#jason sudeikis meet and greet

[daydreamgoddess14]

Landslide pt. 2

MASTERLIST here

Chapter 1 here

Summary: Jason approaches a singer/songwriter about a request for Ted Lasso Season 3.

Jason Sudeikis/Reader Insert (OFC, no use of y,n/l,n)

Rating: General for now... we'll see how it goes 🤭

Disclaimer: I absolutely own none of these songs, I also don’t want to diminish Sam Ryder’s contribution in creating Fought and Lost. This is all completely fictional. I also know nothing about the music industry so this is drowning in artistic license! 

Playlist Link: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1crFZfdqL1fspNXb80u5sK?si=e90f5f8f357b4647

It leans very Swift heavy but also has songs that I feel fit the main character and her style. I've never created a playlist for a fic before but it seemed appropriate given the main character's profession.

Songs used in Chapter 2:

Lover of the Light - Mumford and Sons (https://open.spotify.com/track/2rjOBgZ6vmRhzf4AbQbbvZ?si=3cdfe7ca63294533)

I Will Wait - Mumford and Sons (cover by Matt Johnson & Amber Leigh Irish: https://open.spotify.com/track/6pZ37H5lrW2v26D9Sbx6Yo?si=0fb2b5b84b0a4c92)

Chapter 2

The blue carpet was packed full of people, you weren't entirely sure where you needed to go but followed the other guests towards the doors of the auditorium, it was one of those situations where your fame came in useful, crowds parted and support staff were always happy to make sure you were going in the right direction. 

"Why do you always look like a deer in the headlights at these things? You need a better poker face." A voice chastised behind you. You whipped round to see Marcus and Carey. Insanely grateful for familiar faces you hugged them both happily, over the moon to see them. 

"I fucking hate these things. I always feel like an imposter."

"You sold out an arena tour in a day, what the hell are you on about?!" Carey laughed. You shrugged, 

"It could all come crashing down, you never know!"

"Alright doom and gloom, here the kids wanted you to see this." Marcus handed you his phone so you could see the picture of their kids dressed up as Spiderman and Thor, wielding a ukulele and a keytar. 

"Ohhhh!" You shriek, bubbling with laughter. "They are the cutest! Clearly they take after Carey." Between the two of you, Marcus paused to wave further up the carpet, your laughter had caught the attention of some photographers. You looked over to see who he was greeting and locked eyes with the man of the hour, Jason. You managed to raise a shy smile which he returned. It felt like an eternity but was probably only about 5 seconds before you were back talking to Carey as if nothing had happened. Something had definitely happened though, your skin felt tingly, you could feel the blood in your veins heating up, and your legs felt like jelly. It was like meeting at the studio again except instead of poor Tom being the gooseberry, half of Los Angeles were. 

"We're doing a little set tonight." Marcus explained. 

"Oh nice, I haven't heard you guys for ages." You brought yourself back down to earth. 

"You could," he cooked his head with a wink, "y'know… join us?"

"No way, I'm not remotely prepared, I haven't sang live for weeks. I don't even remember half the words to your stuff!"

"Thanks mate."

"You know what I mean, It's too much pressure."

"As opposed to every other time you perform. Go onnn! It'll be fun!"

"For who?!" You try to counter, but he's winning you over. It really had been quite a few weeks since you'd last performed to an audience and you were feeling the pull. There was also that intoxicating way Jason had looked at you - the urge to do something unexpected and surprise him was pretty strong. "OK, say I said yes, who would we be pissing off - apart from my entire management team?"

"Nah, no one. No one even needs to know, we'll just tell the floor manager to get an extra mic set up and everyone else will be none the wiser. It'll be a good surprise for Tom and Jason to hear you properly live with a band." Yeah… you couldn't argue with that. 

"OK, OK, let's do it." He whooped and the three of you started moving a little quicker to the doors. You passed by a handful of the cast still having photos taken, a couple of them recognised you and a buzz went up from the photography area. You hesitated before stopping for some pictures, it was a premiere after all and you had dressed up for it in a dress which was the visual representation of exuding confidence. Confidence which you were absolutely winging at the moment in an ultimate ‘fake it til you make it’ strategy.

"How come you're here tonight?" One of the photographers shouted, “What do you think of your ex’s new girl?”

"Just a fan of the show." You smiled and posed, ignoring the second question. Once inside, Carey waved you off with a grin while you went backstage with Marcus.

~~~~~~~

"So we're doing the theme song - you don't have to do that - then in between the two episodes we're doing 2 or 3 songs while everyone has a break, then I think we'll do one after the screening as well. Happy with that?" You nod, "I'll come back to watch the first episode so you come back with me just before that ends. I'll go out as planned, introduce you and you can join us. Bit of backing, bit of melody. It doesn't matter if you really have forgotten all the words." You thank him gratefully. Back with Carey, you cheer for Marcus as he performs the theme song. At the other end of the same row, you can't help but steal a glance at Jason. He looked across to you just as your attention was drawn back to the stage. You managed to sneak out just before the end of the episode to wait for Marcus to introduce you. As expected, with only a few people knowing that you were there and no one at all expecting you to join the band on stage, the screening audience went crazy when you were introduced. 

"Hey everyone, thanks for letting me crash the party. Hope you're playing something I remember, Marmar." You tease lightly. He puts a hand to his heart, 

"Some of you may have seen us in the early 2010s on tour with my good friend here. You might remember that she used to join us for a banging version of Lover of the Light?" He looked to you for confirmation that you remembered enough to get by, and then you brought the fucking house down. With the first couple of songs under your belt, you were much more relaxed watching the second episode. It had been such a rush performing live on a total whim, it had been years since you'd done something so reckless and unpredictable regarding your music. Your phone was already blowing up in your bag with Twitter notifications - your management team would have a field day again, you still weren't exactly in the good books. Marcus had saved your favourite of his songs for last - I Will Wait. Similarly to Lover of the Light, the pair of you used to do a storming version together many, many years ago and you loved it so much that you'd recorded an acoustic version for one of your albums and you had been known to wheel it out during live shows as well. It wasn't until you were back up on the stage though that Marcus pretty much reduced his own role to backing singer and had gently nudged you to front the band. It was a damn good job you'd known them all for the better part of 15 years. Your unrehearsed, pared down version was a winner. You kept your eyes in the general direction of Carey and didn't let them stray to the opposite end of the row until the very end when you couldn't resist stealing a look at Jason any longer. He looked happy - fortunately - really happy, and you could feel your stomach tighten at the vaguely familiar notion of genuine attraction to someone. With the impromptu mini gig over, you had a quick 5 minutes with the band before heading off with the intention of finding a bar and a very alcoholic drink prior to catching up with Jason and Tom. Dutch courage was very much on the agenda. You ordered a whiskey and watched from the bar as the cast and creative team started making their way in, stopping every few seconds to be welcomed and congratulated by guests, media and family. You'd gotten talking to a couple of the writers who'd recognised you. 

"I was at your last gig in New York, it was so much fun!"

"I love shows in New York," You grinned, "I get to sleep in my own bed for a change!" 

"Ugh hotel beds are a menace. I either sleep like the dead or not at all."

"Tell me about it, buses are the worst though - be so glad you don't have to sleep on a bus! I did a week of shows in the UK last year and we were so tight on time that I'd finish a gig, go to sleep on the bus and wake up in a new city. I don't even think we bothered with hotel rooms, just drove through the night." You grimaced. Your back still hadn't forgiven you for that, and your tour manager was under strict instructions to avoid that debacle for future shows.

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, congrats guys!" Jason reached in to say hello to his writing team first.

"You too boss! Have you guys met?" They gestured to you, "I had no idea Marcus was going to bring her, did you?" 

"I did know. Thanks for coming." Jason finally turned to you with a smile that made you forget your own name. 

"Thanks for the invite. And sorry for the surprise set. It was Marcus's idea." You looked up while the writers filtered away to see other people, leaving the two of you alone. You took a long drink, buying you time to compose yourself because holy shit he looked so good. You wondered if it would be better to hold the meeting at separate ends of the room and communicate via smoke signals to save your blushes.

"Oh no, I loved it! Instant validation for the request I sent to Tom and Marcus, as if hearing you in the studio wasn't enough. You sounded amazing." You wave the compliment away,

"I'm way under rehearsed, I'm still under strict instructions to lay low for a while so I haven't been in front of a big audience for ages."

"It didn't show, really, you were great. Better than Marcus."

"Stop, he'll never forgive me!" You nudged him, laughing. 

"Can we sit?" You nod and his hand brushes the small of your back, guiding you to a booth. It’s warm through the thin fabric of your dress and you could curse when your treacherous body shivers in response. 

"Congrats on tonight, it looks like it's been a huge success."

"Ahh we'll see, it's a long way to go till the end of May. How's your week been?"

"Pretty good thanks, a few meetings. Plenty of writing."

"Anything you'd like to share?" He asked curiously. 

"Not just yet,” you tease lightly, “give it another day or so and maybe. Also it might be wildly different to what Tom's expecting so I don't want to get in trouble."

“You don’t strike me as a troublemaker.”

“I’m on my best behaviour. Unfortunately. One more bad headline and-” you draw your finger across your throat.

“No way? Those headlines are not your fault - you defended yourself.”

“Hmm but there are a lot of people out there who don’t believe that I’m defending myself. They believe that I’m the problem.” He looks at your hand resting on the table near his and you think he’s about to take it, but he moves his own away at the last second. “So… troublemaker, that’s me.” You smile ruefully. 

“Well I think I’ll reserve judgment.” He does move his hand then, but not to take yours, instead it goes around you to rest on your hip furthest from him, the action sliding you across the seat a few inches closer to him. He holds your gaze, an unspoken request for permission/forgiveness. You can’t help but feel a little unsure, automatically defensive. You’d spent three years being belittled, gaslit, shamed and manipulated in every aspect of your personal life, and now you were trying to recover from that whilst simultaneously trying to prove that those things were really happening to you and that you’re not a cold, calculating and manipulative bitch. You had no idea who you could really trust, who was supporting you or who was in the pocket of your ex. It was draining trying to mentally vet every reaction, conversation and person before letting your guard down. Something in his warm eyes lets you think you can trust him though, so you lean into that and into his hand just a little. Your eyes flash down to his mouth and back again and you hope you were quick enough that he didn't notice because you hadn't meant to do it. Well, not exactly. Your time alone is cut short though when Tom comes over with more drinks. 

"So that was unexpected." He said, handing you a glass. "Brilliant, but unexpected." Jason moves his hand from behind you to take his drink from Tom. 

"Told you." 

"Hush, you. Thank you, Tom. I caved to peer pressure. Marcus bullied me into it."

"I should get him a drink then." You unlock your phone and slide it across the table, the notes app open. As it passes him, Jason tries to sneak a look but Tom grabs up the phone and reads. "Keep going, you're nearly there." He advises firmly. "Though I want to hear it, I'm in meetings all day tomorrow but record a quick voice note, give me an idea of pace and melody and I’ll think on it." 

"Can you send it to me too?" Jason asked. 

"Nope." You reply with a smirk, for a moment he looks confused. "I don't have your number. But also, I’m not about to send you a half arsed voice note just yet." You shrug. He's about to reply when a few people start milling around looking like they need him. He excuses himself and you and Tom compare some notes on the start you’ve made to the song. He next finds you back at the same table catching up with Carey.

“-I’m just saying I would pay good money to see you recreate that Tom Holland Lip Sync Battle rain dance!” Carey giggled.

“Oh god, I’d fall over and break something! Besides, I’m not built for dancing - especially not dirty rain dancing!” You reply gleefully, the giggles getting the better of you both.

“Who’s doing dirty rain dancing?” Jason grins, handing both of you a drink, “Saw you both from the bar.”

“Ahh I’ll never convince her. Maybe Marcus will do it instead.” She takes a sip of her drink, “I’m going to be so hungover on the school run tomorrow.”

“Same.” he agrees.

“I’ll come with you, I want to see the kiddos and I’ll bring the biggest coffees I can find.”

“Thanks, love. If I’m already going to be hungover I might as well finish this drink as well! Thanks Jason, and congratulations!” As the party slows and people drift off, including Tom, you talk Carey into staying for another drink, not quite willing to leave Jason’s company just yet. He’s been sitting next to you again, not so close that it would make Carey uncomfortable or would seem rude. Close enough that when he talks with his hands they brush against your arm or hand. When they’re finally still and he puts them on the seat between you both, his fingertips can catch against yours or (very bravely) ghost over the hem of your dress. Meanwhile, you’re trying to look casual, trying to act unruffled but there’s a marching band inside your body banging your heart like a bloody big drum and it might as well be bursting out of your chest like a cartoon. When Carey gets up to track down Marcus so you can share an Uber with them, he turns on the seat to face you. 

“Can I give you my number?” He asks, watching your eyes widen in surprise. “For the voice note you're going to send me,” he teases.

“I’m not sending you the bloody song over WhatsApp. Tom can show you whatever he chooses, but you’ll get nothing from me until I say so.”

“Nothing at all huh?” He moves closer on the seat. You smile shyly,

“I’d strongly advise against whatever it is you think you’d like to do right now.”

“There’s a lot that I’d like to do, you might need to be more specific?” You shake your head in exasperation.

“My life is a fucking mess.”

“So is mine.”

“So you wouldn’t want to make it worse.”

“I really think I might actually want to. Might make it better.”

“The paps are-”

“Intense, rude, intrusive?”

“My ex-”

“Is a dick.” 

“Can we be serious for one minute? One minute. I don’t want you to drag you into this shitshow, my name is mud everywhere at the moment - I might as well be public enemy number one. No matter how… brief this might end up being, it’s still not fair on you, or your family, that you get associated with it all.”

“I don’t need to be, we don’t have to broadcast it.”

“I’m pretty sure they know my diary better than I do.” You counter, then pause, taking in the hat, the custom made tracksuit, the dimples. “But… I can avoid them most of the time. I try to… protect myself.”

“We could try that? Because I’d really like to kiss you before Carey gets back and you have to leave.” You can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth at that. The hint of a smile is enough for him to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips making you hum happily. “Wanna come to a basketball game?”

“And sit about 10 seats away from you pretending I’m not checking you out?”

“Amazing coincidence, that’s exactly what I’d be doing too.”

“I’d love to. Especially the checking you out part.” You grin. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Marcus and Carey coming back for you. “Looks like my time is up.” He slips his phone out of his pocket and opens the screen before handing it to you to add your number.

~~~~~~~~

Over the next couple of days, the tabloids seemed to wake up to your arrival in L.A, though they did at least leave you alone and keep their distance. A handful of pictures cropped up on Twitter and Instagram - you holding hands with one of Marcus and Carey’s kids, giving them a piggyback after school, some of you from the Ted Lasso premiere and one of you collecting takeout the evening after the premiere. You knew there would be photographers at the basketball game you were attending so you’d planned to go with an old friend. Despite Jason being the one to ask you to go, you knew that you’d be unlikely to even be able to say more than hello to him with so many eyes around. You sat one row back from the courtside and about 10-15 seats further along the row than Jason sat with his castmates and son. He’d sent you a message before you’d even pulled up at your apartment after the premiere, you’d replied of course and the message pingpong had been pretty regular in the run up to the game. He’d seen you arrive, he’d been loitering at the edge of the court talking while the seats began to fill up. You’d smiled and held your beer up in greeting.

You look great, I’m glad you came

Thanks, you too. This doesn’t count as a first date though.

That’s fair, I’ve got to get O home after this, but we could hang out later in the week?

Sounds good, enjoy the game

After the game, someone had pushed a ball into his hands while people were milling around the court. He’d been laughing and joking with Toheeb and Kola and you’d been perfectly happy just watching him have a good time. He took his cap off and turned it around on his head so he could better line up his shot. You had been halfway through a conversation but god fucking damn your jaw near hit the floor when he bounced a little and the ball had travelled near half the length of the court and straight into the basket. Someone had been filming it and Kola had excitedly told him to tell the camera that it had been one take. By this point, you’d long given up on talking with your friend and she watched in amusement while your words had trailed off. She followed your gaze to the scenes on the court.

“That’s emmm… that’s pretty hot.”

“I’m not usually a men doing sports type of person. In that it normally doesn’t affect me in any kind of way.”

“How you feeling now?”

“Pretty fucking affected. Jesus.” You reached for your phone while the image and the thoughts were still fresh in your mind - though there was no doubt that the visual would be there for a very long time to come. 

That was insane. I truly hope you know how hot that was because I… I’m speechless.

