#gabs you have to go and play 'this city... is my city... and i love it... and i love it' to establish dominance

[writingsfromhome]

Dos and Don’ts II

A/N: the story kinda got away from me so it’s getting a part 3. Would love to know what you think of the characters/choices!

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

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It’s a beautiful morning; the late summer heat is right around the hour but for now the morning clouds keeps the city cool. I’m sat at Harry’s dinner table with stacks of paper around me, sorting out paperwork whilst on hold with a private venue he was playing in the fall to sort out some details his manager asked me for.

I had become good at my job, multitasking like a pro and not having to leave the room to make a call. After all, it had been nearly half a year of this.

And yet, my relationship with Harry Styles had stayed the same. Sometimes it felt like it got worse.

My other relationships, in the rest of my life, had definitely gotten worse.

“Riley just called said he’s sent over some prints I bought for the bedroom,” Harry pops into the room. “Can you call someone to put them up?”

“Yeah, where do you want them?” I get up so he can show me.

“Somewhere that looks good in there,” he waves his hand. “It’s pictures of me.”

“Of course they are,” I know how big-headed he could be. “Above the bed?”

“Hm,” he heads off to the bedroom so I follow. He examines each wall of his bedroom which was pretty neutral and relaxing to be in. “Why not? Yeah. Above the bed’s good.”

“Great.” With that I head back to my makeshift office.

I wondered why Riley didn’t message me directly about the prints considering we avoided getting Harry involved in these minor decisions.

Maybe I’d ask him tonight. We were having drinks—we tried a bunch of times to get together seeing we were “coworkers” but our timing rarely worked out. Since Gray was out of town the next two nights I’d reached out to Riley.

Evening comes quicker while I’m still buried behind paper. I start tidying up after 7.

“Going home?” Harry asks. He’d been out most of the day at voice lessons.

“Yes, your dinner’s in the oven and Roy said he left cocktails in the fridge.”

“Lovely Roy,” Harry rubs his hands together. “He makes the best drinks.”

I smile and go back to work.

“There’s enough for two,” he calls with his head in the fridge. “You want to join?”

Of course the one night Harry asks me to join him personally—a time I could use to get on his good side, I’m going out.

“I’m actually heading out for drinks myself.” He’s already placed the jug on the marble countertop.

“Oh.” He freezes awkwardly. “With your fiancé?”

“No,” for some reason I feel flustered at his mention of Gray. “With Riley actually. We’ve been meaning to get together for drinks since…I started. Wow. That’s been a long time.”

“Riley,” Harry purses his lips. “Does your fiancé know?”

“It’s a friendly drink,” I feel my temper flare. “I don’t need to report to my fiance.”

“If my fiancé was going out to drinks with a man with loose hands, I’d worry.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re not engaged,” I mouth off before I can stop myself. He raises a brow and the single movement has me backpedaling. I was such a coward. “So you don’t have to worry.”

“Y/n you get away with a lot but I’d remember who’s working for who.”

I clench my teeth. Just seconds ago he was inviting me for a drink and now I’ve dug myself a grave. I couldn’t be stopped.

I grab my bag and head to the elevator.

“Don’t turn your back on him once he’s got a few drinks in.” Harry calls out.

Asshole, I think.

***

God, Riley talked a lot. He’s got 3 drinks to my 1.5 and really got the gift of the gab.

That is until he starts asking me about Harry.

“Do you find him hot? He’s kind of a lady’s man yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” I laugh. “Got ‘em all lined up.”

“And you?” He asks casually. “Has he got you yet?”

“Riley! I’m engaged,” I flash my ring.

“Didn’t stop the last girl,” he mutters.

“What? What’s that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” I poke him, knowing he wanted to talk about it anyway.

“Just that the last PA he had for…less than a year? She had a boyfriend and everything but one time I pop in early to set up for this masseuse right—I’m there and I hear someone in the bedroom with him. No big deal whatever. Then Harry comes out and he’s fuming just seeing me. Tells me to get out and leave the rest, that I should have called him. All this shite. And then I see her jacket, she wore a very specific jacket, and her shoes off the way. He was angry cuz I caught them.”

“Woah,” I think about the way Harry treats me. “Well I don’t have to worry about that. He can be a right dick with me.”

“He can come off that way. Until you get to know him. Well. He used to be nicer. It’s changed a bit since I started.”

“How long?” I ask, curious.

“Uhh I was his PA for a year and now this for one and a half?”

“Wow. That’s a long time.”

“I know. Too long. Well, big things are coming for me I can feel it. How about you? Are you staying long? I hear the way he talks to you, I don’t know how you put up with it.”

I thought he talked to all his PAs that way. Maybe he was different when Riley was his. Of maybe it was that Riley was a guy. Maybe the fame got to his head. “Uhm. I want to stick around for at least a year. What do you mean the way he talks to me?”

“He’s rude.” Riley runs his hand through his hair. “Don’t you find him rude? You’re surprisingly…graceful, but he’s always bossing you around and then ignoring you.”

I feel a pit in my stomach. So I wasn’t imagining it. “I thought that’s just the way he is.”

“No, you should have met him a couple years ago. A really cool guy. He taught me a lot.” Riley suddenly sobers as he looks off into the distance. “I grew a lot with him. I’m thankful for that y’know?”

“Right,” I nod. “Yeah. I dunno. I’m hoping to learn a lot here.”

“Well if you want to stay connected, keep my number. When you wanna jump ship just let me know.”

I’m surprised Riley is talking so openly about helping me leave. I would have thought he was a Harry die-hard.

“Yeah. Hey are you the one that’s created all those notes on the phone? They’ve been a life saver.”

“Notes? Oh the lists. I made them when I was his PA. I don’t know if the last girl updated any…”

I think of the snarky additions. She definitely did.

“Well I owe you my first-born because without them I’m pretty sure I would have been fired.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” he smirks.

“Uh yeah, I forgot to bring his bloody tablet to the studio the first day. He was so mad.”

“He wouldn’t fire you y/n,” he cocks his head to the side. “Not with the way I see it.”

“Huh?” I ask but Riley’s turned to the bar to ask for another drink.

I excuse myself and freshen up, checking my phone for messages. Gray’s sent me a picture of his hotel view and I send him a quick text back. I wish he was here. Maybe it was time I got home, I was starting to feel tired.

“I’m thinking of heading home,” I tell Riley when I get back.

“Now?” He looks at his watch. “Night’s still young y/l/n.”

“I’ve been up since 6 I’m dead.”

“Fine, I’ll walk you outside.” Riley knocks back half his drink and stands, swaying slightly. I put my hand out to steady him and he smiles down at me.

The pub is crowded as we walk past people, shoulders brushing against strangers. It takes me a second to feel the hand on my back sliding down to my ass.

I whip around to chew out whichever stranger thought he could get a grope but the only person behind me is Riley with a cocky smile.

“You alright? Let’s keep going.”

I can hear the blood pumping in my ears and I stumble back, Harry’s words echoing in my ear.

“I’m alright.” I try to put distance between us. “I’ll walk myself out you should look after your drink.”

“Nah c’mon,” he reaches for me again and I inch back.

“I said I’m okay,” I know my voice comes out harsh due to the fear coursing through my body. But I don’t care.

“Bloody hell alright then,” Riley shrugs. “Night y/n.”

I wait for him to turn and leave before I get out of there. The night air cools down the flush in my cheeks but I can’t get my heart to stop racing. Harry was right and for some reason it makes me angry at him. I’m furious.

All these men just made me feel small and confused all the time. Is that what I had to accept working in this industry? Was I just naïve for thinking things could be decent? That people could be decent?

I wish more than ever that Grayson was here. I imagine him on his own in another city. Then I imagine him alone, at home, while I’m working all the time. It felt like we were on a piece of ice drifting through the ocean and the middle was cracking leaving us to drift alone. My heart feels like it’s cracking with it.

I call Gray on the ride home just to see his face. I listen to him talk about his day and slowly my grip on the anger loosens. Slowly with his voice in my ear, I come back down to earth.

***

It’s a couple weeks after the Riley incident. I’d come into work the next day and managed to ignore Harry for most of it just like he did me.

Today I’m back at the dining table waiting for Harry’s publicist to call me to take me through what was left for this upcoming weekend for a small awards show Harry had been nominated in that was happening Sunday. Riley would be on the call too, the first time I’d seen him since that night. I just hoped my pokerface was good enough to move on past any awkwardness.

“Let me get your thoughts on this,” Harry sits down across from me with a yoghurt. He’d just come from the gym and seeing him shirtless now was just another Thursday afternoon.

He’d taken to using me as a soundboard lately which started out interesting and got old quickly. He loved to hear himself talk, I’ve concluded. And I was forced to listen. And he always lied. He never wanted my thoughts on anything, just an ego stroke.

And just like usual he launches into a song he’s working on and something about string progression and inversion. I nod along until my phone rings and I pick it up instantly.

Graham and I speak about the details of event and I reassure him everything would run smoothly. When I’m done Harry’s nearly done the smoothie he grabbed while I was on the phone.

“Austria tomorrow, everything’s prepped?”

“Yep, for you.”

“Not for you?”

“I have the rest of the week off?” I remind him just like I’d been doing for the last two weeks. So this wouldn’t happen.

“You do? I thought that was next week. What am I gonna do without you there it’s 4 days.”

“I reckon you’ll survive,” I say with a light tone but I’ve learned the art of backhanded jokes. It felt like the only way to get some of my aggression out. “Plus Riley’s joining you Saturday afternoon.”

“So I’ll be alone on Friday?”

I look up from my laptop, “Are you ever really alone?”

“I guess I’ll just have to invite one of my girls to keep me company,” he continues watching me. “Keep my bed warm.”

“If you’d like,” I hated when he tried to make me uncomfortable. “Let me know which one and I can cut her a ticket.”

He clenches his jaw and levels me with an irritated look. “I’m sure Vienna has many beautiful people to choose from.”

Ignore ignore ignore. I go back to my screen and leave him on heard.

***

“It���s been too long,” Gray clinks his glass with mine. It’s Friday night and we’re having an early anniversary celebration.

This whole weekend I promised Gray I would be his from Friday though Sunday even though our actual anniversary was on Monday.

Our relationship that was once so strong, supportive, and loving had started treading rocky grounds. I felt jostled and very close to being kicked right off the ride altogether.

I look at my fiancé’s face, his dark features and serious looks made him look intimidating but a flicker of his smile and you felt like you were on the ins with him about something. I had missed him.

The last time we did anything together was at the beginning of summer. I had a long weekend off and he’d driven us to lake district, soaking in the sun and hiking along the peaks. We’d had a serious conversation about our relationship but a lot of it had felt like me apologizing and him accusing.

“You look radiant,” Gray reaches for my hand. “How are you?”

I didn’t think he wanted the real answer. I hold back a sigh and replace it with a smile, “Alright. Better now to be with you.”

He kisses the back of my hand and my stomach flutters. “Me too. I’m excited for this weekend.”

“Let’s see we’re seeing friends tomorrow for brunch, then doing old school movies and dinner in the evening.”

“That was one of our first dates don’t make fun.”

“I’m not! It’s a classic I’m excited. It’s been so long since I saw a movie with you.”

With Harry, I’d seen a few. I was always told to tag along on premieres Riley passed on.

“And Sunday we’re just being lazy bed bugs.”

“Mmm that sounds amazing.” I could use a day in bed. A week in bed would be even better.

The night is perfect and romantic and it soothes the heartache I’d been carrying, the guilt that I was killing my relationship. Gray is attentive and we laugh like we always did.

I don’t mention work. It makes me anxious knowing I had to put the biggest part of my life on mute in order to keep the good vibes going with Gray.

Saturday brunch brings me back to life. I’d missed our friends and catching up on their lives, all the chatter and the laughter. Gray keeps reaching for me at the table and I feel like I belong.

“So how’s the tyrant?” My friends had started calling Harry that since he always kept me from most of our social outings.

“The usual,” I try to keep it short for Gray’s sake.

“Grayson was complaining that you spend more time with him than your actual fiancé!”

“Is that so?” I turn to Gray with a teasing expression but he’s serious.

“I wouldn’t have helped her with the job if I knew,” Gray jokes when I nudge him. The table laughs but I fake it, knowing the kernel of truth in it.

“He can’t be all that bad?” Another friend asks.

“Nope. Pretty consistently bad,” I tell them. “I’m just telling myself it’s vital experience. It’s the only thing that helps me sleep.”

“When she sleeps at all,” Gray slips in another passive joke and I try to distance myself from it.

“Just wait, in a couple years I’ll be living my best life.” I raise my glass.

“To y/n’s best life,” the table cheers.

On the walk home from brunch Gray and I swing hands in between us. I want to bring up his passive comments but it feels stuck in my throat. His hand feels like lead in mine.

“Gray-“

“I’m sorry. I got a bit salty at brunch,” Gray admits. I nearly deflate completely with the sigh that comes out of me.

“That’s okay,” I kiss his cheek. His hand feels like an extension of mine again. “I know there’s a lot of things we don’t talk about, I know my job doesn’t make you happy. But I appreciate that you still support me and keep the peace even when I can be a bit of a dick sometimes.”

“Hey,” Gray stops and tugs me to him. “I love you. Nothing changes that.”

“I love you too,” he kisses me with the same passion he did last night, our first intimate night after a couple months. With the urgency in his kiss I can tell it wouldn’t be another couple until the next.

***

We get back in around 8 and I happily kick off the dress and boots I wore to dinner to snuggle in my pjs. I watch Gray remove his contacts as I comb through my hair.

“I still can’t believe that ending,” Gray says to me in the mirror.

“Same, I feel like everyone’s kept it so hush I didn’t even know there was going to be a plot twist!”

“I kind of saw it coming-“

“You did not!” I flick Gray. “Why do guys love to brag about seeing a movie ending coming.”

“It’s our roman empire,” he grins.

“You’re using that in the wrong context,” I roll my eyes. “Josie would be so disappointed. Oh I didn’t even turn my phone back on after the movie, Josie had texted me something.”

“Just leave it,” Gray calls out as I go back into the room to get my purse. “Let’s keep our phones off, stay unplugged tonight.”

“Too late,” I grin as my phone powers on already.

I know Gray stayed nervous about any call I got during our down time because he always thought it was Harry. To be honest I was surprised he hadn’t bothered me more than asking for a password yesterday.

As my services connect my phone vibrates with a dozen oncoming messages.

“Y/n,” I hear Grayson say in warning but my eyes stay glued to the screen that flicker with notifications.

I look up once they settle, my eyes are as wide as saucers and Gray’s watch me through the mirror, heavy and resigned.

“Please, ignore it,” Gray pleads just once.

“I just…I need to know what it’s about.” I plead back.

“It’s going to spiral,” he warns. “You can’t just look y/n you’re gonna get involved.”

“What if it’s an emergency? He wouldn’t message like this unless it’s an emergency!”

“Like the documents on Josie’s birthday? Or the hospital appointment that one bank holiday? Or his empty fridge on-“

“I get it. But Gray I have 14 notifications. And it’s from his manager too it’s gotta be an-“

“You have a life y/n!” Gray turns around quick like a pistol whip, I stumble back into the doorframe. “He has other people in his life other than you they can figure it out! Why do you keep putting your job, this man, before me? Before us?!”

“I’m not trying to! I’m not!” I stutter.

“What’s the worst case scenario huh? He tries you, and you don’t answer because you’re off. And he’ll find someone else to help—those type always have someone else.”

“You don’t get it-“

“I get it.” Gray lowers his volume. He looks around for his glasses and slides them on. “I get it clearly. You’re just scared you’re replaceable to Harry Styles.”

His words stun me a little. All I can do is watch as he puts on jeans and grabs his phone.

“Do you ever wonder who else in your life’s replaceable?” Gray says before he slams our door shut.

I sink back and my mind races with everything Grayson just said. I was awful, he must feel even more awful and I-

My phone vibrates. Jeff.

“H-hi?” I answer.

“What the fuck y/n! I’ve been trying to reach you for the last 2 hours-“

“My phone was off-“

“Have you even gotten any of the messages we’ve left you-“

“I’m not working today-“

“Obviously,” He cuts me off for the hundredth time. “Harry’s in Vienna alone with god knows who!”

I don’t point out the contradiction in his sentence.

“Isn’t Riley supposed to be with him?”

“Riley quit.”

“What?! When?”

“Today. Apparently the sneak’s been cozying up with one of Harry’s supposed friends. He’s left us high and dry!”

“Is that why you’re calling me?” My confusion grows.

“Jesus no. Just look at your bloody messages.”

I put him on speaker and check the link to the photos he sent me. I gasp.

Harry looks a mess, one in a bar and another right outside it. With a questionable choice of friends.

“He’s not answering his phone,” Jeff continues. “Nobody can reach him and Riley decided to courier the stupid phone back to the penthouse so we don’t have access to his gps. But you do. That’s why I’m trying to reach you y/n. You’ve gotta go there and get him home.”

“Get him home? He’s in another country!”

“Yes, for that niche fucking awards show. You gotta get him back to his hotel and sober him up. We paid some fucker way too much money not to leak these photos and I don’t want to find out some other fucker took more.”

“Isn’t this something his publicist should be doing? Or you?” I’m starting to get angry. Why was Harry like a big fucking toddler that I had to go get when he was misbehaving. “I took the weekend off-“

“Listen. Y/n. We will pay you 5 times your rate if you just get on a plane and sort him out. I’m in Iceland right now. On holiday! Nobody is paying me 5 times the amount to deal with this and I don’t get back to the UK until tomorrow.”

“His publicis-“

“And Graham is the one that caught all this but he doesn’t fly out until tomorrow. So that leaves you. Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

I think about Gray, should I call him? Let him know? Fuck. Fuck Harry and his ability to ruin my whole life.

“I don’t have a choice here do I?” I ask wearily.

“Sure you do, one gets you a nice pay check. The other doesn’t.”

“Fuck,” I swear just loud enough for him to hear. “Do you know when the next flight is.”

“There’s a private jet that can leave within the hour I’ll text you the address can you make it?”

I map it. 30 or so minutes away. I look around my room—I had my emergency duffle with my passport the Harry Survival Guide told me to keep so I didn’t need to pack much.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

***

“Out of all the fucking nights,” I swear as I take the elevator down. The flight had been under 2 hours and I’d kept my eyes glued to Harry’s phone locator. He’d moved one location so far. The hotel wasn’t too far from this location so I drop my bags off on the en-suite and head out into the beautiful city.

It’s buzzing despite the hour and I wish it was a calmer trip so I could take pictures and soak in the beauty of Vienna.

Instead I trudge on to the little dot on my phone and avoid thinking about Gray and how much he would love this city. And how badly I betrayed him tonight.

What to do when he won’t answer the phone: track his gps, get good at lock-picking and don’t be shy to call whoever he’s out with to get ahold of him. Harry not answering his phone unexpectedly usually means bad decisions.

I find Harry in a kitschy club but it’s not easy. In the flashes of blue and purple lights I sort through all the men about the same height as him. None of them are him.

I knew he was here. I scan the room a second time, he had to be in one of the private sections.

I walk the perimeter until I see a flash of a familiar laugh.

“Harry!” I shout but a man in a suit steps in front of me.

“Private area,” he says in a rough accent.

“I’m his assistant I need to see him!” I point to Harry but he just steps in my way again. I shout Harry’s name and on the second try he looks up.

“Heyy!” He lights up and picks his way over the people sitting around him. He loops his arm around the brick wall in front of me. “That’s y/n! Y/n you came let her in!”

“Thank you,” I shoot the man a dirty look even though I knew he was just doing his job. He was the difference between a PR disaster and no disaster. “Harry we-“

“Have a drink!” He slurs. My heart quickens when I get a glimpse of the table with an assortment of drugs all over it. “Relax. C’mon c’mon!”

Harry pours me champagne and leads me by the hand to where he was just sitting. A couple shift away to make room for me but I stay standing as Harry sinks into the cushion.

“Mr. Styles we-“

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Harry says seriously before bursting into laughter. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this uninhibited before. One part of me is nervous and another part finds it intriguing.

He tugs me down and I tip into the couch, the champagne sloshing over the rim. What the-

“Relax,” he whispers into my ear. It goes straight to my stomach. “Have some champagne and enjoy the night!”

“I want to-“

“Your fiancé won’t let you drink with me? Is that the issue here?”

“No,” I bite. “I am taking you back-“

“I,” Harry sits up and hovers over me. “I am not speaking to you until you drink! Good god woman, lean back! Relax! What do Americans say take a chill pill?”

“I don’t need a chill pill.”

Harry mimes zipping his lips closed.

I roll my eyes and bring the champagne to my lips to take a mock sip but he must anticipate this. Using his finger he tips the glass even further. Half of it drips down my chin.

“Agh!” I jerk the glass away but Harry just laughs. “This is so not funny.”

He leans in smiling. I expect him to stop but he continues moving into me until his lips are on my jaw. His mouth coasts over my skin before he buries his head in my neck where the champagne had dripped down leaving a pool of heat-

“Harry!” I jerk away and push my hands into his chest to prop him up. His eyes are half-closed but as intense as ever as he looks into mine.

What the fuck. What the fuck just happened.

My hands are shaking, steady only because of the force of Harry pressing into them. I feel the tears springing to my eyes, why the fuck did he just…

“Sorry,” he smiles, his finger brushing my cheek. “Y’had some champagne there.”

It was nothing, I tell myself. He’s drunk and taken god knows what. He’s out of his mind. And he was going for the champagne, not me.

I loosen my arms but he comes back towards me again.

“Fuck this,” I mutter. I push him back into the sofa and get up. “We are going back to the hotel. Now.”

“Just stay a little longer here. It’s life. I’m bloody famous!” His hands come around my waist to pull me towards him but I dig my heel in.

I grab him by the shirt and haul his lanky body up, it’s like lifting a slab of marble. We nearly fall into the table but I catch us on my back leg in time.

I get us outside and call a taxi. Harry sways into me and I help keep him up.

“S’cold,” he complains.

“It’s really not.” I look back to him but he doesn’t look good. I lean him against the wall gently. “Harry look at me.”

He eyes stay closed but his head bobbles and he starts to tip forward again.

“Harry!” I nearly slap him. Instead I push him against the wall and use my body to keep him propped upright. I grab his face in my hands. “Harry look at me you’re scaring me.”

“You’re scaring me,” he slurs.

I shake his face a bit and try to pry open an eye which makes him laugh.

“I was alone,” he mumbles.

“I am not carrying you into or out of that car so you better stay conscious.” I tap his cheek.

“You’re no fun.” He says and I ignore him. “I was alone but you came.”

“Not out of any choice,” I mumble.

Our taxi arrives and I’m shaking him every few minutes to keep him conscious. At the hotel I get some help to his room when they recognize his face.

I drop him in bed with a sigh of relief. He looked pathetic like that. And I wanted to cry out of frustration.

I take his shoes off and then his shirt, deciding to keep his trousers on. I leave a bottle of water on his bedside with painkillers and head to the bathroom. For the second time tonight I get ready for bed.

I scrub the sticky champagne out of my neck and block out the feeling of his lips on me. Block out the confusing feelings that arose.

I grab my phone and pray for a text from Gray but there’s nothing. I update Jeff and he sends me a thumbs up. All that and just a fucking thumbs up.

***

Still no text from Gray the next morning.

Harry’s still in bed when I get up. I crack on and order both of us breakfast, ordering the most expensive things just to get something out of being here.

Harry wakes to the smell of coffee, groaning as soon as he sits up. I don’t know what he took last night but it serves him right.

“Y/n?” He sounds just as confused as last night.

“In the flesh,” I nearly growl.

“I thought Riley’s s’pose to be here?”

“So you do remember I’m supposed to be off all weekend.” I can’t hold back on the sass. I’m too mad at everyone.

“Yeah…what?”

“Riley quit.”

“Riley…quit? That’s why you’re here?”

“No.” I want to throw my cup of coffee in his face. “I’m here because you weren’t answering your phone last night and the only updates we were getting were compromising pictures of you absolutely pissed.”

“You sound like my publicist.”

“Your publicist had to pay the photographer off.”

“It couldn’t be that bad,” Harry swings his legs over the side of the bed and winces. He notices the painkillers and pops them. “Did you undress me?”

I pull the photos up on my phone and show them to him. He throws the phone down on the bed after a glance.

“Okay so he sent you to get me back to the hotel?”

