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gucciwins · 3 years

Note

ahh are you angel was so good!!! is it possible for you to do a follow up where he gets released from the hospital and they go back to her house and she fusses over him a lot and takes care of him and he's like really stubborn and insists on doing things himself and walking about when he really shouldn't? I LOVE YOUR WRITING BTW!!! so so so good!

Hello lovely, thank you for such a kind message. I was writing and I wanted it to be sweet but there's actually a pinch of angst involved. Anyways, if you take the time to read this I hope you enjoy firefighter harry being stubborn at home. This is a follow up to Are You Angel?

Word count: 3331

Trouble Follows

Are You Angel?

_____

Harry was living in bliss.

Although he was injured and healing nicely, the doctors have told him. He enjoyed it because he was living with his girlfriend, who cared for him and made sure he didn’t overdo it.

It’s been two weeks, and he swears he couldn’t love Y/N anymore, but it grows every day. He adored her and was so thankful for how she was caring for him. She’d make him breakfast, and they’d either share it in bed or on the couch. She made his coffee just how he liked it and left him different baked goods every few days. He’s happily putting on weight from all the treats she makes.

Then after seven-thirty, she would head to work and, like clockwork at twelve, would be making her way into the house. She’d remove her sneakers and set up the lunch she stopped by to pick up, and then she’d wake him up with soft kisses all over his face, helping him sit up because of his bruised ribs. Y/N would let him sit at the table the only time. They’d chat about how her day was going too far; then, he’d discuss the book he decided to read. He is currently reading Normal People because Y/N wanted to watch the show, but Harry said she had to wait for him to read the book so they’d be able to discuss both. Y/N thought it was the sweetest thing and smothered him in kisses. Harry likes it when she does that.

After lunch, she’d tuck him to the couch and let him rest while she made her way back to work. Then Harry spent those last few hours at home sleeping, watching Survivor, another thing Y/N got him hooked on. Harry even upgraded her Hulu because he could not deal with the commercials. He didn’t have the patience for that. Y/N told him she wanted to apply to be on any of those shows but didn't know if she’d do well; Harry doubted that. He knew she could do anything she put her mind to. Instead, she told him they should look into applying to do Amazing Race together, which he has not ventured into yet but surely will soon.

Y/N would finally come home around five, and Harry would be in the bedroom either getting ready to shower or lying in bed. He would honestly wait for her because he liked it when she helped him undress, then she’d join him in the shower where she’d let him kiss her all over. He’s honestly dying for a taste of her. The problem is the doctor does not clear him, so it’s a no to sex from her.

Honestly, the shower was part of his favorite day, he’d get to stand, and she’d just let Harry hold her. He’d whisper how he missed her. Then he’d try to tempt her by whisper sweet nothings in her ear about how he missed the taste of her on his tongue, how she could just as easily ride his face, and the one he knows that almost always gets her is how he missed being close to her, as she squeezed him tight when he slipped inside of her. She always took a step back, avoiding eye contact because she knew if she looked at the look in his eyes, she’d give in.

Y/N would look at his chest, her eyes scanning over the scars on his skin until she landed on the purple bruise of his ribs. “Not until that is healed.” She’d half-smile at him.

Today was different. He went to the doctor’s with Mitch, Y/N not being able to get out of shift as they were full of patients for the day but promised to come straight home so they could cook dinner together. He squeezed her tighter before she left this morning, hoping for good news.

Harry walked into the hospital with a smile, greeting the staff. He didn’t have to wait long until his name was called, Mitch staying in his chair, looking at a magazine of National Geographic. Harry fixed his hoodie, walking towards the nurse who guided him to room 205. Carla, the nurse, checks his blood pressure, his height, and weight letting him know he gained five pounds that the doctor would be impressed. Harry smirked, knowing he’d tease Y/N for helping him put on weight. Carla smiled and told him the doctor would be in shortly and informed him to change into the gown provided.

Dr. Vazquez walks in fifteen minutes with a knock on the door.

“Mr. Styles, good to see you.”

“You as well.” He smiles.

“Right, well looking over your charts, everything looks good but still got to look you over.”

“Go right ahead, doc.” Harry sighs with a slight grin.

Dr. Vazquez washes his hands then gloves up. He walks over to Harry, standing right in front of him. First, he looks at Harry’s arms seeing that the burns healed, with minimal scarring. Then he moves over to the gown, seeing there are no longer bruises on his leg. Harry had to do physical therapy for a week as a precaution, but he aced all the drills and then was cleared. He lifted the gown to expose his stomach.

“Does it still hurt, your ribs?” Dr. Vazquez asked as he felt around the area of the bruising.

“No.” Harry lied.

“Hmm…” Dr. Vazquez touched Harry gently on the bruise, and Harry hissed. “Think it still does. It looks like you will need that extra week to recover at least until the bruising goes away.”

“Another week,” Harry repeats.

“Yes, I want you to heal properly.”

“But my job,” Harry exclaims, not believing he has to be out for another week.

Dr. Vazquez sighs, “You’re going back to the job Harry. I understand how much it means to you. If I let you go back early, you could break a rib if you aren’t careful. Now, I want you to go home and keep doing what you’re doing. You’re in great health overall.”

“Except the bruise,” Harry mutters.

“I’ll let you get dressed. See you next week, Styles.” As Dr. Vazquez is turning the knob, he turns around. “Thank Y/N for the oatmeal cookies. They were delicious.”

Harry nods and hops down from the bench wanting to get dressed and go home.

Mitch drives Harry home; it’s silent all the way there until he parks in front of Y/N’s house, which is technically his. He’s not sure, but it feels like home, at least with her, it does.

“You alright, H?” Mitch asks, shifting to look at Harry.

Harry sighs, leaning his head back against the seat. “No, got another week and another checkup.”

“That’s alright; you need to heal properly,” Mitch responds.

Harry shrugs, “I guess.”

“We still on for dinner at seven?”

“Yeah.”

Harry gets out and makes his way to the front door. He sits on the couch, and the more he sits there, the angrier he becomes. He’s not mad at anyone, just the situation. Harry isn’t sure how long he sits there, letting his anger simmer, but it’s been a while because he hears the front door unlock and Y/N enter.

“Hi darling,” She greets from the door, where she slips her shoes off and sets her purse down.

Harry doesn’t answer, continues to sit there, too lost in thought.

Y/N smiles seeing him sitting there.

She hurries over him, desperate to hug him. She sits next to him on the couch, carefully slipping her arms around his waist as not to hurt him.

“Missed you.”

Harry sighs, kissing her head softly. “Me too.”

“Going to make you a tea, Ms. Waters was telling me it strengthens your bones and to make it even better, it smells like lavender although she said it might need some sugar if you don’t want it to be bitter.”

Y/N isn’t worried. Some days she comes home and does all the talking because he had a few rough days, and sometimes she’d be quiet, and Harry would cuddle her, commenting about everyone’s gameplay in Survivor.

This is the most stable relationship she’s been in. Yes, it is insane for Harry to move for the time being, but she’s not opposed to him moving in so soon. She loves him, and that means she sees a future with him. It may or may not end in heartbreak, but she wants as much time with Harry that she can get.

Harry was just as thrilled. Most of his clothes could already be found in the drawers she opened up for him. She has uniform shirts hanging in her closet. She buys his favorite fabric softener. They’ve been domestic from the start.

This is love, and she wants it for as long as Harry will give it to her.

Y/N came out with the mug, placing it on the coaster for Harry.

Harry stared at Y/N, thinking about every single thing she does for him. He was thankful he really was because he loved her, and this was showing him just how much she loved him, but he could do things independently.

Harry goes to sit up, and Y/N is there instantly to help him. Harry isn’t sure why, but it bothers him.

This seems to be the last straw after the day he had, and Harry shrugs her off.

She steps back, not a word is said.

“Y/N,”

A frown on her face, he called her by her name, not one of the sweet nicknames he has for her.

“You’re suffocating me. I can do this on my own. I’ve been hurt before, and I didn’t need you.” Harry says harshly.

Y/N flinches, taking a step back.

Harry instantly feels the guilt seeping in.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re feeling this way,” She says as she takes small steps back to increase their distance. “I’m going to go for a walk.” Shoes in hand, she opens the door and walks out before Harry can say anything.

Harry sighs because he didn’t mean to make her upset. He really is a dick.

Now she’s outside and upset. Harry hates that he drove her out of her own home because of his stubbornness.

He’s not sure how to apologize, but in the meantime, Harry can think about it before she comes back.

_____

It’s been over an hour, and Harry knows she should be home soon. He tried calling and texting her, but she’s ignoring his cars, rightfully so. He feels time goes by slowly now that she isn’t there to keep him company.

Harry wants to apologize and hold her close. He misses her and her sweet smile that’s reserved just for him. He feels awful because he’s not even sure if she took a jacket, and it’s a cold night. He did this and just wants her home, even if it means her being upset with him.

There’s a knock on the door, and he rushes over to open it but frowns when he sees Mitch and Sarah.

“Well, what a welcome,” Sarah says sarcastically at his expression.

“Sorry, thought you were Y/N,” Harry sighs, moving back, allowing them to enter.

Mitch and Sarah share a look, “Shouldn’t she be here?”

“She should, but I’m a dick, and she went on a walk to get away from me.”

“Harry,”

“I know, I felt awful right away, Fuck, I’ve never yelled at her-- we don’t fight. It’s not us, and now she’s not answering my calls.”

Sarah looks around the room before her eyes land on the bag next to the mushroom key holder. “The phone that is sitting next to her bag.”

“Fuck,” Harry frowns. He picks it up, seeing all his missed calls. He scrolls then stops when he sees Frankie’s name.

With Frankie, will be home soon.

It was sent fifteen minutes ago.

“She’s with Frankie.”

Harry leans against the wall, sighing in relief. “Should we be here when she gets back?” Mitch asks.

“No, we need to talk. Raincheck?”

Sarah nods, “Of course. Keep us updated.”

“Yeah, of course.”

Mitch walks out first, then Sarah before they share a look. Sarah sighs, turning to look at Harry. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me what happened, but Y/N loves you. I’ve known her as long as you have. From the way Y/N has spoken about you to Frankie and me, it’s like you hung the moon and stars for her. It might be easy to treat her as a target but know this; she will never stand to be mistreated because she knows her worth. So, swallow your pride and fix this with your heart and not your ego.”

Sarah walks away before he can respond. Harry is about to shut the door when a car pulls up; he recognizes it as Frankie’s, a red pick-up truck.

He smiles; she’s back.

Y/N gets out of the car, greeting Mitch and Sarah with a hug. She frowns when Harry assumes they tell her they can’t stay for dinner. She pulls a bag out from the passenger seat and hands it over to them. Harry feels himself soften because even though she was upset, she still passed to get dinner.

Heart of gold she has.

She’s absolutely perfect, and he might have messed it all up.

Y/N hugs Frankie before moving towards Harry, a bag of food in her hand. She doesn’t meet his eyes but walks past him into the house.

Harry closes the door behind him and watches her set the bag of food that he can now see is Thai food from his favorite place three blocks away. She stands there, nervously playing with a robin ring on her index finger, slipping it on and off.

“Uh…you’re right, I’ve been suffocating,” she says softly.

Harry sighs, “No.” But it’s like she doesn’t hear him because she keeps going.

“I can stay with Frankie for a while, this is your home as well, and I won’t kick you out. Or, if you want your own space, Mitch said he could drive you over to your apartment. I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Harry feels the tears coming, god he doesn’t deserve her or her sympathy let alone her love.

“You don’t need to go anywhere. I want you right here. Need you right here.” Harry takes a small step toward her hoping she won’t back away.

Y/N doesn’t, but she also doesn’t look at him either. It breaks his heart.

“Will you please look at me, angel?” He pleads.

She lifts her head, eyes red and swollen. He did that. He made her cry.

Maybe he does deserve to feel this hurt.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean a word I said. I was upset and angry, and I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have. It’s not an excuse for what I did, and you don’t have to forgive me, but I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you upset?”

“Ribs aren’t fully healed, and I was ready to go back to work.”

Y/N nods because she knows what he means. He was ready to go back to work because he has been spending so much time with her.

“Right, because you need to be away from me. I got it.”

“God, no. Baby, no.” Harry cups her face. “Not at all.”

“Then what, Harry!” She tries to shout, but it comes out soft as tears begin to fall down her face. “I love you, but you’re not making any sense.”

Harry sighs, “I’m afraid that if I don’t go back soon, then everyone will see me as weak, that you’ll see me as weak.”

“Harry,” she whispers.

“I know, it’s ridiculous. I love how you care for me but me not being able to do the same kills me.”

“But you do,” she smiles; it’s the first one since she came back. “You watch my favorite shows and read books I’ve read because you want to discuss them with me. You try all my desserts without a complaint. You let me take care of you. You love me because you smile at me every morning and without fail greet me with a kiss.”

Harry lets his tears fall, wanting to soak in her words. “You love me in the little moments as well as the big. I’m sorry, I left. I wanted to give you space, clear your head as I did the same without upsetting each other more.”

“I’m sorry, I pushed you out of your house.” Harry presses a kiss on her cheek. “Will you forgive me?”

“Course, H.” Y/N wraps her arms around his waist. “Don’t like fighting.” She tells him as she nuzzles her face in his chest.

“Me either.” Harry sighs in content, happy to have her back in his arms where she belongs. “Were you serious about me moving in? I mean, we’ve only been together five months now.”

“Said it in the heat of the moment.” Harry nods, not letting her see his frown. “But it doesn’t mean I didn’t mean it. Five months may seem like little time, but with everything we’ve been through, it feels much longer.”

Harry smiles, “Yeah, I hate when people say this, but I do mean it. It feels like you’ve been a part of my life from the start.”

Y/N nods, knowing what he means, “Let’s make this our home. I want you to leave your shoes by the door and help me do laundry on Sundays. I want it all with you.”

“Getting to wake up to you every day and come home to you every night, there’s nothing I want more,” Harry confesses.

“I love you, Harry.”

“And I love you, my angel.”

Harry pulls her in for a final hug, not wanting to stop touching her, just needs her in his arms for the rest of the night.

“Dinner time?” He asks.

“Yes, please.” Y/N goes to pull away, but Harry holds her tight.

She looks up at him, eyes red but no longer sad. “Kiss, please?”

Y/N smiles at him fondly, giving a slight nod. Harry leans in, brushing their lips together softly, nervous she might pull away, but she doesn’t; instead, she presses herself closer to him. It’s a kiss that centers him, that reminds him he didn’t mess it all up, that at the end of the day, she came back to him. The kiss is soft, and Harry feels all the love she’s pouring in, and Harry hopes she can feel it from him as well.

Harry pulls back, pressing a final kiss to her lips.

“Now, dinner or shower first.”

“Shower want to hold you, angel,” Harry confesses.

“Alright, but no funny business.” She teases.

Harry gasps, “I would never.”

She giggles, making her way to the bedroom, with Harry following behind.

Harry leans against the doorway, watching Y/N set her clothes for the night on the bed, then going to his drawers to do the same. He wants this forever; he wants her to fluff his pillows, to warm his blanket, to run her fingers through his hair, to massage his back, relieving all the tension he has built up. He’s decided he’d let her shower him in love and bask in it because it doesn’t mean she sees him as weak; it’s her way of showing she wants to take care of him and who is he to deny her of that.

Harry feels his heart grow when she heads to the bathroom but stops turning to him with an outstretched hand; he steps forward, intertwining their fingers.

