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jmoriarty-221b · 3 years

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So I saw somewhere a post that talked about how some fictional characters just have a divorce vibe going on, like, at no point in time were they ever married but they just give off that feeling that they got divorced

And now I can only think of Clark Kent and Lex Luthor having that vibe

And I spent close to an hour talking about this to my sibling and how it would be a good idea for a new DC show like, you can make so much money off of just the main Batfam alone and there are literally so many people in there that it’s just an amazing idea to have them all in a show together but kind of like a Good Luck Charlie kinda thing because there’s more than enough angst in the world

But in the case of not having enough of a budget for so many characters in one show I turned to the Superfam (Batfam is Huge like, I don’t even know half of the extended family version and that’s like at least ten characters so I could see why it wouldn’t be entirely feasible to have a show that included everyone while still being good with nice character development without having a billion dollars for the budget)

The Superfam, in my personal experience, is composed of Ma & Pa Kent (farm vibes plus I refuse to have either of them die in my AU), Clark Kent (main Superman), Lois Lane (Lana? was Smallville Lois i guess??? But idk enough about her so she’s not here), Jon Kent (Superboi II), Kara Danvers (Supergirl) & Conner Kent (Superboi I)

Now I’ve stopped watching CW shows like, forever ago??? But my brother kinda keeps up with them and basically the gist is that the ratings of every other show suck Except for the Superman & Lois show (because it’s 💫new💫) and I saw the cover of the poster like “Ah, the werewolf dude. . . mmmhhmmm that’s Lois yes, yes that’s Johnny boi, and um is that???? Nooooo, they wouldn’t do that to Conner right???? Please tell me they didn’t make Conner blonde” and I was informed that the blonde teen is Chris???? Like

Whoms’t do ye speak of

I’m not even joking but the only way I even know of Chris is from a random fanfic I read where Dick Grayson gets his own super from an alternate reality named Chris, that’s my only point of reference for this character

But let’s talk about how Conner Kent (OG Superboi) was excluded

Now I haven’t seen any episodes of this and I probably never will (no hate I’m just really unmotivated to start new shows at all) so idk if they might mention Conner or even allude to him in one scene or something

But this was my main motivator as to my new Superfam TV Show Idea

Have Lex Luthor not be a Superman villain, he’s mainly a successful businessman, a little shady but who isn’t, and he doesn’t want to Kill Superman, he just wants to be able to have some sort of viable protection against a Kryptonian in case of an invasion (see Man of Steel + CW’s Supergirl) or suddenly having a mind controlled Superman on their hands (see Justice League series or just look up what Red Krytonite does) so he makes it like his side thing to figure out ways to neutralize or hold back a Kryptonian, Clark totally thinks that Lex is obsessed with finding a way to kill Superman because they had a bad end to their friendship in high school so he’s always suspicious of Lex, Lex hasn’t really ever tried to kill him though because 1. It’s not that deep Clark ok? And 2. He’s a busy busy man with a very important job position and a company to run so does he look like he has time to harbor an obsession over someone who rejected him back in high school??? You’re more of a constant side quest Clark, so stop trying to put him on the JL watchlist ( btw ik about Lena Luthor, haven’t forgotten her but she doesn’t really play a part in this AU so let’s just have her and Kara off to the side doing their own thing ok? Ok)

Lex, Bruce & Oliver all knew each other when they were kids and went to the same school, this is just an extra detail I wanted to happen because Lex and Ollie definitely know Bruce is Batman and absolutely HATE having to deal with Brucie Wayne because “I know you’re just doing this to irritate me Bruce, you just want to see if you can make a vein throb in my forehead but I will valiantly ignore your dumbassery because I know you hate being Brucie just as much as we hate having to put up with Brucie so suck on that you petty bitch” because they bonded in ye olden days, childhood friends so to speak

Anyway so Cadmus tries to get Lex to make an investment in their company, seeing as Cadmus is shadier than Gotham when it rains Lex is basically like ‘no ❤️’ and doesn’t make a deal with them, Cadmus gets mad at not having Lexcorp financially backing them so Lex has an ‘accident’ and they steal his DNA, then they steal Superman’s DNA somehow and *boom* a Superboi is formed

Because I don’t know much about how the Core Four became friends in the first place (Robin Tim Drake, Impulse Bart Allen, Wonder Girl Cassie Sandsmark & Superboy Conner Kent) I’m just gonna go with what happens in the show Young Justice except it’s the Core Four becoming the Core Four when they liberated Conner (who at this point believes himself to be a clone of Superman and has only been given Superboy as a name) from Cadmus, same shit goes down meaning that Clark is just straight up NOT vibing with Conner, Conner just wants a mentor please, and the Bats kinda give Clark a passive aggressive treatment for not taking Superboy under his wing or at least agreeing to teach him how to control his powers, especially Tim because that’s his Bestie so yes

Anyway, YJ saves ppl and is on the news or whatever and Lex finds out about Superboy’s existence that way, so he researches this new super on his free time, finds out that he came from Cadmus and claims to be a clone of Superman, yet doesn’t have the whole power set Superman has??? Wait, didn’t Lex reject Cadmus’ proposal and the got into a mysterious accident??? Long story short Lex goes connecting the dots, hacks into Cadmus’ files, finds out he technically has a son with Superman and decides to take Superboy under his wing (I’ll go more in depth as to why Lex would want to do this in this AU later but the abridged version would be that he wants a kid but doesn’t have the time nor interest in finding a wife??? Also the radiation that made him bald as a kid also affected his reproductive system so while it’s not impossible for him to conceive kids he would have a very hard time actually getting to father a kid)

Him and Conner, who still goes by Superboy at this point in time, meet up and Conner finds out that here is a parent figure that is both available and actively wants to be a part of his life, so he agrees to get to know Lex and the series would focus on them becoming a family, with a special episode when Conner asks Lex for help in choosing a name for himself and it ends up with him agreeing to become Conner Luthor, it would be heartwarming and Mercy would make sure it happens within a day (Mercy is Lex’s bodyguard/PA but they’re also besties and she becomes the Responsible yet Chaotic Aunt as Lex and Conner’s father-son relationship progresses)

Obviously Clark becomes super suspicious of Lex getting close to his ‘clone’ and when Conner decides to go public as Lex’s son he’s like *GASP* and calls up Bruce because we need to get on this Bruce, Lex is a villain and blah blah blah but Bruce would be over Clark’s shit and hit him with that “actually, Lex was also an unwilling genetic donor to Superboy, who actually is not your clone either, and has agreed to take him in, I’ve been on this shit since they first met and the kid is doing just fine so if you keep poking your nose in their business then that’s your problem but you better be ready to pay child support bitch . . . have a good day ❤️”

The series would just focus on Conner getting to have a good parent figure in Lex and go more into their civilian lives rather than focusing on the superhero thing, Conner, Bart, Tim & Cassie have a sleepover at Lex’s house at one point, Lex totally Knows what’s up but it’s all good because these are his baby’s friends and they’re good people who are more than willing to prank Superman for rejecting his kid and giving his baby self worth issues (Mercy supports them)

Anyway, that’s basically the idea for a new Superhero Show

#humor #superfamily #that’s new #focusing on Conner (the OG Superboy)#because they are always excluding him #so now Lex Luthor is a caring father to him #because yes #give this boy some love #conner kent #lex luthor #clark kent #bruce wayne #tim drake #superman #superboy #cassie sandsmark #bart allen #the Core Four is here too #Lex isn’t really a villain #he’s not evil either #finding ways to neutralize Superman is just like a side quest #because yes Superman is a paragon of good and Justice #but mind control exists #so pardon Lex for wanting to be able to protect himself from an out of control Superman #Clark totally thinks that Lex is obsessed with stopping him #because they had a bad friendship ending back in high school #but Lex isn’t aware of this ‘rivalry’ he’s supposed to be a part of #so it’s just Clark being suspicious of Lex and Lex not having a clue about this #or just not giving a shit because he’s a busy businessman trying to run a huge company #just a new idea for a new DC show focusing on the Supers

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mings · 3 years

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Some context...

...in relation to that last post. This is a lo-o-o-o-ong read, so feel free to skip right by if catharsis bores you.

This starts way before I joined tumblr; in fact, long before tumblr was even a thing.

Twenty years ago, we lived in a huge house backing onto the English Channel. We moved there from Scotland, which turned out to be (probably) the biggest mistake of my life.

Within nine months of buying the place, the company I’d moved to work for nearly folded. I and most of the workforce were made redundant. That set in motion an existential battle with our mortgage insurer, which refused to pay out because I “must have known” when taking out the insurance. (I didn’t, and they eventually caved in after destroying my credit record, but that’s another story.)

Work wasn’t immediately available; none that would at least cover the bills. We got inventive, wrote a business plan, obtained finance & bought a franchise. It went pretty well for the first three years, but we had to bust a gut to make the required income. It wasn’t easy. Eventually, the franchise operator messed up relations with several key players in our insurance market. Within three months, we lost 75% of our revenue. I had to close the workshop & find part time work to make ends meet. Ultimately, we decided to close the business, sell the house and downsize to something more manageable.

What’s the relevance of this? We tried hard to keep our precarious financial state form the kids. Maybe we didn’t do as well as we thought. Our son had already become withdrawn. He’d fallen in with a group of local lads about whom we had grave misgivings. Of course, there was no discussing it. We were “over-reacting” and unreasonable. It was around that time that he decided to jack in his education. I couldn’t criticise; I’d done the same. I pulled some strings and got him a job at our local Royal Mail delivery office.

We moved to our new place. It was a stressful move. Trying to fit into a house that was literally half the size was never going to be an easy task. One afternoon, our son came home from work and soon after announced he was going out. “See you later.” Only we didn’t. He didn’t come home that night. Nor did he turn up for work the next day. Nor the day after. And nor the day after that. Within a week he was written up for unauthorised absence. We had no way of contacting him. His case was heard in the following weeks. I could offer no mitigation. He was sacked for abandonment of duty. That tag that means he’ll never work for them again.

We still had no idea where he was. We only knew he was alive because we met a couple of his friends who couldn’t believe he’d not been in touch. Still no word. My wife was in shreds; I suspect any of you who are parents can identify with that. I was alternating between trying to prop her up and stay on top of my job, all the while under a constant barrage of barracking (Oh, we don’t mean anything by it, it’s just banter....)

About three months in I’d had enough. Sleep was a scarce resource so I rose at the crack of dawn and started on a trip, rousting one after another of the friends and acquaintances that I knew, following leads until finally I tracked him down to a sordid bedsit several towns and 40 miles away. At least he answered the door and looked sheepish. He offered no explanation or apology, and has never done so to date. He refused to come back home, but promised to keep in touch.

We know he bounced from one sofa to another in the next few months. He spent time in some of the worst areas in the county for drug abuse. He fell into a relationship with a girl that looked promising initially and subsequently fell apart. Later, he surfaced in another town with another girl whom he subsequently married. She often spoke of his irascible temperament and moods. Ultimately the marriage was doomed; she was younger than him, found a new interest and moved out. One wonders now how much of that was her and how much she’d put up with before voting with her feet.

He’s stumbled from one financial crisis to another. Money just evaporates. It’s as though adulting is a mystery beyond his reach. I’ve lost count of the times that we’ve thrown money at him and I don’t want to even think about how much. It’s literally thousands, always a loan, yet he never, ever pays back.

He left his job. That was inevitable too; he worked for his ex-father-in-law’s company. Heaven only knows how long the writing was on the wall; it was pretty swift once she left. He drifted again. He chose to live in a squalid flat with no heating rather than move back with us. Absolutely his choice, not ours.

We moved to Scotland. That meant all his stuff had to go into storage. Quick rewind - he moved all his stuff to ours when he gave up the house he & his ex lived in, but refused to move back home. I had to rent a storage unit to make space for all his gear & when we moved I shifted all his gear into the store, gave him the key & told him I’d paid three months up front; after that it was his to deal with. Apparently, he surrendered the store and moved all his gear into the flat...

Fast forward to a couple of months back. He’d run out of options at the flat. His flatmate was “really difficult” to live with. His ex had moved away, taking their son with her. He had nothing left to stay for and, surprise, he’d lost his job again so he couldn’t afford the rent.

My wife convinced me we should give him one last shot, citing his fragile mental health. I agreed on the strict understanding that we are simply no longer in a position to support him. He assured us he’d be applying for work as soon as he got here. We rarely see him before midday...

We agreed the end of the first week in March. We knew he’d arrive with a ton of stuff so we had (again) to create space. That’s infinitely more difficult now we’re running a B&B, but we set to the task. Suddenly, two weeks sooner than we’d agreed, he rented a van and was on his way. No discussion, no warning. We only found out because he put something on FB.

Finally, after trying to reach him most of the day, he phoned. Whilst we should have been relieved, instead we were treated to a barrage of abuse because all the petrol stations were shut. Of course they were. It was in a national lockdown and why would they stay open when there was no one on the roads? JFC, who embarks on a journey in sub-zero temperatures across some of the most inhospitable country in the UK without enough fuel? With a six year old child. Yes, not only did he forget to tell us about his change of plans, he forgot to tell us he was bringing his son too.

We drove south through the night for two hours to find him somewhere in the Cairngorms where he’d run out of fuel. No fuel meant no heaters at 1500 feet in deep snow. The ambient temperature was -5ºC/23ºF & with wind chill that was probably around -10ºC/14ºF. We found him & refuelled his van. No thanks, just another barrage of abuse, because he was tired. We took his son into our car & drove the two hours back in near silence. I think we knew then that it was an awful predictor of what was to come.

We’ve had row after row. He accused me of being passive-aggressive in the last. He actually ticks all the boxes for passive-aggressive behaviour. I’ve never been tagged with that before; if anything I’m too forthright, blunt even. That’s a failing to which I will admit. If by that he meant that I don’t talk about the elephant in the room, it’s only because we fear it’ll lead to another explosion.

He never saw the damage that we sustained during our fostering years. He was never there. Yet here we are, experiencing flashbacks to those traumatic incidents; the parallels are exact. We have the benefit of years of training. We recognise manipulative behaviour when we see it - we were trained by some of the nations best exponents - and we know divisive tactics implicitly. What he doesn’t know is that he will succeed only in pushing us closer together and alienating himself even further.

There are clear and well-documented links between cannabis and mental health issues. He is allowing the drug to determine his life choices. Although I may be wrong, I think he’s cultivating skunk, which is nothing like the weed that circulated in my youth. The smell that pervades our hallway is instantly evocative of high strength Afghan resin. It’s also going to be acutely difficult to eradicate before we’re due to open.

We’ve endured 20 years of this treatment. I know that even if we have a ritual burning, it will only be a matter of time before we’re back here again. We’re old. We’re tired. And we’ve worked our socks off (and still do) to achieve what we have. Maybe somewhere along the way we missed something. But I’m at a stage where I’m so far beyond this I just want it to stop.

#drugs #the damage is done #context #explanatory notes

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kissinginkitchens · 3 years

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You Bring Me Home��Chapter Ten: When it Rains

a/n: hi besties!! This one is... tough I’m ngl to y’all. It is the second to the last chapter which is so wild to think about, but alas all good things must come to an end. Hopefully you don’t hate me too much by the end of it but feel free to vent in my inbox :))) much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai’i!Harry x Original Character (Halani <3)

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive humor, ANGST (!!)

Word Count: 7.4 k

catch up on parts one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine

“Is that my shirt?”

“No,”

Alani squints at the cartoon bee printed on Harry’s white t-shirt and crosses her arms in disbelief.

“Yes it is! I’ve been looking for it everywhere,”

“Don’t worry, you can have it back soon,” he admits, crawling back into his bed with an apologetic kiss to her pouting lips. “Doesn’t smell like you anymore,”

“Thief,”

Harry scoffs and props himself up on an elbow. “Don’t act like my Spice World jumper isn’t hanging at the foot of your bed right now,”

“You left it there,” Alani defends. “I was merely being kind and looking after said hoodie because it was abandoned by its owner,”

“Oh yeah and you’ve fought real hard to reunite us,”

“Can we get back to the main issue at hand? Which is that I’m kinda pissed off that you look better in that shirt than I do.”

Harry chuckles to himself and presses an affectionate kiss to her temple. “You’re too kind.”

Alani rests her cheek against his chest and listens to the rain pattering harshly against the window, admiring the flashes of lightning that illuminate the dimly lit room. Harry had convinced her to stay the night, worried about her driving home alone in the storm, and he was met with very little resistance. Secretly, he thanks the rain gods for allowing him another night to hold her close.

********

“H, you gotta tell her,” Jeff had warned the previous night. “I already pushed the flight back a week—”

“I know,” Harry huffed. “I just need a little more time.”

Jeff sighed, rubbing his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. “You have until this weekend when we go away with the girls. One week in Maui, and then it’s back home. I’m sorry.”

********

Harry’s stomach turns remembering the conversation, but he decides to push all the nagging thoughts to the back of his mind and focus on the present.

“You all packed?” he asks, trailing his fingers up and down her arm.

Alani drapes her leg over his hip and nods. “Been packed since last week.”

She had been ecstatic the day after Mila and Chad’s wedding when Harry invited her to tag along on the couple’s trip with Jeff, Tom, and their significant others. His eagerness to include her in his friend group was not only reassuring, but exciting. It felt like their lives were coming together, even more so after she had introduced him to her parents. They, of course, had adored him and quickly given their seal of approval. While Alani knew that it was ultimately her choice, it still felt good to have support from the most important people in her life, and she hoped to win his friends over just as easily. Harry, on the other hand, had no doubts that she would fit right into his chosen family. Her name had been cautiously dropped during a weekly FaceTime call with his mother and sister, and he was overjoyed when they enthusiastically grilled him for details.

What Harry was less sure of, however, was how Alani would react upon hearing that his vacation was up and that he would be headed back to L.A. in a week’s time. It was still early in their relationship and an indeterminate break seemed less than ideal. He had tried to convince both Jeff and the label that he could finish the album in Hawaii, but the same couldn’t be said for Jeff Bhasker, Mitch, Tom, and his new bassist, Adam, who all had families waiting for them back on the mainland. It was too risky personally and financially, so Harry reluctantly negotiated one last week to persuade Alani that a long-distance relationship wouldn’t be a death sentence.

“What d’you wanna watch?” he asks, sitting up against the headboard to turn on the T.V.

Alani sighs and settles deeper into his side. “When Harry Met Sally,”

“But it’s not Christmas or New Year’s,”

“So?”

“So,” Harry explains. “We have to wait ‘til the holidays, wouldn’t be right otherwise,”

Alani scoffs and peers up at him with a judgemental look. “So I guess Serendipity is also out of the question?”

“We’ll have all Christmas to get through that list, darlin’,”

Her stomach flips at his suggestion of their future holiday plans. Privately, she had wondered about such things, as well, including what gifts she might get him or where they would spend the holidays. Though still months away, it suddenly felt within reach.

“Fine,” Alani softens. “The Notebook,”

“And let you drool over what’s-his-face?” Harry pokes. “No fuckin’ way,”

Alani pinches his side and sits up. “Would you stop being insecure about that? I’ve already told you I was just kidding that time,”

“Yeah well, it still stings,”

“Why don’t you tell me your celebrity crush? You know, so I can be totally fine about it because it doesn’t mean anything,”

Harry shrugs, the corners of his lips turning into a playful smirk. “Don’t have one,”

“Liar,”

“M’serious,”

“Why, because you’ve already dated them?”

“Hey,” Harry pouts. “That was a bit snippy,”

Alani’s muscles tighten. She hadn’t realized that his dating history was a sore spot, but she takes a deep breath and plants a sweet kiss to his jaw as an offering of peace. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,”

“S’alright. Truce?”

“Deal,”

“Jennifer Aniston,”

“Huh?”

“My celebrity crush,” Harry explains shyly. “When I was younger,”

Alani giggles lightly. “I see. Good taste, she’s hot,”

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna leave me for her too,”

“I just might,”

“Can’t say that I blame you,”

“Look I know this is a cute little bit we do,” Alani sits up, her gaze dead-set on Harry’s to communicate the seriousness behind her words. “But I just want you to know that I feel so lucky to be with you. I’m not going anywhere any time soon,”

Harry swallows harshly. It was everything he’d ever wanted to hear and it kills him that he can’t return the sentiment with full honesty. A little less than a week is all he has to prove that even though he physically has to go, his heart will remain wherever Alani is. “Me either,”

Another round of thunder booms outside and the lights fizzle out, leaving the room completely dark save for the intermittent flashes of lightning that gently illuminate the room.

“So much for watching a movie, huh?” Alani sighs.

“I think I know some other ways we can keep ourselves entertained.”

********

Harry sets a steaming cup of tea down onto the table in front of Alani and she looks up from her tube of nail polish curiously. Harry flashes a dimpled grin in her direction and whistles a familiar tune, one that she had heard in the studio when he was busy doing his Bob Dylan impression.

“What’re you singing?”

“Hm?”

“The song,” she clarifies. “You were singing it the other day, what is it?”

Harry serves her plate of hash browns and shrugs. “Dunno, just a little tune ‘ve been workin’ on,”

“It’s nice,”

“Thanks, sweets,” he offers, setting her food down and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Hey Alani,” Jeff interrupts, stepping into the kitchen with his cellphone pressed to his shoulder.

“Glenne wants to know if you’re okay with her setting up a spa thing for you guys,”

"Yeah, definitely,” Alani perks up.

“Cool, thanks.”

“Look at you,” Harry teases, taking a bite of his toast coated in strawberry jam. “Minglin’ with the girls,”

“They’re not even here yet,”

He scans over her appearance and his brows furrow, hit with the sudden realization that she’s dressed in formal attire.

“What’s with the fancy outfit”

“I have a meeting, remember?”

“With?”

Alani blows on her freshly painted nails and holds up her other hand for Harry to do the same.

“My senior advisor. We’re going over my research project,”

Harry’s brows raise. “Smarty-pants,”

Alani had scheduled her meeting with Dr. Hudson months ago and had, truthfully, forgotten all about it until she had received a courtesy email the day prior. She had been working on her proposal in the spare minutes she had away from Harry, which were few and far between, but she knew the initial meeting would be much more casual. Alani checks the time on her phone and stands quickly when she realizes that she is supposed to meet Dr. Hudson in less than thirty-minutes.

“Gotta go,” she offers, shoveling potatoes into her mouth and grabbing her bag.

Harry ceases blowing on her nails and kisses the back of her hand before sticking out his lips for a kiss of his own. “Good luck, darlin’. Meet me at the studio after?”

“Sure thing, sunshine. See you later.”

********

“How did the Joni Mitchell piece go? You never told me,” Dr. Hudson questions, taking a sip of her coffee.

Alani offers a shy smile and toys with the hem of her skirt. “A flop,”

“Just one more closer to the winner,”

“Yeah,” Alani sighs, stirring her smoothie. “Maybe it’s time to move on from that,”

The professor shoots her a disapproving look and sets her drink down. “Alani—”

“I just think maybe there’s more realistic—”

“You are not giving up,” Dr. Hudson reassures her. “You’ve come too far and you’re a terrific writer. One of the best I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching. These things take time,”

Alani nods gently, her lips pursed in a tight smile. “Thank you, that really means a lot,”

“What are you working on right now?”

Absolutely nothing, Alani thinks, but then she remembers the half-written article about Harry sitting in her files.

