriarchal and homophobic bias engraved in Romani culture

[neverinadream]

You're His Girlfriend, But You Belong To Me - Part Three

Summary: Emotions run high and hearts are broken in the final chapter of yours and Christian's affair.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader // Ty (OC) x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: Trying Not To Love You - Nickelback

Warnings: angst, themes of infidelity, heartbreak, a break up, arguing, confessions of infidelity, confessions of love, possessiveness, references of ownership, cocky!christian, violence, suggestive themes....idk if i'm missing anything

Notes: and it's....almost finished!! there is an epilogue still to be posted. i loved this little miniseries a lot, even if the theme isn't everyone's cup of tea. big thanks to @thoseboysinblue who is always there to bounce ideas off, couldn't have done it without you 🫶🏻. the flow is a little dodgy towards the end and there are parts that could've been done so much better but i've gotten too much in my own head over this, so i'm just going to give it to you how it is. what do we want to see in the future?? more miniseries like this?? thank you to all those that read it and gave me feedback on the other parts. it truly means a lot! anyway...feedback is always appreciated!

"Hi. Hello."

Hushed voices are reduced to silence as you appear in front of the microphone, fixing the skirt of the sage-coloured dress that had been trying to kill you all day. The material was soft to the touch and it helped to ease the anxiety riddling your veins, and it didn't matter how many times Ty told you how beautiful you looked, the deadly contraption had to go. The bodice was too tight on your chest, crushing the air from your lungs, and the length of the skirt was too long on your legs, even when wearing your heels. Your mother called it karma for not being there in person when your older sister was making the preparations for her wedding like the rest of her bridesmaids were.

"Wow, there's a lot of you here today," you nervously laughed, pinching at your dress and rubbing the material between your thumb and finger as you looked out at the ocean of guests before you. They were friends and family, but you still didn't recognise nearly half of them. The ones you did recognise didn't look at you with blank expressions, and when you found Christian sitting with the rest of his family, a wave of comfort washed over you as he gave you a subtle smile over the rim of his champagne flute. "For those who don't know me, I am Carrie's little sister," you introduce yourself, "and much like the family dog, I like long walks on the beach, constant attention, and taking naps after I've eaten too much food." You try not to smile as your opening line leaves a few of the guests laughing. "Or, perhaps that's Carrie," you pull a face of confusion, "we've gone our whole lives being mixed up with each other, that even I'm beginning to mix us up."

You glance over at your sister, your hand gently holding onto the top of the microphone, as your other hand curls around the stand. "I'm not sure what Carrie knew what she was getting herself into when she asked me to give a speech today. I'm not a comedian like our older brother, so I can't make you all laugh until your sides hurt, and I'm no poet like our father, so please put your tissues and handkerchiefs back in your pockets, but what I can do is list all of Carrie's amazing qualities that will make her the greatest wife of all time." You release the microphone and reach into your bodice, pulling out a folded napkin you had hidden before your turn. "So," you clear your throat, unfolding the blank napkin, "Carrie is...she..." Guests laugh as you squint at the napkin, pulling it closer to your face. "Hmm," you fold the napkin back up and stuff it into your dress, "I guess I won't be doing that then."

"As kids, we hated each other, and I think that was because of our two very contrasting personalities. Carrie was a loud-mouthed, bitchy psychopath, and I was just perfect, but as we got older, Carrie was like a fucking rockstar to me. I wanted to be just like her. I wanted to dip my toes into every pond that she jumped into. I wanted to be able to craft the perfect lie to our parents, only for it to all fall apart at the very last second. Our parents told my sister that she could not go to any senior prom after parties and like the crafty genius Carrie was, she told our parents that she was stuck in traffic for three whole hours. And she would've got away with it if our next door neighbour hadn't found her upside down in his hedge."

You smile up at your sister as you turn to her again, who was already dabbing her eyes with a napkin. "Carrie became my metaphorical flight attendant, always there to warn me that life will come with turbulence, but that I should never panic because life will always have a way of working itself out. When I was given the opportunity to move out of the country, Carrie was the first person who told me to grasp it with both hands and never let it go. She'll be your biggest supporter..." Your voice cracks and she blows a kiss in your direction, which only makes it easier for the tears to escape. "...even when you're making questionable decisions, and I am entirely grateful to have you as my big sister."

"Now, Daveed," you address your brother-in-law, giggling as he hides his face behind a napkin, "when I first met you, I was confused." He laughs louder than the rest of the guests, a laugh so infectious it has you laughing along with him. "I was confused because I couldn't understand how someone could be so selfless and loving as you are, without there being some other ulterior motives. But meeting Carrie was the best decision you have ever made. Before you, Carrie was like that one troll who lived under a bridge in every fairytale you read as a kid. She had a heart as cold as ice when it came to love, and I honestly believed she would grow old with seventy cats. But your ever-giant loving heart has transformed her into the beautiful princess you see sitting before you today. But, you know what they say if you can't handle her at her worst, then you don't deserve to her at her best, and I don't think there is anyone more deserving of Carrie's love and terrible cooking than you, Daveed. It's been such an honour and joy to welcome you into our circus of freaks, and I'm happy that we didn't scare you off."

"So, I'll leave you with this: when I think about the greatest love stories of all time, I used to think of Paris and Helen of Troy, a love so great it started a war, but now I can only think of yours." You reach to retrieve your champagne, raising the glass into the air, signaling others to copy. "So, if you could kindly join me in raising a toast to the happy couple," your eyes flick over to Christian, another flood of warmth spilling through you as the subtle smile before now reached his eyes, before guiltily panning your eyes over to Ty as you say, "may we all have a love story as great as theirs."

———————

"Cute speech-"

"Don't tease me-"

"I'm not..." Christian breaks your bickering with a harsh sigh. "I wasn't teasing you. I was being nice." You raise your eyebrows and make a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. "I can be nice," he rolls his eyes, backing you against the gazebo, the old stone cold and rough against your skin. He dips his lips against your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses against your warm skin. "I can be really nice," he chuckles, biting down and sucking on your collarbone.

"Christian, don't!" You groan, but your warning was futile. He pulls back to inspect his art and you wince as he grazes his finger over the bruise. You push him away and cover the spot with your hand; there was no lie big enough to cover this one up. Not from Ty. And especially not from your family. You hadn't let Ty do more than kiss your cheek in the presence of them all weekend. "Why do you always have to do that?"

"Because I like to mark the things that belong to me."

"I'm not yours," you bite back, but the possessive tone in his voice floods your belly with heat.

"Yes, you are." Your fingers fist tightly into his ear as he presses his mouth against your neck and grazes his tongue against it. "Say it," he demands to hear the words that now made his heart stutter. His hands skimmed up your arms, over your shoulders, and cradled the sides of your neck, tipping your head back as he pulled away to look at you. There was an emotion in his eyes that you couldn't read, a strange mix of hunger and longing. "Tell me you're mine."

"No."

He frowns, chasing your lips as you turn your head. "Come on, say it."

"You say it," you counter, the words coming out more like a plea. Just once, you wanted to hear him say it, even if you knew he didn't mean it. You were too far deep into this mess that even a lie would make you happy. "Say you're mine," you bring his mouth closer to yours, "please, say it."

He hesitates and whispers, "I'm...not yours." Your heart cracks. Of course, he wasn't going to say it. He only wanted you for the thrill of sleeping with another's girlfriend, you knew he would never want you for your heart.

"We should go back inside," you cast your eyes off to the side. He whispers something about not being finished with you yet, but you find the strength to push him away. "Chris, if someone comes to look for me-"

He silences you with a scoff. "And by someone you mean Mr. Boring?"

"Leave him alone."

"He's pathetic, Y/N, when are you going to see that?" He snaps back at you, his face only inches from yours. You press your back further into the wall of the gazebo, trying to create some space between you. "That whole good guy act he performs for everybody?" He pulls a face of disgust. "He's got your parents wrapped around his little finger with that one."

"It's not an act!" You reply through gritted teeth. Though you didn't love Ty anymore, you still felt obligated to stick up for him. "He is a good guy, Christian, but you wouldn't know that because you have never taken the time to get to know him! Perhaps you should've, maybe then you would've seen what it looks like to have heart."

Your words make him take a step back. "I have a heart," he dismisses your claim.

You take a step forward and press your finger against the centre of his chest. "This?" He winces as you jab your finger harder against his chest. "This is empty! Barren! Incapable of feeling any emotion!"

He bats your hand away. "Before you start accusing me of anything, sweetheart, perhaps you should take a long hard look in the mirror," he counters, his voice laced with bitterness, "remember, I'm not the one fucking another guy behind my boyfriend's back." He watches your mouth open and close, swallowing your breath as your eyes widen. "What's the matter, baby?" He mocks. "Don't you like being reminded of the truth?"

Behind, standing only a few feet away, Ty looked on at the two of you, the colour draining from his cheeks until he was no whiter than the shirt he wore. When you hadn't returned from your room, Ty had gotten worried, but when there was no sign of you in your hotel room and someone had mentioned seeing you going outside, he wasn't prepared to see you and Christian together. He had just heard the end when you had clocked him approaching.

"Ty," you whisper his name, bottom lip trembling as the first cracks in your perfectly constructed lie begin to show.

He looks between you and Christian, his eyes landing on your collarbone as you step around the obstacle between you. For a moment there's a flicker of anger, but it sizzles away and morphs into pain. That hickey was an answer to a question he didn't even need to ask. A question he didn't want to ask.

