#but I figured I’d just check a few headlines today
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GITJ Post 320: Friday Morning, Alone
That’s strange, right? I thought to myself, as another series of videos cued themselves up on my computer, from the news sites. It was Friday morning and - like what was happening more and more these days - I had a few empty slots in my schedule so here I was in my office, killing time. I’d been thinking about Melissa but she was busy out doing something with the construction in the new wing. I missed her and kinda wanted to talk to her but I understood there was a lot to do. Supposedly the work was going well, they were ahead of schedule, and we’d be opening sooner than they’d planned. When, exactly, Melissa wouldn’t tell me. She also wouldn’t let me over to see the new wings. She wanted it to be a surprise.
Anyway, yeah. The headlines, since the election, had obviously been strange. It was unavoidable, the news coming from Washington, across the country and, really, all around the world. These women and their new political party - which, I was starting to figure out, was more than just a US organization but had a structure of international leadership - had really taken some major victories and were running with them already. Congress was - even before the new class of Senators and Representatives took office - already preparing and in some cases moving on new legislation to make headway into New Woman campaign promises. Yikes! If I didn’t know how slow and ineffective government normally was at making actual change, it might be kinda scary! Because some of the planks of the platforms these women ran on were kinda out there haha. No way they’d ever be more than promises, of course, with the way government worked. Besides, there were enough checks-and-balances built into the system to keep anything weird from happening, right? Our Democracy was strong. Or so they always said.
Anyway, what was really strange was how these videos kept popping up on my screen, everytime I went someplace new on my browser. Some sort of virus? They were like little news clips about the election results, or campaign pieces from one victorious candidate or another, pushed out by someone who really wanted me to see them. Some kind of computer virus? Whatever it was I actually just gave up trying to be productive with work and found myself watching a few of them: at least our new overlords will be pretty attractive haha, I joked to myself. The new President-Elect, in fact, was featured in a bunch of them and yikes before today I really had no idea but she was, uh…vavavoom…
I found myself watching excerpts from a bunch of her speeches, a couple interviews, and some old fluff footage that had been put together giving some background on her, Marlee Martin. Mom of three, ex fitness- and figure-competitor from North Carolina, self-help guru and entrepreneur/business owner: even if she was surrounded by notoriously strong women and hardcore female empowerment advocates, she had obviously swept into office in no small part due to how unthreatening she could make herself appear. She had a strong but certainly feminine, flirty and accessible nature on camera. Though she was tall and physically fit she seemed to revel in her femininity and in all those old-fashioned habits that have always been so disarming to men. She was just enough of a Southern Belle to appear benign and wholesome, but obviously quick on the uptake and aware of her strengths. In short she had not been above using sex appeal on the campaign trail. I shivered thinking about what some of the pundits were voicing: who knows what will happen now, from the Oval Office?
The new President-Elect was decidedly on the side of female empowerment, though, and never presented as a bimbo. She was likable but resolute and she herself never spoke too militantly on the goals of her party. She never flaunted her intellect either. Instead she shrewdly identified as "a friend of the common woman…and man". A cliche platitude, maybe, and now I realize women voters had obviously seen that for what it was, an empty bit of retail politicking. Even now, as I speak, I can recall that after she was in office you could see her continue to be the cute public mouthpiece of "fighting for the rights of men" just as everything eroded at warp speed unimpeded in the opposite direction, with her foot secretly on the gas pedal. Ultimately, if I remember, she presided in a calculated and effective way over the historic transformation of a nation into one more and more dominated by female leaders. While she continued to promise vaguely and ominously that "I'll never let our men and boys be forgotten", in the end she pivoted hard with the rest of the free world and took more and more credit for all the gains made by women on her watch, while men came out on the short end of the stick.
But at this point in history she was, yes, a bit of “America’s Mom,” or more “America’s Soccer Mom,” just walking the finest line between cute and pretty and down-to-earth accessible but gorgeous when she needed to be.
Speaking of gorgeous…
It wasn’t just in politics. Women had been casually gathering more power everywhere these days and when Melissa stepped through my office door that morning, in six-inch heels and a short skirt, it struck me hard. I sat up straight, and felt immediately like I was in the presence of my superior. I’d recognized the feeling, and tried to shake it off. This is my girlfriend, I reassured myself, not my boss haha.
Girlfriend, yes, right. Our relationship, such that it was - me the older guy, she the hot young thing with the borderline-disabled IQ - had been up until this week plowing ahead full steam. The election results had cast a funny shadow, though, and things since our Tuesday evening together had seemed…off. I’d been privately stewing on the feeling that she’d taken physical advantage of me that night. Plus, she’d not only known that Lakshmi had recently, uh, eased me through a tough time but even encouraged the intimacy. That was weird, right? For a girlfriend to be that, um, magnanimous? I shouldn’t be complaining, I guess, but it made me uneasy. Melissa was probably here for our Friday morning coffee meeting, and maybe it was a chance for me to clear the air.
“Hiiiiiii sweetie,” she sang, stepping in towards me. As she walked into the room with that million-dollar smile, there was just enough jiggle under her buttoned-up silk blouse to stop my words in my throat. She brightened and seemed to stand taller as she saw my eyes take in the dramatic spectacle of her figure. “I’m so sorry I’ve been so busy,” she purred, beginning to come around my desk, “but I wanted to drop in for a good-morning-kiss.”
My heart fluttered. “…a-and our Friday meeting?” I stammered, expectantly.
“Oh, pumpkin, I’m sorry,” she cooed with a pout, leaning down and gently taking my chin in her hand, “but I don’t have time this morning. There’s a meeting with the city inspectors about permits that they want me to be at.” Her eyes sparkled with affection as she watched my eyes try for a glance down her top. “I don’t really know what we’ll be talking about, honestly,” she giggled in admission as her free hand charitably undid the topmost button of her blouse, “I think they just need me for eye candy.”
“Oh, uh, okay,” I stammered, caught in a wave of perfume that seemed to ease my mind and catching a generous glimpse of cleavage, “I was kinda looking forward to sitting down with you for a couple minutes?”
“Awwww that’s sweet,” she purred, her smile redoubling upon itself, cocking her head at me, “but how ‘bout we do it tonight? Instead of going out, let’s stay in. I’ll show you my new place, where I’m staying at my mom’s. I’ll get dinner and we can talk then, have our…meeting.” She watched my eyes take it in; she had plans for our date night and I was excited for the idea already. “Does that sound nice?” she asked, her voice sweet but full of promise, “Maybe I’ll leave work early, get ready for you?”
“Y-yeah, sure,” I agreed, heart already racing.
“Good boy,” she smiled and then, finally, leaned in for our good-morning kiss, a big one that gently smeared my face red with her fresh lipstick. After a big, final <MUAH!> she saw what she’d done, giggled girlishly and licked her finger to wipe me clean with her warm saliva. “We’ll have our Friday meeting date tonight,” she purred, “I’ll make sure I warm some milk up for you…”
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Thank you to TopographicSociety / @societytopographic for a good bit of inspiration and copy on this one
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With Osborn, Chapter 1 : Sunset Roulette
Part 1: Mysterious Invitation
“Don’t you believe in me? Then keep believing.”
After a few days of heavy rain, it is finally sunny on Friday. As the workday winds down, I double-check my draught to ensure everything is perfect before hitting the "submit" button.
MC: Ahh! Finally submitted!!
Zheng Lin: Thank you for your hard work!
Mao Ge: Amazing! Wonderful!
After a long day at work, I stretch my neck and shoulders to unwind, flopping on the table, and checking the most recent headlines on my phone.
MC: New drama release… Red-carpet makeup… Nothing of interest seems to be happening...... Is it a good idea to buy a house before getting married? Eh? There is little relevance to me in this discussion.
MC: Accident at East Qian Mu Road?
My phone rings right as I'm about to click the headline.
MC: Osborn?
Osborn: You’re off work?
MC: Yep! I just submitted my draft; I’m off work!
Osborn: Nice. Come down.
MC: Eh?
Osborn: I’ll wait for you.
Beep— Before I could ask further, he hung up.
MC: Could it be…that he’s downstairs?!
I quickly pack my belongings and sprint towards the elevator at the speed of the wind.
Zheng Lin: Eh? MC somehow went back on time today!
Mao Ge appears from behind his screen, revealing half his face and speaking in a mysterious tone.
Mao Ge: From what I can tell with my limited amount of first-hand knowledge, there is just one viable possibility here. Daaaa…te.
As I leave the building, two women in front of me walk with their heads turned to the rear as if they are looking at something, and they almost collide with me.
MC: Careful!
Lady A: Ah, I’m sorry!
MC: No problem, no problem……
Lady B: Ahh, did you see him? He is so handsome! Could he be one of the celebrities?
Lady A: Yes, yes. Don’t get too excited, and don’t point at him! It’s not polite!
When I look in the same direction, I spot a strikingly red racing car parked on the side of the road. A slender figure leans against the side of the car, his arms dangling off the top while he fiddles with a sweet.
MC: So, the person that they are referring to is…… Osborn?
Quickly, I straighten up and head over to him. After I'd taken two steps, his head whipped around to face me as though he could sense my presence. As soon as he catches sight of me, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
Osborn: Yo, that’s quite fast. I thought I had to wait for another 30 minutes.
I hastily approach him and narrow my eyes.
MC: I won't risk delaying Boss Xiao's order! But what brings you here now? Is something the matter?
Osborn puts his hands in his pockets and stands upright in front of me. His presence causes the roadside camphor tree shadow to sway even more as it adopts the form of a man.
Osborn: So, if nothing is going on, I can't come to you?
MC: Of course, you can; I’d be more than happy!
Osborn: Great, since you say so……
After a hearty chuckle, he raises his hand and glances at his mechanical wristwatch.
Osborn: We still have six hours left today; how about doing something thrilling?
[Agree] [Ask More]
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Secret’s Out
Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2
Bruce was looking at his emails when Y/N arrived at the table.
She was breathing heavily and her hair was a bit messy, just further proving she had rushed to get there.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she huffed embarrassingly. “My shoot ran over and every one was moving so slowly.”
Bruce smiled. “Y/N. Relax.”
Then he stood up to greet her with a kiss on the cheek.
The two of them hadn’t seen each other in over a month. Y/N had been traveling for work constantly. And between the vigilante life and Wayne Enterprises, Bruce was running on 2 hours of sleep on the daily.
“I need a drink,” Y/N finally sighed after she got situated.
As if on cue, their waitress dropped Y/N’s favorite drink in front of her.
Y/N eyed Bruce with surprise.
He just shrugged.
Sometimes Y/N forgot how much her father noticed literally everything.
“Thank you,” she told the waitress.
“You’re overworking yourself,” Bruce said with a disapproving look.
She rolled her eyes. “Really? You’re not one to talk, Bruce.”
“You deserve a vacation. I’ll pay for it. Pick wherever you want. Bring Jason. Or some friends.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Bruce…”
It was a warning.
From the very start of their unconventional father-daughter relationship, Y/N had made it clear that she could not be bought. And Bruce spoiling her made her extremely uncomfortable. Even now, she still tried to at least split restaurant checks with him. Bruce always won those battles though.
“I’ll take a vacation when you do,” she finally countered.
That sure shut him up.
“Hey, I actually brought you something,” Y/N changed the subject as she reached for her bag.
A moment later, she lightly placed a manila folder onto the table.
Bruce’s brow furrowed as he reached for it.
As soon as he opened it, he froze.
“I had to clean out some stuff and put things into storage,” Y/N explained. “I found all my mom’s photos. I figured I could make copies of some childhood photos for you.”
Bruce’s silence made Y/N nervous.
“If you don’t want them, that’s totally fine.” She started to reach for the folder out of Bruce’s grip with awkward embarrassment. “It was stupid–”
But Bruce quickly pulled the folder closer to him and stopped her from taking the photos from him.
“Thank you,” he announced.
It made Y/N quickly sit back in her chair, caught off guard by his sincere reaction and how he’d immediately become protective of the photos.
Bruce awkwardly cleared his throat. “Thank you, Y/N.”
He repeated to make sure she understood how thankful he truly was. And Y/N suspected the throat clearing was to hide his emotions.
Now she watched as Bruce slowly went through every picture. He took in every detail with a soft smile.
These weren’t just photos. These were all of Y/N’s memories that Bruce missed, that he could never get back. And he was savoring all of them.
Then Bruce paused and was fully smiling now.
“What?” Y/N asked.
She didn’t know why all of this made her so nervous.
Bruce didn’t say anything as he lifted a photo and flipped it to show her.
It wasn’t from her childhood.
It was a black and white photo of Jason. A candid from when he had escorted her around the slums of Gotham for her most recent gallery show.
After months of thinking about it, Y/N finally had decided she wanted to frame it and hang it somewhere in her apartment.
Y/N’s jaw dropped with embarrassment and she ripped it from his hands.
“I was developing some photos at the same time as I was making the copies. Must’ve gotten mixed up in those,” Y/N explained too quickly, unable to meet Bruce’s gaze.
It made Bruce happy to know that Y/N didn’t have the same inability to love someone and let people in like he did. It was a relief that she didn’t isolate herself from it like he had. If her mother was still alive, Bruce would thank her for it. But if Y/N’s mother were alive, he would’ve never known about Y/N in the first place.
Their entire dinner was spent with Bruce looking at the old photos. He had at least two questions for each one. Some of them Y/N didn’t remember being taken. But most of them came with stories or a loving memory.
Y/N talked for most of the meal. But that’s exactly what Bruce wanted.
Furthermore, Bruce had nothing of value to update her on. Batman business had consumed his life as of lately, and he had made a promise to never involve Y/N in any of it. And Jason seemed to be on the same page when it came to his other life as Red Hood.
Both men seemed determined to keep her safe and away from it all.
Two hours later, Bruce was paying the check and helping Y/N into her coat.
“I’ll give you a ride home,” he muttered as they started walking out.
Y/N had learned by now to give up on those small battles. Jason was the same way when it came to making sure she got home safely.
As they made their way to the exit, Y/N caught a few stares from other patrons who were still eating.
“Do you ever get used to it?” She asked her father in a low voice.
“Get used to what?” He asked, genuinely unaware of what she was getting at.
“People gawking at you.”
Bruce glanced around and unintentionally glared at anyone who was staring at Y/N.
“It’s good that I’m seen in public…for obvious reason,” he hinted in a quiet voice, obviously talking about needing the cover to continue his life as a masked vigilante.
Once they were outside, Alfred was already waiting at the curb with the Rolls-Royce. He greeted Y/N with a hug and a kiss to her cheek before opening the door for her and Bruce.
When they got to Y/N’s apartment building, she said her goodbyes to Alfred. And Bruce walked Y/N all the way up to her door.
Even though Y/N insisted it was overkill and she could get up the stairs on her own just fine, Bruce had seen too many terrible things in this forsaken city. He could think of thousands of things that could happen to Y/N between the car and her front door.
Once Y/N realized that Bruce’s paranoia came from experience, she stopped trying to stop his chivalry and overprotective ways. She finally understood that Bruce had seen things that would prevent her from ever sleeping again. So if walking Y/N to her door gave him a little peace of mind, she wasn’t going to take that away from him.
Y/N turned to Bruce when they reached her door. “Thanks again for dinner.”
“Of course. I’m glad we could spend some time together. Thank you again for the photos.”
Y/N didn’t realize that Bruce was about to hang every single one around Wayne Manor.
She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug. “Get home safe.”
——————
Y/N woke up wrapped strong arms, her body overheating slightly.
When she had come home from dinner last night, Jason had already left for patrol.
He hadn’t woken her up when he got back home, just proving how exhausted Y/N had been these past few weeks.
But it was the continuous buzzing vibrations of her phone that woke her up. When she brightened the screen, she saw that she had dozens of text messages and three missed called from Bruce.
“What the fuck,” Y/N whispered as she started opening them.
But they were all about the same thing.
Everyone had sent her similar articles from various gossip websites or news outlets.
BRUCE WAYNE’S NEW GIRLFRIEND IS FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER Y/F/N Y/L/N
BRUCE WAYNE’S FLAVOR OF THE WEEK
IS Y/F/N Y/L/N USING THE PRINCE OF GOTHAM TO FURTHER HER CAREER?
All of the headlines were joined with photos of Bruce and Y/N having dinner last night. Apparently other customers at the restaurant had snuck photos of Bruce greeting her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Y/N could see how it would be misinterpreted as romantic and not familial or platonic. But it still made her sick to see the photos twisted in such a way.
Then there were paparazzi photos of them getting in a car together. Of course there were none of Bruce dropping her off and them going their separate ways. That would be just too convenient for the two of them.
Y/N’s stomach dropped with panic.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she gasped without realizing it.
Jason immediately woke up. “What is it?”
Y/N ignored him and called Bruce.
“I’m handling it,” was how Bruce answered her call.
“Handling it? How exactly?” She challenged. “We can deny the rumors all we want. But everyone is going to keep tabs on us now, and they’re going to see us together again.”
Jason grabbed his own phone.
One of his brothers must’ve sent him a similar article because he rubbed his face in annoyance, finally understanding the situation.
Nothing like your girlfriend being rumored to have a relationship with her father, who was also your mentor and adoptive father.
“Y/N, it will blow over. It always does,” Bruce tried to calm her down.
“So what happens when I get photographed with Jason? Huh? They’re going to just say I’m cheating on both of you with each other or some fucked up shit like that.”
Bruce was silent, because they both knew she was right.
Y/N glanced at Jason, who was already waiting for her gaze.
She took in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Maybe we should…Maybe we should just tell the truth.”
“You’ve never wanted that, Y/N.” Bruce tried to argue.
And he was right.
Y/N was terrified of being associated with the Wayne family. People would start believing she secretly built her career off of nepotism that no one was aware of. She also didn’t want that type of attention from the media and the upperclass of Gotham.
“I don’t think we have any other choice,” Y/N finally answered.
Jason reached for thigh and gripped it, trying to offer her some sort of comfort.
“Y/N, are you sure about this?” Bruce asked slowly.
“No. Not at all. But I’d rather not have the public think I’m dating my biological father.”
“OK,” Bruce sighed. “I’ll talk to my publicist today.”
“OK.” She bit her lip before adding. “Just…tell them the whole story.”
“Y/N, if you’re worried how it will make me look, don’t.”
“But I am worried about it, Bruce. They’re going to drag you for being an absent father. And none of that is true. They’re not gonna understand.”
“I’ll call you later with an update,” he told her softly before hanging up.
Y/N tossed her phone to the foot of the bed in frustration.
Jason watched as she buried her face in her hands.