“Jeff called me.”

“Jeff’s on holiday.”

“So was I.” My anger brews over. “I had 2 fucking days off Harry and I couldn’t even get that! You had to go to Vienna and get pappd doing the stupidest shit and of course I have to come in and save your ass because I can’t get any time these days to just be!”

He groans as he gets up and shuffles towards me. My heart picks up speed but he simply reaches for the coffee and takes a big gulp. The silence stretches out after my outburst and I wait with an anxious anger for what comes out of his mouth.

“You didn’t have to come. I could have lived with the consequences of being an idiot last night-“

“Jeff didn’t give me a choic-“

“There’s always a choice,” he holds up his finger to my face, hovering an inch from my lips. “Jeff can’t do shite. If he fired you he needs my final say. So again, I didn’t ask you to come here.”

Fuck him, I think. Does he really think I could have said no and gone on with my night? Since it didn’t come out of his mouth, he vanishes any accountability? He’d totally at fault here.

“Secondly,” he wasn’t finished I guess and his eyes are like laser beams into my soul. “It’s Mr. Styles.”

Anything I was about to mouth off on disappears. Like a sinkhole it all collapses below the surface and I’m left feeling as I always did—humiliated.

“Now,” Harry puts his cup down. “That’s not to say thank you for coming to my rescue yesterday. I don’t remember a lot of it so I’m not sure what happened but I’m sure it wasn’t pretty.”

I don’t answer. I bite my tongue until it falls right off and I can swallow it. I wish I could also swallow the memory of his lips that spring to mind.

“It is a Sunday, if you’d like to take it off feel free. The stylist team is coming around 4 to get me ready for tonight.”

“Well, you’ll need me to coordinate this evening since that was the point of Riley being here,” my voice comes out smoother than I felt.

“Ok,” he dismisses me. “I need a shower.”

He leaves and I clench my fists to keep from throwing everything within range at him. How could he flip the script like this? Turn my life upside down and then act like he did nothing wrong?

I go to my phone and hover over Grayson to call him but i have a notification from him. He’s sent me a message, it’s a link.

I click it. It’s a small article in a tabloid about Harry Styles and his mystery woman. You can’t tell it’s me but our pose looks intimate from last night—him leaning against the wall with my knee in between his legs and my body propping him up while my hands hold his face.

But Grayson knows its me.

I get my other phone and message it in the group with Harry’s publicist.

He responds casually: It’ll blow over don’t worry. Can’t see your face plus romantic is better than looking fucked up like the other pics.

It would blow over for Harry but not for me.

I try to call Grayson but he doesn’t pick up.

I close the room door and bury myself in bed, aching so hard it was hard to believe I was still breathing. It felt like an end, I know I could talk it through with Grayson and explain once he saw the other photos. But something feels like it died tonight.

***

“Y/n?” A voice sings outside my door. “Helloo?”

I feel hungover as I open my crusty eyes. I’m in an unfamiliar room and-

“Hello hello?”

I sit up. I was in a hotel suite and I had to help get Harry to his show. Shit.

I look at the time, it’s nearly 5.

“Sorry!” I shout at whoever was behind the door. “Sorry one sec!”

One look in the mirror and I know I had to throw my hair up. I swish some mouthwash around and exit to the lounge.

“Hi,” a woman I’ve never met smiles kindly at me.

“Sorry. Did you need something from me?”

“Yes,” she takes my arm and leads me towards where Harry was getting his hair done. He looks amused as he watches me. “I need you here. We need to get you ready.”

“Oh no,” I say but sit where I’m told by this commanding woman. “Oh I’m just helping coordinate so you just focus on Mr.-“

“Y/n,” Harry’s deep voice cuts me off. “Riley comes with me to these things when Jeff isn’t around. Since neither are here you’re joining me and Graham.”

I look for his publicist but I’m told he was running late. Great.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” I say as the woman takes a wet wipe to my face. “I thought I had Sunday off.”

“You reminded me you’re replacing Riley,” Harry says. “And I got the team to get you a few things but I don’t know your size. I’m sure one of them will fit. Kit can tailor it if you need.”

“Wha…” my face is positioned to the side and cream is dotted all over. I shut my mouth and glance at Harry which becomes a glare when I realize he’s enjoying this.

“Lighten up Y/N, it’s not the end of the world.”

He didn’t know. It was the end of my world.

***

The red carpet or whatever this imitation of it was is a sensory nightmare. Graham had explained on the car over I was to stick to the shadows with him and his security detail. I don’t know why they stuck me in this beautifully tailored pantsuit just to be in the shadows. But apparently I could keep it so I was happy about that.

While Harry gets his name shouted and photos taken I watch from the side, hiding behind Graham’s shoulder so I don’t get caught in any pictures. The flashes still make my head hurt.

Again, we stand off to the side as Harry gets interviewed by labels I recognized and others that must be local. One woman has the nerve to ask,

“So Harry the whole internet is dying to know who your mystery woman is. Would you like to give our viewers a hint?”

I stiffen and Graham glances my way with a warning look. He’d already prepped Harry in the car but I couldn’t believe someone would be so bold as to ask. But that was show business.

“Ah you know what the media’s like, all out of context. I love the theories especially the one about this being my secret fiancé but I would like the viewers to know I’m not engaged, very much single, and not to believe everything you see online.”

I hold my breath as Harry answers but he’s a natural, I had to admit. He went off script a little—he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge the content of the photo, but he did so with grace and humour. Wow. I could learn a few things.

Graham relaxes beside me once the reporter laughs and asks if he sees himself not being single any time soon. When we finally move on Graham wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulder and gives it a shake.

“You did good kid,” he kisses his cheek with all the leftover adrenaline from the carpet. “I’ll see you in there. I see some friends I want to catch up with first.”

Then it’s just Harry and I, and his shadow of a security detail who Harry dismisses while he’s inside the room.

“So I guess now’s the part you go to your seat?” I ask. There was no What to do at an Awards Show so I was clueless and I decided I would create one myself to keep the legacy of all these dos and don’ts.

“It is,” Harry looks…nervous? His eyes flicker around the room and his jaw twitches. I do a sweep of my own, there’s a lot of people I don’t recognize and those I do I’m just about dying trying to stay casual.

“I thought that reporter was going to propose after you cleared up how single you were.”

“Hm?” Harry looks at me—in heels I was finally near eye-level to him. His gaze clears as he takes in what I said and I consider it a win getting him back down to earth. “Oh. Her, yeah she was cheeky with those questions wasn’t she?”

His smile makes me stomach dip. “Yeah she slipped them in so expertly. I thought ‘I have to take some tips from her’. And you, you were good dodging the question.”

“I didn’t lie,” Harry’s now fully engaged in our conversation. I give myself a pat on the back. “It was just you and I am still single.”

Just you. I fake a laugh, “Yeah. That photo is proof that I’m stronger than I look because you were deadweight and I managed to get you to bed y’know that.”

His green eyes flicker up and down my face for a beat. “I know that. I…hope that picture didn’t get you into any trouble.”

I look away, unsure how to answer. He brings a hand to my arm. “I can talk to someone if it helps?”

“Oh no,” my cheeks flush. “No I don’t think that would make anything better but thank you. I…appreciate the-“

“Harry? Oh my god it’s you!”

I retreat in a quarter of a second, invisible once again for Harry to shine with his colleagues. It’s a singer I recognize but I only remember her stage name, Dragon something. I watch them embrace and I try to wind up the spool of thread I’d released when Harry showed some kindness.

I think I had some issues, I became unrecognizable every time Harry was nice for a moment. I had to remember that it was temporary and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross.

Yesterday flashes into my mind. God, was it just yesterday?

Harry starts walking with the other musician arm in arm. It comes to me as I follow why I knew her. There were rumours shortly before I interviewed with Harry about seeing him on the town with this woman. So they had history. Of course.

By the time Graham joins me in our seats I’ve become part of the wallpaper and I feel like I’m being torn away when he acknowledges me to ask if everything had gone ok. I stay invisible for the rest of the evening and I try to remember that’s how it would be.

***

We’re sat on the tarmac for the ride home and I try to refresh my messages over and over but Gray hasn’t responded after I’d told him we had to talk. He was stupidly good at the cold shoulder and I felt like a needy bitch whenever he got like this.

“Could I get a water y/n?” Harry asks from across the aisle. He has his head tipped back and he looks awful—consequences of an after party where he drank himself silly again and relied on me to get him home. I did make friends with some other PAs who were roped to the party so that was the only highlight.

“Sure.” I go to the front of the jet where Graham is typing away on his laptop, oblivious to the rest of us. I grab Harry a coffee too. “It’ll help with the hangover.”

Harry accepts it graciously and I go back to refreshing my phone.

I thought he’d fallen asleep an hour into the flight until he unbuckles his seat and slips in beside me.

“Can I get your phone?” He holds his hand out.

“Why?” I ask suspiciously.

“You’re driving me crazy refreshing that thing it’s like you’re getting paid per refresh.”

I was lost in a trance doing it. I put the phone facedown on my lap but he takes it from me.

“Hey-“

“I’m keeping this until we land. I promise you if you haven’t gotten any messages by now you won’t get any at all.”

His patronizing tone wriggles something loose and I have to look away, out the window, so he doesn’t see the tears.

“My offer still stands,” he says quietly after my silence. I shake my head.

“Thanks,” my voice wavers. “It won’t help. He just gets…quiet. Any time there’s an issue he just goes quiet and it drives me f…crazy. I feel crazy.”

“You kind of look it.” I’m ready to throw him a dirty look but Harry’s smiling when I look at him. I was rarely on the receiving end of such a handsome look that I forget I was going to be mad. “What? You do, hunched over your phone pressing down over and over. My neck hurts just looking at you.”

I sigh and leans back into the seat, trying to straighten myself out.

“Sorry,” I sniffle. “I just need some sort of proof of life from him. He knows it drives me crazy when he ignores me but he does it anyway. He could be dead for all I know. Anyway, I’ll stop now you can give me my phone back.”

“Mmm no,” Harry pats the pocket he put it in. “You listen to me. It stays here.”

I don’t fight him. It was for my own good.

He sits with me for the rest of the flight. It should be uncomfortable but having another person’s presence beside me—knowing there was a shoulder pressing against mine, makes me feel a little less lonely today.

He probably didn’t intend that, I rethink the thought. Harry wasn’t thoughtful like that, he was probably just too lazy to move back.

We take the car home when we land but Harry tells me to take the rest of the Monday off even though it was already 2.

“And y/n,” Harry stops me before I exit the car where it stalls outside my complex.

“Yes?” I wait for the other shoe to drop—I had the day off but…

“If he knows it drives you crazy, and he truly loves you, he should respect you and give you a chance to talk. You deserve that.”

My breath catches at the unexpected words. I feel my defences go up.

“You’ll work it out,” he rushes on when I don’t respond.

I’m left feeling slightly reassured and mostly confused.

“Thank you,” I look at him a beat too long and it feels awkward so I scramble out and head up. To someone I hope was willing to listen like Harry said.

***

Like a baby calf out of the womb, my relationship stays on shaky grounds. It feels like building a foundation all over again after thinking that was already done with, but Hurricane Harry had caused a lot of damage.

Now 9 months into my new job I wasn’t always so on edge. But I was busy.

With no Riley, the team had decided to hold off on hiring anyone new and my work load had tripled. I’d brought it up casually and just as casually Harry had let me know I would be compensated.

I thought about Vienna a lot. Things were done and said there that should change our dynamic but didn’t. Not much. Harry was still an ass, he still demanded most of my time, and I still suffered from major anxiety about my life falling apart.

So maybe I was still on edge, just about different things.

“G’morning,” Gray whispers to me. I wanted to sleep in and cuddle with my fiancé but I’d already snoozed my alarm and I knew I had to get to work. I had errands to run all over town.

“Morning,” I burrow my head into his warm body. “I don’t wanna work.”

He kisses the top of my head. “How about I join you on some of those errands you mentioned? We can get coffee?”

I’m suddenly excited about going to work.

Gray laughs when I climb over him and kiss him like a lunatic, and we’ve been together too long to be embarrassed about morning breath or pillow face. I can’t believe I almost lost him.

The day is perfect as Gray and I move around town doing odd bits. We get to grab lunch together and I’m so glad what a good sport Gray had been about it all since I’d forced him to carry any heavy items.

“I’ll see you for dinner,” Gray drops me off at Harry’s. We linger in the lobby for a few minutes. “I’m cooking.”

“Mmm can’t wait,” I kiss him before taking the load from him. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

“I had fun, I hate to admit it.” He grins as I walk backwards to the elevator. He takes my breath away.

Grayson’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something but I collide into a body behind me before he can warn me.

“Oh shit sorry I-“ I turn and Harry stands behind me with Jeff walking off the elevator. He was probably headed to the studio and I was late. Dammnit!

“Y/N,” Harry says.

“I’m so. Sorry,” I look between Gray, Jeff, and Harry. Do I introduce everyone? Do I apologize and rush to drop these things off so I could join them like I’m supposed to?

Jeff makes it easy, walking away on his phone. Then it’s Harry and Gray.

“I’m sorry I meant to be upstairs five minutes ago.” I tell Harry who’s expression is hard to read. “Uhm…this is Grayson my fiance I don’t think y’all have met he was just dropping me off since I had my hands full. Um. Gray this is…well you know who this is I-“

My blabbering is cut short as Harry steps forward to shake hands and I nearly die at the steely look Gray gives him. Also, why the fuck did I say y’all?! I wasn’t even southern.

“Grayson Duran yeah? Nice to meet you,” Harry says. I’m surprised he knows his full name. He must have asked his friends.

“Yeah,” Gray drops his hand. “The infamous Harry Styles—I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise,” Harry says, glancing at me. Why would he say that. “As much as I’d love to chat, y/n you’re late and we’re heading to the studio. Can you give all that to the concierge?”

“Yes,” I nod. “Have you got-“

“I grabbed my things yes. I’ll see you in the car.”

Harry nods to Gray and leaves an air of cologne and annoyance behind. Gray and I lock eyes and I burn with embarrassment.

“What a dick,” Gray mumbles.

I’m offended, wait, why am I offended? It’s not like Harry wasn’t a dick.

“Yeah, I gotta go sorry babe.” I rush to the concierge and explain the delivery.

“Y’all?” Gray asks when I rush back to him.

“I know I know,” I cringe. “It just came out. I gotta go but thank you so much for today. Loveyoubye!”

I give him a quick peck and rush out, nearly collapsing into Harry’s car.

“Sorry about that, being late. That won’t happen again I meant to be there before you left-“

“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” Harry says stiffly, staring out the window. He was a dick, Gray was right. But why was I so offended at him saying that right after meeting him?

Things felt so confusing these days and I just wanted time to catch my breath and figure things out. A few more weeks and I’d get some time off for the holidays at least, I was looking forward to that.

***

Even though I planned the intimate holiday party and spent countless hours on the phone making sure every detail would be perfect I can’t help but criticize it as I join.

“Maybe I should have gone with a live band,” I mutter as someone takes mine and Grayson’s coats. Tonight I was supposed to shut my brain off as Harry said, and enjoy the party as a guest. But that part was hard to shut off after nearly 10 months of re-wiring it.

Grayson was tough to convince but finally he’d agreed to come to the party. Things were mostly back to normal with us. I tried to be home by 7 most nights and didn’t talk about work too much.

But sometimes it felt like a volcano lived inside me with how much I had to compartmentalize and keep in and when times got really tough, I wanted to spew everywhere.

“Josie told me your mom’s doing bohemian Christmas?” I ask Gray as we hover by the foyer. I’d just had a catchup with her yesterday now that she was finished exams. “Do you know what that means.”

“Mum’s crazy,” Gray sighs. His relationship with her was always followed by a sigh, an eye roll, a heavy resignation for who she was. I never quite understood it.

Josie, on the other hand, loved their loud and free-spirited mother. As for me, I thought she was the most interesting woman I ever met and we’d gotten along instantly.

“She’s always got some new idea up her sleeve,” I try to make things more positive. “What do you want a bet it’s going to be vegan?”

“I don’t bet when I know that’s what she’s serving. That’s why we do dad’s for lunch and hers for dinner. We’re too stuffed once we get there to care what she’s serving.”

“Remember when I tried to get you to go vegan and-“

“Y/N! Hi,” I’m interrupted by a friendly face in the crowd and end up chatting with people I’d worked with the last few months. We introduce our partners and they chat but I keep an eye on Grayson, in case anything changes.

I watch Harry’s friends trickle in and Gray lights up when he sees Liam and a few other people he trained.

I flit around the room with ease after that, knowing Gray had friends to keep him company. I make sure drinks are filled and catering is setting up. Until a hand stops me.

“You’re not supposed to be working tonight,” Harry reminds me.

“Yes. Right. Well…”

“Y/N,” he warns.

“Okay!” I throw my hands up. “Not working, here look I’m enjoying myself!”

I pick up a random drink and take a big sip. Champagne. Suddenly I remember the last time I drank champagne in front of Harry and I nearly cough it back up.

“Ugh,” Harry hands me a napkin and I try not to bristle. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I clear my throat. “Yeah sorry just…just not a fan of champagne.”

We lock eyes and I’m gripped with the sudden and very real possibility that Harry may actually remember parts of that night.

When his eyes flicker down to my neck, it’s confirmed. Oh god.

“Well! I’m off to find a better drink!” I turn too quickly, nearly taking out the caterer who was setting up hors d’œuvres on the table. “Sorry!”

Oh my god. Harry remembered.

Did he remember this whole time? Was he pretending to forget that night? Did he ever remember the moment randomly in my presence like I did?

I had to stop freaking out. It had been months!

Where was Grayson.

I locate my fiancé in a random group but his eyes are already on me. I raise a hand and he smiles, raising a finger to tell me he’d be there in a moment.

My mind races in the meantime, wondering if I should mention the incident to Harry and tell him I was fine. Or maybe that proved the opposite. No. I should just keep it unspoken like we had this whole time. Oh my god!

“Quite a turnout,” Grayson comes back to me. Two drinks in his hand. “I saw you talking to Harry why did you look so scared? Did he say something?”

“Oh!” Of course Gray saw. “No. I just…almost choked on my champagne the fizz y’know? And then I didn’t want to make a scene so I left.”

“Hm,” Gray wraps his hand around my waist. “Hey I see a mistletoe I’m going to nudge you in that direction.”

“You don’t need a mistletoe to kiss me babe.”

“It’s supposed to be romantic.”

I let him lead me to it and he kisses me with a knee-bending passion.

“Woah,” I feel dazed when we finally part. “That was fucking romantic.”

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Excuse me!” Harry’s voice rings over the crowd and the room hushes slowly. “Uh hiya! Thank you all for coming tonight and making me feel like I have friends during the holidays.”

A quiet laugh rumbles over the crowd. Harry looks magnetic on his makeshift podium, he’s in a cozy red sweater that I know cost more than my month’s salary and a collar peeks out from under it. He’s got on navy slacks and tinsel thrown over his shoulder. I’d bought that sweater, I remember. But he managed to pull the rest of the outfit together well.

“…a few people.” He continues. I’d zoned out. “My manager Jeff of course—this year has been a roller coaster and you’ve managed it all. Charlie, Claire, Niji, Elin, Sarah, and Mitch. We had a ball playing our hidden shows this fall but we have so much planned for the year ahead. I’m beyond grateful that you all came into my life and we get to make music together!”

A few whoops in the crowd and the people he mention raise their hands and shout out their own praises to Harry.

Harry thanks a few more people and says some more kind words. I don’t expect him to zero in on me.

“Last, but not least folks, I want to thank somebody who joined my team this year. She’s seen a lot—she’s been in the trenches my friends, she has. But she’s stuck with me. She’s planned everything tonight so really you’re all here because of her. Y/N, please make yourself known and everyone should give her a thank you if you talk to her tonight for tonight.”

Oh god. I am as bright as Harry’s sweater and with every single eye turning on me I’m sure I also turn every shade of the rainbow. I paste on a grin that feels like I’m the Joker and hope it looks normal.

I wave awkwardly and make eyes with Harry across the room who looks like he’s having a ball putting me in the centre of everyone’s attention. I was really going to wring his neck but he winks at me and finally turns the attention back to him with a few closing words, then starting the music and food.

“Am I alive?” I ask Gray beside me whose hand had dropped from my waist during the last few minutes. “I think I died of embarrassment and turned into the ghost of Christmas’ present.”

I turn to Gray and he looks around me. “Hello? Is someone talking to me?”

“Gray!” I push his shoulder and he laughs. “I hated every second of that.”

“I know,” Gray laughs again. “You hate attention.”

“I do! I swear Harry was up there gloating didn’t you notice? Ugh I hate him.”

Gray’s expression shutters for a second. “Yeah, he definitely knew what he was doing.”

“Y/N, quite a shoutout.” A voice says from my right. It’s Liam who I hadn’t seen myself in ages. I go in for a hug and hope my embarrassment clears away as we catch up.

As the night goes on I ease up a little, enjoy the mingling and the drinks. Especially the drinks. The evening’s embarrassment and everyone coming up to me knowing my name was hell so I drink to keep up the liquid courage.

Coming out of the toilets for the tenth time that night with all the drinks I was downing, I notice a light on in the room.

I go to it, in case it was a guest in a place they shouldn’t be.

I don’t spot him at first, flicking off the lights only to see a shadow move. Harry.

“Oh! It’s you. Is everything alright?” I lean in the doorway. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in this office actually. He always hovered outside it like I was now.

“Yeah yeah, just came for some air.” He walks up to me and I step out of the way so he can leave. But he stays just inside so I move back to my spot.

“Air? In the smallest room here?”

“Yeah,” he smiles like he’s been caught. “I was looking for you. We ran out of ice I just don’t remember where you stored the rest.”

“Well I’m not working remember? So I don’t know.”

“Touché. I guess the guests will just have a shite time with their lukewarm drinks.”

Ugh. He knew me too well.

“Fine. I’ll get the bag. By the way, that wasn’t funny. What you did earlier.” I put my hands on my hips, ready to give him a piece of my mind for embarrassing me.

“What!? It wasn’t meant to be funny. I’m expressing my gratitude y/n.”

“In front of a whole room of random people who are all looking at me? You know I would have hated it!”

“Let’s just say I’m trying to get you out of your shell,” Harry teases. He smells of his usual cologne, the fresh soap he used, and scotch. I spot the empty glass on my desk.

“I’m plenty out of my shell thank you. You know, you could have just said it to me privately. That would have meant more.”

His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He inhales sharply and turns around.

“What?” I ask his back.

“Nothing.” He turns back around. “You do good work y/n, people should know.”

Now it’s my turn to go quiet. I only seemed to do this when Harry was nice. Because otherwise I knew how mean he could be. Why couldn’t there just be a balance.

“Why are you so randomly nice to me?”

Oops. All those drinks made for some loose lips.

“What?” He’s taken aback.

“Yeah,” I feel fired up now that it’s out. “You ignore me half the time—not that I expect to be bffs but at least a hello now and then would be nice. Then when you do talk it’s grunts and clipped answers. You’re pretty mean to me! And suddenly out of nowhere it’s like-like this 180 and you’re really nice. And praising me in front of a crowd. What’s up with that?”

His expression retreats the more I talk and I know I’ve dug myself into a hole. Forget the whole speech just now I’m pretty sure I’ve just written my own termination notice.

“I have to be,” he says simply after an awkward pause.

“Have to?” I demand. “You have to be mean to me?”

The long deleted Dos and Dont list when I first joined flashes through my mind. Did that have something to do with it?

“Because when I spoke to Riley that one time for drinks, he told me you weren’t always this mean. So is it me? You just said to a whole crowd how helpful I am so I just don’t get why you’re so mean sometimes!”

“What else did Riley say?” Harry hangs on to that.

“I…a lot I dunno! Riley faffs a lot. He’s also a creep but that’s neither here nor there I-“

“What do you mean he’s a creep?” The room feels even smaller as he zeroes in.

“I-“ I try to stutter something to change the subject but he stays on, asking me again. “It’s nothing. He was drunk and he made a pass at me-“

“He did?! Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s zero space between the two of us now.

“Why would I? It was something that happened outside work hours, plus you warned me and I didn’t listen-“

“Y/n you should have told me,” he swears. “I let that little shite get away with way too much.”