With the rest of the court clearing out, you took your empty beer glasses and took one last look at Jason. He spotted you so you gave a quick glance around for potential photographers before very obviously fanning yourself with your hand. He laughed and winked.

~~~~~~~~~

[sillygooseassociation]

Another Year of Us

Description: Jason surprises you, once again, on New Year's Eve with an idea of how to celebrate.

Warning(s): pregnancy, references to smut, o*ivia, jason is so cute i may stab my eyes out

Pairing: JRU, Jason Sudeikis x reader

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: y'all, it's happening, my favorite dumbasses 🥺

-

Your eyelids flutter open as sunshine enters the room through the window, the cold air outside no match for your personal heater known as Jason Sudeikis. It wasn’t often that you were able to wake up naturally next to Jason with no blaring alarm or excited child drawing you out of your sleep. While you enjoyed sleeping in, even if it was a struggle for Jason, you were missing the loud whispers and giggles of Daisy and Otis waking you up in the morning. After a week of sleeping with no interruptions, you were ecstatic to pick up the kids after their time with Olivia. Your smile grows as you feel yourself being pulled back against Jason’s chest, the freedom of no kids meaning neither of you redressed after the previous night’s activities. 

Jason places a soft kiss on your bare shoulder, placing kisses in a line from there to just under your ear lobe, “Good morning, beautiful.” Your cheeks warm at his compliment as his arm wraps around you, his large hand resting on the side of your stomach where you feel a small kick against his palm, “Oh yes, I’m so sorry, little one. Good morning to you, too.” You giggle at his greeting to baby Sudeikis, who thankfully wasn’t moving around too much during the night. Turning your head just enough, your eyes soften as your gaze falls on Jason, his stubble grown a little more than the day before and the gray peeking out in the middle of his facial hair, “Hi”. 

Leaning forward, Jason meets you in a kiss, his tongue running over your bottom lip before you grant him entry, his plan soon thwarted when you lightly bite down on the tip of his tongue. With a painful exclamation, Jason pulls back and looks at you with a humorous look of confusion, “What the fuck was that for?” You just laugh and shrug, pulling out of his grasp slightly so that you have enough room to roll and lay on your back, “Dunno, just wanted to see what would happen.” Jason raises his eyebrows in challenge, sitting up and throwing his leg over your thighs, straddling your body just under where your bump lays, “I’ll show you what happens.” 

Jason’s hands slide up from where they rest on your hips, making their way to your breasts, though you stop him before they can reach their destination. With a roll of your eyes, you push Jason off of you, “You horny fucker, stop it. We have kiddos to pick up.” Jason groans, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face into his pillow as you carefully sit up, sliding off the bed, as you hear a quieted muttering, “I wish I was a fucker right now.” A loud laugh echoes throughout the room, “Get a hold of yourself, Jas.” Bringing his face out of the darkness, Jason watched you walk to your bathroom, a small smile on his face at the domesticity of it all.

Leaving the brownstone hand in hand, you and Jason head to the car, careful to not slip on any of the ice on the ground. Opening the door for you, Jason has a firm hand on your lower back as you slide into the car, “Jason, I do know how to get in a car, ya know?” Jason rolls his eyes at you, closing the door once you’re in and rounding to the other side. You put on your seat belt, making sure it's secure around your bump as Jason gets settled, “Yes, I know that you know how to get in a car. But I’ll be damned if you slip and fall while getting in the car. Nothing is happening to you or the princess on my watch.” You smile at Jason’s words, resting a hand on your bump as he began your quick drive to Olivia’s place, “You know, Daisy is going to be really disappointed if her “little princess sister” turns out to be a prince.”

When you watched Frozen for the first time after telling the kids about your pregnancy, Daisy let out a loud gasp about halfway through the movie, “Wait! Does this mean that I’m Elsa and the baby is Anna?!” You tried to explain that the baby could be a boy but your warnings fell on deaf ears, Daisy insisting that your family was Frozen come to life. Otis yelled in offense, though the two quickly decided that he was Kristoff (“without the kissing, that’d be so gross”), also assigning Sven and Olaf to you and Jason, whatever the fuck that meant.

A small smile appeared on Jason’s face as he shook his head, glancing to you before looking back at the road, “Nope, she won’t be disappointed.” You sigh, understanding the unsaid implications of his response, “Bubs, you don’t know that it's going to be a girl.” Jason just shakes his head again, “Yes, I do, Y/N. It’s going to be a girl, I’m telling you.” Yeah, you know he’s telling you, he’s been telling you for the past four months. Of course you’re worried that Daisy will be disappointed, she’s so excited for a little sister, but she’s only eight, and you know she’ll be just as happy with a little brother. But really, you’re worried about Jason being disappointed if it’s a boy. You know he’ll love your child with his whole heart no matter their sex, but he has been so excited for his “second baby girl” ever since he declared you were having a girl two weeks after you told him you were pregnant. You would be heartbroken to see him not get his wish, “Mhm, okay, well we’ll find out in only a few more months, okay?”

You were filled with excitement as Jason turned down Olivia’s street. Sure, she wasn’t your favorite person, and she certainly wasn’t a fan of you either, but she was the kids’ mom, which meant you were forever grateful for her. Your thoughts quickly shifted from her as you saw two of your favorite people standing on the porch of Olivia’s townhouse. She was standing in the doorway, of course, a mug of coffee in her hands as she made sure her kids were safe until you arrived, but her presence was no match to the love that flooded you at seeing the kids, your kids. It took you years to feel comfortable calling the Sudeikis children yours and even now, you don’t often do it besides menial conversation like telling the pharmacy you are picking up a prescription for your child. Jason reaffirmed your role in the lives of his children, reassuring you that you were a parent to them just as much as he and Olivia, but it was still hard sometimes. 

As soon as Jason put the car in park, your door was flung open before you jumped out of the car, well, more like slid out thanks to your bump, “Mama!” The sound was like music to your ears. Two small bodies wrapped their arms around you, Otis diving into a story from the week with his mom while Daisy greeted her little sister with a different story. Coming around to join the three of you, Jason jokingly scoffed, “All right, geez, I get the message. Guess I’ll just head home then.” The kids squealed with laughter as they hugged their dad, Jason greeting them with a large smile before looking up at you with a smug grin, acting as if he won even though they definitely cheered louder for you. 

Jason gave a brief wave to Olivia as you ushered the kids to the car, making sure they got all the way buckled as your fiancé loudly wished a happy new year to his ex. With all of you now situated in the car, Jason begins the drive back home as you partially turn in your seat to see Daisy and Otis, intently listening to their stories filled with sound effects and intense hand gestures. Jason looks in the rearview mirror, smiling brightly at the sight of his kids doubled over in laughter, then glancing to see you wearing a smile similar to his, seemingly on top of the world just from listening to Daisy and Otis’s nonsensical stories. With a backdrop of the winter city passing you all by as tourists make their way to Manhattan and Mumford & Sons quietly playing, Jason’s life of the past three years seems to come full circle. Seeing an open parking lot to his right, Jason quickly pulls in and parks the car, looking to you with a serious expression on his face. You turn to him in confusion, but he speaks before you can ask him what he’s doing, “Marry me.” 

Distracted by a family of snowmen in the parking lot, the kids are sharing laughs as they look out the window, but you just stare at Jason. You’ve never seen him look so serious before, his eyebrows raised in hopefulness and his cheeks pink, though you’re unsure if that’s due to the chilled air or his moment of vulnerability. You raise your left hand, showing your ring to Jason as you slightly tilt your head, “Um, yeah, Jas, you already did this part, remember? Got down on one knee and everything.” At any other moment, Jason would roll his eyes at you and call you a little shit or something similar, but right now, all he can do is look at you, “Today. Marry me, today.” Your breath hitches in your throat, the serious tone of Jason’s words catching the attention of the kids, who now watch the two of you intently, “Jason, what? I-I don’t have a dress, our families aren’t here, we haven’t even set a date.” 

Grabbing your hands, Jason looks at you with eyes filled with love, seemingly pleading that you will see this how he does, “Exactly, sweetheart. We haven’t even set a date, and I can’t wait any longer. We’ll have a reception after the baby comes, we’ll celebrate with everyone, but my family, our family, is all right here.” With tears pooling in your eyes, you turn to Otis and Daisy who are practically jumping in their seats, apparently sensing the seriousness of the situation enough to know to be quiet. You turn back to Jason, who has a small smile on his face, a couple of tears running down his face, “Three years ago today, I picked you up to go to a party as friends and I acted like an idiot, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made. We drove through the same city, we listened to the same music, and we passed the same annoying tourists. I meant every single thing that night and I mean every single thing now. I can’t stand the idea of beginning another year where you aren’t my wife. So let’s go to the courthouse, let’s act like annoying lovesick teenagers. Let me marry you while you wear clunky snow boots and leggings and my sweatshirt. Marry me, Y/N.”

By now, tears are rolling down your face as you nod your head, pulling Jason in for a sweet kiss, your tears mixing as the kids cheer before groaning in disgust at your affection. You and Jason pull away, both of you wiping away your tears before you swat at Jason’s arm, “What’re you doing? Come on, let’s get a move on. You can’t say all that and expect me to wait another minute.” Jason chuckles at you, pulling you in for another quick kiss before peeling out of the parking lot, and heading to the closest New York City courthouse.

After waiting in line at the marriage clerk’s office, the kids so excited that they thankfully don’t complain, the four of you wait outside the office of a judge. You sit on a bench, the kids both tucked into your sides as they talk to the baby, Jason watching as he leans against the opposite wall, absolutely obliterated with love. A door opens before a booming voice fills the hall, “Y/N L/N and Daniel Sudeikis?” You and the kids stand up, Jason joining up and intertwining your fingers as the four of you walk to the judge’s chambers. The woman looks up, surprise across her face, “I was wondering from the name but Daniel, really?” Jason chuckles as the kids giggle at a face you make in their direction, “Yes, ma’am, surprising, I know.” The judge smiles, both at Jason’s midwestern manners and your interaction with the children, leading you into her chambers. 

Daisy and Otis sit down in the large chairs facing the desk, yell-whispering to you about their “thrones”. You smile at them, giving them a thumbs-up before bringing your finger to your lips, reminding them to be quiet. They giggle in excitement, watching as Jason brings you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist while the other rests on your bump. The judge sits down and motions to your clothes, “Last minute decision?” Jason looks down at you, a bright smile on his face, “This has been three years coming Your Honor, I couldn’t make it another year.” You look up at Jason with a similar sized smile, giving him a small kiss before you’re interrupted, “Okay, lovebirds, I haven’t said that yet. Wait a minute or two.” 

The kids holler with laughter at the teasing words of the judge, though you can’t judge them, you and Jason both laugh as well, though partly from embarrassment. The judge gives the two of you a tight-lipped smile, “All right, you two have filled out all the required documents, so now it’s really just the fun part. Please turn to each other.” You and Jason turn to face each other, standing as close as you can with your bump, “Do you, Y/N M/N L/N, take Daniel Jason Sudeikis to be your lawfully wedded husband?” You look up at Jason, a small smile on your face as tears run down your face, Jason’s expression mirroring yours, “I do.” You hear small giggles from the side, but you don’t look away from Jason, how can you? “And do you, Daniel Jason Sudeikis, take Y/N M/N L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Jason squeezes your hands three times as he looks into your eyes, “I sure do.” A breath that you weren’t consciously holding left your lungs. There was no doubt in your mind that Jason would say yes, but you still needed to hear it, and now that you have, you’re pretty sure it’s one of your favorite sounds in the world. With a smile on her face, the judge closes her folder containing your documents, “Then by the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Now, you may kiss your spouse.” You don’t miss the teasing tone of how the judge finishes that second sentence but it doesn’t really matter, because all you can focus on is Jason’s lips on yours, your heart beating in your chest, the kicks of the baby in your belly, and the cheers of your kids. 

The two of you pull apart, resting your foreheads together as you feel the kids wrapping their arms around your legs. You’ll look at them in a moment, you’ll all celebrate, but right now, you’re looking at your husband. His eyes sparkle as he looks at you, a smile on his face, “We doing this? Another year of us?” You smile back, nodding your head as you lean in to give him a small kiss, “We’re doing this. You and me, Mr. Sudeikis.” Jason smirks at your response, both your phrase and the name for him, him kissing you once more before the kids can interrupt, “You and me, Mrs. Sudeikis.”

[mikethefanboy]

Manic Monday! Pinky Hearts Ted Lasso! Meeting Jason Sudeikis! Ted Lasso Himself!

Manic Monday! Pinky Hearts Ted Lasso! Meeting Jason Sudeikis! Ted Lasso Himself!

Hello, my lovelies. Pinky Lovejoy-Coogan here to see if you’re as obsessed with Ted Lasso as we are? The world might be crazy right now, but the best thing to come out of the past year (at least in my opinion) is Ted Lasso. It’s just a warm hug of a show! The amazing series just completed its second season after (rightfully) dominating the Emmy awards and I’m already longing for its return. Over…

[thisismysecondrodeo]

"This Means the World To Me" - One Shot: Jealous!Jason

AN: This takes place within the “This Means the World To Me” universe but it's standalone so you don’t have to have read it. Featuring Jealous!Jason as requested by @lassoposting and Chris Evans being a gentleman for @sudsevans @amillcitygirl and @ozarkthedog

Gifs from @sudsevans as inspiration from this post

During a short break about halfway through the awards ceremony, Jason excused himself to the restroom. He leaned over and kissed your cheek as he left and you asked him for another glass of champagne on his way back.

You and Jason Sudeikis had been secretly married for about a year but in fancy spaces like this, you still felt adrift without his presence. It was the Oscars for god's sake it was hard to feel like you were allowed to be there. You tried to look like you weren’t bored, but also that you weren’t too interested in any of the conversations happening around you, but you also didn’t want to sit on your phone…it was quite the balancing act and you were very focused on it when you felt someone slip into Jason’s seat beside you.

“Sorry to spring up on you, but are you Y/N L/N?”

You turned, bracing for polite conversation, and were surprised when you were looking into the eyes of Captain America himself. 

“Uh, yeah. Yes,” you tried not to stammer but it was hard talking to someone who looked like that up close. His eyes were a very pretty blue-green and he smiled when you met his gaze.

“Chris,” he said, stretching a hand out to you. You took it and appreciated the fact that he introduced himself, even though you both knew that you knew who he was. “I just wanted to say, I thought your novel was amazing. I, uh, haven’t read the short stories yet, but you are… very talented. Got me out of a reading slump, actually.” 

“Wow, that’s high praise. To be honest with you, I mean, not that I know you, but I would have guessed you were more of a nonfiction kinda guy.” If you were being really honest, you wouldn’t have guessed that he was even that much of a reader. You knew his ex Jenny Slate had written a book—it was one of your favorites actually—but that didn’t feel kosher to mention. 

Chris Evans leaned back in Jason’s seat with a look of surprise. “Actually, yeah. Usually. But that should tell you how good your book was.” 

The two of you chatted about books for a while longer and then transitioned into getting to know each other a little better. There were a few camera people around snapping candids and you wondered if you’d see this conversation later. He seemed impressed by you which was unexpected but undeniably flattering. You were laughing politely at a comment he made about his dog Dodger, when you saw Jason approach from behind Chris, a whiskey in one hand. He raised an eyebrow at you and you smiled, thinking nothing of it. Chris followed your eyes behind his shoulder and realized he was in your boyfriend’s (husband’s) seat. Chris placed a hand gently on your exposed shoulder as the lights dimmed alerting the auditorium that there were about 3 minutes of break left. 

“Hey, it was lovely to meet you Y/N,” Chris smiled at you as he stood, turning to Jason and reaching a hand out. “Hey man, how ya doin’?”

You expected Jason’s usual genial smile, a polite head nod in greeting. What you didn’t expect was the tight line of his lips, more grimace than smile, and for Jason to grip Chris’s hand so hard you could see their fingers flex. Chris seemed unbothered, but you couldn’t deny your curiosity. Maybe something had happened while Jason was in the bathroom, but if you didn’t know better you’d say that the glint in his eye was possessive. He wasn’t normally the jealous type, the two of you had regularly discussed people you both found attractive when it came up, but it seemed that something about you talking to Chris had him seeing green. 

Chris moved to step away as Jason sat and you looked at your partner amused, “Are we sharing that whiskey?”

“Ah fuck, I’m sorry baby,” he seemed genuinely distraught but you just chuckled as he went to stand and return to the bar. Chris stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. 

“I’m actually headed to the bar myself, let me,” Chris said smiling at Jason before turning his gaze on you. “What can I get you?”

You looked at Jason and it seemed like a vein you’d never seen before had suddenly appeared on his forehead but he didn’t say anything so you smiled and said, “champagne would be wonderful, Chris, thank you.”

As soon as Chris walked away you raised an eyebrow at Jason, who was pointedly not looking at you.

“What the fuck was that?”

Jason sighed, “I’m sorry.” He looked up at you sincerely, speaking a little slower so you knew he meant it, “I’m sorry. I'm...that was silly.” 

“Are you jealous, baby?” You knew you were laying it on thick but you were a little flattered that Jason thought you could pull Chris Evans, and a little turned on at the way he couldn’t hide it. "Trust me, Captain America is not interested in little ol' me." 

“Don’t use that tone with me. What am I supposed to do when fuckin’ Captain America is hitting on my wife,” Jason’s tone was amused but with an undercurrent of hurt and he lowered his voice when he said wife. 

“Oh is that what it is? You’ll remember when we first got together I made a joke about you, me, and Donald Glover having a threesome. Is it different because you know I have a thing for older white men?”

Jason chuckled but shook his head no. 

“Ahh is it because we’re…,” you dropped your voice conspiratorially leaning into him, “married?”

Jason smirked at you, his eyes twinkling. “Maybe.”

The lights dimmed just as Chris arrived with your glass of champagne. “You’re a doll, Chris, thank you.” You said it just to get another rise out of Jason, who slid a protective arm around the back of your chair. Chris smiled and waved goodbye as he made his way to his table. 

You turned toward Jason who met your gaze with a face that said, seriously?

You leaned towards Jason. “You don’t have to go all caveman on me, baby. I love you and only you and you know that. I filed paperwork with the government that says so, in fact.” 

You drifted one manicured index finger up from the knot of his tie to under his chin, your eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips and back as you pulled him ever closer. Just before he leaned in to kiss you, you moved your hand so you were gripping his face gently, your thumb in his dimple, and whispered, “even if it is incredibly sexy.”

You finally pulled him to your lips, kissing him deeply, passionately. More passionate than the two of you would usually be at an event like that, and so deeply that neither of you noticed the flash of a camera as the ceremony picked back up. 

Jason looked a little dazed as he pulled back from you and spoke quietly in your ear, “You like that, huh? I guess when we get home I’ll have to show you you’re mine won’t I?”

Jason’s low tone and innuendo sent shivers down your spine. The ceremony couldn’t be over fast enough, the Uber couldn't get the two of you to the hotel fast enough, Jason couldn't get your dress off fast enough and it ended up torn on the floor next to the couch. 

"You know I'm normally not one to reward bad behavior," you said as Jason left open-mouthed kisses down your neck. You gasped, losing your train of thought as his left hand trailed under your thong, his right keeping your wrists pinned to the hotel room wall.

"Is that right? Why don't you tell that to Captain fucking America,“ Jason said low in your ear. 

His hands and lips felt so good on you that you almost didn't respond but you got your wits about you enough to retort, "sure, do you have his number?"

Jason growled, lifting you over his shoulders in a fireman's carry and tossing you playfully onto the bed as you giggled. But his body was over yours in a second and your giggles quickly became moans. 

"What was that you were saying, Mrs. L/N-Sudeikis,“ Jason asked from between your thighs and now you were really too far gone to answer besides a whispered, “Yours.”

And if a few days later you found the picture of you and Chris Evans talking at the Oscars and set it as your phone background to leave where Jason could see, well that was no one’s business but yours. 

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

A STUDY IN YOU, chapter five

May 7th, 2018

Max was in the window seat, an eye mask tugged low to block the setting sun over the left wing. Naomi munched on a bag of pretzels, headphones in place as she stared at the screen on the seatback in front of her. 

Two hours in, four to go. 

Somehow you’d gotten stuck on the aisle--Sophie was two rows ahead of you trying to chat up a girl in her Film Preservation class--and Max was quick to lay claim on your preferred seat. But at least it gave you easy access to the bathroom. 

So you washed your hands in the tiny sink, slid the lock on the door and pushed it open to find Jason leaned against the wall on the other side. 

“Oh, hi--sorry,” he took a step back, let you step out into the cramped space beside the galley. 

“Hi,” you looked up at him, wondering if he’d watched you get up and find the bathroom or if this was a chance meeting. The way he scanned your face quickly told you it was the former. 

“Did you get my text the other night?”

“Yeah--no--I did, I just--I was with Sophie, it was late.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, only a few inches away from you. “Okay, I just didn’t know--”

On your walk back from Sophie’s that night you weighed the options. You could reply, tell him it was fine and risk giving him the power. Or--in a brazen change of pace--you could see how much he’d squirm. 

Apparently it was working. You offered him a tiny smile, slipped past him and headed for your seat. 

