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adaptacy · 4 months

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A Found Flame {Pt.12}

Pairing: Mentor!Gale Dekarios x Apprentice!GN!Reader

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A/N: Sorry I haven't been updating this super frequently, I lowkey forgot tumblr existed for a hot second. it's all up to date on AO3, but I'll get back into posting it on here too! Also, I have commissions up on my page! There's a link to an info post on my pinned :) could really use the extra money & I'm happy to write for ideas that y'all have!!

Word Count: 4.6k

The start of the morning went according to routine. Waking up at sunrise, fixing yourself and Tara breakfast, and tidying up the study before she awoke. While doing some light reading over a cup of hot coffee, you’re startled by a knock on the door. Soon your increased heart rate is not out of fear, but instead out of excitement. An eagerness to see a familiar face, somehow believing that he had managed to cut the trip down to only nine days. An incredible feat, but you certainly weren’t going to complain – you would be without him no more!

You’re quick to stand from the loveseat and rush for the front door, leaving the book you’d been reading on the table, far less interested in its contents when Gale had finally come back. You open the door – you don’t bother to call out, or ask who it might be, as you’re sure that you know who it is.

But Gale’s beard was certainly not that long. And not nearly as white. And his face was never as… old.

“Hello?” You stammer, caught off-guard by a completely unfamiliar elder, dressed in obvious wizard-esque attire, with a long orange and red robe and a matching hat that drapes behind him. He nods, smiling wearily and glancing behind you.

“The apprentice, I presume? I intend not to affright thee. Might you indulge an old man? I bear regards to Gale,” he speaks, his voice deep in the stereotypical elderly way, and you swear he’s far too old for a mortal human, but he looks plenty human.

“You know Gale?” You ask, hesitant to believe anything the man says, both due to your immediate disappointment that the door didn’t open to Gale, and because you know better than to immediately trust strangers.

“Indubitably. You may safely classify Gale and I as friends,” he confirms, and you realize that this may very well be Gale’s ‘old friend’ that he intended to visit. After all, he’s plenty old, and allegedly a friend. There is an instant pit in your stomach – If he is here, and notably lacking the company of your mentor, then something must be wrong.

You know that your worry shows on your face, but you don’t care. You step out of the way and pull the door open further, inviting him in. “Come in, please.” It takes a lot not to choke on your words, on your rising anxiety, on your terror. He enters, steps out of his boots, and makes his way to the study, not requiring any sort of direction – a confirmation that he’s likely who he says he is.

You follow, and he pauses in the middle of the study, motioning about the room. “A mighty toothsome abode this has become – cert ameliorated since I last bore tarriance.” He turns to look at you and waves a hand, a smile crossing his wrinkled features. “Compliments! Alas, I trekked not for flattery. Should thy curiosity bear uncertainty, I shall put to rest such indecision. Elminster Aumar, at your service.” He extends a hand, and you stare at it for a moment before ultimately taking it, and he gives it a firm shake, pushing dried wrinkles against your palm, before he drops his hand.

“Nice to meet you. Where is Gale? Is everything okay?” You question, desperately searching his eyes for answers, perhaps something more clear than his convoluted conversation will provide, but you find a barrier of blue wisdom, refusing you any peeks into his true nature.

“Enigmatic, the situation remains. Harrowing dawns are upon us, I fear. Mystra sanctioned the deliverance of a memorandum most paramount,” he sighs, and you frown, simultaneously trying to decipher his statements and search for assurance that Gale is okay. You don’t particularly succeed at either. “Cognizant am I of his absenteeism, inclusive of thy enlistment to the abecedarian chosen’s – ah, erstwhile chosen’s – service. A most discommodious concatenation has seized the deliberation of the Gods.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, but when he doesn’t speak anymore, you shake your head, narrowing your eyes. “I’m… not understanding.”

He tuts, clasping his hands together and closing his eyes, sighing yet again. “Apologies. I come bearing a–”

“By Mystra’s mercy!” Tara yowls, her tail stiffening and puffing as she emerges from Gale’s room, anxiously glancing Elminster up and down, her head shaking and her wings twitching. “Elminster Aumar? Oh, dear – whatever trouble has my wizard gotten into?”

Elminster looks at Tara, and he smiles nervously, dipping his head once more. “Tara, dearest, a delight to see you.” He clears his throat, addressing you once more, and Tara comes to rub against your calf, taking a seat between your ankles and looking up at the old man. “I desiderate not to impose you, but to entrust to you a message. A consideration, on Mystra’s part, to offer Gale redemption.”

Your eyebrows furrow, and you feel Tara’s fur bristle against your skin, both of your guards up. “Redemption? I don’t understand – where is Gale?”

“I know not his precise locale. Hence my emergence in Waterdeep. It is in your hands I allocate his discovery. Tara – grant me aplomb, will you?”

Her tail swishes, brushing over the ground in mild irritation, or perhaps worry – maybe even a combination of both. “I can find him, Elminster. Rest assured.”

“Most meritorious. Upon reconciliation, I ask you to inform him of the following. It is imperative that he understands the false deity he faces is far more dangerous than he may possibly conceive. It threatens the gods, the realm, the universe itself. Mystra believes only he is capable of its thorough destruction.” His voice is tainted with regret – as if he is apologetic for the goddess’ message. He reaches into his robe, presenting a tightly tied scroll, and you take it from him, though don’t dare to open it. “If he complies, the spell contained within that scroll will put a halt to the orb’s impending implosion. A temporary fix – all too temporary indeed. He must find the heart, and obey the ritual.”

“False deity? Threatening the gods – the ‘heart’? What are you on about?” You let out an exhale that borders on the edge of a confused, overwhelmed whine, your head shaking in an attempt to dispel the oncoming migraine.

“Set out as quickly as you can. The realm battles against time. He will understand, even if you do not.” He shakes his own head, inhaling slowly, as if to steady himself. “My sincerest apologies, child. Had I any choice in the matter, you would not be my target of burden. Alas, you know him well, and the trust is mutual. I have little time – Mystra beckons me afresh. I may only bestow upon you luck. And the best of luck it is.”

. . .

“So, he is her chosen?” You ask, sorting through Gale’s desk as you collect two pouches of gold, dropping them into a quickly-filling traveling pack.

“Has been for many a century. Oh, I do so hope to be absolved of my misery at a quicker rate than that. To live for a millenia – isn’t it plain dreadful?” She mews, kneading at the cushion of the loveseat across the room from you.

You close the drawer that you’d been sifting through, opening a different drawer filled with quills, as well as a dagger that has gone unused for longer than you’ve known Gale. You don’t have any intentions of using it, but you’re smart enough to know better than to travel unarmed. “Did you understand anything he said? All of that about Mystra and the ‘huge threat’, or whatever he called it?”

“Hardly, though I rarely concern myself with the affairs of gods. Once we find Mr. Dekarios, he will explain all. He won’t want to risk the clawing that would come with keeping us in the dark about whatever he is up to,” she replies, stretching out her back and jumping off of the couch, approaching you before hopping onto the desk, inspecting the bag you were packing. “My, quite the pile of gold you’ve acquired, dear.”

“Well, yeah. We’ll need to afford rations for the trip, there’s no telling how long it will take, and probably transportation, and–”

“Hah!” She meows, amused at your statement. “Nonsense. The trip will be a short one. With my purrrfect nose, we’ll find him in a whisker’s twitch.”

“We’ll still need to travel to him, though.”

“Ah. With my trusty sense of smell, my unbridled connection to my darling humanoid, and a sprinkling of conjuration magic, we’ll be in the… general area of Mr. Dekarios,” she assures, sticking her head into the bag and biting the tip of a gold pouch, removing it and dropping it onto the desk. “Let’s leave some inheritance for our return, yes?”

“Wait – we can just… appear there? Like, teleporting?” You chuckle in surprise, a little baffled that it would be that easy.

“Well, thirty-two years of companionship doesn’t go without its benefits! Aside from the self-warming bed, of course. I know Mr. Dekarios better than he knows himself. I’ll find him, don’t you fret. Elminster emphasized the urgency of the situation, so I best be referring to a few studies on transpositional spells. We should depart before the evening. Will you be ready?”

You think over what else you need to do, or pack, and eventually nod. “Yeah, I’m ready whenever you are.”

“Delightful,” she praises, hopping off of his desk once more and walking towards his room. She pauses, however, to look behind herself at you, her ears twitching. “Do bring along some of that salmon, would you? As much as I enjoy hunting the occasional mouse, we’ve larger missions to sink our claws into.”

“Of course. I’ll even cut it up into squares,” you tease, and she lets out a loud purr in response, satisfied with your answer. Tara disappears into his room, and you return to your packing, picking up the backpack and leaving the study, immediately preparing the salmon before you risk forgetting. You slice it into squares as you’ve been doing for the past few days, and then place those squares on a sheet of parchment paper, rolling it up and securing it before you tuck it into your bag.

Knowing that you have very little hunting experience, you make sure to grab plenty of rations for yourself, as well, though find that the bag is getting quite full. You suppose the several changes of clothes are mostly at fault for that, and you have to sacrifice two sets in order to fit what you believe will keep you fed for at least a few days. Maybe less, should you need to share with Gale, but you’d be happy enough to have found him, you doubt you’ll have room for complaints.

When you return to the study, you can hear Tara muttering incantations in the next room over, and you decide better than to risk interrupting her. You would pick out a book to keep you company, but you doubt you have the room for that, and as Tara said, you’d probably have your hands full for the next few days. Instead, you take a seat by the unlit fireplace, allowing yourself a few minutes to think – to properly process everything that has been dumped onto you in a morning. Truly, it would be nice if ‘grand reveals’ were a little more spaced out, or had some build up to them. Alas, you were smacked with concerning news flashes that rattled you for a morning, or a single conversation, and then you were promptly dropped in a sea of confusion, left to teach yourself how to swim.

How unfair.

Thanks in part to Elminster’s intensely coded and decorated speech mannerisms, you have no clue what you should expect. On the bright side, it seemed quite assured that he was not dead. Mystra would certainly know if he was – not only because of her familiarity with him, but likely that her connection to the weave within him would draw her immediate attention, should that connection be severed, or… exploded.

She was rather audacious, if you had to be honest. To abandon him in his time of need, to leave him wandering and hurting after everything he tried to do for her, was one issue, and a plenty large enough issue on its own. But now for her to suddenly call upon him for a mission because she felt threatened? Oh, the gall.

You couldn’t tell if it was incredibly serious because she’d called on a mortal to do her bidding, or if it was incredibly un-serious, because she had called on a mortal to do her bidding! She, a goddess, the weave incarnate, the mistress of magic, couldn’t take care of a threat to the entire universe, but Gale Dekarios, a middle-aged, objectively gauche and reclusive wizard, was capable of such victory?

It was the orb. It had to be. In no world did Gale naturally have such power at his fingertips. Even so, the weave within him is only a fraction of Mystra. Surely she is stronger? Surely she can cast such destruction tenfold, should she be so inclined.

…Right?

Gale was not more powerful than Mystra. Nobody could be – not via the weave, anyways. Gale wasn’t even on a similar level to Mystra. He had a fraction – a fraction – of her power. Didn’t he? That’s what he’d told you.

You recall your own experience – pulling energy with the orb as your source. The split second of unforeseen power that you felt, that surged through you as if it was you. In that moment, you’d believed yourself unbeatable. All-powerful. An irrational thought, you’re aware, and yet such possibility intrigues.

If Mystra controlled the weave, couldn’t she remove the orb? According to Elminster, she’s capable of pausing it, and yet it remains latched and active within his body. She had to have her reasons. Mystra would not turn down the ability to be even stronger without good reason.

Again, you return to your memory – the quiet calm of the orb, paired with Gale’s utter terror. It makes you think.

Is Mystra scared of it?

“Are you quite ready?” Tara peeks her head out from Gale’s bedroom, and you quickly stand, putting on your boots and nodding, grabbing your backpack from the loveseat. You follow her into Gale’s bedroom, where a swirling purple and black vortex awaits you.

“We’ll be able to return, right?”

“Oh, of course,” she reassures, and you relax, stepping closer to the portal. You feel her rub against your ankle, and she outstretches her wings, yawning. Jumping to fly behind you, she perches on your shoulder, her tail bumping against your back. “With the assistance of a horse, but a return is a return, yes?”

You cringe, a little less sure, but give an affirmative shrug nonetheless. “Right. Here goes, I guess.”

“Prepare your feathers, dear – a quick trip through the cosmos and we’ll surely be on his doorstep! Or… somewhere in the vicinity.”

With that, and a nod at one another, you step through the portal, having to rely on your trust in Tara to recite the spell correctly and not land you in a heap of trouble.

– – –

He’d left the ruckus of the party behind him, the noise from drunken singing and laughing a little too much for him to bear. And far too sweet of an opportunity. A perfect distraction – as if it had been curated for him. He did deserve it, didn’t he?

He’d worked so hard. Slain so many goblins. Thoroughly exhausted himself, dirtied his daggers and saved lives. Heroes, they named them. As if his intentions were entirely pure – as if he felt empathy for the tieflings, as if he’d been pushed to act in their honor, as if he cared.

The wine was tolerable, at least. The company not so much. Drunk and dry. Below his standards, and far too chatty.

