#I sadly don’t have the photo space or time to post them on here | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

totallyvisser · 2 months ago

Text

PROBLEMATIC || 5SOS —

i don’t have a summary but keep reading!! (it’s very fast paced aswell) i think it gets better! this is my first post and i hope to get better at this lol.

this story is ALL over the place and it kind of won’t make sense. if you wanna catch up and read my book PROBLEMATIC on wattpad follow me! wattpad.com/k3thryn (it was made in 2020 and my writing was not good but i am in the process of updating it!)

ENJOY!

The bright sun shined on Blakley’s skin as she walked up the rocky hill towards the venue. Finally, after not seeing the boys for a long and suffering five months, Blakely decided to surprise the boys for their show in Philly. The last time they talked was two days ago and that’s when she was in Australia. She was supposed to see them in London but it felt too far for her. Plus, she always wanted to come to Philly.

“God, I can’t wait to see them!” The excited girl bounced up and down as Frances laughed. Frances was Blakely’s girlfriend of three years.

Loud chatter filled the open space from the hundreds of girls. Eyes laid on Blakely watching as she passed by them.

“Is that Blakely?”

“No. She just did a live in Australia.”

“That can’t be her.”

Chatter went around the group of teens wondering if they were seeing Michael’s daughter. “Hey, could I get a picture with you?” The nervous excited girl beamed walking up to Blakely. “Yeah! Sure thing!” Blakely gladly accepted posing with the girl as she held up the camera. “Thank you. I love your outfit by the way.” Blakely thanked the girl before carrying on.

She wore a deep-sea blue shirt with a black star in the middle, (She stole from Calum) baggy black cargo pants, and black Doc Martens. It was simple but cute.

Sadly, Blakely had to decline taking more photos because she didn’t want to spoil the surprise by one of the boys finding her with a fan on their timeline. “You ready to rock this thing?” Frances wrapped her arm around Blakely giving her a big smile. “I don’t know. Having thousands of people looking my way.” Her lips tugged to the side nervously laughing.

“Don’t worry. I know you got this.” Frances side-hugged Blakely as she placed a kiss on her cheek.

—

And the time was finally here, there Blakely was. To surprise the boys she wanted to help with a song by playing the drums. One of her favorite songs. She was set up on the lawn area with her drumset she had sent down. Soundcheck and camera knew what to do, she had in her earpiece and was ready to go.

A barricade shielded the girl from the people as well as an ‘advertisement box’. She sat on her sage green throne seat; the color also matching her drum set. Her drumsticks patted against her thighs jamming out to the song they were singing, which was ‘Want you back’. “You’re on.” The talking from her earpiece interrupted her singing making chills go down her back. Good chills.

“Let’s do this.” A smile played on her face as her drumstick twirled around her finger with no effort. The song started to end as the board started to lift exposing the teen.

“Hey, boys! Hope you’re glad to see me.” She waved with her drumstick. The crowd cheered as the camera pointed to her, the big screens playing her face. “Is that little Clifford?!” Luke said into the mic letting out a laugh. “You’re here to take Ash’s place?” Calum cheekily smiled as the crowd's cheers got louder. “Just for this one song. I hope you don’t mind, Ash?” Blakely knew he wouldn’t mind. He loved her too much.

“It’s all yours, sweets.”

“I’d say we have a little Irwin here tonight. Take it away, Blake.” Michael proudly said smiling up at Blakely.

The beating of the drums echoed throughout the venue as the roaring cheers got louder recognizing the song that was playing. Blakely felt the pound of the drums rocking her insides hearing as they sang along. She didn’t feel as nervous anymore. She felt as if she was in her safe space. Even though Blakely was Michael’s daughter and helped her with guitar non-stop, she was a drummer lover deep down.

By time the song ended Blakely felt adrenaline and it felt good. “Thank you, Philly! And thank you, Ash!” Blakely stood up from her seat blowing a kiss down to Ashton before stepping down from her drums.

Throughout the two songs they played she made her way backstage and received some new bracelets from some fans she greatly appreciated. Sadly she couldn’t find Frances. She was somewhere in the crowd or getting food.

At the moment Blakely was singing her heart out to ‘We Don’t Go to Parties Anymore’. The smile that was stuck on her face never left. Proud of how far they’ve come.

The song soon ended with Blakely and the fans cheering. “I just wanna say how great you guys are doing. You guys are killin’ it and I'm pretty sure the people that live a mile away can hear you!" Calum exclaimed into the mic earning cheers.

"And real quick before we continue. I see a little head peeking out from the curtains. So, I'm gonna bring her out. Everyone, Blakely Clifford!" The crowd expressed their happiness seeing the teen walk out on the stage, watching as she waved exposing her pearl-white smile.

First, she went up to Michael giving him the biggest hug. "I'm so happy to see you, Munchkin'." He placed a kiss on her head. He deeply missed her bubbly presence. Her hugs went around to Ashton, to Luke, and then to Calum.

"I think you should stay for another set, yeah?" Luke asked the crowd as he looked over at Blakely. The joyful cheers from the crowd told Luke his answer. "I'm pretty sure that's a yes. Your pick of an instrument, dear." Luke said.

Blakely looked up at Calum exactly knowing what instrument she wanted to play. "I think she's going with her second best." Calum smiled taking off his bass handing it over to Blakely. "And to make it fun for everyone, you get to pick the song from the dice," Michael said getting cheerful screams from the crowd.

"Oh god, I feel so special." Blakely exactly knew what song she wanted and like most of the fans, they wanted the same thing. "You guys ready for this? I don't think you are." She smirked over at the boys readjusting the bass strap. Calum appeared back by her side with a bass of his own. The sound of the bass filled the area with the opening of 'English Love Affair'.

"I fuckin' knew it!" Michael screamed at the laughing teen.

—

It's been forty-five minutes since Blakely had seen Frances. She was hoping she'd find Fraces by the time she got off stage, but she still couldn't find her. So, at the moment Blakely was up at the lawn stuffing her face with pizza. The boys had four more songs left so she had time to spare before she could bother them.

"Blake, is that really you?" The blonde turned her head toward the person calling out her name. Blakely's eyebrows furrowed in confusion trying to recognize the girl's face. Then her smile appeared showing her perfect set of teeth. Blakely instantly knew who it was by the one-of-a-kind smile. The young Clifford's eyes go wide, and a shocked gasp comes from her. "Rex, dude, it's you!" Blakely launched herself toward the girl engulfing her in a hug.

Both of the girls jumped up and down in each other's arms ecstatic seeing each other face to face. "Dude, no way I'm hugging you right now!" Blakely shouted out in joy as Rex laughed. "What are you doing here? Oh, this night just got better!" Blakely finally pulled away only wanting to hug them again. "I surprised my sister with tickets, but I guess I'm surprising myself also."

Blakely knew Rex over discord. Three years ago she joined a gaming server and Rex was the first person she became friends with. Ever since they've been close friends. Playing stupid games all night or trolling random servers. It was stupid things but they sure as hell have fun.

The two talked and talked as well as singing the songs that were playing. "Dude, where the hell have you been?" The voice interrupted the two girls. Their heads spun around to see who it was.

Before Blakely could set eyes on who it was she already knew. She was the person she was looking for in the first place. Frances stood with her arms crossed visibly annoyed, staring down the other person who had their hand on her girlfriend's arm and why.

"Oh shit. Frances—I got food then I was gonna look for you but I ran into a friend. I'm so sorry." And Blakely was sorry. Her voice was apologetic; her eyes saying the same. "I texted you like fifteen times!" Frances shouted over the loud music. "I'm sorry! Look, this is Alex." Blakely quickly wanted to change the topic because she didn't want to argue.

"Hi." The redhead awkwardly waved at the annoyed brunette getting nothing but silence. "It was nice meeting you." Frances fakely smiled before grabbing a hold of Blakely and pulling her away.

"Hey, what the hell?" Blakely pulled away from Frances once they were far away from the singing fans. "What's your problem? That was really rude." Blakely turned her head to look at Rex seeing them find their way back to their seat.

"Who was she and why did she have her hands on you?" Frances was very protective over Blakely and Blakely didn't mind it one bit. But this time she wasn't having it. "Are you serious?" Blakely studied the brunette's face trying to find a hint of joker but all it was, was jealousy.

"I saw her. Her hands all over you and you did nothing." Frances spat. Hurt lacing in her voice. "You were spying on me? You don't trust me?" Blakely's quick anger turned into hurt. Frances instantly regretting what was about to come out of her mouth.

"Do you love me anymore?"

Blakely's eyes shot up in surprise, her heart sinking. Silence overcame the two. Nothing but hurt and anger weighing down on them.

"That's Rex, Frances. You know, the one who's engaged." Tears brimmed in Blakely's eyes trying to force their way out. A bit of shock painted over Frances' face. "Blake—" Instant regret overcame Frances as she took Blakely's hand only for the blonde to pull away. Blakely didn't want to talk about it anymore. Whatever she wanted to ask she knew the answer.

"I'm going out to dinner with everyone. Feel free to join, If not I'll see you back at the hotel." Blakely masked up the hurt in her voice as she wiped away the tears that got loose. Before Frances could get a word in Blakely sped off.

She blinked away the tears that were daring to spill over walking through the crowds of people making her way backstage. The fans were oblivious to the upset girl passing them by.

"There she is!" Sierra shouted seeing Blakely walk into the green room. "Oh my god! I miss you!" Crystal jumped up from her seat, the two running toward the girl. Blakely softly laughed as the two engulfed her in a hug, almost knocking her over.

"You did so good!"

"I almost fainted when I saw your face on the screen!"

They were excited to see Blakely but were quick to notice how off she was. "Hey, what's wrong? Aren't you with Frances? I saw her on my Instagram."

"She wasn't feeling good so she headed back to the hotel." Blakely gave a small smile but they knew that wasn't all it was. "It's so good to see you guys!" Blakely hugged the girls not wanting her fight with Frances to affect her happiness. It was a stupid fight and Frances will come around soon. Blakely hoped.

—

The show ended three hours ago and everyone decided to go out to dinner. They had the place to themselves, so all the adults were at the bar and Blakely was over at the table watching as they had their conversations. Every fifteen minutes she would check her phone hoping to see a message from Frances, but nothing. It made Blakely wonder if she was the one in the wrong and not Frances. And it bothered her by the second. The more she sat around and would think the more she would overthink negative thoughts.

"I can't.." Blakely mumbled to herself shooting up from the chair. She made her way over to the empty sitting lounge tapping the contacts button on her phone. Blakely's finger hovered over Frances' name. All the negative outcomes clouding her already clouded mind.

"Hello?" Frances' voice rang over the phone. "Hey, can we talk?" Blakely nit-picked at the magazines that lay on the side desk. "Talk? Yeah—yeah, of course." Shuffling came from Frances' end as if she dropped something. "Oh god." Frances laughed which confused Blakely. "Frances?"

"I'm here, Blae." Blakely could hear the drunk slur in Frances' voice. "Are you drunk?" Blakely's voice riddled with concern only to hear laughing on the other end. "Frances, what the fuck? This isn't funny. Where did you get alcohol from—why?" Blakely started to pace back and forth nervously biting the inside of her lip.

"If Rex never had their hands on you all over you this would have never happened. I'm so tired of being scared all the time because of the way people look at you knowing how much better you'll be with them, and you know it! Where are you, Blakely?" The drunk teen cried out as Blakely stood frozen. Frances made no sense but Blakely knew what she meant. Blakely knew she was distant but she was never falling out of love with Frances.

"Franny—"

Before Blakely's upset voice could be heard the line cut dead. "Damn it!" Blakely hissed kicking the closest thing to her which was the side table; the magazines floating down to the floor.

Blakely sucked in a breath stuffing her phone into her pocket. "Hey, Bub." The voice scared the upset teen, and her head shot up. She sniffled running her hand through her her hair. "I'm sorry." She quickly knelt down starting to pick up the magazines but the tears that started to spill stopped her.

A sob left her mouth fully falling to the ground. Michael took no time to kneel beside the crying girl wrapping her in a hug. "Why do I seem to mess everything and everyone up?" Blakely wrapped her arms around her dad, sobbing into his chest.

"Why do you say that? What happened between you and Frances?" Michael looked down at his daughter who had her face nuzzled into his chest. "I saw Rex and the concert and Frances saw me with them and got upset because Rex had their hand on me. It was so stupid but she thinks I don't love her anymore. Am I too problematic for anyone to love me?"

Blakely knew the reasons why she was drifting away but it was no one's problem but hers. "Don't you dare say that. You hear me?" Michael gently took ahold of Blakely's face making her look at him.

"You are so hard to love and that's not a bad thing, okay? It's okay to take your time to love and trust somebody. And that person is going to have to wait for you. And if they can't they're not worth your while, love. But what I can tell you is that Frances does love you and it's perfectly normal for couples to go through bumps in the road. You try your best to fix it. Not everyone has a perfect relationship, Bub."

Blakely sadly looked up at Michael trying to force the smile that never came. Nothing he said could fix what Blakely's done.

—

For the past fifteen minutes, Blakely stood in the hall, outside the hotel room. Her hand would reach for the door handle ready to open the door but would instantly pull back. And that lasted for a while. Until she heard Frances' voice scaring her.

"I know you're out there, Blae." Frances' tired voice called out. "Damn it.." Blakely mumbled turning the door handle. Walking in there she saw Fracnes throwing clothing after clothing into her suitcase. The blonde's eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"What are you doing? Why are you packing?" Blakely asked only to get nothing but the door she opened clicking shut.

Frances bunched up her pants stuffing them into the suitcase. "Fran." Nothing. "Frances!" Blakely snatched the pants from Frances' hand finally getting the attention she wanted but didn't expect.

"I can't do this, okay!" Frances whipped around snatching the jeans back and Blakely lightly flinched at her reaction. "What are you talking about?" Is what Blakely wanted to say yet nothing came out.

"It's too much right now, alright? I'm sorry." Frances never made eye contact and that's all Blakely wanted at the moment. "Is it because of what happened earlier? Fran, Rex is just a friend—"

"You don't see it do you?" A light laugh left Frances' mouth as she made her way into the bathroom. "For the last six months you've been distant, we barely have anything to talk about. That's not even the reason why I'm doing this." Frances just couldn't stand still but Blakely on the other hand never moved an inch.

"Then why? We can fix this—I can fix this!" Blakely cried out. "I've been trying to fix this!" Frances snapped walking out of the bathroom. She walked up to Blakely finally looking at the teary-eyed girl.

"I've been trying my hardest to fix us and I'm getting tired, emotionally and mentally. Maybe there's a blimp in our relationship, I don't know, but right now I need to breathe and I'm not sure how long that might take." Blakely watched the tears burn Frances' eyes.

The slur in her voice was gone so Blakely knew she wasn't full of it but she still didn't want to believe it. "You can't do this. Not right now." Blakely moved in front of Frances blocking her from the suitcase.

"Why not? I've been waiting and giving you time and I haven't forced or pushed you to tell me because I knew it wasn't my right to!" Frances cried out.

"I'll tell you, I promise. But I can't right now, it'll mess everything up!" Blakely sobbed.

"Everything is already messed up!" And Frances was right. No matter what Blakely could say or do could fix what she’s broke.

Blakely's hand wiped across her face wiping away the fallen tears. She always won the fights yet this time it was different. "I'm sorry, okay? I never wanted this to end how it did." Frances looked over at the upset girl before picking up her suitcase.

"I know you and I have so much more to explore and discover. But right now we need a break whether you see it or not. I'll never stop loving you, Blae." Frances placed a kiss on Blakely's cheek. Blakely saying nothing and just accepting it.

Her eyes met Frances trying so hard not to, yet it was inevitable. Eyes like Frances’ could capture anybody's attention. A sad smile rose on Frances' face wiping away the loose tears from Blakely's cheek.

—

Rain hits Blakely's soaking wet head as she sadly drags herself up the driveway of the Airbnb the boys were staying at.

After Frances left, Blakely stayed in the hotel sobbing her eyes out. It all came at once for the girl. Sadness, anger, disappointment. And being on new medicine didn't help the fact.

Not. One. Bit.

Multiple texts went out to all of the boys, plus Sierra and Crystal hoping they'd text back to get the negative thoughts out of her head. But they were drunk and knocked out cold.

Her loud knocks echoed throughout the quiet and dark house. Her freezing shaking hands dug into her drenched sweatpants pockets; a sob escaped her lips looking down at her soaking vans.

Blakely's congested sniffles didn't help in the cold rain resulting in a runny nose. The light from the foyer shined on Blakely's face.

Calum came into view looking tired and confused but instantly woke up seeing his crying and soaking wet niece. The door swung open as her sobs echoed.

"Blake, what happened?" Blakely took no time to engulf Calum in a hug letting her cries loose. He was confused but without a second thought, he wrapped his arms around her drenched body.

"I try so hard not to push people away but nothing I do works!" For the past six months, Blakely held everything in thinking she'd be okay because she had Frances who was her super glue. But now that Frances left, Blakely felt the world crashing down on her.

"Hey, sh, sh. What are you talking about, love?" He gently lifted her head from his chest wiping away her non-stop falling tears. "Tanya left me a few months ago and now Frances is gone. I’m so sorry."

—

Now in dry clothes that Calum lent, Blakely sat on the couch in front of everyone who was now awake. They all woke up from the sound of something smashing and that was Blakely accidently knocking over a vase.

They all quietly sat looking over at Blakely, who was also quiet. Her hand lightly rubbed against the inside of her thigh staring at nothing but the carpet. She never wanted it to be like this. It wasn't fair.

"I said I'd give you fifteen minutes. It's been twenty-five, love." Calum and Blakely had an agreement. If Blakely didn't tell them what happened with Tanya, Calum would under no circumstances.

"Please don't," Blakely mumbled looking over at Calum with pleading eyes. Calum didn't wanna tell them like this but how else could he?

"I'm gonna put it plain and simple. And it's not gonna be easy to take." Calum said as Blakely sunk her head in between her knees waiting for the worst to happen.

"Six months ago Tanya left." Calum watched all their expressions changing to confusion. Definitely waking them up.

"What are you talking about?"

"What?"

"She what?"

"What do you mean she left? Blake, what is Calum talking about?" Michael asked the girl who didn't lift her head.

"I just found this out, mate. You don't think I'm confused myself?" Questions flew out left and right, and mostly to Blakely who wasn't listening. "God, I fucking knew it." Michael shot up from his seat. His face turned red from how livid he was.

Blakely finally looked up watching him walk away. The door slammed shut scaring everyone, which shut them up. "This is why I didn't wanna say anything." Blakely pushed herself off the couch running toward the room. She opened the door to see Michael pacing back and forth trying his best not to break anything he saw.

