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cattypatties · 3 years

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Flustered

⚠️ Slight Spoilers for Space Jam New Legacy ⚠️

Daffy sat there on the front steps of the Warner Brother headquarters, resting his arms on his legs, one leg balanced on top of the other, bouncing his webbed foot. Resting his head in his hand as he stared out at the lot, watching a familiar trio run by. He smiled a bit seeing them, before they disappeared out of sight. The raven feathered duck letting out a sigh, as he went back to watching other actors and toons alike walk by, the world going dimmer and almost greyer.

The reason why he was sitting out there mainly was because he was just bored. He didn’t really have anything to do, other than sit around and people watch. This simply was because they had finished filming SpaceJam 2 and they had caught up on all the other media they needed to be in, even finishing sessions early. The other cast members dispersed once finished and all heading home to their loved ones and respected lives, but unlike everyone else, Daffy didn’t really have a place to go back to. Not one that was consistent for him anyway. So he practically lived at the Studio, which bothered him a bit considering he was already kissing their ass daily by playing stooge to Bugs.

..Bugs.

His thoughts immediately wandered off to the Bunny in question, thinking about everything they had been through together, all the adventures and mishaps..to the first time they met. He smiled a bit fondly over the memories, sighing happily and even though he’d never admit it out loud, he had the most fun when he was with the rabbit. The jokes they’d share, the laughter, almost every anvil to the head and blast to the face was worth hearing Bugs’ laughter. Especially the way he seemed amused with Daffy. He loved the way Bugs looked at him, However despite the feelings Daffy had for Bugs, the star of Warner Brothers didn’t exactly reciprocate. It was obvious when they had first interacted, Lola as his love interest, and although it was an act, the two had gotten along swimmingly. In fact they were both written to be absolutely head over heels in love with each other.

So obviously it left Daffy feeling resentful of her for more than one reason other than fame. Still, it wasn’t something he dwelled over, it was just something to make him reassess his own character. Especially his feelings towards his co-star and why he felt like this. He was the odd one out and the most resented anyway. Which he didn’t mind too much, it was just really confusing.

However, before he could delve into this topic any deeper, he was alerted as to a presence next to him, when he felt a soft elbow nudge him. He turned to see Bugs sitting next to him as he took a bite from his carrot, looking at him curiously.

“Eh, What’s up Duck?”

He asked Daffy in his usual tone, as he finished munching on the carrot for now, putting it away. Going back to facing the toon next to him.

“What’s it to you wise guy?”

He retorted, staying in character to avoid any unwanted attention towards him.

“Nothing, just checking in on the studio's best Duck.”

He replied coolly, Daffy simply rolled his eyes with a small huff.

“Seriously Bugsy? That’s a reference from ages ago.”

He murmured

“Eh, call me nostalgic”

He shrugged, before leaning on Daffy, the duck frowning as he rolled his eyes pushing the rabbit off

“Just leave me alone, you’re taking up my personal spaceth.”

He said quietly.

Bugs looked at Daffy for a solid minute, the Duck shrinking under his gaze, before he snapped out of it and laughed, with no real joy behind it as he pulled at his ear and started fiddling with it. The duck noted how out of character Bugs was acting before the rabbit spoke.

“I think I’ll stay.”

He replied fidgety.

Daffy’s eyes softened slightly seeing how Bugs was, before slowly lowering his own emotional walls as he nudged Bugs with his arm.

“..fine, but you better tell me what’s up bucktooth.”

He said, watching Bugs carefully.

“Right..”

Bugs glanced away, letting go of his ear as he put his hands on his lap and clenched his hands into fists as they began to shake.

“Daff..I know it wasn’t real, but..what if an offer ever came up? Like for everyone to leave for a better life? Would..would you leave me? L-Like you did…in..”

Daffy stared at the timid creature, feeling his heart stop. He remembered clearly that during the entire time they filmed Bugs had been acting strangely, and now he knew why.

The question itself was..ridiculous, but Daffy knew deep down it was still a legit fear, a chance at an alternate lifestyle? A fresh start? It was extremely tempting, something brand new that could’ve been his, he could do whatever he wanted and no one would stop him. No more faking and yet..despite everything, Daffy knew he’d rather stay like he was, than to leave his best friend, and even in that death scene they had filmed, the Duck did find himself tearing up.

“No.”

He said rather casually as if it were obvious, and to him? It most definitely was. He of course turned to see Bugs’ eyes wide and his mouth quivering as he immediately pulled Daffy into a tight hug as the Duck froze and awkwardly shifted so he sat normally and pat Bugs’ arm. The rabbit clutching onto Daffy as he snuggled against him, oddly touchy, which wasn’t usual.