The boars were better than the rats. Had more sustenance to them – a little more flavor. More of a kick, too, as small as their legs were. Alas, he was hungry, and ever-so-greedy. Perhaps he’d find a deer. Or another boar – it wasn’t too wretched of an idea. If he had to compromise, he wasn’t entirely opposed to it. Hardly a fan, but blood was, ultimately, blood. A boar would hold him off for another day or two. A deer, though? Oh, certainly a week.

He finds himself traveling deeper and deeper into the forest. The party, ringing through the trees around their little clearing, scaring off the prey he so helplessly yearned for. What insatiable hunger. A hindrance, a terrible flaw, a godsforsaken craving – until he satisfied it, at least.

However temporary the satisfaction, it made the carnal desires, the churning desperation, the withdrawals – all of it, worth it, for a little while. Few things came close to the sensation of blood running down his neck, washing him inside and out, fulfilling his bone-chilling needs.

How clueless his companions remained. It granted him fragmented amusement, witnessing their utter hopelessness – gave him the slightest rushes of power, of pride. Of security. To know, and to trust, that his secret remained just that, all thanks to his carefully plucked words, his controlled smiles, his flawless manipulation. Even his kills were tidy –

Well, save for the first boar, that is. Not that they’d picked up on it, fortunately, but he supposes he could have cleaned that one up a little better. He’d been desperate, and practically starved. Trekking about in unfamiliar lands was so incredibly exhausting. Especially when he was forced to sweat under the heat of the sun – not to say he didn’t enjoy walking freely under the sun, of course he did, but the sweat he could do without.

And slaying was even more taxing on his body. Swinging, dashing, dodging – oh, catching prey used to be so easy.

At least he did it for himself now. Made the burdens far easier to bear. Free will was such a luxury, wasn’t it?

Astarion pauses, hearing movement ahead of him. He can’t hear the noise of the party anymore, nor can he see the lights, and he’s sure that his prey lies close. So he sticks closer to the denser parts of the forest, hugging every shadow that he can, moving with them as one as though he’s Baldur Gate’s best trained assassin, or a panther, slinking about the underbrush, eyes on a darling, oblivious gazelle.

He smells a fire, and then he hears quiet chattering –

A person.

His heart flutters, his fangs practically ache, and he realizes that settling for a boar would be a horrific lowball. Unfair – unfair to him.

He deserves better. He deserves real prey. He deserves payment for two-hundred years spent in a hell personalized for him. He deserves payment for having his freedom robbed from him. He deserves payment for freeing those poor, defenseless tieflings.

He deserves payment. Retribution.

He deserves real blood. Sweet blood. Thick, terrified blood – crying blood, pleading blood. Blood with a life. Blood with a soul. Blood with a personality.

Better him than a wolf, or a bear. Better fangs in the neck than claws across the torso, surely. He’d be doing this stranger a mercy. Maybe he’ll even be gentle. Maybe he’ll be kind – maybe, he’ll be the hero that the tieflings claim he is.

But he is hungry. And he is weary. And he can smell them, smell a meal, smell satisfaction. It is yards away, and he is closing in, and his fingers twitch, and he is silent. The grass does not betray him, no sticks dare to sneak under his steps, not a leaf crunches under his weight.

He is being given what he deserves, at last.

No – he is offered no gifts. Every step is a careful one, every stick is dodged, every leaf is tip-toed over.

He is taking what he deserves.

He creeps closer, finding someone getting ready for rest, curled up alone on a bedroll, unaware of the danger lurking mere feet away. They smell sweet – innocent. Had he any less dignity, he’d positively be salivating, closer to an excited mutt than an ex-magistrate. However far he’s fallen, he cares not.

His mind belongs not to him, but to his need, to his cravings, to the yearning of his fangs. He watches them, their eyes closed, but he’s sure they’re awake; moments ago, they shifted their makeshift blanket, ensuring perfect comfort.

He hopes it’s an adequate final resting place.

In an instant, he’s pounced, and he kneels beside them, a hand firmly clasped over their mouth as their eyes widen and they writhe, making his own blood rush. He shushes them, feigning some care for their comfort, but he knows that the more terrified they are, the quicker their heart beats, and the more blood that will be pumped directly into his mouth.

His other hand tangles in their hair, and he yanks them up, his mouth opening as he eyes their neck, and at last, he bites down, earning a pained squeal from his victim.

It is magnificent.

Perfect, sweet with a kick, and it warms him, far better than any blood he’s ever tasted. Animals are no match. When blood like this exists, blood that makes him feel like royalty, blood that makes him twitch, blood that consumes his mind as he consumes–

“Fiend!” A feminine voice hisses, and Astarion feels claws rake across his face, earning a hiss from himself as he stumbles off of the victim, dreadfully yanked away from his meal. That meal clutches their neck, and Astarion finds that his assailant is a winged cat, her fur standing on end, her tail thick and bristled, claws unsheathed and prepared to strike again.

“Bloody hells! What is wrong with you?!” His victim cries out, and Astarion’s eyes linger on the blood trailing down their neck, pooling in the crevice of their collarbone, painting them a perfect feast–

Once more, claws strike across his nose, and he growls, backing away an extra step and looking between his victim and the tabby. Despite his urges, and his concern for allowing a victim to escape, he recoils and retreats, believing it to be better to return to camp rather than expel any more energy in a battle.

After all, it’s quite unlikely for the pair to stay in these woods when they’re aware of a vampire on the loose – They’d have to be positively insane to stick around.

– – –

It’d been too long since he’d indulged in the bittersweet sting of wine, and he’d made up for lost time tonight. Several glasses deep, as a matter of fact, and his mind was entirely distracted from any pressing matters, and certainly drawn away from the impending regret to follow the next morning.

The river bank they camped by was perhaps the most peaceful place he’d found thus far. So it was on the bank that he sat, not minding the tickle of sand, too focused on the quiet, buried sound of the water slowly running past. Buried, that was, underneath the sound of the off-tune singing and chattering of his companions and their guests, the tieflings they’d rescued.

It isn’t half the view, but it reminds him of Waterdeep. Reminds him of the view from the balcony – the one he could share with them, no matter the time of day, or night. The breeze here was slight, but it’s enough to make him reminisce on the salty breeze he had grown so used to. The kind that’s just chilly enough to allow for him to pull them closer, wrapping an arm around their shoulder in mock defense of the cold and be safe from any possible accusations about ulterior motives. Gods forbid he be pushed to answer for what exactly his feelings on them were – he hardly knew, and he doubted anyone else, especially them, would be capable of understanding.

Tara called it love. Tara also had quite the habit of getting ahead of herself. He enjoyed their company, that was certainly a given, but toleration was quite different from love. Albeit, he was beyond simply tolerating them, but it still hardly called for such an extreme adjective. He was not, and still is not, a man who is searching for love. Even if he did possess such feelings for them – which was wildly unlikely – he wouldn’t be able to act upon such feelings. Gods, he didn’t want to even imagine the embarrassment that would follow any kind of confession from his end. Perhaps even worse, the accusations. He had not taken them in so he could pursue any kind of an intimate relationship with them. He had not mentored them with such intentions in play.

Gale knows his concerns are reasonable, and completely justified. Any such unforeseen flattery would put too heavy a damper on what they already had; a perfectly innocent business relationship, perhaps even one more akin to a professor and his student. The kind of relationship that absolutely did not, under any circumstances, have room for romantics.

Anyways, he harbored no longing for them. So it mattered none. Whatever limitations he had firmly set in his mind were not going to become tainted with regret, because there was nothing to regret. Nothing more to wish for. He yearned for survival, nothing else. Certainly not them.

Likely, the wine was to blame – mixing unpleasantly with the tadpole in his head, causing his thoughts to branch off into unsavory places. The wine and the scenery. Wishing for them, now, meant nothing. Being calmed by the waking dream of their presence beside him, it was nothing more than a result of his exhaustion from the day’s events. What little peace he experienced now, he wished he could share with them. But that was not due to love, he was a perfectly sane man, and sane men don’t fall in love with their apprentices. Unreasonable – that’s all it was. Unreasonable to miss more than their company. Unreasonable to allow himself to crave their touch, to dream of the sound of their voice.

Unreasonable to revisit the feeling of their weight in his arms, carrying them back to bed after they’d fallen asleep in the study, resting so comfortably against his chest. It had been unreasonable for him to hold them for a few moments more, despite standing beside their bed, knowing he should set them down.

Unreasonable for his mind to drift in this moment, the wine barely being strong enough for him to blame his less chaste thoughts on, conjuring up other scenarios in which he might feel their weight against his body, close and gentle, or what sorts of noises he may be able to pull from them when his hands are allowed to roam their body freely. The expressions that may come across their face, acting entirely on reactions to his saccharine teasing, playing them much like he would a lute, capable of plucking their strings enough to form only the most blissful of melodies. How pleasant such an encounter would–

“The fun is coming to an end.”

Gale’s eyes open quickly, and he finds himself gripping the base of his chalice rather tightly, causing him to gulp and forcefully relax, sitting up and turning his attention to Shadowheart, a glass of her own in her hand. He nods, cracking an awkward smile and raising an eyebrow. “Is it?”

She nods, motioning with her cup back towards the main gathering space of their camp. “Indeed. Assumed you’d want to say some goodbyes. Perhaps accept another round of praise. I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

Gale scoffs, shaking his head and rising to his feet. “Nonsense. I was merely enjoying the quiet. Past time I submitted to sleep – fear I’ve gotten well-too deep in our wine supply for one night,” he chuckles, and Shadowheart dips her head and raises her glass in agreement, returning to the fading festivities alongside him.

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50calmadeuce · 4 months

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Ch. 8: The Break Up and Flight

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

It was late, and you and Leslie were tidying up in the living room when Sean entered.

Leslie gathered the plates you'd collected. "I'll catch up with you later," she said, heading towards the kitchen.

Turning to Sean, you said, "We need to talk."

He settled on the edge of the couch. "I agree."

You approached him slowly, removing the engagement ring as you did so. When you reached him, you extended it towards him. "I can't. I'm sorry."

He accepted it, his expression resigned. "I had a feeling." He looked up at you. "Was it something I did?"

You perched on the edge of the coffee table and reached for his hand. "No, Sean. It wasn't you. It's me. It always has been. The same thing happened with Ben." You took a deep breath. "I've been in love with someone since I was sixteen."

Sean looked at you, his expression a mix of surprise and realization. "Someone from the past?"

You nodded. "Jake Seresin. He was my first love, and I never fully moved on. I thought I did, I tried to, but it was always there, lingering. I recently found out something about him and I can't deny how I feel."

He sighed, a heavy acknowledgment of the truth. "I appreciate your honesty, Y/N. It's better to know now than later. I wish you the best, truly."

You squeezed his hand, gratitude in your eyes. "Thank you for understanding, Sean. You deserve someone who can give you their whole heart."

The both of you stood up, a touch of sadness in Sean's eyes. "I always thought it was my imagination, that something was missing in our relationship." He sighed. "I'll move my stuff to the guest room and leave tomorrow."

"You're a good man, Sean."

"Thank you."

The two of you embraced, and when you separated, Sean met your gaze, leaned over and gently kissed your cheek. "Good luck, Y/N."

"Thanks," you said, your eyes following him as he ascended the stairs.

Leslie entered the living room, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Well, that didn't go as bad as I thought."

You turned to face her, a thoughtful look on your face. "I often wondered why he proposed. There was always something missing."

"So, now what?"

"So, my mother left a clause in the Will."

"What was that?"

"I have a trust of 1.5 million dollars waiting for me. James got the ranch, of course, but I was left with some money."

"Y/N. That's great!"

"The trust is for Jake and Y/N Seresin."

"Oh," Leslie remarked, processing this revelation with a thoughtful nod. "So, I guess your mom also figured it out. Everyone except for you."

You exchanged a knowing smile with Leslie. "Yeah, I guess." You settled onto the couch, and Leslie joined you. "Did I ever tell you about Mandolin Rain?"

Perplexed, Leslie looked at you. "No."

"Remember that night we went to the carnival and Jake came home soaking wet?"

"Oh my, yes! The two of you looked like drowned rats."

"I convinced Jake to come out in the rain and just enjoy it."

Leslie raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. That's when he first told me he loved me. Right there in the pouring rain."

Leslie's eyes widened in surprise. "Wow, that's... actually kind of romantic."

"Yeah, it was," you admitted, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "We stood there, drenched, and he just said it. It was one of those moments you never forget. Then when we got in the truck to go home, 'Mandolin Rain' by Bruce Hornsby and the Range came on. We made it our song."

"Never thought Jake had it in him."

You met Leslie's eyes. "There's a lot more to Jake than you think."

"Well, he's my brother, so...what are you going to do?"

"I guess I'm going to go after him. The question is, where do I start?"

"I know he's talked about some bar called The Hard Deck. He hangs out there a lot."

"Of course he would."

Leslie shrugged. "It's a start at least."

You were fortunate enough to secure a flight from Austin to San Diego the very next morning.

You and Leslie shared a heartfelt embrace, promising to stay in touch more often now that you had made the decision to return home or live with Jake, depending on how things unfolded.

As you boarded the plane, your heart raced with anticipation. The thought of reuniting with Jake, of finally facing the feelings you both shared, filled you with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The journey ahead felt like a new beginning, and you couldn't wait to see where it would lead.