“You OK?” He asked as he rubbed her back.
“No,” she answered honestly.
“Come here.” Jason pulled her into his chest.
There was no fight from her as he cuddled her tightly.
“This is a fucking nightmare,” she groaned into his shoulder.
“I know. But maybe it’s for the best,” he tried to reason with her.
“And what happens when they catch wind that I’m dating my father’s adoptive son? Huh?”
“We’re not actually related, Y/N.”
She pulled her face back so she could glare at him. “Yeah! We know that! But you do understand that people are going to see it that way, right? Like we’re gonna look like some fucked up incestual couple to them.”
“I don’t really care,” Jason finally told her.
“You don’t care?” She scoffed.
“No,” his answer and confidence didn’t waver. “I don’t give a fuck what people say about us, Y/N. If exposing the truth means we don’t have to think twice about going to events or even just going out to dinner, then I’m all for it. I’m sick of hiding our relationship.”
Y/N blinked. She never considered that their subtle relationship bothered him in any way. She was always a strangely private person, so it felt normal to her. But clearly Jason had been wanting to be a bit more public with their relationship.
“What if this changes everything?” Y/N whispered, not meeting his eyes.
Jason smirked at that and gripped her chin, lifting it up so she would look at him. “Some paparazzi and trash tabloids aren’t going to change how I feel about you, Y/N.”
Y/N laughed lightly at that.
“Maybe we should leave Gotham for a bit,” she offered. “Bruce won’t shut up about paying for a vacation for us.”
Jason nodded. “I think that sounds like a good idea. You’ve needed a break for awhile now.”
“Well…where do you wanna go?” Y/N asked.
“Doesn’t matter to me. As long as you’re there.”
She rolled her eyes and hit Jason in the face with a pillow. “God, you really are a sap.”
Y/N appreciated Jason always being able to make her feel better and feel supported.
But even he couldn’t stop her from wondering...
What would life be like as a Wayne?
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Father of Mine – Bonus Content
#father of mine bonus content#father of mine#bruce wayne x daughter#bruce wayne x daughter!reader#father!bruce wayne#dad!bruce wayne#dad!batman#batdad#jason todd x reader#jason todd reader insert#red hood reader insert#red hood x reader#batfam#batboys
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Quiet in the Library!
I think I lived out a kink-scenario again completely on accident today (note, this was written a couple of days before posting due to a busy schedule).
My area is currently experiencing an unprecedented heat wave. We're normally a colder climate so built-in AC units are not a thing in our area. Older houses come with ways to heat one's house, but nothing to cool it down because our climate is normally either cold or freezing. On my day off from work I decided that I wanted to go out somewhere with AC to kill time. I had some stuff I needed to work on and some things I needed to print off so I made plans to head to a public library and work/chill for a couple of hours.
I discussed my plan with family members. Some family members are going through medical treatments and stuff, so the entire household has been wary of going outside and potentially bringing germs and other stuff back home with them. I'd be going out for "recreational" purposes. We have a printer at home but it is only connected to someone else's desktop...so if I absolutely had to print something off I'd have to hop onto that computer...which I have done in the past...so the library trip was more for the idea of spending a couple of hours in a building with AC going. I wanted to let family know of my plans so that they wouldn't plan for me to be at home...and also offered the idea of someone tagging along with me if they wanted to beat the heat in the library too.
Turns out someone else was toying with the idea of going on a grocery run but they were on the fence because of the heat wave. I suggested that I'd tag along with them on the grocery trip, help them carry items and all, and then they could drop me off at the library and save me one trip on transit...I'd take transit home when I was ready. With that plan, I suggested that we eat breakfast at home because I had plans to buy lunch outside while on my library trip and I did not want to have to buy or eat two fast-food meals in one day. This was all discussed the night before my day off, fyi.
Plan made, upon waking up we worked together to put breakfast on the table. Unfortunately, my first task upon waking was to chug some ice-cold water out of the fridge. It was hot and I was sweating not even 10 minutes after waking up. The shock of cold water so soon after waking gave me cramps. Imagine how you'd react to being rudely woken up by someone dumping a bucket of ice-water on you...yeah, that's exactly how my stomach reacted. I hid in my room, doubled over with cramps, and left the rest of breakfast prep to family members.
Something went wrong with breakfast, apparently, that resulted in half of the food being inedible so I ended up eating about three mouthfuls of food and leaving the rest for other family members. The spoiled breakfast put other family in a bad mood so they reneged on our plans. Timing-wise, it resulted in a mad dash to the bus stop for me after swallowing my third mouthful of food because I had decided I'd be in the library today. The little food I had eaten was only barely enough to whet my appetite and my stomach was grumbling and snarling for more by the time I reached the bus stop. I rubbed my tummy a little to try to calm it because part of it was still griping over the ice-wakening.
When I got to the area with the library, I had a choice to make: walk further in the heat, by-pass the library, to find food at a nearby food-court first...or hit the library as intended, spend a few hours there, and then search for food hours later. The heat made my decision for me...looking for food first would have resulted in double the amount of walking in the heat because I'd be bypassing the library only to return to it after getting food. My stomach had calmed down on the bus ride (thanks to some discreet tummy rubs) and was no longer grumbling at me.
I hunkered down in the library with my earbuds in. It's been over a year since I set foot in a library due to the pandemic shutting them down for in-person services. I missed this. My favorite thing to do in the summer in previous years was to bring my laptop to a library and enjoy the ambience and the air-conditioning. It doesn't cost anything but transit fare so I did this often before the pandemic hit. I was enjoying myself. I felt a little self-conscious though because people that walked by my table gave me strange looks...and I don't know why. I had my mask on, other people at other tables were doing the same as I--had their laptops out and were working on Word-Processing documents. I'm at the age where I can totally blend in as a post-secondary student...so I couldn't fathom why I was getting strange looks and I kept on checking if my hair was out of place or if I had something on my clothes.
When I wrapped up my work, I shut down my computer and pulled by earbuds out...that's when I realized that the rumbling I felt throughout my three hours at the library was not due to my music being too loud. The grumbles had come back with a vengeance and apparently had been going for at least two and a half hours. Something about tables always seems to act as an echo chamber for stomach growls and these ones were audible...so...yeah...my best guess as to why people were giving me odd looks: my tummy was growling and they heard it.
To add to my embarrassment, a stunningly attractive person was in the table behind me. There was no way he didn't hear my growling tummy. I packed up, printed off my stuff, and left the library in a rush in order to spare myself further embarrassment.
Onto food. I stopped by a nearby convenience store to hunt for drinks. Pro-tip when eating at a food court or going to the movies or something: drinks and snacks are cheaper if you get them from a grocer or a convenience store or something than if you were to get them at the food court or theatre. I know, it's bad to do that to a theatre, but most of the people I know working in theatres tell me that they don't mind if you bring outside food as long as you don't leave evidence...don't throw out your own wrappers and zipper bags in their trash bins and don't leave bottled drinks and stuff lying around. You shouldn't do that sort of thing if you bought concessions at the theatre either...but yeah.
The convenience store here almost always has a "3 for $5" sale on drinks...it's just a matter of which brand/flavors are on sale when I go. I lucked out and it was on 500mL bottles of lemonade that day...so I trudged over to the food court carrying 1.5 litres of drinks. I was hungry and it was hot, so I ended up buying some of those premade sushi platters. It wasn't a big one...8 pieces or so. I bought a small bento box as well that basically just had some meat on top of the rice and a side of vegetables. I was hungry, so I was sure that this amount of food was alright for me to finish in one sitting. In previous trips I'd bought a 2-item large bento and the same sushi platter...I'd be able to finish the bento and maybe eat 2 of the rolls before being full in previous trips, so I was sure that what I had bought would fit comfortably in my stomach.
I forgot to factor in thirst. It was a hot day and all, so I ended up drinking more lemonade than I otherwise would have. I drank 2 of the bottles during my meal...so an entire litre of drink went into my stomach along with the food. By the end of my meal all that was left on my plate was one roll from the sushi platter. I brought it to my lips but my stomach definitely didn't want it and it was too hard to swallow.
My gut was packed. The litre of lemonade (as well as about half a cup worth of water from a waterbottle) filled up my tummy and brought me to 'stuffed' rather than simply 'full', The food alone would have comfortably brought me to 'full' as I usually only have my waterbottle with me for meals so I don't drink too much.
I was wearing a loose button-up shirt over top of a camisole and pants that day. The clothes were very flattering and highlighted my slimmer waist. I've got a higher BMI than is considered normal/healthy...but my figure is basically on the bigger end of average rather than into full blown obese territory...and most of my fat distribution goes toward my bust, arms, and thighs so my stomach was flat in those clothes. Not after lunch, that's for sure.
My stuffed tummy was aching, stretched and fit to bursting. The glut of food and drink had rounded out my stomach and I was immensely glad for the loose button-up hiding the evidence. I sat at the table for a while, unwilling and unable to stand up because my stomach felt so heavy and there was pressure at the base of my esophagus from all the food. I was terrified that I'd throw up if I moved and jostled my tummy. I spent a few minutes discreetly rubbing my tummy under the table as I flipped through headlines on my phone. I wasn't paying attention to my phone, mentally begging my stomach to start digesting so that I could finally move.
When I finally got up, I opted to walk around the mall for a bit in hopes of coaxing faster digestion. My stomach churned and sloshed the whole time. Surprisingly, there wasn't really any gas in my guts. It was all liquid and solid food. The rice must have absorbed some of the liquid because everything felt like it had swelled up inside of my belly. The stretch was intense. Thanks to my clothes, I felt like some of those "surprise inspection" fanarts I've seen floating around. If I had a partner and a discreet/private setting, I wouldn't have minded playing out a "surprise inspection" scenario. I was alone in public and terribly shy and embarrassed about my tummy though. If anyone tried to press their palm into my tummy at that moment I'm sure I would have been embarrassed and that I would have thrown up from all of the pressure in and on my tummy. I was stuffed to the point it hurt--my stomach felt like it was on the verge of a rupture.
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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story
Chapter 2-18: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation
“Why do you look like someone who got caught red-handed with their hand in the cookie jar?“
*Light and Night Master-list
*Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut
*Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪
*Main story tag will be #For Light and Night
For the next one week, I threw myself into the making of Lin Yao's dress.
MC: It's finally done! Now all that's left is the fitting; but she's so busy, I don't know when she'll be able to schedule a fitting session.
Zheng Lin: You're lucky. Lin Yao will be coming down today for a shoot for "Neverland", a magazine that's under a subsidiary of Warson's.
Zheng Lin: You can contact her agent and check with them about it.
MC: Will do!
Because of her tight schedule, the fitting session ended up being slotted after the shoot.
The magazine's shooting location was at a studio near Warson. Brother Mao had already brought the dress over for me beforehand.
❖☆———————————★❖
By the time I finally finished my work on hand and headed out of the office, ready to cross the alley over to the studio, a spot of white at a corner of a wall caught my attention.
The person carefully looked around before slowly crouching down, seemingly in search of something.
MC: ...Why does that person look so familiar?
I approached the figure as I mused about that. A silver head of hair, dressed entirely in white; the answer clicked in my head almost immediately.
SARIEL!? What's he doing here!?
What surprised me, even more, was the fact that he was currently facing a couple of dustbins and a pile of discarded items.
Wasn't Sariel all about cleanliness!? The headlines were already flashing in my head. "The Black History of the Top of the Top Designer Scavenging for Rubbish".
I hurriedly shook my head and threw the absurd thought out of the window.
★Night Choice: Sneak away
I should hurry and sneak away before he realizes I'm here…
I lightened my footsteps and prepared to sneak away from him behind his back.
Sariel: You. What are you doing here?
MC: !
He saw me! I could only turn around and smile sheepishly at him.
MC: What a coincidence to meet you here, Director Qi...
He'd already reverted to his usual high and haughty self. He watched me with his arms folded.
Sariel: How coincidental, indeed. Why is it that every time I see you, not only are you not taking your job seriously, but also look like you're harbouring a guilty conscience?
MC: But, you were squatting on the ground doing god-knows-what earlier. Isn't that more…
Sariel: What did you say?
MC: Nope! Nothing at all! What great weather out today!!
The words had just left my mouth when a cloud gently floated past the sky above us.
Sariel raised his eyebrows, the contempt reflected in his eyes speaking larger than words. I had the nagging feeling that he was about to start berating me again.
Sariel: Don't change the topic. What exactly are you doing here?
☆Light Choice: Watch curiously
Logically thinking about it, I should sneak away while I still had the chance since he hadn't noticed me yet; but, I couldn't quite stop my curiosity.
Plus, seeing Sariel like that really gives people a lot to think about. Not only does he look terribly secretive about something, but he was also crouched by a dustbin in search of something.
MC: Just what is he looking for?
I followed his line of sight, but all I could see was a pile of yellow sand, a few steel frames, and two rubbish bins.
I looked away in confusion, but my eyes were soon met with his inquisitive ones the moment I raised my head.
MC: D-D-Director Qi!
I was startled so bad that my words came out in a stuttered mess. Sariel had already stood back up, facing me with folded arms.
Sariel: What are you doing here? And why do you look like someone who got caught red-handed with their hand in the cookie jar?
MC: I'm only passing by for work purposes…
Sariel: Do I look that easy to fool to you?
MC: I'm not lying. I'm only passing by because of work! I'm headed to the shooting studio over there!
I hurriedly pointed to the shooting studio situated at the other end of the alleyway to prove my innocence.
He glanced over before his eyes flickered back to me. He stared me in the eye for a while before finally breaking contact.
MC: Are you looking for something, Director? Do you need me to help look for it with you?
Sariel: ...What did you see?
He suddenly stiffens. That expression of his… Did I see something I shouldn't have?
MC: Nothing! Zilch, nada! I didn't see anything!
Sariel: I don't need your help. Hurry along your merry way now.
MC: Oh, okay… See you then, Director.
Sariel only released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding only after the girl's figure disappeared.
He picked up a small branch, meticulously giving it a thorough cleansing before surveying the area once more. After confirming that there was no one in the vicinity, he crouched back down.
He poked the mound of sand. No reaction. He knocked on the trash cans. Nothing.
Sariel: …...
The sunlight shines upon the ground, highlighting the speck of dirt staining his shoe.
He resisted the urge to wipe it clean. Instead, he continued to poke the mound of sand near him.
And in the next moment, the mound of sand moved. The fallen leaves that had been above it letting out a crisp "crunch".
Sariel's brow furrowed as he used the stick to flick the sand away bit by bit.
Sariel: Come out.
A plump lizard poked its head out of the sand with great difficulty. One glance at Sariel was enough to make it burst into tears.
Lizard: Old Qi! You've finally come for me! Hurry and save me! I won't leave home again! I'm not complaining if you make me go vegetarian anymore!
Sariel: Silence.
Sariel unscrewed the cap of a bottle of mineral water, placing it on the floor before retreating a couple of steps.
Sariel: Wash yourself before you go. If I spot a single grain of sand back home...
Lizard: I'm gonna be turned into a braised lizard.
He let out a satisfied sneer before taking a big stride away, turning to leave.
Lizard: Hey! Wait up, Old Qi! Who's that human girl just now?
Lizard: I'd passed out, but I reawakened when I heard her voice!
Lizard: I can't help but feel like she sounds a little familiar. Like I've heard her before...
Sariel stops and suddenly turns back around.
Sariel: What did you say?
❖☆———————————★❖
MC: Achoo!
I consecutively sneezed thrice as I headed to the shooting studio. Is someone talking about me behind my back or something?
❖☆———————————★❖
I entered the shooting studio as I thought it over, only to see Brother Mao, who was standing by the entrance, the moment I looked up.
Brother Mao: You're here only NOW? Here, here. Come here!
MC: What's up, Brother Mao? It's still early, no? Why are you so panicky?
Brother Mao: The shooting ended early— No, wait. I suppose I should say that it's been forcibly postponed till tomorrow.
MC: Huh? But why?
Brother Mao: Because of Lin Yao's agent, of course!
Brother Mao: She said that the photographers weren't the ones that they'd chosen, so they weren't going to be shooting today. She said that they were going to do it tomorrow instead when the right photographers are here!
Brother Mao: You know how I'm usually fast to run my mouth? Well, the scariest thing was that I couldn't even put a word in...
MC: ……
MC: What did Lin Yao say about it?
Brother Mao: She only stood there, not a peep from her. From the looks of it, it looks like both mother and daughter are in agreement.
MC: Mother and daughter? The agent's her mom?
Brother Mao: Yeah. I think she pampers her kid too much. That's why she's being so picky and choosy with us.
MC: Well, that shouldn't be the case. All reports have said that Lin Yao is very sensible and easy to talk with.
Brother Mao: Hell, I don't know! Go take a look for yourself.
MC: And Lin Yao? Where's she now?
Brother Mao: She went to try out the clothes.
Brother Mao: I have a bad feeling, though. Her agent had a look of distaste on her face when she took the clothes earlier. I don't know if she—
BANG!
The door to the dressing room suddenly flung open with terrifying viciousness.
Brother Mao and I jumped in fright. A cold and shrill feminine voice sounded before we could even react in time.
??: You call these clothes wearable!?
Brother Mao: And that's the agent.
Following the rapid clicking of high heels, a woman dressed in a sleeveless dress walked up to him and stared him down with her hands on her hips.
Agent: Our Yaoyao is sincerely and earnestly putting in the effort for this cooperation. She even especially delayed her flight!
Agent: All for the sake of trying on her dress!
Agent: Yet, how dare you give us this half-hearted dress that's not even suitable!? I want to see your Designer!
MC: ……
MC: Hello. I am (Y/n), the Designer.
Agent: Is Warson treating us as fools? You're so young; you must be an intern! Warson can't just ride roughshod over its customers like that!
Brother Mao: Who says that being young equals being an intern!? She's one of our best Designers!
Brother Mao had a vein protruding on his forehead in his ire. I quickly reassured him that everything was fine.
MC: You can feel free to tell me just what about this outfit you're unsatisfied with. This is what this fitting session is for. I will try my best to modify it.
The agent coldly contemplated us for a good long while before turning and walking back into the dressing room. Brother Mao and I followed after her.
❖☆———————————★❖
Although I had a calm facade on the outside, I was a whirlwind of emotions within. I most definitely didn’t know what Lin Yao looked like, wearing those clothes.
Upon seeing her, I felt my heart plummet to the ground with a loud thud, as if it were a stone.
She stood there indifferently, positioned between light and shadows. Her skin was so pale that it appeared as if light could permeate through it. She looked like a dark elf emerging from the depths of the moonlit waters.