"Ty, this isn't-"

"Please, don't," he held up his hand to stop you, "please don't be one of those people who try to say it isn't what I think it is. I heard him, Y/N, I heard what he said." You bite your lip and nod your head, deciding not to inflict any further damage. What use was there in lying to him anymore? "I guess I should've known something was off between us when we stopped having sex," Ty sniffles, fighting back tears, "something like that just doesn't stop without there being a reason."

Christian sniggered from behind you. "I can promise you she was well cared for." Ty glanced over at him, making it known that he had heard him but pulled his attention back to you. "Wow! Really?" He lets out a surprised laugh. "I just told you I'm fucking your girlfriend and you don't even react." He takes a step forward and firmly presses his body against yours. His hand sits on your hip, pinning you to the spot on which you stood. It was like he was saying I won to Ty without really ever really saying it. "You know, whilst you were tucked into bed last night, I was tucked into her-"

"That's enough!"

"No, no, no, no," Christian tuts, shaking his head, "Ty has to know the truth."

"I've heard enough."

He looks up at Ty. "You sure?" He gives him the biggest grin he can muster up. One that could've earned him a hard blow to the face if Ty had been anyone else. "Don't you want me to remind you of what it feels like to have her lips wrapped around your cock? Or describe the sound she makes when she cums?"

Ty ignores him and fishes something from the inside pocket of his blazer. "I thought you were my forever, but I guess we were on different pages," he steps forward and presses something small into the palm of your hand, "give this back to Nelly for me." You look down into your hand, your heart shattering when you recognise the dainty piece of silver to be your grandmother's ring. It was a thin band of silver with a small emerald gem passed down from mother to daughter. The perfect ring, you had once told Ty after he spotted it in a photograph of you and your grandmother. "I don't think I'll be needing it anymore, do you?"

The ring disappears into the palm of your hand as you fold your fingers into a tight fist. It symbolised everything you wanted out of life: true happiness and everlasting love. So as you held it against your chest, you foolishly believed that if you held it there for long enough, it might mend the fractured pieces of your heart. And as you looked up to say one last goodbye to the kindest man who woke up every day with nothing but love in his heart, you discovered he was already gone. You could just see his silhouette disappearing back into the ballroom.

Christian had just caught a glimpse of the silver band over your shoulder. Seeing the dainty piece of metal had left him with a sour taste in his mouth, and knowing it had been temporarily in Ty's possession set a new kind of anger coursing through his veins, making his skin hot as it boiled his blood. "Why did you tell him about Nelly's ring?" He asked, seeking the truth to a matter that shouldn't have taken precedence over the giant tears streaming down your cheeks. "What did he do to deserve to know about Nelly's ring?"

"He loved me," you choke on your sobs, "and maybe you don't recall it, but there was a time when I loved him."

"You never loved him," he dismisses another one of your claims.

"Do not think for a second that you claim to know the names that I hold dear to my heart!" You glance over your shoulder and see no sympathy in his golden eyes. You were broken, and yet here he stood, all intact. He didn't care. "I loved him," you repeat yourself, "and he loved me."

Christian leaned back against the gazebo, ignoring the strange pang of guilt in his chest. "Yeah," he casts his eyes down at his shirt, fixing one of the buttons, as he says, "but then you slept with me, and I opened your eyes to a new world of possibilities." Your face twists with a sour expression. "Oh, come on, don't look at me like that," he chuckles dryly, "I just saved you from a boring marriage and your inevitable-" The rest of his words are knocked from his mouth as you drag your hand across his face, connecting your palm to his cheek with a loud slap.

"Y/N!?" Someone shouts your name, but you don't look back to see who.

Instead, you stumble away from Christian, the same hand you had slapped him with now covering your mouth. "Shit!" It's muffled by your hand, but your wide eyes connect with his even bigger eyes, and you are both stunned into silence. You couldn't believe it. "I-I..." You bring both hands over your mouth, shaking your head. "I'm so sorry," you repeat like a broken record as fresh tears break from your eyes, "I-I didn't mean to do that."

Christian rubs his hand against his cheek and moves his head away from Kelley, who had been the voice shouting at you only moments ago. She had stepped outside to catch a few minutes of air, becoming a witness to the fallout of the disaster that was unfolding around you.

Kelley looks between the two of you. On one side, she has her son, his cheek red with the imprint of your hand, and on the other, she has a shadow of your former self. She takes a deep breath and turns to you first, offering a sympathetic smile as she asks, "Y/N, sweetie, what's going on?"

Growing up, Kelley had been like a second mother to you. You had lost count of the times she had patched up your knees after you had scraped them from falling over. Christian was forever on the move, and you just wanted to keep up with him. It didn't matter how fast he got as the two of you got older, you were there running behind him, and Kelley was behind you with a band-aid in her hand. So, any other time you might have opened up to her, but you couldn't force yourself to tell her.

You look past her and at Christian. "I'm sorry," you mouth your apology.

"Just..." He lets out a sigh, watching you slip away, the end of the dress bunched in your hands so you wouldn't trip over it as you made your sudden escape. "Just let her go, Mom," Christian mumbles, the stinging in his cheek subsiding, making it easier for him to move his jaw. He knew deep down he deserved that slap. If his goading hadn't done enough to provoke a reaction from Ty, he should've guessed that it might've come from you instead. He casts his eyes down at the ground as he straightens up. "I don't want to talk about it-"

"You don't get a choice," Kelley stops him. There was a sternness to her voice that made him shiver. It was the kind she saved only for when she was disappointed in him. "Well?" He finally looks up but quickly looks away again when he isn't met with the usual warmth of her eyes. "Start talking, Christian, before I go and ask the poor girl myself."

"She and Ty broke up," he raises his shoulder on one side.

She raised her eyebrows, sensing there was more he wasn't telling her. "She slapped you because Ty and her broke up?"

"No, Mom, she slapped me because I asked her to," he replies, stuffing one hand into his pocket. At any other time, he would've been on the receiving end of a look of disapproval for using sarcasm against her, but Kelley just sighed. "Ty," he thinks carefully about his words, wanting to tell her the truth without admitting his own sins, "Ty found out she was sleeping with someone behind his back."

Kelley blinked twice. You were having an affair? The very same girl who was too afraid to get in trouble at school? The girl who did everything to keep her grades above a B? The one everyone said had a heart of gold? She didn't believe it. There was no way you could've done something as heartless as this. "An affair?" She shakes her head. "I don't believe you. Not Y/N."

He scrunches his face. "Why, because she's so perfect?" He rolls his eyes at the ground. "Not everyone is as perfect as you might think, Mom, not even me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Really?" He looks in her direction, greeted by a look of mixed emotions on her face. He didn't want to insult her intelligence, but it only took the smallest amount of common sense to figure out what possible role he had to play in all of this. "Doesn't a part of you wonder why I was out here? How I came to be the only other person to see it happen?"

As the pieces of the puzzle slowly clicked together, she could only show her disappointment in her eyes and through the way she spoke. "Christian..."

"What, Mom? What?" He takes a step back, removing himself from her path. His heart was racing rapidly in his chest, the blood pumping hard and thick in his ears. The air around him felt thicker like it was trying to suffocate him. "What do you want me to say?" He loosened his tie, pulling on the knot until he felt like he could breathe again. What was happening to me? He thought to himself, wiping his sweaty palm down his thigh. "That I regret it because I don't."

"How can you say that?" She asks, bewildered by his reaction. "How do you not regret what you've done? You've destroyed a relationship, Christian!"

"It wasn't just me, Mom; she destroyed it too!" He pulls his tie off, wrapping the slim black piece of material around his fingers. "I...She..." The tips of his fingers slowly change colour as he tightens his tie. "Maybe it would be different if she loved the guy, but she didn't. She's just another liar." He sighs, glancing up at the roof of the gazebo. "We both are."

"Do you love her?"

Yes.

"Love her?" He unravels the tie before it cuts the circulation to his fingers and switches to wrapping it around the other. He scoffs to hide the quiver in his voice. "Why would I love her?"

"Because I can't think of a good reason for why you could do something so stupid, Christian," she scolds him, lifting her hand into the air like she was signalling an end to their conversation. She couldn't bare to hear him talk this way anymore. This wasn't the boy she had raised. "If any part of you loves that girl-"

"I don't."

I do.

She holds his head firmly in her hands, keeping his eyes on hers. In his eyes, she sees the truth. She sees the fear. She sees it all. "Just shut up and listen," he gulps down a large breath of air, subtly nodding his head, "if any part of you loves that girl, then you need to fix this."

"I can't fix it," he chews his bottom lip, "she won't believe me."

"You won't know unless you try," she offers a watery smile, "if you don't fix this, then you'll lose her for good, and that's when you'll finally regret it." She wipes away a tear he didn't even know was there. "Go," she encourages him, "before it's too late."

———————

All traces of Ty had been removed from your room when you returned. A note saying, "I'm sorry I wasn't enough," was all that was left for you to find. It brought a fresh wave of tears crashing down your cheeks, and through watery eyes, you tore yourself out of your dress and packed your bag. You could apologise to your sister later, maybe even tell her the truth and risk her judging you for your heartless mistakes, but right now, you had to leave.

Pulling on the zip, you close your bag and set it down at the foot of your bed. You ignored the first knock as you checked the contents of your second bag, checking to make sure you had packed the things you would need the most, like your passport. You couldn't run away without it. But the second and then the third knock became harder to ignore, and the courage you had built up in the process of getting ready to leave crumbled when you opened the door to find Christian standing on the other side.