"This is why I didn't want to say anything! Look at you!" Blakely shut the door behind her knowing there'd be a yelling match. Michael whipped around facing his daughter.

"What? You were gonna just wait? Or wait till you were eighteen so she wouldn't be in as much trouble? 'Cause she sure as hell would!"

"It wouldn't have been that bad! You already hate her so why would you care if she didn't want to take care of me anymore?!" Blakely shouted back.

"I care because she took you away from me and for what? She never wanted you, and you sure as hell know it too! I've taken care of you for seventeen years through sweat and tears, then she wants to show up to laugh in my face and properly take care of you? Now she's scared and tired, like last time. That's bullshit." Michael was angry at Blakely, yet she wasn't the one he should be angry at.

Growing up as Michael and Tanya had Blakely, one day at the age of fifteen Tanya bailed on Michael leaving the four-year-old girl at a bus stop.

The first year alone, Michael felt miserable yet he never showed it. And that took a toll on him mentally. He dropped out of school to focus on music. But most importantly, he shut out his daughter. Whenever the little girl wanted to talk or play with him it was always, "What do you want?", "Go away." , "Not right now."

It confused Blakely at that age but it never really bothered her since she had his friends to bother. Luke, Ashton, and Calum. The three always tried so hard to enlighten the boy to get him to talk to Blakely, or even try and take her to school but it never seemed to work.

"I don't wanna play bass, I wanna go outside!" The hyper seven-year-old tugged on Calum's shirt as she jumped up and down.

"Why don't you go ask your dad." Calum set his bass aside. Blakely looked over at Michael. He sat on the couch with earphones stuffed in his ears playing with his guitar.

"I don't think he likes me." Blakely scrunched her nose shaking her head. It came out with no hesitation because it was sadly true. Calum felt a pinch of hurt hearing Blakely say that.

"Of course he likes you. He's your dad, love." He hunched over encouraging the girl to go over to Michael by hugs and tickles.

"Fine!" Her head fell back in defeat. She skipped over to the other side of the living room. "Dad. Dad. Dad." She repeatedly poked his thigh hoping to get his attention. He looked up acknowledging his daughter only to put it back down as if it was a ghost trying to get his attention.

Blakely turned looking at Calum with a look of defeat. He imitated pulling out his earphones telling her to do so. So that's what she did.

"Jesus, Blake. What do you want?" He asked annoyed.

"Can we please go to the set so I can play? Pleaseee I haven't been in weeks!" She smiled big showing the front tooth she lost.

The set and school were the only times Blakely got to get out of the house. They always thought she loved the playground because she had friends.

But whenever she would go she'd be away from the kids doing her own thing. She always kept to herself. Her dad's friends were her friends and she was okay with that.

"Not right now. Go play in the backyard or something." He shrugged off the little girl shoving his earphones back in.

Blakely glanced over at Calum with a "Told you so" face. It seemed like nothing but all Blakely wanted to do was hang out with her dad.

"Don't act like you've been there for me for seventeen years. Remember age four through seven, because I'll never forget it. You always ignored me, never cooked me any food, and stayed in your room all day and night just so you didn't have to see me. The boys kept getting in trouble because they were late to school taking me to school, so they printed out directions so I could make it to school and home. It lasted seven months! I was seven! I was a kid!"

The two couldn't describe the hurt they felt. And it was killing them so damn bad.

"I was a kid too!" Michael quickly snapped without any hesitation.

They were both kids and had to start growing up at such early ages.

They went through so much but always blocked it out because it was "Old, done, and over with.". And they always knew it'd come back to bite them in the ass.

"You could've been a kid with me! But no. You were forced to grow up so you did the same thing to me and it wasn't fair!" Blakely sobbed her eyes out.

Never once did the two talk about those years. It was never brought up nor asked about. Michael and Blakely wondered about each other if they remembered what happened, but as always they didn't say anything.

"It wasn't fair to me that she left you with me. I didn't even want a fucking kid." His voice lowered so only that she could hear it. Those words hit her like a bus and she was too stumped to respond. Her tears stopped as she sucked in a breath.

"Well good, because you don't have a daughter anymore. Fuck you."

And with that, Blakely walked out of the room slamming the door behind her. The talk was supposed to be about Tanya doing wrong but they turned it on each other.

Blakely wasn't thinking at all but she knew she had to get out of that house. She knew she shouldn't be alone but she couldn't be next to anyone or else she'd take her anger out on them. It was inevitable. Everyone in the living room heard everything. Even the last part. They called out Blakely's name. Watching as the sobbing teen passed them by rushing out of the house.

The warm breeze hit her bare legs; the tears that fell blurred her vision. She sucked back her cries hurrying away from the house. The wet concrete soaked the bottoms of her green slippers she wore. Growing up all Blakely wanted was for her dad to love her and all that trying made her so damn tired.

"Blake! Blakely!" Calum shouted out. His footsteps gained closer.

"Leave me alone, Calum." She said loud enough for him to hear but that didn't stop him.

The moment his hand touched her shoulder she instantly shook him off swiveling around.

"Leave me alone! Do you not understand that?!" You see. Inevitable. But it didn't rub Calum the wrong way because he knew how upset she was and it was completely valid.

"We all heard what he said and he was so fucking wrong for that." And it finally hit Blakely, again. The tears she tried so hard to hold in burst out of her eyes. Her hands hit her face letting the sobs overcome her body.

Before she could hit the wet ground Calum was quick to catch Blakely. She instantly sank into his brace. Her cries filled the quiet street.

"I didn't wanna say anything." She held onto Calum as if he was her life support. She didn't want to let go and neither did he. Even if they didn't see it, they were each other's glue.

"I know, I know. You did the right thing, love." He cooed stroking his hand through her hair.

"It doesn't feel right."

—

The chair Blakely sat on swung back and forth; her eyes looking up at the night sky. After thirty minutes of Calum trying to convince Blakely to come back to the house she only agreed if she stayed in the backyard alone.

So now it was three A.M. and everyone was asleep. More like laying in their beds pissed at Michael. The actual one that fell was Crystal. After she spent an hour screaming her head off at Michael. And Blakely heard a bit of it.

"How could you?!"

"She's your fucking daughter for crying out loud!"

"This isn't her fault! It's Tanya's!"

"Who are you anymore?"

All that screaming gave Crystal a headache and she just wanted to sleep it off. But not in bed with Michael, so she stayed in the living room.

"Hey, Bubba." Ashton walked towards Blakely interrupting the girl from her gaze. She glanced over at Ashton who was holding a blanket and two tea cups.

"I know you wanted to be left alone but I thought you might be freezing." He set the two cups on the coffee table sitting himself beside Blakely.

Her eyes followed away from Ashton and back up to the night sky. The warm blanket hit her freezing body feeling as if it just came out of the dryer.

"Blake..." Ashton trailed off not knowing what he could say. But he knew that she needed someone by her side because he felt the way she was feeling once. And he knew how much it hurt.

"Remember that day when you guys came over and you saw Dad cooking me breakfast? It was the first time in three years that we had an actual conversation. He genuinely laughed at my stupid jokes. You guys thought he was drunk or high off some drug, but no. It was like a switch clicked in him. And I never questioned it because I thought that stupid long nightmare finally ended. But it's back. I don't think it ever left." She sounded so emotionless and tired. She was.

Her hands rubbed against the inside of her thighs and Ashton noticed that earlier. He knew what it meant.

"Your thighs aren't cold, they're itchy." Blakely's heart sank hearing those words. She tried her best to hide it but she was always so careless thinking nobody noticed.

Only Ashton and Blakely knew what it meant because they always told each other it. They both went through rough patches growing up and always noticed when one another wasn't having a good day. And when they were having a really bad day they would lock themselves in a room for hours and hours and then come back with 'cold arms or legs.'

The others were oblivious when Blakely and Ashton always had their eyes on each other worrying about their well-being.

"It was only one time a—and I wasn't thinking straight. Please don't tell anyone, they don't need to know." She quietly said.

As always Ashton would be hard on the girl about hurting herself because he couldn't bear seeing one of his loved ones spiral down a dark hole. But right now he didn't want to give her a lecture, but a hug. His warm embrace took Blakely by surprise but let it take over her. It was going to be a while until Ashton got a hug from her.

—FIVE MONTHS LATER

It's been five months since Blakely has talked to her family. Not once did she try to call or text them. But every day all she got was multiple calls and texts from them. That was until she changed her number and got a new phone. She always thought if nobody needed her she didn't need anyone. So, she dropped the most important people in her life.

Her new life was in Australia with her new friends yet no family. Like no other, they flew down trying to look for Blakely day and night but no luck whatsoever.

She quit her old job at the restaurant to work at a bookstore/cafe. An hour away and left the apartment to live in a small but comfy Airbnb.

Once Blakely found out the apartment was in her name she decided to to rent it out. It made her good money and switching to online school took a better toll on her.

Blakely looked great as if nothing happened. Dyed her hair jet black, cut it a few inches, and got an eyebrow piercing.

She didn't want anyone noticing her but the people she spoke to. Even if Blakely looked great on the outside, the inside was a different story. She was drained, always angry and moody and sometimes it would peek through and she was slowly losing the last of her friends.

She always said she didn't care but at the end of the day it would only be her by herself and she was slowly accepting it. Nobody needed her and she didn't need them. All Blakely did was work and when she was at home she did her schooling. Work, school, eat, sleep, repeat. Nothing new.

"—No, I don't care if she's sorry. That drum-kit is nine hundred bucks—one of a kind! Do you understand—" The sound of the phone call beeped through Blakely's ear. "What the fuck?!" Her angry yell echoed throughout the quiet house as her phone went flying toward the bed.

No way in hell was she going to lose two thousand dollars and be left with broken drums. The young teen cursed under her breath gathering her stuff to head over to the apartment, which was an hour away. Her black purse swung back and forth as she jotted down the stairs.

The house was big and Blakely had it all to herself. It was quiet and it gave her a lot of time to think. She grabbed the keys from the bowl. "Stupid ass people.." She mumbled swinging open the door.

Ready to walk out the door she was instantly stopped by a person standing in front of her. Not any random person, yet someone she longed to see even if she didn't want to admit it. "Blake.." Even if Blakely didn't want to be found, her family never stopped looking for her.

Blakely's once aggravated scowl turns into shock. For a second Blakely thought her mind was playing jokes on her. But the familiar home scent that radiated off the person told her otherwise.

"Dad.." Michael stepped forward, his arms opening for a hug. Blakely couldn't help to stumble back; hurt painting over Michael's face. "Please... You've been gone for so long." His voice shook with despair looking at her as if she never changed. "You said—"

"I know what I said, okay? I've been thinking about that night for five months and I haven't forgiven myself for it, and I don't think I ever will. I—I was drunk and didn't know what the hell I was saying or thinking. It wasn't your fault and I had no right to be mad at you. The people I should've been mad at were Tanya and myself. All you wanted to be was loved by Tanya and she took advantage of that, which wasn't okay at all." He rambled on fast scared that Blakely would shut the door on him. Yet she stepped aside.

"I can't shut the door on your face." Her eyes stuck to the side watching from her peripheral vision. The sound of the door closing was the only sound that interrupted the awkward atmosphere.

"A note wasn't enough, Blake." Michael's eyes never left Blakely's wishing for a small glance. The over-excitement and hurt he felt was very overwhelming. He just wanted to hold his baby girl.

The night Blakely left, she woke up outside on the swinging bench with Ashton, left a note, went back to the hotel to grab her things, and went back to Australia without another thought.

Ashton was the first one to find the note. He jolted awake, worry already setting into the man wondering where his niece went. For ten minutes he searched the house and everyone's rooms hoping that she found another place to sleep because something didn't feel right. The last room he checked was Michael's and he was fast asleep.

"Fuck.." Ashton cursed under his breath making his way downstairs. Many thoughts clouded his mind thinking of the worst but tried his best to throw them to the side.

'She just needed to clear her mind.'

'She left to get breakfast.'

The positive thoughts he tried listening to instantly faded after reading the note that laid on the table. 'I'll be okay. Please don't worry about me.' Such a short note that contained so much detail.

"Guys wake up now!" In a matter of minutes, everyone's tired body was in the kitchen. "Why'd you yell? It's seven in the morning." Sierra whined leaning onto the marble counter.

"Don't you see there's someone missing? Blakely's gone." Ashton slammed the note onto the counter making everyone jerk awake.

"What are you talking about, man?"

"She was in my room earlier to get a sweater to go for a walk."

"Said she loves us and be back with coffees." Sierra finishes off. "Why would she leave a note like this? She's not answering my calls or texts and she turned off her fucking location. Where is she?"

For the next three hours, everyone sat around in different parts of the house sending nermous amounts of texts and calls. Ashton and Sierra left the house to drive around hoping they'd see Blakely walking the streets.

The house stayed quiet as if it was empty but they were all silently freaking out. "What if something's happened to her? She should've answered one of the thousand texts we've all sent!" Calum paced back and forth; his eyes not leaving his phone.

"We all know she isn't mentally okay after what happened last night. After what Mike said to her." Calum couldn't describe the anger he felt towards Michael. Calum pushed past Luke making his way to the living room.

"We need to think right now, Cal." Luke chased behind Calum saying whatever he could to try and calm him down. "If you never said any of that shit to her she'd still be here. You were supposed to be mad at Tanya, not your daughter!" Calum angrily shouted. "I know what I said and I was drunk out of my mind." Michael got up from the couch starting to cautiously walk towards him.

By the looks of it, Calum wanted to kill Michael. "And you think that's an excuse?" Calum scoffed, his anger growing by the second.

"I'm sure she's okay, we just—” Calum's nails dug into his palm from how hard his fist was balled. Before Michael could get his words out the stinging sensation spread through his cheek. The same going for Calum's fist.

"It was for me." The girl mumbled looking down at the ground as if it was the most interesting thing. "We thought you were dead." Michael's voice shook hurting him to say it.

'I feel dead.' That distant voice echoed in the back of Blakely's mind. "I had to get out or else I wouldn't be here." She deadpanned. Saying that didn't hurt Blakely as much as it hurt Michael. The ache he felt for his daughter was unbearable.

"Please look at me." His voice was wobbly as if he was on the verge of crying. They both were.

Blakely's head hung low; her bottom lip quivered swallowing the lump in her throat. The anger she felt not even five minutes ago was replaced with melancholy. 'Suck it up', is what her mind yelled at her but she couldn't.

Her eyes slowly travelled up already feeling her eyes burn. Blakely wanted to break down and cry, yet Michael looked at her in a sad awe waiting for this moment. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. A sad smile sat on her face.

"I'm really sorry." No matter how much Blakely tried to tell herself everyone would be better off without her, a part of her knew they were all a wreck.

Her eyes met the ground once again watching as her salty tears hit the ground. Michael took a step close, his arms encircling her body gently. He pulled the surprised girl into an embrace feeling like he just woke up from a terrible nightmare.

The tears she held in for months soaked into his shirt. "I should be sorry. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

—

Twelve hours and Blakely was standing in front of Calum's house. In California. Everything was quite a blur. Packing. Getting on the plane. The awkward silence of not knowing what to say. The homely smell the moment she stepped foot out of the airplane. Everything came rushing back in minutes and Blakely hated it.

After Michael texted everyone they texted back within seconds except for one person. And all Blakely wanted was one text so she could stop the overthinking.

Walking into the house was weird for Blakely. She hadn't been in the house for two years. Being with Tanya, she never let the teen step foot back in California. With new decor, and new painted walls, South and Moose couldn't stop barking at the girl until she snuggled them to death.

Everyone was at the house waiting for Blakely to arrive and when she did non-stop hugs, kisses, and crying. Not a bit of anger in sight, just love.

But one person was missing and still didn't answer their texts. That was the one person Blakely wanted to see. Don't get Blakely wrong, she loved everyone with everything in her heart, but the relationship between her and Calum was beyond different.

So standing in front of his house knowing he probably wanted nothing to do with Blakely made her want to run and never look back. Five minutes turned into ten, and ten turned into twenty. Still finding herself looking at the brown door.

"Nothing's gonna happen if you don't make it happen." Blakely huffed at herself hesitantly bringing her hand up to the doorknob. She was so scared because she knew Calum knew she was back and not a word from him.

Her sweaty palm turned on the handle slowly pushing it open, cautious of what was on the other side.

"Hello?" Her voice echoed throughout the quiet house. The only noise filling the house was the low music playing on the vinyl. The small husky bounced towards Blakely snorting happily.

"Hey, Duke." Blakely kneeled down petting the the hyper dog.

"I'm surprised he remembers you." Blakely's head shot up in surprise. There he stood, his hands stuffed in his pocket staring down at her.

"Cal, I'm so sorry." Like the last six times that was the first thing she said.

"Are you?" He scoffed as a cocky smile played on his face.

"Cal—"

"No, you don't get to talk." The way Calum snapped at Blakely shocked her. His voice was sharp and direct.

"You decide to leave one day and disappear for months? We thought you were dead for hours after you left that stupid note! It wasn't fair to the people who did nothing to you and you know it. I waited and waited hoping you'd text me because I knew I did nothing wrong but you made it seem like I did. Me out of everyone deserved a text." It sounded selfish but both of them knew it was true.

"We grew up together, dude! Day after day, twenty-four-seven we were together because we needed each other. And when I needed you the most you were nowhere in sight."

When Michael wasn't being a dad to Blakely, Calum was. He sacrificed so much for the girl but always said it was nothing when it was everything.

He quit his soccer team just so he could be with Blakely so she wouldn't be alone. Decided to get a job so Blakely could get what she wanted, even if she didn't need it.

There was never a fight between the two. School, making music, and working was hard but Calum didn't care because it was all for Blakely.

His jaw tensed keeping his anger in check. Blakely noticed the gloss in his eyes which he was quick to blink away. Blakely stood nervous fiddling with the end of her sweater. Never once has Calum yelled at her. Not like this. She hated it.

"You can't run away from your problems. They'll just come back even worse." He leaned off the wall making his way into the kitchen as if the conversation was done with.

"Cal, please! I'm sorry! What can I say?!" Hurt riddled in her voice following after him.

"That's the thing! There's nothing to say!" He whipped around revealing the tears in his eyes.

Blakely stopped in her tracks flinching at his reaction. The sob he held in for so long finally escaped following with more. Blakely knew she hurt him but not this bad. There was nothing she could think of but to hug him. So that's what she did.

Her arms wrapped around him engulfing him into a hug letting his tears soak her sweater. "I thought you were dead." He sobbed.

"I'm so sorry. I was only thinking about myself not knowing how bad you guys were hurting. Never will I do something like that again."

Her head rested on his chest while Calum's rested on her shoulder. Holding her tight, scared as if she was going to disappear again.