She slowly turns around at the sound. She had an expressionless look on her face. Was she in a bad mood?
Agent: What’s with this gloomy colour? Pink is what suits our Yaoyao best! Get it? Girly pink!
Agent: Also, this dress is way too short! It should reach below the knees at least so that it can highlight her pureness and innocence.
Agent: These metal tassels are inappropriate as well! God knows if they’ll think that she’s a bad girl wearing these!
Agent: Also, Yaoyao got injured while filming beforehand, so her scar must be covered.
Brother Mao: But, you never mentioned anything about scars beforehand…?
Agent: Who would want to be injured? It’s an accident.
Looking at the scars on Lin Yao’s forearm and wrist, I couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity.
MC: I will think of something for her scars. The other aspects of the design were designed to suit the character she portrays, that's why I didn't go for the innocent and soft look.
MC: I also hope that Miss Lin Yao here will be able to portray a different image to the masses with this outfit.
Agent: You are a Designer, are you not? It is your DUTY to help us make these adjustments.
I ignored her, walking straight to Lin Yao.
MC: Miss Lin Yao, may I ask if this dress is satisfactory to you?
MC: If you do not like it, then we can shelve this and I'll start designing a new one right now. You can just tell me if that's the case; there's no need to feel bad.
Lin Yao was silent. She seemed to be looking at me, yet not quite. She gradually pressed her lips into a thin line, as if making a hard decision.
I was just about to take her silence as a “no” when she finally spoke.
Lin Yao: Mother. This style is what's been recently trending. You can't deny that this might open more doors for me in the future.
Lin Yao: And, have you already forgotten the interview by the media the other day where they were asking when I'd be able to change my image once in a while?
Upon hearing this, her agent shot her a long and profound look, as if she’d wanted to say something, yet it wasn’t too convenient for her to do so seeing as we were also present. Eventually, she gave a reluctant nod.
Agent: Fine. I’ll go ask about the photographer issue again. Hurry and change back out of your clothes.
Brother Mao shot me a look before following after her.
❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖
Previous Part: (Chapter 2-15) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-21)
#光与夜之恋#Light and Night#Otome#Translations#Tencent#萧逸#Osborn#齐司礼#Sariel#陆沉#Evan#查理苏#Charlie#夏鸣星#Jesse#For Light and Night
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You Can’t Keep My Friends
Pairing: Mikey Way x Reader
Genre: Romance, Drama
Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 4. Prompt: “Bat Country”.
It’s the summer of 2005, and you, and the other members of My Chemical Romance, are on Warped Tour. You start making friends with your tour-mates, Avenged Sevenfold. But, an unexpected comment from their guitarist, makes Mikey jealous.
You were relaxing on your tour bus, reading the new issue of Fangoria, when you heard a knock at the door. You got up, wondering who it could be.
“Hi,” greeted an unfamiliar, black-haired man, when you opened the door. “Is Mikey here?”
“Sorry,” you shrugged. “He’s not around. I think he went over to Fall Out Boy’s bus, to hang out with Pete.”
“That’s okay,” the man shrugged, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Oh, I guess I should introduce myself.”
“Yeah, what’s your name?” you wondered.
“I’m Zacky Vengeance,” the man smiled. “Ok….I’m actually Zacky Baker. But, you gotta admit, my stage name sounds cooler.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Vengeance,” you laughed. “I’m Y/N.”
“You plays drums for My Chem, right?” Zacky guessed.
“Yeah, that’s right,” you nodded.
“I’m in Avenged Sevenfold,” Zacky explained. “I play guitar.”
“Good to know,” you smiled. “Did you want me to tell Mikey, when I see him, that you stopped by?”
“I actually wanted to thank him,” Zacky confessed. “Our bassist, Johnny, broke one of his strings during soundcheck.”
“Oh, that sucks,” you said sympathetically.
“Yeah, and somehow, we couldn’t find our replacement strings anywhere!” Zacky frowned. “But, thankfully, Mikey let us borrow some of his.”
“Oh, that was nice of him,” you replied. He really is a kind person, always going out of his way to help others. It was one of the things you liked most about him.
“I wanted to give him this, as a thank you,” Zacky said, pulling a beer bottle out of his pants pocket. “Could you give it to him, for me?”
“Sure,” you shrugged, taking the bottle. “I’ll put it in the fridge for him, and let him know it’s there, when he comes back.”
“Thanks, Y/N,” Zacky smiled. “It was nice meeting you.”
“Yeah, you too, dude,” you replied. This was one of your favorite parts of Warped Tour - you always made new friends, with other bands.
Now, you thought, back to reading about the new Romero movie.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
You looked up from the page, when you heard the bus door open.
“Hey, Y/N,” Mikey greeted, wiping sweat off his forehead.
“Hey,” you smiled back. “Hot out there today?”
“Scorching,” Mikey laughed. “What’s up?”
“Zacky from Avenged Sevenfold was here,” you explained. “He gave me a beer, to give to you. He said thanks for helping them out.”
“Oh, sweet!” Mikey grinned. He went into the fridge, took out the beer, and twisted the cap open. “He got me my favorite kind, too!”
“I wish we had our own supply, this year,” you confessed.
“Well, Gerard’s trying to stay sober,” Mikey pointed out, taking a sip. “So, for his sake, we can’t really keep them on the bus, like we did last summer.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” you sighed. “I was being selfish.”
“If you want one, I’ll try and find you some,” Mikey offered, having another swig.
“Nah,” you declined. “It’s not like I need it that badly.”
“Speaking of which,” Mikey wondered, “where is Gerard?”
Your vocalist had been staying on the bus, like a hermit, for most of the tour. It had to be boring for him. But, you supposed it was the best way, for him to avoid temptation.
“Apparently there’s a comic book shop, not far from the venue,” you explained.
“Oh, so, he went shopping?” Mikey realized, finishing his drink, and tossing the bottle into a trash bin.
“Yeah,” you nodded. “I mean, we’re not going onstage, til like, eight o clock tonight, so he’s got plenty of time, to get there and back.”
“That’s true,” Mikey reasoned. “It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it? How when Warped Tour started last summer, we were on at like, midday, because nobody knew who we were…”
“And then our time slot got moved!” you recalled. “Because suddenly, Revenge was like, the hottest album of the year.”
“And now, this summer, we’re headlining,” Mikey said proudly.
“We really have come a long way,” you agreed.
“Since we have so much time on our hands,” Mikey suggested, “do you want to go check out Avenged Sevenfold’s set?”
“Sure!” you agreed. “Do we need to take a couple security guys with us?”
“Nah,” Mikey chuckled. “Just put your sunglasses on, and your hood up, and we’ll be fine.”
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
You joined the crowd, just as the band was starting to take the stage. The vocalist, you noticed, was a buff-looking guy in a muscle tank, wearing a backwards baseball cap. He was almost the antithesis of Gerard’s pretty-boy aesthetic.
“I’ve met him,” Mikey said, following your gaze. “He’s actually a pretty cool guy.”
“What’s his name?” you wondered.
“He calls himself M. Shadows,” Mikey replied.
“Edgy,” you joked.
“Maybe I’m the lame one, for using my real name,” Mikey considered. “I could have been, I dunno, Mikey Nightmare, or something.”
“I like your name,” you assured him, taking his hand.
Mikey blushed.
“WHAT’S UP, DENVER?!” M. Shadows screamed into the microphone.
“....Is that where we are today?” you blinked.
“I guess,” Mikey chuckled. “I’ll be honest, the cities start to blur together, after a while.”
“WHO WANTS TO HEAR A SONG OFF OUR NEW ALBUM?”, M. Shadows bellowed.
The crowd cheered.
“ALRIGHT!”,” the singer announced. “THIS SONG IS CALLED….BAT COUNTRY!”
You banged your head to the beat, as Avenged Sevenfold launched into the song:
Caught here in a fiery blaze, won't lose my will to stay
I tried to drive all through the night
The heat stroke ridden weather, the barren empty sights
No oasis here to see, the sand is singing deathless words to me
Can't you help me as I'm startin' to burn (all alone)
Too many doses and I'm starting to get an attraction
My confidence is leaving me on my own (all alone)
No one can save me and you know I don't want the attention
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
After the set ended, you and Mikey showed your passes to their security guy, and walked backstage.
“Dude, your show was amazing!” Mikey complimented.
“Oh, hey, Mikey!” Zacky grinned. “Y/N, you came to watch, too?”
“Yeah,” you smiled. “He’s right, you guys really killed it up there today.”
“Thanks,” Zacky replied. “Oh, hey, let me introduce you to the rest of the guys!”
“Sure!” you nodded.
“This is my man, Synyster Gates,” Zacky introduced, indicating a man in a grey hat. “But, you can call him Syn.”
“Hi, Syn,” you greeted.
“Hey,” Syn waved. “Nice to meet you. I’m the other guitarist.”
“He’s lead guitar, and I’m rhythm guitar,” Zacky explained.
“Oh, so, basically, the same setup that Ray and Frank have,” you figured.
“I feel like I need to meet this Frank guy sometime,” Zacky quipped. “People keep telling me I look like him.”
“You kinda do,” you confessed. You glanced over at the drummer, who was sitting down in a folding chair. “Does he have a heavy metal stage name, too?”
“I’m the Reverend Tholomew Plague,” the drummer grinned. “But, my friends call me Rev.”
“Hi, Rev,” you chuckled. “I’m Y/N.”
“Nice to meet you,” Rev replied.
“I’m Johnny Christ,” said a third man, who sported a fauxhawk. “Hey, Mikey, thanks again for the assist earlier!”
“No problem, dude,” Mikey said casually. “Where’d Shadows run off to?”
“He went to get drinks for everybody,” Zacky told him. “I’ll text him, and tell him to bring two extra, for you guys.”
“Thanks,” you smiled.
Just then, a summer breeze blew through the backstage area, sending Syn’s hat, flying off his head.
“Shit!” Syn swore, watching his hat blow further away, back onto the main stage. “This is why I hate outdoor venues.”
“I’ll go get that for you,” you offered.
“Thanks,” Syn said gratefully. “Quick, before it blows over the barricade!”
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
You ducked past the crew members, who were taking down Avenged Sevenfold’s banners, and preparing the stage for the next band. The Offspring, if you weren’t mistaken, were supposed to go on in an hour.
A tech was taking down Rev’s drum kit, and setting up Atom Willard’s. You spotted the hat, next to the bass drum.
“Excuse me,” you muttered. The drum tech got out of your way, and let you take the hat.
“Oh my god!” you heard a fan gasp, who was still by the barricade. “That’s Y/N, from MCR!”
You turned, looking at the gaggle of teenagers. They had probably stuck around, so they didn’t lose their front row seats.
“Y/N!” a second fan called out. “Will you please sign my shirt?”
“Sure,” you smiled. You leaned over the edge of the stage, taking a marker that was held out to you. You signed your name on the blushing teen’s band shirt.
“Thank you so much!” he gasped. “I can’t wait to see you and the guys perform tonight!”
“Thank you for coming to see us,” you replied.
“Y/N, will you sign my ticket stub?” another fan pleaded.
“Yeah, why not?” you acquiesced. You stayed by the barricade for a few moments, signing autographs, and posing for pictures.
“Alright, guys,” you said finally. “I really do need to go give Synyster his hat back.”
“Ok!” the fans said agreeably. “Thank you for taking time for us! Say hi to Gerard and Frankie for us when you see them!”
“Will do,” you chuckled. The MCRmy were such nice kids. It made you feel special, to be loved by such a great group of people.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
You were about to turn the corner, and re-enter the backstage area. But, you froze, when you heard your name. You realized, that the guys were talking about you.
“So,” you heard Zacky ask, “is Y/N single?”
“Uh….,” Mikey hesitated. “Yeah, as far as I know, she’s not seeing anyone.”
“That’s surprising,” Syn commented. “She’s, like, really pretty.”
“If I asked her out,” Zacky wondered, “do you think she’d say yes?”
What?!, you stifled a gasp. Zacky was interested in you?
“No!” Mikey blurted out. “You definitely don’t want to do that!”
“Why not?” you snapped, revealing herself. “You think I’d be a super annoying person to date?”
“Y/N?” Mikey gasped, turning his head around, towards you. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough,” you frowned. “Why are you warning people not to ask me out? Am I that unattractive, when I don’t have my stage makeup on?”
“No!” Mikey said quickly. “Fuck, that’s not what I meant, either!”
“Then, what did you mean?” you demanded.
“I….,” Mikey trailed off, his whole face turning red. “I can’t tell you.”
“Bullshit,” you barked. “Here’s your stupid hat, Syn.”
You practically threw it at the guitarist, then turned, and began walking away.
“Where are you going?” Mikey cried, following you.
“Back to the bus!” you growled, walking faster.
“Y/N, please, slow down!” Mikey begged, jogging to keep up with you.
“No! Buzz off!” you told him. Your cheeks burned.
Does he think I’d be a shitty, clingy girlfriend? you wondered. Why would he tell some complete stranger, that I’m not worth dating? I should’ve known...he’d never be interested in me.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
You climbed back onto the bus, and immediately threw yourself into your bunk. You pulled the curtains around you, as if you were going to sleep.
Mikey pulled the curtain back again, and sat beside you.
“Can we please talk?” he implored you.
“What is there to talk about?” you huffed.
“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Mikey said gently. “Look...do you really want to date Zacky? If that’s what will make you happy….I’ll go back there, and I’ll tell him to shoot his shot. I can even give him your number.”
“I don’t want to date Zacky,” you confessed.
I want to date you, you stupid man. You wished you could tell him that, but you didn’t have the guts. But, that will never happen.
“I didn’t tell Zacky, not to ask you out, because I think you’re annoying, or unattractive,” Mikey explained.
“Then, why did you say it?” you demanded, wiping tears on your sleeve.
“I said it because….,” Mikey hesitated.
“Spit it out,” you insisted.
“I said it, because I wanted to ask you out myself,” Mikey said finally.
“Wh…..What?!”
“I’ve been trying to find the balls, to ask you out, all summer,” Mikey confessed, reddening. “But, I could never find the right time, or the words. I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot,” you said softly, moving closer to him.
“I have no right, to tell you who to be with,” Mikey sighed. “Y/N, I hope I haven’t ruined our friendship, by telling you how I feel about you. I understand, if you aren’t interested in…”
“I’m interested,” you interrupted.
“Huh?” Mikey’s eyes widened behind his glasses.
“I’ve been interested in you for a long time,” you confessed. “I just didn’t have the balls to tell you, either.”
We’re both idiots.
You leaned over, and lay your lips on his. He kissed you back, eagerly grabbing you, pulling you closer. You kissed him, again, and again.
“....So,” Mikey gasped breathlessly, coming up for air, “does this mean you and I are dating now?”
“Now,” you grinned, grabbing him by the collar, “and forever.”
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Walk Me Home - Ch 10
Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.
Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension.
Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning
Word Count: 1856
Author’s Note: Had some extra time today, so I figured I’d go ahead and post. We’ve reached the end, folks. Thank you to everyone for reading, reblogging, liking, and especially all the lovely comments. A million thanks to @mskathywriteswords , @fangirlxwritesx67 , and @cracksinthewalls for helping my story shine. @thoughtslikeaminefield , thank you for the lovely image for the story. I hope everyone enjoyed it all as much as I do.
Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!
Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.
In Case You Missed It:
Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9
ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist
Chapter 10
“Sam looks really irritated,” Kimber whispers to Dean. The younger Winchester brother has just excused himself to the restroom, but the diner is pretty quiet, and she doesn’t want to risk Sam overhearing.
“Well, yeah,” Dean says, raising his coffee to take a deep, life-affirming slurp. He doesn’t bother to lower his tone or modulate his pitch in the slightest, and Kimber shoots him an exasperated look. “I stuck him with clean-up duty last night so I could get lucky. Not to mention, our room was the only free one at the motel, remember, so he either slept there or in his car. He’s not irritated, he’s pissed as hell and probably a little jealous.”
“But you didn’t get lucky last night,” Kimber says.
“Went home with my high school sweetheart, got to see her unmentionables, and spent the whole night in bed with her after eating semi-homemade apple pie. I’d say I got pretty damned lucky.”
She sends an elbow his way, but he’s expecting it and leans back so she overshoots and lands across his lap. She splutters indignantly as she rights herself while he takes another calm drink of his coffee.
“Seriously, though, he’s not pissed at you. The first few months after we left, the kid wouldn’t shut up about you. He practically worshipped you: hot, nerdy as hell, the whole package. And,” he adds, his teasing expression mellowing to one of genuine appreciation, “you really helped him out with that AP stuff. He got into Stanford because of you.”
“Shut up,” she says, her face heating. “He got into Stanford? That was him, and you know it. I just gave him some resources he didn’t know about, that’s all.”
“And I was able to keep up with all my AP classes no matter where we moved, which was a huge deal to me,” Sam says as he slides into the booth across from them. “You guys talking about me behind my back?”
“Always,” Dean smirks. “So, what’d you find out?”
“Does the name ‘Jim Weeks’ mean anything to you, Kimber?”
She frowns, setting her fork down on the edge of her plate. “It does. I helped him out, god, what...eight, nine years ago? He hadn’t been hunting very long, maybe a year or two, and he was investigating some...Let me think, hang on.” She closes her eyes, mentally shifting through years of research, both hers and others’.
“Human sacrifices. There was a symbol carved into all the victims. I helped him find the source, the deity it stood for. It was one of my closed cases; that’s why I didn’t bring it up. He called me a few weeks later, said he’d taken care of everything.”
“Well, he was wrong,” Sam says, his face grave. “I found his journal in the witch’s car. Jim documented you helping him, what you found, where you worked, and then how the case wrapped up. You actually helped him take down en entire coven of witches, guess he didn’t mention that part. Then he went on hunting for another seven and a half years, but a few months ago, he started to write about feeling like someone was watching him, tailing him from case to case.”
Sam pauses, giving her a moment to take in this new information, then he continues.
“Said he was starting to have periods of time where he didn’t remember stuff, would wake up in the middle of the road, in the middle of the woods. He wrote about finding a doll in his car one morning; it, uh..looked like him. Throat was slit, red paint, all of it.”
Sam clears his throat, flexing his fingers on the table top as he watches her carefully. Dean’s hand closes over hers under the table, and she realizes her fingers are shaking.
“Go on,” she says. She doesn’t want to hear what’s coming next, she really already knows, but she needs to hear it.
“The entries in his journal stop after that. The cover was soaked in dried blood. So...yeah. I did some checking, and Jim died a few months back. The scene was...nasty.”