"Whatever you're doing, don't do it." There's no apology, no simple hello, just another demand to do something that he wanted. You take a step back, and he mistakes it for an invitation to come inside. He walks by the foot of your bed, and the thought of you sharing it with Ty tightens his chest. "Stay," he says, his words almost sounding like a plea.

"I can't stay-'

"Yes, you can!" He talks over you, trying to force his side of the argument. "You and Ty are over, so what?" You gasp at his insensitivity. "Why should that mean we have to stop having fun?"

"Fun?" You repeat back to him. The pain simmering in the pit of your stomach forces your voice to crack. "It was 'fun' for the first few times it happened, but then it just became something you could torture me with." The corners of your eyes grow wet with new tears. "As soon as you knew that there was a chance that I had developed an attachment to you, you twisted it to your own advantage. You knew I would never say no to you, but here I am, finally telling you no."

"I can't let you go," he whispers, shaking his head in disbelief.

You chew your bottom lip. The only way you could move on from this is if you let him go. "You have to," you sniffle, wiping your eyes. He wasn't worth anymore of your tears.

"But I...But I..." He tries to force the truth, but his throat grows dry, and only a strangled cry of frustration makes its way out. "I don't want this to be over for us. I thought you loved me?"

"I do," your heart shatters as his eyes fill with tears, and you have to force yourself into not moving, "I love you more than you could ever know, but I can't love a guy who doesn't love me back. My heart is damaged, Chris, and I don't know what state you'll leave it in when you've decided it's time to move on. I have accepted that you will never love me! I have accepted that there will be no happy ending for us! That our love story is a tragedy Shakespeare wishes he could've penned. So, please, do the honourable thing and let me go!"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I love you!" He snaps, with every ounce of emotion bursting out of his chest, shouting his confession across the room. The features on his face soften. His puffy eyes swell with giant tears. His bottom lip trembles. "I love you," he repeats, and you're stunned into silence. His voice cracks and fresh tears wet his cheeks, no longer having the strength to fight them back. "I've tried my hardest not to love you. I have slept with other women to make myself forget about you, but they are not you. Their skin doesn't feel as soft as yours. They don't taste as sweet as you. They are not the angel whose name my very soul calls for! Their names are not tattooed on the inner walls of my heart!"

He draws his hands against the centre of his chest, digging his fingers into his flesh like he was trying to rip his heart from the cage it was once locked inside. "Do you not see how I am scared to let my heart win?" He hopelessly cries out, tasting the saltiness of his tears as they land on his lips, "I am scared because I already know that I have the power to harm you." He takes a step back, dropping his arms either side. "I have harmed you." His voice is laced with guilt. "I have broken your heart time and time again, and yet you stand here and tell me you still love me? How? Why?"

You shrug your shoulders. "Maybe this is how love is supposed to be."

"I don't know much about love, but I know it's never meant to be this cruel," he replies, disagreeing with you, "you love a monster, Y/N."

"A monster?" You scoff and he nods. "If you are a monster then what does that make me, Christian? All you did was sleep with another man's girlfriend. I lied to him. I took advantage of him. For nearly two years, I made him believe that I loved him. Two years! Two fucking years!" You force yourself to laugh, but it's empty and lacks any genuine emotion. "My heart must either be as black as charcoal or as cold as ice to be capable enough of doing that to someone whose heart is filled with nothing but pure love."

Through the crack in the opened window, you could hear the muffled sound of laughter and cheers. A pang of guilt settles in your chest knowing that you had missed your sister's first dance and the cutting of the cake. You had missed the chaos of your baby cousins running around, high on sugar, and your parents' terrible dancing. You had missed jokes and the opportunities to create new memories. You had missed it all just so you could try and find a solution to the destruction that you were to blame for.

You suck in a deep breath. "I was just going to leave, you know," you tell him the truth, nudging your foot against the side of your bag, "get a cab to the airport and get the first flight available to, I don't know, Greece or Italy. Filling myself up with good food and flooding my veins with multiple bottles of good wine seemed like the better idea. I was going to run away from it all: from the heartbreak, from Ty, from my family-"

"From me," Christian mumbles, with fresh tears in his eyes. You blink back tears as you nod your head, confirming his suspicion. For a split second, he smiles, but it's lopped-sided and sad. He sniffles and wipes his cheeks. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know," you shrug, "what do you want to do?"

"Right now, I just want to kiss you."

A bubble of hope formed in his chest as he watched your face crumple. The look of pain in your eyes slowly became one of affection, making his blood buzz with nerves. He could've closed the distance between you, sweep you up into his arms and kiss you like he had never kissed anyone before, but he didn't. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath, and waited for you to give him a sign.

You knew you might one day regret this.

"So kiss me."

Without hesitation, he closes the gap between you, fisting his hand in the back of your hair, and grabbing your hip in the other to pull you towards him. Both of you sink into each other as his mouth worked yours. His kisses were needy and demanding like he was starving for you, and the groan he let out as his tongue moved against yours left every nerve ending in your body ablaze with burning pleasure. He tasted you again and again until both of you were breathless and your head was spinning.

"I'm sorry," he apologises between kisses, murmuring it against your lips, "before this, before us, you were happy with Ty, but I was a selfish bastard and I tried to have something that wasn't mine. I ruined your chance at true happiness, so I understand if you can't forgive me." His hand that had been fisted in your hair lowered to your face, cradling your cheek, as he brushed the tip of his nose against yours. He wanted to remember this moment, in case it was his last. "I just need you to know that I am sorry for every bit of pain that I have caused you."

"You're right," you hum, looping your arms around his neck, "in the beginning, I was happy, but I was just...happy enough." He makes a humming sound as you massage your fingers against the base of his neck. You study the flecks of amber in his eyes, picturing a version of your life where you could wake up to them every morning, whispering, "but I was always at my happiest when I was with you."

"Me?"

You let out a surprised laugh and step further into his space. His mouth is so close to yours, only inches away, and with one finger, you trace it along his bottom lip. His eyes fall shut at your touch and you listen to the hum he makes with a small smile. Tonight you had gotten to see a whole new side to him, one that was softer and not afraid to be vulnerable with his feelings. A side to him you had only ever dreamt about.

"Do you really love me?" You ask, with your lips hovering below his.

"Yes," he answers, hooking his fingers under your chin, pulling your mouth against his, and kissing you soft and slow. He smiles against you as he runs his hand down the front of your body, his fingers brushing gently over your breast. "Why don't you let me show you how much I love you?" He talks against your mouth, pressing his hand firmly against your body, caressing you through your top. His lips trail open-mouthed kisses along your neck, following the path he had created earlier.

You press your hand against his shoulder and push him away. "Not tonight," you tell him, seeing the worry in his eyes, "I believe, even if I shouldn't." Removing his hand from your chest, you bring the inside of his wrist against your lips. The soft kiss against his skin makes his heart stutter. "But I don't want us to have sex tonight."

"No sex, okay," he nods, pecking your lips, "then what do you want?"

"I want room service, one of those crappy romantic comedies you like," you giggle as he mumbles under his breath about them not being 'crappy,' "and to fall asleep with my head on your chest, if that's okay with you?"

He cradles your face and brushes his thumb along your cheek. "And then tomorrow we're going to Italy."

"Italy?"

"Yes," he hums, skimming his thumb along your smile, "you said you wanted to run away, so let's do it together." He brings you closer and whispers, "I love you," before kissing you.

———————

Taglist: @shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens  @ofxinnocence @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @greykitkepa @thoseboysinblue @kickinganddriving @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @chelseagirl98 @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @masonspulisic

[wheredidalltheusersgo]

Total Drama Future AU design number 10!

Cody is 38 in this AU

While he never got his growth spurt, he made up for it by gaining as much charisma and charm as he could!

He was ecstatic when he found out that Alejandro had mutual feelings for him, so he vowed to be the best boyfriend Alejandro would ever have. It was also an excellent chance to get away from his parents.

He refused to invite them to the wedding, and they weren't allowed to see Axel when she was born.

He absolutely BAWLED when he watched Alejandro walk down the aisle, it was the best day of his life and the best part of the wedding. (aside from the Vows, the kiss, and the cake)

While he and Alejandro have had their ups and downs, their love towers above all of that.

Cody loves their daughter dearly, but he misses when she was shorter than him. In return, Axel loves her dorky dad.

He's always happy to do activities with Alejandro, and he loves going places with his family.

Cody is a part-time stand-up comedian when he's not working with the Drama Brothers.

José and Alejandro's father weren't too fond of Cody, since they had higher expectations for Alejandro, but Cody eventually realized that he really didn't give a damn if those two disliked him.

However, Cody is on good terms with Alejandro's mother.

[believesthings]

The sweetest words // Jason sudeikis x F!reader

A/N: AHHH. It’s finally here. Later than I expected, but it’s here nonetheless. Is this fic basically just an excuse for me to write a giant love letter to Jason sudeikis? Yes. But I hope you love it even if it is probably the cheesiest thing I’ve ever created.

Jason strides to be a pretty private person. Especially considering what he’s been through the last couple years with the media and his previous relationship. So when he settles into a relationship with you, a person who isn’t famous, he’s extra cautious.

You’ve never been a big fan of being the center of attention, so you’re a little nervous about a wedding and the idea of everyone staring at you. Jason has made it clear to you time and time again that you don’t have to have a wedding if you aren’t comfortable with it.

“Baby, the number one priority for me is that when this is all said and done, I get to call you my wife. As long as that’s the endgame, the journey to get there doesn’t matter.”