After a three hour flight, you landed at San Diego International Airport, rented a vehicle and started the drive to Coronado. You got a hotel room at one of the hotels outside of the base and walked up to the desk to check in.

"Hi! Checking in?" the front desk clerk asked. She was a friendly young blonde with a warm smile.

"Yes, that's right," you replied. "Reservation should be under Y/N Seresin."

The clerk quickly typed on the computer. "Ah, yes, I've got you right here. Here's your key. You're in room 214. Breakfast is served from 7 to 10 in the morning. If you need anything else, feel free to let us know."

"Thank you very much," you expressed with a grateful smile as you accepted the key. Just as you were about to make your way to your room, you had a moment of pause. Turning back, you approached the desk once more. "Actually, I do have a question. Could you tell me how to get to The Hard Deck bar?"

The blonde receptionist responded with a warm smile. "Certainly!"

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #glen powell #hangman top gun #top gun maverick hangman #hangman #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

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hyenahunt · 1 month

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Obbligato: In Praise of Folly - 5

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring, two years ago

Characters: Ibara, Nagisa, Hiyori

Proofreading: Remi + 310mc (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: Peace & hyenahunt

Ibara: He gladly suffers through such a miserable life no other could hope to understand, all for a God that only he believes in, that only he can see!

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Ibara: Frankly speaking, many people have mentioned those comments to him. Time and time again he's refused, isolating himself further.

Of course he would. After all, Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya doesn't consider the soundness nor quality of his own life, nor even of the kindness shown to him by those that love him—

No, in short... he considers the fulfillment of his ideals more important than receiving love from others, than his own rights as a human being.

While others may normally consider love and liberty paramount to life...

Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya is wholly enthralled with the realization of his ideals above everything else; that all should be "equal" and treated "fairly" in the same measures, without one being favored over the other.

—What an absolute lunatic!

Who could ever hope to understand someone that far gone?

And humanity naturally fears those they can't understand, you see.

That's why we do all we can to try; we wrack our brains for any words that might bring us one step closer to shedding light on another's mind...

But unfortunately, Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya has shut down every attempt made towards him by another.

They may have asked, "Why would you sacrifice yourself for the happiness of others?"

But he'd never give them the answer they wanted.

Ibara: It was never anything about him wanting to be thought well of, or because he loved others, not even that he wanted to be loved or to get money out of it—

If he'd given such understandable, sympathetic answers, then perhaps they'd be left with a sense of relief. However...

Rather than any of that, he'd simply say "Because it is what I believe in."

Because God asks it of him! Because the Bible says so! Because the teachings of his faith claim that one ought to happily sacrifice themselves for others, to act a martyr!

Even if you explain yourself in such a way, there's not a single person in modern day Japan that'll understand nor empathize with you!

The very foundation of Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya's reasoning operates differently than than that of the common man.

He gladly suffers through such a miserable life no other could hope to understand, all for a God that only he believes in, that only he can see!

And in doing so, he is content! Anyone looking in might simply see a man chopping himself up for the dead's stew in Hell's grand kitchen!

But despite that, Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya faces every day with a smile of contentment. He truly, sincerely, is happy to be a martyr for his faith. That is how it goes for those who choose to be a martyr to their faith.

However... No one would ever consider someone so pleased in his own suffering the same as themselves.

It's only natural that one would see him as nothing but a monster when there's been such a lack of understanding and sympathy from the very start.

Nagisa: ... That's true. It is difficult for one to recognize another as similar to them should their ideology differ so much from the beginning.

Hiyori: Indeed. After all, it was through this very vein of psychology that fine was able to defeat the Five Eccentrics.

If someone is singled out as a monster no one may ever understand, then they may become the target of unfathomable violence from those around them, their assailants shutting off their own feelings all the while.

That has already been proven through the events in Yumenosaki.

However, this Tatsumi Kazehaya became a monster out of his own desire.

Ibara: Correct. Though he may not have been entirely aware of it, he began to slowly distance himself from those around him... in more ways than one.

At the same time, he is only human, with a body made of the same flesh and blood as you and I; as such, he could only endure so much for so long. His body is, without a doubt, screaming in agony at it all, with the man himself falling ill due to his sacrifice.

It's only natural his mind would fall as well, isn't it? There's only so much pain and suffering that faith can endure, no matter how ironclad it may be!

At the same time, perhaps that's why Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya's become so stubborn and consistent with his beliefs. As the mind weakens, it more easily becomes captive to obsessive notions.

The more mistakes he makes, the more his well-being falters; the more his well-being falters, the more mistakes he makes. He's become a victim of an utterly vicious cycle.

And thus, in its natural conclusion, the man himself has become quite the regular patient at the hospital.

While Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya has remained isolated in the hospital, Reimei Academy is facing a new travesty.

Something that would be enough to put a nail in the coffin of "Reimei's Revolutionary", who's mind and body has been so thoroughly exhausted — a situation most dire, you could say.

Hiyori: A situation most dire...?

Ibara: Just so. It's something of a major taboo in the industry, one that people have been quite tight-lipped about...

I don't know very much myself, and it isn't something that's appropriate to speak of in public…

But one thing is certain: the major culprit, or perhaps the star of the show—

Is Mr. Tatsumi Kazehaya's greatest rival, a child prodigy called HiMERU.

[ ☆ ]

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← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

#enstars #ensemble stars #enstars translation #hyenahunttl #s: obbligato #ibara saegusa #nagisa ran #hiyori tomoe

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deliverance-guy · 10 months

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Imagine being such a lazy and incompetent writer, that you not only forget to give one character closure but at least two.

Rant incoming:

You can do so much with Narek's character and I would have loved seeing him getting a redemption ark, exploring the cult of the Zhat Vash and interacting with other people than his sister. Dang, let him realise that he has been brainwashed since his childhood, allow him to overcome his prejudice and trauma with the help of Laris or even Elnor and make him a powerful ally through the plot, which could have been so strong and interesting to watch. But no. They literally forgot about him and Chabon’s clarification, or better his planned fate doesn't make sense. Why should he be brought into federation custody?

A) What he did was horrible, yet inside of romulan space and under romulan laws dedicated towards a then illegal life form who has most likely signed a contract agreeing to said laws and possible consequences of conflict with the police/ the Tal Shiar. As a result, they shouldn’t be able to arrest him for anything since he was also way too young to be involved into the destruction of Mars.

B) Moreover, he recognised his mistakes and showed a will to work on himself. Prison will only make him loose that short window of change of mind and harden his believes, since he spends the whole time with himself and we all know how thoughts can spiral into hate and frustration rather than understanding and reflection. His whole world collapsed around him and instead of taking the shot to work with him, they leave him alone with his thoughts and the urge to find someone to blame for his misery?

Even though I am heartbroken to what they did to the La Sirena crew, I felt like they had some sort of resolution inside the seasons and their arcs, not perfect or satisfying but still (we don’t talk about how the writers ripped everything apart in season 3, that is another essay worth of rant). I deeply mourn for what could have been and are beyond mad they threw out Soji and Elnor so fast. It just felt cheap. I can understand why they did it with Elnor, to give Raffi a motive to work through her guilt for manipulating him (which kind of got brushed off and came out of nowhere so idk why you couldn’t leave him in there and work through it alive and together).

For Soji, why give us Core when you don’t plan on doing something more with here than give the actor and Spinner something to do. How great would have been it, if Soji met her look alike and got to understand the origin of her “bloodline” and the reason behind her creation, something she desperately longed for. Let her find acceptance for herself and the confidence in her skin she deserves. Let her be more than some diplomate and a tool to portray the conflict between Agnes and Rios. The money I would give to see both of them coming up the agreement to work together and Soji’s decision to change her job from an anthropologist or doctor (I am not sure what her profession fell under) to an ambassador. SHOW US, please. To be honest, I can’t see Paramount doing a show with the watchers and Core, so why waste that time with a plot you could have given to a character already established in the season before, a whole audience was thrilled for?

And Laris... Cutting her off for nostalgia porn and claiming it was out of budget? How cheap is this please?! She deserved way better and not being tossed in the trash so carelessly by so called fans! If you don’t want her in the main storyline, fine. Just give her an ending. A sentence or brief interaction. She and Picard were literally a couple, so why deny her the interaction with Beverly and her stepson?

You can say what you want about star trek Picard but I think we all can agree on one statement: Picard has been such a massive mess in terms of carrying the plotline, characters and ideas throughout the seasons to a point were it almost felt like they have been completely different series from the beginning. Every season had such an unique idea and character developments, which got tossed aside and completely ignored in later episodes.

I know enough people have talked about this already but I needed to get it out of my system.

#star trek picard #romulans #narek #laris #if you can't cry laugh #can you tell I am mad?#rant #soji asha #this got out of hand

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bridoesotherjunk · 3 months

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why are people even hyped for the sonic movies? tbh they're kinda awful, and the only reason people even give a shit about them is that they feel vindicated about successfully cyberbullying paramount into redesigning sonic.

the characters don't even feel in character. robotnik is literally just 90s jim carrey. sonic has a weird backstory about an owl. knuckles doesn't even SOUND like knuckles. about the only redeeming factor is tails

and now learning paramount is pro-israel it's time to make sonic 3 bomb hard. there's plenty of other, better sonic media

Okay, now that I'm off work I can finally answer this properly.

Firstly - i'm just gonna let you sit on that first question for a minute and see if you understand that you just asked me why people are hyped for a movie series about a massively popular videogame franchise that has been around for literally 30+ years. Sonic is older than I fucking am.

Secondly - anon. I adore Shadow the Hedgehog, and he is my favorite character in the Sonic franchise and I will probably continue to post about him and share reblogs if his design is revealed, but I personally am not planning on going and spending money to see this movie after finding out about Paramount's support for Israel. I don't really post about it on my blog, but I have been participating in boycotts of multiple brands. Paramount, and by extension Nickelodeon, is now one of them. Please do not mistake my posting of Shadow hype for me saying that I'm okay with Paramount. I just like Shadow and think he looks cool.

Thirdly - i completely disagree with your take on the Sonic movies. The Sonic franchise was dragged through SHIT through the 2010s. NONE of the characters were acting like themselves. Look up videos of people criticizing Sonic Forces. Tails is horrendously written in that game, but the others are not much better. The Sonic Movies -Sonic Movie 2, especially, have absolutely helped to repair the massive damage done to the brand thanks to Sega being way too strict. Knuckles was more in character in Sonic Movie 2 than he has been in YEARS in any of the other media. The amount of fans I saw saying that Knuckles finally felt like Knuckles again was insane. I remember the older games, back when he was still taken seriously and wasn't just "big dumb musclehead" stereotype. And then Sonic himself is acting more like the older tv shows' versions of him. Like in Sonic Underground and parts of Sonic X. He's fun, he's childish, that's who they chose to make Sonic this time. His personality has been so all over the place that I'm really not too picky, as long as he isn't completely stupid. These movies feel like they were made by someone who LOVES Sonic. You can tell the writers and the director actually give a shit about this franchise. They got kind of fucked over in the first movie, but were given more freedom in the second.

Fourthly(?) - To be fair, people have a solid reason to feel vindicated for bullying Paramount into changing Sonic's design. That's literally never fucking happened before. Studios typically DO NOT LISTEN to what fans complain about. They scoff and say "Well we know better than you, so shut up."

#sonic movies #answer #sonic movie 2

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kiefbowl · 2 years

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idk why but my mom gets so mad when i dont shave :(

Moms can be in quite a precarious position when it comes to their daughters. Moms often find themselves to be moms because they at one point or another conceded to the pressure to become a wife and mother despite their best interests. Each mom's life is going to look different from the outside looking in, but we see trends across different groups of moms: they got married, they gave up their career, or took concessions at work, or limited their education, they had more kids than they wanted, they do the majority of the childcare, majority of housework, take on debt and have little expendable money...

This can lead to stress through cognitive dissonance. They often love their children, they wouldn't want it to be different, they find ways to make their lives bearable, but when it comes to their daughters, for some moms, they need them to confirm and validate their life choices. If a mom had to find a husband to be happy, and that means you have to do beauty routines to find one, a daughter being unwilling to bend this way is proof there really was a choice. To realize your dead beat husband, your unmanageable mortgage, the endless dishes, the third son who won't behave, the inane PTA meetings, the lack of hobbies, the weekly schedule that is zooming your life by with little time for actual fun, is all something you could have avoided if you had just given yourself more time or had more confidence or put yourself first, it can be too much too swallow. So for a lot of moms, when they say "please shave" "please don't cut your hair" "please wear a dress instead" "why won't you just act like a lady" "why can't you just be a normal girl" she is usually projecting her life onto her daughter for some momentary peace of mind, so she can convince herself that she has to live her life the way she lives so she can keep bearing it.

One cannot underestimate how terrified homophobic moms are that their daughter might be a lesbian. For many of these women, not shaving, for one example, is proof that her daughter might be a lesbian because there is no way a woman who is like her (the mom) would never not shave because the importance of finding a husband and having children must be paramount, and shaving is part ritual to do what's right to get what you deserve (husband).

Since I don't know your mom personally, this is the best guess I can give you with what's going on with her. Perhaps not, but you can chew on it awhile. Does you mom have a bearable life?

