#the noise in this scene was crazy so i did sharpen the images a bit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lalainajanes · 6 years

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@thetourguidebarbie and I were complaining about the Polyvore alternatives and I found this truly awful dress on one. Celeb AU fluff was born.

Lookin’ Sharp

She’s exhausted, the consultation she’s walked out of had been a battle, one she’d had to smile through. Caroline’s dealt with difficult people before, had eagerly tackled this latest job. She’d never been one to back down from a challenge but then she’s never met a woman who thought a shapeless shiny mint green caftan was a good look for a Golden Globes after party.

Until today.

She really should have listened to Kat when she’d warned Caroline that socialites were the worst people to style. Caroline had brushed off the words at the time, figuring that her client’s reputation – sweet, agreeable, super committed to using her dad’s money to help ex-cons – would mean she’d be an easy paycheck. She’s mentally listing jewelers who like her, hoping she can find a necklace spectacular enough to distract from the chosen dress’ awfulness. She’s thinking diamonds the size of golf balls might do the trick.

“It’s a lost cause, you know.”

Caroline’s heart lurches when the words ring out, her body tensing. She whirls, dropping the armful of garment bags she’d been lugging out to her car. She hadn’t recognized the voice – she’s never heard Klaus Mikaelson say so many words at once. At least not in real life.

He’s a few paces behind her, hands up and a contrite expression on his distractingly handsome face. “Apologies,” he murmurs.

She relaxes, but not completely. She’s pretty sure Klaus isn’t going to stuff her into a trunk but he’s still a very big deal for a girl trying to make a name for herself in Hollywood. Caroline presses a hand over her chest, takes a deep breath. “You scared me. Do they teach you how to walk like a sneaky ghost when you sign up to play a superhero or something?”

He smiles, “I wasn’t making an effort to be silent. Perhaps you were just preoccupied?”

That’s possible. The fitting she’d just left had not gone well. A client who flat out refused to listen to sense, who appeared to see something vastly different than Caroline did when she looked in a mirror, was proving to be really freaking frustrating.

But she couldn’t exactly tell the client’s boyfriend that, could she?

She pastes on a sunny smile, “Well, award’s season’s just about to go into full swing. I have a lot on my plate. I’m sure you’re very busy too.”

Caroline hopes that’s a subtle enough hint. She’s curious about why he’s followed her out, hadn’t been lying about having an extensive to do list. She’s positive she hadn’t forgotten anything, that the four trips between condo and parking garage haven’t been in vain. She can’t exactly go making demands though, not from a guy whose next movie is projected to have a 100 million dollar opening weekend.

“Not for a few weeks yet,” Klaus says, crouching to gather her scattered things. Caroline hurriedly follows, brushing off the pebbles and dust from the bags he hands her. “I’m just supposed to smile for the cameras and look pretty. Make people forget about the… incident in Las Vegas.”

She chances a glance at him, unsure of how to react to that statement. She’d never have thought he’d make such a direct reference.

Caroline knew there’s no way she’d be able to be blasé if photos of her naked body had been splashed all over the internet. Then again, she’d never play strip poker with total strangers.

It hadn’t quite been a full frontal shot - Klaus had been lucky, and a champagne bottle had been left on an end table - saving the pics from being fully NC-17. Had circumstances been different they might not have even caused a stir. Klaus Mikaelson’s resume had a couple of racy film and TV appearances from before he’d left England on it, not that Caroline had googled him.

Okay, fine. She hadn’t googled him recently. And she definitely hasn’t watched the compilation of all his sex scenes on YouTube since she’d met him in person.

Unfortunately for Klaus (and really unfortunately for his publicists) the timing of the photos of his drunken debauchery leaking couldn’t have come at a worse time.

He’d been voicing a character in an animated feature when they’d come out, a gruff but loveable lone wolf who learned about the power of friendship. That, plus a superhero blockbuster on deck, meant he had to appeal to the broadest audience possible.

The pictures were the opposite of wholesome, damage control was necessary. He’d been volunteering with soup kitchens, had adopted a rescue dog. Had gone public with a relationship, one with a textbook good girl, and had been seen holding hands and getting fro-yo and generally being snuggly.