You hear him, you do. And you know he means it but you don’t like the idea of giving up the wedding entirely just because of nerves and sweet little daisy is so excited about her daddy marrying you. One day, in the early stages of wedding planning, she saw you looking at wedding dresses online and she immediately wanted to help. Jason walked in to find the two of you huddled over your laptop screen whispering furiously back and forth between each other.

“Whatcha doing?” Your head snapped up, both of you were so lost in your own world, you didn’t even hear him come in.

“Looking at wedding dresses!” Daisy declares proudly.

Jason can’t help but smile at his daughter’s obvious enthusiasm. He’s beyond thrilled that his kids have accepted you into their lives. He loves that Otis and daisy love you just as much as he does. It only confirms for him that he’s making the right call in marrying you.

“Oh yeah? Is that right? Maybe I need to take a look too.” He’s quick but his daughter is quicker.

“No! Dad you’re not supposed to see the dress.” She slamming your laptop closed before he can blink. “She’s gonna look like a princess!”

“Oh Dais, come on. She looks like a princess every day.” He leans down and drops a kiss on your forehead.

You and Jason eventually reach an agreement when it comes to the wedding, you assure him that you’re fine having a ceremony but the only thing you’re truly concerned about are the vows. You love the idea of writing your own vows to express your love for Jason but you and public speaking had never been the best combination. So you both agree: there will be a ceremony during which you will recite the typical ‘til death do us part’ vows. Then, afterwards, in the privacy of your own space, you’ll share your personal written vows with each other.

You were worried jason wouldn’t like the idea or would think you were being ridiculous but he (thankfully) seemed to agree that it was a wonderful plan. He didn’t want everyone to be privy to your business. You could have the wedding, the outlets would get their headline, but the personal aspects of it, the true feelings of your marriage, would stay where they belong: between husband and wife and - most importantly, no one would get to comment on it.

As it turns out, the ceremony is actually pretty easy considering that it’s a pretty private affair. A room of your closest friends and family, people that both you and Jason have learned to become incredibly comfortable around over the years.

Between all the congratulations and the hugging, you manage to slip out to the restroom for a breather.

“Hey there. Everything okay?”

You turn and there he is, your gorgeous husband, standing in the doorway, looking gorgeous as ever.

You let out an exaggerated gasp and place your hand on your chest, “Well as I live and breathe, famous comedian and actor Jason sudeikis! Whatever are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes playfully at you, “well believe it or not I’m actually here getting married.” He holds up his hand and wiggles his ring ringer at you.

You hold up your hand, doing the same. “What a coincidence, so am I. So, tell me about your wife. She anything special?”

“Ehh, too soon to tell. What about your husband? he any good?”

“He’s alright. But there’s always room for improvement.”

His hands find their way to your hips while his lips start kissing your neck. “Well, it sounds like he should get to work then. Practice makes perfect, you know.”

He felt impossibly good. He always did and even after all your time with him, you’re not sure how he managed to do it.

“Jase.” You manage to get out, rather breathlessly.

“Mhmm?” He hums against your skin.

You manage to pull yourself from him. “Jason, we need to get back. Once people start to notice that we’re both gone, they’ll think we’re having sex.”

“Oh, great idea. Let’s do that.”

“Jason!” You gasp at him.

“What? We might as well do it since everyone thinks we’re doing it anyway.”

“As tempting as you are, husband of mine. We really shouldn’t keep everyone waiting.” You kiss him softly one last time and murmur against his lips, “I promise later, you can have me for as long as you want in as many ways as you wish.”

He fumbles for his phone retrieving it from his pocket, you watch him, biting his lip and opening his voice memos app, “if it pleases the court, could you just repeat that last sentence for me one more time, right here into the mic?”

You roll your eyes and grab his hand. “Come on, dork. We have a wedding to get back to.”

You can confidently say that you don’t understand the idea of sex on your wedding night. You’re fucking exhausted. Jason is insistent on doing the typical carrying you bridal style move, so you’ve taken to pressing soft kisses against his neck as he moves you into the bedroom.

“Jase?”

“Yeah baby?”

“I know I promised incredible sex - and I do intend to have incredible, mind blowing, married sex with you but do you think we could take a nap first?”

He halts his movements and stares down directly at you. You both stay like that, eyes searching one another, until he finally breaks the spell.

“I would love nothing more, you have no idea.” He smiles down at you, laying you down on the bed. Standing above you, he carefully removes his clothing. You’ve always been amazed at how attractive Jason truly is. He seems to brush you off when you mention it. You have to assume that he’s just being humble, there’s no way he doesn’t know. He has a tendancy to deflect with jokes or trying to shine the attention on others instead of sitting in praise for himself. It was one of the things that became apparent to you in your first year together.

“Who the hell is responsible for making these decisions anyway?”

Jason smirks and looks over at you, “Some overpaid executive, I’m sure.”

“Well, this entire thing is a scam. I can’t believe more people aren’t talking about it.”

Jason stops what he’s doing. His hands hovering in mid air, before he begins laughing. “You think the People magazine sexiest man alive campaign is a scam?”

You wave your hands aggressively at the TV screen. “No. I don’t think the sexiest man alive campaign is a scam. I know the sexiest man alive campaign is a scam.”

Jason looks at you, awestruck. “Explain.”

You look between him and the TV before finally speaking, “I know it’s a scam because you’ve never won.”

Jason looks down at his fidgeting fingers but you can see the light blush lingering under the living room lighting. “Well that’s sweet of you to say but I mean, come on, I can’t compete with that.” He gestures to the magazine cover on the screen, featuring an A-List actor leaning against the wall of some fancy L.A. mansion, the outline of a six pack peeking through a particularly tight v-neck shirt. It’s a conveniently nice image, sure. And while Jason may think you’re trying to appease him, it’s an image that really doesn’t do anything for you. It’s too airbrushed, too sculpted, too everything but what you need.

You glance over at jason, studying him in profile. His greying temples that you can’t help but find incredibly sexy, facial hair that tickles when he kisses you, chest hair peaking out of the buttons of his own shirt that gets you heated unlike anything else. Shoulders that he seems to carry the weight of the world on some days. Arms that simultaneously carry strength and solace. Strength that can lift his children up when he plays with them on a Sunday afternoon, solace that can tuck you into his embrace when the cold is just a little too bitter. Strength that can carry your fears and insecurities and solace that can make them come undone when he gets you alone.

You turn back to the television, missing the smile on his face, when you say, “you could compete with that Jason and if it were up to anyone with taste, you would win.”

Jason hovers his face over yours. “Penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Sudeikis?”

You smile up at him and lean up to give him a kiss. “Just thinking about how handsome you are, Mr. Sudeikis.”

He kisses you lightly before tucking you into his chest. “Come on, let’s get some sleep.”

You really were tired, your eyes drooping closed once you settled you were settled. “Goodnight husband.” Dropping another light kiss to his chest before sleep took you.

“Goodnight wife.” He whispers back before falling into a slumber of his own.

You were awoken with kisses to your shoulder blade. “Hey there, gorgeous.”

“Hi.”

“Did you sleep well?”

You nod your head dramatically at him. “Yes. Married sleep is definitely better than normal sleep.”

“So..” he leans over and opens the bedside cabinet drawer, pulling out a folded up piece of paper. “I think it’s vow time. What do you say?”

“Okay.”

You both get settled on the bed, sitting across from one another. Jason speaks up, “ladies first.”

Writing your vows for Jason was probably one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. How do you find the words to incapsulate all your feelings that you hold for him? You stressed for weeks about making them perfect and funnily enough, Otis was the one person that was able to talk some sense into you about the whole thing.

“Why should it matter if you say everything? You can just tell him the other stuff later.” He said to you one day at the kitchen counter.

And really, he did have a point. That’s what a marriage was, right? It was forever. You had your whole life to tell Jason how you felt. At the end of the day, these vows and the paper they were written on were just the beginning. You had a lifetime to fit in everything else.

Still, Jason knew you better than anyone else and he seemed to sense the nerves brimming under the surface.

“Hey, it’s just you and me, yeah? No need to be scared.” He lifts your hand to his lips and presses a kiss to your wrist.

“Yeah. Okay.” You unfold the paper in your lap and clear your throat, read aloud.

“When I was a kid and all my friends were talking about getting married, they always seemed to focus on the wedding part. Talking about dresses and flowers but that part never appealed the me as much. I was much more concerned with my name. When I would develop a crush on a new guy I would roll this last name around in my head and try to decide if I thought it was a good fit. Whenever I told this to my friends they didn’t seem to understand why it mattered so much to me. They always told me that I didn’t actually have to change my last name if it bothered me so much. Obviously, I knew that but I wanted to. I like the idea of taking the last name of my love. It seemed symbolic to me. It was a way to say that we’re a team, I know I always have you in my corner and we can tackle all of life’s challenges together. I had very particular criteria for acceptable last names, I didn’t want anything too funny or clunky, nothing that rhymed too close to my own name. By the time I had reached high school I had developed a list of names that were tolerable, that was admittedly embarrassingly short.”

“I was venting out all of this to my father one day - and at the end of my speech about marriages and last names, he didn’t say anything for a while. I thought he wasn’t going to speak at all. Until finally, he said ‘I see where you’re coming from, I do. But I think you’ll find when you’re in love - truly, decidedly in love, that the name won’t matter to you.’ I don’t think I quite understood what he meant at the time but now, on the other side of it all, he was right. I’m happy to be Mrs. Sudeikis. I’m proud to be Mrs. Sudeikis.

You are the love of my life. You’re my favorite person in the room no matter where we go. I love you. I get to love you. For life. And it’s the best thing I’ll ever do. There is nothing that is more important to me than your love and your time. The way you’ve loved me has changed me. I’ll spend the rest of my life proud to share your name. A marriage is as strong as you make it and I think, the two of us, are going to make a pretty everlasting one.”