Yeah, he’s going to love her for a long time.

_____

Here's more firefighter harry because this wrote itself and in a matter of two days. will eventually write more for firefighter harry but will be focusing on other work :)

#harry styles #requested #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles au #firefighter harry!#harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles Drabble

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ilyjohnb · 3 years

Text

a/n: sorry this took so long! i think i actually like this one! in case anyone is interested, im posting this on my wattpad now! link on pinned post. **gif credit to @lydiaas**

requester: anon “ “Wiggle your fingers. I need to make sure it’s not broken.” maybe this with john b… but it does turn out to be broken and he needs surgery?”

summary: when Rafe Cameron is bothering you, John B doesn’t hesitate to hurt himself to help you

warnings: fighting and a broken arm, both of which are not graphically detailed

word count: 1138

You loved being a Pogue, except when one specific boy Kook ruined everything. Your parents were Kooks, and everyone expected you, Y/n Y/l/n to be one too. Life simply didn't work that way. You loved hanging with your 3 best friends and your boyfriend. But those 3 dumb kooks always tried to remind you of what you were supposed to be.

This particular instance happened at the annual Bonfire. JJ, Kiara, and Pope all had something better to do, which you didn’t blame them. The bonfire was like any other party that happened all year. John B was right by your side, kissing you and returning the glare Rafe Cameron was sending his way. Everything was going fine, until of course John B had to leave and do something. Rafe made his way over. You backed up as far as you could, but they eventually caught up.

“Hello, Y/n.”

You backed up to the point where you were out of sight from everyone at the bonfire. Which meant that nobody could see Rafe, which means they also couldn't see that you needed help.

“Where's your goons this time?”

“Don’t need them. Not when I have you, the Kook Princess.”

“I’m not a Kook.”

He stepped closer, too close. “I think that the weak-ass excuse of a boyfriend manipulated you into thinking that. You're a Kook. Same as me, same as Sarah, and same as everyone who lives on Figure 8, which you legally do. I think.” He gently smiled over in your direction, lcking his lips. “you need someone to help you remember that.”

“Oh is that right Rafe?” John B asked.

Rafe charged at him, knocking him over. John B got the first punch in by the time you made it over there to help him. Rafe managed to stand up, but you kicked Rafe in the back of his knees making him collapse.

“I think it’s best if you leave now, Rafe.” You seethed.

“You know I'm right, Y/n. Just think about it!” He shouted as he ran over to his car to leave.

You scoffed before running over to John B.

“John B I'm so sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault that some dumbass Kook felt the need to try and mack on you.”

You pouted. “Well, I’m still sorry.”

You leaned in and hugged him, so he leaned down for a kiss, but you felt his hand being held at an awkward angle.

“John B? Stick up your hands.” You saw him, his hand was stiff and his fingers were bent. “Did you mess up something in your hand?”

“Uh, probably.”

“Wiggle your fingers. I need to make sure it’s not broken.”

“Fuck, ow.” He tried, but ultimately couldn’t.

“We need to get you to a hospital bubs.”

“Why?”

“Since you can’t wiggle your fingers, it’s probably a break.”

You took him home first, grabbing him a shirt and an ice pack. You walked back to the car and helped him slip the shirt on, opening the door of the van for him so he could get back in.

“I’m supposed to be opening the door for you.” He pouted.

“You broke your hand for me, I think that’s enough chivalry for the night.”

After waiting for an hour, he was taken back and they x-rayed his hand while I sat and waited in the room. Eventually, he came back.

“How’d it go?”

“Great I think I aced it.”

“That’s not how it works, you know what? Good job babe.”

Right after, a man came in.

“Mr. Routledge?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Hi I’m Doctor Jones,” He reached over and shook both of our hands.

“So it is indeed a break.”

“Nothing that a cast can’t fix, right doc?” John B tried to laugh but stopped when he saw the doctor didn’t look like he agreed with his statement.

“In most cases, yes. The problem with your arm,” He pulled up the X-ray and showed it to us. “Is that you’ve broken both of the bones. We'll put you in a splint for now, but you’ll need to come back in after your swelling goes down. Just fill in this paperwork and confirm that someone will pick you up, and we’ll get that scheduled for you.”

You helped him with the boring paperwork. He got his splint put on and then he was all set for the next three days when his surgery was.

“I don’t want surgery, y/n! I’m fine.” He grumbled.

“No, you’re not bubs. It’ll be okay. I’m dropping you off and then picking you up too.”

You sat in the waiting room for the last half-hour of the surgery. You had spent the time cleaning up a little so it wouldn’t be hard for John B to get around after he got home.

“Ms. Y/l/n?”

You looked up at the same doctor who went over the x-rays with you.

“Yes, I’m here for John Routledge. He had wrist surgery this morning.”

“Ah yes. The surgery went well and with no complications. If he leaves the splint on, and eventually the cast, and comes to his physical therapy after he’s done healing he should get full use of his arm again.”

“Thank you, Doctor. Am I allowed to see him?”

“Yes, he’s in room 210. It’s down the hall here on the left.” He pointed.

You nodded and took off to see John B. You honestly didn’t know what you were expecting. This was a little different than wisdom teeth removal surgery. You had absolutely no clue how he would be.

Post-surgery John B was tired. He was in the splint again as they waited for the swelling to recede after the surgery.

“Hi, Y/n.” He smiled up at you.

“How are you feeling, bubs?”

“Now that you’re here I feel perfect. Wanna know why?”

“Why?” You smiled, amused.

“Because you’re perfect. Excuse me, ma’am.”

The nurse who was writing something on his chart looked up at him, no sign of being annoyed was present on her face.

“My girlfriend is perfect, isn’t she?”

“John B!” You gently scolded. “You’re gonna embarrass me.”

“But you are and everyone needs to know that you are.” He pouted.

“Wait, shit. Don’t cry bubs. I’m sorry. Wanna go home and have ice cream?”

He nodded and you gently wiped away his tears with your thumbs. You quickly signed the discharge paperwork and then you were all set. You held the hand of his good arm as he was wheeled out of the hospital. You gently put him in the front seat and smiled over at him when you were both buckled in and ready to go.

John B was a keeper, and you were so glad to have someone like him in your life.

#john b routledge #outer banks #john b imagine #john b x reader #john b x fem!reader #john b one shot #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #my writing

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c-optimistic · 4 years

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for your happy prompts ask, perhaps kara is a documentary film maker who follows ceo lena around for a doc and ends up falling in love with her by learning a bunch of little things she finds out during filming? also p.s. i absolutely adore your writing even when it tugs at the heartstrings. thank you for writing what you do! it makes my day everytime i see an update or get an email

She wasn’t allowed to see Lena Luthor until she’d signed so many papers that, if stacked together, would be taller than she was. She wasn’t even allowed to touch her camera around Lena Luthor until the woman herself, CEO extraordinaire, had personally vetted Kara out.

“You know,” Kara said as casually as she could, finding herself nervously adjusting her glasses when Lena’s cold gaze fell on her, “I usually have a whole team with me when I do this.”

“And I agreed to this on the condition that only one nosy filmmaker follows me around, not a whole team.” Lena’s reply was like everything else Kara had learned about the CEO thus far: she was blunt, a little harsh, tone and eyes cold and emotionless. She gave nothing away, not in her walk, in her mannerisms, in the ridiculously healthy food she ate, in the way she spoke to her employees or board members. She was cool, detached, wickedly smart, and utterly composed. “And I must approve the final result,” she added, gesturing to the mountain of paperwork Kara signed.

(Kara sighed internally, a tiny part of her sure Lena was a robot.)

“But it’s everything, right?” Kara clarified. “A total look into your life, no holding back?”

“You may follow me around to your heart’s content,” Lena said, leaning back in her desk chair, studying Kara intently.

“May I ask, Ms. Luthor, what made you agree to this, when you’re usually so distrustful of the media?”

Lena gave Kara a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “What made you ask to do this when you know I distrust the media?”

Lena hadn’t answered, so Kara knew she didn’t have to either, but she felt it was important to establish some kind of rapport with the woman she’d be following around for the next few weeks. “I’m of the opinion that things are rarely as simple as they seem from the outside, that’s all.”

“Well,” Lena said, looking pleasantly surprised and offering Kara a grin (a real one, one that touched her eyes and transformed her face), “perhaps that’s why I agreed to you doing this.”

“You’re one of Ms. Luthor’s closest friends, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Since before your daughter was born?”

“Yup.”

“So would you say you know her quite well?”

“Sure.”

“Do you plan on answering any of my questions with more than one word?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. So, in one word I suppose, how would you describe Ms. Luthor to a stranger?”

“Flawless.”

The rules of her arrangement with Lena were rather simple. For the next several weeks, Lena consented to having Kara around from the moment she woke up to the moment she went to sleep. In return, Kara was not allowed in certain meetings at L-Corp, was not allowed to bring her camera with her at all when Lena went down to R&D, and if Lena asked for her to stop filming at any point, Kara was bound to immediately do so and erase any footage she may have inadvertently captured.

For the first two days of the arrangement, it was actually rather boring. Lena was awake before the crack of dawn, she didn’t acknowledge Kara’s presence as she made coffee and toast (though she did push a cup and a plate towards Kara), and then spent the next fifteen or so hours in her office, sifting through papers, answering phone calls and responding to emails, and forgetting meals. It wasn’t until the third day that Lena’s routine changed slightly.

She received a phone call at breakfast, and whoever it was caused a bright red blush to bloom on her cheeks. Kara zoomed in slightly on Lena’s face as she answered the call. “Now’s not really a good time, Sam,” she began, falling silent at whatever this Sam was saying on the other end. Lena’s eyes flitted over towards Kara, but to her surprise, she didn’t ask for Kara to shut off the camera. “That sounds terrible,” she said, sounding truly apologetic, something about her countenance changing. She seemed softer, more open, calmer than Kara had seen her yet. “And Ruby was so excited too.” Lena fell silent once more, nodding almost as if unaware of it. “I agree with her,” Lena suddenly laughed, still nodding, “it’s not fair at all. But there’s no way I’m not going to visit. Do you want me to bring anything?” Lena laughed again, and Kara wondered if her camera was capturing the change she was witnessing with her own eyes. “As if I could forget Ruby’s chocolate.” A pause. “Give her all my love.” Another pause, a tiny smile on Lena’s lips. “All right, I will. Bye.” As she hung up, she looked over at Kara, as if daring her to comment, everything about her shuttering at once.

“Who was that?” Kara asked, not really expecting an answer. To her surprise, however, Lena’s eyes flitted to the camera and she let out a soft, resigned sigh.

“That was my CFO, Sam Arias,” she answered, her tone a complete 180 from what she was using on the phone. She studied Kara for a moment and must have read something on her face, because her shoulders deflated and she motioned towards her phone. “Sam is my best friend. Her daughter, Ruby, is my goddaughter. We were supposed to go to the animal shelter today.” Lena smiled softly, almost as if unaware of it. “She’s finally convinced Sam she’s responsible enough for a pet. It’s actually—” Lena stopped suddenly, her eyes shifting to the camera once more, any warmth that had managed to leak out dissipating at once. “In any case, she’s sick. So we’ll have to reschedule.” She waved her hand towards the camera. “Can you turn that off, please?”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Kara said quickly, making a show of turning the Camcorder off and setting it aside. “Is something wrong?”

Lena shook her head, leaning against her kitchen counter as she eyed Kara with something like curiosity. “You know, I’ve seen all of your other work,” she said after a moment, frowning at Kara like she was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out.

(Had she? Seen all of Kara’s work? A part of Kara was curious as to how, after all, most of her stuff was tucked away in a closet back in Midvale, waiting to be opened up and viewed during Christmas, when Alex would laugh at the films she’d made in high school about how the boys’ sports teams were unfairly given more attention than the girls’. The others were projects for her degree and one or two failed attempts to get a real production company to take the risk on her.

In fact, if not for Cat Grant’s decision as ‘The Queen of All Media’ to get involved in filmmaking, funding a project from a no-name creator, Kara wasn’t even sure she’d have the film she was making now.)

“Oh,” she said inarticulately, not quite sure how to word what she was really thinking. How rich did you have to be to be able to bribe anyone into giving you anything?

Lena nodded carefully, her face a perfect mask. If not for the way her eyes followed Kara’s every movement, Kara would’ve even thought that Lena was bored. “You’re very fond of certain themes. Hope. Love. Endless optimism in the best of humanity.” She said it like it was a bad thing. And it was suddenly Kara’s turn to lean forward on the opposite end of the counter, feeling her head tilt to the side questioningly.

“Is that what you got from my films?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Lena seemed wary of the question, standing up straight and crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “Isn’t that what you intended?”

“You know,” Kara said slowly, “I don’t actually believe in all that creator’s intent nonsense. I think we search for parts of ourselves when we consume art. So if that’s what you got from my films, that says more about you than it does about me.”

If anything, this seemed to offend Lena. “So you’d deny having any sort of intent with your work? What about making something with meaning?”

Kara laughed, shaking her head. “That’s not what I mean, and besides, who says art has to mean anything?”

“Of course art means something,” Lena argued, narrowing her eyes at Kara. “What’s the point of doing it if it doesn’t mean anything?”

Kara shrugged easily, giving Lena a small smile. “I disagree. I think art says something. But meaning is up to the people who consume it.” She picked up her camera and pointed it at Lena without turning it on. “Doesn’t matter what I intended to say with my films, you got meaning from it. So I’d say there was a point in making it, don’t you think?”

Lena eyed her for a moment, apparently not liking that Kara wasn’t giving her an answer, wasn’t telling her what she was trying to say with her work. But then, after several long seconds, she relented, letting out a chuckle and shaking her head. “Well, fine,” she said, her smile touching her eyes. “As long as you don’t try to say anything silly like hope, love, or endless optimism in the best of humanity with this film.”

“I’m afraid I can’t change who you are, Ms. Luthor,” Kara said softly, turning her camera on and effectively cutting off any response Lena may have had.

(And when she looks at the footage weeks later, she’ll freeze that frame, breath catching at the look on Lena’s face: the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the pleasantly confused crinkle between her brows.)

“Do you spend a lot of time with your godmother?”

“Oh yeah, loads! She’s great.”

“What sort of things do you do with her?”

“I mean, normal stuff? She takes me to get ice cream all the time. The other day, she rented that new horror movie that came out and watched it with me when I stayed over. My mom went nuts when she found out.”

“So you like her?”

“No, of course not. I love Lena. She’s my aunt, you know? She’s family.”

“And if you had the chance, what would you want the world to know about her?”

“That she cares, so much. And that she’s funny and super smart and helps me with homework and after my mom she’s the very best person I know.”

The visit to Luthor Children’s Hospital was, as far as Kara was aware, unplanned and in fact gave Jess a great deal of anxiety. For her part, Kara was mostly frustrated and annoyed, wondering if this film was worth it at all. Because Lena Luthor seemed to be asking Kara to turn off the camera more and more, especially when her day deviated at all and she was forced to leave her office.

(Walks in the park, lunches with her goddaughter, a touching moment with the child of one of her employees...all locked away somewhere in Kara’s memory, but destined to remain there instead of on film, where it should be.)

She huffed a little bit as she leaned against the wall, watching Lena walk quickly towards the group of nurses and doctors. She didn’t say anything when Jess joined her, a contemplative look on her face. “She always does this,” Jess told Kara after a long silence, rolling her eyes fondly. “She’ll cancel meetings last minute because she heard one of the kids in the hemoc ward has finished treatment or that they’re out of toys to give to the new patients.”