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re-reclass · 2 years

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I know the overwhelming response to the Mario trailer was “that actually looks better than expected… except for Chris Pratt” but remember that the studio doesn’t care about complaints, they care about ticket sales. The reason the internet was able to bully Paramount into fixing the Sonic movie was because the response to the trailer was so overwhelmingly negative that it looked like the whole thing was going to flop. In contrast, the response to this trailer was mostly positive so there’s a lot of people who will probably see the movie in spite of any misgivings they have over the cast.

So yes, hold Illumination’s feet to the fire over the Mario casting, but if they don’t fix it, please consider Morbiusing this shit even though the movie looks kinda fun. Because if you complain but still give them your money, then all you’ve done is give them word of mouth. And this sort of thing will just keep happening.

#mario movie #super mario #charles martinet #chris pratt #illumination entertainment #reclass.txt #okay I’ll get off my soapbox now

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dotthings · 2 years

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It seems the Nexstar acquisition of CW is near completion.

A summary: Nexstar takes a 75% stake, Paramount Global (which owns CBS, which co-owns CW) and Warner Bros Discovery (which recently acquired WB, which co-owns CW) with 12.5% each. Instead of paying cash, Nexstar would take on the network losses which are over $100 million per year.

Some ramblings:

Previous industry spec was Nexstar mostly be interested in CW’s digital assets—streaming. Now the reporting says Nexstar is interested in making CW a “fully sustainable broadcast network" which changes the spec a bit.

Reminder again, it's important NOW to support the kinds of shows you want to see more of, and going forward. While their streaming value still matters, the emphasis on a fleshed-out broadcast network means Nielsen ratings get more weight.

I'm just throwing around spec myself, but it seems unlikely Nexstar is therefore going to ditch scripted programming to become a 24/7 conservative news platform like I saw tossed around as an idea on twitter.

And I'd be careful about making hard assumptions on what kinds of scripted programming they want. Yes, they want to tilt older and the “homeland-heartland” spec from last year might be a factor and we know what that means. But to be a successful broadcast network, they need a variety of programming, appeal to different demos and different interests. If Nexstar accounting sees diverse shows as money-makers, they'll be assets. It comes down to money. If they think they can make a profit, they’ll still want those shows, not solely series that appeal to a middle aged straight white male demo.

Long term, I think WBD and Paramount want their shows on their own native platforms.

Short term, I don’t think that’s happening yet, but...it's a real thing.

SPN on HBO Max isn’t a fandom pipe dream, down the line this could actually happen.

Anyway, CW was never a full network. It has no studio of its own. It’s a delivery platform for WB and CBS, effectively a loss-leading tax shelter, and I don't think they cared about it much, or about the quality of the programming or marketing. The model wasn’t sustainable. It was never profitable.

CW had some great moments and great shows, there are some talented creative people and actors who have worked there, I'm not here to put down people's shows. But it often was a dumpster fire, across shows. Which is why a lot of us fans cold turkey boycotted it. Why there's been a lot of rage and backlash, from more than one fandom.

I ended my boycotting--which I stuck with for a year--because of the announced sale. It opened up the chance for a clean-up and needed changes.

No it isn't because of my faves. But I feel a lot better about the projects my faves are involved in because when I settled down to watch some shows I chose for targeted support, I found a lot of improvement. I’m not knocking the diversity that was there before, but the intersectionality, the depth of the usually under-represented pov's, is going farther. There used to be a lot more tokenization, more mishandling, or half-way good and bad.

There’s also a recent vibe of “no such thing as too much rep” which is refreshing to see. Shows that started out diverse keep adding more.

The shows I’m supporting: Kung Fu, All American (and I will be watching All American: Homecoming), Nancy Drew, Tom Swift (please, please check out Tom Swift, it’s a goddamn DELIGHT). I’ll be watching The Winchesters — which looks like a promising start to a far more expensive and inclusive SPN universe, as well as giving us some much needed Dean pov after the disastrous finale — and Gotham Knights — which intrigues me as a dc fan as a sort of elseworlds type scenario, and centers queer characters, women, women of color, PoC, along with having the treat of Misha Collins portraying Harvey Dent.

(There’s still some tokenization, on some shows, mixed with at least some attempts to do a little better, it’s not perfect across the board).

Other thing to note: The death of the Arrowverse wasn’t really because of the sale. I think that ‘verse winding down was inevitable, after many years and lbr--declining quality, and I'm saying this as a former big fan of the Arrowverse shows. That was also WBD and DC wanting an overhaul of the DCEU. Arrowverse had some great shows, but they were underperforming by DCTV standards. No, CW did not cut those series to get rid of the diversity, if you look at the new gen diverse CW series that line of thinking makes no sense. It was a cull based on lowest performers, and a DC show with a diverse cast—Gotham Knights—was added.

I'm here to support the shows and the people who make the shows, I don't stan for corporations. Some fans seem to think their brand loyalty should be to CW and they evangelized in a baffling way, but their brand loyalty was not to CW. It was to a particular show, or a set of shows, it's brand loyalty to franchises, and sometimes it's brand loyalty to a favorite actor. Don't get mixed up about this.

And if things go fully pear-shaped with Nexstar, I'm happy to support those shows on other platforms.

#Kung Fu CW #All American #The Winchesters #Gotham Knights #Tom Swift #CW Network #Nancy Drew

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afaimscorner · 4 months

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I don't even care for the DCU, but I am still upset about Warner's treatment of "Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom". Maybe we are the only country (I doubt it though) that didn't even have press screenings, but the lack of promotion is not funny anymore. Warner has run out of money and had to decide between "Wonka" and "Aquaman"-Promotion and gave the little they had to "Wonka" (which still did not get enough promotion, btw) and let "Aquaman" drown, because everyone thought "The Flash" was the last DCU-Movie anyways and no one really corrected them on that point, so yeah, they want the movie to flop, because they don't give up flying fuck.

So, please, Paramount, act sane and don't even touch Warner with a stick much less merge with them. They weren't great before, but the Merger with Discovery killed of anything decent about them, don't associate with them in any form anymore, please! (After all you did pull the plug on The CW, the one network people geniunly cared about and now you want to go to bed with them again, after killing of everything decent that was still airing on US Networks?! No, you don't get to walk back now. Believe me, max is not better of then Paramount+! Don't fall for lying numbers!).

Not that I care about anything anymore, but if I ever should care again, I would not like seeing Paramount I.P.s getting the Warner treatment, not to speak of their employees, just aks anyone who worked for or with Warner since 2022 why no one wants to be treated like this.

#aquaman and the lost kingdom #DC #Warner #Paramount #Rant

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devoqdesignagency · 6 months

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UI/UX Design Agency, UI/UX Design Agency South Carolina

Introduction

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50calmadeuce · 8 months

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Ch. 8 Walk on the Beach

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

After your training and dealing with the incident on the beach, you had changed back into a pair of shorts and a tank top. With Jake holding your hand, the two of you walk leisurely down the beach.

"So, tell me about yourself, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin," you say.

"Well, I'm from Texas," he starts.

You look at him. "You don't say?"

He smiles at you. "I'm a pilot with three confirmed kills and I love my job. Did I mention I'm one of the best of the best?"

"Cocky too, I see."

"It got you, didn't it?"

You laugh. "Yeah. It did."

"And you're the first girlfriend I've had in a long time."

You stop and look at him. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I meant what I said. You intrigue me and you definitely keep me on my toes. I don't think I've ever met anyone that could do that to me," he says as he looks into your eyes. "And I'm not one to easily impress."

"I believe you."

You continue walking down the beach.

"So, tell me about this ex of yours," he says.

You sigh. "Gavin is...well, Gavin. He comes from old money and his parents think he does no wrong. I even found out he was cheating on me." You look at Jake. "He's the only 'boyfriend' I've ever had."

Jake stops and turns you to look at him, but you look down. He takes a finger and gently lifts your chin and you look into his green eyes.

"Y/N. I would never do that to you. I will never hurt you," he reassures you, his earnest green eyes reflecting his deep concern.

"I believe you," you respond, conveying your trust in his words with a sense of understanding and conviction, and then briefly avert your gaze. The two of you continue your leisurely stroll along the beach.

"I'm assuming you get deployed?" you inquire, broaching a topic that hints at the complexities of his life and profession.

"I do," he confirms with a slight nod. "As a matter of fact, I'll be leaving the Monday after your competition," he adds, revealing the impending deployment that looms in the not-so-distant future.

You share a meaningful gaze with him, the weight of the situation settling in.

"This is all new to me," you admit, your voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

He responds by gently squeezing your hand. "We'll get through this," he reassures you, his words filled with a comforting sense of determination and support.

Gavin Sinclair stands in his hotel suite, his attention focused on the pictures spread out across the coffee table. A week ago, a private investigator handed him these images, and now he meticulously examines each one.

He cuts a tall figure at six feet three inches, his striking presence accentuated by his dark black hair and piercing crystal blue eyes. Dressed in a sharp suit, he stands contemplative with his left hand casually tucked into his pocket.

As his thoughts churn, there's a sudden knock at the door, interrupting his reverie.

Gavin Sinclair takes his time walking to the door and swings it open. On the other side stands the private investigator, Simon Fromm, who appears a bit disheveled in his khaki pants and dress jacket.

"Mr. Sinclair," Fromm begins, holding up a manila envelope, "I have more pictures for you."

Gavin steps aside, allowing Fromm to enter the hotel suite. The atmosphere in the room carries a sense of intrigue and anticipation as the private investigator prepares to share his findings.

Gavin closes the door quietly behind the investigator before trailing after him into the living area of the suite.

Simon Fromm turns to face Gavin, extending the manila envelope toward him. His voice carries a tone of uncertainty as he begins to explain his findings.

"At first, I didn't think she was really seeing anyone," Fromm begins. "Then I thought she was seeing this blond lifeguard, but after witnessing what I saw today, I think she likes this other guy."

Gavin swiftly snatches the manila envelope from Fromm's hand, his impatience palpable. "Just let me see," he requests tersely as he promptly opens the envelope, eager to uncover the contents.

Gavin carefully extracts the pictures from the envelope, his eyes scanning each one. Initially, he observes a photo of Y/N being embraced by a muscular blond lifeguard, but then his attention is drawn to another image capturing her in conversation with a dirty blonde guy.

Gavin confirms his suspicion, pointing firmly at the dirty-blond-haired individual in the photograph. He turns to Simon Fromm and shares the vital information. "This is the guy. His name is Jake 'Hangman' Seresin. He's a Navy pilot."

Simon Fromm raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued by Gavin's knowledge. He offers a brief acknowledgment, saying, "With all due respect, I don't even want to know how you got that information, but I'll see what I can do with it."

Gavin, however, is already one step ahead. He retrieves a wad of cash from his pocket and hands it over to Fromm. "You don't need to. I already know about him," Gavin asserts. "Thank you. You may leave."

Fromm accepts the cash, acknowledging the end of his involvement in the matter, and quietly exits the hotel suite, leaving Gavin to continue his pursuit of the truth on his own.

You and Jake finished your walk and were back at the parking lot of the Lifeguard station.

"Want to come over and chill?" you ask Jake.

He smiles. "I'd like that."

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #glen powell #hangman top gun #top gun maverick hangman #hangman #hangman fanfic #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick

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junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

guarded.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | bodyguard!au ◇ 1.6k [1/1]

notes: this is actually a repost of an old drabble from my two year anniversary, which was inadvertently deleted. so if it looks familiar, that’s why! i figured i’d give it a (super unoriginal) title and a quick reread before i reposted it, and this is the end result. to the anon who originally requested it, if you’re reading this, thank you and ily! 💕

the prompts i worked off of are below:

❛❛ good girl. ❜❜

❛❛ don’t get shy on me now. ❜❜

the vibe is this jk right here.

“If that will be all, Miss, I’ll leave you to get settled in.”

You remain silent. Reaching down, you unzip your suitcase before glancing over your shoulder at your loyal bodyguard, hovering near the door of your hotel room like an overgrown bat in his long black jacket and heavy black boots. Innocently, you smile at him as you begin to pull out your belongings, laying a few items onto the perfectly made bed.

“Can you help me unpack?”

His expression doesn’t change. But you’ve always prided yourself on your astuteness, and you certainly don’t miss the way his throat bobs as he swallows. Wordlessly, he steps across the room until he’s standing at your side, accepting the stack of folded skirts and pantsuits you hand over.

“Hang these up, will you, Jungkook?” you ask, keeping your voice syrupy sweet and as innocent as can be. “I don’t want them to wrinkle.”

Jungkook nods curtly and sweeps off. You watch as he slides open the closet door and lays the pile of clothes on the nearest chair, carefully hanging up each garment one by one. There’s the blue pantsuit for tomorrow’s meeting with the board of directors, there’s the champagne-colored gown for the investor’s gala afterward, and—

—aha.

You can see the way Jungkook stiffens even from across the room, his broad shoulders tensing. You’re pretty sure he’s not even breathing anymore, his tall frame frozen in place as he stares at the item in his hand.

And the item in question? A very tiny, very skimpy, black lace negligee.

Checkmate, you think to yourself when he finally turns around. It feels as though you’ve been playing this game for ages—though in reality, Jungkook was only assigned as your personal bodyguard a few short months ago. Ever since your father decided that you would inherit his company and take over as chief executive officer, your safety had become paramount. You needed the best protection that money could buy, and that meant Jeon Jungkook.