He leans in and kisses you. When you open your eyes, you can see his teary eyed ones gazing back at you before he clears his throat. “Damn. I’m starting to think I may have underdelivered.” He says waving his own hand written vows in the air between you.

You roll your eyes at him. “Oh please. You’re the award winning writer, not me. But if it helps, your son actually gave me some pretty excellent advice.”

“Really? What would that be?”

While repeating his son’s words back to him, Jason can’t help but laugh. “Smart kid. Still have no idea where the hell he gets it from.”

He unfolds his own paper and you take his hand and press a kiss to his wrist. “Okay. You ready?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“In the interest of full disclosure, I was having a terrible day when I met you. I was in the middle of a huge project that I had taken on completely on my own. My mind was locked into a work fueled tunnel vision thinking about the million little tasks that needed to be completed that rested on my shoulders if they wanted to get done. I’ve grown really bad about this, often neglecting myself in the process and, I fear, extending that neglect out to the people who love me.”

“My children have always been the best judge of character and they seemed to know that I loved you even before I did. One time a woman had asked them what my type was and they screamed out your name, telling her if it wasn’t you, I wasn’t interested. I don’t think she knew what to do with that and honestly, at the time, I didn’t either. But looking back on it, they were right. I just didn’t know it yet.”

“It’s almost like a magic trick to me, how you can fight to guide me through those tunnels when I bury myself deep within them. Just like my children did, you seem to know what I need before I do. Whether it be sitting me in conversation and understanding when I need it or silence when I don’t. I don’t think I thank you enough for that. It’s not lost on me that being able to do that and make it seem so effortless takes a certain level of kindness and patience, which never seems to be in short supply with you. You hold my heart in your hands and you treat it with a compassion that I’m not always sure I deserve but yet, you offer it so openly anyway.”

“Every room you’re in, it’s like the sun comes out. Whether you’re tucked away in the corner or whether we’re skin to skin. There’s a light, a comfort and ease that occupies the space between. So much of my time feels like a performance. The actor, the writer, the funny guy. And even when I’m not working, I’m usually in dad mode. I’m always something to somebody every hour of the day. But with you, I just get to be Jason. And to be perfectly honest with you, baby, that was something I thought I lost a long time ago.

“It’s a reminder that I have to give myself. That the only things that really matter are me and the people I love. As long as I have those people that continually are willing to show me how much they care, happiness will find it’s way into my life and it will be comfortable, just the way it should be. I feel loved and because of that I feel peace and through that peace, I feel hope. A hope that I haven’t had in a long time. A hope that you, through your care for me, put back into my life. I probably can’t promise you much. But I know that I’m so grateful for the love that you have for me and for my children. And I want to spend every day, sharing that hope you’ve given me, so that you can feel the same peace in your life that you’ve placed into mine. I love you and I want you to be happy and through this marriage, I want to make sure you feel that everyday.”

Before he can fully fold his paper back up, you’re kissing him. You pull apart briefly to say, “if that was you underdelivering, i don’t think my heart could handle you when you’re really putting in an effort.”

You sit in silence for a while, taking each other in before Jason breaks the silence. “So… about this incredible, mind blowing, married sex that I was promised.”

You feign innocence. “Did I promise that? I don’t remember.”

He pulls you down onto the mattress, hovering over you. “See, I knew I should have gotten you to repeat it into the mic.”

[shaadiwish]

Check Out These Pictures From Actress Maanvi Gagroo & Stand-Up Comedian Kumar Varun’s Wedding. For More Such Trends And Ideas, Stay Tuned With ShaadiWish.

[creepy-spooghetti]

Potential Alternative Careers

Brian: Nature documentary producer / Elementary teacher / Marine biologist

Tim: Writer / Psychologist / Guitarist

Jeff: Veterinarian / Combat trainer / Hockey player

Liu: Pianist / Ornithologist / Wedding planner

Helen: Painter / Basket weaver / Cake decorator

Jack: Astrologer / Pediatric oncologist / School counselor

Kagekao: Illusionist / Photographer / Gymnast

Ben: Animator / Professional gamer / Dog groomer

Cody: Singer / Graphic designer / Nurse

Jonathan: Sports commentator / Actor / Dentist

Jane: Fashion designer / Nanny / Chef

Jason: Toy maker / Model / Hair stylist

Zero: Park ranger / Police officer / Forensic pathologist

Natalie: Stand-up comedian / Paleontologist / Safari guide

Toby: CPS worker / Astronaut / Firefighter

Sally: Ice skater / Baker / Newscaster

[theresawritesstuff]

Prompt: The one and only time their kids do stand up is for Lenny and Midges 20th wedding anniversary in 1982.

So...this clocked in at around 5k words. I had fun 😅 Written as something that could be compliant with Guess Who's Coming to Yom Kippur but not necessary to have read the fic.

Enjoy! (It's long. Seriously. You've been warned)

"You both comfy? Having a good time?" Susie tutted uncharacteristicly.

"We're great, Susie," Lenny assured her, his arm draped contentedly across the back of Midge's chair.

"Everything is perfect," Midge agreed.

Susie nodded. "Okay good. Now do me a favor and sit tight. You aren't going to want to miss this."

"Miss what?"

Midge looked up curiously as the jazzy baseline of a familiar song began to play, announcing her youngest daughter's ascent to the stage she'd been told just happened to come with the venue. 

A hush fell over the room as the teenager cleared her throat, taking her place at the microphone. 

"You might be wondering…" she drawled with a mischievous smirk. "Who throws their parents an anniversary party then gets up on stage to make fun of them? I mean, who does that?

"Who stands in the middle of a ballroom in front of friends, family, colleagues, caterers, social acquaintances we've never heard of but Mama insisted should be invited–You know who you are–and decides to do a mediocre version of what they're known best for world wide? Who does that?"

She shrugged playfully to the crowd of guests.

"Apparently we do."

She smiled as a ripple of chuckles made its way through the room.

"Did you know about this?" Midge whispered to Lenny.

Her husband shook his head, watching their daughter work the room.

"Good evening everyone. I'm Lilah Weissman-Bruce and my siblings and I, with some assistance from Susie Meyerson and Associates, are your hosts and entertainment for the evening.

"Tonight, as you know, we are gathered to celebrate the twentieth wedding anniversary of Miriam Weissman-Bruce, AKA Mrs. Maisel to the comedy world, and her forever lover Lenny. Her words, not mine. Blechhh!"

Lilah mimed gagging over the phrase briefly before winking at her parents, subtly gauging their reactions.

"But seriously folks. My parents are so in love with each other even after all these years. And I can tell you first hand…It's as adorable as it is nauseating."

Susie barked a laugh in agreement while Midge shook her head, smiling proudly.

"I'm not saying they can't keep their hands to themselves but fair warning Mama is three–three?" She looked to her mother for confirmation on the number, then kept going, "Three glasses of champagne into the evening and just got back from a week of shows on the west coast so, you know, make sure to knock before you get your coat from coat check. Or use the bathroom. Or refresh some of the hors d'oeuvres in the walk-in fridge and I'm giving them ideas…"

The laughs grew at her daughter's deadpanned horrified realization. "Great…"

Lenny smirked, pressing a kiss to his wife's cheek.

"Please don't get randy in the walk-in. Please," Lilah begged, earning another laugh.

She took the mic from the stand so that she could move about the performance space a bit more, grinning to the crowd.

"Like I said, for those who don't know me, I'm Lilah Weissman-Bruce. Those of you that do know me probably know me as Birdie or better yet, the answer to the question 'what would happen if we left Lenny and Midge alone together for a weekend?'"

She held up an arm, waving in a jazz hand fashion.

"Ta-da! Mystery solved!"

She smiled to herself, taking in the laughs.

"Yes, I am the youngest of the Maisel-Weissman-Bruce horde. The progeny of not just one but two stand up comedians. Please take a moment to marvel at how mentally stable I am."

She held for applause, waving it off in mock modesty after a moment of reveling. "Thank you! I'm stunned too."

She shook her head, slowly pacing the stage. "In all fairness, Mama and Dad have always been very conscious about how their careers impact our family and made sure we knew growing up that we could choose whatever career paths we wanted. Just as long as it wasn't comedy."

The friends they'd made in show business over the years laughed especially hard at that punchline.

Lilah waved a playful finger. "That didn't stop other people from suggesting it though! I think I was about two or three years old the first time I remember visiting Mama on set and having a sound tech hand me a microphone out of the morbid curiosity to see what I would say.

"It was one of those big ones with the foam cover on top like the most perfect scoop of ice cream. You know the ones…"

She turned thoughtfully to the microphone currently in her grasp.

"I remember looking at it. Holding it in my hands. Feeling the weight of it. Contemplating the gift I'd been given…

"And then I put it right in my mouth."

She mimicked taking a big bite of the microphone in her hand, earning a guffaw from Ethan near the dj station.

"It did not taste like ice cream!" she informed them. "Anytime anyone came within ten feet of me with a microphone after that I just screamed NO THANK YOU and ran."

She shot out her arm to illustrate the memory, grinning at her own joke.

She let out a sigh, shrugging. "So the fact that I'm holding this now should tell you what a rare treat this is. We've managed to avoid doing any sort of stand up over the years, my siblings and I. No school talent shows, no anonymous open mic nights, no multi generational acts for fundraisers. Nothing! 

"But then this party started to come together and we started talking about ways we could make it extra special and we realized…these two are really hard to shop for. Like really hard to shop for.