“A short piece about… a local musician,”

Dr. Hudson’s brows raise, intrigued, and she nods. “That sounds interesting. Definitely more personal,”

You have no idea. “Thanks. I mean, it’s not really anything—”

“I’d love to read it when you’re finished,” the professor continues. “What’s the scope?”

Alani thinks, trying not to give too much incriminating detail about her subject or their relationship.

“Well,” she starts, hesitant. “He’s writing new music and working on his first album. I guess I kind of want to follow his journey and redefinition of success in the music industry,”

Dr. Hudson hums. “I love it. Send me a draft.”

Alani swallows and takes a minute to consider the offer. Surely there couldn’t be anything wrong about sharing her work privately with her advisor. She had been so excited about the potential of the article when it was first started, but it had since been neglected like so many of her other rejected pieces. Starting again seemed exciting, and she knew that Harry would be pleased to play such an important role in making her dreams come true. That had, after all, been the initial terms of their agreement.

“Okay,” Alani accepts. “I will.”

********

Harry draws out the last note and Mitch lets the chord ring between them for a moment.

“I think that’s the one,”

“Yeah, I liked that progression better,”

“Hope you got that, Bhasker,” Mitch calls to Jeff in the sound booth, who gives a thumbs up in response.

Harry continues humming, his head still bobbing to the tune, when he hears the studio door creak unpleasantly. His eyes shoot up to find Alani wincing and timidly stepping into the room.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt,”

He softens and beckons her over. “Never an interruption, sweets,”

Alani slots herself between his legs and wraps her arms around his neck, giving a gentle peck to the tip of his nose before pressing their lips together.

“How’s the weather?”

“Just got a lot sunnier,”

“Meeting go well?”

She nods and twists a lock of his chestnut hair between her fingers. “Yeah, actually,”

“Then we should celebrate!” Harry perks up, peppering a kiss to her cheek. “Dinner, wine, movie, the whole shebang,”

Alani frowns, thinking back to the article she promised Dr. Hudson. “Hmmm, raincheck?”

Her boyfriend deflates. “You’re ditching me?”

“Just for one night,” she explains, pulling him closer. “I wanna finish up some school stuff before our trip. Otherwise I won’t be able to give you my full attention,”

Harry pouts, but he nods understandingly. “‘Kay,”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. I’ll miss you tons,”

“Ditto, sweets,”

Alani presses her forehead against his and her fingertips wander through the growing curls at the nape of his neck. “Please don’t be upset,”

Harry smiles warmly and smoothes his hands up and down her back. “Never, m’love. Could never be upset with you,”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he nods, planting a sweet kiss to her lips. “Hey, I wanna play you somethin’,”

Alani grins and pulls back a bit to read his expression. “Let’s hear it,”

Harry grabs the guitar next to him and slings it over his shoulder before adjusting the capo. The song starts sweet and gentle, his voice light to match the tune.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It’s hard when we argue

We’re both stubborn I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Alani watches in awe as he pours so much emotion behind every word, his vocals effortlessly powerful and rich. She claps when the song finishes and leans in for a kiss.

“I love it,”

“S’not finished yet,” Harry shrugs, still fiddling with the strings. “Just the chorus right now,”

“Will you teach it to me?”

His brows raise in surprise. “You play?”

“No,” Alani admits. “But I have a feeling you’re a good teacher,”

“Well, let’s see what you got,”

Alani turns and Harry props the guitar in her lap, his arms wrapping around her as he guides her into the right position. His left hand demonstrates the beginning chord and she replaces his fingers on the fretboard to try for herself. She strums and the beginning note resonates in near-perfect pitch.

“Hey,” Harry beams. “You’re a regular Hendrix,”

He continues positioning her fingers over the right spaces and letting her strum, humming the lyrics softly into the shell of her ear.

“We don’t argue that much,” Alani defends playfully.

Harry chuckles and kisses her temple. “Maybe not, but we’re really good at makin’ up.”

“Easy, Styles.”

********

Harry: Hungry?

Alani peels her eyes away from the computer screen and reads the message lighting up her phone.

Alani: Not really

Harry: …

Harry: oh

She laughs and pads over to the window. Sure enough, Harry holds up two bags and flashes a cheesy grin down below.

“Need a study break?”

“I’ll meet you at the door.”

Harry makes himself comfortable in the middle of her bed and unpacks the bags.

“I’ve got a California and a spicy tuna for my favorite girl,” he announces. “With a side of eel sauce,”

“And the world's best boyfriend goes to Mr. Harry Styles,” Alani grins, taking a seat next to him.

He smirks and pulls out his own order of miso soup and sushi. “How’s the homework comin’ along?”

“Not too shabby,”

“Glad to hear it,”

“Hey, what time do I meet you at the airport tomorrow?” she asks, dipping her roll in the sauce.

Harry freezes and turns to her with confusion written all over his face. “I’m sorry, did my girlfriend just insinuate that we’re not leaving for the airport together?”

“I really need to finish this,” Alani explains. “It’s almost there,”

“Two nights?” he complains.

Alani nudges him with her shoulder and shakes her head. “We’re gonna be spending an entire week together, non-stop. You’re gonna get sick of me,”

“Never,” Harry rebuts. “Not possible,”

“Just one more night,” Alani bargains. “Then I’m all yours, no interruptions.”

He nods and takes a sip of his soup. “Alright, deal.”

You have to tell her, Jeff’s voice rings in his mind.

********

The airline stewardess ushers Harry and Alani to their seats while Scott and Miles settle down a few rows behind. She didn’t know exactly what to expect from first-class, but suddenly the perks of having a famous boyfriend increased tenfold by the sight of their luxurious accommodations.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Alani asks while Harry hovers over his chair.

“Sitting, or I was about to,”

“And you’re not even gonna offer rock-paper-scissors for the window seat?”

Harry shakes his head with an amused chuckle. “No because I already know that you’re gonna get up to pee every five minutes,”

“Not true,”

“It is too true and it’s exactly why we can’t cuddle while we fall asleep,”

“Or maybe the reason is because I’m claustrophobic and I just don’t wanna hurt your feelings,”

Harry frowns. “Really?”

“No,” Alani admits, taking the aisle seat. “I just said that so you’d give me the window,”

“Get up, we’re switching,”

“Thank you, sunshine! You’re the best,”

Harry slumps into his new chair and crosses his arms. “Forty-five minutes and we’re already fighting like an old married couple,”

“Oh really?” Alani smirks. “Is that what old married couples argue about? Who gets the window seat?”

“And leaving the toilet seat up, going antique shopping—”

“—What old married couples have you been hanging out with—?”

“—Picking up the kids from school,”

Alani presses a kiss to his shoulder and rests her head in the crook of his neck. Her eyelids are still heavy from staying up the night before, but her article was completely finished and sent off to Dr. Hudson just like she’d promised. Now, she could enjoy her vacation free of any worry or obligation, completely focused on the perfect boy still rambling next to her.

“But, obviously I mean that doesn’t count, right?” Harry asks, craning his neck and smiling softly when he sees that his girlfriend has already dozed off. He kisses the top of her head gently and lets his own eyes flutter close with a deep, contented breath.

********

“And then I’ll have to repaint it, but I haven’t decided on a color yet,” Glenne explains to Alani as they stroll through the airport.

Alani hums. “It was your grandmother’s?”

“Well, it was somebody’s grandmother’s. We picked it up at this little antique shop in Santa Monica.”

Jeff escorts Glenne into the shuttle car while Harry and Alani share a knowing look and stifle their laughter. They shuffle into the back seats as Tom and his wife, Jenny, claim the middle row.

“So you’re a journalist?” Jenny asks, turning in her seat eagerly to face Alani.

“Not quite,” she explains with a polite smile. “Still a student, but hopefully someday,”

Jenny nods and twirls the ring around her finger. “Sounds exciting. Maybe you can hitch a ride on tour with this one and do some writing there.”

“Yeah,” Alani smiles, settling further into Harry’s side. “Maybe.”

The idea of traveling the world with Harry and being a part of the excitement of touring the album was something she had considered briefly, but hadn’t allowed herself to fully indulge until this moment. It was already thrilling to see him polish the songs he had begun during his trip, but she could only imagine how much more special it would be to see him perform them for the rest of the world. A twinge of jealousy sparks at the thought of having to share any part of him with the public, but Alani knows that his gifts are much too special to keep all for herself. Harry was golden and he deserved to shine in all of his radiant glory. That was exactly what she had penned in her article, and she said it not because he was her boyfriend and there were clear personal investments, but because she knew it was true even before he had shown any romantic interest in her.

“What’s tour like?” Alani pipes up as Harry watches the landscape out his window.

He considers it for a moment and clears his throat. “Fun, mostly. Can be tiring,”

“Lots of partying and adoring fans?”

“No,” he chuckles to himself. “Not so much the partying. Enthusiastic fans, sure,”

Alani narrows her eyes. “No partying?”

“Nope,” Harry reiterates. “Don’t really like to do all that stuff when I’m working. Also just didn’t wanna…”

He trails off and Alani waits a beat to see if he’ll continue. “Didn’t wanna?”

“Fuck it up,” he finishes. “You know, like, be the one who ruined a good thing for a little bit of fun.”

She lets his words settle in, rubbing a reassuring circle on the back of his hand. “Makes sense. Sounds really responsible of you to do that.”

Harry presses a soft kiss to her temple and resumes his study of the scenery. They chat amongst their friends for the remainder of the drive and Alani immediately presses Glenne and Jenny for information about her boyfriend in his younger years. They indulge her inquiries and ask their own questions, deciding privately after a few minutes that her and Harry are a good fit.

When the group arrives at the resort, Glenne takes charge and instructs them all to meet at the lobby for lunch in twenty minutes. They collect their keys and head up to their respective rooms, which are all located on the very top floor.

“What a view,” Alani muses as she takes in the sight from their private balcony.

Harry admires the wonder on her face and nods, his eyes not leaving her side profile. “You’re tellin’ me,”

“Let’s never go home,” she poses, arms snaking around his torso. “Let’s stay here forever, just me and you,”

His throat tightens as he thinks back to the inevitable conversation waiting for them. Harry didn’t know why it was so hard to think about leaving because he had every intention of keeping touch and making their relationship work at all costs. But there was a part of him, a very tiny recess in the back of his mind, that feared the possibility of Alani not feeling the same.

“Yeah,” he agrees with a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose. “Whatever you want, sweets,”

Alani senses a shift in his demeanor, but she can’t read it. “You okay?”

“Never better,” Harry swallows, mustering up a small smile. “But I am hungry,”

She isn’t entirely convinced that there isn’t something bothering him, but she decides not to push it and tightens her grip around his waist, instead.

“Race you to the lobby.”

“You’re on.”

********

“You’ve never seen Finding Nemo?”

“Was I s’posed to?”

“My god,” Alani marvels. “You know, I’m starting to believe those rumors that you were grown in a lab,”

Harry’s brow raises and he blinks. “That I was what?”

The restaurant that Glenne and Jeff chose features an aquarium tunnel at the entrance, much to both Harry and Alani’s excitement. Fish, large and small, swim around them and the pair take turns pointing out their favorite colorful species. The Hull’s snap photos for their four year-old daughter, but Jenny also secretly captures one of Harry and Alani with their hands clasped under the mesmerizing blue lighting as a keepsake for her friend.

“Add Finding Nemo to our movie list,” Alani says, admiring a clownfish that swims close to the glass.

“S’it gonna make me cry?”

“Probably,”

“Goddamnit,”

Alani giggles softly and turns her head away from the glass to silently observe Harry under the lighting of the rippling water. The combination of his serene features and the sound of Billie Holiday’s I’ll Be Seeing You over the sound system creates a perfect image in her mind, one that makes her afraid to blink, lest it be gone forever. Harry glances over at her through the corner of his eye and his lips curl.

“Checkin’ me out?”

“Always,”

“Like whatcha see?”

“Love it.”

His heart nearly stops at her words, but before he has a chance to process their implication, the hostess calls on their group.

“And I’ll have the piña colada,” Harry orders once they're seated.

“Oh my god, H,” Glenne laughs from across the table. “That reminds me, remember your birthday last year when James got trashed and hoarded the karaoke machine for, like, two hours?”

“Ruined that song forever,” Jeff quips, reliving the memory of the Late-Late host drunkenly serenading the entire party with the same song on repeat.

Harry cringes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I try not to,”

Alani watches as they reminisce on the event, adding their own details and pieces to the puzzle. It’s amusing to watch, but a small part of her also has to fight the pang of exclusion settling into the pit of her stomach. She feels guilty for being affected by it knowing, logically, that it isn’t intentional or malicious in any way. Still, Alani is painfully reminded of the vast differences between their worlds. Harry had gotten to know practically every part of her life, including her family, but there was still so much that she didn’t know about his. It was something she worked hard not to dwell on, given the novelty of their relationship, but she also worried that fear and insecurity would prevent her from investing what little of her heart Harry hadn’t claimed yet.

“Who was it that started dancing on a table and almost broke a chandelier?” Tom asks, wracking his brain.

“I think it was Ken—” Jeff hesitates, clearing his throat. “Actually, I don’t remember,”

Harry shifts in his seat beside Alani and reads over the menu, quickly changing the subject. “What’re you gonna get?”

“I don’t know,” Alani admits. “Everything looks so good,”

“Oh look,” Jenny pipes up across from Harry. “They’ve got your fav, the mango sorbet. I wonder if it’s as good as the one in Italy,”

Harry beams and reads over the item. “Oh yeah, that was amazin’,”

Alani files the detail to the back of her mind. She hadn’t known mango was his favorite flavor of anything, and while it was a trivial detail, she realized that there were so still many little details about him that she wanted to know. Harry had made such an effort to remember everything about her, like her go-to sushi order and the fact that she always saved the kiwis for last in her fruit salad, so it made her feel a touch guilty that she hadn’t made the same effort.

“Wanna share the coconut shrimp?” Alani asks with a gentle nudge to his shoulder.

“Oh, uh—”

“He’s allergic,” Glenne says offhandedly, not cold or condescending, but more in the same way that an older sister would.

“Oh my god,” Alani’s eyes widen. “I’m so sorry,”

Harry laughs lightly and shrugs. “S’okay, I’d let you poison me,”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Glenne apologizes, reaching her hand out to Alani. “I thought you knew.”

Alani accepts the hand and waves away her concern. “No, don’t worry about it. I didn’t know, actually.”

“We can stop talking about my defects now,” Harry teases. “‘M not dyin’,”

He leans in closer to Alani and presses a kiss to her temple. “But if I was, it’d be an honor to have my last meal with you.”

She responds with a soft smile before returning her attention back to the menu. His sentiments, however sweet, unfortunately did very little to soothe the embarrassment of her mini faux pas. It was irrational, Alani knew this, but it made her wonder what else she didn’t know and what bigger secrets he was potentially keeping. Whose name had Jeff meant to say earlier to identify the mystery dancer at Harry’s party, and why had it created an awkward shift in the air? She decides not to let the spiraling questions spoil her fun and takes a generous sip of her cocktail to avoid them for the time being.

********

Harry sets the room key on the nightstand next to their king sized bed and lets himself sink down into the soft mattress. The group had spent the entire day sightseeing, from botanical gardens to scenic beaches, but he was really itching for some quality time alone with Alani. Lately, their time together had been cut frustratingly short by work, school, and life in general. Even when they were seated right next to each other with arms linked or fingers interlocked, she felt far away and he didn’t know why. He hoped that this trip would allow them time to reconnect and solidify their relationship before he had to return to California.

“Mini bar,” Alani comments, kicking her shoes off and wandering over to the small refrigerator in their suite. “Who’s paying again?”

“The label,”

“Thank you Columbia Records,”

She swipes a few bottles of tequila before climbing into the bed next to Harry.

“Wanna play a game?”

Harry props himself up on his elbow and nods. “What kinda game?”

“Never have I ever,” Alani explains. “But instead of putting your finger down, you take a shot,”

“Sounds dangerous,”

“It’ll be fun. You can go first if you want,”

He hums and nods in agreement before sitting up to face her. “‘Kay. Never have I ever...named my car after a musician,”

“Cheap shot,” Alani narrows her eyes, taking a sip from the bottle of Jose Cuervo.

“Your turn,”

She fiddles with the bottle cap, a question already in mind, though she isn’t sure if she should ask it.

“Never have I ever… dated a model,”

Harry’s brow furrows, but he opens his own bottle slowly and takes a sip. “So it’s that kind of never have I ever,”

“Just trying to keep it interesting,” Alani shrugs innocently.

“Right. Never have I ever slept with a guy named David,”

Her eyes widen, but she laughs half-heartedly and takes a sip. “Jeez, okay. Never have I ever—”

“Wait, so you two actually…” Harry interrupts, trailing off at the end.

“I mean,” Alani starts, her eyes wandering to the ceiling. “Yeah, a long time ago,”

“How long ago?”

“Okay, maybe this was a mistake—”

Harry shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’ll play nice,”

“Alright,” Alani accepts. She knows that she should probably steer the game back onto safer territory, but the wound has been re-opened and she can’t resist the urge to keep picking at it. “Never have I ever slept with a fan,”

Harry takes a slow sip. “Never have I ever cheated on my partner,”

The bottle stays put in Alani’s hand. “Never had I ever gone on a vacation with my partner before this trip,”

The tequila washes over his tongue bitterly like the faint memories that it symbolizes. “Never have I ever dated someone just for the publicity,”

The bottle in Alani’s hand doesn’t move, much to Harry’s relief, but her mind is not as tranquil.

“Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t,” she says slowly.

Harry takes another shot and it burns all the way down. “Why are we doin’ this?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna play anymore,”

“Alani,” he starts, springing to his feet when she leaves the bed. “Hey, look at me, please,”

She blinks back the tears that threaten to spill over her lower lashes before turning to him. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid game,”

“S’just all out of context,” Harry offers, reaching for her hands. “Wasn’t the right way to have all of those conversations,”

Alani takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah, you’re right,”

“What’s really botherin’ you, hm sweets?” He coos, bringing her cold knuckles to his warm lips. “Tell me, please?”

She releases a shaky breath and tries to sift through the fog in her brain for the right answer.

“I don’t know, really, I just,” Alani hesitates. “Am I a bad girlfriend?”

“No,” Harry says quickly, his hands lifting to cup her face. “God no, you’re the best,”

“Then why didn’t I know that your favorite ice cream flavor was mango? And why didn’t I know that you were allergic to coconut, and why—”

“Hang on, is that what this is all about?” he questions. “Cause I’ll go eat an entire coconut right now,”

Alani laughs lightly and pinches her eyes shut. “No, it’s not about that. I just feel like you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and you make me feel so fucking special and, God, I just wanna be good enough for you because—”

Harry holds his breath and watches as her eyes gloss over.

“Because I love you,” she finishes, voice small. “More than I ever thought possible,”

His own eyes sting, but he doesn’t fight the tears that fall as he presses his lips to hers firmly.

“I love you, too,” Harry murmurs. “I love you so fuckin’ much it drives me crazy,”

Alani chuckles softly. “Ditto,”

“I’ve been wanting to say it for ages, can’t believe you beat me to it.”

“Guess you’re not the only one full of surprises.”

********

The early morning sunlight creeps gently into Harry and Alani’s room, casting a soft, golden glow onto the bare skin that peeks through the white duvet. Harry stirs first, a strand of Alani’s hair tickling his nose and making him smile. He prys his heavy eyelids open and winces at the dull aching of his head aggravated by the light. Alani hears his muffled groan and sighs, willing the sun to go back down and let her sleep a few more hours.

“Mornin’ sweets,” he rasps with a warm kiss to her bare shoulder.

She peels her own tired eyes open and flashes a sleepy grin. “Good morning, sunshine,”

“How’d you sleep?”

“Super. You?”

Harry props himself up on his elbow and rests his chin in his palm as he admires the traces of sleep still on her face.

“Just swell.”

Alani chuckles lightly and reaches a hand up to comb through his unruly bedhead. His skin is warm to the touch, and the light from the window casts a heavenly glow around his visage. She pokes her finger into his dimple, which elicits a soft laugh and makes his smile grow wider. They stay intertwined under the sheets as the sun fully rises and soak up their own details to keep as souvenirs from this moment. Alani takes in the scent of vanilla and the juxtaposition of Harry’s inked bicep against the plain, white sheets. He stores away the image of her sleepy, mocha eyes and the pink, manicured fingernails that trail up and down his arm. Neither of them are sure exactly how long they remain in this moment, for all they know it could be hours or days. But whatever the duration, it doesn’t seem to be enough. I need more time, Harry had told Jeff, but there was no more left to give. He had to tell her, and it was now or never.

“Hey,” he begins carefully. “I need to tell you something,”

Alani sits up to be eye level with him and nods. “Anything,”

Harry waits a beat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and pressing his lips to her bare shoulder before letting the confession spill out.

“I have to go back to L.A.,”

“I kinda figured,”

He draws in a deep sigh of relief. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Alani shrugs. “Hilo isn’t exactly Hollywood,”

“I asked for more time, but the label—”

“No, I get it. So… when? Next month?”

“Friday,”

Alani’s brows furrow. “This Friday?”

“Yeah,” Harry admits with a gulp.

“The last day of our trip?”

“Yes,”

Her heart drops into her stomach and she feels sick. It all made sense now why Harry’s mood had shifted when she jokingly asked him not to leave, and why he had been so insistent on spending as much time together as possible this week. Their game of never have I ever turned instantly defensive when asked about his dating history. Never had I ever gone on vacation with my partner before this trip. Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t. He had whisked her away on a farewell trip and God knows who else had been in her place before, or worse, who would be in it next. Harry was saying good-bye.

“Wait,” Alani says finally, mind still racing too fast to process. “How long have you known?”

“Alani—”

“How long?”

Harry swallows. “Couple of weeks,”

“You knew for weeks and you didn’t tell me?” she questions incredulously.

“I tried—”

“You know that I hate surprises, you know how I feel about plans—”

“I’m sorry,” Harry insists, sitting up straighter. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but it just never felt right,”

Alani rolls her eyes. “So what, you were just gonna leave a fucking sticky note on my pillow and hope for the best?”

“Don’t say that—”

“Is that why you brought me here?” she asks, voice hoarse. “Is that why you gave me this necklace? A souvenir of our little summer fling so you could leave with a clear conscience?”

Harry’s jaw tightens. “How could you even think that?”

“Because maybe it’s true. Why else would you wait until the very last minute to tell me about this?”

“Maybe we should take a minute,” he suggests, the whites of his eyes now bloodshot. “Before we say something we’ll regret,”

“I think I already did.” Alani admits. Never have I ever told someone I loved them when I didn’t.

Harry’s head pounds and he feels like he’s drowning, treading water in every direction only to be dragged further into the current. He quickly pulls on his clothes from the night before and tries to steady his breathing.

“M’gonna go wait in the hall,” he offers. “Give you some space to think and then we’ll talk, yeah?”

Alani doesn’t respond or even meet his pleading eyes. She simply tightens the duvet around her body and turns her head to the window, letting a single, bitter tear roll down her cheek. The door closes softly and she is immediately filled with regret and guilt. Had she truly meant all of the things she said? Or was it fear and the instinct to flee taking over her mouth? Alani wanted to believe that she was wrong and that Harry hadn’t intentionally kept her in the dark, but from where she stood, the sun had long disappeared behind the clouds and all that was left was the storm.