In public, at least. In private, from what Caroline’s observed, the relationship isn’t the warmest. Klaus has usually been in the background, glued to his phone and making noncommittal grunts when asked for an opinion.

Caroline’s not sure how to address the Vegas incident without putting her foot in her mouth so she decides to go back to his original statement. She straightens, folding the stack of dresses over her arm, “What did you mean about a lost cause?”

He’s edged closer when he stands. She keeps her eyes trained on his face, not on the way the fine weave of his shirt clings to his shoulders. “Just that your work’s not going to end up on any best dressed lists. You’ve tried to steer her towards flattering and age appropriate but she’s remarkably convinced her perspective is the right one. It’s not just clothes, if it’s any consolation. It’s everything.”

Wow. It certainly seemed like there was trouble in paradise. Caroline does her best to be diplomatic, “Personal style is a funny thing, I guess.”

He grins, head tipping to the side, “That’s an impressive non-answer. My publicist would be proud.”

“It’s a gossipy industry. Badmouthing clients is going to lead to fewer opportunities not more.”

His eyes sharpen, “Ah, speaking of opportunities, I’d wondered if you might do me a favor.”

A favor? That seems suspicious. “What kind?”

He laughs softly, “Nothing nefarious, love. I’d merely like a ride.”

“A ride?” she repeats, eyes shifting over to the black SUV she knows belongs to Klaus.

“In your backseat. Covered in a few of the bags you brought with you. Passed the paparazzi that are staked out on this block. They need to think I’ve spent the night, you see. And I’d really rather not.”

This conversation just got weirder and weirder. “Did you… I mean, it’s not any of my business if you guys are fighting but maybe talking it out would be better than fleeing?”

He looks at her as if she’s said something crazy. “We don’t talk. Well, no more than necessary.”

“Sounds like a healthy relationship,” Caroline quips. Her eyes widen and her teeth snap shut in horror. Had she seriously just said that? She’s so freaking fired.

Klaus surprises her though. He laughs again, louder this time, the sound echoing off the concrete walls around them. She’s confused, and frozen, unwilling to say anything that might make things even worse. When he calms he shifts closer, relieving her of some of the bags. “We’re not in a relationship, sweetheart. Not really. It’s a contract. A mutually beneficial agreement. I raise her profile, she makes me look like a fine upstanding citizen. Everybody wins.”

Huh. While Caroline knows those kind of arrangements happen, at least intellectually, she’d never expected to be a party to one. “That sounds…”

“Awkward?” Klaus supplies, “tedious? I can assure you it’s both. We’ll have an amicable breakup in April, pledge to stay friends. I’ll be done with press and can disappear for a bit.”

A thought occurs to Caroline, one that she doesn’t like. “Wait, did you fake adopt a dog too? Because that’s not cool.” She’d seen snaps of him walking the dog, some kind of Labrador mutt, and it’s really freaking cute.

“No, Munch was legally and truly adopted. He’s likely being given too many treats by my assistant as we speak.

Caroline nods sharply, satisfied, and fishes out her keys so she can pop the trunk of her car. “Good. If you were a faking a dog adoption I’d have to assume you’re a garbage person and I would not let you in my backseat.”

“Big fan of dogs, are you?”

“In theory, yes. Not in practice just yet.”

She begins loading up, carefully arranging things for maximum space use. She feels Klaus watching her carefully but she focuses on her task. Now that she knows he’s single the little devil on her shoulder is urging her to flirt. Whispering that the worst thing that would happen is that he wouldn’t reciprocate.

And if he did? Well, Caroline wouldn’t mind seeing him naked again. Would be seriously onboard with touching him while he was naked.

“Perhaps you’d like to meet him? You could come in for a bit once you’ve dropped me off?” he asks.

Caroline rears back, nearly hitting her head on the open trunk.

Klaus makes a soft noise, concerned, and his palm brushes over the back of her head, lowering to settle on her shoulder. “Careful. No need to injure yourself. I’d much rather we have dinner than take a trip to the emergency room.”

Maybe she had hit her head. “Dinner?” she parrots. “Like, together?”

He nods, a smile curling his lips. His thumb strokes her neck, an absent gesture that’s unfairly distracting. “You, me, the dog begging for crumbs. We’re working on it but his manners aren’t the best just yet. If that goes well I hope you’ll agree to do it again sometime.”