“Yeah well he’s not the only person working here who’s made a drunken pass at me so let’s not make it a big deal okay?”

I guess I wasn’t holding back.

Harry closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. One mississippi two mississippi three-

“You’re right.”

My heart pounds in my chest. I want to get out of this room, find Gray, and stay in the light. Because this small, dimly lit space was becoming too intimate. And yet, I can’t seem to will myself to move.

“I am?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. It doesn’t cut it—what I did was incredibly wrong. Being drunk shouldn’t be an excuse and I promise I don’t go around doing that to everyone-“

“I know,” I say before thinking. It was weird of Harry to do but I never felt unsafe with him. I understood what he was trying to say.

“You can make it a big deal if you want. It shouldn’t have happened. It won’t happen again.”

I feel weird having the roles reversed—Harry apologizing to me. Promising not to do something again. I recognize what he’s doing is right but I don’t know what to do with myself. My breathing’s shallow with Harry so close to me, practically hovering over me. I should’ve worn higher heels to really equal the field.

“Thanks,” I finally manage. It’s low and raspy and I barely get in enough air to speak it. He doesn’t respond.

We stay in the tableau, our breathing irregular, in between a single decision that both of us knew wouldn’t end well. Yet neither of us are strong enough to end the frozen display.

“You clean up nice,” he says, eyes never leaving mine as he compliments my getup. I’d worn a simple cowl-necked slip dress and strappy shoes with my hair in an up-do. I was definitely underdressed after seeing the other guests but I believe Harry means it.

“Don’t look as haggard as I usually do, you mean?” I find my voice again. I barely have to whisper for him to hear.

“You never look haggard,” Harry says as he brings his hand up and traces the curve of my dress strap. My heartbeat was loud and surely showing through my dress.

“You should go,” Harry adds in a whisper.

My head feels like it’s filled with carbonation as I nod in agreement. This was bad. With a capital B. I had to go.

“I…should go.” I repeat. Slowly I inch sideways on the wall and Harry leans away. We stare at each other for another long moment before I scurry away, my heart in my throat and my guilt where my heart should be.

“Don’t forget the ice,” I hear Harry call out from the room. Miraculously this is exactly when Grayson turns the corner.

“Y/n? Where were you?”

“Oh I-“ I imagined I looked fucked up. Because I felt high and out of my mind. The white lie comes out, attached to a thread that unstitches something within. “I drank too much, so I was in the toilet.”

“Oh,” Gray looks relieved and I’m sinking with guilt. Technically I did nothing wrong. I didn’t even have feelings for Harry. But whatever physical magnetism he seemed to have nearly made me do something I’d seriously regret. “Did I hear someone say something about ice?”

“Yeah!” I laugh and it comes out like I had never learned how. “I just bumped into Harry, we ran out of ice. So much for not working huh?”

“At least everyone knows how hard you work,” he jokes.

I stick to Gray’s side for the rest of the night, not touching a single drop of alcohol. I had to forget everything in that room ever happened if I wanted to keep my job and my sanity. I had to be a better person, the devil was handsome and I had to stop playing into his tricks.

I call it quits a few hours later when I notice Gray low on energy.

“I’ll get our coats,” I tell him. The relief on his face is palpable.

I go through where the spare closet was but hear voices in Harry’s darkened room. The door’s open so I go to investigate. I regret it instantly.

Harry’s inside with a woman, I don’t see much of her as she’s on the bed but I know it’s Harry with the tone of his voice as they exchange words.

My stomach drops and it’s like an accident on the side of the road, I’m mortified but I can’t look away.

I watch him kiss her and I feel like I’m sinking through the floorboards.

“Oh!” The woman notices me when she turns her head and pulls the sheet up. She whispers, “you didn’t close the-“

“Oh it’s fine,” Harry laughs. He sits back on his legs and looks at me, his expression void of anything he was tonight. Like the moment in the room didn’t even happen. “It’s just y/n.”

Of course it didn’t matter to him, I scold myself. I was the one with fucked up issues that couldn’t make up my stupid mind about how I wanted to feel about this man who literally paid me to be around. Who treated me like shit most of the time. Who was nice to me sometimes and I misconstrued it to mean a whole lot more.

What was I thinking? Did I think suddenly this man who’s known to be a player had a single one-sided intense moment with me and that would change him?

I was an absolute idiot.

“Could you get the door?” Harry asks so casually, so nonchalantly, that it punches me in the chest. It was closer to some combination of humiliation and self-inflicted hurt but for now it feels like my chest aches.

“O-of course.” I shut the door and stand there, taking in deep breaths as I try not to think about everything that just happened. Tried not to think of all the million ways I was the worst girlfriend in the world. Tried not to think about the fact that I had to quit sooner than later because things were getting tangled up and it was not okay.

xxxxxxxxxx

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld

I’m trying to make part 3 the last—it includes your final decisions and returning to the present to find out what happens (from the beginning of the story). Thank you, as always, for reading <3 xx

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles series #musician!harry #slow burn

[stfrancisprayer]

ALBUM TAG GAME!! 🧀

6 ALBUMS YOU'VE BEEN LISTENING TO + ONE TRACK FROM EACH ALBUM YOU'RE ESPECIALLY FOND OF thank you for the tag @dontirrigateme <3 if there is one thing i LOVEEEEE talking about it's the music i'm listening to...i'm a notorious single-track listener so i will provide you all with some thoughts about six of my favorite albums. YAPPING under the cut...

20 AÑOS - LUIS MIGUEL (1990)

💿 NOW PLAYING... ORO DE LEY i could actually gab about this album for hours...i have the CD ANDDDDD i heard some of it live 😈😈 all of the songs on this album scratch my brain just right and you know i love a little 80s revival moment. asking me to pick a favorite song from this album is like asking me to pick a favorite child but i've been on an "oro de ley" kick as of recently (especially the chopped + screwed version) so she gets the spotlight...but i am partial to any of the songs where luismi rey does his little "wooooAAAHHHHHH" which is like all of them. reccomend "alguien como tu" from the same album as well.

FOR YOU - TATSURO YAMASHITA (1982)

💿 NOW PLAYING... SPARKLE unfortunately most of his songs are not on streaming or youtube, but here's a soundcloud link to a full CD rip of the album. if you listen to this album and like it, promise me you'll listen to "melodies" (1983) next. tatsuro has yet to miss and what i love about this album is that it feels like midday summer driving with the windows down, hair still a little wet from a morning spent at the beach, when you look at the guy in the car next to you at the stoplight, he smiles and you smile back. absolute genius opening the album off with "sparkle", which feels like opening a window, and then you get hit with "music book", which is like dancing in the kitchen, the patio door is propped open, you've forgotten what you're cooking but who cares.

THE PERFECT RED VELVET REPACKAGE - RED VELVET (2018)

💿 NOW PLAYING... KINGDOM COME another album that i could talk about for hours. this is like an album that has fundamentally changed me....kingdom come is the kind of song that you kind of listen to with your whole body. red velvet INVENTED the word genre versatility, what i love about this album is that it hops back and forth between upbeat and mellow but the whole "velvet" rnb vibe they have going is bumping throughout the entire album. other favorites from the tracklist include "moonlight melody" and "i just", among others... i love the ReVe festival trilogy but in my fair and honest opinionné they have yet to top this. if you don't mind k-pop i'd seriously recommend this album, NO skips to be found and i checked everywhere.

SATURATION II - BROCKHAMPTON (2017)

💿 NOW PLAYING... SUNNY the relationship i have with brockhampton songs needs to be studied tbh...they were my lifeline during the thick of the 2020 p*nd*mic. love love love the bearface outros but when they do songs like sunny (think: swim, sister/nation, team, etc) they HIT....complicated thoughts here because i feel like the saturation trilogy kind of haunted the band after its release and you feel it in their music. that convo is for another post though. but i love sunny because it's one of those sun is setting, life is kind of shit right now but it's looking up sort of vibes. sat ii > sat iii > sat i, if you were curious. god save the boy band....

HIT VIBES - SAINT PEPSI (2013)

💿 NOW PLAYING... BETTER another album not on streaming but thankfully you can listen to it here! i had an EXTENDED future funk/city pop moment back when it was really at its peak and i still come back to it every so often. "better "is a really fun listen, it feels like a party condensed into a song to me....the sound effects are what really make it for me. saint pepsi is one of my more consistent future funk faves, check out "cherry pepsi" and "private caller" too, they've bot got that sort of mellow bump rythm to them and the bass is NASSTYYYY.....found myself checking out some of the samples just to listen to them isolated as well, he does a great job of picking samples might i add...great listen.

DECIDE - DJO (2022)

💿 NOW PLAYING... HALF LIFE i told yall i love a little 80s revival moment!! another no-skip album, mr. joe keery makes the chord progressions his BITCH and i think that's what really makes this album. gives notes of tame impala but is very synth electronica....i also love daft punk's "discovery" (2001) so this album speaks to me. i think that there's a persistent longing present in these songs and you can really feel it. still waiting on the tour to happen. tiktok has recently got a hold of "end of beginning" but i listened to this on the day it came out. so. stream "chateau (feel alright)"

thank you all for listening...if you made it this far i'm sending you a virtual cookie. paging anybody who has not been tagged to do this yet, tell me about your favs and tag me!! i love discovering new music i'm not very picky when it comes to genres. actual hbowar stuff coming soon, i promise. much luv

#🧀 ; yapping

[ratressofhell]

GOOD OMENS OC: Abyssinia, Duchess of Hell! Hastur's "Little rodent "

Art by @moe-machine

----

( note from mum: I'm aware she's a fan character, and never ever will be Canon, she's simply made for my own fan, and I wish to share her with other open like-minded people. If you dislike canon x OC ships, then kindly please click off. Im not here for fandom Drama. Thank you💜 )

____

- HER BACKSTORY -

PLEASE ENJOY.

COMMENTS AND FEEDBACK IS GREATLY APPRECIATED.

I ALSO WANT TO SAY BEFORE HAND! THIS MAY HAVE TIGGERS! AM NOT PARTLY SURE! (If there are, I'll properly retag, after you all read through, and tell me. Am still new to the whole triggers tagging, and what qualifies a trigger so bare with me please)

BUT THIS WILL ADDRESS NSFW WORK TOPICS.

AND PLOY-SHIPPING.

ALSO I DON'T KNOW IF THAT FALLS UNDER NSFW.

JUST TRYING TO PLAY IT SAFE HERE.

(As am not waiting actual sex scenes here. Am merely mentioning ploy-shipping as one of features of this story. I'm just unsure, if that falls under nsfw, or not)

BUT THIS ISN'T A FANFIC EITHER!

THIS IS MORE FOOTNOTES, AND A SUMMARY OF MY RP, AND THEORIZED FANFIC!

-----------

LET US START FROM THE BEGINING.....

They (I have 2 female OC's) were created back when season one was launched. And I had created personal head/fan canons in my story, that soon now be revered to as retcon at this point, before we go any further.

I also admit, I have yet figure out how my OCs fit into season 2 now.

So think of my timeline, was before season one and after season one, and all that dead time between, caught in fandom limbo. And let's pretend if my main OC was a cannon, simply think she was not mention cause her scenes were just cut out. (As she is a much bigger player) I love trying to make my characters work within the current episodes or films of a series, then just having them come between fandom reset fanfics, you know? If any of you get, what am trying to explain here?

SO! What that said, let's finally talk about them.

First I have Primrose. She was just made to give Angel Hastur tragic back story. I quickly kill her off in the back story.

Prim was a healer in training ( she lost parents, when she was 8ish, Well! Times were hard back then after lol XD. At 8 she had to fend for self, and she managed to protect herself) But now 17 she manages to have her own little place, and do odd and jobs, and was a waver by trade while, working on her own remedies. Yet as I said, in this time Angels did live among humans and they were aware. So am sure Prim was aware of Hastur and other angels in her town. But mostly as acquaintances. But she never got close to any, not cause she was loner or a jerk. She other crap to do.

Yet I see it were, a younger Angel Crowley and other random unnamed one were playing to rough with a young Angel Hastur, and he told them to piss off. (was even picked even then) And Prim did step in, but the damage was already done. So, of course, she steps up to help him, and that is when she started to be friend an angel after all.

They started to get closer, and soon a bit to close, to suit the other angel elders and human elders, Of course, they did fall in love despite the warnings. Or how the angel/human elders told all, the hybrid child should never happen.. We all know how that all turned out with Lilith, when she left Eden.

But I see Hastur was younger he was dumb and drunk on love too. BUT THANKFULLY! They were nothing like Romeo and Juliette! But to show you how twisted and screwed up the head Angels are in GO universe, they blame Prim, telling her to bye-bye. Banished her out with all the other monsters to go fend in some other city. Forcing her to leave the special Angel/Human ruled lands, she always knew as her home. As a safe heaven on earth, mostly. To be now doomed to wander the lands, that Lilith now owned, hell's perversion.

But that only if she (Gab blamed her 100% alone) refuse to cease their actions. But of course she back sasses them and you know Gabe hates that. So bye-bye Prim and young Hastur goes with her. But they don't really see the harm, they think he's lashing out as a rebellious teen, he's at that stage. thinking he will be back.

But he doesn't return, he's happy with Prim, as it seems they found another town, welcoming them with open arms. It had all kinds of people who rebelled, and joined Lilith. (Though this wasn't Lilith's main town she over saw, she still kind of reminds unseen to all, she keeps to herself) And many monsters, that bible now talks about, that Lilith and other humans made and created, when she laid with so many.

The town was Sodom and Gomorrah (yet with so many retelling repaints of our bible, and changing narrative through the years a lot of was removed...so we never got the real story)

The Angels felt this city question the order and was just pure chaos, and not put of “the plan” And we all know all know what happened.

But Prim was one of their main targets,and others like her. And Prim was pregnant, and Gabe had the nerve to say how all of this happening is a joke, too. My Angels have sick sense of humor.

(And this why Has now hates jokes to this day. )

But to make matters to worst, Prim's recantation soul would always be a curse to die young, for her so called sin. (I also have it were in my version, unlike other reaction stories, where they look same..She has different faces)

And it would seems demon Hastur hasn't realize he has come across her new lifes countless of times, even being the one who ended up killing her, or tormenting her, or they simple cross paths on a street.

SHE has always be there, rather he knew it to not. And that when we come to Abyss or Abyssinia. Yes my rat demoness, is really Primrose, reincarnated. (though goes on unrealized for long time in my s tory!! yet know all you know) But she started off life as a human. With a normal name (I never really came up with) A odd, awkward girl, who had love in her heart, but become bitter quickly, and choose her security blanket was to hide behind the gothic trend. She hated her parents, but they earned the hate. She was a opss baby, so they had to wed, and hated each other so they took out on her. It wasn't long time she caught wind of London was the place!for the gothic scene back in the day, so run away to London. Wasn't long till she hooked up with a follow goth, and started going by Abyssinia, (she picked as it abyss and sin it..) but he was aj erk, always trouble with the law, abused her, got her catch up in his life of crime. He always cheated on her too. But she no other place, and she put up with it. As long she did what he said, it would all be fine. She was plotting to off him soon anyways, and steal all the wealth had stolen. She played all nice and sweet. Then it was big time he was gonna hit up bank, she had her part to play.

Yet all went horribly wrong.

When she met her untimely ended, up her Boyfriend coming after her. (As he realized what she was planning on the side) to kill her. She panicked and didn't hold her ground, as she had play in her mind she would, for days. She ended up sliding and crackling her head on some marble floor, ( bleeding to death..)

It seems universe as gotten retried of reincarnating, as with each life she lives her soul just turned dark and bitter. And she ends up the burning pits. Well guess what! She was all “F-THAT!” So she fought her way out of the pit. And in one human year climbed out. All of hell was impressed as normally, must give up. Even getting as close to very last step, but then slips, and falls all the way back. NOT HER!. So, of course, it was no question she deserved a spot. For years she managed to work herself into having her own infamous rep.

It seems she and Hastur have A FTF thing going on. Or so they claim. (though behind doors their more going on XD) Though he's unaware of the truth of Abyss and who her corrupt soul really belongs to. And of course, she has no idea, like she can remember her past lives. Yet fully remembers her human one, so in away she thinks differently then them, cause she was HUMAN! Once.

Then finally, she earned her own seat with main, as a “duchess of hell” kind of given she and Hastur are a couple now. And since she was once human, she don't understand the how she could chosen duke, but she like how she was the first duchess! So they were “ whatever..than..”

Yet was long road for her to get where she was. (And now given events of good omens season one, I say Abyss was off acting other orders being once human...it help demons with other earthly matters. Why we didn't see, in theory, if she was cannon)

I really don't know how the demon royal class work, yet when climbed out of the pit..

She was placed as a lower class demon, but she still sat higher then the others. Worked closer with them like an earn boy, or something...And unlike other lower demons...They made a new rank for her right on the spot, as Satan demanded it. (I know that has some plot hole there I cant argue that) But naturally Crowley (when he still in hell's good graces and with this rank) was interested by this little human...

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

A PART FROM AN RP: Her having a flashback, why the scenes all the over the place

Her eyes widen, at she heard her name upon his lips. Memories she tried to suppress came flooding back. Playing in her mind, of how horribly he flirted with her, pocking fun at her name. Pocking fun at on daily bases, till earned her trust. THEN BROKE IT!!!

“ Abyssina, huh loosely named after breed of feline, or the Ethiopian Empire...What an odd name...”

He did find her fascinating study, for the feat she managed to take. Clearly this little freshly demon was special... and he did find humans entertaining, here was one! Starting a new life...And he didn't have to pose as human around her, they were on even playing ground, both demons

'NO!' Abyss would reply angry. "I named my self, that I though it sounded gothy...Abyss and sin in the name..." She blushed, flustered by his taunts.

. "I never though I would have demon correcting me...Nor would have though heaven and hell was real...that I climb out of the pit and now a demon myself..'

'Yes, Well, I have to bounce...' he grabbed her hand giving a playful kiss. ' See ya Abyss...' ...he always seemed to be around very corner, during her lower demon life, or when she running earns for higher ups, being their little slave. Pulling her aside making her do bad stuff, or playing tricks on them...He was her first real friend...in hell....Then things got complicated, when he stole a kiss...and she returned it and the what was meant to be one night stand into many sexual encounters...Till one day she realized...or what she though he was, using her since he couldn't get who he really wanted...then next thing he knew she had become one of better's girl, Hastur and climbed the ranks...

He was hurt by her too, but he couldn't blame her...It was kind of true. But why did she choose to fall into that toad's arms!....but dammit he let her in, it was hard to let her go. It drove him insane, when Hell choose to send her to get infor him, as well it lead to another thing...Despite them both having their own loves, they still fell victim to old nostalgic feelings...He was her ' first' in her new demonic life how can you forget your first, as she was his first ' human'

--------

END RP POST

....When she finally ended with Crowley, blasting him across the face too. (during one of her hours, she was given off by the higher ups, as I said she was not your normal demonic servant more plot holes lol)

Hastur happened to see it happening from a far (as all hell knew he was “playing” with her whatever they though again...just as long she and him did their jobs whatever) And smirked when saw her slap him across his face, and Crowley was about to say something but just stormed away...Abyss breaks into silent tears, and Hastur stops in mid step, he stirred a memory in him...Prim's tears. Scared to admit, she had fallen in love with him..feeling she did something bad. Yet he took into his arms told her “No” And he tried to fight these feelings, but he couldn't. And he come closer behind Abyss he spoke “...Foolish girl! He is a snake, what did you expect...?” She clears her face, trying to act like she wasn't crying and turns leave, knowing he was there to retrieve her for what ever little thing they need of her..

Yet he grabs her by wrist, pulling her back all “...I know you want to see him suffer...” Grinning at her. “I do too.” She looks at him all “...what are you implying..?” Hastur was having his memory of crying prim guide him, to do something nice for his little charge...He laid it all out for her, looked stunned, but then give him one hell of a grin. “YES!!!” Making stumble back a bit, at how excited and loud she was. (even as the author I have no idea what was...but I know it last over course of time as made them get closer, till she turned into his FTF...and fall into his arms)

Being closer to her, he realized she had darker side, and loved to torment. And her darkly positive out look was a breath fresh air to him.

RANDOM AUTHOR NOTES

And OMG! I am sure crowly felt so crush !!! When he got called down for special news and annoncement...(as all demons needed to be present of this rare event in history) And how Abyss gives him dagger stares...As Buz makes the announcement, goes on long detail how born a human, a sinful one died, came here climbed out of the pits...found a spot at their court as their personal servant .till she approved, even some humans need to die before they achive greatness...And a new seat has open up...Hastur grabs a random higher court demonthe random demon all "wait what?" * and toss them into vet of holy water* So let us welcome Abyssinia, as our first duchess....and I guess...yaddaya...She belongs hastur...so none of other demons get ideas...

Crowley: wtf just happened...what...Abyss...is this is cuz your still mad me..come on its hastur! Abyss glares at him. "...as of now your not allowed, to be so familar with me Crowley.....*walks past him so coldy...then just to make point she grabs hastur force making out with him...then he realizes what is going on, and returns it...as he flips him the bird as their still kissing.. Crowley just leaves all pissed

BUT THERE IT IS....pretty much....Yet Crowley/Abyss still have random hook ups, its so confusing...as its true they do love another one too, yet their loyal to their real love......So it has me wondering...in season 2, when hes driving all heart broken, who's to say he doesn't pay her visit to ' vent' Though kind of change some things around..I hate how Gab/Buzz run off...I want to still have them..my story...so they leave out love part..still remain in their spots...or she comes back as they broke up after first fight all mad, reclaims her throne back.

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

HIDDEN TRIVA:

Then I had this twist, were Crowley breaks into the recantations files (with the help of Aziraphale, it seems they are some new secret mission), that father time guards and runs, along with some other things that Father time must do. And nosy Crowley finishing getting what he needed, starts to get a bit nosy and distracted and instead of running away (while Aziraphale is “alright come on! ), chooses to look for some humans, he kind of liked hanging with. Then remembers how some still owe him some money! From one of their past life's.(though of course mostly he did spend most of his time with Aziraphale, but also when in human form, hang with interesting humans through the eons lol) And happens to stumble upon her Abyss file somehow. And know he knows...things. Thinking

wait...so Abyss is Primrose, Hastur's rune. AH! She still is even to day..snorts to himself.

#good omens #good omens oc #hastur good omens #duchess of hell #good omens crowley

[beenjen]

Roasting veggies. Starting my moms table project. The dope science center for Jamis’ day camp. Lilith bonding with the large pony we have taken in. It’s been a good and much needed day off.

After dropping the kids, I met up with a girlfriend I’ve been remiss about keeping up with. We walked a trail at a local park then grabbed coffee - never underestimate how much good just being outside, getting some physical exercise and a gab with a fabulous friend can be. We are going to go again next week and I hope this develops into a routine event.

Over the weekend I met up for brunch with another relationship I’m working on. It’s a mom friend, and actually Ls besties mom. We really hit it off and have so much in common. We’ve had 2 play dates, 2 meet ups sans kids, and it’s really nice to have someone the same age as me, career oriented with a young kid - let me just tell you, here in the south, the woman start having kids at 20, married just out of high school, and while that is lovely for those that works for - that’s not me. So when we started chatting, it’s been a way to connect with that part of my life.

Most of my mom friends are older, had kids younger, or the moms in my kids classes are 10 years younger, even stay at home moms, all beautiful paths, I always felt lonely though. I moved to the ‘city’, married older, was married 7 years before kids, went back to school, travelled, and my track has been different. It felt like spotting a unicorn in the wild when we found each other. It’s been an unexpected boon at this point in my life.

Mission Impossible post.

This friend group, and I do feel a deep kinship with my mutuals, is and has been such a treasure. This is a safe space, where I have found people on all walks of life, that have real life experiences, and are genuine. Having this outlet, where I too can be real, and share more than just a snapshot of my life through rose tinted glasses, means so, so very much.

Thank you each who commiserated, shared encouragement, gave solid and thoughtful advice, sent love. You each, gave me kindness and understanding, and I am blessed to have connected with you here.

Monday can be a fun day too xx

#east nashville #reality #mutuals

[ofthcshvdes]

Hello! I’m July and these are my muses! I decided to put all their mini intros into one bulk post for now so it’s easier to digest!! I’m still working on all their pages and bios but I have them all worked out in my head so if you have any questions, please feel free to ask!