You’d expected someone older, to be honest. Someone grizzled, with gray hair and hardened eyes the color of flint, maybe. Never in a million years did you expect to get a bodyguard like Jungkook.

Jungkook, with his parted black hair and strong eyebrows that made you weak in the knees. Jungkook, with his oversized dark clothes and combat boots. Jungkook, with his muscular frame that’s so at odds with his boyish face.

Jungkook, whom you’ve been teasing for the last three months—with tight clothes and revealing hemlines, and stepping out of the shower clad in only a towel whenever he’s in the vicinity. Ever since you caught him staring at your cleavage—showcased very nicely by the dress you’d been wearing, you might add—it’s become a game for the two of you. Flirtatious glances and the occasional brush of his hand against your back became commonplace. Once, you’d spotted him doing laps in the pool and nearly drooled at the revelation of his fully tattooed arms, the ink swirling across his honeyed skin. When he’d caught you staring, he’d winked.

But nothing has ever happened beyond that—nothing has ever crossed a line. Jungkook is nothing but professional when on the job, and you do feel safer when he’s around. He’s been a silent shadow at all of the events you’ve accompanied your father to, and now that you are on the verge of taking over the company completely, he’s at your side almost every hour of every day. He’s brought you coffee when you’re working late in your office, and made sure you’ve eaten at least one meal when the stress becomes too much. He’s become a constant, reassuring presence in your hectic life.

And now he’s striding toward you, brown eyes alight with a fire you’ve never seen before.

“You did this on purpose,” he accuses, holding up the negligee.

You tilt your head innocently. “Did I?”

Jungkook growls—a low, dangerous rumble in his throat that has you gushing. “You sure you want to test me like this, princess?”

The pet name sends an electric tingle up your spine. Boldly, you step forward until you’re standing toe-to-toe, the pointed tips of your heels brushing his boots. “Have you ever known me to be uncertain about anything in my life, Jungkook?”

He hasn’t. You know he hasn’t, because in the next instant, he’s kissing you—hands curling around your hips to pull you flush against his firm chest. Your arms wind around his neck, fingers tangling into the silky hair at his nape, and when you sigh, he eagerly swallows the sound. Wandering fingers hike up your dress and delve beneath to trace your bare skin, the touch gentle enough to make you shiver in his embrace.

Jungkook pulls back, and you pout at the sudden loss of contact. “Jungk—” you begin, but he cuts you off with a kiss, lips curled up into a smirk.

“You want me to be able to take my shirt off, don’t you?”

Stunned into silence, you can only nod. Jungkook sheds his black overcoat and flings it off to the side, leaving him in a charcoal gray turtleneck that’s tucked into black slacks and a silver-buckled belt. Deft, ring-clad fingers find the hem, and you swallow when you imagine what those fingers could be doing to you in just a few moments.

That train of thought is completely derailed, however, when Jungkook pulls off his shirt entirely, baring honeyed skin and swirling black ink to your ravenous gaze. Your fingers graze along one of the tattoos around his left wrist—a trailing vine decorated with thorny roses—and you shiver again when he chuckles and twines your wandering fingers with his.

“I’ll tell you the story behind it later,” he promises. “I’ll tell you all the stories, if you want. But right now, I want to do this.”

And before you can get another word in edgewise—before you can even breathe—he’s pressing you down onto the bed, the mattress dipping underneath your combined weight. His mouth finds yours again, hot and insistent, before trailing down to the junction where your neck meets your shoulder and latching on there. His teeth sink into the delicate skin, blossoming pain and purple bruises along your flesh, but it’s the delicious sort that leaves you gasping and desperate for more. You’re clutching at his shoulders by this point, nails digging harsh crescents into his skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind one bit as he kisses his way down to the collar of your dress and tears it off with a growl.

Cool air washes across your skin, and you belatedly remember that you’d decided to forego a bra this morning. Jungkook is staring down at your exposed body, transfixed, and you flush under the sudden scrutiny.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he murmurs when you move to cross your arms over your chest. “You’re perfect. Pretty, perfect, and all fucking mine.”

Then he’s tugging your arms aside and leaning down to envelop a nipple in his mouth, teasing the hardening peak with his tongue. The sensation has you moaning, and you feel him smile against your skin before he switches his attention to its neglected twin. “So pretty,” he murmurs, pulling back so he can blow a cool puff of air against your dampened skin and chuckling when you shudder. “I bet you’ll look even prettier without this on.”

He snaps the band of your panties against your skin, and you whine out his name. “Hurry up and take them off, then.”

Jungkook grins. “So impatient,” he murmurs, but the growing tent in his pants betrays his own eagerness. In one motion, he’s peeling your panties down your legs, tossing them aside. Reaching down, he unbuckles his belt and frees his cock, gaze never leaving yours as he nudges your thighs apart and settles between them.

“Jungkook,” you murmur, breathy and soft. “Fuck me, please.”

He doesn’t need any more convincing. Jungkook leans forward, his lithe body poised over yours as he slowly guides his cock inside you. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he slides home, and you groan at the feeling of him fully seated inside your body, hot and slick and so, so full.

“Look at you,” he rasps, drawing back so he can thrust forward once more. “Such a good girl, taking my cock like this.”

You whimper at the surge of fullness, wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him closer. Jungkook’s fingers curl around your hips, and you keen out his name when he starts up a rough pace that nearly rips the air from your lungs. A stream of praise falls from his lips—how good you feel wrapped around him, how long he’s been dreaming of this moment—and you return his hushed sentiments with airy whispers and pleas for more, more, more.

When you come, it’s with his name on your lips. Jungkook reaches his high just moments later, and you wind your arms around his neck lazily as he catches his breath again, brushing a few strands of black hair off his forehead.

“Fuck,” he sighs, letting his head fall onto your bare shoulder. “I shouldn’t have done this.”

You run your fingers through his hair, letting your nails scrape gently against his scalp. “Done what? Given me the best fuck of my life?”

He snorts out a disbelieving laugh. “I don’t think that’s part of my job description.”

“Fuck the job description,” you reply, poking his cheek until he looks up, and kissing him once he does. “You’re my bodyguard, right? So come over here, and guard me.”

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #bts smut #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts #bodyguard!au #bodyguard au #lia writes #2yearasks

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celticcrossanon · 3 years

Text

BRF Reading - Anon Question - 25th of March, 2021

This is speculation only.

25th of March, 2021

Question: Will the BRF publicly reward Catherine for her loyalty?

Interpretation. No. Any rewards will be done in secret, away from the public gaze.

Card One: The Eight of Pentacles. This is a card about mastering your craft. Catherine has spent many years as an apprentice, learning about the BRF and developing her role within it, and today we see her stepping into her role as future Princess of Wales with the mastery that those years of apprenticeship have taught her. We see it, and so does the BRF.

Card Two: The Six of Cups. Firstly, I have to say that this is traditionally a card about children, so hello pregnant Catherine, I see you. Catherine’s pregnancy may be a reason for giving any reward privately, as with her HG she is certainly not up to any public appearances at the moment. Alternatively, the Six of Cups is also about childhood and the past, especially happy memories of the past, childhood dreams, and/or the childhood home. Catherine is giving her children a happy childhood and is working to extend that opportunity to all children through her Early Years project. This has been a big bonus for the BRF, and this card tells me that they see and appreciate Catherine’s hard work in this area (as well as in general for the BRF). Any reward she is given may be linked to this area of her work, or it may be a reflection of a childhood dream, or it may involve her family.

Card Three: The Seven of Swords. This is a card about diplomacy, guile, and using your wits. The card shows a man, Orestes, sneaking into a city by night. Secrecy is paramount here, as any slip will result in Orestes being caught and killed. Similarly, any reward for Catherine must be given in secret. For some reason, rewarding Catherine in public would expose the BRF to danger.

Card Four: The Five of Swords. This is a card of not being able to win for losing. On the card, we see Orestes being confronted by the god Apollo, who demands that Orestes perform a duty that he owes to the Gods. Catherine has always done her duty, willingly, and with a smile. The gods, who here represent the BRF, are pleased with her. They do not have to remind her of her duty, as Apollo does to Orestes.

Card Five: The Devil. This is a major arcana card, so it is the main energy of the reading. The Devil card is the sign of Capricorn, which is Catherine’s sun sign, and it is a card for a person that is addicted to luxury, drugs, alcohol, money - Meghan. The devil can also represent jealousy. This is the reason for the secrecy and lack of public acknowledgement. If the BRF were to reward Catherine publicly, Meghan would respond with jealousy, stir things up, try to outshine Catherine - her usual bag of tricks - and the BRF neither need nor want that behaviour at this point in time. They have successfully ignored Meghan for months, either not responding to her drama or responding in such a way that she can not inflame the situation further. The last thing they want to do right now is to set Meghan off by honouring Catherine in a public manner.

Underlying Energy 1: The Knight of Wands. This is a fire sign person, particularly a Sagittarius, but it can also be a person who is fiery, impulsive, and generous (all fire signs are generous). It also represents someone who is taking action to manifest an idea in the real world (such as giving someone a reward). The spirit of generosity towards Catherine is there, the idea of giving her a concrete reward is there, but this card is also a caution against impetuous behaviour. Things need to be thought through, and you can’t just jump in impulsively and then deal with the consequences.

Underlying Energy 2: The King of Swords. This is an air sign person, most likely an Aquarius person, or a person who is very good at leadership and strategic thinking. The King of Swords is all about thought, not passionate impulses like the Knight of Wands. His presence here adds a note of warning that echoes the warning in the King of Wands card - think things through, think strategically, use your head and not your heart in evaluating whether this is a good idea or not. As a king outranks a knight, this type of thinking will prevail.

Conclusion: At this point in time, the BRF will not be giving Catherine any public reward for her loyalty (privately is another matter). They are being strategic and limiting the amount of harm Meghan can do by not giving her anything she can inflame into a huge drama. They appreciate Catherine very much, but both they and Catherine can see the lack of wisdom in a public display of that appreciation.

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fairycosmos · 3 years

Note

lmao im actually so desperate to die im considering swallowing two peach pits just to see if i will choke to death because nothing else ive tried has worked so far . you know what my life doesnt fucking matter ill do it. with my luck it wont work i feel im being punished and thats why i cant die. ill do it. if i dont get back to you something happened but i doubt it. im tired like you said i deserve peace. we do. bye maybe i hope this works this is pathetic but im desperate to die

hey, i'm really sorry to hear you're feeling this way. it seems like you're totally overwhelmed right now and i completely understand how debilitating that can be. i know there's nothing i can do or say that will really change how awful it feels, and you're probably not in the headspace to read all this. but if you ever want to come back to it, it'll be here. maybe you could try some of these grounding exercises, here / here and here beforehand to get you in a place where you can focus a little. it's alright, there's no rush or pressure. i just wanted to say first of all that this is not pathetic in the slightest. sometimes the world gets on top of you and you go througn so much trauma and hurt that it really does feel like giving up is the only option. people can only take so much, and i get it. that's the trick of the suicidal brain though, i think. it uses life's suffering and your own past experiences to convince you that it is always going to be this way. to romanticize death and make it into something it isn't in your head. it is actually very hard to die, as i'm sure you know. and it's not the peaceful option or escape you're looking for, either. and the most paramount thing i want to say is that your life 100% does matter. this was never up for debate. you were born with an inherent worth and it hasn't went away just because you can no longer see it. you honestly can't fathom how you've impacted peoples lives, directly and indirectly, and even just the world itself. you don't have to be anybody but who you are, i promise, the whole point is just having the human experience you're having. you're fulfilling your purpose by existing, no matter how hard it is at times. i think it's a good sign that you reached out to me, i honestly think it shows that you have a lot of self awareness regarding what's going on and that you're truly capable of asking for the help that you need. you're not in a place right now where you can trust your thoughts and feelings, so it's good to seek an objective perspective from somebody else. this state of mind is so transient, it's so intense that it's not built to last. i'm not trying to downplay how unbelievably hard to live with, of course, but it can be freeing to acknowledge that this is not all there is, no matter how difficult it is to endure currently. you deserve to be here and to exist in a way that heals you, no matter what your mind is telling you. there can be a variety of underlying causes for suicidal feelings, and obviously they're very serious issues that need real medical attention in order to begin to overcome. but with that and with time, it is totally possible to learn to live a full live along side all you've been through. even though right now i'm sure that's the lastthhing on earth you want to do.

are you currently working with a mental health professional of any sort? your doctor, a therapist, a support group, even a hotline? if not, i would really urge you to get in touch with them as soon as possible. and if you already are, let them know where your thoughts are at lately so they can focus on upping your level of care. if you're worried about money, there are cost-effective choics available, like finding a therapist who offers a sliding scale price, or looking into mental health resources within your community. i know your brain is probably screaming at you to do the opposite, but i promise any baby step in the right direction is going to pay off. the prospect of reaching out and being honest is a daunting one, and i'm only bringing it up as something to consider at the moment (or when you feel able to) so please don't write it off all together. you don't have to do anything right now, just know you have options. you honestly do. and talking to someone really is not as bad as your brain is probably building it up to be. just like with physical illness, mental illness can be confronted and treated. it's all about learning how to manage your unique mind, and even if it takes a lifetime, it is so possible to lessen the frequency of episodes like this. or to become more prepared for them so they feel less erratic when they do occur. discussing about what you've been through, pinpointing root causes of your suicidal thoughts, learnng how to implement healthy coping mechanisms into your daily routine, building a support system, finding the medication for you if needed - all of this is going to make a tangible difference. it is not going to fix everything, obviously, but it is going to lighten the weight and broaden your perspective on yourself and on living. you deserve to be supported without judgement and with genuine care, you deserve to be listened to. there are a lot of people, professionals or otherwise, even just strangers like me, who are willing to filling that role for you.