#5secondsofsummer #michael clifford #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #calum hood #fanfiction #5sos #5sos imagine #clifford #michael 5 seconds of summer #michael5sos #short story #fanfic #Spotify

2 notes · View notes

garuda4321 · 6 months ago

Text

A very overdue Luminous post

Hey hey! We’re back with Luminous content! Not a lot, but I did snag some pictures! Ok… a lot of pictures but I’ll space them out so this post isn’t cluttered. First off, location location, location! Where was I for (most) of these photos?

Quick note, those red circles indicate the next batch needed for a UML (9 total).

Now, as you can see, we have three shipwrecks (I8-J9, G7-H8, and A5-B4), two kelp forest spots (E6-F9), a rocky coral area (I5-J6), and an abyssal crevice (F2-G5). Sadly there were SEVERAL squares full of the following.

This particular square (among several others) is devoid of rocks, life, AND salvage. Not the best square in the map. BUT I did find neat stuff elsewhere! Such as this beauty!

Oh boy, a watering can! Just what I needed in an ocean! Something to carry all my water for my garden! I did find better stuff, don’t worry. I also found these beauties.

Amber, plausible find in a treasure box if you ask me! People find it pretty, someone probably shoved it in a box at one point. I know I would, though that’s because I’m a disorganized mess.

Now, the idea of a “Fairy Bow” had me wondering PRETTY hard about what the origin of it is. Fortunately, there’s a salvage log for that! Also, for people that played Blue World, I found an Okeanos Oannes tablet!

Sadly… the salvage log ain’t much help here. I can’t read the tablet and the fairy bow is essentially Excalibur except you don’t get to rule England. Worth lots of points but I’m a little disappointed with the lack of depth these have.

Also, I discovered a very cute looking Commerson Dolphin!

Isn’t he just the best little sleek one out there? I could just hug him and-

Never mind I take that back. It looks like it wants to devour my soul as an appetizer… UML in reblog with a funny clipping moment from a different dive site because mobile app only lets me do 10 images at a time.

#endless ocean luminous #endless ocean luminous spoilers #long post

3 notes · View notes

cmcsmen · 6 months ago

Text

Friendship

(From way back in the blog archives. Enjoy!)

“If you go looking for a friend, you’re going to find they’re very scarce. … If you go out to be a friend, you’ll find them everywhere”.

~ Zig Ziglar

I love this quote, because I find it to be so true. What do you think?

I recently sent this quote in an email to around sixty of my friends, as I usually do with different topics a few times a month, but this time it was different. An unusually more than fifty percent sent me a reply! From what they were sharing I’ve concluded that most of us long for friendship … and to be loved. Or put it another way, having a true friend is important to us.

So the question then is, what is a true friend? The Lord Jesus Christ gave us the definition of a true friend: “Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you” (John 15:13-15). Jesus is the pure example of a true friend, for He laid down His life for His “friends.” What is more, anyone may become His friend by trusting in Him as his personal savior, being born again and receiving new life in Him.

Proverbs is another good source of wisdom regarding friends. “A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity” (Proverbs 17:17). “A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother” (Proverbs 18:24). The issue here is that in order have a friend, one must be a friend. “Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses” (Proverbs 27:6). ” As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another” (Proverbs 27:17).

So to have a true friend means that you have to be one. I first learned how to be a true friend by the example of my father with his friendships. I consider myself fortunate. I learned too that sometimes to have true friendship is easier said than done. I stopped counting the number of times that I’ve been honest with a friend – someone I cared much about – who gave me the (trust or) permission to speak to them about their life …. as others have done with me … only to find the person doesn’t want to hear it or talk about it, or becomes hurt or offended by what I said. I’ve learned the hard way that either few people today know what a true friend is, or we are fortunate to have one person in our lives that we consider a true friend – someone that we trust to be matter of fact with us, loyal, and to share our deepest secrets with. And often (sadly) this is someone other than a sibling or our wife, rather than in addition to.

As I’ve said before in other blog posts, Jesus confronted people because he loved them. However, you don’t have to look real hard to see in our self-gratification culture today that many friendships are on the basis of “if you don’t tell me what I want to hear, then you’re not my friend”. It’s common today to work at giving others their own space and not offending them. Even spouses are to be the best of friends – a gift to each other – yet many marriages I find have too many stressors and distractions to even think about working at friendship, much less marriage. This I think is one reason many couples today live together without marriage vows.

Reconciliation and forgiveness is the most important action in maintaining a true friendship …. and marriage. It happens when we care about others and their feelings before our own, when we have to put our pride and our personal agenda on the back burner, so to speak. I have discovered that unless it hurts it’s not true friendship, for God gives us true friends not only to inspire each other, but to help us to grow and to strengthen our trust and faith in Him and the power of prayer. Sometimes this process of God “pruning” our lives can take years. It means going through – as many times as it takes – the process of working through misconceptions, barriers, etc. when society says walk away and move on to another relationship.

In Sunday’s Gospel the poor widow gave two small coins worth a few cents. And Jesus said, “”Amen, I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the other contributors to the treasury. For they have all contributed from their surplus wealth, but she, from her poverty, has contributed all she had, her whole livelihood.”

True friendship gives from it’s poverty, from what we don’t have. Not financially, but from our ‘unfamiliar territory’. When our conscience and our will tell us to do what the Lord commands us, despite our human understanding. The way to know you have a true friendship is that, a true friend keeps coming back. It’s usually a person whom you’ve never known anyone like them … And you know that you never will again. That you are both better persons for knowing each other. Someone you can thank God for bringing into each others lives.

All of this reminds me of the old James Taylor song, “You’ve Got A Friend”. The lyrics go something like:

” You just call out my name

And you know wherever I am

I’ll come running, to see you again

…. You’ve Got A Friend”.

How many of us have a friend like that? Or even, how many of us ARE a friend like this?

Today, ask your wife, your kids, and your friends, “How can I be a better friend to you?”

I know that I’ve only scratched the surface here about friendship. So, we at CMCS would like to learn what friendship means to you. Click on the comment area below or reply.

Frank J. Casella

#friendship #chicago #catholicism #frank j casella #manhood #male catholic spirituality #catholic #religion #photography #cmcsmen blog

0 notes

not-a-perfect-metaphor · 3 years ago

Text

J2 Tinhat Timeline

2016

For the timeline from 2017 or for any of the years from 2015 to 2022 once they’re all posted, search my page for “timeline.”

Note: again, the content within each year is not yet listed chronologically, and sadly I can only include a small handful of photos and GIFs due to limited image space, but if you’d like the visual counterparts for anything, just message me!

No year is even close to being a fully comprehensive collection yet, but I’ll be updating each post over time to get as close to that as I can!

—————————

February 27th:

Jared spends his anniversary (as in his faux anniversary, the anniversary of his marriage to Genevieve) out with Jensen.

March 11th:

The Js are spotted out in Austin date-night-ing it up at the Gleason (documentary) debut.

September:

Rogue Magazine publishes some interesting photos of the Js on either side of a door (a closet door, even? perhaps?)-

Either way, their body language is certainly something to talk about…

November 11th:

The Js have a wild night out together at a Kaleo concert and then at San Jac Saloon.

(GIF/photo set courtesy of out-in-the-open)

November 30th:

The Js are each other’s date to Mark Shepard’s wedding! 😍❤️

Saturn Awards, Cassidy Gard interview:

While chatting about J2’s “bromance,” Cassidy comments that it seems like the two of them definitely have a good time together.

Jensen smiles, averts his eyes, and responds with, “we��probably have too much of a good time.”

Atlantacon:

The Js serenade each other on the keyboard. Jared plays ‘Right Here Waiting’ for Jensen, and Jensen plays ‘Everything I Do, I Do it For You’ for Jared.

Also-

A trans fan speaks to the Js about finding the courage to transition.

Jared: “I know what it’s like to have to keep a secret and not be who you are.”

Jaxcon:

Jared tells a story about being out to dinner in Rome with Genevieve and accidentally flipping off the waiter. (see 2016 asylum directly below for significance)

Asylum:

Jensen tells the exact same story above about being at a restaurant in Rome and Jared accidentally flipping off the waiter, except JENSEN was the one who was with Jared in Jensen’s re-telling.

*note: this is just one of many moments all supporting the fact that when the Js talk about their wives, they are often actually speaking about each other.

Purple rain:

Jared forgets that he and Jensen are visible from behind and blatantly (really, really blatantly) spends some time massaging Jensen’s upper arm and shoulder in a not-at-all platonic way.

*notable as one of those extra special J2 things that has singlehandedly (as a stand-alone moment) convinced a significant number of now-tinhats that Jared and Jensen are not platonic with each other.

Jib, closing ceremony:

Jensen refers to Jared and Genevieve’s marriage while air quoting the word “married.”

He also pulls Jared fiercely into a full body embrace that has gone on to become one of the most well-known and most frequently talked about J2 moments.

Seacon:

The Js again discuss the first real fight they had, and Jared says, “That happens in any relationship, whether it’s friends, boyfriend-girlfriend, boyfriend-boyfriend, it gets tested, and that’s when you find out whether or not it’s worth it to you.” (parallel to 2017 minncon)

*note: although Jared included “friends” in this list of relationships, he also threw in “boyfriend-boyfriend,” so…

Also-

Jensen says (about himself and Jared), “Early on, we found out that we were better together, the two of us, than we were separate.”

Also-

Jared refers to Jensen as his partner, something they both have done on multiple occasions-

Jared: “I’m going to ask what my partner’s favorite part is, or the first thing that comes to his mind for every season.”

Chicon:

Jared says this super significant thing about the industry-

“I’ve had a lot of joy and a lot of pain being in the public eye. (…) You don’t have to be on TV to be acting.”

Houscon:

Jared goes without his wedding ring on Valentines Day.

Also-

Jensen says, about himself and Jared, “We were made for each other.”

Also-

Richard Speight seems to nearly slip up and say something that he ends up realizing mid-sentence he can’t say while a camera is present-

Richard (to Jared, about a Valentines card he’s working on that Jensen has just dumped glitter all over): “This was good until your-...this was good until HE dumped glitter all over it.”

Vegascon:

Jensen gives a long, thoughtful, completely gender-neutral response about finding the one in which he uses words like “partner” and “teammate” that he has previously used on numerous occasions (and will use many times again after this) to describe Jared/his relationship with Jared.

(on two different ways of ‘finding the one’) “-you just know with an absolute and have a certainty, like this is the one for me, unequivocally. And there’s those who are…I don’t know…I’m scared, but I’m willing to take that leap of faith with you, and I found myself somewhere in between both of those. It’s a scary endeavor that certainly has its ups and downs, but it’s a bond, and it’s a connection, and it’s a friendship, and it’s a ride, and it’s a journey…that if you’re willing to stick it out together is an amazing, beautiful thing. And…I’m so glad I picked the partner, the teammate, that I did.”

Also-

Jensen (about Jared): “He calls me and he’s like ‘hey, babe.’” (revealing the fact that Jared calls him ‘babe’)

*note: the ‘babe’/‘baby’ thing is not an isolated incident, either…

Burcon:

Jensen offers his sleeve for Jared to wipe his nose on, which may not sound like much on the surface but which is, in reality, incredibly indicative of an extremely deep level of intimacy and trust between the two of them.

Torcon:

Jared reminisces about the (super romantic) Stanley Park lunch date he and Jensen shared together way back when they were filming Wendigo and falling for each other-

Jared: “[Jensen] said, ‘there’s a cool spot over here if you want to come eat,’ and I was like ‘alright.’ So we grabbed our lunches and sat on the sea wall.”

Jensen: “It was a Taster’s Choice moment.”

(note: after doing some research and receiving input from a local, I learned that Stanley Park is well-known for being a couple’s spot, for being a place you take a date)

Message from Supernaturalwinter: “I’m from Vancouver - ya you don’t go to Stanley Park for lunch unless it’s as a date (or you’re with a big group of friends and you’ve planned a picnic, also the only places to eat around Stanley Park are ‘couples spots’), like you go for lunch and it’s a date.”

DCcon:

Another ‘partner’ moment (Jensen to Jared)-

“When you have a partner you’ve been dancing with for that long…”

Also-

Jared opens up a bit about his (many) struggles with the industry-

“Like…the industry has been pretty difficult for me believe it or not.”

#j2 tinhat #timeline #2016 #husbands husbanding

359 notes · View notes

angeli-marco-writes · 4 years ago

Text

∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

#timothee chalamet #concerto #timmy t #chalamet #tim chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee smut #timothee fluff #timothee imagine

2K notes · View notes

architectuul · 4 years ago

Text

Autobus Park №7: Kyiv’s Abandoned Transport Circus

Kyiv might be Europe’s single greatest city for late-twentieth century Modernist architecture. It boasts many wild, eclectic, and vividly imaginative examples of the style, built during the height of Soviet monument-mania. Though amongst its steel and concrete marvels of Soviet-era architecture, one of Kyiv’s most striking modern buildings has, in recent years, also become one of the city’s most problematic ruins. Autobus Park №7 – once the pride of the Ukrainian transport industry – exists today as a decaying morgue for almost a thousand abandoned buses.

Autobus Park №7 today. | Photo © Darmon Richter

The design challenge of the Autobus Park №7 was to create an efficient depot capable of housing and maintaining a fleet of some 500 buses, in an urban environment where building space was limited. Had the building been constructed like a warehouse, or a factory, using a square plan and a regular pillar-based solution for supporting the roof, it was estimated that the total size of the building would have needed to be at least 4,000 square metres. However, an ingenious solution was proposed instead.

Under construction (1972), promotional photographs (1970s) and technical sketches (1979). | Photo via Khabarovsk Polytechnic Institute.

The chief engineers on the project, V. A. Kozlov and S. I. Smorgon, were responsible for the idea of using a cable-suspended roof. They took their inspiration from circus buildings – the cylindrical concrete-and-steel constructions which were by this time a ubiquitous feature in cities throughout the Soviet Union. By designing the building on a circular plan, and suspending concrete roof panels on cables strung between a central support pillar and the outer walls, it was found that both space and construction costs could be significantly reduced. Moreover, this design, with its organic, circular shape, lent itself more to what was then considered a modern and humanistic work environment for employees – while its form, reminiscent of circuses and Palaces of Culture, presented the bus depot not as a bland, functional box, but rather a community venue.

Kyiv’s Autobus Park №7 during its heyday with the tall building on the left accommodating administrative offices and staff canteens. | Photo via Exutopia

Left: Workers outside Kyiv Autobus Park №7 in 1977; right: A new fleet of buses ready for service, 1975. | Photo via Exutopia

Kozlov and Smorgon built a 1:10 scale model to test their idea. The central support pillar would be 18 metres high, a tower of reinforced concrete with a diameter of 8 metres, consisting of 0.3-metre thick concrete walls around an inner support of solid steel with a cross-section of 0.32 x 0.22 metres. Attached to the top of this pillar, were 84 radial cables – steel ropes with a diameter of 65 millimetres. Each of these cables was able to support a weight of up to 350 tons, and the roof would be constructed on top of them: a suspended tent dome, created from concrete plates, and with a total diameter of 160 metres.

On its completion in 1973, the building was considered an engineering marvel – its hanging roof was one of the largest ever constructed, and this system of support reduced the building’s necessary size from 40,000 square metres (the estimate for a pillar-supported roof) to a footprint of just 23,000 square metres.

Details of the relief on the front of building showing staff, passengers, vehicles, and the logos of various automotive brands. | Photo © Darmon Richter

As much as possible, the design aimed to take advantage of natural light. The concrete plates of the roof were fitted with portholes, most of which were concentrated close around the main support tower. In the outer wall, upright glass cylinders were installed between concrete panels, serving as sturdy support pillars that both insulated the building against the cold outside, and allowed refracted light to shine into the wings of the building. This solution proved particularly robust, and most of these glass pillars have survived intact since the early 1970s until this day. Between them, these design choices resulted in an interior space and working area that enjoyed bright sunlight during the day, thus minimising the additional cost of electrical lighting.

Attached to the 18m central support pillar, a metal staircase leads up to an observation platform. | Photo © Darmon Richter

Once operational, Autobus Park №7 was the largest vehicle depot in the Soviet Union – and it was rumoured, potentially the largest anywhere in the world. It served as more than just a garage, though. It was the base of operations for the entire fleet of buses serving the capital, including city buses, intercity buses, and also those working international routes, to Germany, Poland, Belarus and Russia. The building was fully air-conditioned, it featured a four-gate vehicle wash, and a mechanised repair bay fitted with conveyor belt systems. The building had a staff of 1,500 workers, and featured workers’ canteens, as well as a computing centre too – where teams calculated staff salaries and work shifts, as well as designing and optimising bus routes.

Sadly, the glory days of Autobus Park №7 would be short-lived. Following the break-up of the Soviet Union, many of the fleet’s international routes were discontinued. Services were gradually reduced through the 1990s, into the 2000s, while meanwhile, the building was increasingly used to store wrecked vehicles awaiting repair or decommissioning. The reduction of domestic bus routes in 2005 was a further blow, and eventually, in 2015, the autopark closed its doors for good – the building slipping into disrepair, as the once-proud circus was steadily transformed into a scrapyard.

Since it was officially closed in 2015, almost 1,000 buses have been stored inside the abandoned building. | Photo © Darmon Richter

Today, Autobus Park №7 in Kyiv seems to be locked in a downward spiral of decay. The building itself is nothing short of an engineering marvel, an extraordinary work of architecture that supporters have suggested could be adapted now into a museum, or even a film studio. In April 2018 a petition was registered on the website of Kyiv City Council, calling for the building’s preservation – but it only received 321 votes, a long way short of its target of 10,000 signatures. Even had it been successful though, good intentions don’t count for much without action and intent on the part of Kyiv City Council; where currently, any talks of potential preservation are being blocked at a bureaucratic level.

For 25 years the building has been owned by the company Kyivpastrans (‘Kyiv Passenger Transportation), whose deputy general director, Sergey Litvinov, has said that Autobus Park №7 poses an imminent risk of collapse, and, given the cost and scale of such a project, would be almost impossible to save. Meanwhile, other former transport depots around the city have already been bulldozed to make room for new residential blocks and shopping centres. Many property developers would jump at the chance of getting their hands on this 23,000-square metre plot – and from the perspective of the current owners, it is probably a more attractive financial proposition. The building is neither listed nor protected, so were it empty, there would be nothing to stop the owners from knocking it down overnight.