Josefine:

Dreamshade, Black Jaguar, 530 years old, deceit manipulation.

A high profile lawyer- Josefine isn’t one who can be caught off-guard easily. She’s vivacious, cunning and decisive. Her ability of deceit manipulation means she can convince anyone that anything she says is true- if she give it enough gusto. Be wary around this big cat, she’s a good ally to have however she may not be telling you the whole truth: whether friend, or foe.

Celine:

Human, 25 years old (23, on her official website), minor healing.

You’ve no doubt seen her in an advert, on a billboard or you’ve heard her latest single playing on the radio, but you’d be mistaken if you thought the starlet was a conceited snob. Celine is a little sweetheart who has been following her sisters dreams since she was young and has found a fame equal to her talents. However, a curse inflicted on her by a die-hard fan (who was trying to make her fall in love with him) has caused a strange side effect- petals fall from her hair when she feels a strong emotion, sometimes building up such a mess that it seems unbearable- however just wait 45 minutes and they’ll disappear on their own!

Gabs:

Spirit Warrior, 23 years old, Telekinesis, aligned with House Beltran. Enchanted Ring .

Being born into a family that deals mainly in crime, Gabs has had a rather strange upbringing to say the least. With her grandfathers empire growing, her mother uprooted their family from their home in Rigbarth to settle in Selphia and assist Gyeonggu “Giovanni” Ryu with his work. The Ryu’s set up multiple restaurants and businesses all across the city to launder their money- however to their surprise they all boomed and ended up becoming very popular places for the people of selphia- and other cities to visit. All the locations are named “Giovanni’s”, merely stating what the actual business is after the initial name (Giovanni’s pizzeria, Giovanni’s korean-italian fusion, Giovanni’s dream stone evaluation etc.). Her mother, Sunny Ryu, wants Gabs to understand the true value of money rather than continue being the spoiled brat she is, Gabriella has found herself working at these various businesses to help her family out.

Val:

Spirit Warrior, 28 years old, Magical Constructs, aligned with House Beltran. Dragonbone Staff. (The Scorned Scholar)

There is no honour amongst thieves, this is something Valerie Kaur knows to be true. A relic hunter by trade, if you hire her to find an item for you there’s a 100% chance she’s going to sell you a forgery that will turn to sugar glass after a few months pass. However, if you try to complain to her, she’ll show you the fine print on the contract you signed which gives her all rights and ownership to any relic she retrieves- essentially making her exploits legal (she had Josefine read it all over, it’s fine). Despite her slippery nature as a businesswoman, Val is a solid friend and is always there when those she loves need her. She’s also a skilled sorceress, having studied magic for the majority of her life- she’ll help you out with anything you need if you’re nice enough to her. She holds a deep grudge against the wizards apprentices as she was refused by Rasmodius for being “too unpredictable” and “possessing volatile magic”. 

Petyr:

Dreamshade, Grizzly Bear, 330 years old, Earth Manipulation.

A bounty hunter by trade, Petyr is well versed in the strengths and weaknesses of various creatures that inhabit the lands surrounding Selphia. Originally from the town of Orre, he relocated long before the Boundary laid it’s curse upon his kinsmen and women. He lives in a cottage on the outer edges of Selphia with his husband and their adopted daughter, a family man through and through he keeps their photos on him at all times and has a lunch packed with a note every day by that girl he rescued so many years ago. Petyr knows his work is dangerous, thus makes sure to message his husband and daughter throughout his days when on the job- to alleviate any worry they may have. Known for his darker sense of humour, he’s been known to send a selfie in a precarious situation or with a monster in the background to his family, knowing he’ll be scolded when he gets home later on.

Bitna:

Dreamshade, Daltokki, 29 years old, Blood Healing, House Vanitas

Taken in by her uncle Haneul at a young age after the tragic passing of her parents, Bitna has tried to live her life fully in their absence and make something of herself so they’ll be proud of her. She’s always had an interest in fashion, studying it in college and pursuing a career in blogging and writing columns for various websites and magazines as a freelance writer until she broke into influencing. She still writes in her downtime but the majority of her time is taken up with photoshoots and filming for her various social media channels. She’s very cheerful on the exterior, but is haunted by the death of her parents, although she’d never show it in polite company.

Bryan:

Human, 32 years old, potioneer

Bryan is a sweet soul who only wants to help people, extremely smart he was given the opportunity to graduate high school early, but refused so as to not leave his friends behind. His impeccable studying skills allowed him to graduate medical school with top marks and while he could have made moves to become a high paid surgeon or private doctor, he instead opted to be a General Practitioner, able to help as many people as possible. He’s very protective of his little sisters, Barbara and Celine, and constantly worries about his superstar siblings wellbeing as he’s well aware of the diets she goes on to maintain her image. Despite being so close to fame, Bryan is very down to earth and tends to shy away from those who want to get to know him just to get to his sister.

Min:

Dreamshade, Viper, 903 years old, Weapon Proficiency - Touch

Raised in the wildwoods, Min’s family believed themselves to be above those mere mortals known as “humans” that lived beyond the trees edges. Their fealty to the Lady of the Wildwoods was absolute and unwavering. Min didn’t enjoy having to follow such strict rules and thus parted ways with her family to explore the world outside of the woods. Although it appears that her parents weren’t quite so truthful about their refusal to breach the borders as she was handed the responsibility of an infant sibling who’s human Mother didn’t want anything to do with him. She raised Simon dutifully until eventually she met her husband and they had children of their own. While attending an appointment with her son, Nemo, their elder daughter spent time with her Uncle Simon and tragically turned to seafoam after giggling at the ice cream splotch on his nose.

Regina (Meemaw):

Human, 69 years old, ecological empathy

Everyones Meemaw, Regina prides herself on her family first and foremost. She was born a city native, but on a family vacation to the countryside she fell in love with a bumpkin who stole her heart with a cob of corn and a crooked grin. They eventually grew up and took on his family farm. Her ability helped her maintain the crops and livestock and she loved everything about her life, they had kids and eventually grandkids and her home was always warm and full of laughter. When her grandson got called to be head of Beltran- she was proud, but mostly worried. She tries to keep her nose out- but she simply cant sometimes

#cag: intro #tw: spiders #tw: snakes

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

A Sense of Closure

December 17, 2022

Prompt - Home

Notes - Part two, baby! This part was originally something I planned on using as either the third part or a one-shot, but I changed the plot around to fit as a middle piece and it worked out pretty well. If you'd like to see the original plot, I would love to write it out after I'm done with my next project.

Despite the many flights that Miles had been on going to and from New Hampshire where his nerves stayed minimal and he could get by with listening to music or watching a movie, the nearly three-hour flight to his hometown of Myrtle Beach had Miles worrying that he’d be scrubbing his lunch out of the expensively upholstered seats. Carrie’s words or reassurance did little to quell the rollercoaster of emotions inside of him, but the grip she had on his hand and the gentle circles she pressed into his skin distracted him at least a little. Every now and then, he would spare a glance at his siblings and their friend, watching the trio gab on and on about something he couldn’t hear over the plane’s engines and the thumping of his heart in his ears. As soon as the pilot announced they were landing in Myrtle Beach, time seemed to slow down for Miles. Why had he agreed to join them? Why did he think he would be able to do this? He wasn’t ready for this!

Autopilot kicked in and Miles followed everyone off the plane, taking his bag of things he didn’t even remember packing and making sure his brothers were following him before stepping out of the plane and onto the tarmac. The ride from the airport was spent listening to everyone else talk as Miles looked out the window, trying to pinpoint where they were in relation to their old house. The city he knew had changed drastically in the sixty years since he had last been there, but certain buildings looked familiar. As they pulled to a stop at a red light, Miles felt a tug on his hoodie that roused him from his thoughtless ride.

Royce released Miles’ shirt once his older brother turned to face him, a small smile appearing on the teenager’s face as he pointed at the small store on their left and said, “Look, it’s the Circle K you used to work at.”

Miles raised an eyebrow as he turned to look out the window next to Carrie, but sure enough, the little gas station was still there. It had certainly changed a bit - the building had gotten larger, the pumps had gone from two to four, and the price of gas per gallon had gone from thirty-one cents to almost three dollars, but Miles still remembered the days of him and his brothers hanging out behind the counter, getting their homework done and playing blackjack between customers. They would walk home with barely enough money to buy food for the night only to have it confiscated once they walked in the door. If they didn’t hand over the money, chances were Miles would have a black eye the next morning at work, telling the kind old man who ran the shop that he’d been roughed up by people on the way home.

“Can we stop for drinks?” Bentley asked, oblivious to Miles’ thought process.

“Sure,” Mack said with a smile, flicking on her blinker and pulling into the parking lot of the gas station once the line began moving. As soon as the car was parked and people began piling out, Miles slowly slid his way out of the car and sighed. They weren’t even a ten minute walk from their old house.

Vivien huffed as she leaned against the side of the car, pulling her hoodie off over her head and tying it around her waist. “This must be cool for you guys,” she said, turning to Miles with a grin. 

“How so?” he asked in return, faintly hoping he didn’t sound nearly as cold as he thought he did.

Vivien shrugged, “It must be nice to go back to a place you used to live and see how much has changed.”

Miles scanned the intersection as cars flew by in all directions, “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly remember this place all that fondly.” 

“Why not?” the girl asked. “I mean, it’s so close to the beach.”

Miles stilled, looking at the girl with an eyebrow raised. “Did the boys never tell you why we left?”

“Royce hardly ever talks about anything that happened before you guys moved,” Vivien replied with a small chuckle as she turned toward Miles. “I’ve always wondered, though. Why? What happened?”

Vivien’s cheerful gaze dropped as Miles said, “Our dad happened. He was a drunken asshole and we ran away to escape him.”

“Oh,” Vivien muttered, all semblance of curiosity withering away like the petals of a dying flower.

“We used to live just down the road,” Miles continued. “I worked here just to have money for food and lunch money and our dad would take it as soon as he knew I had money. He’d get wasted and throw punches like he was down at the bar.”

Vivien’s eyes widened as she softly asked, “He hit you guys?” 

Miles' nonchalant shrug told Vivien that it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, “Mostly me. I know RJ said it happened to him after I left, but I doubt he ever hit Ben more than once if he ever did in the first place.”

As Vivien slouched against the car, her usually bright eyes glued to the ground, Miles was sure the conversation was over, but as soon as Royce came back to the car and was wrapped in a hug by his girlfriend, he asked his older brother, “What happened?”

With yet another nonchalant shrug, Miles said “We were talking about Dad, that’s all.”

Royce nodded and allowed Vivien to hold him close before whispering to her, “It’s alright.”

Vivien leaned back, taking Royce’s face in her hands before pressing her forehead to his, “He hit you guys. That’s not okay.”

“We’re not there anymore and he’s not around to bother us,” Royce replied. “We’re safe now.”

“He probably doesn’t even exist in this world,” Miles added with a shrug.

“Probably not,” Bentley said as he joined them. “I wonder if our old house is in this world.”

“One way to find out,” Vivien mentioned, pulling her phone out of the pocket of her jeans and unlocking it before opening her map. “What’s the address?” Pulling their old, Duffy Street address out of the deep recesses of their brains, the three Murphy brothers recited it in unison, allowing Vivien to type it in as everyone else came out to the car with snacks and drinks in hand. “This says that the address exists, but it doesn’t show what it looks like.”

“Really?” Bentley asked.

“What are you looking for?” Mick questioned.

“Our old place,” Royce answered. “Viv’s phone says that it’s still there.”

To Miles’ dismay, Brady suggested, “Why don’t we drive by and see if anything has changed? Hotel check-in isn’t until three and Vivien doesn’t have to meet her family at the rink for another hour or so.”

Bentley was quick to agree, making his two older brothers reluctantly agree to keep his excitement at bay. Once everyone was piled into the car, Miles gave the instructions as to how to get to their old house and, within a few minutes, they were stopped across the street from their old house. However, it looked different than any of them expected. Grass and weeds cracked through the walkway leading up to the front door, the numbers above the porch that used to showcase their address were long gone, and the once pristine, olive green paint that colored the house was faded and peeling away. Overall, it looked… abandoned.

Brady threw the car in park, allowing the brothers to file out of the car, staring at their old home in shock. Their parents, especially their mother, had designed the house and had it built before Miles was born and took care of it as though it was another one of their children up until their mom’s death. Even though they hadn’t had too many pleasant memories in the house after their dad’s personality did a one-eighty, it still hurt to see the building their mom loved so much looking so decrepit.

As a few of the others followed the brothers out of the car, they took in the crumbling foundation and the overall look of the house with worry. While it was true that the Murphy brothers hadn’t actually grown up in that specific house, the three pairs of eyes filled with sorrow were enough to make the others present feel just as remorseful. Oddly enough, Miles was the first to break away from the group, venturing across the empty street to the house he used to call home. Bentley latched onto Royce’s hand before dragging him across the street, Royce’s free hand taking hold of Vivien's sleeve as they walked.

While some of the others followed them to the house, Vivien’s gaze flickered over the dusty windows and weathered brickwork that formed the front porch. “It’s definitely abandoned,” she spoke as she stepped onto the porch behind the brothers.

Miles sighed, “I never thought I’d see it like this.”

Bentley attempted to peek into the house through the picture window next to the door, but the dust that had settled on the window mingled with the fact that the curtains were blocking any prospective peepers, he couldn’t see much of anything. “I can’t tell what it looks like inside.”

With a hum, Royce tapped a thoughtful finger to his lips, “I wonder if any of the windows are open. Maybe one of us could climb inside and unlock the door.”

As the three brothers began devising a plan to break into their family home, Vivien took one look at the front door and snickered, rolling her eyes as she tapped the flimsy, plastic, doggy door with the toe of her sneaker. “Rookies,” she sighed under her breath. Vivien pulled her hoodie away from her waist and knelt on the porch, placing her hoodie on the wooden floor just beyond the heavy, oak door before climbing inside the house through the significantly smaller, plastic door. Once Vivien was inside the house, she dusted herself off with a sigh, grabbing her hoodie from the floor and wrapping it around her waist once more before sparing a look around the house. 

Looking around the house was like stepping back in time. Vivien had only experienced the sixties over the last summer, but the furniture and overall aesthetic of the house made the brunette feel as though she had somehow stepped through a portal and ended up back in the beach-side, Florida town. Bright colors accented the otherwise cream-colored room, mid-century style decorations made the room feel dated but also welcoming, and hand-painted artwork still clinging to the walls by little pieces of tape and thumbtacks gave the house a lived-in feel, but the colder temperature and almost damp smell were an obvious tell that nobody had lived in the house in years, perhaps even decades.

Vivien’s nose crinkled as she looked around, but a thump on the door dragged her out of her thoughts. Twisting the deadbolt and unlocking the handle, Vivien pulled open the door and sent the three awaiting men a hesitant look. “This place was abandoned ages ago. Are you sure you want to come in?”

Bentley turned to Royce who, in turn, glanced at Miles. The oldest of the brothers took in a deep breath and nodded, “Let’s do it.”

With a small nod, Vivien held the door open and stepped aside, allowing the brothers into the old abode. Once everyone was inside, Vivien closed the door, watching as everyone seemed to linger in the living room. Bentley was the first to truly begin examining the house, pointing out how the house looked in comparison to how he’d last seen it. While Miles and Royce seemed more hesitant to explore the place that looked so similar to the house they had run away from, they eventually split off to look around. Vivien wandered the house in wonder, looking around the closest thing to her boyfriend’s old home that she would ever get to see. The house’s style was certainly outdated, but it suited the time period they were from. 

Upon exploring the kitchen, Vivien was mildly surprised to find lines of old, glass, alcohol bottles had been placed across the counter with a thick layer of dust settled on them. Perhaps whoever had lived in the house suffered from the same addiction the Murphy brothers' father had. The refrigerator still had childlike artwork clinging to it by little magnets, the signature in the bottom corners too faded for Vivien to read, but the art itself still vibrantly present. As Vivien circled the dining table, emerald eyes caught a glimpse of a thick envelope tucked underneath a piece of folded leather. The seventeen-year-old’s experience investigating abandoned buildings told her to leave well enough alone and to ignore the items, but her curiosity over where they were and the connection her friends had to the building won over as she picked up the peeling leather wallet.

Vivien only intended to check for any information as to who the wallet belonged to, but the thickness of the back fold led her to discover a thick stack of cash in varying amounts. The brunette glanced around, making sure nobody else could see the wallet as she closed it and set it back down on the table, taking the envelope instead. After wiping the front of the envelope against her jeans to rid it of the dust, Vivien’s eyes widened at what was scrawled across the white paper faded, rigid letters. It couldn’t possibly be right. She pulled her glasses off and swiped the lenses across her shirt before placing them back on the bridge of her nose. Nope, it was still there. It didn’t make sense! How on earth was it possible? By all accounts, it shouldn’t have been possible, yet there it was, staring her in the face. Seven words in faded pencil that, if they were real, had probably been written long before she was even born. 

‘To my sons, Miles, Royce, and Bentley.’

Vivien debated on what to do, but eventually came to the conclusion that she had to tell her boyfriend and his brothers. Vivien tapped the envelope against her fingertips before taking a deep breath and heading toward the living room. The only person there was Butchy who was busy examining the books on the shelves. Glancing past the couch to where the boys had gathered in another room that must have been one of their bedrooms, Vivien crossed the living room and tapped on Butch’s arm. Butchy smiled at the younger girl, “There’s the little criminal. You know, breaking and entering is a jailable offense.”

“Maybe,” Vivien agreed, “but just entering isn’t.”

“I’ll give you that,” Butchy chuckled. Glancing at the envelope grasped in the girl’s trembling fingers, Butchy sent Vivien a quizzical look, “What’s that?”

Vivien glanced over her shoulder before lowering her voice and holding out the old envelope, “I found it on the kitchen table with a wallet, but I didn’t want to open it.”

Taking the white package from the teenager, Butchy opened it to find a thick stack of paper. At the bottom of the last page was a signature he doubted the Murphy brothers wanted to see. “Did you tell them yet?”

With a shake of her head, Vivien said, “I just found it. Do you think we should give it to them?”

Folding the papers back up and putting them back into the envelope, Butchy peered over Vivien’s shoulder at where Miles was sitting on the end of a bed, an old notebook in hand as he showed Carrie and Mick what was in it. Bentley and Royce were too busy showing Lela things they had found to notice the stare directed their way, but Miles was quick to sense the pair of eyes focused on him. As soon as Miles’ confused gaze met Butchy’s, the older biker gestured for him to come out to the living room.

“We don’t have much of a choice now,” Butchy muttered, bringing an arm around Vivien’s shoulders as Miles approached them, his hands tucked into his pockets.

“What’s going on?” Miles asked the pair, the small smile on his face disappearing as he took in their expressions. “Is everything okay?”

Butchy held the envelope out for Miles to take as Vivien said, “I found this on the kitchen table. It says it’s for you, Royce, and Bentley.”

Icy blue eyes flickered between the envelope and the other two people in the room before Miles accepted the papers. On the front was a style of writing Miles knew all too well after years of forging the signature for field trips and checks he had to send out in the mail so the gas company wouldn’t shut off their hot water. “It’s our father’s handwriting.”

Seeing the hesitant, almost wary look in Miles’ eyes, Butchy asked, “Are you sure you want to read it?”

Miles shook his head, “No, but I should.”

“I can read it for you, if you want,” Butchy offered, placing a hand on Miles’ arm. Miles contemplated the idea for a while before handing the envelope back to Butchy. Butchy nodded slowly, nudging Miles toward the couch as he said, “Alright. Do you want the boys to hear it too?” Miles was quick to shake his head. He didn’t want them to know what their father had written until he knew there was nothing in the letters that he should keep from them. “Okay. Go sit down. I’ll be over in a minute.”

As Miles wordlessly headed toward the kitchen, making his way through the living room with practiced ease, Butchy turned his attention to Vivien who watched Miles with concern. “Is he going to be okay?” she asked in a whisper.

“He'll be fine.”

Although Vivien desperately wanted to believe the older man’s words, she wasn’t even sure if he believed them himself. Green eyes met brown as Vivien crossed an arm around herself, the other playing with the chain of her necklace. “I should’ve hidden that letter and left everything alone.”

Butchy sighed, placing his hands on the girl’s shoulders as he moved in front of her, “Don’t beat yourself up, Vivien. This might be something he needs to hear.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“We’ll be there for him and the boys.” Butchy watched Vivien’s gaze flicker toward the room everyone else had congregated in. “For now, go keep them occupied. I’ll handle this with Miles and then I’ll let you know when the coast is clear, alright?”

Reluctantly, Vivien nodded, her eyes flicking between Butchy, the kitchen, and the other room as Butchy stepped aside. Butchy watched Vivien disappear into the other room, hearing her instantly get pulled into a conversation as he took a deep breath and headed for the kitchen. Miles was already sitting at the dining table, presumably in the same spot he always took growing up and, as Butchy dropped into the chair next to him, the younger biker met his friend’s gaze. “Thanks for doing this, Butch.”

“I told you from the beginning that I’m here for you no matter what,” Butchy replied. “You need me, I’m there.”

Miles nodded, more to himself than to Butchy. “What if I want to stop at some point?”

“Then we stop, simple as that.”

Taking in a deep, prolonged breath, Miles glanced at the letter before muttering, “Let’s start before I change my mind, then.”

Butchy grinned, placing a hand on Miles’ back for a moment before pulling out the letters and beginning to read, “‘Boys, in the off-chance that you’ve come back home, I wanted to leave you this letter so you know everything I never got the chance to say.’”

“He didn’t say much at all when he was hammered,” Miles scoffed.

Ignoring Miles’ statement, Butchy continued, “‘I wasn’t the father you three deserved, especially after what happened with your Mama. You three lost a mother that day and I lost the love of my life, but you three handled it with the grace only she could’ve given you. I broke and turned into a beast.’” Another scoff from Miles interrupted Butchy’s reading, but it didn’t stop him from continuing, “‘Your mother gave me the best gifts in the world and I treated you all so horribly. I didn’t deserve you boys and you didn’t deserve me as a father. I know I should have let you stay with your grandparents or with Thomas when they asked, but I had already lost your mother and I couldn’t imagine losing you three too.’”

Butchy spared Miles a glance, watching the brunette drive his hands into his hair as he breathed, “We could’ve lived with our mom’s family and he didn’t let us?”

“I know you don’t want to, but try to think of it from his perspective,” Butchy attempted as he placed the first page down on the table. “His wife had passed away and you three were all he had. It was probably something they offered early on and he was scared of losing you three.”

Miles’ gaze followed the faded scuff marks on the kitchen table as he thought over Butchy’s words. Instead of commenting further, he closed his eyes, shook his head, and said, “Let’s just keep going.”

Butchy shook his head and sighed, “Alright.” After clearing his throat, he read, “'I know this won’t mean much to you now, but I’ve been seeking advice on my drinking since just after Miles left home. It worked a little at first, but I was so far down the path that it was hard to turn back. Even though it didn’t look like it, I started getting serious about quitting. I was at a meeting the day Royce and Bentley took off. I came home to their note on the coffee table the same day I came back with my five-month sobriety chip.’”

“Oh, yeah?” Miles scoffed rhetorically. “Wonder where he was hiding those.”

Butchy’s eyes scanned the paper he was holding before he set the few papers down and reached for the wallet on the table, opening the flap in the front and dumping the coins out. There weren’t many, but the furthest along was two years. As Miles examined the cheaply made coins, Butchy scanned over the rest of the papers that had been left in the envelope. He skimmed a few pages and set some aside before getting to the more personal messages that had been left. 

“‘Bentley, I hope that you become an artist of some kind. You certainly don’t get that talent from me, but I know how great you are, even though you’re so young. You’ll far exceed everyone’s expectations. As for Royce, I’m sure you’ll be a famous novelist someday. You boys got a lot from your mother’s side of the family and your way with words is definitely not from me, so take pride in it. I have no doubt you boys will be great regardless of what you do in life. Like your mother used to say: if you follow your heart, you’ll fly further than the moon.’”

Miles eyed the paper, a barely noticeable grin appearing on his face as he said, “I still tell the boys that.”

“I’m sure they appreciate that,” Butchy said.

“I know they do,” Miles replied with a nod, the tension in his shoulders releasing as he took in a deep breath. “You can keep going.”