Luckily, your friends were too distracted upon arrival in Cannes to notice your calculated moves. You tried to take a step back--if only to see how he’d react--and that meant not laughing at the jokes he cracked on the transfer to the hotel. 

There were palm trees and sidewalk cafes and water so blue you couldn’t believe it. Yachts docked in the bay as you drove along the coast, the bus dropped you off beside a Prada store and Max took a look around, I think I have to move here. 

You were set free to check-in and unpack, your room with Naomi was right beside Max and Sophie’s, juliette balconies overlooked the city center and just by the water you could spot the Palais des Festivals. 

The city was thick with excitement that day, and when you sipped champagne on Sophie’s bed the first night, you smiled. 

She stood in the mirror, clipped an earring into place when Naomi ran a straightener through her hair. 

“This is the coolest shit we’ve ever done,” Sophie decided. 

“One day maybe I’ll have a film that gets screened here,” Max dreamed out loud, scrolling mindlessly on his phone before he looked up to see you. “And maybe you’ll write the script for me.”

“If you can afford me,” you shrugged dramatically when Naomi let out a laugh. 

Max soon read through the screenings of the evening--the categories that were divided up and the purpose of each different accolade. You slipped into your dress just before 4pm, a floor length gown that he’d found on a rack at Bloomingdale’s and swore was the one. 

Well, one of the two seeing as you bought a different dress for the next night. 

Your bank account suffered but your heart was happy when you stepped out of the elevator behind them, a clutch in hand as you neared the hotel bar. 

“Early enough to get a drink,” Sophie wiggled her shoulders as you all approached. 

Jason and Will stood at the edge of the bar, suits and ties and their hands around glasses of whiskey. They turned when Max offered a compliment: “don’t you two clean up nicely!”

Will laughed, shook Max’s hand in greeting. “This feels like a better look than the usual professor garb, right?”

“Absolutely,” Max flirted.

“Hi,” Jason nodded in your direction, a small smile when he seemed to gauge the energy between the two of you. He looked you up and down quickly, lips parted as he tried to navigate another blurred line. “You look…really…wonderful.”

Sophie let out a giggle at the interaction she witnessed. Jason’s eyes darted over to her and he started to stammer. 

“You do too, Sophie--you look great--”

“Oh, save it, Sudeikis,” she rolled her eyes and patted him on the shoulder. “Keep the compliments for Y/N.”

“Why don’t you get me a drink,” you redirected Sophie. She made a face at that--like a child being reprimanded for staying up past their bedtime--before she took a few steps over and did as she was told. 

“Sorry,” you said to him quickly. 

“No, I’m sorry,” he laughed a little. “Just--you know--a different look than your usual…” he trailed off, another shake of his head. “I’m gonna stop commenting on your appearance now.”

You offered a smug smirk, a rush of adrenaline at the power and the feeling and the way he swallowed down whatever thoughts he had. 

“You also look very nice,” you said casually. “Max helped me find this dress and the one I have for tomorrow--so, I owe it all to him.”

“Is she giving me credit for her fit?” He leaned down the bar and smiled at you. 

“Yes,” you rolled your eyes. “As promised.”

“You’re welcome,” Max smirked at you and offered a quick wink, though for a second, it almost felt like he was saying it to Jason. 

You sipped on another glass of Champagne before other students and professors arrived, climbed onto the coach bus that drove you over to the theater. Security was tight and obviously less glamorous than the red carpet, but everyone was just as excited to finally get inside what felt like a slice of filmmaker’s heaven. 

You were in awe—of the cinematography, the set design—every aspect left you speechless and every film left you inspired. You thought back to the night in his office when you caught a glimpse of him in the dark.

What if there was an extra spot?

You were glad, overall, that you hadn’t told your friends. It would be hard to explain the way he shrugged his shoulders and offered it up casually, like he wasn’t bending the rules to help you out. 

Would he do that for someone else? Would he have looked as disappointed if someone else had given bad news? I didn’t get chosen.

The confusion that left you staring at the ceiling most nights as you waited for sleep was becoming unbearable. It felt more suffocating in a foreign country, but the way he looked at you in your dress gave the confidence boost you needed to give him a taste of his own medicine.

Just like Sophie had said a few weeks earlier, it felt harder now to ignore the quick glances or subtle smirks. Flirty. Sure. A sprinkle of some sexual tension that you figured was mostly in your imagination and (at best) highly exaggerated due to your innocent crush and the constant prodding from Sophie.

But the way he backtracked and side stepped your question in his office made you tick. What had started as casual flirtation now felt elevated, almost like a tug of war or a game to see who’d break first.

So you kept a safe distance at the post screening cocktail party, sipped a martini with Naomi and chatted with other students about the excitement of the evening. 

You kept an eye on him, made sure to have plenty of fun and made sure that if he ever came too close, you’d find another group to join. 

And maybe you were a little old to play games--you certainly weren’t proud of the potential mess this could be or the disaster it could become. But if anything, by the end of the night, it seemed like you weren’t the only one testing the water.

You waited at the bar for another drink, noticed after a moment that he was down on the other end, listening intently to a woman with long hair and a glass of champagne in her hand. You did a double take, uncomfortable with the pang of jealousy that coursed through you at the sight of them. 

You didn’t recognize her--she wasn’t someone affiliated with NYU--and when Sophie slid up beside you, it didn’t take long for her to put two and two together. 

“Why do you look pouty?” She asked with narrowed eyes, a quick smile in gratitude to the bartender who delivered her drink. 

“One o’clock,” you muttered. “Look at how obnoxious that is.”

She glanced around quickly, her eyes settling on Jason and the mystery woman before her lips pushed out in confusion. “Who is that?”

“I don’t know,” you said.

She nodded slowly, looked at them and then back at you. “Go over there.”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What am I supposed to say? Stop flirting with my professor because I’m trying to do that?”

“At least she admits it now,” Naomi appeared behind you. 

“Oh leave me alone,” you rolled your eyes. 

“What’s happening?” Naomi sipped the cocktail in her hand and smiled in curiosity. 

“She’s jealous,” Sophie reached forward and pinched your cheek, gesturing down the bar to the two of them. 

Naomi’s eyebrows lifted when her gaze settled on Jason. “Huh. That’s a surprising twist.”

“I think she should go over there,” Sophie said. “You know, fuck with his head a little bit.”

“And I think Sophie’s an idiot,” you looked to Naomi. 

“Have you guys--like--done anything?” she lowered her voice and Sophie bit back a laugh.

“No,” you shook your head quickly, a dramatic groan. “I don’t know why everyone keeps asking that.”

Naomi’s eyes went wide at that. “Who’s everyone?”

“Just you two, I guess.”

“We have asked because we are aware of the rapport and the chemistry between you guys,” Sophie corrected. “Hard to miss, honestly.”

Your heart did a somersault at her words, another rush of something when you looked at him from across the room. Your denial of the chemistry and rapport--to borrow Sophie’s words--wasn’t to dupe your friends. You weren’t purposely trying to keep anything from them or be dishonest. Mostly, you were trying to avoid whatever letdown would come if nothing ever transpired. 

All of the giggling that Sophie did—the excitement that oozed out of her when you mentioned his name—only egged you on. It made your heart beat harder at the thought of feeling his hands on your body, a thought that was popping into your consciousness more often lately. 

It was a longshot, right? You were twenty-seven, a student and his advisee. Any type of anything could cost him his job and--at the end of the day--it still felt like a stupid fantasy. Unlikely and out of reach. 

But when thoughts like that started to swirl in your brain, it was hard to ignore the evidence. The way he looked you up and down in the hotel bar earlier today, the text he’d sent to apologize for whatever that was in his office. When one of you pushed, the other pulled back. 

But again, two could play that game. 

“I’m going over there,” you said, setting your drink on the counter, exhilarated by the look of shock on both their faces. 

“What are you gonna say?” Sophie asked eagerly, the anticipation and excitement evident in her voice. 

Naomi eyed you skeptically, less enthused by your decision. “Yeah, what are you gonna say?” 

“Nothing--just, I don’t know. I’ll be fine,” you reassured them. “Watch my drink and stay here. And do not stare at me from across the bar.”

“Alright, alright,” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Go get your man back.”

“Not my man,” you made a face, turning on your heels and heading in his direction. 

You wove through other evening gowns and schmoozers, caught his eye when you approached and watched as he interrupted the woman in front of him. Not the first time he’d done that--pause a conversation to direct his attention towards you--and it felt even better the second time. 

“Sorry--uh--Celeste, this is Y/N. She’s one of my advisees at NYU, great writer and director.”

“Nice to meet you,” you extended your hand, offered her a smile and took note of the ring on her finger. 

Jason looked at you and helped connect the dots. “Celeste and I met through her husband, he and I worked together on a movie in 2014. They live in Tribeca.”

Oh. You smiled up at her. “That’s so nice--what a small world that you ran into each other.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Her husband is a great guy, super talented and hilarious.”

“He’s here somewhere,” she looked around the party and laughed. “Let me go find him--he’d love to see you. I’ll come back,” she disappeared at that, patted Jason on the shoulder and took off to locate her husband.

He looked down at you once you were alone. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you offered an awkward smile. 

“Are we--good?”

“Us?” You tried to play it cool, as if the one syllable, two letter word didn’t ignite something in you. “Yeah--no--of course. Why wouldn’t we be?”

He thought on it for a second, shrugged slightly as he shook his head. “No reason, I guess--just checking. Feel like I haven’t seen a lot of you lately, on the trip.”

“Oh, yeah,” you waved him off. “Traveling with two divas isn’t easy.”

“Naomi doesn’t strike me as a diva--”

“I meant Sophie and Max,” you laughed.

“Oh,” he nodded when it clicked. “Right. Speaking of…” he trailed off as he smiled over your shoulder. 

Max materialized behind you, Sophie and Naomi in tow. So much for leaving things be.

“Hi,” Max cooed, a kiss on your cheek when he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go where?” You laughed a little at his antics, unsure what he was up to or if you’d even approve. 

“Out on the town,” he made a face like this should have been obvious. “Plenty of french men to meet, right?”

Your eyes darted up to Jason’s, who eyed you with an amused smirk. 

“Well,” you nodded at your advisor. “I guess I’ve got plans.”

“I guess so,” he shrugged before looking up to the rest of them. “Be safe, have fun--don’t be idiots.”

“Okay dad,” Max teased. “Or should I say daddy,” he muttered in your ear. 

“Okay--we’re leaving,” you tugged his arm, biting back a tipsy laugh.

May 8th, 2018

The Starbucks in the hotel lobby was busy for 8am. Nose goes in the group text sent you downstairs in athletic shorts and a tank top. An iced caramel latte, an americano, and a flat white. Tea for Naomi. Easy enough. 

You scrolled on your phone in line with your wallet in your hand. A voice from behind you made your stomach flip. 

“Morning,” he said, hair a little less coiffed than usual. A smirk on his face like he knew the line this was crossing--at least it was nobody’s fault. You crossed your arms over your chest, were your nipples visible through the bralette you threw on?

“Morning,” you forced a smile. “I’m on coffee duty.”

“I can see that,” he laughed. “They really are divas, huh?”

“Only on days that end in y,” you rolled your eyes. 

“So--” he shuffled on his feet when you both waited in line, he put his hands in the pockets of the sweatpants he wore. For a second you swore you saw his eyes sweep over your figure. The shorts that hung on your hips now felt almost too short, your tank top a little too see-through. “Where’d Max take you last night?”

You caught his eyes for a second, flattered by his thinly veiled curiosity. “Just a place near the beach--nothing too intense. Did you end up anywhere after the festival?”

He nodded, “Yeah. I went out for a drink with Celeste--that woman you met--and her husband. Nice to catch up.”

You smiled, noticed that he didn’t have as clean of a shave as he usually did. He wore a blue t-shirt, the name of a Kansas City restaurant across the chest, and a pair of Nikes. 

A moment of reprieve when it was your turn to order. You waited by the end of the counter for the drinks and breakfast pastries, he came up beside you again and made small talk about the undergrad class and the students that neither of you could stand. 

But eventually Marina appeared in the lobby and he went to catch up with her, something about a museum in the afternoon before another night of screenings. You grabbed lunch with the gang and nosed around the city, pulling on another evening gown by sunset. 

The night was long but fun, glitzy and glamorous when the night air breezed by the outdoor bar at the festival. It was similar to the night before--movies, short films, documentaries. An endless option of art at your fingertips and plenty of champagne, too. 

And on the morning of your last full day in Cannes--your free day in Cannes--Max slurped the end of a smoothie, fussed with the straw when he smiled: “okay--let’s go around in a circle and all say what our favorite part of the trip has been so far.”

The morning was already hot and sunny, meaning Sophie had her heart set on the beach before you even had breakfast at the hotel.

“The doc we saw last night was amazing,” Naomi said. “Just seeing all these new approaches to film and storytelling is so cool.”

The second night of the festival was better than the first. Mostly because you had more to drink than the night before and Jason and Will sat at the end of your aisle for one of the screenings. Max took it upon himself to crack jokes with them and Sophie was brave (tipsy?) enough to introduce herself to one of your favorite up and coming directors. 

“Meeting Julien Frantz was pretty epic,” Sophie nodded, you heard her take a sip of the frozen rosé you’d stopped for on the way over.

You were lying down on a towel, a t-shirt draped over your eyes when your sunglasses weren’t enough. “If Max is the one who suggested we share it means he’s got something good.” 

He laughed though you couldn’t see him. 

“My favorite thing has been the food and the drinks and the club last night.”

Right--the spot he’d dragged you to after a shot at the hotel bar and a pep talk on the sidewalk outside. You only live once, he practically screamed in your face. Sophie was an easy sell, Naomi agreed you’d stay until 1am and then go home. You didn’t leave until 2am. 

Which is why you’d all agreed to spend the last day lounging in the sand and watching the yachts that you’d never be able to afford. 

“We all know what your favorite part has been,” Max said, the lilt in his voice made it clear he was talking to you.

“Me?”

“Yeah you,” he laughed. 

You played along for a second, curious to see how far he’d push you. “And what do you think that might be?”

“So coy,” Sophie laughed. “As if you aren’t loving the extra Sudeikis time.”

Naomi snorted out a laugh, probably pretending to be nose deep in a book.

“There’s nothing happening,” you said, eyes still covered by the t-shirt you’d folded. 

“For now—” Max chuckled.

You groaned, heard Sophie shift beside you. You pulled the t-shirt off your eyes, she sat up on her towel and lifted her sunglasses to see you. She meant business. 

“Would you have sex with him?” She shaded her eyes with her hand. 

Now you sat up, let out an elongated sigh and sipped your own frozen rosé through the now soggy paper straw. Should you admit it so easily?

“Guys--” you groaned, made a face at all three of them. 

They stared back at you expectantly, obviously not willing to budge.

“I mean--I wouldn’t not have sex with him.”

“What a weird way to say yes,” Max made a face at you. 

“Well—what do you want me to say? No matter what I would do, nothing can happen, right?”

Now Naomi sat up too. 

“I know it’d be fun, but—I don’t know. Feels risky and unethical.”

You nodded in agreement, ignored the way Max let his jaw hang open: “Okay but she’s almost thirty—” he pointed a finger at you. 

“Watch it,”  you warned.

“And he’s 42,” Max kept going. “That’s not that bad.”

Sophie leaned forward to convince you. “And this is grad school. It’s not undergrad, it’s not like he has so much power over you.”

“He could give me bad grades—“ you tried to interject.

“Why on earth would he do that?” Max asked. “You’re literally the teacher’s pet.” 

“Okay, ew,” you giggled. 

“As if you wouldn’t sit on his lap,” Max crawled up on his knees and pretended to pant like a dog.

Sophie and Naomi both burst into laughter, nearly toppled over on the sand when you pulled your legs up to your chest. You had the cover of sunglasses, but something told you they could see the heat on your cheeks.

“Oh, we got her good,” Sophie laughed. “Spot on impression!”

“I’m still team don’t do it,” you shook your head but smiled. “I would never want to make him uncomfortable and I don’t know if he would ever do anything. He’s too professional.” You thought out loud, a quick qualifier: “I mean, that’s all assuming that he is actually flirting with me.”

“Even I’ve seen it,” Naomi admitted with a roll of her eyes. She nodded towards Max and Sophie. “And I don’t do anything obnoxious around him unlike those two.”

“Cannes feels like a good place to roll the dice,” Max suggested. 

“Excuse me?”

He put his palms towards the sky. “If you’re gonna sleep with a professor I feel like a school trip is where it should happen.”

“No—oh my god—I’m not just going to dive in head first!”

“No?” Sophie raised her brows. “You’re gonna ease in? Dip a toe or two?”

“We’ll see,” you laid back down, pulled the t-shirt over your eyes again to block the sun. “But no promises.”

__

Your arm was linked with Naomi’s when you came through the hotel lobby doors on your last night in Cannes. Strappy heels on your feet had you begging to sit--the walk back from dinner on cobblestone streets wasn’t any easier after a glass of wine. 

“Look at all of them over there,” Max pointed across the lobby to the hotel bar. A booth of your professors--Laurie, Will, Jason, Jesse, Marina--laughter floated over from their spot and Sophie smiled. 

“We have to go have a drink with them!”

You were tugged over without a say in the decision, even Naomi was on board and you weren’t about to be the only one to object. So you sauntered up beside them, met his eyes briefly when Sophie greeted the group. 

“An evening nightcap,” she cooed. “Mind if we join?”

“Well hello,” Marina smiled up at the four of you, sliding down in the u-shaped booth to make room. 

“Did you galavant around Cannes tonight?” Will asked before he took a sip of his cocktail. Max let you slide in first--of course--next to Jason. He offered a smile when your knee knocked into his beneath the table.

“We had dinner at a place near Pointe Croisette,” Sophie put on her best French accent. “Most delicious bread I’ve ever had.”

“Bread?” Laurie smiled. “Did you guys eat anything else or are we on a budget?”

“We might as well have ordered one of everything,” you rolled your eyes. “But we agreed that the bread was to die for.”

“Life’s simplest pleasures,” Jesse joked. 

They told you about their night--not that dissimilar from yours--and Laurie recounted the worst trip to Cannes she’d ever experienced. We lost three students because they got too drunk and barely made the flight home. 

You fell into conversation with Marina and Sophie about the screenings the night before. Sophie was thrilled to have seen Meryl Streep in the flesh, Marina promised that she believed your friend: if you say she waved at you, I’ll take your word for it.

It was fun to listen to their stories about Cannes or work or anything they’d divulge. When you first started grad school, your professors felt untouchable. Like their years of experience and expertise put them far out of reach, and you’d take any drop of knowledge they’d offer up.

But as time went on, you got to know them as people. You knew Marina was married and had a five year old at home. Laurie had lived in the same Greenwich Village apartment since her 30s due to rent control. The line between professor and mentor seemed much blurrier the closer to thirty you got. You figured that was just part of being an adult. 

After two more drinks, Naomi was the first to tip her wine glass towards the ceiling. “Alright--I have to give in to sleep.” She smiled in farewell and headed for the elevator, followed by Will only ten minutes later. The bar had thinned out a little--already midnight and only twelve hours until your return flight. 

Max and Jason laughed about Will’s final assignment for a theory class and then Sophie followed Laurie’s lead. “Alright,” she smiled when she stood from the booth. “I’d love another drink, but future me doesn’t like the thought of being hungover on a transatlantic flight.”

Laurie laughed. “As someone who’s suffered through that--good choice.”

Sophie grimaced at Laurie’s memory. “And Max insisted on a club last night, so I might be at my alcohol limit for this trip.”

“Good to know there is one,” you teased her. She gave you the finger playfully as she walked away. 

So then there were three. Max didn’t mind making you and Jason laugh about the terrible short film he made in high school, and when he finally finished his third glass of Champagne, he pouted. “I think this is the end of the road for me, too.”

“I’m sorry,” you teased. “Maxwell Antonio Prescott, quitting while he’s ahead?”

Jason chuckled, watched when Max draped his arms around your shoulder and squeezed with affection. “You know how Sophie snores--my sleep is already fucked up enough.”

“Fine,” you waved him off. “Go, get the beauty sleep you need.”

“Don’t stay up too late, you two,” Max offered a wink when he slipped a euro into your hand to cover his drinks. 

“Goodnight, Max,” Jason offered a salute in farewell when you let out a sigh. You smiled at the waiter who brought the tab, slid your card forward to be the responsible one. 

Jason kept his eyes on you for a second. “Your friends aren’t as bad as you make them out to be.”

“Oh, no--” you scoffed. “This was them on good behavior.”

“Yeah?”

“You really think they’d be themselves in front of you?”

“You say that like I’m a narc,” his eyes crinkled when he laughed. 

“If the shoe fits…”

“Oh my god,” he leaned back in the booth. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Am I?”

“Absolutely,” he smiled. The waiter tore off the receipt, gave you a pen and watched as you scribbled your name. You reached for your purse and stood, waited a second so Jason could file out behind you. A change in topic that wasn’t all that subtle.

“So--a club last night. Sounds fun.”

You glanced up at quickly. Was he…jealous? “If you like music that’s too loud and people who are sweaty.”

He laughed. “Did you finally end up meeting those French men?”

He sounded playful, but you caught the look in his eye in the mirror outside the elevator when he borrowed Max’s words from earlier in your trip.

“No,” you laughed a little and shook your head, turning to see him. “Guess it just wasn’t my night.”

“Hmm,” he nodded slowly. “S’too bad.”

The silk of your dress was smooth on your skin, he put his hand on the small of your back when the doors parted and you stepped inside. 

“What floor are you on?”

“Fifteen.”

“I am also on fifteen,” he informed, tucking his hands in his pockets when the doors slid back together. 

“Ah,” you nodded. “Did you also hear Sophie’s snoring?”

He laughed, shook his head. “No--but I sleep with a load of white noise so that probably helped.”

“Max is also very dramatic,” you shrugged. 

Quiet for a moment as you rose, a ding to signal your arrival before you cleared your throat. “I’m down this way.”

“Me too,” he gestured for you to lead the way, a right turn past an oil painting on the wall, a leafy fern in the corner. 