This rooftop capsule offered a panoramic view of the 180-metre diameter suspended roof of Autobus Park №7. | Photo © Darmon Richter

However, for the time being all parties are locked into a kind of stalemate over the building’s contents. The estimated 903 rusting vehicles stored inside (including LAZ, Volvo, Ikarus, and various other brands of urban and long-distance buses) pose a major administrative problem. These buses cannot easily be removed, or scrapped, as technically they are yet to be decommissioned from service. A new regulation that was introduced into Ukrainian law in 2013 complicated the bureaucratic procedure and created a backlog; so that all of the vehicles inside Autobus Park №7 today are – officially, on paper – still in service and awaiting audit. As such they cannot legally be taken apart for scrap, and right now, there’s nowhere else to store them in the city but here.

The vehicles have still not been officially decommissioned under Ukrainian law – which means they cannot be scrapped until the necessary paperwork is processed. | Photo © Darmon Richter

So for now, it’s a waiting game. If Kyivpastrans and Kyiv City Council are able to solve the bureaucratic headache of their vehicle decommissioning procedure, remove the abandoned buses, and then find the will, not to mention the funding, to undertake the colossal project of preserving Autobus Park №7 (while turning down more lucrative offers from property developers in the process), then perhaps the building might yet be saved. But in the meanwhile, the circus roof is sagging, and young trees are already sprouting from cracks in the concrete.

It may just be that this building, an engineering marvel of the Soviet period, having failed to find its place in a post-Soviet world, is doomed to go the same way as the regime that built it.

by Darmon Richter

[adapted with permission from an article at Ex Utopia]

Sources: Smena Magazine (1974) Issue No.19 Khabarovsk Polytechnic Institute (1979) Reinforced Concrete Space Structures (lecture notes, p.24-26), M. P. Danilovsky Hmarochos (2018) Why are Storage Facilities for Faulty Kyivpastrans Buses Being Set Up in Kyiv? Kiev Vlast (2019) Kyiv City Council Decided to Solve the Riddle of Bus Depot №7

#architecture #foma

456 notes · View notes

kvetchlandia · 3 years ago

Text

I Haven’t...

regaled all of you folks with a rant in a while. Well, here comes one. You’ve been warned.

Those of you innocents who don’t live in the United States might very fortunately never have encountered a horrid creature called Marjorie Taylor Greene. Consider yourselves lucky. We in the US have had to deal with her almost constantly for the past 18 months, much to the dismay of at least some of us. She first entered public view for most of us back in late 2018, when she stated that the wildfires then devastating California, a product of global climate change, were actually caused by top secret space lasers controlled by the Rothschilds, who wanted to burn down California for reasons she didn’t make clear since it was enough just to invoke the name of a Jewish banking family in order to cause her reactionary, racist and anti-Semitic posse in Trumpworld to shudder and gasp Well, today she came up with another doozy. She was whining about the power of Nancy Peolsi and what she thinks of as the persecution of poor Donald Trump and his minions who attempted a fascistic putsch against the government on Jan 6 of last year. In Taylor Greene’s shpiel, she made reference to Pelosi and, I kid you not, her “gazpacho police!” Seriously. These are Taylor Greene’s actual words:

“Not only do we have the D.C. jail, which is the D.C. Gulag, but now we have Nancy Pelosi’s gazpacho police, spying on members of Congress, spying on the legislative work that we do, spying on our staff and spying on American citizens who want to come talk to their representatives.”

Lest you want to give her a pass, thinking she was perhaps the victim of an autocorrect run wild, which has probably happened to most of us, kindly remember that Marjorie Taylor Greene is a semi-literate buffoon and because of that, she didn’t actually write those words. They’re a transcription of comments she made on a right wing propaganda television outlet, and here’s the link to her complete comments, should you want to torture yourself by viewing them:

https://www.thedailybeast.com/marjorie-taylor-greene-rants-to-oan-about-nancy-pelosis-gazpacho-police?fbclid=IwAR0vHG0rqssXufdkxWnHaTk4H0m2RT3BpgPJBrSWlV7-jEr9dubmeth3xAU

So, we in the US are dealing with a drooling knuckle-walker, a hairy-palmed moron, a cretinous mouth-breather who is actually an elected member of our government, a woman whose place in that government gives her a role in the writing of laws that will effect the lives of tens of millions of people and who doesn’t know the difference between a chilled Spanish tomato soup and the murderous members of the nazi gestapo. Marjorie Taylor Greene is a member of the House of Represents from Georgia. Among her Trump-worshipping colleagues are the child-molester Matt Gaetz, a Representative from Florida; Jim Jordan, a member of the House from Ohio who previously worked as an assistant wrestling coach at Ohio State University and who covered up the sexual abuse of 8 members of his team by their coach; Madison Cawthorn, a nut job Representative from North Carolina who is one of the fanatics who worked up the putschist Jan 6 crowd from the podium, and too many others to waste my time naming. Oh, and it’s almost a forgone conclusion that His Wannabe Imperial Highness, Generalissimo, Field Marshall and Smartest Person Ever Born, Pussy Grabber Donald Trump I, will run for president again and could very possibly be elected. We in this country are so screwed...and sadly, on account of the position of the United States in the world, so are all the rest of you who don’t live here.

OK, rant is completed. After that, I really don’t have much desire to post any photos. I’ll probably get back to that tomorrow. For those of you who actually read my rant, thanks for indulging me.

38 notes · View notes

headheartbellarke · 4 years ago

Text

I Wish You Would | CHARLIE GILLESPIE

Requested by anon: “hello🌼 could u please write a charlie x reader imagine when he posts a picture on his instagram story with a girl to makes his crush jealous, but she end up distancing herself from him bc she's hurt and respect what she thinks is his relationship” PAIRING(s): Charlie Gillespie x fem!reader WORDS: 2,445 WARNING(s): angst w a happy ending, some language SUMMARY: “I wish you knew that I'd never forget you as long as I'd live."

A/N: hi, everyone!! really, really sorry that this took so long. haven’t had the best march tbh, and writer’s block is a bitch. && this isn’t very good, either, but i had to get something done. love u <3

TEN HOURS EARLIER

“And… post!” Charlie taps his phone, grinning brightly.

Owen cheers from behind him, his voice meshing into the humdrum of the bar they’re currently at. “I’m so proud of you!”

His friend laughs, spinning around in the bar stool to face him. “She’ll finally understand what it feels like!”

Owen nods frantically, taking another sip of the drink in his hand.

Charlie copies his movement – a part of him knows that he is absolutely hammered, but the bigger part of him doesn’t care. He’s had a long day, and he deserves this.

Besides, how else would he and his best friend have thought of this wonderful plan if they didn’t have a billion drinks in their system?

PRESENT

A knock on the door pulls Y/N from her thoughts. “Come in!” She yells, but her voice comes out feeble and hoarse, probably from all the crying she’s been doing for the past hour.

As the door swings open, her best friend, Savannah, pokes her head in. “Hey, babe. You all right?”

Y/N sniffs. “M’fine.”

Savannah enters the room, closing the door softly behind her. She walks to the window, opening the curtains, and Y/N groans when light floods into the previously dark room.

She sits on the bed beside Y/N, and Y/N rests her head on her shoulder as she pulls the covers up to cover their bodies.

“I’m sure that they’re not dating.” Savannah says, wrapping an arm around her best friend.

Y/N chuckles sadly. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better, Sav. I mean, in the photo, he was kissing her cheek. Literally. And he put a heart between them.”

Savannah sighs. “That’s so not Charlie, you know… kissing random girls in bars and posting pictures with them.”

“Yeah, that’s so not Charlie, because she’s not a random girl. Her name’s Francesca and she went to high school with him, so, technically, she’s known him longer, and probably better than me.”

“I – I had no idea.”

“Yeah.”

“Y/N, babe, just tell him about how you feel. I’m sure that he likes you too.”

“If he liked me, then he wouldn’t be kissing Francesca!”

Y/N exhales, as Savannah gulps, not knowing what to respond. “Y/N, I – I swear, he’s crazy about you. I don’t know what happened between last Friday and today, but I swear – the Charlie that I know – has eyes for no one but you.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, feeling a pang in her heart at Savannah’s words. “Savannah, we kissed and then he ghosted me for a day and now he’s posting pictures of him kissing another girl! I think he has eyes for everyone!”

Savannah bites her lower lip, not knowing what to respond, again. Her best friend feels tears prick at the back of her eyes when she says, “Maybe I’m a bad kisser.”

Savannah’s eyes widen, and she sits up, straight. “No. No. Babe, no. Don’t say that, ever. You’re a great kisser, okay! You’re an amazing kisser. Your lips are fine as hell, believe me. He’s the one with crusty ass lips. They’re not even lips, they look like… like… peanuts.”

Y/N stares at her best friend for a moment, before saying, “Peanuts, Sav? Really?”

“It’s the first thing that came into my mind!” She says defensively, before the girls break into a fit of laughter.

“I’m never talking to him again, ever.” Y/N says after they’ve calmed down. “I’m never even gonna look in his direction. Fucking asshole.”

Charlie sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. It’s eight in the morning, and he’s normally a morning person – he loves the mornings, the peace, the quiet, and the feeling that comes along with it more than anything, but right now, he just feels… sad.

On regular days, he would be talking to his best friend, Y/N, about everything that’s on his mind. But today’s different.

Last Friday, Y/N kissed him, and long story sort, it was the best thing that’s ever happened to him. After work that day, they went to get some food at a drive through, like they usually do. All throughout the ride, they made plans to go hiking once the production for season two finishes. She drove the car to a lookout, and oh, god, it was so pretty. The midnight sky was littered with stars, and since they were at the edge of town, there was less pollution, and they could see bits of the galaxy, too.

But, for some reason, the girl next to him seemed more beautiful than anything he’s ever seen, and after they finished eating, he just sat and stared at her talk about the last book that she’d read, for a while. He knows that it was terrible that he wasn’t listening – but how could he pay attention to anything when she looked like that, especially with passion illuminating her face like times square on New Year’s Eve?

She had looked at him as if he’d just grown a third head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Li – like what?” He’d asked, embarrassed to be blatantly caught.

“Like that…” She’d said and kissed him, and it felt like he was seeing colour for the first time. Although, the next day, everything turned to shit.

Now, it’s Monday, and she’s nowhere to be seen. He desperately wants to know if his and Owen’s plan actually worked (no reason that it wouldn’t), and he feels so impatient right now, and he misses her. Also, his massive hangover isn’t helping, either.

He hears his name being called, and sees Kenny smiling at him.

“Hey, so we’re gonna do a different scene today, since Y/N and Savannah are out, is that okay with you?”

His heart races. “What happened to them?”

“Y/N’s sick, and Savannah’s taking care of her.”

“Oh. Yeah, it’s okay with me.” He says, feeling his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach.

“This is the last time I’m asking you this…” Y/N sings, wiping her nose with the sleeve of her sweater.

“Put my name at the top of your list!” Savannah sings, using Y/N’s straightener as a mic.

“This is the last time I’m asking you why!” Madison joins.

“You break my heart in the blink of an eye, eye, eye!” Jadah sings, jumping on the bed.

As the second verse comes on, the girls sit on Y/N’s bed, huddled close to each other.

“You know, I’m feeling better now than I did when I woke up.” Y/N says, resting her chin on her knees.

“Taylor Swift can fix anything.” Madison says, leaning her head on Y/N’s shoulder.

She nods. “And y’all. Thanks for being here.”

Jadah grins, wrapping an arm around her. “We couldn’t let you have a pity party all alone!”

Savannah laughs. “I’m gonna kill him, I swear.”

“As relieving as that would be, don’t. I’ve decided what I should do.”

Madison quirks a brow. “You’re gonna kill him yourself?”

“Madi! No. I’m gonna distance myself.”

Savannah tilts her head. “I think that maybe you two should talk it out.”

“I don’t think so. I need space, time to figure it out. My head feels like a mess. And I respect him and Francesca, and I’m not gonna dip my toes between them.”

The other girls solemnly nod their head.

“You do realize that that’s not actually the saying?” Jadah says, after a while.

“Don’t embarrass me, kid.”

Charlie exhales, watching his breath crystallize to tiny ice particles in front of him. Even though, he’s a Canadian, he still feels cold. Although maybe it’s not due to the weather, but due to the coldness in Y/N’s eyes.

He watches her chat with Jeremy a few feet away, both of them discussing something that is out of bounds to him. He knows that it’s probably decisions regarding their characters, considering Y/N’s character is Jeremy’s character, Reggie’s love interest, but a part of him feels like it’s shit about him.

He has no reason to feel that way, of course. He hasn’t spoken to Y/N in four days, and this morning, when he saw her after for what feels to be eternity, he was blatantly ignored. He had only watched helplessly as Y/N exited the room the moment he entered and had sunk into his chair feeling like absolute shit, especially with everyone’s pitiful stares.

Charlie’s mind keeps replaying each moment, torturing over every tiny detail, wondering what he did wrong.

And that’s when it hits him: she really doesn’t want him anymore.

Last Saturday, he had hopelessly watched her with her long-term boyfriend of god-knows-how-long – he had come to surprise her on set, and it was Charlie that was more surprised. Because he thought that they were over, for good. And it wasn’t like they seemed like they weren’t dating. They were acting just like they used to when they were dating, and he was too close to her for his comfort. They still laughed the same, joked around the same, and were just as inseparable as they used to be.

A question kept rising in Charlie’s mind, like an icicle to his heart: why would she kiss him when she already had someone else? Why would she give him hope, and then take it all away? Why would she dangle his hurt in front of him?

So, he decided to give her a taste of her own medicine, and posted a picture with Francesca, his high school friend, who he had run into that night.

Owen sinks into the chair beside Charlie. “You okay?”

“I’m starting to believe that our plan didn’t work.”

“Hey, uh, Y/N?”

The girl in question hears Charlie’s voice, and turns around, avoiding looking into his eyes.

“Can we talk?” He says, and for a moment, her defences are down again. He looks so… tired, almost like he’s going through the same things that she is. Almost like there’s an explanation as to why he broke her heart, why he ruined something that had the potential to be extraordinary, why he made her feel so bad about herself.

And she almost believes it, too. Like the fool she is.

She presses her lips into a thin line, and says, “Nothing to talk about.”

As Charlie opens his mouth to protest, she smiles and walks away.

“Okay, Charlie, you two need to talk it out. This is too much. Both of you are obviously hurting, and there’s obviously some serious miscommunication here.”

Charlie shakes his head at Savannah’s words. “She hates me.”

“No. She could never hate you.” She says, thrusting her phone in Charlie’s face. His eyes squint to read the text on the screen – from Y/N.

Sorry – forgot to leave a note. Drove down to Dad’s, gonna stay here for a while. It’s too painful – honestly, you know what? I’m still very, very, very mad at him. But I’m also missing him very, very, very much. So, I need to flush it out. Flush him out. He might be a jerk, but he’s still one of the best people that I’ve ever met. Love you, okay? Will return when the time is right.

Charlie’s eyes widen, and he stares at Savannah’s face for a while. “There – there is still hope!”

She nods frantically. “You should call her –”

“I’m gonna drive down to her dad’s house, too!”

“That works, too.”

A frantic knock on the front door pulls Y/N from her thoughts. She stops typing on her keyboard, and flips the lid shut, keeping it on the dining table in front of her.

She runs to her dad’s door, knowing that it’s him, back from his shopping. She opens the door, saying, “Let me take those for – Charlie?!”

Y/N’s heart swells at his sight as he grins sheepishly.

“So, there’s been some misunderstandings… can I come in?” He asks, and Y/N pauses, considering.

He sighs, and adds, “Please?”

She stares at him.

He juts his bottom lip out. “Pretty please?”

“Fine, come in.”

He closes the door behind him, wordlessly following Y/N, who feels like she might hurl right now. They sit on the couch, and it’s really, really awkward for a few seconds.

Y/N sighs. “You said you –”

“Yes. Yes, yeah. OK, so – I, uh, I –”

She couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Why would you do that to me? Do I really mean that little to you?”

“I could say the same about you!”

“Really?”

“Yes! I saw you with Shahid that day, I know that you two are back together –”

“Shahid?!”

“Yes!”

She stares at him, baffled.

“So…so… Francesca….”

“I only posted the picture to make you jealous! She asked me if I wanted to go out with her and the rest of my high school friends, and of course I went, and she saw that I was being a little… unsocial. So, I told her about how the girl that I’m completely crazy about has a boyfriend! And a long term one at that, too! And then Owen came up with a brilliant plan, and I guess you know what it was. Now, I’m realizing that it might not have worked.”

She stares at him for a moment, before she bursts out laughing. Charlie throws her a confused look.

“You – you thought that Shahid – Shahid, my best friend since we were in nappies, Shahid who is married to this amazing man, and at whose wedding I was the maid of honour – you thought that I was dating him?”

“He’s gay?!”

“Bisexual. Oh my god, I have to tell him. This is hilarious.”

Charlie bites the corner of his lower lip, feeling his cheeks heat up. “This is really embarrassing. But you two act like you’re dating!”

“No, we don’t. You’re just being insecure and jealous. I’ve known him forever, and yes, I am the most comfortable around him. Because he’s my family. He’s my brother. Oh, god, I can’t believe that you were jealous of him – wait, have you thought that we were dating this whole time?”

“Kind of. I thought you guys broke up when he didn’t visit you on set during the first two months of production.”

“He was helping feed kids in Somali.”

“Oh. Oh. God, I feel so –”

“Dumb? That’s because you are.”

He grins sheepishly, his cheeks crimson.

Y/N smiles. “But I forgive you. And I wouldn’t mind if you took me on a proper date this time.”

“Deal. Also, promise that we’ll always talk it out before… you know… doing anything?”

She laughs, and nods. He wraps his pinkie finger around hers.

“Well, Owen’s plan did kind of work, though.”

279 notes · View notes

youarejesting · 4 years ago

Text

Hope in the sheets.7

[Masterlist]

Beta: N/A Pairing: Hoseok x Reader Genre: Friendship, Comedy, Soft boy, Fluff, SMUT, Friends2Lovers, Words: 4.4k

Summary: You held many titles: his neighbor, colleague, wing-man… well, more likely a wing-woman, yet most importantly, you were his best friend. You had been friends since you were born. Between the two of you, you were younger; barely, but he never let you forget it. He always seemed to ruffle your hair and tease you, which could get rather annoying but he made up for it by treating you to things.

What if a drunken one night stand between you and your best friend Hoseok leads to more complicated situations? Your reckless twenties are cut short as you find yourself suddenly responsible for something a little more.

Warning: mentions a sex tape, mentions a birth tape

[First] [Previous] [Masterlist] [Next]

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” This videotape felt dirty, Hoseok wasn’t sure why, but he was sweaty, his heart raced, as he tried to look anywhere but at the screen. The woman on the video kept making noises and heaven forbid he look between her legs. Was it warm in here or was it just him?