Clearly, Caroline hadn’t needed to talk herself out of flirting. Klaus didn’t share her qualms. Unless this was another step in his image rehab. She shifts back until he’s no longer touching her, crossing her arms. “Is this another contract kind of thing? Dating someone who’s not super rich so you seem down to earth?”

Klaus denial is immediate, “No, nothing like that. I’ve just spent an awful lot of time studying your face, wondering at the comments you’ve been holding back. Your face is remarkably easy to read when you’re frustrated.”

Whoops. Caroline makes a note to work on that. Her clients were a self-absorbed group but it’s possibly someone would notice her inner screaming at some point and she couldn’t have that. At least not until she’s more established. “I suppose I could eat,” Caroline says slowly.

Klaus expression warms, his pleasure evident. “Lovely. Just let me program my address into your phone.”

Caroline hands it over willingly, doesn’t shy away from the brush of his fingers against hers, letting her body brush against his more than necessary as she returns to packing up.

Half-assing things isn’t in her nature. If Caroline’s going to flirt (and oh boy is she ever) she’s going to do it right.

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #a break from all the smut

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eyez-ff-blog · 7 years

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○○ eyez | twenty-one

March 18, 2016 – Somewhere in North Carolina

Beija sat on the black leather couch as the beat swarmed through her head in repetition, tapping the end of her pen against the corner of her laptop as she answered various emails, working quietly as she listened to Jermaine try to make the finishing touches to a song he had previously worked on. “I still love the bridge of this...I loved it when I heard it the first time,” She said, yawning as she pushed some hair out of her face.

“Now that I sharpened up the lyrics I can see why. They go together,” He said as he sat next to one of his engineers, and he rubbed his chin as he nodded his head to the beat of the music.

“Mhm,” She hummed as she swayed her head to the music, eventually rapping along quietly. “...Nigga play me? Never. Give up my chain? Never. Give up my pride? Never. Show ‘em my pain? Never. Dirt on my name? Never,” She mumbled a bit as she sat back against the couch, placing her hands on top of her head slowly.

The Sheltuh was something like a safe haven for creativity—it was no wonder why J felt the need to pack up and come back down to North Carolina to be back in an atmosphere that would better help him put together a cohesive album. The track he had completed some months back was now aptly named ‘Ville Mentality,’ and it seemed that ever since he had gotten back home he was able to better focus on making it perfect. Beija was along for the ride and she had to admit that working in a new location helped her relax a bit as well and get a good rhythm of work.

Things seemed to only be getting better with everything concerning her relationship with Jermaine, and it helped a lot that the two were going to therapy together. Both her personal doctor and their couples’ counselor seemed to be helpful in working out whatever needed fixing. It also helped Beija with her coping skills and the way she dealt with her self-image. The public still had their reservations about her and how her relationship was revealed, but she was slowly learning to tune it all out. The more she could block it out, the better off she’d be. And if she could get better, Jermaine wouldn’t worry so much about her.

“Bringing lil’ mama in to help you with the monologue was dope as hell. I think it adds more to what you’re trying to do,” One of the musicians that was helping J with the track was sitting in the corner on her phone. “What else are we going to do tonight?”

“I can’t think of shit at the moment—I’m hungry and I need some food right now. What we got upstairs?” J asked.

“I think we had some noodles or some shit but I probably ate the last pack,” The engineer said, and Beija glanced up before she twisted her lips to the side.

“There’s a Chinese place around the corner, I remember seeing it...I really want some shrimp rolls,” B said before she stood up slowly. “I can go get the food if that’s alright,” She offered.

“You sure?” J asked, and he handed her his wallet when she nodded. “You know what I like,” He said before looking between the musician and the engineer. “What y’all want? I got it,” He assured.

“I’d just like some shrimp lo mein with some sprite,” The musician requested.

“Orange chicken with root beer, please,” The engineer placed his order next.

“Gotcha! I’ll be back,” B leaned over and kissed the side of Jermaine’s head before she went to slide on her shoes, heading upstairs to the ground floor of the home.