The hallway was silent, your footsteps barely audible on the beige carpet as your pulse quickened. Maybe it was the rosé, it slid down your throat with ease. Sweet and chilled and now you were wondering what he tasted like. 

You slowed outside your door--sure Naomi was already fast asleep in her bed by the window. But still, you whispered. 

“I guess this is goodnight.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, angling himself towards you.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, a quick glance down and a flip of your stomach when you saw an email notification. You brought it up and swiped it open, scanned the email when he watched you intently. 

“Oh my god,” you said. “I got the NBC internship--holy fucking shit!”

“Are you serious?” he laughed, a smile on his face when you looked up at him. “Oh my god that’s amazing,” he wrapped his arms around you quickly, your head on his chest and your arms around his waist. 

He pulled back, you blinked a few times and read it out loud. “We are pleased to offer you a position as a content development intern in our New York, New York office--”

“I hope you’re relieved,” he said. “Not that I was worried you wouldn’t get one of them.”

You sighed, the excitement still buzzing through you. Only a foot between your chests, you reached forward and let your fingers tug at the bottom of his tie. He took a step closer, his mouth twitched up at the corner when he met your eyes. 

“I can’t believe the semester’s pretty much over.” His eyes searched your face for a moment, landing on your lips before you replied.

“Yeah,” you agreed. More silence, you blinked up at him, a silent dare to close the space between you and do what you’d been wanting to do for months. 

Instead, he cleared his throat and stepped back. He reached up to rub his jaw and adjusted his glasses. “Well--uh--I’ll see you in the morning, lobby for check-out at 11am, right?”

“Right,” you nodded, a deflated feeling in your chest when he smiled again. 

“Have a good night, Y/N.”

To: Y/N L/N

From: Jason Sudeikis

Subject: CINE-UT 712 credits

May 18th, 2018 - 11:04am

Hi.

Submitted the final “grade” for the TA credits. You should see it on your student portal eventually once everything gets finalized and grades are posted. Thanks for all of the help this semester! Congrats again on the NBC offer.

JS

--

Prof. Jason Sudeikis, PhD

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

Office hours M/W 10am-12pm or by appointment

To: Jason Sudeikis

From: Y/N L/N

Subject: RE: CINE-UT 712 credits

May 18th, 2018 - 12:23pm

Hi, sounds good, thanks for the heads up!

Best,

Y/N L/N

MFA Candidate

Cinema Studies, NYU Tisch

(212-555-8495)

table of contents | talk to me & join the tag list

tag list: @sheerangermany @clarebearr @tedlassostan @hart-kinsella @kahluamystery97 @airplanes924 @trulymadlykiki @thisismysecondrodeo @mypugsley @jng4kook @msolbesg @stankface @ljej95 @ivetastedbloodanditissweet @pascal-reyes @paola-carter @rubberduckingaro @golden-hoax @ccbb2222 @caplikeme @outofthecradlex @mackenzmeme @reann-shitposting @very-berry-harry @winter-soldier-007

AN: WOW CANNES WE LOVE IT don't hate me okay bye

[harryandmolly]

Change of Pace - 21 (Summer 2019)

cowritten by @achinglyshawn

summary: Shawn and Maya meet again 10 years after life got in the way of love

warnings: language

wc: 6.7k

------------

Maya is pouting.

She’s been waiting for tonight for over 48 hours. He’s been busy at the shop and she tells herself it’s probably better because if they spend all their time together, they’re going to fall back into their summer lust without any kind of real foundation for a relationship. 

So busy is good. She’s gotten to start work on another piece -- it’s a little darker, a bleak memory of lying tangled in her sheets in Manhattan unable to sleep because she’s been amped up on Adderall all day. It’s cathartic, though. Artistic release at long last.

She stares out her window in her paint shirt and now signature Daisy Dukes, head cocked, squinting out at the thunderstorm rolling in off the sea. She and Shawn were going to the food truck night in the next town over but the fat raindrops plunking on her weatherproofed deck are telling her to make other plans.

She lifts her phone to text him.

Maya: hi :) mother nature has no mercy. Want to come do movies and food at my place? We can watch the storm come in

Shawn: you mean you don’t want to eat street food in the pouring rain with me? :( 

Maya: you mean you don’t want to come snuggle and watch movies with me?

Shawn: i always want to do my two favorite things with you

Shawn: what’re u thinking for food?

Shawn: i can pick up

Maya: sushi pls! That place on great st. with the funny name? They have that mt. fuji roll

Shawn: mt. fuji, extra gyoza, and the fancy tuna sashimi 

Shawn: dessert?

Maya definitely does not even for a second think about texting him “me.”

Maya: I got bored yesterday and walked down to Russell’s Candy Shoppe on main and got cute vintage penny candy

Shawn: you’re sweet

Shawn: but im gonna need more than penny candy to have a proper dessert

Maya: then by all means grab some mochi while you’re there

Shawn: can i tell you a secret?

Maya: always

Shawn: i’m definitely gonna pick up one of those in-house ice cream cakes from the corner market  

Maya moans a little at reading his text.

Maya: omg bring it on, baby

Shawn: i’ll text u when im on my way, sugar

Maya feels better about their plans now. She thinks she likes these better. A crack of thunder sounds distantly as she climbs the stairs. The power flickers when she’s in the shower rinsing off and her heart throbs hard in her chest. Sometimes it occurs to her how alone she is in this house and it gets to her.

She changes into clingy leggings and a cozy-cute hoodie from the Roxy catalog and by the time she gets back downstairs to light some candles, not too many because she doesn’t want to set “a mood,” it’s absolutely pouring. She hurries to find her garage door opener so she can leave it open for him and he doesn’t have to get drenched walking into the house.

Because that would be just an excuse for him to take his clothes off. Which they don’t need right now.

Shawn manages to stay mostly dry on his venture for food and ice cream cake. He’s got his slicker on and an umbrella in the back, but he’s thankful to see Maya’s garage door open when he pulls into her driveway. 

He parks, shedding his raincoat before getting out of the Jeep. He navigates the food from the backseat, giving himself a free hand to knock on the door with. 

He’s still not sure where they stand on him using her spare keys and letting himself in. He thinks he likes it better this way, for now at least. He likes the anticipation. He thinks it makes their time together that much sweeter. 

Maya has her fingers wrapped around a wide-bowled glass of red and it’s halfway to her lips when she hears him knock. She smiles and puts her glass down next to his, already poured, hurrying on her toes to reach him.

“Hey you,” she murmurs, holding the door open for him to walk through. She takes one of the bags of food he’s hauling in. She expects he’ll want to take off his jacket and shoes but she doesn’t want to wait to kiss him just once before they should probably try to keep their hands and lips mostly to themselves.

She leans in and goes for a peck on his lips but when she gets there, she lingers slightly longer than planned. She missed him. 

He almost drops the sushi when Maya kisses him. He’s not expecting it— they’ve been sticking with kisses on the cheek for greetings. It’s safer that way. 

But then he melts. Maya’s lips linger long enough for him to sigh happily against her mouth. His fingers tighten around the plastic bag handles as they begin to slip, and he only pushes back so he can catch the bottom of the bag with his hand. 

He looks from the sushi to Maya, a bit flustered as he catches his breath. 

“Hi,” he says, a grin pulling across his lips. 

“I, uh,” He chuckles to himself, shakes his head. “I missed you.” 

Maya doesn’t mean to knock him off balance but she’s a little pleased that she did. She smiles, giggling under her breath watching him scrabble to catch the sushi before he drops it. He secures his hand under the bag and smiles down at her. 

“I missed you too. I guess that’s obvious by my pouncing on you when you walked in.”

She’s not really shy about it. She wants him to know she’s been thinking about him and that she wanted him to know that as soon as he got here. He deserves to know how badly she wants him.

Shawn grins, shrugging as he brings the sushi to the kitchen counter. 

“Lucky for you, I like being pounced on,” he coos, untying the plastic knot keeping the bag closed.

She scoops up the bag with the ice cream cake and hurries it to her freezer. Despite the storm, it’s still hot out and she doesn’t want it to melt. The broad, long windows on the side of her house show the storm clouds rolling in, dark and threatening. She’s got plates and wine already set up for them and HBO up on the TV.

She looks over at him while they unpack the sushi. “Did you get a lot done at the shop?”

Maya let’s the freezer door bang shut, then helps him unload the wide variety of sushi he couldn’t help but order. He puts away enough himself, and he knows Maya always eats more sushi than she says she will. 

Shawn hums, lifting a shoulder. “I finished a couple orders, but I still haven’t started on that new bass yet. It’s so fuckin’ delicate. I want to have a day I can dedicate to it.” 

Maya nods. She knows the instrument he means, he told her about it while she was sketching him the other day. It sounds like an intricate job. She understands his desire to be as detail-oriented as possible, it’s a quality they share. She smiles a bit sheepishly.

“I guess I can share you with your shop for another day if you need me to.”

Balance is good. Slow is good. 

She smirks at the insane quantity of sushi he ordered, knowing they’ll probably end up eating it all anyway. She piles some segments from a few different rolls on a plate and points to his wine glass with a wink while strolling barefoot toward her couch to eat.

“That’s for you, hun.”

Shawn looks up at the sound of her voice, sees her pointed finger and follows it to the full glass of wine she poured when he didn’t notice. He smiles and lifts his sushi-filled plate in one hand, reaching for the wine with the other. 

“You know how to treat a guy right, don’t you?” 

He follows her to the couch, toeing off his shoes so her can settle in as comfortably as Maya does. He leans back, kicks his legs up onto the coffee table. 

“So,” he asks through a mouthful of rice, “What are we watching?” 

Shawn plops himself down next to her in a way that says her house feels at least a little like his home, too. She adjusts her position next to him, swinging her legs up to fold beside her, leaning in up against his arm while she drops a sashimi piece in her mouth. She purrs at the taste of the fresh fish.

“I narrowed it down to,” she begins, swallowing her own bite, “‘We’re the Millers’ or ‘When Harry Met Sally.’ Food picker-upper’s choice.”

It was an old tradition of theirs -- whoever brought over food could pick the movie. They almost always agreed on stuff to watch, though.

Like a snake, Shawn unhinges his jaw around a plump piece of sushi, nodding and humming as he considers the options she gives him. He hasn’t seen the former, and he’s seen the later more times than he should probably admit. 

He looks at Maya, watches the way her cheeks bulge as she pops pieces of sushi into her mouth. His lips twitch. She looks like a chipmunk, a little, her nose twitching as she chews. 

Maya glances out the windows when another loud crack sounds closer to the house. The rain pounds harder against the windows.

“Gonna have good waves tomorrow,” she murmurs, handing him the remote, reaching for another bite of sushi.

He takes the remote, deciding he’s in the mood for something new and selects We’re the Millers. Presses play and sips his wine.

“Wanna have a beach day? Or well. Half day? I should go into the shop but I can hang out in the morning.” 

Maya watches Jason Sudeikis start to round up his band of misfits, enjoying the light comedy amidst the raging storm outside. She pops another bite of sushi in her mouth and follows it with a sip of wine.

“I’d love that,” she says, eyeing him from the side, “But if you have to spend the day at the studio, I can deal.”

She smiles supportively despite how badly she wants to take him up on the offer.

Shawn nods as he chews on a piece of tuna. He knows they’re both trying to navigate between wanting to be together all the time and giving each other space. 

But they haven’t gone to the beach together since starting this take-it-slow dating thing, so he thinks a half day wouldn’t be too much. 

“I can spare a half day to have some fun in the sun with you,” he says with a grin, reaching over with his chopsticks to steal a piece of gyoza from her plate, since he forgot to take some for himself. 

Maya smacks at his chopsticks to sabotage him when he steals from her plate but the dumpling is in his mouth before she can protest.

“Rude,” she mumbles, elbowing him teasingly and scooting just a touch closer.

He’s warm and firm and smells a little woody. She doesn’t make a show of snuggling up to him, but she does unfold her legs and cross them next to his noticeably.

Shawn feels Maya shift closer, so he settles back into the couch and angles himself towards her. Luckily, she sits to his left, so he can casually drape his arm along the back of the couch, behind her shoulders, while still pinching sushi between his soy sauce-stained chopsticks. 

Maya snorts a little at the TV and covers her mouth. This movie is so fucking funny -- she forgot how funny. It’s nice just to laugh with him and feel no pressure at all. The storm rages on around them. She absently hopes her studio isn’t leaking from the roof again, but she covered her pieces with dropcloths just in case.

“Jennifer Aniston is so hot,” Maya comments through a mouthful of salmon.

Shawn pauses, mid-pinch. He looks at Maya, watches her stare at Jennifer Aniston. He grins. 

“I’ve always had the worst crush on her. Did I ever tell you that?” 

He thinks he used to pretend not to have celebrity crushes because it made him lame or something. Or because he didn’t want Maya thinking he was a gross jerk, or something. Or probably because he didn’t want to say anything to make Maya think he wasn’t completely gone for her. 

Probably a combo of all three. The reasons feel silly now. 

Maya chuckles and leans into his arm a little, welcoming him to stay close to her. She shakes her head and daubs some wasabi on a firecracker roll for an extra punch. She shrugs.

“No, but it doesn’t shock me. All straight guys are obsessed with her. Understandably.”

Now that she’s thinking about it, she doesn’t really know who his celebrity crushes are. They never used to talk about that stuff, like they were afraid to acknowledge that they’d ever found anyone else attractive.

She angles herself toward him and quirks an eyebrow. “Who else, then? Spill the tea. Or whatever kids say now.”

Shawn’s got a mouthful of tuna and feeling cornered by the question. He chews and swallows and looks down at his plate as his shoulders lift in a small shrug. 

“I dunno,” he laughs. He actually hasn’t thought about a celebrity crush in years. He’s been focused on work, and the only woman he ever thought about was Maya, when he was feeling self-indulgent enough to let himself. 

He chews through a piece of salmon, glancing at her.

“Okay, actually. I do know,” he sighs, shaking his head and looking back to the TV. He smiles. “Amy Adams. Especially as Lois Lane.”

Maya laughs, delighted. “Of course! She’s totally got that wholesome-hot thing going on. That makes a lot of sense for you, actually.”

Maya glances out the window, considering it. She doesn’t, naturally, love the vision of Shawn and Amy Adams but she can see they’d look good together. Of course they would.

She hums low in her throat and bites down on her last piece of sushi, a slice of perfect toro sashimi.

“Amy Adams is gorgeous,” she admits. She’s gorgeous in a very different way than Maya is. She knows that. She thinks given the choice, Shawn would probably still choose Maya. That makes her smile.

“I think my number one celebrity crush is Mila Kunis, which is the most frat-bro answer ever.”

Shawn laughs. Everyone loves Mila Kunis, so he’s not surprised, just like she wasn’t surprised about Aniston. 

He picks up another piece of sushi, swishing it around in the soy sauce on his plate. He shrugs, “Yeah, probably, but the frat-bros aren’t wrong when it comes to her. So it’s okay.” 

He pops the whole piece in his mouth, chewing greedily as he tries not to think about Maya and Mila Kunis making out. He doesn’t need to go there, not if they’re gonna keep this night PG-13.

She knew Shawn would agree about Mila. Every straight man in North America agrees about Mila. She likes that they’re talking about this kind of stuff now and not hiding it away because they’re worried about getting uncomfortable. She doesn’t even mind that they share celebrity crushes. Crushes are fun.

“Can I tell you something, though?” 

She puts her plate back on the coffee table and leans back against the warmth of his arm around the back of her couch.

She smiles up at him. “Always.”

Shawn follows Maya’s lead, lifting his plate from his lap to set it on the table. He wipes his sticky fingers on his napkin and tosses it onto the plates with the rest of their debris. When they’re both settled again, his arm casually on the back of the sofa once more, Shawn finds the words for his admission. 

“I always, like, had celebrity crushes, I guess, but. I don’t know. I never crushed on anyone as hard as I crushed on you. I only really went to that art show in college because I knew you were going to be showing pieces and I wanted to see them, and see if I could catch a glimpse of you, too.” 

He’s never admitted that to her. He always felt weird about it, before. Now it feels silly. He was a boy with a crush, not some creep. Well, he hopes Maya sees it that way, at least. He glances at her, lips pressed together as his heart rattles in a cage. 

What a reckless thing to admit. Oh, well. He wanted her to know. He thinks she deserves the truth. 

Maya doesn’t mean to laugh, exactly. She’s not laughing at him. She’s laughing because she’d never guess that hearing something like this from him now would have her quite so smitten and bashful. It’s 15 years ago, this night he’s talking about. And he makes it sound like it was last week.

“God, I love that. I… thank you for telling me that. That’s…”

She trails off, going very pink and giggly. She’s acting more juvenile now than she did that night she met him when they were both just kids. She remembers how sweet and vulnerable he seemed then, hands in his pockets, gazing up at her pieces that she kind of hated like they were worth a fortune to him.

He doesn’t expect her to laugh. He partly expected her to be weirded out, partly expected her to maybe find it sweet. He didn’t think what he said was very funny, though. 

Shawn raises his brows. 

“You, ah, you’re welcome,” he replies, corner of his lips twitching with the urge to smile, because her laughter is infectious.

Her laughter peters out, and then she looks at him in a way he feels like she hasn’t before. Well, maybe since college. It’s a look that sears him from the inside out, had his breath catching in his throat.

She swallows. It was so long ago. But when she looks up at him now, he looks just the same, sweet and vulnerable as ever, undeterred by being unlucky in love.

She thinks his luck is changing. 

Slowly, carefully so he can stop her if he wants, she tucks a hand around the back of his neck and guides his lips to hers for a deep, perfect kiss.

Shawn goes easily when Maya pulls him close, her lips moulding to his in a way that has his heart hammering. He groans, reaching around to cup her face, tilting her head back to sweeten the kiss. 

Maya’s trying not to think about the fact that this kiss is maybe the longest they’ve shared since they rebooted their relationship. She doesn’t want to get clammy and anxious, she doesn’t want to overthink this. She wants to relax. 

Maya murmurs gently into his mouth when he holds her cheek. She lets her weight settle back, necessitating the need for him to come forward to meet her. 

She doesn’t know how long she’s going to get to keep him like this. She gently swipes her tongue into his mouth, tickling her fingers up the nape of his neck to twist and pluck at the tiny curls there that she’s missed. 

Shawn aches from the tenderness of the kiss, from the way she melts into the couch and coaxes him with her. He leans on to his hip, falling after her, his arm slipping down around her shoulders. 

Her fingers in his hair sends shivers down his spine, and he accepts her tongue eagerly with a gentle hum.

Shawn slides his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck, fingers weaving through her dark, silken curls. He breaks the kiss only to dive in again, this time sucking lazily at her lip, though lightly enough to stay away from anything too tempting.

God, he feels so fucking good. 

He purrs into her mouth and it’s gorgeous. It eggs her on. When he parts from her to suck at her lip, she whimpers and pulls her other hand up to his chest to feel him breathe. 

He feels so sturdy and stable. She wants to just hang on him by her fingers in his hair until their limbs fall asleep. She moves her hand up a little higher to massage the back of his neck as he leans over her. 

The thunder remains loud. In fact, if Maya were paying attention, she’d notice it’s the loudest it’s been. But she’s not. She’s consumed by him. 

Shawn doesn’t think they’ve ever kissed like this before. He keeps thinking that lately, that all the kisses they’ve shared in the last couple weeks are different. This is the closest to making out they’ve gotten, and it’s nothing like how they would make out in the beginning of the summer. Or when they were in college. 

She’s tender but eager, pliable but steady. She kisses him like maybe she really could fall in love with him again, and not like she’s just throwing caution to the wind for nostalgia’s sake. She’s making his stomach twist with fucking butterflies. 

She hums into his mouth this time, pulling away just slightly, “This is ok, right? This is fine?”

His lips fall to her jaw when she pulls back without warning. His eyes open, brows raising as he leans away to get a proper look at her. Her cheeks are flushed, lips swollen from his ministrations, but he notes a worried gleam in her eye like she thinks he really might say it’s not okay. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, maybe too eagerly, “Yes. It-- I mean, it’s totally okay with me, if it’s okay with you. Is it? Okay with you? Cause we can do something else. Anything you want.” 

Maya smiles, her eyes drifting shut. She lifts her hand from his chest to cup his cheek and exhales a little chuckle.

“Yeah. I’m-- Yeah. I missed this. I just don’t want to move too fast. I just…”

She pecks her lips to his quickly, as if to tide her over. “I don’t know how fast is too fast and how slow is too slow.”

She swallows and looks up into his beautiful brown eyes. She brushes her nose against his and continues her fingers’ calming motion through his hair.

It feels impossibly cheesy to think, but Shawn’s sure he could look into Maya’s eyes. Especially when she looks at him like that. He’s lost in that look, and in the rhythmic stroking of her fingers in his hair like he loves so much. 

His hand finds her cheek once more. He shakes his head.

“I don’t either, sugar,” he murmurs, thumb brushing across her round, pink cheek, “It’s not— well, this isn’t something I’m used to navigating. But what I do know is, I really, really enjoy kissing you.” 

He smiles, his lips brushing against hers as her does. 

Maya’s lips spark as his skim across hers. She inhales and lets herself have him, just a little more of him. She lifts her hand up higher in his hair and secures it, fingers vined in his curls, wrapping the other arm around his shoulders. 

“Then let’s keep doing that.”

“Yeah, let’s keep--”

Maya’s lips are on Shawn’s before he can finish his eager agreement. She pulls him in with small palms against broad shoulders, has him sinking further until he’s nearly pressed on top of her. 

She’s not sure where to put her hands so she keeps them confined mostly to his neck and shoulders. She gets just a little daring when she seeks out the hot skin just under the collar of his T-shirt with her sneaky fingertips. She feels under control, though. And it’s not even a little boring. 

He behaves himself, keeps an arm curled safely around her shoulders while his hand rests on her hip, high enough to remain innocent. He finds himself sucking on her lip once more, flicking it gently with his tongue before getting it between his teeth. He’s delicate with all of it, less insistent or voraciously desperate than he was only a few weeks ago. 

He finds, really, that he enjoys this much better. This is how they should’ve been kissing all along. 