idk how it is for you and i won't pretend to, but sometimes suicidal people don't want to lose their lives, they just want to stop living the way they are. with so much chaos and unresolved pain and exhaustion. you don't have to hurt yourself in order to get there. i know when you're in this mindset, any even slightly positive piece of advice just feels impossible to believe. but even if you can't seriously take it on board at the moment, i hope when you're in a more grounded place, you can at least consider as an alternative to absolute hopelessness. you may as well, because you are alive and that is not always going to feel like a curse. it is so hard to believe it, i get that, but it is a fundamental truth. you are in an extremely difficult moment but that is not your whole existence. the future is ever changing, and you've already made it through the past, so the only thing that really matters is this moment. focus on what you need, not what you want, but what you need to do right now to truly self - prioritize. even if that feels like the last thing on earth you want do. if self destruction and self harm was gonna make you feel better, it would've by now. welcome the idea of trying something new, maybe just the notion of attempting to guide yourself through this with a bit of self-compassion. please, if you feel like you are an immediate danger to yourself, please exercise any sense of self preservation/ survival instinct and call the authorities, a hotline or a friend/family member right away. no matter what bullshit your brain is telling you, no matter how heavy your heart is right now . everything is always always always changing and things are going to change beyond recognition, it's the one thing you can count on. you deserve to stick around to see it all, and once you've made the decision to do so, you won't feel so stuck and conflicted anymore. i'm going to leave some links that i think might help a little in this moment, but like i said, please call someone if you feel you can't be alone right now. i'm rooting for u a lot and i really hope you are able do the right thing for yourself. if it's all too hard, focus on getting through the next hour. if that's too much, the next minute. and if that's too much, the next second. break it down into what you can handle and let yourself live. and then just go from there. sending you all my love.

list of hotlines

coping with depression

coping with suicidal thoughts

so you feel like shit?

template for creating a safety plan

#anon #tw suicide #talking #tw self harm

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havethetimeofyourstyles · 4 years

Text

Chapter One. Welcome to Sweetland

the scene is set in 1956, a young man moved to Hollywood to follow his dreams of becoming an actor. But with little money and a struggle to keep his apartment, he is approached by a man who offers him a job at Sweetland

a/n: THE FIRST CHAPTER IS FINALLY HERE! this story is loosely based on the Netflix series ‘Hollywood’. just the general concept of it and ofc adding my own twist to it. I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it! happy reading <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAGLIST | chapter word count: 8.3k

LETS TALK ABOUT CN! share all of your thoughts, questions, and comments!

please rb to share <3

The familiar click of his boots onto the tiled shiny floor is what Harry looked forward to all the time.

He found motivation as he walked down the hall as he passed by locals pacing back and forth with their fingernails in their mouths or sitting on chairs against the wall as they nervously chatted with one another. Some of the girls glanced at him seductively as he walked, making his confidence shoot up a bit. Harry took each and every single one of them in; telling himself to not let their anxiousness get the better of him because he was better than them, he was more good looking than them, and he was a better actor than them. At least that’s what his self affirmations tell himself every morning.

The bright light shining from above him as he takes each step made him feel like a spotlight. He put on his best game face and walked confidently as he wore a white crisp button down shirt with a yellow polka vest, blue flared jeans, and red boots. It was his lucky outfit and one of his favorites. It was a stuffy outfit for the hot weather in Hollywood, but he needed to look dashing. Plus they were all a steal in the clearance section!

“Harry! Over here!” He saw Mikey waving over at him at the end of the hall. Harry waved back at him as he hurriedly walked towards him.

“Hey, Mikey. How is it in there?” He asked as they tried peeking into the room everyone has been waiting to have a chance to get into.

“Man, it’s crazy. Everyone in there is so intimidating!” Mikey shook his head as he looked up at Harry. He was a tad bit shorter than Harry, but he was humorous and the camera always loved a funny person.

Harry and Mikey met in front of the gates at Paramount Studios almost a year ago. They were both standing right next to each other amongst the hundreds of people waving their hands up in the air as they tried to get the attention of the casting directors. But in the midst of it all the chaos, Harry had accidentally elbowed Mikey’s head, which caused him to get infuriated and led them to a fight.

“Think you can go fucking around elbowing people, huh?” Failed punches were being thrown at one another as they tackled each other to the ground; a crowd had circled around him. Despite Mikey’s height, he was underestimated. He was feisty, tough and can pretty much handle anyone.

But that fight had been broken up by security, and somehow and some way, the casting directors found that entertaining and picked the both of them to be an extra. They were both ecstatic, not knowing a so-called fist fight would lead them to being an extra on set. Of course, it was hard to work with one another after the fight they had caused. But after throwing looks at one another, they figured it was best to get along and work together.

And they found out they had many things in common and respected each other’s dislikes. Since then, they’ve been by each other’s side.

“I’m sure you did great. Don’t sweat it,” Harry patted Mikey’s shoulder, reassuring him from his audition.

“Oh, oh! They’re coming! Get ready!”

Two older women walked out of the doors of the room that was frightening but exhilarating all at once. Everyone rushed to the entrance of the door, putting on their best smiles and mystery looks as the two women looked around to find their perfect face. Harry stood still, not putting on his best look as a way to tell them he was trying too hard.

“Alright, here’s how this is going to work,” one of the women screamed out to the eager crowd. She was tough as she wore an all black dress that stopped below her knees and 2 inch heels. Her expression was stern, giving everyone a hard look as they listened to her. “I’m going to choose two of you to walk inside with us and you will be given a chance to audition. We want to see the best actors and actresses to give us the performance of a lifetime.”

“Everyone ready?” The other woman in purple said and everyone nodded their heads. “Please get into two lines on both sides of the wall.” The crowd did so. Harry being the first one in the line since Mikey saved him a spot. Nervous was an understatement for Harry. He wanted to be chosen and this can finally be the start of the career he’s been dreaming of.

The two women glanced at everyone as they walked between the lines, looking at everyone’s smiles and anxious looks. Everyone’s heads turned as they walked passed by them, frowns present on their faces as they didn’t get chosen.

After a few minutes, Harry heard their heels clicking onto the floor as they were walking back. He turned his head and saw a girl walking behind them as she beamed in excitement. A small frown was placed on his face, feeling as his hopes have been crushed.

Suddenly, he felt their presence stop walking and stopped in front of him. His head immediately was brought back up to look at them, frown was replaced by a small smile.

“You’re good looking,” the lady in black said with no emotion. Her stare was intimidating, making Harry stutter.

“T-Thank you,” he cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he said again more clearly.

“Can you smile for me?” She asked. Harry gave her his best smile. The one that wasn’t too bright nor the one that wasn’t too small. But he gave his charming smile, making his dimples pop out. She looked at him for a few seconds as she stared into his eyes before she said, “Okay, come with me.” And she walked off into the room followed by the other director and the girl that they picked.

Harry couldn’t believe that they actually picked him. He turned towards Mikey and he was smiling so big, giving him a big thumbs up and a pat on his shoulder.

“Go get ‘em kid!” He lightly pushed him towards the door as Harry felt his feet were stuck to the ground from the shock.

Entering the room, he was met by the eyes of three other producers sitting at a long table. They had their coffees in front of them and a notepad with a pen, looking through a list of actors and actresses they’ve come across.

“Okay, just wait here as we prepare. Names?” the lady in purple positioned Harry and the other girl in the center of the room in front of the table of people that would dictate his future as she got their names before walking back to the table.

The room was freezing and Harry shook as he got shivers down his spine.

“Nervous?” The girl said next to him.

“Yeah, a bit. You?”

“Eh, I’m doing okay. Not my first audition,” she said in a bragging tone, and Harry just simply nodded. She was a small petite girl with long hair as she wore a pink pleated skirt with a pink striped top. Her hair was short as it curled up towards the end of it, giving her a more girly and preppy look. “I’m Brandy,” she introduced herself.

“Harry.” They softly and quickly shook hands.

“Say, Harry, how about we have a little fun after this audition?” Harry looked down at her and she gave him a brow raise with a teasing smirk.

“Uh-” Harry hesitated and luckily, they were interrupted.

“Okay, you two. Since we planned on not doing any scripts for this audition, you’re going to need to improvise. Show us your true and natural talent. I’ll set the scene: you two are at a party and are about to break up. Okay? Ready? Action!” One of the producers told them hurriedly, giving them no time to take it all in.

Harry and Brandy turned towards each other, and Harry’s face was immediately met with the palm of Brandy’s hand, giving him a hard and loud slap to his cheek. Harry’s head whipped to the side, covering the sting with his hand.

“What the fuck?” Harry asked in shock.

“How dare you break up with me! You don’t get to break up with me,” Brandy’s eyes were immediately filled with tears, and Harry wondered how she was so quick to make herself cry like that.

“I-I’m sorry. But it’s not my fault I caught you fucking some other guy!” Harry retorted back. Brandy’s tears had fallen onto her face, and Harry’s face remained annoyed.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything. I promise I won’t do it again,” she grabbed his hands as she pleaded.

“No,” Harry started softly, feeling sympathy for his co-partner. “This has to end. It’s for the best-”

“CUT!” One of the men screamed out, interrupting their scene.

“Great, great job guys. That’s all we need. Brandy, come see us. Harry, you’re free to go.”

Brandy squealed beside him, walking towards the table to possibly talk about a contract and a part in a film while Harry slowly walked back to the entrance that was now his exit, feeling completely gutted. He thought he did fairly well; if they had given them more time, he would’ve been able to continue on and show them what they’re really missing. But that was their decision, and Harry had no choice but to try again the next time.

As he exited the room, he was immediately met by Mikey waiting for him with a big and hopeful smile.

“Well? Got that contract you wanted?” He asked.

Harry shook his head in defeat. “Gonna try again the next time. Didn’t fully get to show my talent y’know?” He said as the two friends walked towards the exit of the building. Mikey put his arm around Harry’s body, hand resting on top of his shoulder.

“There will be plenty of more auditions to come. Don’t worry,” Mikey reassured his friend as they walked out the door to be met with the bright shining light of the California sun.

“S’alright. Gotta keep goin’,” Harry said, convincing himself not to give up as he places a cigarette between his lips and lighting it up.

“That’s the spirit! But listen, I gotta get going. The family needs me, but I’ll see you at the next audition! Be there!” Mikey bid him goodbye as he was walking away from him. Harry waved at him, watching his friend walk home to his family.

And Harry needed a drink.

He found himself at a bar close to his apartment. It was midday so no one was really at the bar except about four other people, chatting and playing pool. He was drinking whiskey, downing glass after glass, needing something stronger than a beer as he had a tough and long day.

“Long day, kid?” A man with a full head of grey hair and grey mustache asked. He was very attractive for an old man. Looked very classy and proper, probably had a good job because he just looked fucking rich; while Harry is struggling to find a stable job to pay off his bills.

Harry scoffed, “You have no idea.” He called for the bartender, getting his attention. “Can I get another one of these please?” The bartender sighed, shaking to himself while getting Harry another drink; his fifth one in just 10 minutes. Once the bartender set his drink down, Harry simply picked it up and threw it down his throat as if it was mouthwash.

“What’s got you like this?” The man asked curiously. Harry turned towards him, giving him a look up and down. He’s usually very polite with meeting new people and is usually shy, but with the alcohol in his system on top of the horrible day he had, it was like he was a different person. He’s usually the soft and cuddly type when he’s buzzed or drunk, but again, he just had a bad day.

“Ya wanna know?” He didn’t wait for the man’s answer, but he nodded anyway. “Well, for starters, got a fuckin’ audition earlier because y’know, that’s what I do. I’m an actor. Anyways, I do the audition that they picked me out of, like, 50 people, and this girl who bragged about having plenty of auditions. And when we start, not even 5 minutes as we start actin’, they stop us! Thought they were lovin’ what we were doin’ that’s why they stopped us, but she told that Brandy girl to meet them after and dismissed me, like for fuck sakes!” Harry was seething as he was telling the story, and practically everyone was listening in since he was talking so loudly.

“Sorry about that, kid. But that’s what you do huh? You act?” The man asked, placing his cigar in his mouth.

“Yeah. Tryin’ to make a fuckin’ living and I’ve been struggling keeping my apartment,” he rolled his eyes, trying to remember the next due date was for his rent and electricity bill.

“It’s a tough world out there. But hey, what do you say you work for me?” The man offered and Harry’s brows furrowed.

“Don’t even know your name.”

“Well if you must know, like you didn’t just tell me your whole life story, I’m Daren,” he offered a hand to shake, and Harry takes it.

“Harry. So what exactly do you do?” Harry wondered.

“I work for a candy store,” he simply stated.

“A candy store…” Harry repeated and Daren nodded. “What the fuck am I gonna do at a candy store?”

“Simple. It’s like a self-serve candy store, but my workers serve them instead. Just grab a bag and they tell you what they want, and you get it. Simple as that,” he explained. “You’re an attractive man! Got the face and everything, and considering you’re tall, bet you’re packing down there too,” Daren said nonchalantly.