"So then we decided, what the hell, just this once. For Mama and Dad. And all the people that have pestered us to do this since we were kinder…And only because Billy Joel was on tour when we called to try to book him for tonight. Man that would have been something, wouldn't it?"

She considered the microphone in her hands again.

"Although now that I've gotten over this not being ice cream, this isn't so bad…"

She smirked teasingly at her parents, breaking a little.

"No, no, I'm kidding. Promise! None of us kids are quitting our day jobs," she assured them. 

For the rest of those gathered, she added,"Granted, I just wrapped up my senior year of high school, so I'd need to get a day job first, but if I had one I would not quit it to be a stand up comedian."

Lilah leaned an arm on the mic stand to confide in her captive audience for her next bit, waiting out the laugh.

"You know, people always have asked me 'So what do you want to be when you grow up?' Weird question, honestly. What do you want to be?

"When I was really little I told everyone I wanted to be a unicorn. 

"Then as I got a little older, a little wiser, a little more understanding of how the world works I realized what a great opportunity I had…" she grinned wickedly to the crowd, "to utterly mess with people. So I started telling folks that I wanted to be a proctologist."

Lenny let out a sharp laugh, having forgotten that particular antic of years gone by until that moment. It was one she'd mainly saved for Midge's colleagues over his own.

"No one expected that from the cute little seven year old hanging out in mommy's make up chair! I always loved when I could get an old guy to ask me too. I'd be laughing for days from the looks on their faces. Weeks if they asked me when Susie was in the room!"

"You and me both, kid," Susie muttered proudly into her drink.

Lilah let out a contented sigh, growing more serious.

"I'm starting college soon though so I've had to give my career options some real serious consideration…And you know? I think I've finally decided."

She paused, drawing up the suspense.

"I think I'm gonna go with being a unicorn."

She grinned to herself, giving a little bow as the laughter erupted around her.

"Thank you so much. Now give it up for the real future Doctor Weissman-Bruce. My sister Esther!"

The applause swelled as the sisters exchanged a hug and passed off the microphone for the next set.

Esther looked around the room, exhaling her nerves. "Hi," she chuckled, shaking her head at her little sister. "Hi, I'm Esther."

Her siblings let out a loud whoop from the side of the room along with the applause of their guests.

"Thanks," she smiled, checking the note card in her hand.

"Um… You know…It's a funny thing growing up having everyone think your parents are super cool. Because they're really not.

"I mean, okay, they are," she conceded, "but also they're not.

"To everyone else out there, they're the Marvelous Mrs Maisel and the Legendary Lenny Bruce. To me, they're just my dorky parents."

She fought back a smirk at the rumble of laughter, starting to get more comfortable on stage.

"I remember when I was really little, before these two even got married, I was out somewhere with Mama, probably shopping, and this woman, this fan, came up to us for an autograph.

'Mrs Maisel! Mrs Maisel!'

"And I remember I just looked up at her like she was crazy and said 'She's Miriam Weissman now' and kept walking."

Her smile grew as she picked her mother's laugh out of the crowd.

"I didn't know what a stage name was. But I sure as hell knew Mama had changed her name back after the divorce and no one was going to undermine that on my watch."

She waved a dismissive hand at the laughs, segueing.

"But no, weird fan encounters aside, I think these two love birds did a good job raising us, giving us a semi-normal childhood. Or at least as close to normal as this family can really get.

"It was more perplexing than anything else really. The fan stuff.

"Friends would always be so starstruck by people that I knew as my parents lame work friends. Sorry to those of you that applies to. I'm sure you were very hip," she apologized, getting another laugh.

"But seriously! Think about when you were a kid and your parents got together with their friends and every adult would just awkwardly start their conversation with you with 'Wow you've gotten taller since I last saw you. How old are you now?' while trying to mask their horror as they come face to face with the passage of time and the fact that they too are growing older…"

She paused, letting the melodramatics sit for a moment.

"Now add in more gin and talks about contract negotiations and you've got every barbecue that Mike Carr has ever hosted."

Mike slapped the table, shaking his head fondly at the call out while those that knew him laughed along.

"See? Now we're on the same page," Esther beamed. "And don't get me wrong, these two are very funny individuals. I get that. But they're still my parents. Do you laugh at everything your parents say? No! Because we're not supposed to! The parent child dichotomy negates so much of what other people find hilarious.

She flipped the card in her hand, continuing.

"Everyone always assumes that every family dinner is this big laugh fest.

"And yeah sure, we joke around when we're together but it wasn't like there was a tight ten happening every night over the brisket. We still had a 'no dick jokes at the table' rule growing up. Although I guess that rule isn't usually for the parents but other than that they're surprisingly normal, I swear!"

She smiled at the uproar of laughter, deciding to pocket the cards.

"Yes, they are famously filthy comics, professionally. But our home life was it's own weird brand of wholesome. Dad still tried to help us with our homework and took us out for ice cream when we had a bad day. Mama still threw us birthday parties and did the mandatory PTA carnivals and took us shopping for school clothes.

"Speaking of which, can I have a brief moment of sympathy for my teenage self for having to go up against Mrs Maisel in arguments about what was cool in the world of fashion? I mean come on!!! The woman is so well known for her sense of style that before any of us borrow something from her closet we need to check to make sure the Smithsonian hasn't already called dibs on it."

Lenny gave Midge's shoulder an affectionate squeeze, chuckling softly.

"We've come to understand one another a little better on that front now that I'm an adult but as a kid it was like oil and water. She would always try to find us these ritzy designer clothes and I just wanted the bargain bin tie dye and the cheap earrings from the school craft show!"

Esther looked over to see her mother wincing at the memory as she laughed along with everyone.

"I know! It's amazing we both survived," she smirked. "Poor Dad had to referee so many arguments he had no strong opinions on either side of at all. And that's an achievement in and of itself really. Finding something Lenny Bruce is the neutral party on.

"Politics? Nope. Literature? No chance. Should people be allowed to put ketchup on a hotdog? You'll be hearing about it for at least half an hour! But put him in the war zone of a Weissman fashion smackdown? He's suddenly the calmest, quietest mediator there is. If wars were fought over the pros and cons of pattern mixing, we could send that man in and have world peace within the week! He certainly saved our household from going ballistic multiple times between 1970 and 1975.

"Forget all his humanitarian work, that alone should win him the Nobel Peace Prize!"

Midge reached over to pat his knee and whisper a silent Thank you, resting her head against his shoulder.

Esther continued, once the laughs and applause died down. "Tensions over my teenage fashion foibles aside, it actually has been really incredible being able to call these two my parents. They helped me believe I could achieve anything I set my mind to, with enough persistence of character. They showed me what it means to stand up for what's right, even when everyone else is sitting down. They taught me how to laugh when things don't go to plan.

"And most importantly, they taught me that love, that family will see you through any season of hardship or heartbreak... Even if you still insist on wearing the craft show earrings."

Midge shook her head, meeting her daughter's eyes across the room with love.

Esther returned the gaze in kind, placing a hand gratefully over her heart.

"Alright, Ethan, it's your turn. Get on up here and get it over with. You can finish your cake later! There's like five of them."

She smirked to herself as her brother meandered up from the dj station, swiping the plate of cake from his hand.

Ethan sighed dramatically as he took the stage, adjusting the mic stand height to his level.

"Hi. I'm Ethan. Most of you probably knew that," he began, getting his bearings. "Being the oldest, I actually remember a little bit of what it was like back when these two were first dating. Back when we still lived with my grandparents.

"I remember the day I met Lenny. It was notable even back then because Mama never brought any of her prior romantic prospects into our lives. Never invited any dates for a family dinner. Wouldn't even talk about them in front of us really. But Lenny was different.

"I remember I was nose deep in an issue of Detective Comics and Grandma Rose came over and said 'Ethan, say hello to your mother's friend Mr. Bruce'..."

Lenny covered a smirk, knowing full well where his son was going with this.

"I looked up. Saw this tall, strong jawed, dark haired fellow in a dark suit. 

"I looked back at my comic book. Back up at Mr. Bruce…

"And thought 'Holy shit! My mom is dating Batman!'"

Ethan smiled to himself, listening to the distinct laughs of those who knew the story and those who did not.

"They tried to deny it, but the more I learned about the guy, the more I was convinced this man was the caped crusader.

"No, seriously! Stay with me on this. He only worked at night," Ethan said, counting the list of evidence on his fingers. "He always wore black suits. Sometimes he had those dark circles like he'd been up all night, fighting for truth and justice.

"I actually caught him on our fire escape one morning changing his clothes. Clearly solid proof–I could only assume he'd already stashed his costume. Heroes do that sort of thing, you know. Totally plausible. No other reason he would have been out there, just outside Mama's room at seven AM. Clearly this was the crime fighter I'd been reading about."

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Oh to be five again…

Lenny covered his face with his hand, fighting back a laugh, shrugging sheepishly.

"Then there was the whole name thing! Mr. Bruce. Master Bruce. Grandpa Abe had told me about how sometimes they change people's names in the media to protect someone's identity. Their secret identity. I had a solid case!

"Mom's new boyfriend is Batman. Sweet. Can't wait to tell my friends.

"But then I started wondering… Is my mother a former supervillain? 

"I mean, Batman is always going up against folks like the Joker, the Riddler… Mama goes out late all the time, doesn't talk about what she's doing and people keep calling her the Comedienne. 

"Plus! I overheard my grandparents saying Mama got arrested again.

"My mother. Arrested. For crime!