Maya’s fingers find his skin and send a shiver down his spine, have his fingers curling into her hip. She leaves soft, subtle strokes along the base of his neck that shouldn’t send him reeling nearly as much as they are. He groans into her mouth, then moves his hand on her shoulder to the back of her head. He cradles her carefully while he rolls off of his hip, sitting back and pulling Maya with him. 

He goes until he’s lying on the couch, Maya relaxed on top of him as they continue to kiss lazily, as if they’ve suddenly got all the time they never had before.

Maya thinks this feels more like exploration than anything they’ve ever done together, maybe even dating back to when they first got together in college. Even then, everything was frantic, hurried, desperate. This is different.

As he teases her lips and tugs her on top of him when he lies down, Maya starts to wonder if they’ve ever just… made out. I mean, of course they have, but have they ever made out just to make out, and not because they didn’t have time to have sex? If they have, Maya doesn’t remember. Maybe they’ve always been a little bit desperate.

Maya shifts on top of him, getting comfortable. She props herself up on her forearm and lets one of her legs slot between his without getting too suggestive. She pulls up from the depth of the kiss a little, brushing the tip of her nose against his. She pecks little soft kisses on his top lip, then the bottom one, then his nose.

“This is nice,” she whispers, kissing his cheeks next.

Maya eases into him so well. She practically melts on top of him, sighing into his mouth as his hands glide up the length of her back until he reaches her shoulder blades.

Shawn smiles as she drops quick kisses to his lips. He tries to catch her with a kiss of his own, but she moves to his nose, then his cheek. 

He smirks into the soft angle of her jaw, his nose brushing against her cheek as he nods. 

“This is really nice, Lu,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the soft skin just beneath her ear. He trails to her jaw, where he idles, humming at presses kiss after gentle kiss to her skin.

His lips trail off after hers do. They make her smile and shiver a little. She hugs him closer, lifting her fingers through his hair like she used to when he couldn’t fall asleep. She closes her eyes and lets herself wonder if it’ll be like this for them for a while. Or forever.

Maya hears her throat clear. She doesn’t study whether or not asking him this while they’re in this position might be a bit tactless. She just wants to feel like she can always ask him anything.

She pulls up, disconnecting, rather reluctantly, his lips from her smooth jaw. She swallows and cups his cheek, brushing her thumb along the underside of his beautifully defined cheekbone.

He’s distracted with the sweet taste of her skin when she pulls away from him. He blinks his eyes open, smiling slightly as she strokes his cheek.

“I have to ask,” she says, voice wavering, “With Leah… when you married her, did you think it was going to be forever?”

Shawn’s brows raise. That’s not anything he was expecting her to ask. 

He’s not sure how to answer. 

“Ah—“ he wets his lips, looking down between them. He takes a breath in, looks back up at her. “I wanted it to be. I told myself I would make it last. But, uh, I don’t—“ he smiles, closes his eyes and shakes his head, “I don’t think I ever really felt it in my gut.” 

Maya nods thoughtfully and looks down at her fingers brushing against the freckles on his neck. 

“I guess I was hoping you’d say that,” she confesses, “Not because… I mean, obviously I want you to be happy, but if you were happy with her you wouldn’t be here, so…”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head. She’s getting tangled up. She blinks a few times and starts again. 

“I just mean that everyone always says you just... know. And I’ve never understood it. I don’t think you can understand unless you feel it. If you say you didn’t truly feel like it was forever, I think maybe that gives me some weird hope that the knowing thing, it’s real.”

She hopes it’s ok she’s blabbering about this. She feels like it’s a touchy subject to bring up, not just because of Leah, but because they’re supposed to be taking it slow. 

Shawn can’t control the adoring smile that splits his lips as Maya babbles. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her ramble like this, like she’s nervous to be honest with him. Even when she told him she’d been lying about New York, she was clear and concise. 

He doesn’t mind when she gets flustered. He likes thinking that maybe he makes her as nervous as she makes him. 

The way he smiles at her assures her she wasn’t out of line, she wasn’t even really ruining the mood. He smiles like he knows something she doesn’t. It’s not infuriating the way that it was at work when the guys on her team thought they were smarter than she was. He smiles like he’s been there and he wants to help her through it.

Carefully, Shawn slides his hand from her shoulder blade to the back of her head, fingers curling in her hair. He nudges her nose with his, dropping a soft kiss to her lips as her babbling dies down. 

“The knowing thing is definitely real. I promise.” 

Maya’s breath hitches. As he pulls back to speak, her lips follow his. She bites down on her lower lip to keep herself from muffling his words in her mouth.

He’s not sure he’s allowed to say, Because I know with you, yet. They’re trying to go slow not only physically, but emotionally too. He can’t help his gut, though. She’s always had a hold on his heart in a way no one else has ever managed. He couldn’t change it even if he wanted to. 

(He knows. He tried. It ended in divorce.) 

Her stomach completely flips. On some level, she knew. She knows he loves her. He’s always been the one that was sure. Even now, after everything, he still knows. It makes her want to squeal and throw herself into him and never let him leave, not that he wants to.

As she looks down at him, she feels safe. That much is certain. She doesn’t feel a rush to get to where he is now. She’ll know when she knows. She believes him.

Shawn’s answer seems to placate Maya, who bites her lip and looks down at him like she couldn’t be happier with what he’s said. He tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ear, fingertips brushing gently over the shell.

She dips her head and kisses him again, settling back into his body as the storm starts to pass. The rain is getting lighter, the thunder quieter. Soon it’ll just be silent around them.

Then, she kisses him. It’s firm, but sweet, and feels like she’s trying to tell him she’s gonna love him back one day, just as much as he loves her. He hums into her mouth, his fingertips still toying lightly with her ear and massaging her scalp. 

He lets her kiss him for a few seconds and she thinks maybe he’s going to let her stay there lavishing him with kisses as long as her heart desires. Needless to say, they’d end up being there a while.

His gentleness is so comforting she feels like she could fall asleep just lying here, kissing him. She doesn’t want to.

He pulls away after a moment, not because he wants to, but because now he’s got a question for her, and he’s not sure he’ll find a better time to bring it up. 

He kisses her cheek, then the angle of her jaw. 

“Can I ask you something now?” he murmurs, nosing her temple softly.

He shifts back and it’s probably for the best because her eyelids are fluttering and she’s so lost in him she almost can’t find her way back.

She nods at his prompt, tracing her fingertips along the contours of his throat.

Her fingers find his neck, and Shawn’s eyes fall shut. He lets himself revel in it for a moment, in the way she touches him so lovingly. His heart hammers, stomach twisting, and now he’s all the more nervous to ask his question. 

He takes his time asking and she can’t pretend it doesn’t make her more anxious. It’s good, she has to remind herself, the openness feels hard right now but it’s just because you’re not good at it yet.

He wets his lips, finally blinking to look at her again. 

Shawn smiles, brings his palm to her cheek. 

He swallows, takes a breath. “Is it okay that I know because of you?” 

He figures she already knows. But there’s a difference between an unspoken truth and a spoken one. He wants to be sure she knows what he means. He feels like he’s been transparent with the way he feels about her, too much so in the months before now. But he wants her to know it wasn’t all just nostalgia and longing for a comfort he once knew. 

Maya stares down at him in wonder. He’s saying what he thinks she’s saying. He’s not dancing around it, he’s not being coy, he’s telling her he loves her and he’s going to forever. Her breath comes short in her chest. She closes her eyes and exhales through her nose nice and slow.

“God, yes. That’s… more than ok. That’s amazing.”

Amazing. 

Amazing is his new favorite word. It’s amazing, she thinks, that he’s in love with her. She thinks the way he feels about her is amazing. 

He thinks she’s amazing. 

She kisses him again, just quickly, because she’s not done yammering.

“Because if you know that means I’ll know, too. When… it’s time.”

Now she is being somewhat coy, but she knows he knows what she means.

He smiles into her kiss, too busy thinking about the way she purred when she said amazing. 

As always, however, Maya manages to grab his attention. He lifts his brows, taking a slow, calming breath through his nose. His tongue darts out, wetting his lower lip. 

“You-- ah-- You mean because of me, right? I mean, I guess that’s what you probably mean but I just wanna--, you know, for the, uh, the sake of clarity, eh?” 

Maya’s nose twitches as she tries to tamp down a ridiculous smile. She feels a little more empowered now to skip right past coy. She pecks his lips again, pulling up to press her forehead to his.

“For the sake of clarity,” she begins teasingly, “I mean that if you really know that this is it for you, that you want me forever, then I trust your judgment. And I believe I can get to a place where I know, completely certainly, that this is it for me.”

It’s the best she can do for now. It’s honest. It’s not overreaching or underselling. It’s exactly how she feels. And it feels good to be that candid. 

Shawn swallows, arms dropping to her waist when she gets close, murmuring low. 

She gives him the closest thing to I love you he can think of. Closer than he ever thought he’d get so soon after— well, after screwing up and fighting and rebooting the entire thing. 

But it’s not a total reboot, because there’s history between them. They’re just not so afraid of it, anymore. 

He smiles, then catches her lips in a gentle kiss, because she’s there, and one day she’s gonna be in love with him again. 

Small victories, right?

“Just, take your time, okay? We have so much time. I’m really— I’m looking forward to it. To the journey, or whatever,” his voice rasps and he rolls his eyes at himself at the end, but he means it. 

He thinks, maybe, he’s ready for the real kind of relationship he never was before. 

Maya tips her forehead back against his when he rolls his eyes. She closes hers and strokes the pad of her thumb down his throat.

She doesn’t think she’ll need much time. Falling in love with him again seems a foregone conclusion. She appreciates more than she can say that he’s being so patient with her. It’s one thing to hold off on having sex for a while but to give her the space to come to her own conclusions about their relationship, it takes a lot of strength, maturity and confidence.

So how could she not be in love with him?

The truth is, it’s not about him, the reason she can’t fall into this with him now. Maya has been a shell for 12 years, by choice. She feels like she’s still learning to live again and not just exist. Letting Shawn in all at once will fill the holes in her that she hasn’t spackled yet, but she won’t be whole. She has to spend time with herself, learn to be and love herself again before she can love him the way he deserves to be loved.

After a few pleasantly, comfortably silent moments, Maya tilts her head and drops her lips onto his once more. She sweeps falling hair up behind her ear and leans into it.

“Thank you,” she murmurs sincerely into his mouth.

He kisses the thanks from her lips, humming softly as he cups the back of her head and strokes his fingers lovingly through her hair. He pulls back after a minute, when he feels his stomach growl to remind him of the ice cream cake in the freezer. 

“Mmm,” he hums, fingers finding her chin so he can tilt her head back, “You know how you can really thank me, Lemon?”

He smiles, then sinks his teeth into his lower lip to feign coy innocence as he tilts his head at her, as if his request is something she’ll need convincing to do. 

Maya’s heart reaches up into her throat. She squirms on top of him slightly. His fingers feel almost too hot on her skin. Watching him bite into his lip has her almost panting on top of him.

“What…. Uhm, how?” she stutters.

A slow, cheshire cat grin splits Shawn’s lips. He reaches for the disobedient strand of hair that keeps falling in Maya’s face, tucks it behind her ear while his thumb grazes her jaw. 

“You can help me eat the ice cream cake in the freezer that’s calling my name.” 

He raises his brows, eyes crinkling at the corners as if to ‘Gotchya!’ 

Maya’s face goes a little red and she rolls her eyes, burying her bashful face into his neck while she laughs.

“You’re such an idiot,” she groans, kissing along his throat while she hauls herself up on her hands over him. Reluctantly, she peels off the warmth of his body and helps him off the couch, keeping their fingers tangled on the way to the freezer. She swings his arms around her waist and hobbles them both over.

They sit at her bar with pieces of cake. They talk about nothing and everything. They don’t go back to the couch. She walks him out a couple hours later when they’re both nearly half asleep. She kisses him goodnight. He calls her ‘sugar.’ She’s so happy.

----------

Taglist: @smallerinfinities​ @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn​ @infiniteshawn​ @mendesoft​ @singanddreamanyway​ @alone-in-madness​ @abigfatmess​ @shawnitsmutual​ @awkwardfangirl2014​ @september-lace​ @sinplisticshawn​ @rollingxstone​ @yslsaint​ @randi-eve​ @fallmoreinlove​ @heyits-claire​ @itrocksmysocks​ @parkerspicedlatte​ @simpledomain​ @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day​ @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280​ @bensbuttercup​ @shawnsmusical​ @paigeasourous​ @tell-me-when-ur-ready​ @softmendesss​ @searchingunderthestars​ @buggy-blogs​ @mendesficsxbombay​ @siennarossi​ @lostinshawnsmemory​ @umbreakablesoul​ @sleepybesson​ @shawnsheaven​ @desire-to-live​ @jillian-nd​ @shawnwyr​ @curlsofshawn​ @graysonmendes​ @tnhmblive​ @meltingicequeen​

[aion-rsa]

Ted Lasso and Other TV Bosses We’d Walk Over Hot Coals For

https://ift.tt/3ryGOvx

In the heady moments of celebration after England’s victory over Denmark in this year’s Euros semi-final, the sight of team manager Gareth Southgate prompted ITV pundit Gary Neville to comment: “The standard of leaders in this country the past couple of years has been poor. Looking at that man, he’s everything a leader should be: respectful, humble, he tells the truth.” 

The former Man U right-back’s words, directed at the political rulers of a country riven by Brexit, tap into a modern craving for decency. Fed a diet of self-serving narcissism from our public figures, we hunger for more wholesome fare: moral character, humility, honesty, kindness. In the year of horrors that was 2020, that appetite was temporarily sated on TV by fictional football manager Ted Lasso. 

Played in the Apple TV series by Jason Sudeikis (who, in true Ted style, wore a shirt to the Ted Lasso season two launch in support of the three young Black England footballers who received racist abuse after their team’s eventual loss to Italy in the final), Ted’s thoroughgoing decency won everyone over to The Lasso Way. He’s the gold standard of TV bosses – selfless, caring, wise, inspirational, and patiently dedicated to bringing out the best in his players and the team as a whole. He may not always win on the pitch, but he always wins in our hearts. And if those words make you want to heave, then you, friend, may just need a little more Lasso in your life. #Believe.

To celebrate his return, we present Ted’s TV peers, the bosses for whom you’d go any number of extra miles.

Leslie Knope – Parks & Recreation

There is no finer example set in the TV workplace than Leslie Barbara Knope. The Pawnee public servant leads from the front, the sides and the back. She’s the waffle-powered sheepdog of City Hall, yapping co-workers and townsfolk into shape with her relentless work ethic and bottomless optimism. Leslie’s a boss who cares so much that she’s already bought your Christmas gift. And your birthday gift. And made you a special hand-crafted gift to mark the half-year anniversary of the day you first met. She sleeps three hours a night, runs entirely on sugar (or should that be salgar?), has a binder for every eventuality, and always, always has your back. Her rubber-soled energy is so infectious that over seven seasons she even manages to motivate the lazy (Tom), disaffected (April), dumb (Andy), aloof (Donna), hapless (Jerry) and the downright obstructive (Ron). For a gal named ‘nope’, she’s a whole lot of yes. LM

Bertram Cooper – Mad Men

Technically, advertising firm Sterling Cooper on Mad Men has two bosses – Roger Sterling and Bertram Cooper. Coop, however, is the let’s say…more experienced of the two and takes on the role of boss. And what a boss he is! The eccentric office sage played by Robert Morse takes a decidedly hands off approach to managing the workplace. Do whatever you want in this Madison Avenue ad agency, as long as you take your shoes off when you enter Bert’s office. And if you’re nice enough he might show you his collection of erotic octopus art. AB

Jacqueline Carlyle – The Bold Type

The Editor-In-Chief of Scarlet magazine, the women’s title at the heart of ridiculous millennial wish fulfillment vehicle The Bold Type is part mentor, part mother figure, part fairy godmother to the three young women at the centre of the show. Jane is an intern when she first meets Jacqueline, who greets her with “Are you a writer? You look like a writer.” Because, yep, it really is that easy to get a job at a top magazine. The Bold Type is nonsense but it’s very good hearted nonsense which tries in earnest to tackle big issues while maintaining a sunny outlook. Be yourself, be passionate, be bold, the show says, and the world is at your feet. Sent a couple of tweets? Congratulations, have a promotion! Threatened with a lawsuit because of something you wrote? No bother, have a promotion! Fraudulently passed yourself off as a stylist when you’re not, thereby ruining a key relationship? Meh. Promotion for you! Promotions all round! Jacqueline is glamorous and wise, endlessly patient with her proteges and seemingly in possession of a bottomless budget. We all wish we worked for Jacqueline and she’s a wonderful (imaginary) role model. We’re just slightly nervous for any young fans of the show who ever get to work for an actual, real life Editor-In-Chief… RF

Mr. Krabs – SpongeBob SquarePants

Mr. Krabs is a good boss because he’s refreshingly upfront about what matters to him. Simply put: the crab likes money. As long as you’re putting in the hours and keeping the profit margins fat, Mr. Krabs will be your best friend. Sure, he takes advantage of SpongeBob’s naivete from time to time. But deep down, you know the guy has a heart as big as his enormous whale daughter, Pearl. AB

Supt. Ted Hastings – Line of Duty

Think of Ted Hastings, head of Central Police’s Anti-Corruption Unit 12, as Ulysses – a man sailing on dangerous waters but so determined not to be seduced by the sirens’ song that he’s tied himself to the ship’s mast and stopped his ears with wax. Except replace ‘siren’s song’ with ‘bungs from criminal gangs’, and ‘ship’s mast’ and ‘wax’ with ‘sheer force of will, son’. Ted’s a colossus of integrity in a world of backhanders and turning-a-blind-eye. He does the right thing even when it’s the hard thing, and if you’re one of his officers, then you’re his for life. (Unless you’re a corrupt gangster plant, in which case, by Mary, Joseph and the wee donkey, he’ll never live down the shame.) Ted may have more decency in his side-parting than most officers have in their whole bodies, but he still has his flaws. The stock he puts in loyalty makes him inflexible, and his temper’s a thing to be seen, but the key thing about Ted as a leader is that when he makes a mistake, he owns up to it. We should all be so lucky to have a gaffer like him. LM

Ron Donald – Party Down

Starz’s brilliant comedy Party Down premiered around the same time as classic NBC sitcom Parks and Recreation. As such, Ken Marino’s perpetually stressed boss character Ron Donald didn’t get nearly as much attention as another boss named Ron: Ron Swanson. Let’s be clear, however, nobody would want Ron Swanson as a boss because that means you’d have to regularly interact with a libertarian. Instead, it’s far better to be in the good graces of Ron Donald. This Ron will support your dreams all the while telling you about his own to own a Souper Crackers franchise. AB

Read more

TV

Press Gang: How Steven Moffat’s First Show Shaped a Generation

By Rosie Fletcher

TV

Party Down: a US sitcom that richly deserves your time

By Louisa Mellor

Lynda Day – Press Gang

Bit of of a niche one – you probably have to be British and in your 40s to even know who this is – but Lynda Day, played by Julia Sawalha deserves a mention as the youngest boss on the list. Editor of the Junior Gazette, the after school newspaper run by pupils at the heart of Steven Moffat’s very first show she’s an erudite journalist, a ruthless news hound and a self possessed young woman who cares more about being right than about being liked. Lynda isn’t particularly soft or warm but she is a boss who would make you a better writer. You’d strive to please Lynda, want to live up to her incredibly high standards and know that the work you were doing on the paper could actually make a difference. Lynda is all about work ethic and integrity. Small of frame, sharp of tongue, you wouldn’t wanna mess with her, but you know she’ll get shit done. RF  

Captain Holt – Brooklyn 99

It says something about a boss when you wouldn’t just walk over hot coals for them, you would also do it for their pet dog. Cheddar the corgi is just one of many reasons to snap your sharpest salute to Captain Raymond “Do Not Call Me Ray Or Use Contractions In My Presence” Holt. Precinct captain of the 99, Holt is a walking yardstick of fine taste, good manners, linguistic clarity and grammatical coherence. Holt values simplicity and despises vulgarity. Do your job and do it right, and you will earn his hard-won respect, perhaps indicated by a very slight incline of the head if he is feeling frivolous. Holt has already earned your respect, for leading an exemplary career as an openly gay NYC cop since 1987, facing down racists, homophobes and the lowest of the low: people who use “What’s up?” as a greeting. Captain Holt’s impossibly high standards are a bar few reach, but to which we can all aspire. LM

Ian Grimm and Poppy Li – Mythic Quest

Mythic Quest creative directors Ian Grimm (Rob McElhenney) and Poppy Li (Charlotte Nicdao) are messes on their own. But when their personalities combine, they create one great boss unit who keeps things moving and keeps things lively. Granted, I wouldn’t want to work for Ian and Poppy as a programmer or dev on the Mythic Quest team because crunch is real (and I also have no such skills). They would make for a great boss team in just about any other industry though. AB

DCI Cassie Stuart – Unforgotten

Some bosses try to impress their status on employees by turning up the volume, but not DCI Cassie Stuart. Everything she does in ITV police drama Unforgotten, from case meetings to suspect interrogations, she does in the same controlled, low voice. It gives her words an intensity that shouting wouldn’t achieve and makes her cold-case murder team lean in to absorb the significance of what she’s saying. Usually, that’s on the theme of how they owe victims answers and are going to find them. Diligent and dedicated, she trusts her team, especially partner Sunny, and is the kind of boss whose praise really means something. A ‘good work’ from her and you’d be walking on air. LM

Conan O’Brien – Conan

This is technically violating the spirit of this thought exercise because Conan O’Brien is not fictional. What he is, however, is a boss…in both the metaphorical and literal sense of the word. No late night talk show host has ever reveled in being the boss of a staff as much as Conan O’Brien has on his shows like Late Night, The Tonight Show, and Conan. He views his role as boss as an opportunity to troll his employees like a corny father torturing his children with dad jokes. Many of Conan’s behind the scenes workers have become stars in their own right, like producer Jordan Schlansky or assistant Sona Movessian. And it’s all because Conan can’t help but want everyone to be involved and having a good time. Just like any great boss would want. AB