Butchy smiled and began reading again, glad that Miles was more open to the words now that he knew how positive they had been, “‘Miles, I hope you’re taking good care of yourself and the boys. Show them the love that I wish I had. I will forever be proud of you for stepping up and taking charge when I failed to do so. You would have made a great soldier, but I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone, especially one of my boys. Take a different path than I did. Find someone who makes you as happy as your mother made me, pop out a few kids or get a couple dogs, and love them more than anything. Just make sure that you’re happy. You deserve it after all the shit I put you through.’”

Miles took in a long breath, his eyes locked on the paper in Butchy’s hands, following every word on the page as it was said. Butchy paused in his reading, keeping an eye on Miles as the younger man slowly sat straighter and asked, “Is there anything else?”

Butchy placed the paper down, only one page remaining in his hands. “This is it. You want me to read it?”

Miles shrugged, “We’ve come this far.”

“Alright,” Butchy said softly, returning his gaze to the paper. “‘You three always had each other’s backs, even when I didn’t. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish you three would walk back through the front door, but that day will probably only come when I’m no longer here. I’ve come to terms with that. I’ve come to terms with my death. It’s inevitable at this point. Even though I stopped drinking a long time ago, that doesn’t cure every other illness that comes along. Liver failure is a bitch, but I’ll go on my own terms. I left money for you in my wallet. It’s all of the money I would have spent on alcohol since I quit. You were the reason I quit, so it only makes sense for me to give it to you now. Maybe someday I’ll be able to see you again, watch over you just like your mother does. I’ll be with her soon enough. Your mom and I will be proud of you three no matter what happens. Take care of yourselves and remember to never let anything drive you apart. I love you, boys. Always.'”

Once Butchy set the papers down and restacked them, Miles pulled them to him and slid them back into the envelope they had been in. For a while, they sat in silence, Miles staring off into space while Butchy tried to gauge his friend’s reaction. Then, to break the silence they had created, Butchy put a hand on Miles’ shoulder and asked, “Are you alright?”

Instead of answering immediately, a lie rolling off his tongue with relative ease, Miles seemed to genuinely think before answering, “No, but I will be.” Finally meeting Butchy’s gaze, Miles smiled, “It’s nice to hear even though it’s not coming from my dad. I mean, I guess it is, in a way, but it just doesn’t feel like it is... I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

Butchy chuckled, “It does.”

As the pair rose from their chairs and Miles tucked the envelope into the pocket of his jean jacket, a head of blonde hair poked around the corner. Bentley’s smile beamed brighter than any lightbulb as he declared, “RJ and I found Mama’s art set!”

“That’s great, Ben,” Miles claimed with a smile. “Are you keeping it?”

“I was just going to ask if I could,” Bentley laughed. “Does that mean I can?”

“If you can fit it in the van.”

A mischievous giggle was the only response Miles got as Bentley took off for the other room. Butchy shook his head, “I think you’ve enabled a monster.”

“I think you’re right.”

Leaning against the kitchen counters as Miles pocketed the wallet from the table, Butchy asked, “Are you sure you’re alright, Miles?”

“I think I just need time to register it all,” Miles decided with a shrug, turning to Butchy and tucking his hands in his pockets. “Then, when the time comes, I’ll tell the boys and let them read it for themselves.”

“And if you need help-”

“You’ll be there like you always are,” Miles interrupted with a grin. 

Butchy hummed in agreement as Carrie entered the kitchen with a sigh, “You guys might want to stop them before they shove the whole house into the back end of the car.”

“That bad, huh?” Butchy chuckled.

Carrie glanced over her shoulder before turning back to the men with a hesitant chuckle, “Let’s just say that, if they bring out much more, we’re gonna have to walk to the hotel.”

Mick, one of the supposed “adults” in the house, cackled maniacally in the other room, “Take all of the photo albums! We can use them as blackmail!”

Miles turned to Butchy with a grin, “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

“Yeah,” Butchy agreed, allowing Miles to lead the way out of the kitchen.

Later rather than sooner, they managed to get everyone out of the house and into the van. Things they didn’t really need, yet wanted to take home had been piled into the trunk and shoved into the gaps between seats, forming a problem they would have to solve when they met up with Vivien’s parents at the sports center. Miles slid the door shut after making sure everyone had their belongings, staring out the window at the house across the street that had, at one point been his home. Although he wouldn’t be returning to it for a long time in any world, he was almost glad to have seen it one last time. It was a sense of closure he didn’t know he was missing. All too soon, the van’s engine roared to life and, within moments, they were leaving Duffy Street and Miles watched his old home fade into the distance for the last time.

#Nelle's Christmas Prompts 2022 #writing #writing prompt

[guu]

Got tagged by Julia @wuggen in this big ol Answer These Questions chain letter thingimajig. Supposed to tag 25 people (wowie this one feels like it was taken straight from the old myspace ones)

Last...

Beverage: Full Thottle bc energy drinks have me in a chokehold to function

Phone call: uhhh either a doordash customer or my bff gabs

Text message: talkin with my mom abt her surgery tomorrow

Song you listened to: idk man i’m on a vaporwave mix rn

Time you cried: i don’t cry much anymore so uhhh... maybe... a month ago?

Have you ever...

Dated someone twice: yeah ;;- _-)

Kissed someone and regretted it: when i was 16 yeah

Lost someone special: In the sense of fucked up a good relationship: yes

in the sense of losing contact: soo many

in the sense of death: my grandma

Been depressed: bro since i was 11

Been drunk and threw up: oh yeah. hasn’t happened in years tho

Last year, have you...

Made a new friend: Ya!

Fallen out of love: Nope

Laughed until you cried: I don’t think so but mb. memory shit.

Found out who your true friends are: I mean, I guess. too bad none of them are here irl.

Found out someone was talking about you: No bc I’m 30

General

How many people on your fb friends list do you know in real life?: I only have ppl added i kno irl bc i never use fb.

List 3 favorite colors: This hasn’t changed in like 15 yrs

pink, green, black

Firsts

First surgery: Still none

First piercing: I got my ear pierced at Claire’s when I was like. 6. so yeah that got infected Fast.

First best friend: I never had a true best friend till 7th grade, so my first is still my best friend in the whole world, Gabs.

First sport you joined: I was on the tennis team in middle school

First vacation: My family has never been rich. soo.

The time they took us along to Dodge City for a motorcycle rally back when they were bikers. that was fun. there was blood outside one of the rooms at the Best Western and i got a harmonica there.

First pair of trainers: Yeah I’m with Julia wth does this mean, I wouldn’t have guessed shoes if she didn’t say so. Licherally don’t remeber

Right now

Eating: Nothing atm, might break into some kettle corn soon

Drinking: Still the. Full Throttle.

I’m about to: get some more work done on Jewel Thieves and prolly go back out and play more Tales of Symphonia

Your future

Want kids: Got two, don’t want more.

Get married:Man i don’t know and i don’t care. if i do get married to anyone it’ll be for like, marriage benefits?

Career: I want a show of one my comics. But anyway as for ‘career’, character designer seems to be my best shot with what i Want to Do.

Which is better

Lips or eyes: yeah i think this is rly where u can see teens made these old things. both are good? people all definitely have both.

Hugs or kisses: i am so starved for friend hugs.

Shorter or taller: I don’t actually care much, it’s hard to be shorter than me, but taller is ideal cause then they could get stuff off high shelves and i go low and in small places. ideal dynamics.

Older or younger: As long as they’re old enough to drink, either is chill. probably older tho. Or a few yrs younger.

Romantic or spontaneous: Can we not have both????? What's the distinction here??? (leaving ur answer Julia cause I agree)

Nice stomach or nice arms: Big tummy... but i am a slut for a man with big strong arms

Sensitive or loud: I feel like these are not mutually exclusive? I’m sensitive and loud about it. (well. some of us are. i don’t feel much strongly)

Hook-up or relationship: Meh, either. I’m not the best with hook-ups but I might go for one if presented it.

Trouble maker or hesitant: Troublemaker within reason. I need someone who can make decisions for me so hesitant is a bit...

Have you ever...

Kissed a stranger: Yeah

Drank hard liquor: Yeah but I can’t do it anymore. Gives me heartburn.

Lost glasses/contacts: Used to lose or break my glasses all the time.

Sex on first date: Yea

Broke someone’s heart: Unfortunately u_u

Been arrested: I’ve been in handcuffs but that’s it.

Turned someone down: Hmm... yeah actually I think. I usually give just abt anyone a shot but there was that weird brony guy who was a huge misogynist.

Cried when someone died: Sorta. I didn’t know how to feel when gradma or grandpa died but I cried for my mom when they both passed.

Oh and I guess after the initial celebration of “the dead one”‘s passing, and realizing him being gone didn’t help how I felt I cried.

Do you believe in...

Yourself: Considering I’ve been let down so much I’d often have to say “if ya want somethin’ done right-” yeah

Miracles: No, but I want to.

Love at first sight: Used to. Romance is weird for us these days.

Heaven: No

Santa Claus: Okay uh, bro????

Kiss on the first date: Yeah man just go for it if it’s right for the both of ya.

Angels: Ok I know I said i don’t believe in heaven (or hell) but I’m on the fence with angels.

ok im not tagging 25 but let’s see. (as usual, only do if ya wanna ofc!)

@chocolatechippi , @babylonbirdmeat , @lilstinky , @goodvibesdog , @mood2you , @nonbinaryjew , @e-102 , @cringezskull430 , @snailbutch ,

@minmos , @3000s , @sablesablesablesable

#under a readmore for mobile #i think mobile still gets long posts? idk

[thewestern]

Chapter 5

Helplessly the Mick looked as Mayor Mockingbird seemingly gravitated toward the small stage. The band was in between songs. Did Larry intend to sit in? Another funny thing about him was that he played the banjo. It was sort of his calling card — a whistle stop parlor trick for all the yokels. Sometimes you had to hand it to him. City slick politicians would go to great lengths to achieve the au natural aesthetic of down-home folksiness. Dress in head-to-toe denim … climb up on some farm equipment … pose with a prize hog. ( … But enough about his wife … ) Heck, the Mayor’s close friend and party-mate wore a bolo tie, boots and a six-x cowboy hat — day in and day out — and he got himself elected to the United States Senate. He stomped them genuine ostrich shitkickers all over them Capitol steps, and would you know what happened next? The President gave that wannabe hillbilly a cabinet appointment … Secretary of the damn Interior. Sure, by the time the next president swore in he was bucked off that gold pony before you could say Jack Robinson. He hardly lasted the eight seconds, but by the grace of god Himself he landed quite softly in a very cushy gig: consulting on behalf of Morningstar Petroleum. (Or more officially the industry group which fronted for them.)

Yes, in American politics it paid to be pastoral, or at least to appear as such. But whatever country-fried humiliation a man was willing to suffer for electoral advancement, few if any would go so far to learn the banjo and pick the fucking Foggy Mountain Breakdown. But that was Larry Mockingbird for you. Shameless in service of himself.  

Scurrying out a few steps ahead, the Mayor’s waifish male page removed a three-by-five note card from his leather padfolio, handed it to the musician stage left with the acoustic guitar, and scampered on back to his boss. The guitar player took a look down at the card, stepped to the mic and said: Ladies and Gentleman, thank you so much for being here on this lovely afternoon. The boys and I are going to take a short break. In the meanwhile, please give a warm welcome to the stage for our dear friend, Mayor Lawrence Mockingbird. [Metered applause.]

Thank you! Thank you all. So much. You know in my line of work it’s rare you have to follow live music, and if you’ve ever had the pleasure to attend a meeting of my colleagues on the City Council, you’d understand why. 

[Polite laughter.]

So let’s hear one more round of applause for this spectacular band, and please go easy on me, I beg you. 

[Frisbee golf clap.]

And … aand … I couldn’t help but notice the song you were playing when I came in. At the risk of incriminating myself, I’ll let you all in on a little secret, but you have to promise not to tell those persnickety councilmembers, because then I’m really in a pickle. Okay, so brace yourselves … Before I entered the beer business, once upon a time, I … was a Deadhead. 

[Stray yelps.] 

I know, I know. Shocking, but true. And people who know this about me often ask, how did you manage to go from following around the Grateful Dead with a bunch of hippies in your twenties — and to be completely honest a good part of my thirties — to becoming the Mayor of the greatest city in the world in your middle forties. And I’d tell them, I haven’t the slightest idea. 

[Incrementally shorter spurt of obligatory laughter.] 

It’s been a long strange trip you could say. 

[Laughter still, with interspersed groans.]

And … aand … It was the man who we’re all here to honor today, our beloved friend Hank, who traveled with me far and wide over this great country, from coast to coast and back, on our quest to see as many shows as was humanly possible. And I’ll spare you the details, for the sake of sparing my political future, so you’ll just have to believe me when I tell you we had the time of our lives. 

Already, the Mick couldn’t help but bristle at this, what was obviously revisionist history. Hank had gabbed incessantly about his Glory Days following the Grateful Dead. Like he himself was playing in the band. These were his war stories. Slanging grilled cheese sandwiches for gas money, rolling around a haystack with the farmer’s daughter, fixing a flat in a white-out blizzard on I-69 (his Vietnam). 

For a few years there I just went Kerouac on everyone’s ass, he’d reflected once, wistfully. Like any half-decent story, a fixture of these psychedelic parables was the comic relief, Larry Mockingbird. And it was laughter at his expense, in case there was any confusion. Recall: Moffett, Mary Ellen. Misadventures with the opposite sex aside, Larry was your classic Touch Head, or an In-the-Darker, which are just two ways of saying he was a phony, a pouser, a tinhorn, a Johnny-come-lately. (Or rather a Larry-come-too-early, as was oft-rumoured in various concentric social circles. Well, it beats the alternative, as Russ argued in a rare and telling defence of his nemesis, Lawrence.) Accusations not to be taken lightly, for If there were one thing a TrueBlue Deadhead could not abide, it was the misappropriation of their culture. 

On the low down, Larry was always more into that yacht rock, adult contemporary sound, Hank said. You know, Doobie Brothers, Steely Dan… blue-eyed soul and all that jazz fusion horse crap. He only tagged along with us to shows to chase skirts, not that he had hardly any luck at that. Give him credit for trying though. That was one thing you had to begrudgingly admire about Larry … he always went where the getting was good. I mean, you try getting laid at a Christopher Cross concert. 

But don’t you be fooled by any of that foolishness, Hank would warn the Mick. When you got between Larry and something he wanted, he could be meaner than a badger. A sow, on her period. For a fact, the most dangerous place in the Metro Area was anywhere between Mayor Mockingbird and a camera, once said one of his most trusted aides turned most fiercest political rival. Yea, he had the banjo, the big words. But when the chips are down? Well, you would do good to forget all that quirky bullshit, lickety split. Make no mistake. Mockingbird was a cold-blooded killer. He would cut your arm off to carry the Seventh District. Sell his own mother into white sex slavery. He’d do it. In a heartbeat.  

The Mayor continued … 

As for the man of the hour, let’s toast, to Hank. [Collective raising of glasses.] If I could be so bold as to try to describe him, I would say, here was a man for his place and time. You know, there’s this word that I love, and the word is Topophilia. Topophilia means love of place. More than anyone I ever knew, Hank had Topophilia.  

Sounds like an STD, the Mick thought. In which case, Hank probably did have it. 

A love of place. [Rehearsed contemplative pause.] Loving something means being willing to sacrifice for it. And we all make sacrifices. Though there are some who sacrifice all — the brave men and women of our armed services, ... and if any of you are here today, I’d like to personally buy you a beer. First responders, too. [Drunken hollers.] I think we all would. [U-S-A, aborted chant.] But, we all have to make sacrifices. When I think back on my life, I’m proud to have worked for the Federal Government as a citizen contractor, and here for the City Government as a civil servant. Still, I can’t think of a time when I’ve had to sacrifice more than when I was an entrepreneur. 

Here I am in a room full of entrepreneurs, and I’m seeing a lot of nodding heads. You’ve all spent the endless days that turn into sleepless nights. You know that to build something for your community. To create jobs that provide for families. To serve your customer in the marketplace. That, my friends, requires a sacrifice that is truly uncommon. 

Oh my god, this is taking forever, Grace thought. Julie was giving her all the signals … She was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice. Lay it all on the line. Grace needed an exit strategy to get them out of this bar and back to her apartment, pronto. She had never gotten with a metal chick before. Jam bands were her scene, which made her a strong culture fit at the Newfy. Preferably they could beat her roommates back from their hike, Grace thought. She had a feeling this could get loud.

But then this asshole, who Grace did not recognize from Adam — she did not care for politics or keep abreast of political issues — was making a speech for some fucking reason … And these nerds were standing around all quiet blocking the way out of the booth. That he made allusions to the Grateful Dead had not charmed Grace in the slightest, even as a jam band fan herself. Most fans of the contemporary set — Phish, to a lesser extent Cheese, WSP, etc. — at the very least revered the Dead as the spiritual and artistic vanguards of the genre, such as it was. By contrast, there was a reactionary faction of hardliner Deadheads that dismissed the new school as derivative and shallow. Most of the younger generation were willing to overlook this minority resentment, but a defiant few, Grace among them, returned the favor and resented the Grateful Dead right back. Them and their Baby Boomer, Greatest Generation-ass fans could pound sand. 

Fuck’s sake, here he goes again … 

And I’ll tell you one quick story to that effect. One of our startup war stories, so to speak. When we were just getting going, before we sold our first pint, I called every wholesaler within a hundred miles, every direction. Every last one of them said, no thanks. So not only were we working seven days a week, fourteen hours a day to get our fledgling excuse for a beer business off the ground, but unbeknownst to us, we were simultaneously entering the highly competitive business of beverage distribution. Of course we didn’t have a truck with temperature control. We didn’t even have cars! We had both driven company leases to the jobs we got laid off from before starting the Newfy! 

So, Hank had an on-again-off-again girlfriend who had this busted-up old station wagon. This hunk was a beater’s beater — chipping orange paint job, accented with the wood paneling, lawn mower engine, had to be rolling started. And let me tell you before my administration got to work on the pothole problem afflicting our great roadways, driving that thing was like navigating the Titanic through the North Atlantic. But … buut, when you removed the back seat it could fit six kegs standing up on end. And that was all we needed. On good days we’d even have one riding shotgun, strapped into the passenger seatbelt. 

I can’t recall the girlfriend’s name, it’s been so long … 

(Liar … he fucking remembered.)

… But bless her heart, because somehow Hank convinced her to sell us that jalopy for a song. And I’ll tell you what else, we rode her till she bucked us. Driving to and fro to every dive bar, liquor store, VFW, pool hall, bowling alley. You name it. 

When we were through with it, or I should probably say when it was through with us, that car had more than two hundred thousand miles on it, which some of you know to be about the distance from here to the moon. We thought that was kismet, given our previous careers. As was alluded, many of you know that Hank and I were co-workers before we became co-founders. We spent a combined thirty years at Cavness-Baumann. And then the Space Race ended and the party was over. Here we were, a couple of down-and-out rocket scientists without a clue. 

Again, Hank would have strenuously objected to the Mayor’s accounting of their personal histories. One, not that it mattered, but Hank had worked twenty of those thirty years to Larry’s ten. Second, the term rocket scientist had been applied quite loosely indeed. Larry was a project manager, meaning his job was to hem and haw at the real rocket scientists until they got through with whatever it was he so urgently wanted. 

Hank was one of those quote-unquote rocket scientists, but even he wouldn’t be comfortable with that exact phrasing. Not the title as he understood it implied — guys that work on spaceships. It was true Cavness-Baumann had some NASA contracts, but those guys working on the shuttle program were the real hard cases. They had them boys locked away in a bunker somewhere, doing long division for the rest of their lives. Engineering a quarter-inch rubber gasket that made it onto a rocket booster would count as a career achievement. Unless those rubber gaskets weren’t adequately temperature tested and it was colder than usual on launch day. 

As for them two getting shitcanned when the Space Race ended, again, Larry was half right. The silent starter pistol for the Space Race was the Cold War, and the falling Berlin Wall its finish line. That was the real reason for the contraction of their industry — Aerospace, and Defense. Hank was more of a rocket scientist in the latter sense. Hellcat, Thunderstick, The Penetrator. These were missiles. (Although Hank always thought they sounded like sex toys, especially that last one.) All types — surface-to-air, air-to-surface, air-to-air, submarine-launched cruise missiles, ICBMs, antitank, antiship, assault, tactical. You name it. Yes, they made the rockets that blew up on purpose. Albeit quite often a safe distance from their strategic targets, at the expense of untold collateral damage and civilian casualties. 

If he did work on an aerospace application, it was almost always space-to-earth, as in satellites. Quite often as they applied to missile defense systems, CB’s second most profitable product line to the missiles themselves. Some bad faith critics would construe that to be a conflict of interest. More generously it could be interpreted as vertical integration. 

Other times though it was straight telecom — zapping hundreds of tv channels to a dish on your roof, or pinging that cellular phone in your pants pocket, holstered there atop your pelvic girdle, and by extension your reproductive organs, all throughout the day and the night. 

Privately, Hank was ashamed of what he’d done for Cavness-Baumann. (Would ashamed be the right characterization? Rather, conflicted? Let’s go with conflicted.) He could admit it to himself, and maybe that was more than most, but he wouldn’t go so far as to say so out loud. No, he had trained evasive maneuvers for whenever his previous life’s work came up in polite conversation. For his part, Larry did not share a mutual feeling of contrition. Factually, it was his idea to go with the whole Space Theme when they started out — the brand name being a reference to then-Senator Kennedy’s famous DNC speech, accepting the nomination at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum in ‘Sixty, the rocket tap handles, etc. Since he couldn’t contribute around the brewhouse in any useful capacity, Larry appointed himself the strategic marketing and brand manager. Said rocket scientists-turned-brewers was a compelling founder story. When he sold his shares shortly thereafter, Hank thought about changing the name to something that didn’t remind him of how he personally made the world a worse place, but it was already screen-printed on so much stuff. Glassware, coasters, stickers, t-shirts, the big sign out front. 

Then Hank and I had this crazy idea. What if there was a third place? There’s the home, the workplace, and then what. For many that third place is a church or a temple or some other house of worship, but neither Hank nor I were regular parishioners. More spiritual — in the grand, cosmic sense — than religious. Besides, I don’t know that any congregation would take a pair of tramps like us. 

[Polite laughter, dissipating now quite noticeably.]  

A Third Place. Whither to be among family and friends. Or perhaps to meet new family and new friends. A place for love and fellowship. For community. A place for thinking about the future. 

###

That morning in the handicap stall of the ladies' restroom Kitty took a pregnancy test. I wonder how many girls have pee’d on one of these plastic indicator wands in a bar bathroom, she wondered before stopping herself. She just hated to be judgmental, of herself or others. Beside, it’s not like this baby, if there even was one, was conceived in said stall. Not that it would have made you a bad person. Although couldn’t we all agree though that it wasn’t especially hygienic or considerate of your fellow pub goers. Unless maybe they were into that sort of thing?

All empathy for exhibitionism aside, she would have preferred to take the home pregnancy test at her home. Unfortunately those quarters were somewhat cramped. She felt fractionally better about using the public toilet with the F-word graffitied right there on the door, than she would have, smuggling the soiled applicator stick out of the house in an old hamburger bag.  Either which way she wasn’t ready to tell Mick, whatever the result. And she felt really bad about that. Blend that bad feeling together with what she perceived to be morning sickness, and it had been an all-around crummy day so far. 

She even felt bad about feeling bad. By any reasonable metric, this was supposed to have been unequivocally the best year of her life. Starting a new job at what was considered to be one of the most innovative middle schools in the country. Sure the pay still wasn’t stellar, but it was commensurate with her experience, which was much more than she could say about her last gig. Getting hitched, to the love of her life. That also happened in a bar … this bar … but that was on purpose. Exchanging vows right there beneath the altar of Bertha the bison head. It was a beautiful ceremony, and a damn sight shorter than any nuptials you’d have witnessed in a house of worship. Only thing missing was the officiant. 

Now she was about to find out whether she was about to start a family with that man whom she loved like the sun would shine forever. The most joyous news of her life, it would be — all she ever wanted and more. And yet she couldn’t commit to telling him, the way she had always told him everything else, one way or t’other. Kitty wasn’t the secret-keeping type.