“Why isn’t there any press if she does this often?” Kara asked, turning to Jess but watching Lena out of the corner of her eye. She was talking to one of the doctors now, looking comically out of place with her designer clothes while surrounded by colorful artwork by kids that littered the walls of the Children’s Hospital.

Jess fixed Kara with an unimpressed look. “You’ve met her, right?” she asked rhetorically. “She goes out of her way to hide these visits. She says that she has to keep it under wraps because she wants to keep it about the kids and not her. But I think the truth is she’s just worried people would mistreat the kids and their families for allowing a ‘Luthor’ within ten feet of them.”

“Oh,” Kara said dumbly, a little stunned by the new information, and feeling guilty for her thoughts earlier. “That’s...awful.”

“I’m not telling you this for nothing, you know,” Jess continued, frowning at Kara. “She’s been avoiding lots of her usual charitable work since you’ve been around. The whole point of this was to get everyone else to see the real Lena Luthor, but she’s ruining it by being humble and noble.”

(Kara wanted to groan, roll her eyes, or better yet go over to Lena herself and shake her until she understood what Kara’s job was.

How was she supposed to make a documentary about Lena Luthor if Lena Luthor was so determined to hide herself away from the world?)

“What would you have me do?” she asked, not voicing her frustration, though it seeped into her tone anyway. “We have a deal, and she doesn’t want me to film these things.”

Jess shook her head, looking terribly unimpressed by the answer. “Don’t you have artistic integrity? Would you allow anyone else to boss you around and tell you what you could and couldn’t film?”

Kara looked over at Lena, who was now smiling at a young boy who had ambled up to her with his mother and infusion pump stand in tow. She watched as Lena actually dropped to her knees to talk to the boy, nodding vigorously at whatever he was saying. After a long moment, she turned back to Jess and shook her head. “No,” she said finally. “I guess I wouldn’t.”

And after Jess had given her another significant look before walking off, Kara raised her camera and began to film.

“Mr. Spheer, you’re an ex of Lena Luthor’s, right?”

“Ah, I see this documentary is quite personal. Are you sure that Lena is okay with this sort of thing going into her movie?”

“Well, it’s my movie. But she’s free to ask me to take things out.”

“Fascinating. Yes, I am Lena’s ex. I was quite brokenhearted when she broke it off to move to National City.”

“Oh, she broke it off?”

“So curious, Ms. Danvers. Perhaps you’re interested in something beyond a mere film?”

“W-what? No, that’s—please be serious, Mr. Spheer—”

“It’s Jack to you, my dear. What else do you need to know about Lena? Her favorite flowers are plumerias, her favorite food is—”

“—oh that’s really not necessary. If we could just focus on who Lena is as a person. A friend. A former girlfriend?”

“Hmm, yes. Well, just imagine your perfect woman, Ms. Danvers.”

“Oh, um, I—”

“—exactly, you see Lena. That’s an universal experience, I’m afraid. Lena is simply...too good for this world.”

“So you’d say the treatment she gets by the public is unfair?”

“It’s unfair how much people attack pineapple on pizza, Ms. Danvers. The way they speak of Lena without knowing her? That’s a pure travesty.”

They were about ten days into filming when Kara saw Lena relax for the first time.

She was using the word ‘relax’ rather loosely, of course. Lena didn’t do what Kara did after a long week—put on a pair of sweatpants, order loads of junk food, and watch so much Netflix that it eventually felt the need to ask her if she was still watching. In fact, Lena’s idea of relaxing was more work. Just, fun work.

She was dressed in jeans and a blue shirt, knees pulled up to her chest as she sat at her desk, mumbling under her breath as she did whatever she was doing. (She hadn’t bothered to explain to Kara, had just sighed and acquiesced to the presence of the camera in her home office.) Perched precariously at the tip of her nose were a thick black pair of glasses, her hair falling to her shoulders in gentle waves.

She looked different. Softer, somehow. Gone was all the trappings of a badass CEO, and all that was left was a clever (and beautiful) young woman, working on the things she loved in her spare time.

Kara zoomed in slightly, focusing on Lena’s face, on the furrow between her brows, her lips twisted in concentration. There was something there, something different, and Kara just wanted to—

“Is that camera heavy?” Lena asked, looking up suddenly, a curious expression on her face. She was good at that, the polite looks, gently asking for more information. Tiny eyebrow raises, nearly imperceptible softening of her eyes, lips quirked the slightest bit, all intended to disarm her quarry, making them drop their guard long enough that they give everything held close to their chest away.

“Not really,” Kara answered, grinning at Lena. This made the other woman blink in surprise, clearly not the response she was looking for, that expression on her face shifting suddenly, becoming more calculating. “I work out,” Kara went on to explain, shrugging easily, careful not to jostle the camera. “Besides, it’s not that heavy, I think about five pounds.”

“What kind of camera do you use?”

“Oh, it’s a Panasonic AG-HVX—” she cut herself off. “It’s not that interesting.” Kara adjusted her glasses and made sure Lena’s face was still in focus. Somehow, this made Lena’s tiny smile reappear. She stood up and circled her desk, and Kara was forced to back away to maintain focus.

“You love filming, don’t you?” Lena asked, and Kara blinked, not quite sure where she was going with this.

“Ms. Luthor, as I’m sure you’re aware, this film is about you.”

If she thought this would in any way cow Lena, she was wrong. Lena just grinned, looking like she’d somehow won something.

“Do you know what I don’t understand?” she said with faux casualness, crossing her arms and tapping a finger against her elbow. “Why would you, someone Cat Grant speaks so highly of, be willing to agree to this assignment? Something most people wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.”

Kara frowned, not thinking as she responded. “It wasn’t assigned, Ms. Luthor. I pitched the idea. I wanted to do this.” Lena’s words sank in a moment later. “Wait. Cat Grant spoke highly of me?”

“Why?” Lena asked, no longer smiling.

Kara blinked at the change in tone. “Why what?” she asked, genuinely confused. This was, apparently, the wrong answer, because Lena chose that moment to begin pacing in front of her desk, looking more than a little bothered.

“I don’t get it,” she said as she paced. “I tried to figure it out, looked into you, into your work. I thought maybe you were doing this to build fame, but I’ve seen your work and even without a movie about the last Luthor, I have no doubt you’ll be very popular—”

“Oh, that’s nice of you, thank y—”

“—then I thought maybe you have a vendetta against my family and just want me to look bad,” Lena continued, barreling over Kara’s words and ignoring her entirely, “but the only connection between you and my family is your cousin, Clark Kent, and he’s the journalist who broke the story on my brother, so if anything I should dislike you—”

“That’s not exactly...Clark and I aren’t—”

“—so I really need you to explain it to me. Why did you want to make this film?” She paused her brisk pacing as she asked the question, meeting Kara’s eyes with a fierce look, one Kara was infinitely glad she was capturing on film. Because this, this glint in Lena’s eyes, was why Kara wanted to do this.

“Do you remember the speech you gave when you came to National City?” Kara asked, and judging from the way Lena’s eyebrows rose in response, she was rather thrown by the question. “Because I do. I watched it maybe a few dozen times. All those horrible questions, all the absolute certainty that you were like your brother, and you kept your head up and you promised to prove them all wrong, to make up for what he did.” Kara sighed, shutting off the camera and setting it aside gently. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I was...interested. I wanted to see more.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did I meet your expectations? Disappoint you? What?”

Kara smiled, unable to help it. “Does my opinion on you really matter?”

“Do you always answer a question with another question?” Lena shot back, eyes narrowing.

Kara’s smile just widened and she began to gather her things, preparing to leave for the night. Impressively, Lena didn’t question her further, just watched her then followed her to the door, looking rather cross. Pausing briefly to adjust her glasses and the strap of her bag, Kara turned suddenly and met Lena’s eyes. “You exceeded them. My expectations, that is,” Kara added when Lena offered only a quizzical look in response.

For a moment, Lena didn’t react, then that same look from her office—the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the pleasantly confused crinkle between her brows—overtook her expression, and she let out a laugh.

“Well, good then.”

“You went to boarding school with Ms. Luthor?”

“I don’t think that’s public knowledge, how do you know that?”

“Um, Ms. Arias told me about you. She mentioned your relationship with Ms. Luthor is unique.”

“Well, Sam would know, wouldn’t she?”

“Ms. Rojas, if you don’t want to speak to me, you don’t have to.”

“It’s fine. Look, Lena and I have been estranged for a while now. I...I did something to break her trust.”

“So would you say that Ms. Luthor is difficult to get along with?”

“No, I’d say that Lena values things like honesty and trust, and—you know that Austen novel? With the man who says that once you lose his good opinion, it’s gone forever?”

“Pride and Prejudice?”

“Exactly. Lena is like that.”

“Ms. Luthor is like Mr. Darcy?”

“No, she’s classic. No matter what’s going on, she’ll endure.”

“So...you were the one difficult to get along with?”

“Have you ever thought about taking your work to a whole new level, Kara? How do you feel about virtual reality?”

“Oh, um, I don’t have particular thoughts? But I’d love to know yours about Ms. Luthor. For the film.”

“She won’t believe this, or that I’m saying it coercion free, but Lena is...a visionary. More than that, she’s just a decent person. Which is more than most of us can say, don’t you think?”

After their conversation, Lena opened up dramatically.

(Well, dramatically was a stretch, but considering how closed off she’d been before, the difference was rather drastic.)

Kara filmed Lena’s visit to an animal shelter, capturing the way her fingers gently ran over the fur of the dog that immediately trotted over to her, placing its head in her lap. Lena had then explained that she went to shelters often, just to volunteer, as she was unable to adopt for fear of not having time to give the dog the attention it deserved.

Later that week, Lena let Kara stay later than usual, putting on some music as she got to cooking, going as far as to teach Kara the basics of the dish, laughing when Kara admitted that her skill in the kitchen was limited to making sandwiches. At one point she grabbed the camera and set it aside, dragging Kara into the kitchen, giving instructions and lessons as she swayed her hips to the music.

(It was silly, it was lighthearted, it was fun, and Kara couldn’t help it.

She forgot she was there to make a film.)

And as the days and weeks dragged on, when Lena showed off her skills at the piano—apologetically explaining she hadn’t had time to really play in months—or when she told Kara about her very ‘nerdy’ stamp collection or even when Lena seemed to ignore there was a camera between them and she began to talk about her day and her hopes for the weekend, Kara forgot that it was a job. She forgot that she was supposed to be making something, paying attention to more than Lena’s smile or the way her eyes lit up whenever she mentioned work she was particularly passionate about.

Somewhere along the way, Kara cared more about the opportunity to spend time with Lena than she did the film itself.

More worryingly, that realization didn’t even bother her.

“Why filmmaking?” Lena asked one morning, pushing coffee and toast towards Kara with a tiny smile. The camera was still in its bag, untouched since Kara had arrived nearly an hour earlier. “Why not journalism like your cousin?”

“My cousin and I,” Kara began awkwardly, adjusting her glasses, “well, our relationship is a little strained, I guess.” She didn’t need the slight tilt of Lena’s head to know that Lena wanted her to keep going, to explain further. She let out a soft chuckle and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “Um, so my parents died when I was twelve. And Clark sort of...left me? I went to live with the Danvers instead, and they bought me a camera for my birthday.” Kara grinned at the very memory, still able to feel its weight in her hand, the eyepiece against her eye. “It was one of those old camcorders, do you remember? The ones with the tapes? I drove them nuts, filming literally everything. I don’t think they ever saw my face for the first few months I was with them, it was constantly behind the camera.” She didn’t explain why she wanted to document every moment with her new family, but judging from the way Lena’s eyes softened, she understood anyway. “From there it became serious. I started making films. School projects, etc. Now I’m here.”

“Why documentaries? Why not something like...oh, I don’t know, action movies?” Lena prodded, looking curious, looking interested, looking like the answer mattered.

Kara just shrugged, suddenly not able to look Lena in the eye. “I guess there’s a part of me that wanted to take after Clark.”

“How long have you been working for Ms. Luthor?”

“Um, this December will make seven years.”

“As her assistant, you have remarkable access to her. What’s she like?”

“Driven, ambitious, works way too hard. I don’t think she’s ever taken a holiday or even a break...but um, maybe don’t say that in the film.”

“Artistic integrity, remember? She works hard, that’s clear. But what about personally? Her relationship with you and the other employees? What kind of boss is she?”

“She cares a lot. A few years ago, before Lex Luthor, well. You know. Before all that, LuthorCorp was facing serious losses. Mr. Luthor wanted to just get rid of entire departments, but Ms. Luthor said the research was vital, and more than that, the researchers were important. She convinced her brother to keep them on—she won’t admit it, but it was more than being persuasive. She paid for it out of her own pocket.”

“So you’d say she’s charitable?”

“No, she’s passionate. And she fights for the things she believes in. Ms. Luthor likes to say that charity implies pity, and she doesn’t do anything out of pity. She just does what’s right by people.”

“Some would disagree, they’d argue that LuthorCorp, and by extension its new iteration, L-Corp, don’t care about people, but about profits. Do you think that’s a fair assessment of the company you’ve devoted seven years to?”

“Look. I get it, people are suspicious of L-Corp because it used to be LuthorCorp. But it’s not just a name change. When Lena took over, she gutted her company. There’s not a single program left from Mr. Luthor’s time as CEO. L-Corp is all Ms. Luthor.”

“So if L-Corp is Ms. Luthor, who is Ms. Luthor?”

“She’s a woman who’s been hurt all her life, Kara Danvers, and whose only goal is to keep as many people as she can from hurting too. Sometimes I just wish she realized she doesn’t deserve to be hurt anymore either.”

“Oh.”

“Also, I don’t care about your artistic integrity, that last bit does not go in the film.”

One afternoon, when Kara was dangerously close to dozing off on the couch in Lena’s office—camera turned off and set aside, not really needing more footage of Lena working at her desk—Lena suddenly jumped to her feet, an excited gleam in her eyes.

“They’ve done it,” she said, the smile forming on her lips so wide that Kara found herself smiling back.

“Done what?” Kara asked, fairly sure this would lead to Lena’s refrain of ‘that’s company business and I’m afraid you’re not privy to that information’ but instead, Lena looked at her appraisingly, then rolled her eyes.

“If I allow you to bring your camera in R&D, do you swear not to film my ongoing projects?”

“You’re going to let me film in R&D?” Kara said excitedly, jumping to her feet and grabbing her camera.

“Kara, do you swear?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Ms. Luthor. I absolutely swear.”

And the next thing Kara knew, she was filming in the one place she’d been told was off-limits, capturing the lab and Lena talking to her researchers animatedly about the advancement they’d made in gene therapy, not entirely surprised when Lena shoved the scientists towards Kara and urged them to brag about their achievement—while also warning them to be as vague as possible—and then sank into the background, clearly thrilled to have her scientists as the center of attention.

And later, when Lena decided to actually take a lunch hour as a ‘reward’ for the great strides L-Corp had made, she took Kara along, bought three different appetizers, and smiled her wide smile before she said, “It’s Lena, by the way. Just Lena.”

Mouth still bulging with the three potstickers she’d practically inhaled, Kara couldn’t manage much more than a nod, but later—when she was alone—she tried saying the name aloud, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Mrs. Luthor—”

“It’s doctor, actually.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Dr. Luthor. You adopted Ms. Luthor when she was four, is that correct?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for this nonsense. I consented to this interview only to say one thing: Lena was always the more clever of my children, but she’s foolish and soft, and this silly film is yet another example of that.”