“So, who was our nutbag?” Dean asks. His tone is rough as he squeezes Kimber’s fingers.
“I looked into the county records where Jim took down the coven. I don’t think he did too much research into the actual witches themselves; the coven included a family, a mom and dad and a teenager. Jim thought he got the whole coven, but maybe the teenager wasn’t at that meeting? At any rate, the papers from around then talked about the murdered couple’s missing child, and then the kid just dropped out of mention.”
“Okay, Jim was sloppy, and the kid survived, and what...swore revenge? How’d he find Jim again?”
“I found these folded up in the front of the journal,” Sam says, smoothing a couple of newspaper articles out on the table. The edges are frayed and ragged, torn rather than cut. There are dark smears on both, smudges and stains from who knows what, and Kimber’s gorge rises higher the longer she stares down at them.
The first article dates back to the first investigation, showing a grainy photograph of police and federal officers milling around behind crime scene tape. Kimber points to a figure off to the side, suited and facing the camera almost straight on.
“That’s Jim,” she says, her voice quiet. He looks painfully young in the photograph, and her chest twinges. The caption labels him as “FBI Special Agent Gaiman.”
She looks at the second article, which is much more recent. She notices immediately that the location is the same, the premise almost identical. “Town’s Dark Past Resurfaces After Nearly a Decade” reads the headline. She looks for Jim’s face, spotting it in the crowd once more, despite him aging considerably in the years since she met him.
“He used the same name again,” Dean says, shaking his head. “I mean, he didn’t have much choice, since it was probably the same cops on the case, but still. Probably how the witch found him. Might’ve started up the sacrifices again just to draw Jim out. Anything else in the car, Sam?”
Sam shakes his head, his mouth working as if he’s got a bad taste in his mouth. “More or less standard witch paraphernalia, a couple more knives. I didn’t see anything indicating we have anyone else to watch out for.”
Dean purses his lips, then looks to Kimber. “You doin’ okay?”
Kimber takes the question seriously, doing a quick bit of mental introspection. “Yeah, I think...I mean...Okay, so I’m still queasy, but I don’t feel like someone’s breathing down my neck anymore. I’m going to be jumpy for a while, and I am definitely not going to stop going to my Thursday night classes anytime soon. But, yeah. If I’m not completely okay at the moment, I know I’m going to be.”
“That’s my girl.” Dean leans over, pressing a kiss to Kimber’s cheek. Sam looks away, but not before Kimber catches the embarrassed smile on his face. Dean slides from the booth, strolling casually over to the register and grinning at the elderly waitress, who blushes and giggles as she takes the check from him.
“Dad wouldn’t let him call you,” Sam says quietly. Kimber’s eyes flash to Sam, startled.
“When we left. Dean wanted to. He tried to, but Dad said he couldn’t. Said you were a distraction we couldn’t afford. He absolutely forbade it. They got in a fight, the worst one I ever saw between them when we were kids, and Dad...he...well, he, uh...He put his foot down. And later, after Dad died...I think Dean was ashamed. Maybe. I dunno, but I think he didn’t feel like he could call you after all that time, felt like he’d let you down.”
Sam glances over his shoulder, and they both watch Dean lean down to whisper conspiratorially with the blushing waitress as he hands her his credit card. Dean turns back to Kimber, winking, and her last little bit of heartache flakes off and fades away.
“Maybe don’t hold it against him too much?” Sam says, his best puppy-dog face in place. Kimber has never seen such an earnest expression from a guy asking on behalf of another man before.
“So, what do we have on the docket, Sam?” Dean asks as he rejoins them. Kimber throws her arms around his neck, ignoring the twinge twinge of pain on the side of her throat, and kisses him soundly. He looks startled but pleased as she pulls away, eyes wide and cheeks ruddy.
“What was that for? I’m just askin’ so I can do it again.”
She clears her throat against an unexpected lump. Behind Sam, the waitress at the register gives her a double thumbs up. “I was just jealous of the attention you were giving the wait staff. Figured you thought I wasn’t paying you enough attention.”
Sam coughs discreetly, his mouth twitching from the effort of smothering his smile. “I actually don’t have any cases for us. I was thinking about going back to the bunker and reorganizing some of those files I‘ve been going through. You know, I could really use your help, Dean. Our inventories could use some alphabetizing, and-”
“Hard pass,” Dean says, flashing his brother a quick, mirthless smile.
“If you’re looking for something to do,” Kimber offers, then hesitates when Dean turns his focus to her. “Well, I mean...fall break is next week. There’s a harvest festival in town; we have a crafts fair and a big farmers market and a lot of baking competitions. It’s pretty fun. If...if you wanted to stay a little while, Dean.”
...
In the end, Dean stays nearly two weeks. They go to every single day of the festival, during which time, they pick out a new quilt for her bed and Dean makes himself actually sick at the pie tasting event. When he does finally leave, it’s with a promise to visit soon, and their phone numbers saved in each of their cells.
“I will say, I’m not overly fond of watching this car drive off,” Kimber says, hugging herself through the inadequate material of her sweater. The weather has turned genuinely cold, and she wishes she’d grabbed something heavier, but she hadn’t planned on staying outside for so long.
For some reason, though, she just can’t let go of him long enough for him to get into the car.
Dean rubs his hands briskly up and down her arms, his eyes sad and fond as they roam over her face. Before she can stop him, he pulls off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.
“You look damned cute in my jacket,” he says gruffly. “One more for the road?”
And if her lips are still swollen and throbbing when he puts the car into gear and pulls away from the curb, if his hair looks like he came straight from bed, neither of them minds in the least.
…
The end.
#SPN#spn fic#spn fanfic#spn fanfiction#supernatural#supernatural fanfiction#Supernatural fanfic#supernatural fic#dean winchester#Sam Winchester#original character#original female character#teen dean#teen sam#teen winchesters#high school romance#high school sweethearts#angst#Drama#all done
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Secrets
*James Madison x Reader
*Request: ‘Anonymous asked: Hi! Can I request a James Madison x reader with the fluff prompt 15 and angst prompt 30? The reader is Hamilton's ex but after he published a news article about the affair she broke up with him and doesn't talk about him anymore but when James finally finds out he breaks up with her. Angst to fluff please. Tysm’ [Fluff prompt 15: I just wanted to let you know that I think you’re beautiful; Angst prompt 30: So that’s it? It’s over?]
*Warnings: Drinking, cheating, arguments, angst. Let me know if I missed anything
My Ko-Fi if you want to support my writing
**********
You thought you met your soulmate in your junior year of college. You were joining more clubs, needing networking opportunities if you wanted to get a job after college, and decided to check out one of your school’s publishing clubs. It was a small meeting for the school’s Political Science Review, looking to replace some of their old members and find potential replacements for graduating members. When you walked into the club room, you weren’t surprised to find it looked exactly as you thought it would. There was a long conference table in the middle of the room, with one person sitting on his laptop at the head of it. The second you walked in, you were intercepted by a guy in a green hoodie. “Hey, I haven’t seen you around before. You new?” He asked, the amount of energy he had surprising considering how tired he looked.
“Uh, yeah. I saw the Facebook event so I thought I’d check it out,” you explained, holding your hand out for him to shake. “I’m (y/n), third-year political science major.”
“Alexander, fourth-year PoliSci major and editor-in-chief,” he said with a smile, shaking your hand. He lingered just long enough for you to notice it before he let your hand go. “I hope you stick around, I’d love to talk to you some more. But you know how it is, I gotta go talk to some others.”
“Yeah, I guess I’ll talk to you later,” you said, surprised at his bluntness. He gave you another small smile before walking up to the guy on his laptop. You stayed for the presentation, the small talk afterwards, and then grabbing some food with Alexander afterwards. The rest, as they say, is history.
You were with Alexander for five years. You found a nice job as a campaign consultant, Alexander went through law school and eventually ended up at Washington’s firm. Everything was going fine in your relationship - you’d moved in together and were beginning to talk about marriage - and then you got hit by what might as well have been a bullet. Your assistant dropped the newspaper on your desk like she did every morning, this time with a pitying look on her face. You were confused, but the headline made things very clear. You instructed your assistant to close the door behind her and not let anyone into your office until further notice.
Alexander, in all his impulsive, stupid, manic glory, wrote a piece about how he was cheating on you with his secretary. She threatened to go to the press because he was trying to get rid of her, and if that got out, he’d never be able to work again. He was the new up-and-comer in Washington’s firm, a scandal like this would ruin him. He never mentioned you by name, and the two of you hadn’t been completely in the public eye, so your name wasn’t tarnished by his decisions. You cleared out your schedule and went to grab all your things from the apartment to move them to an Airbnb that day.
You sat on the couch, waiting for Alexander to get back from the office. The apartment around you now looked foreign, and you couldn’t wait to get out of there. This was just something you needed to do in person, and then you could leave. When Alexander finally got back, you could tell he knew he messed up big time. He had a bouquet of (favorite flowers) in one hand and a huge bag from your favorite takeout place in the other.
“We have to talk,” you said as he struggled to open the door. You made no move to help him, feeling like he deserved whatever struggles he was having.
“(Y/n), I thought you weren’t getting back until-” For the first time in all the years you knew him, you were able to get Alexander to stop talking with a wave of your hand.
“I cleared my schedule after my assistant dropped the morning paper on my desk. I figured I could take a day to fix things in my own life before I try to tell politicians what they should do in theirs,” you said, keeping your voice steady. You already did your crying as you packed up your things. He didn’t deserve to see you cry. You stood from your spot on the couch, turning to look at Alexander. The door was still open, but Alexander was finally in the apartment. “Anyways, I figured I could show you the slightest bit of decency that you refused to show me. I’m leaving you. I’ve already packed up my things and informed the landlord I won’t be renewing the lease with you. I hope you figure out how to be a decent person, but I’m not going to stick around for the ride anymore.”
“What? We’re not even going to talk about this?” Alexander asked, dropping both the bouquet and the bag of takeout on the side table next to the door.
“No, we aren’t. You chose not only to disrespect me in the highest form, but also deem our relationship as nothing. I’m not going to allow you to treat me like that. Please don’t contact my office or anything else trying to talk to me, I’m not interested in it. Goodbye Alexander,” you told him. He just stood there, mouth agape as he tried to process what was going on. You brushed past him, continuing down the hall even when you heard Alexander calling after you. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back, knowing if he had the chance to talk to you, he’d try everything to get you to stay. You wouldn’t give him the chance.
**********
A couple years passed before you finally felt you completely moved on. You’d done the whole soul searching, finding yourself thing, became one of the more well known campaign consultants in the state, really just taking the time to focus on yourself and your career. Adjusting to things after Alexander was difficult, and you found yourself alone—when you were friends with Alexander, you found most of your friends were his friends—but you managed.
One of your clients called you into his main campaign office, wanting you to meet the new head of his legal team. Normally it was the job of campaign managers and staffers to deal with issues like this, but your client wanted your approval for some reason. “(Y/n), thank you so much for coming in on such short notice. We didn’t know Mr. Madison was coming in today until last night.”
“Of course,” you said with a wave of your hand. It’s on your dollar anyways, you left unsaid. Your client walked you into a meeting room, where a bulky man in a nice suit was waiting. You were a little taken aback by how attractive he was, but you needed to push that down for the sake of professionalism.
“Mr. Madison! This is my campaign consultant I was telling you about, (y/n) (l/n),” your client introduced you. The man stepped forward, offering his hand to you. When you shook it, you were impressed by the strength behind his grip.
“James Madison,” he introduced himself. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. Would you happen to be the Madison of Jefferson and Madison Law Offices?” You asked. It was a fairly new firm, but both partners were well established in the legal scene, so you’d heard a lot of things about them.
“So you’ve heard of us,” James said with a small smile. “I look forward to working with you.”
**********
Before you knew it, you and James had fallen into a comfortable routine, oftentimes toeing the line of what was appropriate for colleagues. Since both of your main offices were a few blocks away from each other in New York, you found yourselves grabbing lunch and having other outings fairly often. When the two of you were at the campaign office at the same time, you made sure to never leave the realm of professionalism, but outside the office was nearly fair game. Eventually the campaign ended and you were no longer needed (for about a year until the client would start his reelection run), and since you were no longer colleagues, you and James decided to take that step farther.
You dated quietly for a few months—the lunch dates and outings continuing in addition to nights spent at the other’s apartment—before you began meeting each other’s friends. First you met James’s best friend, Thomas, and since that meeting went well, James planned a night at a bar with Thomas and the firm’s junior partner. You walked into the bar on James’s arm, already scanning the place for Thomas. When you saw who Thomas was sitting with, you almost pulled James to a stop.
“James!” Thomas called out the second he saw you both. You walked over, that little politician smile you’d perfected over the years playing on your lips. You could see the recognition cross Aaron’s face before he schooled his features to a polite smile. Once you were in arms’ reach, Thomas pulled you into a hug. “(Y/n), great to see you.”
“Thomas, it’s been a while. How’s the office been?” You asked.
“You know how it is, other attorneys are actually the worst,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes. “And don’t even get me started on my new case-”
“(Y/n), this is Aaron Burr, our junior partner,” James jumped into the conversation, directing your attention to the man just quietly sitting there.
“We’ve actually met before,” Aaron said, reaching his hand out to shake yours anyways. He didn’t look any different from the first time you saw him, maybe a bit more calculating than he was back then. He was still the same guy who sat at the head of the conference table with his laptop all those years ago.
“Aaron, it’s been a while, hasn’t it,” you replied.
“How do you know each other?” James asked.
“We worked on the Political Science Review together in college. Aaron was my managing editor my first year,” you explained. “We lost contact after he went to Princeton for law school. I didn’t even know you were back in the city.”
“Well, I knew I had to come back for the opportunities,” Aaron said with a bright smile.
“We’ll leave you two to catch up a bit. C’mon, James, let’s go get drinks.” Thomas got up, motioning for you to take his seat, before dragging James to the bar.
“So you and Alexander aren’t together anymore,” Aaron commented as soon as they were far enough away.
“Of course we aren’t. You probably saw that mess of a leading story he published, I wasn’t going to stick around after that,” you said, shaking your head.
“You do understand Alexander is one of the firm’s biggest nuisances, right?”
“Of course I do. It’s hard hearing James talking about how Hamilton makes things difficult when the firm faces him,” you said. “James doesn’t know, and that part of my life is behind me. Listen, I’m asking you this as a friend, please don’t tell James. I’ll tell him when I’m ready.”
“I’ll keep your secret,” Aaron agreed too readily. You knew how he was, and this would probably come at a cost, but you were willing to deal with that when the time came. For now, you wanted to be with James, even if it meant hiding your past.
**********
You and James had been together going on two years now. You never actually got around to telling James since he never asked, and you didn’t really see the point in bringing it up now. The two of you were set to attend some fundraising gala for the mayor’s reelection campaign—one of the only campaigns in the city you weren’t working on. It would be nice to just be able to attend an event, even though you knew there would still be networking.
Things were going as they always did at these sort of events; classical music softly played, the slight hum of different conversations filled the room, and you, James, and Thomas talking amongst yourselves at one of the tables. James’s arm was around your waist as him and Thomas talked about their newest case, even if tonight was supposed to be a night off. You scanned the room, recognizing different people you worked with over the years. Your mind was already wandering, so you excused yourself to go grab a drink.
You were at the bar, sipping at your drink as you tried to decide your next move. You could either go mingle with the different people in the room, your previous clients in particular, or you could go back to James and Thomas and listen to the legal speak that you didn’t completely understand. “(Y/n)? Is that really you?”
You immediately tensed, not answering. This was the exact situation you’d been avoiding for years, and of course it happened when you were at an event with James. If you’d been on your own it wouldn’t matter, but you didn’t want James to see. You took another sip of your drink, motioning for the bartender to get you another one. As he put the drink down in front of you, a hand was placed on your shoulder from behind. “Come on, (y/n), don’t be like this.”
“Be like what, Alexander? I have no interest in speaking to you,” you said, refusing to look at him.
“Can we please just talk?” Alexander asked. You finally turned to look at him. He looked so much like he did the last time you saw him, just more tired.
“About what? There’s nothing to say, and even if there was, this definitely wouldn’t be the place,” you told him. “You wouldn’t want to have another scandal, now would you?”
Alexander huffed, looking around the room before his gaze landed back on you. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I know it doesn’t make what I did any better, and I should never have hurt you like that. You didn’t deserve any of that, and I wish we could have moved past it together.”
Before you could answer, an arm wrapped around your waist. You jumped before settling into the familiar hold, knowing that, for now, your boyfriend had your back. “She didn’t deserve what, Hamilton?” James asked—actually, demanded.
From the look in his eyes, you knew what Alexander was going to do. That little glint told you he was going to make things worse for everyone, just so he could feel like he won. Alexander only focused on you, ignoring James’s question. “You’re kidding me. You’re with Madison now?”
“I don’t see why it’s your concern. We’ve been together for about two years now,” you answered, leaning into James’s hold. You tried to keep your voice from wavering, but your facade could only last for so long. Things were going to fall apart faster than they already were if you let Alexander keep talking. You looked up at James, seeing the tension in his jaw. Sure, he was a passionate man, but it took a lot to make James Madison actually angry. “James, honey, we should get back to Thomas and mingle a little.”
“I can’t believe you’re friends with that pompous bastard,” Alexander scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “I should be going anyways. I need to prepare for our meeting tomorrow, Madison.”
“Right,” James said, a slight edge to his voice. You lightly tugged on James’s arm, trying to direct him back to Thomas, who was watching the encounter closely. He let you lead him, his focus obviously on the half-conversation. The entire night was thrown off, James staying quiet as you and Thomas talked about different things. You went through the room on your own, worry in the back of your mind as you talked to different people. After the two of you were done with your networking, you left. James was still quiet as you went back to his apartment, only telling you he loved you before the two of you went to sleep.
When you next saw James, he was angry. You were sitting on the couch in your apartment, watching random videos on your laptop, when James practically burst through your door. You closed your laptop, eyeing him carefully. “What the hell happened between you and Alexander?” he demanded, not even bothering to put down his work bag.
“Why? What happened?” You asked. Something happened in that meeting, and whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
“When he left the meeting he told me to say hello to you, that the Schuylers miss having you around,” James said. Though the request might seem innocent to anyone else, Alexander undoubtedly said it just to get under James’s skin. “What happened between you two?”
“Okay, right, I knew I would have to tell you eventually,” you said, tapping your fingers on your laptop as you tried to calm yourself. This is ridiculous. Just tell him. “Alexander and I dated for quite a while at the end of college and a little bit after. I don’t know if you know this, but he wrote an entire article about how he was cheating on his girlfriend with his secretary. That girlfriend was me. I left when I found out and haven’t had any contact with him since.”