So she tried in vain to occupy her mind, first by grading five-paragraph essays, now by helping the bar replenish for the onslaught of orders sure to be inbound whenever Mayor Peckerwood was through delivering his speech. As for what he was saying, she wasn’t but half listening. 

We spent a lot of time in bars in those days, which we chalked up to our competitive advantage. But this wouldn’t be just another bar. We would brew our own beer! In that way we’d be self-sufficient. Cultivators of our own garden. A company of yeomen craftsmen. Crafting eccentric beer for eccentric people. Truly progressive ales that pushed the boundaries of expectations of style and flavor profile. Recipes that made use of local ingredients whenever possible, imparting our own Western American terroir. Simply put, beer that would inspire a stronger sense of topophilia in all those who imbibed. 

Beer that would make a promise to them. Challenge them. To be more. 

[Fart noise.]

Here we are, many years later. I look around this room. What do I see? Not only does the promise of the New Frontier endure, but here today there are people from all over this Nation who have risen to meet the challenge we set forth. And it all but brings a tear to my eye. You know something — Hank and I’d use to joke: wouldn’t it be great if this were a place where there could be a group at one table, planning a heist? And then maybe a group over here at another table, planning a revolution? Well I believe that dream came true. Because, in a way, you are all rebels. Freedom fighters, in a Craft Beer Revolution! 

Not what Hank was talking about. However, Larry had made out like a bandit. 

Say it with me now: I am … a craft beer … revolutionary! 

[Silence.]

You folks have taken an idea and made it an industry. I know that if Hank were here, he’d be proud as heck about it. 

If Hank were here he’d be wielding an axe, looking for whatever cord was connected to this funky-ass microphone, the Mick annotated again internally. Short of that he’d have been long gone.

And I can assure you that I am proud to be a part of this network of entrepreneurs, craftsmen and craftswomen! [Whoos.] Everyday, I’m inspired by the example you set. As such, in the Mayor’s office I’ve worked tirelessly to transform our city into an Incubator for Innovation, and not just in beer. We are a category-agnostic accelerator — across sustainable energy, natural foods, technology and telecommunications, health and biotech and aerospace and defense. 

The results speak for themselves. Our aggressive corporate relocation recruiting efforts and competitive tax incentive packages have attracted major companies to move their headquarters to this great city. Companies like Morningstar Petroleum, which has committed to creating hundreds of new, high-paying jobs right here in the Metro Area. Morningstar is making sure the world meets its energy needs, responsibly. They’re leading the charge to produce new technologies that reduce emissions. They’re creating more efficient fuels. Now they’re doing it all from a state-of-the-art, multi-million-dollar campus right here in our Seventh District!

That’s because the companies that do business here are a lot like the people that live here. They are engaged members of our community. Perhaps there’s no better example than one of your craft brewing brethren, #x_brüing (pronounced, X [space] Brewing … the hashtag and umlaut were silent and superfluous). Through the One Percent for the Planet initiative, #x_brüing has dutifully pledged to donate one percent of its net profit to social good causes, including crucial programs like the Urban Tree Initiative, which works to maintain and grow our city’s majestic Green Spaces. No doubt work that our friend Hank, who loved the outdoors so dearly, would find worthy of our admiration and support. 

Is Jaime Delano here? Where is Jaime? There he is … Let’s hear it for Jaime and all the folks at #x_brüing for all the great work they’re doing. [Applause muffled through ambient professional jealousy.] Not only have Jaime and I become close friends through his participation in these and other civic issues, but perhaps its no surprise that we are both proud Newfer alumni.

One percent, the Mick pshawed. Quite literally, the least they could do, assuming it’s integers we’re talking. He had a whole separate bone to pick with Delano. For one thing, back when they worked together, Jaime (HI-may) was still Jamie (JAY-mee). Motherfucker done iglesia’d up his goddamn name. No matter. The Mick would continue to call him Dandy Jim, by and by. He was three assistant brewers before Grace — Zeke’s predecessor’s predecessor. If Russ were alive, he’d say, Mick, your ABs have about the retention rate of a Spinal Tap drummer. But that reference would be lost on him; he was not familiar with that band. In any case, Dandy Jim would just have to wait until whenever Mayor Mockingbird was through, if they could ever be so lucky. The Mick trafficked in one grudge at a time … 

But it doesn’t stop in the private sector. We’re taking that very same entrepreneurial spirit and applying it to innovation in civil service. First and foremost, is public safety. Thanks to our public-private partnership with the Downtown Renewal and Revitalization Project, we’ve successfully activated our network of SAFE cameras, which enable the brave men and women of our law enforcement to better harness data and artificial intelligence toward protecting and serving our great city. Since the system went online, I am delighted to report that violent crime is down four percent year-over-year. 

An important aside about the SAFE (Surveilling Activity For Evidence) cameras. Among other peacekeeping applications, the devices were perhaps most effectively deployed in tandem with an integrated gunshot detection technology, which utilized acoustic sensors to identify the sound and pinpoint the location of any firearm discharge within an echo radius of several hundred feet. The camera systems were manufactured by a wholly-owned IT solutions subsidiary of Karakuchi, Ltd., the Japanese conglomerate. Although it provided advanced digital solutions to customers across industry sectors, the Karakuchi brand was perhaps best known for its Kuchi Kendo Stick line of vibrating personal massagers, which was widely adopted by the marketplace for the misintended use case as a masturbation aid for women. 

Secondarily is education. My administration has empowered high-achieving schools like Collegiate Academy of Scientific and Technological Excellence as they disrupt the increasingly obsolete model for public education in this country. Last spring they graduated their inaugural senior class. One hundred percent college matriculation rate. Kids of all races and socioeconomic backgrounds. Truly remarkable. In case any of you haven’t had the pleasure to visit the SciTech campus, I would urge you to seek it out. The architecture and interior design are stunning in and of themselves. Really, it’s the coolest school I’ve ever been inside by a long shot. 

As for the existing schools within our network that have perpetually underperformed, under my leadership, we no longer tolerate failure on behalf of our kids. Look no further than right down the road, to West High School. As of just a few weeks ago, our groundbreaking experiment is underway. With generous philanthropic support, we’ve made massive capital infrastructure investment, manifested in dividing the student body into three micro-academies, thus manufacturing more intimate and engaging learning environments, furthermore fostering a more competitive landscape, or dare I say entrepreneurial spirit among the student body. 

Make no mistake … The rest of the country is taking notice of what we’re building here. Assorted national media publications have ranked us the third best city in which to start a small business, the fourth best city to raise a family and a top eleven city for overall quality of life. And for everybody out there with their love lights turned on, according to another reputable ranking, we are the number two city for singles and dating. [Assorted oohs]. 

Get a grip, Zeke, he scolded himself. On this, unequivocally the most important day of his already fledgling career, all Zeke could think about was Grace, with whom he was deeply in love, and quite hopelessly by the looks of things. Like a flesh eating bacteria, love consumed him. From morning, stepping on his first bus of the day, commuting to work … Till night, stepping off his sixth bus of the day, headed for home. 

Really he was having his first office crush, which anyone with experience can tell you is an altogether separate phenomenon from your standard school crush, for some inexplicable reason. But to Zeke, each new infatuation, regardless of from whence it came, was exactly the same — like spring bloomed anew. Indeed, he was a sensitive young man. And because he also filled out a large frame, he was the sort one might call a Gentle Giant. But really wasn’t that moniker misapplied to any big man who wasn’t proportionally brutish? It’s true Zeke did possess an innocent exuberance that endeared him to many, although usually not in that way. Romantically speaking. So on the other side of the coin, his unguarded personabiity could be a double-edged sword, when even a fleeting attraction would be so easily misconstrued for undying devotion. This making His an existence that was at once blissful and torturous.

Far as he knew, Grace was the first gay person he’d ever known. Here it was just his luck to fall head over heels for someone so uniquely unavailable. The amorous feelings were almost totally unspoken; they had hardly uttered more than a few stray words between them — out of paralyzing nervousness on his account, and unconscious indifference, hers. Rather for Zeke, the spark was physical. Something to do with the way she moved about the brewhouse, with undo elegance, exceedingly worthy of her name. Shot putting fifty-pound sacks of malted barley like they were feather pillows, on which for him to dream of her. Shoveling spent grain from the mash tun with the mechanized fluidity of an excavator, razing the planetary core of his soul. Spraying down the kettle as if to extinguish the fire that burned within him for her. Perhaps he was attracted to her competency in the occupation for which he had proven so inept. Who could say? Whatever it was, the suffocating feeling of seeing her with Julie, and also Margot the night prior, had emotionally metastasized into a fist-sized lump, lodged right there in his larynx. Somewhat confusingly, that sensation was a symptom of heartbreak and asthma. 

Both afflicted him chronically. 

Powerless to fight this feeling, Zeke wanted desperately to shake free from the shackles of his woe, and seize this professional opportunity that had fallen into his lap. After all, here was the Mayor, giving an unannounced speech at one of his coordinated events. The possibilities for social media engagement seemed endless. Actually it was the only moderately engaging thing to occur during his short tenure, outside of a heated dispute over Harry Potter-themed pub trivia that de-escalated just shy of magical violence. (The would-be combatants had managed to fire off a couple of rounds of dueling spells: Expelliarmus and Expecto Patronum, respectively.)

He was even peripherally interested in politics and other local issues  —another thing he and Grace lacked in common — and had in fact cast his very first vote in any election for this very elected official. Twenty-some months previous, during his final semester before graduating West High School, Mayor Mockingbird had appeared at a special assembly to announce the aforementioned awarding of a multi-million dollar grant, endowed by the second richest man in the world, at the time. Wasn’t that something, Zeke thought. The money would be allocated to divide West High into three autonomous academies, to be housed within the existing facility. They were: an academy for culture and the arts, an academy for global marketplace and international studies, and an academy for Future Leaders. 

Zeke didn’t have to give much thought unto which category he fell, being that he already had plans to attend City College in the fall, where from he had since taken a sabbatical of indefinite duration. He also didn’t have any opinion on the consternation the decision caused among his classmates and the broader community. In that moment he was more swept away by the spectacle of the thing. The mayor, visiting his school, on behalf of the second richest man in the world — at the time — no less. Alas, the latter could not attend personally. However in his stead, he was kind enough to dispatch one of those really big checks for the photo opp. You mean like Happy Gilmore, Mick would have asked. Zeke didn’t know who that was, so no … he could not be certain. 

In a flash of clarity, Zeke remembered his new touchscreen camera phone. The Mick had issued it to him for work purposes, under the auspices that he could take photos and post them to the internet. But really because Kitty wanted Zeke to have any phone at all, on account of how he took the three buses to-and-from work, even though he only lived the five miles as the crow flew.  In case of there was an emergency. Actually it was the same phone she had given to Mick on his last birthday. Not the same model — that exact one. Mick favored the old Flippy anyway, and he knew Kitty wouldn’t take offense to his regifting, especially if Zeke were on the receiving end. 

Further snapping himself into focus, Zeke trained his digital lens on the Mayor, who any minute now would be arriving at a point … Before I raise one last toast to our old friend, Hank, I have a small announcement I’d like to make here in this place that was so special to us both. Before that though, I want to leave you with an old marketing parable I have cellared away from my days in the beer business. It’s something I share with all my incoming interns, as Charlotte and Schuyler here can surely attest. 

Here the Mayor briefly gesticulated in the direction of the two Larry Youth members whom the Mick saw arrive in his wake. That brief moment of public acknowledgement was one they would not forget as long as they lived. 

It concerns an old brewing outfit by the name of Schpunk Beer. When was the last time you all had a sip of Schpunk? Have any of you even ever tasted Schpunk? Here I am dating myself. Your fathers probably all drank Schpunk. I certainly guzzled more than my fair share of Schpunk as a young man. In any case, there was a time when this company you’ve never heard of, Schpunk Beer, was the third-largest domestic beer producer in the country. Life was good at the Schpunk plant. Until one year, all the corporate bigwigs got together in a boardroom, and some young hot shot came waltzing up with a presentation. He said, you know we’ve done some market testing, and we can change the recipe to cut costs on our ingredients by X percent, whatever it was, and our consumers can’t identify any discernible difference in the taste. 

All the Schpunk VPs looked around at one another and said, well, what are we waiting for? And so they changed the recipe, ever so slightly. Two years go by, and some new slick marketing guy gets back up there in front of the boardroom — by now his predecessor has been promoted for saving the company untold millions — and he makes the exact same pitch. You know we could change the recipe … save X percent …  can’t taste the difference … yada, yada, yada. And all the Schpunk guys say, wow, what a great idea. And they change the recipe again, ever so slightly. 

This cycle repeats itself a handful of times until about a decade goes by, and all of a sudden Schpunk is in the toilet. Chapter Eleven. All those executives are looking around at each other as they’re cleaning out their corner offices, wondering what in the Sam Hell happened here? For Pete’s Sake, they did the market testing … And the tests were accurate. After each time they changed the recipe, and remember they only tweaked it, ever so slightly, the Consumers could not tell a difference in taste. However, what the executives failed to account for, was that all those small compromises compounded on one another. And when you taste-tested the nectar of the gods they started out with, against the backwater dregs it became … You could see the difference from outer space. 

Listen here. 

This is something I tell all my old friends, and I’ll tell you now. In the history of this great country, we are the first generation that is in danger of leaving less to our kids and our grandkids than we had. Take a moment and let that sink in … It’s true. And we are taking losses across the board. The economy, our education system, the environment. Bottom line: in the so-called land of opportunity, the next generation is heading toward a future with less of It. I look around the faces here and I can tell that scares the hell out of you just like it scares the hell out of me. I know you don’t want less. I can promise you I don’t want less. And we can be damned sure that our old pal Hank wouldn’t put up with less. 

No-no-no. We want more. More for our future. More for our kids’ future and their kids’ future. We want more economic development. More education. More environmental conservation. More public safety. And we don't just want more … We need more … We demand more … And no matter what the cost … … … We will sacrifice for more!

As the gathered crowd roared, Mick looked up to the wall at Bertha, then down to the bar at Kitty who met his gaze intently. 

So I put it to you, let’s make a choice, together, right now … to invest in our future. And make no mistake, it’s up to us right here in this room. The leaders. The disruptors. The innovators. The builders. The dreamers. The crazy ones. Those who will show up. Do the work. Folks who get things done.  

Now allow me to put my money where my mouth is. It is my great privilege, in honor of my friend Hank and the dream we all together made come true, to declare my candidacy for the governorship of this great state. 

Welcome to Day One … starting right here and now, we all take more! Thank you all! 

As the Mayor again stuck both hands to the sky, a small passel of balloons fell from the ceiling. Where in the smoking hell did those come from, the Mick wondered, feeling bamboozled.. Right on cue, the band started back in on what figured to be the official campaign song. Out of a career that spanned decades and thousands of hours of recordings, for the Grateful Dead, this was their only ever single to crack the top-one hundred charts. Their one hit. How about that?

Sorry that you feel that way

The only thing there is to say

Every silver lining's got a

Touch of gray

[Groovy standup bassline] 

The Mayor resumed shaking every hand within a wingspan radius, retracing his steps on his way back out the door, his campaign already rolling with the popular momentum of a runaway train. Zeke was holding his camera phone behind the news cameraman, demonstrating the cinematographic instincts to piggyback off his pro lighting rig and better capture the moment. Grace meanwhile was stuck in a moment she wished she could escape. Margot had arrived unexpectedly and had sat right back down in the booth on the other side of Grace from Julie. There she sat betwixt them, awaiting their inevitable discovery of her romantic indiscretion. Kitty was situated behind the bar, still awaiting the oncoming rush. She was wearing her same back-to-school ensemble, accessorized for the fall season with a denim jacket she’d had since she was herself a student. How had Hank’s sort-of funeral been highjacked by a popup campaign rally, she wondered, not that he’d have minded much — whatever animus he felt toward the Mayor. I know I like to take the piss at Larry, he confided in Kitty one Wednesday, getting late, but I want you to know that I truly do hate the man. And it’s a rotten hatred too. It scares me how I could hate another person so completely. Frankly I’m ashamed of it. 

One of the preppy minions — the puggish female page — reached across the bartop and handed her an envelope. The underside was a form for making a donation. In the box marked required, you had to fill out your Name (First and Last), Address, Occupation and Employer. And credit card number and expiration date if that was your preferred form of contribution. The envelope itself was for depositing checks, or better yet cold hard cash. Kitty flipped it over. In the corner there was a little rectangular outline for postage, and then the logo. A shooting star underlining the slogan: More for Mockingbird.

The Mick drop-kicked a balloon away half-assedly as he watched the Mayor make his grand exit. Dandy Jim had joined the party. They were standing back by the front door, waving back at the adoring mass. The news anchor remained in the foreground, producing a microphone and talking into the camera. The sheriff’s deputy was in the shot, chewing gum with purposeful rigor. Off to the side, the representative from Morningstar Petroleum was chatting up an as-yet unidentified woman in a wax canvas barn coat with a corduroy collar, worn over a black turtleneck sweater. The Mick knew he recognized her too, but from where, he couldn’t immediately place. Wait, now he got it.

Well I’ll be damned, he said, out loud this time to no one in particular. 

There goes Hildy Wolff.

#novls of tumblr #merry christmas #happy holidays

[strawhatboy]

Hi Gab,

I’m doing good actually I finished my work deadlines but sadly got three more sprung on me lol (the adult life and a nice early christmas present sjsjsj), I also went to a christmas market that opened up in my city which was really nice to see.

Oh no, good luck on your finals!! The pain of studying, but wishing you the best for them! Yes, the colours, lights and general vibes of Christmas is so nice 🥺 I love Christmas! I really like the food, the little markets, the fairs and how people come together. Also every Christmas they have a ice-skating rink in my city which I love going to (even though I fall a lot sksksk) and they have this big winter wonderland fair in London, which I go to every Christmas. There’s so much to do, and I really like taking part in the festivities, it’s so fun! Aw, you’re too kind 🥺

Yeah, it was the perfect pandemic album, it really got me through it. There was so much great music from her, I can’t believe she released folklore and evermore back to back-her mind. Those are nice tracks! :)

Yeah, I definitely will start it once I get the time it’s still so popular and it looks enjoyable 🥺🥺 It being long is why I haven’t been able to start it yet. That and the schedule, but once I’m able to start watching it I’ll definitely let you know what I think!

Ohh happy colours 👀 pastel and bright colours are nice I’m also a fan of blue, red, pink!

My next question: do you generally prefer protagonists or antagonists?

ice-skating sounds so fun!! where i live, christmas is in the summer so it's always hot and raining at that time of year and even in winter, when temperatures drop considerably, it's still impossible to see snow 😔

answering your quesion:

well, it depends. i love bad guys, dabi, zuko and akaza are some of my all time favorite characters but for the most part, i still prefer the good guys. no, wait, it's actually more complex than that. I love protagonists as long as they aren't too perfect and antagonists without reason for being the way they are don't catch my attention either.

I think my favorite characters are the well-written ones yk, regardless of what role they play in the story. but most writers develop their protagonists better, so...

how about you?

have a great week 💖

#is zuko still considered an antagonist? i mean he invented the redemption arc #i hope you like one piece hehe i feel so unsure about recommending it to people #so far i got (1) mutual into it and not sure if they like it or not #YES EVERMORE IS ALSO A GREAT ALBUM sometimes I forget about it dksdhsd #thanks for the ask! #sometimes i feel like I talk a LOT and english is not my first language so i apologize if sometimes I don't make sense dshdshd #secret santa

[m3dardas]

WHISKEY SOUR.

modern!violet x fem!reader

warnings: mild angst, dejected vi, friends to lovers? (idk lmao).

blurb: you present your favorite regular with an offer she just cannot refuse — hopefully she doesn’t refuse.

authors note: i literally can’t get modern vi out of my mind. i’m obsessed w her. this wasn’t intentionally the direction for this, BUT I WENT FOR IT and it might be multiple parts bc i want smut lol. also i kinda hate writing in third person, but i certainly tried :D

mini series: part one, part two, part three, part four

Between the two cities that majorly differed each other, sat the Whiskey Lantern. A bar that gathered lots of traction from both cities — bringing two different types of people together for a good ‘ole drink. And, maybe, even a laugh. It was the mediator between the Piltovian’s and Zaunite’s. Sure, fights and arguments still occurred, but it wasn’t as frequent as people would believe. After all, a bar’s a bar. There’s going to be fights.

It’s popularity was good for business, as much as it was for you individually. When the richer customers gradually became intoxicated, it was easy for you to mooch some extra cash out of them. You were native to Zaun — it was simply second nature. But it was all in good fun. You were one of the few gifted bartenders.

You truly had a knack for it. With efficiency and precision, you managed to woo the consumers — which earned you regulars and recommendations. People would come into the bar, simply asking for you specifically. It could’ve been your beauty, gift of gab, or the obvious talent you had for making drinks. You didn’t care as long as you had gotten the money you deserved.

Tonight, it was just you and another girl — her name was Elora. She had flustered energy when things would get hectic at the bar top, but she wasn’t too prideful to not ask for help. Easily, she was given grace because, after all, this was her second job. Elora was an assistant to a secretary of Piltover, but it wasn’t paying as much as she’d hoped. She didn’t work as often as you, but she managed quite nicely. And she was quick learner, which was a breath of fresh air for you.

The atmosphere of the bar was a little busy, but not unbearably busy. Elora took to one side of the bar, and you did the other side.

You poured the ingredients into the shaker, listening to the live music that played on the platform many feet away from you. Carrying out the orders you’d taken, as quickly as possible. You weren’t the type to leave people waiting — and you also preferred to make solid drinks. So, you had to be quick and accurate.

Humming along to the rehearsed tune playing, you poured the drink into a short glass. Garnishing it with mint leaves and a thinly sliced lime. “Here ‘ya go, sir!” You announced, loudly enough to be heard over the loud instruments being played. He took it, taking a sip of the mojito as soon as it was placed into his fingers. He nodded at you, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two twenty’s, smacking them on the bar top. “Oh, no- you already have an open tab.” Her waved his hand, pushing the bills towards you. “It’s fine! You deserve a forty for this masterpiece!” With that he took his drink walking away from the bar.

Gotta love Piltovian’s.

Shamelessly, you slide the bills into your fingers, tucking it into the back pockets of your shorts. You snickered, taking the damp towel off of your shoulder. Working in sticky areas was never your forte, so you tried to clean as much as could. You wiped down some of the leaky bottles and tried to clean some of the extra glasses. The music entrancing you as you kept your workspace tidy and ready for the next customer.

“You come here often?”

You looked up at the sound of a familiar voice, a smile slowly rising onto your lips. Tossing the towel into a laundry bin under the bar top, you turned towards the voice. Her longer magenta strands were pulled back with an elastic, her shorter pieces framing her heart-shaped face. An oversized sweatshirt covering the top of her body — hiding the evidence of her strength. “Very funny, Vi.”

Naturally, you leaned your palms on the wood across from her. Violet leaning forward on her elbows, looking up at your taller frame. “I know. I’m hilarious.” She shrugged, shutting her grey eyes briefly. You just snickered, pushing off the bar reaching for the glasses. “You want your usual? Or something different tonight?” You asked, polishing a short glass between your hands.

Violet happened to be one of your regulars — one of favorites. Actually, your only favorite. It wasn’t because of of what she paid you, because frankly, it wasn’t that much. You always discounted her simply for being a friend and not just a customer. And because you’re familiar with her money situation. It was very tight, but you found it endearing that she wanted to come and see you. Sometimes she wouldn’t even buy a drink. She’d just come to talk until closing.

She’d always get a whiskey sour — every time. If not that, then a fireball shot. That was if she was there to really have a good time. Or she was trying to destress and suppress. “The usual... Maybe with a fireball shot on the side?” Violet batted her thick eyelashes, a slight curl at the edges of her lips.

“That kinda night, huh?” You raised an eyebrow, immediately getting to work. Eyes flickering from the pending drink in your hands, and the girl tiredly leaning against the bar. She nodded, tapping her fingers against the sticky wood. “Well, a whiskey sour and a fireball coming right up... Make that two fireballs.” You hummed, shaking the mixture over your shoulder.

Her smokey eyes lit up, looking at the girl behind the bar. “Woah, I never asked for two shots.”

“Yeah, because one’s for me.” The corner of your lips curled, glancing at her with amused eyes.

“You’re allowed to drink on the job?” Vi inquired, wearily. Her bottom lip going between her teeth.