“As you can see the birth canal opens up wide to let the babies head come down and out and the shoulder here is the widest part, so you have to be careful to listen to your body otherwise you may tear, so here we go these are the final pushes and then the baby will slip out—”

“Hoseok, Hoseok wake up!” You called alarmed, Hoseok opened his eyes to see you and the birth class instructor standing over him.

“Don’t worry love, there is always one in every class who faints” The woman handed over some ice, “Put this behind his neck it will help slow his heart rate, nerves sometimes get the better of the soon to be dads”

Sitting up Hoseok sat up a little embarrassed, “sorry, I didn’t mean to faint”

“No, Hobi, it’s okay I feel nauseous as hell after that video too. That looks scary as hell I don’t think I can do it” you whined. “This class traumatized me more than it helped, and what do we get a couple of cookies and some watered down juice.

“You are so strong and I think you can do it?” Hoseok tried to reassure you and you scoffed.

“If you're so confident you push the baby out.” Hoseok paled again swaying on the spot and you laid him back down. “You are properly scared aren’t you?”

“I am horrified,” he laughed, “I am a big chicken”

“Honestly, I am scared too but I don’t get a choice Hobi, this baby is inside me and it has to get out somehow." you shiver after confessing the fear that had been building in the back of your mind. “If I wasn’t afraid of surgery I would install the old side door”

The gesture of a flat hand across your stomach made Hoseok smile sadly. He took your hands in his.

“I’m sorry that you have been dreading this. I will try to be someone who can eliminate your fears, little darling momma” he kissed your head. The instructor called everyone back to the mats and began explaining how to wash a baby and how to hold a baby for the first time.

It was a fun class but you were happy to get home and rest, biding Hoseok good night. He went quickly to his house where Jimin was sitting waiting for him with a hanging clothes bag.

“What were you so busy doing that I had to pick up your dry cleaning?”

“Y/n’s birthing class” Hoseok's face turned grave as he adopted a serious tone. “Jimin, don’t ever go to a birthing class. I don’t think I can unsee what I saw.”

“Haha, I’m not that silly, I know where babies come from. I am glad I am a man who likes men, so I will never step foot in a birthing class unless you pay me a large fortune. I mean I could watch someone give birth for money."

Hoseok shivered, making Jimin laugh at his expense. “You look pale, so let's change the subject. I bought Yoongi's old van. He sold it for some new equipment. That means I can get rid of the junk van I was driving before.”

“Can I have your old van?” Hoseok jumped on the opportunity.

“Uh sure, but I think it’s more money than it’s worth, you can have it for free because it needs new everything.” He shrugged “I was just going to make it scrapped metal”

“Yeah I can fix it up, I got some money lying around.” Hoseok yawned, “anyway thank you so much for getting my suit. I have my first day of work tomorrow, so I should go to bed early”

“Alright, but tomorrow night celebratory drinks for your first day?” Jimin clutched his shoulder.

“Of course,” Hoseok laughed, waving goodbye and carrying the suit to his apartment.

“Hey man, how was your day?” Jimin shouted from his newly acquired van from Yoongi. “Get in, we can celebrate tonight”

Jimin drove Hoseok home under strict orders to grab a nice change of clothes so the two could get ready at his house and go out celebrating Hoseok’s new job. Hoseok took the stairs two at a time leading to his apartment, his hand brushing past your old door. He missed you. He missed having you at his work, at his home, at his leisure. You two were inseparable and yet torn apart by the stages of life.

Hoseok had assumed you both would be single and somewhere in your mid-thirties you would just get married to one another for convenience. He grabbed some clothes and found the blacklight outfit you had bought for him, he pushed it aside trying to move on for just a moment.

Instead, he grabbed a classic black button-up and a pair of black dress pants. He placed the items in a bag and headed back down to Jimin waiting excitedly in the driver's seat. He drove them across town singing along to the radio and pulled into the driveway of a beautiful home. Jimin was a sugar baby and so he accumulated a lot of money with ease.

Jimin picked up the package by his doorstep curiously and read the name, his face broke out into a smile. Opening the box he found a beautiful pair of earrings. Hoseok paused, knowing Jimin had been talking about these types of earrings for a long time, but these ones looked handmade and a little cheap, not from a brand-name store like most of Jimin’s other clients would buy.

“They are so cute,” Jimin smiled, lifting the note, reading it aloud. “I don’t have money, so I don’t ask for much, it would just be a waste of your time. Even with this, I still want you to know that I think you are really sweet the way you always help others and never forget to share compliments to those who catch your eye. I will never forget how kind and funny, you are especially at work. The way you run your fingers through your hair unconsciously, how you pout when you think, the way you can glide across the dance floor with drinks without spilling anything. You disappear behind the bar with the cutest laugh and I am completely in love with you.”

“You have an admirer,” Hoseok looked over his shoulder at the letter before asking, “I wonder who it is?”

“I am not sure who it could be?” Jimin frowned, taking the box into a spare room filled with gifts. “They seem really nice”

Once the letter was placed carefully in the room, Jimin stepped out and decided to get dressed for the night. He paused in the doorway walking back and taking the earrings. “Even though they are cheap I think I should at least wear them.”

The two got changed and Jimin posed, “take a picture of me looking over my shoulder, so I can post a picture of the earrings on my Insta”

Hoseok picked up his phone and stepped behind Jimin, ready to take the picture of Jimin’s bare shoulder, earring, and side profile. He stopped when his phone came up with the stupid storage message.

Storage full!

You can free up space on this phone by managing your storage in settings.

“I can’t take a picture,” Hoseok sighed. “My phone storage is full”

“It’s okay, I should put on a bit of makeup to make the picture really pretty. While I do that, use my computer to plug it in and delete stuff. You can save the rest onto a USB, which you will find in the top draw. The USBs should be empty.

Hoseok watched Jimin stroll into the bathroom and thought he might as well take care of this storage issue on the phone. Plugging the device in, Hoseok began going through and deleting memes and stupid screenshots he no longer needed. He went through saving many photos of you, and videos the two of you shared together.

That's when he came across the picture of the two of you dressed in your black light outfits. Both of you looking happy together in the mirror. Hoseok saved the photo to the USB. The next was a blurry picture on the dance floor, he didn’t need that.

Deleting a range of blurred photos, Hoseok kept swiping through them until he came across a video of you and Hoseok walking home. He heard you giggling and unconsciously smiled. He honestly was so in love with you.

There were a few more blurred videos and then there was a video of you two laying in Hoseok’s bed. His heart started to race as he watched you lean down and kiss him in the video. Hoseok couldn’t remember any of this.

The next video was of you removing your dress but it continued, sometimes the phone was just left on the bed face down, at other points, it was lifted and Hoseok heard himself talking as he pointed the camera at you underneath him. “I love you.” He had filmed you while you two were having sex, “I love being inside of you too.”

Hoseok felt a little guilty, while you two were drunk he took a video of you both, not only that but he felt as if he took advantage of you. The next video was taken from behind and Hoseok felt ashamed of himself for the stirring in his pants.

“Are you watching porn?” Jimin laughed from the next room, confused as Hoseok switched to the next video. The two of you were cuddling on your side, Hoseok being the big spoon.

Hoseok's face fell. What had he just watched? His head was reeling with so many thoughts that he couldn’t process them fast enough. He understood that it was you in the video, and you were with him. It was that night. Were you his dream girl? “I slept with Y/n?” He blurted and like being hit with a truck he came to a shocking revelation. Hoseok shot to his feet and spoke out loud hoping it would help him make sense of the situation, “Am I, I think, I might be the father?”

“Oh, Finally!” Jimin shouted, his voice carrying into the office. “I have been waiting for you to figure it all out”

“What do you mean?” Hoseok said his stomach was feeling sick, he didn’t know if he wanted to vomit or cry. The betrayal setting in, “How did you know? DID SHE KNOW?”

Jimin stepped into the room, his lips pressed together in a thin line, with a look of pity on his face confirming Hoseok's suspicion. Hoseok got up, his eyes flashing around the room in a panic. He pushed past Jimin and grabbed the old set of keys from the countertop. Hoseok escaped and drove fast. He didn’t have a destination in mind but after a few minutes of driving he ended up at a park by Han River.

Shutting off the engine, Hoseok let his hands fall from the wheel, his head resting back against the seat, letting out a loud guttural shout. He let the tears fall freely as his sobs racked his body, every breath catching in his throat as if he was choking.

Hoseok wanted to scream, he wanted answers. They all knew. You knew. He thought he was your best friend, someone he trusted with all his secrets, and yet you kept something this big from him. The sick feeling in his stomach grew as did his anger and frustration with the situation.

How long were you going to keep this from him? When the baby was born? When the child was eighteen? Never? He had a right to know but all he wanted to know was why.

He left the vehicle, his phone ringing with your number but he turned it off. He walked to the nearest bar somewhere dark and quiet and he drank until he couldn’t see his hands.

“Hey mate you have to go, come on get up.” The bartender said, nudging him with an exaggerated sigh, “Mate can I call someone to come get you?”

“No one, my best friend is a liar, she is pregnant and didn’t even tell me it is my child,” Hoseok mumbled into the table. The bartender sighed again reaching into his pocket, “Who do you want me to call mate?”

“No need to call, I will go,” he said, pulling out his keys only to have them snatched from his hand. Hoseok turned to see Yoongi grabbing Hoseok’s things and thanking the bartender. “What do you want?”

“I got a distressed call from Y/n she is hysterical, I have checked in every bar and searched the nearby streets for Jimin’s old van. Yoongi threw the keys to Jimin who was waiting by the abandoned van and Yoongi scooped Hoseok inside.

Hoseok woke as Yoongi turned the key in the ignition they were headed for his home, but Hoseok had other plans. “You knew didn’t you?” Hoseok growled, “Take me to her."

“Not in this state?” Yoongi said definitely. “You are going to sober up, and then tomorrow you can speak with her.”

“You take me there right now, or I will get out of this car and go there myself!” Hoseok demanded, attempting to remove his seatbelt.

“Alright, alright sit down, I will take you to see her, but if you raise your voice at her I will knock you out and drag you back to your apartment." Yoongi turned to Hoseok with a menacing glare. "Do you understand?”

He nodded needing answers and he wasn't going to stop until you gave them to him. They pulled up outside your home and as he walked to the door he felt as if his legs were weak, ready to give way. He knocked with shaking hands.

He didn’t have to wait long for you to pull open the door eyes pink and swollen from your own tears.

"Hobi, I-"

"Please don’t talk, you had your chance. This whole time, and you didn’t… You didn’t tell me, little darling.” His voice cracked as he held up a hand to stop you, “it’s my turn to talk, you can listen to me.”

He watched you wipe the tears away, he wanted to comfort you, you were his closest friend. He loved you so much and couldn’t bear to see you upset. “You knew we had sex, you knew what we did and you hid that from me, you fell pregnant and you hid that from me?”

“I told you when I lost my virginity, I told you when I scratched my dad’s car, I told you when I took money from my fathers wallet, or when I stole your homework. I told you when I was moving from home, I told you everything good and bad.” Hoseok pulled out the phone and played the video, the sounds of you two together filling the air. “But you couldn’t tell me, your best friend, that we did this? That I might be the father of this baby?”

“Hobi, I wanted to tell you I was-” Your tears were relentless and it looked like the weight of the world was crushing you with guilt. You looked lost, he knew there must be so much you wanted to say and explain but the words escaped you. All you could think to do was apologize, like some sort of animatronic doll with one function.

“Wanted to tell me isn’t telling me,” he frowned. “Say it, is this baby mine?”

“Yes, you are the father?” You whimpered, holding your stomach. Hoseok didn’t feel better. He didn’t feel better confronting you or getting the truth. He didn’t feel better watching you cry. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. You are all I have Hobi, and I love you.”

“I thought I loved you too. I thought I really truly loved you, that even though I wasn’t the father, I would step in if I could. It turns out the woman I fell in love with is nothing but a liar.” Hoseok turned away unable to see your face contort in pain from the words he was saying, “I am disappointed in you. You said you wanted to grow up, but this is so immature”

Demanding to leave, Yoongi took Hoseok and headed to the van once more, hoping that the two of you could rebuild your relationship. It was painfully obvious that you both were painfully in love, so much so, that it was breaking your hearts more to fight with one another, than over whatever the fight was about.

You had spent the rest of the night crying until pure exhaustion took over your body and you fell asleep. No matter how many times you texted or called you got no response. You had left almost fifteen voicemails before you became too hysterical to speak. You were emotional and trying your hardest not to break down long enough for you to think things through.

It took four days and sitting in the bottom of the shower for ten minutes before you came to a decision. Even before Hoseok knew he was the father, you had planned to do it on your own. You weren't weak and you knew for certain that you would be okay. You had planned to raise this child as a single mother, you had hoped to tell Hoseok before all this happened, but you had planned for it just in case something like this did happen.

You could do this without Hoseok, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt, that you weren't mourning the relationship you had lost. You picked yourself up and put on a brave face crying only when you were alone as you single-handedly funded Ben and Jerry's company with the amount of ice cream you consumed.

You arrived at the next prenatal appointment. You watched all the couples cooing at their bellies and the little sonogram photos, as you sat alone quietly rubbing your belly and thinking how much you loved this child.

It strengthened your bond between you and your baby. You were working hard at your job, not ready to go on maternity leave as you didn’t know how financially stable you would be. You also worried because, without the distractions of work, you realized how alone you truly were and how much you missed Hoseok.

You wanted nothing more than to go back in time and take it all back. You wanted to get the courage and tell him. You would give anything to wake up beside him the morning after and just let yourselves deal with the aftermath.

Your mother's words echoed in your head, only able to be drowned out by the sound of your baby's heartbeat through the doppler, as the ultrasound technician measured your sweet little baby girl.

She had done no wrong and deserved only good things. It was on your way home from the scan that you decided to enter the baby boutique. You knew you were filling a Hoseok shaped void in your chest but you didn’t care, purchasing clothes, socks and shoes, and a tiny beanie all in mint green, white, or grey. At the checkout, you saw a small personal travel doppler for eighty dollars. It wasn’t as strong or as reliable as the one at the clinic but you bought it anyway.

It was the first thing you did when you got home, you put the gel on your stomach and pressed the doppler to your tummy, and listened to the tiny heartbeat and the swishing of the umbilical cord. The tears didn’t stop and that heartbeat in your belly was the mantra to which you swore to live your new life.

You were no longer living for yourself, you were living for your daughter, whom you loved so dearly. You stopped looking for Hoseok through the seventh and moved into the eighth month of your pregnancy feeling semi-okay.

Called by the marketing director to meet with the client, you followed him with documents, “Why did you pick me?” you asked

“You are the only one fit for this job,” He said, which made you feel odd, surely the pregnant lady wasn’t the first choice. However, you obeyed his orders, grabbed your coat, and followed to the restaurant where you were met with an unbelievable sight.

There was Hoseok standing by a beautiful woman dressed in a suit. Not only was it a punch to the chest, but it also left you self-conscious, resembling a chocolate egg. The way your body was so rotund did not do wonders for one's self-esteem.

Hoseok didn’t notice you until you stepped up to the table, your director announcing your arrival and greeting the young woman with a kiss on each cheek. “This is my hardest working assistant Miss Y/n,” The director said and you wondered again why he had chosen you to accompany him to the meeting.

“Well let’s get to business” the client smiled. You sat at the table and they brought out menus. “I will have the salmon en papillote, with a nice chardonnay.”

“I will have the same,” the marketing director said, attempting to look cool but you weren’t so sure.

“We will have the Steak au Poivre, I will take medium rare and she will have hers well done. What is in the side salad?” Hoseok asked and you looked up over the menu shocked by his audacity.

“We use a mesclun mix for its various colors and textures, with Lebanese cucumbers and avocado for a fresh and creamy taste and a drizzle of classic french vinaigrette” the waiter smiled politely.

“Skip the salads and instead vegetables would be preferable for both.” Hoseok closed the menu and looked up, the waiter looked at you for confirmation and you nodded handing over the menu.

“Have you two met before?” The client asked curiously and Hoseok shook his head, “It’s just you ordered for her?”

“She is pregnant so the best meat option is beef well cooked, and the salad would most likely make her sick due to the acidity in the vinaigrette.” Hoseok continued, “the vegetables, though plain, will be easier to handle and will benefit her better than a salad. It is something I learned in a birthing class once”

“Yeah, and you haven’t been back since.” You scoffed, drinking your water trying to calm yourself so you didn’t explode with anger.

“I didn’t think I had to, seeing as I am not the father of any children.” He said dryly back and you stood up throwing the napkin at him, tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t care if he didn’t like you and refused to acknowledge your presence ever again, but saying that about your child was not okay.

“You take that back, Hoseok." You almost shouted but restrained yourself due to the setting, Hoseok didn’t appear to move and you tilted your head back and took a shaky breath. “I am sorry, it seems I am feeling ill, allow me to leave first”

You stepped out the door and headed down the road trying to find a cab when a hand grabbed your arm. Disappointed when it turned out to be the marketing director. “I rescheduled our meeting, I am sorry, you had to deal with something like this, it must be stressful being so pregnant”

He touched your belly and you were a little uncomfortable. This man was a little too interested in your pregnancy. At first, you thought he was just a nice boss who was looking out for you, but it was clear he had some strange thoughts running through his mind.

When he said he would drive you home, you told him you had an appointment. Even then he was determined to take you to the appointment, but you waved down a cab and jumped in quickly. You arrived at Jin and Tonic for a much-needed appointment.

“I want a drink” you sighed and Seokjin gave you water and you looked up seriously. I want an actual drink Jin, I am going through the worst year of my life.”

“Worse than the time you tried to become a volunteer at a homeless center, where some weird lady cut chunks out of your hair, so you had to shave it off?"

"Then you got into a fight with Hoseok because he drew an arrow on your head while you were sleeping and everyone called you Aang,” Jimin added as he shed his small jacket, showing off a pretty choker chain necklace with a rose pendant. “Cause you said that was the worst year of your life.”

“This is worse,” you said. “At least I was the one angry at Hobi and I forgave him quickly, now he is angry at me and even denied being the father of our baby. That’s not even the worst of it. My boss has some sort of pregnancy fetish and keeps trying to touch my belly and I am not here for it”

“Pregnancy fetish?”

“It’s not sexy, I am swollen from the neck down, I couldn’t see my feet this morning. I just hope I wore the same shoes. My bladder is so squished I am peeing all the time, I am hormonal and sweaty, and I can’t fit into my favorite pajamas.” The hysterical sobbing was muffled by the bar and it made Jimin giggle behind his hand. He walked around to give you a hug and Jin presented you with an ice cream sundae in an effort to cheer you up.