"It was a distressing revelation. But then I remembered…Batman doesn't hang out with Bad Guys. Clearly the power of love had brought my mother back to the light. She couldn't be a villain. Not anymore at least. And that was good enough for me. If she hit up a bank or two and got away with it, yeah, okay, I can get over that. More toys for us and maybe she might stop yelling at the milkman.

"And if she wasn't a supervillain…that meant she must be Robin!

"I still don't know where they hid the batmobile but I'm gonna find it one of these days. There's only so many places you can park a car in Manhattan."

He cleared his throat, looking at his feet as he gathered his thoughts.

"I know now that back then a lot of people didn't see Lenny quite so heroically. But I always have. In more than just the way that most kids see their dads as heroes. Because he really was out there standing up for truth. For justice. Not in the nice, tidy, easily palatable way everyone liked to read about in the newsprints, but out of a genuine, heroic belief that we could do better as a nation. As individuals.

"And even more importantly to me, he made Mom smile again. Really smile after God knows how long. Nothing could be more heroic than that."

Midge reached over, taking Lenny's hand.

"I think these two have saved each other quite a bit over the years they've been together. They're the real dynamic duo, if you ask me. And I couldn't be prouder to call them my parents.

"Happy Anniversary you two."

He took a deep breath as applause filled the room, working through the swell of emotions in his chest.

"Okay! I'm gonna go circle the block one more time just to make sure today wasn't the day they brought the batmobile out of storage. In the meantime, give it up for my sister Kitty!

Kitty took the stage, patting Ethan on the shoulder as she passed him on the steps.

"Fuck, Ethan, you weren't supposed to make us cry. Jesus…" she admonished, wiping at her eyes. "That was my plan!"

She grinned at the chuckle from the equally emotional crowd.

"Hi, I'm Kitty. I'm the closer for the evening. Hey let's give these two another hand, am I right? Twenty years!"

She shook her head, exhaling as she collected herself, moving the mic stand back down.

"I remember when Dad first told my grandma that he was moving back to New York with me, she thought he was nuts. 

"He hadn't really done the whole single dad thing on his own before. The obscenity laws were still their own levels of obscene. The lawyers didn't come cheap. He was still in his first year of getting clean. It meant moving me across the country, building a whole new life.

"It was a lot.

"But I was all in on the idea. I couldn't wait. I was so ready to be a Weissman! 

"He hadn't even proposed yet but I knew he was going to. I just knew it. And not just because I really, really, really wanted him to so I could play dress up in Mom's closet anytime I wanted. Back before we had to fight the Smithsonian for some of the good stuff."

She winked at her parents, fiddling with the mic chord.

"No…You could tell just looking at the two of them that they were meant to be together. Or at least I could.

"I remember it was like this light had turned on inside them anytime they got together. They just radiated this…magic. They still do. I hope that makes sense. I've never been fully able to put it into words…Which is why I brought slides!"

Those that knew her as the family shutterbug murmured a mix of chuckles and good natured groans.

"Oh come on now! You're gonna love this," Kitty teased.

She pulled up the first slide, a snapshot of a much younger version of her parents in a midtown club, chatting over drinks, the energy between them clearly flirtatious.

"I did a little digging for this set," she admitted. "Being that this is an anniversary party, it felt appropriate to build a sort of visual history of their love story. So let's start here. In 1959. 

"I found this in a collection by an old club photographer who worked at one of the spots Dad had played around that time. Now I think we can all agree these two look pretty smitten."

She held up a finger, grinning in amusement. "One small hiccup though…"

Midge ducked her head while Lenny smirked impishly, recognizing the night it was from.

"Dad was not Mom's date that particular evening in 1959. He was the entertainment."

She clicked to the next slide, revealing a shot of her father performing on stage with Midge visible in the audience, watching enraptured.

"This handsome stretch next to her, however, was her date. Poor guy…I grilled Susie for the details because I was desperately curious. She said this guy was a doctor! Like top of his field, owns a brownstone and a Picasso kind of doctor. Not bad, Mom.

"Didn't stand a chance though, did he? Not with Lenny 'steal your girl' Bruce smoldering at her from behind the microphone."

She clicked back to the previous slide. "I mean look at this! You knew she was on a date, mister! Shameless."

She tutted in faux exasperation, rolling her eyes. 

"Like I said. Meant to be together. It's pretty obvious looking back, isn't it?

"And it wasn't just Mom looking for a better date."

She clicked a few slides forward, revealing another club shot, this time of Midge and Susie looking positively miserable.

"I'm pretty sure this was New Year's, 1961. Rough night, from the looks of it."

She clicked to the next slide, a snapshot from the same night, possibly taken only minutes after, with Midge smiling brightly in Lenny's embrace.

"That is until Dad pulled a sneak attack and surprised her by flying back early. See what I mean? Magic! Look at those faces!"

"We were pretty cute," Lenny murmured.

"Were?" his wife teased, earning a smirk.

Kitty leaned on the mic stand, addressing the room.

"I gotta tell you, I owe some of you here the nicest gift baskets for capturing these next moments way back when and for sharing these with me over the last few months on the sly. But until I get around to it…"

She clicked to the next slide, revealing a shot of the pair lounging, mid conversation on the stage of an empty Carnegie Hall.

"After Dad's famous midnight show at Carnegie, graciously provided by Alan! Not much of a runner but he was quick with a shutter. I'd say the bail money was worth it."

Lenny barked a laugh at one of his oldest friend's expense.

Kitty grinned cheekily at her adoptive uncle in the crowd, moving on.

"Skating outside 30 Rock. Ethan, Esther, and I were there too. Also my first memory of snow! Thank you, Mike, for pulling this gem from the archives. 

"A quick aside, I believe that's Gordon drunk off his ass on the ice in the background there. Who let you out there without skates, man?"

She clicked to the next, an image of Midge and Lenny standing cozily together, hand in hand outside a familiar Chinese restaurant.

"We could never figure out why exactly they liked this place so much, but thank you Imogene for capturing their go to anniversary spot. Even when they definitely could afford somewhere more upscale."

She clicked over to a shot of Midge and Lenny laughing on the front steps of the Weissman family bungalow, eating ice cream straight out of a multi-gallon tub from the Steiner soda shoppe.

"Oh I love this one! Here's Mom and Dad on our first trip to the Catskills just before they got engaged. And right after they got temporarily banned from the soda shoppe."

"I thought we paid for that," Lenny wondered to Midge.

"We did eventually."

Kitty clicked to the next slide.

"Their first dance at their wedding. I don't have a joke for that one, I just like it."

The next image to come up behind her was one of a hospital room, her parents both asleep, Midge half upright with a newborn in her arms.

"Oh here's when Birdie was born! So in love," Kitty cooed. "And so so so tired."

She laughed to herself, glancing up at the picture before turning back to the crowd.

"For those of you who are curious, no Dad was not the one responsible for the nickname. That one we can blame on our brother. When Grandma brought us to visit Ethan heard her cry for the first time and thought there was a wild bird stuck in the hospital. So not Dad's fault.

"Although he picked it up and ran with it pretty quickly, come to think of it. Dad I gotta ask... Kitty, Birdie…Did you really just want a pet? Is that what it was?"

Lenny let out a laugh, shaking his head at the call out.

"No, we know you love us, we've established this," Kitty assured him quickly, "but come on man! If we'd had a little brother what would you have called him? Fish?"

Kitty smiled at her parents, enjoying herself as she clicked to the next image.

"Moving on to 1964 with possibly the most colorful ensemble Dad has ever worn in his life…" She revealed a shot of both parents in near screen ready duplicates of the Jolly Holiday ensembles from Mary Poppins, all four kids completing the look with matching penguin costumes.

"Our first group Halloween costumes as a family! He looks good right? The blue bowtie is my favorite, honestly. Dick what do you think? I think he looks great."

Kitty grinned at the memory.

"We got so much candy that year. Grandma Shirley made those penguin costumes for us and put pockets all along theinside so we could use those when our bags got too full. Genius really. Until they got too heavy and then we really did have to waddle home."

She let out a sigh, segueing.

"In addition to actively creating some of the more notable moments of our pop culture, these two have also been caught canoodling during some of the more significant moments in our nation's history over the past two decades."

She brought up an image of the pair in a lip lock backstage.

"Here they are making out backstage at Ed Sullivan while the Beatles made their US debut."

"They were playing our song." Midge shrugged unapologetically.

Kitty pulled up an image of another kiss, this one of her parents hanging out of the window of the Steiner bungalow, holding a pair of makeshift rabbit ears under a full moon.

"And during the Moon landing."

The next image contained a celebratory kiss over a newspaper headline.

"And when Nixon resigned," Kitty smirked.

She pulled up another slide, this one of the pair outside 30 Rock in the mid-seventies.

"Here they are outside after one of the first episodes at SNL. The night we met Gilda!"

She beamed, hand over her heart as she looked out at their friend in the crowd.

She pulled up the final slide, her father kissing Midge's hair as they watched proudly from the bleachers.

"And at Birdie's graduation just last month."

She grinned over at her little sister with a shrug. "That last one might not seem significant to the rest of America but to us, to Mom and Dad, it was a big moment. Their youngest child graduating. And soon… they will be empty nesters…How will they pass the time?"

She took a bow as their guests applauded, blowing a kiss to her parents.

"Thank you so much. Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed our act because we're never doing it again. Now let's eat the rest of that cake!"

