#IF I HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL SUMMER FOR THIS I WILL LITERALLY TWEAK SO FUCKING BAD THAT I WILL CREATE A CRATER SO BIG
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TW FLASHING ⚠️
ITS MARCH 1ST AND STILL NO WUJU BAKERY TRAILER, NO WUJU BAKERY ANYTHING
#IF I HAVE TO WAIT UNTIL SUMMER FOR THIS I WILL LITERALLY TWEAK SO FUCKING BAD THAT I WILL CREATE A CRATER SO BIG#IT WILL THROW THE EARTH OFF OF ITS AXIS#I WILL DETROY THIS WORLD IF I HAVE TO WAIT LONGER FOR THIS 8 EPISODE 30 MINUTES EACH EPISODE DRAMA#jeff satur#barcode tinnasit#wuju bakery
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Title: As the Clouds Whisp Overhead
Summary: Jaskier gets off on Geralt's soft thighs and tummy. Literally. Geralt relaxes back and lets him, enjoying the show. Weight gain spoken of positively. Pairing: Geraskier. WC: 3.5K+
CW: smut, brief mention of weight loss due to difficult times (past)
It had been a rather easy spring, all things considered.
Geralt lazed in the field, not really watching the clouds that drifted overhead, his eyes closed and breaths deepening into an almost meditative state. The smell of wine and cheese was almost drowned out by the wildflowers about them but it was still there, as was the scent of apples, salt, the road, and the lingering oils that Jaskier had insisted on wearing ever since he’d discovered Geralt’s nose was sensitive to the others that he used to reek of.
Said bard was currently shuffling their lunch about, putting most of it away for later, humming one of his newest tunes as he folded back up the blanket he’d apparently bought for just this occasion. Though they’d eaten plenty of meals without it or the basket he’d purchased at the market as well, Jaskier had insisted that a picnic was a special affair and deserved the right accessories to make it just right.
Geralt had just let him do as he wished, not worried about his friend’s coin purse - and not worried about his own, for once. Usually the end of winter spelled a time of heavy work for him but he’d lucked out on a couple of easy and well paying jobs right off the bat - so he thought a bit of down time wouldn’t be the end of the world for them.
The song on Jaskier’s lips was one he hadn’t quite finished yet. Geralt had already heard several different renditions of the first verse alone, lyrics tweaked here and there, the exact lilt of his voice changing back and forth as he tried to settle on what he believed would sound the best. And despite his occasional grumbling over the repetition it was a rather relaxing tune, one he didn’t mind listening to.
Beyond that, there was a sort of...intimacy that came with being trusted with Jaskier’s unfinished works. The knowledge that Jaskier wasn’t always his best around him, was able to fuck around with a song and riddle the air with curses of “bollocks” and “cock” while he tried and failed and tried again to make it just right. That Geralt could see him like this and not the perfected performance that he was to the rest of the world, the mask that was firmly in place right up until the moment he didn’t want it to be.
And that moment just so happened to frequently involve witchers, whether directly or indirectly. How many times had he gone feral on someone for just saying the wrong thing about one of Geralt’s colleagues? Just early that spring he’d jumped someone for spitting on the ground over Lambert’s name, and Jaskier hadn’t even met him yet.
Something like pride welled up in his chest at the thought, though it was a quiet thing. Jaskier should be more careful, he shouldn’t be fighting their fights - but it meant the world to him all the same that he wanted to. Especially for his brothers.
“You know, I’ve never been one for cheese and crackers as anything more than a snack, but that was simply delightful.” Jaskier’s voice came closer as he talked, and the flowers and grass were disturbed next to him as the bard flopped over at his side, quickly snuggling in when Geralt moved his arm to make room for him. “We’ll have to go back and ask again what the name of that cheese was. Never have I ever given so much thought to pairing and wines and all that stuff - my youngest sister was always more interested in that sort of thing, and really if I heard her say one more time that my palette wasn’t refined enough I might have had to hide frogs in her bed again.”
Jaskier settled in nicely at his side, slotting in like they were made for each other, fit perfectly together. He chattered away and Geralt mostly tuned him out, something Jaskier loved to fake hurt over though they both knew it was just that: fake. Over the years Geralt had perfected hearing what he needed to hear and simply listened to the tune of Jaskier’s voice, the song of his highs and lows, his sighs and breaths and every heartbeat becoming the song that was his bard.
Meditation came easier around Jaskier than it did anyone else. Even around his own family it was a struggle. Lambert was a little shit at the best of times and Eskel simply existed larger than he wanted to, and Geralt was always tuned into his brothers, paying attention to them because he knew just how limited theri time was together. But with Jaskier, he could rest, relax, simply let himself be like he’d never experienced with anyone else.
His arm rested at Jaskier’s back, hand loose on his side, barely hanging on and feeling his bard breath in and out as he spoke. Jaskier’s fingers tapped a rhythm where they were rested on his chest, though eventually they moved, sliding down to rest against his stomach and making Geralt hmm at the pleasant warmth they brought.
They’d stripped earlier to bathe in the nearby river and had mostly dressed, though Jaskier had forwent his doublet as Geralt had his armor. It was nice, being out in the wild, away from the faux sense of safety that inn rooms allowed them and yet still able to be this content without his armor on. Just their loose clothing, not enough to be considered decent in any sort of societal setting, simply existing and being and just…
Geralt was content, and he didn’t consider that a bad thing. Not in the slightest.
A breeze rustled the field about them, loose silver hair tickling his face though Geralt didn’t have the bother in him to brush it out of the way or tuck it behind his ear. The air smelled nice for once, no clogging dust on the wind, no rotting anything nearby nor farms to make his nose want to clog itself. Since the summer was still a ways off the sun wasn’t too harsh on his skin, his chemise enough to keep any possible chill away though it was warm enough in this part of the country, everything pleasant and not too much.
There was also a lovely set of fingers that had wormed their way under his chemise. Jaskier hadn’t bothered to push it up, had just scooted his hand underneath, and with very gentle circles had begun to rub patterns into the soft flesh there. It was enough to make Geralt melt beneath him, a soft hmm on his lips accompanied by a sigh as he felt his every muscle relax at the touch. The winter had been extra good to him, Eskel having returned with more coin than expected from his path which had meant more meat for their stews, and the lot of them had eaten extra well.
Jaskier had never shied away from letting him know exactly how much he appreciated it when he ate well. There had been a few times on their own path that food had been scarce, and despite witchers having an accelerated metabolism Geralt had always done his best to see after his bard first and foremost - so when times were tough his body showed it, and Jaskier had played his fingers raw when he saw the worst of it just to make sure the both of them could eat their fill.
But there had been no such worries or struggles yet this year, what with the good winter and the well paying contracts that had followed. Geralt’s stomach was full and soft, protecting the muscles and other important organs underneath, and the rest of him was showing the spoiling as well. His thighs had grown softer, somewhat straining against the material of his pants but it wasn’t quite uncomfortable yet - he knew well enough to keep his clothes somewhat baggy, to make room for the waxing and waning that came with the path. His chest, too, had grown softer, encouraging Jaskier to nuzzle into it at any given opportunity.
Those calloused fingers found some of the scars that ran across his belly, caressing them gently. Some stretch marks veined their way across his skin as well, hidden at the moment by his chemise but Jaskier felt his way across them all the same, giving off a gentle sigh as he snuggled in closer and traced his love wherever he could reach.
Geralt could not have thought of a more peaceful way to spend the afternoon. The clouds blurred as his eyes slid closed at the tender affection, his breaths deepening. Deep breaths in through his nose, smelling the wildflowers. A rabbit was nearby, chomping as quietly as it could on some grass, its hops barely whispers as it braved further away from its burrow. Geralt could hear the gentle chuffing of its babies hidden away, the call of a hawk overhead that sent the rabbit scurrying. The scent of budding trees, of a little mouse that had found some seeds to munch. The scent of his bard, his oils and shampoo and the hint of river on the both of them, and the growing scent of-
A snort brought them both a bit out of the peace, and Geralt cracked his eyes just enough to smirk down at the startled confusion growing on his bard’s face.
“Really?”
Those pretty pink lips pouted up at him as if Jaskier wasn’t fully aware of what was growing in his pants. Geralt made a show of raising one of his eyebrows, raking his gaze down, down his bard, straight to stare at his crotch just long enough to get his point across before flicking his eyes right back up.
It took a few seconds for his bard to catch up, Geralt watching the thoughts clear as day on Jaskier’s face, until red spread pretty across his cheeks and darkened the speckle of freckles there. Jaskier sputtered a bit and Geralt had to bite back a wider grin, starts to words that had no finish dropping between them before Jaskier cut himself off with a whine, ducking in to nuzzle into his chest and push the rest of his body closer.
“That’s not fair, Geralt - what, can you, I don’t know, smell it or something?”
Geralt didn’t respond to that, just reached up to tug a stray curl back behind Jaskier’s ear. His bard peeked up at him with another adorable pout jutting out his lower lip, his nose scrunched up as he waited for his ‘ridiculous suggestion’ to be shot down.
But it wasn’t shot down. And Jaskier frowned, and then he squeaked, climbing on top of Geralt to straddle him and poke a very firm finger straight into the chest he’d just been nuzzling.
“You and your- your entirely unfair witcher ways! Are you telling me you could tell all this time? Every time?” Geralt didn’t stop his grin this time and the indignation just grew, hand gestures growing wider. “That is- Geralt, how am I suppose to walk through life knowing you can smell my erection? How am I ever supposed to get up of a morning knowing my every waking naughty thought will be given away? Which yes is entirely too often but you’re entirely not fair, have you looked in a mirror in the past decade? Cruelty, unfair, entirely too sexy for your own good, for anyone’s own good-”
Jaskier went on like that, ranting like only he could, while Geralt eventually tuned his words out just to listen to the lilt of his voice. And the bard made a rather pretty picture himself, straddling him like that. His chemise was loose, showing off curls of dark hair that Geralt could run his fingers through for an eternity and never be bored of it. Broad tanned shoulders, a soft stomach barely hidden underneath his clothes, his pants a wonderful shade of green that fit in with the waking world around them.
A very pretty picture, but a noisy one at the moment. Geralt sighed but Jaskier went on, wildly flourishing his hands as if it was the end of the world that Geralt could smell his arousal. An arousal that had notably not died down, still pressing against the fabric of his pants, catching Geralt’s eyes and making him tilt his head in that way that Jaskier insisted was ‘adorable’ - though Geralt didn’t think he was capable of such a thing.
His thigh twitched with a rather mischievous thought, and as Geralt’s gaze traveled back up to Jaskier’s face, cheeks still stained pink from his rather unnecessary embarrassment, he thought there perhaps that voice would do better singing for him than ranting about his dramatics.
He’d been called an asshole before, and Geralt had never disagreed with the label. But he was lucky enough that Jaskier for the most part never minded - and he greatly doubted Jaskier would mind his next movement.
As Jaskier waved one of his delicate looking wrists in the air, dandelion seeds drifting on the wind about them, Geralt shifted beneath him until he had room to lift up one of his thighs. Before Jaskier could catch his movement it pressed up into him, cutting his bard off with a gasp, his eyes fluttering as Geralt’s smile showed teeth.
“That’s-” Jaskier pressed right down onto his thigh, his hands coming down to support him, and he didn’t waste any time in making it more enjoyable for himself. Shifting down, one hand placed on Geralt’s chest to support him, Jaskier straddled his thigh and slowly ground down onto it. A pretty moan escaped his lips and his tongue darted out as if to catch it.
It was a lovely show, watching as Jaskier pressed down onto him, sought out his own pleasure by rubbing against his thick thigh. Geralt pillowed his head on his arms and just watched, not moving his leg, letting Jaskier set his own pace and feeling pride bubble up in his chest at how pretty he sung for him. On a particularly rough grind Jaskier whimpered and rutted against him faster, making Geralt’s own cock twitch - but he wasn’t really in the mood for pleasure, so he ignored it in favor of the show.
Though he made for a beautiful picture, back lit by the sun and clouds, a pretty blue above that couldn’t quite beat the beautiful blue of his eyes, Jaskier wasn’t purposely looking good for a show. He didn’t touch his own skin like he did when he rode Geralt, didn’t skim his hands down his chest and stomach to show it off. Didn’t bite his lip or run and tangle his fingers into his curls. The emotions that crossed his face were not stressed or controlled, his noises slipped out without thought, his body moving without any purpose beyond pleasuring himself - and it made it a moment Geralt wanted to sear into his memory forever. That Jaskier could let go like this for him. That he trusted that Geralt didn’t mind, trusted that Geralt did not judge him for his desires. How human Jaskier allowed himself to be, imperfect and all the more beautiful for it.
“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed on an exhale, his movements already shaking, his cock dripping enough precum that it soaked into the front of his pants. Geralt could almost feel it wetting his own. “Geralt I- fuck you’re gorgeous, so gorgeous, I want to-” his hips stuttered, breath catching on a moan, brown curls caught on the wind and dancing. “Can- can I get off on your stomach? Gods it’d be so soft, feel so good, I- fuck.”
That was something he’d never requested before. Geralt quirked an eyebrow, belying another twitch of his own cock, but he grunted out “If you must.” And he had to bite back a chuckle at how quickly Jaskier’s fingers went for the ties of his pants.
Jaskier’s cock was leaking profusely though that wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. It looked like it was aching from it, hard and red and angry when he fished it out of his pants and smalls, and Jaskier whined as he couldn’t help but stroke himself a few times. His hips bucked with it, a greedy and wanting noise slipping from between his wet lips - but then he was slipping down Geralt’s leg to straddle his hips, and his cock was pushed against the soft skin of his stomach.
It didn’t slide against him very easily. The precum leaking from the tip helped, but Jaskier didn’t seem to care, holding onto his cock and gently rubbing it against him, jaw wide and loose like it was the single most pleasurable act Jaskier had ever experienced. Geralt cocked his head and tore his gaze away from Jaskier to watch his cock rub circles on him, precum dribbling faster and catching in the hair that curled white all over his abdomen.
Honestly, Geralt didn’t quite understand it. Wasn’t entirely sure what had Jaskier’s breath coming so fast, his heart beating so quick at rubbing against his soft stomach. But he didn’t really care. Jaskier’s hips jerked and he fought to keep himself reigned in, to keep his movements steady and slow, and Geralt just watched him and let him. Let him take this pleasure, smelling the arousal coming off of him in waves, listening to the rhythm of his breaths and body and heart. And Geralt memorized every little detail, from the flutter of his long eyelashes to the way his fingers dug into Geralt’s side, nails just at the edge of biting him.
Jaskier whimpered, long and shaking, when he came. It was desperate, his face scrunching up, eyes shut tight as if he was grasping onto the pleasure with all of his might. Geralt reached out to take hold of one of his hands, letting Jaskier clench his fingers as hard as he needed, bringing them up to brush his lips against the knuckles as Jaskier spilled all over his stomach.
His bard almost collapsed onto him, but Geralt moved him before that could happen, bringing him down with a shush at his further whimpers and letting him rest once more in the crook of his arm. And Jaskier came down slow, heartbeat eventually matching the rhythm of his deepening breaths, eyes still scrunched up tight as if he didn’t want to let go of what he’d been feeling.
When Geralt ran his fingers through his curls, they were damp with sweat. He hummed, not minding, just holding him close as he melted against him.
Eventually, Jaskier stretched, letting his arm flop against Geralt’s chest and legs tangle with his once more. He almost made an effort to open his eyes. Almost. Instead he frowned lightly, nuzzling into Geralt and as he moved impossibly closer.
“Want me to return the favor, love?” His words were light things that could have been carried off by the wind if Geralt’s hearing had been even slightly worse.
In truth, Geralt was turned on. How could he not be when Jaskier had ridden his thigh and stomach so beautifully? But he thought it over for a minute, the cool breeze tickling his face with a few stray white hairs, the scent of wildflowers coming back to him as the one of arousal dissipated.
“No,” he said finally, pulling Jaskier closer to kiss the top of his head. Despite the interest his body had shown he found he wasn’t in the mood himself, content enough to let Jaskier have his pleasure and leave it at that.
Jaskier just hummed, not questioning him further, and a small smile tugged at Geralt’s lips knowing there would be no hurt feelings over it. His bard’s fingers eventually went back to lazily tracing patterns into his skin, though he made a bit of a yucky face when they found the sticky mess he’d left of Geralt’s stomach hairs. Still they were both far too content to clean up just yet, not even wasting the energy to tuck Jaskier’s softening cock back away in his pants as they laid there, relaxed, enjoying the non-harsh sun and the clouds that lazed across the sky overhead.
“Coin for your thoughts?” Jaskier whispered into his chest after a time, and Geralt grunted, not even opening his eyes to look down as he responded.
“A bigger food budget.”
A moment later, and Jaskier’s laugh filled the field around them, sharp and uncontained, a laugh that was so far away from the performance he played that it drew a chuckle out of Geralt as well. That they could be themselves around each other, that they could be so carefree and human, was the most joyous thing Geralt had ever found in his long, long life - and that they’d discovered a new way to have fun was exciting, and Geralt was certainly going to take advantage of this new discovery. How could he not, when his reward was a well-pleased bard melting in his arms.
#why did I give this smut piece such a poetic title?#geraskier#geralt#jaskier#the witcher#fanfiction#mywriting#lemony#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#geralt of rivia#geralt/jaskier#jaskier/geralt#gerskier#and now back to writing the stuff I'm supposed to be working on
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Golden
Prologue
Yeehaw Leo… it's all because this song came on one day (I don’t even really listen to country anymore so it really is fate). Leo is based off that song, each chapter is going to be based off a yeehaw song too.
Characters belong to @lumosinlove
TW/CW: Smut, terrible yeehaw sayings and jokes, injuries, mentions of past death, minor character death, underage drinking, mentions of past arrests, cringe
Chapter 1:
Picking Wildflowers
“Ohhhh Leo! Oh Leo! Leo! More More!”
“Please Leo I’m soooo cloosse! Ah! AH! AHHHH!”
Laughing both Finn and Logan were clapped on their shoulders as Thomas and James came up behind them. Red faced Logan and Finn laughed a long, a little more awkwardly and stiff, but much more relaxed than they were at the beginning of the trip.
They kept poking fun and walking beside each other to bump shoulders. Finn, who had a mild limp, and Logan , who still has a bite mark on his ass cheek, walked into the locker room. Everyone had heard the two of them moaning last night with their angelic cowboy so the chirping wasn’t a surprise. Then again, when everyone noticed Finn limping instead of Logan they couldn’t help but stare in wild amusement.
No one on the rest of the team got to meet Leo so they all thought he was some scrappy hick who is into threesomes. Which he is, but he also is one of the sweetest people Logan and Finn had ever met! He gave them a goodmorning/goodbye kiss. What an angel, but they don’t know that, or that he snuggled with them all night even when Logan thought he was a comforter in his sleep and tried to kick him off the bed. He held them just as close as they have held each other for years.
It brought a lot of feelings to the surface that Logan didn’t want to acknowledge yet. Finn knew he was got to daydreaming about Leo’s sweet words he whispered before they even got him into bed, all day.
“Is this all we are going to hear about today?” Logan sets his bag down in his stall and starts undressing. Huffing annoyed as he looked in his bag for his practice jersey.
“You think we would talk about anything else when your moaning of a hillbilly’s name is still fresh in our brain?” Sirius walks past them and bumps Logan playfully with his hip so he jolts forwards a little having to catch himself with his hands in front of his face so he doesn’t faceplant into the locker behind him. The shorter guy glares a little and sticks out his tongue in a show of true maturity. Taking off his pants and changing before anyone sees the bite, he turns around to sit and put his socks and tape.
He feels a tap on his thigh and looks at Finn who is holding his phone so only they can see it, and there is a text from Leo. They had both sent him good morning texts and added him to a group chat because they honestly really liked him, they literally talked about Leo as they got dressed that morning, but they weren’t for sure he would actually answer them.
Text From: Cowboy Sweet Ass
8:15 am
Y’all want to come help me with something later <3
I want to see you again before you leave :)
They share a look of equal excitement and slight arousal from what this implies, Finn texts Leo back, both having this dazed almost soppy look on their face, especially when they looked at each other. Leo was having an effect on the guy and everyone on the team could feel it. Chirping aside, they were happy for them. Maybe this would get them to finally talk to each other.
They could hope.
Leo was dressed for success, overalls without a shirt that were pretty baggy on him and his square-toed work boots, he was sweating in the summer heat as he pushed his hair back under his ball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes as the ranch hands worked with the horses and he worked on fixing the baler. It was nine am and over 80 degrees, sometimes he doesn’t enjoy Louisiana as much as he thinks. But nothing could ruin his mood, humming cheesy love songs to the radio, tapping the rhythm on the machine. Smiling, he takes a step back from the bailer and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the rag from his pocket.
He sees a light blue 1967 Chevy C/K10 pulls up the dusty driveway and parks in its usual spot next to the main house. Who else but Clayton, the man of the hour, hop out of the truck wearing one of his stupid short ass crop tops that stop just below his nipple, making it easy for Leo to tweak them when he annoys him, with his jeans, belt, and boots that are falling apart. Strutting over to Leo he smiles bright and meets him by the bailer.
Leo smiles and they dap, tapping their foreheads together.
“Sooo, how was last night? I saw you leave with those two buffies and I knew you were getting double.” Clayton smiles and hands Leo the wrench he needs when Leo holds out his hand and laughs a little. Leaning on the machine and tipping his head back to soak in the sun.
Leo and Clayton have been friends since kindergarten, having never been apart for more than two days, they told each other everything. They were so close that their parents think they are going to end up together someday. They feel different about it. But they tell each other everything, everything, maybe even too much sometimes.
Traveling together for rodeo has gotten them so close that people just assume they are related somehow. It gets weird when they drunkenly kiss sometimes though. Clayton roping calves and Leo riding bulls has made them a hot commodity with the ladies but they make it clear that they aren’t interested… or that Leo isn’t interested. Clayton would still tap that.
“Dude, they were amazing! Fuckin Montgomery Gentry got me laid.” Leo waits a second for Clayton to catch on, then when it clicks that he is talking about Save a Horse Ride a Cowboy, when he stands back up from where he was squatting next to the baler to fix the belts and gets a slap on the back as Clayton whoops. Jumping around he shakes Leo’s shoulders.
“That's fucking hilarious! They took that song literally! Damn, you gotta try and keep ‘em, are you seeing them again? Or was this one of your hook ups that could work but you don’t want it.” Leo narrows his eyes at Clayton and grabs him into a headlock, struggling to get away from the 3” taller man. Clayton falls to the ground when Leo lets him go.
“I don’t do that! Plus, I want them to go out to secret with me tonight.” Leo looks at him while wiping the grease off his hands and squinting a little as the sun gleams off the metal right into his eyes. The red creeping down his neck doesn’t go unnoticed by the dusty friend and he smirks at him.
“Playboy Leo going on a real date… damn they must have really had an impact on you.”
“Well they rode me at the same time, so that left an impression. It’s funny how I feel more comfortable with two people rather than one.” They start walking towards the house to grab some water and tell Eloise that Clayton is here, so when Judy calls they can tell her that her son is indeed still here.
“One on the dick and one on the face or something weird?” Leo smiles and shakes his head as he gulps down a glass of water.
“How do you just always know?”
Text From: Cowboy Sweet Ass
6:01 pm
I’m outside Sweethearts
ShortCake
6:01 pm
Comming out
CarrotStix
6:01 pm
I’m gey
Leo laughs a little as he reads the texts, he hasn’t stopped smiling all day after he gushed about the boys to his mom and sudo-brother. Texting them when he could he didn’t have time to change before he came to pick them up, but knowing how they react to him… it will be just fine.
Logan gets into the truck first, sliding into the middle and planting a kiss on Leo’s cheek making them both smile brightly and dopey. Finn gets in and leans over Logan to plant a steamy kiss on Leo’s slightly dry lips, taking him by surprise but he melts into it, pulling away until they are still close enough to bump noses.
“Hi” Leo can’t help but laugh as Finn smiles a blushes before sitting back and buckling up, Logan grabs his face looking a little excited and gives him a kiss as well, a bit more possessive and sharp but when they pull away Logan gets buckled while Leo is still blinking in shock.
“Nice to see you too.” He smiles stupidly and relaxes into the seat before switching gear and starting to drive, the rink is close to the outskirts of town. “Alright, tomorrow is mama’s birthday! So.. that means I need to get her some of her favorite things, like wildflower, smooth rocks, and some honeysuckle. I’m taking y’all to a place only Clayton and I ever go, and it has all of those things… and we can go skinny dipping because I like seeing y’all naked.” Leo smiles innocently at them for a moment as he pulls onto a gravel road and starts driving.
“You don’t plan to kill us right? I mean we could probably take you but… I’d rather you take me” Logan bites his lip and leans into Leo’s side, Leo takes his hand off the steering wheel to wrap it around Logan’s shoulders and takes one of Finn’s hands.
“Ditto.” Finn smiles and is looking out the window in awe, as someone who has grown up in the city and really hasn’t been outdoors much he isn’t used to seeing all of the thick trees and wild plants. He squeezes Leo’s hand in excitement.
After a half hour of driving and listening to some oldies music on the radio, they pull over to the side of the road and Leo turns off the truck. “Okay, one more kiss” He leans over and kisses Logan with hand on the back of his neck, humming in contentment before smoothly pulling away and kissing Finn in one smooth motion. He pulls away and sighs happily leaning his head back on the seat, when he opens his eyes he sees Logan and Finn kissing and his heart skips a beat watching them. “Okay, we have a job to get done before we get into some sexy stuff!” Leo is more so reminding himself than the other two who pulled away and are looking at him the same way they did last night.
Getting out of the truck Leo walks toward the woods he pulled up next to and notices the boys aren't behind him, turning around he sees Finn looking at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes through the window. Oh yeah, the door is sticky.
He can’t get the door open.
Laughing Leo walks over to the door and opens the jammed door with ease, bowing slightly. “Your majesty” Finn snorts and gets out of the truck before patting Leo’s head and moving out of the way for Logan to hop out.
Logan takes Leo off guard by leaning his full body weight into him after he closes the door, Leo being the sweetheart he is, just scoops Logan up like he weighs nothing and smiles when he lets out the most manly squeak. Finn sneaks a picture smiling as he moves to their side.
Leo leads them through the thick woods and only sets Logan down when they reach a Grove with a crystal clear small lake and flowers everywhere. It was beautiful.
“This is what we call Secret, because we don’t think anyone really knows about it but” He shrugs “Maybe someone does.” He walks forward and sits on a stump, around the stump is a bunch of small white flowers that are two lipped and smell very strong.
Finn walks towards the water and sees a bunch of minnows socializing in the shallows, crouching down he feels the water, taking note of how warm it is. Logan was mesmerized by all the flowers growing, all different colors of shapes. Bee’s buzzed around the surprisingly silent grove and Logan watched them before picking a couple handfuls of flowers.
Leo looks up at Finn first and smiles as he sees him picking out rock he finds because Leo mentioned they needed some, and then his eyes move to Logan who is holding armfuls of beautiful flowers and even has a couple of leaves and petals in his extra curly hair from it drying in the humid heat. Leo felt so at peace with the whole situation. It felt natural.
Logan hears someone walking toward him and looks up with his arms just overflowing with flowers, Finn is carrying handfuls of wet rocks that keep falling out of his hands and he keeps bending to pick up to just… drop more. It was funny and Leo seemed to agree as he was taking a video of Finn dropping and picking up stones.
“Here” Leo holds out a cloth bag and catches the rock that just fell out of Finn’s hand to finally stop the cycle. They put everything in separate appropriate bags before setting them on the stump Leo was sitting on before.
Turning to the boys and smiling, Leo unbuckles his overalls and drops them after he kicks off his boots, so he is just standing there in his tight teal boxer briefs that have dumplings on them. His smiles turns into a teasing smirk as he turns to face the lake having his back to his boys and takes his underwear off before looking over his shoulder at them and then running into the lakes and driving in. Fin and Logan strip so fast, tossing their clothes wherever and following this Casanova into the water.
Two hours of dunking, kissing, splashing and holding each other close. They decide to lay in the short grass of the grove where the flowers don’t reach, sprawling out in a circle, the top of their heads facing each other. They pass around a spliff that Leo brought in the pocket of his overalls. Relaxing in the setting sun as they air dry.
“What day do you guys leave?” Leo has his eyes closed as he is relaxing holding his hand out for the spliff as Finn shotguns Logan, handing it to Leo as they end up sloppily kissing each other before pulling away to answer.
“A week, so you can call us up anytime.” Finn smiles and rolls onto his stomach propping his head up on his hands as he watches the smoke fall from Leo’s lips. His eyelids feel a little heavy as the exhaustion from practice and the cbd from the weed soak into his nerves.
“Are we going to have sex tonight?” Logan also rolls onto his stomach bumping into Finn’s shoulder as he clumsily does so. Leo opens his bright eyes and tips his head back to look at them. “I am really tired but… I also kinda want to suck you dick.” Leo huffs out a laugh and flicks the roach into the lake where a fish slurps it up later.
“I would not say no to that, sweetheart.” Leo bites his lips a little as Logan flushes pink and crawls over to him sliding between his legs leaving light kisses and nips on the tops and inner of his thighs and watching him get hard. Then Logan notices it.
“Do- do you have a worm tattoo with a lasso on your inner knee?” Logan can’t help but laugh as Leo nods smiling. Finn, who has been in heaven watching, joins Logan between Leo’s legs and notices the small tattoo as well and kisses it.
“I have a bunch of little ones. Can you blow me now?” Leo props himself up on his elbows, an adorable blush spread across his cheeks and nose make him look so delicious. Finn and Logan share a look before smiling and licking up Leo’s shaft on opposite sides causing Leo’s head to fall back and his knees to spread more. “Fuck.”
Logan and Finn continue to mirror each other as Logan massages Leo’s taint and balls while Finn sucks on his head, Logan on the base.
Leo is a mess.
His back arching, his jaw tense from making himself hold off from fucking up into their mouths or grinding back onto Logan’s hand. He is gripping the grass so his hands will be stained tomorrow, sweat beading on his hairline and chest. Moaning every once in a while when he can find his voice.
Finn takes him down as much as he can as Logan squeezes just right causing Leo to cum hard, throwing his hands in his hair and tugging it. Once he finishes riding out his orgasm he just flops down all boneless.
“Give me a minute and I’ll get you off.” Leo exhales slowly and props himself up to look at them and a flush of want rushes through him. Finn had gotten himself off on Leo’s leg, how he didn’t notice he didn’t know, Logan looks like he hasn’t moved but his face was blissed out, he came untouched and if that wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing Leo has ever seen. He didn’t know what was.
Cleaning themselves up with some lake water and getting dressed they carry their treasures back to the truck. They all slide in and make their way back to town. Leo sings some shitty old songs with his hand on Logan's upper thigh as Finn has his head on his shoulder drifting in and out of sleep, by the time Leo makes it to the hotel they are staying at, both of them are asleep. Kissing their foreheads he slowly shakes them awake.
“We’re here, come on darlings, let's get you to bed.” He gets them up and smiles as Finn stretches like a cat and snuggles into his side as he supports them on either side. Walking them to their room he waits for one of them to unlock the door and hears a couple of guys yelling around a ‘cheater in go-fish!’ and Leo can’t help but wonder what it's like to travel with a team like Logan and Finn’s.
After a few tires Leo just takes the key from Logan and swipes it to unlock the door. Leo stumbles a little as they both lean forward. He sits them on the bed and get them undressed.
“What do you like to sleep in?” Leo asks as he located their bag in the corner of the room. Logan mumbles something about Finn’s shirt and Finn just mentions boxers. Leo gets them situated, having Logan lift his arms so he can put Finn’s shirt on him. It's baggy and makes Logan look so sweet that Leo can’t help but lean down and give him a sweet kiss.
Tucking a smiling Logan into bed he moves to get Finn under the covers and see him pouting.
“Wa kith” Leo tries not to groan at how these two beefy boys can be so sweet and cute that it hurts his chest. He gives Finn a kiss and pulls away, watching the two snuggle into each other.
Leo realizes he wants this, every night.
Swallowing down the sudden fear that crashed over him he turns to leave, forgetting to put the hotel key on the night stand he doesn’t realize he still has it until he is getting ready for bed himself in his room that's too large for one person.
Now he has an excuse to see them again.
#leo knut#logan tremblay#finn o'hara#james potter#thomas walker#Clayton Bruss#o'knutzy#o’knutzy#lumosinlove#sweater weather#coast to coast
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[image description: three monstera leaves. The leaves and wall are tinted purple by string lights behind the plant. In the middle, in a white serif font and all caps, reads “LIFE CYCLE OF MASSIVE STARS”. At the bottom, in the same font but smaller, reads “update #1″ /end id]
LIFE CYCLE OF MASSIVE STARS | UPDATE #1
Before I start, this is an autistic OwnVoices novel and it’s Autism Acceptance Month! Remember that awareness is passive and acceptance is active. And whilst this book is autistic OwnVoices I want to stress that it doesn’t cover the full autistic experience; autism is so individualistic and this story only stems from my experience. Make sure you to listen to all autistics, not just those who can speak and live independently and present in a way that suits neurotypical society. Support autistic creatives and if you’re also a creative, include autistic characters in your work! Autism is not a disease. It does not need to be cured.
Hey y’all! This has sure been a week! I gave myself the goal of 15,000 words for Camp Nano and somehow hit that in 5 days? I have literally never written at that pace before so I’m a little shocked lol. I don’t intend to keep that pace but the momentum has made drafting very fun and? drafting this has been a literal dream. I was really worried because March was a month long slump I expected to carry into April. I want to disclaim that I’m currently out of school and work because of the pandemic so I have all the free time to write and that definitely contributed! But also as a neurodivergent and disabled writer, free time does not always equal writing, so to know that I am capable of writing like this, even if not always, it is Such a gamechanger. Also this story makes me miss University so much I actually can’t take it :(
LCOMS has been a dream so far because the protagonists are all characters I’ve had for 5-8 years, and | spent those years struggling to figure out their stories. Even when I settled on this story, originally Patchwork, there was like 4 versions of it before I landed on this - none ever drafted beyond a couple thousand words because they just Never Worked. But the wait was worth it because holy shit I feel like I struck gold. This story feels so me, it’s so much fun to write, and I don’t think a story has come to me this easy before. It’s given me such a zest for storytelling again that I didn’t realise was missing. I’m slowing things down now because creative boundaries and self care >>>>, but I just passed 19k words - though some of the chapters are very unfinished because my priority has been mapping out the story’s skeleton as far as I can, then filling in the gaps based off what I learnt. I wanna put a passage before the cut so it’s not just me rambling about bullshit and no content, but it’s hard to pick just one, so here’s a non-linear scene that I :) cannot elaborate on :)
(CW: alcohol)
[image description: the side of a ferris wheel against black sky. The wheel is lit white, but at the bottom it’s coloured a mix of pink, blue and green. At the top, in a white serif font, reads “The ferris wheel lights blur between turquoise, magenta, mint, lavender, casts the puddles into technicolour. “ /end id]
Picture this: December 17th. End of term. End of year. Cloudless night, stars winking. Fargate glows, market stalls lit by yellow fairy lights line the street like candle stubs, gently burning. It’s raining. It has all day. Dampened your new beanie and scarf but you’re not mad, even if you’ll cringe at the texture when you take them off later. The ferris wheel lights blur between turquoise, magenta, mint, lavender, casts the puddles into technicolour. Your eyes and feet ache, but you’re not mad. And the mulled wine that buzzed warm in your bloodstream now coils in your stomach, but you’re not mad. You’re queuing for the technicolour wheel, even though you know it’ll be underwhelming and a waste of £4, but you’re not mad. Chocolate is usually too sweet for you, but he bought a pack of snowflake shaped ones - each carved with their own design - and when he passes the paper bag over you don’t say no. They taste like raspberry. He grins at you.
I have once again written a long update because I am autistic and have no self control; more excerpts and chapter-by-chapter rambles are as usual under the cut!
(content warnings are specific to the respective excerpt, but as a general warning there’s a lot of alcohol mentions!)
Originally I wanted 3 parts for 3 semesters, but I might do 2? Especially because in the UK at least the spring and summer semester kinda blend into one. The chapters are grouped by 3 - one for every POV character - but that’s more to help with writing because I get more done if I break it down like that, but I also like how it’s shaped the story structurally.
Sometimes the three chapters will be each of the character’s POV on a single event, sometimes they’re more individual but still follow a general idea (for example, one of them is how each character’s first three weeks of the semester goes). As usual for me the plot here is ~non-existent, especially at this stage, but everything is still connected and threaded together and thats all we really need. The chapters are also pretty short at the moment, none of them are over 3k and only tackle 1-3 scenes. This is something I feel is working really nicely now but I’m not gonna commit to it for the entire novel. I like chapter length variety! But right now we are just going with the flow :)
The most unexpected part is this being in second person, which I decided impulsively the night before Nano because I have :) zero self control :). I was unsure if it’d work in Multi POV, but it’s created such a unique tone that I can’t imagine the story without anymore, even if it’ll need tweaking over drafts. I think it suits the story so well! I’m just torn about it being in past or present, so if you see tense jumps in the excerpts no you did not <3 I’m not naming chapters right now beyond the character’s name, but part one is titled Growing Pains.
[image description: photo of a city at night. To the left are skyscrapers with lots of lit up windows behind a chain-link fence. To the right is an unlit building. Near the middle is a bright streetlight. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “growing pains”. /end id]
1: Tomas
We start in the most overrated part of Uni, fresher’s week <3 The drinking and clubbing culture of UK university is a big part of this novel but in a way that’s like “hey this can be fun sometimes but sometimes it’s really not and it’s also really not for everyone.” Our three POVs go to a club night and really don’t care for it. Tomas does not want to be here, is in a weird as shit mood, and instead of looking for his friends he goes to the smoking area with a man he just met called Damiano. I really wanna rewrite this because I wrote it with Zero Idea of where the story was going, so here’s the one part of it that I consider salvageable <3
Damiano shoves his phone in your hands, brightness puncturing darkness. You hadn’t noticed the dimmed lights until then, but the room blued, music and time slowed. Though his notes are on dark mode, his phone brightness is on two fucking high. Your eyes sting. Cracks travel up the screen like veins.