“You agreed to meet with me to just say...that. Okay. That’s um. Fine.”

As the weeks dragged on, Kara had little reason to continue filming. Her deadline with Cat Grant was fast approaching, and she had more than enough footage. All that really remained was editing, of putting the final pieces together. But she found herself filming anyway.

Every day, she’d make her way to Lena’s apartment, making flimsy excuses about how certain footage was no good, or had been corrupted, and that she needed retakes of Lena doing ordinary things (like reading the paper, cooking dinner, or talking about her day). She knew that Lena could tell her excuses were just that, but mercifully, Lena didn’t seem to want to call her out on it, merely gave soft reminders not to stay up so late every night to edit (the ‘you could just as easily stop wasting your time here and be editing during normal hours’ going unsaid).

(Jess had rolled her eyes when Kara came by L-Corp and Lena mentioned offhandedly that Kara somehow hadn’t gotten a shot of Lena entering her building in all the time she’d shadowed the CEO, and wasn’t that odd?)

But what Kara knew, what made her stretch out these moments as long as she possibly could, was that once the final product popped into existence, once she showed Lena and got her okay to send off to Cat Grant, that was it.

No more Lena.

And that terrified her.

(So she gathered more footage, fruitlessly hoping that the final product would never be ready, dragging her feet at every step.

She edited, studying Lena’s every expression, tried to pinpoint the exact moment she’d started to fall for the not-so-detached CEO extraordinaire, and wished it didn’t all have to come to an end.)

Two days after Kara had sent Lena the finished film, she got a curt email from the CEO herself with only three words: come see me.

Jess gave no indication about how her boss was feeling when Kara arrived, merely stared evenly at Kara and gestured with her head for her to just go on in. When Kara tried to ask her, Jess shook her head, pointed at the door to Lena’s office, and made a shooing gesture.

“It’s odd to see you without a camera,” Lena said when Kara sat down across from her, trying to keep her hands from fidgeting.

“It’s odd to be in here without a camera.” Kara took a deep breath. “Did you watch it?” she blurted, unable to keep it in. “What did you think?”

“You’re really fond of certain themes,” Lena said, then she raised her eyebrow. “You also filmed quite a bit when I had asked you not to.”

“Artistic integrity?” Kara tried, and Lena...laughed.

“I don’t know if I agree with the way you portrayed me,” she said slowly as her amusement faded. “You took a lot of liberties.”

“I was very faithful to the subject of the film, Lena.”

“What do you think you were trying to say?” Lena asked, waving off Kara’s comment.

“What meaning did you get from it?”

Lena studied her for a moment, as if she was trying to read Kara’s mind. “I’m not some selfless genius, Kara.”

“Is that what you think the film is saying?” Kara asked her, not rising to the obvious bait. “Like I said, Lena. I was very faithful to the subject of the film.” For a long moment, Lena didn’t respond, and Kara felt the worry she’d managed to push away since sending the film to Lena creep back in. “Does this mean you don’t approve of the film?”

“Hmm?” Lena said, distracted. “No, I’ve already sent it along to Cat Grant, giving my okay. Even though you broke our agreement, I can’t deny the final result was very favorable to me.”

“I wouldn’t have made something that wasn’t completely true,” Kara said, somewhat hotly, most of her irritation bleeding away with the knowledge that Cat Grant was in possession of the final product, that the rest was up to her.

Lena smiled, eyes soft, and she nodded her head almost incredulously. “No, you wouldn’t. I know that.” She cleared her throat, seeming a bit nervous. “But I was thinking. I’ve been missing our talks about your work, and I know you don’t like talking about what you’ve made, but perhaps you’d make an exception for me. Would you be willing to give me a private showing of your film? Give me all the insider secrets? I know your subject quite well, it would be a fun exercise.”

Kara’s heart slammed to a stop, the jump-started at the sight of Lena’s amused eyes, that tiny curve of her lips. “A private showing, huh?” Kara mumbled, feeling a little dazed. “I still won’t tell you what I was trying to say.”

“That’s completely fair.”

“But I suppose I could give you some insight on my thoughts.”

“Only if you wanted.”

“It may have to be more than one session,” Kara said, trying and failing to stop the spread of her smile. “There’s a lot of footage you know.”

“So it’s a date?” Lena asked, and Kara couldn’t help her eager nod.

“It’s definitely a date.”

#thank you so much!#supercorp #fanfic

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massivelycreepypineapple · 4 years

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The Accident

Request: I am here again!! I am so glad your requests are open😍 can I request on Jensen and daughter reader story? Jensen is a doc and reader is in accident. Jensen is her doc after she brought in hospital so no emergency no needed, dislocated shoulder maybe? Ooh ooh Needle phobia also? I wanted to add some more stuff but I am so excited that your req are open that I forgot everything 😂 please write if you can think of some more. Angst, fluffy stuff please? Gracias❤️

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Daughter!Reader

A/N: I hope this is alright. :)

Feedback is welcome!

Word Count: 2059

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You should’ve known that nothing gets past your dad, especially when you show up at his work place with a dislocated shoulder along with a small cut on your side to boot. It wasn’t anything serious really and not to mention it was such a ludicrously gained injury too, but leave it to the hospital staff to page your dad who was head of Orthopaedic surgery.

“Where is she?! Where’s Y/N?!” Your dad’s voice could be heard. The nurse looking after you in one of the rooms turned around just in time to see Jensen storming in.

“Hi Daddy” You grinned at him. You were a little loopy from the painkillers.

“Y/N! What happened, baby?” He looked so worried and out of breathe and he was still in his scrubs. It would seem he ran here after his surgery. He grabbed the clipboard with your details on it and began going through it.

“Nothing big. Just my bone fell out of place when I fell off my cycle. Stupid motorbike dude crashed into me.”

“What?! Y/N!”

“Dad it’s fine. It was an accident. He lost control.” His anger sobered you up a little and you tried to calm him down.

“Lost control?! It could’ve been worse!” He was angry, his baby girl got into an accident and he didn’t know how to process it.

“But it’s not. It’ll be fine. Besides it happened close to the hospital. So some people helped me come here.” You made the mistake of shrugging at him and winced immediately. Luckily the painkillers were doing their job.

“Don’t move, Ms. Ackles. You could make it worse.” The nurse said. She was a sweet thing who was very gentle with you.

He sighed. He didn’t want to argue about it right now. So instead he made his way to you to check on your shoulder. He gently grabbed your arm to check how bad the damage was, making you gasp in pain and tear up.

“It’s going to be okay. We’ll just pop it back in no time.” He said, calming down to not spook you out even more.

“Daddy, it hurts.” You said wincing from the throbbing pain on your shoulder and sides.

“I know, honey. Just try to relax okay?” He said, grabbing everything needed for after fixing your shoulder.

He came back beside you and motioned for the nurse to hold you. You looked at them wide eyed, the fear sobering you up a little. The nurse had a solid grip on your uninjured shoulder while Jensen grabbed your other arm, getting ready.

“Okay, on count of three, we’ll pop it back in.” He said looking into your tear filled eyes.

You didn’t dare move. You sat there stiff as a board.

“Sweetheart, you need to relax.” He whispered worriedly.

“I can’t. It hurts a lot and I’m feeling cold. My left side hurts. I can’t relax.” You said sniffling.

“Okay, look at me baby girl.” Jensen said standing in front of you.

You looked into his eyes and a tiny sense of calm washed over you. Your dad always had a way about him that made you feel so safe.

“Tell me about your day.” He smiled at you.

“I-I didn’t do much actually. I just spent it watching a movie in my room before this.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

“Ice age.”

Jensen laughed at that. “You always loved that one. You used to recite the dialogues by heart as a kid.”

“Hey, it’s a really awesome movie.” You smiled a little.

“I agree.” He was rubbing your arm, trying to warm you up a little. He felt you relaxing as you talked more about the movie and while you were distracted, he motioned for the nurse to hold you once more.

He watched your eyes widen when you realised what was happening. “Hey c’mon. Tell me more, don’t stop.”

“Daddy-”

“I really like the tiger. He’s hilarious.”

“Y-yeah. He’s like you when you’re grumpy.” You said smiling very little.

“Hey now. I always earn my grumpiness.” He said smirking at you.

And as soon as you relaxed some more, Jensen popped the bone back into place making you gasp out in pain and gripping his scrubs tightly.

“Shh, it’s over. It’s over. That wasn’t so bad.” He kissed your forehead and wiped away the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“It was horrible! You didn’t warn me!” You snapped at him, still reeling from the pain.

He put your arm and shoulder in a tight sling and then hugged you tightly to him, placing kisses on your head and summering apologies for not warning you.

“I don’t like you right now.” You mumbled into his chest.

“Aw, man I’ll have to make up for this then” He said pulling back and booping your nose like he always did when you were a child. “Now lie back. Let’s take a look at your bruise.”

You did as he asked and lifted up your top. Jensen pulled back the bandaid stopping the blood to take a look at the gash. He noticed the small bruises around the wound going up to your ribs and he sucked in a breath. He pressed around the area to see how bad the damage was, making you flinch.

“Luckily you don’t need stitches. And no ribs broken.” He mumbled mostly to himself.

You felt him, clean the cut once more before dressing it with a fresh bandaid. You noticed the frown on his face and your heart hurt for worrying your dad like that.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Jensen’s eyes snapped back to yours immediately, “What for?”

“I got hurt and worried you.” You said. “You told me not to cycle during peak hours and I still went.”

“We’ll talk about it later.” He gave you a tight smile. You knew he was still upset with you for not listening to him and you felt really guilty. You were his only child and you were all he had after your mum died and it made him over protective of you sometimes.

Meanwhile, the nurse came over to you with a shot. The second you noticed it your eyes went wide.

“Daddy, no please.” You whimpered. You hated needles. You were so terrified of them and the very thought of something sharp sticking into your body filled you with so much anxiety.

“Sweetheart, this will prevent infections.”

“Please no I’ll take my chances. Get that thing away from me!” You were doing your best to not cry again. You already shed tears over your shoulder and you didn’t want to cry again over a stupid needle.

“Y/N, I know you hate them, but it’ll be over before you know it.” He tried to sooth you.

“NO!” You yelled, trying to get up. But in a hurry you moved your injured shoulder making you cry out in pain.

“Okay, okay. No shots. Just take a breath baby.” Jensen was doing everything to keep you still and not aggravate your shoulder further. He could see you were going into a panic attack and he was freaking out internally. There were only a few times he had seen you get this way and it had killed him.

He coached you through the breathing and you had calmed down a little. The nurse had moved away to give you two some space which you were grateful for. Once you’d calmed down Jensen asked the nurse to place the shot on the table.

“I’ll take it from here. Thank you.” He smiled at her before she left.

“Please daddy.” Your lips were trembling and the sight of you broke his heart. You looked like a little kid all over again and it reminded him of the first time you had to get a shot for getting hurt. You had created a big fuss and he had to carry you and walk around the hospital till you calmed down.

“Be a good girl for me, baby? I promise this is the last one. After I’ll give some more painkillers, the sleepy kind so you can take a nap in my office till I’m done. Does that sound good, baby?” He said wiping away a tear.

You shook your head no making him chuckle. But he knew he had your attention so he went ahead and cleaned your arm with a cotton ball and then reached for the shot. Your hands were shaking at this point and you wanted to run away so bad. Jensen rubbed circled on your arm, trying to show you that he was right there and he’s be as gentle as possible.

You closed your eyes tight as he brought the needle close to your skin. “You’re so brave baby girl. I’m so proud of you.” He whispered as he gently sunk the needle in.

“I hate this. I hate this so much.” You kept repeating it with your eyes still closed.

“There all done. It’s all over.” He smiled at you, rubbing the area with cotton once more. He got up and kissed your forehead once more before disposing the injection. He then brought over the painkillers for you to swallow.

“Let’s go to my office. Do you want me to get you a wheelchair?”

“No, I can walk.” You mumbled trying to sit up.

Jensen came over and helped you up and gently led you to his office where you promptly got comfortable on his sofa till it was time to go home.

_______________

The two of you made it home after a few hours and you went straight to bed. But some time later you made your way back to the kitchen to get a midnight snack. Your shoulder was hurting and the bruises were painful too and you couldn’t sleep.

You reached into the cupboard for some cereal and placed it on the counter. Everything was hard to do with one hand and adding the lack of sleep, you were frustrated beyond belief. You brought over a bowl and tried to open the packet inside the box with one hand. You yanked the thing really hard using your mouth for leverage and the damn thing split open, spilling the contents everywhere.

“Dammit!” You cursed.

You heard footsteps coming into the kitchen and you turned around to find you dad standing there looking amused.

“Fancy seeing you here. Need help?” He asked coming over to you.

You sighed at him. “I can’t do anything.”

“It’s only for a few weeks. You’ll get better.” He said pouring the cereal into a bowl and taking some for himself.

There was silence between the two of you while you ate.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Jensen broke the silence.

You shook your head, a frown still marred your face.

“Same. Night shifts really mess with my sleep schedule.” He tried making conversation.

There was silence again before you broke it.

“Are you still mad at me?” You whispered looking into your now empty bowl.

Jensen stopped the spoon midway, looking at you, and then placed it back in the bowl before talking.

“No, honey. I was upset back in the hospital but not anymore. You just really scared me. You’re all I have left, Y/N. You’re my heart. If anything happened to you I don’t know what I would do. It’s why I expect you to listen to me. And as a dad it feels so unfair that the other guy didn’t get hurt while my baby did.”

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You said.

“It’s quite alright, baby. I’m just glad it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been.”

“Yeah…”

“How bout we watch something on the telly for a while since we both can’t sleep?”

“Yeah. Sounds good.” You smiled at him.

He took your empty bowls to the sink as you went to the couch in the living room. He placed a lot of pillows against the arm rest and helped you settle into them comfortably so your shoulder wouldn’t hurt. He then got comfortable next to you, placing your legs over his leg. He turned on the telly and flipped to some random channel. Few mins into the show, you were fast asleep feeling much better with your dad next to you.

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Tags below

@hobby27 @akshi8278 @castiellss @miss-nerd95

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #spn fic #supernatural x reader #spn rpf #rpf #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x daughter!reader #jensen x reader #reader insert #female reader #fluff #angst #supernatural rpf

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buckyscrystalqueen · 4 years

Text

Too Smart for Your Own Good: Part 2

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader, (Past and Future) Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, one night stand, unprotected sex

Word Count: 2,129

A/N: Doesn’t have a completed end yet, but just giving you more content to try to get myself out of a writing funk.

Part 1

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“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Your father, Negan, chuckled as you got off the golf cart in front of the trailer you’d be celebrating Christmas in again, like you had for three of the past ten years, at the Los Angeles County State Prison.

“Hi, daddy.” You breathed in relief, grateful to spend any amount of time with the only family member that you could completely trust. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry fucking Christmas to you, too, Princess. Fuck you, give ‘em.” He barked as he pulled the bags of food and your clothes off the back of the cart before you could even think to reach for them. You simply rolled your eyes and grabbed your guitar case before thanking the officer and heading inside the family visit trailer. “So what kinda trouble did you get into this week?”

“Well…” You sighed as you sat down at the small table in the kitchen. “… I went to Cleveland on Saturday and flew back yesterday morning. Pretty sure I got pregnant, too.”