“How long.”
“What?”
“How long were you dating for.” James wasn’t asking at this point.
“We dated for five years. James, that part of my life is-”
“Why wouldn’t you tell me? You’ve listened to me complain about Hamilton for years and didn’t think to mention that you even knew him? What, did you not trust me enough to tell me?” James continued, just ranting at this point. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get through to him, not when he was this riled up. “Why are we even together if you don’t trust me?”
That made you completely stop. You moved your laptop out of your lap and turned to face James. “I don’t speak about Alexander anymore. To anyone. It wasn’t a trust issue, it was simply that I don’t wish to revisit a part of my life that deeply hurt me.”
“You should have told me. I don’t care that you dated Hamilton—well I care a little—but I care that you lied to me. You lied for years. I don’t think I can be with you anymore,” James said, shifting his work bag on his shoulder.
“So that’s it? It’s over?” You demanded, watching as he turned to leave. He paused, fiddling with something in his hands. He put the spare key you had given him on the hook by your door.
“Yeah, it’s over.” James left, not even looking back at you as he closed the door. You wanted to go after him, but you didn’t know if it would be a good idea. By the time you actually processed what was going on, you knew it was too late to go after him. He was most likely already long gone.
**********
A week passed before reality really started to set in. You thought James just needed some time to cool off, and then the two of you would actually be able to talk about this. When that week passed and he made absolutely no attempts to contact you, you realized he actually meant it when he said it was over.
You walked into the cafe, seeing Aaron almost immediately. After you found out Aaron worked with James, the two of you hung out enough to actually become friends. When Aaron saw you, he waved you over with a smile. “Hey,” you said, sitting across from him. “How’s work been?”
“It’s been busy. We’ve had a ton of cases, and it doesn’t help that the opposition is pretty strong too,” Aaron said. “Do you want me to go get you something? I know it’s your lunch break.”
“Wait, isn’t it your lunch break too?”
“I had a meeting at Washington’s office that didn’t necessarily have a set ending time,” Aaron said. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
“What, I can’t just have lunch with a friend?” The look on Aaron’s face let you know he wasn’t buying your excuses. “Okay, you got me. How’s James doing?”
Aaron took a drink of his coffee, looking around the cafe before he finally answered. “He’s been distracted. The day after his meeting with Alexander he called me into his office and asked me what I knew about you and Alexander.”
“Did you tell him?” You asked, worrying your lip. Aaron nodded.
“To be fair, I never really knew much about your relationship, but James is my boss and I wasn’t going to just lie to him,” Aaron explained. “I told him how it was difficult for you to hear about Alexander, and how you were going to tell him when you were ready.”
“How’d he take it?”
“I couldn’t tell. I know he got a little more distant after, but it’s not like James talks to me about his feelings. You’d have to ask Thomas if you want to know that.” You nodded. “How are you doing, (y/n)?”
“You were right, I should’ve told him sooner. I miss him,” you told him. “I just… I really messed this up.”
Aaron paused before practically slamming his hand on the table. “Tell you what, clear out whatever wallowing you had planned for Friday. We’re going out.”
“Wait, what?”
“Not like that. Let’s just go somewhere and get your mind off of things. I can tell you need it,” Aaron explained.
“I don’t kn-”
“I wasn’t asking. I’ll see you on Friday.” Aaron drank the last of his coffee before standing and grabbing his things. He was gone before you even had the chance to argue, and you couldn’t help but laugh.
Once Friday came around, you had half a mind to cancel on Aaron. One of your clients seemed hell-bent on ruining his political career and that mess had you running around New York City almost all day trying to do damage control that his non-existent PR team should have been doing. When you got to your apartment, you already had your phone in hand ready to cancel. You were immediately interrupted by a notification, Aaron’s name popping up.
From: Aaron now
Don’t even think about cancelling. I’ll be there in 30
It worried you sometimes how well Aaron knew you. Or maybe you were just predictable. Half an hour wasn’t nearly enough time to glam up, so you just changed into a light, (f/c) dress and freshened your makeup. Just as you pulled on your shoes, you heard three knocks on your door. “(Y/n), you better be ready,” Aaron called from the hallway.
“Yeah yeah, I’m ready,” you said, opening the door. “Let me grab my bag and then we can head out.”
“I thought you were ready,” Aaron huffed, his small smile letting you know he wasn’t being that serious.
You and Aaron walked into the same bar the partners frequented after cases. It was bittersweet, all the good memories with James and the others flooding your mind. When you spotted Thomas across the bar, you were immediately tempted to turn around and leave.
“Don’t even think about it, I invited Thomas too,” Aaron said. “You know it’s good for me to get closer to him if I want to be an actual partner.”
“Okay, fine. It’ll be nice to hang out with Thomas,” you agreed. Aaron led you over to the booth Thomas had managed to grab. The second Thomas spotted you, he lit up. You could tell he was stopping himself from running to meet you, tapping his fingers on the table. Though you’d been dating James, you knew Thomas took a huge liking to you, something like a younger sister.
“(Y/n)!”
“I’m also here, Thomas,” Aaron said as you slid into the booth.
“Yeah, but I see you at work. (Y/n), it’s been boring not seeing you. All James ever does is mope and talk about you,” Thomas spilled. “Please tell me you guys are going to work this out. James is miserable.”
“I dunno, Thomas. He hasn’t tried to reach out and I don’t want to push him away any more than I already did,” you told him, looking down at the table.
“You guys are children.” Thomas rolled his eyes. “Whatever, I guess you’ll just have to work it out in person.”
It sounded reasonable, but you didn’t understand why he was now smiling. The three of you kept up some idle chitchat, catching up on what was going on in each other’s lives. As you were talking about the mess your client was putting you through, Thomas’s gaze landed somewhere behind you. You paused, confused at what could’ve grabbed Thomas’s attention. You thought your story was pretty interesting.
“I see Aaron’s here, who-” James cut himself off once he could see your profile. “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”
“James! I- I’m sorry, Aaron invited me out but I didn’t know you and Thomas would be here,” you tried explaining. “I’m sorry, I should go. Aaron, let me out.”
Aaron refused to move from the bench, effectively trapping you in your seat. Thomas grabbed James’s arm, keeping him in place too. “You guys need to talk this through, you both are obviously miserable,” Thomas said.
Thomas got out of the booth, practically shoving James into his spot. James looked anywhere other than at you, meanwhile you glared at Aaron. “We’re just going to sit at the bar, don’t even think of leaving,” Aaron warned you, finally getting out of the booth.
Thomas and Aaron walked away, leaving you and James in relative privacy. “I really am sorry, I thought it would just be me and Aaron.”
“Were the two of you?” James trailed off, even though his thought process was evident.
“No, he said I needed to stop wallowing so he was just trying to get my mind off things,” you explained. You looked at your hands, avoiding meeting James’s eyes. You were shocked when one of his hands grabbed yours, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand. It was familiar, like coming home after a long day. You finally looked up. The way James looked at you was soft, so different from the last time you saw him. “James?”
“I just wanted to let you know I think you’re beautiful,” James said, voice soft enough that you almost missed it. You could feel the heat rushing to your face, not expecting him to say that.
“I-”
“It was wrong of me to act the way I did. I let Hamilton get under my skin,” James explained. “After hearing what he was saying to you at the event, and then him saying that at the meeting, I let my own insecurities get the better of me. I should have just talked to you.”
“I should’ve told you long before something like that could’ve happened,” you said. “We both could have handled it better, but I should’ve told you. I was scared that telling you would make you look at me differently, that you’d see me as that poor girl from the article.”
“I wouldn’t. I know who you are, you’re a lot more than Hamilton’s ex-girlfriend. You’re incredibly talented, driven, smart, compassionate—I could go on for ages,” James told you, now going to hold your other hand. “I didn’t talk to you for a week, and it was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Every night I wanted to call you, I wanted to listen to you complain about those politicians, I wanted to make you laugh. I missed you more than anything else.”
“God, that was so sweet and cheesy and I don’t even know how to respond to it,” you said, shaking your head despite the smile on your face. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”
“Would you be willing to give me another chance?” James asked.
“I should be the one asking that,” you said with a humorless laugh. “Do you think we can sneak out without Thomas and Aaron noticing? I kinda want to just get some takeout and hang out at my place.”
“Yeah, I heard talk about your client on the news. I can imagine that’s made your day interesting,” James told you, looking around the bar. “I don’t see Thomas at the bar anymore and I doubt Aaron would stop us if he sees us leaving together.”
“See, someone gets it!” The smile James gave you was blinding, making your heart flutter at the sight. He got out of the booth first, offering his hand to you. When you took it, everything just felt right again.
**********
Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness
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Kyoya's second shot
Episode three: Dawn of a new day
There was something off about Haruhi the next day, none of the hosts knew what was up with her- no one but Kyoya. He smiled the moment he saw her walk in, face curled into a look of disgust. He noted it down as she sat down, frowning.
11:30 - Haruhi has arrived, it's evident Nekozawa has done his job. It's my turn.
He approached her, trying to not to react to the smell. "Are you alright Haruhi? You look troubled." She looked up at him curiously, tilting her head slightly.
"I think Nekozawa-senpai did something to my bag." Oh. She got it instantly, that was unexpected. Kyoya hummed nonchalantly, not wanting to give anything away.
"What did he-"
"Oh heavens!" Here came the darling king, swooping in to save his precious 'princess'. "Are you alright Haruhi? You aren't cursed are you??" Both Haruhi and Kyoya sighed at that, Kyoya instantly feeling furious at her for sighing- why don't you appreciate your boyfriend's care? Huh? Bitch? Kyoya would love and appreciate that kind of care so much, he's only sighing because his plan is already failing.
"Nah I'm not cursed, I think he put something super stinky in my bag…" she hummed in thought, rummaging through the bag. She pulled out a black envelope, the source of the smell. It was closed with a wax seal and written on in crimson ink, a curse in latin.
Dominus soporem in tenebris, et funiculus iste coccineus et habitatores figure non amare Princeps Ouran. classis superioris, dimiserunt eam cadere a gratia Dei.
Kyoya knew Latin, and he found it amusing what Nekozawa had said, making sure to not show any signs of amusement as Tamaki panicked over the clear curse and Haruhi carefully opened the envelope. The curse read: 'Dark lord in slumber, let this scarlet figure never settle in love with the prince of Ouran. Let her fall from the graces of the upper class'. Kyoya absolutely loved the little nod to his own command, Umehito was always one for poetic justice.
Haruhi pulled a burnt stick of elderwood, the rest of the envelope was filled with dodder and deadly nightshade. It was soaked through with a horrendous perfume, Nekozawa's handiwork, with which he'd gotten Kirimis help, the younger a child the more evil, Kyoya's own brother had told him that. She looked at it with a frown, ignoring Tamaki's wide eyes and blabbering expression, instead heading straight to the bin to dispose of the curse. "What a weird guy, wonder how I annoyed him." But it wasn't him she'd pissed off, and she'd soon be made aware.
"How are you not worried!?" The king cried out, clearly genuinely scared his princess would be hurt. "You were cursed!!" Kyoya sighed, he was unbelievably bitter that Haruhi was already fucking things up for him, but also didn't want Tamaki to fret too much.
"And she got rid of it, therefore: no longer cursed." He hated to admit that his plan was already failing but it was ok, he was sure Nekozawa could up his game on the same day. In fact he quickly sent a text to the councils newly made group chat to ensure it.
Shadow king: Nekozawa. You're not doing well enough, Haruhi has located and dispelled your "curse" within seconds. Do better or we'll move forward without you.
Sorcerer: Of course, it shall be done.
Kyoya was glad Nekozawa was taking his job seriously, although it wasn't a real threat, Kyoya needed him for the plan to work. He returned to his seat, silently continuing with the finances.
Not an hour later, Haruhi was sweating like a pig, looking exhausted and so much more what Kyoya had expected from a curse. She told Tamaki she didn't know what was wrong, he clutched her close, cradling her softly. It made Kyoya feel sick… then Tamaki yelped, pulling his hand away from Haruhi's middle back.
"What the hell was that? You're boiling!" He points to a place at Haruhi's back, and the twins come swooping in, pulling her shirt up just so. Salts, a cloth laden with hot water and salts- a fake fever. Kyoya couldn't believe Haruhi hadn't noticed that before now, it was stupid.
"Huh… that's weird, do you think it was Nekozawa again?" Haruhi asked, holding the cloth, the twins shrugged, tilting their heads in unison.
"Not sure, probably." They spoke in unison, clearly feeling something off. "Why is he suddenly targeting you… did you do something to the puppet?"
"Not that I know of…" The four of them began theorising ways Haruhi could have pissed Nekozawa off, perfect, Kyoya had a willing scapegoat.
Shadow king: Do you have a scoop yet, Komatsuzawa?
Bitchboy: I have a few ideas, but I'd like to change my nickname first.
Child: but it's so fitting
Bitchboy: Silence child.
Shadow king: You may change your name once you prove yourself useful. What's your scoop?
Bitchboy: Well her father's "career" is certainly one sure to cause a stir.
Shadow king: Absolutely not, we will not be insulting Ranka in order to bring Haruhi down. He doesn't deserve that.
Bitchboy: What? Ugh, fine. There's also, we could imply she's been with the twins?
Shadow king: But the twins have done nothing wrong.
Kyoya sighed, sure his plan would hurt them all, but he didn't want to hurt his friends unnecessarily. They didn't deserve that… he could feel the guilt building up again. He was never the best with emotions…
"Mommy dear?"
Tamaki's voice rang in Kyoya's ears, startling him slightly, not looking over but just staring at the numbers on his screen, clutching his phone tightly, as if it would suppress the notification sound. "Yes Daddy?" The stupid nicknames Tamaki insisted on using, it just reminded Kyoya of how things should be. He should be the one by Tamaki's side, club mother, vice president, shadow king. They were the monarchs of Ouran, the most powerful students there, why weren't they together..?
"Are you alright?" Tamaki frowned, leaning closer, wrapping his arms around Kyoya and resting his head on his shoulder. Kyoya felt his cheeks heat up, but he was likely wearing enough makeup to hide it. "I was going to ask about the finances but you seem a little on edge mon ami, is everything okay?"
Kyoya felt guilty, Tamaki was so sweet, so good. Kyoya was doing such evil acts, and his beloved had no idea… he had no idea he was even the one Kyoya loved. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to battle the feelings into submission, lest the tears well up. "I'm fine, Tamaki, don't be ridiculous."
"Why are you on edge then?" Kyoya felt his phone buzz gently, putting him even more on edge, luckily it didn't seem like Tamaki noticed. Kyoya wasn't quite sure how to respond to the king's question, he couldn't think of a good excuse.
"Why is it important? There's nothing wrong with simply being startled, I can't always be on high alert, I'm no guard dog." His words bit back at the princeling with venom, he couldn't think of a good defence, so he faked spite and hoped it would work.
Surprisingly, Tamaki did indeed back off, looking confused, and slightly hurt. It was ok though, Kyoya told himself, this was all for Tamaki's sake in the end. He checked his phone.
Bitchboy: We could say she's a lesbian? She did kiss a girl after all.
Not to mention all the hosting she'd done with the ladies… oh, Kyoya could see the headline already. He was almost positive she was bisexual anyway, it wasn't that much of a strech… he paused, what was Akira saying though? Was he suggesting Haruhi didn't really love Tamaki like would be perfect, or was he trying to be homophobic?
Shadow king: Elaborate?
Bitchboy: Do I really need to?
Peasant: well it does sound kinda homophobic to claim that sort of thing could ruin her image…
Bitchboy: Ruining her image is the whole point, moron.
Shadow king: How do you entirely miss the point like that?
It's almost impressive.
But you're the moron Komatsuzawa.
You better find something a little less incriminating of your own mind.
Kyoya sighed heavily, why must he surround himself with such disgusting people. It wasn't hard to find good people, hell, he was surrounded by at least folks good enough at pretending to be good, the issue was that good people never wanted to do bad things. So this was what he must do.
13:30 - The folks I surround myself with make me sick. But it must be done. Tamaki has begun to show slight worry towards my more nervous mannerisms, I managed to get him to stand down. I have yet to perform my duty.
Bitchboy: Of course you'd support that kind of behaviour, Ootori.
Kyoya frowned down at his phone, this little dick… He glanced over at Tamaki, who had just asked him a question, although he had failed to process it. "I'm sorry Tamaki, what was that?"
"I said; are you coming to lunch with us? You haven't joined us at all this week."
"Ah," Kyoya began, it was true he hadn't joined them at all, but that was simply because he hadn't had lunch all week, "I'm afraid I won't be joining you today either, please enjoy yourself." He smiles, a polite, designed to placate, smile. Turning back to his phone, he replied to Akira's message.
Shadow king: And what exactly does that mean?
Bitchboy: Well you're the same aren't you?
Sorcerer: Aw, don't be mean just because you're correct. He's Souh-san's best friend.
Akira had sent another text after that, but Kyoya didn't want to think about it, he'd used a word he didn't even think people used unless they were openly violent, or gay themselves. So that was just wonderful, Kyoya was working with a homophobe, lovely. He decided to at least note this down before doing his own part of the deal.
13:32 - Akira Komatsuzawa is a homophobe.
He left his phone on silent and in his bag, before standing and walking over to Haruhi's bag, digging through carefully, not wanting to make it look too obvious things had been looked through. He took her phone out of the bag, looking it over carefully, oh, she had a cute set of phone charms… little plastic roses, and there was one in each of the host's colours. Even purple. Kyoya took great care with removing that charm, tucking it into his pocket gently. He may mean malice towards the commoner, but he wouldn't hurt anything with sentimental value, at least if it could be avoided.
He made his way to the window, looking out. There were too many people, he couldn't achieve it like this. So he instead went out into the hallway, walking in the opposite direction from the canteen, making his way down to the ground floor and then outside. He knew exactly where to go.
He was a lover of poetic justice, just like Umehito, and he could remember Haruhi's first week. The poor, poor commoner was bullied by one of Tamaki's regulars. That girl had thrown Haruhi's bag in the fountain to the east of the club room, the one with the cherub without wings. As Kyoya made his way to that very fountain, he thought about how ironic it would be if he put her phone in that very fountain. So that's what he would do.
When he got there, he saw the exact girl he'd been thinking about, sat there, with a little bento box her maids had made for her. She looked up at him and frowned. "What are you doing out here? Why aren't you with the rest of your club?"