“Are you offering me a job or you’re gonna compliment my cock?” He wondered why the sudden mention of his cock came to play, but brushed it off. Harry hadn’t realized that he would be working at a candy store when he moved to Hollywood. He had big dreams, and he wanted to follow his dreams by getting as many auditions as he can and be in front of the camera, not work in candyland.

“Both. Just think about it. You’d be making a lot of money working there—hell of a lot more than minimum wage. And I’m talking about starting at $30 for an entire day. You can’t pass that deal up! And you just said it yourself that you can’t afford to keep your apartment. I mean, let’s face it. When are you going to get another audition? You’ve already gotten rejected from the one today!” Harry was breathing out of his nose, practically huffing at him as Daren mentioned the rejection. He knew that what Daren said was right, but Harry was hard headed and didn’t want to believe him.

“Sorry, mate,” he stood from his chair, grabbing his wallet from his back pocket as he set out a $10 bill on the counter. “Thank, but no thanks,” he told Daren, pride getting in the way.

“Well, my offer is still on the table. I’m located on Sunset, so you know where to find me once you get what I said through your ass,” he said louder than usual as Harry was walking away with no look back, exiting the bar and walking home.

When he reached the front of his door, he was met by paper taped to it that read ‘LATE RENT SECOND NOTICE’. Harry sighed, ripping the paper off the door before unlocking it and heading inside. He briskly threw the notice on the table and he sat down on his couch, rolling out his neck and closed his eyes for a moment. His shoulder and neck felt tight—his overall body felt tense, like he couldn’t relax for a tad bit.

He was stressed. The dream of becoming an actor was made when he was a teenager. From auditioning for one of his school plays in comprehensive school and getting the lead role, he felt the rush of being on stage when he was only sixteen. From then on, he wanted to take that dream to the next step, and he was talking about being on camera, on billboard, stepping on stage when he wins and collecting his Oscar. Harry reaches for big dreams, and he was determined to make his dreams come true.

In his state of pondering about lifelong dreams of making it in the industry, the electricity had gone out. It was like he was so in his head about becoming a famous actor that he felt like he was in the clouds and nothing was limiting him, but the harsh reality of his source of light going out had brought him back to the ground.

A groan from Harry’s mouth was heard between the walls of his tiny apartment, frustrated that he can’t seem to find money just to save him from getting evicted from his home. He took a deep breath as his body was stretched across the couch, hands on his face as he debated what to do.

He thought about getting more auditions, which he will eventually try for because again, that was his lifelong dream, but how many auditions did he have to do for anyone to see him other than a pretty face. Let’s face it, Harry knew he was attractive and having a nice face helped him get auditions, although he’s only had two in his lifetime. But he wanted to be seen more than that. He wanted to be seen for his talent, his ability to act, and being the person the camera loves.

Harry then thought about the offer Daren from the bar made him. It was quite random how someone badly wanted him to work for some candy shop when there are so many people who are looking for a side job. Of course he didn’t want to work there, but he did remember Daren saying that he was willing to pay a lot. But who in the world has that kind of money to pay $30 for working at a simple candy store?

Hell if Harry knew, but he knew that he needed to make some sacrifices.

You were sat in the beige booth across from your two friends, waiting on your food as Alice was reapplying her lip gloss and Frances was talking to you nonstop about a boy she had met from class.

It was your usual Friday afternoon as the three of you met up at Mel’s Drive In to have weekly breakfast for lunches. It was a ritual ever since you were in high school.

Having met them your freshman year of high school when you three were in the same dance class, you girls were inseparable. You’ve been through breakups, crushes, and gossip with them; and they were like your sisters. Sisters who talk about anything and everything with no limits or shame.

And now you three were dance teachers at the academy school you all danced at. It honestly worked very well; when a dancer hits eighteen, they graduate and that’s their farewell from growing up and continuously dancing at the studio. A year before you three graduated from college, your ballet instructor, Sally, had told you three that her and the rest of the staff always loved your techniques and stability. And you were all very excited for the journey.

“I swear to god, I was gonna jump him right then and there,” Frances said waving her hand as if she was fanning herself.

“Wait, he did what now?” Alice asked, pausing from putting on her lip gloss. She did it all the time, but you had no idea as to why she was doing that when you were about to eat. But Alice is Alice.

“If you can take one second not eating your lip gloss, then you would have heard me,” Frances turned to her right to face Alice, a frustrated look on her face. It was the same old annoyed look Frances gave Alice and to others, it looked like she was about to start a fight, but to the three of you, it was just pure bickering and humorously messing with each other.

“Anyways, tell us more,” you said, reaching over to Frances, and she excitedly turned back towards you, happy someone was paying attention.

“He just kept flirting with me! Kept saying I looked so pretty and said he wanted to take me out, which I think he’s gonna ask me out the next time I see him because he kept hinting at it, and I’m just so excited! Although I wasn’t sure if I wanted to date another dancer, let alone a coworker, but I don’t care anymore!” She squealed in excitement, and told her how happy you were for her.

“What about you?” Alice asked suddenly.

“What about me?” You asked back, leaning back on the leather cushion. Before Alice was about to answer, their food had arrived and was placed in front of you,

“Any guys or girls you’ve been into lately?” You thought about it, and shook your head truthfully as you dug into your pancakes. “C’mon! There isn’t anyone at all?” You shook your head again, taking a bite. “Not even that Tyler guy?” You rolled your eyes, waiting to swallow your bite before you answered.

“No, no, and no. I don’t know. It’s hard for me to get out there y’know?” You slightly frowned, realizing that you had been missing the affection and attention you wanted.

“Oh, whatever! You’re just saying because you’re too shy and proper to say that you haven’t been fucked in forever,” Frances said too loudly for your liking. You looked around your table to see if anyone had any lingering eyes on the three of you, but everyone seemed to be only paying attention to their business. “Face it, the last time you’ve been touched was Chris—and hell if he did the job.”

“And we know you can get out there. You’re pretty, smart, funny, and you’re a rich bitch! So many guys go after you in the passing!” Alice added.

“Yeah, only cause they want to get to my dad, remember?” You raised your eyebrows at them, and they went silent for a bit, remembering that ordeal.

“Well, those fuckers don’t know what they’re missing,” Frances said back.

“Since when have you used such language?” You faked a dramatic gasp, teasing her as she laughed and rolled her eyes.

“Please, ever since you told us about your kinkful night of sex that one time our freshman year of college, knew you weren’t an angel yourself,” Frances smirked, and a gasp was heard from Alice.

“Oh god, I remember that! It was with that junior Lance Mills! I want to hear that story over again. It was like listening to a sex film.” Alice put her hands under her chin as they both eagerly waited for you to tell the story again.

“Maybe next time. Y’know when we’re alone and I’m not about to devour this pancake,” you promised and they nodded excitedly.

The three of you ate your food as Johnny Cash was playing from the jukebox. You and Frances were minding your own businesses, thinking the subject prior was far gone and over with until Alice spoke up again.

“Y’know…I know something that’ll help you with the whole…” she started waving her hand around you like she was casting a spell, and you were utterly confused.

Your brows furrowed, “With what?”

“Your whole dry spell of not being able to get some,” her brows raised, and your mouth slightly opened.

“I am not on a dry spell!” You exclaimed, crossing your arms once you were finished with your pancakes, but felt satisfied, knowing Mel’s pancakes were the best you’ve ever had.

“Please. It’s been what? A year since you’ve had sex? Unacceptable.” You rolled your eyes at Frances’ statement. “You have everything you want except a good orgasm. Can you believe that?” She turned her head towards Alice in disbelief; the two of them shaking their heads.

“Ugh! I don’t need to have sex to complete my life! I am perfectly fine with pleasing myself and not having someone do it for me, and I am perfectly fine with not having sex… at the moment,” you added the last part in case the universe had some weird way of working, making your dry spell even longer. Frances and Alice laughed, knowing you all too well that you loved having sex and someone to hook up with.

It was like you were contradicting yourself in your head--thinking you were okay with yourself, but wanting someone else. But you honestly were fine with doing the job yourself--you didn’t mind that at the very least, but it is always nice to have someone to do it for you. What you were thinking was: yes, you could do it and reach an orgasm yourself, but you didn’t need someone to do it for you. If someone comes your way and helps you out, great. If someone doesn’t, also great, you’d do it yourself.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Alice spoke up. “One of the girls was talking about some shop that always has hot guys working there and they’re always hiring hot guys.”

Frances turned her body towards her, “Ooh, tell me more.”

“You are about to get asked out by some other guy. Don’t be greedy, this is for her!” You chuckled at them as they fought like a married couple. “Well, she was saying how she met this one guy there and they fucked in her car! She would not stop talking about orgasm after orgasm! And she also said all the other workers there are hot too, so you can go down there and check it out for yourself,” Alice explained. “You can just do it once too--get all that stress out of your system.”

You thought about how long your dry spell has been going for. It hasn’t been too long that you were deprived from having good sex, and you would love to look at handsome men even if that means you wouldn’t get any since you were tired of looking at the boys in your class as you thought none of them were really all that attractive to you. So, you nodded in agreement and Alice perked up.

“Where is this shop at?” You asked curiously.

“It’s a candy shop on sunset. But you need a code to get in.”

You confusingly asked, “A code? Why would you need a code?”

“Don’t know. Probably for some identity reason. But they also serve celebrities as well, so that could possibly be a reason,” Alice said.

“Okay…What’s the code?” You asked slowly.

Frances squealed, “You’re really gonna do this?” You shrugged your shoulders but nodded your head.

“So, the code?” You asked Alice again to see her and Frances smirking at one another. Probably because you agreed to doing this and admitting that you wanted to get laid.

“Cloud nine.”

Harry found himself in front of ‘Sweetland’ at 12 in the afternoon on Sunday.

After much debate, he realized he really needed the money when he was in the midst of a shower and the water had turned off. Just as he got soap in his eyes, he figured he would put his pride aside and take up on Daren’s offer. Because what could be so bad working at a candy store? People have to start somewhere in their life in order to make it.

He had a night’s long of pondering, telling himself that an audition is not just going to pop up out of nowhere, but he couldn’t lose hope just yet. And besides, he probably wouldn’t even get paid that much if he wasn’t under a contract with a big agency. So the candy shop would have to do it for now.

Walking through the door, he was met with a few pairs of eyes from men who perked up thinking he was a customer, but quickly put their heads down.

“Ah, so I see you decided to work for me,” Daren said as he noticed Harry at the entrance of the shop, a smirk placed on his face.

“Yeah. Just really need the money,” Harry replied honestly.

“Well, welcome to your first day, boy! Here is your uniform, restrooms are over there,” Daren handed Harry clothes and slightly pushed towards the restroom to get changed.

Once he finished changing and got out of the restroom, he noticed he was matching with the other workers; wearing a blue sparkly blouse with a pussybow and white trousers. He had to admit that he loved the outfit, but wished everyone had different outfits so he could stand out.

“Everyone! This is Harry. He will be joining our team and will be along with this journey of ours.” He noticed Daren smirk as he introduced him to everyone with a hand on his shoulder. There were about five other guys working at the shop that day, and everyone waved, greeting him.

Everyone working were guys and Harry noticed how good looking everyone was, and there were no women working at all, which confused him at the very least.

“Alright, so your job is to basically serve customers. Easy as that. You’ll just grab a bag,” Daren does so as he speaks, “and whatever you want, just fill it up to however they desire. Simple.” Harry didn’t miss his sexual innuendo, even if it was innocent as candy, but he chuckled, amusing Daren. “Got it?”

“Yeah. Seems pretty easy-”

“That’s the spirit! But first, I’m going to need you to stock some of the candy containers in the back,” Daren grabbed a couple of empty jars that were out on display, and Harry nodded as he followed Daren to the back where all the candy was stocked in large containers. “These have the labels on them, so just fill them with the right ones.”

“Alright,” Harry responded, and Daren pats his back before walking towards the exit. “Hey, Daren.” He stopped him before he was able to walk out. He turned around and Harry gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. Y’know, for the job. I really mean it.”

Daren smiled back, “Don’t thank me yet, kid.” And with that, he walked out as Harry filled the empty containers with more candy.

After 30 minutes of filling jars and sweeping the floor, Daren called him to the front of the store. It was more busy than usual but enough for all the workers to be occupied.

“Ready for your first customer?” Harry perked up, and nodded his head eagerly as he was finally going to help a customer out and serve them. “There she is. Remember to smile, and if they say cloud nine, do as they say.”

“Wait, what’s cloud-”

“Go get ‘em.” With a slight push, Harry was lurched forward, walking towards the woman waiting by the door.

“Hello, how can I help you?” Harry asked with a shy smile on his face.

“Just a bag of candy, please,” the lady said as she looked around the store.

“Sure thing,” Harry grabbed a candy bag and followed her around the store as he waited for her to tell her what kind of candy she wanted.

“Can you put these in there?” She said, pointing to the container of gumballs and Harry grabbed the metal spoon, filling it before dropping it in the bag. “That’s all I want,” she said, and Harry ties the bag up.

“Okay. Anything else?” He asked.

“Yeah. Cloud nine?” Harry was utterly confused when she said the phrase; he didn’t know what to do at this point because Daren didn’t take the time to explain it to him.