The house had even more people coming in and out—producers and musicians alike hung out throughout the house and worked. It probably seemed like some type of party if a person didn’t know any better. And even as Beija walked out of the house, she could see men standing on the porch smoking and laughing as they talked. As she passed, they spoke respectfully in greeting and she did the same, taking her keys out of her pocket before she unlocked the car that J had rented for the business trip. She hopped into the SUV and revved up the engine before she backed out the driveway slowly, and headed down the street.

She exited the affluent neighborhood after some turns, and she found the strip mall she had seen when they had first come through the part of town they were located. Parking in front of the Chinese restaurant, she went inside and took a look around, seeing a short and slender Asian woman sitting at the counter. “Hello, how may I help you?” The woman greeted.

“Uhm...let’s see if I can remember,” Beija mumbled. “Right—I need one combination fried rice with a grape soda, one shrimp lo mein with sprite, one orange chicken plate with root beer, an order of fried chicken wings with vegetable fried rice and a peach soda,” She rattled off everyone’s food orders along with her own. “Oh, also I’d like two orders of fried biscuits,” She said.

“Got it,” The woman went to the back of the restaurant and called out the order rather loudly, and Beija pulled J’s card out of his wallet as she waited for the woman to return. Once the lady did come back and report the total of the food, Beija swiped the card and put in the pin before she put his card away, sitting down to wait on the food to be finished.

About 45 minutes later the meals were finished and within Beija’s possession—she left the restaurant quickly before putting the food in the car, feeling her phone vibrate. She took it from her pocket and noticed the text notification: “Can you get some Hennessy from the liquor store? I think there’s one right there where you at,” Said one new text from ‘Baby.’

“Got you,” She texted back before locking up the car again. She walked down to the liquor store and bought a couple bottles of Hennessy, taking it back to the car before she started the car. She noticed some police cars quickly whizzing by and going into the neighborhood, but she thought nothing of it as she proceeded to head back to The Sheltuh.

She rode leisurely as she listened to the radio in the car, softly humming to herself before she turned the corner to get back to the house—she was stopped quickly, however, by the chaos that was suddenly displayed before her.

She noticed tons of police cars surrounding the house as police were ushering people out of the house. She shut off the engine to the car before she hopped out, seeing one of the police officers forcibly pulling J outside. It almost felt like a sickening case of déjà vu, and she found herself bolting towards the scene. “Hey!” She called, and suddenly she was restrained by a police officer.

“Ma’am—ma’am, you can’t go over there,” The officer tried to keep her away, and Beija found herself becoming defensive quickly.

“Get off me! That’s my boyfriend—what the fuck are y’all doing?! Ain’t nobody did nothing here,” She argued.

“We got warrant to search; there was suspicion of drug trafficking here,” The officer calmly explained. “But you’re going to have to calm down—...”

“I’ll be calm when you fucking let me go,” Beija snatched herself out of his grip. Another officer approached her, and she pulled her phone out before quickly starting to record him. “Touch me if you fucking want to. You wanna be on the news?”

“Let her through,” The officer said, and she frowned a bit before she walked past them, hearing various mumbling about ‘women like that.’ She rolled her eyes before she walked over to Jermaine, who was standing in the middle of the yard, his hands placed against the top of his head. The noises from inside of the house were familiar to Beija—they were investigating and trying to see what they could find to incriminate.

The two stared at each other before they shook their heads, and she continued to tape the incident. “This...is bullshit. Honestly,” She mumbled to herself.

Eventually the officers found nothing and had left the premises. Nothing was broken aside from the unhinged door, and most of the people who were there went home, whether out of exhaustion or out of fear. Beija and Jermaine stayed behind to clean up whatever they could, but that was hours ago...

Beija woke up from her nap on the couch, hearing the rhythmic mumbling of Jermaine’s voice. She opened her eyes and saw him at the switchboard. She could hear the beat he was mumbling along to, and she sat up slowly before she checked the time on her phone. It was a little after 5 in the morning. She remembered him starting on a beat when she had fell asleep so by the logic that it was finished and put together for him to write lyrics to, she could assume he had been up all night.

“Babe,” She yawned, and she watched as he jumped a bit, looking back at her in surprise. “You been up...? C’mon, man—you gotta get some sleep,” She frowned as she walked over at him before she sat down on his lap.