It wasn’t that you were technically allowed, but it was always a rule to engage with your customers. As long as you didn’t get drunk, it shouldn’t be much of a problem. “As long as I don’t get drunk, I’ll be fine.” You informed, pouring the mixed alcohol into the short glass that harbored a block of ice. You garnished the drink, placing it in front of her with a skinny straw. “I would just hate to be the reason behind you getting fired.”

“Vi, seriously, don’t worry about it. If I get drunk off my ass on the job — it’s my fault, not yours.” You placed two fireball shots in front of her, giving her a humored gaze. Violet takes a sip of the whiskey sour, pushing it to the side to grab the shot glass. You take it between your fingers as well, winking at the pinkette. The two of you clink the glass, just before downing the intoxicating substance. You coughed lightly, pulling an ugly face. “Whew.” You breathed, placing a hand your chest.

Violet exhales, slamming the glass back onto the wooden bar top. You remove the glasses, placing them in the rapid cleaner. “Now, tell me... Why the long face?”

She inhales, sipping her whiskey sour slowly. A look of dejection appearing in her smokey eyes. Your own soften, leaning on the counter, getting closer to the young woman. “Why the long face? Heh, I wouldn’t wanna take up your time.” Vi dryly chuckles, shaking her head and avoiding eye contact.

“You wouldn’t be taking up anything, because I asked you.” She looked up, pushing the stray pieces of hair back behind her pierced ear. “Ugh, I got laid off, okay?”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,”

“I’m sorry, Vi. That really sucks.” You furrowed your eyebrows, biting the skin of your lip. “Is there anything that I can do?”

Violet shook her head, taking a big gulp of the whiskey from the glass. You and her had only really talked during your shift — well, you were always working. And if not working, then sleeping. Working late nights at a bar really tired you out.

What you knew of her, is that she did competitive boxing. It wasn’t as lucrative to begin with, because she didn’t have much promotion. Her trainer was a family member, and she just didn’t want to let him go. It wasn’t your place to advise her that she should have, but... She probably should have. “If I don’t get a job in the next two months... I’m probably gonna be evicted. But, hey, no worries.”

“I think I need another shot...” Vi downed the rest of the whiskey sour, tapping her fingers on the bar top. You chuckled halfheartedly, removing the glass and beginning to make another fireball shot.

While making the easy shot drink, you couldn’t help but think. Maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad if she lived with you for awhile. Until she got back on her feet, at least. Sliding the filled shot glass towards her, you shuffled on your feet. Leaning your forearms against the sticky edge of the wood, your eyes intently looked into hers. Violet didn’t pay much attention, too busy on downing her second shot.

“Why don’t you... Come and stay with me for awhile? Until you can get another job and get back on your feet.”

Again, the two of you haven’t hung out beside during your shift, and after hers. Her grey eyes bulged, instantly causing her to choke on the alcohol. She coughed roughly, struggling to take a breath. You immediately poured her some water, placing it in front of her. Reaching your hand across the bar top to rub and pat at her back. “Sorry...” You mumbled.

She took the glass, drinking the water like her life depended on it — which it nearly did. After gaining a higher oxygen percentage, she looked up at you. Her face flushed as red as a tomato — probably from the choking. “Like...” Violet cleared her throat. “Move in with you?”

Your lip fell between your teeth, shrugging. “Yeah. I mean you could save more money — find a job. I’m not gonna charge you for rent.” It was pretty generous to give her a free stay. But why would you have her live with you to save, but she’s giving you rent money every month. Sure, you work a lot, but it ensures that you can pay your bills. You really don’t need the extra help.

“I can’t do that... I don’t know... Are you sure?”

Despite her stunning good looks, muscular capacity, and way with her words — she was very doubtful in leaning on others for help. She almost refused to do so. But, if you had to knock her out and pack all of her stuff for her to move in with you... You would. However, that would be kidnapping, and that’s illegal. “Why wouldn’t I be sure? You’re my friend, Vi. I can’t have you sitting out in the streets jiggling a cup for spare change.”

Vi snorted, sipping the cool water some more. The only flushed parts of her face were her freckled cheeks. “Look, you don’t have to answer now. Just think about it, and let me know.” You walked over a few seats beside her, to grab two empty glasses at the edge of the counter. “This offer isn’t temporary.” You walked passed her, placing the dirty glasses into the rapid cleaner.

A wedge of silence was placed between the two of you. Elora had called you over to help with a drink she hasn’t learn to make yet. While you assisted her, you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder. Violet was in thought, playing with the rim of her glass. Once you were done, you approached the pinkette again. Her hand was digging into her pocket for her cash.

“Woah, woah — hey, don’t worry about it. Those were on the house.”

“I can pay for it.” She still dug into her pocket.

“Well, it’s on the house. Unless, you want to give me a generous tip — which I’m totally not asking for!”

Violet giggled, pulling out a twenty and slapping onto the bar top. “Thanks, y/n.” Delivering a tight lipped smile. You took the twenty, pocketing it into you shorts. The pinkette stood up, revealing the sports shorts she was in. “No problem, seriously. And, do me a favor... Really think about my offer, because I want you to take it.”

She only nodded, before placing a pair of headphones into her ears as she exited the bar.

#arcane vi x reader #vi arcane #vi arcane league of legends #vi x reader #part one

[feelin-woozy]

Title: With Teeth

Word Count: 1,808

Pairing: Bo Sinclair / Reader

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader

[ Ao3 Link | Next ]

1977

You were a stubborn child. If there was trouble to be found, it was probable that you had a hand in either creating it or seeking it out. Bo Sinclair wasn’t an exception to this. Bo was the kind of child that parents ushered their young away from, voices dropping to a quiet hush as they told them, ‘no, you can’t play with him.’ The warnings never stopped you.

You never really knew why, only ever hearing fragments of conversations of adults around you. They spoke with contempt dripping from each word as they detailed how he was trouble, how he would be a bad influence, and why couldn’t he be more like his brother? But you didn’t mind. You liked trouble, and besides, you weren’t afraid of Bo like all the other kids were. Even with all his jagged edges and mean looks, you didn’t know any better because to you, he was just Bo.

Even when he pushed you to the ground, blue eyes shining with that mean look and something you think was amusement as your own eyes welled with tears and your freshly scraped knees stung. You weren’t afraid. You didn’t stop playing with him even when he stuck gum in your hair, and your mother had to cut it out. But you remember her scolding you, speaking in that same voice you heard other adults speak in, telling you that ‘There’s something wicked about that boy.’

For every time he pushed you down, there would be a time that you stuck your foot out as he ran by. While those mean blue eyes never glistened with tears, the shock was apparent as he dusted the dirt off himself and pulled himself together. And then there was the time you put glue on his seat during class. No one knew it was you, but Bo never put gum in your hair again after that.

1986

Things didn’t change all that much as you got older. Bo was still a boy with jagged edges that, if you weren’t careful with, they’d cut you to the bone. But he didn’t push you to the ground anymore or try to stick gum in your hair like when you were kids. It didn’t mean that he was any less aggressive than when you were kids; if anything, it has crossed the threshold from aggressive to violent. It wasn’t directed at you anymore though, it had shifted to those around you. After all, you were the only one not afraid to clean the drying blood that caked his freshly split lip or to tend to purples and greens that would bloom over knuckles. Save for his brothers, but even then, sometimes they didn’t fare so well either.

A warm breeze rustles the trees as rays of sunshine peek through the thick canopy of leaves overhead. The July heat was unrelenting. It didn’t matter where you were in Ambrose; you always felt like you were melting. Still, Bo didn’t forgo his long sleeve button down. You didn’t blame him, nor did you comment on it. Some things were just better left unsaid. At least away from the town and deep in the forest, the two of you could forget about what happened within the sleepy town, even for half a day.

Bo winces as you dab gently at the wound on his lip, but he doesn’t draw back or pitch a fit. He sits there in silence, watching you carefully as if expecting you to salt the wound. You don’t. You know better than to make a scene of this. This, whatever this was, was a part of Bo, and you had come to accept that. Though you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about leaning in and pressing your lips to his, trying to chase the thoughts of what he might taste like. You quickly shake the thought away, it was unwise to linger on such a thought.

You drawback and toss the rust-stained napkin to the ground before getting to your feet. Bo watches as you move away, moving towards your beat up school bag where you grab two beers. Beads of icy sweat drip down from the bottle and onto your hands; it’s the only reprieve you have in the hot Louisiana heat.

When you turn to face Bo again, he’s leaning back against the thick tree trunk, shadows dancing over his face. You move towards him, twigs snapping below your step as you hand him the bottles without a word, and he works quickly, using his lighter to open each bottle. The cap flies off with a hiss, joining the other caps that decorate the forest floor. Some from you two and some from other teens who took sanctuary within the forest as well.

“Your pa’s gunna notice one day.” He points out, handing you the bottle before opening his own.

“If he hasn’t noticed already, he deserves to have his beer stolen.” You flash him a lopsided smile as you take a seat next to him before you raise the bottle to your lips and take a sip.

For a moment, things feel okay. As if you hadn’t just been patching him back together, as if the cruel words people threw his way didn’t hang over his head like a dark storm cloud. He pretended they didn’t sting, but you knew that they did. Because even if he wasn’t violent towards you, that didn’t mean you didn’t still fall victim to the darkness that festered within him. Sometimes it was as small as throwing the keys to dad's beat-up truck into the tall grass, leaving you to comb the fields for hours before you’d find them. He spat cruel words at you other times, leaving tears to prickle at your waterline, but you never dared cry like when you were kids.

You still didn’t mind. Your penchant for trouble hadn’t changed, and God, if Bo wasn’t the exact brand of trouble that you craved. He made you feel alive within this sleepy little town; he brought excitement to your days even when it made your mother cry. Perhaps it was naive. You knew now why parents warned their kids of Bo growing up. You could see what they saw; you were stupid, not blind. Still, Bo was just Bo, and sure he had those mean blue eyes and sharp edges, but in the time you had grown, you too had accumulated your own edges. You don’t think it was possible to be friends with Bo without being damaged yourself in some form or another.

“Bo?” The name feels heavy in your mouth, as though it was a knife sliding through a priceless piece of art. The dread you felt building in your stomach felt similar.

“Hm?” He doesn’t look at you, just lights a cigarette and passes it over before he lights his own. The action makes guilt bloom alongside the dread, the emotions weaving together to create something ugly that makes bile rise in your throat.

“I have to leave Ambrose.” You take a drag off your cigarette, letting the smoke burn your lungs as the taste of nicotine mixed with bile. You don’t look at him to see his reaction. You can’t bring yourself to. But you feel the way his body stiffens, and you hear the soft sound of the cigarette burning as he takes a drag that burns the cigarette half way.

“Oh.” Is all he says, exhaling the word along with a thick cloud of smoke that billows up and disperses amongst the branches and leaves.

“Dads got a new job in the city.” You explain though you’re not sure why. You don’t know if Bo wants to hear what you have to say or if he’d rather blow his lid over something that was beyond your control. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. If it was him leaving, you’re sure a part of you would wither away. You dare a glance over at him, watching the way his jaw clenches and how he stares off through a break in the trees. “I don’t want to go.”

“Yeah? Then don’t.” A part of him sounds serious, almost hopeful, but it sounds too distant and bitter for you to put any stock into it.

“You know it’s not that easy.” Your hands feel clammy against the chilled bottle in your hand. You take a drink, emptying half the bottle in a few swallows just to distract yourself. To try and fight whatever ugly feelings were clawing at your insides.

“Sure it is, stay with me.” Bo flicks ash off the end of his cigarette before he turns his head just enough to look at you from the corner of his eye. “Ma fuckin’ loves you.”

You can’t help but snort at that, rolling your eyes. “Bo, your mom hates me.”

“Yeah, she does.” Bo chuckles softly, but the mirth is gone as quick as it came, and that distant look rolls over his face again. He gets to his feet, turning to look down at you with an unreadable expression. “But when has that ever stopped you from sneakin’ into my room?”

“I’ll come back, I promise.”

“I wouldn’t bother.” The way he looks at you as those words leave his lips, it makes you feel like a kid again. You stare up at him, and something inside you aches. It hurts worse than the times he caused you to scrape your knees against the dirt roads or the times he kicked you out of his truck and made you walk ten miles back into Ambrose in the pouring rain.

He doesn’t sneer at you, and he doesn’t even yell, just stares at you with that mean look before turning on his heels. You watch him go, watch the way he drains the rest of his beer, and you listen to the sound of twigs breaking beneath his heavy step. When he’s a fair distance away, you watch the way he tosses the bottle hard against a tree. The sound of glass shattering fills the air alongside the sound of birds taking startled flight.

_____

Bo doesn’t see you off when you’re leaving Ambrose. You hadn’t expected him to though, he had been avoiding you since you broke the news to him. It wasn’t as if you could really blame him. It was probably better this way. It was less volatile to cut out the catalyst than to continue to expose yourself to it. Still, you knew that he was around. The boy down the block with shaggy blonde hair was sporting a fresh black eye, and you had heard your mother's hushed whispers as she gabbed with the neighbors about him. But even if you hadn’t been expecting him, it still hurts you never got to say goodbye.

[ Next ]

#House of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005 #Slasher x you #slasher x reader #my writing #the friend who beta'd this said this was some of my bestwork and im emo over that

[fairyoftbz]

Tournesol | Changmin

🌻 pairing: shy florist!changmin x fem!reader (briefs mentions of barista!Jacob & tattoo artist!Kevin) 🌻 genre: fluff, slow-burn, strangers-to-lovers (?) 🌻 word count: 3.1k 🌻 synopsis: you are new in town so you decide to explore a bit of your neighbourhood. You never knew that the flower shop down your street would change your life in a good way.  🌻 requested? : yes, thank you so much! ✨ 🌻 A/N: here comes my first ever post for my first personal project! thank you to the anon who requested this and i hope you’ll like it! constructive feedback is always welcomed in my dms or my asks!  I will write the English translation of the French word I used in that way. PS: If anyone wants to be tagged on my future posts for this project, please let me know !!

Locking the front door of the brand-new apartment you had just moved into, you pulled down your light coat’s sleeve after dropping your keys in your little cross-body bag. You walked down the few flights of stairs that separated you from the entrance hall, quickly checking if you had any mail and walked out the door as it was found empty.

Today was your lucky day because the wind stopped blowing right before you woke up, and the sun decided to show up as you were enjoying your breakfast, making you finish it on the little balcony right outside your living room. You couldn’t ask for a better start of the day, the light mood and warm atmosphere bringing nothing but a huge smile on your face.

You greeted the old lady with a wave and a bow as she was swiping the entrance of the bakery, wishing her a great day as you kept your route.

__

Two weeks ago, as you were moving in, the baker happened to be with her son and some of his friends, and instead of helping her serve the bakery customers, she sent them over to your place as she knew who you were, since you visited her place in a rush the day before. She seemed to have the gift of the gab because she was quick to ask if you were new around the neighbourhood. You remember being surprised by her behaviour and politely answered, but you were glad that you had this conversation with her. You weren’t even halfway through your move that the 4 boys appeared in the entrance hall, offering their help. Feeling a bit suspicious at first, you kindly refused, but when one of them offered you a smile extremely similar to the baker and introduced himself as her son, you finally gave in and accepted their help.  

The amount of time you had planned for your move got reduced by almost three thanks to them. They followed your orders like no one else, and once they were done moving the boxes around the rooms and left, you quickly went to the local convenience store you had spotted at the other street corner and bought 4 bottles and some chocolate for them. You walked by the bakery the following day, and the son happened to work here, replacing his mother while she was at a doctor’s appointment. He was touched by your small gifts, and he made sure to call his friends to come over and get them while you slipped away from the bakery to go to IKEA. Before you got to leave, he advised you to take a few walks around the neighbourhood to get to know your surroundings. You wished you could have followed his advice earlier, but you were busy with moving in and get ready for your interviews that could lead you to potential jobs.

But today was the weekend and you decided to take some time for yourself and follow the advice of the baker's son. It was a beautiful day, and you had planned to make the most of it to get familiar with your neighbourhood.

__

Your area was surprisingly calm to be in the middle of the city, but you weren’t going to complain since it was something you were dying to have: a friendly, quiet neighbourhood. The nice smell of the bakery lingered around you as you walked past the building, following you until you turned at a corner, leading you to a new, unknown street. Some shop windows were beautifully decorated, and you mentally took some notes of the various local shops that could become potentially useful one day. You walked past a china shop, staying for a few seconds to admire the detailed and precise work displayed in the window display. Offering a smile to the young lady inside the store, you walked away and looked around, noticing something that caught your attention on the opposite pavement. You quickly checked as no car drove by and crossed the street, smiling as two shops were the polar opposite of the other. The flower shop in front of you was sweet, it smelt delicate and chic, just like flowers. The walls were covered by some off-white roughcast, adding a soft touch to it.

A few meters away, on the left of the flower shop, was a tattoo parlour. You giggled as you noticed the cliche that emanated from the two places. The parlour was covered in black, with a Gothic, biker style, posters of metal and rock music pasted around the walls, hardcore music blasting from the speakers, completely contrasting with the softness and the sobriety of the flower shop. A tattoo artist appeared behind the counter that was situated next to the window and your eyes widened, trying to quickly count the number of tattoos and piercings that was decorating his body. A single front piece of hair was dyed blond among the other jet-black strands, his warm smile standing out from the rest of his physical appearance.

You turned your head to the side as you focused on the flower shop, its atmosphere suiting you better despite the next-door shop spiking up your interest. You smiled at the yellow Beetle parked in front of it and pushed the door open after a few seconds of consideration, a small bell tingling as it hit the glass door.

The smell of pollen and freshly cut flowers welcomed you in, the intensity of the colours making you slightly dazed. They were all gorgeous, the arrangements giving you an impulsion to buy a bouquet of each flower they had in store, but that would never happen.

“Welcome!” a voice from under the counter greeted you, a man appearing behind it a few seconds later, secateurs in hand. You smiled as you greeted him back, charmed by how similar he was to his store, soft and friendly. He stayed behind the counter, watching you walk around his shop, all of his other activities and tasks were instantly forgotten as soon as you stepped a foot inside his store.

Changmin was amazed by your smile, finding you incredibly beautiful, his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of your admiring smile creeping across your lips. He was dying to talk to you and get to know you, but he knew himself, he was most likely going to make a fool of himself if he ever dared to exchange some words with you. He was already pleasantly surprised that he had managed to welcome you without getting in a muddle or stumbling on his words.

With a slightly shaking hand, he diagonally cut the end of the red roses resting on the counter. He couldn’t help but glance at you, which you didn't notice, luckily for him. However, by paying too much attention to you and your gorgeous smile, he began to cut the stems a little too rapidly and too high, alas once pinching a piece of skin between the pruning blades, making him jump in pain and let go of the gardening tool. Changmin stifled a groan of pain and rushed into the back office, looking for the first aid kit. He hurriedly found a sticking plaster and wrapped it around his cut, pressing on the wound to ease the pain and get back to work as quickly as possible.

As he reappeared in the doorway that separated the back office from the front office, he heard the bell above the door chime again, signalling your departure.

His shoulders subsided and he watched you walk away with a disappointed pout. He sighed in sadness and pushed the roses away, nervousness and guilt fuelling his mind and regrets.

"Shit," he sighed, picking up the wilted petals of a few roses that were littered on the floor, shoving them into the front pocket of his apron. He blamed himself for not having spoken to you to at least know your name. Quickly, Changmin walked around the counter to door, showing the “now-closed” store sign as remorse flooded his veins. He let his feet guide every single one of his moves, now finding himself in the storeroom. He took a pencil and his notebook sticking out of his bag before returning to the counter.

Closing his eyes, he tried to remember your face and began a sketch. He erased a line, then two, then several, feeling the frustration overcome him as the portrait did not correspond to what he had seen a few minutes earlier at all. Changmin had a perfect image of you in his mind, but maybe the stress of forgetting you or his shaking hands prevented him from replicating your gorgeous face on paper.

Completely unaware of what was going on behind those four walls, you kept on walking around the neighbourhood until your feet hurt and decided to go back to your apartment.

__

The next morning you enjoyed the rays of sunlight that your curtains had failed to filter for a few minutes, smiling shyly as you remembered seeing the florist appearing in your dreams. He was here, you recognised his face, but you couldn't hear what he was saying. He sounded extremely sincere and filled with love, but it was probably just your lonely mind playing tricks on you. You decided to get up, a sudden urge for pastry invading your thoughts, your stomach growling at the sudden idea. After dressing appropriately for going out, you walked through your doorstep and walked leisurely to your favourite bakery. The baker was sitting on a chair on the small terrace of her shop, sipping tea with who appeared to be her husband.

"Morning Sir. Ma'am," you bowed, greeting them warmly, the baker hurriedly setting down her tea mug to gently grab your wrist. "Dear, this is the young lady Jacob and his friends helped move in the brick building, around the street corner that I told you about. Remember that?" she explained to her husband, who took the time to swallow his sip while nodding. "Ah, the bottle of wine and the chocolate," he says looking at you and you smiled, as it was your turn to nod. "That's right," you stated, holding out your hand for him to squeeze, which he did delicately. “Thanks again,” you told them, and the baker waved her hand in front of her face, a genuine smile on her face. "Oh please, don’t worry about it, it's okay," she declared, and you thanked them again before entering their bakery. Jacob was behind the counter chatting with an old lady who seemed to waylay him. He noticed you and apologised to her, seeing him sigh before greeting you. Jacob was a sweet man, always ready to help everyone and too nice to say no. Talking and getting to know him was a piece of cake, he was so nice to hang out with and a gem to have around.

"Y/N, hello! What can I get you?" he offered you a beautiful smile, which he got from his mother, noticing another time the striking similarity with the old woman on the terrace. "I'm going to get a baguette and one of those," you say, pointing at a pain au chocolat sprinkled with powdered sugar in the little window that separated you from the young man. He smiled and grabbed a metal clamp, placing the pastry in a paper bag. Typing a few things on the machine, you handed him a banknote and he gave you back the change, along with your pastries. You thanked him and started to leave when a familiar figure stood at a table against the window.

Changmin was quietly drinking his coffee when he heard a conversation start from outside the window. He almost spat out the liquid he had in his mouth when he saw you talking with the owners of the bakery, his eyes widening at the sight of you. He pursed his lips to stifle a smile and continued to drink his coffee, tapping on his phone screen. His heart was hammering harder, faster, in his chest as he tried to keep a low profile, lowering his head in case you were to curiously look around the place. He sighed through gritted teeth when he heard your complicity with Jacob, feeling a touch of jealousy pinching his heart without intending to. Changmin nervously finished his cup of coffee in one sip, the warm liquid burning his throat, not bothering looking up. Stuffing his phone in his jacket pocket, he was ready to go when he saw you still in the store, immediately freezing as his brown eyes met your sparkling ones.

"Hello!" you told him with a smile, waving discreetly with one hand while the other clutched the brown bag against you. He blinked several times, your beauty and kindness bouncing around his skull. He answered you with a brief, serious nod and walked away without even saying goodbye to his friend behind the counter. You watched him leave out the window before turning to Jacob, who was looking at you with a thin smile on his lips. "Did I say something wrong?" you asked him, and he exhaled a laugh through his nose, shaking his head from side to side. "Not at all. Changmin is just a very shy person sometimes," he said, and you nodded, still a bit confused from the florist's behaviour, but you said nothing and walked out of the store after wishing for a good day to Jacob. The latter smiled as you walked in the opposite direction from Changmin, greeting another customer as he understood his friend’s behaviour.

__

A week passed and it was time for you to start your new job. You had used up a good chunk of your last salary to pay for furniture and taxes which you barely remembered the names of, so you needed to have a new entrance of income. You applied to a real estate agency that wasn't far from where you live, as a financial chief director, exactly what you worked at in your previous city. You had to walk past the florist to get to your new workplace, but the florist was the only closed shop on the whole street, which surprised you. You had the opportunity to talk a little more with Jacob, and he had confessed to you that Changmin loved his job and was a flower enthusiast, which confirmed your concern when you didn't see his store open.

A smile grew on your face at the end of the day, when you took the same path as this morning, seeing the shop illuminated. When you had assembled your furniture, you remembered that you wanted to decorate your apartment with more greenery and flowers. Seizing the opportunity that the florist was still open, you pushed open that same door you had walked through a few weeks ago, the same wonderful smell and tinkling bell welcoming you inside.