Harry trudges down the hallway and the walls spin, closing in on him slowly. If he had just told Alani sooner, everything would be different. He had avoided doing so for this exact reason and out of fear that their relationship wouldn’t be worth the risk in her mind. It was selfish—he was selfish—to try to make the decision for her, and now the woman he loved was getting ready to walk away because he had broken her trust. What else was there to do? His back meets the wall and he sinks to the floor.

“Hey H,” Jeff clears his throat from above. “We should talk,”

“She knows. Didn’t go well,”

“So she did approve the article?”

Harry lifts his head and his brows furrow. “What?”

There’s a harsh knock at the door and Alani jumps. In Harry’s absence, she had managed to cool off and sift through her frantic thoughts. She had been wrong to think that he used her, all it took was a quick stroll down memory lane to prove otherwise. He had never given her any true reason not to trust him, so there had to be some other reason why he hadn’t told her about his plans to leave so soon. Alani pads over to the door and unlocks it gently.

“Harry, I’m sor—”

“Wanna talk about surprises?” he seethes. “What the fuck is this?”

She squints at the phone screen that he holds up to her face and the title of her unpublished article stares back at her.

“I don’t know—”

“Well it has your goddamn name on it,” Harry shoots back.

Alani steps aside and lets him into the room before she closes the door behind her. “I can explain—”

“Did you write it or not?”

“Yes, but—”

He shuts the phone off and slams it face down onto the night stand. “How fucking dare you call me a liar and then pull this shit behind my back,”

“I didn’t lie,” Alani defends, voice weak. “I had no idea it was going to be published, please just listen—”

“A class project,” he interrupts with his back still turned. “That’s what you said,”

“It was never meant to be released,”

“How do I know that? How do I know you’re not just trying to cover your ass?”

“Please,” Alani begs as her vision begins to blur. “I was wrong, I shouldn’t have said all those things,”

Harry runs a hand through his hair and casts his eyes to the ceiling in an attempt to quell the emotion that pools behind his eyes.

“So why did you?”

“I was scared,”

“Of?”

Alani takes a deep breath. “Of losing you for good. Of falling in l—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Don’t finish that sentence,”

“I don’t know how,” she tries again. “And I don’t know who released it, but I swear—”

“You really expect me to trust a word you say after you accused me of lying about this whole thing, about us?”

Harry’s gaze lowers back to hers and the bright, green eyes that she has come to love are replaced with a blood-shot, stormy sea that makes her stomach drop. The words get caught in her throat.

“I fucked up,” he continues. “I know that I should’ve told you. But I’m having a hard time believing that this wasn’t planned, that this random website would just accidentally publish your work without your consent,”

Alani can’t explain it either, she truly had no idea how her writing had ended up in the wrong hands. There was only one other person she had entrusted it with, but surely Dr. Hudson hadn’t betrayed her, had she? Alani didn’t know who to believe anymore.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she tries. “I didn’t mean what I said, and I know I can’t take it back, but you have to at least believe that I never wanted to hurt you,”

Harry is silent for a moment, and Alani decides that it’s her turn to tell the truth. There was nothing left to lose.

“At first, I did want to publish it,” she explains. “But I changed my mind and I scrapped the whole thing. In the end, the only person I intended to show it to was you,”

“So how did it get onto the internet for the whole fucking world to see?” he presses.

Alani sighs. “My advisor wanted to know what I was working on, so I sent it to her, but she never had my permission to publish it. Now I realize how stupid it sounds, but it’s the truth,”

“If you had come to me, I would have given you permission,”

“I’m so sorry,”

Harry’s shoulders tense. Every fiber of his being wants to believe her, but how could he? She had told him herself that things would be messy and warned him that he didn’t know what he was asking by pursuing a relationship with her. Maybe it really was all his fault for not seeing the signs, but that still didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t trust her anymore. And based on her reaction to the news of his departure, it seemed as though Alani didn’t trust him either.

“Even if you’re telling the truth,” Harry begins, slow and deliberate. “You still thought, after everything, that I would abandon you. And if that’s the kind of person you think I am, if that’s the person you wrote about—”

“Harry—”

“Then I hope you got all the material you wanted.”

“Please, don’t go.” Alani cries but it’s too late. The door slams and her heart falls.

After a beat, she races to the door and into the hallway but there’s no sign of Harry. As quickly as he had appeared into her life, he had vanished. Gone without a trace.

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles x oc #ybmh #sorry besties <3

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gloryofluv · 3 years

Text

Order Up! (Coffee Shop AU) Chapter 5

Well, I guess Alex is going through the motions. I am really starting to love how well-rounded this is getting. Flirty fics are fun, but they always need heart and perseverance!

Chapter

1 - 2- 3 - 4

Fuck. Why did she do that? Alex wanted to toss her phone but knew she couldn’t afford a new one yet. Memories. Social media keeps track even if you don’t. She was bundled on the ground of the bathroom she just cleaned and sobbed.

All she wanted to do was look at this real estate agent that Lucifer texted her. She glanced down at the picture of her and her mother while she was getting dressed for prom. Would she be upset that she was thinking of selling their home? Would she be proud? She felt so fucking alone.

There was a knock at the bathroom door, and she stuttered on a breath. Fucking get it together, girl. She wiped her face and nodded. “I’ll be out momentarily,” she said in a cheery tone.

Breathe. Stand up. Bitch, buck the fuck up, you’re at work. Alex listened to her inner dialog, turned on the water to the sink, cleaned her hands and face, and fixed her makeup. After she was satisfied, she picked up her tool tote and walked to the door with a plastered smile.

Solomon was on the other side of the door. “Hey, Alex,” he said with a curl to his lips.

“Hey, Sol, how are you doing?” she asked.

“Not horribly. I’m a bit stuck on this formula, but it’s bound to come to me,” he voiced while walking in step with her.

She rocked her head and shifted at the entrance to the counter. “Let me just go put this away and clock out. We can chat a minute after I’m off the clock.”

He rocked his head and leaned on the wall nearby. “Want to take a walk with me?”

She tilted her head and hummed. “Maybe.”

“Good, I’ll order, and we’ll head to the park.”

“Oh, good, we’re taking a walk to the park?”

Alex glanced over to see Satan wander over with his tea and pastry bag. “Oh, hey, Satan. I didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head and gestured to his messenger bag. “I was grading pages.”

Solomon crossed his arms before touching his chin with his fingers. “You want to join us?”

Satan rocked his head. “A little fresh air would be great.”

“Okay, let me just go finish up,” Alex smiled and walked to the back of the shop. Well, it was quite the variation, but after how interesting her Sunday had been, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. She turned to the computer after putting the tote away and clocked out. Shaking out her body and taking off her apron and hat, she rolled her neck.

There was something to be said about the smears on her uniform. Alex stripped off her overshirt and straightened her purple tank top, and pulled out her ponytail. After checking her face in the mirror and reapplying a few touches on her eyeliner and lip gloss, she was ready.

Better. Alex smiled and collected her bag before marching to the front again. Solomon and Satan seemed to be in a discussion about the book in Satan’s hand. Their hand gestures only confirmed the estimation as Alex walked over to collect her drink.

“Hey, babes,” Jess hummed. “Do you think you could do me a favor and take my Friday shift, and I’ll take your Saturday one. It's closing, and I have a date.”

Alex rocked her head. “Yeah, I can. You never ask me to trade, so they must be pretty hot,” she teased.

Jess smirked and rocked her head. “Yeah, Mr. Macchiato, who comes in the evenings.”

“Nice, well, I hope you have tons of fun. Text Jordan and let him know, alright?”

Jess beamed and blew a kiss. “You’re a lifesaver for my social life, hun.”

Alex waved and met up with the two intellectuals holding their beverages. “I’m just saying that Dickens wasn’t as extraordinary as we make him out to be,” Solomon huffed.

“Oh, no, we’re on about Charles again?”

Satan laughed and shook his head as they walked out the door. “Just Solomon’s primary dagger.”

“Solomon, do you just enjoy debating?” Alex asked.

Solomon smiled and shifted his head from side to side. “Occasionally, but so does Satan, so we have a mutual understanding never to take it to blows.”

“I think the Brontë sisters are probably a staple for every woman,” Alex added to the conversation.

“And men,” Satan nodded.

“Very true, but we need to selectively decide what mannerisms are dated in order to value the interpretation,” Solomon voiced.

Alex smirked and raised her hand to her chest. “'Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? And can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart!'” She paused after the quote and laughed. “Imagine declaring equality to a man who was higher in rank and stature than you in that time. The dated behavior is only setting.”

Satan let out a stream of hearty laughter. “Oh, Alex, I would have loved to have you in my class today. There was a sexist animal who was definitely in need of a strong female to set him straight.”

“My little Jane isn’t very plain,” Solomon chuckled and waved his hand.

“No, she isn’t,” Alex laughed before sipping her iced tea.

“I was referring to you,” Solomon hummed.

Alex smirked at him and shrugged. “I do pretty well, I suppose.”

Satan cleared his throat, drawing Alex’s attention to her left. “So, you realized that half your customers are my brothers.”

Alex rocked her head. “Yes, I was informed of that by Belphegor in a rather creative way.”

“I heard,” Satan laughed. “We all live together.”

“So I’ve heard,” she smiled.

“Interesting dynamic,” Solomon voiced. “All seven of them together.”

“They also throw some ridiculous parties,” Alex said and then waved her free hand in a circle. “From what I’ve heard.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I know you live across the street,” Satan snorted with a smug smile. “I’ve known longer than Lucifer.”

Alex gasped as they walked on the sideway in the park. “What?”

Satan chuckled and rocked his head. “Yes, I knew from Jordan. I was the one to buy his motorcycle.”

She shrieked and gasped. “Oh! That’s why I’ve seen it around the cafe.”

Satan wagged his eyebrows. “So yes, I’ve known for about four months. He pulled it out of your garage and brought it over. When I asked why he moved, he told me about your circumstance and why he was torn, but family comes first.”

“It does,” Alex smiled. “His mother was great to me when my parents died. She practically lived with me for the first six months. Then Jordan moved in, and he got me a job at the cafe. He’s always been like my big brother. So when his dad got injured at work and couldn’t work, I told him to move home to help.”

“How did you both meet?” Solomon questioned.

“Oh, that’s a funny story, actually. So, in middle school, he was a grade above me, and I was super shy. He saw me being harassed by some asshole. He stepped in and smoothed the situation. I was so shocked he was able to do so without violence. Jordan took me to the bathroom, cleaned me up, and told me that the only bitches in our life are the beautiful bitches we can be, so I needed to learn to walk like it. From then on, he just started pulling me into his antics,” she explained and laughed while shaking her head.

“You were shy?” Satan questioned.

Alex stopped drinking her tea and nodded. “I actually am in general. I took his advice to heart. I’m friendly and enjoy people, but I don’t have very many people I consider close with.”

“Is this why you aren’t dating anyone?” Solomon questioned.

Alex narrowed her eyes at him and smirked. “Yes.”

“Liar,” Solomon smiled.

“Wait, I really find this fascinating. You aren’t close to any family?” Satan asked.

Alex shrugged and hummed. “My aunts and uncles all live in different parts of the country. I was an only child, and now that my parents aren’t here, the only people I see are Jordan and his parents. Jordan’s sister left for a university across the country two years ago. I see them probably once a month.”

“You live alone? Like no one ever comes to knock on your door or calls your phone?” Satan questioned with a scowl.

“Well, I won’t be living there much longer,” Alex sighed. “I have to sell the place, so I’ll have to clear it out in the next couple of weeks. The financial officer, my parents, left in charge, said that the funds wouldn’t cover the expenses this next year, so it would be a good idea for me to sell.”

“Hm,” Solomon murmured. “I could help.”

“No,” Alex shook her head. “It’s time. I don’t need handouts, Sol. I appreciate it, but no.”

“Why do you feel like you have to do everything alone?” Satan asked as they rounded the outside of the park.

Alex breathed and shook her head. “It’s such a long story.”

“Your parents?” Solomon voiced.

This analysis was cathartic in a way, and Alex felt this heavyweight being pulled from her shoulders. “Well, yes and no. I was telling my mother before she passed that I was thinking of taking a year off to go with my boyfriend at the time to travel the world. She was so supportive, even though it would put my education in jeopardy. When they died, he bailed with some other girl, so I kind of just stopped relying on others.”

Satan tutted and exhaled. “To be an idiot teenager who couldn’t handle grief. I’m sorry you had to go through that, especially at such a young age.”

Alex smiled and shrugged as they made their way back to the cafe. “I’m pretty good. I have a degree. I’ll have a decent nest egg to pay for my schooling for an even better education and my best friend. I’m doing pretty well.”

“I have an intrigue before we conclude our adventure into your life,” Solomon hummed.

Alex tilted her head as she grinned at him. “What’s that?”

“You are strong without someone, but it makes it so much richer to share your heart with others,” Solomon declared.

“Says the man who has done his fair share of that,” Satan snorted.

Solomon rolled his eyes. “Satan, don’t cast stones in glass houses.”

“You have been married three times now,” Satan snorted.

News. Alex raised her eyebrows. “Three times? Aren’t you like barely forty?”

“I resent that,” Solomon scowled. “No, I am not. However, marriage and love are difficult measurements in a formula very few understand. I’m difficult.”

“I actually like that about you,” Alex laughed.

Satan scowled as they stopped at the sidewalk near the cafe. “You enjoy that he’s difficult, but you won’t text me?” he questioned with a sly smile.

She puffed and pulled his phone from his bag’s pocket. It was sticking out and available. Alex then went to his keypad, dialed her number, and pressed the call. Her phone soon rang, and she hung up.

“Now, you have my number. Stop trying to make me do all the work, you pushy professor,” she snorted and handed his phone back.

Satan was grinning as he pocketed his phone. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Solomon handed her his phone, and she groaned but did the same exact thing. “If you both call me all the time, I will block your number,” she teased.

“If you need any help with your house, please tell me,” Solomon nodded. “I am quite organized.”

“I will,” Alex smiled.

Solomon tossed his cup in the trash and smiled before walking to his car. Alex watched him wave and climb inside before driving off in the silver vehicle. Satan shifted and tilted his head when she turned back to him.

“Did you want to have dinner with me tonight? I’ll cook,” Satan offered.

“Just because we’re temporarily neighbors does not mean I’m a booty call, understood?” Alex questioned.

Satan snorted and straightened his shirt. “You’re far too interesting to blow on a booty call, Alex.”

“Just had to make it clear. I would take your offer for dinner, but I’m actually exhausted. Diavolo came in for a coffee tasting, and I hosted it. Since then, I’ve just been drained.”

Satan rocked his head. “Well, I’ll ask tomorrow then,” he smiled and shrugged. “You’ll eventually say yes,” he chuckled and walked over to the motorcycle.

Alex smiled and observed as he slid on his helmet, waved, and climbed on the bike. Bad boy, professor. Pretty sexy. That tickled her to no end. He pulled out with a roaring shift of gears and headed in the same direction she needed to go. Home. Even if it was just for now.

@rsmrymnt-tea @otome-scribbles

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fellowstrangetownappreciator · 3 years

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Playing Favorites (part 2)

Here we go again! Another 4 TS2 premades that really strange my town! (I’ll see myself out.) Anyway, I have to preface this with saying that so far I’ve only played the 3 base game hoods and although I really enjoy PV and VV, I added them to Strangetown just recently, so I’m still getting acquainted with their casts. That’s why my Playing Favorites posts are so dominated with desert-dwellers - but I definitely plan on including more non-ST Sims once I got to play with them more!

And I also low-key love everybody in Strangetown.

TOP 15 TS2 Premades (according to my personal tastes somewhere in May 2021) (not in any particular order) (and I can’t guarantee I stop at 15 either)

Tank Grunt (Strangetown)

Yes, I am one of them. I am a Tank Grunt apologist. Brace yourself!

Similarly to the Pleasant twins, I view Tank as a victim of his father (Buzz Grunt, the esteemed Strangetown's Worst Parent Award nominee). Of course, that's not to say he's innocent. He is absolutely guilty of bullying Ripp and Johnny and equally guilty of being a bigot. And, most importantly, totally guilty of casually wearing camo face-paint. (that he canonically gets tatooed on his face down the line, which is... its own kind of tragic.)

But that is exactly why I like him so much!

Let me elaborate.

Tank is a very multilayered character, albeit a bit cliché. He is very artistic a eager to always do his best, whether that is in school or home where he competes for his father's affection and approval. Buzz provides both of that but it always feels conditioned – if Tank was to stop getting A+, stop parroting his opinions, stop working out, stop following in his footsteps, would that go away? Even though the answer depends on your interpretation of Buzz and his levels of horrible, Tank definitely thinks so. Just take a look on how his father treats Ripp!

I read Tank as somebody who believes firmly in order and good but has a very twisted understanding of both given his militaristic and hyper-masculine upbringing. He has an enormous potential for character growth. Can he gain (psychological) independence of his father? Can he follow his dreams and become a dancer? Can he free himself of his father’s biases now that he’s out on his own? Can he mend his relationship with Ripp and Buck? (...or maybe even Johnny?) It makes him so fun to play.

Also, I think that it was indeed very cowardly of the developers not to set his gender preference as gay.

Conclusion: Tank is fun! (Although he would probably resent me for saying that.)

Dina Caliente (Str- wait, Pleasantview)

Finally someone who doesn't live in the desert! Both Nina and Dina are such interesting characters, with their connection to Bella’s disappearance, their alien bloodline and their opposing personalities and ambitions.

I feel like the sisters are often getting unjustly demonized. (or mixed up together, I’m looking at you, TS3 and TS4) They’re young, very attractive and in unconventional relationships, thus often labeled as predatory. They’re not.

Dina is a very nice Sim, with Nice points above the average and many Playful points and she tends to roll wants to start a family by the start of the game, although she is not a Family Sim. She’s actually a Fortune Sim, smart and business-oriented. She’s a widow who wants to remarry and has her sights set on the husband of her missing former sister-in-law.

I know that doesn’t make her sound that nice but there is nuance. First of all, the man in question is Mortimer Goth, well in his twilight years, a father of two, simply an adult. He is not a hapless trophy, the decision to start an affair with Dina not long after his first wife got pronounced missing, is his own. He knows he won’t be here for long and doesn’t want to die alone, he wants someone who can make him feel young again and loved once more. Dina, on the other hand, pursues a shotgun wedding to take an advantage of the Goth fortune that will kickstart her business ventures but she is ready to provide what Mortimer needs. She canonically loves him. (proven by the love flag in her relationship panel)

In my personal gameplay, I had Don take Dina on a date before their marriages to their respective Goths, and Dina kept rolling wants to flirt with Mortimer instead. Later down the line she also helped out the Brokes financially, and after her close friend Brandi died young in childbirth, she took in her youngest children, so that her oldest son Dustin could go to college and not worry what’s gonna become of his younger siblings in his custody while he’s gone. I figured it made sense because of Dina’s Nice points, her relationship with Brandi and her now being partially in charge of so much money it isn’t even funny.

In conclusion: I support and condone Dina! Even if it’s somehow implied that she and her sister might’ve just staged her rival’s alien abduction.

Circe Beaker (Strangetown)

Circe is yet another... unwholesome character on my list. She canonically tortures people, namely Nervous Subject, and her bio eludes to there being more in the past or the future. She's cunning, ambitious and very mean.

But she is also very fun to play! Her aspiration being Fortune (not Knowledge) puts an interesting spin on the whole evil scientist routine. She doesn't do it for the love of discovery like the Curiouses and she doesn't care about credit as her husband does. She's out for power and she may as well get it.

Her rather extreme personality would lead one to think she has to be rather disliked around the town but her default relationship panel says otherwise. She doesn't have any close friendships except her husband, though. That makes me think she is superficially charming and tends to act diplomatic to obtain people's loyalty without necessarily caring about any of them. It makes playing her unique from most other Sims.

She is also canonically bisexual! I personally have a deep appreciation for each and every Sim that Maxis sneakily preset to be LGBTQ+. I may not seem like a big deal now but it is.

Conclusion: "She could gaslight, gatekeep and girlboss me any day.” - half of Strangetown’s population

Lazlo Curious (Strangetown)

Lazlo is a ray of sunshine in the Curious household! A very sloppy ray that makes messes wherever it goes, true, but sunshine nonetheless.

I’m very fond of Lazlo because he’s the type of person that looks like he can barely count to five with his easy-going and messy nature but is in fact very clever and, by some measures, the most competent Curious brother, since he is the youngest and it seems like he’s fresh out of college, yet holds a higher career position than his older brothers. “A smart person that doesn’t necessarily seem smart on the first glance” is a trope I have a big soft spot for. (...and it shows)

In my current gameplay, Lazlo wanted to resurrect Vidcund (who died in childbirth), so he switched from Science to Paranormal to swipe a Resurrect-O-Nomitron and, like the madlad he is, succeeded before their round was over (in a span of few days). It was a combination of dumb luck and him having a compatible degree that gave him a hefty bonus but it still made me realize Lazlo could achieve whatever he sets his sights on.

Luckily, his sights are generally set on pizza and video games.

(relatable)

Anyway, I find Lazlo somehow cute, most probably for his constant and very unfruitful attempts to make Vidcund laugh, and in general, how friendly and easy to get along with he is. While he doesn’t have that many Nice points (5, which is a pretty average number), combined with his playfulness he usually tends to act very amicable.

In conclusion: I simp for Knowledge Sims and it shows.

Ok, I’ll be back with another 4 when my horrible procrastinating gruel of a brain feels like it. See ya!

#the sims 2 #ts2 #premades #simbrl #the sims #lazlo curious #circe beaker #dina caliente #tank grunt #strangetown #pleasantview

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ororowrites · 3 years

Text

Two Thousand Twelve (Yahya x Black OC)

Sweet Thang Series - Chapter One

Warnings: Language, sexual situations, substance use

Word Count: 2,409

Los Angeles - 2012

Forty-five, forty six, forty seven, forty eight, forty nine, fifty! Candace finished up her last set of sit-ups, dusted off her leggings and grabbed her belongings. The gym served as her stress reliever, especially when her boyfriend was the cause of the stress. When she felt like she had worked up enough of a sweat, Candace returned to the off campus apartment she shared with her twin sister, Trinity.

They were both in their Senior year at USC, far away from their home in Chicago, Illinois. Candace was majoring in Dramatic Arts while her twin sister was studying History and Education. They were both the apple of their parents’ eyes but Candace was the child who went above and beyond to make them proud. Her sister Trinity was more of a free spirit and though she had many academic successes, she did not care what their parents thought or about their constant pressure. Trinity and Candace had two older sisters, Freida and Talia and a younger brother, Anthony who was about to start his freshman year of college. The twins were in their last semester of college and while they looked forward to graduating, they did not look forward to splitting up for graduate school. Candace had dreams of attending Yale’s Drama School and her twin wanted to move back home for her next educational ventures.

“I need to figure out what I’m going to do. At this rate, I can’t keep up with my tuition payments,” Candace complained, checking her bank statements. “Most of my money is going towards the car and insurance and I can’t get rid of that.

“Did you talk to someone in the financial aid office? They stay having attitudes in there but maybe they can help. I would say I’d help you....I’m broke as shit, though.” Trinity twirled her Ramen noodles around her fork and stuffed it in her mouth. “I’m surviving on Ramen noodles and faith.”