Each character also has a specific image they keep seeing in things that are never actually there and they all make me like 🤠 hey besties what do these mean are you okay?? I Do Not know what they mean yet, but Tomas’ is veins. (Also shout out to me for finally settling on a spelling for his name after 5 years and by that I mean thank you to my friends for peer pressuring me into choosing Tomas lol)
My absolute favourite part of this story is the character voices. They are all SO fun to write, and I feel like I settled into a good combo of My Literary Prose Bullshit and they’re very specific, often very sarcastic voices. They also say fuck like, so many fucking times. RIP to me if I decide to query this <3
2: Kristen
Okay first off Kristen is THE funniest character I’ve written. He is SO fun. I wish I was his bestie but he’s also been my bestie since 2013. We meet him in the gender neutral bathrooms being annoyed by a very rich and very tone deaf girl. Classism and the UK class divide is one of the biggest themes of this novel, and Kristen is a very proud working class Northerner (the North is massively underfunded and unsupported by the Gov compared to the South) and cannot stand the Tories (Conservative Party). Extremely fucking valid of him
(CW: blood)
“I’m Floss. Florence.” Of course she was. Fucking Florence. “Where are you from?”
You don’t look at her. Eyes on your reflection, the glittered cheekbones. You busy yourself with your eyeliner, gliding the pen over gaps and smudges that don’t exist. “Barnsley, babe.” It’s only a half lie this time - if you tell her you were born in Liverpool she’d probably look at you like you’re a dead rat on the side of a dodgy alleyway. But maybe that’d be better because then she’d leave you the fuck alone.
“Oh! That’s like well close isn’t it. I’m from Reigate.” Her voice breathes trust fund and Waitrose, tries to speak like it doesn’t. You try not to laugh.
“Reigate! I bet your parents are right little Tories, aren’t they?”
She playfully slapped your shoulder. She thinks you’re friends. "Not every rich person is a Tory!” Don’t roll your eyes don’t roll your eyes don’t roll your eyes. “Is that blood on your hands?”
“Huh?” You look: faded red dye dried to your palm, blotted on your fingertips. It is dye, because your hair is as of four hours ago a fierce “Real Red”. But it could be blood. “No, it’s hair dye.”
If you think he’s being harsh, she literally calls him a slur like 3 lines after this <3 Fuck rich people half of this book is me clowning on them.
Kristen’s recurring Imagery is blood, except sometimes it’s less clear if it’s actually blood or not. Once again, besties are you okay ????
3: Junie
Junie my beloved <3 love her so much. She finds Kristen in the bathroom, and they agree to look for Tomas, until Tomas texts to say he already left. But the biggest part of this chapter is the absolute crisis she has over kissing for a girl for the first time to ABBA :)
(CW: alcohol)
[image description: a disco ball against a red-purple background. The disco ball casts dots of light against the across the ceiling. At the bottom, in a white serif font, reads: “Dancing Queen bounces against the walls. The disco ball casts specks over the ceiling, floor, walls, your skin, hair, eyes like broken glass.” /end id]
You don’t listen to 80s music, or 70s, but this room is smaller than the main floor, not claustrophobic, less freshers. Yet, even without the mask of a crowd, nobody notices the girl in the corner kissing the other girl. A girl you don’t know. You’d only gone up to her because she has purple hair and you had to tell her how much you love it - what dye is it? Professional or homemade? Did you have to bleach your hair? Professional or homemade? Will your hair fall out if you bleach it at home? If you dye your hair purple, do you become part of the Milky Way or part of Andromeda?
She turns and sticks her tongue out to display her fresh tongue piercing, like a silver bullet lodged in flesh. “Dance with me, you look lost.” She has an allure to her, the Andromeda hair, the bullet in the tongue - do you want to pull it out with your teeth, or lodge it in your own skin? But she asks you to dance, and you fall into her orbit, if only for a few songs. Dancing Queen bounces against the walls. The disco ball casts specks over the ceiling, floor, walls, your skin, hair, eyes like broken glass. Her tongue in your mouth, yours in hers, bullet grazing against your lips. She tastes of vodka and cherries and metal.
I really, really feel for Junie. She’s recently out, and she’s only just navigating what it means to exist as a lesbian. She kisses a girl and immediately regrets it, because she’s a hopeless romantic and was hoping her first kiss with a girl wouldn’t be in the back of a club, but she also doesn’t regret it because it was a good kiss and they’ll never see each other again lol. Junie’s recurring imagery is glass and once again, besties are you okay
4: Junie
I don’t know how I feel about back to back POV chapters but that’s just how this set worked. The next 3 are immediately after the events of the first 3, after they’ve all left the club. Kristen and Junie walk home together, and most of this and his subsequent chapter is establishing relationship dynamics and <3 this story made me love writing dialogue y’all. This story has a lot of dark elements, so it’s really refreshing to be able to have the light-hearted moments as well. Like these characters are all going through it but they’re also Gen Z 20 year olds who grew up using humour to cope like what else are they meant to do
“We should’ve got that flat on Brunswick. It’s literally down the street from the SU - we’d just have to walk down a hill and then we’d be home.” He complains.
“Kristen, that flat had a rat problem. I saw one scurrying behind the oven.”
“Yeah, and we live with Tomas Meijer now, so what’s the difference?” He faces you, walks backwards, grin plastered on his face.
“That was mean.” You feign annoyance. You sound like a schoolteacher.
“It’s just how we are, you know. The love hate relationship. Like night and day or some shit. I’d kill for that boy but like, he’s still a rat. He’s the same to me - did he tell you he called me a malnourished ferret once in first year? In English and Dutch. Don’t even remember what it is in Dutch but he really came at me with two knives like that.”
Kristen and Junie don’t really know each other well - Junie is Tomas’ friend from class and Kristen and Tomas met in dorms, and a series of shitty housemates in second year brought them all together. It’s funny because I really worried Junie would end up with no clear place in the group and more like a third wheel to Kristen and Tomas but as I started writing I realised that her and Kristen are gonna become besties like. Instantaneously. Love this for them <3
5: Kristen
Essentially mirrors the last chapter. Him and Junie arrive home and have a heart to heart in the living room about gender <3 I love this for them <3
6: Tomas
Tomas goes home with Damiano and they hook up, which is very out of character for Tomas so it’s like his I Am So Random. I Can’t Believe I Just Did That moment. Damiano is a really sweet dude though it’s all good, but he’s here to stay and I can just tell it’s gonna get messy :/ I actually really love how this chapter came out but whilst I have no problem with reading or writing non-explicit sex scenes I’m also like a would rather die than put that on tumblr dot com oops
7: Kristen
we’ve skipped a week ahead to the day before semester starts, and the next three chapters are basically like a character study of where each of them are mentally. It’s not the best :/ This is also the point where Day 1 Of Camp me had literally no idea what I was doing. LCOMS is different from the way I pants Revelations, Revelations because with the latter I find it much easier to brainstorm scenes in my head but with this one, it really is a surprise until I open the doc. It’s created some really interesting moments though.
Kristen visits an amateur photographer friend named Kasia to model for her. I struggled to find anything that included info I’m fine with sharing, but I learnt a LOT about Kristen and his mental state, which was surprising since he’s lived in my head rent free for 8 years now. It’s messy <3 The summary: he sees himself as a mannequin, and he decides that he likes it that way, but he also doesn’t know who’s moving his joints into poses. Bestie???
8: Junie
Junie unpacks her room a week after moving in. Autistic queen <3 This is one of the unfinished chapters, and I have zero motivation to finish it because there’s a scene missing and I cannot for the life of me figure out what it is. The gist of it though is she FaceTimes a friend from secondary school that definitely was her gay awakening that she only realised was her gay awakening in the last year. Messy <3
9: Tomas
One of my favourite chapters. It’s split into two halves, a light-hearted moment of all three housemates at a superstore because <3 grocery store scenes my beloved <3 and then Tomas’ Everything Is Bad exploration at the end. There’s a moment in the first half where Tomas and Kristen have a heart to heart in the candle aisle, and Tomas asks Kristen where he thinks they’ll be in their thirties. I winged this in a sprint and I’m obsessed with it, it’s all about the ~dynamic~
“Well, he has student debt for one. But that’s not on him. That’s on the Tories. But I like to think they’ll be out of power by then. Boris might even be dead, if we’re lucky. But again, not on me.” He’s quiet again. You watch him think. “He’d be a music teacher probably, or an English teacher. But like, a cool one. He doesn’t teach secondary school because he doesn’t hate himself. Maybe a Sixth Form, or even better a Uni. His students would love him because he’d be able to take a joke and also like, not hound on them for having mental illnesses or life struggles?” Neither of you look at the aisles anymore, just circle the home section of Big Tesco. “He’d also do a lot of charity work. He has a foundation-charity-thing for queer and autistic kids to get accessible music lessons, because creative therapy is like, the best thing - besides Prozac but I digress - and it’d be better than the old white men from CAMHs who act like you don’t exist by your eighteenth birthday. And he’d have a cool little flat in Sheffield where the landlord lets him paint the walls so every room is a different colour. Turquoise kitchen. Magenta Living room. Lavender bedroom. Mint bathroom.” He looks at you like he forgot you were there. “You really let me ramble like that in the middle of Big Tesco, huh? That felt like a fucking therapy moment.” He laughs a little, like he’s nervous.
“Nah, it was a good answer. Maybe if Tomas-in-his-thirties doesn’t move back to the Netherlands, he’ll rent the apartment next to Kristen-in-his-thirties.”
Kristen pouts. “Aw, you don’t wanna be my roomie anymore?”
“No, you called me an animal for eating pineapple on pizza.”
“Deserved. And you called me a malnourished ferret.”
You smile. “You’re not gonna let that down, are you?”
He smiles. “Of course not.”
Kristen tells Tomas he knows Something Happened to him over summer, and gets him to promise to tell him when he’s ready. The second half of the chapter takes place back at the house. Tomas is grieving, and it’s starting to creep into all elements of his thought. In this one specifically, he’s reminded of his top surgery and his memories in the hospital for that starts to blend with his memory of being in the hospital to grieve. Tomas is interesting as trans rep because like, he is trans rep curated for me specifically <3 Tomas was a huge comfort character for me when I was younger and when I realised I was trans, I looked at him and was like oh. He had a very smooth coming out and transitioning process (bc mine is the opposite and I need to project :) ), but right now he views his transness as like, a chapter of his life that was important but is now closed, so he doesn’t think about it a lot anymore, but the combo of grief and its mental impacts causes him to think about it more and he realises he has a very unhealthy internal relationship with his transness. Whilst the big idea at the start of Tomas’ arc is to show trans peace, I really wanted to take a moment to acknowledge the grieving process that comes with being trans. Literally the moment that made me realise “oh god, this is real and I can’t ignore it” was googling “im scared i might be trans” and realising how normal those tangled feelings are. Tomas’ experience of it is only fleeting, but I wanted to show that it’s normal. That being said, there’s no transphobia in this story. It is ultimately a Trans Peace story but also a trans story that, for me at least, is realistic. And the thoughts don’t last long, because his mind circles back to the grieving process.
(CW: graphic surgery and hospital imagery, vomit mention, death)
[image description: a darkened picture of an empty hospital room. The only light comes in through the window through thin white curtains. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “ Scalpel gliding across the chest; were the cuts they made as thin as the line between surgery and autopsy? “ /end id]
Picture this: The hospital room. Clinical lights like exit wounds in the ceiling. Everything hurts. Haven’t slept properly in weeks. Can barely eat without it coiling and tangling in your stomach only for nothing to come up when you heave over the toilet. Messy hair, sunken eye bags. Dull eyes. The hospital room. The hospital halls. The hospital waiting room. The hospital car park. The drive to the hospital. The sleepless night before the hospital visit. The locked in the armchair next to the phone waiting for the hospital to call. The silence shrills harsher than the phone’s ring. But ask yourself this: who’s in the bed? You or him? The memories are different but the same. Oil and water. Shouldn’t be mixed. But it’s hard not to. Picture the two of you on the operating table and on the metal slab. Too far from reality to feel skin slice. Scalpel gliding across the chest; were the cuts they made as thin as the line between surgery and autopsy?
There’s a lot of paragraphs in the story that start with Picture This:. I have no idea what it means, it just reads cool lmao
10: Junie
we skip around 3 weeks now to see how the kids are dealing with the start of semester and well. They’re managing! Junie actually has a good chapter here, because she experiences Baby’s First Queer Class Crush
[image description: a purple sunset with a large pink cloud. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads you notice her background is of a purple sunset. You wonder if purple is her favourite colour like you and if she took it and if she likes photography and if she’d take photos of you “ /end id]
You listen, touch type your notes without properly processing the words yet, but instead of studying the PowerPoint, you study her: how she tucks a strand of black hair - free from her messy bun - behind her ear. The three studs in her earlobe, three little gold stars. The way her eyebrows furrow when she’s confused, and the way her face relaxes when she figures it out. How she touch types like you, how her two brass bracelets jangle and how you’re the only one that hears it. She minimises Word briefly, and you notice her background is of a purple sunset. You wonder if purple is her favourite colour like you and if she took it and if she likes photography and if she’d take photos of you. Lavender polo shirt, lavender perfume. She doesn’t wear make-up, but a tiny black heart sits under left eye.
Junie’s dreams of a photographer girlfriend are quickly shattered when she admits the photo’s from Pinterest, but otherwise this is so <3 the sapphic crisis of it all.
You walk out together, and she tells you she only got into Sheffield that weekend, and it was a nightmare to explain to the tutors why. “It’s like, they forget we have lives sometimes. Lives we can’t control.” She shakes her head. “It’s okay now though, I’m here now.”
You almost trip on the stairs up to the main floor, and her hand is warm against your wrist. Your cheeks redden, but she just asks if you’re okay, smiles when you are. Tells you she’s late for a seminar, but it was lovely to meet you. Thanks again for the lecture notes. Calls you a lifesaver. Fades into the between-classes rush. You’re glad she’s here now.
again she is so <3 i get it babes i get it <3
In other news, at the end of the chapter Kristen drops the most relatable line of the entire fucking book:
“You know how like, when it rains, all the worms come out and do a funky little dance? Yeah so basically: the rain is LIT3001 right. And the worms are all of my mental illnesses.”
11: Tomas
Tomas turns 21 on October 13th so naturally like anyone in his early 20s he has multiple crisis’ about it. I still haven’t figured this chapter ~out yet but it sure exists! It just sucks the same way it sucks to be a young adult in the late 2010s. But here’s Kristen being the most relatable character in the book again and getting bullied for it :/
(CW: alcohol)
"I still can't believe you both do a science. Like, it actually baffles me - I could not be more further from that." Kristen refills his glass, measures the vodka level with his index. "Just a babe and his silly little BA against the world."
"You know if you wanna be a BA babe you have to actually, like, graduate."
12: Kristen
Kristen is personally like I will pretend my degree does not exist and honestly? I get it King. He visits his Dad, since he only lives 30 minutes away, but most of the chapter is him thinking about Tomas and their messy friendship and the fact that Tomas is kinda ghosting him despite literally living together :/ Anyway here’s Kristen’s cat :)
Mar snoozes on your pillow, half curled like a croissant. Orange fluff against grey sheets, and you’re not mad at the fur debris she’ll inevitably leave. Her head pops up when you sit next to her, “you forget about me yet?”. You scratch her head and it’s like you’re 12 again and you don’t have to worry about rent or degrees or masters applications or careers or groceries or housemates and you haze through Sundays snoozing in bed with your new kitten. Technically she was a birthday present, but dad couldn’t wait an extra month to adopt her. Said he saw it in her eyes at the shelter, that she belonged here. You named her Marmalade because you were a dumbass eleven year old and also thought marmalade was the shit back then. She stretches her legs and yawns. Plops her head back down, back to sleep. “Yeah, me too.”
13: Tomas
The next three chapters centre around each character’s Halloween, because <3 Halloween my beloved <3. Tomas’ starts off with him and Kristen being ~homoerotic and him being a ~disaster about it.
w[image description: a photo of a blue planet - Neptune - against a black background. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “You don’t know which palette he’s using, but you remember his favourite is space themed: Mars red, Neptune blue, Jupiter orange - you try to guess which planet he thinks looks best against olive. He taps the brush against the palette. Imagine the planets. How they dandelion in the air.” /end id]
When you sit in front of him, your knees press together. When he tilts your head up, thumb on chin, nail grazing the curve of your lip, his hand is ice on your skin. He studies your face, you close your eyes. When he pulls back, you swear you still feel his thumbprint on your skin. You don’t know which palette he’s using, but you remember his favourite is space themed: Mars red, Neptune blue, Jupiter orange - you try to guess which planet he thinks looks best against olive. He taps the brush against the palette. Imagine the planets. How they dandelion in the air. He holds your head in place, hand sprawls over you cheek like veins. Brushes colour into your eye socket. Underneath the radiator, your phone buzzes twice. Don’t say anything. Ignore your heartbeat.
(before this Tomas threw his phone at the radiator because someone texted him :) yeah okay mood :) )
this story is really about the ~gay disasters and also the ~dialogue
You flop onto your bed, arms crossed over your face. “I dunno. I might just print off all the emails Uni's sent me about my dissertation. Staple them to a jacket and tell people I'm going as mental illness."
"Tomas, if you want to go as mental illness then you don't need a costume at all."
Unfortunately the rest of the chapter is not as fun because plot had to happen but this first scene was :)
14: Junie
Junie is not a fan of Halloween so she gives up halfway through the night and invites the girl she met in her lecture over to bake cookies at 1am instead. Fellas is this gay?
(CW: alcohol)
The girl in the kitchen brought cookie cutters in pink Tupperware. She explains she’s had them since she was eight, but she hasn’t had a chance to use them this Autumn. She has seven: cat, butterfly, crescent moon, heart, three stars matryoshka’d together. “I have more, these are just my go to ones. I’m a bit of a collector.” She lines them up on the counter, you trace the outline of the cat. She says she didn’t want to bring too many, but she likes having the options with no plan, the potential. You want to tell her that, after you invited her over, you spritzed the counters with lavender surface cleaner twice and tucked the discarded vodka and raspberry liqueur bottles in the cabinet you can barely reach. You piled unfolded laundry into your closet and hid drooping plants behind your closed curtains when you had zero intention of her inviting her to your room. You want to ask her why she said yes, why she replied in two minutes at one in the morning, and you want to ask her why people feel the need to cookie cutter themselves into a false potential. She asks if you want to bake with coconut or chocolate chip.
she is actually such a disaster around girls i love her so much
The girl in your kitchen clears up glass that isn’t hers. You drop the measuring jug and it fireworks against tile. No shards lodge in your skin. Whilst she cleans, insists that it’s okay, you brew peppermint tea because you insist it’s the least you can do. The girl tells you a story about how she did the exact same thing, when she was nine, and her mother shrieked so loud the neighbours banged at the door a minute later. She laughs, muted. You apologise again. She insists it’s okay again. Rain hardens against the window, looks like TV static. You breathe in the peppermint steam.
The biggest thing I’ve learnt since drafting is that, at it’s core, this is a love story. And that makes me so excited because so many people, especially in mainstream media, still think that autistic people are incapable of love - or even worse, undeserving.
15: Kristen
Kristen’s favourite holiday is Halloween so naturally on his special day I had to make him go through it :) I can’t share a lot of this, but it feels right to end this beast of an update on this beast of an excerpt because it came to me out of absolutely nowhere and it is one of my favourite passages I’ve ever written OOPS
(CW: death, parental death)
[image description: a cluster of stars against a dark blue, almost black sky. In the middle, in a white serif font, reads “You want to ask your dad how something can end if for you it never began, but he’s asleep in his armchair back home. You look at the stars. You wonder if any of them are her.“ /end id]
You’ve mapped Sheffield’s streets since 13 so you know you’re walking the wrong way. This isn’t the way to Crookes. This isn’t the way out the city centre. You should order an Uber. You keep walking. You stop at a crossing. There’s no cars. You don’t cross. The traffic light flashes red and bleeds on your face. The stars are out tonight, and now it’s 2004 and you’re in the lounge with Lion King in the VHS. You’re off sick and your neighbour - Mel, recently retired, recently widowed - nurses a glass of brandy in your dad’s armchair because you don’t know it yet, but he can’t afford to miss work. You’re sprawled on the dusty-red rug when Simba and Mufasa sprawl in the grass and Mufasa tells Simba that all the stars are the Kings of the past and they are watching over him. You ask recently retired, recently widowed Mel if that’s true; her smile is happy but her eyes are sad and she says “yes, and not just Kings. Nobody leaves Earth, they just move to the stars.”
Ten minutes later, Mufasa is flung off a gorge’s edge; you haven’t studied storytelling yet, but you understand those two moments are connected. And when you relay this to dad over ready made pasta that evening, you ask him if people really live in the stars: Sometimes, when they can’t live here anymore. Then you ask if they can come back from the stars: No, but people remember them. They’ll tell stories about them, so people don’t forget. Then you ask if memories and stories are like stars: A little. Then you ask why they can’t live here anymore: It’s hard to explain, Kris.
After dinner, he lets you play on the plastic slide in the garden as he scrubs the dishes. You climb to the top and try to see faces in the stars, but it’s too cloudy. And after that but before bedtime, you’re sprawled on the dusty-red rug again, and Lion King is in the VHS again, and as Simba and Nala are bathed by their mothers again, your five year old mind connects what’s different about you. You go to ask dad about it, but he’s asleep in his armchair. It’s 2018, you’re stood on a phantom street in Sheffield. You want to ask your dad how something can end if for you it never began, but he’s asleep in his armchair back home. You look at the stars. You wonder if any of them are her.
And I usually don’t do this, but I think the playlist for this wip is absolutely fucking elite, so here’s a handful of the songs that I think encapsulate the story the best:
The Wombats – Greek Tragedy
Duncan Laurence – Arcade
FKA Twigs – Two Weeks
Peach Pit – Alrighty Aphrodite
Khalid – Saturday Nights
Alfie Templeman – Stop Thinking (About Me)
Rina Sawayama – 10-20-40
If you read this far, then I love you and we shall have a platonic wedding this summer. But I cannot express how excited I am about this story and to see where it goes!
#atlastracking#LCOMS#writing update#amwriting#seriously though i have had the best week but also my brain? a fried egg#sfoidhfsdf even before the cut this post is long i hate it here#long post
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Title: Quarantine: A Love Story {12}
Chris Evans x Reader Series
Warning: Lots of Cursing, Plot, Angst, Slow Burn, PLENTY OF WORDS
Words: 6.2k
Note: Okay, so this ask/request came in and I was all prepped to write it as a one shot, but I had so many separate ideas that sprang to mind for it and from it. As of right now, I am going to play this one by ear. Hell, I might just keep writing it as long as we’re all in our quarantine/self-isolation. So, it might be one part every week, or I might change it. I honestly have no idea, so let’s start with calling it a mini-series and see where it goes. Thank you anon for the request, hope it’s cool I tweak, twist and stretch this out.
I hope you guys enjoy this. Thank you for reading as always!!! ❤️❤️
***Loosely Edited/Proofread***
***Interactive & Pic Heavy***
Previous Chapters: Q1 | Q2 | Q3 | Q4 | Q5 | Q6 | Q7 | Q8 | Q9 | Q10 | Q11 |
~~~~~~~~~~~
-Quarantine: Day 54-
-Chris-
He’d thought about kissing you for years. He’d had countless dreams about it and umpteen daydream about how it would happen, how it would feel, and a slew of other things. In three years, the thoughts were always different. He never imagined it would have gone the way that it had. He expected something accidental, or even awkward like a stupid caught under mistletoe thing or even the midnight new year’s kiss you’re suckered into because you’re standing close. That was not what happened. From the day when he’d admitted to you being a temptation, he’d been overcome with the desire to kiss you. The day at his hideaway, that desire had turned into a need. It was now three days later, but he could still taste your lips. Still.
Groaning, he rubbed his face and walked over to his window. He had to find a way to get a grip. He felt out of control like he was going to lose his mind if he didn’t see you, talk to you, touch you, kiss you, making love to you. With that thought, he hit his forehead into the window and groaned.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
The coolness of the glass was only a slight relief until he opened his eyes and saw you sitting beside the pool in yet another sexy bikini. Slowly he looked along your legs that were glistening with what he suspected was coconut oil. You smelled like the stuff every time he was around you, coconut oil and every tropical fruit known to planet Earth. He loved it more and more with each passing day. You smelled good enough to eat, and he’d thought about several ways he’d like to devour you.
“Get a fucking grip, man!”
When he was about to walk away, you changed positions. He watched as you got onto your knees and peeled off your cover-up to then flip over and bend over, giving him the perfect view of your ass. He felt his face press against the glass, and all he had to do was stick his tongue out to look like the horndog he felt like he was. He always knew you had the perfect ass, but now looking at it practically in all its glory, he realized he didn’t know shit. You had curves his palms were itching to explore. You bent over to the table near your lounge chair and picked up a glass then brought it to your lips. He couldn’t look away. He literally had to forcibly pull himself from the window. Temptation was a horrible thing, a dangerous thing.
It was temptation he’d battled over the last three days. It was a battle that fluctuated every hour. One hour he was winning the war, and the next, he was the weakest man in the world and damn ready to kick down the guesthouse door and burying his face between those sinful thighs. He literally had to force his mind onto other things. It was hard three days ago, and it was hard today.
For the last few hours, he’d been trying to make plans in a world that was shut down. Businesses were closed, venues closed, restaurants closed, everything had come to a standstill. That meant he had to get creative. He went through the plan in his head one more time and took up the freshly sealed envelope as he walked to his door. He’d missed this morning’s breakfast on purpose. He knew that if he faced you so soon after last night, every single thing he was feeling would be painted across his face. He also knew that if he came face to face with his family, then he’d go round and round the situation yet again.
When he got in from walking you back to the guesthouse, he was restless. He couldn’t sit still. After a shower, he still hadn’t exhausted himself. He was wide awake and wanted to do a lot more than go to sleep. From the light on in the guesthouse, he suspected it was the same with you. Every time he laid down and tried to close his eyes, they popped right back open. He went around the last few hours with you, then the last weeks since quarantine began, and he even went as far back as the entire three years he’d known you.
His first instinct was not to waste any more time and plan that date for the next day, but by the time the sun came up, and he’d gone two miles more than he usually would have, he was in his head. He came up with countless reasons to nip things in the bud.
It began with you being too young for him. He was two weeks away from being thirty-nine, and you’d just gotten to thirty. He never saw himself doing the whole older man/younger woman thing. The two of you were at different stages in life. He’d made a promise, an important one. He never went back on promises he made; he was always as good as his word. That was just the kind of man he was. You had a type, and it was one he didn’t fit the criteria for. The two of you led and lived two completely different lives.
This went on all day, for three days straight. The day would begin with him going through countless reasons to end things before they began, or he crossed a line, and by the end of the day, he was right back to where he began, wanting to cross all the lines. He stayed at his hideaway knowing that you wouldn’t show up there again without the okay, and it was a fact he took comfort in. He ate there, slept there, and kept to himself for the most part. When he went back to the main house, it was to make sure you didn’t take his absence in the wrong way and to make sure he didn’t take ten steps back in the progress that was made.
Every time he saw you, it didn’t take long for your eyes to meet. Once they did, it was the most intense experience. It always felt like your mental brainwaves reached out for one another, and when they synced, it was better than every connection he’d ever thought he had. It was an indescribable feeling but one that reverberated throughout him. He always wanted to get closer. If you were across the dinner table, he wanted to push everything off and kick everyone out and slam you on it. If you were across the pool and your eyes met, everyone disappeared, and the two of you went on this mental trip together, one that had him panting like a dog and sweating by the time either of you looked away.
The one thing that tripped him up was the night before when he caught you openly ogling him. It was another night of drinking around a bonfire on the beach with the adults, and you were unusually quiet while nursing your glass of wine. He noticed little looks throughout the night, but it was while everyone was enthralled in conversation. When he did notice you outright looking over him, you started at his neck and went lower along his torso and arms. When your eyes dropped to his waist, he was having trouble breathing. Under the intense heat of your eyes, it took everything in him to stay seated and not throw you over his shoulder and run with you down the beach to the tall grass where he knew he could have his way with you. That was when he knew he had to leave, so he did. Once in his bedroom, he was trapped with his thoughts and imagination, and the entire process began again.
By the time morning came, he was right back to square one, wanting you more than he’d ever wanted any other woman and knowing he had to back away from this. Now he was at the point of saying fuck it. He was only so strong, and three years of continuous strength was impressive enough.
“Where’ve you been these last three days?”
His mother stood before him with her arms crossed as she leaned against the front door.
“Uh, well—around.”
“Around?” Her eyes bored into him, and he knew it was a matter of time before she saw right through him.
“I was gonna--,” he began before she cut him off.
“Let’s take a walk. The others can handle the restocking of supplies.”
“Ma, it would go faster--,” he began.
“Walk with your mother, Christopher!” She didn’t even wait for him to respond before she walked out the front door. He knew he had to follow, so follow he did.
They walked through the front yard along the graveled path in silence for several moments. The chirping of the birds and gentle breeze in the air said summer was on its way. It was a beautiful day, and he hoped it would remain that way to produce a beautiful night.
“How are you handling the shift in dynamics in your life with this quarantine?”
“What do you mean?”
“With what you’ve been doing.” The way she looked at him had him paused, thinking maybe she knew. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
“Normally you’re working twenty-three hours of the day and have little to no free time. It’s been opposite, right?”
Relieved, he sighed and nodded. “Yeah. It’s been—different, a real change, but honestly, I think I like it more than I should.”
She smiled and patted his back. “Good. I’ve always told you that you need to take the time to enjoy the fruits of your labor. It is important to have some time to yourself to reflect and recalculate your life choices and decisions, time to see what has been working from what is a massive failure, and make the necessary changes that will impact your life positively. It is important to listen to recognize the signs of life and listen to them. If you go against them, you end up in situations that quickly flutter out of control, and then you’re worse off than when you began.”
He felt like she was hinting at something very discreetly, and it drove him crazy. She spoke like this when she knew something no one else knew that she knew. When he looked at her, she looked to him with slightly raised eyebrows.
“Uh—okay.”
“Have you recognized any life signs within the last—seven weeks?”
“Ma, what are you talking about? You only go on these deeply philosophical rants when you’re holding on a piece of information that can throw a monkey wrench in something.”
“I have no such piece of information.”
He didn’t believe her but decided to let it rest. They took a turn toward the path for the beach and fell into a comfortable silence before she began talking about current events. This was where he got his outspoken nature. She had no problem giving criticism of government policies and officials, and neither did he.
Soon the sand was underneath their feet then she spoke again.
“So getting to spend this time with Y/N has been great, right?”
He scoffed and laughed. “So this is what this walk is about? What did I do now, ma?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but since you brought it up, do you have to be so cold?”
“Cold? I’m not cold.”
“I know that. She doesn’t.”
He looked to her and knew the two of you had talked. “Has she said something to you?”
“Do you care?”
He sighed and focused on the sand beneath his feet. If he said yes, then she could read into it, and if he said no, then he knew she’d know he was lying. His mother could always tell between his truths and lies. It was infuriating.
“Maybe just be nicer, that’s all and maybe stay away from dropping that you think she makes shitty decisions.”
He snorted but cringed at the same time. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He was in his feelings, and it popped right out.
“Yeah, that was bad,” he agreed.
“Get to know her a little.”
“Ha, I think that would defeat the purpose. Don’t you think?”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer. There was no need to.
“Who says I don’t know her?”
“Learning things about someone on the surface is different than really getting to know someone and all the nuances that make them who they are. She’s a real catch, Chris. I liked her when Scott first brought her around, but these three years—she’s an incredible woman.”
Her words were not helping his internal struggle. They were only making him sway to the side he shouldn’t even be on. It was getting impossible to keep his distance from you, impossible to let another fifty-something days pass where he didn’t bury his face in your neck.
“Isn’t it funny how the universe brings things and people into your life at the most opportune times? Often it’s times when we need to make a change—when we’re ready to make a change,” she said in her Obi-Wan Kenobi wise one teaching tone.
He would have said something about how she was as subtle as a train, but he agreed with her on this one. For the last few days, he’d began thinking it was meant for you to be quarantined with him and his family, it was meant for the two of you to be trapped this close. His mind went back to something his mother said years ago, something that made even more sense now. He nearly laughed out loud.
“Just be the amazing man I raised, the one who wore his heart on his sleeve and spoke from his heart and did everything with light and love. Remember him?”
He nearly threw up in his mouth.
“He wasn’t so bad,” his mother continued.
“Everyone seems to love this guy a lot more.”
“They never knew the other guy. I understand that not everyone deserves to know that you, but I’m sure some people might deserve to see him.”
She looped her arm with his and reassuringly patted his forearm. She knew she was right, and even though he hated to admit when she was right, she was. When they climbed the last step leading to the backyard from the beach, you were no longer at the pool.
“I’m going to make sure everything is packed away where I like. You—enjoy the sunshine,” his mother said with a smile and an almost unnoticeable head nudge toward the guesthouse before she walked away toward the house.
He stood there for a few moments going over his own thoughts. This was supposed to be one of the easiest decisions. It was, but it was also a decision that would cause a domino effect. It was like he had to come to terms with flipping the first domino, come to terms with everything he would end up doing as a result of this date. Digging in his back pocket for the envelope, he slapped his palm with it and walked toward the guesthouse. Once at the door, he wedged it in the crack and released the anxious breath he held before he walked off to prepare for the night.
-Y/N-
You’d been staring at the envelope for the last thirty or so minutes. When you’d come back from the bike ride with the kids, you didn’t expect to see it wedged in the door. At first, you thought it was mail that was forwarded to you, but then you realized you hadn’t given any forwarding instructions. It was then you saw your name scribbled across the front of it, and you immediately recognized Chris’s handwriting.
You were enjoying the agonizing stares and wayward glances of the last few days. You were grateful for the space he was giving you. You didn’t know if he was doing it for you or if he was having second thoughts. Whatever it was, you were glad about it. You were able to go over every single word that was spoken the night at his place, analyze every action, and even daydream about that kiss. You’d never been kissed like that in all your thirty years. None of your crushes, school boyfriends, adult boyfriends, Charles included had ever kissed you like that, and none of them had ever had you feeling what you felt in those two minutes.
For the last few days, that was what was fucking you up. You’d kissed plenty of guys, you were in no means promiscuous, but you enjoyed having freedom of your body and did what you pleased with it. While you were ultimate level exclusive with who you allowed close to you, you had no problem claiming your pleasure. You’d kissed men who loved to use too much tongue or drown you in saliva, or peck at you like they were a bird and you a worm. You’d kissed men who knew what they were doing and those who were entirely clueless, but with him it was different.
He didn’t use too much tongue; it was the right amount, and he had a thing where he rolled it around yours that sent goosebumps down your spine. The level of saliva was perfection; the only thing that was drowning was your underwear. Then the way he nibbled at your bottom lip and sucked; it took your breath away. It was clear he knew what he was doing. He was at expert mastery in the art of the kiss, and because of it, you were ready to risk it all, and that was a first—a first that scared the shit out of you.
You’d never had this reaction to a man before, and you were enjoying prolonging it though it was absolute torture. Every time you caught him watching you, you played whatever you were doing up. If you were walking, you’d swish your ass a little more, swimming you’d lean against the pool wall and pretend you’re stretching your back, which sent your breasts out even more. It was amusing to see his reactions. You thought you’d been stealthy with checking him out, but on the beach last night, you realized you were the opposite of stealthy. When your eyes met, it sent you entirely over the edge. When you went to bed that night, you couldn’t help but bring out your bullet vibrator. Your finger was no longer cutting it.
“Open the goddamn envelope, Y/N.”
You trailed your fingertips over your name that he’d written and flipped it over, ready to rip it open. You unfolded a sheet of white paper and smiled at his messy but strategic handwriting.
-Y/N-
I’ve been trying to figure out the best day and the best way to go about this. You mean that much.
I can’t stop thinking about you.
Will you have dinner with me tonight?
If your answer is yes, please meet me at seven at the house in the woods. God, I hope your answer is yes.
-Chris
Your smile was so wide, your cheeks hurt. You could imagine his cheeks were flushed as he wrote this. Such a dork, you thought to yourself.
“A sweet dork. Huh.”
You took notice of the butterflies fluttering around your belly and dropped back on the couch with a loud groan.
“Get a grip, Y/N. It is just a date. One date, one meaningless date,” you drilled with your eyes closed, trying to slow your racing heart.
After a few minutes, you sprang back up to a sitting position with panic coursing through you.
“Fuck, what do I wear!?”
You leaped to your feet and ran into the bedroom to rifle through the closet and drawers. When you packed for this quarantine, you packed sweats, leggings, tanks, swimsuits, cover-ups, underwear, sleepwear, and even lingerie. You didn’t even want to wear actual fabric, so nothing was adequate for a date. After twenty minutes of searching, your entire floor was covered with clothes, and you were sitting in the middle of it full on panicking.
“What do I do?” Closing your eyes, you fell back onto the pillow of clothing and berated yourself for not thinking to pack anything nice.
After a long, while you got up and looked around and decided you just had to improvise and cross your fingers it looked good together. It took you almost an hour to find something you were remotely okay with that wasn’t overtly sexy or way too chill. You wanted his jaw to drop when he saw you, but you didn’t want him thinking you were some easy piece of ass. After putting it together, you hopped in the shower. When you eyed your hair remover lotion and thought if you should bother. After barely fifteen seconds of decision making, you slathered the lotion on. Better safe than sorry, you thought.
By the time you got out of the shower, you had forty minutes to get yourself put together to get to the house. It wasn’t enough time; you knew that. You wanted to give him the full date look. The full glory of a put together you. It probably didn’t matter seeing that he’d seen you without make up these last seven weeks anyway. Something in you said to carry on as usual. By the time you were finished, you slipped on your slides, refusing to dwell on the fact you didn’t have not one pair of heels. You probably looked a hot mess.
When you opened the door, there was the bike Chris had found you for the bike ride with yet another note in the basket. You smiled, and as you were about to take it, your phone went off.