"Hello Ayanokoji, do you know who this belongs to?" He holds up the phone, knowing full well she knew who's it was.
"That's Fujioka's phone… why do you have it?" She asked him, clearly on the defensive, not understanding why he was here. To answer her question, Kyoya simply lifted his hand and tossed the phone into the water idly. Looking her in the eyes as he does so, watching hers go wide "Wha-? Huh??" It seemed she'd assumed all the hosts were under Haruhi's thumb.
"Help me, Seika Ayanokoji, we have the same goals in mind." He offered her entrance to the council, without letting her know it existed. Kyoya even held his hand out to her, it was obvious from his body language that he was offering her an opportunity, but his words seemed like the deal would only benefit him. So he wasn't surprised to hear her response:
"What's in it for me?" She'd glanced down at his hand in suspicion, before looking back up at him, not trusting his words one bit.
"Oh let's see…" he pretended to think, already knowing exactly what to offer her. "I'll remove you from the club's black list." He knew for a fact that that'd get her going, she was the same as all the other girls after all. Her eyes widening at the prospect of being hosted by Tamaki once again proved him right, although he couldn't say he didn't blame her- they did have similar motives.
She took his hand, standing and giving him a smirk. "You've got a deal, what do you need me to do?"
Kyoya just smiled wickedly in response.
"I want you to do anything in your power to make that commoner suffer. Don't let anyone know I'm involved, but get anyone you want involved. Cause her trouble, make her look bad, make her out to be just what you think of her."
"A little mutt with no pedigree?" She asked, eyes sparkling maliciously, she already knew the answer.
"Precisely, we both know she's not. But the general student body don't need to know that, do they?" He shrugs, casually turning away from her, preparing to walk away.
"You can count on me." She assured, voice full of confidence and spite, exactly what Kyoya needed from his council. He'd originally hated her for being so uppity, then she'd done all that to Haruhi and he'd decided he hated her for being a bully… but bullies can be awfully useful, if you have them on your team.
He got back to the club room, silently tapping his foot on the floor as he took his phone out in order to add her to the group, pausing when he saw Akira's reply.
Bitchboy: Well there is that manager of your club, didn't she pursue the girl?
Kyoya smiled, of course, Renge. She was the perfect scapegoat, it was clear the duo had chemistry. Haruhi had gone to Renge's place after all, no one knows what could have possibly happened there…
Shadow king: Alright then, write your article.
But I will be reading it before it's published.
Kyoya sighed, adding the newest council member to the group chat.
>Seika Ayanokoji joined the group
>Shadow king changed Seika Ayanokoji to Woman#2
Woman#2: Wh
Why do I have to be woman two??
Woman: Bonjour.
Child: Holy shit there are girls here?
Bitchboy: How did we not notice this before?
Shadow king: Miss Ayanokoji will be helping us from now on, she will be present at the next meeting.
I want you all to get along.
He put his phone down just as the other hosts walked back in, combing their hair and adjusting their uniform in preparation to open the club to the guests. Kyoya smiled softly, this was going to be a fun term...
14:12 - Seika Ayanokoji has joined the council, she has been removed from the club blacklist.
A very fun term…
#ouran high school host club#tamaki suoh#takashi morinozuka#tamakyo#tamaharu#kyoya ootori#hikaru and kaoru#haruhi fujioka#nekozowa#eclair Tonnerre
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The Second Check-In
Part 12 of Seventy Percent
Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…
Chapter Summary: You and Sebastian discuss how to handle dealing with the press and media now that word is out that he’s married, then you go to the second-check in and see how your tumor is doing.
Word Count: 2,644
The picture that was taken when you were getting into the car showed half of your face and it was splashed everywhere. It seemed like the entire world wanted to know who Sebastian Stan’s mystery wife was. You’d decided it was probably best if he didn’t take you to the hospital on Monday and he’d reluctantly agreed. So, while you enjoyed your anonymity a little longer, he had a video conference with his agent and PR team.
As you got ready to leave after your infusion, a nurse stopped you and let you know that Dr. Chowdhury wanted to see you before you left.
“I am an old man, but I do have grandkids,” he started off. It was an odd beginning to a conversation between a doctor and his patient, but your life was one whole jumble of weird, so you shrugged it off. “So I see the headlines sometime, and, if I’m not mistaken, the man who comes in with you so often has been hitting headlines lately. Or, rather, you have been.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“You don’t need to worry about the hospital staff. Patient confidentiality, you know. But the other patients are not bound by the rules we are. I do not want to cause any undue stress, but it is imperative to your treatment that you remain in a positive frame of mind. So I was wondering if you would prefer we move you to a private room while you are here.”
“I—that’d probably be smart.”
He nodded and made a note in your chart. “Good. Also, tomorrow we’ll run you through some more scans. I want to see the progress this new medication is making.”
“What if—” You really didn’t want to know the answer to this question, but you needed to ask it anyway. “What if there hasn’t been any progress? What if the tumor just won’t shrink?”
“We have one more course of action we can take should it come to that. We aren’t giving up on you, Y/N. Don’t give up on us just yet.”
“This journalist said they like my hair,” you mentioned conversationally as Sebastian puttered around the kitchen, making dinner.
“It’s good hair.”
“It is good hair, isn’t it? I’m glad neither of my treatments caused hair loss.”
Besides the photo that leaked from the Vegas wedding and the one from the diner, no other pictures or new information had come to light. So far, you hadn’t seen any outright negativity in the news regarding you or Sebastian. Mostly because the headlines were focused on you as a Mystery Woman. As soon as the veil lifted and the truth came to light, you were sure things would turn ugly. But for now, you would enjoy the neutrality.
“You haven’t read any comments, have you?”
“Nope. I promised I wouldn’t and, as Dr. Chowdhury said today, it is imperative that I maintain a positive attitude for my treatment to work,” you said, trying your best to match his Indian accent. However, much like your aptitude for foreign languages, you were downright dismal at accents.
“You talked to Dr. Chowdhury?”
“Yeah.” You set down your phone and waited until Seb looked at you. “Can you come with me tomorrow? We’re running scans and he’s gonna let me know if this treatment is actually shrinking the tumor. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go alone, considering how I reacted last time.”
“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “What time’s the appointment?”
“Two. I know you’re going on some talk shows here in the city this week. Will that work for you?”
He nodded. “I’m going on Late Night with Seth tomorrow. Should have enough time.” Sebastian checked on the soup on the stove before rounding the island and taking a seat next to you. “Speaking of… Have you thought any more about what you’re comfortable with me talking about on TV?”
“A little. As much as I’d love for you to veto all questions about me, I think your PR team is right. You probably should acknowledge the elephant.”
“Are you calling yourself fat?” He gasped in fake offense.
“Elephant in the room, you idiot.”
“I’m your idiot, though.”
Okay, so you knew you were technically married to the man, but it still felt wrong to feel butterflies in your stomach when he teased you like that.
Friends. That’s all you were in actuality.
“And as my idiot,” you kept it going, ignoring how much you loved saying those words, “I think you should definitely acknowledge that you’re married. I don’t think I’m comfortable with my name being out there, though.”
He nodded. “I figured that. And I agree.”
“Part of me wants to play it safe and pretend like we’ve known each other for a while. Like, long-distance relationship thing. But another part of me hates the lie. And also, as someone who grew up on Harry Potter fanfiction, this accidental marriage trope would just be eaten up by your fans.”
“Which means we’d probably stay in the spotlight longer,” he pointed out.
“Yeah. And you’d have to explain why we stayed married. Mentioning that your wife has cancer is kind of a downer for a talk show like Seth’s.”
Wife. Rather than think about how the word applied to you, you chose to replay the John Mulaney segment in your head as a nice distraction from those damn butterflies in your stomach.
That’s my WIFE!
“Do you feel comfortable with me telling everyone you have cancer?” He asked.
At some point during this conversation, you’d grabbed his hand and were now playing with his fingers. You kept your eyes on where your fingers were massaging his as you contemplated the question. It was the only one you hadn’t come to conclusion about before now.
“I don’t know…”
“Think out loud. Maybe I can help.”
“Okay, so, on one hand, if you mention I have cancer, that would be a great time to ask for privacy. You know. Play the pity card. Say how I’m going through treatment and the stress would make it harder for me. Which is the truth.”
“On the other hand…” he prompted.
“If you leave that part out I might seem less interesting and the spotlight might move on faster, you know? And I’m a private person, as you know.”
He grinned. “Oh, yes. I remember, Y/N no-middle-name Y/L/N.”
His reminder of the first day you were in the city made you laugh. It seemed like an entire lifetime ago. If only you’d known that you would be putting your entire life in his hands less than two days later…
“You know what? I trust you, Seb. The only hard line I’m drawing is my name. I want to keep that out of the light as long as I can. For the rest… you’re better at this publicity thing than I am. You’ve talked to your PR team. I trust your judgment.”
“That’s so sweet,” he cooed, freeing one of his hands to wipe away imaginary tears. “You’re making me cry, Y/N.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up and check on the soup.”
“You asked me to be here so—”
“If I’d known you’d be so annoying I wouldn’t ha—”
“Just give me your fucking hand, dammit. I’m trying to be supportive!” Sebastian scooted his chair over and grabbed both of your hands out of your lap, gripping them on the armrest victoriously. “Now I have both of your hands. Whatchu gonna do ‘bout that, huh sweetheart?”
Glare at him, was your answer, though the shock of the new pet name dampened the fire behind it. It was a few minutes after two ‘o clock and you were waiting in Dr. Chowdhury’s office. A nurse let you know he’d be a few minutes late which immediately made your blood pressure skyrocket.
And that’s how you found yourself arguing with Sebastian about him holding your hand.
You huffed, but shifted in the seat so you could more comfortably keep your hands in his.
“Glad to see you two getting along so well,” an amused British accent you hadn’t heard in a few weeks said, alerting you to her presence in the room.
“Helen!” Seb released your hands for long enough to stand, give her a hug, and shake Dr. Chowdhury’s hand before sitting back down and expectantly putting his hands on the armrest of your chair. Neither doctor said anything as you stared down your husband. It was only when he quirked his eyebrow that you sighed and gave him your hands again.
“Sorry ‘bout that. He’s trying to become the personification of the phrase way too over-supportive,” you shot both doctors a tolerant grin.
“There is no such thing when it comes to treatment,” Dr. Sharpe said, grinning as she sat next to Dr. Chowdhury behind his desk.
“Told you,” Seb muttered to you.
“Shut up, the adults are talking,” you whispered back. To the doctors, you said, “So, I don’t know whether to be scared or happy that both of you are here.”
“We are seeing progress, Y/N,” Dr. Chowdhury said simply.
“Progress,” you repeated softly. The word felt foreign in your mouth.
“What does that mean?” Seb asked, squeezing your fingers.
Dr. Chowdhury sat forward, clasped hands resting on his desk. “It means that your scans showed that the tumor is shrinking. Slower than we would have hoped, but it is shrinking.”
“And before you say anything,” Dr. Sharpe broke in, “It is enough. While the progress is slower than we planned for, we both agree that if it continues like this, the tumor should grow small enough to remove it. It just might take longer than we planned for.”
“It’s shrinking,” you whispered, still processing this good news. Despite your better mood, you’d still been expecting bad news when you came in.
“It’s shrinking,” Dr. Chowdhury confirmed, smiling.
This treatment was working. There was progress. It was shrinking.
“How much longer do you think it will take?” Seb asked.
Dr. Chowdhury nodded his approval of the question. “That is why both Helen and I are here today. You have a decision to make and we are both of different minds. As you know, I have kept Dr. Sharpe appraised of your progress during this study. We have conferred frequently, so though this is my study, her opinion is very much valid. And both options are medically sound.”
You nodded, ready to listen.
Dr. Chowdhury went first. “I would like to adjust your infusion cocktail one more time. This approach is quite aggressive, but my hope is that the tumor will begin to shrink more rapidly and you can have your surgery at the time we originally planned for.”
“I believe,” Dr. Sharpe took over the conversation at this point, “That it would be best to continue your infusions as they are. We estimate you will have to continue treatment for a month longer, at least, before surgery. But the progress you’ve made in the last week is promising, and you will not have to go through another period of adjusting to the new medication.”
“Option one is a more aggressive treatment plan that would keep us on schedule, and option two is to continue on with the current treatment and wait longer for the surgery?” Sebastian summarized. Both doctors nodded.
“One concern my doctor back home had about more aggressive treatment options was that my body would be too weak for surgery.” You looked at Dr. Chowdhury. “Is that a concern with the more aggressive treatment?”
“It is always a concern. One that I have considered. With how you’ve responded to the increased dosage over the last two weeks, I believe that you will not have to worry about being too weak for surgery. However, if I am wrong about that, there are a few courses of action I have in mind that would help so you can still have the surgery.”
You and Sebastian asked questions for a few more minutes until you felt you had enough information to continue the discussion alone. Since this decision wasn’t as time-pressing as the decision to begin treatment had been, Dr. Chowdhury suggested you two go home and come back the next day with your decision.
Before heading back to the apartment, Sebastian had Sean, your driver, drop you two off at the grocery store. There were a few things you both needed and, for the first time in a while, you felt up to walking around for a bit. So you braved being in public with Sebastian and only teased him a little for his choice of hat. Hopefully it would help keep his anonymity, and by extension, yours.
“Oreos?” You asked hopefully, knowing full well Sebastian wouldn’t say no. You were eating better, but any time you got excited over some food, you could see him mentally putting that dish on a list of meals that you were sure to eat. And even though Oreos weren’t healthy, they were food nonetheless.
“Regular? Double stuffed? Mint?”
“Mmm,” you considered, looking up at the shelves upon shelves of cookies. Your energy was slowly depleting, and you found yourself leaning against the cart more and more. Still, you were enjoying the little trip. “Regular is better to dip in milk, but double stuff is better if you don’t have milk. And you can never go wrong with mint…”
“You want all three?” He shot you a look with an amused eyebrow quirk.
“I mean, yes. But that’s a lot of Oreos to eat before they go stale. Why don’t they have a triple pack? Each row is a different kind? That would sell great.”
Surprise covered his face. “That’s… actually a good idea.”
“Don’t sound so shocked. I have good ideas every once in a while.”
“After you made me watch that one movie about the sexually transmitted demon, I’m not so sure.”
Your laughter rang down the aisle. “Okay, fair point.” Rolling the cart forward, you grabbed a pack of mint Oreos and tossed it by the boxed brownies you’d also conned him into getting. He tried talking you out of it, saying you could stop by the bakery down the street and get better brownies, but your counter point that you couldn’t eat half the brownie batter from the bakery had won you the round.
“What’s next?” you asked. “Ice cream?”
“You’re supposed to be eating healthy,” he pointed out.
“Look, can we just be happy that I’m finally getting my appetite back? You can lecture me about calories or saturated fats or whatever tomorrow.” Giving him your best puppy dog eyes, you pouted out your bottom lip. “Please? I might just wither away if I don’t have cheesecake ice cream tonight.”
He mumbled under his breath before starting to walk away.
You followed him, ignoring the squeaky wheel on your cart. “What was that?”
“If you spend more than two minutes choosing which flavor of ice cream, you’re not getting any,” he replied. That wasn’t what he had mumbled, you were sure, but you let it go.
“I’ll do you one better. If Ben and Jerry’s Strawberry Cheesecake isn’t stocked, I won’t get ice cream at all. Deal?”
“Deal. So, ice cream, produce section… anything else?”
With a head shake, you pushed forward until you were walking right next to Sebastian. He glanced at you and you gave him a soft grin. “Thank you, Seb. You’re the best.”
He tossed his arm around your shoulder and pulled you slightly closer. After pressing a quick kiss to the side of your head, he gave you a cocky grin. “I know I am, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart.
First in Dr. Chowdhury’s office and now here. That damn word was going to be the death of you, you swore.
Any ideas what it was Seb said under his breath?? And how do you think the interview later tonight is going to go?
Chapter 13: The First Interview
#sebastianxreader#sebastian stan x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#sebastian x reader#Marvel Fanfare#mcu
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P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 40: Out of the Dark
Friday after her shift at the convenience store, Ren got a call. She answered it. “Hello?”
“Hey kid” Iwai said on the other end. “I’ve got a special job for you tonight. Meet up at the shop, and do as I say, OK?”
Ren was puzzled. “No offence, but an older gentleman calling a young girl, such as myself, and asking her to do as he says isn’t a good thing usually.”
Iwai sighed. Ren giggled. “You know I hate dealing with cops as is. This kind of thing would only attract more unwanted attention.”
“I know I know,” Ren said. “I just like yanking chains.”
“Would that be why you got arrested?” Iwai said, turning it on her.
“Nah” Ren answered. “I only pull chains when I know I can get away with it.”
“Figures” Iwai said. “Just meet up at the shop.”
“I’ll be there in a few,” Ren confirmed. “Later!” She hung up and headed towards Untouchable.
“Good. You’re here” Iwai said. “So you do wanna do as I say?”
Ren smiled. She liked it when people were quick on the uptake. “Well, I could fight you, but I don’t think the police would be on my side.”
“Heh” Iwai laughed. “You could probably murder me and get away with it as far as the police are concerned.” Iwai stood up. “In all seriousness, let’s go.”
“Huh? Where are we going?” Ren asked.
“There’s this diner nearby,” Iwai explained. “I’m meeting someone there. I just need you to hang back and call me when I give the signal. I’ll even pay for your food… Provided you don’t order too much.”
“Question” Ren asked. “What’s ‘the signal’?”
“…That’s fair,” Iwai said. “I’ll just cough. Is that OK?” Ren nodded. “Good. Now let’s head out.” They headed towards the diner. “Alright, I’ll head in first, and then give it a few minutes before I head in. Sit somewhere close by. Oh yeah.” Iwai went through his pockets. “Here’s your spending money.”
Ren nodded. “Thanks.” Iwai nodded back. He walked into the restaurant. Ren let some time pass and followed him in. Ren spotted Iwai and sat at a booth close by. Once seated, she placed her order, and got out a book to make it look like she was studying.
A few minutes later, a man walked in and sat with Iwai. “Hey Mune. What’s the occasion?”
“It’s been a while,” Iwai answered.
“Feeling sentimental, eh?” the other guy asked.
“Well, I also heard some noise about Tsuda when some cops came by,” Iwai said. “I just wanna make sure everything is going OK.”
“Ah, good ol’ classic Mune” the guy sitting across from him said. “Always willing to uphold the oath.”
“...If there’s anything I can do…” Iwai pressed on.
“Heh. You know you’re always welcome to come back” the man said.
“...You know I gave up the life,” Iwai insisted.