“I wasn’t expecting your help, Trin.” Options began to pile up in Candace’s head and only one of them appeared to be the best choice. Maybe not the best choice to many but her pride kept her from asking her parents for more help. Anthony Jr. was a talented athlete and with them putting him through school, she didn’t want to bug them. Plus, she wanted the best for her brother. He deserved the world for all the hard work he put into his craft and turning his life around after a rough patch.

“Getting another job is probably your best bet,” Trinity suggested, shrugging her shoulders.

--------

“Let me eat you out,” Maxwell whispered in Candace’s ear.

If she rolled her eyes any harder, they’d fall out of her head. Why did she even agree to come out with him when his sheer presence irked her soul? Maxwell was Candace’s on and off again boyfriend and right now they were in an off phase. As usual, Candace ended up making herself available so Maxwell could apologize.

“Why can’t you just watch the movie,” Candace ignored the twitch between her legs and kept her eyes on the movie screen. Agreeing to come to the drive-in was a poor decision. Everyone always ended up fucking at the drive-in.

“Come on, baby. I’m trying to apologize.”

“There’s a such thing as saying ‘I’m sorry’.” Maxwell’s verbal advances turned into physical ones as he pressed his lips to her neck.

“For a man that claims he knows me sure doesn’t get a clue.”

Even though she was slightly turned on and would do anything to take her mind off her latest concern, Candace was distracted.

“Aight then. What’s up? What’s on that pretty mind of yours,” Maxwell questioned, his golds glistening as he smiled.

Candace pulled at the drawstrings on her sweatshirt, “I don’t think I’ll be finishing school this semester.”

One thing Maxwell didn’t have to worry about was money when it came to school. He was a future NFL prospect and had a full-ride scholarship. “Damn, baby. Can’t you call your parents for help?”

“Ant is graduating this year. They’ve supported us all this time and I’ve been doing good paying my tuition this year. As soon as my hours got cut at work, shit started getting out of hand,” Candace sighed, running her hands down her face.

“Why didn’t I know this was going on?”

Taking a deep breath, Candace thought about how many ways could say, Because you only think about yourself. “You’ve been too busy worrying about other things. I told you they were going to cut my hours.”

“My bad. You know I stay busy with ball. I don’t remember you telling me that,” Maxwell replied, letting his hand rest on her thigh. “I would help you out if I could.”

No you wouldn’t, Candace thought. But, she stayed silent to protect her peace.

Maxwell’s hand crept across her lap and between her legs. She hated that she couldn’t control her sexual urge when it came to this man. The empty promises she made herself time and time again were getting ridiculous. Candace flinched when Maxwell’s cold fingers pushed her thin, cotton shorts to the side. Once again she was failing herself. Candace reached for the lighter and left over blunt that Maxwell had in the cup holder.

“Relax,” Maxwell hummed, waiting until he felt Candace’s muscles relax before pushing a finger past her folds. He watched Candace close her eyes, letting the smoke pass through her lips. Hitched breaths filled the car, even with the loud action scene coming through the speakers. Letting herself go, she began to roll her hips into his hand.

As usual, he had her where he wanted her. Right in the palm of his hand.

--------

San Francisco - 2012

Yahya returned from his lunch break early, excited about new ideas he wanted to write down before they left him. His mind never stopped going and it often kept him up at night. Since graduating from Berkeley, he worked for the Mayor’s office as an Urban Planner. His passion for building up the urban core piqued his interest in architecture and his minor in social justice. When he landed the job with the Mayor’s office, he jumped into projects feet first. He had been a part of two major projects and was currently working on another one.

“Mr. Abdul-Mateen,” the secretary said as Yahya walked through the glass doors and towards his office. “Mr. Reid would like to see you in his office.”

Stefanie’s statement did not worry him. Her eyes always held a certain sadness, so Yahya didn’t see that sadness as a threat. Yahya walked down the long hall to Mr. Reid’s suite. The normally rambunctious man was sitting at his desk but facing the the window overlooking the city skyline.

“Remember your first project, Yahya,” he asked, sensing a presence in his office.

“Yeah, that proposal for the new school. That one public official was a pain in our ass but the proposal finally went through at the last minute,” Yahya recalled, smiling at the memory of his first success on the job.

“Yeah, Mr. Ryan is a total hard ass for no reason. But you should be proud.”

Sensing a shift in the conversation, Yahya cut right to the chase. “Mr. Reid, what’s this about?”

“Um....why don’t you come take a seat,” the director motioned to the chair in front of his desk. With the way he was looking, this could not be good news.

Yahya had been let go. Even after all his hard work and fresh ideas, the city needed to make budget cuts and his job was one of the first on the list. Their reasoning? They had too many Urban Planners and could only afford to pay two of them and those two just so happened to be recent graduates that would get lower pay. His world felt like it had fallen apart in the ten minutes he spent in Mr. Reid’s office. What was he supposed to do now? There was no plan B when he was very calculated about his life decisions since childhood. Yahya knew what he wanted to do, which school he wanted to attend and which career path he would take to get to his ultimate goal of having his own architecture firm. This put a dent in his plans, leaving him feeling helpless.

When Yahya got home, he didn’t even think about calling his mother and father about the bad news. He wasn’t ready to accept the news himself, so he’d wait a couple of days. Instead, he called up his boys in Los Angeles and told them he was heading down for the weekend.

Kevin and Damon were brothers and Yahya’s best friends since grade school in Louisiana. When Yahya and his family moved to Oakland in his 6th grade year, they all remained close. Summers were spent in Louisiana and Yahya was grateful his friends were at least in the same state now. Kevin was a celebrity trainer and Damon was currently in law school. They had both moved to Los Angeles shortly after high school.

“What’s up, dude,” Kevin exclaimed, clasping Yahya’s hand and roughly patting him on the back. “Long time, no see. You ain’t been down here in a minute.”

“Shit, been busy, bro. Wassup Damon,” Yahya greeted the other brother and stepped inside their apartment. “Damn, the place is nice. Glad to see ya’ll asses finally got a couch and tv stand.”

“Shut the hell up. Always talkin’ shit,” Damon groaned. “Want anything to drink? Water, soda...or a drank drank?”

“You got anything dark? I’ll take some of that.”

“Long day, man? You look like you been through it,” Kevin added, joining Yahya in the living room. He flipped the television to Sports Center.

“Long day? How about a long week. They worked my ass. I may put in for some vacation time here soon. I need a break,” Yahya lied. He would keep this layoff a secret until he had a plan on where he wanted to go next.

“I hear you,” Kevin agreed.

The crew watched sports highlights and reminisced on their childhood for a couple of hours. It was late but the night was still young for them and they didn’t want to be stuck inside on a Friday night in Los Angeles. They hit the town, settling on a strip club downtown.

“Glad I got paid today because I’m about to go crazy up in this bitch. I heard this place has the best looking strippers and I’m tryna make someone’s daughter rich tonight,” Damon yelled over the music. Beautiful women seemed to be everywhere they turned. The strippers, the bartenders and a few women there for bachelorette parties or just there out of curiosity.

“Just as long as you have enough left for your half of the rent, nigga. I’m not covering your half again this month,” Kevin eyed a dancer on the stage twirling down the pole with her legs in a split. “Damn.”

Yahya was distracted. Even with all the good distractions in front of him, he couldn’t stop thinking about losing his job. The entire six hour drive to Los Angeles, he tried to think of a plan B or if he needed to move and try to get an urban planning position in a different city.

“Whoa, shit! Sorry,” a woman groaned, grabbing onto Yahya’s shoulder trying to catch her footing. “These niggas don’t know how to say excuse me around here. Sorry I ran into you.”

“Oh, you’re good. You okay,” Yahya caught the brown beauty before she could hit the floor.

“Yeah, first night back at this place. Gotta get used to the rude ass men in here. Thanks for catching me. Enjoy the rest of your night,” she quickly pushed through the crowd and disappeared.

Yahya turned back to his boys to find them shaking their heads. “What?”

“You just gone let shawty walk away like that? Did you see how that ass was sittin’? How those titties were sittin’? Honey was bad as fuck and you let her walk away,” Kevin sucked his teeth.

“Unlike you, I’m a gentleman. Plus, she was in a rush. She’s working.”

“Man, whatever, lets go find somewhere to sit and order some liquid courage. I’m trying to get fucked up tonight.”

The trio settled on a table in the middle of the club after ordering their first round of drinks. They spent a little more money than they wanted but Yahya finally loosened up and started to have a good time. The next morning, he’d probably regret all the alcohol he was consuming to numb his pain. Too much liquor meant making silly decisions; like paying for a private dance in the famous Dream room.

Yahya took a seat on the leather sofa and waited on a dancer. He had opted for the Friday night surprise, instead of asking one of the dancers on the floor for private time. The door opened and the woman who had run into him earlier that night closed the door behind her.

“Oh, you again,” she said with a grin.

“You act like that’s a problem,” Yahya laughed, licking his lips. His eyes were low from all the alcohol he had consumed that night. “Maybe this time I can catch your name, sweetheart.”

“A dancer never tells anyone her real name. I go by Cakes.” She stood in front of Yahya’s long legs, placing her hands on his knees. Anywhere by 112 started playing over the speakers. “This is one of my favorites.”

“Mine too.”

Candace tried to shake whatever connection she was having with this random man at the club. It was her first night back in two years and the first rule of Dynasty was to not fall for these randoms in the the club. They didn’t see you as anything else but a hoe in the strip club. Besides, things were on the upside with Maxwell.. at least for the time being. The only reason she had come back to Dynasty was to get enough money to pay up her tuition and put funds into her savings account for her moves after graduation. That was it. Candace had no room to be greedy because this was one secret she did not want getting back to her parents.

Rolling her body, Candace kept her eyes on the customer, dragging her hips to the seductive beat.

Maybe the long drive down to LA would be worth it.

Tags: @just-peachee @blackburnbook @emjayewrites @chaneajoyyy @kumkaniudaku

Want a tag? Please let me know and I’ll add you to my taglist for this series.

#yahya abdul-mateen ii #yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfics #fanfics #yahya x black oc #ororo writes #black fanfics #black writers

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gainaxvel3o · 3 years

Text

Ladybug Week 2020, Day 08: Free Day 2: Supergirl AU

(Last contribution. Honest! Enjoy!)

"Thank you for walking me home, Ruby."

It had been a long shift at the Daily Beacon. Editor in Chief Weiss Schnee scolded Ruby Rose and Blake Belladonna for being, in her own words, "reckless dolts who could set the whole building on fire playing with a toaster if they weren't constantly watched at all times." Blake didn't see the point of it. Weren't reporters supposed to be chasing after the next big scoop?

"W-well, I just wanted to help that's all."

She especially didn't appreciate Weiss yelling at her co-worker. Poor Ruby. With her short brown hair, glasses that dulled the color of her grey eyes and an oversized suit that made her look like a teenage girl than an experienced reporter, she was frequently ignored by everyone else in the office. Blake thought she was cute, if pretty shy.

Ruby could be pretty helpful around the office. More than a few nights, Blake fell asleep on the computer typing out a story and Ruby would gently rub her back and bring her favorite tea to cheer her up. With the pandemonium caused by the latest piece of news around the block, Ruby was a dear friend to have around.

"Thanks." Blake opened the door. "My interview is going to be in a few minutes. I'll see you and Jaune in the morning alright?"

"R-right." Ruby blushed. "Sure wish he was here. He could be taking pictures of it all ya know?"

"Probably. But this is something I need to do myself."

Ruby didn't say anything else. She waved good bye and Blake shut the door behind her. Blake made her way to her floor, to her room. She took off the jacket she had on, and checked the time.

8:24 PM.

"Six minutes. Almost time."

Blake went outside to the balcony. On the table she set down a bottle of wine, a note pad, and a pen. Her guest might appreciate some hospitality, even if she's being grilled. Blake started drinking the wine while thinking about the... insanity she's bound to learn soon enough.

A memory of a little cat faunus holding up a sign entered Blake's head. She remembered how that girl had to fend for herself in a world out to get her, how she worked and had to climb the ranks against all odds to become the reporter everyone takes seriously. Her integrity was never in question, which put her at odds with many, many people. To this day she was thankful that Weiss was willing to financially support her despite the trouble that came with it. There is no Prince Charming to come and save anyone. Honest people needed to stick together.

"Waiting for someone Miss Belladonna?"

Blake nearly spurt out her drink. She fixed up her purple dress to find her floating above the balcony. A young woman with bright red hair dressed in a long sleeve blue shirt with a big red and yellow S logo stamped on the chest. She had her hood down, which was part of a cloak that made it to her feet (how that didn't interfere with her flying Blake still didn't know). She also had a skirt reached up to her knees and red combat boos to match.

It was Vale's strange visitor Supergirl. Her silver eyes seemed to stand out in the dark, threatening to entrance whoever looked too deep into them.

'Yes, as a matter of fact I was." Blake pulled out her notes. "Ready to have that interview?"

Supergirl nodded, dropping gently into the balcony. She took her seat next to Blake.

"I just want to say Miss Belladonna, this is a tremendous honor." Supergirl said with a sickeningly sweet smile. "Your reporting has helped exposed governmental corruption, corporate scandals and various humanitarian crises. Especially for a Faunus reporter like yourself, you've earned those Pulizters."

"I prefer not to make a big deal out of my Faunus heritage, Supergirl." Blake said firmly. "I'm Blake Belladonna, star reporter for the Daily Beacon. There isn't anything else to it than that. I hope you're prepared to answer some questions."

"Certainly."

Blake adjusted her seat. Supergirl may have saved her a couple of time up 'till now (looking impressive while doing so she might add), but this wasn't the time to going gaga over it. She may be a threat.

"Let's ask the most obvious questions. Who are you?" Blake asked. "What are you here for?"

Supergirl sighed. She knew the cat would have to be let out of the bag at some point. Better on her terms than someone else exposing it.

"My birth name is... was Kara Zor-El." Supergirl said. "I'm the sole survivor of the Planet Krypton."

Blake almost dropped her pen. "P-planet?"

"I'm, well, an alien." Supergirl shrugged. "My parents put me in a spaceship so that I may live. I came here, got adopted, now I fight for truth and justice."

A motivation like that? So simple? Blake had to laugh. She won't fall for this cheesy crap.

"Truth and Justice huh?" She asked, her tone becoming sharper. "You're probably going to end up fighting every elected official in this country and outside of it."

"Probably." Supergirl laughed, a sound that seemed to bother Blake for some reason. "I'm not stupid Miss Belladonna-"

"Blake."

"You sure?" At her nod, Supergirl continued. "Okay where was I? Right. I'm not stupid, Blake. There's a way that the world works and it's not for everyone. Too many people get hurt, exploited, put in danger by the powers that be. Powers too cruel to see people as people. I'm here 'cause I think there's a better way to live than that, and I'm gonna do my best to bring it about."

"You're not the first to say that." Blake's voice shook a bit. "Nor the last. The world isn't fair."

"That's why we're here aren't we?" Supergirl looked intently at the reporter now. "To make it better. Both of us believe in the same thing. That everybody matters. We're all on the same team right?"

Blake had long ago stopped believing in Prince Charming. Yet this one, with a dashing cape and a brilliant smile... it was the closest she's seen to the real deal.

"Maybe..." Blake hesitated. "Maybe not. I hope we are."

That seemed to satisfy the caped wonder. Blake remembered that this was an interview and she had to continue with the questions.

"Right, so with that out of the way... what kind of powers do you possess?"

"Oh that? Hm..." Supergirl thought about it. "I can fly. I can shoot lasers from my eyes that burn through things. My eyes hurt whenever that happens. I can freeze things with my breath. I have X-Ray vision..."

At that, Blake's eyes widened. She covered her chest.

"What are you..." Supergirl seemed to realize what she said. "Oh no, NO! I would never do anything like that, promise! That's like, super creepy!"

The reporter let out a sigh of relief. There was one thing she wanted to ask though.

"Flying?" Blake asked hopefully. "How fast do you usually go?"

"Pretty fast. Maybe I can... show you?"

In her mind, Ruby thought she had absolutely screwed things. Stupid, stupid! She was supposed to be gaining Blake's trust, not try to woo her! Only a lovesick idiot would do something like-

"Sure."

-get giddy and stand up as soon as she heard the word yes. Supergirl took Blake's hand with her own.

"Kinda reminds me of Peter Pan..." Blake said out of nowhere. "Peter and Wendy going to fly together to Neverland. Like a dream or a fairy tale..."

"Peter Pan is technically a play, not a fairy tale." Supergirl said with a grin. "Then again, they operate under the same rules. Just hang tight."

In a move that made Blake think Supergirl had read her mind, she felt strong arms surround her waist. Letting herself go, Blake felt the wind on her face as the strange visitor from another planet took her out for a night that she would remember for the rest of her life.

#rwby ladybug #ladybug week 2020 #ladybug week #ladybug rwby #ladybug #ruby rose #blake belladonna #supergirl #superman au #supergirl au #it's seemed like a no brainer #superman #interview #date #au #fic #superman (1978)

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jaeminlore · 4 years

Text

You’ll Be By My Side | Yukhei

series timeline | playlist

summary: a holiday trip to the orphanage gives prince yukhei an idea.

words: 1.5k+ sorry it’s so short :/

category: seasons au, prince!yukhei, yukhei wants kids and by gosh he will get one

“Look!” You open the boxes, smiling at the different types of clothing. Each individual piece was asked for each one of the children in the village. “They are going to be so excited!”

Yukhei grabs a teal-colored tutu out of the box. “I bet this is Emrys’.”

“She wants to be a ballerina, like me,” you say, snatching the article of clothing back. “She’s doing so well in class, too. I can’t wait until the spring recital!”

“Relax,” Yukhei smiles down at you, endearment in his eyes. “Winter has barely started.”

“I know,” you say. “But we have so much to celebrate! Hyuck is back, Mark is getting married, the slave merchants are losing the war... This is a good end to the year. I’m excited to see what the spring will bring us.”

“Me too,” Yukhei says quietly, eyes studying the children’s clothing. Then, he clears his throat and straightens up. “Well, we’d best get these delivered.”

He holds the box in one arm and begins to walk out the door.

“Wait!” you shout, running after him. “I want to hold your hand.”

Yukhei giggles childishly and grabs your hand. He swings it back and forth as the two of you walk towards the door.

The orphanage is just a few buildings down from the schoolhouse. With school out for a small respite, every child is living back home for two weeks.

“Let’s visit the orphanage last,” you say. “We’ll have more time to speak to them.”

“I like the way you think,” Yukhei says, approaching George’s door.

It’s George’s grandson, Felix, that opens the door. His auburn curls have only gotten more wild since the last time you saw him.

He runs up to you and wraps his small arms around your legs. “Princess!” he squeals. “You came!”

Yukhei leans over to whisper in your ear, “They never remember I’m here when you come with me.”

You giggle. “Then you be the one to give him his present.”

“Present?” Felix perks up. “Mine?”

“Yeah!” Yukhei pulls out the article of clothing he knew Felix would want. It’s a little straw hat to perfectly match his grandfather when the two of them pull weeds together. “This is for you.”

Felix gasps and takes the hat into his chubby fingers. “Now I match Grandpa!”

The orphanage is small, which is good, because it means that it doesn’t have to hold too many children. The adoption rate has gone up since you and Yukhei passed a law where adoption is completely free and financially supported by the royal family, so long as monthly check-ups are in order.

You’re surprised there’s any children left, to be honest.

When you tell the Matron, she sighs distraughtly. “Well, there’s good news and bad news. The good news is that we have only one child left, and the bad news is that we only have one child left.”

Yukhei glances in the box and pulls out the last present. It’s a teal-colored tutu. “Emerys?” he asks.

You think of the girl — now six-years-old — spending the break with no one but herself. “Emerys is the only one left?”

“Yes,” The Matron says. “I’ve done my best to speak with a few couples, but they only want infants. Which is okay, but we’ve got a lovely child in there with no one to care for her in the way she deserves.”

You turn away to keep your tears from showing to anyone. No child should be alone. No child should feel unwanted. Especially not now. Not when families are being emphasized so much this season.

You know all too well what it feels like to be unwanted and unloved. The thought of Emerys feeling anything close to the things you felt makes you heartbroken.

“Come on,” Yukhei touches your elbow softly. “Let’s go see her.”

You sniff and nod. “Yeah. Sorry. Let’s go.”

Yukhei keeps a comforting palm against the small of your back, and the two of you walk into Emerys’ room. The little girl’s hair is down in springy curls. She’s having a tea party with her teddy bears. You see that she’s wearing the ring Yukhei gave her. It’s far too big for her finger, so it’s tied to a necklace around her neck.

“Guess who’s here?” The matron announces, startling Emerys.

The little girl drops her plastic teacup. As soon as her eyes land on Yukhei, she grins. “Yukhei! Y/n!” She runs up to Yukhei — always her favorite — and lifts her arms for him to carry her.

Yukhei lifts her up and sets her on his hip. “Hey, love. How’s life these days?”

“I’m having a tea party with Mr. Teddy,” Emerys says. “You guys can join if you want.”

Her spirit hasn’t wained. She’s still as bright and sweet as ever, pouring you and Yukhei pretend tea into plastic cups. “Have you had a lovely day, Princess Y/n?”

“Yes, I have, Princess Emerys,” you reply.

Emerys turns to Yukhei and clinks her cup against his rather harshly. “Drink up, Me hearties!”

“Yukhei!” You hiss while Emerys pours tea for her bear. “Stop teaching her pirate slang!”

“It’s funny,” Yukhei shrugs.

You give Emerys her present just before you and Yukhei leave. She squeals in excitement and begs you to take her dancing whenever you have another free day. You promise you will, and Yukhei and you take your leave.

It’s at night, when you’re brushing out your hair. Yukhei stands behind you and hugs your shoulders. He kisses your cheek. “Y/n? I’ve been thinking about something...”

“Me too,” you whisper. “Emerys needs a home.”

“With us,” Yukhei says slowly, gauging your reaction through your vanity mirror.

“Yes.” You place your palm against his cheek and pull him in to give you a kiss. “Yes. I think she needs a home with us.”

“And she’ll be our daughter. The heir to the southern throne.”

“If she accepts,” you say, meeting Yukhei’s eyes through the mirror. “She’ll be our daughter.”

“Ours,” Yukhei whispers to himself.

“Yeah, ours.”

Emerys is more than surprised to see the two of you again so soon. And truth be told, the two of you would’ve come even sooner, but Yukhei had to speak with his father about preparations.

There is now a small room conjoining yours and Yukhei’s, decorated with furniture especially picked out for Emerys.

“Are we ready to be the parents of a six-year-old?” You whisper to your husband just before he knocks on the orphanage door.

“I dunno,” he says. “But we weren’t ready to get married, and we worked that out. You and me have always worked things out together.”

“I’m proud of us,” you say. “Really.”

The matron opens the door with a giant smile on her face. “She has no idea why she’s packing her stuff. She thinks we’re going on a vacation.”

“I hope she’s not too disappointed,” you say.

Yukhei rushes in, ignoring the two of you. “Emerys!” he calls, “It’s Yukhei!”

“Yukhei!” Emerys runs out of her room wearing her tutu. She leaps into Yukhei’s arms and laughs as he spins her around. “What are you doing here?”

“We have a surprise for you,” you say. “Or, a question, more like.”

“What is it?” Emerys cocks her head to the side.