“You fucking what?!” Your dad roared as he slammed a box of Mac and Cheese down on the counter. “Fucking Henry?”

“Henry is not coming back!” You shouted back, defensively. “And does it fucking matter? I made a choice, two choices actually, to sleep with some douche bag and not take Plan B after. It is what it fucking is.”

“So what, you're just gunna throw away your fucking life…” He started as he went back to throwing groceries in the cabinets, angrily.

“No, I made the choice to not be fucking alone any more!” You interrupted as you looked over at him. You couldn't hide the hurt in your eyes when he turned around to stare at you, shocked that you were actually talking about your emotions.

“Sweetheart…” He breathed as he abandoned his task and came over to sit down in front of you. “You are not fucking alone…”

“I am alone, daddy.” You nearly whispered as you put your feet up on your chair and wrapped your arms around your legs. “Mom’s dead, and you're in here for who knows how much longer. And Henry…” You scoffed and shook your head. “Henry isn't coming back. He loves being some hit shot doc the Army more than he ever loved me. So other than my research, which I've all but abandoned anyways out of sheer boredom, I have nothing. I have no one, daddy. Just the occasional visit from Ashleigh and some of the harlots from the club. Maybe a once a month lunch date with some of the people from UCLA. But that's it. So I made a choice not to get the morning after pill after I stared at the box for over an hour and weighed out the pros and cons. And I would much rather raise a sperm donor baby than be alone in that house anymore.”

“OK.” Negan whispered with a nod as he rested his hand on your bent knee. “OK. I don't fucking like it, but I will get on that train all the fucking same.” Tears welled in your eyes as you rested your cheek on the back of his hand, and you closed your eyes to hide them. “So I'm gunna be a grandpa?”

“Maybe.” You choked the slightest bit as you opened your eyes to look at him again. “It just happened but I know I'm ovulating…”

“Eww fucking gross.” He fake gagged to get you to smile as he pulled his hand free and got up to finish putting groceries away. “I don't wanna hear that shit.”

“That's what you get for raising a daughter with no filter.” You pointed out as you propped your chin between your still bent knees.

“Fucking gross.” He repeated with a laugh. “So the fuck was in Cleveland? This fuckin guy?”

“Ashleigh’s client. He’s a rock rapper that needed someone that could learn music fast and played the guitar well. So Ash landed on me. But dude is a total self absorbed prick. B minus in… well in the broom closet.”

“I'll have Simon kill him.” He said almost 100% seriously.

“You are not going to kill this idiot for being bad at sex.”

“No, I'm gunna fucking kill him for laying a Goddamn hand on my daughter.” He responded with a smile as he balled up the last empty grocery bag and put it in the recycling bin.

“You're an idiot.” You laughed as you grabbed your guitar and got up to sit outside for a while.

“Hey, be nice to your old man.” He huffed as he grabbed a pack of cigarettes and a pack of matches off the table and followed you out front to enjoy the California sun. “And go easy on me today.”

“Yea fucking right.” You laughed as you sat down on one of the plastic lawn chairs and pulled out your guitar, which took you almost a year of bribery to be able to get it into the jail it now lived in in the first place. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Pain in my Goddamn ass.” He grumbled around his cigarette as he moved his chair out off the shade and pulled off his blue prison issue shirt for as long as he could get away with it. “Alright… rock music from the 70’s.” You nodded at the category and tuned your guitar before picking an easy AC/DC song to start with. Which is pretty much how you always spent your days when you visited your father in prison.

——

Your office hadn’t looked so chaotic since you were working on a regular basis, but as of that morning, every available surface was covered in every single medical textbook, (with a focus on pregnancy and pediatrics) and motherhood book you could get your hands on. The dry erase board that usually had your equations to see if your Milky Way black hole theory was a possibility, had been wiped clean and replaced with columns upon columns of notes, to separate the ridiculous from the actual facts you would need to go through a pregnancy and raise a child.

You were blazing through the ‘Essential Neonatal Textbook’, when your house phone rang, startling you the slightest bit and forcing you to pull your attention away from a long list of the benefits of cord blood. You sighed and snatched up your headset as you set the book down to work through all of the information and pick out the more important bits and pieces to make the best informed decision.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)? I have a Colson Baker here to see you.” Your fingers froze with the cap of the marker in one hand and the marker itself in the other.

“You can let him in.” You sighed as you took a step forward and started a new list under the newborn column in the middle of the board. You heard the line click in your ear and you wrote quickly, trying to get some of the information down so you knew where to pick up when you came back inside. You got a short start and reluctantly forced yourself away from your research to let your guest in. You started to work out your ideas vocally as you opened up the two gates and watched his purple Lamborghini pull into your driveway. You waited just long enough for him to make it half way to you, before you turned and headed inside to add more to your cord blood list with him following behind you.

“Umm… what the fuck is this?” Kels asked as he looked at the board over your shoulder in shock.

“Did you vaccinate Casie?” You asked as you continued to write.

“You’re fucking pregnant?!” He shouted over you as you capped your marker and set it back down on the easel.

“I am pregnant.” You said evenly as you walked over to find the ‘The Umbilical Cord Blood Controversies in Medical Law’ book to cross reference the former textbook. “Did you vaccinate Casie?”

“Were you gunna fucking tell me?” He shouted as you flipped through the pages, easily reading 20,000 words a minutes despite the distraction of your visitor.

“I was neither planning on telling you, nor keeping it from you.” You said simply. “I want nothing from you, Mr. Baker. I don’t need money, and I don’t need you to step up to be a father. You were a one night stand that I chose to not take Plan B after. My choice, my child, my body, my life.” He looked at you completely lost for words as you set your finished book down and headed back to the white board to add and change notes. “I would like your family medical history, though. I could easily do a diagnostics test and an MSS while I’m pregnant but…”

“Oh, I’m gunna be fucking sick.” He groaned behind you as you finished your idea and turned to move on to the next section. You grabbed the trash can and handed it to him on the way past as you tried to keep your thoughts as straight as possible, relatively unsuccessfully.

“I don’t wanna be alone.” You sighed as you looked over at him for a moment. “And after the way you treated me that night, the way you just used me and threw me away like I didn’t mean a Goddamn thing…” You exhaled through your nose and shook your head as you looked away from him and out the back door to the ocean.

“I don’t care that you’re not happy here, Mr. Baker. I don’t care if you want to be in this child’s life or not. I don’t care if you see me or this child as a mistake, or what you see us as at all. I just don’t care. What I care about is having a calm, healthy pregnancy, and becoming a mother. And I will not tolerate having someone come into our lives to walk in and out of it because he never wanted us in the first place. Nor will I tolerate someone treating me like I’m worthless trash in front of my child.” Kels didn’t say a single word as you shook your head and turned back around to go back to work. “Stay as long as you want. I have work to do.”

As Colson sat and thought, you went over to find a book about banking cord blood so you could round out that column. The next column was pros and cons of breastfeeding verses formula, which was a lot more extensive than you originally expected due to the varying opinions on length and benefits, but after reading through seven different books, and writing and erasing conflicting notes, he finally spoke up.

“Breastfeed for a year.” He almost whispered as he watched you work. “That’s what we did with Casie. And yea, we vaccinated her.” You nodded your head as you erased the idea you were writing and stood up to make a note in the vaccines column. “I don’t turn my back on my kids.”

“OK.”

“I’m sorry.” He continued as you capped your marker “It’s no excuse but I was high as fuck and running on adrenaline. I used you and that was shitty as fuck.”

“Yes it was.” You agreed with a nod as you leaned against the front of your desk and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Well I’m fucking sorry.” He said a little harshly. “And I’m sorry for knocking you up.”

“Pregnancy happens, Colson.” You breathed with a shrug of your shoulders. “I’m obviously a little more prepared since I actually made the decision…”

“Yea, that’s a fucking understatement.”

“OK, you can fucking leave and I can file a restraining order.” You snapped. “What’s done is done. I’m pregnant, you’re the father, your kid and my kid have a new sibling. You’re not going to have to pay child support, I’m taking primary custody with open visitations. And no, I am not going to date you. Not now, not ever. You left a sour taste in my mouth and I want nothing to do with you or your crazy lifestyle.”

“You’re just making this super fucking easy, aren’t you?” He asked as he pushed himself out of his chair. “I’m outta here. I’ll get your number from Ash and I’ll be in touch.” You rolled your eyes and gestured toward the door behind him.

“You can see yourself out.”

“Such a fucking bitch.” He muttered as he stormed out the doors and through the atrium to leave. You let out a huff and shook your head as you went back to your research.

“Idiot fucking sperm donor.”

Part 3

#machine gun kelly x reader #mgk x reader #colson baker x reader #henry cavill x reader #too smart for your own good

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the-writers-resource · 5 years

Text

Writing Tip #15

Character Building: One-Word Lists are BAD

A lot of the time, I see people who want to make a character fill out a list of traits. It generally looks like this (I just filled out literally the first result on Google):

Can you really gain any info from this that you understand about her personality? No. I’m the only one who knows what half of this means. None of their names are even in English. On top of that, this doesn’t really help me make a character. I only know what I know about Myra because I made her when I was around six years old, and I’ve spent my life since then giving her a personality. However, most of you don’t want to go the long route like me, so I must introduce to you a very painful concept: answering lists like these with full sentences (gasp) or even paragraphs (GASP).

Which is why I found this far superior character chart that basically forces you to put in effort. Fill it out like you’re going to show it to someone else who knows nothing about your character. You can download it as a .doc file, since I’m pretty sure you can open those in Google Docs (or MS Word, of course, if you have it). You can also print it out, or download it as other file types, like a PDF. It’s pretty long, but here’s a snippet of it filled out by yours truly:

See? As much as actual effort sucks, this already probably tells you more than the first list does. If you want to look at it, here’s the full thing filled out, in case you want to see how I’d answer certain questions. It took me hours, so you’d better like it. NOW LEAVE MY SIGHT AND GO WRITE SOMETHING!

#writing #tip #writing tip #category: character building #character building #character creating

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hisgirlwonder · 5 years

Text

One Shot - Seeing Red

Length: 3k words Warning: N/A Synopsis: Michael has risen to power, with followers and power galore, only for you to get in the way and knock him back down to earth with your own revelation. Notes: Y/n is sixteen and Michael is seventeen when they meet at co-ed witches/warlocks school. Mostly reminiscing on the past and where things went wrong and then it jumps to present day, before the Outpost is created. They’ve been together for around ten years (y/n ends up being 26 and Michael is 27) before all of this stuff happens. I hope you guys enjoy! Not sure if I’ll make a second part yet but we’ll see. PS NO SMUT before anyone gets offended because I will not write any smut about Michael when he’s under 18. PPS. y/n has a rage at Michael because he’s mean in the story, fyi~

It was almost as if it happened yesterday. The memories were so vivid, so clear; you could even remember the perfume you were wearing. But nothing was as strong as the way his presence hit you. You never saw him coming and yet he was a surprise that you welcomed with open arms.

You were parked up on a bench at school, eyes glued to the book in your hand; Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, your favourite – you believed that Lewis Carroll was in a league all of his own. Upon discovering Alice and her world, you longed for the day when you’d fall down your own rabbit hole, away from this place. Sure, the school was full of your “kind” but they weren’t your kind. You were teased and mocked for being a dreamer but always knew one day you’d teach them all.

The next thing you know, a blue-eyed angel crashes into you, and sends your beloved book flying. Most boys by this point would have frustrated you for interrupting, but not him; not Michael Langdon. Warmth and kindness seeped through every pore on his body – his presence was close enough to intoxicating. He picks up the book for you and stutters out an apology; admitting that it wasn’t his finest moment, being more focused on the drum solo in his ears than on where his feet were leading him.

He compliments you on your choice in shoes (Doc Martens, 14 eyelet, with giant red roses on them - roses, you’d come to learn, were his favourite flower) and you blushed because when you first bought them your mother criticised you to no end; yes, you were a witch, but to her you should be wearing pink dresses with bows in your hair and pearls around your neck. She envisioned you a la Good Witch of the North and not Nancy Downs.

Michael was a special child who showed so much hope and promise; possessing limitless talent as a Warlock and serving as a beacon of light for those around him. He naturally was the class clown and would do anything for attention but what he really wanted deep down was someone to love; craving the hole in his heart to be filled but he never found it. Not until you came along, at least. He didn’t trust you completely for a while but that’s what a life time of hurt and abandonment will do that to someone. Once he did, on the other hand, that was another story. He finally had a place to make a home.

From this moment on the two of you were inseparable; where you went he went, and vice versa. You suddenly changed from “The one who blended in with the walls” to “The one who stuck out like a sore thumb.” Death stares were abundant from all of the girls who wanted Michael to be their arm candy. He would laugh their proposals off because he possessed a special gift – reading into a person’s soul. He could see their deepest, and sometimes darkest, desires. “They only want me because I look pretty,” he’d joke, “They probably don’t realise that I’m useless in many other ways.”

When you weren’t receiving almost murderous stares then you’d receive ones in admiration. Others knew what Michael had been through with losing his family and revelled in your pairing. You were patient, kind, loving, and gentle; everything the Boy Wonder needed. Many people bet that the two of you would last forever. You did too…. up until three months ago.

This was the time that Ms. Mead, the first woman Michael ever loved, was killed. It destroyed him from the inside out. Over time, he slowly but surely was losing his light - he became closed off and his began to harden.

With no idea where the person you loved so dearly had disappeared to you were just about to lose faith. His return seemed unlikely and your bones ached from loneliness; he was in front of you like a hologram but it was all empty. Your heart longed for a reprieve because you couldn’t bear it anymore and, suddenly, the Universe spoke to you in the most unlikely of ways.

Michael disappeared for weeks, without a trace, nowhere to be found. You had no idea whether he had died or just given up on you, given up on life. By the third week, you accepted that this might have been it. Your heart broke, over and over, at the idea of a life without seeing those blue-eyes you fell in love with as a teenager ever again.

This was the way the Universe spoke to you. It was a message you didn’t want to receive.

Two months pass and one night, out of the blue, you get a phone call from a familiar voice. You would recognise it everywhere. It’s Michael.

He rattles off an address, wanting you to come to where he was, and says he’ll explain everything; it would all make sense in time. You didn’t know whether to be angry with him for deserting everything or happy that he was still alive.

The drive to this mysterious location felt like it lasted for years. Your stomach was in knots the whole way there from anxiety but when you saw him again, it all went away in an instant. You wept like a mother seeing her child for the first time. The tears met your cheeks like old friends saying hello; reminding your heart that it still felt, no matter how much you tried to close it off.

Your mood switched from overcome with gratitude at the sight of him to anger – your voice was cold but laced with hurt undertones, demanding answers only he could give. Why had he left? Where did he go? What did he do? The explanation you got from him wasn’t what you expected but you tried to understand anyway.

Michael explained that Mead’s death left him feeling lost so he isolated himself from everything and tried to find who he was. He wasn’t sure if he would but he did and ended up coming back with more than he’d bargained for. Something spoke to him and lead him to discovering who his father was and his purpose in life. Apparently Mead knew all along and was waiting until she felt he was ready to bring it up. Her calendar was marked for his eighteenth birthday as the day of revelation but as you knew, she didn’t make it. Mead was directed by his father to watch over him, to guide him to his rightful place and fulfil the task that had been laid out for him.

At the lowest point of the journey, he stumbled upon a place full of people who were searching for him; your Michael. They were a congregation that apparently were led by his father too. This is where the other surprise kicks in; the place where the two of you stood was a company by day that created Mead 2.0 from the memories Michael kept inside his brain.