MSG Scott: Coming to dinner?
Fuck, you thought as you wracked your brain with a response. You couldn’t very well tell him you weren’t because you were going on a date with his brother. You groaned and took a deep breath as you tapped a response out.
MSG: No. Somehow, I have three zoom meetings tonight about a serious project. I’ll be doing this all night. I’ll come by and grab something when I’m done.
MSG Scott: Okay. I’ll even leave a bottle of wine in the fridge for you. I think you’ll need it.
You smiled but felt like an asshole. Chris was probably going to be balls deep in you in a few hours, and he had no idea. The thought of it had you excited. Grabbing the envelope, you opened it and read the note inside.
-Your chariot awaits-
You smiled rolled your eyes as you walked the bike toward the wooded area of the property. Once on the path, you wrapped the hem of your skirt and climbed onto the bike and set off. You did your best to not think about the many ways this night could go. You wanted to stay present because you knew that if your mind wandered, then you’d put yourself in a state of anxiousness for the rest of the night.
Before you knew it, you were in front of the gate, and your heart was racing, and it wasn’t from the exercise. You climbed off the bike and leaned it against the gate before you pushed through it and nearly fell on your face at the sight before you. The path before you was trailed with lights that made a path toward the house. As you took in the house, you couldn’t help but say, wow. It was covered in twinkle lights that lit up the property with a warm and romantic glow.
When you looked back to the path, you saw Chris standing there. From the distance you were at, you couldn’t fully make out his face. You hesitated taking your first step but pushed away the uncertainty and walked on. It felt like the longest walk you’d ever taken. After what felt like five minutes, you stopped in front of him. He looked a little shocked and something else you couldn’t decipher.
“Hi,” Chris whispered. You smiled small at first, but it spread in seconds.
“Hi. I’m sorry I’m late. It was a task and a half getting to this,” you said, signaling from your face to body. Chris then slowly looked over your figure before he returned to your face.
“You look—wow incredible.”
You smiled and released your nervous breath and the worry that he wouldn’t like how you looked.
“Yeah? I wasn’t sure. I literally had nothing to wear.”
“You could have come in sweats and a t-shirt, and you’d still look incredible.” You tried to keep a straight face, but it was impossible, your blush took over.
“Thank you,” you bashfully whispered.
“These are for you.” Chris held out a bouquet of sunflowers and daisies to you. You couldn’t believe your eyes, and he must have sensed your hesitation.
“Sunflowers, they mean happiness, adoration, and even loyalty while the daisies mean innocence, purity, and new beginnings,” Chris explained with his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t need to speak loudly, you heard him loud and clear, and the wat his voice wrapped around you and coxed you closer was not missed.
“Innocence and purity, huh.” You reached out and took the flowers from him and brought them to your nose.
“What don’t think you fit the criteria?”
“Ha, innocent and pure, nope. How did you get these?”
“I picked them. I think my mother will be very upset tomorrow, but this was an emergency.” You smiled and shook your head. He had game.
“Thank you.”
He led the way to the house then stopped to let you walk up the steps and across the front deck before him. As you walked, you could feel his eyes on you, and you were glad you’d chosen this mix and match outfit. Just as you were going to walk inside, Chris took your hand, stopping you in your tracks. When your eyes met, he came closer then looked at your hands. His fingers softly grazed yours, and goosebumps flew up your arm. When he was inches from your face, he looked back into your eyes.
“Close your eyes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Close your eyes. This is your first test in trusting me.”
You cocked your head to the side and took him in. He was being serious. Scoffing, you shook your head and closed your eyes only to snap them open again. He hadn’t moved an inch. He just stood there patiently waiting. Sighing, you closed your eyes and kept them shut. You didn’t know what he was doing, and the fact that you had no control over this set you off. After a minute, your anxiety was at its peak.
“Hopefully, by the end of the night when I ask you to do that again, it’ll be easier for you.” His lips were close to your ear. You could smell his cologne and picked up the hint of mint and basil that came off him.
He took your other hand and led you.
“Keep coming; you’re doing great.”
After a few more steps, you stopped. You wanted to open and look, but you fought the urge and instead waited for him to tell you to. Again, it felt like an eternity of silence.
“Open them.” You took a deep breath and opened your eyes and slowly blew it out when you took in what he’d been doing. Before you, the limbs of the trees were draped in twinkle lights that hung down, mimicking the limbs of a weeping willow tree. In the dead center of the dangling lights was a table set for two with lit candles to finish off the décor. You were blown away to the point of speechlessness.
“Wow.” It was a whisper. Chris stepped out before you and held out his hand for yours. When you placed it in his palm, he led you across the deck down to the scene. You looked around and took notice of a movie screen that was on the exterior wall, and a setup area with candles, cushions, and flowers. You smiled to yourself.
Chris motioned to the seat for you, and you wasted no time sitting with a plop. Your head was spinning looking at everything he’d done. This looked like he went through a lot of trouble.
I’m going to check on dinner. I’ll be right back.” You nodded and watched him walk toward the house. For the first time, you took in his crisp white shirt and tan colored pants. It was casual, but he looked good. Your eyes dropped to his ass and smiled. He looked really good, you thought. When he disappeared inside, you took in your surroundings again. Taking out your phone, you snapped a few pictures, so you could reminisce later as you reflected.
You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you didn’t realize when he’d returned. When he touched your shoulder, it scared you half to death.
“I’m sorry, I thought you heard me.”
“Oh god, no. I’m sorry I zoned out.”
“Everything okay?”
Taking a deep breath, you slowly released it and nodded. “Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I was just—admiring what you’ve done here,” you informed.
“Do you like it?”
“What’s not to like? It’s beautiful, really beautiful,” you said with a smile before you looked at him. when you did a relieved look washed over him, and that was when you saw he was nervous too.
“Wine? I know you prefer white, but I have some red too.”
“But you prefer beer, I can drink beer,” you countered.
“I’m much more than a beer drinker. We’ll start with the white.” Chris began opening the bottle, and your attention dropped to his hands. He had his cuffs rolled up just enough to show his forearms. As he gripped the bottle and the opener, every single vein bulged in his arm and hands, and just like that, your mind was in the gutter.
Clearing your throat, you straightened, “Actually, let’s start with the red.”
“Red?”
“Yeah, red wine is more potent.”
“Potent. Uh—do you think stronger is a good idea?”
You studied him and smirked. “What do you think if I drink red wine that I’ll try to jump your bones?”
His smile was boyish and adorable. “I never said that. Just thought you’d want a clear head.”
“I can more than hold my liquor,” you finished. Chris nodded and switched gears and began opening the red wine instead. When he filled your glass halfway, you eyed him, which made him snort before he poured a little more.
“What should we drink to?”
You thought about it for a few moments then crossed your legs. Chris’ eyes dropped to your exposed thigh, and you thought this was almost too easy.
“What do you want to drink to?”
Chris looked up from your thigh with just his eyes, and you were stunned silent yet again.
“No masks,” Chris proposed holding his glass out to you.
“No masks,” you repeated, tapping your glass to his before you took a hearty gulp of the semi-sweet but tart liquid and moaned.
“Nice choice,” you commented. You could taste the berry and hickory undertones in it, but it wasn’t overpowering.
“Of course, you’d think so, the wine collector.”
“Hey, if you like to drink, you better get a hobby that correlates.” He smiled warmly before he sat adjacent to you.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get you from the guesthouse. I wanted to but--,” Chris began.
“No, no need to apologize. I understand. Honestly, I think meeting here was a better idea. Cute message, though.” Again, he smiled, and you took another hearty gulp of wine that turned into quite the mouthful.
“Thirsty?”
“You have no idea,” you answered. Chris just watched you, and the longer he did, the more your nerves were playing tricks on you.
This was insane, you thought. No man had you this nervous and anxious. In all the years of first dates, this was a first. You were usually calm, cool, collected, and completely detached and objective. It was all to ensure you analyzed the night correctly down to your date’s words, body language, and efforts with planning the night. You were struggling with remaining objective.
Your knees nearly buckled when you’d walked through the gate. Then when you stood before him, you nearly panted out to give away just how breathless he made you. When you saw what he’d done to the back of the house, you almost let loose an “aww,” and now you were barely keeping it together to not melt right into him, and it hadn’t even been an hour yet. He was already presenting completely different than he had in the entire three years you’d known him. Your head was still spinning.
“Are you hungry?”
Keeping your fresh ass in check, you nodded and took another long sip of your wine. Chris stood and walked back into the house, and you used the time to find your chill.
When he laid down the trey, he carried he arranged the plates and assortment he’d prepared across the table. The scents coming from the plates had your belly grumbling.
“Wow, this smells incredible.”
“You sound surprised. I can cook, you know.”
“I’d heard stories of you being able to do a little somethin’.”
“I do more than a little somethin’, I can throw all the way down in the kitchen,” Chris bragged. You nodded as you laughed.
“Let me be the judge of that.”
Chris sat and waited for you to take a bite. You sliced your meat and put a piece in your mouth. Instantly the juices of the steak washed over your tongue, and you couldn’t help but moan.
“Uh-huh, told you. Chef Evans!”
“All right, it’s good. No need to brag. Cockiness in men is unattractive.”
“You’re a liar, and you know it,” Chris dryly responded which made you laugh loudly.
The two of you ate in silence for a few moments.
“I’ve always liked your laugh.”
Your shock was evident. He smiled as he finished his mouthful.
“Ah, that’s right, you thought I hated everything about you. Got it,” Chris teased.
“Wow, this is surreal,” you added.
“I always thought I was doing such a horrible job hiding how I really felt, thought I was so see through. Either I was better than I thought, or you’re not as good at reading people as you thought.”
“Hey, not cool. Don’t come for me, Chris.”
He laughed again and continued to eat. Your head ran to New Year's Eve. “New Year's Eve, that comment you said. Was that bullshit?”
His smile was soft as he finished chewing. “Complete bullshit.”
You busted out laughing then and squealed. You really thought he was throwing shade at you.
“Oh my god. You asshole. The rest of the night I was in my feelings, I was so salty. Wow, Chris.”
He laughed some more as you shook your head.
“Wait, is this what Sebastian meant?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“As I was making my way over, Sebastian and I chatted, and he said he liked my dress and that no wonder he’s so conflicted,” you divulged.
“Wow, he said that?” You nodded and waited for him to answer.
“Wow. Um, yeah I guess. We’d gone out drinking before, and I must have had too much, and I think I may have let something slip,” Chris explained.
“Wow. I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not, you saw what I wanted you to—what I needed you to,” Chris slid in.
“I was so salty that I was so determined to have fun and ignore you. When Charles approached me, I said, fuck it why not to leaving with him,” you confessed. Chris’s eyes bugged as he leaned back.
“You’re kidding.”
With a yikes face, you shook your head. “Hand to God.”
“Woow. You’re telling me I drove you to him?” His disbelief was evident; you juggled your head from side to side, not wanting to say yes or no.
“Wow, I’m about to flip this fucking table.”
You laughed out loud again and covered your mouth, trying to hide just how amused you were. This was perfect comedic irony. Chris finished his glass of wine, then shook his head.
“Guess I am the asshole.” You shrugged and continued eating.
Thanks to the laughter, your anxiety had decreased, but you were now wondering if he was thinking about you sleeping with Charles on New Year’s. When you glanced at him, his expression was unreadable, his brows were knitted, and it looked like he was in deep thought, but you couldn’t read if his thoughts were angry ones.
“Do you remember the first time we met?”
You smiled fondly as you nodded. It was one of the few pleasant outings with him.
“God, that lake was beautiful,” you reminisced.
“It was. I thought you were gorgeous; your smile was the first thing I noticed. Then your laugh,” Chris began with a soft smile on his lips. “I remember watching you cannonball over and over into the lake. You had endless energy, and you never looked more beautiful. You were so full of light and joy. I don’t know; there was something about you that just made me feel like a firefly drawn to you like you were a flame. Then when you began telling your story, I was hooked. You were funny, charismatic, silly, and just carefree. That is one of my favorite memories of you,” Chris finished.
You didn’t know what to say to that. You had no idea he held that day or memory close at all.
“We talked for two hours straight that night, right?”
He nodded, and the two of you just stared at the flame of the candle, both lost in the memory.
“I remember thinking that night that Jesus Scott’s brother is hot, but he’s smart,” you admitted. When Chris looked at you, you regretted opening your mouth. You gulped down the remainder of the wine and blew out.
“That was the night I realized I liked you.”
“Liked, liked?”
“No, liked, liked was later,” Chris said.
“When?”
He studied you for a minute then finished his glass before he reached for the bottle to refill your glasses.
“It was the fourth of July. We all went to the firework thing in the Hamptons, and the whole night, I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you. I watched guy after guy approach you, flirt, and with each of them, I felt something that was unfamiliar to me—jealousy.”
“You’d never felt jealousy before?”
“When it comes to a woman or men who talk to her? Never. The way I lived my life back then—there was no reason or room for it. I felt it that night, though, and it was unsettling. You talked, and I was hanging off every single word. When the fireworks started, the first burst in the sky lit you up in this amazing light, and the happiness on your face hit me harder than a Mack truck ever could. It was the most uncomfortable I’d ever felt, the most insecure and fearful. It terrified me, but like a firefly, to the flame, I had to get closer. Then when you looked back at me something felt different in that moment, I saw something in your eyes that was unsettling.”
“Was that when you disappeared? I remember I reached back for your hand and got your fingers. Then they were gone. I looked back, and you were walking away in the crowd.”
The emotions that came back with the memory surprised you. You’d buried that night so deep, but having it resurface now was unexpected. You took a long sip from your glass and tried to work through the feeling of nakedness.
“I’ve regretted that night for a long time,” Chris quietly admitted. You studied him and waited for him to continue.
“Some nights, I thought I regretted walking away, others I thought I regretted everything else.”
“And tonight? What do you regret?”
His eyes met yours, and it was there they remained. The longer he stared at you, the louder your heartbeat. You were sure he could hear it, but he didn’t say anything about it. His eyes dropped to your lips and stayed there for quite a while before sadness washed over his face, and his eyes dropped to the table.
“Ask me again tomorrow,” he softly whispered. You couldn’t help but feel like there was something behind all of that. Something had just happened.
Before you could bring it up, he changed the subject and asked you about work. For the next fifteen minutes, you explained what you did and your goals and hopes and dreams when it came to your craft. Chris happily listened and never looked bored by a thing you said. He genuinely looked interested.
Dinner was delicious, and the conversation was flowing and the worries of earlier that you’d have nothing to talk about dissipated. You talked about a wide range of things that didn’t stop at work or interests. You even ventured into the hard-hitting things such as politics. When he went into a spirited rant about his beliefs, you sat there happily listening.
When he spoke like this with conviction, you found him most attractive. You loved an educated man, a man who had a brain and was not afraid to show it. It was clear he wasn’t his vocabulary was on point, and with every three-hundred-point Scrabble word he dropped, you drank more and more of your wine, hoping it would douse the fire in the pit of your stomach. It did nothing.
As he spoke, you couldn’t help but watch his mouth. It moved beautifully as if he were speaking the most creative prose. You loved the way his mouth formed the words and letters. He had your undivided attention. Four bottles of wine later, you were still sitting at the table talking, and you didn’t mind at all. You couldn’t help but think how you’d misjudged him all these years. You’d put up a wall after that fourth of July, and with each interaction, you just added another pane of glass to make it thick enough that he could see you, but he’d have no effect. It was clear to you now that he was shattering each pane of glass. His effort into tonight took half of it. He was easy to talk to, the way your brains played off of each other was something you’d expected.
When he turned on a movie to fit across the screen of the makeshift movie theater, you were in a comfortable bubble. He handed you the remote, and that was how Netflix and chill began. You watched an action-comedy that had the two of you laughing loud enough to wake the animals in the woods. Neither of you cared. He laughed when you laughed, and you did the same. Every time he clasped his hand to his chest as he laughed, it pulled at your heartstrings, heartstrings you had no idea existed for him. This one night was fucking you up more than three years of his cold and frigid antics.
“Wow, I’m gonna have to call Helms and tell him what a fucking good job he did with this,” Chris announced through fits of laughter.
“Him? My god, that little boy. Shit with my luck that would be my son,” you admitted, which set Chris off on another laughing fit, one that you joined in on.
“Don’t laugh, I’m serious. He’d be dropping all sorts of f-bombs and pussy talk.”
“In his Bostonian accent,” Chris added through laughs.
“Yes. You can see it too.”
“Yeah, like fugettaboutit sweetart now show me that pussy.”
You busted out laughing again and hit him on the shoulder.
“Oh my god, my son would be a badass kid, I can see it now.”
“Nah, I’d keep his ass in line,” Chris said.
“Whatever, you’d be laughing with him egging him because he takes after your ass with that dirty ass mouth,” you added. You laughed together for a few moments before you both slowly registered what you’d said and how it came off. You both had just referred to your future imaginary son as a son you would share. Oh fuck, you thought as you finished your wine.
“I’m gonna get started on those dishes,” Chris announced as he stood and walked off to the table still littered with dishes and utensils.
You sat there and grabbed the bottle before you, and took it to the head while you reflected a little. After a few minutes, you decided thinking was the enemy right now and took up the glasses to walk inside. Chris had already started loading the dishwasher when you approached.
“Hey, got room for two more?”
“Thanks.” He took the glasses and busied himself once again. You hopped onto the counter beside the sink and crossed your legs, leaving your thigh exposed.
“Why did you build a house on your property that already has a house?”
“This is usually where everyone comes to let loose. Often the house is always full, and it gets loud. I thought it would be a good idea to have somewhere I could hear myself think or even work.”
“This is really cool, and interestingly enough, it looks like you. There are so many details that just screams Chris,” you said.
“Like what?”
“The bed.”
You didn’t mean to go right there, but the wine was finally beginning to work.
“The bed?”
You nodded and brought the wine bottle to your head again.
“How?”
“It’s rustic, kind of, and the plaid on it. You have a lumberjack thing when you come home.”
He snorted and laughed out loud. “Wow, a lumberjack?”
“What’s there’s nothing wrong with lumberjacks. There are plenty of women who get hot for lumberjacks.”
“Are you one of them?” Chris glanced back at you with an eyebrow raised. You smiled.
“Maybe,” you muttered before taking another sip from the bottle.
“What do you get hot for?” He didn’t look back that time. He continued on as if he hadn’t heard you, but you knew he had.
“Not gonna tell me? Gonna make me guess? Okay, I can guess. Let’s see,” you began drinking down the wine.
“From the expert analysis of members of Lipstick Alley I’d say tall, slim, partly curvy by slim standards, hair color doesn’t matter not really, you can take blonde, red, brown, black, but beauty does, pretty eyes, slim nose, big boobs, nice ass by slim white girl standards,” you listed off as Chris dried his hands and walked to you. When he was before you, he took the bottle from your hands to raise it to his mouth.
“Sound about right?”
“Does any of that describe you?”
“Not at all,” you answered with a smirk as you uncrossed your legs.
“Then I guess that doesn’t make me hot. Only you have made me hot for the last three years,” he blatantly admitted.
You snorted and rolled your eyes. “You’re full of shit.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve been fucking all these years. So hence, you’re full of shit.”
You made a move to hop down, but Chris was between your knees in seconds, stopping you. “How do you know I didn’t have to think about you all these years?”
Butterflies filled your belly again.
“Uh--,” you began.
“Cat got your tongue? Is it really that impossible to be true? Impossible to think that all these years I’ve had you in my head while I was with anyone else, had you in my head every night where I stroked myself, had you in my head every night for the last fifty-two days?” You were speechless as you searched his eyes.
“Welcome to my prison, Y/N,” Chris whispered close to your ear before he walked away back toward the back deck.
You couldn’t believe your ears. Had he really just admitted to using your image to fuck the thots he had all this time? Had he really just called it a prison? You hopped off the counter and walked out back.
“What kind of shit is that to say?”
“It was the truth,” Chris calmly said as he leaned against the table to then cross his stretched out legs.
“You’re telling me you thought of me while you fucked every girl over the last three years? You thought about me as you had sex with other women? How am I supposed to take that? Is that supposed to feel good?”
You felt jealousy like you’d never felt before. “Wow.”
“Does it feel the same way I felt seeing you parade around with every Thomas, Randall, Trevor, Harry, and Charles? Hearing the stories from our friends, sitting there?”
“There is a huge difference there. You knew how you felt. I--,” you snapped your mouth shut and turned your back to him.
“You what?”
“I didn’t know how I felt,” you quietly responded before you spun to him. “You knew how you felt but still chose to fuck them. You still chose how the last three years happened. Now you tell me this. Why?”
“I made a promise, Y/N.”
“To who?!”
“It’s not important,” he began before you got fed up and got closer.
“The hell it isn’t. who did you promise, Chris?!”
“You!”
You lurched back and looked at him as confusion filled you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!!
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#quarantine: a love story fic#Chris Evans#chris evans fanfiction#Q12#chris evans x reader#chris evans x you#chris evans x black reader#angst fanfic#slow burn fanfic#black fanfiction#quarantine fanfic
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Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 15
new year, new chapter c: it's been a while since i've worked on Chronicles—December Mood dips are Not Delicious, plus i started streaming regularly, which has been fun! ((i’m omnistruck on Twitch if you want to check it out 🥰) but rest assured i intend to see it through to the end. i hope you've been well <3 take care, and enjoy!
From: itsdjbubbles
My dude, if your stage presence is anything like this flyer, y’all are absolutely gonna kill it at La Tortue.
Well. Luka doesn’t know about that.
It’s not like Kitty Section is totally obscure. They’ve had a stage in Paris’s annual pop-up music festival or more than one occasion. And sometimes Juleka’s tagged along to street corners with him so they could duet in hopes of more than just pocket change. And, of course, there was that whole music contest with Bob Ross and XY, but that had only ended in fiasco: their music was stolen, Rose’s vocals ripped right off the track. Luka argued up and down over the phone until he was red in the face, nearly biked down to the studio and let them have it, but he could hardly prove it. And he cared too much about it jeopardizing Juleka’s happiness to follow through.
Total corporate bullshit. He didn’t know how Jagged Stone did it. When he said so at dinner the night he gave up, his Ma only tousled his hair and said, “You’re my boy, aren’t you?”
Sometimes he thinks that’s the strongest, bravest, he’s ever been. That all his audacity peaked years ago, and he’s only gotten worse since then.
Bubbles isn’t corporate bullshit. Luka feels like he’d be able to figure out something like that from conversation alone. But their talks have been friendly—and more than that, supportive. He’s even shown a few messages to the band, just to check that he wasn’t losing his mind. And he saw how their faces softened in approval, or lit up with excitement. Even Juleka’s.
Besides, Bubbles makes music. And when he samples something, he actually credits it. He knows how to play the game. And it feels like they’re on the same side of the board.
Bubbles has that stage presence; the fact that he only needs that one shadowy picture on his profile is more than enough of an indicator. And Bubbles has a reputation that precedes him. So even if they’re on the same side of the board, it feels like Bubbles is always just a couple of steps ahead.
At least his bandmates are on the same side, and at the same step. All it took was a casual mention, during a late-night band practice, of “the bakery he keeps getting their snacks from” being all in on getting them even more exposure. They didn’t exactly do a good job of hiding their excitement, but he wouldn’t have wanted them to, anyway. Even Juleka, after practice ended, had to admit, “You did good.” And then, with perhaps a bit more snark, “Maybe she’s the one trying to impress you. “
“Stop,” Luka said with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help thinking about it once the partition between their beds was up. There was no way Marinette Dupain-Cheng was trying to impress him.
…Was there?
By now, nearly a day later, Luka’s still asking himself that. Still hemming and hawing like they have more than just two weeks to get their act together. Pacing below deck with his phone in his hand, thinking about pear tarts and pretty faces instead of going to see them in person, and staring at Marinette’s phone numbers until he thinks he’s accidentally memorized both of them.
He doesn’t recognize the pattern or the area code of one of them, so he can only assume that it's an American number. But he still hasn’t mucked up the courage to text or even save the French one in his phone. Why does he need to be scared in the first place? It’s a phone number, and this is strictly business, and everything between them has been strictly business.
Well. Nearly everything. Nearly strictly.
He thinks.
Okay. Okay. All he has to do is say… what? Hi? Who just starts texting someone for the first time with “Hi?” But he can’t go writing a whole essay either, even though at least now he has the power to edit his words instead of just saying them and hoping for the best.
This is harder than it needs to be. And yeah, maybe he’s just making it harder than it needs to be, but it’s not like his brain and the shake in his hands are giving him much of a choice in the matter.
Luka switches back over to his message thread with Bubbles and shoots off a quick reply—flatterer—because maybe answering something easy will make the hard stuff more tolerable. He finds himself looking toward his guitar as though it might lend him strength… well, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt. He plays a doodle or two, idle notes, and catches himself before his fingers can drift toward the beginning of the ocean-blue song. At this point, it’s neither perfect nor good, and he can’t tell if it’s personal dissatisfaction or the numbers that the latest draft has been doing online.
Both. It’s probably both.
Messaging Marinette ends up being just as hard after his attempts at centering as it was before—because as it turns out, the whole music-giving-him-unbridled-confidence thing really only works while he’s playing it. So now he’s left still staring at the blank NEW MESSAGE screen, the cursor blinking almost tauntingly at him because of course it is. Because somehow, he can write a note telling a girl her eyes are pretty and survive long enough to see her smile about it, but he can’t send that same girl a text. It’s not like he can even see her reaction this time, anyway; that just gives him even more of an advantage.
Okay. Okay. He can actually do this. Maybe. He thinks—no, no, he has to.
With a deep breath that he holds longer than he releases, Luka opens a new message.
To: Marinette
hey. it’s luka.
And like an idiot, he hits SEND before he’s even put the rest of his message together. So now he has to make a mad dash to come up with something so he doesn’t seem like a total creep for messaging her out of the blue.
For fuck’s sake. This is exactly why he writes his messages in the notes first.
To: Marinette
sorry, hit send before i could finish. anyway, just wanted to tell you the band is cool with the postcard idea. i can pay you next time i come to the bakery, if that’s cool.
To: Marinette
anyway, it’s really cool of you to offer your help like this. sorry if i didn’t say so yesterday, it’s kind of been... a wild time.
Luka locks his phone before he can agonize too much over what he’s sent, stuffs it away and starts pacing again. It’s not a frantic, shaky thing; no, he’s learned to keep the shakes on the inside until no one’s around to see them. He jumps when his back pocket vibrates, and he nearly drops his phone trying to fish it out. It’s only Bubbles, and he can’t tell whether he’s relieved or disappointed until his phone buzzes again. Twice. And this time, it actually is from Marinette.
From: itsdjbubbles
Sorry, I was getting some stuff ready for my next project. Listen, I’m just saying. Don’t sell yourself short as this stuff. Paris is gonna hear you up there, and it’s gonna lose its collective fucking mind.
From: Marinette
hi luka ☺️ no worries, i do that too sometimes. here’s the mockup for the postcard. let me know what your band thinks, i’ll do some tweaks and send it to print. sound good?
Luka balks, both at the tone of the message and at the picture she sent. It looks almost exactly like the flyer, same color scheme and everything. The only difference seems to be in the composition, which makes sense; she’s got more of the eye for this stuff, even for someone who only “dabbles.”
To: Marinette
wow, this is... thank you? that was fast. and this is really well put-together. i think they’re gonna love it.
you really weren’t kidding, huh.
Luka finds himself sinking onto his bed and staring at the message thread instead of actually doing something productive. And strangely, he’s fine with that. The more time passes, the less scary it is to see her typing back, again and again and again.
From: Marinette
course i wasn’t kidding. “help” is practically my middle name to the people who matter.
and i mean, there’s only a little bit of time until your show, right? so, gotta get movin.
anyway, i gotta run. my friend needs help for his summer class and i promised i’d go visit today.
Keep me posted about your band!
♥️
There is far too much in that message for Luka to need to process. “People who matter?” “Keep me posted?” The literal heart emoji at the end? He reads their messages over and over, mostly to confirm that this really, actually just happened, but he’s not going to push his luck. Maybe she just talks to everyone like that, and more importantly, the two of them haven’t been much more than a series of transactions anyway.
A... lot of transactions.
That she’s been doing a lot of giving for.
Luka tries and at least sort of succeeds at shaking the thought from his mind; he can’t read hers, and he shouldn’t try to. He sends her one last text—cool, have a good one—and switches back to Bubbles before he can worry if his words were too casual.
To: itsdjbubbles
Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess you’re not the only one? the bakery I go to, they’re offering to help too.
or, I mean, CBG is offering to help.
Bubbles’s reply doesn’t come until a few hours later. It’s presumably after that project work he mentioned, and definitely after Luka’s had some time to play out the rest of the shakes before he goes busking. His phone buzzes with the notification just as he’s about to leave, and what Bubbles has to say makes his stomach churn and his blood run both hot and cold.
From: itsdjbubbles
wait. wait wait wait. hold on i just scrolled your posts.
CBG is *Marinette Dupain-Cheng?*
ohhhhhhh my dude you are in for it now.
#miraculous ladybug#lukanette#endgame lukanette#luka couffaine#marinette dupain cheng#fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass#and we're back to luka being a total mess.#how are you? i hope you're well 💙💖🎶
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ATEEZ Reaction To: San and his S.O. being sexually active
I really liked your jongho one so I was wondering if you could do ateez’s reaction to you and san being sexually active?? or something similar to that?? thank you in advance!!
Songs Listened To: Shoulda Pulled Up - SIIMBA SELASSIIE, Special Affair - The Internet, Girls Need Love - Summer Walker, Desire - Meg Myers, Cash Shit - Megan Thee Stallion, Kitten - Kash Doll, Savage - Megan Thee Stallion, Thirsty - Taemin, Fine - GOT7, Movie Star - CIX, mentiras - Alaina Castillo, REVEAL - The Boyz, Get It - The Boyz, Wait a Minute! - WILLOW
(This is really really explicit so read at your own caution!!)
Hongjoong ♡:
• was straight vibing while cooking dinner when you stumbled into the kitchen
• bruh you were walking around like Bambi dadhsuadhbau
• damn noodle legs up in here
• he looked so scared when he saw you wobbling while trying to open the cabinet lmao can you imagine
• “Woah, are you ok, ______?”
• “Yeah, yeah. Peachy,” you gave him a very pained smile and resumed raiding the kitchen
• “What are you looking for?”
• would come up from behind you and put a hand on your hip absentmindedly when you hissed and backed away from him
• hella geeked out
• “Damn, what happened?”
• you’d laugh, raising an eyebrow
• “You sure you wanna know?”
• he’d nod
• You’d lift up your shirt enough to show the blooming red bruises on your hips
• “San was a bit rough. I was looking for some ziplock bags so I can put ice in them to ease the soreness”
• his eyebrows would shoot up to his hairline lmaoo
• nonetheless, he’d still toss them your way and fight to not choke on his own spit as you thanked him with an added wink and went back to your room
• literally can never look at you without thinking of that suggestive smile you gave him
Seonghwa ♡:
• he drinks to forget
• forget what you ask?
• Oh, you know, just the fact that he walked in on you and San going at it like rabbits
• all Hwa wanted to do was grab his charger lmao
• but no, he has to live with the knowledge that you have a nipple piercing and shake when you orgasm
• in his defense, he did knock a couple times, but when you guys didn’t answer because you were so distracted he just said fuck it and opened the door. If only he knew that he’d get a perfect view from the side of you riding San, tongue pressed against your upper lip and two fingers sucked into his mouth.
• he could’ve died right then and there when your eyes flicked up to meet his, a surprised grin spreading across your swollen lips as you leaned back to find purchase on one of San’s raised knees
• “Uh-oh, look who decided to show up,” you rasped
• San chuckled around your fingers when he saw Hwa’s face, frozen in an expression of what looked to be distress, before pulling them out with an audible pop and letting his head fall back into the mattress with a groan
• “Either take a seat or get out.”
• Hwa couldn't have slammed the door so fast I’m gONE
• head goes so far into the gutter every time he hears your voice that it’s sad
Yunho ♡:
• Aw man, poor Yunho lmao
• he really didn’t deserve to have his ears exposed to such sin
• he was eating popcorn, binge-watching horror films when his phone began to ring beside him
• he picked it up, held it to his ear, and just as he was about to ask what San wanted, he heard something he really wasn’t ready for
• “Baby cumming! Oh一fuck一Oh my god,” your moans began to reach high pitches as you sobbed out warnings of your approaching orgasm, the lewd sound of skin-on-skin in the background as San’s frequent pants and gasps rung through the receiver.
• Yunho froze, he wanted to end the call, realizing it definitely was an accident, but his fingers began to clam up and all of his joints snapped on lock
• he didn’t mean to get a hard-on, he swears
• he just looked down and there it was, poking at the front of his sweats
• “Cum with me, baby,” Yunho could hear San whimper, “wanna feel you clench around my cock when I fill you up.”
• after a couple seconds of just sitting there with his mouth gaping open, he finally found the courage to end the call and set his face in his hands
• the next time he saw you, you were so casual
• he swears he saw you smirk at him as you left though
Yeosang ♡:
• Yeosang usually enjoyed staying up a bit late listening to music and doing fuck else, and this time was no different
• was tweaking his drones when the thumping started
• it came from behind him, vibrating from the wall he sat against
• it sounded like... the bang of a headboard against a wall
• Yeosang wasn’t stupid
• he knew that both you and San were the room next to him
• he was suddenly so tired lmao
• all the energy and drive to live just drained out of him at the rackus of yall’s fuckin
• said “Alrighty then” before putting on his headphones, blasting the music, and trying to fall asleep
• would stare at the ceiling until he passed out
• never mentioned it to you but would always purse his lips whenever you and San had sex and try not to throw his phone at the wall and scream at you guys to shut up
San ♡:
• very grateful that you give him kitty when he needs it nfaiibvibasuv
Mingi ♡:
• always watches movies with you because you’re the only one who humors his little comments throughout the film
• he often likes to critique while watching, and he enjoys when you add on to it and begin to make inside jokes with him
• everyone else tells him to shut up ;(
• you’d be in the middle of a shitty old ripoff of Ratatoullie, legs flung over Mingi’s lap and back against the couch, when he started trying to tickle your feet and you moved your foot back instinctively
• it spread your thighs and gave Mingi a perfect view of the smooth inner flesh
• he laughed and looked down at you, but in his periferal, he saw something on your thigh
• “Holy... is that a bite mark, ____?”
• his hand unconciously went to poke at the angry red mark, the undeniable tracing of teeth mars near the crotch of where your shorts sat on your bottom half
• you flinched when he made contact, slamming your legs shut and smacking his arm as you sat up
• “You don’t touch something that looks like it hurts without permission”
• your words held no venom, so he allowed a smile, still staring at your legs
• “Maybe, but what happened?”
• “San happened.”
• was all you said, grabbing the empty popcorn bowl and heading to the kitchen
• “I’m going to get more snacks!”
• he really said :O
• but nah, he had an idea that you would have your fun with San. He had his suspisions whenever you pulled San into the bathroom and took forever for “a couple shower with my lovely boyfriend San”
Wooyoung ♡:
• he always knew
• he’s literally just as much of a slut, he’s no stranger to the telltale signs of glassy eyes and a scratchy voice
• so when you come into the kitchen for a glass of water and already see Woo leaning against the counter, holding a box of Cheez-Itz and munching on two of the crackers, he notices the way your words come out in a rasp as you say “Hi” and wave
• he chuckles, watching you press a tall glass against the water dispenser and look at him with a confused frown
• Woo leans in to your face, which makes you, in turn, take a step back
• “Look at me, ____,” he demands
• you do
• all of a sudden, he’s gripping your jaw and turning your face at different angles with a lop-sided grin
• “Say my name”
• “Wooyoung...?” it comes out as more of a question than a statement of his name
• “Damn,” he laughs and finally lets go of you
• “San gave it to you good, huh? Tell him he did a good job”
• you looked so done with his ass lmao
• flipped him off as you turned the corner
Jongho ♡:
• babie babie alert!!!
• woke up early one morning
• and usually, when he wakes up, if he’s not rushing to do anything, he takes showers
• was making his way to the bathroom when he stopped at the sound of the shower running
• knocked like the absolute sweetheart he is omfgwhatanangel
• “Who’s in there!?”
• waits a beat, then gets his answer
• “S-sa-nn一fuck一and ____!”
• his heart skips a beat at the way your voice sounds choked off, strained as you struggle to, what it seems like, not cry out
• “Oh... okay!”
• is really not about to say anything, too shy even if he wanted to
• when you come out and see him sitting on the couch in the living room, you wave at him, smiling to yourself when he flushes red and nods in acknowledgment.
#kpop#kpop related#ateez#ateez smut#ateez request#hongjoong#mingi#jongho#wooyoung#san#choi san#yunho#jung yunho#yeosang#seonghwa#ateez yunho#ateez jongho#ateez seonghwa#ateez yeosang#ateez mingi#song mingi#ateez wooyoung#ateez san#ateez hongjoong#requested
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Situation Comedy
INSCRUTABLE MUSIC-VIDEO GENIUS MAKES MOVIE. IT'S VERY GOOD. INSCRUTABLE FILMMAKER DOES MAGAZINE INTERVIEW. IT'S VERY BIZARRE. A VERY SMALL GLIMPSE INTO THE INSULAR WORLD OF SPIKE JONZE, WHERE MAKING AWESOMELY STRANGE FILMS, WEARING FAKE PENISES, AND GETTING BEAT UP (SORT OF) ALL ARE PART OF THE SCENERY
BY ZEV BOROW
"He came to visit me once and when he first arrived I got a phone call that I had to come pick him up because his car had been impounded because he'd been chased by, like, ten cops on bikes after he drove his car onto these little fairgrounds and did a bunch of doughnuts. So, then I had to drive him around all weekend." — Three Kings director David O. Russell
"Actors are more consistent. They tend to land their tricks." — filmmaker Spike Jonze, on who is easier to direct, actors or skaters.