“Why don’t you sit down, Emerys?” The matron says. “On the sofa, here.”

Yukhei drops Emerys onto the sofa and sits down beside her. Emerys begins bouncing on the cushions.

You sit down on the coffee table and grab Yukhei’s hand, “So, uh, Emerys, how would you- uh-“ you stop, feeling yourself start to choke up.

Yukhei squeezes your hand. “Emerys? We wanted to ask if you’d consider coming to live with us.”

Emerys stops bouncing on the cushion. “Is the orphanage moving to the castle?” She purses her lips in confusion.

“No, sweetie.” The matron smiles at the two of you. “Y/n and Yukhei are asking if they can adopt you.”

Emerys blinks up at you. “You want to be my mommy?”

You wipe your eyes. Curse your hyperactive tear ducts. “Yes, Emerys.”

“I want to be your dad!” Yukhei says, poking Emerys’ cheek.

Emerys giggles and makes grabby hands for you both. “Okay!”

She brings the two of you into a hug, and you’ve never felt more at home.

“Y/n?” Emerys’ voice wakes you up. You check the clock and see that it’s just past midnight. Yukhei is still asleep, but Emerys is standing beside your bed in her nightgown, one hand wrapped around Teddy and the other clutching your sheets.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

Emerys shrugs. Her lower lip trembles for just a moment. “Can I sleep with you? My room is really big.”

“Of course,” you say. You hold out your arms and scoop her up. You pull her onto your bed between you and Yukhei and let her cuddle close to you. “You can sleep with us as long as you want.”

Emerys grabs your hand and Yukhei’s. Then, very quickly, her breathing slows and she falls back asleep.

You stay awake for a few minutes afterward, just watching Emerys and Yukhei sleep. Even though they can’t hear, you whisper your feelings into the night. “I love you two. So, so much.”

#nct au #nct fluff #nct angst #nct scenario #nct scenarios #yukhei au #yukhei fluff #yukhei angst #yukhei scenario #yukhei scenarios #seasons au #destwrites

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years

Text

Peaches and a tyrannical sea

(I decided to play around with this prompt, trying to make the story not overly contrived. I’m not sure I succeeded at that 😂, but it was SO fun to write what I imagine of young Hayffie 💕. I became a bit addicted to this fic, and I didn’t know when, where, or how to stop. Plus, I discovered a path to joy through writing dialogue for Caesar Flickerman, and who can resist a path to joy? So this story got long, probably the longest one-shot I’ve ever written, and if you read all the way through to the end, then I’m in awe of your stamina and devotion to THG/Hayffie crack.)

Category 5 “Hurricane Cronus” hit the coast of District 11 less than a month after the 60th Hunger Games, right in the middle of the summer harvest.

Being inland, the Victors’ Village was barely touched, but Chaff’s hometown was destroyed. Every shack collapsed, and every citizen who couldn’t get to higher ground perished.

The Capitol projected the fallen into the night sky with lights and music. 24 decimated crops: apples, beans, blueberries, cabbage, cantaloupes, eggplant, figs, gooseberries, grapes, herbs, kale, muscadines, nectarines, okra, peaches, pears, peppers, potatoes, raspberries, summer squash, corn, tomatoes, and watermelon.

Montages on screens throughout Panem showed flooded fields, flattened plants, and broken orchards. The images were accompanied by the voice of Caesar Flickerman, thick with serious tones. “Cronus, Titan of the Harvest, has unleashed His wrath upon Panem. But through the strength of the Capitol, we will replant. We will rebuild.”

Haymitch hurled a half-empty liquor bottle at the screen in the Hob, nicking the corner and leaving a crack. If he’d been more sober, he would’ve nailed Caesar in the face.

“You’d better be careful, honey,” Greasy Sae warned him. “They can still find ways to hurt you.”

“I doubt that.”

The older woman knew Haymitch well enough to not touch him when he was angry, but she soothed with her voice.

“Is that friend of yours okay? ...The one in 11.”

Over the past decade, Chaff had become a lifeline for Haymitch. His companionship through each Games was effectively an antidote to alcohol poisoning. If Chaff didn’t drink more than his share, then Haymitch probably would have had cirrhosis of the liver before age 26. His buddy always managed to bring some laughter into the atrocities of mentorship.

Sae was right. Haymitch still had people to lose. The Capitol could still hurt him. They would keep on hurting him if he didn’t feign indifference. And throwing a bottle at the screen showed the opposite of indifference.

“He’s okay.”

Sae offered a smile. “Good. That’s good, boy. From the way the Peacekepers are talking, it sounds like there’s been a lot of death. At least a thousand with the count rising. Some people got no fresh water to drink.”

“And the Capitol eulogizes crops.”

“It ain’t right. That’s for sure.”

Haymitch wasn’t drunk enough to face this conversation. And he was pissed about having thrown away the rest of his liquor.

“Can I offer you a bowl of beef stew? ...It’s on the house,” Sae added.

Normally Haymitch wouldn’t turn down a free supper, but the mystery meats that Greasy Sae served up under the name of “beef” sometimes turned his stomach.

“Not hungry,” he lied, “But thanks for the offer.”

“You take care, honey.” Her face fell as she watched Haymitch walk away to buy more booze.

***

The Capitol was abuzz with excitement about the fundraising event planned for hurricane relief. Replanting and rebuilding would come at a cost, and an auction was an opportunity for the wealthy to show off the depths of their family pockets.

“‘Picnic with a Victor’ is the promotional title,” Claudius Templesmith announced on screens throughout Panem.

“Sunshine... a day in Capitol Park... by the water...” Caesar responded with a neon white smile and a slap to his knee. “I LOVE it!”

Seated side-by-side in red velvet chairs, the two bantered back and forth about event details.

“The baskets will be stocked with delicacies prepared by the Capitol’s finest chefs, and made from crops harvested before Cronus hit our very own District 11.”

“Claudius, I’ve heard whispers that the picnics will include artesian wines made, not from grapes, but from muscadines.”

“Ah, muscadines! Amazing and desired for their incredible super-fruit properties.”

“Sweet, aromatic, and native to District 11. A truly unique Panem experience and proudly exported across the globe.”

“Caesar, do we know yet which victors have volunteered to picnic with the highest bidders?”

“Well, we’ve been trying to keep that, shall we say, under wraps, but if you twist my arm, I might be able to let out some hints.”

“Well then consider yourself twisted!”

“Ha HA, you know me so well!! And ouch, not so hard!” The two of them filled the airwaves with hysterial laughter.

“Seriously now. Let’s tell them.”

A drumroll began off camera as Caesar and Claudius took turns dramatically listing off numbers of the Games of the participating victors.

Effie was listening with mild disinterest until Caesar said “50.” When he said “50,” she knew her life was about to change. She was bound and determined to MAKE it change.

***

“Mother, Daddy, this is an excellent opportunity to be noticed, not just by society but by the professors who will be influencing my education and future career opportunities,” Effie lobbied hard to bid in the auction. At 18 years old, her parents’ permission was not as deep of a concern for her as their financial backing.

An afternoon with Haymitch Abernathy would draw a price. He was reclusive and young, but not young enough to deter the interests of wealthy older women, and men for that matter.

Effie would have competition in the bidding. She was certain about that in the same way that she knew wigs would be all the rage in a few years. Some things an observant and savvy woman simply KNOWS, and Effie considered herself to be both observant and savvy.

She’d inherited money from her great-grandmother, but she could keep that in savings accruing interest if her parents would back her now.

“Which victor will you bid to picnic with?” her mother asked.

“I’ll decide based on the way they present themselves on stage,” Effie answered evasively. “I want an investment which reflects positively on our family.”

“You need to be careful,” her father insisted, “Alto made such a showing in the Games last year that he’ll surely draw a high price, probably more than we can afford. Whoever you bid on, you need to win.”

“I’ll judge by applause and whispers in the crowd. I’ll be discerning; I won’t bid if I can’t win. ...Daddy, do I EVER lose?” Effie glanced between her parents without a single blink of her false purple eyelashes.

When her father blinked, she knew she had their support. “Your budget is $5000. Invest wisely.”

Effie would not be deterred by the limits of her parents’ generosity. Haymitch would be hers for the afternoon, no matter the cost. She’d imagined a connection with him for too long to let this opportunity slip through her fingers. Her classmate, Fulvia Cardew, would help. She was sympathetic to Effie’s interests, and with extended family in banking, Fluvia had deeper pockets than the president.

***

Haymitch would’ve almost preferred death over participation in the *dog and pony show* that this fundraiser was sure to be. Except Chaff had confided in him details of how badly the coast of District 11 had been wiped out. Since the Capitol depended on 11 to literally feed the lavish lifestyle of its citizens, then money raised would be of some help to the people of district. The Capitol needed workers alive, and for people to be stay alive to work they required basic shelter, drinkable water, and rations of food. Since Cronus, many towns in 11 lacked most essential survival needs.

Haymitch took pleasure in imagining Snow in fear about where his next meal would be coming from. Though he knew the tyrant would be the LAST person in Panem to go hungry. It would never come to that. Surely a traitor in his inner circle would slaughter that pig and eat him before either of them starved. The traitor would probably die afterward from the poison in Snow’s veins. Haymitch would have taken pleasure in all of that imagery too if it didn’t make him want to vomit.

August was warm in the Capitol. Late afternoon temperatures usually reached high into the 80s. So the auction was set for morning with the victory picnics beneath shade trees by the lake. An elaborate system of misters had been rigged up throughout the covered amphitheater and the Capitol Park.

Oh, the *horror* if one of these hoity-toity Capitol people should melt in the sunshine before the bidding even started. Haymitch had the thought, but the misters actually felt great by mid-morning when the participating victors were called on stage one-by-one for their interviews with Caesar, who was functioning as Master of Ceremonies.

Caesar introduced each of them to the audience by name, number of their district, and number of their Games. Each victor had been directed the night before to memorize a brief script about what moved them to volunteer for the fundraiser. The script Haymitch had been given included a ridiculous ode to peach trees.

He had let himself be dressed up for the event. He’d even let them trim his hair and shave his face. He’d get up on that stage mostly sober. He would smile and let himself be auctioned off to the highest bidder. But there was no way in hell he was going to eulogize peaches when nearly every person in his best friend’s hometown was a corpse.

He had a flash of the Seam and the dead bodies of his loved ones, poisoned. That was 10 years ago, and the flashbacks still came to haunt him with pale faces. In earlier more innocent times, he and his brother had found a peach tree while exploring north in the district. That was in the days of fewer Peacekepers and fewer questions about destinations. His brother picked two peaches, one for each of them. The flavor, texture, and color were unlike anything Haymitch had experienced before. That peach was full of dualities: sweet and tart, uncomfortable skin yet soothing flesh, solid and juicy. Yellow and red swirled on his tongue.

He thought of that peach years later when he had sex with his girlfriend the night before the Reaping. HIS Reaping. She felt like that peach when he came inside her. So tender. It was his first time. A few weeks later she was a ghost.

Haymitch shivered under the misters, waiting like livestock in line for slaughter. He needed a drink, badly, but if not for sobriety, then in lieu of delivering an ode to the fruit, he might inadvertently describe making love with the girlfriend murdered by Snow.

That conversation would not only get him killed, but would get him the wrong type of bidders. He was a volunteer today, not a prostitute. This commitment did not carry over from afternoon into evening. He would not be fucking the fool willing to pay hundreds of dollars for his company, some food, and a hill-billy-red-neck bottle of wine.

...Except for maybe HER, he thought as he scanned the paddle holders in the crowd. That girl with blonde hair. He’d fuck somebody like her, all soft and shit, dressed up in clothes and makeup that made her look older than she probably was.

***

“He’s looking at you,” Fulvia whispered to Effie, “He’s been staring at you for at least a minute.”

Of course he’s looking at me. Have you seen me today? Effie thought. Manners prevented her from praising herself out loud.

She met Haymitch’s gaze and offered him a controlled smile, warm but not flashy. I see you, was what she wanted to communicate for now. The rest could wait until after she won the bid.

Their eye contact broke when someone poked Haymitch in the back. Caesar had called him onstage, “Winner of the 50th Hunger Games, from District 12, Haymitch Abernathy!” While eye-fucking with her, he’d missed his cue.

Effie watched him saunter over to Caesar, as if things like cues and pace were irrelevant. He relaxed into the chair with his knees slightly splayed, like he and Caesar were old friends meeting at a bar. Effie half-expected Haymitch to call out for a server to bring them drinks. Maybe he and Caesar actually WERE friends. She knew nearly nothing of the life of a victor.

“Haymitch...” Caesar began, “It’s a rare treat to have you here, the victor of a Quarter Quell.” Then to the audience he added, “Isn’t this exciting!!”

The audience cheered wildly. They’d been served pink champagne all morning in an effort to up the bidding. A few people were already raising their paddles. Effie held hers firmly by her side. Patience. Control, she told herself. She would not appear too eager. With this event televised throughout Panem, her every move was a reflection on herself and her family.

“Now, hold on, ladies and gentlemen,” Caesar continued, “Let’s allow this young man to introduce himself.”

Effie liked the way Caesar called him young. Over the past several years, Haymitch’s shoulders had broadened and his body had filled into its frame. His eyes sunk deeper with each Games, but his face was still boyish. She still saw in him the kid who held Maysilee’s hand as she died.

“What inspired you to volunteer to be here today?” Caesar asked gravely.

Haymitch pushed his hair back from his eyes, and spoke not to Caesar, but to the cameras, to all of Panem.

“I have friends in 11.” He thought of Chaff and Seeder. “They grew up there climbing trees in the orchards. Kids are light enough to reach the fruit at the top, so they climb a lot and grow strong — but not as strong as a tyrannical sea...

“...I ate a peach once. The kid who picked it is gone now. I couldn’t save him, and I couldn’t save those kids in 11 either who were flattened under the walls of their own houses. When you’re a scared kid, you run home.” He looked straight at Effie, and in that moment she felt the weight of so much she didn’t understand.

“...But sometimes home is the least safe place to be. I’m here today to help raise money so the families that survived Cronus can have shelter, fresh water, and food again.”

Caesar was as stunned into silence as the crowd.

Haymitch quickly added from the script that he’d ripped up the night before, “...So they can replant and rebuild through the generosity of the Capitol.” He skipped the ‘Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever’ victory tour-style bullshit.

“And replant and rebuild they shall.” Caesar’s gloom rapidly up-shifted to elation. “...Am I right, folks?!”

The crowd broke into thunderous applause, and the bidding for a picnic with Haymitch began.

“Shit...” Fulvia muttered, “After that speech, he’s going to cost a fortune.”

“Language!” Effie chastised her lightly, “We’re all on the monitors.”

“Well, he will. How much do you have?”

“$5000 plus the money my Nana left me, but I’m hoping to save as much as I can of that for after University.”

“Let’s see if that’s enough.”

Effie pressed her paddle to the side of her skirt. Her hands were shaking. She watched the bidding go back and forth between several individuals, with Caesar raising the amount in $100 increments, as he had with the other victors.

Most of the bidders eventually fell away, and a battle commenced between two women Effie didn’t recognize. Fluvia knew them through her family’s social circle.

“The short one’s divorced. The other is widowed. Her husband died last year of a heart attack while screwing his secretary. Both of their investments are shit right now.”

“Once again, language! ...And thank you for the information.”

“Let them tire each other out, and then jump in.”

When Caesar said, “$4500. Do I hear $4600? No? $4500 going once...” Effie raised her paddle as high as she could reach. Since she was wearing 5 inch heels, her bid couldn’t be missed.

“$4600 it is! Do I hear $4700?...”

The bidding continued between Effie and the widow. Effie selfishly hoped the dead deadbeat husband hadn’t left her with millions in insurance money that Fluvia knew nothing about.

$4800... $4900... $5000... “I am absolutely thrilled! Are you thrilled!?” Caeser chimed in, and the audience cheered again.

Effie refused to be distracted. She didn’t look at the audience or the widow or Fluvia or even Caesar. Just Haymitch. Just those sunken eyes that had seen things she wanted to understand. She didn’t dare glance at his mouth. Patience. Control. She needed to stay on task.

She kept her paddle up now, trying to intimidate the widow, wanting her to think that Effie was bidding with all the money in the world, rather than an allowance from her parents and her personal savings.

The widow took the bid to $5100, but Effie refused to let go. She kept her paddle up, dipping now into the money from her great-grandmother. Nana would approve of this investment, Effie justified. Because this is an investment in ME.

Effie kept her paddle raised as the widow volleyed with her until Effie had the bid at $7000. The widow glared at Effie whose eyes stayed fixed on Haymitch. Fluvia, however, flashed the widow a wry smile and waggled her fingers in a clear message... This girl is with me, Fluvia Cardew, of the multi-millionaire Cardews. We own the banks, honey, and we’re not backing down. You’re wasting your time.

“Do I hear $7100? No? $7000 going once... going twice... and the picnic is sold! Congratulations to the winner! Ms...” Caesar glanced at the monitor which matched her paddle number to her name, “...Effie Trinket!”

Everyone cheered except for the widow, the divorcee, and a handful of earlier competitors. Fluvia embraced Effie, pressing a plump silver-flower-tattooed cheek to Effie’s flushed one. “Holy shit! You did it.”

Effie didn’t bother to chastise this time about language. Her hands were steady now, but the rest of her body was shaking.

***

Haymitch knew he wouldn’t forget the intensity in those blue eyes for as long as he lived. A tyrannical sea was nothing compared to this girl. He shook Caesar’s extended hand and then left the stage to gather with the other chosen victors as the bidding continued for the rest.

“$7000 for lunch with me?” He uttered with incredulity. “Capitol people! That girl isn’t a fool though. She was stoic as fuck. What’s her motivation?”

“She wants more than lunch.” Chaff clapped him on the shoulder and left the pressure of his hand there to emphasize a point. “I saw you two eying each other before you even went on stage. I know she’s hot, man, but she’s jailbait. Maybe she’s technically legal, since she was bidding and all. But if you touch that girl, I guarantee her father will hunt you down for his own picnic, and he’ll hand you your ass on a platter.”

“I wasn’t thinking about touching her. I was thinking about 11 and the goddamn script and peaches...”

Chaff lifted his eyebrows, and Haymitch lowered his voice to confess.

“...And now I’m thinking about eating peaches off her body. Jesus Christ. Did you see her out there?! Who is Effie Trinket?”

“I don’t know, but you’ll find out soon.”

***

Effie had spent her entire life rehearsing the practice of patience and control. She wore those manners as masks while the auction continued and the sun climbed the sky. She didn’t let her guard down, even as the cameras moved on to other bidders and winners. She could credit the heat with flushing her cheeks. No one would notice her shaking, except maybe Fluvia, but her friend wouldn’t make a big deal of it. Effie applauded when the audience applauded. She declared, “Wonderful!” with each sum of money raised.

Inside herself she was a cyclone of insanity with a pounding heart, feeling everything but patience and control.

When the auction was finished, she made her donation through a system of direct withdrawal from her bank account. Sometime between her winning the bid and making payment, her parents had transferred an additional $2000; therefore, she wouldn’t need to dip into her savings today. OF COURSE they did. There would have been nothing more embarrassing for the Trinkets than their daughter coming up short financially in such a public way. Then again, her inheritance from Nana wasn’t a secret, so maybe they simply saw wisdom in Effie’s investment.

When the donation was complete, an official escorted her across the Capitol Park lawn to her picnic. Haymitch was sitting on a shaded blanket with his back against a tree and his legs out straight, crossed at the knees. His pants were rolled half-way up his shins, and his shirt sleeves to his elbows. His tie draped over the back of his neck, the buttons of his vest were unhooked, and his shoes and socks were off.

He watched her approach and didn’t stand up to greet her. This would have miffed Effie if he didn’t look so good sitting there, casual, like with Caesar on stage, as if she was a friend he was waiting for before ordering drinks rather than a stranger who just paid thousands of dollars to have lunch with him.

“You’ve come undone,” she said, as she kneeled across from him on the blanket, just close enough to reach out and touch.

“Not yet, sweetheart. Me undone is not such a pretty sight.”

She mulled over his words, and chose hers carefully, “We’ll see about that.”

She held out her hand, covered from wrist to knuckles in lace gloves woven with golden thread. “I’m Effie.”

Haymitch consided his options. He could shake her hand. He could hold her fingers and kiss her knuckles. Or maybe...

He leaned forward and slipped his fingertips beneath the lace at her wrist and peeled off her glove slowly enough for her to object, but she didn’t.

She liked the way he did it, gently and without asking. His hands were uncaloused. The touch was soft along her skin.

He laid her glove on the blanket between them and captured her hand between both of his. “Haymitch,” he said.

“I...” She could feel her cheeks blazing and made a mental note to wear more layers of makeup in the future to prevent her feelings from being so readily exposed. “...I’m pleased to meet you.”

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “These picnics are being televised. Is your father watching?”

“Possibly. ...Act chivalrous.” She presented her other hand, which he divested of its glove in the same manner as the first.

“I don’t ACT, sweetheart.” He whispered, “Chivalry isn’t what I have in mind when I take off a woman’s clothes.” Shit. He was flirting with this girl, and he MEANT it. She was lighting him up like crazy.

Effie thrilled at the thought of him regarding her as a woman. She had wondered if her youth might prevent him from perceiving her as she was.

“And chivalry isn’t what I’m thinking about when a man takes off my clothes,” she whispered back.

He recognized that despite the differences in their ages, she possibly had more experience with nakedness than he did. He found himself picturing her that way. wondering what shape her breasts would take when not fashioned by the stays of a corset. Would they be soft, like her hands?

“My eyes are up here, Haymitch.”

This girl was bossy beyond her years. Either she was precocious or a bitch or both. He didn’t know yet. Whatever it was, he was amused and turned on, especially after imagining her breasts in his hands. How did this turn personal so quickly? This Effie was a Siren. He would need to be cautious.

“I was just wondering where’s your school uniform?” He teased her, subtly inquiring about her age.

“Burned! I’m attending University.” She was vague about her age with intention.

Too bad, Haymitch thought. He wouldn’t mind seeing her in one of those pleated Academy skirts.

“Thirsty?” The wine was uncorked and chilling in a bucket of melting ice.

Effie nodded, eager to be just a bit drunk with him. Not too much, but enough to let go of a modicum of tight control.

Haymitch had been sober all morning. This girl had been a welcome distraction from craving, but he was salivating now in anticipation of a drink, even if it was just muscadine wine. Stemmed glassware for a picnic was Capitol nonsense. He was tempted to drink straight from the bottle and pass it to her to do the same, but he resisted. He set the goblets on the breadboard and filled them. The wine was the color of crushed plums.

Effie curled her legs to the side and relaxed onto the blanket. She unzipped her boots and slipped them off along with knee-high stockings. “When in Rome...“ she said as Haymitch stared at her bare calves and feet.

“Let’s drink to that.”

She swirled the wine in her glass before clinking his. “And what else did the Romans do — besides picnic in bare feet?” she asked after a sip.

He drank the contents of the goblet in one swallow. He wouldn’t hide who he was, not from this girl or anyone else. “The Romans were into self-indulgence.”

She followed his lead and swallowed half the wine in her glass. “Satisfying one’s desires, pleasures, lusts, and whims without restraint?”

Capitol parties, he thought, wondering if she was old enough yet to take part in that life.

“A lot of that happens here...”