“Dance with me, pretty lady,” Yoongi said, finishing his drink and taking your hand. He led you to the dance floor where you were slow dancing like you used to. “You are still as pretty as always. Okay, you may not feel beautiful right now due to all those things, but I promise that you are.”

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You tried to get close enough to hug Yoongi but your belly prevented you from doing so, he stepped behind you and wrapped his arms around you slipping his hands under your belly and swaying. He was trying to take some of the weight to relieve some pressure on your back. “You are amazing,”

“I am, aren't I.” He laughed, swaying you softly.

Tags: @brbkpop @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d @munchyn @unadulteratedlyunique @jinhitwhore @knjkitten @jooniesdimples70307 @the-snowbear25 @kb-bangtanenthusiast @moments-of-melancholy @levantelux @theadorkablezaza @crustycaitlin @verasays @usagiserenity530 @carmxx (Please remember to have your tag settings on so you can recieve notifications about updates)

How can I save this to receive and read updates?

‘Follow’ and turn on ‘Notifications’ so you never miss an update

Add your name to a ‘Tag’ list [HERE]

‘Reblog’ this post with the hashtag #J-HITS (J-Hope in the sheets)

Or you can ‘Like’ this post (but good luck trying to find it a week later, we both know how many things you like a day, perhaps we will meet again in the future.)

156 notes · View notes

shuahoonie · 4 years ago

Text

holidays with tom [tom holland]

PAIRING: tom holland x female!reader

SUMMARY: life isn’t exactly back to normal. with another lockdown in place and the holiday season is vastly approaching, you and tom are stuck in quarantine with each other the problem? there was supposed to be at least 5 of you in that house and tom is the last person you want to be with. shouldn’t be too bad right?

WARNINGS: in no particular order swearing—err foul language lmao, sexual innuendos, things get heated but not that much??? exuding sexual tension but also fluff??? alcohol consumption, a series of bad decisions??? idk writing this made me experience the 5 stages of grief tbh lmao it’s not that bad I promise lmao

WORD COUNT: 6.9k!

A/N: hello and happy new year! I was supposed to post this during Christmas Day but guess who got into a writing rut—yet again. I didn’t want to abandon this because I actually had fun writing it. I hope you all had a festive and safe holiday. I know things have been hard but I still hope you guys enjoyed the holiday.

2020 has finally came to an end and we’re all ending it the same way when the pandemic started—staying at home, hopefully following the appropriate health measures. I can only hope that 2021 is a brighter and hopeful year for all of us.

stay safe, sending u all my love.

gif credits: @underoos-shield

vanessa’s masterlist | taglist form

Two hours. It’s been two hours since you found out that you were going to spend your holidays alone. You were aware that you weren’t going to spend your holidays with your family as you normally would, embracing the fact that working in a different country whilst in the middle of a pandemic was going to be challenging.

Working in the film industry, constantly visiting sets while still living in a pandemic means that you threw away your chances of being home for the holidays. However, you weren’t entirely the only one who shares a similar struggle.

“We should still do something for Christmas, you know,” Tom muttered as he watched you lay down on the sofa, your head is supported by the armrest.

See—it should’ve been you, Ophelia, Alex, William, and Tom in that AirBnB, not just you and Tom.

The five of you reside abroad, however, you all had to fly to Los Angeles for work. You all collectively knew that it would be irresponsible to fly home for the holidays and it wouldn’t make any sense as you would all fly back for work anyway.

The five of you had a brilliant idea of renting an AirBnB for the holidays since you were all in each other’s personal and work bubble anyway. Obviously, the three of them bailed as they’ve decided to stay with their partners instead, leaving you and Tom alone—which is the last thing you’ve wanted.

“There’s just us two, Tom,” You replied as you sent a lengthy text to Ophelia, telling and reminding them about what happened between you and Tom. “I’m not entirely sure if it’s worth anything if we did plan on doing something remotely festive.”

There are four more days till Christmas and if you were being honest, the last time you felt festive was on the 18th of December...of 2019.

“Surely there’s something we can do, right?” Tom’s optimism still shined beneath him. “This year has already been shitty enough, we don’t need to feed more into that.”

The three dots bubble immediately popped up on your message thread with Ophelia as soon as you sent your passive-aggressive rant. Your focus was now on your phone.

Suddenly, Tom’s face appeared on top of yours—his face was definitely close enough that it’s not CDC approved. He was standing on side of the sofa, both of his palms planted against the armrest as he loomed over you.

“What do you and your family do during Christmas?” He dared to ask as if he wasn’t towering over you.

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Uh—give each other personal space?” You answered out of sheer reflex. You always had a problem with keeping your mouth shut, especially when it sounds rude to other people. In your defence, being unable to do so has helped you put people back in place.

To be fair, you were used to people standing at least 6 ft away from you ever since the pandemic started.

Tom’s cheeks went bright red. “’m sorry,” He apologized, giving you a shy smile and scratched the back of his neck. You muttered a quick apology too, for acting so rashly.

You rose from your position and sat upright instead. “Well, we never do anything special during Christmas,” You said as you threw your hair into a bun. “We usually just go to the movies on Christmas Day because that’s the only thing you can do back when life was normal.”

Tom nodded understandingly as if he was taking this into account. Now you were curious.

“Do you guys do anything special for Christmas?” You asked him.

“Well, on Christmas Day, we would usually just lounge around the house and use it as a chance for me and my family to catch up,” Tom replied. “However, on Christmas Eve, my mum always made sure my brothers and I would have this scavenger hunt to look for our gifts—It’s really fun, actually.” Tom smiled sadly.

You could easily see how Tom was genuinely broken about not being able to be around his family over the holidays. Heck—he really just misses his family. But who wouldn’t? Britney Spears didn’t sing the line “my loneliness is killing me” for nothing.

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say. Aside from biting your tongue, being able to easily comfort people was one of your weaknesses too.

“Oh, there’s nothing to be sorry about, darling.” Tom quickly dismissed the genuine heartbreak he was trying to hide. “We’re all making sacrifices and we chose to be responsible for the benefit of other people.”

“Yeah, I know.” You said softly. “We’ll just try our best to make something out of this holiday season. I mean—we have to or else we’ll welcome 2021 with a fresh face of misery.”

“I’m sorry!” Ophelia pouted at the screen as they mindlessly walked around their partner’s place, something that most people do when they’re on the phone with someone. “I genuinely forgot about what happened between you and Tom.”

“Well, Ollie, it seems like you weren’t the only one.” You replied, adjusting your glasses. Tom seems to be genuinely fine around you, no awkward tensions or anything. If anything, it’s just you who feels weird around him. “But I guess that’s a good thing right?”

Ophelia forced a smile but they couldn’t, for the life of them, say anything about it.

“Oh my god,” You sighed “Seriously, Ollie?”

“It’s just—how could he forget?! You were literally on top of him as I recall and that very much left a permanent image on my mind. I—You know, I really tried my best to forget that ever existing in my mind. So really, if anything, it’s your fault.” Ophelia rambled on.

“I—I wasn’t on top of him. That’s absurd! I was merely pressed against him” You said defensively, in which Ophelia just laughed atrociously. “Why am I friends with you again?!” You asked rhetorically, bewildered by the fact that you two lasted this long.

“First of all, that is a hate crime. Second, I’m cool—like everyone wants to be my friend and you should be glad that I gave you the privilege to be even on a nickname basis as me.”

You rolled your eyes at them. Despite the never-ending banter, you were grateful to have Ophelia as your friend.

“But seriously, Y/N,” Ophelia said, “You can always just stay with me and Ericka. She’ll be glad to have you over for the holidays.”

“Ollie, as much as I love spending time with you two—I can’t stand being a third-wheel, especially when it comes to the both of you. You two are inseparable when you’re together.” You replied. “I appreciate the offer though.” You smiled at her.

“I’m just saying—” Ophelia replied, shrugging her shoulder. “Unless you and Tom really want to have the house by yourselves.” They sang teasingly.

“Ophelia!” You gasped.

“What?” They feigned innocence. “I gave you an option to stay with us! Plus, I know Alex and Will are would’ve asked you to stay with them if they had any idea what happened between you two.”

“I can’t leave him!” You started to whisper “Tom seems genuinely bummed being here. I can’t just do that to him.”

It’s as if a light came on inside them. Ophelia started to smirk and you recognized that smirk from anywhere. For christ’s sake, their eyes twinkled like Christmas lights. It drove you nuts. “I fucking knew it.”

“What?”

“You like him don’t you?!” They teased, but all you could do was blush.

“I do not!” You denied it as you could still feel the burning heat emitting from your cheeks.

“His tongue is that good huh?” Ophelia decided to pry even further. They clearly find enjoyment as you squirmed your way out of this conversation.

“Bitch, I am ending this call.” That was all you could say. Even if you did find a smart retort, it was no use, especially with Ophelia. They can see right through you and there’s no point in trying to hide it.

“Honestly, Y/N, we’re living through a pandemic. If there’s any time to make any rash decisions, it’s now. Go get that dick, bih—”

You drowned out whatever Ophelia was trying to say with your goodbyes and proceeded to end the call. The one time you asked your friend to be serious and they come up with this.

So—what really happened with you and Tom?

It was two years ago. You were at a party that you didn’t even plan on attending. However, you were dragged by Ophelia and their partner, Ericka—your new friends in the area. You couldn’t say no to them, they were your first friend in LA!

You thought about it though, saying no. But when you got a message from your friend back in Canada sending a photo of your boyfriend ex-boyfriend (the same guy who had ghosted you ever since you moved to LA), swapping spits with another girl, you suddenly had the strong urge to drink until you die of alcohol poisoning.

You were burning with anger that you really felt tears pricking your eyes. You were so close to crying or punching someone—whichever comes first.

One thing’s for sure, though, you weren’t going to cry over a man. So what did you do? “Ophelia, where’s the booze?!” You asked your friend whose eyes nearly popped out of their head.

Well, you weren’t really going to punch a stranger. Though you felt this burning sense of violence, it’d be much more satisfying to punch the living daylights out on your ex.

“Y/N, honey, are you alright?” That line always puts on the waterworks, no? Ophelia was clearly concerned about your newfound thirst for alcohol.

You furiously wiped the tears off your face. “Um just found out my boyfriend—er ex-boyfriend, who stopped talking to me as soon as I moved here, is seeing someone else now? I don’t know, am I allowed to feel angry when I don’t even know if we’re still together as soon I moved? Fuck—” You tried to explain as you wiped every tear that left your eyes.

“Oh—of course, hon.” Ericka who handed you a drink. You weren’t exactly sure what it is, but you knew it has alcohol in it and that’s all that matters. You gulped the entire thing and you wanted more. “Y/N, you need to slow down.”

“Are you sure you want to stay? I mean we can crash at our place, eat take-outs, watch movies and be totally disconnected from the world.” Ophelia suggested, but you shook your head furiously.

“No, I—I’m ok.” You answered “I can’t let the both of you be stuck in misery with me. I need this. I’ll get drunk and if I'm up for it, I’ll hook up with someone. It’s not a healthy coping method but I really want this night to be a series of bad decisions. I don’t want to be myself, even just tonight.”

So that’s what you did. You were going from one drink to another in record time. Both Ophelia and Ericka kept an eye on you, just in case someone tried to take advantage of your drunken state.

You were talking to some guy you met in the kitchen, one thing led to another and next thing you knew, you were making out with this dude in someone’s bathroom. Ophelia and Ericka were drunk enough to pester the guy you were making out with but not drunk

As you were propped on top of the sink and your legs wrapped around his waist, you felt every bit of his lips explore the side of your neck as his hands explored every inch of your body. With his hand under your shirt and his fingers tracing every part of your skin, it just reminded you of how lonely you were.

Here you were, a thousand miles away from home, all alone just so you could do the one thing you really love. Your family would sometimes call to check up on you but it just wasn’t the same. Your ex tried to guilt you into staying in Canada, but you couldn’t do that. You love what you do and you love yourself too.

You were willing to risk everything, even if happiness came at a price.

Now you were crying, and the guy you were making out with definitely noticed.

“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” He asked as he pulled down your shirt.

“No—no, I’m just—” You tried to calm yourself down. “I’m not sure if I want to do this anymore.”

“That’s alright,” He mumbled wiping the tears off your face. “Do you want to talk about it? You seem rattled.”

“It’s just I’m so tired of pretending everything is alright—that I’m okay being alone, that I don’t need anyone. But it’s just so hard because I’m—” You sobbed “I’m so fucking lonely. I’m so tired of being alone.”

The guy tucked the stray piece of hair behind your ears as he carefully wiped your tears with his thumb. He was just silent as he listened to you sob.

“I’m sorry, I know you definitely didn’t come to this party to watch a complete stranger cry over something stupid.” You couldn’t even look him in the eye, you were embarrassed as this was the first time you felt really vulnerable—especially in front of a stranger.

“No, you’re alright.” He tried to console you “I think that’s the beauty in strangers, no? You can act and do whatever you want in front of them because there’s a slim chance you’ll ever see them again.”

You were definitely drunk enough that trying to make sense of who the person was a struggle enough of itself. You tried your best to look at the guy but your vision was getting hazy and you could feel your head thumping that focusing made you feel like you want to crack your head in half.

A loud knock on the door caused you two to jump. “I’m coming in,” Ophelia yelled and opened the door. Ophelia looked at the guy for a while, trying to make sense of who he was before their eyes widened. “I remember now—You’re Tom Holland.”

Imagine your surprise when you found out that you were going to work with Tom Holland for a while. You tried your best to avoid Tom at work but of course, that didn’t work out. He never brought up what happened between you two and you assumed he probably forgot all about it.

You tried to rationalize that he meets a lot of people every day. Surely, one failed hook-up wasn’t worth remembering (especially with alcohol involved) and you held on to that.

At least that’s what makes you sleep at night and also one of the reasons why you considered spending the holidays with him. However, you were also expecting your crew friends to stay with you and not just Tom.

“Y/N, did you like the gift? It’s from me and Ericka!” Ophelia asked. It was the next day and you two were just chatting on FaceTime. You were sorting out your closet out of sheer boredom. You figured if you were going to stay here for three weeks, the least you could do was sort your clothes out.

You stared at the neatly wrapped box that Ophelia and Ericka dropped off earlier this morning. “I haven’t opened it yet.” You said as you showed them the box. “I wanna open it till Christmas.”

“Oh my god, just open it. Christmas doesn’t exist this year, babe.” Ophelia waved their hand, encouraging you to open it.

“Fine,” You gave in. You opened the box and saw a very lush and well-made lingerie set. “Ophelia, what the fuck” You gasped. You held out the lingerie in front of the camera.

“Y/N, I definitely outdid myself this time.” Ophelia sighed happily, staring at the screen. “Try it on!”

“Ollie, this is gorgeous but when am I ever going to use this?” You asked holding it out on your body and looking at the mirror.

“Uh—you’re stuck at home with your failed but also potential hookup,” Ollie suggested, wiggling their eyebrows. “Who knows what might happen?”

You rolled your eyes at them. “Bold of you assume that something might happen.”

“Something won’t happen if you don’t try that one,” Ophelia said. “C’mon, I wanna see.”

You shook your head and went out of frame in order to strip off your clothes. You tried on the lingerie—it’s a black lace teddy with a very exposing back. IT fit you perfectly—it accentuated your figure and definitely showed off your boobs. You weren’t really fond of showing off your body but you still tried your best to show it to your friend.

“What do you think?” You asked, stepping back to the frame.

“You look gorgeous, babe!” Ophelia squealed. “I knew I made the right choice with black.”

“I still don’t know where I should wear this though—” You were stopped mid-sentence when your door swung open.

“I know what we’re doing this—Oh shit. I’m so sorry,” Tom stood there, frozen, his eyes widened and immediately shut the door.

You couldn’t even say anything. You were frozen in shock.

“Was that Tom?” Ophelia asked from the call, briefly forgetting that you were talking to them through FaceTime.

You nodded slowly, unable to talk.

“What did he think?” Ophelia asked excitedly.

You snapped out of this haze. “Ollie,” you groaned. “I think he was mentally scarred.

“What do you mean scarred? You look great!” Ophelia said, appalled. “If he doesn’t think you look banging in that lingerie then it’s his loss.”

“I gotta go, I need to change.” You said, bidding Ophelia goodbye. “Thanks for the gift, Ollie. Tell Ericka thanks too.”

You ended the call and changed into comfier clothes. You couldn’t help but wonder how on earth you’re going to face Tom now that he’s seen you practically naked. Well, it’s not like that’s a new sight. He did see you with your bra on when you were making out in the bathroom that one time. But still!

Are you actually going to spend your Christmas in your room?

It was the next day and there are only two more days till Christmas. You spent the entirety of last night in your room after the incident between you and Tom.

You were about to make yourself some coffee when you found Tom in the kitchen, making tea for himself. You stood there frozen, wondering if you were going to proceed to the kitchen or just run back to your room since Tom hasn’t noticed you—

“Oh—good morning, Y/N.” So close.

You smiled at Tom and said, “Good morning, Tom.”

You grabbed a coffee pod and waited for the Keurig to make your coffee. You leaned back against the counter and fiddled with your phone—all in the hopes that things move quickly and for this awkward tension to be over.

Honestly, why were you so worked up about it? People have seen you in a bikini before and that’s no different from lingerie. If anything, lingerie is itchier and has lace. You should be able to feel confident in your own body and you shouldn’t have to mind what other people think of it. It’s yours alone and it’s your opinion that should matter—

“I’m terribly sorry about last night, Y/N.” Tom apologized, sincerity was written all over his face. “I should’ve knocked and I just got so bloody excited about what we can do over Christmas—but that’s no excuse for what I’ve done. What I did was incredibly intrusive and you deserve a proper apology.”

“Tom, I—”

“I wanted to apologize last night—over dinner—but you didn’t come down to eat, so I figured you didn’t want to talk. “ He rambled on.

“Tom—”

“But even then I should’ve asked you to come down and eat dinner because that’s what any decent human would do! And yet I didn’t. God—I’m just doing one wrong thing after another—”

“Tom, listen to me.”

“Hm?” He finally snapped out and looked at you in the eyes.

“It’s okay. It was an honest mistake and you sincerely apologized, and for me, that’s enough.” You smiled softly at him. “So—what’s this thing you planned over Christmas?”

“I was thinking we could do both our family traditions over the next two days. My family and I usually do a roast dinner and open our Christmas stockings on Christmas Eve. Then on the 25th, we can watch movies all day just like you do with your family.” Tom grinned, clearly satisfied with his plan. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” You smiled “However, I don’t think we have any ingredients for a roast dinner and we don’t really have Christmas stockings. Well—I don’t have any Christmas stockings and stocking stuffers.”