One of the followers took a liking to Michael and gave him roof over his head in exchange for some of his time and a “good word” with his father. They conversed about everything and this is where she learned how she could help him – by taking him to those who could help recreate his beloved Mead.

The words stung because you have no idea whether or not he included you, but you let it go. You didn’t question things because you’d had enough.

That night, the two of you spent the night becoming reacquainted with each other’s bodies - he felt warm, and familiar, and right, but at the same time something in Michael had changed. You couldn’t put your finger on it but, nevertheless, it scared you. You’d never seen Michael like this before; like a bomb had gone off inside him and set fire to his soul. It was a different kind of passion to how he was with you; it teetered towards the dark side.

His kisses felt sharp and pierced through your core; your powers were screaming at you to pay attention but you tried to shrug it off. You just wanted to melt away in his arms, forgetting all you had learned for just an hour or two.

He became obsessed with his new found influence, the followers he had gained, and the purpose he had discovered. Your relationship took a back burner despite once being the only thing that once mattered. You’d lost him again except this time he was right in front of you, oblivious to it all. He was fading away before your eyes yet there one hundred percent.

// PRESENT DAY //

The days turned into weeks and you were late; it wasn’t surprising, the stress you were under took a toll on your body. You knew eventually it would come but you figured you’d take a test just to be certain and to put your mind to rest.

Your head pops into the office and Michael is in a meeting with a few members of The Co-Operative; a bunch of people who you knew very little about except the fact they were stealing your Michael away from you. Despite everything, you still tried to remain open but it eventually wore you down.

You tell him, “Babe, I’m just going to go and pop to the store. I, uh, need to pick up some stuff.” But it falls on deaf ears; he doesn’t register but this was nothing out of the ordinary for you; this was the new normal. Work came first and you were just made to suffer in silence.

On the drive to the chemist, you consider leaving like he did that night but you know that’s not the solution. You wouldn’t stoop to his level no matter how angry or upset you became. Once you’re there, you buy three different tests just to be sure and sit outside on the bench to soak up some mid-afternoon sunshine.

“Mikey would have loved this,” you think to yourself. Mikey was your Michael; the boy who would have climbed mountains and swam oceans for you. This new person, Langdon, is someone who you didn’t recognise. The tears well up in your eyes and you could feel your heart breaking all over again. Looking up to the sky, you ask, “What am I meant to do if I’m with child to someone who doesn’t even want to know me?”

Your mind mulls over the list “what if’s” you’d tucked away.

What if you are pregnant and Michael wants nothing to do with the baby? What if Michael decides he wants nothing to do with you? What happens if he’s kept you around as part of his plan that’s unfolding?

As you walked past the office, you notice Michael was finished with his meeting and now, presumably, writing notes on his computer. You didn’t dare disturb him because there was no need to get in an argument about what was going on yet again.

You tip toe up to the bathroom, bag of tests in one hand and the other running over the balustrade. You couldn’t help but contemplate as to which was worse - a pregnancy from a man who made you feel invisible or to live without Michael.

Sitting down on the toilet and the thoughts in your mind change into “If I am pregnant, I will love this baby regardless.” You wouldn’t give up on this child, no matter if the father abandoned you.

After peeing on all three sticks and setting a timer, you sit and wait on the toilet; your face is in your hands and at this point you wanted the world to swallow you whole. Five minutes pass, feeling almost like an eternity. “Fuck,” you mouthed silently when you check the results; your reaction immediately telling you this isn’t what you had hoped for. You weren’t even sure what you were hoping for in general. You just knew that facing Michael and his wrath was unfortunately necessary and not avoidable at all.

You drag yourself back down the stairs. Your entire body and existence felt like it was currently being weighed down by cement.

Knocking three times upon the office door with shaky hands, you become full of dread when you hear Michael calls for you to come in.

When you enter, you’re greeted with, “Y/n, what is it? That was fairly important but I’ve told them I’ll call them back. I hope this is worth me wasting their time and not some rouse to get attention,”

You’re pacing, unable to form a sentence or think straight. His tone of voice didn’t make anything easier.

“Well?” Michael asks, gesturing with his hands for you to spit it out. “Are you going to say anything or can I just write this off as you being childish again?”

That was all it took for you to lose your cool; it was one thing for him to be stressed and tired but accusing you of things that weren’t true? That was another story. “Michael, for crying out loud, listen to yourself. Where is the man I’ve spent the last 10 years loving? Where is the Michael who would know something was wrong and wouldn’t accuse me of being childish?”

Michael lifts his arms up, pointing them at himself, “I hate to break it to you, y/n, but he’s right here. I’ve evolved past what life once held for me.”

You move from your position and walk over to his desk, blood boiling in your veins. It had all been leading up to now and there was no way to hold it back. You hit your hands down on his desk to get his attention for once. “Really, Michael? Because usually evolution is good for more than just the selfish asshole who is claiming he’s better than everyone else.”

Michael huffs at your remark, “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that-“

You cut him off; unable to tolerate any more of his excuses. “Then what am I? Where do I fit in? I have done nothing but support you and love you through all of this. You forget you’re the one who disappeared on me yet I’m the one who has been picking up the god damn pieces from the things you broke. Have I evolved? Maybe I have because this is some other level bullshit.”

If there was one thing you were good at, it was with your words. That struck Michael with a lot force but he didn’t let it show. His guard was still up, refusing to acknowledge what you were saying, pushing him in the other direction. He groans, “You don’t understand. This is for our future. Everything I’m doing is for our future.”

“I don’t understand? I don’t understand? Huh, that’s really funny. Because all you’ve been doing is shutting me out ever since you found your ‘calling’. I didn’t give a fuck where you came from or questioned it because I loved you regardless. I loved you when you had nobody, Michael! The second you gain followers who you think love you but really only love this title you’ve acquired then what? I once thought you hung the stars in the sky, Michael Langdon. Now I can see that was a lie.”

You throw the bag of tests at him, “How’s that for our future? I bet this fits in just great with your plans, Langdon.” You storm out of the office and the house to get some fresh air. You couldn’t believe what had just come out of your mouth but you knew it had to be said.

Michael runs out to you, test in hand and questioning what he was looking at, “Y/n, wait, You’re pregnant?”

You don’t bother to turn around at the sound of his voice; refusing to look at him at that moment. At this point you’re hurt beyond belief. “Yes, Michael. I’m pregnant.”

He walks around so you have no choice but to see him and that stupid blonde hair of his you loved so much; once a curly mop upon his head, now transformed into long lengths of golden silk. He squats down in front, balancing himself with one hand on the step below. It was the first time you’d felt like equals in a long time. “I’m going to be a dad?” He asks, the worry in his voice was apparent.

With arms folded, you look down at him and roll your eyes. Still sniffing from your overflow of emotions. “Yes, Einstein. Who else?”

He rises from the squat, hands run up and down the sides of his face, trying to counteract the shock he was feeling, meeting together at his chin. He looks like a deer in headlights, trying to process what this all meant. “We’re going to have a f-f-family?”

He could barely say the f word without it being a struggle. Michael never thought he’d see the day when he was going to have a child of his own. It started out as “when the time is right, we’ll try for one” and ended up becoming an echo down a hallway. After someone to love, this is what Michael wanted most. He wanted a son or a daughter to carry when their legs got tired, to be there for, to kiss their knees better they fell down. All of the things he never received as a child.

You shot up from the seat you’re sitting on, snapping at him, “Christ. Yes, Michael. What don’t you understand?”

He doesn’t move a muscle or say anything and is just staring blankly into the distance. That’s when it hits him like a ton of bricks; realising the extent of what’s happened and what’s to come.

Taglist: @sensitivethot @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sammythankyou

#writing #fanfic #american horror story #ahs apocalypse #ahs #michael langdon #michael x reader #one shot #set: in ahs #set: out of ahs #dsgkfjlkfdj #probably complete garbo #idc #i just wanted to get it out #michael langdon fanfiction #american horror story fanfiction

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izziemizery · 5 years

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Writing Weekend

It's been a busy Bank Holiday.

I spent most of yesterday beta reading the second half of a manuscript I was sent by a woman on Twitter. Interesting stuff, but I need to stop volunteering to do these things so casually - it's never as simple as reading a book. I'm compulsively thorough, and have to go through line by line, making comments and suggestions. I have a tendency to forget this and dive in.

Gotta say though, I'm grateful for the little things. Working in Word was far superior to today's job - another beta read (I finished yesterday's), but this was the second writer I've come across who either prefers to write in Adobe (WHY?!) or is too paranoid to send a .doc file and thinks .pdf is safer. Sidenote: it's not.

Apparently they'd rather I suffer through the not-so-great comments feature in Adobe Reader and super awkward highlighting tool. Mate, I'm not gonna steal your story - I can't get a bite on my own queries, what the fuck do I want with your MS?

I only worked on one of the two chapters they sent though. The allure of working on my own stuff was far stronger, and I took the leap to do something I've been planning for a while.

At university (for my undergrad BA), my dissertation was a piece of Creative Writing. Makes sense, since that's what my degree was in. Only around eight thousand words, but it may have been the first time I fully researched and plotted something before I put pen to paper - or more accurately, fingers to keys.

I wrote about a patient in a psychiatric facility diagnosed with grandiose delusions, and the doctor who began to believe his patient was more than human after all. It was called Michael, and he's a character I've always wanted to expand upon - so now I have.

I spent a couple of hours editing (with a now far keener eye) the original story; getting to grips with Michael and his habits, voice, actions etc. Then I introduced him to my MC: Erin, the lead in the MS I'm currently querying.

I'm writing a sequel to said MS at the moment, in between scribbling prequel notes. But Michael slots into this second story almost as though the Jamie of eight years ago had predicted his usefulness as the sister of Izzie Mizery. Though the WIP is first person from Erin's POV, slipping back into dialogue with Michael was a joy - especially since his own story was heavily limited to only his therapy sessions with his psychiatrist. Allowing Michael to be carefree, make jokes and have the occasional genius insight meant that I'd written a full chapter before I'd even noticed the time. Never a bad thing.

Tomorrow is my last day off before the dreaded 30th birthday week in October. I intend to introduce Michael to a few more characters, even if it means writing chapters out of order. I just can't resist.

J x

#writingcommunity #writingadvice #writingtips #writers #writing #writeblr #betareading #betafeedback

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a-writing-bear · 5 years

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[PruCan] Chapter 9: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/42689768

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ - Ao3 version is formatted, tumblr version is not. Ao3 is recommended.

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Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU: College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature: Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.) WITHIN THIS CHAPTER - Mentions of Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, Counseling, and anti-depressants. (please note I am NOT anti-meds.) Family Issues are implied, Distance and abandonment suggested.

The world stiffened as strawberry blonde hair covered his tired eyes, Alfred had scooted much farther away as he let his brother gather himself. Racing, pulsing thoughts jumped in his head; everything felt slow and too fast at the same time and the unease of having someone else in this private session was more off-putting than he would have thought.

“I….I didn’t finish the painting.” Ms Paisley’s demure look did not falter, unsurprised but still polite, her scribbles of notes were no doubt some follow up questions about his inability to get something done- he felt foolish for bringing it up, his subconscious already tormenting him about his inadequacy to shush up. His brother, on the other hand, was lost; What does a painting have to do with Matthew’s health?

“What was it this time Matthew? ...noise? … distractions?” her voice trailed on but Alfred’s mind was hooked on her reasoning-

“Not noise this time. I was quite...fine. I was fine- I just can’t get it to look right and I feel…” He mind was smoothened a little bit as he tried to articulate his thoughts. Fiddly hands kept tracing the hemming of his hoodie edges, eyes strictly avoiding his brother’s questioning gaze.

“Lost. I felt like I was detached again. I couldn’t get it right and It’s just so difficult to stay up…” Closed eyes and uncertain breath faded into a hum, he almost forgot Alfred was there as he thought of the image of his childhood. Bright. Vibrant. Utterly simplistic in its approach.

“I’m on top of work. But that just means I sleep more... I'm tired. Very tired. I know I say that a lot but I am. It’s just so-” his voice breaks off into a bit of a laugh as he grimaces at his repetitious mantra, “I’m exhausted, Paisley.” He bites his lips; he’s been trying to get out of the habit of saying tired. The word was so addictingly bittersweet and had glossed over his lips so often that the definition of such a word had practically been imprinted into his personality. Dr Paisley looked up as Alfred patted a hand onto his knee, the gesture making the male almost jump as his eyes popped finally realising his brother was still in the room.

“Well. I’m sure the painting will turn out beautifully- Have you shown anyone your work, has Al-”

“It’s a surprise! It’s...not ready and I don’t want Alfred to be spoilt” The interruption let out another hiccup as Matthew slid his back down the couch, his head almost lolling straight into the couch’s depths.

“Okay. I think you should have some downtime while I Just chat with your brother, would that be possible Matthew?” He slowly got up, feeling ashamed for his messy rambling and eager to leave the room. “John could get you some tea while you wait..” the remnants of that sentence was lost on Matthew as he had already made his way out back into the little room from before.

“Hi Alfred, Long time no see, How have you been?”

“Alright, Uni is exciting as always...can we just get to the reason why I’m here? Matthew-- My brother says you want him on more medication?”

“Yes. He hasn’t been on anything for a while, and he’s made a lot of progress but recently...He’s been having trouble with our recent goals, and I don’t want to worry any of you and your family. From a professional standpoint, I would recommend this as it would help him just balance out his anxiety. He hasn’t been on much for a while now.”

“I trust you doc, but I’m still worried. He’s been kind of...really secretive I guess?

“How so? He’s told me he’s been chatting and unloading a lot on peop-”

“Well, obviously not me. Not..me. We don’t go out anymore, he always liked to sleep in but some days I have to genuinely bash his door down to get him up. It’s...a slump.”

Dr Paisley sighed, a knowing glint in her eye as she listened to the wistful way Alfred talk about his brother- knowing of what?

“Look. Mr Jones, I need to know if you’re planning on any big life changes.” Alfred seized up, caught off guard by the question, almost nervous of his own answer- “It’s just that Matthew right now needs some extra support, we’re assuming he’s just in a bit of a drop right now...he goes through it once…” her voice seemed to trail off as Alfred and his ever calculative brain were in the works of what to say: tell the truth or to wait for a better moment? Surely he could put off telling Matthew of his...no if he told the doctor now he could avoid a confrontation from his family later on…

“-Would moving away count as something big?” the professional paused in her sentence, concern out and open.

“Who would be moving?” Alfred explained his new course offer from some prestigious lab in Japan, the willingness he had to go there and the excitement was clear but the more he explained he had begun thinking of how’ll it affect his brother.

“...we spent enough time apart as kids. Last time really fucked him up and I just don’t...he lost trust in me and that’s okay I just... I- what if this is the thing that really...pushes it?”

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, both deep in thought before the doctor gave her insight: “Your brother will be fine. He wants you to live your life. He just needs time to know what’s going on. He needs to talk more. Do you know anyone he could talk to while you’re away?” There was Tim, their childhood friend of whom Mattie had always been attached to; the Dutchman always came to Matthew’s heed and Mattie always complied with the scarf-wearing weirdo. Alfred drifted, he had that new German guy, right? He never really liked Gilbert, always saw him at some trashy party- he was so different from Matthew, it would be difficult for his brother to open up to someone like that…

“Besides Tim, there’s this new guy. I think Matt would tell you about him. I don’t really trust the guy.” before the doc could synthesise a plan Matthew had knocked on the door rather meekly, sticking that fluff of a hairdo through the door and asking if he could back in.