“Right…” the other guy said. “Well, if we do need anything, we’ll let you know. After all, you’re our brother, right?”
“Of course,” Iwai said. He coughed. Ren, overhearing all of this, pulled out her phone and called Iwai.
“You feeling alright?” the other guy asked.
Iwai drank some water. “Just a little parched. His phone went off. “He checked it. “I gotta take this. It’s business.”
“I understand.”
“Hello?” Iwai said. “I see.” He placed his hand over the receiver. “Hey, I’m going to need to cut this short. Someone’s trying to mess with me.”
“If you give us a name, we can assist” the other guy said.
Iwai looked at him sternly. “I’m a skilled business professional. I can handle this.” He got back on the phone and started to leave. “OK now, where were we?” Once he was outside, he switched his tone. “OK, stay on the line, but don’t say anything to arouse suspicion. If he leaves, tell me.”
The other guy got out his phone and proceeded to make a call. “Hey Tsuda. It’s me, Masa...Yeah, that meeting Iwai wanted to take. Apparently the police are already looking at us...Right...Of course...No, that's fine...Yeah, it’s probably that deal from the beginning of the year...Huh?...No, you know Mune. He’s just saying this to honor the code. Although he is interested in helping out, provided he doesn’t do anything uncouth...Yeah...No, of course you can handle it…”
Ren got another drink. “Thank you,” she said. The man looked over to see she was also on her phone. Ren panicked slightly, and tried to cover her tracks. “Right, so, your day sounded lovely dear. As for me, I just got off work at the convenience store, and now I’m having dinner while studying...Yeah…”
The man, Masa, turned back to his conversation. “Nah, it was just some girl talking with her significant other...Yeah...Anyways, don’t worry about it...I’ll look into how much the police know, while you think of something for Mune...Yeah...Talk with you soon...Bye.” He hung up, finished his food, and left.
“He just left,” Ren told Iwai, over the phone.
“Alright. Good job” Iwai said. “I’m guessing he gave you a look.”
“Yeah,” Ren said.
“Still, that was some quick thinking,” Iwai said. “I guess it’s a good thing I hired you. If you had ran into Masa on your own, he might have tried to sweep you up into his deal. Although I’d like to think you’re smart enough to avoid that.”
Ren giggled. “Thanks.”
“I’m gonna look into what they’re doing,” Iwai said. He paused. “You know, it’s nice to have someone assisting me like this again. Ever since I’ve been on the straight and narrow, I haven’t had much in the way of assistance. I guess I thought I was used to it. But thank you. I couldn’t have done this alone. I think I’m starting to like you a little more. Enjoy your meal.”
Ren smiled. “Thanks boss.”
Hanged Man-Munehisa Iwai: Rank 2
Ren hung up, finished her meal, and headed home.
On Sunday evening, Ren got a call from Yoshida. “Hello?”
“Hello?” Yoshida said from the other line. “Is this Amamiya-chan from the restaurant?”
Ren giggled. “Yes.”
“I see,” Yoshida said. He sighed. “I’m glad I got the right number. Hey listen, I’m working on a speech tonight, and I was wondering if you could come and assist me.”
“Sure thing” Ren answered.
“Great! I’ll be out by Central street” Yoshida answered. “See you soon.” He hung up.
Ren headed to Central Street to meet up with Yoshida. Once she got there, she tapped his shoulder. “Mr. Yoshida?”
“Ah, splendid!” Yoshida said. “Perfect timing. I still have a few minutes before I go on. So, why don’t we chat for a bit?”
“OK?” Ren said, cautiously optimistic.
“Good,” Yoshida said. He sighed. “While I appreciate the help, I do have to ask: Why are you helping me?” Ren was caught off guard. “It’s just, there are other politicians out there with a more solid foothold in the political world. I’d figure you’d rather place your bets on a winning horse over me.”
Ren looked the man over. He seemed sincere, but a little doubtful of himself. Yet he continued making speech after speech. Ren smiled. “I told you before, I like your message.” Yoshida was stunned. “You stand up for the people. You want to assure people that the government can help them, especially if they can’t help themselves. I can’t help but admire that. Besides, you can’t count out a Dark Horse candidate until the race is over, right?”
“BAHA!” Yoshida said. “You’re quite right. I suppose the impossible COULD happen. Hm. Thank you.” Ren was taken aback. “For assuring me about my message. I wasn’t sure people were listening. So it’s nice to see that people are. Even if they can’t vote yet.” Ren smiled and bowed politely. “And how serendipitous is this: Tonight’s speech is about a couple of Dark Horses in our world today. Are you ready?”
Ren nodded, but then paused. “Um, what exactly am I doing?”
“Oh, right,” Yoshida said. “Well, basically for now you’re going to hold up these cards that advertise what I am speaking about for the evening. I might ask you to assist me in other ways in the future.”
Ren nodded. “Got it.”
“OK!” Yoshida said. “I’m just about on. Grab that sign and let’s go!”
Ren nodded. She went over to grab the sign Yoshida asked her to. When she read it, she was jolted a bit. “Tonight’s Topic: The Rumored Phantom Thieves.” Well, at least we have some attention. She grabbed the sign and headed to position.
Once they were in place, Yoshida began speaking. “People of Tokyo!” A small crowd began to circle around him. Although Ren noted that they mostly seemed apathetic and just wanted a way to kill time. “Tonight I wish to talk to you about the Phantom Thieves! Those rumored vigilantes that have recently sprung up in the city.”
The crowd’s attention was piqued. “While their existence may be unknown, we have to ask: If they are real, why did they show up in the first place? Shujin Academy, the place they made their mark, was home to one of the most heinous scandals I’ve even seen. Students felt unsafe in the very place they should be welcomed.
Furthermore, the person making them feel unsafe was a highly respected member of society; which would make it difficult, if not impossible, to tell someone. They had no other option BUT these rumored Thieves. They uncovered a dark truth surrounding the school, and managed to put a stop to it, which is why people are taking note of them, and some are even showing their support.
However, as a politician, I know that for every one cruel deed you find, there are ten more still lurking in the shadows. The Phantom Thieves arrived because no one else was willing to help! But we can’t continue to rely on the Phantom Thieves forever! The government’s job should be to unearth these dark truths and stop them. Yet the powers that be are doing nothing.
That is my pledge to you! If you elect me, I promise to shed light on the darkness. And I will continue to fight for you all! Thank you.”
The crowd was murmuring. Ren noticed that they started to take interest. However, one man walked up and said “Psh. Chasing headlines to garner support? Don’t pretend like you’re nothing but the No-Good-Tora! I bet those thieves would come after you next!”
“WHA!” Yoshida said, in shock.
Ren was incensed. “HEY! That’s Mr. Yoshida to you!”
“Oh wow!” the man said. “You managed to convince someone to work for you. I wonder how you managed to swing that.”
Ren was seething. Yoshida took a deep breath and motioned Ren to stop. Ren was confused and looked at him. “It’s alright,” he said, nodding at her. He turned to the heckler. “My apologies. As you noted, she IS new. I’ll talk to her about all of this.”
“Hmph” the heckler said. “Whatever.” He walked off.
Yoshida sighed. He addressed the crowd. “Thank you everyone. And I’m sorry about the slight interruption. But please, do take my message to heart.” The crowd once again murmured, and then dispersed.
After they left, Ren and Yoshida met behind the wall. “Well, tonight could have gone a bit better…” Yoshida remarked. “...But it could have gone worse as well. Thank you.”
Ren as a tad confused. “That guy though…”
“Bahaha!” Yoshida laughed. “I’ve been a politician for quite some time now. I’m accustomed to the occasional heckler. But it’s important to remember to let cooler heads prevail.”
Ren sighed. “You’re right.”
Yoshida smiled. “Although I would have been lost had you not stood up for me in the first place.”
Ren was delightfully surprised. “Oh, thanks.”
“Truth is, I have a bit of a troubled past,” Yoshida explained. “And whenever someone brings that up, I feel weakened. But I’ve learned my lessons, and I’m trying to do what’s best for the country now. And that has to involve not letting naysayers get the better of you. Although, I have a bit of trouble in that area. Still, you being here tonight helped me focus quicker. Because I know someone was listening, and if I gave into my worst instincts, they might learn to do the same.”
Ren smiled. She then shifted around. “So, um, your speech… Do you support the Phantom Thieves?”
“Hmmmm” Yoshida pondered. “Well, as I said, I like what they did, but surely there has to be more we can do. The Phantom Thieves can only do so much for us. And their appearance in general is a bit worrying. If they’re our only hope, then the country is heading in a dark direction.”
“I see…” Ren said, taking note of this.
“What do you think of them, Amamiya-chan?” Yoshida asked.
Ren was a little caught off guard, but gave an answer. “Well, I can’t help but be biased,” she said. “I mean, I do attend Shujin, and I have been the target of that man’s actions, as well as several of my friends.”
“Oh my!” Yoshida said, shocked.
Ren smiled. “But it’s because of that that I believe you.” Yoshida was confused. “It’s hard to trust anyone after going through something like that. There are people with a vested self-interest that only look out for themselves, even if they tell you otherwise. But you’re different. When you say you wish to help people, I can tell you mean it. And I want to be there with you to make sure your message gets heard.”
Yoshida smiled. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, Amamiya-chan. I’m looking forward to continuing working with you.
I am thou... Thou art I… Thou hast acquired a new vow...
It shall become the wings of rebellion that breaketh thy chains of captivity.
With the birth of the Sun Persona I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power.
Sun-Toranosuke Yoshida: Rank 1
After that, Ren and Yoshida headed home for the evening.
#persona 5#persona fanfiction#persona 5 royal#p5r#p5 femc#p5r rework#p5 rework#p5#FeMC#female ren#ren amamiya#iwai munehisa#yoshida toranosuke
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2020 BeChloe (Mini)Fic Month - Chapter 3
AFTERLIFE
The Afterlife (also referred to as life after death) is the belief that the essential part of an individual's identity or the stream of consciousness continues after the death of the physical body.
Warning: Due to the nature of the prompt, there will be a character's death in this Chapter. Don't hate me.
{This picks up from Week 2's prompt "Quarantine."}
The BAs were having a full rehearsal one week before the State Acapella Championship when they were interrupted by Beca's dad.
"Dad?" Beca said upon seeing him enter the Auditorium. "What are you doing here?"
"Beca, may I speak with you for a moment?"
Beca nodded and turned to the group.
"Great job today, everyone," Beca said. "I'm calling it. Get out of here and have a great weekend."
The girls started gathering their belongings, and Beca walked over to her dad. Chloe stood watching because something seemed off with Mr. Mitchell.
"Dad, are you okay?" Beca asked, seeing her father's red-rimmed eyes. "Did something happen?"
"There's no easy way to say this," Warren said. "Beca, your grandmother passed away in her sleep last night."
"Grandma Mitchell?" Beca choked out. Warren nodded his head and wiped a tear from his cheek.
Chloe jumped when she heard a heart-wrenching sob echo around the Auditorium. Her head jerked toward the sound in time to see Beca collapse into her father's arms. Chloe put a hand to her mouth as she watched Beca sob against her father's chest. If Beca was crying, something bad happened, and Chloe's heart broke for Beca.
"What's going on?" Stacie asked, also watching Beca and her father.
"I don't know," Chloe said with tears in her eyes. "I'm going to go check on Beca."
Chloe slowly made her way over to the father and daughter.
"Mr. Mitchell, is everything okay?" she asked hesitantly.
"My mother passed away in her sleep last night," Warren said with a catch in his voice.
Chloe let out a gasp as tears filled her eyes. "Oh, my God, I'm so sorry."
"Thank you," Warren said as he gently pulled Beca back so he could look at her. "I'm going to take you home, okay?" Beca nodded. "We'll stop by the office and have you excused for next week since we have to fly to New York for the, uh, the fu-funeral."
Hearing the catch in his voice, Beca pulled her father toward her and hugged him tightly.
"Mr. Mitchell, if there's anything my family or I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."
"Thank you, Chloe," Warren said. "I appreciate your kind offer. I don't know what we need right now. We're still trying to wrap our heads around it."
"Beca?" Chloe said softly, causing the girl to look at her.
"Anything you need, call me, okay?" Chloe said.
Beca nodded her head and wiped the tears from her face. "Thanks," she mumbled. "Could you tell the girls?"
"Absolutely," Chloe responded immediately. She pulled Beca into a hug and whispered, "I'm really sorry about Grandma Mitchell. I'm going to miss her so much."
Beca nodded into Chloe's shoulder. "Me, too," Beca whispered as fresh tears fell.
~~ Afterlife ~~
Later that night, Beca had managed to get her emotions under control. Picking up her phone, she saw a few texts of condolences from the team, and it warmed her heart. She pulled up her text thread with Chloe and sent her a text asking the redhead to give her a call. It felt like only seconds before her phone was ringing and the caller ID popped up with Chloe's name. Beca answered.
"Hey, thanks for calling," Beca said.
"Are you okay?" Chloe asked softly.
"No," Beca responded honestly. "But, I will be."
"Is there something I can do?" Chloe asked.
"Yeah, that's why I wanted you to call," Beca said. "I won't be flying back to Barden until next Saturday."
"That's the day of the State Acapella Championships," Chloe said.
"I know," Beca said. "Everything has been taken care of to get you guys to Atlanta, and that's where I'll be flying into. Once I land, I'll meet you guys at the Conference Center. I just wanted to let you know."
"I"m glad you're going to be able to make it," Chloe said. "It wouldn't be the same without you."
"Don't worry," Beca said. "I'll be there." There was a brief moment of silence before Beca spoke again.
"Hey, Beale?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't let this go to your head, but I'm glad we're friends again."
Chloe let out a small gasp and tears came to her eyes. "We are?"
"Of course, we are," Beca responded with a light chuckle. "I don't cry in front of just anybody."
Chloe chuckled. "I'm glad we're friends again, too. So, um, I was going to hold rehearsals while you're gone. Is that okay?"
"I think we're more than ready," Beca said, smiling when she heard a somewhat frustrated sigh on the other end of the phone. "But, I trust you, and if you think more rehearsals are needed, go for it."
"Really?" Chloe squealed.
"Yes, really," Beca said. "I have to go. We have an early flight tomorrow. I'll try and call later."
"Okay," Chloe said. "Be safe and call me if you need anything. Oh, and send me the information on the funeral arrangements once you know them. We want to send flowers."
"Yes, ma'am," Beca said, ending the call.
~~ Afterlife ~~
Before turning in for the night, Beca set her alarm and sent a few thank you texts to her team. She laid on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and wiping the tears that started to fall again.
At some point, sleep took her into the world of her dreams, and her Grandmother Mitchell was the headliner.
"Beca," a voice called entering the murky depths of Beca's sleep. "Beca, wake up, sweetie." Beca's eyes fluttered as her brain caught on to the sound of the intrusion. "Beca, I need you to open your eyes." Beca opened her eyes to close them immediately. They opened again and closed just as quickly as she was not ready to wake up. "BECA!" Beca sat straight up in the bed, her heart pounding. She swallowed and looked around. Her eyes widened, and she scrabbled back until her back hit the headboard.
"Who-who are you?" Beca asked the figure standing at the foot of her bed.
"It's me, sweetie," the figure said. "Grandma."
Beca got on her hands and knees and slowly crawled closer to the figure. Suddenly, the figure transformed and was now a human form. A human form that Beca knew well. Tears came to Beca's eyes as she whispered, "Grandma?"
"Yes, sweetie, it's me," Sophie replied.
"But how can it be you? You're de-" Beca stopped and swallowed.
"Dead?" Sophie finished. "I know. I am."
"Then, how are you here?" Beca asked.
"I could feel your sadness and came to comfort you," Sophie said. "It's what we Grandmas do."
Beca let out a watery chuckle because it was something her grandmother always used to say to her.
Beca let out a small sob and looked at her grandmother with tears streaming down her face.
"I don't know how I'm going to feel when I walk into your house, and you're not there."
"Oh, my sweet baby," Sophie cooed. She spread her arms wide and said, "Come here."
Beca closed the distance between them and fell into her grandmother's arms.
Grandma Mitchell held Beca until her sobs turned into hiccoughs, and she calmed down. Beca pulled back and looked at her grandmother.
"How can you be hugging me?" Beca asked. "In the movies, when someone tries to hug a ghost, there's nothing there."
Sophie laughed, and Beca's heart warmed. Beca loved her grandmother's laugh.
"The Afterlife is quite surprising," Sophie said. "My body is no longer alive, but my stream of consciousness, or spirit as some call it, is alive. I can show myself in my true physical form so you can see and touch me."
"Thank you for coming to visit me,' Beca mumbled against her grandmother's shoulder.
"Don't worry, my sweet girl," Sophie said. "I'm always around and will visit you when I feel you need me to be there for you."
"I love you, grandma," Beca said, squeezing Sophie tighter.
"I love you, too," Sophie said.
~~ Afterlife ~~
Beca woke the next morning with a smile on her face, remembering the dream she had where her grandmother had visited her. She got up and took a quick shower before dressing and heading downstairs. Her dad and Sheila were drinking coffee when she walked into the kitchen. Her dad stood by the center island, staring down into his cup. He looked sad, so Beca walked over and hugged him.
"You okay, dad?" Beca asked as her father returned the hug.
"I am," Warren said. "We need to leave in about an hour for the airport. Are you packed?"
"Yeah, I packed last night," Beca said.
Warren opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it when his phone rang. He let Beca go and answered the call.
"Hey, Matt," Warren said, answering the call from his brother.
Beca and Sheila could only hear Warren's side of the call.
"That all sounds good, Matt. Thanks for taking care of everything."
"Could you send that to me, Beca, and Sheila? We have folks here we need to share it with."
"Hm-mm," Warren said. "Hold on, I'll ask her."
Warren turned to Beca. "Matt wants to know if you'll pick out a dress for mom to be, um, buried in."
Beca nodded, and Warren got back on the phone. "She said she would do it."
"Got it. We'll see you at the airport in a few hours. I love you, too, Matt."
Warren ended the call and looked at his wife and daughter.
"Matt finalized the arrangements and is going to send them to all of us."
"That's good," Beca said. "I promised Chloe I'd send them to her."
"I have a few more things to pack," Sheila said as she stood. "I'd better get to it."
Sheila left Beca and Warren in the dining room.
"I had a dream about grandma last night," Beca said, causing Warren to look at her.
"It seemed real," Beca continued. "I hugged her and could smell her perfume."
"Jean Naté," Warren said with a chuckle. "Matt and I used to get her a bottle for every birthday and Mother's Day."