“That’s true,” Tom mumbled “But I have to do the food shopping anyway. We’re running low on food and I couldn't really book one of those online delivery things that most groceries now offer.”

You nodded. “Okay, so I guess I have to get the house sorted then.”

When you two first arrived in this AirBnB a few days ago, it had already been decorated for Christmas. It had a massive tree in the living room decorated with stunning and intricately-themed ornaments. Christmas garlands were wrapped around the stair-bannisters and foliages were placed by the fireplace and the tables.

All you really had to do was clean the place—do a bit of vacuuming and get things nice and neat for Christmas. It didn’t take you too long to do it too. It had only been a couple of minutes since Tom left to do the food shopping and you prayed to the gods that he doesn’t get too much attention whilst out.

You figured you might as well do some last-minute shopping while Tom was out, so you can grab gifts for him as well. After all, this whole thing was orchestrated by Tom and you don’t even have anything to give him for his stockings.

You arrived at your AirBnB a tad later than Tom. He was in the kitchen putting things away when he saw you walk through the door.

“Ah, I was wondering whether I spooked you with my plan,” Tom commented, making you chuckle and roll your eyes.

“Trust me, I would’ve made it very obvious if you did.” You replied, earning a laugh from Tom. “I went out to do my last-minute shopping. Granted, it’s not ideal since we’re still living through a pandemic, but there’s not actually that many people where I went to considering it’s the Christmas rush.”

You made sure to hide the stuff you bought using the handmade tote bags that a friend gave you for your birthday. No retail bags, no clue. “How did you survive the groceries? I bet it’s busy out there.”

“Yeah, it was.” Tom chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Remind me to never do that again for Christmas.”

“Sure,” You said, “That is if I spend another Christmas with you.” You said jokingly, hoping that Tom didn’t find that rude.

“You’ll never know,” Tom shrugged. “What if you liked our Christmas this year and you’d be begging to spend Christmas with me and my family in London,” Tom smirked, playing along.

“Yeah, right.” You scoffed playfully, crossing your arms. “If anyone’s begging, it’s going to be you.”

Tom stepped closer, “Wanna bet?” He whispered, a teasing look in his eyes. “Whoever has the most fun during our respective holiday traditions would have to spend the holidays with them next year.”

“Oh, you’re on, Holland.” You took a step closer. “We will both film our holidays for the entire two days and then we’ll ask Ophelia, Alex, and Will to vote whoever looks like they had the most fun.”

“Okay,” Tom nodded “But no editing! We’ll give them raw footage so there are no chances of tampering.”

You laughed but you agreed anyway. “Of course, we’ll give them hours of footage. The least we could do is make them sit through hours of content after they ditched us all alone on the holidays.”

Tom gave a broad smile. “Let the festivities begin.”

It was the 24th of December—Christmas Eve. You spent the entirety of last night wrapping Tom’s presents for later. Not that you despise Christmas, but it’s been a while since you were actually excited to celebrate it. It was pretty clear that the magic of Christmas dies once you grow up.

Today was different; you were looking forward to whatever Tom has installed for tonight.

You went downstairs to make some breakfast only to be greeted by Tom blasting Christmas music and preparing some ingredients for breakfast in the kitchen.

“Good morning, Y/N, happy Christmas Eve,” Tom greeted with a huge grin. “Say, hi to the camera.”

“Oh, we’re starting this early, huh?” You asked, putting your hair into a loose ponytail.

“Why of course, we have to make the best out of this,” Tom said, holding the camera to your face. “I made you coffee.” Tom handed you a cup of coffee.

“Are you using my love for coffee as an advantage?” You tried to hide your smile while drinking your coffee.

“Obviously not,” Tom feigned his innocence. “I obviously did not know you were obsessed with coffee—it’s not like I don’t see you on set without one.” He mumbled in which you definitely heard, giving him a smack on the head. “Ow! I’m kidding.” He laughed.

You rolled your eyes at him. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

“We’re going to make french crèpes,” Tom replied and propped the camera on the kitchen island, facing the two of you.

“Do you know how to make french crèpes?” You asked, washing your hands.

Tom blinked, almost trying to decide whether he wants to be honest or impressive. “Do you know how to make french crèpes?” He returned the question.

“Oh honey, my mom resents me in the kitchen.” You replied, taking a sip from your coffee. “But you know, I manage.” You murmured.

“That’s giving me a lot of hope, darling, thank you.” He said half-heartedly.

“Shut up,” You nudged him playfully, rolling your eyes. “Tom, honestly, most of the footage is just us bantering for 20 minutes.”

“To be fair, that’s part of the fun.” Tom smiled. “Okay, I think you just mix all of these in a bowl. Start with the dry ingredients first.” He said, looking at the recipe on his phone.

“Okay, that shouldn’t be too hard,” You commented pouring the ingredients into the bowl. As you started all of the ingredients together, you noticed small lumps forming in the batter. “Tom, did you sift the dry ingredients by chance?”

“You were supposed to sift it?” He asked, completely clueless.

You nodded slowly. Panic was now clearly painted on his face. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.” You tried to reassure him.

It was not fine. The first time you two tried to pour the batter in the pan, you burnt the entire thing. It’s not even the cute, lightly burnt crepe. It was activating the smoke alarm-burnt crepe.

The next one was pancake-like. The next one after that had pocket flours on the crepes because you two didn’t sift your dry ingredients beforehand. You ran out of the batter when you two finally got the consistency right—you managed to get one proper crepe from the entire batter.

“I feel like Sam would probably curse me out as soon as he finds out I fucked up a simple crepe,” Tom said, delicately filling the crepe with creme and berries. “My brother’s done so well in culinary school.” He cut a piece with his fork and brought it to your mouth.

“Well, you can’t have everything.” You said taking a bite out of the crepe. “This is better than the last one.”

Tom nodded, taking a bite of it himself. “It’s not as tasty as Sam’s but I’ll take it.”

“Now, I’m curious as to what your brother’s cooking tastes like.” You commented taking another bite from the crepe.

“I guess I’ll just take you home to London to find out,” Tom teased with an annoying grin.

“As long as I’m being fed, I’m fine with it.” You remarked. What in god’s name are you are you two playing?!

The day rolled by very quickly. It was already evening when you finished wrapping the presents for your friends. You plan on dropping it off tomorrow before you persuade Tom to glue yourselves on the couch for the entire day.

You grabbed all of Tom’s gifts—Christmas stocking included— when you went downstairs, only to be greeted by someone yelling at Tom through his phone.

“I did everything right, Sam. I don’t know why you’re yelling.” Tom yelled back at his phone. His back was turned against you as he was putting away the pots and pans that he used.

You quietly walked up behind him and said calmly, “Why are you yelling?”

Tom probably jumped six feet away from you, making you laugh. You always forget that he gets scared easily. “Holy shit, don’t scare me like that, Y/N.” Tom breathed out, putting a hand over his chest.

“I’m sorry,” You said whilst laughing. “I promise I won’t do it again.” Tom rolled his eyes, murmuring something about you being insincere about it.

“Please do it again!” You heard, whom you assume is Sam, say from the background. You looked at Tom’s phone that’s propped on the island and saw his brothers on FaceTime.

You beamed at them. “Any recommendations?” You asked, hearing Tom groan behind you.

“Well, he hates—”

“This is the last thing I want in 2020, for my brothers and Y/N to conspire against me,” Tom said loudly on purpose, drowning his brothers' voices.

“Tom, don’t be rude. Let your brothers finish—” Tom put his hand against your mouth.

“I’ll call you guys later,” Tom said “Wave goodbye, Y/N.” He used his free hand to grab your hand and forced a wave towards his brothers. The call soon came to an end and you could only roll your eyes at Tom. You seem to do that a lot around him. You also do a lot of that when you try to hide your feelings towards a person you like but that’s beside the point.

“So are we going to have dinner first or are we going to do presents first?” You asked fixing your Christmas sweater, a gift from your parents since you and your family usually wear matching sweaters for Christmas. “Or are you the type to wait until Christmas Day to open presents?”

“We can do the Christmas stockings after dinner tonight, then do the presents tomorrow, if you’d like,” Tom answered with his arms crossed.

You shrugged, telling him it doesn’t matter since you don’t really go all out on Christmas. Your family on the other hand—the house is always full of people, especially since most of your extended family are usually around during the holidays. You had this ongoing game you made for yourself whether or not you’ll be able to greet everyone with the number of people in the house.

You could only guess how quiet your family’s Christmas is going to be. You definitely needed to call your parents later.

“Is the sweater that itchy, Y/N?” You heard Tom ask, breaking away from your thoughts.

“Huh?” You asked, confused. You didn’t even notice that you’ve been scratching yourself subconsciously.

“You’ve been scratching yourself since I saw you.” Tom said, chuckling. “It’s a cute sweater on you.”

You smirked. “That reminds me—I got something for you, Tom.” Tom raised his brow as you grabbed the bag you stashed behind the tree. “Actually my parents got this for you. A little thank you gift apparently for having the tolerance to stay with me over the holidays—as if you had a choice.” You mumbled the last part.

Tom curiously opened the bag and there revealed a matching sweater such as yours. This year’s sweater was green and had red tinsel all over it, probably the reason why you’re itchy. The real kicker is that—

“No way,” Tom gasped “It lights up?!” He asked laughing. It lights up.

“Yeah, I don’t recommend turning that on. I did it earlier and I’m pretty sure I was about to combust—it’s a real fire hazard.” You replied, enjoying the genuine joy that Tom is showing on his face.

“Oh but we have to turn the lights on when we take pictures,” He commented as he put on the sweater. “Thanks, Y/N.” He said softly, surprising you with a hug.

It’s the first real physical contact that you two had ever since that night when you made out and you were pretty adamant that people were just making up this notion of having butterflies in their stomach—they weren’t.

Tom’s roast dinner went surprisingly well. You kept teasing him that it’s Sam that you had to thank because you knew that Tom wouldn’t last in the kitchen without his brother’s instructions. Tom pouted the whole time. You eventually had to tell him

“It was sweet.” You told him as you helped him clear out the plates.

Tom was confused.

“I don’t think I’ve known someone that went through hell and back just to make a great effort Christmas dinner —even if it means getting yelled at by your brother.” You said, smiling softly at him. “I mean it’s just us two, really. We don’t even have to do this.”

“Think that’s the reason why I wanted to do it,” Tom replied. Now you’re confused. “It’s because it’s the two of us—that’s why I wanted to do it.”

As soon as you heard those words come out of Tom’s lips, you tried your best to stay calm. To say that you weren’t overwhelmed with emotions would be a huge lie. For someone who couldn’t hold their tongue, you were speechless. Tom’s giving you a run for your money and you weren’t exactly thrilled about it.

After dinner, you and Tom opened your stocking presents. The presents were pretty tame at the start—you both got each other socks, which was hilarious but greatly appreciated. You love socks, especially comfy and cushiony ones. You came to learn that Tom does too, which prompted you two to wear the socks immediately.

You got him candy canes, he got you chocolates. You also snuck in those small, in-flight alcohol bottles in there too—which he ended up loving. He got you those 10-pack skincare face masks, in which you let out a huge gasp, making him laugh.

“Oh, we have to use this at some point!” You exclaimed happily “Like, we need to have a spa night—where we just watch movies, doing face masks, eating takeouts. Oh, that’s the dream!” You sighed happily.

“We still have two weeks left till we go back to work, I'm sure we can find the time to do that,” Tom said with a permanent smile on his face, watching you with pure joy made him feel like he accomplished something big.

You got him one of those Instax polaroid cameras—true, it was a bit too much for a stocking stuffer especially since the box definitely stood out against the stocking, but you figured he’ll like it.

“Darling, this is too much but I’m thankful,” Tom commented as he took out the camera from the box. “I can’t wait to use this and keep memories using it—why don’t we start right now?! Let’s take a photo of us and our matching sweaters!”

Tom took a lot of photos of you two, in the end. A couple of overexposed photos, one with the matching sweaters, one with your faces pressed against each other, one with your faces way too close to the camera, and one where he gave you a kiss on your cheek (he asked if that’s okay, of course, you said yes. it’s not like he hasn’t kissed you before— still no conversations about that, by the way). It was a good thing you got him at least 3 boxes of those 20 pack films in his stockings as well.

The real kicker was Tom’s “small” stocking present for you. He got you this dainty, gold necklace with a crescent moon charm. You were pretty sure it was expensive because of the teal box it came with.

“Stop,” You gasped “Tom, now this—this is too much.” You stressed out. “I can’t have this. Nope, you have to return this.”

Tom shrugged as if it was nothing. “You deserve it. Darling, you deserve something nice after this shitty year.”

“Tom, I’m serious. This is too much.”

“I’m serious too, Y/N. Keep it, please. I’d be offended if you don’t.”

After the roller coaster of emotions due to the stocking presents, you gave your parents a call to wish them a merry Christmas. They insisted to do a video call because they wanted to see Tom in the family sweater—which your mom wouldn’t stop gushing about.

“I think your mum loves me,” Tom whispered closely in your ear. He didn't have to try too hard. With the laptop propped up on top of the coffee table, you two were sitting close together on the living room floor—knees touching, maximum close skin contact. CDC would never approve.

“Yeah, I think it’s the accent,” You mumbled jokingly.

Tom moved his head to take a good look at you, smiling. You could feel his eyes burning your skin. Why does he have to look at you like that? Why does he have to be this close?

The initial video call with your parents turned into a whole family reunion when you found out they set up a group call with your extended family. Imagine the dread and fear in your eyes when you heard your one aunt ask,

“Finally, Y/N, is that your boyfriend?”

Your eyes widened as you stuttered to say your defence, making Tom chuckle. You frowned at him and nudged him saying, “Don’t laugh, tell them no or I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“No, unfortunately, I’m not,” Tom replied, laughing. “However, I do believe we make a cute couple, don’t we?” He teased, earning an earnest yes from your mom.

You could only wish for the floor to swallow you whole.

As the clocks rolled to twelve, it was officially Christmas. You and Tom figured you might as well start opening gifts again because Christmas Day is going to be a drag for the two of you.

“Okay, start with this.” You said as you handed him a gift bag. You didn’t give him a lot of gifts for the actual Christmas Day because you went all out on the stuffers.

“Pyjamas?” He asked with a grin. You made a signal for him to give you a minute. You ran to your room and changed into pyjamas.

“Not just pyjamas, Tom, but matching pyjamas!” You exclaimed, laughing. “I saw it and figured we should do this for my day.”

“Sick!” Tom laughed. Tom got into his pair of pyjamas as well and of course, he didn’t forget to pull out his new polaroid camera to take a photo of you two. “Shit, I forgot to film our entire Christmas Eve.” He said as he saw the camera that was still sitting on the kitchen island from earlier that morning.

You shrugged. “I’m pretty sure you’ll win either way. Just that content from the breakfast crepes was enough to secure your place.” You said jokingly.

“All I’m hearing is that you’re going to spend Christmas with me in London next year.” Tom sang teasingly.

“Yeah, maybe bringing you to our big Christmas holidays is a bad idea.” You wondered out loud.

“I like your family,” Tom commented with a smile “and I think they will love having me there for the holidays.”

“That would be a nightmare.” You mumbled to yourself.

The rest of the night dragged on. You and Tom finished the rest of your gifts—you got him a watch, he got you a vinyl player. You two managed to watch the first Harry Potter film before you called it a night.

You were about to head into your room when you heard Tom say, “Mistletoe.”

“Hm?” You hummed, confused. He placed a finger under your chin and gently tilted your head. There you saw a mistletoe hanging by one of the light fixtures.

“How did that even—”

“Can I kiss you?” Tom asked, cupping the sides of your face.

“Hm?” Tom was definitely giving you a run for your money. How can a girl with a speech turn speechless?

“Can I kiss you?” He asked more softly. All you could do was nod. For if you even dare to open your mouth, all of this would cease to exist.

His lips gently touched yours and then soon moulded into one. It was soft, sweet—familiar. His lips were something you never thought about—at least not a lot but you craved it. You crave his lips, his touch, him. You were riding a new high and you thanked every single god that you were sober to remember this—because this, this is something you want to cherish.

“You told me you’re tired of being alone,” Tom whispered against your lips. “You don’t have to be anymore. Not when you have me, not ever.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @quaksonhehe @dark-infernal-instruments @trustfundparker @emsma11 @tomshufflepuff @spider-babe @goodgirlgonetom

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x fem #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland blurb #tom holland and reader #tom holland and you #tom holland angst #tom holland imagines #tom holland x y/n #tom holland au #tom holland and y/n #tom holland x you #the girl writes i guess #txmhoellandwrites

333 notes · View notes

thevindicativevordan · 3 years ago

Note

You got any thoughts on Superman Birthright?

Probably my second or third favorite Superman origin, and the one that has my favorite Clark/Lex interactions.

Real pity it didn't get to stick as the "canon" origin because I like it a lot more than the Byrne origin that preceded it and the Johns Secret Origin that succeeded it. Smallville's influence is undeniable, but not a detriment, I like the Kents as flawed younger parents rather than wizened flawless mentors (if they have to be alive still when Clark becomes Superman that is). Pa Kent struggling with feelings of alienation with regards to Clark growing up and taking more of an interest in his heritage is still one of my favorite Pa/Clark moments in Superman's history. Ma Kent being a UFO buff is a great idea, apparently Waid had a story about that he never got to tell. I wonder what it was? Would probably make for a nice Annual or fill in story now that he's back at DC.

Lois is great of course, for all the reasons she usually is, as is Perry who gets way more panel space here than he usually does. Lois and Perry's relationship here is hilarious, love the gag where he writes out two lists of reasons to fire or keep her respectively. "No good place to hide the body" had me cackling. Jimmy though is just kind of there, he's the pal who has Supes back as always, but he's heavily overshadowed by the rest of the cast. Only real disappointment for me in terms of the core cast members.

There's a lot to like here in it's handling of Clark Kent as well. Love that Waid actually shows us Clark has travelled the world to gain some perspective, that he's not naïve or clueless, simply idealistic. He's seen the cruelty of the world up close, and he's also seen the way people react when they realize they're dealing with someone who has "gifts" (whether that's himself or Lex).

Showing us some of Clark's pre-Daily Planet journalist career is also a big pro for me, that's an area of Clark's life I wish got fleshed out more. Waid manages to establish a divide between the Clark and Superman identities that still makes the two feel different without it being a repeat of Pre-Crisis. It's a return to Superman being more "real" while Clark is more of a disguise, but "Clark" isn't bumbling so much as overlooked and ignored (which if you've lived in a big city is pretty much exactly how you get treated as a newcomer). His co-workers barely acknowledge his existence, Lois isn't giving him the time of day, Perry tears him a new one for not having a story to turn in about the ongoing alien invasion on time, Clark has to suffer in the trenches over the course of the story to prove himself.