"He wanted his brother to be in Three Kings, so he shot an audition tape with his brother doing the Sharon Stone role in Basic Instinct, crossing and uncrossing his legs. It was the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen." — David O. Russell
I meet Spike Jonze at the production offices of his new movie, Being John Malkovich, which is a bizarre comedy about a love triangle between three people who find a secret portal into John Malkovich's head behind a file cabinet in an office building where the ceilings are four feet high. John Cusack and Cameron Diaz and Catherine Keener are in it. So is John Malkovich. It's really good and weird and funny, though not always in that order. Spike Jonze directed it.
Jonze is 29 years old and sort of famous for directing some of the best music videos ever made: the Beastie Boys' "Sabotage"; Fatboy Slim's "Praise You"; Weezer's "Buddy Holly"; Björk's "It's Oh So Quiet"; and other really good ones, too. He's also made some excellent commercials and two interesting short films. However, mostly because of the exceedingly cool videos he's done for, mostly, exceedingly cool people, Jonze has also become famous for being exceedingly cool. A wide and deep selection of the hippest people alive dig Jonze. They are his friends. This past July Jonze married actress, filmmaker, and fellow sort-of-famous person Sofia Coppola. Tom Waits sang at their wedding. Tom fucking Waits.
Jonze is small and wiry, with the body and demeanor of a skateboarder, which he is. He is relaxed, unfailingly polite, and has a voice suggesting a 15-year-old boy. When we meet he is wearing a T-shirt and scuffed-up $350 Marc Jacobs shoes. He tells me he's supposed to meet with Knox, an as-yet-unknown guitar player, to discuss ideas for his video and invites me along. But first we go to buy a big bag of cat food for his cat.
Jonze says Knox plays "sort of country-funkabilly-Prince-like music...really beautiful stuff." A friend gave him a tape, he says, and he fell in love with it. We get lost trying to find Knox's house.
When we finally arrive, Knox says he was asleep because Jonze was supposed to arrive hours ago. Jonze says he's sorry, that it must have been his assistant's fault. Knox is tall, with short, dark hair styled vaguely pompadour-ish. His apartment is small. Neil Young in on the CD player. An acoustic guitar rests in the corner.
"I'm the only one in the band, so I do the whole gig," Knox says. "My old man was a guitarist and my mother was, like...well, she was a capable pianist, not great. I'm from Tenness–Knoxville–that's why I go by Knox. My mother ahd a baby two years before me, a little boy, and it died at birth, and I am, like, the copy of that kid. And my little brother almost died at birth 'cause of me, so it's kind of all cyclical. But I'm still tweaking it. So, uh, what kind of ideas do you have?"
Jonze talks about making a video that's not very commercial, about something that's cool in and of itself.
Knox: "I just don't want it to be cute. Don't take this as an affront, but some of your videos are...cute. The 'Buddy Holly' thing was little fucking cute. I was thinking more of an early John Cugar-type of thing. Like 'Jack and Diane.' Maybe with some of the words on the bottom of the screen."
Jonze: "Uh, cool.... But it’s also cool to do something maybe not as literal.” He asks Knox if he wants to be in the video. Knox says maybe just his face, as a child.
Jonze says he could come over with a video camera and they could try some stuff out.
Knox: “Like what?”
Jonze: “Well, I don’t want to just throw stuff out.”
Knox: “Well, I’m not going to steal your stuff.”
Jonze laughs, sort of. There is an awkward silence.
Jonze: “How about a video with Xeroxes, just as a cool medium?”
Knox: “Yeah, well, that sounds schticky. Xeroxes are schticky.”
Jonze tries to say something about form. Knox says he likes “the Jazzercize” video Jonze did.
Jonze: “‘Praise you.’ Cool.”
Knox turns toward me and says he doesn’t think Spike looks very into it. Jonze says he doesn’t want to do anything he’s done already. He asks Knox if he saw the video he did for Sean Lennon.
Knox: “Nah. That guy’s too fuckin’ avant garde for me.”
Jonze: “No, I’m not saying that. It’s just I don’t want to make something silly out of your song, but at the same time....” He trails off.
There’s a tense silence, then Knox turns to me and asks if I have any ideas for videos. I tell him I don’t. Knox says “fuck,” loudly.
Jonze: “Look, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, and if you don’t really like my stuff maybe we shouldn’t work together. I like working with people who are....”
Knox: “Yeah, well...fuck.... Well, if you come up with some ideas, any ideas, call, but I just...shit.”
Jonze: “I should go.”
Jonze gets up. Knox begins to pace. Then he screams, “Fuck!” and throws a small wooden chair Jonze had been sitting on against the wall. It shatters.
Jonze: “Dude, chill.”
Knox: “I think you better leave!”
Jonze: “I was just....”
Knox: “Just fucking leave!”
Then Knox pushes Jonze into a wall, hard. I think to myself: Spike Jonze is about to get his ass kicked. Then, like a panther (or jaguar), Jonze jumps at Knox. They hit the floor. Jonze is on top of Knox, throwing punches at his head. After about 15 seconds, I pull them apart. Knox gets up and screams, “Wait right fucking there!” and runs into a back room. Jonze looks at me and says, “Let’s get the fuck out of here!” and runs out the door, fast.
Knox jumps out from the back room, glowering and holding a baseball bat.
DRIVING AWAY, JONZE MUSES ABOUT HOW “HECTIC” things got with Knox. He repeatedly pushes his face toward the rearview mirror and asks if I think his eye looks swollen. It doesn’t. He says nothing like that has ever happened to him before, except once “with Everlast, but it never got physical.” We pull into a 7-Eleven and he gets a juice and some Advil.
I try to ask some more questions about the movie. “I’m apprehensive about talking about it at all,” he says, “because I feel like it’s going to cloud someone’s opinion. You think about all the movies you had preconceived notions about, about all the ones you read stuff about until you were sick of them before you even saw them.
SPIKE JONZE’S REAL NAME IS ADAM SPIEGEL. He isn’t interested in talking about why, or when, he started going by Spike Jonze, or how much it has to do with Spike Jones, the 1940s band leader, but it’s probably related to the fact he grew up hanging out with a lot of competitive BMX bikers similarly fond of pseudonyms and alter egos. He was raised in Bethesda, Maryland, a well-heeled suburb of Washington, D.C., where his mother enjoyed photography and his father enjoyed being the scion of an extremely successful family-owned catalog company. Jonze is the middle child (younger brother; older sister) and was into skateboarding, photography, lots of Dischord-era punk rock, and, most of all, BMX.
In the mid-’80s, BMXing’s popularity was exploding, and Jonze was spending much of his time at Rockville BMX, a legendary retail and mail-order BMX shop in nearby Rockville, Maryland. At age 15, he accompanied the Haro pro-BMX team on a summer tour of the U.S., serving as part-time roadie, contest announcer, T-shirt salesperson, and using an old 35-millimeter camera, team photographer. By the time he was 16, he was writing and taking pictures for skate and bike magazines. At 17, immediately after finishing high school, he moved to Torrance, California, to work at Freestylin’, the sport’s preeminent glossy. There, he met Mark Lewman and Andy Jenkins, two kindred spirits.
“We were all living together in this apartment across the street from the magazine’s offices, in the Valley, which was like the epicenter of the skateboarding and BMX world,” says Lewman, who was 18 at the time and is now a creative director at Lambesis, a San Diego–based advertising agency that deciphers youth culture. “We’d skate to work, ride ramps, listen to Black Flag and Eric B. and Rakim, and get into adventures drinking Night Train, being weird, and stomping around downtown L.A.”
They’d also make zines. First, in 1991, Homeboy, then, two years later, Dirt. Clever and funny, they became popular with the 25-and-under, proto-extreme-sport, punk/rap-inclined hipster set. During this time, Jonze also started getting hired to take photos for magazines such as Details and Interview. And he began filming skateboarding videos, including one particular deft collaboration with ‘80s skate god Mark Gonzales titled Blind Skateboard Video.
One night, backstage at a Sonic Youth concert, Gonzales gave a copy of that tape to his friend Kim Gordon, who dug it so much that she asked Tamra Davis–who had just directed her first film, Gun Crazy, and had yet to become the wife of Beastie Boy Mike D.–to work with Jonze on shooting some skateboarding segments for Sonic Youth’s video for the song “100%.” He was 21.
Jonze has always lived in something of a rarefied world inhabited by bikers, skaters, emerging rock icons, and movie stars. Even so, he notes, he first met the Beastie Boys through his sister. She and Adam Yauch met in traffic school. The Beasties and Jonze share an appreciation for the absurd. Yauch and Jonze used to do things like rent police uniforms so they could direct traffic in Manhattan.
A few short years after “100%,” Jonze was established as America’s preeminent director of unusual music videos. This fact seemed to bore him. In 1998′s Fatboy Slim “Praise You” video, the one with the dancers in front of Mann’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood, Jonze credited the direction to Richard Koufey and the Torrance Community Dancers. To this day, Jonze denies having been a part of it. Earlier this year, a typed letter arrived at the Spin offices vehemently demanding Spin retract its report that Jonze directed the video. It was signed Richard Koufey and included a detailed résumé for Koufey that stated he was a dancer in the “Thriller” video, the “Love Shack” video, the film Dirty Dancing, and something called “Dancextravaganza” at the opening of a Dellamo Fashion Center.
IN ADDITION TO BEING JOHN MALKOVICH, Jonze has another movie coming out, one in which he acts. It’s called Three Kings and was written and directed by David O’Russell. The two met when Jonze hired Russell to help him write a script for Harold and the Purple Crayon, which was to be a partially animated adaption of the children’s book, and Jonze’s feature-film debut, but never made it into production. Jonze costars in Three Kings with George Clooney, Ice Cube, and Mark Wahlberg. They play four U.S. soldiers who try to steal a secret cache of Kuwaiti gold at the end of the Gulf War. It’s a different, very sharp war-genre picture. Jonze plays a redneck private who is the sidekick of Wahlberg’s more seasoned soldier.
“I’d never really acted before,” Jonze says. “A few little things with friends, but nothing serious. And it’s not like I really want to get into acting. But David was really into me doing it, and Mark was especially supportive. In some ways I feel like I had no right to do it. But it was a lot of fun.”
Russell recalls Jonze’s commitment to the project. “He stayed in character a lot on set, and I think he eventually regretted it because Mark started beating the shit out of him as if Spike was really his tagalong sidekick. We tried telling Mark to go easy on him, but he was in character too. I think Spike was upset that that was happening.
AMONG THOSE IMMERSED IN THE CULT of Spike Jonze, the Weird Al prank is infamous. As partially recounted in an issue of the Beastie Boys’ zine, Grand Royal, Mike D. and Russell Simins, the drummer for Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, interviewed by Weird Al. During the interview, they got the conversation to come around to the Beatles. Precisely at that moment, they had Sean Lennon and Yoko Ono walk by and staged something weird and funny. No one at Grand Royal can remember exactly what happened, but it included Spike Jonze dressed up as a waiter.
I didn’t know of the Weird Al prank until weeks after meeting Jonze. As such, I spent a good portion of my evening immediately following the Knox vs. Jonze incident breathlessly telling friends all about their fight, until a friend, a longtime skater, looked at me and matter-of-factly said: “He staged it.”
Two days after the fight I go to meet Jonze for lunch, and, even though I’m not sure, I tell him I now that the afternoon with Knox was staged. Jonze demurs. “That would be gnarly” he says. “Maybe we should come back to this topic after lunch.
We pull into a Carl’s Jr. Things between us are slightly tense. I keep pressing him on the issue as we walk into the restaurant. Jonze doesn’t say anything until he’s just about to order at the counter, then he says we should walk outside. I follow him into the parking lot toward a parked black sedan. There is a guy in dark sunglasses sitting there, sipping on a Coke.
“Dude, it’s off,” Jonze says. “We’re busted.”
Jonze then reveals that he’d “planned something” for right there, right then, at the Carl’s Jr. We all had back inside the restaurant, where Jonze begins walking around the seating area and tapping on what appear to be lonely Carl’s Jr. diners on the shoulder. There are four of them, strategically placed; two have video cameras hidden on them, on has a regular camera. Two of them, including the guy from the car, who is Jeff Tremaine, the art director of the skateboarding magazine Big Brother, are wearing hidden microphones.
“This was going to be an all-out assault,” Tremaine says. “I was going to walk by and bump into Spike and my drink was going to fall all over me. And then I was going to get all jacked at Spike and knock some shit on him and get into a fight.”
“I was actually going to take a punch this time,” Jonze says, “but I was also going to bite down on some blood pellets.” He shows me two small capsules of fake blood. “I wanted the whole article to be about how I keep getting my ass kicked.”
“I was going to knock over the salad bar,” Tremaine says. “We were going to have the whole thing on tape. I twas going to be a turkey shoot, like Kennedy.”
“You are all extremely fucked up,” I tell them.
Jonze says he started planning for it late last night and tells everyone he’s sorry he didn’t go through with it. Tremaine tells Jonze that he was excited to punch him. Then, everyone tells me some stories of previous pranks, the best of which is described as simply the Hard-On One. It goes something like this:
The guy who played Knox yesterday–a friend of Jonze’s who also pulls stunts like getting himself hit by a car (for a Big Brother photo shoot) and shooting himself with a gun while wearing a bulletproof vest (for fun)–puts on a pair of flimsy gym shorts, out of which sticks a large, fake rubber penis. Then, he goes out and gets into a pickup basketball game. Next, he walks into a guitar store, where, when a salesman hands him a cord to plug in, the salesman is pulled toward the fake rubber penis. After that, he makes a quick stop at a karate studio, from which he is quickly removed. Finally, he goes to get measured for a tux, where, according to Jonze, the tailor exclaims [in a thick Indian accent], “What? You always run around with your dick sticking out?”
“It’s amazing,” Jonze says. “We’ve got the whole thing on tape.”
After Carl’s Jr., Spike lobbies me to concoct a wild, made-up story with him, one I could submit in lieu of the article. He’s got some funny, clever ideas for it, too.
“SPIKE DIDN’T GROW UP WATCHING A TON OF FILMS or even TV,” says Kim Gordon, who has known Spike ever since he worked on “100%.” “So he’s not tied to any sense of history image-wise, the way most people are. He just has a real instinctual feel for what people like. And he’s willing to try absolutely anything.”
“I think he kind of looks at everything like it’s a chance to take a golf cart and make it go 60 miles per hour,” says his old friend Lewman. “It’s always been about having a really good time.” Even so, by all accounts Jonze is meticulous, tireless even, whether it concerns a feature film, or taking down a Carl’s Jr. salad bar. His willingness to go to almost any lengths to maintain the integrity of any project–no matter how seemingly small, trivial, or twisted–is nothing short of spectacular. It is probably the one quality that best portends him making very good movies for a long time. A vast portion of Jonze’s creative energies are consumed by these tiny, hysterical performances that will never make any money, that are solely for the benefit of himself and his like-minded friends.
“But it’s not about being weird for weird’s sake,” Lewman says. “I mean, Malkovich is a movie that, at its heart, is about something everyone can relate to–desperately wanting to be someone else.... I think a lot of how [Jonze] looks at the world might come from skating and biking. You do that as a kid and you don’t look at things normally. You look at a hockey rink and see a place to skateboard. You look at a bench as a thing to do tricks off of.”
I SEE JONZE ONE MORE TIME. HE MAKES IT OBVIOUS he’d rather I not write about the Knox and Carl’s Jr. pranks. Further, he mostly turns off my tape recorder any time I start to ask him anything. He tells me he doesn’t know what to do because he doesn’t want to come off as a guy who is lucky enough to make cool movies with big stars but is all petulant about talking to the press. He tells me again how anything he says as far as explanation of his own work is less interesting than someone’s own interpretation of his, or any, movie. About an hour passes. I ask him to name some of his favorite movies and filmmakers.
“I like stuff that is unpredictable in terms of tone,” he says. “I like Tim Burton, The World According to Garp, Being There, all the Coen brothers’ stuff. I feel really lucky to even have the opportunity to try to make those kinds of movies.”
I ask about his movie, about what Malkovich was like.
“He’s just amazing. Really genuinely eccentric. He heard about the script and contacted us, loved the idea. It was weird because he plays himself in the movie, but it’s not really him, it’s the script’s idea of him. Whenever I see him do the Dance of Despair and Disillusionment, I’m like, this guy is my hero.”
The Dance of Despair and Disillusionment is reason alone to see Being John Malkovich. In the movie, John Cusack plays a puppeteer who enters the body of John Malkovich and forces him to give up acting for puppeteering. At one point, Malkovich acts out the dance he wants to be his ultimate master-puppeteer work, the Dance of Despair and Disillusionment. Just out of the shower, he acts it out in a towel. David Fincher, the director of Seven and Fight Club, fellow former music-video director, and close friend of Jonze, calls it “up there with Butch and Sundance jumping off the cliff, as far as greatest movie moments ever go.”
I try to get Jonze to talk about other things, videos, his commercial work. (Jonze often shoots commercials, the most recent being Lee Jeans’ “Buddy Lee” spots.) He won’t. A few days later, we talk on the phone. He asks how I’ve decided to “handle” the article, says he knows I’ll write “something good.” The next day, I call him back, ask him to clear up some factual stuff, dates he worked on things, how he first met certain people. He’s not into it. But, before we get off the phone, he does answer one question.
Me: Where did the idea for the “Sabotage” video come from?
Jonze: “Australia.”
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warm summer nights
Rating: G
Characters: Greg, Steven, Danny Fenton
Warnings: none
Description: Greg Universe is a lot of things- former semi-famous rockstar, musician, adviser, small business owner, best friend- but he is first and foremost a father.
But there were other things that made up his identity, things that hurt to remember and were usually easy to forget- until the day an incident on the beach and the appearance of a strange child in town sent both his fatherly senses and some old instincts screaming alarms in his head.
Also on AO3!
—
I thought this would be appropriate to post on the day that happens to be both one week after we said goodbye to Steven and the Dannyapocalypse. Like c’mon how perfect is that.
I started this in February back when I assumed we weren’t getting the end of Future until probably summertime. Parts have been rewritten or tweaked to accommodate the ending. Therefore there are SPOILERS in here for the latter half of Steven Universe Future (it is set between I Am My Monster and The Future) so do be aware of that. And also just be aware in general cause I’m sick of looking at this and details are blurring so if a detail or two seems off it’s because I didn’t catch it skljdfn
Enjoy!
—
Beautiful, blue, bejeweled.
This was one of the best things about living in Beach City. In this little town that was probably more of a village and definitely not a city, when the night was clear, as long as you weren’t standing smack in the middle of town where the lights would be brightest, Greg could see more stars than humanity could probably ever hope to visit. The fact that Beach City was very much a rural town helped immensely, too. No Empire City to smog up the skies from nearby.
Just the ocean waves and the twinkling expanse above, and his son’s house off to the side, the statue overhead serene and silent. You could write a song to a scene like this. Greg was trying, plucking idly at guitar strings, counting syllables in his head, matching words and chords. It wasn’t a serious project. More like a doodle of a song. Simple, short, maybe a little messy. Perfection wasn’t a requirement; just a bonus if it happened to happen.
He couldn’t say for sure whether or not Steven was in bed. Sure, he hadn’t heard anything, and Steven was sleeping much better these days, but Steven was also a teenager. Even at the best of times their inner clocks could be wonky. He sure remembered that. And it was a beautiful night; warm and breezy, calm and quiet.
So when he spotted a humanoid shape in the sky that lacked wings, he didn’t think much on it at first. Steven was seventeen, he reminded the nervous fatherly instincts pricking up. And Steven was seventeen and capable. If the boy wanted to go for a walk or hang in the sky for awhile, that was his business, and if it was because Steven was troubled, then Steven knew to also make it Greg’s business, if he wanted to.
Still, maybe he would pop by tomorrow morning with breakfast sandwiches. Just in case. Just to see him first thing in the morning.
Easy, Universe. Breathe. The air went in his lungs. The air flowed out.
He picked at the guitar again, but his eyes always somehow strayed back to the figure in the sky.
The first time Greg realized something might be off came when he realized the shape silhouetted against the stars was all wrong to be Steven. The body was too skinny- scrawny, even, and there was no sign of descent at all. Steven couldn’t hold his position. He could only slow his descent. Steven should have landed on the beach by now, if it was really him.
Unease bubbled in the pit of his stomach. He squinted, but whatever was out there was too far away for features to be discernible. Greg didn’t have binoculars.
Maybe he should go use that telescope…?
But it was probably just a gem, right? Right?
What was he supposed to do? Shout at them? They’d probably hear him from this far away…
Five dark bruises, long since faded, and the memory of what the house’s deck looked like from upside down, twenty feet in the air was what made him unsure if he liked that fact. It was definitely too tall to be Bluebird, though, and there were no wings present, so there was at least that comfort.
Not that there was much comfort at all. Who said Bluebird might not have friends? Sure, she was an obnoxious little goblin, but Greg knew there were other gems who hated his son and, apparently, that was a hell of a unifier in the gem world. I have no more hair to cut to get away if this is someone else who wants to try using me against Steven.
They hadn’t heard his quiet guitar playing, at least, and if they’d taken notice of the van on the beach, there was no movement to do anything about it.
Still.
He moved to strum the guitar, but his trembling fingers thought the better of it last second without any real thought and caressed the side of the fingerboard. Maybe he should call Pearl? He should probably call Pearl.
As he reached for his phone, a breeze blowing through the van made him shudder. Jeez, when did it get so cold? Why was it so cold! It was May!
Something made a noise outside. He froze.
The world went still. Greg’s heart hammered in his chest, pounded in his head. He could feel it beating in his ears.
A loud, wet thunk hit the window, slid down it. Greg raised his head just slightly and felt his heart somersault in his chest as the discolored, waterlogged hand slid down the window with a slow, wet squeak.
What. The fuck.
Greg was not a man who cursed liberally, years of raising a child to thank for that, but if there had been any air left in his lungs he would have said the fuck word like it was his day job at the sight of the other hand that slapped itself against the window. Fingers curled in like claws against the glass and there was a wet gurgle.
A face pressed into the pane. Skin blue, mottled with green and what looked like rotting bits, eyes nearly white, long, tangled, hair of indiscernible color, matted with sand and seaweed.
Their eyes met.
Before Greg could utter a sound she let out a guttural noise and banged on the window. It took a moment for Greg to realize that the strangled yelp was coming from him as he scrambled to close the back doors, slamming them shut with an echoing bang.
She clawed at the door underneath the window she was still smashed up against, something close to a growl pouring from her mouth. In the next moment the pouring was literally, water flowing like some kind of demented faucet from her throat. Greg watched from inside the van, feeling the world all but fall away as the girl began to turn inside out, discolored flesh exposing dully pulsating organs, meat rearranging itself into a ghasty, kraken thing with a pulsating eye sitting right where he was pretty sure squids did not have eyes.
It shrieked, slamming an arm the sand by the van, missing the front by an inch. Greg shouted in pain and scrambled to right himself, trying to get the doors he’d just closed back open.
“Hey!”
He stopped fumbling with the doors for a moment, then redoubled his efforts even though he felt the beast move a little bit away from where it had him pinned down.
The doors blew open with a bang and he half fell out, gaping from the sand at the sight of the back of a boy, floating in the air, fists raising for a fight. The kraken looked down at him, roared, and tried to slam its arm into him, next.
But as it came down, the child was gone.
He zipped around–around, the boy was flying–and kicked the thing right upside the head, sending it sprawling a few feet, before throwing what looked like glowing green fire at it from both hands. It swerved to the side, barely avoiding the beam of green fire, and looked back as if to assess where its prey had gone.
The boy shot like a reverse shooting star into the air and took another dive, feet held out to slam into the thing, but it halted his descent with a tentacle and threw him back, charging forward to meet him.
And it went right through him.
As it turned around again, the boy held up another hand of green fire and made a motion Greg realized somewhere in his frozen mind was very familiar. Like throwing a frisbee, the child flung a disk of green flaming something at the creature and hit it right in the eye in the middle of its head.
It exploded.
In a gush of green goo, it exploded, the slime expelled upwards in a really gross fountain. The boy landed in the sand beside the creature as the rest of the body began to melt away, blinking in what could only be surprise as the goo seeped into the ground. He tilted his head, bent over slightly, one hand resting on his knee as he fought to catch his breath, and opened his mouth.
Then he started, blinked, and turned the rest of his head to more clearly see what he must have been seeing from the corner of his eye–Greg himself–letting go of gravity as he did.
The boy floated there, breathing heavily, eyes locked on Greg, hair moving slightly like it was underwater, eyes glowing faintly. The world held still.
“Sorry about that,” he said softly, and as suddenly as he’d dove to Greg’s rescue, he was gone, the prints from his boots in the sand the only sign he’d ever existed at all.
A breeze blew across the beach. Greg wheezed out a gasp as his body remembered it needed to breathe.
He looked to the house. Undisturbed. Steven must be out after all.
He laid down in the back of the van. If he was more in his own head he might have immediately gotten up to go wait in the house.
But the world was tilting and his head full of cotton, so he didn’t do that.
But he did know one thing.
He was not sleeping until he knew his son was back safely in that house.
Hours. Minutes. Everything felt so quiet and so loud. He should call Steven. He should make sure he was safe.
But did any of that really just happen? Was this a nightmare? Was he just losing his mind? I started losing my hair early; maybe I’d start going senile early, too, floated lazily up in the swamp water that was his brain currently, and despite the concern he probably should have been feeling at that thought (when had he last gone to the doctor for literally anything?) he felt nothing.
Finally, in the predawn light painting the world gray and blue, Greg saw him. Steven approached from the left side of the van a little off in the distance and walked out of view. He thought he heard the screen door.
Steven was home. Steven was safe. Whatever happened, whatever dark thing had reached from beyond the void to touch this beach, it hadn’t touched Steven.
Steven was safe. Steven was safe. Steve was… safe… Steven… safe…
dear theodosia what to say to you
Sound. Light. That’s Steven.
Also, reality. Reality and pain. Headache.
He blinked and squinted, morning sun clear and warm, the world scattered, fuzzed at the edges, just clear enough to be entirely unwelcome in how real it was. Ugh. Why did his head hurt so much? Felt like he’d run a marathon-
Wait.
Wait wait what what-? Hold up. Put freakout on hold. Steven. He grabbed for his phone, fumbling it in sweaty fingers. 10:07. No wonder everything hurt. He’d slept maybe five hours, if that.
His eyes flicked from his phone to the sand as he thumbed over the screen to receive the call.
The van was parked far enough from the beginning of the beach for footprints to not leave indiscernible holes in the sand, but they weren’t close enough to the surf for the tide to wash everything away. But it had been windy.
There were marks, but had they come from feet? He couldn’t tell. He honestly couldn’t tell. God.
“Dad?”
“Hi, Stchu-ball,” he said aloud with a numb mouth and a number mind. Right. Think. Wake up, brain. Focus. He wanted to get breakfast for him.
“Hi Dad! Just got up; I was wondering if you wanted to join us for breakfast? Or, well, me; the others have to run to go do Little Homeschool stuff.”
“Yeah, sure buddy,” he managed. “My treat?”
“You sure? I can cook-”
Something firm and determined pushed him forward. “No, that’s fine. I’ve been meaning to try some of those breakfast sandwiches from Arianna’s, anyway.”
“Well… okay, if you’re sure.” The smile in his voice was warm. He wished he could return it.
“Yeah, I’m sure. See you in a few?”
“See you in a few.”
They hung up. He swallowed and climbed into the front seat to start the van, ignoring the good morning text from Pearl with only a slight pang of guilt. Might as well get breakfast and practice smiling. He was going to need it.
——-
The second Steven saw him, Greg knew the smile he’d pasted on before the door opened was too plastic.
The bright, sunny grin on Steven’s face drooped, eyes quickly flicking up and down his father’s form. Damn it. He hadn’t changed his clothes from yesterday, that’s right. There was nothing he could probably do about the dark circles he bet he had under his eyes but he should have changed his clothes at least.
Please don’t comment on it. Just let it go by.
“Your sandwiches, Mr. Universe,” Greg said, some distant part of him relieved that the silly, over-the-top voice came out and came out right. He gave his son a little bow as he presented the bag.
A giggle. “Please,” Steven replied in an equally silly voice. “Call me Steven. Mr. Universe is my father’s name.” The weight of the bag disappeared from Greg’s hand and he righted himself, wincing just slightly as one knee complained. The bag rustled, Steven stepping back inside the house. “My highly esteemed, very talented, charming father and oh my god is that an omelette? Is that an egg and mushroom breakfast sandwich? I’m throwing ‘amazing’ on that list I think.”
He snorted as he followed Steven inside. “You flatterer you.”
“Flattery has nothing to do with food that smells amazing. That you brought me,” Steven said as he set the bag on the counter and withdrew the plastic containers. Something inside Greg’s chest loosened at the absolutely ridiculous goofy face his son was making. They’d better dig in before the boy started drooling.
“All right, all right. I’ll take some of those compliments,” he laughed as he held his hands up in defeat, approaching the table. “Even though all I did was place an order.”
“For the right things,” Steven chirped as he reached into the cabinet to pull out plates. “Very much the right things. Stars that smells good.”
“Well, what can I say? We Universes have very… refined pallets.” Greg took the containers over to the table, Steven following with the plates.
Now it was Steven’s turn to snort. “Yeah, okay, sure.”
“Hey, remember that night in Empire City? I am a man of taste.”
“The classiest,” Steven agreed, a touch of warmth to the banter. Greg chuckled and ruffled his hair.
The boy moved to take a seat before pausing, looking to his father. “Hey, what are we doing? It’s a nice day! Let’s eat outside?”
Inwardly he quailed a little. He’d really rather not look at the beach today, if he were being honest.
But that earnest expression? How could he ever say no to it? Especially when it was asking something totally reasonable of him. “Sure, kiddo.”
He picked up the containers and Steven carried the plates, the door opening with the usual light creak of hinges moving. Steven sat on the steps with a sigh, stretching his legs and then scooting over to make room for his father. Greg sat beside him.
“So um… I was wondering…”
Greg turned his head. “Mm?”
Steven’s eyes were lowered, foot tapping against the step below. “… Are you feeling okay?”
Ah geez. “What do you mean, Schtu-ball?”
“Uh, well, you look kinda- really tired today, and I dunno-” He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just wondering, like, did you sleep okay? Do you- maybe need to talk about something or…? Because I know, I know you’ll say it’s not my job, but you’re my dad, and well, I just- I love you a whole lot and even if you don’t wanna talk about it I’d just- just like to make sure you’re all right.”
Oh, Steven.
He stared at his son, this sweet, brave, beautiful boy that he could barely believe came from his own dna, and leaned down to press a kiss into his hair.
“Dad?” He leaned back to find confused eyes that were rapidly becoming worried. Small wonder. Greg gave his son kisses all the time growing up, but they’d tapered off the past couple years out of respect for Steven’s slowly emerging adulthood and the determination that his son would never, ever feel patronized by him.
He only gave in a few times, and considering the ones he could remember were Steven being abducted to space, the second time his son was abducted to space, and Steven returning from saving them all from certain, eventual destruction at the hand of space dictators?
Yeah, he could see why he’d be concerned.
“It’s nothing,” he promised, smoothing back Steven’s hair a little. “Just… Had weird dreams last night. I’m very glad you’re here.”
“… You- could talk about them? If you wanted to,” Steven ventured. The powerful affection swelled even more and he gave him another kiss, on his forehead.
“Nah, they weren’t that bad. Nothing your old man can’t handle. Besides, you don’t need to fight them for me.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t mean to brag-” the worried knot in his forehead hadn’t quite left despite the grin he flashed at Greg- “but I’m quite the dream warrior. Just ask Kiki!”
“Kiki?” Oh, right, the pizza nightmare nonsense. “You sure are, but you don’t have to be responsible for everyone’s sleep, kiddo. Just yours.” He ruffled his hair. “But hey- if there was something we could learn from this, I’d tell you. But there isn’t really. It was just weird and uncomfortable. Not even really a nightmare.”
“Oh.” He made a face. “Those suck.”
“They do,” Greg agreed, reaching for a sandwich.
Maybe it had been a dream, somehow.
——-
It was a few days later that the next oddity happened.
Just enough time for Greg to maybe consider that what happened on the beach was some weird sort of hallucination- or maybe something less severe than what that implied, maybe just a scary dream. A really, messed up, unsettling dream. He wasn’t sure if he ate anything before falling asleep (he was pretty sure he didn’t) but mark that down as something to never do again before bed, just in case.
He just really wish he didn’t remember that kid’s face as well as he did, or that… thing.
But it was fine! Greg was fine. It was probably just a nightmare, and nothing happened. Nobody got eaten the next day when they went in the water. No reports of missing persons. It was fine. He played guitar, hung out at his car wash, washed a couple cars, spent time playing music with Steven and Pearl, pacified Peridot’s twenty questions when she and Lapis dropped by town to visit, introduced Garnet to a new band, cooked a dinner with Steven, and even took a long walk down the beach with Pearl, chatting about anything and everything.
As always, the talk eventually turned to the townies, and what they were up to.
“It’s so odd,” Pearl mused. “I didn’t know we could even get raccoons around here.”
“Yep. They don’t usually come into town, but there’s plenty of them in the forest. Them and their weird tiny people hands.”
Pearl made a face. “Oh- that doesn’t sound- very nice.”
Greg chuckled. “They’re mostly harmless. It’s just really startling to be sleeping and suddenly feel tiny hands just like yours touching you.”
“Oh no, they haven’t done that to you!?” She looked so scandalized Greg almost laughed.
“Oh yes they have! But not in town. Happened a few years back when I took Steven camping in the woods.”
“Well that’s awful rude of them,” she huffed.
“Nah, cut them a break. We were intruders on their home, after all. They were just curious. Also they don’t understand decorum like we do.”
“Fair,” she sighed. “Still, they must be capable of some form of human-like reasoning.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” Pearl was an incredibly sharp person, but 5000 some years of refusing to properly interact with humans left her woefully unaware of a lot of things about the planet she lived on. Sometimes hearing her reasoning was downright hilarious. She certainly was a creative one.
“Well,” she started with all the innocence and assuredness of a small child about to explain a logic only they could understand, “The Frys and the Pizzas are the only ones it seems to bother.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“If it’s really here for food, why does it only get into their garbage? Why not other people’s? Food is food and organics need to consume it, so logically shouldn’t it just go anywhere?” A pause. “Why, if it’s coming from the woods, it’s going out of its way to get to their trash, even! Fish Stew Pizza and Beach Citywalk Fries are all the way down the block from the forest.”
Huh. She had a point. “Who knows? Animals are weird. There’s a reason we still study them, after all.”
She clucked her tongue. “I suppose we’ll never truly know until we catch them in the act.”
They only get into the Frys’ and the Pizzas’ garbage.
He wish he’d paid more attention to that little tidbit than he did.
——-
Three days after that conversation, four after that nighttime beach dream, standing in Fish Stew Pizza at the counter, waiting for Kiki to finish his order, he saw him.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted movement from out the open window and, as humans were wont to do when something moved in their peripherals, he turned his head, not expecting to find much. This was one of the more popular spots of Beach City. People weren’t super uncommon, especially with the gems hanging around the city now.
What was uncommon, what was odd, was the sight of a new face, hanging around by the garbage– a teenager, with messy black hair and a t-shirt and jeans. Greg blinked in surprise, but any curiosity he might have felt evaporated as he watched the hunched up teenager glance, and not very inconspicuously, left, then right-
And then grabbed the little paper container containing a half-eaten thing of fries right from where it was perched on top of the rest of the trash, sliding over with guilty, shameful stumbling to the bench beside the garbage can. He shoved his hand into the bag and dug out a fistful of fries.
Greg froze. For a moment, all he could see was white hair, glowing in the moonlight, floating slightly in the air, topping a face that was a bit too thin. Something familiar-
Not the only thing familiar. At the same time he remembered walking by that same can, hunched over with shame and hunger, chewing the inside of his cheek, worries swirling, Rose oblivious thank god-
Sitting on the boardwalk with a hungrily suckling baby kicking the bottle, staring at the food places he couldn’t afford to order from because that crib had cost way more than he’d anticipated, stomach complaining with a hollow, gnawing pain-
Trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks as he counted up nickels and dimes for Kofi, grateful for his patience but feeling anxiety draw its claws along the inside of his head, wondering how long that patience would last when there was a line behind him-
“Mr. Universe?”
“U-um-” Trying to stuff his brain back into his head, he turned to look back to Kiki, whose face was lined with concern. Right. Pizza. “Oh, uh, thanks Kiki. This’ll- uh, make great leftovers."
"Well… I always thought cold pizza was yucky but hey, it’s your food, not mine.” She returned his weak smile and ducked back into the kitchen. He picked up the box, gears whirring as he stepped outside and approached the bench.
As his shadow fell over the teenager, the boy glanced up from where he was trying to peer into the clearly-empty box, eyes that looked too big for his head watching him warily. They were a startling shade of baby blue and it almost wrecked Greg’s concentration. Almost.
“Hey there!” he smiled at the boy. “Today’s your lucky day! I’ve started doing a 'one nice thing a day’ resolution– you know, spread some goodwill and all throughout the whole year, not just at the holidays– and you’re today’s winner! Have a pizza.”
He held the box out to him. One eyebrow quirked up, but the slightly shaking hands did accept the box.
“… And you didn’t put anything weird in it.” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t quite a statement either, brushing instead somewhere lightly against an accusation, especially with the pointing finger at the box now sitting on his lap.
“On my honor as a musician,” he promised, raising one hand, putting on his best overdramatic voice. There was a brief spark of amusement in the boy’s eyes. Greg took the minute of lowered guard to give him a quick scan.
Messy black hair he’d seen from the shop, but closer now, he could tell there was a very slight greasy quality to it, exacerbated by the lack of brushing. His frame and his face were a bit too thin, elbows poking out a bit more noticeably than they should have been, cheekbones a touch too sharp. There was a hole in one of the knees of his jeans, and given the dirt smeared on the pants, it didn’t look like fashion.
“Yeah, well… thanks, I guess.” He was still suspicious. Understandable. Greg knew what it looked like, a grown man approaching a lone boy he had no relation to with free food. He didn’t begrudge the kid the wary gaze still honed in on him with laser focus. “I’m staying right here.”
“Never said you had to go anywhere,” Greg said, backing away this time with both hands raised. “Enjoy your lunch, kiddo.”