He admired her for being aware of at least that much.

She lowered her voice. “Except in the House of Trinket, where the only *indulgence* encouraged is in perfecting oneself.”

He took another look at her in light of that personal information. Her long blonde hair swooped over her forehead and trailed down her back in immaculate soft curls. Not one hair was out of place, even with misters and fans blowing at a summer picnic.

“Is there much self-indulgence in District 12?” she asked.

Clearly an Academy education didn’t teach much about the real world. “Only in the *House of Abernathy.*” He refilled their goblets and drank more slowly this time.

“Are you mocking me?” she asked straight-up.

His tone had indeed been mocking, and he hadn’t really meant for it to be. He liked this girl, and he wouldn’t judge her for things she’d never seen or heard before.

“I’m mocking my own reality, sweetheart. ...You know how many victors live in 12.”

“Only you...” She didn’t know what that meant for him other than the words sounded lonely. Victors were celebrities here in the Capitol. Maybe it wasn’t like that in the districts. Maybe... “Are you alone?” she asked, “In the *House of Abernathy*...”

What to say to her? She surely didn’t pay all that money to spend an afternoon listening to his sad stories. Though something about her made him want to speak openly in the way he told the cameras about 11. Something about her made him want her to know the truths of the world, while her mind was still supple like her skin.

“I’m not alone today, not here,” was his answer. Evasive, yet true.

She watched his mouth say the words. His lips were lightly stained by the wine. Effie had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in her life. “Haymitch...” She touched him instead, caressing tanned skin and fine hair just beneath the rolled up hem of his pant leg.

She felt so good; he closed his eyes for a moment. Then they shot open. Chaff was right. If he wasn’t careful, this girl would be his downfall. “Effie... the cameras...”

It was the first time she heard him say her name. She smiled and reluctantly withdrew her hand. “Are you hungry?”

That question was safer to answer, but barely. “What’s in the basket?”

Effie took out one item at a time: Steak sandwiches with melted cheese on dark crescent-shaped rolls dotted with seeds, the signature bread from district 11... A warm succotash of corn, shelled green beans, diced potatoes and summer squash, tomatoes, multi-colored sweet peppers and okra... And for dessert an apple pie, plus sliced peaches in a jar full of honey. The latter inspired Haymitch to revisit his daydream from earlier. The honey only added to the fantasy.

This one basket contained more food than an entire family from District 11 or 12 would eat in a week or more. Should he mention that in response to her earlier question about self-indulgence? Maybe later. For now he’d rather be with her in the fantasy.

“A $7000 picnic. Is it what you were hoping for?”

“Let’s taste everything and find out.”

As they ate and drank, their questions for one another grew more intimate.

“I always watch for you among the victors at these events, but I’ve never seen you do this kind of thing before.”

“You watch for me?” He grinned. “HOW LONG have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to know you’ve never done this kind of thing before.”

“I don’t do these kinds of things because I don’t like feeling like livestock... or a hooker.”

Effie gasped. “Haymitch, I wouldn’t! I’ve thought about you a long time. This isn’t a passing fancy. My interest is too marked to pretend I’m not pursuing you. But I’d never expect you to...” She lowered her voice to a murmur. “I didn’t invest that money so you would... fuck me.”

...I want more than that, she didn’t say.

...I’d fuck you in a heartbeat if these cameras and people would disappear, he didn’t say, but he’d decided it this morning the first moment he saw her.

He grazed her pinky with his, liking the idea of her *pursuing* him, whether or not her efforts were misguided. “HOW LONG?” he pressed,

“This feels like confession.”

“Sweetheart, I ain’t a priest. I just want to know you.”

Effie released a long sigh of feelings she’d been holding in forever. “10 years.”

“Shit. Since the Games?! You were just a kid.” You’re still just a kid. ...Only she wasn’t.

“I sat for an hour every day for years as my mother wove pink ribbons into my hair. In the stillness I thought a lot about the boy who separated from his friend in the Games so they wouldn’t have to kill each other — the boy who held her hand so she wouldn’t have to die alone. I watched you grow up in my mind more than anyplace else.”

Her honesty deserved his in response. “That boy is gone. It’s just me now... a man who drinks in order to try to sleep through nightmares — a man who goes to bed alone so I don’t accidentally slit anybody’s throat. ...It may not be what you paid all that money to get to know about me, but it’s the truth.”

Effie was stunned into silence and sympathy. She felt pity for him now, and she didn’t want to. There were some realities she wasn’t quite ready to face. His description wasn’t what she imagined the life of a victor should be.

She wore masks well, but he could see the change in her expression, and he didn’t like it. Pity, especially from a Capitol girl, was the last thing he wanted. But better that than her wasting her life dreaming about somebody who isn’t even real.

“Why DID you come here today? Beyond what you told Caesar.”

“One of those friends I mentioned in 11 — well, the hurricane flattened his hometown. Hundreds of people died, and the survivors have nothing, honey.”

“HUNDREDS of people died?”

“Over a thousand.”

“Why did the news show only crops?”

“That’s for you to figure out. I don’t expect they’re gonna teach you that at University.”

More sympathy crept over Effie. She was overwhelmed and started shivering like during the bidding.

Haymitch wasn’t sure what to offer her. She was so close to still being a kid herself. But with the face and body and guts of a goddess.

“Do you want to get out from under these misters and walk down to the water? We could pack the food away and eat more later. If we just have this one day...” He didn’t finish the thought. This day was hers. He’d let her fill it in anyway she wanted.

“We’ll have more than this one day. Every fiber in my being tells me we will.”

There was no point in arguing with so much gumption. He stood up and held out his hand. She grasped it, and he pulled her up. They walked barefoot through the grass, then ran across the beach to the water’s edge where the damp sand cooled the soles of their feet.

The lake lapped at Effie’s toes and she scribbled in the sand with one. How many times in adolescence had she come to this spot and written “Effie Abernathy” over and over again, dotting each “i” with a heart? Had she been a fool?

“There’s a lake near 12. It’s a secret spot. My brother and I used to sneak there as kids and swim naked so we wouldn’t have to hike back home in wet clothes.”

Now she was picturing Haymitch naked. And wanting him naked, regardless of his drinking and nightmares and sleeping with knives — and regardless of what she said she didn’t expect from him. She’d been with boys, plenty of boys, but he was a man, and she was so curious about the way he would fill her.

Effie cleared her throat of unspoken longing and pedaled backward in the conversation. “You have a brother...”

“I had a brother then. ...He died a couple of weeks after the Quarter Quell.”

She brushed her fingers against his, wishing she could offer more, but the cameras were on them. “I’m sorry,” she said in reference to everything.

“It was a long time ago.”

“You must miss him.”

Haymitch nodded. “He’s more free dead than alive. It’s a small comfort.”

Effie wanted to understand. She just didn’t.

“My great-grandmother died too shortly after your Games...”

District 12 is in your future, dear, Nana had said. And that boy is an important part of it. Effie dwelled a moment in silent memory before confessing more.

“...She told me you’d be in my future.”

Haymitch had no faith in fortune telling wishes and dreams. He usually flipped people off who tried to tell him how the future would be. The shit he’d been through was unfathomable. How could anyone predict anything but more horror.

“That said, Nana was a bit eccentric in the end.” Effie smiled wistfully.

“You still miss her...”

“Every day. Unconditional love is a rare gift.”

“Do you think her *prediction* was just eccentricity?”

“It was a long time ago, but I remember how certain she was.”

“How can anyone be certain about anything in this world?”

Effie considered his question. “Did you know I would win the bid today?”

Haymitch thought of that drawn out moment with her eyes on him and her paddle in the air. “Yes.”

“How did you know?”

“I saw it in your eyes... Determination, and this... wild control.”

“Maybe that’s how my Nana knew.”

“She saw our future in your eyes?”

He said ‘our future’ like it was almost fated. Maybe it was a slip, but Effie wouldn’t ignore it.

“I didn’t ask her. And then it was too late to ask her.”

She gazed down at the sand, and the tips of her long purple eyelashes touched her cheeks. They were the same color as her skirt which loosely hugged her curves then flared at mid-thigh. The hem brushed her knees as she moved. She reminded him of the violets that bloom in 12 after the snow melts. Birdfoot Violets his mother used to call them. He smiled at the name, watching Effie’s toes curl in the sand.

When she looked up at him, her eyes reflected the water, the sky, and intensities of her own. Haymitch had never wanted to kiss a person so badly in his life.

“Later, when these cameras are gone, do you want to go somewhere together?” she asked.

“Cameras are never gone. They’re always watching, even when you least expect them to be. He recalled Greasy Sae’s warning, “You’d better be careful. They can still find ways to hurt you.”

He’d been so preoccupied with thinking that Effie might be his downfall that he hadn’t considered the possibility that he could be HER downfall. Intensity crashed over him in waves. He hadn’t expected to feel any of this. Yet here it was.

Effie picked up a stick and started writing in the damp sand. To anyone at a distance it would look like play. ‘Cameras aren’t watching quite everywhere.’

He erased her note with his foot then took the stick and wrote, ‘Where would we go?’

Her turn to erase and write. ‘I know a bar. It’s just dark enough...’

‘When?’ He wrote.

‘Tonight?” ...She hesitated, then dotted the ‘i’ with a heart.

“You’re so young,” he said aloud, “You have your whole future ahead of you. I don’t want them to hurt you.”

“I hold my own. No one’s going to hurt me. ...Not even you, honey.”

He wanted to believe her. He erased the letters, leaving the heart for an instant, then brushed that away too. The word stuck in his throat. He could either swallow it or say it out loud.

“Tonight,” he whispered, “...And bring the jar of peaches — in case this afternoon isn’t enough.”

#hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #chaff #caesar flickerman #fluvia cardew #thg #thg fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #claudius templesmith #greasy sae #the capitol #HayffieFics

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missmonsters2 · 5 years

Text

The Color of You || Part IV

PAIRING: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: It was another mission Natasha was assigned to. Nothing she hasn’t done before. Same mission, different people. Sent undercover to investigate William Cain, suspect to funding terrorism and smuggling weaponry. Under the disguise of Natanya Rovinski, Natasha is ready for another routine mission. Until she met you, William’s fiancé.

Warnings: There are dark elements to this series. Also, smut later on.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Action

NOTE: Y’all know the drill. Drop a comment to be added to tag list! Also, I wrote this while I was sick, so please ignore any glaringly obvious mistakes LOL

PART I || PART II || PART III

PART IV of X

Count: 2420

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The morning before Natasha was to meet William, she decided to stop by to see you again. Natasha’s not exactly sure what compelled her to do so, but it didn’t settle well with her how things ended last night.

The maid let Natasha right in, stating once more that William was already gone to work.

Now, Natasha stood before your studio door again, looking through the glass at your back once more.

You were painting, working on the same piece you were last time. Whatever it was, you were intensely focusing on it.

Natasha let out a slight huff of breath as she tapped her knuckle lightly against the door.

You jumped slightly and genuinely.

“Come in,” you said, turning your attention to the door. You seemed surprised to see Natasha entered, but your face showed no memories of last night--to Natasha anyways.

“Natanya,” you greeted quietly, and it was then that Natasha finally got a better look at you.

There were streaks of paint on you again, shades of yellow on your arm and even a stripe on your cheek.

Your hair was in a tied up messy bun, strands falling out and framing your face as you demurely tucked a stray strand behind your ear.

Natasha missed this look of you. Rather than the fancy dresses and strains of politicians around you, she wanted you to always look like this.

But when she looked at the oversized men’s shirt on you, she couldn’t help but shirk a little.

And you noticed.

“Is that William’s?” It’s hardly words of greeting, and Natasha feels she might regret hearing the answer, but she can’t help it.

You’re ruining her.

You look down at your shirt and chuckle lightly.

“No,” you tell her, and Natasha feels the tension in her stomach relax, and it annoys her a little.

“I end up ruining a lot of shirts when I’m painting, so I buy shirts in bulk for cheap,” you explain further, tugging slightly at the hem of your shirt.

Natasha only smiled, eyes flitting over to your painting.

“Yellow today?” Natasha asks even though it’s clear with the streaks of paint on you.

You nod, looking at your work in progress as well.

“Tell me something about the color yellow,” Natasha says, falling into habits.

“Other than the obvious things?” You tease her and tilt your head when she chuckles.

“Well,” you start, thinking of what to tell Natasha. “Yellow is actually a very difficult color to read. Since it reflects so much light, it’s straining to the eyes. I can’t help but feel happy when I see the color, though.”

“Why?” Natasha asks softly.

You look up to the ceiling, and Natasha wonders what you see.

“It reminds me of my childhood,” you reveal to her. “In my parent’s summer cabin they used to own by a lake. Many yellow flowers grew there, and my mother used to bake sweets while my father fished. I would draw in my sketchbook, and nothing mattered then.”

“What did you want to not matter?”

“The future,” you say quietly.

The way you said it was so soft and sad that Natasha might’ve missed it if she weren’t hung up on your every word. But then the moment was gone when you looked back down and quirked your lip at Natasha.

“What else do you see about the color yellow?” Natasha asks you, not sure what else she can say but she doesn’t want the moment to end.

“It’s a complex color,” you tell her. “But it’s also the color for friendship.”

There it was.

Acknowledgment of last night.

Words that Natasha didn’t want to hear.

And so she crosses the threshold, invading your space as her hand touches the bottom of your back, dragging it’s way up until it’s between your shoulder blades.

“How are you so different from William?” Natasha asks quietly in your ear.

This was exactly what you had asked Natasha not to do, but she can’t help herself. She doesn’t want to pull away.

“How can you tell me to just be your friend?” It was a quiet hiss in your ear. Natasha lined her shoulder up to yours, her right hand covering your left.

“How can I only be your friend?” She asks you, her lips just brushing the tip of your ear and you bite your tongue.

“When I’m begging you like this?” Her forehead momentarily rests against yours as if in defeat and Natasha feels a wet spot against her wrist.

She pulls back to see a bright shade of yellow against her black sleeve. Your eyes pull down, and you frown.

“Sorry--I’m always getting paint on you,” you tell her, turning away to grab a cloth but Natasha grabs your hand.

“No,” she tells you. “I don’t want you to wipe it away.”

Her hand slowly slips from yours, and Natasha turns away to walks off, adjusting her coat in her arms.

“Natanya, wait--”

Natasha stops and turns her head back at your call.

“Tell...tell me something interesting too,” you ask her softly.

Natasha purses her lips tightly before sighing as she gives you a half-hearted smile.

“It’s getting harder to pretend you exist only here to me.”

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Natasha pinches the bridge of her nose.

She’s distracted.

How immature of her, she thought.

The entire afternoon, Natasha had been working on looking through the files and following up with Tony to see if he had anything.

The entire time, she couldn’t get you out of her head.

A part of her--the dark park, whispered about how it was a weakness. You were a weakness, an infection that was making her inefficient.

But after years of being with Clint, it was easier to silence the voice.

She heard a car drive up to her front porch and checked the time.

New plan, Natasha thought.

If she could find out tonight what William’s plans were, and in addition, secure all the microchips, she could be done with this all.

William would be put away, the microchips wouldn’t be released, and you?

You...

Natasha released a heavy sigh from her nose before she opened the door to see the driver.

“Miss Rovinski,” he greeted before gesturing to the car.

One step at a time, Natasha reminded herself.

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The drive was shorter than Natasha thought was normal.

The driver wasn’t taking her to the warehouse that Natasha had seen Emilio load off the microchips at.

In fact, she ended up on the Cain’s estate once more, but instead of the main house, she was being led to the right-wing that was detached.

“Natanya, glad to see you made it okay,” William greeted her as she stepped in. She was the last to arrive, seeing many familiar faces of politicians and CEOs of companies that were supporting William’s campaign.

There was one face that Natasha didn’t recognize.

A woman with very sharp facial features, blonde hair, and in a tight pencil skirt stood a little further away with her hands behind her back.

Natasha took a seat as William started his presentation.

“I’m glad you all could make it. As you know, I’ve promised for my campaign something revolutionary...and I’m here to provide just that.” William grinned, throwing his palm out to the blonde in the back. She placed something in his hand and William brought it back, placing it delicately on the table.

“What this? A phone chip?” One of the CEOs asked as he leaned closer to take a look.

William chuckled and shook his head.

“Not even close. This, everyone, is our future. It’s a bio nanochip, meant to be inserted just right behind your ear. It’s a data collector. Anything about yourself will be put onto this microchip. Health, genetics, personal preferences, all of it.”

“Why would anyone want to have that?” Another person asked, William just grinning further.

“Think of it like this. Your family has a history of heart problem, the nanochip picks up on that. You’re constantly making unhealthy choices--not exercising, eating junk food, not visiting the doctor. The nanochip is picking all this up, by the way. Maybe you need a heart transplant--what would you do?”

The men and women looked at each other around the room, perplexed by the hypothetic situation.

“I would go to the best doctor available,” one woman said.

“What if you can’t afford it?” William countered.

“I--” She stuttered.

“What if you’re a student wanting to go to the best university there is, and you didn’t get any scholarships--what would you do?”

“Get student loans from the bank or government,” a CEO offered.

“You didn’t qualify, or maybe you don’t want to pay the insane interest rates for the rest of your life. What then?”

Everyone is silent. Natasha is confused about what exactly William wants to do.

He pushes the nanochip forward.

“This nanochip collects all your data on you, gives you the information via an app. As stakeholders, you’ve all purchased your share into the company I’ve started up to provide this technology to the public. The chip is free itself but to get it, people must sign an agreement with our company that it can collect, use, or sell their data.” William lifted his finger off of the nanochip, looking at everyone.

“In situations where maybe people are looking to get a little...help, stakeholder and other companies who purchased into the company can reach out to this individual and set up a side contract with them. Be it their services or whatever they can offer in exchange for the financial help, connections, or whatever it is.”

Natasha felt her stomach dropping more and more as William spoke.

She was going to vomit, she’s sure of it.

William was going to turn poor people into...into slaves to the rich and to companies.

Poor people who can’t afford healthcare, education, a job, or even a home. They wouldn’t even realize what selling their information would do.

Who is to say a company or person using a someone’s information wouldn’t do things like make them unemployable--forcing them to turn to rich people and companies for help?

The worst part is many people wouldn’t even see a problem with it. They would be stuck in a cycle, relying on the rich to stay alive or achieve anything. The rich would have complete control over people who’ve signed their life away.

“Amazing,” A CEO said, looking at the chip. The potential for free employment was outstanding, and he was already increasing his profits for the upcoming year.

Sure, they may be shelling out thousands of dollars, but whatever they were shelling out would be made back on interest and their services. A trade of equal or higher value.

After all, humans are the best resource there is.

“How do you know if companies will want to be involved?” A woman asked.

William grinned throwing a stack on paper on the table. “On average, 70% of businesses in each state has already invested in this. Even some internationally. The funding for everything is already secured.”

“When is it set to roll out?” Natasha asked, plastering a smile even though she felt sick.

“It’s already rolling out,” William told her, “it’s been going in batches. The last batch will be shipped out tomorrow night.”

The first thing in Natasha’s head was panic.

The second was that she needed to call Tony and Steve immediately.

The third was that she needed to get a hold of the last batch.

There was a small celebration happening, and Natasha stayed as she felt the group was too small for her to sneak out unnoticed.

When it came to an end, Natasha made sure William watch her leave in her vehicle.

Halfway through, Natasha got her driver to stop, drop her in the middle nowhere, send him off on his merry way as she turned around and made her way to the warehouse on foot.

The warehouse was quiet, quieter than Natasha expected. No guards standing outside, but maybe because that would seem suspicious. Using her intel from last time, she slips through a window, landing gracefully and moves behind a pillar when she sees a guard standing inside at the door instead.

She makes her way quickly to where the crates were last time which was the back of the warehouse, but there’s nothing.

No crates.

It was all gone.

Suddenly, alarms were going off, and Natasha found herself in flashing red lights, guards were screaming, and there were footsteps quickly rushing towards her.

Natasha didn’t have time to make it back to the window where she came in from and quickly left the through the nearest back door that led outside.

Red flashing lights were on the outside too as the alarms continued to ring and Natasha was running into the trees and bushes outback.

She could hear the footsteps running after her and Natasha thought she would have to take out the guards.

If she did that, it would alert William for sure someone was onto him.

Just as Natasha debated on what her next move should be, an arm shot out from behind a tree, pulling her roughly in before shoving her down and underneath a bush to hide.

Natasha was about to attack whoever was on top of her, her body tensing up but when she found herself staring into your wide eyes, fingers to your lip as you signaled her to be quiet, she did as she was told.

Time seemed to stop as the silence shrouded the two of you, the footsteps in the distance.

The two of you didn’t dare move.

It was an awful time to notice how warm your body was and how much it fitted against hers, but Natasha had always been acute to noticing everything around her.

It wasn’t until the footsteps and voices passed the bush the two of you hid in without incident, the voices fading further and further away until there was nothing but silence again.

You let out the breath you were holding in, eyes closing in relief, shoulders sagging, and Natasha felt all the tension leave your body.

She wanted to open her mouth and ask you what in God’s name were you doing out here and how the hell you knew she was here.

But you opened your mouth first as you turned your head towards Natasha, eyes ablaze with fury.

“What in the hell were you thinking?!”

PART V

#mm: my fics #series: the color of you #natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x ofc #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov imagine #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #black widow imagine #Avengers #avengers imagine #Avengers AU #avengers reader insert #marvel mcu #Modern Avengers AU #marvel imagine

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verai-marcel · 4 years

Text

The Light That You Shine (RDR2 Fanfic, John Marston x F!Reader, Chapter 2 of 6, 18+)

Tags, Warnings, & Notes in Chapter 1.

AO3 Link is here.

Chapter 2 - Love Blooms

Word Count: 2333

You lugged the last bucket of fresh flowers off the delivery truck, placing it with the others at the back of the shop. Wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your gardening glove, you walked back to the truck to say goodbye to the driver.

"See you tonight, Uncle George! Thanks for the help!"

"No problem, sweetpea. Maddie is making lasagna tonight to celebrate."

You squealed with delight and waved goodbye as he drove back to the nursery that he and your aunt owned. As you walked back to the shop, you reminisced on the road that life had taken you.

You grew up with plants, knew how to take care of just about anything that grew from the land. When you were in ninth grade, you decided that you wanted to open up a flower shop, and while your parents wanted you to go to college, you were stubborn. Reading about starting your own business and working your summers at the nursery, you finally convinced them to let you follow your dream.

But on the day you graduated from high school, when you should have been walking across a stage to accept your diploma, you were instead in an ER waiting room, being told, in no uncertain terms, that your parents did not survive the car crash.

Two years later, the pain was still fresh. But they had taught you to live your life by moving forward and doing your best, to love the world, and to see the good in everything, even when things were down.

So you moved on with your life, determined to not let your sadness get you down. After all, you knew that they'd want to see you thrive.

But some nights were worse than others.

Your parents had willed you everything, and with those funds, you rented a live-work unit with a small shop downstairs and a studio apartment above it. You were planning to put your all into your business, marketing on social media and researching floral trends to stay up to date so that you could stay ahead.

You stayed so busy preparing to open your shop, in fact, that you didn't have time to be sad. No time to think meant no time to be depressed.