“Of course. Matthew, your brother and I are okay with our new goals, would you like to go through with it?” the young man barely nodded, still in the doorway, leaning a bit off the frame as his eyes wandered in Alfred’s direction as if still asking if he could come in. Alfred got up, shaking off imaginary dust and he made his way out, ruffling his twin brother’s hair as they swapped places. He’d have time to think about what he wanted to tell him while he waited.

“I’m really sorry we can’t have our full 1 hour Matthew, Is there anything you’d like to talk about in particular today?” Matthew had cosied up on the chair, crossing his legs as he used to as a kid- Dr paisley had reassured him no harm would be done to her soft plush couch even if he brought his foot upon it.

“I’m just tired is all.” he had started picking at the seat fibres once more, his glasses sort of slipping off as he pressed the couch experimentally. “I understand, Alfred said you made a new friend? Wanna chat about that?” At first, Matthew was puzzled, confused as to who she had meant before realising that she probably referred to Gilbert.

“Oh. Gilbert. He’s...cool. I don’t want to talk about him. Do I ha-”

“You don’t have to do anything Matthew. This is about you.”

Matthew relayed his story about going to see Tim (minus the weed of course), how he had overstepped Tim’s boundaries once more by accident, ranting way too long and not getting anything done when he could have been doing something, anything, he never gets things done, why can’t i get things done, it’s impossi-

“Matt- Matthew breathe. Hey, hey slow down. You were taking a break right?” Matthew gulped. He didn’t realise he had been mumbling incessantly again. “I don’t think you overstepped. I’m sure Tim would have said something if you did. He’s been your...friend for a long time.” the blonde nodded, awkward to where this was going.

“Do you...pardon me if this seems inconceivable or rude...do you have feelings for Tim?” Matthew looked at her as if she had slapped him in the face-

“nO! OH Nonono- Tim’s my… he’s just a really...good friend, I couldn’t...I like someone else... I think?” his mind drifted to a pearly white smile and red eyes that really should be more intimidating than attractive. God. Gilbert’s got him good and it’s hardly been a day. He needs to stop. Paisley just smiled that ever kind smile, and it kinda sickened Matthew knowing at the end of the day she was paid to smile like that regardless of what he said to her. The rationale in his head reminded him she was genuine and that this was a good experience- counselling was better than hiding in a room getting high off his rock...that sounds more enjoyable at this point. The two chatted, Matthew once more relearning his breathing, noting to himself to write in his personal log once he gets home to keep the doc and himself on check.

“I’ll see you next Saturday? Afternoon at 1pm. 1 hour for sure Matthew.” with that the two parted, Matthew, worming his way out of the office and straight to the registering counter, prescription form in hand. Alfred had signed it. So had he. He’d have to pick them up tomorrow. Fuck me.

The two twins waddled back out, getting into their car and driving to their little detour: the diner just off campus. “Ahh loving the shoddy lights as usual,” Alfred commented as they got out the car and saw the overdone and tacky 60s light decor falter. Sliding into the opposite sides of a booth, the two sat in silence, obviously avoiding conversing about what was talked about during Matthew’s appointment. Or so Matthew hoped.

“So doc tells me ‘bout a painting.” Liar. Matthew knows Paisley wouldn’t have told him jack shit about that painting. “It’s nothing. It’s a surprise, Al, don’t go sticking your nose into my art and I won't question your phall-” Alfred burst out laughing before Matthew could finish his joke, he supposed seeing his brother laugh did brighten his moods. The waiter, dressed in a stereotypical apron, brought over some coffee (“it’s not Tim Hortons, but it’ll do”) and Alfred waved her off to get some burgers with a ‘thank you doll’ that only resulted in a tut. They talked about Alfred’s course and how his lab work was going, Matthew, in turn, talked about the next hockey season and how’d he hope he would get back on the team after his hiatus. Parents. They talked about their parents- neither of whom had called. Their father, ever the distant soul, last they heard, was back in London sorting out some legal case and hadn’t even texted Alfred the usual monthly check-in text. Matthew grimaced. If he didn’t even text Alfred...then he must still be mad about the two of them going to see mother last summer. The coffee was burnt and bitter, and this dinner was as rugged and worn out as Matthew’s weary soul, yet he couldn’t help feel comforted by the fact his brother was still here and not painstakingly somewhere ignoring him. Matthew hated being ignored.

*DING*

T @ 7:34 [Are you at the Diner? I see an oddly familiar car out here.]

Of course, Tim was here.

M @ 7:34 [Yeah Al’s here though. Just came back from Dr.P’s. Wanna join dinner time?]

T @ 7:36 [I’ve got Laura and Luca with me, I’m sure they’d love to catch up with your bro. Though you wanna chat out back for a bit?]

Matthew paused. Looked away from his phone to see Alfred once more chatting with a waitress, idly stacking up some creamer cups.

M @ 7:38 [Your sister would smell the shit on us. Tell the L duo to come in and I’ll come out.]

T @ 7:39 [I’ve got deo and we can blame it on smokers outside. They’re going.]

“The Van-de-bergs are here. I’m gonna go out just to chat with Tim for a bit. Please don’t hit on Laura again- Tim will murder you and I’ll tell Kiku.” Matthew got up quickly, making his way very quickly as his brother tried responding with a resounding “I’m not that big of a flirt-” Laura and little brother Luca in tow came bursting in, gladly waving at Matt as they made their way to the table.

“Tim says you two need to chat so he’s-”

“Outside.” Matthew pushed his way past them out the door. He’s not usually so dismissive of the kind girl but he wanted to get away from some of the noise for a bit. A smoke really sounded good right then. The air seemed nippy as he stumbled into the evening light. The fuzzy streetlights illuminated the tall figure that was Tim leaning on his car. With a head flick and a motion, the two moved, trekking to a dodgy avoided spot right behind the diner; smoker paradise as cigarette buds were littered across the gravelled area.

“..I’m assuming shit didn’t go well.” Matthew denied answering because he himself didn’t really know. Today went well. He just didn’t feel it.

“Well. Let’s chat then schatje.”

Gilbert had enjoyed Matthew’s empty bedroom for a while. But he found, no matter how charming the walls were and the strewn pieces of art- as captivating as they were, felt strange without Matthew actually being there. He had gotten out, leaving the room as immaculate as it did when he had first gotten in and wondered where the North American brothers had gone. Oh well. His work had occupied him for as long as he needed, and by dinner time he was truly starving. With his, worn out jeans and leather jacket snugly on, and his motorbike keys pocketed he decided he’d go off campus and get some takeaway. The food hall seemed a bit too dull for a Saturday night lunch right? And nothing was better than hunkering down on some takeaway and calling it a night early. With a resounding roar, his bike came to life, driving him down the quiet nighttime roads, running away from the campus that seemed to be riddled with late-night students wandering all over the place.

Unlike Alfred, Gilbert unironically liked the 60s vibe that the diner had possessed. It reminded him of his Grandfather who always liked the middle of nowhere businesses and of Ludwig and his avoidance of less than stellar looking establishments. The food was fantastic too and always made good 24/7 pancakes. Gilbert wouldn’t mind pancakes for dinner, he could get them half price if he sweetened that lady over the counter again. Just as he pulled up, and was busy stowing his helmet away he saw a familiar person walking behind the restaurant- Matthew. Matthew with someone most definitely wasn’t Alfred. I thought he said he was with his brother. Gilbert scolded himself...it’s none of his business. For all he knew Alfred was there too...behind the diner...where cute Matthew was walking with a shady looking tall dude. Yeah, not awesome. Gilbert began walking.

He’s just making sure his new friend Matt was safe. A good samaritan keeping someone safe. Gilbert's inner voice was spouting bullshit.

#prucan #APH Canada #APH Prussia #SoftSpokenCalling #prussia x canada #hetalia #hetalia axis powers #Axis Powers Hetalia #Hetalia Fanfiction #hetalia fanfics #hetalia fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #Multichapter

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sharyrazade · 5 years

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Day -320

I’m gonna do something a little different here; part writing practice, part shameless self-promotion, and part gauging interest in future projects I’m playing with, I’m gonna start posting previews- excerpts from projects of mine.

While technically a flashback in-story, here, we’ve got Makoto and Yuuki in marriage counseling in the Children of Men!verse; so you know how big a dumpster fire that relationship was.

Tapping his fingers against his tablet nervously, Kentaro Masamura, while never a religious man in the slightest, prayed silently for one half of the estranged couple to at least begin to speak. Even if their first instinct was to explode on each other- he’d seen that with more than his share of couples in his line of work and he was trained to defuse said situations. But this tension- this unspoken enmity between in the room was enough to (figuratively) choke an elephant.

Fuck it, I can’t take this anymore. “So, first things first.” Masamura began, his tone unnaturally cordial. “When did you first begin to notice problems in your marriage? Mrs. Mishima, why don’t we begin with you?”

“Ms. Niijima.” Makoto corrected sternly, only glancing at her estranged husband through the corner of her eye. “And I couldn’t tell you; probably the day after the wedding.”

Yuuki scoffed in frustration, rolling his eyes. “Oh, yeah, why don’t we ask Makoto?” he began frustratedly. “After all, she knows EVERYTHING. Something she just LOVES making you aware of.”

Makoto grasped the couch’s armrest in irritation. “Well, Mister Tech Billionaire, I don’t see how it’s any different than those fancy cars you insist on driving or that penthouse you insisted on.”

At this, Yuuki’s expression was more angered than annoyed. “Only because you wouldn’t stop going on about how much you loved it!”

“I WAS TRYING TO BE SUPPORTIVE!”

The therapist rubbed his temples in exasperation. “I hear a lot of talking past one another, but no real communicating.” remarked Kentaro upon the obvious. “Mr. Mishima- since your wife already went, why don’t we get your thoughts on when the problems started?”

Somewhat cooled off, Yuuki exhaled in exasperation. “I’m going to say...about a couple of months in?” he said tentatively. “After the ‘honeymoon phase,’ appropriately enough. I guess I noticed Makoto putting in even more hours at work than usual- kinda like she was avoiding me.”

The brunette scoffed dismissively. “Please!” she remarked, a noticeable hint of defensive cruelty in her tone. “You knew my job wasn’t exactly a part-time thing when I started. If you were going to be such a baby about it, maybe you shouldn’t have married me.”

“Oh, THAT’S the understatement of my life!” Yuuki complained. “You know mom tried to warn me about you? I SHOULD have listened to her!”

“So even when she’s not here, you’re such a mama’s boy, you bring in your passive-aggressive cunt of a mother to fight your battles?”

“How fucking DARE you talk about her like that?! And that’s rich coming from the woman who spent the past ten years giving her ‘best friend’ the cold-bitch routine on a regular basis!”

Once again sensing an impasse (or rather an impeding cliff), Kentaro gave a series of exaggerated coughs to interrupt the couple. “This is getting us nowhere.” he said, again remarking on the obvious. “I’m just going to be blunt about this question- how are things between you two- you know, in the bedroom?”

Immediately, the therapist regretted breaching the topic; the cold, hostile glares shared by both husband and wife told him he’d just skipped gleefully into a goddamned minefield. “Okaayyyy...when did you first start having issues there?”

“The wedding night.” Makoto and Yuki said in reflexive unison.

The therapist was visibly taken aback by said candor. “Wow, okay. So what caused such a rocky start to your sex life?”

Yuuki shrugged. “Ah, you know, the usual- it was always ‘I’m too tired,’ ‘I have a headache,’ or ‘maybe on the weekend.’ Basically, she’s a frigid, unavailable bitch.”

Makoto crossed her arms across her chest. “Maybe if you could stop being a thirsty little twerp for ten minutes, you could learn to take a hint. I actually am tired most of the time- it’s not JUST because you’re about as sexually appealing as that plant over there.”

Yuuki, while suspecting it on some level for some time now, wore an expression of genuine hurt at having Makoto’s true feelings confirmed by the woman herself. Kentaro, on the other hand, was justifiably perplexed. “Wait,” he began, furrowing his brow. “you NEVER discussed this kind of thing with each other?”

Both halves of the quarreling couple gave each other an equally-perplexed look before responding in kind once again. “No, never.” they both confirmed.

Kentaro scribbling away at his notes and becoming increasingly pessimistic as he did so, Makoto was the next to speak. “Besides, it’s not like you were suffering SO much.” she said carelessly. “We BOTH know you got plenty from those golddigging sluts all over you.”

Genuinely wounded and offended by this accusation, by this point, Yuuki was now more angry than anything. “Never, not once!” he exclaimed.

“Really? You never cheated once?”

“No! And that’s REAL fucking rich coming from you- remember when we went to Patong back in the summer?! The first actual orgasm you had in this marriage, you called me Akira, for fuck’s sake! And that’s not even getting into why we’re here in the first place!”

“It was a slip of the tongue and you KNOW it, you tiny little man!”

As a marriage counselor, Kentaro was privy to quite a bit about the lives of his clients, but it was still at their own discretion- understandably, he was feeling quite lost now that other names were being dropped. “Wait, who’s Akira, again?” he inquired.

Yuuki was still quite offended by his wife’s casual assertions of his infidelity- as though it were a given. Particularly hypocritical given the situation with a certain lady friend of hers, he fumed. For all those romantic, chivalrous-sounding vows they shared, Yuuki could feel his blood boiling- after all the pain and insecurities he’d shared with his wife, only to have her blurt them back in an effort to consciously belittle him- No, he wanted to hurt this woman sitting next to him.

“A mutual friend of ours who Makoto spent the past fifteen years carrying a torch for.” he informed smugly. “Got involved with another mutual friend of ours about as long ago and married her- Makoto’s been a condescending, passive-aggressive bitch to her ‘best friend’ ever since.”

Her expression momentarily betraying her wound at this divulging of some of her dirtiest social laundry, Makoto quickly reverted to a couple of her tried-and-true responses, among them her rather aloof default expression.

“Well, it can’t be THAT great a marriage.” she remarked snidely, wanting to change the subject but feel some self-righteousness from her venting. “You know he- they bring other women into their bedroom sometimes, right? Doesn’t sound a man too happy in his marriage if you ask me.”

Yuuki scowled, not having nearly the emotional skin as his wife did in this game. “What makes you so sure it’s for him?” he barbed, glowering at Makoto. “She was pretty upfront about being bisexual with him- kinda important information to have going in, you think?”

“Wait, hold on-” interrupted Kentaro, holding a hand up. “We’re discussing YOUR marriage right now- not theirs.”

At this statement, Makoto lost her composure, shooting upright and looming over her husband angrily. “Oh, and here we go!” she complained. “Yes, I fucked my best girlfriend and left you for her! Yes, I admit it! And you know something, I’d do it again! And again! And again! Do you know why? Because you know something about Haru? She is kind, she’s loyal, she’s humble, she’s caring- all for the sake of it! Everything you’re not! And by the way, she’s more of a man and lover than you could EVER be!”

“If I’m so pathetic and disgusting to you,” Yuuki raged. “why did you even bother to show up today?!”

“I don’t know! I’ve made so many mistakes with you, that would just be the latest!”

“Then why don’t you just get the hell out?!”

“MAYBE I WILL!”

“GOOD! Go on back to your poor little rich girl and your snotty, pretentious cafes, and your weekends in Paris and- whatever it is the fuck you two do to each other every night!”