Captain Janeway – Star Trek Voyager

Anyone can be a good boss in a thriving workplace, but it takes a person of strong character to stay empathetic, decisive, and focused when everything goes to hell. In the very first episode of Star Trek: Voyager, Captain Janeway is stranded with her crew on the wrong side of the galaxy, 70,000 light years from home. She is tasked with getting not only her Starfleet crew home, but also the remaining members of the Maquis vessel Voyager was trying to capture when they were both pulled into the unexplored Delta quadrant. She does this all without the institutional support of the Federation, and without the certainty that they will ever make it back. It’s not always pretty, and Janeway makes some questionable decisions along the way, but it’s hard to imagine Voyager making it home without Janeway as their tough-as-nails boss. KB

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Ted Lasso Season 2 is available now on Apple TV+

The post Ted Lasso and Other TV Bosses We’d Walk Over Hot Coals For appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2VddvT9

[zacharylevisource]

Zachary Levi will be participating in the Big Slick Celebrity Weekend 2017! The weekend kicks off on Friday night with a celebrity softball game prior to the Royals vs Toronto Blue Jays game at Kauffman Stadium. Saturday morning, the celebs will participate in a bowling tournament at Pinstripes. The weekend is topped off with a party and auction on Saturday night at Arvest Bank Theatre at the Midland. 

Big Slick Celebrity Weekend is the brainchild of actors Rob Riggle, Paul Rudd and Jason Sudeikis. The event is held annually to raise funds for Children's Mercy Cancer Center. 

Tickets and meet & greets are still available for some of the events and can be purchased through the event's website.

[sillygooseassociation]

Celebrity Crush

Request: hiiii 🥹 could you write something about jason being asked about his celebrity crush and he says reader (maybe reader is a singer or an actress) and gets flustered by it 🥹🥹

Description: Visiting his friend Jimmy Fallon ahead of hosting SNL, Jason's interview focuses a bit on you, the musical guest for the episode.

Pairing: Jason Sudeikis x celebrity!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

-

Studio 6B erupted into cheers as Jason stepped out from behind the blue curtain, raising a hand up in greeting as he placed the other on his chest in a humbling manner. With a kick in his step, he heads to Jimmy, giving his old friend a hug in front of the desk before sitting down in the first chair. The claps die down as Jason lightly slaps the tops of his thighs, joining the excitement, “Yeah!”

Jimmy lets out a small laugh as Jason waves to the crowd once more before Questlove plays the final entertaining rhythm on his drums, “Jason Sudeikis, everyone!” Jason sends a bright smile to the audience before Jimmy drums a couple of beats on his desk, “So Jason, just visiting the show, right? No exciting plans?”

The crowd laughs though Jason internally rolls his eyes at the cheesiness of the question. Obviously, everyone knows why he’s at Rockefeller, in general, that week, nonetheless on the Tonight Show for the Thursday show. Jason brought his hand up to scratch the side of his face jokingly, “Yeah, there’s something small happening, if I remember correctly. I think it’s this small indie feature or something? I’m not sure, my agent just told me to keep my Saturday open.”

“Oh yeah, that one comedy special thing, right? Weekend Live Show?” Laughter, though mostly artificial Jason suspects, fills the room as Jason nods his head slowly, clasping his hands in his lap. “Something like that, sure.” Jimmy recounts a story from their time together at Saturday Night Live, Jason laughing at the appropriate times though his mind is somewhere else, something that seemed to be happening quite often that week.

“So SNL this week, you’re hosting for the second time and joined by first-time musical guest Y/N L/N.” The crowd cheers loudly at the mere mention of your name, something that makes Jason smile brightly, happy you are getting the recognition and support you so clearly deserve. Nodding excitedly as he turns to Jimmy, Jason’s eyes light up when he sees his friend holding up a picture of him standing in between you and Kenan for one of the promos. 

“Are you a fan of Y/N? Like, Jason, I know you, we’re friends, I’ve heard the Ted Lasso soundtracks. I can’t imagine you tend to listen to music like Y/N’s.” Jason chuckles lowly at Jimmy’s question, it’s true, his eclectic taste in music doesn’t typically extend to the modern indie pop you create. “I mean, yeah, I guess my playlists tend to have more of the classics, but her stuff is great. I would definitely consider myself a fan, first I was just listening to her albums while driving my kids around. But then I would be heading home after dropping them off at school and I’d catch myself singing along before I realized I could be listening to whatever I wanted.”

At that, the audience laughs, some nodding their heads in what seemed like agreement, Jason laughing slightly at himself before continuing the conversation, “So yes, I am a fan of her music, though I will say, I know more about her film career than I do her music career.” Jimmy nods in understanding, switching the card in his hand to a poster for your upcoming film Glass Onion, the sequel to Knives Out. “A highly anticipated film for fans of the first one, has Y/N said anything about her first blockbuster film after only previously starring in independent films?”

Jason shakes his head, clearing his throat as he switches which of his legs rests on the other, “We haven’t talked much about either of our careers really other than the usual ‘I love your work’ when first meeting. I can say though,” Jason turns to the main camera, pointing at it with a serious look on his face, “don’t kill me Lorne, the writers’ room told me I could share,” Jimmy erupting into his iconic life as he claps his hands, Jason then turning back to the host as if nothing happened, “Y/N is gracing us with her acting talent in a couple of sketches this week and she is an absolute star. I’m telling you, she should be hosting, not me. I would be happy to let her take over and do both jobs as I watch in the audience.”

The audience laughs before the conversation moves on, talking about Jason’s days on SNL and switching, of course, to Jimmy begging for any season three information as Jason refuses to budge while laughing at his friend. Soon enough, Jimmy throws it to commercial, allowing for the glam squad to come freshen each of them up as the production team shifts things around for the next segment and coming musical performance. As his suit gets lint rolled for the nth time, Jimmy looks at Jason who is talking with his assistant. Not intending to eavesdrop but also not doing his due diligence to give his guest privacy, he overhears the assistant pass a message along from the SNL crew, a message that includes your name in it.

Jimmy’s eyebrow arches and he quirks his head to the side, noticing Jason’s cheeks turn a light red at the mention of your name. Getting a devious idea in his head, Jimmy whips his phone out, typing at lightning speed so he can get all the information possible before they film Jason’s final interview portion. 

Jimmy Fallon: Hey, you talk more frequently to JSuds than I do, is he seeing anyone right now?

Seth Meyers: Nope, single. But he’s basically in love with Y/N L/N. He was at my place when his agent told him that she was the musical guest for his episode, he was practically jumping out of his seat.

Jimmy Fallon: That was my guess, thanks.

Seth Meyers: Yeah, sure. 

Seth Meyers: Wait, why are you asking me? Aren’t you with him right now for your show? Just ask him.

Seth Meyers: Jimmy, did you use me? I swear to God.

Seth Meyers: Fallon?

Seth Meyers: Oh fuck.

Jimmy pockets his phone as the glam squad rushes backstage, the producer counting them down from ten, “Hey Jason, we’re good friends right?” Turning to him with a confused look on his face, Jason nods apprehensively “…Yes, why?” Jimmy shoos away his question in their last four seconds, “Nothing, just wanted to make sure it was fresh on your mind.”

The Roots performed the intro music as the audience cheered, Jason putting on his best smile and content face as Jimmy welcomed everyone back, though he was truly confused out of his fucking mind. “Welcome back everyone! Now, Jason, everyone probably thinks of us as being on SNL at the same time and while they’re technically true, they’re also wrong.”

Jason nods, though his head was still wrapped in confusion, especially since he thought the show agenda said they’d be talking about his experience directing as compared to acting, not returning to the topic of their alma mater. “You make a good point. We were at the show at the same time, but I was in the writers’ room and you were in the cast. I was featured in a sketch every now and then, but nothing major. My first season as part of the cast was 2005, which I think was the first season without you, right?”

Jimmy leans back in his chair, nodding as a small smirk appears on his face, something that terrifies Jason when paired with the glint in Jimmy’s eyes that he recognized as dangerous, “Yeah, exactly, my last season was 2004. You know who we both worked with a lot, both on camera and in writing?” Jason looks at him with a clearly confused expression, something that makes both the audience and the host laugh, “Um yeah, lots of people Jim. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me who you’re specifically talking about.”

Chuckling as a facade, Jimmy internally prays that this goes over well as, hoping that his friend’s sense of humor prevails over his possible embarrassment, “Well I was texting with Seth, Seth Meyers,” he says pointedly to the crowd who clap, “before the show, and you’ll never guess what he told me.” Jason throws his head back over the top of the chair, dramatically groaning as the audience laughs, “I swear to God Jimmy, if this is a drunk writers’ room story…”

The late-night host laughs as he swats away the suggestion, “No, not at all. He was just telling me about a little crush that you have.” The studio is suddenly filled with “ooo”s as the audience goes wild. Jason turns to his friend, turning red in the face as he shakes his head, biting his inner cheek in disbelief before letting out a dangerously low chuckle, “Oh, did he now?”

Based on the embarrassed man’s response, Jimmy knows he is safe to continue though he lets Jason lead the conversation and how much he wants to share. “He did in fact. He told me about how you were, and I quote, ‘practically jumping out of your chair’ in his living room when this crush was brought up in conversation.” Jason rolls his eyes at the exaggeration, though he is also aware that it may not be too far off from what happened when he got that call, “Okay, I don’t know if I would go that far. Geez, I feel like I’m in high school again.” Turning to the audience, Jason makes a jokingly agitated face, “You spend ten years in this place and suddenly it's like you’re right back in homeroom when you come back for the reunion.”

The audience laughs and while Jimmy knows what he said was fairly accurate, he was not going to let Jason sidestep this conversation. “Meyers has never exaggerated in his entire life, don’t you dare suggest that.” With a statement that false, Jason has to roll his eyes before Jimmy can continue, “It seems your crush is someone we all know, someone I’m sure quite a few people in the audience and many more at home have crushes on as well. Care to share?”

Jason shakes his head as he chuckles, dramatically waving his hands to show his opposition to the suggestion. Not surprisingly though, the studio erupts in cheers, egging Jason on, cheering for the celebrity drama. Jason licks his bottom lip quickly as he looks down at his sneakers, trying to figure out how to nicely reveal that he was practically in love with you (though he would maintain the secret of the severity of his attraction to you, of course). 

Taking a deep breath, Jason attempts to steady his racing heartbeat. Was he really about to do this? Why would he admit on international television that he had a fat puppy love crush on you? Sure, the episode was filmed the afternoon before the evening of airing, they could cut it if he asked, but he would be trending on Twitter as soon as the audience had access to their phones again. 

It’s not like he was asking for your hand in marriage, just telling Jimmy that he was attracted to you. Worst case scenario, you ignore Jason for the next two days aside from your sketches together, sure, awkwardness would linger in the air, but you’re both professionals. Best case scenario, you tell Jason that he’s hot as fuck, you two have the best sex of your lives, and then live happily ever after, together for the rest of your lives. He admits, maybe the second possibility was more of a fantasy, but it's his mind, he can dream about anything he wants.

Jason looks back up at the audience, who continue to cheer, before glancing to a smiling Jimmy Fallon. He takes one more deep breath, his face turning a darker shade of red before he can even say anything. “Let’s just say, I wouldn’t mind a personal concert from this person instead of just singing along in my car.”

Hearing the reference to the earlier conversation about you, the audience absolutely loses it as they all stand, clapping and cheering. Jimmy lets out a loud laugh, clapping Jason on the shoulder and pointing to him while looking at the camera, “Jason Sudeikis, everyone! Catch him and his favorite musical guest, Y/N L/N, on Saturday Night Live at 11:35 PM!” 

Jason is rushed backstage, different crew members complimenting him on his interview as he heads in the direction of his dressing room. He looks to his left to find his assistant joining his walk, passing him his phone as she gives him a nervous smile. Sensing her uneasiness at the possibility of Jason being frustrated with her for Jimmy’s questioning, he sends her a reassuring smile before thanking her for his phone and sending her back to studio 8H where he’d meet her.

He continues the journey to his room, needing to grab his stuff before he can head back to rehearsal and last-minute rewrites ahead of the coming show. Jason chuckles as he unlocks his phone, ignoring all of the texts from his publicist that was watching from the production room, instead opening his messages from Seth.

Seth Meyers: Okay don’t be mad at me.

Seth Meyers: He didn’t tell me he was going to do that.

Seth Meyers: Actually, I don’t know what he did but I KNOW he did something.

Seth Meyers: So yeah, not me. Jimmy. He’s the one that sucks, yeah?

Jason types out his response, pausing to open his door though he doesn’t look up from his phone, instead finishing his text. But before he can press send, he notices the shape of something, or someone, on the room’s couch. Looking up, Jason is shocked, and subsequently incredibly nervous, to find you lounged on the couch, smiling at him. He takes note of the television remote in your hand, the television sitting opposite the couch that he knows was just playing his interview. Jason lets out a nervous chuckle as he tries to figure out what to say, brushing his hair back as he looks at you. Before he can say anything though, you stand up and walk towards him, only about five inches of space between the two of you as you smile brightly up at him, the smile turning into a small smirk.

“Personal concert, huh?”

[sillygooseassociation]

Meeting the Crew

Request: hi!!! can u please write about getting to meet part of the cast and being obviously a bit nervous and teased by jason? i feel like he'd crack a joke about how was that energy when he asked you out? just so you focus on him being annoying instead of your worries 🥹

Description: Jason introduces you to his Ted Lasso family, leading to an evening of stories and laughter after calming your initial nerves.

Warning: age gap (about 15 years), dirty jokes (mainly talks of balls)

Pairing: Jason Sudeikis x reader

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: Turns out I actually really loved writing this dynamic between Y/N and Jason! Unintentionally, their banter and chemistry kinda matches my Jason fic from earlier today. Could be read together I suppose, though there's no flow. Maybe a future storyline to be considered? I don't know, would y'all be interested in that? Also! Here is Jason's SNL sketch referenced in this, it's absolutely amazing, totally recommend it (along with his entire episode).

-

You drew in a deep breath as you attempted to fasten your necklace, irritation filling your mind at your inability to do so. One hand is placed on each of your shoulders as you glance up to meet Jason’s eyes through the mirror. “Need some help there, sweet cheeks?” You giggle, Jason taking the two ends of the chain into his hands, “Sweet cheeks? That’s a new one.” 

He shrugs as he clasps the jewelry around your neck, leaning forward to place a kiss on your cheek, “Just thought I’d try it out, what’d ya think?” He wraps his arms around you as you shrug slightly, leaning back into his embrace, “It's a funny one, not my favorite of nicknames though. Maybe you don’t use it tonight?” You turn back to look at him as he chuckles softly before kissing the side of your head, “Sure, not tonight, honey.” 

You give him a smile in thanks before he unwraps his arms from you, grabbing his watch from your vanity before walking over to the bed and sitting down to tie his sneakers. Looking in the mirror, you center the ‘J’ pendant on the chain secured around your neck. “Are you sure tonight is the night?” 

Jason nods before pausing, looking at you with concerned eyes, feeling his gaze bore into the back of your head causes you to look his way. “Of course I’m sure. Why? D-do you not want to meet them?” You shake your head quickly, walking over to sit next to him, and placing a comforting hand on his knee. “No bubs, of course I want to meet them. I just, what if they don’t like me? Or what if they think I’m just a stupid kid that can’t hold a conversation?” 

Turning to you, Jason holds your face in his hands, “Y/N, they are going to love you. They are going to love you because I love you. They will not think you’re some stupid kid because you’re not. They think, no they know, that I’m a stupid adult and yet they put up with me.” You giggle, squeezing his wrist in thanks before he leans forward to kiss you, then pulling back slightly, “Also, I’d appreciate it if you could not call yourself a child because like yeah, 15-year-age difference, whatever, but let’s not call you that and make me a creep, okay?”

Chuckling, you give him one more kiss before standing up and grabbing your jacket off the back of the vanity chair. “Sure thing, old man.” You hear him mutter a “fucking hell” as he stands up and follows you out of the room. You knew that your age gap was something that bothered him but not enough for you to not get some teasing in. Introducing you to the Ted Lasso crew two years into your relationship may seem delayed, but with Covid lockdowns and both of you nervous about your relationship going public, you hadn’t had the opportunity to meet some of your boyfriend’s favorite people.

Before you knew it, the two of you arrived at the English club, Jason’s arm wrapped around your side as the two of you were greeted with a chorus of hellos. You smiled brightly as you witnessed Jason become the life of the party. You knew he would be, of course, you just hadn’t been lucky enough to witness it yet.

“And this is Y/N, though you all know that, obviously.” Smiling bashfully, you cast your eyes around the room while giving a small wave to everyone, “Hey, y’all. I’m glad we’re finally doing this.” In an instant, your worst fear came true. The entire room burst into laughter, laughter directed towards you. Your smile fell for a millisecond, hoping no one noticed, but Jason did. Of course, Jason did, he was always looking at you, he noticed every single thing about you.

Jason was quickly at your side, his hand on the small of your back, but before he can say anything, Hannah’s voice fills the room, “Jason, she’s bloody perfect for you. Only two words in and she already said ‘y’all’.” The laughter echoes loudly but this time, your giggles join in, Jason chuckling as well as he pulls you into his side and places a quick kiss on your temple.

Quickly enough, a drink was in your hand as you squished into a large booth with the rest of the crew, Jason on one side and Juno on the other. “So Y/N, Jason cannot shut up about you, yet I don’t think I know how you two love birds met.” You look to Jason who wiggles his eyebrows at you over his flight of beer as he sips from it.

Taking that as an invitation for you to share the story, you turn to the table of intrigued eyes, definitely having taken note of Jason’s reaction. “Well, I actually was working at SNL when Jason hosted a couple of years ago, just a PA positioned quite low in the hierarchy. But I was put in charge of handing the objects to Jason during the science room sketch. I know, a weird task, but they forgot to make sure the shelf could fit the solar system model and it didn’t so then they just had to take the shelf out and make someone sit under this table, handing him objects.” 

Brett puts his hand up to stop you, placing his beer back on the table after taking a swig from it, “Wait, sorry, isn’t that the one where the fucking kids just say ‘balls’ a bunch?” You nod as you let out a small chuckle, a smirk growing on Jason’s face as he sees his friends putting the pieces together.

Brendan lets out a cackle, his face turning red as he tries to keep it together, “Are you…are you saying that you met Jason by sitting in front of his balls for five minutes while people kept yelling ‘balls’ over and over?” Your face falls defeatedly as the entire table absolutely loses it, curses flying at both the hilarity of the situation and your reaction. 

Placing your forehead on Jason’s shoulder, you bury your face into his upper arm, red from embarrassment. Jason chuckled deeply, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. You blushed at the action, though no one would be able to discern the rosy cheeks of admiration from the maroon face of embarrassment. You appreciated your boyfriend’s gesture, but you also knew you weren’t going to be let off that easy. Lifting your head up as the laughter dies down, Jason takes a quick swig of his beer before clearing his throat, an act that leaves you wondering what he’s about to say.

“Look at her, all embarrassed and hiding over here. I’ll tell you, that was not her reaction later that night when in the same position but in my dressing room”. The table erupts in laughter again as you shake your head, swatting Jason on the arm as he looks at you with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. Knowing that he can take it just as much as he can serve it, you decide you’re comfortable enough with the group to let them in on the truth. 

“What absolute bullshit.” The group laughs as some take sips of their drinks, Jason putting an arm around your shoulder as he can tell you’re letting loose. “This man, this grown ass man, was so nervous to do anything. The sketch ended with him running off camera after Kyle, then cutting to commercial. I don’t know if any of you have been to SNL, but it’s like lightning during commercial break, every single cast and crew member is running around like crazy because if even one thing is off, we know we will have the wrath of Lorne Michaels to face, and the stick up his ass is typically his weapon of choice.”

Jason smiles brightly, the group hanging onto every word of your story as they chuckle at your joke, you were fitting right in. He knew you would. “Instead of bolting backstage to get in costume for his next sketch, he ran back to the set to help me get out from under the desk. Mind you, I could have done it myself, but it was sweet. The next thing out of his mouth, not as sweet.”

Everyone at the table whips their heads towards Jason who sticks his hands up in innocence, the one resting on your shoulder being placed in between the wall and your head. “Woah y’all, I don’t like to pull rank but let’s all remember that I am your friend and your boss, okay?” You swat at his chest as you roll your eyes, Jason putting his hands down and using his arm to pull you closer, placing a kiss on your temple as you launch back into the story, so happy to see how comfortable you are with his friends.

“He helps me stand up and then says, and I’m not kidding, ‘thanks for holding onto my balls for me’.” If you thought the table had lost it before, this moment of laughter didn’t even compare, it felt like the pub walls were going to come crashing down around you. Jason’s cheeks pinked, looking down as his friends hurled jokes at him. You knew he wasn’t truly embarrassed or anything, you had told this story before to other friends and family members, but that didn’t stop you from rubbing comforting circles on his thigh with your thumb.