It helped that Aunt Madeline, or Aunt Maddie as you usually called her, and Uncle George immediately came over after the accident and helped you sort everything out, from supporting you emotionally to aiding you in figuring out the estate sale and everything else in between. If not for them, you would have been in a far worse place, mentally, financially, and physically. You had been living with them two towns over until yesterday, when you finally finished moving everything over to your new place. It had taken a week of steadily packing and moving and unpacking your things, but you were done with that part.

Now for the exciting task.

You looked around the empty shop, seeing in your mind's eye where your displays were going to go, what colors you were going to make the walls, where your work table would be set up, everything.

Stretching your arms above your head, you put your headphones on and got to work.

***

John loved the open road. Driving between towns where there was almost nothing but farmland and blue skies, he felt free. Glancing at his mirror, he saw Arthur following him on his Indian Scout, a content look on his face.

He must be enjoyin’ himself, he thought as he revved his engine and took the highway exit. It had been a long time since he had passed through this small town. He wondered if one of his favorite fast food places was still around.

Arthur followed, giving him a ‘what the hell’ look as he pulled up next to him at the stop light.

“Felt like lookin’, s’all!” John yelled.

“You wanted a damn burger, more like!”

“You don’t have to come!”

“I ain’t missin’ Buffalo Joe’s!”

The light turned green and they sped off.

***

You were in the middle of washing your store windows when two men came walking up to you, looking confused.

“Can I help you with something?” you asked kindly, though their tough exteriors put you slightly on guard. Can’t judge by how they look, you reminded yourself.

One of the men had on a cowboy hat and five o’clock shadow, with eyes the color of an atoll island. He looked at the other man, with his leather jacket and torn jeans, looking like he stepped out of an 80s music video. His shoulder length dark brown hair looked thick and luxurious, and his warm grey eyes looked around before they came to rest on you.

“Uh, excuse me, miss, but was there a burger place called Buffalo Joe’s around here?”

You blinked. His voice was like electricity running through your body; you hadn’t expected that reaction and had to pause a moment before replying. “Sorry, that place closed a year ago,” you said. “It was here though.”

The man cursed.

“John!” the other man mumbled angrily.

John looked back at you, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry, just…”

“Miss the place?” you offered with a smile.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Well, the owners opened up a new restaurant two blocks down the road called Triple Patty’s. Same burgers, but dressed up a bit.”

He lit up at the news, and his smile immediately charmed you. Despite his rough get-up, he suddenly looked younger and more innocent. “Thanks for the tip.” He turned to his friend. “C’mon Arthur, you can buy me a burger.”

Arthur snorted. “You ain’t pretty enough for chicken nuggets, let alone a burger.”

You laughed at John’s offended expression. “Have fun, you two.”

John waved at you, shooting you a cheeky grin as he left with Arthur, and you found your eyes following the shape of his back as he walked away.

***

“Hey. Earth to John.”

“Huh? What do you want?”

“You been spacing out since we got here, you still thinkin’ about Dutch?”

“What? No. Can’t do nothin’ about him.”

“Then… oh. I see. I see what’s goin’ on here.”

John put down his burger and glared at Arthur. “And what exactly is goin’ on?”

“The girl.”

He picked his burger up and took a couple more bites before speaking again. “What about her?”

“You wanna talk to her again."

John's shrug was anything but nonchalant. "She was cute. Who wouldn't want to talk to her?"

Arthur's chuckle was equal parts teasing and sympathetic. "Go talk to her. I'll meet you back at the club."

John blinked, surprised. Then he narrowed his eyes. "What's the catch?"

"Can't I do anything nice for you without arousin' suspicion?"

"No," John answered flatly. He finished his burger, glaring at Arthur.

Arthur laughed. "Go on, get goin' before you miss her."

John gave him one final glare before he took off without a look back.

Arthur waved down a waitress and paid the bill. As he left the restaurant and walked back to his motorcycle, he looked in the direction that John was headed.

“Good luck, kid.”

***

You were carrying a large box when you heard a voice from outside the shop. You set the box down on the back counter and turned around.

John waved, a sheepish grin on his face.

Coming back to the entrance, you opened the door. "Hi!" you said cheerfully. "Did you want a different restaurant?"

"Ah, no, that place was great! I just wanted to thank you again…" He trailed off as his eyes took in the disaster zone that was your shop in progress. "You, uh, need a hand with anything?"

"Oh, no, I got this," you immediately replied, not wanting to trouble a complete stranger with some of the hard labor that you had planned.

"Please," he said, stepping closer. His earnest expression tugged at your heart, and you found yourself unable to tell him no again.

"Well, if you insist, then could you help me carry a couple of boxes from my car?"

***

Somehow three hours passed before you knew it, and as John helped you move the last display case into place, you noticed the sun was setting.

"Oh my god, I didn't realize how late it was!" You turned to him, about to ask him something when you caught him stretching, his arms pulling at the tight shirt, showing his muscles bulging. A bead of sweat glided down his neck, and you suddenly had a strong urge to lick it. Then he turned to you, and you discovered that his eyes were a unique mix of grey and hazel; caught in the beauty of them, you were stunned to silence.

“What?”

You quickly pulled yourself back to reality. "Uh, I really appreciate all your help today. Can I buy you dinner?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he said with a wry grin. "You beat me to it."

You laughed, utterly charmed by him. "So I win?”

“I guess so.” He came closer to you. Your heart started to beat faster as you realized that he really was a very attractive man. “How about I buy you dinner first, then you can buy me one. Don’t feel right getting two meals in a row.”

You grinned. What a sly fox, getting you to agree to two dates at the same time.

Wait, was he asking you out on a date?

You froze. You hadn’t had much time to date, not since your life had changed so drastically two years ago. And even in high school, your ‘dates’ were just going to the movies with a boy and then going home right afterwards. You looked at John, his poise full of self-assuredness, as if he walked through life knowing his place in the world, and wondered for a split second what it would be like to get close to a man like this.

You were so deep in your own mind that you hadn’t noticed when he had taken a few more steps closer to you. Now he was within arm’s reach of you. He called your name out softly, his eyes focused on you.

“I, uh, yes. Two dates. I mean dinners. Two dinners. Sounds good to me,” you stammered.

He smiled knowingly at you; he had heard your faux pas and had commited your words to memory. “Great, glad to hear it.”

***

You gave John one of your newly printed business cards, too excited about the fact that you had business cards to worry about how silly of an act it was. But he took the card and drew a heart on the back of it as he wrote down your personal phone number. After adding your number to his phone and texting you so you had his number as well, the two of you planned for a dinner date the next night, and he took off. As you watched him ride away, you wondered if you were wise in following your gut rather than your logic.

Locking up your shop, you got in your car and drove to your aunt & uncle’s house, looking forward to Aunt Maddie’s lasagna for dinner.

***

You spent the next day working on the orders that had already been placed, mostly by friends and relatives who wanted to support your business. You were grateful for their support and worked diligently, mulling over your designs again and again, agonizing over every choice. It was their orders that you were going to use to start your social media accounts to advertise, so you wanted to make sure they were absolutely perfect.

You were so wrapped up in your work that you didn’t notice how fast time had flown.

“Hey,” John said casually as he walked through the double glass doors.

You poked your head up past the half wall that separated your work area at the back of the shop from the retail area. You saw him looking quite cleaned up, dressed in a dark green button up short sleeve shirt, which he wore open over a plain white shirt, with faded blue jeans.

And you promptly panicked.

“Oh my god, I forgot the time, I’m so sorry!” You started to clean up your tools, but when you looked back at the bouquet you were working on, you started wondering if you should’ve added that tiger lily or not.

“Are you in the middle of work?” he asked, coming closer. He looked at your bouquet and tilted his head.

“What do you think?” you asked.

“Looks a little too orange,” he said bluntly.

You looked back at the bouquet. He was right. You took out the tiger lily, setting it aside.

“You didn’t have to change it,” he said as you turned the bouquet on its lazy susan, observing it from all angles.

“No, you were right, it seemed a little too warm. Needs some cooler colors to balance it.” You grabbed some bellflowers and added them around the edges instead. “Perfect.” Turning to him, you smiled, happy with your work. “Thanks!”

John smiled and looked down at his feet. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled. He looked up again. “Shall we go, my lady?”

You laughed. “Wow, a gentleman.” You looked down at yourself; you were wearing a dumpy black T-shirt with a pair of bright purple denim shorts, all under your florist apron.

“Um, can you give me some time to shower and get dressed?”

John leaned in and sniffed your neck. “You smell like flowers. And you look good.” He pulled back, unaware of the effect his action and his comments were having on your heart. “But if you want to, I’ll wait.”

You looked at the clock that you had hung on the back wall. You looked back at John, who was looking at you like he wouldn’t care if you were wearing a potato sack, he would have still said the same thing.

“Nah, fuck it, let’s go.”

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

Chapter 3

#john marston #john x reader #biker au #rdr2 fanfic #modern au #fanfic #writing #nsft #eventual smut

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broken-clover · 4 years

Text

AU-gust Day 12- Modern

Here comes a joker! I really did like the idea of a crime au, but I just couldn’t come up with anything. So here’s something I’ve been wanting to make for a while, kinda inspired by an ask I got from Rex way back when. I just liked the idea of Axl being Bedman’s adopted dad, I thought it was neat!

Also apologies in advance for me using my name headcanons again, it’s just so difficult to work with a character whose name is ‘Bedman.’ Seriously, does he have a less bizarre name in canon? Who the fuck would name their kids ‘Delilah’ and ‘Bedman?’ Guess we know who the favorite was...

“I don’t like you.”

Axl wasn’t sure what he’d expected when he first signed up for the local foster program. Well, he sorta did. Ideally, he’d expected to be tasked with taking care of a child, with whatever bizarreness it would entail. He knew he wasn’t exactly what a lot of people would consider ‘prime material’ for a foster parent- he was an unmarried twentysomething with no clear direction on where he wanted to go with his life, but he was financially stable, passed all the agency’s legal checks and drug screenings, and attended every mandatory pre-service class alongside a small crew of other aspiring parents. Despite his best efforts, he always got the impression that the agency took issue with him being there. Still, Axl did everything he was told, waited patiently, and chatted with his assigned caseworker until they had found a match for him to try out.

Matthew had come with a ratty purple backpack, a seemingly-permanent scowl, and a laundry list of behavior problems tacked onto his case file. Axl wasn’t his first foster parent, he’d already gone through nearly a dozen, all of which had sent him back. The reasons varied, from destroyed appliances to constant verbal fighting. And he made it clear right from the get-go that he despised his new foster home just as much from the first words he uttered.

“I don’t like you. Send me back.”

It seemed nobody really knew where the origin of his ire was. Being pushed back and forth through the foster system again and again for years seemed like a perfectly good reason to be cross, at least in Axl’s opinion, but the way the orphanage and his agent had spoken about it made it sound like Matthew was born with a scowl on his face and just didn’t know how to take it off. They seemed surprised by the concept that he was even being placed in another foster home. The repeated failures and inability to get along with anyone seemed to indicate that he was doomed to take the slow path, waiting a few more years until he turned 18 and aged out of the system on his own.

In spite of their initial rough meeting, Axl did his best to welcome him warmly. He’d set up and painted a room ahead of time for his new family member to live in, acquired all the legal documents he needed for everything from school enrollment to medical files, and stored up a plethora of dad jokes that he could use as he needed. Matthew was unimpressed with all of them.

“I hate this place. When are you sending me back?”

For all the snarky comments and indifference he could manage, Axl didn’t budge. He was patient. He would keep trying.

Though he only knew so much about him from his case file (Matthew despised small talk, and Axl didn’t drag him into it), he’d done his best to support the interests he saw. He bought the science books he noticed the boy staring at in the shop windows, and trying to pick out new cartridges for the game system he barely let out of his sight. He seemed like the intellectual type, reading college-level books on social sciences and linguistics, and he preferred strategy games over any other kind. Axl wasn’t much of a bookworm himself, maybe that’s what made it so difficult for them to connect. But even if he couldn’t match him on an intellectual level, maybe he could still do so on a more personal one.

So he stayed patient.

“Why are you being so stubborn…?”

Axl could tell he was at least getting somewhere. They didn’t exactly have casual time together, not really, but he wasn’t immediately shooed away. Matthew could play his games, or read a book, and Axl could sit on the other side of the room. Every time, he inched closer and closer, until the only option left was for them to sit on the same couch.

“Heya, Mattie, mind if I sit down for a sec?"

It had been a quiet evening, not especially remarkable in any way. Just another day of work and school for the both of them, and free time afterward to unwind.

His son glanced up at him, but only for the briefest of moments. “You have more than one chair.”

“Yeah, but I just wanted to sit with you today. Is that okay?”

“...Fine. But don’t touch me.”

Axl sat himself down on the other side of the sofa. “So...how was school?”

“Don’t want to talk about it.”

The sheer speed of his response threw him off-guard. “Well, okay. Um, did I already tell you that I like the neat thing you’ve got going on with your hair?” He pointed towards the boy’s messily-dyed purple locks.

“Eight times. Nine now.”

“You do it yourself?”

“In my last house’s bathtub.”

“Must’ve been a right mess! But it looks like it turned out good?”

“It was. My foster mom was mad about the mess I made. So she wound up screaming at me over it. And I screamed back. And before I knew it, she sent me back. It’s on my case file, I thought you said you read it.”

Axl felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. Well, open mouth, insert foot. He had read it, multiple times, but all it had listed was ‘confrontational issues and repeated arguments.’ He’d wondered exactly what that had meant, but actually figuring it out made him feel the exact opposite of satisfied.

“...Oh. Sounds like a right bitch.”

“She was. Can you stop asking questions now? I’m bored of them.”

He complied, though the ensuing silence only made everything feel more uncomfortable. He just didn’t get why some people screamed at their kids, mistakes just happened sometimes. Children were still learning how things worked, it seemed natural sometimes it would end in a mess.

“Hey.”

“I don’t wanna talk.”

“And I’m not gonna make you.” Axl stayed where he was. “Is it okay if I talk, though? You don’t have to say anything back.”

No response. But he didn’t get up and leave, like he had done in the past, so Axl took it as a cue to keep going. “I know you’re probably not gonna like me right away. And that’s ok. I’m still a total stranger, and you’re just expected to trust me to look after you. And I’ve seen all your paperwork, but that doesn’t mean I know anything about you as a person. We’re still strangers, the two of us.”

He paused. Matthew looked unfazed. “So I get it. I really do. I’m…” Axl tried to think of what he wanted to say. “I...

I’m not sending you back.”

Still no response. But Axl noticed the way his hands locked, and the little startled double-blink that came with it.

“If we’ve got issues, we can work ‘em out. I know you’ve been through a lot, so it’s ok if you have a rough time at first. And I’m not gonna throw you out as soon as you have a hard time. I totally get it. You’re not a bloody dog, I’m not gonna pretend like I can tame you with treats until you do whatever I tell you. There’s just some stuff we aren’t ever going to see eye-to-eye on. But no matter what, you’re my kid now, and you’re not going anywhere unless that’s what you really want.”

Slowly, uncertainly, he watched Matthew close his game and let it rest in his lap. He didn’t look up. “I want to be a good parent. I know I’m new at this, too, so I might fuck up a couple of times. I just want you to know that I’m ready to be your dad, and that means loving you no matter what.”

After another quiet, uncomfortable moment, a small voice piped up. “I’m not good at jokes, but yours aren’t funny.”

“It’s not a joke.” Axl replied. “I mean it.”

“It’s not funny!” It sounded more forceful the second time. His voice grew brittle. “You should send me back. Why won’t you send me back?”

“Why would I do that? You’re all set up in your room, and moving is a pain.” Axl tried to throw in a little friendly chuckle, but it didn't hide the unease in his voice. "Why would you think I would want to get rid of you?"

“I- I’m not-” His tone finally snapped, and his shoulders began to tremble. “I’m no good.”

He found himself hesitating for a moment, but Axl scooted closer, wrapping arms around his shoulders and giving his son a tight squeeze. “Nobody’s perfect. And I wouldn’t want you to be, anyway. I just want you to be you. Whatever that means.”

The two of them simply sat there for a while. This certainly hadn’t been in any of the advice books he’d read, but this was something Axl didn’t mind doing on his own. He just hoped he had expressed what he needed to.

He didn’t even think of letting go until he felt squirming against him. Matthew immediately picked up his game again and flipped it open. No acknowledgement at all. But...no, that was fine. He said he would accept him no matter what he was. If he didn’t like to talk about his feelings, then he didn’t need to force it.

“...help me with this turn.”

“Huh?” Curious, Axl shuffled closer to get a better look at his screen. “Wait, is this the one I got you?”

The boy nodded. “The mechanics are simplistic and the strategy elements are child’s play, but...I’ve had a lot of fun with it.” He tapped at something on his screen. “Alright. So right now my troops are stationed outside the dragon king’s fortress. How should they be organized when we open our assault?”

Well, he wasn’t much of a strategist, but he had no trouble giving it a go, anyway. “Uhh, definitely want to have some long-range stuff, right? So you can hit from a distance. Got anything for that?”

Another nod. “There’s a whole subclass for that, let me show you. There’s archers, a trebuchet, long-distance casters, and demolitionists. Each of them have a different set of stats and energy cost.”

“Why don’t you explain them to me a little more?”

“Sure. Archers have the best cost-to-efficiency ratio, but their projectiles are still on the weaker side. But if you take the trebuchet…”

It was a starting step, he realized, only a small one. But it was still something.

#AU-gust #writing #guilty gear #Axl Low #Bedman

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lambourngb · 4 years

Note

1 Hi! I saw the Michael wants a family w/ Alex thread & saw you're maybe planning a fic. First off I am such a fan and feel free to delete this if it in anyway offends bec i I swear it's never my intent. It's your fic and you can 1000% write w/ever you want. I can't figure out how to reply to the thread but I saw someone putting in a request not to shade M for not wanting kids. So I thought maybe it'd be okay to reach out too w/ a concern (i hope I'm not overstepping, if so ignore me please).

2 I get that the idea of including her in the 1st place was from a comment who wanted a fun petty moment (no judgement) but it grew to addressing Michael's passiveness. I just wanted to put it out there that I hope incl. her doesn't come off as if she's the 1st option for this. Given the OG text post, it'd be great if Alex is the 1st person Michael thinks of when thinking about a child. The idea of it being a last resort or that he went to someone else 1st just makes me so anxious and sad.

3 I feel like Alex deserves better & that Michael chooses him because he wants to not bec he has no options so I hope it isn't written like that. The show forcing things is tiring me out and it's making me anxious about things I'm usually pretty chill about. I don't even know if you will write it and I don't mean any harm. I hope you're not mad and I didn't offend & this isn't coming off as whiny or demanding, I was just rly hoping to reach out to voice a concern. Thanks for reading.

Hi Nonnie- first of all, thank you. I’m glad you enjoy my writing! That’s always nice to hear. And second of all, I’m not offended and I completely understand your anxiety about Alex being a second choice here with Michael. I’ve always believed that Maria has been Michael’s second choice in canon. He’s convinced himself that things are too hard with Alex and it’s best to give up. I hate that for Michael because it says a lot of things about his non-existent self esteem and his abandonment issues. Anyway, my “Michael wants a family” story is just a nebulous idea at the moment and is obviously something I won’t dive into until I finish off Last Year’s Wishes. I basically smack my brain with a rolled up newspaper and say “No! focus on the thing you started before you start another!”.

When I am ready to dive in- here’s what I’m thinking and hopefully this helps gauge your future interest in this story- like Last Year’s Wishes, I like to write from one limited point of view. I have only tried briefly to write from Michael’s POV, but I feel like this story has to be told from his and that’s intimidating as hell, haha, especially because I feel a deep connection to Alex.

What we know from canon regarding kids and a family is- Michael wants a family. Other than Isobel leaving the door open for herself in the future, he’s the only one who has definitively said he wants kids. I don’t know how Maria or Alex feels about kids, Maria I think I can guess on (more on that below), but Alex, other than saying that Roswell felt like home for the first time because of Michael (triggering Maria’s iconic line “Home can be a person”) hasn’t said much in the way of marriage and family. The fact he bought or rented a house in Roswell, instead of the cabin - maybe that signals he wants to set down roots? Maybe he just hated the commute from the cabin?

Maria is a little easier for me to make a guess over, and I could be wrong, but she’s been working extremely hard to support herself and her mother for many years. Did she dream about being a singer? Did she ever want to leave Roswell? We don’t know, but she is savvy with money and is constantly looking for opportunities to better her position in life financially. And that financial security is still shakey with her 24/7 hustle. Nursing home care in the US is so costly it could be considered a crime, and with Mimi not being old enough to qualify for social security or medicare, that cost is on Maria’s shoulders. From a young age- Maria’s entire focus on the future was based around the knowledge that she was going to have to take care of her mother. I don’t know if that leaves energy for the idea of taking care of a child. Maria also knew she too would face this neurological disorder at some point and become a burden herself. Now does the bracelet stop her decline? How long does the pollen’s keep things in check? And if she does keep her mind healthy and intact, what sort of thing would she be passing on to a more-than-50 percent alien child?

Again I could be projecting my own feelings here, but I just get the vibe that Maria has a lot of caretaker burnout still and is reaching for things that make her feel good in the moment but is in no hurry to take on another big future responsibility outside of making enough money to survive.

And what does that mean for Michael’s relationship with her? If he wants to have a long-term relationship with Maria, he would have to let go of the idea of kids. Here’s the thing, that Michael himself said, he’s good at giving up. He gave up college, he gave up on hope/people, he gave up on the idea he could have a happy ending with Alex- everywhere you look in canon, you see him holding up empty hands when it comes to things he wants and basically saying “I tried for a bit, it was hard, so I’m done trying” (and personally I think he tried for 10 years with Alex, the longest and most stubborn grab for happiness).

Other people get him to keep pushing past that impulse to give up - Liz when it came to curing Isobel, Liz again when it came to saving Max, and Alex- when it came to looking for some hope in a dark story (Nora and Tripp). So I want Michael to be the one who pushes himself past that impulse. I want him to come face to face with his oldest, most wanted desire (A family) and draw a line in the sand, and so no, “I want this, I want this for me” and not back away when it causes conflict with someone else.

But here’s the thing, Michael’s so used to “going where you want me” that I think even in the face of Maria saying “you know, kids aren’t in the future here” he would still try to make it work. I have long joked that I ship everyone on RNM with a therapist (except for Kyle, who is perfect) but I really want Michael to seek out help. I think he would go, but for entirely the wrong purpose- in my story, he would go see a therapist and say to them, “I can fix a busted transmission, but I can’t fix this. Can you help me with this? She doesn’t want a family but I do. How can I change myself”

And oh boy is that a pandora’s box for a therapist. Digging into the meat of you don’t think people will stay so you push them away- Alex, then when they do express they want you, you don’t believe it will last so why bother trying again. In the process of Michael trying to fix himself so he can preserve his relationship with Maria, he discovers though guidance - that he can’t be a good partner if he’s not good to himself, and letting someone else’s desires supersede his own isn’t healthy. Then finding the balance after you figure out you can say no- because compromise is also important.

Somewhere in this mess is Sanders, who after hearing that Michael’s ready to ditch the idea of being someone’s dad, shakes him by the shirt collar. Explaining to Michael that just maybe he should have tried harder all those years ago to be someone who could adopt him, that shame never leaves him. Trying twice was good but not good enough, who’s to say the third time wouldn’t have been successful? But somewhere along the line Sanders decided it was easier to be the old gin-soaked junkyard dog than be someone who was willing to do the work of sobriety. Does Michael want to follow in his footsteps? Leave some kid in a place they don’t belong if he has the ability and desire to provide a home? And Michael decides he is done telling himself it won’t work out, that he wants this with an impulse stronger than his self-defeatist instincts.