He turned and went right back into the pizza shop, hailing Kiki down again.
“Yeah, Mr. U?”
“You see that kid outside?” he asked softly. Her head turned with his in time to watch the boy tear the pizza box open, rip out a slice, and begin to hork it down. She nodded, her face a wince of sympathy.
“Yeah.”
“Tell him he can get a free pizza a day, okay? I’ll pay for it, but don’t credit me. Let him think whatever, just as long as he knows he can get something to eat here.”
“Awfully sweet of you,” she said with a little smile. “Yeah, I’ll do that. Should we get ahold of his parents or…?”
Something twisted uncomfortably in his gut. “No. He might recoil if we’re too obvious about helping. If his family needs food, he’ll take the pizza home.”
“Well, looks like they must be having dinner tonight. Sure hope he doesn’t eat that whole thing by himself right now, though.” They resisted the urge to check. “I’ll keep an eye on him, Mr. Universe. Can’t leave the shop, but as long as he’s hanging around outside, I don’t mind watching him.”
“Maybe try to keep your dad or Mayor Nanefua from hovering too close?” He forced an awkward chuckle. “I remember what it’s like, being that age. He’ll just get embarrassed and shut down. Free pizza won’t do him much good if he won’t come to claim it.”
“Don’t worry Mr. U; I got this.” She winked at him. He tried to let it comfort him, and smiled back.
The boy was still tearing apart the pizza when he stepped outside. Resisting the urge to check on him again, he walked away.
He went to find Steven, lunch forgotten, and made sure to give his son a great big hug.
“Dad?”
“Nothing. Just wanted to give you a hug.”
If he had his way, it would have been for the rest of forever.
——-
He’d almost convinced himself by the time a week had passed that the white-haired floating kid from the beach was a bad dream, or maybe even some kind of… weird, residual Future Sight rubbing off on him.
Could that even happen? Greg was sure around magic stuff often enough for something weird to pop up, right? He was tempted to as Garnet about it, but the urge to keep quiet about this wouldn’t go away. Especially since he wasn’t sure that he could trust Garnet to keep this between them- not when she shared almost everything with the other gems now, not when they were finally feeling something like a family unit after all the years they wasted being distant and combative with one another. Garnet was nothing if not protective, and he knew the implication he’d started seeing things might concern her into consulting the others. Maybe even consulting other humans, given that he was pretty sure she knew little about human biology and how brains and bodies connected.
Or she could take it to be a literal, physical threat and sound the alarm. That felt likely, too. Extremely likely. He thought of the way she very carefully shadowed Steven in the months following his meltdown, and winced. Yeah. That would be a bad idea.
Especially if this was all just absolutely nothing.
God, the last thing he’d want to do is alarm Steven for absolutely nothing.
He locked up the car wash at around dusk, checking his phone as he walked his way down the street towards the beach. Steven would probably be starting to cut the vegetables, and if he hurried, he’d get there before he was ready to toss the salad and reheat the sauce from three days ago. He might even be in time to help Steven dice, actually.
As he reached the street that became the giant back area of The Big Donut, he heard it.
The sound of metal rattling.
Greg froze, looking up from his phone, staring down the block. Boardwalk Street saw the back of several stores and featured two small parking lots, indents in the street that hid the actual backs of the stores from sight- not helped by how far back Shirts 4 You extended.
A memory floated. Raccoons.
Well huh. He should. Probably look.
He stood there another minute before there was another rattle of metal and sighed, pressing his thumb into the power button of his phone to make it sleep and following the sound.
Is that… is that glowing?
He turned the corner of Shirts 4 You, staring across the little parking lot at the backs of the junky souvenir shop (the name of which he’d never bothered learning in the thirty some years he’d lived here), Fish Stew Pizza, and Beach Citywalk Fries.
And floating above the dumpster of the pizza place was-
The phone dropped to the concrete with a clatter and the white haired boy looked up from where he was reaching into the trash, green eyes locking with his.
For a second the world was still.
Then Greg blinked, and there was nothing there. How long he stood there he didn’t know, the buzzing of his phone the only thing to make it past the pounding in his ears.
Numbly, he bent and picked up the phone.
Hey dad, where are you? You okay?
With trembling fingers he tapped out a message.
Fine, sorry kiddo. Customer took too long. Just got him to leave. Be right there.
He looked up. The dumpster lid was now back in place. The sound he made was barely human.
Greg shoved his phone in his pocket, turned, and left.
——-
“You’re really not slick, dude.”
Greg startled, nearly dropping the bag. He fumbled it embarrassingly, only just managing to catch it by one of the loops in the plastic. A deep sigh came from above him, and he lifted his burning face to look into the eyes of the unimpressed teenager sitting in the tree.
How did he even climb that high? It wasn’t a very sturdy tree. Just the tallest one in the park. The thought made his gut knot. Please get down from there.
“Why are you following me?” His thin shoulders hunched, face tight, fists clenching.
Well this was sure going the exact opposite way he wanted it to.
“I- uh… wanted to give you this,” he admitted in defeat, setting the plastic bag down at the base of the tree. “Thought you could use it.”
“I’m not getting down.” Greg heard the real meaning crystal clear. I’m not getting within grabbing distance. “Throw it up to me if you want me to see it that bad.”
Well, it wasn’t exactly heavy, but… “You… sure it won’t unbalance you?”
“Try me.” The barest hint of smugness amidst the defensive suspicion.
Huh. Welp. “Okay, sure.” If he fell, Greg knew a guy who could repair anything. Even if he had to cushion the kid’s fall with his own body there’d be no lasting harm with Steven around, not really, and insisting the kid come down was not worth risking the boy running off. He threw the bag up.
The teenager caught it in one hand with an ease that surprised him. Shifting slightly, likely to ensure his butt was securely on the branch, he dared to let go of the tree with his other hand to open the bag, a few brightly-colored plastic bottles and a loofa staring up at him. “… This is-”
“There’s a public shower over by the beach. The beach open to the public, I mean. It’s a much better place to clean up than the ocean and it really will help you feel loads better.” He pointed at the direction of the beach, resisting the urge to shield his eyes from the setting sun. “We really get barely any tourists compared to Ocean Town, but we get just enough that nobody will think twice about you using the facilities. It’s May, after all. This is when tourist season starts.”
The boy lowered the bag a little, eyebrows shooting to the sky. It made his eyes look even bigger and his confusion even more child-like. “… Why?”
“Uh- why do we have a tourist scene? Beats me. Beach City’s a nice place, but it’s tiny and has less stuff than-”
“No I mean- why?” He gestured to the plastic bag in his lap.
“Oh, that.” He shrugged, doing his best to seem nonchalant. “You look like you could use a little help.”
“And you just… decided to help.” His voice was flat with disbelief.
Greg blinked. For a second he could’ve sworn his eyes were green.
Green. Green like-
Focus, Universe!
“Yeah.”
“And you don’t want anything.”
“Nope.”
“… I’m not sure if I believe that.”
Shit, he’d probably turned down the pizza offer too, then.
“Listen I know it sounds… weird. And I didn’t want to butt in, so I won’t ask. But I can help without having to know every detail, so… well, why not?”
The kid tilted his head to the side, chewing on his lip a little.
“If you ever wanna talk, you can find me at the car wash.” He pointed. “Can’t miss it. Out of the park down this way to Boardwalk Street, take a left to Thayer Street, walk up the block. It’s at the base of the giant hill, only thing on that side of the street, right next to the ocean.”
“… Mmhm.” He wasn’t looking at him. Okay, fair.
“See you around?” He gave the teenager a wave.
As he turned to leave, he heard a soft “See you around.”
——-
“Um- is this seat taken?”
Greg glanced up in surprise from his lawnchair at the voice. That surprise quickly turned into relief at the shock of messy hair, even if the teenager looked like he was trying to curl into himself while still standing. “Nope. Go ahead.”
He sat down on the other lawnchair, tucking his knees against his chest and glancing skywards.
For a few minutes all was quiet.
“… It’s a nice night.”
“Sure is,” Greg returned easily. “We get a lot of those around here, especially in summer.” The kid looked so sad and he ached to do something about it, but pouncing was ill-advised right now.
A star shot across the sky. Suddenly that pain became a look of sheer joy, the boy gasping in delight. Greg smiled. “Pretty, huh? Meteorites are aweso-”
“Meteors.”
“Mm?”
“Oh- uh-” The boy flushed. “They’re only meteorites if they don’t disintegrate before they hit the ground. Otherwise they’re meteors.”
“No kidding. What about comets, then?”
“Oh, those are like-” He held up his hands a width apart. “They’re small solar system bodies made out of ice, and when they get close to the sun, the sun warms them up, and that makes them start releasing gasses- it’s called outgassing? And that’s what makes them look like they do- although they don’t always get a tail.”
“The only comet I’ve ever heard about is Haley’s Comet,” Greg mused.
“Oh, we won’t see that again until 2061,” he chattered. “That comet only comes around every seventy-five years, give or take a year.”
“Well look at you, little astronomer!” Aw hell, that face was cute. It looked just like Steven’s when Steven was going off about music. “Okay, what do you know about other solar- bodies?” That was the term he’d used right? “In our solar system.”
“You- really wanna know?”
“Yeah!” For all his son was a space prince he knew dip about the solar system. “Lay it on me.”
“Oh- geez- where to start-! Okay, did you know a day on Venus is longer than an earth year? Uhhh- the footprints on the moon?” He pointed up, like Greg might’ve forgotten where the moon was. “Those’ll be there for a hundred million years- oh here’s a really cool one; if two pieces of the same kind of metal touch while in space, they permanently bond because the atoms straight up have no way of knowing that they’re separate! It doesn’t happen on earth because there’s air and water between the pieces.” He stretched out one foot, eyes locked on the starscape above, face practically glowing, hands moving as he spoke, as if trying to pluck the wonders he spoke of from the sky to show him. “The highest peak on any planet in our solar system is Olympus Mons, which is a giant volcano on Mars that’s like, three times as big as Everest! Neutron stars–those are the densest and littlest stars we know of so far–their radius is around six miles long but their mass might be several times greater than our own sun, and they might spin six hundred times a second because of their weird physics-”
Greg didn’t realize how hard he was smiling until Danny stopped, cheeks turning bright red.
“U-um- sorry, didn’t mean to just go off like that-”
Greg waved a hand. “It’s fine. I asked, right? Besides, that was all pretty cool.” He wondered how much Steven knew.
Quiet again.
“It really is a nice night,” the boy murmured.
“If you stick around, you’ll get used to them.”
The teenager’s back went rigid. “Uh-”
“Look,” Greg said with a slow sigh. He set aside his guitar. “… I don’t pretend to know exactly what your situation is. And I’m not demanding to know, either. I have some guesses-”
The blood drained from the boy’s face.
“-But! Well… I’d be a hypocrite if I turned you over to the police. I get it, I really do. But I’m a father, kiddo. I just… want you to be safe. Wherever that is, however that has to happen. Even if the law wouldn’t exactly be smiling at me for how that comes around.”
“… So you’re saying… you’re… not? Gonna call the police?”
“No. And frankly we’ve got enough weirdness going on here that I don’t think a lot of people will be too upset at something new if you just started hanging around. That’s what my son’s friend started doing, for days, and nobody questioned her. They all just assumed she’d just moved to Ocean Town nearby and, well, she had.”
“Son?” Now that his fear was easing, he was processing that. “You’ve got a son?”
“Yup.” He didn’t bother trying to hide the pride in his voice. “About your age, too. If you do start hanging around here, you can expect to run into him. He’s very much a people person. Spends a lot of time wandering town and usually ends up here at some point or another.”
“Huh.” There was something else in his face now, a look Greg recognized very much indeed. It took everything in him to not physically react to the yearning in his eyes. “… If he’s anything like you that… doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Steven is a million times my better, trust me,” he chuckled. “I know I’m his dad and it’s kind of my job to say that, but really, he is.”
“Heh…” the boy stretched his legs.
Silence.
“You got a place to sleep?”
The big, baby blues were defensive again. “Yeah.”
“Sleeping bag?”
“Mmhm.”
“… And you’re not lying?” he coaxed gently.
“No.” Though still lined with borderline aggressive caution, Greg could read his face well enough. He wasn’t lying.
“Okay. But if the weather ever gets really bad, come find me. We’ll figure something out- and it won’t be with me,” he added hastily as the boy quirked an eyebrow, drawing his legs in again. “You can crash with my son, maybe, or I’ll find somewhere else you’d feel safe in, but I wouldn’t try to make you stay in a space with me alone. I get it. Stranger danger.”
That got a head tilt. “He doesn’t live with you?”
“Ah- no.” That old pang, especially given recent events. “He lives with his mom’s relatives. It’s a sort of… joint custody thing, but we’re on good terms. He comes down and sees me all the time, and I go over there all the time. We cook together. Hang out. He’s fifteen minutes away by walking from here. I basically just don’t actually sleep there, really, unless he wants me to.”
And lately he’d wanted him to quite frequently. Especially after the other night. It had taken a minute of comfortable silence while eating for Greg to realize that if he’d only slept five hours, so had Steven, since Steven had gotten back from his walk not minutes before Greg finally passed out. Steven squirmed under his gentle questioning but caved quickly enough, admitting he’d had a nightmare and wanted to go clear his head. Even better, he didn’t resist Greg’s offer to stay over for the rest of the week.
That therapy sure was helping. Little steps. It hadn’t stopped the nightmares, and the boy still went pink occasionally, but Steven was opening up, accepting help. Greg was proud of him.
Now hopefully this kid would accept some manner of help, too.
… He probably should explain the magical aliens, huh. Then again, if the boy was hanging around Beach City so much…
Well it wasn’t like all the gems had humanoid anatomy to their forms. Hell, Bixbite had a claw! And the kid hung around Fish Stew Pizza often enough to have probably seen her.
“So have you seen the- uh-” He gestured out over the city. The boy blinked in confusion before understanding dawned on his face.
“Oh, you mean the literal aliens walking around.” He snorted at Greg’s face. “Well they’re not exactly subtle.”
“Uh- no, you’re right, they’re not,” he laughed weakly. “It’s a good thing the ones that look less human have the sense to avoid Beach City during the day during tourist season but there are slips now and again.”
“I’d say it’s kind of amazing the news hasn’t spread but like- aliens. Who’s gonna believe that.”
“Exactly. You have no idea how long that’s kept us safe.”
Something passed across his face, something grim and hard and understanding and wow it made a rock lodge in his gut. The look was gone in seconds, but some of that steel remained. The nod the boy gave was way too mature for a kid his age. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d imagine it’d be bad if it got out beyond Beach City. I won’t say anything.”
“We all appreciate that,” Greg said softly, still stunned. “Uh- thanks, kiddo.”
“Mmhm.” He stretched out again.
A breeze blew through, ruffled their hair.
“Danny.”
Greg’s head turned from the starscape above them. “'Scuse me?”
“Danny. My name’s Danny.”
“Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Greg. Greg Universe.” He held out his hand across the divide of the lawn chairs. Danny studied it for a moment before taking it.
“It’s… been nice to meet you too.” A hint of a grin. “Universe? Really?”
He flushed. “Ah, well- bit of a story, tha-”
“How’d you manage to land the coolest last name in the world? You and your kid get 'Universe’ and I get something dorky as hell? That’s not fair.”
Greg stared at him for a moment before laughing.
He liked this kid already.
#danny phantom#phicc#steven universe#greg universe#danny fenton#steven quartz universe#su greg#su steven#steven universe future spoilers#suf spoilers#my writing
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Teenage Dream
From: @jeanjacketbittle
To: @redneterp
Rating: T
Tags: fake dating (sort of?), friends to lovers, valentine’s day
Summary: Ransom swoops in and saves Holster by telling someone that he is Holster’s Valentine’s Day date. Holster repays his bro for the save by actually taking him out on a Valentine’s Day date. It’s not a real date, though. It’s just a bro-date. Right?
A note to my valentine:
I’ve wanted to write Holsom forever because I love them so much, but I never found the right muse for it. Writing this fic for you pushed me to do it, and I am so glad!! I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it!
“Adam?”
Holster’s head whipped to find Esther Shapiro, hand on her hips at the end of their booth at Annie’s.
“Esther, hey! Uh, what’s-”
“I thought you said you had plans?”
Holster gestured vaguely to Ransom and the coffees and pastries on the table between them.
“Plans that you couldn’t change to go on a Valentine’s date with me.”
“Oh. Well, uh...”
Ransom didn’t know what possessed him to say it, the thought hadn’t even stopped in his brain to check with him, just flew right out of his mouth. “Not that it’s your business, but this is a Valentine’s date.”
Ester rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. Adam, if you hadn’t wanted to go out you should’ve just told me flat out instead of-”
“Plans on Valentine’s Day isn’t flat out enough?”
Esther blinked between them. Then, shockingly, she smiled. “Well, of all the people to blow me off for, I guess I’m glad it’s him.”
And then she left.
Holster looked at him, seemingly trying to blink the shock out of his eyes. “Bro, nice save. Thanks.”
Ransom chuckled. “C’yeah, well, you were floundering, and I didn’t want you to get dragged on a last-minute V-Date by Esther Shapiro.”
“You were right, I’d prefer a V-Date with you anyway.” Holster winked.
Ransom choked a little on his coffee. “Holtzy, I didn’t mean-”
Holster cut him off despite his mouth full of lemon cake. “Dude, are you about to no-homo me? We’re better than that.”
Ransom snorted. He was right, of course. They were way past no-homo both in their lives and in their friendship.
“So, what are we doing for phase 2 of our V-Date?”
“Holtz, we don’t have to.” His heart was beating a little faster in his chest.
“We were hanging out anyways, right?” Holster asked.
Ransom nodded.
“We can just tweak our plans a little, then. Oh!” Holster’s face lit up, and Ransom’s heart skipped a beat. "We could go to that new karaoke bar we’ve been wanting to go to. And then I’ll walk you home at the end of the night. Bam! Rans and Holster V-Date.” Holster explained.
It wasn’t like Ransom was surprised that Holster was so comfortable with this. They’d been best friends for three years. They did everything together and knew everything about each other. Including Holster’s new-found pansexuality.
It was stupid that it changed things. It shouldn’t, Ransom knew that. But it did. Because he was bi, and somehow he’d never even considered Holster in a more-than-bros way until Holster had come out to him and now it was all he could think about. It made things like a spur of the moment Valentine’s Day date fill his stomach with butterflies.
“Only if you want to, man. If you’d rather us have chips and Mario Kart like we planned that’s cool, too.” Holster assured him. He knew this was an out, and that he should take it. Holster really wouldn’t care either way, he knew that, but the look on his face when he’d thought of the karaoke bar…
“No, it sounds great. We should do it.” Ransom smiled, and Holster did an excited fist pump. “We do have to go back to the Haus and change, though. We are not dressed for karaoke.”
Holster let out a laugh. “Good call. I’ll get us some to-go cups.”
Ransom took a breath to get himself together once Holster was gone. He could do this. It wouldn’t be weird; it was just like any other night they spent together. It wasn’t a real date, after all. It was a friend date. A bro date. They’d literally been on bro-dates before. This was no different.
He stood up and cleared their table while Holster waited for their drinks. Ransom had a hold on himself again just in time for Holster to come back and hand him his tea. “Thanks,” Ransom said.
Holster smiled and they were on their way.
It was normal until Holster took Ransom’s free hand in his when they got outside Annie’s.
Ransom blinked at him, and Holster shrugged. “I always think February is going to be warmer than it is.” He explained, looking down at Ransom’s gloved hand in his.
“Gotta start using that weather app of yours, bro.” Ransom laughed.
Holster made an indignant sound. “When it’s been 15 degrees for a month and a half, 30 sounds like summer!”
Holster’s hand remained in his for the rest of the walk back, but it was easier after that. Holster had always been his tension diffuser, Ransom just hadn’t thought it would apply to situations where the tension was caused by Holster, too. It was a relief to find out he was wrong. Maybe he could do this after all.
Ransom had gotten ready for quite a few dates in his life, but he’d yet to get ready for one with the person he was going on the date with. He decided he liked it better, though, when Holster turned to him holding up two different shirts. Ransom couldn’t help but grin. “Dressing to impress, Holtzy?” he teased, pointing to one of the shirts.
“Don’t know why, you’re already coming home with me.” Holster smirked.
Ransom chuckled, turning back to his dresser to dig around for his own shirt so Holster wouldn’t see the flustered look on his face.
They split fare for the uber to the bar, and Holster talked Ransom into signing up for an act before eating anything.
They had a few drinks and watched the other acts while waiting for their turn, and Holster refused to tell him what song he’d signed them up for.
“Come on, Holtz, I need to prepare!” he protested.
Holster chuckled into his drink. “Trust me, you know the words. Besides, there’s no studying in karaoke. That’s the point, it’s just fun.”
Ransom sighed. “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just…” Just what? He didn’t even know.
“It’s okay, Ransy-poo, dates make everyone nervous.” He said it so casually that Ransom just nodded, not fully absorbing. By the time it processed, Holster was smiling at him and taking his hand, and he knew he couldn’t say anything about it, not when Holster was pulling him up to the stage and someone was handing him a microphone.
Ransom took the stage next to Holster, who was grinning at him as if there wasn’t a bar full of people watching them.
He heard the familiar guitar start to play and Ransom couldn’t help laughing as there were a few cheers at the song choice from the crowd.
Holster began to sing Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream to him, and somehow despite his anxiety and nerves about the date, everything faded and there was only them, Ransom and Holster. It was his favorite way to be.
“Now every February, you’ll be my Valentine. Valentine,” Holster sang, and it was right to him, like a question, a confirmation, and Ransom grinned.
Holster took to the next lyrics more like he usually did- an absolute karaoke ham, performing now more than he had been before. And Ransom fed off of his energy, joining him enthusiastically for the chorus. They danced around each other and Ransom practically forgot they were on a stage until people cheered after they belted out the last notes.
They definitely weren’t the best that night, considering Holster was practically tone-deaf, but the bar-goers were loving them anyway and they were having a goddamn blast. It was like when they sang at Kegsters- off-key and energetic and giving a Ransom a feeling that he couldn’t describe even if you paid him, but he swears he could live off of it.
Holster hugged him once they got off the stage, and Ransom couldn’t wipe the grin off his face even if he wanted to.
They ordered dinner, finally, and enjoyed the other acts as they picked off of each other’s plates. It didn’t feel like any date Ransom had ever been on, but… that wasn’t a bad thing.
It definitely felt more date-like, though, when Holster reached across the table and took one of Ransom’s hands in his. He just played with it idly as he ate his food, rubbing his hand with his thumb, toying with his fingers. If Ransom couldn’t literally feel him doing it, he wouldn’t even have noticed. But he had, and his heart was fucking racing again, and he knew he should be trying to listen because Holster was mid-story about something that had happened in one of his classes but Ransom just couldn’t think about anything besides the thoughts using his brain as a fucking NASCAR track.
“Why did you tell Esther you had plans?” He interrupted.
Holster stopped talking and gave him a look, eyebrows knitted. “Because we had plans, dude. She asked me, like, two days ago.”
“I would’ve understood. You know that.” Ransom insisted.
Holster nodded. “Of course you would have, but I didn’t want to cancel. I wanted to be with you.”
Ransom blinked at him. Holster’s voice was like fucking velvet and he finally let himself think that maybe Holster meant that like he wanted him to. “Holtzy, is this a real date?”
“I’d like for it to be.” Holster grinned at him, and Ransom felt both excitement and relief spread through him.
He let out a sigh. “Me too,” he said, smiling back at Holster. His grip on Ransom’s hand tightened, and they just looked at each other for a few moments. “I really want to kiss you right now, but I hate those stupid separated-by-a-table kisses.” Ransom admitted.
Holster chuckled. “Same. Are you finished?” he asked, gesturing to Ransom’s plate.
Ransom looked down and found the plate empty except for a few fries stolen from Holster’s plate. Holster’s was in a similar state.
“Wanna sing again, or?” Ransom asked.
Holster smirked. “I mean, I always wanna sing, but we can come back another time.
“Agreed.”
They paid at the bar and went outside to wait for their uber. “How about that kiss?” Ransom asked as they waited. “There’s no table in our way now.”
“Not yet.” Holster said, “if I start now, I will not want to stop, and I don’t think our uber driver will appreciate us making out in the back seat.”
Ransom laughed and agreed. It was a relief, to find out that Holster wanted this as much as he did. That he wanted him.
Once they were back at the Haus, though, they practically raced to the attic. They knew they were the first ones home, since all the lights had been off and all their other Hausmates were out with plans of their own.
And it was there, in their shared attic bedroom that they had their first kiss. And second. And third. And Ransom thought maybe they might have every kiss ever here in this room in this moment because he never wanted it to end.
They ended up on the bottom bunk, just kissing and hands roaming over clothed chests and backs, but Ransom felt the need to clarify, for both their sakes. “Despite what we sang about earlier, I don’t think we should go all the way tonight.” Ransom said between kisses.
Holster chuckled and nodded. “Agreed, I don’t want to go too fast and fuck this up.”
Ransom grinned and kissed him. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
He moved his mouth down to Holster’s neck and began kissing there when the blond spoke up again. “Katy was right about one thing, though.”
Ransom looked down at him, eyebrows raised.
“You make me,” he did this strange mix of a whisper and singing, “feel like I’m living a teenage dream,”
They laughed softly into each other’s necks before finding their rhythm again.
The next morning they woke up to the alarm clock, that beeped a few times before turning to the radio.
Holster almost fell out of the bed laughing, and Ransom shot out an arm to catch him.
Teenage Dream was playing on the radio.
-
“So, that’s why Teenage Dream is our song.” Ransom finished.
Their friends were all sprawled around Jack and Bitty’s living room, smiling at him and Holster, their hands clasped together.
“That’s sweet, y’all. But as your wedding planner I just can’t let Teenage Dream be your wedding song.” Bitty protested.
Jack put his hand on Bitty’s, still chuckling. “Come on, Bits. Settle on this one. Aren’t you just happy they aren’t asking to sing it?”
There were groans around the room as Holster whipped his head to Ransom. “Can we?” he asked excitedly.
Ransom could feel the death glare Bitty was giving Jack without even looking their way. But really, he knew that’s what they’d do from the beginning. He knew it would dawn on Holster eventually, and that he’d look at him with that same sunlit smile that he was giving him right now, and that Ransom would do absolutely anything for Holster, especially if it made him smile like that.
“Of course.”
Holster cheered, and their friends laughed and chirped them, and Ransom could barely hear any of it because just like that night all those years ago, it was just him and Holster grinning at each other like idiots, and that was all that mattered.
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chapter 18 of don’t read the last page is here!
masterpost
[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]
“Did you ever really expect this to happen? Like, back in high school, if someone had told you this was where we’d end up, would you have believed them?”
“No, but I would have wanted to, more than anything.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged as he finally pulled into the diner’s parking lot. “Like I said when we ran into each other again last summer, you were always the prettiest girl in the room, and I was just me.”
“Nothing,” she said, echoing what he had told her that morning, “has ever, ever been ‘just you’.”
chapter 18: difficult conversations
“You’re taking the back way on purpose, aren’t you?” Anna accused him.
“You just now figured that out?”
She giggled and set her hand over his where it rested on her knee. “Why? I thought you were really excited to show me this place.”
“I think we’ve made a lot of good memories in cars. And I want this to be another one, so I’m making it last as long as possible.”
“Like what?”
She remembered well enough, but he grinned because she wanted to hear them all from his mouth, know that he looked back on them just as fondly. “Like in high school, when I got my license first, and you would get up super early to ride to school with me even though I had to drop all my siblings off first.”
“And we’d get breakfast at the gas station, and you’d always say--”
“‘Seriously, Anna, where do all those Little Debbies go--’, and you’d say--”
“‘In my mouth, dumbass’,” she finished, and threw her head back with a peal of laughter.
Kristoff grinned, wider than he had in weeks. “And remember this fall when we went to the beach, but it started raining, so we, uh…”
“Fucked each other’s brains out?”
He swallowed hard. Keep your eyes on the road, Kristoff. “Right. Yes. That time.”
“Oh, I definitely won’t forget that any time soon. Remember when you picked me up from the airport, and how we were both just, like, giddy? Oh, my god, I was just, like...you have no idea how much I rambled to Honey about how cute you looked when you had dropped me off, and how excited I was to come back…”
She trailed off, turning to look straight at him as his thumb gently circled over her knee. “I wish you could drop me off this time.”
“I can,” he said, surprising himself; she was supposed to be taking a taxi there so the paparazzi who always lurked at LAX wouldn’t see them, but if it really meant something to her--
“You would risk that for me?” she asked, suddenly shy.
“Well...yeah. I’m not gonna get to see you for three weeks. And if it means a lot to you...then yeah.”
“There’s, like, a really good chance someone will see.”
“I know.”
He glanced over and saw as she bit her lip before speaking again. “Are you...do you...do you think you’ll ever want to go public?”
“I mean...I don’t know that I’ll ever want to have a bunch of strangers take my picture and speculate about us, you know? But if we’re gonna get married and stuff, I don’t want to spend my whole life hiding. So...I don’t know. I don’t want to just drop that bombshell right this second, but at the same time, if it happens now when I drop you off...at least I’m getting it over with, you know?”
The hand that she had set over his began tracing up and down the inside of his wrist; he shivered but didn’t pull away. “I...I don’t know what to say, Kris. Just...thank you, I guess. I know all of this has been crazy, and I’ve been a shitty girlfriend for the last couple months--”
“Not shitty, just busy.”
“Shh, let me finish being sappy. Anyway, I...I’m really glad it’s you. That I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with.”
He was half-tempted to pull over on the shoulder and kiss her then and there and not stop until she felt the same rush of happiness that was sweeping away any thought of the next three weeks. “I’m glad, too.”
She sighed, contented, and settled back against the seat, though her eyes didn’t move from his face. “Did you ever really expect this to happen? Like, back in high school, if someone had told you this was where we’d end up, would you have believed them?”
“No, but I would have wanted to, more than anything.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged as he finally pulled into the diner’s parking lot. “Like I said when we ran into each other again last summer, you were always the prettiest girl in the room, and I was just me.”
“Nothing,” she said, echoing what he had told her that morning, “has ever, ever been ‘just you’.”
He did kiss her then, long and slow and sweet, and when they finally got out of the car one of the cooks who was out for a smoke break raised an eyebrow. “Newlyweds?” she asked, a faint smile playing at the corner of her mouth.
Kristoff felt himself blush beet red, but Anna just grinned. “Close enough.”
---
The work itself was what made it worthwhile. She never felt more herself than when she was someone else. Even with Kristoff, sometimes she still got so self-conscious and tangled up in her own thoughts she just froze up. It was weird, she knew, and she had heard from so many people that for them it was the opposite, that it was a fight to get past the barrier of nerves even when they’d been doing this for years.
So she was lucky, she supposed, even if she didn’t feel like it right now in hair and makeup at six A.M. waiting for her phone to ring.
“What if they forgot?” she asked, tapping her fingers impatiently on her knee.
“Quit frowning. You’re making the foundation crease. No talking, either.”
Anna sighed and rearranged her face into a carefully neutral expression. She knew Honeymaren was eager as well for the call; they were both horrendously homesick. But Honey, at least, had something to focus on, namely putting enough powder on her face that the makeup would hold up for the most obnoxious filming schedule of all time; her first scene was supposed to start at eight, and then she was on and off and on again throughout the entire rest of the day, until half-past five. Hans, meanwhile, got to do all his parts with Michael, the man playing Vladimir, all in a row between ten and two.
As if she could sense Anna’s thoughts, Honey said softly, “You can ask them to change your schedule, you know. It really isn’t fair they’ve got you off and on like this.”
“I don’t want to cause another fuss.”
In the mirror, she saw Honey nod, more out of understanding than agreement. On the flight over, as she had still been trying to stop the fat tears rolling down her cheeks after saying goodbye to Kristoff, she had found out that someone had sat her next to Hans for the entire flight. “Absolutely not,” she had insisted, and literally put her foot down, but nobody had really cared about what she had to say until Hans himself swooped in. “
“Of course you don’t have to sit by me, Anna,” he had said soothingly. “I know things are still very awkward for you. I’m sure whoever arranged the seats just did it thinking maybe it would give us a chance to sort things out for the movie’s sake, you know. Just thinking of the best for everyone. But if you’re uncomfortable…”
She had nearly given in, feeling shamed as everyone had sat in silence and just watched, but then he had set a condescending hand on her back, right where Kristoff’s hand had been when he had hugged her goodbye, and she had jerked away. “I am uncomfortable,” she said, “and someone else can have this seat.”
She’d ended up sitting next to one of the screenwriters who, mercifully, had turned out to be completely lovely and blessedly quiet for most of the flight, chatting only to ask if Anna would mind looking at a few tweaks she had added to some scenes.
Later, when they’d been rolling their suitcases to the hotel, Honey had squeezed her arm and said, “He’s a jackass, Anna. Seriously, everyone knows it.”
Evidently they didn’t, because Hans was still king of the set in every way. No one cared when he was late or took too many sandwiches from craft services or complained about the lighting and how it hurt his eyes. Everything was “of course, Mr. Westergaard, right away”; meanwhile Anna was having a hard time getting her coffee the right way in the morning. It wasn’t that she wanted to be one of those bratty divas who insisted on no foam, boiling hot, exactly the right shade of brown almond milk lattes; she just wanted some sweetener in it, that was all, and every day the intern who brought it to her conveniently forgot and was too busy fawning over Hans to be called back over.
Not that that had happened again today. For the sixth day in a row.
Before she could get herself irritated about it again, the phone rang, and she lunged forward to grab it, nearly losing an eye in the process as Honey jerked an eyeshadow brush out of the way just in time. She swiped it up and found herself face to face with Kristoff.
“Hey,” he said, grinning ear to ear.
“Hey, yourself,” she replied, wondering why her eyes were watering.
“Hi, Anna!” called an unfamiliar voice from the background, and Kristoff shifted the view so Ryder could come into frame. “Nice to meet you! Where’s my sister?”
“Right here,” Honey said with a bright smile of her own. “How are you holding up?”
“We’re good! Well, I’m good, at least. I think Kristoff is going to kill me if I start humming one more time.”
“By humming, he means he starts singing every part to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ under his breath. And very out of key. And it turns out that’s the best way to make someone lose their place in the middle of reorganizing patient files.”
Honey laughed. “He’s your problem til I’m back. Good luck with him.”
Each of them resumed their work as they chattered on, but Anna, despite being the only one sitting still, was quiet for once, unsure of what exactly she wanted to stay. Instead she kept her eyes on Kristoff’s the whole time, grateful he was the one holding the phone so he was never far out of view, while Ryder, it seemed, was incapable of sitting still.
After half an hour, though, Honey cleared her throat as she put the finishing touches on Anna’s lipstick. “Well, anyway, Ryder, can you do me a favor and go call Mom to check on her?”
“What? Why? I can do that after we--”
“Ryder.”
“...ohh. Yeah, yeah, be right back!”
Honey rolled her eyes. “Men. I’m gonna go grab some more coffee. I’ll bring you some back, Anna. Sugar included this time.”
“Thanks,” Anna replied, and both of them knew she meant it for more than the coffee.
She looked back at the screen and saw that Kristoff’s smile had dropped, as had her own. He looked exhausted now that she could actually get a good look at him, shadows under his eyes that were only barely hidden by his glasses.
“How are you holding up, baby?” he asked her, his voice soft.
She bit her lip. “I...okay. I know we said we’re gonna work on being like, totally honest about our feelings, but if I start being whiny...”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’m just happy to hear your voice.”
“It’s just...I don’t know. In Romania, we all got along, and it was fun. Busy, obviously, but...it always felt like I was with friends. Here it’s like...I’m an afterthought in my own movie. It’s just kind of Hans everything.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. It just...I don’t know. It sucks. But we did the scene with my big song in it yesterday. That went good. They had me sing live, and I didn’t fuck it up.”
“Knew you wouldn’t,” he said with a faint smile.
“How are you, though?”
He rubbed his hand over his face. “I’m...fuck, Anna.”
To her horror, his voice broke on her name. “Kris, baby, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, it’s just...I miss you so goddamn much. And you’re worth it, but somehow that makes it worse.”
Her hand started shaking as she held the phone. He was trying to hide it from her, but she knew by the way he had pushed up his glasses to rest his hand on his forehead that he was fighting back tears. She longed to reach out and hold him, to run her hands through his hair as she let him lean against her, to do anything that might soothe him the way he always soothed her, but there was nothing she could do but sit and watch and try to think of something to say that might somehow make it easier on him.
“It’s okay, baby,” she said softly, “I’ll be home before you know it.”
“I know, it’s just-- fuck, now that I know what it’s like to have you here with me, it’s just so much harder this time, and I’d already barely seen you since New Year’s, and I just-- I just--”
“Have you been sleeping?” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows as he pulled his hand away enough for her to catch a glimpse of the gray-blue shadows under his eyes.
“No,” he admitted, somehow looking even more defeated as he did so. “I just...I don’t know, there’s been stuff at the clinic, and then you’ve been gone, and I just...I know it’s safe, but if-- if something did happen, you’re so far away, and what if I wasn’t able to get there in time? And I just keep thinking about that, and then I dream about it, too, and then I wake up and you’re not there and just...fuck, Anna, I don’t know what to do. And I’m sorry I’m telling you all this, I know you’ve got your own shit going on--”
“No, don’t ever be sorry for telling me things like this,” she said quickly. “This is exactly what I asked you to do. And I just...I just wish there was something I could do to help.”
“Just...hearing your voice, that’s making the biggest difference right now,” he said, and she noticed his voice didn’t sound quite so strained anymore. “And saying it out loud...fuck, that helps, too.”
“Do you think you need to talk to someone? Like, a professional someone?”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I...I used to when we were kids. To help me with, y’know...being adopted, and then other stuff, and...maybe you’re right. Maybe I should go again.”
“It would make me feel better if you did, too,” she said, knowing that that was probably her best shot of convincing him.
“Okay, I’ll-- I’ll call someone tomorrow, I guess. I...thanks for listening, Anna. I know you’re busy with the movie and--”
“Kris, this is my job,” she said gently. “To listen to you and be here for you. And I’m happy to do it. God knows you’ve done it for me plenty of times before.”