Like Morrison's Action Comics run, this origin tries to fold a lot of the original Golden Age attitude back into Superman. This incarnation is a man with a temper, him shooting a gun then catching the bullet before it hits the guy who sold guns to a school shooter is literally a recreation of a Golden Age panel. Yet this isn't a "retro" take at all, despite being from Christopher Reeve's biggest fan. Waid writes Clark as someone who makes mistakes, fucks up in ways you don't typically see Superman do, and has a lot of doubts about whether or not he can live up to the task he's set before himself. Doesn't help that Metropolis doesn't welcome him any more easily as Superman than it does as Clark.

Public opinion about him is divided at first, then swings heavily to negative as Lex frames him for a false flag Kryptonian invasion, only to finally recover after he saves the day and exposes Lex. Personally I like Superman to have to work for that glowing reputation he usually enjoys, and if Lex is involved in trying to turn the public against him, so much the better. The anger and contempt towards Lex he demonstrates in particular sets the tone for the relationship between the two in the modern day.

Speaking of Lex, my God, this has got to be one of my favorite takes on him, and on his relationship with Clark, both pre and post Superman.

As adults Waid nails the Post-Crisis status quo of Lex being a selfish piece of shit who hides his nature behind a façade of philanthropy. For all his attempts at projecting an aura of power and intelligence, both of which he has in spades, Lex is so clearly defined by the lack of love and understanding he was shown as a youth. It's Superman "disrespecting" him, by not being happy to pose for photos with Lex after seeing him commit an act of sabotage, that pisses Lex off. For this "crime" Lex does everything he can to smear Superman to the public, and entertains holographic fantasies of dissecting Supes to copy his powers. He quips that killing Kal is "genocide" since he's the last of his people, something he demonstrates no empathy for at all given he laughs in Clark's face when he realizes Superman doesn't know he's the last.

Waid's Lex is probably one of the most monstrous incarnations, yet one of the most sympathetic as well. For my money, Waid is the one who convinced me that Clark and Lex being friends back in Smallville is a good thing.

One reason is that Clark gets to see how people react to "gifted" individuals. By observing the way Lex is treated for being unlike the rest, Clark gets a taste of what's to come if his own abilities were ever exposed. This has the dual benefit of establishing why Clark puts so much effort into making people feel at ease, and also establishing Lex as sympathetic for being unable to hide like Clark can.

The second big reason is that it shows why Clark thinks there's a chance Lex can be redeemed. Birthright Lex wasn't a monster from the start. At first he tried to help, but it always backfired. Doubling the efficiency of the milking machine scared/hurt the cows and upset Pa Kent, his ideas for how to improve the local government got rejected, and of course his experiment with Kryptonite. Sad twist of fate that Lex mistaking Clark's look of pain for the fear/disgust he sees everywhere else is what causes Clark to eventually give him that look of disgust for real when they reunite as adults. But having their first interactions be friendly instead of hostile makes Clark's hope that Lex can become a force for good feel grounded in reality instead of hopelessly naïve.

Can't gush enough about Yu's art either, he can make Superman look bright and inspiring, or scary as hell. His take on Metropolis makes it look and feel like a "City of Tomorrow", someplace exciting and dangerous, a city that needs Superman to protect it. Yu's Krypton is also one of my favorite incarnations, love that he gave Lara the S-curl! That's one idea from the DCAU I wish had become sacrosanct for all future origin retellings. Lara doesn't get to have enough influence on Kal to my tastes, so any little bit counts.

Sadly overlooked as it was coming out due to Azzarello and Lee doing For Tomorrow, it seems like it's risen in status after the fact. The S-shield being a symbol of hope on Krypton in addition to the El family crest has carried forward thanks to the DCEU (which is hilarious given Waid's feelings on that franchise).

Waid has another Superman project coming up next year with Brian Hitch that appears to be a "Year 2" follow up to Birthright. No clue if it will actually take place in strict continuity with Birthright, honestly it feels weird to have anyone but Yu do a direct followup to that, but Waid has said that a Superman run from him would basically be an issue 13 that continues from this story. I'm excited to see Waid take another big swing at Superman, I think he still has it in him to put out a great story, and Birthright being out of continuity may end up being to everyone's benefit. If this ends up being Waid's last Superman story, I hope he gets to do whatever he wants with the Birthrightverse. Kill off the Kents if that's his desire, I know he prefers them dead (as do I). Fingers crossed whatever he comes up with is good.

#superman #superman birthright #lex luthor #mark waid #dc comics

34 notes · View notes

let-me-luve-you · 4 years ago

Text

Winter Storm

Jared Padalecki x Reader

Summary: You play Cordell Walker’s daughter on the new show Walker. Jared takes you under his wing. What happens when a winter storm hits all of Texas.

Warnings: Mentions of a rough upbringing, Texas winter storm, power outage, water problems, some angst, scary weather, fluff, protective Jared, maybe a cuss word somewhere

A/N: As a Texan, this past week has been scary. I have been extremely blessed to not have the problems that a lot are. I was lucky and did not lose power and did not have any pipes burst. This idea came to me after seeing that Jared and Gen were helping others while dealing with their own problems at their house.

HERE ARE SOME LINKS TO HELP OUT IF YOU ARE ABLE TO.

KICK THE COLD - AUSTIN MUTUAL AID

GENESIS WOMEN’S SHELTER & SUPPORT

FEEDING TEXAS

LIST OF ORGANIZATIONS SEEKING DONATIONS IN DALLAS AREA

THE WAY HOME

You do not have to donate to any of these organizations, but if you feel the need to help, here are a few links. ^^^^ There are plenty more out there if you don’t want to donate to these links.

MASTERLIST BUY ME A COFFEE

Winter weather will be hitting Texas this weekend. You can expect lots of snow and ice. It is best to prepare for possible power outages and water being turned off. That is worst case scenario, but be prepared as Sunday will be a cold one.

You panicked. Growing up in North Texas you never had to deal with severe winter weather. You were used to dealing with tornados. But the way they were talking on the news, this weekend was going to be bad.

Thankfully you had the day off and were able to go to the store. You grabbed a case of water and food that you could prepare and food that didn’t have to be cooked to eat. You were still getting used to the adult life as an 18 year old, but since you had been taking care of yourself the last few years, you learned a thing or two in the kitchen. You made sure to grab some snacks as well since they didn’t have to be cooked or stored in the fridge either.

As you pulled up to your apartment building, you got a call from the lead and producer of the show you were on. You still weren’t sure how you managed to land the role of Stella in the new show Walker, but you were grateful. You put the car in park and grabbed your phone.

“Hey Jare.” You said. Jared was the older brother you always wanted, even though he plays your dad and he has moments where he acts like your dad. You didn’t have a great life growing up and to have a male figure in your life to help you in anyway, made you happy. Same thing with Gen.

“Hey Y/N/N. How’re you doing?” He asked.

“I’m doing good. Just got back from the store. Am I needed on set?” You asked in a panic thinking you missed something.

“No, no you’re not needed. Just wanted to call and tell you we are not filming Monday or Tuesday next week. And depending on the weather and roads, we may cancel Wednesday as well.” He informed you.

“Oh. Is it because of the storm?” You asked.

“Yeah. We aren’t sure how bad it’ll be, but we are hoping we are just being over cautious.” He said. “You said you went to the store?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to get something’s so I won’t have to get out. And I got some stuff. I won’t need to cook in case we lose power. Also filled up with gas in case I lose heat and need to warm up some.” You told him.

“Come stay with us. We have plenty of room and we have a fireplace. We just restocked our firewood supply. I don’t want to be worrying about you all weekend.” He said.

“I’ll be okay. Really. Thank you for the offer though.” You said nicely. You really did mean it. You were used to taking care of yourself that when people did want to help you, you appreciated them.

“Well. I have my truck if I need to come get you. If you change your mind, come over. The kids would love to see you.” He said. You heard Gen agree with him in the background. “And Gen would too.”

“Well after the storm, I’ll come over for dinner to see everyone. And I’ll even come another night to babysit so you and Gen can go on a date.” You said with a laugh once you heard Gen immediately laugh.

“Gen says you don’t have to, but I will take you up on both offers.” Jared told you. “Okay. Well stay in touch. They say it’ll start sometime tomorrow night.”

“Y’all stay safe and stay in touch too.” You said. “Bye Jare.”

“Bye Y/N/N.” He said before hanging up. You put your phone back into your pocket before lugging all of the groceries into your apartment. You put everything away before going to change out of your winter clothes.

After changing into some PJs to be comfortable. You decided to meal prep some so you wouldn’t have to worry about it later. And if the weather isn’t as bad as they think it’ll be, you can just eat them throughout the week.

Sunday morning, you woke up and looked outside. All you could see was white fluffiness. You smiled as the world looked at peace. You loved snow. You always thought it brought beauty to the world.

When you walked back to your phone where it laid on its charger, you saw a couple of texts from Jared and Gen. Both had sent you photos of Tom, Shep, and Odette playing the in the snow. Then you saw Jared’s text about possible rolling power outages.

You picked up the phone and called Jared and before he could even say hello, you asked, “What does that mean? Your text... I don’t understand it.”

“It means they’ll shut the power off for an hour to three hours to preserve energy.” Jared said.

“Oh.” You said.

“Yeah, so if the power goes out, don’t worry, it should come back on.” He reassured you.

“Okay. Thank you for letting me know.” You replied.

“Of course. How are you doing anyways?” He asked.

“Good. Just woke up. Felt good to sleep in. I’m probably about to start warming up my lunch.” You informed him. “How are y’all handling it over there? I saw the pics you and Gen sent. The kids look like they’re having a blast.”

“We’re doing good. The kids are definitely loving the snow. I did have to help Gen gather the chickens this morning which wasn’t fun.” He said with a laugh.

“Oh gosh. Yeah chasing chickens isn’t fun. Are they okay? I didn’t even think about y’all’s animals?”

“They’re all in the barn with heat lamps. Thankfully the barn is powered by solar so we don’t have to worry too much if the power goes out since we have a lot of energy stored up.” He said.

“Good that’s good. Well I’ll let you get back to doing whatever you were doing. Thanks again for letting me know.”

“Anytime. If you need something, holler. Okay?” He asked.

“I will. Bye.” You said. You heard his farewell as you went to hang up the phone. After preheating the oven, you took the lasagna and boxed garlic bread out of the freezer. You figured, while the power was still on, you could cook the one meal you prepped that couldn’t be eaten cold until you cooked it and it was leftovers.

An hour later, you sat at the counter charging your phone and iPad while you ate. When you went to take another bite, the power cut off.

“Great.” You whispered. You knew it was only going to be for a few hours, but you were a little aggravated by the inconvenience. You stood up and went and put on thicker sweatpants and your socks. When you made it back to your phone to text Jared that your power went out, you saw you barely had any service. That concerned you in case you needed to make a call for an emergency.

Power just went out. Hopefully y’all didn’t lose power. I’ll let you know when it’s back on. Sent 1:23 pm

You continued to eat as you awaited a response. Shrugging when you finished your meal and put the dirty dish in the sink, you moved to the living room to read a book you started the night before.

Hours later, you still had no power and you still hadn’t heard from Jared or Gen. You had checked social media, but neither had posted anything. You decided to scroll through Twitter and saw the horrors of people’s pipes bursting and roofs caving in flooding their homes.

Seeing people in Austin posting that, you decided to grab a tote to store your valuables in. Sadly, it wasn’t a lot, but the idea of losing what little you had that meant something to you scared you.

You needed to go to your car to charge your phone and warm up some, so you decided to store your valuables in the trunk. Thankfully you had a covered parking space that was right in front of your apartment. When you put the tote in the trunk, you checked to make sure the tail pipe was clear of snow before you started the car.

After spending an hour in the car, you decided it was time for bed. Grabbing every piece of blankets you had, you cuddled up in Jared’s hoody that you stole from him when you filmed episode 2 of Walker and all the blankets. You even had on two pairs of socks on since you got cold earlier.

The next morning, you checked to see your phone still had more than half its battery life left. But what shocked you was still no response from Jared. You got on Instagram and saw that Gen had posted a boomerang of him with his socks on as gloves, but neither had checked in with you.

You were kind of upset by this. You knew they didn’t owe you anything, but it still hurt. Going to the kitchen, you saw it was flooded.

“Oh no. Oh no. Nonononono.” You panicked. You ran to the bathroom and grabbed all the towels you owned and rushed back to the kitchen. You threw them down to try and absorb as much water as possible. You opened the cabinet and saw the pipe that had burst. You grabbed your phone and called the landlord.

“Hey Craig. I had a pipe burst this morning.” You said when he answered.

“Can’t do much with the weather like this.” He said not really caring.

“Can you turn the water off or something? Or tell me where it is and I’ll do it.” You said getting angry.

“Can’t do that either. If I do that, your neighbors lose their water too.” He said.

“Well what am I supposed to do. Just sit in water all day?” You asked with an annoyed tone.

“City’s running out of water anyway so they may shut it off. So won’t be long before it stops.” He said. You got so mad that you hung up. He was useless.

After 3 hours, all of your towels were soaked and you started using some of your clothes to help absorb what the towels couldn’t. You had tried calling Jared to see if he knew what to do but it went straight to voicemail. Same with Gen.

After using most of your clothes to stop the water, you decided to pack a bag in case you had to leave. Plus it would let you know what you could use to absorb the water that still remains. Thankfully your landlord had turned the water off after multiple people called about pipes bursting. All you had to do was finish cleaning up the mess.

Two days later, you were sitting in your car, about to go back into your apartment when you got a call from Gen.

“Y/N. Oh my gosh it’s so good to hear from you. We haven’t had service, plus we lost power and had a few pipes burst. Are you okay?” She asked worriedly.

“I’m okay. Sitting in my car right now so I could charge my phone and warm up a bit.” You told her.

“You don’t have power still?” She asked.

“Nope. And I also had a pipe burst. But I cleaned it up and nothing was damaged. Did you have any damage done? Is everyone okay?” You asked concerned.

“Yeah. We are fine. And just minimal floor damage.” She told you. “Jared is cleaning that mess up while I’m going to the store. Do you need anything? We have some of our neighbors over trying to stay warm and I’m grabbing them stuff too. So I don’t mind getting you anything.”

“I’m okay. I have plenty.” You said. You wanted heat. You wanted to sleep without having to wear five layers, but you refused to ask.

“Well if you do need something, text or call. Hopefully we get service back.” She said.

“I will. Thanks Gen.” you said as you hung up. Ten minutes later you got a call from Jared.

“Pack a bag and bring some blankets.” He said before you could even greet him.

“What?” You asked genuinely confused.

“I said, pack a bag and bring some blankets. Also if you want to bring any food you don’t want to go to waste or if you have water, bring that too. I’ll come in and help you carry.” He said.

“Wh-wait.. what is happening?” You asked.

“I’m coming to get you and you are going to stay with us for a couple of days. I just got off the phone with Gen and she said you had a pipe burst and you don’t have heat. So you are going to come stay with us until your power is back on and the pipe is fixed.” He said. “I’m pulling up. I’ll be inside in a second.” He hung up before you could say anything.

You went and unlocked the door before moving to your room. You grabbed your big suitcase and packed what few pair of pants you had, a weeks worth of underwear, two weeks worth of socks since you hated having cold feet, and the remaining three sweaters and seven shirts you had. It barely filled your suitcase so you decided to throw in a couple of hoodies as well.

“That all your packing?” Jared asked concerned. No one knew how long this was going to last.

“It’s all I got clean.” You answered honestly.

“No way.” He said in disbelief. You shrugged and told him to follow you as you walked into the kitchen. He saw the pile of clothes and towels on the ground. “Oh Y/N. I’m sorry this happened to you.”

“Happened to you too.” You said before moving back to your room. You grabbed a blanket and started to fold it, starting a pile you were taking with you to the Padalecki’s. Once you finished that, you grabbed your pillow too.

“Want any books or anything? You have room in your suitcase.” Jared said as he pointed to it. You shrugged and grabbed a few books you had been wanting to read. After throwing them into the suitcase, you ran to the living room to grab your iPad and chargers.

“We can charge them in the cars if we need to.” Jared said when you thought about not putting them in your bag. You nodded before throwing them in and zipping it up. “This ready to go to the truck?” You nodded once again before he grabbed the suitcase handle and stack of blankets and your pillow with ease. “Go figure out food and I’ll come back to help.”

Once in the kitchen, you grabbed the full water case you had bought a few days before and the almost empty one that you had already opened. You then moved to the fridge to grab the few casserole dishes you had left to eat. You grabbed your travel food carrier and put the casseroles in first before the almost empty case of water in after it. You saw Jared walking back in and asked,

“Is there any food of mine you want? I’ve got everything packed that will definitely go bad before I get back. The rest has already gone bad.” You said while looking at Jared who was looking through your cabinets. He found your snack one and grabbed a few things and shoved them in your carrier.

“That’s all I want.” He smirked. “Ready to go? We can come back in a couple of days if we need to.”

“Ready.” You walked to his truck and he helped you load the water and carrier. As you got into the passenger seat and started to buckle, you said, “thanks for coming to get me and letting me stay with you.”

“Anything for family.” He said smiling at you before driving carefully back to his house.

“But we aren’t family?” You said more as a question.

“You’re my tv daughter, so technically we are.” He said with a laugh. “But in all seriousness, I do see you as family. Me and you have gotten close over these past few months. I can see you as a daughter and I can see you as a little sister.” You could hear the sincerity in his voice.

“Really?” You asked. He nodded his head. “It means a lot to hear you say that. I see you as a big brother.”

“Good.” You saw him smile. “That means you can ask me for anything or do anything and I’ll be there for you. Sorry I didn’t come get you sooner. I thought about it.”

“It’s okay. I tried calling but could never get through. It happens. I’m just glad nothing more serious happened. I’m glad we are all safe.” You said honestly.

“And we are about to get you warm. We have the fire going in the living room and in mine and Gen’s room. Kids have been sleeping with us or on the floor in our room. You’re welcome to make a pallet in front of the fire and crash there.” He said as he pulled into his driveway.

“Sleeping in front of a warm fire sounds lovely right now. Thank you.” You leaned over and gave him a big hug. “I love you Jare.” You said before pulling back to kiss his cheek.

“Love you too y/n/n.” He smiled at you. “Now let’s go take all this in and get you warmed up.”

Tags: @deadcoldhearts

#jared padalecki #jared x reader #jared padalecki x reader #jared padalecki rpf #jared padalecki one shot #jared padalecki imagines #jared padalecki fanfic #jared padalecki fanfiction #jared rpf #cordell walker #walker #walker rpf #walker fanfiction #walker fanfic

209 notes · View notes