And that is the death knell on his relationship with Maria- incompatible.

Then, because I’m a Malex shipper through and through, there’s Alex. He’s shown up for Michael all through season 2. And in my eyes, they’ve worked on their friendship (drown in those 2x04 feels) and Michael calls him for advice, lays out what’s going on with him and Alex supports him on that path to being happy. Alex gently probing him about how long he’s had this dream of being a parent, hearing how it predated senior year, but after senior year Michael inserted Alex into the dream. Michael sharing even after everything, he still thinks of Alex of being there, maybe an uncle? And Alex, overwhelmed by how serious Michael was and maybe still is? Takes it slow, this can’t be a rebound, just urges him to take the small steps, like mentoring with Big Brothers/Big Sisters or through the YMCA.

Those logical steps get escalated when Michael discovers a hitchhiker stowed away in flatbed of his tow trunk after a stop at a rest area. He sees himself in this angry, but desperate kid. He doesn’t want to give the kid up and so he calls on Alex yet again, to do a background check to make sure the story is true and then pleads for him to help. Make Michael foster-parent worthy in the eyes of the law. I don’t know if this skirts the fear you have that Alex is the last resort? In my mind, his two oldest desires are having a kid AND having Alex, and once he works out he can have the first, he realizes that all is not lost with Alex as well.

Anyway my very long thoughts on this story I AM NOT WRITING RIGHT NOW: a take on ‘fake engagement because of CPS’ where Alex installs Michael into his house all so they could give a home to this stray kid.

#anon ask #writing thoughts #wip #malex fic prompt #Anonymous #my thoughts on this predate that post i commented on #basically i spend a lot of time thinking up ways for M*luca to break up #i need a break up that leaves me not hating anyone #and if Maria just decides she's just not into Michael while Michael is all in? Yikes #dude is not good at trying again after defeat #michael guerin deserves good things #therapy is needed stat for this disaster #tags added after my commute to work

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daesungfmd · 3 years

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playlist 1.

seven songs describing different stages of daesung’s life so far.

lights, up we go / 2008 ― 2012.

here, in a familiar place. we got our heads down and we pretend it’s ‘cause the night is dark and running out of space for us to run around, but it’s a dead end and money’s tight. it’s been a long time of this ― something has got to give. everyone here is ready to go, it’s been a hard year with nothing to show. from down this road, it’s only on we go. everyone here is ready to go, it’s been a hard year and i only know from down this low, it’s only up we go.

2008 is the earliest year of daesung’s life that he vividly remembers. before 2008, his life definitely had downsides, but he didn’t have much that he could rightfully complain about; at the end of even the hardest day, things were still… good. but 2008 brought more hardships than daesung was equipped to handle & saw his relationship with his mother deteriorating. they were both struggling, but instead of coming together to support each other, they frequently lashed out and simply made things worse. in the three years that followed, daesung became better at supporting his mother, but he rarely felt supported in return ― internally bitter with the idea that he was having to act as a parent, but in reality, she was so caught up in keeping their family afloat that she often fell short on the emotional side. they were also beginning to struggle financially (which only got worse and worse over the months, with his mom falling far enough behind that it didn’t seem like she’d ever catch up), which added a feeling of helplessness to the loneliness that daesung was (poorly) dealing with. generally a bad time all around, but they both continued to pretend that they weren’t struggling so no one around them would pity them, even though they definitely could’ve used some assistance. this was around the time that daesung became extremely ambitious (surprisingly). set high goals in his personal life, his school life & for his future career because……. life can not suck like this forever!!! it’s gotta be up from here, right?

john the ghost, red house / 2008 — present.

if you’re not everything, you’re nothing ‘til you try to be. nobody needs saving, just a little bit of empathy. you can’t save the ones you love, but who would really want to? who would really want to?

i touched on daesung’s relationship with his mom in the explanation for the previous track, but it goes a lot deeper than a few sentences could ever explain. before 2008, she was outwardly happy and very, very loving — after 2008, she hardly seemed like the same woman. she and daesung endured the same pain, but neither of them coped healthily. neither got counseling, either, so they often took their sadness and pain out on each other in the form of harsh words and accusations. more often than not, they were fighting. the only time they got along was when they were in daesung’s mom’s salon, and even then, they still argued quite a lot, just with softer voices. after the first year, they started to build back the relationship they’d had prior to 2008, but it was a slow process and often involved daesung taking blame for things that (usually) weren’t his fault & having to calm his mom down when she got too angry or sad. things never did fully go back to how they once were and even now, twelve years later, daesung’s still bitter over how things turned out. how he so often had to take on responsibility that he was too young to deserve and how she failed to emotionally support him like he supported her. he realizes that having to provide financial support took almost all of her energy, but still — it doesn’t change the fact that he felt like he was lacking parental love at that time and even feels like he’s still lacking it now. if you get them alone, a fight is almost always sure to occur, even if it’s a passive one that only ends with secretly hurt feelings rather than outwardly hurt ones. they both acknowledge the other’s suffering, but they’re both too clumsy and ashamed to apologize for the past twelve years or even give reminders that they love each other. most of their meetings are confined to her salon; a semi-public place where they can be semi-vulnerable without necessarily viewing it as a bad thing. they spend a lot of time together there, but rarely have conversations of substance and, as a result, they’ve both begun to feel a lot like strangers rather than family.

jimmy eat world, 555 / 2012 — 2014.

i keep my focus on the simple things, trying to find some peace along the way. i wish i knew how long i’m supposed to wait. holding on, but just barely. got the feeling i’ve been talking to a dead, dead line. there’s always a reason to let it change. is there anyone there listening while you cry, cry, cry? there’s always a reason for the pain. i’m doing the things that i’m told every day, every day, every day. then why does it feel like i’m moving in place?

training, in daesung’s opinion, simply sucked. he went into training completely blind, considering he didn’t even fully realize what he was auditioning for — just that it may or may not lead to him being a musician. the competitiveness was what hit him the hardest. he’s not a particularly competitive person, so he was more interested in making friends and having a good time (😔), but he didn’t encounter a whole lot of people who were as nonchalant as he was. he struggled to adjust to the trainee life and harsh criticism from trainers/supervisors hit him hard, being some of the first real criticism he’d ever received. he spent his two years as a trainee feeling really lonely, but he didn’t have anyone outside of the company that he could reasonably turn to — his lack of time meant that most of his friendships had vanished and he cut off all contact with his mom during this time, as well, so he couldn’t turn to her. he tried very hard to stay focused and optimistic, but his strength was wavering. especially because he frequently got scolded for doing things that he didn’t even realize he wasn’t supposed to do. felt like he was getting pushed around by life & the people around him, even though half of that was undoubtedly just self-pity amplified by his loneliness.

blackbear, i feel bad / 2014 — 2016.

you’re so good at making me feel bad, at making me feel terrible about myself, good. you’re so good at making others hurt with only just your words, with only just your words and i feel bad. i don’t feel good.

daesung has a heart made of glass & his tendency to take things personal was a whole lot stronger when he was seventeen. sure, he was supposed to be the ~funny guy~, but constantly being the subject of jokes took a huge toll on his mental health in the beginning. he felt like no one acknowledged the fact that he’s an actual human being with actual feelings and, consequentially, felt like he wasn’t good for much aside from evoking laughter, even at his own expense. it didn’t help that inpulses hadn’t gotten the chance to know him on a more substantial level yet, so they, too, chose to make him into a joke. most comments or interactions at fansigns were ~playful teasing~ but enough ~playful teasing~ loses its humor, as he learned firsthand. eventually, he mastered the art of either initiating the jokes about himself so that they didn’t catch him off guard or swiftly changing the subject to something equally funny but not confidence-crushing. by 2016, he’d matured enough that he realized that’s just variety, baby! sometimes you gotta suck it up and get made fun of a little. learned to laugh at himself & fire back — nowadays, it’s virtually impossible to hurt his feelings with a joke and fans know him well enough to know that he’s more than just a jester.

glass animals, dreamland / 2015 — present.

you’ve had too much of the digital love, you want everything live, you want things you can touch. make it feel like a movie you saw in your youth, make it feel like that song that just unopened you.

less than a year after debuting, daesung had already become bored of idol life. of course, it’s not like the industry itself is boring — it’s an eventful life with seemingly never-ending work hours, but all in all, it lacks the enthusiasm, color and realism that daesung has always, always craved. as a child and teenager, he already knew how big the world was beyond his own day to day life. half the reason he wanted to be a rockstar wasn’t because of his passion for rock music itself, but because of how rock ‘n’ roll is portrayed in the media. you can think whatever you want, but to daesung, their lively and borderline reckless lives appealed to him like nothing else ever had. to live like that — throwing caution to the wind, living for yourself and having fun was something he couldn’t fathom, but he wanted to experience it so bad. skip a few years in the future and he is a musician, but not the kind he wants to be. and nowhere near as free as he’d dreamt of being. his first complaint was backtracks on music shows; thoughts of how rock musicians would be called posers if they dared to perform without… well, actually performing. his second complaint was how strict the rules were. he learned to accept that there are extreme differences between idols and “real musicians” (as daesung himself would put it), but he still isn’t happy about it. you could say that he feels like his life is lacking something and possibly always will be lacking that something, but he tries to live as freely as he can while still avoiding ~controversies~.

grayscale, diamond / 2016 ― 2018.

i know it took some time, but i got my footing right. feeling, i’m feeling so good tonight. can’t stop me from dancing, can’t keep me from blooming. welcome to my, welcome to my — this world is my diamond.

as a public figure, it took some time before daesung was able to earn widespread approval. it’s not like he’s ever done anything controversial, it’s just that the rumors of him bring arrogant from next: origin story stuck around for a hot minute & his loud, impossible to ignore persona after debuting rubbed some folks the wrong way. by 2016, he’d managed to escape the negative opinions almost entirely and was able to ignore any lingering hate comments with ease. although he’s always had a happy and energetic demeanor publicly, any long-term fans could confirm in a heartbeat that he was the happiest from 2016 to 2018. during these two years, daesung felt like he was conquering the world — in retrospect, maybe this is really just the time when fame had him feeling the most invincible. but by 2019, there were other things factoring into his overall outlook, including his strong desire to break into acting versus gold star’s refusal to let him do so. he’s still pretty happy and grateful for where he’s at in life, but the elevated sense of self was left in 2018.

waterparks, lowkey as hell / 2016 ― present.

if you need me now, i’ll be there somehow. i’ll pick you up, we can ride. i’ll fly away like i bought my own airline, i’ll take you with me, we can ride. i’m highkey and lowkey as hell your diva, just wanna see ya. i’m highkey and lowkey as hell your sweetheart, don’t wanna be apart.

as a result from reading far too many hate comments about himself from next: origin story and promoting with songs that really, really embarrassed daesung, it took him a hot minute to fully adjust to idol life. he wasn’t sure what people thought of him (and as much as he tries to come off like he doesn’t care what people think, he definitely does), so he tried to shrink his presence as much as he possibly could. if for no other reason, then to at least get rid of the general public’s idea that he was arrogant. but by 2016, impulse had started making music that only slightly embarrassed daesung & he became more comfortable with the amount of attention that was on him. moreover, he become more comfortable with the love that his fans so readily gave him. he wanted to give them just as much of himself, even though the expected distance between idols and their fans made it hard to do so. since 2016, he’s been walking along a thin line more often than not, trying to get as close to his fans as he possibly can without ~breaking the illusion~ as his managers have so elegantly put it, even though daesung will argue that he’s not a magic trick and there shouldn’t be an illusion to begin with. he loves inpulses very, very dearly and constantly dishes out reminders in any way he can. he wants to be his best self for them ― not because that’s part of his job, but because he genuinely cares about who they are beyond a view count and nameless comments. their love and support is what keeps his spirits up and he wants to give them the same strength, no matter what. (aka daesung will never understand why he has to play a character instead of jus bein able to ACTUALLY be there for his fans)

#𝐃𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆. playlist.#2000+ words of pure nonsense tbh #i honestly don't rec reading this BUT #the songs are fire so i do rec listening to those

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hetacon · 4 years

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A Little Help

Word Count: 2,100

Pairings: Platonic/Parental Moxiety, Background/Implied Platonic LAMP

Warning: Crying, Virgil has anxiety and depression per usual, a little self-deprecation

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Summary: Patton, a borrower, lives in the house of Virgil. While Virgil does alright financially, he feels anything but great as he struggles with anxiety and depression. Luckily he has an invisible helping hand to brighten up his day.

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Note: This is inspired off of this post by @randomslasher and I’m really pleased to post it! Also I would like to add that the song Patton sings is “Ready Now” from the Moominvalley soundtrack, sung by the lovely Dodie Clark! Feel free to listen to it when he starts singing! The lyrics are tweaked a bit to fit the story! I hope you all enjoy this story as much as I do!

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The first time Patton heard Virgil was of him singing. It was the first time Patton discovered of Virgil’s existence.

Patton didn’t notice it because of how silvery and symphonic it was.

Virgil was choking out words, heavy tears streaming down his face.

Patton heard his voice break.

He peeked through the opening in the vent.

Virgil looked like he would shatter into a million pieces.

And Patton felt his own heart do so in turn.

This person, who Patton had never met, or even seen before, looked so broken and Patton wanted to help. He wished he could. He and other borrowers weren’t treated well by a majority of people but that didn’t stop him from wanting to help this boy.

So Patton started to recognize his routine patterns.

Virgil always woke up late in the morning. Patton saw that the best way he woke up was from the light that would shine through the window on to his face. Not a pleasant way to wake up exactly but without it, Patton knew Virgil would be late for the things he always had planned. So Patton always made sure to shift the curtains the tiniest bit in the morning, just enough to let a little sliver of sunshine flit over Virgil’s eyes. Without another word, he was off to hide and plan out the rest of his day.

He did other things for Virgil to help out. Virgil oftentimes forgot a little black cube he liked to fidget with for example. Virgil would come home more stressed when he forgot, Patton realized, so he made the effort to push it into Virgil’s open backpack before he left the apartment. He shifted and organized things for Virgil to find easier. He always made sure to write a little addition on Virgil’s schedule for him to take a deep breath and relax. Even if he had no idea just how much it was helping, he took little joys in the moments Virgil was happy.

Sometimes it was bigger things that he helped out with. Virgil always forgot to take his medication so when Virgil wasn’t looking, he’d tip over one of the lighter bottles. He couldn’t help how happy he got to see Virgil’s attention shift to the noise or movement and sigh before taking his medication. Patton took great joy in ensuring that task was complete.

And so that brings us to now. Patton heard the same heartbreakingly silvery song as usual. Patton couldn’t help but softly mouth the words, trying his best to memorize it. It was a wonderful message and feeling that the lyrics portrayed and it made Patton sad to know that Virgil didn’t have that feeling, that support in his life.

Virgil fell asleep, a trouble and teary expression still on his face when he drifted off. With a deep breathe, Patton quietly slid through the vent and walked over the soft carpet to get to Virgil’s bed. He struggled getting on to it but once he did, he went to sit next to Virgil’s face.

He lost his voice for a moment but upon seeing the tear tracts again, he smiled softly, leaning his head against Virgil’s cheek and working up the courage to speak.

“You’re doing good, kiddo, you’re doing so good. I’m so incredibly proud of you for being here right now,” Patton whispered before taking a deep breathe. “I know you don’t know I’m here but even if you never find out, please know that I’m always rooting for you, kiddo, I will always love you. Nothing in the world could ever make me stop.”

He spent a few more minutes softly talking to Virgil and upon seeing the boy’s expression soften, he leaned over, kissing Virgil’s cheek gently. “Goodnight my sleepy starling, everything will be alright. Just hang in there, I’m always going to be right here even if you don’t believe things will get better. They will, I promise you that,” he whispered before giving him one last kiss on the tip of his nose. And with that, he was off, hiding within the walls again.

Life planned for the two of them to finally meet though and as Patton was suffering from a cold, he slipped up and accidentally alerted Virgil of his presence. Patton hid, his breathing heavy as he stared at the wall. He swallowed thickly. He braved himself to run. He loved this boy with all of his heart but if Virgil didn’t reciprocate that, he’d have to abandon any and all affections without a second thought.

“Hey, it’s ok, whatcha doing there?” A soft voice asked.

Patton peeked out from behind the cereal box on the counter.

Virgil seemed to have noticed how tense Patton looked so he scooted back a little. “It’s cool, I need my space too,” he shrugged, giving Patton a lopsided smile.

Patton still didn’t say a word.

“Are you a borrower?”

Well, at the very least, he wasn’t using any derogatory terms for his kind, that was a bit of hope at least. He smiled a little and nodded. He couldn’t help his heart melting as Virgil smiled back.

“Sorry you guys always have to sneak around so much, people can be such assholes. You’re just like us even if you’re just a bit smaller.”

“It’s ok, we’re used to it by now,” Patton finally said.

“Well yeah, I’d imagine. You guys shouldn’t have to is what I’m saying.”

“Yeah, it’s not fun..” Patton sighed as he stepped out from behind the box, sitting down at the edge of the counter, his hands clasped together in his lap. “It’s so much easier to see you now, you’re always so blurry all the time!” he finally said, smiling more.

“Is it common for you to not be able to see things properly when they’re further away?”

Patton nodded and frowned as Virgil sighed, clicking his tongue.

“Gotcha, I’ll see about getting you some glasses, ok?”

“You can get those for people like me?” Patton asked, looking up at him in surprise.

“Yeah, totally. I don’t want you to be struggling because of this.”

“Thank you,” Patton nodded, closing his eyes as he breathed happily.

“You’re welcome, I want to help you out in any way I can, as long as you’ll let me.”

“My name is Patton,” the borrower said, holding out his tiny hand. Virgil gently gave him his finger.

“Hi Patton, I’m Virgil.”

In Patton’s head, all he could think was ‘Yeah, I know, kiddo.’

From that day on, Patton got to know a lot more about Virgil. He started to let his efforts of helping be more noticeable now that he no longer feared being discovered. Whenever Virgil would forget to take his medication, Patton just went over to his desk, rested his hands on Virgil’s sleeve, and ask if he’d taken them that day. It was always no, Patton knew he hadn’t, but it gave Virgil gentle encouragement to do so. Patton had been extremely happy when Virgil had come home one day, offering him a few new sets of clothes—a light blue polo shirt, khakis, and a cardigan, as well as pajamas—and a small pair of glasses that fit Patton’s face perfectly. Patton beamed as he could see everything clearly and spent the rest of the day wandering around, looking around at everything. Patton didn’t even realize Virgil watching him, a soft, adoring smile on the latter’s face.

And over the course of only a few months, Patton noticed a change in Virgil. He seemed to be doing a bit better. He even started having a friend over, a guy by the name of Roman Prince. And with Roman was usually another person just like Patton, another borrower, named Logan. Patton was quick to become attached and he and Logan became fast friends despite their vastly different personalities. But even with these two new friends, Patton still loves Virgil the most.

Virgil had accidentally slipped up and called Patton “Dad” once and Patton felt his heart grow warm. He scolded the apologies that followed, quickly following with a couple “kiddo”s of his own. And so Virgil felt safe to call Patton his dad from then on. Patton liked to joke about being Virgil’s own little “Pocket Papa”. All joking aside though, Patton treated Virgil just like his own kid. He loved him just as much for sure.

So as Patton heard sobbing in the middle of the night, he quickly slipped his glasses on and got up. He started to head over to Virgil’s bed.

There was no song this time, no broken notes, no words depicting hope for Virgil to hold on to, no music for him to comfort himself with. Almost as if Virgil wasn’t seeing any of it as possible tonight.

“Virgil?” Patton asked softly, sitting down near Virgil’s face. Virgil choked out sobs, trying to calm down knowing that Patton was awake. “No no, it’s ok to cry, I’m not going to judge,” he said in a hushed tone, his voice laced with love and understanding. He smiled sadly as Virgil started crying harder. Patton just sat there, giving him soft words of encouragement.

After calming down a little, Virgil switched on the lamp next to his bed, able to see Patton properly now, and Patton Virgil. Patton went over, wiping away Virgil’s tears the best he could.

“Why am I not better, Dad? It��s been 4 years since this has happened, why am I not fixed?” Virgil choked out.

“Kiddo, no one has the right to say that you need to be all better by now. You take all the time you need to heal and feel better from this. No rushing is needed.”

“But I have you and Roman and even Logan, I have people in my life, I don’t know why I still feel so alone and awful all the time... Why can’t I get over everything? Why do their comments still affect me so much, Dad..?”

Patton softly rubbed Virgil’s cheek and looked over him before kissing the tip of Virgil’s nose. He did his best to brush the bangs out of his eyes.

As he sat down, he started to sing a song all too familiar to both of them.

“I’ve seen through you all this time

You’ve forgotten people are kind

You are hurting and I knew

So I’ll show you what to do

I say, ‘I will listen, tell it all. When you're finished, we'll talk more’

But you don’t quite know how so we’ll take it in turns

And to your surprise, we’ll find your words

Feet firm on the ground

We’ll stand hand in hand

The world seems to tell you that you have a plan

Together we’ll sing

You’re ready now

Something new, something strange

Ten feet taller, you will change

Please believe me, I’m not wrong

Oh it suits you to feel strong

I say, ‘I will listen, tell me it all. You don't like the ending? Then we'll find on that's yours’

Oh, soon you will know, that's all we need

A promise of hope is enough to feel free

Feet firm on the ground

We’ll stand hand in hand

And you’ll tell the world that you have a plan

Together we’ll sing

You’re ready now..”

Virgil sniffled and looked down to Patton, his breath caught in the back of his throat. His eyes spilled over with tears again and he sat up. He carefully scooped Patton up, holding him close to his chest as he shook with sobs. Patton hugged him, nuzzling his head into Virgil’s pajama shirt. The two of them stayed there, Virgil just crying for a while.

“I love you Virgil, you’re always going to be my kiddo,” Patton started with a soft smile. “I’m always going to be right here for you, even when you don’t think things will get better ok? You’re doing so good, I’m so extremely proud of you. I will always be proud of you, there’s so much to be proud of.”

Patton heard Virgil’s breath hitch at that.

“That’s right, you’re a kid to be extremely proud of, you always will be. And everything will be ok, I promise. I’ll make sure to help you get through this, because I love you so much,” he whispered.

Virgil nodded and sniffled, holding Patton a little closer.

“Ok Dad... I trust you..”

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It is now my honor to tag everyone who requested to be tagged in that post! So @randomslasher, @now-wouldnt-that-be-nifty, @thequeensphinx, @bexxbeauty, @specklefreckle15, and @romanisbabey, this is for you guys! (Also @sleepy-starling because you’re always the main inspiration for this pairing)

Let me know what you guys think in the comments, I always love hearing from you!

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Taglist: @hickory-dickory-doc-k, @stop-it-anxiety, @virgils-paranoia, @anotheregofanficblog, @ambersky0319, @marshmallow-the-panda (As always, shoot me a message if you’d like to be added to my taglists!)

#sanders sides #parental moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #platonic lamp #background platonic lamp #borrower au #stan writing

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