He sighed. “I know, I just...it’s nice, knowing that I can tell you everything, and it doesn’t change stuff. I’ve never really had that before.”
“Well, you’ll have it from now on,” she said firmly. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
He managed to give her a weak smile. “Well. Apart from Romania. And Russia.”
She shook her head. “No. I’m taking a break from location shoots for a while. I just want to be home.”
“Wish it were easier than this. Wish you could just come back for the weekend or something.”
There was a way. It would require her to quite probably humiliate herself all over again, but he still had that strained set to his jaw, and his eyes still looked sort of damp, and that was all she needed to make her decision. “Let me see what I can do.”
--
It had been three days since he had admitted to Anna how much this was tearing at him. It had embarrassed him at first that he was so distraught over only three weeks like some clingy teenager, but he’d spoken to her more since and she had reassured him it didn’t feel that way at all. “Still,” she’d said gently, “I hate that you’re feeling so anxious. Did you get an appointment made?”
He had, and he’d gone this afternoon. It helped to hear someone else tell him the things Anna said, to know it was coming from an unbiased source, to know that he wasn’t losing his mind for being stressed about it. “Your whole life has changed several times over in the last year. Be gentle with yourself, Kristoff,” the woman had said, her eyes solemn.
That was easier said than done. Currently he was fuming at himself for thinking it was a good idea to watch Anna’s Netflix movie again to get a glimpse of her. Now he was lying awake in bed at three in the morning, staring at the ceiling and trying not to wonder what bullshit Hans had pulled today. Then, suddenly, his phone rang, making him jump.
“Anna?” he asked as soon as he accepted the call. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, uh, hi baby, I’m-- I’m fine. I just...wow. Um. I can’t believe I just did that.”
“Did what?”
“Well,” she said, her voice trembling, “I figured that if I’m the main character of the whole movie I’m entitled to at least one diva moment on set. So I used it on this. I told them I was coming home early whether we filmed all my stuff or not, and uh-- it worked. They changed my bullshit schedule, and so we’ve been doing stuff the last few days, and I manage to get the flight set up and now the day after tomorrow I’m gonna be home. I’m sorry, it’s only like a week early, but--”
“You’re-- you’re really gonna be here?”
“Uh-huh. Sorry my flight lands at like, five A.M., I can get a taxi or--”
“I’ll be there, Anna,” he said, suddenly breathless although he hadn’t moved an inch since she had started talking. “I’ll be there to bring you home.”
#official kristanna psa: take care of your mental and physical health kids#sorry for the delay i just had bad writers block on this one#and got distracted by everything else#drtlp#my fics
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Shawn Michaels x Fem Reader- “Sweet Dreams Are Made Of This”
One morning in the summer of 1997, you were asleep in a bed, having such a splendid, wonderful dream.
What was the dream?
Shawn Michaels posed for Playgirl magazine again, but this issue was different.
In this issue, Shawn actually showed his penis, much like Peter Steele from Type O Negative did when he posed for Playgirl in 1995.
And the Shawn that posed for Playgirl in this dream was Shawn in 1997, who was even hotter and sexier than he was in 1996.
You were enjoying this dream you were having, how couldn't you? This was nearly every woman's sexual fantasy, especially for women who watch the WWF.
You're pretty sure women have had dreams like this in their sleep and maybe even have had things
Despite that you were asleep, it felt like your pussy wanted to release something, like it was getting wetter and wetter.
And pretty soon, yup, it did release something alright.
You came in your sleep, your clitoris pounding and throbbing immediately after you came.
Your pussy is a lot wetter and slipperier now than before.
Despite that you had came and you could feel yourself cum in your sleep, you still weren't awake yet, and the dream you were having was transitioning from Shawn Michaels showing off his nude body, complete with uncensored genitalia, to dreaming about other things.
At least your dream of Shawn posing naked for Playgirl again wasn't interrupted by something.
Even better, y'wanna know who's sleeping right next to you?
None other than who you dreamed about, Shawn Michaels.
When you eventually woke up in the morning, your pussy was still wet and luckily the cum didn't dry on your twat, and Shawn was sleeping right next to you.
After you took some time to fully wake up, Shawn was still asleep, though, you're contemplating whether or not to wake him up or let him wake himself up.
You have an idea planned for him thanks to this morning, but what if he's having a good dream and you interrupt it?
Thankfully, you still have a salty (and not salty as in angry about something) wet ass pussy (sorry, I couldn't help but say that).
Your eyes were wandering all around the room, looking around the hotel room the two of you were sharing.
You also looked at Shawn asleep, waiting until his eyes open.
Pretty soon, his eyes started fluttering up and down, and the first thing he saw in the morning when he woke up was you.
You lit up inside when he woke up, but you were trying to contain yourself.
Though, he could still see the smile on your face when you woke up.
"Hi" you whispered to him, waving your fingers at him "Good morning!".
Those were the first things you said to him that morning.
He grinned right back at you when he saw you smiling and waving at him, he waving right back at you with his fingers.
"Are you fully awake?" you asked him "Or are you a little groggy?"
"I'm a bit groggy" he confessed.
Oh boy.
You might sound like a toxic girlfriend right now, but you really hope he doesn't go back to sleep.
Shawn probably does have to stay awake considering he has to practice and rehearse his wrestling matches and promos.
"Do you wanna fall back asleep?" you asked him.
"I'd love to" he admitted "But...I can't"
Yes!, you thought, you could nearly ball your fists up in excitement.
"Can you hear me talking?" you asked him. "Considering you're still a bit sleepy?"
"Yes I can" he answered, nodding his head.
You snuggled up closer to him, snuggling into the crook of his neck, your torso touching on his.
How could you not snuggle up and spoon him every night and morning?
Not only is he absolutely gorgeous and the hottest man in the WWF, he also has that hairy chest for you to run your fingers through.
And thankfully, he slept shirtless tonight and this morning!
"I had a dream about you this morning" you admitted to him, running your fingers up and down his chest, your fingers running through his chest hair.
You caressing his chest make him feel tingles on his skin, so much, his cock was rising up, poking through his boxers.
This will keep him awake, literally.
"You posed for Playgirl again in this dream" you added "And even better...you showed your penis in the Playgirl photoshoot!"
He chuckled hearing your dream, his eyes growing wide and wild hearing your dream.
He's probably gonna be shocked even more when you confess this to him.
"This was a...wet dream I had" you confessed "I came in my sleep, my clitoris throbbed after I had came"
Some of the ringrats he used to sleep with would admit they had wet dreams about him.
He can remember when he had wet dreams when he went through puberty, he still even has them from time to time.
"My pussy's all wet now" you confessed "Wanna eat my pussy?"
He loves a good wet ass pussy, and he'd love to eat your twat out.
"Fuck yeah" he admitted, nodding his head and grinning.
You smiled hearing him say that, you lit up hearing him admit he wants to eat your twat.
He was waking up a bit, and when he felt like he was completely awake, he crawled over towards in between your legs.
Thankfully you slept naked that night, it was a hot night (though the two of you didn't have sex, surprisingly).
When he was in between your thighs, he buried his face in your twat, where he let his tongue roam up your left pussy flap, tasting your salty, slippery cunt.
Before he started eating your twat out, he could see that you came, your pussy shiny and slippery, having a gooey white liquid in between your pussy flaps.
When his tongue was at the top of your vagina, he made his tongue slide across your clit, where he stopped at your clitoris.
He began to flick and lick your clit with the tip of his tongue, sometimes the entire middle of his tongue.
You can still feel the after effects after you had came.
Sometimes, his tongue even pressed on your clit, since he knows how sensitive and how good it feels to you to press his tongue on your clit.
His tongue can feel the little slit on your clitoris.
Underneath your pussy, you could feel the sensitive nerves of his tongue pressing on your clit that felt so good.
"Oh God, Shawn!" you moaned, sounding a bit breathy when you said that.
You're contemplating whether or not to tweak and rub your nipples while he's pressing his tongue on your clit.
"Shawn?" you asked, lifting your head up. "Should I tweak my nipples while you do this or not?"
Shawn loves it when women play with their tits, especially you, so whatever makes you happy.
"Tweak 'em" he answered "I love it when you play with your tits"
You put your nipples in between the pads of your index fingers and thumbs, and began to turn and tweak your nipples like a radio dial.
Your nipples are tingling thanks to you tweaking them, and it feels so good.
Despite that his tongue is pressing on your clit, his tongue isn't really moving around much.
Wonder if he could lick his tongue while pressing his tongue on your clitoris?
Shawn tried doing that, holding down and pressing on your clit with his tongue all while trying to lick your clitoris.
It was a little hard, but he managed to do it.
"Can you feel anything?" Shawn asked you. "My tongue pressing on your clitoris while I lick it, I meant?"
You raised your head, still tweaking your nipples.
"A little, yeah" you confessed.
He went back to trying to lick your clit while pressing his tongue on it at the same time.
While licking your clit is wonderful, he's spent a bit too much time on your clit, and you're worried he isn't gonna eat out what's in the middle of your pussy, where your cum really is.
"Shawn" you said to him, taking a break from tweaking your nipples. "Sorry, I feel like you've spent enough time on my clit. I'm afraid you won't eat my pussy out. It's still wet!"
"I didn't forget about the middle of your pussy!" Shawn replied.
While he's taking to you in front of your pussy, you can feel his breath on your twat.
He probably has spent enough time on your clit, so his tongue slided in between your pussy flaps this time, where you had came.
He could taste your salty, slippery cum, and he loved the taste of it.
"You taste so fucking good" Shawn purred, his breath warm on your twat. "I could eat your pussy all day"
He licked up the middle of your twat over and over again, licking it until there wasn't any cum there.
He could've licked in between your pussy while he was sucking your clit, which brings him to what he really wanted to do to you...
Even though he was licking the middle of your twat, he let your clit enter his mouth, wrapping his lips around your clitoris.
He proceeded to start sucking your clitoris as well as kissing it, sometimes puckering his lips and pressing his lips on your clit.
While he was sucking your clit, he let his tongue loll out of his mouth, where he still continued to lick the middle of your pussy, in between your pussy flaps.
You, on the other hand, continued to tweak your nipples.
You didn't just tweak your nipples, but also rubbed the pads of your fingers over your areolas, sometimes running the tips of your fingers around in circles on your areolas.
"Mmmmmmm, Shaaaaaaaawn" you moaned while he sucked your clit.
"You've got such a juicy pussy" Shawn murmured while his lips were wrapped around your clit.
He's contemplating whether or not to slobber and salivate on your twat.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm" he hummed and mumbled as he sucked your clit.
"Ohhhhhhhh Daddy" you moaned, your eyes closed and face looking like you're having an orgasm.
He loves hearing you call him Daddy, and he looks a Daddy too.
His tongue eventually licked up your right pussy flap as well, licking up any cum or pussy juice on your twat.
While this is wonderful and all, what if you cum again?
You don't really want that.
However, ever since you learned about puberty in males and females, you wished you could have wet dreams like boys did.
Sometimes you actually did, but wet dreams are more of a male thing.
Not to mention, you wish you could have wet dreams of any sexy male wrestler out there (not just Shawn, but Hunter Hearst Helmsley, Rob Van Dam, Jeff Hardy, Davey Boy Smith, Bret Hart, even Brian Pillman) and when you came that morning, that male wrestler you dreamt about will be next to you and eat your twat out.
Although you don't even have to dream about a hot wrestler, you could even dream about some hot movie star, TV star or rock star, and when you came that morning, this wrestler could eat your wet ass pussy out.
You actually have had some wet dreams about these aforementioned male wrestlers, and Hunter was there to eat your twat out after you had a wet dream, either about him or someone else.
You wish you could control your dreams.
Not to mention, some of these male wrestlers I've mentioned, even male wrestlers you aren't sexually attracted to and have never had dreams about, have had wet dreams of you.
You also wish men could still have wet dreams and morning wood, which sometimes they do, and when they cum in their sleep, you can clean their cocks off by performing fellatio on them.
You did do that with Hunter last year.
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Fixing RWBY Volume 5
Well, here we are. Volume 5. The hot mess that helped spark a new generation of critics. Sure, Volume 6 also had its share, but it was more focused on Adam and the Bees. Volume 5 destroyed a lot of things and caused people to voice their complaints. It was so bad, RT had to literally appease the public by giving them exactly what they want. You ever wondered why Ruby suddenly gained prominence as a character in Volume 6 or the sudden focus on Blake and Yang’s relationship or even Penny’s return?
But why is Volume 5 so bad? Well, I made a lengthy post about it, but the long story short of it is that a combination of RT’s over ambitiousness of RWBY, its lack of resource management, and the writers clearly having no idea how to pace scenes out led to a Volume that felt more like the writers just wanted to get it over with and failed to live up to its core theme. I brought this up time and time again with my tweaks that each of the volumes carried with it a certain theme.
Volume 1 was about beginnings and friendship, Volume 2 was about stepping into danger, Volume 3 was the theme of falling, Volume 4 was the theme of picking yourself back up, Volume 6 was outgrowing your mentor’s advice, and Volume 7 was about trust and fear. What’s Volume 5’s theme? Well, from the interviews mentioned in the Reddit post and the opening song, the theme revolves around solving problems on your own and, most importantly for this rewrite, shouting “We’re not done here!”, which, if you’ve seen Volume 5, went more like this:
“Let’s wait until the bad guys call us to fight them. Then we’ll cry about how things aren’t going our way until this guy goes about feeling up- I mean, healing up this girl.”
Obviously, this needs to be changed. Unlike the other tweaks where I change one or two major elements of a Volume and mostly shuffle things around for better coherency, this is just gonna outright be a full rewrite, since while I mostly let things go as they are, the problem with Volume 5 is that nothing should go as they are.
In fact, all the tweaking I did is basically building up for Volume 5. All the bits where Ozpin is untrustworthy? To better sell Yang getting all pissy about BIRDS. Hazel’s appearance? To make him a much more prominent character. Everything in regards to Adam and the White Fang? To set up a better closure for the White Fang subplot. It’s all been to try and fix Volume 5. If Volume 3 is the lynchpin for which all other Volumes try to imitate, then Volume 5 is the lynchpin for which all other Volumes try to avoid being. Like I said, RT had to basically give viewers a shit ton of cookies just to make up for how bad Volume 5 was.
So, instead of going by this arc by arc, I’m gonna go the more traditional route and rewrite the Volume episode by episode. My obligatory recommendation is a mishmash of Volume 5 rewrites that Unicorn of War made. I mean, he made about 3? 4? I lost count.
Episode 0 (Trailers)
Okay, these need to be changed. The point of a character short is to highlight the character’s strong points. Not make them weak or focus on someone else. Ruby’s character short did this, Adam’s character short did this, the original trailers did this, so why the hell did they drop the ball with Weiss losing to common undead mooks and Blake listening to a backstory that isn’t even in the show proper?
So, we’re going to change all this. Weiss’s character short has her fighting against the Beowovles and she manages to win. Winter comes by, but points out how sloppy she was and reveals that she held back. She then gives a foreshadowing line of “if this were a real battle, you’d most likely be bleeding out from that last blow.”
Blake’s character short goes more into detail of what happened to Ghira. Namely him getting gunned down by random humans and in a later scene, Blake fighting them to get revenge, only to stop herself. Adam steps in and personally finishes off the humans, which causes Blake to realize just how much of an asshole Adam is.
Yang’s character short is somewhat the same, but drop the stupid plotline of Ruby learning hand to hand, since RT wants to pretend it never existed to begin with. Also, let’s not have Yang’s aura flicker and tell the Audience she has no aura when you literally just explained a day or so ago that no aura means no semblance.
Alright, now let’s finally get into it:
Episode 1
We open right where the stinger of Volume 4 leaves off with Jaune and co visiting Pyrrha’s mom and dad and dropping off a spare shield that RT joked about in an interview that forever scarred the Floof Artist and blurred the lines of if RWBY should be an anime or a cartooooooooooon. It’s meant to set the tone for this Volume as we get a brief bit where Ruby and Qrow explore the rest of Mistral and not just look at mat paintings. Also, show that it’s in a state of chaos instead of two people with some bamboo heart plant thing.
We also have bits that catch up with our cast. Weiss hears a distress signal and much to Pilot Boi’s demands, she commandeers the ship and flies to them. Blake and Ilia meet for the first time since the fight and Blake argues with her on why she’s vouching so much for Adam. Ilia only warns her to leave Menagerie before she gets hurt and leaves before Blake asks for details. Yang and Heather gang up and get Not!Bakugou to drag them to the bandits.
RNJR and Qrow meet up with Lionheart, who fills them in on the crisis as Qrow tells him that he had to explain the Relics since Ozpin is no longer with them. Namely, Mistral has tons of Grimm going around, not helped by bandits who are making bad matters worse. When Qrow mentions that the Spring Maiden is among the bandits, he nearly has a heart attack. “Bandits are one thing but magical bandits!?”
He also answers Jaune’s question with the same response: “Nothing but lies and forgeries.”, which makes Jaune angry and openly complains about it before Ruby tries to help him. “Hey! We may not have gotten what we wanted, but people here need our help.” When Ruby says this, Qrow decides to inform the group about the possible home base of Raven’s tribe. Note that he does not mention that she’s Yang’s mom nor do they know. Lionheart is a little startled and warns that they only have one shot at this and if they fail, Raven’s tribe will scatter into parts unknown, if they haven’t already. He tries to get them to stay, but Ruby is insistent to stop Raven at the very least, with securing the Spring Maiden being a secondary mission, not asking why she’s important, since she kinda got the idea from Jaune when he recounted how Ozpin forced the Maiden powers onto Pyrrha.
As they leave, Lionheart sighs and warns Watts about it, only for him to say that this game of chess was out of his hand to begin with. The most Lionheart can do is provide the team with the one Huntsman who is at his Academy…
Later that evening, Qrow goes for a drink while RNJR prepare for their mission. He is approached by Oscar and Lionheart. Lionheart says that Oscar had arrived at Haven days ago and refused to leave when he’s told that school’s out for the summer. He leaves Oscar to Qrow while saying how “a day out in the field is worth a week in school.”
As Oscar is alone with Qrow, he asks for his cane in a voice that is not his. Ending the episode there.
Episode 2
Lionheart informs Salem about RNJR arriving at Haven with Qrow and that they’re on their way to retrieve the Spring Maiden. He advises Salem to act quickly, but Salem hushes him (no, she does not strangle him) and says that she’s got the situation under control. She then advises Watts that he is no longer needed at Mistral and is to return to Evernight before the others find him. Watts uses the Seer to teleport and he and Cinder have a bit of a snarkfest now that Cinder can talk before Watts leaves to make Tyrian’s tail.
Cinder then asks Salem to personally be the one that kills Ruby, only to be warned that Ruby’s Silver Eyes are a hazard to her. “She is merely a novice with the Silver Eyes and yet put you on death’s door… I don’t want you to get hurt again.” Cinder just flares up and goes “I. Won’t.” And storms off.
Weiss battles with Lancer Wasps like in the original, but she’s acting on initiative so people are being saved. Battle proceeds like normal, but when Weiss crashes the plan, she and Pilot Boi survive before being kidnapped by Raven.
We cut to Adam and Sienna doing their usual talk, but instead of Sienna going out like a bitch, she actually has a battle with Adam because I assume in this universe, RT knows better than to fuck up like this. I’d compare it to Maul vs. Vizsla from the Clone Wars.
Meanwhile, Ruby and co. are ready to depart before Qrow approaches them, drunk, with Oscar, who quickly informs the group that they may know him better as Ozpin… Cue Jaune becoming shocked at first… then turning into outright rage. End episode.
Episode 3
We open with Kali making a speech on Adam’s plans to destroy Haven Academy and the rest of the Menagerians hesitant to step forward. One of the guards approaches Kali, then stabs her. In the chaos, the guard runs off, then appears through the crowd, shedding her disguise and revealing herself to the audience as Ilia, who gives her whole “Now is the time to side with Adam” speech and also reveals how her parents died in the dust mines. This goes into a brief scuffle between Sun and Ilia that Ilia gets out of by disguising herself as Blake when Blake joins the fight. This is where you can do that Blake slaps Sun bit, but instead, it’s Ilia who slaps Sun.
We then cut to Jaune slamming Oscar against the wall and shouting: “YOU BASTARD! HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!?” Ruby tries to pull Jaune away, but he won’t budge. Oscar, still in Ozpin’s voice, gives the explanation that he is able to reincarnate but hides why or how he can do this. In fact, he hides that his “reincarnation” actually means his soul becomes linked to another’s, much to Oscar’s chagrin. He explains that Lionheart has been very sketchy and warns not to listen to what he says. He then advises that they should move quickly. Note that he doesn’t say that they need to train, since the training arc goes nowhere and we need to not only streamline this but make it a lot more entertaining. Ozpin then de-possesses Oscar, who cries about his hurt back, immediately bringing Ozpin’s methods into question for Ruby for the first time.
Weiss awakes to find herself in a cage next to Pilot Boi, who just gives her a comedic calling out just before Vernal and her troops come in and drag out Pilot Boi. Vernal looks to Weiss and tells the bandits “she’s important. Leave her be.” Weiss asks what’s going on as Vernal tells Weiss about how she’s going to be used as a bartering chip. For what, we don’t know yet, but it’s clarified that she’s not being ransomed back to her father. Vernal then explains that Pilot Boi is merely a spare and that they can do what they want. As she says that, she goes to Pilot Boi as he is held down in front of Raven. Vernal approaches Pilot Boi as Weiss looks on in worry. We then end the episode with a crash of lightning.
Episode 4
Heather and Yang get ambushed, but beat up the gang with ease, then enter the tribe, though not without seeing Pilot Boi’s charred corpse crucified outside the gates as a warning for intruders. Heather and Yang get their weapons ready.
We cut to RNJR, Oscar, and Qrow, who are walking to Raven’s camp. Along the way, Oscar is given a lecture from Qrow on Aura, namely on how to activate it. He then asks Ruby, as she’s the youngest of the group, if fighting is as easy as huntsmen make it out to be. Ruby gives the naïve answer of “of course!” though Jaune brings up how inexperience is discouraged. As Oscar grows afraid of Jaune, Jaune sighs and apologizes. “Sorry, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on with you and Oz right now… I don’t hate you… Just the voice inside you.”
“I know… I hate it too…”
Qrow stops them and tells them they’ve arrived.
Cut to the tribe letting Yang and Heather in where they confront Raven… Heather questions if she’s the one responsible for not just the destruction of several villages, but also the disappearance of huntsmen too. Already, this should send warning flags, but Yang decides to ignore them.
Yang: Take off that mask, Raven.
Raven: Is that anyway to treat your mother? {Heather gives a WTF look}
Yang: My mother is dead and you know it.
Raven: {sneers} Regardless. You’ve proven yourself by coming out to find me. I guess you grew tired of Ozpin’s teachings and wanted to join the winning side.
Yang: That’s not why I’m here.
Raven: Then why are you here?
Yang: For my sister.
Raven: Well, hate to disappoint you, but she’s not here.
Yang: That’s why you’re going to bring me there with your Semblance. It can create portals with you and a close bond, right?
Raven: So… you know about that. Well, unfortunately for you, I don’t respect that brat enough to make a portal.
Yang: {eyes go red} Don’t talk about my sister that way!
Raven: What’s so important about her anyways? From her eyes, she’s already a lost cause for that Ozpin.
Yang: What do you know about Ozpin? You got kicked out the moment he saw that you’re using his teachings to kill innocent people!
Raven: Is that what Taiyang told you? Foolish. Simply foolish. I didn’t get kicked out of STRQ. I left STRQ. I’d rather use those teachings for better things than what Ozpin had in store. He turned my brother and your ‘mother’ into his personal attack dogs and put one of them down when they got too gabby.
Yang: {about to go into a frenzy} You shut your mouth!
Vernal: Are we going to have a problem?
Yang: {sees she has Myrtenaster} W-where did you find that?
Raven: {nods to Vernal, who goes over to reveal a caged Weiss} We had anticipated your arrival since you stepped foot on Anima. The fact that one of your friends just so happened to be close by gave us the perfect bargaining chip.
Yang: What are you going to do to her?
Raven: Nothing, if you join us. {Weiss looks at Raven, having suddenly figured out that’s what Vernal meant}
Yang: And if I refuse?
Raven then signals Vernal to execute Weiss. Just then, Ruby intervenes and speed blitzes her. Weiss then breaks out of the prison with her summon as JNROQ come in. The group is surrounded by bandits as everyone quickly finds out that Raven is Yang’s mom. Ren is the first to attack, seeing Vernal and believing her to be the child he made friends with back in Kuroyuri. This begins a massive clash that is sure to sate the appetites of those who want to say “RWBY’s about four girls who kick ass” and give a taste of what’s to come.
The group have little time to figure out what’s going on. Just that Ren, Weiss and Nora are fighting Vernal (this is where you have Weiss trying to summon only to get shot by Vernal), Jaune is battling some bandits with Oscar and Heather, and Ruby and Yang try to fight Raven, only for Qrow to interfere and say that Raven’s on a whole different level. Raven retreats and after battling some bandits for quite a bit, Hazel comes out of the tent. Turns out that Fort Castle (the place where Adam fought Sienna) was not too far from Raven’s base. Ruby and Hazel reunite briefly before Hazel apologizes and enters the fray. He makes everyone his bitch and that’s without the Dust Crystals. Heather and Qrow are the only ones to give him an even fight, but he quickly overwhelms them too thanks to his Semblance.
While the group manages to fend off the bandits, it’s clear that with Hazel, Raven, and Vernal, they need to make a retreat, especially since Raven asks Hazel to bring in “that Adam boy”, making Yang go full PTSD mode. However, before they could leave, Hazel defeats Heather. Ruby protests that he shouldn’t kill her, but her pleas fall on deaf ears as he finishes Heather off. Ruby begins to cry and asks why he killed her. Hazel just replies “She made her choice.” The group retreat back to Mistral as we end the episode with Raven going back into the camp as we see that a Seer Grimm is inside her tent.
This reveals a rather big twist: Raven is also in league with Salem’s crew, acting as Huntsmen removal instead of Tyrian and Hazel (since they were too busy with their stuff in Volume 4) and it also explains why Salem and the others aren’t as hard-pressed about the Spring Maiden as they should be. They already have her in their grasps and, were it not for Cinder getting Silver-Eye’d, Cinder would have immediately gained the Spring Maiden powers.
Episode 5
After that rollercoaster of an episode, the story relaxes with Sun trying (comedically) to get people to join in the battle for Haven, only for Blake to stop him and tell him that it’s futile. She just visited her mom, who is currently recovering in the house, and tells Sun that they should just give up and leave. Sun refuses, since he wants to give Adam a thing or two about giving Faunus like him a bad name. Were I to completely redo Sun’s character, I’d definitely see him as Claude from Fire Emblem: Three Houses.
Blake then explains to Sun who Ilia is, complete with a Burning the Candle-like flashback. This is where her backstory comes in. She then explains who Adam is. We don’t get a flashback and even so, she knows little about him. Just that he came to the White Fang one day, asserted himself, then when Ghira was assassinated, took the reins of the White Fang, leaving Sienna Khan to be a puppet leader. As such, Blake believes that she’s the one who made Adam the monster he is, when audience members can obviously tell that’s not the case. It’s just Blake putting herself down and Sun points out how this is probably something Adam said to her to make her feel small. If you’re not getting it by now, Sun is basically where Blake learns a lot of Adam’s tactics from and eventually, she becomes a much better person at handling Adam’s BS. The reason why he knows all this is from his own personal experience. To ensure there’s no “mystery box” element, I’m gonna nip it in the bud and say his father’s the RWBY version of King Louie… Which given how he sings about wanting “man’s red flower” and how people compare Adam to Mowgli because he killed Sienna Khan…
Oooooooh, this could be really cool but this is a tweak, not a fanfic. FOCUS! … I want to say that Adam was an experiment by Vacuan scientists (read: shamans who prefer using Dust as science) before being dumped to the Schnees as part of a deal and that’s how we got his Semblance being as weird as it is.
Back at Haven’s dorm, RWYJNR are shaken up from the battle, not to mention Ruby having personally seen her friend’s father murder someone before her eyes. Oscar himself is rather shaken up. Qrow is the only person unfazed, but that’s because he’s always drunk instead. While everyone takes their time in recovering, Ruby and Oscar talk about the future, as Heather was an experienced Huntress. This is where the infamous speech comes in, but Ruby doesn’t blame Salem for killing Penny and Pyrrha, rather she blames Cinder, then mentions how she’s a pawn of Salem and expresses doubt if they could beat her.
Cut to the Albains. They have no communications with Adam and so they have to move on their own. One of them decides “let’s kill Kali!” and the other’s like “uh, isn’t that going to cause people to turn against us?” “No, no, it’s okay dude, they can trust us!” all while Ilia is like “… wtf?” and Yuma’s like “only here for a few minutes, use me effectively.”
Episode 6
Qrow investigates and finds that all the other Huntsmen have met unfortunate ends and all assigned to the same quest: stop the bandits. He mutters about how Raven could do such a thing, only to find a young girl crying and asking for her mother. It’s made clear that this is Heather’s kid and Qrow, for the first time in a longass while, begins to feel remorse, if only because he mistook her for Ruby.
We cut to Raven as she has a meeting with Vernal, Hazel, and Adam. It’s clear that RWYJNR are gonna try and return and rather than prepare for a rematch, Raven proposes to nip it in the bud. She also dotes on Adam a bit, saying how he is better than Yang in every way possible. We don’t know the full extent of what she means just yet, but we’ll find out later.
Ren and Yang have a chat about Raven. Ren’s absolutely pissed that Yang’s mother is the person who torched his town and stole his friend (he assumes she’s kidnapped and is being forced to fight against her will) while Yang is just as irritated that Raven tried to use her friend as leverage. Weiss copes with having seen someone die in front of her and Nora comforts her, casually joking that, if Vernal tried that on her, she’d be sorry. Ruby, Oscar and Jaune discuss on what to do going forward, having Ozpin come out so that they can get some sort of advice, much to Jaune’s chagrin.
Ozpin, however, refuses to speak. Before Jaune could get upset with Oz, he cites that even walls have ears. Cut to Yang as she sees a red-eyed raven outside her house. She quickly remembers the red-eyed raven from Patch, both the one that screamed at Ruby and the one that was there when she lost her arm. She instantly goes on the defensive as the bird flies through the window and changes to Raven. Yang asks how she can do that and she merely says “Oz did this to me.” End of episode.
Episode 7
Everyone rushes in as Raven brings in her proposition: Surrender Yang and she’ll spare the rest of the group. Refuse and they will have the fight come to them. Ozpin interjects and offers Yang in trade for the Spring Maiden, to which everyone, Qrow included, goes “WHAT THE ACTUAL F, DUDE!?” The two have a little back and forth as Ozpin makes clear that she chose to have these powers and points out that if she was salty about being able to turn into a bird at free will without any drawbacks, he could gladly take them back by force. This casual threat is enough to make Raven back off, only to warn the others that a storm is coming.
With that, Ozpin is forced to explain quite a bit. This, unfortunately, is where we can’t mince the scene, since Ozpin has to explain what’s going on. I guess the only way to make it more effective is a little back and forth where the characters share what they do know about Ozpin’s magic and Ozpin fills them in on what they don’t. First and foremost, Yang is not upset about Ozpin and BIRDS. The person being upset is Jaune, especially since Ozpin reveals that not only did he create the Maidens in the first place, but also that by “reincarnate” he meant inhabit the body of a young boy. This is made worse when he reveals accidentally that he is able to reincarnate earlier than intended if he chooses to die instead of being killed.
This sets Jaune off since, as far as he can tell, Ozpin is responsible for Pyrrha’s death more than Cinder. Cinder may have killed her, but it’s Ozpin who not only put Pyrrha in that position, but also paved the way for Cinder to overpower her. Before they could get into a tussle, Yang shouts and has Ozpin promise “no more lies, no more half truths”. He obviously lies about promising that and Qrow can see the crossed fingers behind his back.
We then end with Cinder and co arriving to make negotiations with Raven.
Episode 8
The beginning actually stays the same, all things considered. The only massive change is that Yang is not easily convinced to want Blake back because Weiss told her “lol, my mummy was drunk so shut it”. In fact, we see the others talk about Blake and Jaune is the most bitter, even more than Yang, because Blake was a White Fang member and refused to share any information regarding them, which could have led to an easier time dealing with the Fall.
Ruby puts her foot down and tells Jaune to stop being so salty over Pyrrha’s death, but is quickly outvoted since Ren and Nora are also upset that Pyrrha died. She’s frustrated and goes to interrupt Qrow and Ozpin discussing what to do regarding Raven. She asks Ozpin what he knows about the Silver Eyes, saying how it’s the only thing that might incapacitate Vernal. Ozpin tells her he doesn’t know too much about Silver Eyes, as he did not have any himself, but reassures her that the Silver Eyes would have no impact on a Maiden.
Raven and Cinder chat and Cinder makes it clear that it’s time for the Spring Maiden to relinquish her powers to her, reassuring Vernal that she can make it quick and painless. Raven stops Cinder and says that Ruby and the others have set their sights on the Spring Maiden and that if she were to take them now, she’d have a target on her back, reminding Cinder of the Silver Eyes. She then makes a proposal. Salem has given them a blank check on how Haven falls since they have all the cards on the table, so why not kill two birds with one stone… Or rather, kill one crow and seven kids with one army?
Blake’s bit with Ilia stays the same as well, but the difference is that Ilia wants to keep Blake for herself instead of sending her to Adam, saying how she can keep her safe. Yes, this edges her more into the Psycho Lesbian route, but unintentionally. She genuinely cares for Blake’s well-being and not in some sort of yandere bit. Sun intervenes and the group runs back to the house while the guards have a war with the White Fang.
Episode 9
We instantly kick off the Battle of Menagerie instead of a long, drawn out sequence of Raven talking with Cinder. It mostly stays the same, but how the house catches fire is different. Blake sees Ilia in the dark, shoots her and goes “rly?”, though, in the middle of this, the Albains begin to fight amongst each other.
Corsac is willing to kill the Belladonnas for the cause (“THEY’VE GIVEN US NOTHING BUT GRIEF!”) while Fennec is trying to convince him that Adam is a lost cause and they need to replace him. During this scuffle, it’s revealed that Corsac was the one who set up that roadside ambush that killed Ghira, believing that Ghira was weak and that they needed a stronger leader ready to give the Faunus much needed progress. Fennec tells him that all it’s given them is chaos.
The two clash and set the house ablaze. Ilia realizes that Blake would be in immediate danger and struggles to save her instead of seeing the assassination to the end, thus redeeming her as she nearly dies saving Blake. Sun sacrifices himself to get Kali out of the burning building, but its revealed to have been his Semblance at work. When Sun shows up, Blake finally slaps him for realises, and this time, for good reason.
Blake gives her “humans didn’t do this” speech, Ilia playing a recording of Corsac’s hand in Ghira’s death, and this motivates the crowd to fight for Haven. Fennec emerges, heavily burned and carrying his brother’s tattered cloak. He has much to atone for and offers to remain on Menagerie with Kali to establish a new White Fang, giving Blake the task to destroy the old one. Ilia, Sun, and Blake go with the Menagerian army to Haven, with their captain, having comedically been neglected all Volume, finally getting the spotlight… He’s going to steal Robyn’s line of “still here, everyone” because honestly, that has a better spot here than in the show proper.
Episode 10
Lionheart messages the crew that Raven had left Vernal at his office and they go. They know full well it’s a trap and so Qrow elects to stay behind in bird form. Lionheart instantly stammers and freaks as he sees kids and not Qrow.
Lionheart: W-where is Qrow?
Ruby: I don’t know if you’ve heard of us, but we’re Teams RWBY and JNPR. We’ve accomplished many things without an adult to save us or tell us what to do-
Weiss: Uh, technically-
Ruby: {whispers to Weiss} Ssssh! You’re ruining my groove! {speaks to Lionheart} Even though we’re incomplete, our friends are by our side. And that’s why… {she points her sniper rifle at Lionheart} We’re not going to fall for your tricks!
As she fires, a fireball comes out and there’s a large explosion as Cinder flies through the smoke. The Battle of Haven begins as, one by one, the villains enter the fray. First Cinder, then Emerald and Mercury, then Raven and Vernal, and lastly Hazel. Lionheart is reluctant to fight, but Oscar forces his hand.
Meanwhile, outside, Qrow is attacked by Adam and the two duel it out for the episode. Maybe have Qrow quip a line like “so, you’re the one who severed my niece’s arm? Well, why don’t you give me a leg?” and some joke about equivalent exchange that would be funnier if Vic had voiced Qrow in this universe.
I’m not gonna sugar coat it, the Battle of Haven, at least in the opening act, is a battle royale and one that V5 should have been. We have six people going up against six people, each of them taking turns at their opponents and switching out every now and then, the only consistent battle pairings are Qrow vs. Adam and Lionheart vs. Ozpin. By the midway point, though, the fight has been finalized to…
· Jaune vs. Cinder
· Ren vs. Raven
· Weiss vs. Vernal
· Nora vs. Emerald
· Yang vs. Mercury
· Ruby vs. Hazel
Each of them gives their own reason why they’re fighting. Jaune and Ren want to make their opponent pay, Weiss wants Vernal to give her back her weapon (yeah, she never gave it back), Yang is angry that Mercury framed her, Nora tries to help Ren but is interrupted by Emerald, and Ruby fights Hazel to reason with him.
Eventually, the battle comes to a head when Emerald uses her illusion powers and Ruby witnesses it. She quickly realizes she caused Pyrrha to dismantle Penny and goes ballistic. Before Emerald knows it, she gets speed blitzed and beaten up by Ruby’s fists. Ruby then chops off Mercury’s prosthetics as soon as she notices them, knocking both out of the fight. It then becomes a little one-sided as Nora helps Ren fight Raven and Yang helps Ruby fight Hazel, where Ruby gives her “I’m angry” line.