The woman slapped a few quarters onto the counter before grabbing the bag of gumballs from Harry’s hands and walking out of the store. He turned around and looked at Daren raising two thumbs up at him and Harry was quick to follow her out.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you want me to do,” he said, still confused on what he was supposed to do. She stopped walking, stopping right in front of her white car, and turned around.

“I want you to fuck me,” she said straightforwardly, and Harry’s eyes widened. The woman was about in her forties with a diamond ring on her finger, flashing in his face from how bright the diamond is and how it clashes with the sun.

“P-Pardon?” He stuttered as his face turned red. The lady’s brows raised and Harry could tell that she was getting frustrated mentally and sexually.

“Isn’t that what you guys do? Fuck your customers when they want to?” She crossed her arms impatiently, and Harry’s mouth opened slightly but nothing came out from it, truly speechless at her words.

“I-I’m sorry…I don’t-”

“Ugh, never mind. Forget it,” the lady scoffed and walked to the driver side of her car and got in quickly before driving away, leaving Harry with an unsatisfied customer, a frustrated him, and possibly an angry boss.

With slow steps, Harry walked towards the entrance as he gave himself a 30 second pep talk before he had to go through the door, hoping he wouldn’t get fired on his first day.

He opened the door, the bell from above ringing from the movement of the door. The first thing that his eyes landed on was Daren’s confused face, and Harry frowned, nerves boiling through his veins.

“The fuck you still doing here?” Daren asked with his hands up. Harry scratched the back of his neck, feeling his blouse getting too tight for his own good.

“I, uh-”

“I sure hope to god you’re about to say you made her orgasm in two minutes. And you better not that you lasted two minutes,” his hands are now on his hips, waiting for his answer. “Well? Gonna give me a straight answer or are you gonna just stand there?” Harry’s brows furrowed in anger; from frustration and desperation of making money.

“You never told me what to fuckin’ do. Just expected me to hear a phrase and fuck someone? A little heads up would’ve been nice!” He snapped, his voice louder than he would like, but figured it’s necessary.

“Thought you already figured it out when I was talking about your cock back at the bar!” Daren retorted back, grabbing Harry’s arm and bringing him to the back, away from the other workers.

Harry yanked his arm back when they were both away from the rest, “The least you could’ve done was tell me straight up.”

“I didn’t think you’d care! You’re a good looking guy that probably wants to get laid. When was the last time you fucked someone anyways?” Harry looked at him and rolled his eyes, not answering his question. “I’m assuming it’s been a while…” he paused, eyes widened as if he made a realization. “Unless you’re a virgin because I’m not sure this is the right job for you—well, it might be depending how you look at it-”

“Yes, it’s been a while and no, I’m not a virgin. Not like there’s anything wrong with that,” Harry interrupted just to simply shut him up.

“Look kid, I’m sorry I wasn’t more clear on what this job offered, that was my fault,” Daren placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, how about the rest of the day, you just work with the candy. You don’t have to deal with customers today, and you can decide if you still want to work here. If you do, then you start tomorrow— actually start tomorrow this time. How does that sound?” Harry took a deep breath and nodded slowly, figuring he has about 3 hours to decide what he wants to do. “Great. There’s a few containers that need restocking and some unboxing in the back.”

Harry got to work immediately, but he took his time to make time somehow go by faster as he was surrounded by sour candies, chocolate, and bubblegum. And he was also thinking on how this whole thing will end up. It was only his first day so he wouldn’t get paid, but if Daren was true to his word when he said he would start out at $40, he may as well end up staying here. Because where else is he going to get that type of money in one day? No where. He’d have to work at least two weeks to get a whole $30 when he can make so much more if he were to stay at Sweetland.

Time did go by faster as his brain was scrambled with thought and his mouth felt like he’s eaten every piece of candy. He threw out all the boxes and stored the candy in its right container before washing his hands to see the rest of the workers cleaning up. He wanted to help out, even though he’s done enough, and grabbed a rag before wiping down the counter and the spaces between the candy containers.

“Hey,” Harry said to the guy, whose name tag read Pete, as he was sweeping the floor of sugar and dropped candy.

Pete looked up and smiled, “How did you like your first day?”

“It was unexpected.” Harry chuckled.

“It is, isn’t it?” Pete smiled, and Harry nodded.

“That’s how he dropped the bomb on all of us. Didn’t say much of what we do besides what we do with the actual candy, but just threw us into the pack of wolves and fed us alive.”

“That’s…descriptive.” Pete laughed. “I mean, is it worth it?”

“If you’re desperate for money, then yeah. The reason why we all stayed was mainly because of that, but we’ve grown to like it a lot, and that’s not because we get to have sex everyday. But because Daren is actually really fun and cool, and we’ve all made friends with each other. It’s an experience, for sure.” Harry nodded, taking everything in. He knew his answer before talking to Pete, but he just needed some reassurance, guidance.

Daren came to view when Harry looked up, walking towards him, obviously for one reason. “So, boy, what do you say?”

Harry thought for the last time. Quickly going over his decisions, and having a full on debate in his head as he imagined pros and cons lists. The pros out weighted the cons, and there was really no question about it. The pros were: lots of money, sex, nice coworkers, and good candy. The cons list was: nothing.

He didn’t think he’d end up like this. Working for a fake candy store, but in the sense it’s not fake because it sells real candy, and getting sex this way.

But again, he needed to make sacrifices in order to keep his place and practically live.

“I’ll stay.”

Your muscles were strained from the amount of hours you were on your feet--more like years since you’ve been dancing ever since you were little. From teaching your students a plie to releve to saute; always making sure yours and their toes are always pointed. Your muscles were aching and you were tired, physically and mentally.

It wasn’t like you didn’t love to dance--you’ve been doing it for years, hell, you were teaching it. But it was the long hours during the day where some days, you had to teach and rehearse for at least 12 hours a day. So, needless to say, you were exhausted.

But that wasn’t even the worst of them all. At the end of the day, you had to go home and deal with your family. They were supportive, but not in the sense where you want them to be. They were supportive in what they want for you, not what you want for yourself. It was something you had to live with--you don’t remember a time you got what you wanted, except when you suggested you wanted to do dance when you were younger.

It didn’t take long for them to agree for them to sign you up for dance classes, but only signing you up for classical ballet.

“Sweetheart, it’s just more elegant. You’ll learn how to be more flexible and fix that god awful posture of yours,” your mother had said when you suggested you wanted to do something like tap dance. You had nodded your seven-year-old head as you sulked back to your room, figuring ballet was better than nothing when you asked to take some dance classes.

Your mother, Jane, wasn’t always so harsh with you. In fact, her attitude towards you had gotten better as you got older, but that was probably because she found your dad, Richard, cheating on her with another woman. And she thought you didn’t know a thing, hence why her attitude changed towards you, but you knew everything.

But you were all Jane had, and it was when you were sixteen, she suggested a girls day with you; talking to you with a soft tone and not making any remarks towards how you look. But you were happy for the change; it bettered and strengthened your relationship with your mother and she sides with you with almost everything once your father comes at you for something so little.

Walking through the large doors of your home, you threw your bags on the floor, the heaviness was making your back and shoulders hurt even more, immediately walking towards the kitchen as you stretched out your limbs and joints.

It was almost 10 p.m and you realized you had so many things to do still. Between coming up with a routine and some new ways to warm up, you were filled with overwhelmingness, and you just wanted to have a decent meal in silence.

But sadly, you didn’t get that--either of that. Instead of silence, laughs were heard from the dining room, and once you walked into the room to see what all the noise was about, the thought of a decent meal was lost from your appetite at the sight in front of you.

It was your father laughing with your ex boyfriend, Chris. The sight was unbearable and you wanted to run out of the room, but first, you wanted to know what the actual fuck is Chris doing here.

“Ah, darling, so glad you could join us. Was just having a laugh here with your dear boyfriend, Chris,” Richard had said once he saw you, calming down from his laughter. Chris was looking at you with a smile, and you never wanted to slap a smile off someone’s face before him.

“Ex boyfriend,” you said clearly, making sure they both heard you right.

“Oh, tomato, tomahto. Same shit. Won’t be long until you get back together with him,” Richard chuckled, thinking he was right. But he was far from right; you have no plans whatsoever getting back together with him nor do you have plans ever associating yourself with him, so the fact that he’s in your house right now is just boiling your blood.

“Father, Chris and I are never getting back together. I mean it,” you tell your father, but looking at Chris as you say so, hoping to get your words engrained to his skull. But all Chris did was smirk at like you were wrong, but you rolled your eyes, not amusing him.

“Sure, whatever you say. How about you sit and join us.” Richard points his hands towards the empty chair next to Chris.

“I’d rather not,” you sighed.

“Not asking you, darling,” Richard gives you a disapproving look as if he’s trying not to lash out in front of his ‘perfect’ guest like he’s a ‘perfect’ host.

“Well, I’m telling you I don’t want to. Besides, I have schoolwork to do.” You told him sternly, completely over this conversation. As you were about to walk away, his voice raised slightly.

“Darling. Sit. Now,” he demanded. He was angry, that’s for sure, and the vein on his forehead looked like it was about to pop from you not cooperating.

Giving him the point, you sighed as you took a seat next to Chris, but left a chair between you two, not wanting to be anywhere close to him. You wouldn’t be in this position if you hadn’t walked in on your father and Chris being buddies, and you wished that you had just ignored the laughter because your night would’ve been much nicer than sitting at a table with the two of them together.

But you were rather proud of yourself for sticking up for yourself. Some parents may call it talking back, but that was nowhere near talking back. You grew a thick skin around him throughout the years. From the countless times of crying in your bedroom because Richard would call you names or tell you that you weren’t good enough, you had to grow that kind of toughness around him. Sometimes you had to fight back for yourself; you weren’t going to let him or anyone walk all over you. Seeing your father do that to your mother just broke your heart, but you told yourself that no one will ever treat you like that.

“So, Chris and I were talking about your futures together-”

You raised a hand up only for it to be smacked onto the table causing the table to make a loud sound. “What did I just say? I am never going to have a future with him.”

“Not after what he planned for us,” Chris pitched in.

“Well, you can shove that plan up your ass if you think I’m gonna let you plan my future!” You said, turning towards your father. You were on the edge of your seat, close to getting up and raising your voice even louder or completely walking out of the room as anger flushed through you.

“Do not speak to me that way! Who gave you the right to even use those words?” Richard’s eyes furrowed as he pointed a finger at you, obviously angry, and not giving a fuck if he had a guest hear his anger.

“Gave me the right? You did when you decided to be an absolute dick to mom and I!” You were fully standing up, hands planted on the table.

“Language! You don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“But I do, don’t I? Right, father? I know everything,” you gave him a challenging look, which he was not amused with.

“I’m gonna give you five seconds-”

“Don’t bother,” you scooted your chair back, and walked out of the dining room and up the stairs. You just wanted a peaceful and relaxing night, but you got the exact opposite.

You were headed up the stairs, quickly, furious and frustrated at your father. Stomps on the hard floor were heard that you didn’t even hear the footsteps following behind you.

“Hey,” the voice you recognized was Chris’, and you felt your arm slightly being yanked by him, causing you to stop walking. You turned around, immediately taking your arm out of his hold.

“Don’t touch me or ever grab me like that,” you said, and he thinks it’s the most serious tone he’s ever heard out of you.

“Chill, I was gonna see if you were okay after that-”

“Well, don’t! I never asked for you to check up on me, and stop grabbing me like that--I’ve told you a million times. It’s annoying, not cute,” you rolled your eyes. You were right in front of your bedroom door and you just wanted to go inside and be over with the day, but of course, Chris keeps talking.

“Would you stop being a bitch for once? I don’t understand why we can’t be civil with each other, I’m working with your father,” he said, voice slightly raised, but you don’t let it get to you.

“The only reason why I can’t be civil with you is because I can’t stand being around you. And guess who messed that up? You did,” you pointed at him. “You’re just like him. Can’t have one person satisfy you. Always wanna sleep around and think you’re forgiven,” you shook your head in disbelief, trying not to let the tears cloud your eyes.

It wasn’t like you were still hung up on the situation, but the thought of being that heartbroken again did not make you feel the best. The feeling of your heart sinking into your stomach was something you did not want to feel again. And you didn’t think you were wrong for wanting to protect your fragile heart. You were strong on the outside; not taking shit from anyone, and you think that’s a strong quality to have. But deep down, you still had your guard up. Physically, you were fine connecting with people, but emotionally, it was necessary to protect yourself.

“C’mon, baby, it was one time,” you cringed at the name.

“First, don’t call me baby. I mean it. Second, one time was enough. I’ve witnessed it--still witnessing it with my mother staying with my father when he cheats time and time again. That ‘one time’ shouldn’t have even happened. Now, leave me alone and get out of my house.” You walked into your room, but before you were about to shut the door, he placed a hand on it, stopping you from closing it.

“Y’know, maybe we can just have a little fun. Hate fuck all the anger out of each other. Maybe it’ll help get that stick out of your ass,” he smirked and you rolled your eyes in disgust and annoyance.

“Don’t worry, I have better places to go other than you.”

With that you slammed the door in his face, knowing exactly where you could go to destress.

just a glimpse of what their lives look like! CHAPTER TWO IS COMING ON AUGUST 21!

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