Turning your attention back to the table, you provide his side of the story, “To this day, he absolutely swears the joke was on purpose, that he wanted to make sure my sense of humor was 'up to par',” your hands forming exaggerate quotation marks in the air as you finish your sentence. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jason’s head pop back up, shaking side to side slightly as he smirks in your direction. “But based on how red his cheeks and the tips of his ears turned as soon as he realized what he said? Definitely not on purpose.” 

The group chuckles, making various comments about how Jason isn’t as smooth as he likes to think he is. You take the opportunity to look at Jason, only to find him already looking in your direction, his eyes filled with a sense of fondness. Placing a hand on his opposite cheek and bringing him closer, you place a kiss on the cheek closest to you, a moment that felt private before hearing some teasing kissing noises in the background. You giggled, burying your face into his neck as he chuckled, tugging you into his side as he placed an anchoring arm around your body. 

“Yeah yeah, all of this is hilarious. I went and found her before the after-party to apologize.” You removed your face from his neck, your body still tucked into his side but now part of the group again. You turn to the others, a small smirk on your face, “Well duh, couldn’t have anyone thinking that old man Jason Sudeikis is making inappropriate comments to young interns.” Many at the table double over in laughter, some wiping tears from their eyes as others raise a glass to that before finishing off their drinks. Looking to Jason, you see him shaking his head in astonishment while his eyes seemed to darken just slightly, knowing you wouldn’t bring up your age gap unless you were okay with the consequences you would later receive in the bedroom.

You relax into his side as the conversation moves on, talking about the scenes they filmed that day (though the topic quickly changed when you informed them that you made Jason take an oath of silence about the season, not wanting any spoilers before you could watch it with everyone else). Playing with your ‘J’ pendant with two of your fingers, you hadn’t noticed Jason withdrawing himself from the conversation until you felt a kiss on the top of your head.

Looking up at him, you smile at the soft way in which he looks at you, a look only reserved for you.

“Hey,” he whispered quietly. 

“Hi,” you respond with the same reverence.

“I’m really glad we did this tonight.” Jason licks his bottom lip quickly as he thought of how you were there with him, how you were his.

“I’m really glad too.” You intertwine your fingers with his free hand, bringing them up to kiss the back of his hand.

“You and me, baby.” Leaning in close to your face, Jason’s air becomes your air before he kisses you softly as though you two aren’t squished in a booth with 15 other people.

“You and me, bubs.”

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

A STUDY IN YOU, chapter four

April 11th, 2018

The early signs of spring brought the Lower East Side to life. Clouds faded from the city and Max licked the ice cream cone in his hand. 

“I can’t believe we leave in less than a month,” he said, eyes shaded by big sunglasses, his legs crossed as you sat on the edge of the fountain. “I need to start packing.”

You laughed at your friend, licked your own cone and basked in the first warm day of spring. Naomi and Sophie were on their way, mid-day classes had them stuck inside when you and Max texted the group: we need ice cream pronto. 

You’d told your friends about the sudden change in plans regarding Cannes, blamed it on an email error and said that you were thrilled to hear from Dean Vasquez himself. Somehow, they bought it. 

“Too bad you won’t get to walk the red carpet,” you smirked at him, twisted your cone in your hand to make sure you were evenly distributing your licks. 

“Well we still have to dress like we’re walking it,” he made a face at you. “We can’t show up in sweatpants.”

“What ever would I do without you?” you said sarcastically--he couldn’t possibly think you weren’t aware of a dress code. 

“You’d wear sweatpants, apparently.”

You ignored his snarky remark, scanned the park to take in the sights of another change of season in New York. Flowers were starting to bloom, snow was officially melted, and, most importantly, you’d already interviewed at NBC and CBS. 

You’d heard back from them quickly, emails inviting you for an office tour and a chance to meet with execs. So far, so good. Now you just had to wait for a final decision, due by May 15th. 

So once Sophie and Naomi arrived the four of you meandered through campus, making your way to Grayson Hall for the mandatory Cannes trip meeting on the 6th floor. An amphitheater style lecture hall and a projection screen up front, the five faculty leading the trip chatted as students filed in. 

Laurie Anderson, Will Caddel, Jesse Anand, Marina Herrero, and, of course, Jason.

You found a spot in the second row, Max to your left and Sophie to your right. Naomi greeted her advisor--Laurie--and then fell in line. 

“How’s your weird relationship with Sudeikis?” Max asked as he opened his laptop, swiping through iMessages before he turned to see you. 

“It’s not weird,” you defended, uncomfortable with the child-like tone of your own voice. 

He looked at you expectantly. 

“Why do you think it’s weird?” You asked seriously. 

“Because sometimes when you guys interact it feels like you hate each other and other times it seems like there’s a high level of sexual tension,” he lowered his voice. Max had witnessed you firing off an email to Jason during the script draft debacle, he laughed and egged you on: you tell him, sister. 

But now you rolled your eyes, glanced over to Sophie who leaned closer when she heard the topic of conversation.

“Very cat and mouse,” she agreed. 

“I see him all the time, you guys. We’re friendly, I guess.”

“You spend a lot of time together,” Max noted. 

“For professional purposes,” you motioned around the room. 

Sophie made a face at that. “And take out after class and a drink at O’Hallorans.”

Max’s eyes went wide--guess the cat was out of the bag on that one. 

“For professional purposes,” you said again, a glance over to Jason at the front of the room. 

They followed your eyes towards him and you hit Max on the arm. “Don’t all look over there at once, Jesus.”

“Oh my god he was totally looking at you,” Sophie whispered. 

You kept your eyes on your laptop in front of you, tried your best to hide the excitement that bubbled in your veins. “Really?”

“No,” Sophie laughed, “but good to know your crush is going strong.”

“You’re an asshole,” you looked at Sophie, who wore a shit eating grin. “Aren’t we almost thirty? Do we have to play games like this?”

“Some of us are closer than others,” Max pouted. 

“Right,” you hissed quietly. “So grow the fuck up.”

A powerpoint flashed onto the screen at that, Will greeted the group and introduced the other faculty one by one. You couldn’t help but look around the room. Did anyone else in here stay late in his office? Did other students have his number and joke with him like you did?

It was no secret that Professor Sudeikis was highly sought after. His experience in the field directing two successful movies? His tenure as a staff writer on a popular sitcom in the early 2010s? 

And, aside from all that, there was the obvious: the glasses, the hair, the way he had a knack for making boring topics interesting and his ability to inject a hefty dose of sarcasm into any conversation.

They handed out an information sheet and went through the main details. Departure: May 7th. A red-eye to Barcelona and a connection to Cannes. The festival began the same day, you had tickets for two nights. A hotel downtown (not up to Max’s standards but still 4-stars), and, best of all, one night with nothing scheduled to explore the coastal city. 

Okay, maybe the best part was going to be the festival itself, but the thought of sipping champagne beneath palm trees had you and Sophie bouncing with excitement on your way out of the meeting. 

“Hey, actually,” you said to the group. “Give me a second, I’ll catch up.”

They watched as you turned on your feet and took a few steps towards him. You ignored the exaggerated whispers and waited a safe distance away when he laughed at something Will said. When he saw you, he looked back to Will. You could read his lips: Oh, can you hold on for just a second?

“Hi, sorry to interrupt,” you smiled up at him. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “No, hi, that’s okay.”

That’s when it hit you. You didn’t really have anything to say. Whatever it was that coursed through your veins when you were near him--adrenaline, lust, stupidity--had hijacked your body and brought you up to the front of the room. Thank god most people had left. 

You were a creative. An artist. And yet, thinking on your feet didn’t come that naturally to you. At least not right now. 

“I just wanted to say thank, again--uh--you know--”

He nodded, the look on his face let you know he was amused by the way you tripped over words and shifted awkwardly in front of him. 

“For the coffee, the other night, right?” He filled in the blank, covered your tracks and knew it. 

“Yes, yeah--very much appreciated.”

“Of course,” he nodded. 

“I’m gonna go,” you threw a thumb over your shoulder, gesturing towards your friends who made no effort to pretend they weren’t watching your every move. 

Max waved at Jason, Sophie snapped her gum, and Naomi looked like a deer caught in headlights. You cleared your throat. 

“Okay--sorry--I’ll see you later.”

“Wait--Y/N,” he reached out and caught hold of your elbow, tugging you back towards him. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

A rebound, this was your chance. 

“Tell them what?”

He smirked. “I’ll see you later.”

April 24th, 2018

You paced outside his office door, 10:06am.

He was late. 

His brow furrowed when he rounded the corner and fished for his keys. 

“Where have you been?”

“Good morning to you too,” he laughed. 

“Don’t your office hours start at ten?”

“They do,” he sighed, unlocking the door and letting you in first, watching as you stepped inside. “Is this internship panic? Just so I know what I’m getting myself into…”

“I emailed after my interviews,” you ranted, setting your bag in its usual spot by your chair across from his. “Thanked them for having me, said how excited I was to learn more about them. No one emailed me back.”

He twisted the blinds on the window, looked at you over his shoulder like he knew you weren’t finished. 

“And I know they don’t technically have to let us know until the 15th, but--I don’t know--don’t you think they should have at least said hey we saw your email good job in your interview?”

“Do you need praise?” He laughed a little, eyed you skeptically like he couldn’t read you. 

“If you’re going to be a smart ass I’ll go complain somewhere else,” you said in a huff, your eyes immediately wide when you realized what you’d said. “Sorry--I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes you did,” he shrugged casually, a close-lipped smile when he let his eyes sweep over your figure. 

You took a deep breath, stared at the tile floor of his office and focused. In, out, in out. How did he not realize how serious this was?

“Hey,” he came around his desk, put his hands on your shoulders when he looked you in the eyes. “They will get back to you eventually…even if it’s a rejection.”

“Not helping.”

He chuckled and moved to sit on the edge of his desk. You tried not to frown at the loss of contact.

“You already got an offer from New Age, right?”

“Yeah,” you said despondently. “But they’re my last choice.”

“When do you need to let them know?”

“They said I could have until the 15th.”

“Great--so you have a back up.”

“I guess.”

A beat of silence in the tiny office, books on the shelves behind you and scattered papers on his desk. 

“Are you always this high-strung?” He watched you expectantly, you shrugged and slunk into the seat directly in front of him. 

“I’ll pretend that’s a compliment.”

“Just an observation.”

You looked up at him, noticed that there was less space between you than usual. He sighed, kept your gaze for a second until you asked:

“Are you this close with all of your advisees?”

He parted his lips but didn’t speak, scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly and then stood, walked around the corner of his desk. “I--uh--I don’t really know what you mean.”

“Nevermind,” you shook your head, feeling small and stupid and insecure. Too close, right? You tiptoed up to the line and now he pulled away. It felt less surprising than you hoped.

“Is there something else you needed this morning?”

You looked up at him, stood and slung your bag over your shoulder. A shake of your head, a huff of air from your nose in frustration.

No,” you turned to leave. “There’s not.”

The next few days were awkward. You hurried out of class and avoided his eyes when you handed out graded papers to the undergrads. 

No update on the internship front, and, therefore, even less reason to interact with Jason. At least, that’s what you told Sophie when you sat on her couch one evening and bit into a slice of pizza.

“Why are you making that face when I say his name?” She asked around a cheesy bite. “Is the honeymoon over?”

“He can be an asshole,” you shrugged, ignoring her jab. “He was annoying the other day.”

“Why?”

You took your own bite and chewed, thought about how to explain it to Sophie without adding fuel to her fantasy fire. 

“Can you not make a big deal out of it for a second? Can you just be normal and hear me out? You know, provide emotional support?”

She rolled her eyes a little at that, a soft smile when she nodded. “Yes. I’ll be an adult for 30 seconds.”

You let out a sigh, felt a wave of embarrassment at the thought of saying it all out loud. 

Was it weird? Was Max right? Maybe whatever tiny crush turned friendship—or whatever it was—had officially crossed a line that even you felt weird about.

“I showed up at his office the other day,” you explained. “I was stressed about internships and waiting to hear back—and it was fine, you know—he was nice and kind of reassuring.”

“Yeah?” She let her eyes narrow when she waited for more. 

“And there was kind of this moment, I don’t know.”

This got her excited. She sat up straight and her eyes lit up. “What kind of moment?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, leaned back on the couch and took a bite of your crust. Messy words through a full mouth: “I asked him if he’s close with all of his advisees.”

You thought Sophie’s eyes were as wide as they could get, but they practically bugged out of her head at that. 

“And what did he say?”

“He got weird and quiet and said—“ you lowered your voice to sound like him. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You spooked him,” she nodded, still excited.

“What?”

She shrugged casually. “You acknowledged the elephant in the room.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it an elephant.”

“Y/N—has anything happened between the two of you?”

“What? Like sexually?”

Sophie nodded seriously, reaching for a wine glass she’d left on the coffee table. 

“No—it’s not—I don’t think that’s the type of thing happening.”

“Well we all know you have the hots for him,” she said quickly. “And I’ve seen the way he looks at you. It wouldn’t surprise me if—“

You cut her off, shook your head and sighed. “No, no, no, Sophie, do not go there.”

“Oh come on, you’re telling me you haven’t thought at all about it?”

“I mean aside from that dream…”

Right. The stupid dream that started this whole thing. It was random. Had you noticed that your advisor was handsome and funny and all of that? Sure. But you’d never thought about it seriously until, well…

Sophie lifted her eyebrows, silently calling your bluff. 

“I’m just saying—it doesn’t surprise me that he got weird seeing as we all know you guys are, I don’t know—complicated.” 

You chewed on her words and another slice of pizza, managed to successfully distract her by asking about the research she was doing for an independent study. 

By 9pm she’d put on some music, opened another bottle and laughed when you got a text from Max: will anyone else have room in their suitcase for my extra clothes?

You were tugging on your jacket when your phone chimed before 10. Sophie saw the way you smiled when you read the text, and for whatever reason, she didn’t ask.

Jason Sudeikis (9:56pm): Sorry I was a dick the other day. See you on Tuesday.

table of contents | talk to me & join the tag list

tag list: @sheerangermany @clarebearr @tedlassostan @hart-kinsella @kahluamystery97 @airplanes924 @trulymadlykiki @thisismysecondrodeo @mypugsley @jng4kook @msolbesg @stankface @ljej95 @ivetastedbloodanditissweet @pascal-reyes @paola-carter @rubberduckingaro @golden-hoax @ccbb2222 @caplikeme @outofthecradlex @mackenzmeme @reann-shitposting @very-berry-harry @winter-soldier-007

AN: short and sweet but chappie five is.........a big one!!!!!

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

not a date

(aka a jason sudeikis blurb that i wrote after three glasses of wine and binge watching all of ted lasso season 2)

story page | talk to me/join the tag list | the playlist

wc: 4.3k of flirty, angsty banter

You stared at your dress in the mirror, three hangers from the left tucked between an Oscar de la Renta you’d gotten to take home after a photoshoot last fall and a leather jacket you’d been gifted from a brand you couldn’t remember.

Now it clung to your form, saved from the mess of clothes you’d thrown into the closet after living out of suitcases for your first three weeks in London.

Was this a date? No.

Aside from the almost 20 year age difference and the fact you’d literally never met, you spent most of the day coming up with plenty of other reasons why this was not a date and certainly just a friendly drink you were grabbing with another person in show business.

But why were you even thinking along those lines? Sure--maybe over the last few months you’d started to see him in a different light through interviews and episodes of his new show. Maybe a few texts from your friend back home had amped you up a little bit and now, sitting in the back of a car that drove you towards Notting Hill, you desperately tried to swallow the butterflies that fluttered beneath your ribcage and made you feel incredibly, horribly stupid.

You offered a pleasant smile to the driver and hopped out when the car slowed to a stop that evening, unsure if the dress was too much or if your earrings were too much or if the fact that you’d paired them with white tennis shoes to dress the whole ensemble down was too much.

Did you look too young? Would he greet you like you were his long-lost niece or the daughter of his oldest friend? You weren’t either of those things to him, but you felt confident that if you were running through the age-based options of what this would feel like, it had at least crossed his mind.

The bar was quiet when you pushed the door open, dim lighting, velvet-lined booths along the left wall and you scanned the room. For fuck’s sake, did he stand you up?

Two bartenders behind the counter and a few other groups finishing dinner. A couple to your left seemed cozy over red wine and a somewhat boisterous group of friends let out yips of laughter across the room.

You were anything but unfamiliar with the time he’d chosen: late enough that most people were finishing dinner but early enough that you could easily brush it off as we ran into each other here! should tabloids or tweets pick up on the events of your Thursday night.

A time in the evening that could be one of two things: a date, and absolutely, positively, not a date.

You were about to head for the bathroom, send your assistant a text to ask where the fuck is he? What the fuck do I do? But when you pushed your purse up your shoulder, he turned around at the bar, both hands around a glass of something.

He smiled, you took a few steps forward and reminded yourself: Networking. A casual drink. You’re both in London. No need for a nervous flutter of your heart. Your manager probably would have killed you if you didn’t at least meet him.

He opened his arms in greeting and let out a laugh that somehow acknowledged the uncertainty between you. “Hey, hi--thanks for having a drink.”

“Of course,” you smiled, giving him a brief hug before settling onto the stool beside him. “Thanks for reaching out.”

He smiled, “we’re both American, so we don’t have to do the cheek-kiss thing, right?”

“Right, I think we get a free pass,” you nodded. “It can be pretty intimate and overwhelming when you have to do it with strangers.”

A wave of relief washed over his features when he let out a laugh. “I’ve been trying to tell people that, but they think I’m just an asshole American when I say it, so--this is a nice change of pace.”

“How long have you been here?” You shrugged out of your jacket.

“At the bar or in London?”

“In London,” you laughed, “but I hope you weren’t waiting too long for me.”

“No, no,” he waved you off. “I live a short walk--” he motioned with his hands and towards the door you’d just entered, “--up and around, so I just got my drink before you came in.”

“Got it,” you nodded. “And in London?”

“Since early February, until about June, probably. That’s the plan. What about you? You’re here for--”

“Another six weeks, give or take. Yeah, I’ve been writing with some friends of mine who live here and working on recording new stuff,” you explained, a small smile when you brought your eyes up to meet his. “Glad our time overlapped.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, keeping eye contact for a second when he smiled, hands still wrapped around his drink. “Can’t believe we’ve never really met before.”

Now you were close enough to tell it was scotch or whiskey or something dark like that. You couldn’t remember which ice cube shape went with what.

“We’ve definitely been at the same parties or events--”

“For sure,” he agreed. “But never actually got to say hi or tell you what a fan I am. My daughter loves your movies, knows almost every word to Should Have. Which, I’ll admit, sounds kind of funny when a five-year-old is singing it.”

You laughed at the thought of a little girl, pigtails or a cute dress sitting in the back of his car, mumbling along to the words of your biggest song to date. “I apologize in advance to her first crush.”

“You should, yeah--he’ll get an earful if he ever fucks up,” he looked down to the counter and at your empty hands. “You need a drink, though--what do you want?”

You let out an uncertain sigh and looked at the liquor behind the bar. When you did, you felt his eyes linger on your face for a second, pulled away only by the appearance of a bartender he seemed to know quite well.

“Whatever she wants, Marty, on my tab.”

“You don’t have to,” you looked over at him.

The worst part of any not date, networking drinks or dinner, work chat, whatever this was. An awkward dance you found yourself doing with anyone else whose name landed in headlines like private jets at Teterboro. Did you pay? Did he? Who’s net worth was more? Did it matter? Who asked who to get together? Did it matter?

“I don’t have to,” he agreed, a slight nod when he looked at you again. “I’d like to, though.”

The bartender looked at you expectantly, eyebrows raised until you said: “A manhattan, please.”

“How’s filming going?” You asked once you were left alone again--impressed by his choice to sit at the bar rather than a table hidden in the back.

London had always been quieter than New York or LA, though. This neighborhood seemed tucked away in the suburbs and hidden behind brownstones and boutiques.

He angled himself towards you a bit. “It’s good, yeah. We’re about half way through the new season, everyone’s really excited about it and we’re having a great time making it so I can’t complain.”

“The show’s really good,” you confessed. “My brother watched it before I did and he pretty much demanded I at least give it a shot.”

“Give it a shot,” he repeated your words with wide eyes and a smile, his tone quickly became teasing. “Were you able to stomach it? The mediocrity of it wasn’t too much?”

“That’s not what I meant--” you laughed.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” he held his hands up and grinned. “Every show has its critics. My humor can be stupid--might not be your cup of tea.”

“I think you mean cuppa,” you challenged.

“Yes,” he held up a finger, catching his own slip. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

“No, I love the show,” you said honestly, more serious now when the bartender delivered your drink atop a paper napkin--the same logo etched in the window in blank ink. “Watched all of season one basically in one sitting.”

He raised his and clinked it against the side of yours before he said: “Last night, right? Had to do your homework before we met?”

“Crash course,” you joked. “Stayed up all night and almost fell asleep during the finale.”

He sipped his drink and nodded curiously.

“No,” you shook your head. “I think I watched it in the fall, then immediately learned that a second season was coming so I knew I was committed at that point.”

“Well, don’t expect to get any spoilers from me. I’ve been sworn to absolute secrecy and my friends who wrote it with me would probably have me murdered, so, unless you want my blood on your hands--”