Even before Makoto stormed from the office, slamming the door behind her, as a therapist and professional in general, it was pretty clear to Kentaro Masamura that he’d lost control of the situation completely the second their friend Akira came up- it had been undeniable once the word “bisexual” entered into the conversation.

Having cooled down somewhat, Yuuki sighed tiredly. “Sorry about that, doc.” he said apologetically. “What do I owe you for all the sessions- I kinda think this was a wash.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Kentaro replied.

“Nah, I insist- I subjected you to the oil fire that is my marriage, I’m going to compensate you for it.”

Hmm, an “oil fire.” That was a pretty good way of describing that utter disaster, the therapist conceded to himself. Kentaro Masamura did this job because he genuinely did believe in trying to preserve relationships when possible. Trying to preserve this one however, was not so much rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic- it was more attempting to bail out the ship with a drinking glass- from the bottom of the Atlantic.

#catherine atlus #persona series #persona 5 #yuuki mishima #makoto niijima #post-canon #children of men!verse #my writing #preview

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kitchenwitchsuperwhovian · 6 years

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Trouble

Pairings/Characters: Jim, Leonard x Reader, (mentions) Nyota & Pavel

Summary: What happens when fuck buddies find out they have an unexpected connection that could spell trouble for the duo…..

Word Count: 1,806

Prompts: I had the song prompt Trouble by P!nk, Best friend’s brother!AU, and the line “He does dress better than I do. What would I bring to the relationship?”

Warnings: Not much in the warning department but a couple of swear words and descriptions alluding to sex. It’s the first time writing for the Star Trek universe so if there are any grammatical or behavioral mistakes, they’re purely my fault.

Tags: This is for @reigningqueenofwords and @izawrites writing challenge, #StarTrekWinter. This story took off with a mind of its own so enjoy!

A/N: @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid who is not in the fandom but beta’d my story anyway. Thanks for the help. I really needed it this time around.

“Nyota, turn off the radio please. I barely got in an hour ago and I’m exhausted.” Y/N mumbles into her folded arms.

No attorneys to plead my case. No orbits to send me into outta space. And my fingers are bejeweled with diamonds and gold but that ain't gonna help me now. I'm trouble, yeah trouble now. I'm trouble ya'll, I disturb my town. I'm trouble, yeah trouble now. I'm trouble ya'll, I got trouble in my town.

As the lyrics play softly in the background, Y/N has flashes from the past two nights she spent away from home.

“Name’s Doc, sugar. Let me refill your drink and we can get to know each other better.” says a darkly seductive voice from behind Y/N’s seat at the bar.

“Name’s Baker and if you can answer one question for me first, then by all means, saddle up to the bar with me, stranger.” Y/N whispers sultrily.

“A challenge I am sure I will be more than capable of accomplishing darlin’. Ask me anything.”

Y/N knocks back the last of her bourbon with a hiss and turns to face the man with the gravelly voice and she is not disappointed. Dark unkempt hair, steely blue eyes, angled jaw and lips that are downright sinful to look at.

“My question is….wanna get out of here and cause a little trouble?” Y/N asks as she closes the space between them and takes his lower lip in her teeth with a teasing nip before stepping back with a smirk.

“Darlin’, before the night is over, these legendary hands will have mapped every inch of your body as you scream my name to the stars.” He grins widely as he knocks back his drink in one gulp and slams it on the bar along with a few bills for their drinks. He grabs her hand and hauls Y/N close as he devours her lips with his in an intense kiss that is more potent than the bourbon she’d consumed earlier.

Slamming the door to his place open, they continue to kiss, hands busy removing clothes with nimble fingers as Doc kisses down Y/N’s neck and across her chest. Her clumsy fingers working as she tries to take his pants off but when they get stuck on his hips, Y/N growls and pushes him slightly away from her trembling form.

“You take off yours and I’ll take off mine.” Y/N grins sexily as she unhooks her bra from the front and throws it at his face. She enjoys the look of awe on his face momentarily as his hands freeze on his zipper. It’s her turn to look on in awe as he removes his shirt and pants. The muscle definition on his body has Y/N salivating, wishing for a taste.

Y/N rushes into his arms and lands fairy kisses across his neck and chest, dropping to her knees as she kisses down his happy trail towards his straining erection through his black briefs.

“Fuck, Baker. Keep doing that darlin’ and this will be a short ride.” He growls as he drags her into the bedroom by her belt loops.

Turns out that he wasn’t kidding about having legendary hands. Between the teasing, edging, and finger-fucking, she was surprised that she could walk out the door this morning. Y/N’s neck and most of her chest is covered in dark marks from his talented lips and she has a slight stinging across both inner thighs from his five o'clock shadow. The memory alone has tingles of desire shooting through her veins straight to her core. The only thing that holds Y/N back from heading back to bed is the promise she got from Doc just before she left this morning.

“One more for the road Baker.” Doc moans against Y/N’s clit as she explodes in the most intense orgasm yet.

“Fuck Doc, those lips should be considered illegal.” Y/N pants as she tries to control her shaking limbs. His chuckle reverberates through her right thigh as he kisses her once and rolls off to the side, his breathing still uneven.

“I have to work tonight but maybe we could do this again, if you want to blow off some steam sometime, Doc?” Y/N asks as she places a gentle kiss on his forehead and grabs her panties off the wall clock.

“Deal, sweetheart. Just put your number in my phone on the nightstand and I’ll text you my schedule. Let me take you home Baker or my mamma would slap me across state lines for not treating a lady right.” Y/N chuckles as she sits to put on her shoes when she sees Doc wobble towards his pants on the dresser.

“So is keeping this light with Doc and Baker as our names okay? I feel like my regular life can’t or won’t intrude if our real names aren’t revealed. You know what I mean?” Y/N stares at his face to gauge his reaction and by the small smirk on his lips, she knows that he’s on the same page. What he says next though throws her for a loop.

“Works for me but just so you know, I will break you down until I hear you scream my real name in pleasure darlin’.” With a wink and a heart-stopping smile, he grabs his keys and jacket and leads her out the door.

Y/N lays in bed thinking of his words and she just knows that her roommate, Nyota, will have something to say about the smile she can’t seem to wipe off her face, not to mention the hickeys littering her neck and chest.

I'm trouble, yeah trouble now. I'm trouble ya'll, I got trouble in my town. So if you see me coming down the street then. You know it's time to go (go-oh-oh..I got) trouble, yeah trouble now. I'm trouble ya'll, I got trouble in my town. I'm trouble, yeah trouble now.

As the song fades into the background, Y/N gets out of bed with a groan as she realizes why she set her alarm so early today. Her best friend JT is in town to visit his brother and they are supposed to all meet up for lunch at the cafe down the street, Pavel’s.

As Y/N gets to Pavel’s, she sees JT is already there talking with a dark-haired man sitting in the booth. He has his back to her and she races forward quietly and covers JT’s eyes.

“Guess who, punk?” Y/N whispers as she playfully taps her fingers over his eyes. When she finally sees that man he was talking to, she freezes and the world becomes white noise. They lock eyes and with a frantic shake of her head no, he taps JT’s arm and asks who this lovely creature is in a smooth as honey drawl that has her pussy clenching in remembered pleasure.

JT grabs Y/N’s hands off his face and spins her around into a crushing hug. “It’s been a long time kid. How is the bakery business been treating you?” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Doc’s eyebrows raise in a silent question.

“It’s been hectic but good. I have some really talented workers so I’m able to take off more since opening last June. Who are you hiding, Jimmy?” Y/N asks as she points towards Doc with feigned innocence.

“Y/N, this is my brother, Dr. Leonard McCoy. He recently moved here so he could open his own clinic. Doc, this is my best friend from college, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Pleasure ma’am.” He mutters as they shake hands in greeting. Y/N has to suppress the full body shiver at the remembered feel of those hands across her skin this weekend.

“So how come you and Jim never gave it a go?” Leonard asks over a bite of his salad. Both Jim and Y/N share a look and with a silent nod from Jim, Y/N answers as seriously as she can.

“Well, he does dress better than I do. What would I bring to the relationship?” With a slightly shocked look on his face, Y/N cracks and starts to laugh in mirth.

“Ha ha, very funny. I can see why you and Jim are friends. A barrel of laughs you two must be.” Leonard grumbles as he tucks back into his salad.

“No really, in all honesty we never really had the inclination to change to that type of relationship. Plus, we are too alike to actually be compatible if we were to be romantically linked. Also, Jim here is still stuck on Ms. Marcus…” Y/N lets slip so the romantic talk is directed away from her pathetic love life.

“I have news on that front actually. Carol has decided to move back to be Doc’s head nurse so she and I are giving it another shot.”

“Jimmy, that’s great!” Y/N congratulates him with a quick hug but her joy is short lived.

“So Y/N, that just means we need to find you someone to put up with you and we’ll be all set.” Jim announces smugly as he tucks back into his sandwich. “Leo, any ideas on who can hook up with Y/N here?” Jim asks innocently as dread creeps into Y/N’s veins. As she meets Leonard’s amused gaze, she can’t help but recall the irony of the song that woke her on this unpredictable morning.

You know it's time to go (and you know it's time to go 'cause here comes trouble). No attorneys to plead my case. No orbits to send me into outta space. And my fingers are bejeweled with diamonds and gold but that ain't gonna help me now. I'm trouble, yeah trouble now.

#StarTrekWinter #leonard mccoy #dr mccoy #Leonard mccoy x reader #Dr mccoy x reader #star trek fanfic #star trek fan fic #star trek fan fiction #star trek fanfiction

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essayrubric888 · 4 years

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buttonholedlife · 4 years

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your guide to daf, the godfathers of techno

Whether you've spent 36 hours off your face in Berlin's temple of techno, Berghain, or not, everybody's had a night out stomping to some techno, good or bad, haven't they? But have you ever wondered where that techno comes from, like who actually invented techno? Seminal German band DAF (Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft) are a lean machine. Their sound is pure body music that pioneered the way for modern techno, EBM and electropunk. They basically invented techno. Armed with sequencers, synthesisers, militant percussion and staccato spoken-word German vocals, DAF made a sexy and sweaty sound that was precise dance music for intellectuals after an unforgiving workout.

DAF were an enigma, releasing four albums in machine gun succession between 1980 and 1982, before disbanding. These iconic and hard to get your hands on albums: Die kleinen und die Bösen, Alles ist Gut, Gold und Liebe and Für immer, have all been re-issued as part of their DAS IST DAF career-spanning box set. We spoke to the cult heroes and DAF originators Gabriel "Gabi" Delgado-López and Robert Görl about the origins of the band, flexing their electronic muscle and their lasting influence as the forefathers of German electronic music.

The Origins of DAF Gabi and Robert first met in the Autumn of 78 at Düsseldorf's notorious punk club the Ratinger Hof. The spirit of punk was in full swing and everybody was up for doing something DIY. The pair crossed paths at the bar, Robert telling Gabi he wanted to start a band and Gabi telling Robert he wanted to become a singer.

The next day the duo headed down to Ratinger Hof's trashy basement slash rehearsal space, where Gabi played an electronic toy drum kit and shouted a few words. Robert says, "If anyone had seen what we had done in that dirty basement, they'd have asked 'What is this? Are they mad?'" High on the noise they made and the possibilities of youth, they emerged from the basement feeling wowed -- and DAF was born.

The Sound of DAF DAF's primary objective was to create a totally new sound. They did this via a simple equation: sequencers + real drums + harsh German vocals = DAF. Turned on by the energy of punk, Robert and Gabi agreed that if they were to be successful they must do something innovative.

So DAF harnessed the energy of punk to create something new. Recruiting other members to expand the outfit to a five-piece band for their first album of 22 instrumental improvisations, Ein Produkt, later they would streamline back to a duo. Adhering to the strict DAF rules they'd laid out, if either Robert or Gabi disliked a track or felt it sounded derivative, then it would simply be deleted, no questions asked.

Before the late 70s synthesisers were ridiculously huge and insanely expensive, but that changed in 78 when Korg unleashed the affordable, compact MS-20 model. It allowed DAF to create music from the ground up, even manipulating the basic tones they were playing. Robert rejected the use of preset sound banks, because someone else had made them and anyone else could use them they're inherently anti-DAF. "DAF is doing your own thing with electronic creations and these electronic creations are original, they're not factory sounds, they're not perfect, they're even sometimes slightly out of tune, but this was what we liked," Gabi says.

The Politics of DAF Gabi says "Fighting Anglo-American pop imperialism," was their modus operandi. Gabi applied a Dada and mid-20s Russian revolutionary art approach to his lyric writing. "You have to reduce language to be very precise and make it very minimal," Gabi explains, "to make your message really strong. The more concentrated it is the stronger it is. If you have a good wine you don't put water in it."

On tracks like their hit single Der Mussolini, seemingly nonsense phrases are deployed to masterful effect. Gabi would go into the studio with words he loved for how they sound, ideally without having heard the track before and through stream of consciousness writing, just experiment. "There are certain words that sound sexy, for example from a phonetic aspect, like Dada. For instance, Mussolini, when I went in to record the vocal track I only had this word because I liked it." This was Gabi's way of giving punk another context and attempting to break taboos (when Der Mussolini was released the ramifications of the Second World War were still very much present in Germany with the Berlin Wall still intact) not only musically but conceptually:

"Words can change the world and music can change your feelings; there's no other artform where you can evoke such long forgotten memories, smells, situations, than you can with music. So if you're able to evoke certain feelings and at the same time give people messages bringing together emotions and intellect, that's where body and brain come together."

The DAF Style During their three-year relocation to London from 79, Robert and Gabi refined the DAF look, more or less dressing entirely in black and looking like they were going to Berghain before Berghain existed. Robert was into rockabilly style and Gabi went through phases as a punk, skinhead and mod.

"When I was a punk I had a leather jacket with safety pins and everything, on the back I wrote Yves Saint Laurent, to provoke the punks," says Gabi. "When the first shops started selling this fashion then I thought punk is over so I became a traditional skin with Doc Martens and sta-prest jeans and Fred Perry shirts and then I became a mod with a Fendi suit."

Once they started wearing a lot of black leather the DAF look got pretty homoerotic, coming on strong like a sweaty prototype Frankie Goes to Hollywood, but cold to the bone and sexy af.

The Influence of DAF John Peel rightly dubbed them the "Godfathers of Techno" because the DAF sound is essentially a precursor to what would evolve into the techno we rave to today. DAF rejected the classic pop/rock verse chorus rules and made track-orientated music with sequences that run through the songs. "Nowadays if you go to a club eighty percent of the house and techno tracks are made using DAF rules. Just a sequence running through, no different parts," Gabi says. "No water in the wine."

Having previously reworked records for everyone from Snoop to Depeche Mode, next generation German producer and DAF fan Boys Noize has reworked DAF's Als wär's das letzte Mal available on limited edition 12-inch vinyl, with only 140 hand numbered units, to coincide with the band's DAS IST DAF release.

"DAF sort of paved the way for techno music. There has been a huge EBM-inspired techno sound throughout the 90s and it's back already big time. The sound of DAF's synth sequences has often been copied over to techno tracks, that classic Korg MS-20 sound really stands out from other synths. DAF is actually the existing bridge between punk, wave and techno."

DAF play with Total Control and Dark Water on Sunday 17th November at Melbourne Town Hall.They will also deliver a keynote speech in conversation with Kittin and Darren Sylvester on Saturday 16th at the NGV. Don't miss it. Further details and tickets here.

This content was originally published here.

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