Jaune nearly getting killed by Cinder, along with Weiss’s aura running out and screaming in pain, causes Ruby’s Silver Eyes to go off as it begins to burn Cinder. Cinder gives her a fireball to the chest in desperation, destroying Ruby’s aura and leaving her venerable for a hit. Jaune swings his sword and, while he misses like in the original, gives Cinder a deep cut on her cheek, right below where the burn is. Qrow’s fight with Adam knocks him into the room and Adam waltzes in, giving Yang the PTSD trip of a lifetime, not helped by Adam gloating…
“I didn’t realize that when we fought at Beacon, I was facing Raven’s own daughter… Now I know what she means when she said I was the superior child!”
Boom! Plot twist! Adam’s Raven’s son! Well, adopted son. But still!
Also, Cinder decides to make Jaune’s life a living hell by trying to stab Weiss… But Ruby runs and takes the blow for her, ending the episode.
Episode 11
The episode starts off rather similarly, with the exception of Ruby being the one that’s mortally wounded. Jaune cries and says “we need you!”, which given what he said in Volume 4, fits better.
The major remainder of the fight is focused on fighting Hazel, Lionheart and Adam, as Emerald and Mercury are still out of commission and Cinder, Raven, and Vernal f off to the vault. The two prove to be a powerhouse, especially since Hazel powers up Adam’s Moonslices and Lionheart handing Hazel more Dust Crystals. Ruby heals up and tells Jaune “whatever you’re doing, don’t stop”, only for Jaune to go “then don’t take my hands off the wound!”
Pretty standard battle and we have a reveal that Raven was the true Maiden.
Episode 12
The battle comes to a second head when Blake’s army arrives, forcing Adam to leave the battle and confront Blake. His fight happens like before, but Blake appears behind him instead of in the path of the blade.
Hazel, meanwhile, is not tiring out for a second. Not even a stab from a Lancer is enough to take him out. Ruby comes to and evens out the battle by speed blitzing him. Yang and Blake meet each other for the first time, but as Yang tries to reconcile with Blake, not only is she reminded of the bitter words she gave her in V3, but Adam’s presence makes it a hard-emotional hurdle to break. As soon as Oscar warns Yang that the Relic of Knowledge should not fall in to the wrong hands (during this, he explains what’s so important about the Vault), Yang goes after Raven, Cinder, and Vernal, much to Ruby’s dismay. She ends up losing her arm from Mercury grabbing it.
The Battle of the Bitches remains unchanged because it is GOAT.
Episode 13
The final episode of the Volume (because Volumes 6 & 7 are also 13 episodes long) has Blake defeating Adam, with Sun breaking off one of his horns because Monkey King. Sun gives chase, only for Adam to almost kill him were it not for Ilia saving Sun. You can have it so that Ilia is killed by Adam here.
Blake joins in and we have a fight scene with Hazel & Lionheart vs RWBJNROQ. It’s short, but everyone gets a hit in. Ruby realizes that there’s only one way to stop Hazel. She flies over and aims her sniper rifle at the Dust Crystals on Hazel’s arms. Weiss and Blake hold Hazel down with Glyphs and Shadows as Hazel looks at Ruby. He quickly realizes what she’s doing and asks:
Hazel: What do you think you’re doing!? What would Gretchen think of this?!
Ruby: … You made your choice.
BANG! As the sniper rifle hits the crystal, it triggers a chain reaction that causes Hazel to explode, killing him in the process.
Cut to Yang and Raven. The two have a stand off as Yang begins to piece everything together. We have a flashback of the fall of Kuroyuri, this time from the little girl’s perspective. She’s upset since she brought the Bandits to the place and caused enough havoc to have it be destroyed by Grimm. She protests this to Raven who, having run out of patience for her, stabs her and says how she’ll use her powers in ways she can never imagine, mirroring how Cinder killed Pyrrha.
Yang bitterly calls out Raven for murdering a child and Raven claims it was mercy. They get into a heated argument, but no one wishes to move. It becomes apparent that, with Raven out of aura and Yang without an arm and also having very low aura, this battle will not only be quick, but deadly. And yet, the battle lasts for a good chunk of time as the two try to avoid getting hit, Yang out maneuvering Raven while Raven uses her magic. It ends with Yang delivering a fatal punch to Raven’s gut as Raven lays dying in her arms. Raven warns her that, should she take the Relic, Salem will hunt her down. As such, she refuses to give her the Maiden Powers and dies without Yang in her thoughts. Yang goes to get the Relic, then begins to cry.
Emerald awakens from the sound of the explosion and finds that she is out numbered. She goes all “CINDER WILL TAKE ALL OF YOU OUT!” before Yang comes up and devastates Emerald so much, she makes the Wacky Waving Inflatable Arm Flailing Tube Salem. However, this isn’t a jump scare. Rather, it’s a full-on boss battle as RWBY try to face it like in the opening. While they realize it’s a hallucination, their mind makes it so real that one hit from it is enough to knock Yang out.
Lionheart sees this and, deciding to be brave for the first (and last) time in a long while, stockpiles the remaining Dust Crystals he has and tells the others to get out as he deals with the illusion. Before they do, he tells Oscar to tell the others about his betrayal. Although he was brave in this final moment, he wants everyone to know he was always a coward. He then sets the crystals into overdrive and explodes, taking both him and the illusion out, but also collapsing Haven’s main hall down and with it, the entrance to the Vault.
The group are confronted with police and concerned Faunus… Cut to a few days later as Menagerian Faunus are welcomed with open arms and news of Lionheart’s heroic sacrifice makes headlines. A manhunt is put out for Adam, Emerald, and Mercury, with Cinder being presumed dead.
After having rested for a bit, Ruby confronts Jaune about wanting to kill Cinder and tells him that she doesn’t feel anything good when she hurt Emerald and Mercury and even feels horrible for having killed Hazel. Nora and Ren join in and tell Jaune not to doubt himself for a second. Basically, that bit in V7 is here. RNJR disbands, but not without a tearjerking remark from Jaune where he says that “at least one team is back together”… Not bitterly, surprisingly enough. Oscar joins in and asks Jaune if he’s willing to take him in. Jaune asks for his name so they can figure out how to name themselves and when he hears that it’s Oscar Pine, he just chuckles and says “Well, there’s always JNPR…”
Blake and Yang are clearly shown to not be back together, but Yang is willing to let Blake stay for now because that’s all that matters. Weiss and Ruby talk about Ruby sacrificing herself for Weiss and she chews her out in a rather sweet way. Qrow, meanwhile, pours one out for Raven. She may have been a bitch, but she was still his sister. Oscar comes and calls for a meeting. With the vault no longer accessible for the time being and the Spring Maiden having gone to someone random, they have no choice but to leave for Atlas. There’s a pause before Weiss goes “WHAT THE FU-”
Roll credits.
DVD Exclusive Episode
This is where we have the STRQ flashback episode now that one of the core members is dead. It is a simple how they formed and how they eventually left, with Raven leaving STRQ on her own terms soon after she’s inducted into the shadow war, Summer leaving on her final mission assigned by Ozpin, and Taiyang retiring as a Huntsman. Qrow, the last one, laments on how everyone he loves is gone and is driven to drink more, foreshadowing to his alcoholism spike in V6. Ozpin comes to him and gives him a rather heartwarming speech about how time heals all wounds, using RWBY and JNPR as examples of this.
As he ends the speech, we end on a small girl in the middle of Shion village, now going through a rebuilding, before her eyes flare up and she begins to use gusts of wind to help clean up the debris.
And that’s how you tweak Volume 5. Granted, a lot of stuff has been changed and makes at least one hole in the V6 Tweak, namely the DVD exclusive episode for that. To which I say… Make it an extended look at the beginnings of Remnant 2.0. Apparently, there was a lot more information RT couldn’t squeeze into The Lost Fable, so do that.
With that, the Tweaking Series is finally done. I don’t think I’ll do V8 unless it proves to be just as problematic as V7, V6, or V5. This has been a rather entertaining ride and I hope you guys loved these entries. Adios, amigos.
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Bittersweet (ficlet)
Peter Parker, reader
Description: literally just a few paragraphs of ler Peter
A/n: who needs context anyway
_______________________________________
The floor rushes up to meet your back as Pete tackles you, his hands immediately grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head.
"Wait, nonono-" too late. Peter's grinning as if he's just been told the best thing in the world, one hand darting down to squeeze at your side. You curse the fact that you're wearing your Midtown School sweater, which is too big and allows Peter full access to all your tickle spots. Definitely an unfair advantage.
"Ahaha-Pehehehete, plehehease!"
"What?" He laughs, releasing your hands in favour of going to town on your sides, fingers alternating between light tracing and equally ticklish squeezing. Your best friend is on thin fucking ice right now, but you suppose he's the only person you'd ever let do this.
That is, until he leans down and blows an experimental raspberry on your neck.
"FAHA-FUCK! PEHEHETE! Nohohoho! Dohohon't do thahahahat!" Your reaction only makes him laugh, which you consider utterly heartless. If only you could say so seriously right now.
Peter's fingers graze over your skin with infuriating gentleness, his left hand tweaking your ribs and his right moving to spider patterns over your tummy. You're trying your utmost best to curl into a ball away from this affront, but he's sitting on your hips, so the most you can do is dig your feet into the carpet.
"Peheheheter, lihihisten! Ihihihi cahahan't! Ihihit-ahahaha!"
"It what?" Oh, if you weren't pinned to the floor right now, how the tables would've turned.
"Ihihihit tihihickles!"
"Wait, so if I do this again…" Pete leans towards your neck for a second time.
"NoNO DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE- PEHEHEHEHETE!" Tears cloud your vision as you desperately try to squirm away from the maddening buzz against your neck, but to no avail. If the golden sunset air of a summer's evening didn't make your vision hazy before, it's an abstract watercolour now. You blink away most of the blurriness to see Pete still smiling down at you. He's lucky he's so adorable, otherwise the revenge you're planning would be much worse.
"Did that tickle?" He asks, all innocence and glee. It's ever so slightly infectious, especially considering the sound of your own laughter filling the room. Part of you doesn't want him to stop, yet when he decides to snake his hands under your arms, another voice prays he'll have mercy on you soon.
He doesn't.
#marvel#peter parker#smhoco#tickle fic#tickling#mcu#reader insert#ticklish!reader#ler!peter#mine#ficlet
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Part V - The Untimely Downfall of Strangers
THEN - Day 1228
Being home from rehab was like when you faked sick as a kid. Your parents would let you stay home, but soon you realized that you were so bored, school sounded fun.
There were days where I didn’t leave the house--maybe Sinead would bring me a smoothie or I’d sit on the deck. I did a lot of swimming, I spent time in the waves and I spent time just watching them crash.
When I first got back I immediately bought an easel. I bought paint brushes and paint and canvases and paper and I even bought an apron to wear--it made it feel more authentic.
I probably painted a hundred different ocean scenes. Some were stormy, some were calm, some were blue and some were gray. I’d drink coffee and watch netflix and I read 27 books.
I went through my clothes and organized my bathroom. I googled recipes and cooked enough food for six people, even though it was just me. Maya would come over after school some days--she’d have coffee or we’d maybe go to Geoffrey’s.
I wasn’t afraid to leave the house--I just knew that it was safer inside. I knew that if I went somewhere big and loud I’d get recognized, I’d get mobbed, even, and I just wanted a break.
I took naps and I’d drive to my mom’s house for dinner sometimes. I’d watch movies with her and Pete and Maya would get home late from being out with friends. I’d play with my mom’s dog and I’d play basketball in the driveway with Ben when he came home. Sara would have a glass of wine with me if she came, too.
At times I felt lonely, but it wasn’t the same lonely I felt before I went. It wasn’t the empty, hollow, aching feeling that lurked behind every corner and every forced smile. It was a lonely that came and went--sometimes it would be worse and I’d cry myself to sleep. Other times it would be short lived, tolerable, and even normal. Those nights I normally called Sinead and ordered take out.
I didn’t have a plan--I didn’t know what I’d do next and for the first time, that felt okay. I didn’t know what I wanted and no one else did, either. All I knew was that I loved to swim and I could make a mean stir fry.
NOW - Day 1706
I stood behind Nathan, listening to another mix of the song in my headphones. He was sat at the board, his fingers on the different levels to adjust them manually. The rest of the band had long gone home--Nathan and I were mixing the pieces we’d done.
“Lower,” I said, my eyes on the soundwave that crawled on the computer screen. Nathan adjusted the level of the bass, his fingers pulled the level down a tiny bit. “More,” I laughed, giving him a soft punch on the shoulder.
“You’re literally so anti-bass lately,” he paused the song and turned around, a smile on his face as he teased. “Rehab really changed you,” he said dramatically.
“Fuck off,” I laughed. I wasn’t anti-bass, I just didn’t think that the level needed to be that loud at that part of the song. The piano in the background was barely audible, I wanted to find the right mix.
I told Nathan earlier that I’d been seeing Harry. I told him about the burgers and the release party and the day we had lunch. He seemed intrigued and curious but he didn’t press.
We’d left things kind of ambiguous the night before--I told him I’d tell him if I got any questions about the album and I told him I’d run my statement by him before making it. Claire was planning on doing it soon.
He asked me to have lunch again and I agreed, but we hadn’t set a date.
Nathan had turned back to the board and started the song again. My voice came through my headphones and I listened to the words.
There’s always silence in the void and I kinda miss the noise of having you around.
I’d written the song at the one year mark. One year since I’d left and one year since I’d seen him, yet I still thought about him every day and I still felt like our story followed me around.
I was angry--I had been, at least. I was mad that he left and mad that I left and I missed him even though I didn’t want to. I was alone and okay with it for the first time, but I was still learning how to live with the loneliness.
There might as well be space right outside my window, is there anybody out there? Is there anybody out there?
I’m followed by your ghost, I’m stepping on your shadow, is there anybody out there? Anybody out there? I need you now.
We listened to the end of it--Nathan stopped the track and turned around. “Have you told him that you’re recording stuff?”
I shook my head, removing the headphones and walking to sit on the couch behind him. “It’s not serious yet,” I shrugged.
Nathan looked thoughtful as he swiveled in his chair to face me. “When will it be?”
I laughed--Nathan was my biggest fan. He loved every second of writing and recording and rewriting and rerecording. He loved when I found a weird noise by slamming a book to add to a track or when we came up with the right harmony.
“I don’t know, I can’t even think about that until the dust settles from his album.”
The first thing Nathan brought up when I walked in earlier was the article someone retweeted about it--the headline said something about my cold and heartless escape and Harry’s painful recounting of the break up.
Sinead had texted me about meeting with Claire tonight--Nick was eager to release something. My instagram had been bombarded to the point that I turned off comments--I figured it was best to just keep quiet for now.
“You seem pretty chill even though you’re getting the shit end of the stick,” he remarked, turning back around to click away at the computer.
I didn’t really feel like I had any control over the situation, and for once, that didn’t bother me. Harry’s album was done and written, and whether or not I liked how he portrayed me, it gave me insight to how he felt, what he thought, and what he wanted. At the end of our relationship it felt like we were totally disconnected--like we’d lost all communication and there was no way to fix it.
I felt more on the same page with him now than I ever had.
“It’s hard to be mad when there’s so much history,” I said honestly.
At this, Nathan turned around and eyed me skeptically. “Are you still in love with him?”
I rolled my eyes, leaning my head against the back of the couch as I let out a laugh. Nathan was always blunt and honest and I liked him that way.
“I don’t think I ever stopped.”
THEN - Day 1154
I was sat in my hotel room, a cup of coffee on the table in front of me. I was sure there was a piano somewhere in the hotel I could get my hands on, but I didn’t want to leave the room. For some reason, the walls surrounding me felt safe and comfortable.
It was almost midnight, I’d given up any hopes of sleeping when I laid in bed--staring at the ceiling for 45 minutes--without the slightest bit of fatigue.
Harry hadn’t questioned my request for separate rooms lately--sometimes I wondered if he felt the same way I did, but mostly I thought he just didn’t have the energy to fight.
I was hung up on the idea that I couldn’t talk to him--I couldn’t tell him how I felt, I couldn’t ask him what he thought was going on. He was someone I’d previously felt so connected to, someone who knew me so well and who could break through a lot of my walls.
I don’t think anything changed in him, really, I think I just started building them taller and thicker and stronger. The worse my feelings got, the more risky it was to tell him. The more I had to lose.
I strummed at the guitar in my lap, frustrated with the fact that I couldn’t articulate the flood of thoughts I was having. It felt confusing, like loving him was stupid and problematic and like it was time to give up.
It was rare that I wanted to write--most nights I went to sleep and ignored the guitar that was never too far away. At points this summer I’d gone weeks without writing, the thought of sitting at the piano and plunking out some chords felt draining and wasteful and pointless.
“I wish I was sleeping, black coffee in the evening,” I sang quietly, laughing a bit at the words. I strummed again, staring at my phone that sat open to a blank note.
“You know I’m not sleeping,” I sang again, tweaking the words a bit. “Black coffee in the evening, hands ticking past midnight.”
I reached for the phone, thumbing out the words to remember them before singing through it again. “I even miss the fighting.”
I kept playing, finding the logical progression for the chorus, but still unsure of the words. I knew I wanted to convey the idea that I was stuck--stuck in a spot of confusion and uncertainty.
“It’s a fool’s love, such a cruel love, loving you.”
NOW - Day 1706
Sinead was already at my house when I got back--she’d brought dinner and wine, and Claire and Nick both arrived shortly after I did.
We were sat at the dining table now, Nick finished stacking his plate with sushi before he came to sit. “So, where do we want to start?”
I looked to Claire--unsure of her plan. I mean, this was her job.
“I think we want to be honest, right?” She looked to me for confirmation before turning back to Nick. When I nodded, she continued. “We want to address the release and wish him luck--that kind of thing--but also address that songwriting is an honest thing. Some of those emotions might involve Margot.”
Sinead looked from Claire to me, waiting for my input. Nick nodded slowly, popping a piece of sushi into his mouth as sipped my wine and set it down.
“Margot is thrilled for Harry and the release of his album, but she wants you all to know that she’s not a complete asshole,” I spoke, earning a laugh from Nick as he rolled his eyes.
“Maybe not that blunt,” Claire shrugged. “More like, Margot wishes Harry the best of luck with the release of his debut album. While she realizes that songwriting is an honest expression of emotion,” she paused for a second, closing her eyes to think. “She asks for privacy and respect in relation to her previous relationship with Harry.”
I ran over it again in my head--it was honest, it was straightforward, it set a limit. I was sold. “Sounds good to me.”
“I can send it to People and Us Weekly,” she said. “I’ll tweet it too from the headquarters account.”
“Your comments are still disabled on instagram, right?” Nick asked, speaking around the sushi in his mouth.
“Yeah,” I nodded, poking some sushi on my own plate. “I think I’ll leave it for a while.”
Sinead ran a hand through her hair, “I think that’s a good plan.”
Claire pulled out a laptop and set it on the table, clearly ready to type up and release what we’d just come up with. Nick adjusted in his seat across the table, smirking at me over the vase of fresh tulips that sat in the center of the table.
“What?” I narrowed my eyes at him, unsure what he had on his mind.
He shrugged his shoulders, looking at his phone when it lit up on the table. He clicked it shut and then looked to Sinead. He smiled, looking to me once more before speaking. “You just seem in a good mood--you’re handling this well.”
I knew what he was implying, the smirk on Sinead’s face confirmed it. It wasn’t a secret that I’d seen Harry--I mean, Nick and Sinead watched me run off with him the night before to sit in a drive through parking lot.
Sinead--and her sometimes overbearing but in a good way nature--had asked me to text her when I got home, just to be safe.
“Alright, well, who knows where it’ll go--let’s just relax.”
Nick continued to smirk, still eyeing me and Sinead and Claire typed away at her computer. She looked up suddenly, intrigued by the silence, but just as amused as Nick.
“Are you going to tell him you’re making the statement?”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah, I forgot. I can text him.” I reached for my phone on the table in front of me, pulling up the message thread with Harry and typing out my message while Sinead eyed me curiously.
“How’s the studio been?”
“Good,” I smiled and looked up at her. “It feels good to be in there--the songs are sounding really different.” I looked to Nick as the words left my mouth, wondering if he’d have a problem with a change in sound.
Nick had been my manager for five years--there was a woman named Nicole that I worked with for the first two years, but when I started writing more of my own music and breaking away (as much as possible) from the TV show, my label suggested Nick.
I didn’t think he’d necessarily have a problem with my music feeling a little different, but I knew he’d have questions.
“Different as in?” He crossed his arms, still peering at me over the vase that sat on top of the glass between us.
“A little edgier--I mean, it kind of reflects the last two years,” I laughed, earning a smile from him. I knew he didn’t expect the album to be all love songs and rainbows--that was the farthest thing from my experience over the last 24 months.
“It’s good,” Sinead nodded, reassuring Nick. “It’s kind of more alternative, still pretty pop, though.”
I nodded, agreeing with her description. “You’ll hear something soon, we can talk about plans.”
“Plans?” He raised his eyebrows, clearly excited at the mention of it. I guess I’d yet to really say if I had any plans, or if I even wanted any plans.
I rolled my eyes, not really that annoyed, but more amused by how supportive and eager he was. “We’ll see--I’m going slow.”
“Alright,” he held his hands up. “Slow it is.”
THEN - Day 1292
The water was cold and the sky was gray. It took a minute to get used to--at first. The waves were big for late March, the one piece I had on didn’t do much to keep me warm. I’d been staring at the ocean since I moved in at the beginning of February, but I hadn’t yet made the plunge--literally.
I’d never been much of a swimmer--in fact, the fact that you couldn’t always see the bottom kind of freaked me out. I had no idea what was there, what would happen. I wasn’t in control and I didn’t know how to fix that.
I guess I was kind of bored. I’d been painting and painting and reading books and watching movies. I was sick of sitting in the house, I felt the anxiety bubble up in me when my feet hit the floor, and I stared at the waves while I sipped at my coffee and ate my breakfast, I knew today was the day.
But here I was, floating in the same spot as different waves carried me closer to shore. I couldn’t touch, but I could see the spot on the beach where I’d dropped my sweatshirt and towel.
I felt alone, maybe more than I did before all of this--before leaving him, before rehab, before the summer, even. The sky was quiet and the beach was quiet and my mind was quiet.
I looked out to the horizon, there was nothing as far as I could see. The water met the sky in a transition of gray-blues, I wondered where he was.
If I closed my eyes it felt like I was just floating--maybe in space, maybe among the stars and hundreds of thousands of miles away from anyone I knew.
He didn’t love me--he couldn’t. If he had, he would have called, he would have asked, he would have done something.
He would have done something.
NOW - Day 1707
“You’ve got to stop doing this,” I said as I opened the door. I couldn’t help but smile, he had a baseball cap on backwards, sunglasses over his eyes as he strolled up the driveway. I’d heard the alert, I was making a smoothie in the kitchen when he pulled up.
“Right, sorry. You’re a planner, how could I forget?”
I rolled my eyes, stepping aside to let him in. My stomach felt nervous--not the bad kind, really--as he lifted his sunglasses to look down at me. “How are you?”
“Good,” I nodded. “I was making a smoothie. Is everything okay?”
He laughed, dropping his keys on the console table behind us. “Yes, Margot, I just came to see you.”
I smiled slightly--it felt strange, it felt like we were starting all over, and it felt scary a little, too. I headed towards the kitchen, happy that he followed behind me. “How’s everything going? You had more promo yesterday, right?”
“Yep,” he said, watching as I opened the lid of the blender to peak inside. The pink liquid seemed good enough, I popped it off the base. “Radio stuff, another talk show, the usual.”
I reached for two glasses--I knew he wanted some based on how he looked at it. He was quiet for a second, watching as I poured it into two cups and then let the blender rest in the sink. I slid a glass across the island to him and sat at a stool.
He came for something, he had a reason--but I didn’t know what it was.
I sipped at my smoothie, feeling more awkward as the seconds ticked by. He tasted it, raised his eyebrows in a compliment to my smoothie skills, and then set it back down.
“What’s up?” I asked quietly. “What is it?”
He watched me for a second, almost as if he were contemplating telling me what was on his mind. I knew him too well, I knew just by the look on his face that he had something to say but was nervous to say it. He did this when he was worried I’d be mad, upset, anxious.
He sucked in a breath and cleared his throat. “Well--I was finalizing tour plans with Jeff the other day, y’know, just looking over all of them.”
I nodded, my hand around the cold glass, my fingers almost felt tingly from the temperature. I knew that was coming--I knew he’d go on tour. I knew he’d have to leave, it’s not like his time in L.A. was endless.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Is that all?”
He nodded, keeping his eyes locked on mine for a second. It was sunny outside--the morning clouds had given way to the 10am sun. “Yeah, I just--I hadn’t mentioned that I was leaving.”
“I knew you would be,” I said quickly. I didn’t want him to feel bad--I mean, it was expected, really. I knew the business like I knew the back of my hand, I knew that was his next step. “Why were you so nervous to tell me?”
I think my bluntness surprised him, he pulled his head back and blinked a few times, but then shook his head. “I just didn’t want to like--stress you out. I’m glad that we got to talk the other night. I guess I was worried that me leaving would--ruin this.”
This. I knew what he meant--this new thing we were doing. Talking like friends, him showing up at my house. Acknowledging the fact that the other exists and not pretending like the last four and a half years hadn’t happened.
I was annoyed, really, by the fact that he didn’t want to stress me out. There wasn’t much he could do about that. I also suddenly felt like if that were true, he wouldn’t have written an entire album about how much of an asshole I was.
Sure, maybe he had his own feelings about my anxiety and our relationship, but I knew that this wouldn’t go well if he was still tiptoeing around me.
My silence was telling, he let out a breath and met my eyes when I looked up. “You don’t have to be so afraid of me, you know.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Margot.”
“Well, then why would you come over here to tell me that? I know you have to go on tour. Why were you so weird about that?”
It felt strange to voice all of my questions for him out loud--this would have been the type of thing that I would be angry about but wouldn’t bring up. Harry and I--for as long as we were together--didn’t talk much about our feelings, no matter how much I think he wanted to.
Sure, we’d talk about things and sometimes those things would be stuff that pissed us off, but it was never very deep.
He seemed annoyed--he looked away from me for a second and took another deep breath. “Margot--I don’t know if you know this, but stressing you out or making you nervous isn’t fun.”
I rolled my eyes--it’s not like I thought it was fun for him. It’s not like being stressed or nervous or in that state of paralyzed uncertainty was fun for me. “I’m aware. And believe it or not you’re not the only person who actually has had to deal with that.”
He watched me for a second, his eyes narrowing as he got more annoyed by my anger.
“I know you wrote a whole album making yourself the victim--but have you ever stopped to think about how terrible it was to be me throughout all of that? I know I hurt you--I know you were in pain, and I’m sorry for that,” I nodded at him, pausing for a second to see if he’d try to cut me off. When he didn’t, I continued.
“But I was hurt too. I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that I felt like I was suffocating. Feeling that way wasn’t fun and not hearing from you wasn’t fun.”
I stared at him for a minute--the emotion so raw in me that I needed a second to catch my breath. It was exhilarating, really--I’d never been so honest and I’d never been so blunt about it. Despite the fact that he looked upset, it felt good.
“I know it wasn’t fun for you,” he said, his hand still around the half drank smoothie in a glass. “I was always trying to figure out how you felt, Margot, but you never told me. What was I supposed to do? Not feel my feelings because you couldn’t feel yours?”
“Do you see what you’re doing?! You’re making this my fault!”
This made him pause for a second, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if he desperately wanted to reroute the conversation. “I thought we were on the same page, Margot. What do you want me to do? You broke my heart and now you’re upset because you have to face the music--literally.”
I rolled my eyes at his words--of course I was upset, of course I was angry that I was being painted as the villain in a story where I was out of control. Of course that bothered me.
Whether or not I felt bad for Harry--whether or not I was sorry that I hurt him, I was hurt too. He walked away and didn’t look back--he let eighteen months pass without even a text to say happy birthday or to ask how I was doing. Maybe I started it, but he didn’t stop it.
“We’ve never been on the same page, Harry.” My voice was quiet, almost emotionless, just like before we’d broken up. I think this scared him--the words seemed to make him raise his eyebrows, he looked confused.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you should go.”
THEN - Day 1521
I was spending a lot of time at my mom’s. Maya was happy to have me around--when she wasn’t taking part in junior-year activities and hanging out with her friends, she was suffering as an only child with my mom and Pete. Me and Ben being out of the house meant they focused all of their attention on her.
I sat on the floor in the living room--I was painting my toenails on top of a magazine with my face on it. My mom had a habit of keeping those types of things, even though I didn’t want her to.
They were out for dinner, my mom and Pete, and when Maya had told me that she’d be home alone, it sounded like a good time for a sister’s night. She stared up at the TV, we’d had on the news, but it had just changed over to Entertainment Tonight.
The woman who spoke into the camera was someone I recognized--I was sure I’d met her somewhere, but I didn’t know her name.
I looked back down to my feet, making sure I was doing a good enough job.
“New tonight in One Direction news--Harry Styles is single and ready to mingle. The former One Direction pop star was seen out in London over the weekend, with a mystery blonde on his arm.”
I stared up at the TV while Maya stared down at me. “I can change it,” she said quickly, the nervousness clear in her voice.
“No,” I shook my head, my eyes glued to picture on the screen. His hair was short--I hadn’t known he’d cut it. He was with a woman in a short blue dress. She looked familiar, maybe someone he knew through the label.
“Some sources report that the blonde is just a friend, but it’s been almost a year since Harry and Margot Jones called their famous romance quits after nearly three and a half years.”
The picture of Harry and the girl disappeared, the shot went back to the woman with her male co-anchor. He smiled at her as if she’d said something hilarious.
“Probably time to move on, right? A year’s a while to pine after someone.”
“I agree, you can only be broken hearted for so long,” the woman said, her white teeth almost blinding on the screen.
It was then that Maya changed it--she flipped only a channel up, which was in the middle of some action movie. I turned to look at her, anger clear on my face as suspenseful music played in the background.
“Why did you change it? I wanted to hear what they said.”
“You don’t need to hear what they said,” she rolled her eyes. Maya’s hair was much curlier than mine--in fact, mine was almost flat and straight unless someone pumped hairspray into and worked at it with a curling iron. She tugged at the bottom of her ponytail and kept her gaze on me. “Is torturing yourself thinking about him your new past time?”
“No,” I said quickly. “Is it so wrong to want to know what he’s up to? I haven’t spoken to him in a whole year.”
Maya never wanted me to break up with Harry--and not because I was her ticket into every One Direction concert on the planet. Once Harry and I started dating, the band kind of lost their shock value to her--they became a mainstay in our life and in our house, really.
Maya used to spend her summers on tour with me and my crew--sometimes she’d tag along to see Harry, and she loved bringing her friends backstage at his shows. Now, however, at 17, Maya was the age I was when I’d first met him. She was mature and smart and she wanted to go to school for psychology.
“If you really want to know what he’s up to you should just call him.” She put the remote down and picked up her phone, obnoxiously making it clear that our conversation was over.
I felt the familiar feeling in my chest--the feeling like I’d soon be glued to the floor without any hopes of moving. I stood quickly, leaving her alone in the living room as I made my way towards the kitchen. I hadn’t seen much about him in the last year--I’d pretty much made a point to avoid that.
I didn’t look at the magazine racks in stores, I didn’t google him, I didn’t read things about him on the internet.
“Margot,” I heard Maya’s voice call after me, but I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. I could still hear the movie playing in the background, I went to the kitchen and hoisted myself onto the counter.
It was in this very kitchen that Harry had stood the day we met--the counter where Maya did her homework and through the window, I could see Ben’s basketball hoop.
“Margot,” Maya said again, she now stood in the doorway, clad in her favorite baggy sweatshirt and leggings. “I didn’t mean to be a dick, I just don’t want you to obsess over him.”
I felt the tears on my cheeks, and for some reason, I didn’t feel too embarrassed to be crying in front of her.
I didn’t have words to respond--I was too sad. I was sad for the fact that I lost him, sad because it had been a year, sad because he still hadn’t called, sad because I was still alone.
Maya walked over and rested her head in my lap. She didn’t say anything, she just let me sit there, and for a while, I just cried.
NOW - Day 1708
I was sat at the piano in the studio, playing over the bridge of a song to make sure it was right. Nathan was in the other room with Nick, I wasn’t really sure what they were talking about, but I knew it was about me.
Sinead had stopped by to see us--but now it was just me alone with the piano.
I was angry, angrier than I’d been with him before, mostly because this time, I was feeling everything. It bothered me that he didn’t understand--it bothered me that he couldn’t see things from my point of view. I knew he worked hard on is album and he knew I was happy for him, but he had to understand that I didn’t like being painted as the bad guy.
That had always been the consensus. That had been what the media decided when I went away and when Harry said something in an interview that he “wasn’t pleased with my choice” to end the relationship.
I wasn’t around to defend myself.
Now--this music, these songs, the potential album that I could make--I could defend myself with my version of the same story. My experiences and my feelings that people hadn’t heard.
Harry had every right to experience--he had the right to be upset that I left, he had the right to be hurt. But I had the right to mine--I had the right to feel left and to regret things and to be mad that I was the one who’d been deemed guilty.
The door to the board room opened, Nick came in with Nathan behind him. “How’s it coming?” Nathan asked, his hands on his hips as he stepped around Nick.
“Good,” I nodded--even though I’d yet to really finalize anything. “I have a question, though, Nick.” Nick looked up from his phone, almost surprised, but nodded for me to go ahead. “Can I do an interview about his album? Can I talk to someone about it?”
“An interview?” He asked--he seemed to be confused and unsure of my request. “What do you mean?”
I shrugged my shoulders, kind of processing my own request out loud. “I don’t want to be a silent bystander--I don’t want to sit here as if his side of the story is the only one.”
“You want to tell your side?”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing with the songs?” Nathan chimed in, his fingers tugged at his strawberry blonde beard.
“The songs are my side, and those will come out when I’m ready--but for now, I want to say something.”
Nick let out a sigh as he thought over my request. Nathan looked from me to Nick and then back. I sat on the piano bench, my eyes on Nick as he seemed to scan over our options.
“If we do that--and I said if--we’d have to go with someone who will respect your limits. We’d have to do it with someone who won’t go off script and will only ask the questions we approve.”
I nodded, I completely agreed with him. I’d never given an interview about it--I hadn’t given any interview since the fall of 2015. I was sure to be a little rusty, and I knew that people would be dying to hear anything I had to say about it. Finding the right person would be key.
“What about Ryan? We could have you do a thing on the phone--he’d definitely stick with a script if we asked him.”
Ryan Seacrest was part of the same management company I worked with--we’d done plenty of events and interviews together, and I’d come to know him well enough over the last seven years. “Yeah--I could call him with you to discuss it.”
Nick let out a laugh and rubbed at the back of his neck. “You’re doing this, aren’t you?”
I smiled--he was referring to all of it. The writing, the recording, the coming out of the shadows. He’d long been waiting for the day I wanted to do something--I mean, his job kind of depended on it.
Nathan, who was excited from the first day I came in to write two weeks ago, simply clapped a hand on Nick’s back. “We’ve got work to do.”
THEN - Day 1589
Ben was mad at my mom because she wouldn’t let him drink, especially because she’d finally let him have a few beers with Pete over the holidays. We were all out to dinner--me, my mom, Maya, Ben, and Pete, for Pete’s birthday, a fancy restaurant in West Hollywood, we had the back room to ourselves.
A few of Pete’s friends were with us--along with two women that he and my mom spent time with. I’d had a glass of wine, and Ben was really just jealous that my mom used to let me drink before I was twenty-one. Ben, who would be 21 in a matter of weeks, was going the typical thing he did--making me seem like I was the favorite.
“Margot gets to do everything she wants,” he rolled his eyes. My mom--who was annoyed that Ben was putting up a fight in front of her friends--gave him a threatening look. “Princess Margot.”
“Fuck off,” I said. “Don’t drag me into it.”
Ben had long made comments about me being the golden child--he’d get annoyed that I got special treatment by people and that my mom and I had a different relationship. Despite the fact that my mom would help manage my events and tours, she was still my mom. She still told me to clean my bedroom and she wanted to go on every house tour I went on before I bought mine.
But I think Ben had a point--it must have been hard to be either him or Maya. In a way, their world revolved around me. I was their older sister who everyone knew--they had people pretend to be their friends just for perks, for tickets, or for the chance to meet me. It sounds kind of dumb--to them I was just the annoying sister that made them play dress up or was too cool to help them with homework.
Ben refused to go to school for a few days his sophomore year of high school when pictures of me and Harry first surfaced. He claimed he couldn’t handle one more question about me from his teachers or peers--I couldn’t really blame him.
“Can you both just be nice to each other?” My mom asked, holding her wine glass in her hand as Pete placed a hand on her shoulder.
“If you both behave I’ll let you have some of my cake when we get home,” Pete raised his eyebrows, using humor to lighten the mood. Ben cracked a smile and I couldn’t help but laugh--Pete’s approach to parenting his step-children was to treat us like we were little, mostly because it made us realize how immature we were being.
I stood from the table to go to the bathroom, but I added, “I dibs a piece with the most frosting,” before turning away.
Ben let out a laugh behind me, “of course you do.”
Ben wasn’t wrong--he did have a tough go of it. He was the only boy, the middle child, and he had to deal with me being his older sister. He loved it in middle school--he loved the fact that all the girls really wanted to date him just in hopes of getting concert tickets, but the novelty of that soon wore off when he realized that he’d always have that label: my fame wasn’t going anywhere.
I rounded the corner of the hallway and walked straight into someone. When I looked up, a familiar pair of brown eyes smiled down at me.
“Liam? Hi!” I hugged him. “What are you doing here?”
He was dressed up--dress pants and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing more tattoos than the last time I saw him. “I’m in town for a few days, having dinner with a friend,” he told me. “How are you, though? How’ve you been?”
I forced a smile--the translation of his question was: how was rehab? Are you still fucked up?
“I’m good,” I told him. “I’m really good!” It wasn’t necessarily false--I was doing much better than when he’d last known me. I wasn’t as nervous and I wasn’t as sad. “I heard Cheryl’s pregnant, she’s due soon, right?”
He nodded, his smile stretching from ear to ear. I knew that Liam had long had a crush on his present-day girlfriend, but when they finally got together, I figured it would be weird to text him and congratulate him.