“Aren’t you in charge? Did you swear yourself to secrecy?”

“I’m partially in charge,” he shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “A lot of other people call the shots too. I make sure to show up on time and say what I’m supposed to say.”

You nodded, watched him as you took another sip.

So maybe you’d only been partially honest so far. You didn’t watch the show last night, and you had devoured it rather quickly last fall after a few text messages from your brother.

But you did stay up late last night reading an interview he did with GQ and after that, you found yourself three videos in on youtube of his funniest sketches from Saturday Night Live. Then an over-the-ocean FaceTime call with your friend back home to process the questions and concerns that took flight.

Is it weird if I’m kind of into him? Why would he want to have drinks with me? There’s no way it’s anything but a networking thing if his assistant texted my assistant.

“I didn’t ask for any spoilers, for the record. You’re the one who brought up spoilers.”

He tilted his head to the side and let out a small laugh. “Because I know if you asked I would have a hard time saying no.”

A beat of silence before you pulled your eyes away and tried to take a deep breath without him noticing.

“Well then I’ll do my best to not put you in that position,” you said, giving up and letting your eyes trail back to his.

Again, he watched you for a moment, eyes on your face like he had just as many questions as you did. But then he cleared his throat, looked over to the bartender and sipped his drink.

“Where are you staying? I hope this wasn’t too far of a trip.”

“No,” you reassured with a shake of your head. “I’m renting in Fulham, so it was an easy drive--aside from the whole left side of the road thing. I always forget and then remember to switch sides.”

His eyes went wide and your cheeks felt tingly when you smiled, “I’m joking! A driver brought me--I don’t--I’m not driving on the wrong side of the road in London!”

“Wow, good, yeah, that’s great that you’re not mowing over children or old ladies out of sheer ignorance.”

“You know us Americans,” you rolled your eyes, before you both spoke at the same time: “Ignorant.”

Another pause, you smiled.

“Do you like it here?”

“I do,” you told him. “It’s not New York. I think that’ll always feel like home, but--”

This piqued his interest. “Where do you live in New York?”

“Tribeca. Far enough away from the madness but close enough at the same time.”

“My ex and I had a place in Brooklyn.” He told you, “still have it, but, you know, don’t live there together anymore.”

“That’s how it works for most people when they break up,” you nodded and tried to hide your teasing smile.

“You mean you don’t live with your ex-boyfriend? That kid from that movie--what’s that line he says? I’ll never forget you as long as I live, but I’ll be damned if--”

You pretended to shutter at the mention of him. A quick fling, a few months last fall that led to plenty of TMZ articles and turned out to be a waste of time.

“Thank God I don’t live with him,” you cut him off and laughed. “We, uh, yeah--just didn’t work.”

He smiled but then it faded into a thoughtful nod, took another sip of what you were now convinced was whiskey. “I can relate,” he admitted. “But hey, everything comes to an end eventually and when one door closes, another one opens. That’s what people say at least.”

You smiled at his sentiment. “In Hollywood it sometimes feels like a revolving door.”

“Jesus,” he pulled his head back and looked you up and down. “That was deep--we’re only one drink in! Save the philosophy for--I don’t know--at least the second.”

Heat rose to your face at the thought of another drink, more time to sit here and steal glances his way and wonder what on earth was going through his head when he did the same.

“The night is young,” you raised your glass to cheers him again. He smiled and agreed, the night is young.

By the end of your second drink most of the other diners or drinkers had gone home. Your chin was in your hand when you took the last sip and told him: “I’ve had Manhattans at other pubs, one near my apartment is okay, but this is good.”

“Mmm,” he nodded, putting his credit card back into his wallet after the bartender closed him out. “You haven’t had mine.”

“Yours? You make a good Manhattan?”

“I’ll ignore the shock in your voice and not take it as an insult,” he let out a laugh but eyed you warily.

You rolled your eyes at him and smirked. “No--I just--I’ve never tried to make one.”

“It’s easy, you just need the right stuff.”

“And you always keep those things on hand?”

“I like to keep a well stocked bar,” he shrugged. “My place is only a few blocks away, you’re welcome to come see for yourself how easy it is to make.”

“Yeah?” You asked, a smile that mirrored his when you reached to tug on your jacket.

“Yeah--and, for the record,” he lowered his voice and seemed more serious. “I’ve never seen any paparazzi around here, either. So, you won’t have to worry about that.”

You offered a gracious smile and fell into step with him. “I wasn’t worried.”

“No?” He held the door open for you to walk into the cool evening.

“Should I be worried?” You eyed him over your shoulder.

“No, I mean--I don’t think so,” he shoved his hands into his pockets. The buds of leaves were visible in the spring air, even under the cloak of night. “Just, you know. Rumor mills do their thing and we’ve never met before and--I’m significantly older than you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, you weren’t going to be the one to go there.

All you could manage after you averted your gaze: “Is that a bad thing?”

He laughed, did that thing where he watched you for a second before looking down to the sidewalk. “You’ve got a lot of questions, don’t you?”

You didn’t miss a beat. “Well if you’re significantly older than me, shouldn’t you be significantly wiser, too?”

You tried to keep your lips in a thin line, tried not to laugh at your own joke but when a smirk broke loose on his face, you couldn’t help but grin.

“That was low,” he nodded, stopped dead in his tracks and shook his head at you. “Are you implying that you’re young and naive?”

You kept walking, turned and stepped over cracks in the pavement backwards as you laughed. “No! You’re the one who brought age into this.”

He rolled his eyes playfully and picked up his pace to catch up to you. “Just acknowledging the elephant in the room.”

That put you into your thoughts. Why would age matter if this was just friendly drinks? Why would he invite you back to his place if he viewed you as some kid, some 28-year-old girl who makes music his daughter likes?

“Sounds like you think it’s a bad thing,” you said simply, a metaphorical leap of faith as you turned left onto his street.

“I just think it’s a fact that could easily become a topic of conversation,” he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders.

You nodded, let out a breath when he fished for his keys in his pocket.

“Facts are just facts,” he pulled them out and selected the one that would provide entry. “Not good, not bad. Just facts.

“Now you dabble in poetry, too?”

He smiled at your joke but pushed the door open, held it there while you crossed under his arm and into the dark foyer of a townhouse.

He flicked on a light switch and dropped his keys on a console table nearby. “One Manhattan, coming right up.”

You hung your coat up on a rack in the corner when he disappeared further into the house. Art on the walls, books on shelves--a house that you were sure he rented for the months he’d be here, a home away from home that suddenly felt intriguing and mysterious as you wandered to find him.

He was bent over behind a bar in the corner, pulled out the vermouth along with two glasses.

You waited a second, watched as he poured the bourbon into the mixer.

“Why’d you ask me to have drinks?”

He looked up at you briefly, repeating your question. “Why’d I ask you to have drinks?”

You nodded, he uncapped the bitters and shrugged.

“Figured it’d be nice to not have to greet someone with a cheek-kiss for once,” he smirked.

You raised your brows in anticipation, silently challenging him to answer the question truthfully instead of hiding behind comedy.

He shook the mixer, looked up and shrugged. “One second,” he feigned guilt. “I can’t hear you over the shaking.”

An eye roll from the middle of his living room before he uncapped it, poured the drink into two glasses and then garnished them with cherries.

“Okay,” he picked them up and walked over to the couch in the center of the room. You came to join him on the opposite end and he asked: “You want to know why I asked you to get a drink?”

“I want to know why you asked your assistant to ask my assistant to ask me to get a drink,” you clarified.

“Oh, right, that’s how it happened,” he nodded sarcastically as if he’d forgotten. “Uh, let’s see.”

You took a sip and kept your eyes on him, waiting for an answer.

“I asked you to get a drink because I think you’re incredibly talented and I’ve always been a fan--and I think it was a shame that we didn’t meet until tonight--” he said this as an aside when he glanced up to you. “But I also heard you were in London and I guess I’ve always been curious about you.”

You nodded, taking in his words.

“In a totally not weird way,” he clarified.

“Right, of course,” you smiled.

Now he sipped his drink and turned the question around. “Why did you say yes to me asking my assistant to ask your assistant to ask you to get a drink?”

You smiled and set your drink on the coffee table in front of you. The conversation had become a sort of verbal chess game, a poker-faced exchange that was both carefully planned and executed.

“I said yes because I think you’re hilarious and I’ve always been a fan,” you borrowed his words, a nervous inhale in preparation to show your hand. “And because when I watched the show I thought you were clever and cute and--I guess I was also curious.”

He let out a hum in thought, let his elbows rest on his knees for a second. “I see what you did there, sneaking in ‘cute’ right in the middle so maybe it’d get lost or I wouldn’t notice.”

You nodded, leaned back on the couch and let your lips twist into a smile again. “Right, my hope was that if it was weird for me to say that, you would have just ignored it and not actually point it out like you just did.”

“Ah, got it, I see,” he nodded, playing it cool. “I don’t think it was weird. I almost said the same thing about you but didn’t know if that would be creepy--you know, seeing as I’m both older and wiser,” he rolled his eyes playfully.

You stifled a laugh, kept his eye contact while he took another sip. You hoped to lock in the moments, the taste of the cocktail and the warmth in the room on a cool night, the heat on your cheeks when he looked at you and the shiver down your spine at the tug-of-war you both seemed to be playing.

“Those aren’t insults unless you take them that way,” you crossed one leg over the other and retrieved your drink.

“That’s a life lesson,” he nodded, repeating your words mindfully. “It’s not an insult unless you take it that way.”

“I thought we weren’t getting philosophical tonight--”

“Well, yeah, at the bar during the first drink,” he looked up to you with wide eyes and let out a quick laugh. “You wasted no time going there. This is drink three,” he held it up before taking a sip. “A lot of things change once you get to drink three.”

“Like what?”

“Well, for one, you can get philosophical. That’s fair game now.”

“Okay,” you smiled.

He stood and headed for a stereo on the far side of the room, looking over his shoulder briefly to see you. “It’s also apparently the level at which you felt comfortable admitting you’re attracted to me.”

He pressed a button and suddenly the room filled with music. You looked at him through narrow eyes. “I don’t remember that.”

“No?” He tilted his head to the side. “It was just a second ago. You were kind of shy about it--I thought it was cute.”

You watched him walk back to the couch.

“Is this smooth jazz?”

“Does it age me?”

You laughed, “I’d be more weirded out if you put on Doja Cat, to be honest.”

“Well she’s actually up next, so--”

“What playlist did you choose?”

“Oh, you know, the playlist I usually choose when I bring a girl home.”

“So you do this often?”

“Bring my date home?” He asked, watching you with intrigue to see what kind of reaction he’d get.

Your heartbeat picked up, “this was a date?”

He shrugged, leaned back and brought his glass up to his lips as he kept his demeanor calm. “I think that’s up to you.”

“You’re the one who asked me to get a drink!”

“I didn’t know what it would be when I asked you,” he admitted, a smile on his face. “Do you not want it to be a date?”

“I just didn’t know if that’s what this was--didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“I think the third drink is also where it becomes a date a lot of the time, to be fair.”

“Is it?” You flirted.

“In all of the third drinks I’ve had,” he let out a sigh, “that’s where something changes if it’s going to change. But I feel like something changed for us during the second, if we’re being honest.”

You hummed in thought, unable to disagree but afraid to say more. You didn’t want to come off too eager or excited and you certainly didn’t want to let him know how many times your stomach had flipped just sitting across from him on a couch.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said simply.

“For all of your future dates?”

“Exactly.”

He watched as you tilted the glass back and finished what was left. You knew what you had to do: get your coat, get your purse, and leave him wanting more. So much of you wanted to walk over and plant yourself on top of him, make him squirm for your touch or beg to feel your skin.

But it was Thursday and it was late and you weren’t the type of girl to leave nothing to the imagination.

Maybe he knew the move, maybe he knew exactly what game you were playing, because he didn’t seem fazed when you stood and put the glass on the coffee table.

He sat, let his eyes trail up your body, and tilted his head as he waited for you to say it.

“I should go.”

He let out a slow breath, stood, and motioned for the door.

Your heart beat with every step, mouth dry from the desire that coursed through you when you plucked your coat from the rack where you’d left it.

He leaned against the doorway to the foyer, watched as you slipped each arm inside to brace for the night air. Once your purse was on your shoulder, he moved to the front door.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he bargained. “You can keep telling yourself this wasn’t a date if you let me take you on a real date.”

“A real date?”

“Well something about tonight clearly didn’t meet your standards,” he motioned back towards the living room. “Maybe it was the smooth jazz.”

“It was more the fact that I had no clue you wanted it to be a date until just now.”

“Just now?”

You nodded, fought a smirk when he sighed.

“I thought asking you back to my place made it obvious.”

“Asking me back to your place and then having sex with me would have made it obvious,” you told him.

“Chivalry fucks me again,” he joked.

“Have a good night, Jason.”

He nodded, one last look when you stepped out into the night. “You too, Y/N.”

story page | talk to me/join the tag list | the playlist

AN: HAHAHA okay. As I've said, this was just for fun and I have no clue if i'll continue it (though give me more wine and i might), it was just a fun to explore writing someone other than harry. BUT, would love to know what people think!!!! Dedicating this one to @daylightlasso for all the encouragement!!!

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

not a date - extra!

story page | talk to me/join the tag list | the playlist

wc: 1k+

*EXTRA - PART 1.5*

You shut the door behind you, leaned against it for a second and blinked a few times. What on earth?

Your lips curled towards the ceiling, you slipped out of your coat and pulled open your phone to call Evie. It rang a few times as you watched your own reflection on the screen: a blush on your cheeks and a smile that you couldn’t wipe off your face if you tried.

“Well hello,” she answered with a flutter of her eyelashes. “To what do I owe this afternoon delight?”

“Hi,” you greeted, cutting right to the chase. “I’m calling for intel on Jason Sudeikis.”

“Jason Sudeikis?” She asked, her head tilted to the side. “I’ve never worked with him, why?”

“I just went on a date with him.”

“What?! He’s like, in his forties, right?”

“I know,” you whined. “Is that weird? Am I a psychopath?”

“No,” she let out a laugh. “If you’re a psychopath then so are a lot of other people--but, how did this happen? Please provide details,” she watched you expectantly as you moved towards your own couch.

“His assistant texted Mia the other day, Monday, I think. Just asked to get a drink and so of course I was telling myself it was just a work thing.”

“What time did he ask you to meet?”

“Nine.”

“Nine?!”

“I know--” you blushed.

“And you thought it was a business thing?!”

“I don’t know if people in their forties do shit late at night, okay? I don’t know how this works!”

“Oh, come on, Y/N, you had no idea?” She pushed.

You rolled your eyes, a pause before you sighed. “I was wondering if it was more than that but I didn’t know and I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

It was mid-day in LA, Evie ran a hand through her hair and the sun glowed behind her between floor length curtains in her living room. “So how’d it go? Did you hook up?”

“What? No! We met for a drink.”

“Well isn’t it like, almost 1am there? You drank with him for four hours?”

You shrugged, “basically.”

Her eyebrows arched, I call bullshit. “And that’s all?”

“I went back to his place for a drink, it was definitely flirty.”

She smiled, nodded, kept her eyes on you.

“What?” You asked. “Are you judging me?”

“No!” She laughed. “I love this for you. An older man? I didn’t pick you for that but I still love it.”

“Alright, well what do you know about him?”

She clenched her teeth together, shook her head when she looked off in the distance. “Not much, honestly. I think my friend Carrie knows him, I think her boyfriend worked on a movie he did. I can try to gather some info.”

“That’d be great,” you nodded.

“Wait--don’t Blake and Ryan know him? Aren’t him and Ryan really close?”

“Yeah,” you waved her off, “which is exactly why I can’t bring them into this. They’ll never be objective.”

“And God knows Ryan will get his hopes up,” she laughed. Evie also knew Blake and Ryan, she ran in your circle back in New York but had moved to LA when she got a gig as a writer for a new sitcom.

“Right, so let’s avoid that.”

“Okay,” she looked distracted. “I’m texting Carrie. What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing that makes it obvious. Just ask what she knows about him. Tell her a friend of yours might work with him or something.”

“A friend of mine might work with him in the bedroom,” Evie spoke aloud as she texted.

You shot forward on the couch. “Evie!”

“I’m kidding, fucking relax!”

You sighed, rolled your eyes at her and sunk back into the cushions. “You’d tell me if you thought this was weird, right? He’s like forty-five and I’m twenty-eight.”

“Yes, I would,” she nodded honestly, her attention back on you. “It’s definitely a decent gap, but it’s not like you’d be the first.”

“What do you mean?”

“Hello? Florence Pugh and Zach Braff…”

“Oh right. Do people like them? Or do they think it’s weird?”

She munched on something now, reached her hand into a bag of chips or some other type of snack on her counter. “Oh my god, no,” she made a face, “people love them, totally obsessed. And I think she’s like, twenty-five maybe?”

A sigh of relief. Okay, maybe it wasn’t that crazy.

“Oop Carrie texted me back.”

You sat up again, nervous. “If you said anything stupid I’ll be so pissed.”

“I said: What do you know about Jason Sudeikis? Friend of mine might work on a project with him,” she glanced up at you to prove her innocence. “She said: He’s super sweet. Max worked on We’re the Millers and loved him, said he was super nice and super professional. I’ve met him twice and he’s always seemed like a good guy.”

She watched you process, another handful of what you now could tell was Smartfood.

“Okay so literally no dirt,” you nodded sarcastically. “Thanks for nothing, Carrie!”

“Dirt?! I mean, he called off an engagement last year, right? That’s not enough dirt for you?”

You shrugged. Was that a bad sign? Engaged for all that time and then something stopped working?

“He has kids.”

Evie nodded, waited a beat. “Oh I thought there was a second half of that sentence.”

You shook your head. “No, just questioning my sanity.”

“Everyone comes with a past.”

“Not everyone comes with a wife and kids past.”

“They never got married,” she made a face at you as if she was taking the wind out of your sails.

“That’s supposed to reassure me? Isn’t that another red flag?!”

“You went on one date. You never agreed to spend the rest of your life with him, okay?”

Another sigh, “I know. I just…I don’t know. I had a really good time with him. Like, really good.”

“So have a good time with him next week, too.”

You were quiet and Evie smirked when she realized you didn’t have anything to say. “Want me to ask about--oh, she texted again. What project?”

You let out a groan. “Don’t answer, just ignore it.”

“A porno,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Fuck you.”

“I would never say that!” She defended, then muttered under her breath: “unless it was true.”

“Yeah if my music career doesn’t work out we all know pornos will be next on my list.”

“Says the girl who’s already sold millions of albums.”

story page | talk to me/join the tag list | the playlist

tag list: @golden-hoax @fineelineee @westcoastrry @missing-you-like-war

AN: wooooowwww surprise! a little insight into what happened when Y/N got home from their first date, and the beginnings of the rumblings on social media!

[vinayv224]

SNL roasts Joe Biden with sensitivity training on how to ditch his “touchy-feely stuff”

Saturday Night Live alum Jason Sudeikis reprises his role as Biden.

Saturday Night Live mocked Joe Biden’s apparent penchant for invading women’s personal space with a skit featuring a sensitivity coach who tries to help the former vice president unlearn his “touchy-feely” ways.

Former cast member Jason Sudeikis returned to Studio 8H to reprise his role as Biden. The former vice president was in hot water this week after numerous women publicly accused him of touching them inappropriately.

Saturday’s cold open sketch kicked off with top Biden advisers plotting how to best confront the former vice president about his interactions with women. If Biden decides to announce a 2020 bid for the Democratic presidential nomination, they point out, he’s going to have to change his behavior.

“Joe’s a good guy, and he means well. He’s just a little behind the times,” SNL regular Cecily Strong says, playing a Biden aide, just moments before the Delaware Democrat bursts into the room.

Sudeikis’ Biden is a bumbling career politician who remains clueless as to why anyone would take offense to his handsy approach. He immediately makes it clear has no problem conceding he has a habit of cozying up with strangers.

“I’m a hugger, I’m a kisser, and I’m a little bit of a sniffer,” Sudeikis says, referencing allegations from Nevada Democrat Lucy Flores, who claimed Biden came up behind her at a 2014 event, put his hands on her shoulders, and leaned in before kissing her on the back of the head.

While Sudeikis’ Biden initially defends his behavior, he says he is game for a lesson on how to change his behavior from a sensitivity consultant, played by Kate McKinnon. The coaching session goes off the rails immediately when Biden greets McKinnon by pressing his forehead up against hers for a prolonged embrace. From there, he exasperates her with has a long checklist of habits she tells him are now considered off limits.

“No tickling at all,” McKinnon instructs him.

“No tickling — even on her birthday,” Biden repeats back.

SNL continued to ridicule Biden later in the show when Weekend Update hosts Colin Jost and Michael Che took note of how the allegations against the former veep are hardly a surprise.

“He looks like one of those uncles who calls spring ‘sundress time!’” Che jokes.

Jost went on to roast Biden’s attempt at an apology earlier in the week. Biden responded to the allegations of impropriety by posting a video on Twitter in which he mimes the different ways in which he enjoys greeting people.

Social norms are changing. I understand that, and I’ve heard what these women are saying. Politics to me has always been about making connections, but I will be more mindful about respecting personal space in the future. That’s my responsibility and I will meet it. pic.twitter.com/Ya2mf5ODts

— Joe Biden (@JoeBiden) April 3, 2019

”It was supposed to be an apology, not a reenactment,” Jost says. “He might as well end the video by unbuttoning his shirt and saying, ‘To find out what happens next, log on to godaddy.com.’”

from Vox - All http://bit.ly/2YVUphR from Blogger http://bit.ly/2uPp8iQ via IFTTT