"It is her signature scent," Beca said with a soft smile.
~~ Afterlife ~~
"Uncle Matt!" Beca called out as soon as she saw the man.
Matt hurried over and grabbed his brother, Warren, in a hug. The two men stood unashamed as they held onto each other in the middle of JFK Airport. Matt pulled back from the embrace, sniffling, and wiping his nose.
"You okay, Matt?" Warren asked. "I'm sorry you had to handle everything on your own."
"Don't be," Matt said. "You know how mom is, was. She had everything planned out down to the music and flowers.
Warren chuckled. "That sounds about right."
"Come on, let's get your luggage and get you to the house," Matt said. "Before I forget, we have an appointment with her lawyer on Wednesday for the reading of the will."
"That's good," Warren said.
"How are your kids holding up?" Sheila asked Matt.
"They're doing okay," Matt responded. "I don't think they're really old enough to understand." He turned to Beca. "How are you doing, sprout?"
"I'm good," Beca said. "It won't hit me until we get to grandma's house, and she's not there."
The three older adults became quiet as they nodded, having the same feeling.
~~ Afterlife ~~
The ride to Sophie's house was quiet. Warren, Matt, and Sheila exited the car while Beca remained in her seat.
"Are you planning on sitting out here all day?" Sophie's voice startled Beca.
"Jesus!" Beca blurted out.
"Nope," Sophie said. "Just grandma is fine."
"You're scared the daylights out of me," Beca said, looking to her left to see her grandmother sitting there.
"I'm sorry," Sophie said. "Maybe I can wear a bell around my neck, so you know I'm here."
"Are you planning on popping in on me on the regular?" Beca asked.
"Maybe," Sophie said, causing Beca to grin. "I felt how anxious you were, so I thought I'd walk into the house with you."
"Is anyone else going to see you?" Beca asked. "Or will I look like I'm talking to myself?"
"They'll see me if I want them to," Sophie said. "But they don't need me as much as you do."
"Can you promise me that you'll always be there if I need you?"
"I always was and always will be," Sophie said.
Beca looked down, nodding her head. "I think I'm ready to go in."
"Let's go then," Sophie said.
Beca opened the car door and stepped out. She was surprised to see her father, Sheila, and Matt waiting for her.
"We thought we'd all go in together," Warren said as Beca joined them.
Beca smiled, and when she looked back over her shoulder, her grandmother was no longer there.
~~ Afterlife ~~
"Beca, I don't want to push you, but we need to pick out a dress so we can get it to the funeral home."
"I'll go do that now," Beca said and slowly made her way up the steps.
Beca entered her grandmother's bedroom and went to her closet. She looked through the clothes hung there and pulled out a sky blue dress. Beca smiled because it reminded her of Chloe's eyes.
"Rebecca Cooke Mitchell," Sophie's voice called out from outside the closet. "You are not having me wear that for all eternity. It makes me look like an old lady."
"You are an old lady," Beca said with a smile.
"Don't be cheeky," Sophie said. Beca could tell by her voice she was smiling. "Just because I am an old lady, doesn't mean I have to look like one."
"Okay," Beca said, hanging the dress back on the pole. She pulled out another and stepped out of the closet, holding it up for Sophie to see. "How about this one?"
Sophie smiled when she saw the dress. It was one of her favorites.
"That's the one," Sophie said.
Beca stepped out of the closet and gently laid the dress on the bed. She then chose whatever else she thought was needed and placed everything in a small bag.
"I guess that's it," Beca said, looking around at the same time realizing that she couldn't see Sophie.
It was late when Beca and her family got back from the viewing for her grandmother. She was in her room when her phone's text notification pinged. She looked to see that Chloe had texted her, asking her if she could call.
Beca placed the call the Chloe instead; Chloe immediately answered.
"I wasn't expecting you to call me," Chloe said, answering the call.
"I thought I'd save time," Beca said. "Is everything okay?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing," Chloe said. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Beca said. "It's been a little weird, but my grandma is helping me get through it."
"What?" Chloe asked.
"Okay, so don't be freaked out, but I've seen my grandmother. And can talk to her."
"What do you mean?" Chloe said, sounding confused. "You can feel her around you?"
"No," Beca said and let out a sigh. "That night, after I found out my grandmother had passed away, I had what I thought was a dream. My grandmother was calling my name and woke me up. When I did wake up, she was standing at the foot of my bed."
Chloe listened intently as Beca told of talking to and hugging her grandmother. And how her grandmother helped her pick out the dress she would wear for her funeral.
"I swear I'm not making this up, Chloe," Beca said.
"I believe you, Beca," Chloe said. "The next time she shows herself, tell her I said hi and that I'm going to miss her."
"You're making fun of me," Beca said, pouting.
"No, I'm not. I swear," Chloe said. "I believe that you believe your grandmother has visited you. I just don't believe in ghosts."
"She's not a ghost," Beca said. "I hugged her and didn't go through her like in the movies."
Chloe let out a small scream. "Are you okay, Chloe?" Beca asked.
"I, uh, take back everything I just said," Chloe whispered to Beca.
"Hello, Chloe," Sophie said, causing Chloe's eyes to widen.
"Grandma Mitchell?" Chloe squeaked out.
"Is my grandmother there?" Beca asked through the phone.
"Uh-huh," Chloe said, nodding her head as if Beca could see her.
"Ask why she's visiting you?"
"Wh-why are you visiting me?" Chloe asked Sophie.
"I'm not sure," Sophie said. "I can sense when Beca needs me, and I sensed it just now, only I ended up here with you instead of with Beca."
"I was, um, Beca was telling me about seeing you," Chloe said. "Only I, I didn't believe her."
"Oh," Sophie said. "Do you believe her now?"
"Yes!" Chloe said, nodding her head.
"Good," Sophie said and disappeared.
"Grandma Mitchell?" Chloe called out, reaching for the empty space where Sophie was just standing. Chloe shook her head, unable to comprehend what just happened.
"What's going on, Chloe?" Beca asked.
"She was here, but now she's...gone," Chloe said.
Beca chuckled. "Yeah, she does that. Here one minute, and gone the next. I think she knows when I need to see her and then gets pulled back once the need passes for the moment."
"My heart is racing," Chloe said with her hand on her heart. She let out a small laugh.
"Beca!" Warren's voice called from downstairs.
"Chloe, I have to go," Beca said. "My dad's calling me."
"Okay," Chloe said. "I'll talk to you later."
~~ Afterlife ~~
Beca saw Sophie several times over the next few days. Her grandmother seemed to know when Beca needed her. Either to talk, or just get a Grandma Mitchell hug.
Beca was packing on Friday night when Sophie appeared again.
"Did you come to say goodbye?" Beca asked with a smile.
"I sensed your sadness," Sophie said.
"I'm going to miss you and this place," Beca said, sitting on the edge of her bed.
"Don't worry," Sophie said. "I'll still be around."
"I just wish," Beca started and stopped. She ran a hand through her hair. "I just wish you had seen me perform with my group. We have the State Championships tomorrow, and I wish you could be there."
Sophie pulled Beca into a hug. "I'm sorry I haven't gotten to see you perform, too."
Beca sniffled, and Sophie hugged her tighter. Suddenly, Beca fell back onto the bed as her grandmother disappeared.
"Grandma?" Beca said. She frowned when her grandmother didn't reappear as she had expected she would.
~~ Afterlife ~~
The next morning, Beca's plane landed, and she texted Chloe to let her know. Chloe texted back to tell Beca their rehearsal time had been moved to two o'clock, and the girls were having lunch at the hotel.
Beca read Chloe's text and decided to head to the hotel and join the girls for lunch.
"Beca!" Chloe called out when she saw Beca walk into the hotel's restaurant.
"Hey!" Beca said as the other girls welcomed her.
Amy grabbed Beca in a bear hug, whispering, "I'm sorry about your grandma."
"Thanks, Amy," Beca said.
Beca seemed sad and looked around, hoping to see her grandmother. She got sadder when she didn't appear.
"Beca, are you okay?" Chloe asked, having seen Beca looking around.
"I don't know," Beca said softly. "I haven't seen my grandma since last night. She usually shows when I'm sad, or anxious and I've been both today. I, I think she might be gone forever."
Chloe put her arms around Beca and laid her cheek on the top of Beca's head. "I'm sorry, Beca."
"It's okay," Beca said sadly. "She said she'd always be here when I needed her." Beca let out a small sob, and tears ran down her face. "And I really need her."
Tears came to Chloe's eyes as she continued to hold Beca. After a moment or two, they separated, and Beca wiped her eyes. Chloe was grateful that the other girls didn't say anything about seeing Beca cry.
~~ Afterlife ~~
After lunch, the girls made their way to the Conference Center for their final rehearsal. Chloe stayed close to Beca, in case Beca needed her.
The rehearsal was a bit lackluster—Beca's sadness casting a shadow over the team's enthusiasm.
Chloe spent the rest of the afternoon just sitting with Beca until it was time to return for the competition.
Chloe wanted to do something to cheer Beca up but didn't know what to do.
The Barden BAs were waiting backstage for their turn to take the stage. Beca looked around, the sadness oozing out of her when her eyes suddenly widened, and she grabbed Chloe's arm.
"She's here!" Beca said excitedly.
"Who?" Chloe said, looking around.
"My grandma," Beca said. "She's really here!"
"I don't understand," Chloe said.
"Don't you see her?" Beca asked, her eyes bright with excitement.
Chloe shook her head but couldn't help the smile that came to her face when Beca started bouncing up and down. The rest of the team looked at Beca with furrowed brows. Worried about this sudden change in Beca's demeanor.
"Barden BAs, you're up next," the stage manager told them.
The girls got excited, spurred on by Beca's sudden enthusiasm.
"Let's do this," Beca exclaimed as the emcee announced them.
Beca literally bounced out onto the stage, followed by her team. They got into position, and Beca counted down.
By the time the Barden BAs finished their set, the entire place was on their feet, clapping and cheering. Beca grabbed Chloe and spun her around.
"What has gotten into you?" Chloe asked, laughing.
"I was sad earlier because my grandma was gone," Beca said, trying to catch her breath. "But she's here. Chloe," Beca said and took a breath. "This is the first time my grandmother got to see me perform."
Chloe looked around and smiled when she saw Sophie give her a small wave from the side of the stage. Chloe waved back, and Sophie disappeared.
Chloe wiped a tear from Beca's face and softly said, "I'm so happy for you."
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Nearly five years ago, I saw One Direction live. Twice, on consecutive nights – on the first two dates of their On the Road Again world tour. Once was for work, to review the show. The other was for the sheer, heady, sugar-rush pleasure.
I was, I’ll admit, a little on the old side for a Directioner, even then. Most of the 45,000-odd crowd was much younger – not that that you would necessarily be able to tell from the saucy suggestions on their homemade signs. “I don’t want to draw attention to them,” Liam Payne had said fussilyon stage.
It was an on-brand comment for the then-21-year-old Payne, who, had the harried, slightly anxious energy of a father-of-four at Disneyland. And no wonder: it was clear, even to me, that Zayn Malik had checked out, barely bothering to conceal his rolling eyes. He would be gone within the month, marking the beginning of the end (or “indefinite hiatus”) for the biggest boy band in the world.
“It was a point where every day, you didn’t know whether it was going to be the end,” says Payne, sitting in the offices of his PR company in central London. “It was so touch and go, at every single show. I was slowly losing the plot.”
Now 26 and almost totally tattooed, Payne has a new album on which he raps about getting rowdy on Bacardi and being “free” from 1D. At the same time his very-nearly-naked form is plastered on buses and train stations in a provocative ad campaign for Hugo Boss.
Yet Payne is as polite and agreeable as if he were talking to his best friend’s mother. He is tired he says after an energetic early morning music video shoot. “There was a trampoline involved,” he says, sucking on his silver Juul. “It was hell – but it will look great.”
Gym beast and sex symbol are relatively new tags. His role as the diplomat of the group was established from the time they were first assembled from five solo applicants on The X Factor in 2010.
Payne auditioned when he was just 14, but was told by Simon Cowell to “come back in two years”. He did – and, eyes serious beneath his enormous fringe, blew the judges away with a brassy rendition of Cry Me a River.
Growing up in Wolverhampton, he had been a talented cross-country runner – making the reserve list for the British Olympics team. But a fan of Usher, Justin Timberlake and Chris Brown, he was drawn to singing as “the thing that made my parents proudest”. His backup plan, had he not got through on X Factor, was to follow his father into an aircraft fitting factory.
Once grouped in One Direction it took the five boys, then between 16 and 19, to pull together. “At the start we couldn’t get past our own egos,” says Payne. There would be fights over who got to sing what part, and even personal style. “Everybody had their own little thing – it was like having four older brothers.”
Payne went on to write songs for the group, contributing to two-thirds of their 2014 album Four (arguably their best) and even earning a production credit on 2015’s Made in the AM. But in the early days he would be the one to sing the opening part because, he was told at the time, he “used to settle everybody”.
Payne says he was a more experienced performer than the other boys, and a “bit more mature” – which he puts down to spending more time with his dad than his peers, and being so focused on a career in showbusiness. “I’d lived a different lifestyle from 14 to 16. Most kids try alcohol and experiment – I never did any of that because I thought there’s a chance that I might make it.”
Management took advantage of this, he says, telling him his “very specific role” in the group was to keep the rest in line. “I was like, that’s great, innit – because then everyone in the band thinks I’m a dick.” He remembers one of the band’s first hotel stays. “We’ve got plates being thrown out the window, mattresses being ridden down the stairs, and I’m getting calls from the manager saying: ‘You need to sort it out’.”
It wasn’t lost on the fans. Where Malik and Styles were the heartthrobs, Payne says he was classed as Mr Boring. “When you’re at the stadium, and if you get the least screams, it’s like: ‘For fuck’s sake.’”
After a year playing 1D-Dad he gave up and learned to have fun. “If you can’t beat them, join them” – at which point, he notes wryly, the band’s public image became more cheeky and carefree. “And the more fun we had, the more successful it got.”
He recalls performing to sold-out stadiums night after night, seeing “hundreds” of iPhones being thrown onstage in the vain hopes of their being returned with a selfie. “It’s like the kids just lost their minds.”
“There were parts of it that were a bit shit, like there is with anything,” he says, “and there were parts of it that was just euphoria.”
He recalls seeing 15,000 fans camped outside his hotel room in Lima, Peru. Security had advised them to stay inside all day, and because “they were the adults, we thought they were in charge. Then over time we started to figure out that they weren’t, and that’s when we used to run off.”
Yet the adrenaline peaks of performing, followed by long troughs of tedium, were akin to a drug addiction, says Payne. He turned to alcohol. “Doing a show to however many thousands of people, then being stuck by yourself in a country where you can’t go out anywhere – what else are you going to do? The minibar is always there. ”
For a time, he was also taking an epilepsy drug as a mood stabiliser that he says affected his cognitive functioning under certain lights. Payne says he had been well advised to take it, to counter the “erratic highs and lows” he was experiencing – “I just needed a little bit of help to keep me stable” – “but under certain lights on stage or during interviews, I wouldn’t be able to tell them my name”.
The day we meet, Payne has made headlines for telling Ant Middleton on the pair’s Sky One show that the loneliness of fame had “almost nearly killed” him. When Middleton asked Payne if he had ever wanted to act on those feelings, Payne said that he had: “100%”.
He is not inclined to discuss this today, “because it’s a bit dark,” he says, a touch brusquely – “but yeah, it was very touch and go at times”. This was both in 1D and afterwards, he clarifies. As One Direction got bigger and bigger, he says, “I was like: ‘I don’t really know how to deal with this’. Once you start, you can’t really press the stop button.”
The “indefinite hiatus” button, though, was easier – in mid-2015, four months after Malik’s departure, the band made the decision together. “It was a little bit dark and twisted towards the end of it,” says Payne, “but the last few shows were really beautiful moments because the pressure cooker had been let off.
“It was almost like counting down to holiday – we were going to wake up that Monday morning with no schedule.” Afterwards Payne was in therapy for two years, and took six months off. “It was difficult at the start, because I didn’t really know anything about myself. It was a bit of a numb feeling.”
(...)
That schedule is about to get busier, with Payne’s debut album as a solo artist finally out this Friday. Laden with chart-friendly trop house, trap and Latin pop influences, LP 1 plays like a water cannon aimed at commercial radio – there is even a Christmas song.
It has been a long lead-up: the first single, Strip That Down, was released nearly two years ago and established Payne as the 1D member most influenced by contemporary hip-hop – perhaps too much so. A picture he posted to Instagram of himself in February 2018 wearing a chain necklace, flipping the bird and bragging about travelling by private jet was quietly deleted following ridicule.
Amid the success of Strip That Down, which was streamed over 1bn times, Payne was also still “struggling” with alcohol: “I just hid it very well.” He went on to spend an entire year sober – a necessary if boring step. “My social life completely plummeted. I always feel like you never get past the awkward first 10 minutes at a party, when everyone’s like: ‘Do we get up and dance, or do we just sit here?’ I don’t know whether it made me happier, but it was definitely needed.”
His more recent stint of self-discipline was to prepare for his nude photo shoot with model Stella Maxwell for Hugo Boss. In the lead-up, he was in the gym between “five and eight times a week, sometimes twice a day” and eating mostly chicken and vegetables – with no carbohydrates after 2pm and nothing at all after 8pm. For the last “stripping” phase, he ate nothing but porridge and white fish for a month. “It was horrible – but it definitely works.”
The shoot had been his idea, inspired by campaigns featuring David Beckham and Mark Wahlberg – Payne’s role models, whose cross-disciplinary celebrity shapes his own career goals. Last year he auditioned in front of Steven Spielberg for a part in next year’s West Side Story remake, and has been submitting audition tapes irregularly since. “It’s just trying to manage the time in between (...), singer, model and whatever.”
Between the trap beats, tighty-whities and tattoos is he attempting to put across a new, more grown-up image? “Oh yeah, definitely.”
In One Direction, he was “Mr Vanilla – no one wanted to know a thing”. Then, with the “chain and rapper phase … I didn’t really know what I was aiming for, but it was actually exactly where we are right now. I just needed to find the right keys to make me feel like the man I wanted to be.”
Which is, he jokes, is “like a really English Magic Mike”. Do you like being objectified, I ask? “I think it’s quite funny,” says Payne, clearly delighted. The other day, he says, someone sent him a picture of an old lady walking past an enormous blown-up poster of him in his pants. Not bad for Mr Vanilla, I say. “Exactly.”
Liam Payne’s debut album LP1 is out on Friday 6 December
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