“March,” he nodded. “Can’t believe I’ll be a father--it’s weird, really. So much has changed since 2015.”
I looked up at him, a sudden wave of emotion washing over me. Liam had known me well--we’d spend nights playing video games on the bus and he taught me how to ride a segway on tour. He was right--so much had changed since then, so much was different and so much was lost.
I smiled again, but I think he knew he’d hit a nerve.
“Have you heard from him at all?”
I swallowed and shook my head. “No--I haven’t.” He was quiet for a second, almost as if he didn’t know how to respond. “Have you talked to him much?”
He shrugged at this, laughing a little. “We text here and there--we all have, even Zayn once in a while. I saw him over the summer--he wasn’t doing too well.”
My curiosity was getting the best of me, even though I knew it probably didn’t help to focus on what he was doing, how he was doing, and how he felt. “What do you mean?”
Liam rubbed a hand at the back of his neck, the look on his face told me he was contemplating how much to divulge. “He was pretty depressed for a while, after it happened--he didn’t talk to any of us until after the new year.”
I nodded, staying quiet in hopes that he’d say more. Niall had always tried to avoid the subject--he’d gotten so used to me shooting it down that he barely bothered now. Of course, as soon as he stopped bringing Harry up, I got more curious about him.
“We spent a few days with Niall in the states in July--he said that he’d thought about reaching out a few times but he figured you didn’t want him to.”
I bit my lip at that--he couldn’t have been more wrong. My mouth felt dry--I knew that emotion was threatening to bubble over.
“Who are you here with?” He asked suddenly, I wondered if his topic change was an attempt to avoid my tears.
“My family--” I pointed to the room they were in. “Pete’s birthday--you should go say hi. I was heading to the bathroom.”
“Yeah, I will,” he smiled at me. “I’ll go say hi.”
I nodded, offering another smile as he wrapped his arms around me.
“It’s good to see you, Marg. We should get lunch.”
The truth was that I would love to--I’d love to sit and talk and hear about how he’d been. Hear about his future baby, hear about his family and his songs and just talk.
The truth was that it’d be too hard--I couldn’t handle hearing about the life of his that had existed in the span of time since I’d walked away from Harry. It’d only remind me that I chose to leave him, to leave his friends, to sequester myself away from the people I’d loved most.
Instead of saying that, though, I forced another smile and walked away.
NOW - Day 1709
My cell phone sat on the dining table in front of me--Sinead and Nick were stood in the kitchen and Claire sat beside me. I’d spoken with Ryan about the interview--he’d ask me just a few questions about the album, about our break up, about my time off.
It would be short and sweet, I’d be able to say a few things, let people know that yes, I’m alive, and most importantly, I’d get to address the untimely downfall of Harry and I for the first time.
Seda, a production assistant for Ryan’s radio show, had called and told me I had a few minutes before they’d bring me on--now, she spoke into the phone saying that I’d be live in thirty seconds.
“Margot Jones, thanks so much for taking some time to chat, how are you doing? It’s been forever since I’ve talked to you!” Ryan’s voice came through the phone, immediately bringing a smile to my face.
“I know, I’m good, I mean, it’s honestly been forever since I’ve spoken to a lot of people.”
Nick rolled his eyes at this and laughed, leaning on the counter and watching one.
“What have you been up to? You’re in L.A., right?”
“I am,” I answered. “I’ve been taking a lot of time to relax, really. When I originally went on my break I had no idea how long it’d last, but it’s been really important for me to just kind of recenter and do a lot of reflection over the last few years.”
I smiled at Claire--reflecting on the last few years had been one of the phrases she’d helped me come up with.
“I think that’s great, I really do. I think it’s so important for celebrities to take time off when they need to,” he replied.
“Right, and I kind of learned the hard way, but I’m doing really well.”
“That’s so great to hear--but listen, I hate to do this to you, but I’ve got to ask about Harry’s album--I mean, you’ve heard it, right?”
Just as planned.
Claire nodded in encouragement, Sinead watched me closely and sipped at a cup of coffee.
“I have, yeah.”
“How do you feel about it? I mean, it’s gotta be tough to hear all of that--assuming that a lot of it is about you, you know.”
“Right,” I said, hoping that I could answer the question well enough. Claire and I had gone over all of it--we trusted that Ryan wouldn’t press too hard or go too deep. The topic was still strange and hard and weird. “You know--it would be extremely hypocritical of me to be upset with someone for writing a song about an experience we’ve shared or the way I made them feel.”
“True,” Ryan laughed. “That’s fair.”
“So, you know, if there are pieces of Harry’s album that are inspired by our time together, it’s flattering that I meant enough to him for it to be something he wanted to write about.”
Nick gave me a thumbs up, Sinead smiled enthusiastically.
“Of course, I get that--I mean I’ve never had a song written about me, I don’t think, but I can imagine,” Ryan laughed.
“How does it feel to be kind of painted as the bad guy--I mean, as we said, we don’t know for sure if these songs are about you--but it’s clear that people have kind of run with the idea that you broke his heart.”
“Yeah, I mean, I’ve long known that I can’t really control the way the media portrays me or what people say--but it’s definitely weird sometimes. I guess I just want people to remember that there are two sides to every story.”
“Well, and speaking of that--what’s you side? Are we going to be hearing about that any time soon?”
I laughed, I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist asking what I was up to now musically.
“We’ll see--there’s some movement, but we’ll see how everything goes.”
“Well, Margot--thanks so much for talking with us. It’s great to hear from you. You definitely know we’ll all be excited here in the studio if you release anything in the future.”
“I do, thank you so much, good to talk to all of you.”
We said our goodbyes and Claire was quick to hit the end call button, a smile wide on her face when I let out a deep breath.
“Was that too much? About multiple sides of a story?”
“No,” she exclaimed, “I think it was great!”
“It was fine, Marg, it was honest and real but very polite and professional,” Nick reassured me. He walked around the island and came to sit with Claire and I. “Good job.”
I knew it would get back to Harry--he’d likely hear it and send me some kind of text. I was still riding high on the anger--I was suddenly feeling empowered and strong and like maybe it was time for me to tell my side of the story, even if I didn’t know how it ended.
NOW - Day 1710
My phone rang in my pocket in the middle of the song. I normally wasn’t one to have it in the booth with me, but Maya had been having a bit of crisis over her two roommates. Sister duty called sometimes, even if you were busy recording your comeback album.
Nathan cut the track when I raised my hand, pulling my phone out to see the screen--but it wasn’t Maya. Harry’s name was on the screen--the same three emojis that he’d put in his contact one night in London the our first winter together stared me in the face.
“Hello?” I answered, pulling the headphones off and bringing the phone to my ear.
“Hi--have a minute?”
I looked at Nathan through the glass--whether or not I was technically busy, his tone told me that he was going to talk regardless.
“What’s up?”
“You talked to Ryan Seacrest,” he said, his tone straight and unamused.
“I did.”
He was still in town--he had tour rehearsals for a few weeks before he left for the overseas leg. Frankly, I was surprised he didn’t show up in person and burst into the booth. That seemed to be his M.O. lately.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to talk about the album?”
I walked over to the door--trying to get away from the microphone so Nathan didn’t have to hear my call. “I didn’t know I had to run everything by you,” I was defensive, and I figured he expected it.
“You don’t have to run things by me, Margot--I just wish you’d told me. I thought we were trying to be on the same page.”
That was news to me. I told him the other day before I made him leave that we’d never been, and with the way he was acting, I wasn’t sure if we ever would be.
“I don’t understand how you’re allowed to write a whole album about me being a terrible girlfriend and now I do one stupid interview and you’re bent out of shape--”
“I’m not bent out of shape, I’m trying to communicate with you.” He cut me off, “I want to be able to talk and to actually know how you feel.”
I let out a sigh--his words and the way he said them told me he was serious. He wasn’t trying to fight, he was trying to figure this out.
I didn’t say anything, mostly because I didn’t know what to say. I felt a heat in my chest that made it clear--I wanted to figure it out, too, even if his album made me sound like a jerk. I wanted to laugh with him at the stupid things his friends said, I wanted to drag him along to a family holiday party.
“Where are you? Can we talk?”
I looked around the room suddenly--I’d yet to tell him that I was recording. Telling him that I was in the studio would likely lead to him wanting to hear some songs. That didn’t feel fair--the only warning I got about his music was an email.
“I’m at Sinead’s house,” I lied--Nathan looked up from the computer and soundboard. I offered him an ass-kissing smile.
“Can I come over?”
“No,” I said quickly.
“Where are you?” He asked again--his voice sounded suspicious, he knew I was lying.
I let out a dramatic sigh. “Harry, I’m busy, can we just talk later?”
“Well now I kind of just want to know where you really are since you’re a terrible liar,” he laughed. I almost made a comment that he’d half-believed my lie that I was ‘fine’ for six months, but I didn’t really want to open that can of worms.
“I’m in the studio.”
Silence for a second.
“With Nathan?”
I rolled my eyes, pressing a thumb up to the sound-proofed walls. “Yes, with Nathan.”
“Are you recording?”
“Harry, can we just talk later?”
“Right, yeah, okay. Can I come over tonight? I’ll bring dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Yeah, the meal after lunch and before bed.”
Smartass. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you then.”
THEN - Day 1627
The driveway alert chimed--I lifted my head, so much for relaxing yoga.
I wasn’t expecting anyone, but I figured it was Sinead. She normally came unannounced--and based on the fact that it was 8:15pm and I was hungry, I was hoping she brought dinner.
“Hi,” she called from the foyer.
I stood from my mat and started to roll it up. “Hey,” I said back, looking up to see her sticking her head around the corner. “What’s up?”
“Just wanted to stop by, see what you were up to.”
I leaned the mat against my couch, walking over to greet her. She had a takeout container in her hands. “Marty’s?”
“Marty’s,” she smiled, holding it up to my face so I could smell the food.
I turned to walk towards the kitchen. “How are you on this beautiful Tuesday evening?”
“Fine,” she said, placing the takeout on the counter as I turned around. The sun was setting outside the windows that looked over the water. I put my elbows on the granite--she was doing that thing where she had something to tell me but wasn’t telling me.
“What is it, Sinead?”
She smiled, momentarily contemplating if she should actually divulge whatever secret she had. A sigh escaped her lips, and then she spoke. “I saw Harry post something on instagram about a single.”
“Like a music single?”
She nodded. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I figured--with all the time off--that’s what he’d been up to. I looked down to the granite and traced a pattern with my finger. “I guess that’s not shocking.”
Sinead shrugged, “I guess not.”
He’d been saying at the end of the band that he wanted to do more music--something more him, more deep and raw and real. Unfortunately, at this point in the game, I think deep and raw and real would probably be about me and the way our relationship crashed and burned.
“Are you nervous?” She asked me, opening the lid on one of the containers. Steam from the food wafted up into the air in my kitchen as rain pattered on the deck outside.
“I mean--I’m not excited. I guess I’m kind of expecting the worst.”
I had no idea what to expect--it’s not like I’d spoken to him at all, so I had no idea how he was feeling and what he was thinking. Liam had barely given me much last month when I’d seen him, so I felt in the dark about the coming song.
Sinead walked over to the cabinet to get us plates. “It’ll be okay--I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”
I hoped she was right, but something in my chest told me that all the feelings I’d kept at bay for so long were about to come rushing back in.
The truth was that sometimes things don’t go the way you planned. Sometimes things don’t last and sometimes things just end. I stared out the window, watching as the sun slowly slipped beneath the horizon, fading out of sight, just like I’d done to Harry.
THEN - Day 1026
I thought that winning a Grammy would be the happiest day of my life. It was something I’d dreamed of for years--something that felt so surreal and so out of reach that sometimes, I told myself I shouldn’t even bother.
If it weren’t for the most monumental meltdown this morning, I’d ask Sinead to leave me alone, but I think she thought that if she took her eyes off of me for even a minute, I’d find a building to leap from or poison to drink. I was far from suicidal, I was tired and sad and nervous and done.
I considered not even coming--I considered not getting in the car to come down here and I considered just going home to my mom’s to sit on the couch and eat cold pizza. That was the only thing that really appealed, lately.
But here I was, sat in some sort of home library in someone’s fancy house in Beverly Hills--Sinead was staring down at her phone. Harry was off somewhere, three glasses of champagne in and with his tie untied around his neck.
The three Grammy’s were mine--but the excitement didn’t belong to me at all. Harry was thrilled, my mother cried, Nick was over the moon. Sinead was proud and my dad even showed up with his girlfriend. But here I was, sitting alone in a quiet room in a big house on a hill while everyone else celebrated me.
I played a E chord with my left hand. “I feel your arms around me, I think I’m giving up,” I sang quietly enough that Sinead wouldn’t be able to make out the words. It sounded okay, but the words weren’t right. I hit the keys again.
“I feel your arms around me, you say you feel the love, but oh, I feel alone.”
Sinead didn’t even look up from her phone--she was probably scrolling over the same email, pretending to be busy so I’d feel like for a second, the world actually was paused.
“You think you understand me, but I don’t even understand me at all,” I played an A chord now, “I feel alone.”
“Hey,” Harry’s voice sounded from the door--he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. I stopped playing, bringing my hands to my lap and offering him a small smile.
“Hi,” I said quietly.
He walked around the pool table in the middle of the room and came to stand near the piano. “What are you doing in here? Everyone out there is so excited and happy for you!”
“I know,” I said quickly. “I was just--just taking a second.” Sinead had looked up, but when I met her eyes, she looked back to her phone.
“Why don’t you come with me?” He held out a hand for me to take. I only looked at it.
“Could I just have a second, actually? You can go with him, Sinead--I’ll be out in a few.”
At this Sinead looked up--her red lipstick matched the red of her dress. Her hair was curled and pulled to one side of her head. Harry paused for a second, almost as if he debating whether or not to argue my request. After a second, he turned to Sinead, held a hand out to her, and smiled.
“At least I’ll have someone beautiful on my arm tonight,” he joked. Sinead walked to meet him and offered me a smile over her shoulder.
“Come out in a minute, okay?”
I nodded, watching them walk away and close the doors--leaving me alone again.
I let out a sigh--sometimes a minute like this felt fleeting. Sometimes a moment like this felt uneasy, like I was waiting for someone to tell me I had somewhere to be, like if I closed my eyes and opened them, I’d wake up from a dream that thirteen-year-old me was having in Raleigh.
I played an A, hoping to have something of a verse for the chorus I’d just found.
“The rain starts falling when you’re calling me, why can’t you see?”
I liked the transition from A to E, the reverse progression of the chorus.
“I’m diving under water just to breathe,” I sang in the empty room, my voice echoed off of the walls and met my ears with emotion.
I’m feeling lonely, I’m feeling blue, won’t you please give me something?
Cause I don’t believe in your sweet nothing.
THEN - Day 168
I wiped at the mascara that was wet beneath my eyes--locked inside an arena bathroom in London as I cried into my hands. He was out there somewhere, out there with all of the people smiling, laughing, as if I wasn’t angry and upset.
I knew it was a thing--I knew he had fans that loved him and cared about him and wanted to meet him and hug him and tell him how important he was. My mom had brought it up early on--I’d talked with Sinead about it a handful of times.
I just didn’t know if would make me feel like this.
He’d acted as if I was crazy, as if every girl on this planet was fine with her boyfriend flirting with other girls, kissing them on the cheek, giving them a piggy back ride in a meet and greet. The problem was that not all girls were me, and not all boyfriends were him.
It’s not like I expected him to not be nice to them--it was his job to thank them and smile and pose and act as if he were just as excited to see them as they were to see him. Trust me, I get it. I’d been doing the same thing for four and a half years.
I’d asked him to just be mindful--he didn’t have to be a jerk or be rude or anything like that. I just wanted him to put himself in my shoes, to think about how he’d feel if I was constantly taking photos with guys and kissing them on the cheek or letting them pick me up. He rolled his eyes and said it was different.
What really did it, though, was when I told him that it made me feel insecure. I was honest, I was being real with him--it made me worry that one day, maybe, he’d look out into the crowd and find someone that he liked better than me. Someone who was more available, someone who could drop her life to follow him around the world.
He said I was being stupid. He said I was annoying him. He said I was being ridiculous.
If he’d wanted to tell me that I didn’t need to worry about that, there were certainly other ways to say it. There were ways to be reassuring.
I blew my nose once more and walked out into the hallway. They’d need to be on stage soon--I didn’t even know if I’d see him now until almost midnight when he was sweaty and too tired to talk.
“Margot? Y’okay?” Niall’s voice sounded from down the hall. Harry was stood next to him--his expression unreadable as I took a few steps towards them. Niall looked to Harry as if he were waiting for him to say something to me.
“I’m fine,” I nodded at him, offering a small smile in hopes of being convincing. He looked between the two of us for a moment but then made an excuse to leave. Something about checking the battery in his mic.
“You don’t have to make a scene,” Harry’s voice was low enough so others didn’t hear him.
“Excuse me?”
He let out an annoyed sigh. “Margot--I get that you’re upset, but what am I supposed to do?” People filed past us, the pre-show energy in the halls was up, people were getting ready for the show to start. He’d soon be whisked away by their stage manager.
“I don’t know Harry--I was telling you how I feel. It’s hard, you know. I just wish you would figure out a way to balance it.”
He didn’t say anything, he just stared at me as if I were speaking another language. I loved that Harry loved his fans--I loved that he was so excited to go on stage and to be able to make people happy, but it felt like he could only make one person happy at a time. And unfortunately for me, his job depended on him making other people happy every single day. It was never my turn.
“You have nothing to say?”
“If you can’t deal with my job then maybe this won’t work,” he said with a shrug.
My stomach seemed to drop, my heart beat immediately quickened and my mouth felt dry. It’d only been a few months--could we not even manage to get this off of the ground?
“You can’t handle my feelings so you want to walk away?” I challenged him, crossing my arms.
“Five minutes, places!” someone called from behind us. His eyes darted down the hall--Liam and Zayn fell into step with each other as they made their way toward us.
“I can’t talk about this now,” he said, adjusting his hair. “I’ve got a job to do.”
“No, you’ve got people to please,” I corrected him.
NOW - Day 1710
Harry showed up at my house at 7pm--I was hesitant at first when he brought take out and wine, I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff being pulled and pulled and soon I’d be free falling towards the bottom.
It was strange for a bit--he plated dinner and opened the wine while I sat at the island and watched the sun make its way towards the horizon. I could tell he wanted to know about my time in the studio, but he did a good job of playing it cool. He asked how it felt, he asked how Nathan was, and he even joked that it was only fair for me to write about him and to return the favor.
I was waiting for him to bring it up--the fighting we’d done the last two weeks, the fighting we’d done back then, the way we desperately searched for words to wound and heal each other at different times in life.
I’d brought him into the living room to show him a painting I’d gotten from Nathan as a gift when I got home from rehab, and we soon found ourselves sat on opposite couches. I was curled into the corner, resting the glass of pinot noir on my knee as I watched him.
“I mean, that’s the thing--right? I don’t think I’ve been in a place where I didn’t know the next step for the last five years. It’s nice to feel less pressure now, at least.”
I nodded--the feeling was one I knew well, but he knew that without me saying it. It almost felt like we were pretending--living in a world of make believe where I hadn’t left and he had called.
He was quiet--and I think it was the alcohol--but he rested his chin in his hand for a minute and stared at me. He had a look on his face like he did the night we hung out in my mom’s driveway.
“What?” I asked, adjusting on the couch. I sipped at my wine, busying myself to avoid the flush that threatened to find its way to my cheeks.
He shrugged, his smile tugging at his lips more than it had before. “Nothing--I don’t know, it’s just,” he paused, pulling at a tassel on the throw pillow beside him.
He stared intently at it, hoping to find the words to finish his sentence. I took another sip of wine, the smile on my face that mirrored his slowly faded--he looked upset and angry.
“I wish we could rewind and do all of it over.”
I nodded slowly--I’d been feeling regret since the day I left, but for the longest time, I didn’t have the words to use to express it. Here I was, sitting across from him in my living room--in a house I bought and lived in alone--and now I knew I could tell him.
The idea of talking about it--talking about my feelings and the thoughts I had--didn’t seem as terrifying as it used to. It didn’t feel like they were suffocating me with every passing second, and it surely didn’t feel like I’d be met with judgment or ridicule.
“I wish we could too.”
He stood from his spot across from me and crossed over, sitting on the same couch, careful not to spill his red wine on the beige cushions. “What were you thinking that day?”
“Which day?” I asked without thinking, but I had a feeling I knew.
“The day we broke up.”
I licked at my lips--my cheeks felt warm under his gaze as I let out a sigh. What did I think?
“I thought that you deserved better than someone who couldn’t even be grateful for all that she had.”
He tugged at his lower lip, his eyes still on me as if he knew I had more to say.
“I didn’t want to feel the way I felt--I remember thinking all summer that if I just felt okay about us then maybe I’d be okay,” he nodded, the look in his eyes told me he was hanging on every word I said. “But I thought that I had to do it alone--I didn’t think you’d want to help.”
He closed his eyes and hung his head, shaking it slightly. “Margot,” he said my name quietly, as if his volume held the potential to break me. “I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could talk to me.”
I nodded--immediately feeling the tears pooling in my eyes when he looked up at me. It felt, in a matter of two seconds, like every fight we ever had was washed away, like every fear of my world imploding simply disappeared.
Maybe I needed time alone to find myself--maybe I needed days in the ocean and nights painting at my dining table to really feel the sadness and the fear and the worry.
Maybe I needed to hear his side of things in order to piece us back together.
He took my wine from me and set it next to his on the coffee table, moving forward to wrap me in his arms. As soon as my face was in his neck, I could feel the water on my cheeks, I could feel the pit in my stomach that I’d known so well.
“I’m sorry I didn’t let you help me,” I said, my words mumbled through tears and into the cotton of his t-shirt. He ran his left hand through my hair, pressing kisses to my forehead every few seconds.
“I love you,” he said quietly. “I always have and I always will.”
Hearing the words leave his mouth made me cry harder--it made me curl into him more and it made me cry like I hadn’t cried in years. It’s like all at once the floodgates opened, and for a while, we stayed like that.
He held me and we sat on the couch, our abandoned glasses of wine sat on the coffee table, the tears on my cheeks were a reminder of the emotions I’d felt and the waves that lapped at the shore outside.
And I knew that no matter how big the waves could be, that they were just a part of the ocean.
THEN - Day 1
Waking up at 6am every day was a lot like high school, at least, that’s what my friends told me. My feet would hit the floor in my bedroom and I’d have breakfast, brush my teeth, get dressed, and head out the door.
The main difference between me and my friends, though, was the fact that while they rode a bus to school, I got picked up in an SUV by a man named Ron and driven to set. Then someone would do my hair, do my makeup, I’d get dressed up like a doll, wash, rinse, repeat.
Maya was thrilled--today was finally the day. She’d asked me to text her pictures before I walked out the door to a waiting Ron, but I told her that waiting to see them in the flesh would probably be more exciting for her little 13-year-old heart.
It was louder than usual when I walked in--there were more people around. Probably theirs, I assumed--they struck me as the type of boy band that traveled with a posse. Maya had been quizzing me the night before--there was Liam, Louis, Harry, Niall, and Zayn. Niall was her favorite, I knew that. His cardboard silhouette smiled at me from the corner of her bedroom every time I walked in.
They were nowhere to be found, but it wasn’t like I looked that hard. I got whisked away to hair and makeup and had another cup of coffee while I looked over the script--we’d already done a read through the day before without the guys, but today was the first day of filming.
Life at seventeen was different than it was for most people. I had people to drive me places, a financial advisor, and someone whose sole job it was to make sure I had all of my belongings after a concert. Sometimes I felt like a normal person, and sometimes I didn’t.
This was one of those times--I had people all around me, brushing things on my face, asking me questions about a shirt I’d be wearing in scene 4. It was all part of the job--but it sometimes got to be a bit much.
Sometimes after a show or after a week of filming I’d think about what life would be like if I’d never moved here. If I never begged my mom to let me audition for some talent show and if I hadn’t gotten so far. I wondered what it would have been like to have to go back to school in Raleigh and admit that I didn’t make it through.
But that didn’t happen.
I was grateful--despite the late nights and the long days and the hate mail and the bad photos and the lack of privacy. I had fun each and every time I came to set and I had fun on stage and I had fun when I was recording and writing.
I still got to go home and help Maya with her homework or tease Ben about whatever girl he had a crush on. As long as I had that, I think I’d be fine. There were some days where I was glad it was the last season of the show. Whether or not I knew what I was doing after this chapter was closed, I was glad that the 6am wake up call would be a thing of the past.
“Margot--” I heard Dave’s voice behind me. Bonnie took the curling iron out of my hair so I could swivel around to face him. “Do you want to come with me to meet the guys from One Direction?”
I nodded, standing from the chair--if I’d seen them before I would have introduced myself. They must have been hidden away like the precious gems teen girls thought they were. “Sure,” I followed behind him as he walked back into the hall.
A few production assistants rushed by, hurrying to place props and cue cards in their spots before we started rolling. I followed Dave a few doors down to a dressing room that was usually empty--inside there was laughter. They all smiled like it was the greatest day of their lives. One of them--with the dark hair--was getting a comb brushed through his hair while someone brushed bronzer on Niall’s face. He was much more three-dimensional in person.
“Guys--this is Margot,” Dave held a hand up to me, they all smiled--the one with dark hair waved. “Margot, meet Niall, Louis, Liam, Zayn, and Harry.”
I offered a wave, looking over each one of them. I’d seen their faces in magazines and heard their songs blasting from the bathroom whenever Maya took a shower. “Nice to meet all of you.”
I wondered what they thought of me--I wondered what they’d read in magazines and what they heard on TV. They were still new--their second album was soon to be released, according to Maya, and I wondered if they were still in love with the job.
That’s how it worked--you had a honeymoon stage where the fame was exciting and exhilarating, where everything felt amazing and it felt like you were on top of the world.
My show was successful, my concerts were sold out, my albums sold millions of copies. It looked like I had it all--but what I really had was a headache and feeling in my chest that I wouldn’t last forever, at least not at this speed.
But I was fine--nothing was wrong. I think I just needed a change of scenery. I think I needed a vacation and a nap and then I’d be ready for the third world tour and life after the show.
Niall came to shake my hand--he complimented the series and thanked me for having them on. “You should thank my little sister,” I told him. “She’ll be here later. She’s been begging my mom to get out school.”
“That’s amazing,” the one with dimples spoke, his green eyes were inviting and I felt a wave of adrenaline pulse through me. He sidestepped Niall and offered me his hand. “I’m Harry, it’s nice to finally meet you.”
#UDoS#the untimely downfall of strangers#harry styles fanfic#harry styles story#harry styles writing#harry styles concept#harry styles fic#harry styles#harry fic#one direction fic
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What's For Tea, Darling? | A Unison One Shot
This one shot spins off of Chapter 6 but you don’t need to have read it to enjoy this one. So grab your tea and some toast and settle in for a sweet moment between Adi and Ed.
Heinz Baked Beans- The Who (PS do yourself a favor and listen to this 1 minute demonstration of why I love the Brits so so much)
I wandered around the supermarket, searching for all the items on my list. Ever since Ed had mentioned he missed having a proper fry up, I had been itching to try and bring a little piece of home to him. This was the first weekend I actually felt up to using the stove for more than just a glorified microwave. I had googled all the foods that came with the breakfast and set off to market. I felt like a college student, shopping for the perfect hangover cure. Sausage, Rashers, Eggs. Okay, that's normal. Tomatoes. Okay, we've got fried green tomatoes, that's not that odd. Wait, Ed doesn't like tomatoes though...so lets chuck those out then... Mushrooms. Okay so far nothing's too odd and pretty common. Baked beans. For breakfast? And with ketchup and sugar instead of molasses? Well, alright, Americans do tend to like things sweeter than most. Bubble and Squeak? What the hell is that? Hmm...potatoes cabbage, carrots, brussel sprouts...why can I not picture him eating brussel sprouts...lets tweak that a bit... A fried slice? A fried slice of what? Oh, bread....you literally fry the bread in egg and bacon fat. Black pudding? That sounds delicious. What is it...oh...OH....Blood sausage. Well...that's less appealing sounding. Huh, kinda looks like summer sausage...I somehow can't imagine finding it here…
After spending time looking for the right ingredients, swearing up a storm as I searched for the right type of beans. They had been very specific about the fact that they needed to be in a tomato sauce. Boy doesn't like tomatoes but inhales ketchup by the gallon. If I was going to do it, I was going to do it right or not at all. I knew he's appreciate the sentiment either way but I wanted to get it as close to the original as I possible can. I wasn't about to let some damn bean sink my fry up. Luckily, the market had quite a large selection of international food and carried the right bean. I triple checked, since apparently we Americans have our own version of Heinz beans and I wasn't about to have spent all that time searching for them, only to be beanboozled. I even added a box of English Breakfast tea to my cart. Finally I had made it back to my apartment, my arms full with the successful trip. After staring at everything, it suddenly seemed like a daunting task. I wasn't exactly what you'd call a whiz in the kitchen and this was a pretty big meal to cook. Not exactly hard, but timing seemed to be key. Timing was something you gained with cooking experience.
I knew that Ed didn't get up extremely early on the weekends. I was fairly certain he had set an alarm to wake himself up to send that good morning text. Most likely falling asleep right after he sent it. So I didn't start cooking until around nine. Sure enough around nine thirty I heard my phone chime, his message coming through. I quickly dial his number, holding it in place with my shoulder as I worked on the potatoes and veggies. His sleepy accented voice soon greeted my ear, causing a smile to break across my face.
"Is everreythin 'right?" He asked groggily. I could see the sleepy eyes blinking, burying his knuckle in them as he yawned. Hair tousled, his tongue running over his strawberry lips.
"Everything is great." So far the breakfast had been fairly easy. I wasn't sure what I was too worried about. I stuck my fork in the potato, determining that they were done enough to start mashing them. "Why don't you put some shoes on and come over? I've got a something for you that I think you'll like."
I poured the potatoes in a strainer, giving them a few good shakes. I was proud of myself for not slicing a finger or palm open as I was peeling them. Mom had made taught me how to peel them but after I cut the same finger open three times, she mostly dealt with that part of dinner prep.
"Oh? What do you have up that fine sleeve of yours?" I noticed that some of the grogginess had dissipated.
"Well get over here and you'll find out won't you?" A whiny sigh came through.
"Do I have to put pants on?" He reminded me of kid. But I don't want to put pants on.
This boy and his war on pants. Usually the first thing to come off when he came through the door according to him.
"Like, proper pants or pants in general?" I wouldn't put it past him to show up in a t shirt and his boxer briefs. His fuzzy legs on full display for everyone to see. The way they'd cling to those beautiful thighs leaving nothing to the imagination…
"Proper pants. Do I have to wear jeans or can I just come as is?"
"You can come as is."
"I could be lying here completely naked for all you know." I could hear the smile in his voice as it sounded like he rolled over, probably reaching for his watch on his stand.
The image flashed in my minds eye of him lying in bed with nothing on but the duvet that, let's face it, wasn't covering anything at all. His colorful torso standing out in stark contrast with the crisp white linens. His legs sprawled out, his back arching slightly as he stretched. I felt my hand slip off the masher, colliding with the side of the bowl.
"Well, then by all means...definitely come as you are."
I heard him chuckle. "Aren't you being a cheeky lass. Alright. Let me hop in the shower and i'll be over. I'll text you when I leave."
An image of him in the shower now graced my mind. The hot water beating down on him, steam all around him. The water running in little rivulets down his body. Water droplets being sent flying as he pushed his hair back off his forehead as he began to work the shampoo into a lather. The suds now inching their way down his body in a steady crawl. Apparently I hadn't learned my lesson the first time. Cooking is not the time to be having steamy fantasies. Thank god I wasn't using a knife or he may very well have ended up with blood sausage.
I had turned on my playlist and was soon dancing my way through the kitchen. I had secretly been going through and listening to his music. Before I had only heard a couple of his songs. I actually had Don't set as a guy's ringtone in my phone. A reminder that words meant shit, he's shit and don't fucking answer the phone. I had heard Ed sing silly little songs around my flat that never failed to make me laugh. It seemed a bit awkward to listen to them with him around though.
Needless to say I was blown away.
As I bopped around my kitchen, my confidence growing as each item was done. I was slaying this. Master Chef, here I come. I had been watching the bacon carefully, making sure it didn't get too done. It was supposed to be soft, not as I had read, hard enough to be used for roof shingles. When they had became bacon that Goldilocks would have have ate right up I began to fish them out of the skillet. Quite clumsily I might add, splashing the grease everywhere, including my arm. Being the stubborn shit that I am, I kept right on pulling them out, not letting no damn hot bacon juice dictate how my breakfast turned out. I set the skillet back on the stove, digging through my fridge for my eggs. That and the fried slice were the last things left I had to cook. As I shuffled things around trying to reach my eggs I hear the smoke alarm begin to beep shrillily. I popped my head out of the fridge, eggs clutched in my hands to see the grease had started smoking and it was quickly filling my apartment.
Swearing once again, vowing to never cook another damn meal, I dropped the eggs on the counter and moved the skillet of the burner before looking up at the smoke detector in defeat. There's no way I can reach that. I drug one of the bar stools underneath it, climbing on top of it and still coming up short.
Never. Cooking. Again.
Just when I was about to start jumping I heard my door open and turned to see Ed walking through the door. With absolutely no hesitation or question he rushed over, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me off the chair and set me gently on the ground. He climbed up in my steady and hitting the small off switch. I quickly prop open the door to the fire escape, letting the smoke find its way out. I turned back to Ed with a sheepish look on my face.
"Erm...surprise."
"Is trying to burn your apartment down the surprise, because I was promised something I'd like and I gotta say, I don't like that one bit." Humor gleaming behind his eyes as a smile came across his face.
"No. I cooked us breakfast." I pointed to the bar, where most of the meal sat. He turned around to look at what I had prepared. In the commotion he hadn't taken a moment to look around. His eyes went straight to me and never left.
"Are you shitting me?!" He turn back to me, "You cooked a fry up?!" His face was beaming before he rushed over to me, giving me a giant hug that knocked the breath out of me. "Adi a fry up! You did all this for me?!"
"I remembered when you told Levi and me that you missed home and that you hadn't a proper one in a while so I thought I'd try and bring a bit of home to you...and catch it on fire because I don't cook..."
"Adi. I can't believe you went through the trouble of doing this." I could hear the emotion in his voice.
"I've still got the eggs and fried slice left to do so if you want to sit down, I can finish up."
I don't know why I expected him to sit idly by as I cooked. We stood side by side as I cooked. He'd hand me what I needed so I could focus on the food. When he saw the burn, he tsked lightly, his lips pressing against it. It was such a simple act, yet such a caring one. Once everything was done we sat at the bar, since I hadn't bought myself a kitchen table. It seemed pointless since it was just me. I watched him as he took his first bite, holding my breath in anticipation. His eyes fell closed and a smile slowly followed. They remained closed as he chewed.
"You say you don't cook?" He glanced my way, "You could have fooled me, this is excellent. You even took the time to pick veggies you knew I liked and left out the ones I didn't. You put a lot of thought into this. I'm impressed and touched. " He took a sip of his tea before he continued eating. "You actually found Heinz baked beans?! Jesus Christ you went all out! If my mouth didn't taste of beans, I'd kiss you right now...fuck it." He quickly swallowed and gave me a kiss. The tangy tomato sauce was still lingering on his lips. Not that I particularly cared. I was eating the same meal he was after all.
Once the meal was done he insisted on doing the dishes, saying I had did more than enough and I needed to relax. I felt a little bad sitting at the bar drinking my tea as he cleaned the kitchen. His hands plunging in and out of the soapy water, watching him dip the plates in the water. Wincing slightly as he took them directly from the soapy water to the drying rack without rinsing them off. He just shook them off and put them aside to dry. Correcting him seemed a bit ungrateful. Once he was done we spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch binge watch the Fresh Prince. Once sleep started to sink its hooks in us, he decided it was time to head home.
"Thanks for giving me a taste of home. You were right, I did like it. Quite a lot actually."
"I'm just glad it was just editable. You can take the leftovers home with you. I made enough for you to have another decent breakfast. Just, don't sit on it too long, okay? I don't want to make you sick."
"You're the best, you know that?" He smiled as I handed him the bag of tupperware full of food. "This'll be a life saver when I'm not feeling up to cooking anything."
"Does that happen a lot?" I realise that that came out a little rude but he didn't seem to mind.
"No, I actually like to cook. I also like the instant gratification of ordering food and getting it quickly. So it just comes down to how hungry I am."
"I can't wait to taste your food then."
He smiled "You like fajitas? I make a wicked fajita."
"Like is putting it mildly."
"Well then, you're in for a treat. I'll make them for you soon."
"I can't wait. Hopefully you're better in the kitchen than I am."
He snorted. "I haven't the foggiest what you're talking about, this was fantastic. But no I won't set the kitchen on fire." He gave me a kiss before adding, "Though, tell me the next time you cook so I can be around to hit the button for you, short stuff."
"Oh, fuck off kindly please." playfully shoving his shoulder.
He gave me another kiss, accompanied by a wink before he left. Later on he sent me a picture through Skype that said "I tried this thing called cooking" over the meme of the little girl standing in front of a burning house. He captioned it "I had to love xx."
I shook my head as I laughed, shooting back a quick message that read "See if you get breakfast again haha"
"What are you talking about, I'll have breakfast tomorrow. It's a daily thing yknow."
"Ugh, Just go to bed."
"Hope you don't need any warm milk to help you go to sleep. You'll be stuck there with no one to push the button. "
"Good. Night. Ed."
"Good Night sweet girl"
A/N
This story is by no means based of true events. No, not at all. This totally isn't what happened when I cooked a fry up.
Fun fact- My gramma would cook this exact meal on Saturday mornings so I guess I grew up slightly British.
Another "fun" fact- The meal Ed was eating in Chapter 6 was what he had left of the breakfast. You're welcome.
#ed sheeran#teddy sheeran#code ginger#ed sheeran one shot#one shot#Brits are serious about their beans
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