You noticed a brown chunk of hair behind a large, flowered wall, immediately recognising Changmin's slender figure. You heard him clear his throat as he hummed a tune, arranging a bouquet.

Changmin heard a customer walk into his store and finished his bouquet of sunflowers and red roses before revealing himself, his eyes opening widely as he discovered your innocent smile and your office outfit. The pencil skirt and beige suit you wore made his heart fuzzy with warmth, his mind only filled with how pretty you looked.

“Good evening,” you greeted him, and he nodded, swallowing his saliva before answering you. "Welcome," he said, his husky, uncertain voice melting your heart. He managed to smile, finding dimples growing in the corners of his mouth, he was handsome when he was smiling with reddened ears. "I would like to know if you have any flowers or plants to recommend to decorate my apartment," you clear your throat before telling him your request. "May I ask the colour of your walls?" he asked in a hesitant voice, looking everywhere around the shop except you. "White, cream, and some in greyish tones as well," you explained and he nodded mechanically, looking through his stock.

"I can suggest you some dried pampas grass with cotton stems. It's... quite sober and low maintenance," he walked around the counter and you followed, his hands grabbing a few stems which he gathered under your nose. You liked the harmony of the two plants, you already had an idea where to put these at your place. "I like them a lot, I'll take a bouquet," you stated, and he nodded, giving you a small smile as he walked over to the cash register. He remained motionless for a few seconds, his finger hovering above a key. You saw him take a deep breath before disappearing into the back office, making you frown for an instant.

Changmin reappeared a few seconds later and you looked at him in shock, expecting everything but this. He held out an arrangement of sunflowers and roses in front of you, the warm tones of yellow and red reminding you of the summer warmth.

"It's for you," he said, holding your gaze, the tips of his ears turning a crimson red. You remained a few seconds dumbfounded in front of the bouquet, not knowing what to do. "For me? But in what honour? I don't deserve it," you stated but he insisted with a nod, so you shyly took the bouquet and gave him a big smile, your heart pounding. "That's so sweet, thank you very much," you told him, plunging your nose into the flowers, the scent of the two flowers blending beautifully together. He seemed to be breathing again when he discovered pure happiness in your eyes, giving you a big smile as well.

“You are as radiant as a sunflower, I… I wanted to gift you some,” he confessed, and you were touched by his words. “And the red roses… well, I don't think I should draw you a picture,” his voice trailed, and you were both embarrassed, but you could still feel some connection emerge between you two. Looking at the flowers again, you noticed a small card hanging at the base of the bouquet, and you flipped it to read it.

"A date to celebrate my arrival here?" you asked, surprised he knew this information about you. "Only if you want to, of course. I accidentally overheard your discussion with Mr and Mrs Bae, I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to show you around the city," he scratched the back of his neck, an embarrassed look painted on his face, apprehensive about your reaction. "With great pleasure," he looked up and sighed in relief, making you smile at his behaviour. "Saturday morning in front of the bakery, is that okay with you?" "It's perfect." He smiled while nodding, his brown eyes lingering into yours for seconds that seemed to last forever, but he didn't feel so intimidated anymore.

He almost felt confident, and that only sounded promising for the days to come.

#oui oui baguette project #changmin #ji changmin #the boyz changmin #the boyz ji changmin #changmin imagines #changmin scenarios #ji changmin imagines #ji changmin scenarios #the boyz changmin imagines #the boyz changmin scenarios #the boyz #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fluff #the boyz fluff imagines #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz au #tbz imagines #tbz changmin #tbz q #tbz scenarios #tbz fluff #changmin x reader #tbz ji changmin

[randomingoftherandomness]

I'm loving all of your Old Guard prompt fills! How's this one sound? Nicky's kidnapped. Joe finds him. Thank you!!

I swear, it’s as if you Nonnies are living in my brain and sending me prompts for stuff I have half a daydream of it’s the scariest shit 🥰 

Please keep doing it 👌🏼💖 Hope you enjoy this one x

(if anyone is looking for more of my Immortal Husbands fic, it’s on my blog under #gab writes stuff)

-

Nicky is late and the other patrons of the restaurant are casting him barely disguised looks of pity. Nicky is late and the sorbet he had ordered for him is a puddle of pink in the crystal bowl it came in. But Joe isn’t worried. There could only be one of three reasons why Nicky would be late in the first place.

One, he could be late because right now he is playing a game they’d made up a few centuries ago where the rules don’t matter and the goal was to hunt the other down before sundown. There will never be any forewarning for either party, only a clue. 

“Excuse me,” Joe checks his watch and flags down a nearby waiter. “Were there any messages left for me?”

The waiter, a handsome boy whose eyes flickering on his lips with ill-disguised interest, shakes his head and smiles. “No, sir. Would you like me to clear your table for you?”

“Please.”

He ignores the boy’s blatant showing off of his derriere, pretending he does not pick up on the pout. Best not to tell Nicky of this. Wouldn’t want that handsome face scarred for the rest of his very brief life, after all.

Alright, so not Number One. Number Two could be that Nicky forgot their date. But that would be impossible because they’d exchanged a kiss this morning and Nicky had been looking forward to trying out the sorbet at this restaurant after Andy told him it was worth an extra day in this city just to do so.

Which leaves, Reason Number Three.

His phone rings as if on cue. The Called ID says ‘Unknown Caller’.

“Hello?” Joe greets, smiling when he hears the tell-tale click of this call being recorded. Playing along, he glances cursorily on around the dining floor. “Who is this?”

“We have your friend. We want what you took from us,” The voice from the other end says in a metallic cadence. “You have until midnight.”

Joe looks at his watch again. “Put him on. I want to know he’s alright.”

There was a pause on the other end. For a brief moment, Joe wonders why did they feel the need to always have a pause, before the sound of rustling plastic and a rush of breath into the earpiece. “Hello my love,” Joe says, checking his nailbeds. “How many minutes do you need?”

“Five.”

Ah, good. He sounds only slightly pissed off. “Wonderful!” Joe laughs. “I’ll get you some sorbet to go, then.”

The phone exchanges hands again and the voice comes back on. “What was that?” It demands. “What the fuck was that? We have your friend and we will kill him if you don’t do as we say.”

“No.”

That seems to take them aback. “What?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Joe signals for the wait staff and is relieved when someone who is decidedly female comes walking up to his table. “You don’t have him, he has you. I would start running if I were you.” He catches her smile with his own. “Oh, and another thing,” He says, “He’s not my friend and he hates it when you call him that.”

Joe hangs up just as he hears the first screams filter through the line. “Hi, could I have one more of these delicious sorbets to go and the bill too, please?” He ponders the menu for another second. “Maybe make that two sorbets to go. My husband would want a second helping.”

#the old guard #the old guard netflix #the old guard fic #the old guard movie #immortal husbands #Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicolo di Genova #joe x nicky #nicky x joe #yusuf al-kaysani #nicolo di genova #yusuf x nicolo #netflix #fanfiction #prompt fill #gab writes stuff

[autumnslance]

MiqoMarch 2021 Master Post

Collecting prompts for the month and one pink punchy dance cat’s journey through them. I tend to use prompt lists like these to flesh out characters and there’s been a bit more of C’oretta revealed along the way. While only one of these turned into an actual story post, C’oretta had something to say on almost all of them. The few where she gets more serious (”Light”, “Love”) are probably my favorites, but I was also very fond of “Hunt” and “Dark” as those concepts made me giggle and I’m fairly happy with how they turned out.

1. Selfie - C’oretta Khell up close. 2. Job/Class - A bit of history on her jobs and choices. 3. Fave Mount - Rosa the chocobo! 4. Weather - Sunshine and fun go together to C’oretta. 5. Living Space - A violently pink FC room. One of my favorites. 6. Snow - Playing in the wintry weather. 7. Forest - Spooked by the Shroud. 8. Formal - C’oretta’s formal Monk gear, and a dress for fun. 9. Fave Zone - Combo with 11, there’s no place like home! 10. Casual - A relaxing afternoon with a book and some tea. 11. Desert - Combo with 9, exploring Thanalan! 12. Fave Dungeon - C’oretta finds Brayflox’s Longstop pretty. 13. Magic - Gabbing about Arcanima with Aeryn. 14. Food - C’oretta’s all about spices--but sweets are great too! 15. Weapon - Fists and Chakrams are the way to go. 16. Flying - The Round Lanner is SPARKLY y’all! 17. Light - When she goes where you cannot follow. 18. Hunt - A Seeker’s hunting instinct finds an outlet somehow. 19. Gathering - Maybe someday C’oretta will learn a trade. 20. Fave City-State - Ul’dah is always home. 21. Fave Glamour - Picking just one is hard! 22. Stars - Contemplations on impossible distances. 23. Love - Having to do what’s best isn’t easy. Story w/images. 24. Relaxing - Unwinding at the dance club! 25. Fight - Ghimlyt Dark’s all out war. 26. Fave Minion - VIOLET! The “piggy” always at C’oretta’s side. 27. Dark - Gage Acquisition’s resident femroe isn’t to be crossed. 28. Sea - The sea is weird, but the tastiest things come out of it! 29. Fave Color - Meta on why/how the Pink PunchyCat came to be! 30. Friend - Yesuntei is not a ghost. Maybe. 31. Freebie! - Naptime. And done! Thanks for following along!

#Final Fantasy XIV #MiqoMarch #Seeker of the Sun #Monk #Dancer #Baby Behemoth #C'oretta Khell #Violet #Gage Acquisitions #Lyn Meta

[bellasweetwriting]

Memories

Jess Mariano x f.Reader

(not my gif)

masterlist

requests:  “omg please please PLEASE do a jess mariano x reader with the enemies to lovers prompt that says “ive accepted my feelings now accept yours” i can’t remember the number lol but hope that helps!” -- holiwould

“ okay bet. jess mariano x reader except the reader feels like jess is kinda slipping out of control and away from her and she can’t keep fixing his mistakes and they maybe break up or something? idk ab the ending that up to you ” - holiwould

note: this is a mix between the two requests, the song Miss You by Louis Tomlinson, and When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars. If you haven’t heard them listen to them while you read

warnings: yelling, some trauma, most angst, kissing

word count: 2,3k

He was staring at your picture. Your hair was a little bit shorter than it is now. You were wearing this wine tone of lipstick that the employee of Sephora recommended to you. He remembered that time you kissed his cheek as he said goodbye just for him to walk six blocks with your lips marked on his face,

Damn, he missed you.

He missed your laughter, your suggestions for movie nights that always involved either Brad Pitt or Ryan Gosling. So much you loved them, and he knew that; he was jealous of them even.

Could he drink his memories away? Damn it, he needed to erase you from his thoughts. Everything reminded him of you. Every song on the radio was about you. 

His pride, his ego, his arrogance, caused you to walk away from him the moment he needed you the most. 

"Jess!" You exclaimed as he lifted you up and threw you to the pool, jumping next. "Why did you do that?"

You were both staying at Jess's friend's house after a celebration party for your new book, which was just published. You and Jess went outside to the backyard and walked around the swimming pool when he decided it would be funny to throw you to the water. 

After seeing you battle to get to the surface, he jumped too, holding his laughter until his head was above the water, staring at you with a big cocky smile. 

You threw water and him while you took off your favorite shirt since you didn't want the chemicals of the pool to ruin it. You left it by the side of the swimming pool where just a few seconds ago you were standing unaware that you would end up in the water.

Jess glanced at you, not being able to ignore that your shirt was gone and your bra was visible. He smiled foolishly, not being able to help it. 

"Stop looking at me, you horn dog," you exclaimed laughing, as you splashed him, Jess tossing water back at you. "Was this your master plan? To throw me to the pool in the middle of the night and froze me to death just to see my underwear?" He laughed even louder, and you couldn't help to join him, letting out a giggle. "You have no game, Mariano."

"You look just so darn cute when you are mad, Y/N," he said with that tone of his. His deep voice stumbled in your brain as you sat down on the edge of the swimming pool. He swam quickly in your direction, impulsing himself out of the water and sitting next to her. "Did the cold pass?"

"No, I'm just trying a new blue tone in my lips. Does it suit me?" You sarcastically asked as he stretched his arm and grabbed his jean jacket, covering your shoulders with it. "Oh, what a gentleman. Is this your new move, because I'm falling for it. I want you, I need you. Oh, baby, oh, baby." Jess chuckled as you simply rolled your eyes, putting on Jess's jacket correctly. "Aren't you cold, Cry-Baby Walker?" 

"I've been worst. Those cold nights in New York City, only covered by a blanket and the constant screaming of the adults in the room at the end of the hall, were the coldest nights and roughest nights," he murmured before looking at you. You were shooked as you listened to him, but soonly upset when he started laughing. "You sometimes say a joke and never know if it is trauma until you see the look on people's faces."

"Asshole," you mumbled.

"Pretty," he replied, making you look at him. He slowly leaned in until he was close to your lips before whispering next to them, "I know a way to warm up." And with that, he kissed you gently, running his fingers through your wet hair, instantly warming you up.

"Hey, Jess!" Yelled some guy, grabbing the guy's attention.

Suddenly, he wasn't at that swimming pool anymore. He was at the bar again, filled with these stupid friends he made in this new city. If you saw him right now, you wouldn't even recognize him.

He was wearing a leather jacket and some old jeans, with an edition of The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand on his pocket, a book he wasn't able to finish yet. He had in his hands your photograph next to that old vintage restaurant three blocks away from where you work. You described it as that colorful coffee shop with strawberry smoothies and a cute place to read a book or spend time with people you care about.

"Mariano," his friend called him again, appearing with two glasses of beer and sitting next to the writer. "What are you doing crying over here? We are having a party in your honor, man. It is not an everyday thing that your books get a review on the Washington Post, and make it to the Best-Sellers list. What's up with you?"

"Today is her birthday." His friend looked at him, confused. The clock had just marked midnight. "It's her birthday, and I'm in fucking New York City, getting drunk with people I met three weeks ago and staring at a picture that was taken a year ago."

No matter what this strange guy that he calls friend just to lie at himself to hide that he is, in reality, alone would say. He missed you.

"Don't make so much noise, Mariano!" You yelled at him in a whisper, both of you watching their steps as they enter his apartment. "Your neighbors are trying to sleep."

"I feel so sorry for them already," was the reply you got from Jess as he closed the door behind him and started kissing you, leading your way to the couch. "Who could say that I would be making out little Y/N someday?"

"Did you just call me «little Y/N»?" You questioned, laughing between kisses. "Hey, so I was thinking..."

"Think, no talk," he interrupted you as both of you sat on the couch.

"Wait, it is important," you said again, making him give up and listen to you. "Ok, so tomorrow, as you know, is my birthday..."

"What?" Jess exclaimed. "You never told me it was your birthday tomorrow! Now, I'll have to cancel my plans. Wait a sec..."

You looked at him, confused. Plans?

"Jess, I told you tomorrow was my birthday, like five times. With whom did you make plans tomorrow?"

"Wel, Jack, Fred, and Gabs. We were going out to the movies or some. Let me call Fred and tell him."

"Gabs as in Gabriella? Your ex?" He nodded. "You could've told me."

"Why? She's ancient history, and you aren't my girlfriend."

You quickly stood up, making him look over his cellphone to you. You didn't look happy, you seemed really upset.

"What are we doing here, Jess?"

"What do you mean?"

"For how long have we been hooking up? A month? Six weeks?" He knew where this was going. "At what are we playing here?"

"I don't know. You want to be something serious, I don't understand."

"That is precisely the thing I'm talking about, Jess. You never know anything. You never communicate! You have no idea how to express yourself or even how to treat a person that cares about you."

Jess sighed.

"What do you want from me, Y/N, huh?"

"I want you to care for someone at least once, Jess! I want you to remember things like my birthday or my favorite things or the way I like my coffee because you want to remember; because you care about me. We aren't teenagers anymore, Jess! You are grown enough to know that relationships are built by communication."

The writer quickly stood up, ready to discuss. 

"I care about you, Y/N!"

"No, you don't..." she whispered. "You can't even admit that you like me. That what you feel for me is more than making out because of boredom." He looked over to the big window with the view of Philadelphia. "Your birthday is on March 9th. You tend to forget to carry a pencil with you, and surprisingly, you are always in need of one, so I always carry one in my bag. When you meet someone, you stay extremely quiet while they talk and don't even say goodbye to them when you leave, and I've always told you that that is extremely rude, but you don't listen, you change the subject." 

His eyes met yours, and he noticed the tears that were threatening to leave your eyes. 

"You like french toasts," you continued, "but not with your coffee, so I always serve you orange juice when I make them for breakfast. Your eyes shine every time your uncle calls to tell you that he is doing fine because even if you don't admit it, you love him and appreciate him so much. And I remember all of those little details because I care about you, Jess. Hell, call me idiotic and girl for even thinking that maybe... I'm in love with you. But I'm worth more than this, Jess, I am. And if you can't see it, then it is no my problem. I am done trying just to release I am doing it alone. I've accepted my feelings, now accept yours. Bye, Jess."

And with that, you left.

"Then what are you doing here?" The guy asked Jess, dragging him away from his memories.

"What do you mean?" Jess asked.

"You are clearly not over this chick, you don't want to be in this party even though it is kinda in your honor, and it's her birthday. So, just leave. Go get her.

"How would I be certain she'll receive me with open arms?"

"You don't, man, that's the thing about love: you never know what is going to happen until you take the leap of faith."

He was right. He has always been scared of making the big jump. He has always been insecure about if anyone is going to be waiting to catch him. He couldn't keep making the same mistake over and over, he had to accept his feelings.

"I'm gonna go now. Thanks for the party, man."

Jess Mariano has never been more sure about something that what he was about to do. It was absurd. He was going to drive for an hour and a half in the middle of the night to Philadelphia. Yeah, sounded insane, but everything was about taking that leap of faith he was always scared to make.

But as soon as he hit the road, the doubts and questions hit his head like a train. What was he going to do? How would it end?

He was a writer. Every time he had an idea, the next thing that he knew was how it was going to end. You can't write a story without knowing the ending. But apparently, that was the only way of living it.

While he was driving to Philadelphia, you were sitting on your kitchen island, staring at that red velvet cupcake that held your single birthday candle. You were all alone, the same way you were your last birthday. You couldn't believe a year has passed since the last time you saw him.

You read that his book made the best-sellers list of the week. As soon as you read his name, the memories came back, as they have never left, they were just hiding inside a locked box waiting to come out.

Jess Mariano messed with your life in a way you could have never imagined. You were in love with him, and he never prooved you, he felt the same way with you. Jess wasn't even slipping away from you, you knew Jess always had a footstep out of the door, and you tried to ignore it, but it was almost impossible. Once he was in your life, he was in your life forever.

You blew the little candle, ate your cupcake, and went to sleep, not knowing that two hours later, you'll wake up by the sound of the doorbell. Who could be at two am in the morning? Your friends were going to come to prepare you breakfast, but a seven-hours head start was too much, even for them. 

"What's going on?" You sleepily asked as you opened the door, looking at Jess standing there. "Mariano? What are you doing here?"

"Your headaches are provoked by strong smells. You ran away from home at 18, but I've seen you call your parents from now and then to check on them. Your eyes light up at the mention of sugar. You have this Victoria Secret perfume that you stole from your aunt, and you never used it, you just like to spray it on the air and inhale it, because she smelled like that and you miss her. You used to be addicted to gum, so much that your mom had prohibited you from ever buying it. You love watching people renovate their houses on HGTV, and you make plans on how you are going to remodel your place. You love strawberries covered in chocolate, and you cry at the movies. And I remember all of these, even if it has been a year because I care about you, Y/N. And I couldn't say it back then because I was scared, but now I'm not. Now, I am the guy for you. I know how much you are worth it, I knew since the day I met you." He took a deep breath. "Please, Y/N, let me prove it to you that I can be the guy you need."

What would you say if Jess Mariano was standing in your doorstep, begging for a second chance? I'm honestly asking.

#gilmore girls #fanfiction #y/n #angst #slow burn #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano #literati #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #pov #fic #imagine #writing prompt

[strawberrymilkloadingscreen]

Graveside Part 1 (Alastor x Black Female! Character)

Alastor was hardly a morning person, and yet you were graced with the smell of frying eggs and fresh biscuits as the sunlight warmed your face. You pulled the blankets off, and hissed when a chill shot down your spine. A morning coat was tossed on, and you hurried down the stairs to find your husband dressed in his Sunday best and a mountain of fried eggs slathered of cheese on a plate. 

“Am I dreaming? Is my husband actually awake on his only day off before noon?” 

He took a quick glance at you, and gestured with a spatula at the table. “Good morning to you too, My Love. There’s plans to discuss and breakfast to eat. Why don’t you sit down?” 

You did as instructed, and watched him prepare you a plate and a cup of coffee. Your husband never cared for the stuff, and you were surprised he bothered to make you any at all. You sipped away at the bitter drink while your husband prepared his own plate. The mug was refilled again by the time your husband sat down with his own plate piled high with eggs with none of the bread. 

“Do you know what today is?” 

“Let me think... It’s certainly a Friday, and it’s your day off... My day off... My cinema club doesn’t meet today and your hunting club has been postponed-”

“It’s alright, I didn’t tell you anyway.” 

His tone was still as cheerful as ever, but the cheer died in the blizzard that was his eyes. Another chill crawled down your spine, and you wished the heat from your mug would soak into your skin. You knew your husband would never harm you, leave you destitute, or hurt you in anyway...

But that didn’t stop the fear he managed to instill in you. 

A soft yet heavy slide of metal against wood dragged your attention away from your thoughts. A metal picture frame with roses on the corners was set next to her plate. Sitting neatly was a photo of a dark skin woman with a wide smile that made small wrinkles form around her eyes. On her lap was a baby that was clearly Alastor, and standing next to them was a stern looking man with a pale face full of starry freckles. 

Seeing the family photo made your stomach drop. You set the mug aside and gently picked it up. “Oh Alastor, you said it was coming up soon...”

“This day thirty years ago. Funnily enough it was Halloween then too.” He held out his hand, and you gave the picture frame back to him. “I wanted you to come with me tonight to their graves.”

Your eyes widen slightly at that. You’d never gone to your in-laws grave in the two years of courting and now year of marriage. In fact this was only the second time you’d seen the photograph now that you thought about it. The first time was on the night he proposed, and you were half sure it was an accident since his study was actually open for once. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m not going to have you dig anything up if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“N-no! I just know you’re really private about your life. If I hadn’t listened to your radio show I wouldn’t have known what my new last name was going to be.” 

He chuckled and picked up his tea cup. “I think you would like me a lot less if I gabbed at you all day long about myself, Love. I’m a boring person.” 

“You’re eccentric and know so many things. Honestly, I think that’s why I fell for you in the first place.” 

He we was quiet a long moment, before shaking his head and going back to his meal. When he made no more comment you dug into your own food, and eventually the two of you began working on the dishes while you hummed along to some song that Alastor was tapping out with his foot.

Once the task was complete Alastor slipped out of the house, and you went about the house straightening up things before making yourself cozy on the couch while the radio played a new jazz hit. Halloween was never something you’d celebrate when you lived in your mother’s house. She claimed it came from the devil, but you were half sure she was trying to protect you from the darker tendrils that haunted the cities you’d lived in until now. 

Atlanta, Richmond, and now New Orleans could all be very dangerous places. 

Yet this year was the first time you wouldn’t be in your mother’s house. With that thought you grabbed a few apples, a pot, and a few other ingredients. In ten minutes you had a big pot of caramel going, and you were dipping the apples with steady hands and generous swirls. 

In thirty you had ten candy apples and another pot of coffee going. When you sat back in your chair with a book it was already 11 AM, and the radio had changed to a soft love song that reminded you of lazy days in bed and kisses to your face. You’re not sure where on earth you imagined such things, your husband hadn’t bothered to kiss you since your wedding.

As your thoughts began to spiral the door opened with a soft whine, and a breeze brought in both your husband and the scent of spicy herbs and wax. You tilted your head back, and stared at your husband who had decided to stare down at you with a wide grin. 

“Are you ready to go, My Love?” 

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #Demons husband #demon boyfriend #monster husband #monster boyfriend #alastor hazbin hotel #Romance #gothic romance #new orleans #dark romance #1920s #urban fantasy #Urban fantasy fic