[heeliopheelia]

― 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒

𝒉𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆:

‪‪♥︎ forgetting/losing the wedding ring (f)

‪♥︎‬ safe word (m)(f)

‪‪♥︎‬ hyung line as one night stands (m)

‪‪♥︎‬ fucking in public (m)

𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒍 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒍𝒗𝒅

Open me up, tell me you like it Fuck me to death, love me until I love myself There's a tunnel under Ocean Boulevard

𖹭 pairing: fuckboy! sunghoon x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: angst, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers au

Sunghoon looks at you, stunned. You can't really believe that, can you? Heart pounds in his chest and suddenly he feels the most distressed he's ever been in his entire life. He just doesn't know what to do.

"Are you really asking me that shit? You can't actually think that," he nearly scoffs, dying inside as he just realizes how terrible he is at expressing his feelings.

He hates himself for the pain he's causing you and in an attempt to fix that, he takes a step towards you. He's painfully humbled when you move backwards, avoiding his touch at all cost. Ignoring the hurt look on his face, you avert your gaze away from him.

"I do love you, YN."

Your blurry eyes scan the messy living room, desperately trying to focus on anything else before you start weeping like a goddamn child. Ironically, as your eyes land on the couch that the two of you have spent hours on last night, you feel the first tear drop down your cheek.

𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒅

The time is right, your perfume fills my head The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue And then I go and spoil it all By saying somethin' stupid like, "I love you"

𖹭 pairing: jake x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: fake dating au, best friends to lovers au, fluff, slight angst

"Please, please, don't slip up, Jaeyun," you nearly beg on your knees, earning an amused look from him. "If we fuck up now, it's over for me. I won't be able to show my face to my family in the nearest ten years in the future."

"So dramatic and for what!" He laughs and you shove him in the ribs. "Why are you doubting my acting skills? I've been pretending to like you for more than a decade. I should be getting an Oscar, on God."

You mockingly beam at his smiling face. "Ha, you're so funny! You should become a comedian instead."

"Yeah, maybe that's a good idea. With you as a friend I'd never run out of jokes material."

𝒖𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆

You glare at him one last time before putting on a fake smile and dragging him with you in the direction of the chattering voices.

Never before has someone been more Unforgettable in every way And forevermore, that's how you'll stay

𖹭 pairing: heeseung x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: friends to enemies to lovers au, barista au, angst, fluff

"I thought you wanted it this way," Heeseung says, eyebrows raised in confusion. He looks down at the mug in his hand then places it on the counter next to you.

"And where did you get that idea from?" You huff with annoyance but nonetheless pull the coffee closer. The very familiar scent flows into your nostrils almost immediately and you try your best not to show the excitement on your face.

"Well, that's how you liked it five years ago," he replies smoothly and quirks his eyebrow up. "Judging by your expression, nothing changed since then."

You send him a mocking smile, a grimace almost really, and stand up from the stool to walk away from him as quickly as you can so that he doesn't notice the tips of your ears burning with red.

"A lot has changed since then," you point out and pass him without sparing him another look.

𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏

If you dance I'll dance And if you don't I'll dance anyway Give peace a chance Let the fear you have fall away

𖹭 pairing: sunghoon x fem! reader

𖹭 genre: zombie apocalypse au, angst, fluff, smut, strangers to lovers au

His thumb strokes the soft skin on your knuckles mindlessly. He hasn't let go of your hand ever since you got off his back. He's worried — you know it. Like he's said many times before, he's no medic. Neither of you knows how to take care of your ankle properly but for now it seems to be growing better, stronger.

You often wonder of how Sunghoon was before the world collapsed. Was he more cheerful? Was he a free spirit? Was he carefree or reserved? Was he always this gloomy? You wish you could learn the answers but all of that is in past right now. You always take as much as you can from the peeks of Hoon's old personality whenever he's feeling playful or teases you, but that's all you can get. There's no point of reminiscing of the past that will never come back. You're both different people now, no matter how much you love to push this thought out of your mind.

"Are you happy?" You ask as you walk past the gas station.

𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍

"You make me happy," he answers without missing a beat. You squeeze his hand comfortingly, hoping you can get a few more emotions out of him. "I don't know if I feel happy with how my life's turned out to be, but you're with me now, so that makes the entirety of it half better."

Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will

𖹭 pairing: stable boy! jay x princess! reader

𖹭 genre: royal au, forbidden love au, angst, fluff

You did that to him.

It's all because of you.

"Jay," you whisper with throat clenched so tight, it hurt to speak. You should've ran out of tears a long time ago but here you are again, a sobbing mess in front of his shaking body. "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry."

He weakly raises his hand up and covers your palm with his. "I'm fine. It's gonna be fine."

You can't help but only cry harder, knowing well you're not the one who's supposed to be comforted at the moment. In the corner of your eyes you notice a small group of other servants running to the both of you. You spot Heeseung in the middle of them and you cry out in helplessness.

"Please, help him," you stumble out. Heeseung looks at you with wide eyes, visibly petrified with the sight in front of him. You see the shock painting on the other two maids' pale faces. You sob out desperately, "Please."

© heeliopheelia 2024. All rights reserved

[axl-rose-lover-1987]

“Nothing better to do”

Axl Rose x reader

Fluff

Year:1989

It was a pretty boring day you had nothing to do except relax. That was pretty rare since your boyfriend was Axl Rose and he always had somewhere to be or something to do. You were happy though to have a lazy day so you sat in your bed in your pjs cuddled up with a book reading. It was the middle of the day and softly raining outside. It was literally the perfect day. As you sat there relaxing a very annoyed Axl came walking into your shared bedroom and fell onto the bed now laying there staring up at the ceiling. “I’m boreddddd” Axl said in a very fussy little kid way. “Hi bored I’m y/n” you said not even bothering to look up from your book. “Ha Ha Ha you should be a comedian you know” Axl said in a very sarcastic way. You didn’t reply just continued to read. “Sugar talkkkk to meeee” Axl said. You sat down your book “Ok what do you want to talk about?” You asked. “I don’t know” Axl said. “Ok tell me when you do” you said picking up your book again. Axl now laid quiet for a few minutes. “I want to marry you” Axl said. Now that really made you set down your book. “I’d like to marry you too someday babe” you said. “No not someday y/n today we should get married today.” Axl said. “Axl are you crazy we can’t today” you said thinking Axl was crazy to think you guys could just up and get married right now today. “Why not? Not like we have anything better to do.” Axl said. “Yeah but Axl what about my parents and the rest of my family and what about a dress and a big fancy party and-“ you continued to list off reasons why you guys couldn’t just get married today before Axl cut you off. “Oh fuck all that I just want to get married to you babe” Axl said now getting up and walking over to the window and opening the curtains “See y/n and it’s raining that’s good luck on a wedding day come one babe it’d be a fun story to tell our kids wouldn’t it.” Axl said smiling at you. You laughed he made a good case but you didn’t want to just get married at the courthouse you wanted a dress and a nice ceremony and a fancy party. “I’m sorry Axl but if we get married I want to do it right” you said. He looked a little disappointed. “I know babe I’m just-“ Axl stopped mid sentence. “I just remembered something I’m gonna go do something ok babe?” Axl said very happily . “Um ok” you said confused how one minute he was sad and now happy. “Ok I’ll be back in a little bit love you” he said practically skipping out of your room. “Ok love you too?” You said shaking your head and going back to reading you knew Axl was weird but man sometimes the guy really confused you. You could hear him on the phone with someone “Thank you so much seriously alright yeah I’ll tell her and thanks again, yes I’ll make sure to tell her to call you guys ok yes bye now” Axl said. Hmmm who was he calling you thought. Whatever I’ll ask him later you thought going back to reading.

~time skip~

A few hours later you got a knock on the door. You answered it only to see Duff. “Duff?” “What are you doing here?” You asked. He seemed very smiley and happy. “Just come with me y/n he said grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the apartment door way. Duff lead you up a ton of stairs. “Duff I’m sorry but where the fuck are we going” Duff laughed. “You’ll see you’ll see geez have a little patience” You guys now reached a door that lead to the roof. “The roof?” You asked. “Just cmon” Duff said. You both went through door. And that’s where you saw it a line of rose pedals and candles that lead you to Axl. Axl who was standing there holding something behind his back Axl looked nervous super nervous. You stood frozen knowing what was going to happen and so overwhelmed. “Go on” Duff said pushing you a little. You walked down the path or rose pedals leading you to Axl. It was beautiful everything was beautiful. When you reached Axl he immediately got down on one knee. And pulled out a little black box that had a huge Diamond ring in it “ Y/n I’ve never met anyone like you before, before I met you I didn’t know what love was you’ve been there for me through thick and thin you’ve made me a better person your the love of my life and I want to spend every minute with you your smile and beauty light up my world your my muse of every love song your my soulmate I love you y/n” Axl took a deep breath tears were streaming down your face “so y/n l/n will you marry me?” Axl asked now tearing up too. “O-of course Axl yes oh my goodness yes Axl” you said and Axl slipped the ring on your finger jumped up picked you up spun you around and kissed not to mention it was still raining everything was literally right out of a movie. Axl set you down and and held your hand up in the air “ SHE SAID YES GUYS” and with that Duff walked up and Slash Izzy, and Steven all also walked out. They all congratulated you and you were too happy nothing seemed real. You guys decided to go back inside though due to the rain. “Axl?” “Yes princess?” he said. “Did you have to propose to me while I’m in my pjs though” you said laughing. Axl started laughing too. “Oh by the way I called your parents and got their blessing” Axl said in a happy tone. You now realized that was who he called earlier. “Really you said thanks ax” you said hugging him. “Of course babe I promise I’ll do this wedding thing right for you” he said smiling. “I love you” you said. “I love you too” Axl said back kissing you.