“Can’t,” He said simply before he sat the notebook on the top of the switchboard. “I’m almost finished, though. Can you help me? Then I’ll go asleep,” He dealt the deal, and Beija balled her hand into a fist as she yawned softly.

“Fine, fine. Tell me how to do this shit right here,” Beija mumbled softly, and he nodded.

For the next couple of hours, Beija worked slowly and carefully with layering the different elements of Jermaine’s raps and vocals. Once Jermaine was able to record all that he wanted, he fixed what he wanted in the song, and he finished up the track. The two silently sat in the chair in front of the switchboard as he made the final product. Beija sat comfortably in Jermaine’s lap as he slowly rocked the chair from side to side, his hand playing softly in her hair. When the track finished, Beija smirked sleepily before nodding slowly. “I fuck with that, baby. You gotta put that on the final product,” She said.

“Mhm,” He mumbled as he wrapped his arm around her waist. “Now I can go to sleep...” He yawned before he slowly laid his head against B’s shoulder.

“You okay, though? I know that shit was crazy,” She didn’t hear him answer, and she ran her hand over his before she laced her fingers with his. “I can’t stand fuckin’ cops,” She mumbled before she stood up, holding out her hand. “Come on.”

Jermaine took her hand after he shut down the studio for the time being and packed their things, and the two made their way out of the basement and eventually past the plastic cover that would temporarily replace the door. She heard J mumble in complaint about replacing the door the police kicked in. The two got into the car and headed out of the neighborhood to find the nearest hotel. There was no way they could stay at The Sheltuh when there was risk of someone intruding while they were sleeping.

After finding a hotel, Jermaine checked them into a room and after partaking in the hotel’s breakfast bar, thy took their food and things upstairs to their room. After getting some food in, the room grew silent with the sounds of deep sleeping.

The house was tucked away in the thick of the Southwest Houston neighborhood of Mission Bend—two stories high, four bedrooms and four and a half bathrooms of midway luxury. The Demarco family was a happy unit. Mother Alisha, Father Mekhi, and five beautiful children: Alonzo, Keiran, Rashaad, Beija, and Marquis, in that order. They were an average family. Mekhi worked as an officer for the HPD, while Alisha worked at the downtown branch of Texas Children’s Hospital. Their kids all went to accredited private schools, and made good grades. While most of the boys in the family were participating in sports or in academic clubs, Beija was into cheerleading and the Model UN. They were the portrait of ‘Black Excellence,” as people would say.

It was a sweltering July day, as most Houston summers would bring, but the kids were out for the summer and both Mekhi and Alisha took time off of work so that they could enjoy the holiday. As they always did, they barbequed and cooked while the kids played, then they’d eat in the back yard and go watch fireworks downtown. It was the same thing every summer. The year was 2002, and little Beija was the tender age of 12. She was a far cry from what she was in her current life—she still had that head full of curls and could run with the boys, but something was different...she seemed more carefree, a bit happier.

Beija was writing in her diary—it was a quarter past two in the afternoon. Her windows were open, letting in the fresh air after having cleaned her room and done all of her chores. She was listening to her B2K CD that her mom had given her for her birthday, humming along with the music as she sat at her desk. Her walls were covered in posters of the aforementioned band and other Hip-Hop and R&B acts of the time. She finished her entry before she closed and locked her diary shut, hearing her door open.

“BB! What you doing?” Her younger brother Marquis was the only one of the Demarco boys that was younger than she was. With big brown eyes and tanned skin much like their father’s, he was probably Mekhi’s spitting image. And he was the most annoying person Beija ever knew. “You writing about your crush or something again?” He asked.

“No, shut up and get out of my room,” Beija whined before she saw him take one of the stuffed animals off of her bed. “Stop!” She stood up as he ran out of the room, and the two of them ran down the hallway and down the stairs to the first floor.

The scents of baked beans filled the air, and Beija stopped running before she hurried into the kitchen, seeing Alisha at the stove. “Are the beans done? I want some,” She said as she stood by her mother, gently wiggling her hips from side to side. She could hear The Isley Brothers being played on the living room’s stereo system, and as Marquis went outside, the brief scent of burning charcoal and smoky meat filled Beija’s nose as well.

“Almost, baby. Go get Keiran from outside—he said he wanted to help with the potato salad,” Alisha instructed, and Beija ran out the kitchen and towards the front door, unlocking it to go outside.

The front yard of the Demarco residence was made of simply lush and green grass, planted flowers and maintained shrubs, with a portable basketball hoop sitting at the head of the driveway in front of the garage. Two of her older brothers were playing basketball with some of the neighborhood boys. “Kieran!” She called, and a dread-headed boy stopped moving as he looked back, bouncing the ball in his hand. “Mama wants you,” She said.

“A’ight,” He passed the ball to one of his friends before heading towards the front door—

“Help! Help me!”

All of the children looked down the street to see the middle child, Rashaad, running down the street. Unlike some of his siblings, he had the mixture of his mother’s bright yellow-toned complexion and his father’s rich brown skin. But there was no mistaking those big brown eyes that were usually full of playful brightness—this time, it was full of real fear. Behind him were two police officers, at full speed as they tried to catch him.

“Oh shit,” Keiran opened the front door to the house quickly. “Mama!” He called as he ran inside the house. Before long, Beija’s oldest brother was about to come into the house too as all the other boys yelled at Rashaad to get into the house. Rashaad was known as a jokester and a complete class clown, but never had he gotten into trouble with the police. It just wasn’t like him, and plus their father would tear any of the kids up for being in that type of trouble.

“What are y’all—leave him alone! He hasn’t done anything!” Alisha had come out of the house as Beija watched the police officers were trying to wrestle the boy down to the ground.

Rashaad had managed to snatch himself out of the officers’ grips, and was back to running towards the front door. He never made it.

The shot rang through the air and Beija could actually pinpoint the moment the bullet tore through his chest. He let out the most tortured of cries, his face twisted in unimaginable anguish. Beija ran full speed towards her brother as he began to collapse to the ground. She caught him in her arms, and when she looked down at his face...something was wrong. She knew he was dying, so that wasn’t the problem this time; for some reason his face was different. His skin no longer held the butterscotch tone, but completely bright. His eyes were even larger than before, and his usually round face seemed elongated towards the jaw and chin. His lips trembled as he let out ragged breaths of struggle, his blood bleeding into Beija’s outfit. But this wasn’t her brother. This scenario played in her mind so many times before, but it wasn’t Rashaad this time—

“Beija...” She heard Jermaine’s voice.

Beija shot up from her sleep, and looked around the room. The curtains kept the light from coming into the rom, and she checked the time; it was a little after 2 in the afternoon. She before she looked to her left, seeing Jermaine’s sleeping body next to hers. She heard him snore, and she let out a soft breath before she got out of bed, walking towards the bathroom before she closed the door behind her.

She shut on the light before she sat down on the floor, her back against the door before she looked down at her trembling hands. The dream woke her up so many times before. The dream wasn’t new to her and the crippling wave of hopelessness it brought her wasn’t new either. But the ending of this particular terror brought in a whole new fear that washed over her. What happened at The Sheltuh could have ended in a much different way, and the fear she had that was once dormant but tangible in context was now manifesting in the worst of her nightmares. The pained look on Jermaine’s face as he took his last breath, cradled in her arms—it would serve to haunt her for many nights and days to come.

She pulled her knees to her chest before she pressed her hand against her mouth, tears spilling out of her eyes before she bit into her palm slowly in an attempt to silence the sobbing that escaped her mouth. She closed her eyes, but the images were burned into her mind’s photography; her eyes flew open again before she let out another quivering breath, and she sniffed as she wiped away her tears. “Just a dream. It was just a dream,” She mumbled to herself as she slowly stood up, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

She stared at her reflection for a moment, and turned on the faucet to splash some cold water onto her face. She took a deep breath before she left the bathroom, walking through the room before she slid back into bed. She scooted close to J and wrapped her arms around him protectively, and she laid her head upon his chest. She felt the subconscious movement of his body, and her tension eased as she felt his arms wrap around her. He snorted softly in his sleep, and she laid silently in his arms with her fear keeping her from returning to slumber. She’d stay awake until he woke up again...until then, she could try her best to forget what her mind made her experience.

#j cole fanfic #j cole fanfiction #j. cole fanfic #j. cole fanfiction #j. cole ff

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