Daffy felt his heart speed up, as his face flushed and he waited, before Bugs pulled away, looking at Daffy and back to his normal self. The raven feathered toon a bit flustered.

Of course almost immediately Bugs picked up on this and raised a brow as he looked at his friend, confused.

“Daffy?”

The Duck muttered something under his breath as he turned completely away from Bugs, the bunny genuinely confused. The rabbit scooted forward trying to get Daffy’s attention as he leaned towards him.

“Daff?”

The Duck continued looking away, silently praying that Bugs would go away, however the rabbit instead rested his chin on Daffy’s shoulder. Immediately making the smaller toon fall over in surprise, before falling down the rest of the stairs.

The rabbit watching as there was a series of crashes, yelps, and sounds of slamming before Daffy was at the bottom, his head on the concrete, a lump forming on his head as stars swirled around him, Bugs making his way down as he held Daffy in his arms shaking him.

“Daffy? Daffy??”

He waved a hand in front of the toon’s eyes which spiraled and swirled, flicking the stars away. Holding him close.

“Oohhh..Bugsy ‘ole pal? Isth that you? I can’t tell..there’s five of you-“

Bugs chuckled softly as he watched Daffy come to, as he shook off his dizziness and pressed the lump on his head back down until he was normal again as he looked to the rabbit and frowned

“You’re despicable”

To which the rabbit rolled his eyes

“Eh, it's not my fault you’re falling for me.”

Daffy all at once felt his face go on fire as he stared at Bugs, the two locking eyes, before the bunny’s eyes trailed down to inspect Daffy’s face to see how red his bill was, as he looked over him and smirked a tiny bit, jokingly of course.

“Aw, dat’s sweet doc, got a little crush on me?”

Daffy turned away huffing as he crossed his arms.

“I have no clue as to what you’re hinting at long ears, if you’ve got something to say, say it already. You’re wasting my time”

“Doing what?”

He leaned closer right up to Daffy as the Duck faced him looking maroon. As he raised a finger in protest and opened his bill before he comically moved his arm down like it was a lever, and his bill snapped shut. As he leaned back, casually brushing his friend off, almost dismissively.

“Oh the usual, getting in my personal spaceth, being a nuisance and DO YOU MIND WABBIT!?”

He yelled at the end, the bunny perched nearby as he batted his eyes at him innocently.

“Whatever do you mean?”

He asked feigning innocence, making the Duck’s eye twitch as he scooted away from him, his co-star following as he scooted closer.

“Bugsth…”

He warned looking at him

“Yes..?”

He asked as he grinned more, before getting an idea as he twirled around, now dressed as a woman, in a white gown, with a blonde wig with lipstick. He looked…well beautiful. Daffy stared at him, instinctively, letting out a whistle, before holding his bill as he stood up and began walking away face a bright red. Bugs followed after him and grabbed the duck’s hand and leaned his head on his shoulder, holding his arm with his other hand as if they were a couple. Daffy speeding up as he kept his eyes off Bugs. Thankfully, his blush died down as they kept walking.

He didn’t need this right now. Just a minute ago we had mister ‘I’m so vulnerable’ and now he was back to normal and while it was relieving, it was also terrible for the poor duck whose feelings were only growing the more time he spent with his damned rabbit. He paused for a moment as he halted to a stop, as he replayed his thoughts.

‘His damned rabbit.’

Oh god damn it..damn it all and damn Bugs Bunny and his..his..

He turned quietly looking to his friend, seeing him look up at Daffy lovingly, his makeup perfect, with a small smile on his lips. He looked absolutely stunning, and he was..focused on Daffy, and he seemed genuinely amused to be with him, to bother him..to just exist with him. His lovely golden eyes looked at him with a half lidded gaze, Daffy feeling his own smile start to tug at him, before he shook it off looking away, heartbeat quickening.

Eventually the two reached the gates, Daffy fully ready to push his friend right out of the lot and send him in his merry way. So that Daffy could once again be alone and figure out why he was feeling this way. Why he was in love with someone who he wasn’t meant to in the first place. Except, instead of pushing Bugs out, he paused.

Teal eyes flicking to gold, waiting almost expectantly for Bugs to just run off, but..he didn’t.

He didn’t do anything but stay right by Daffy’s side and turned to him confused. Before he let go of him and the grey toon spun around going back to normal, and pulled out his carrot taking a bite, as he rested his elbow on the duck’s shoulder.

“Eh, what’s the hold up?”

“Nothing, aren’t you going to leave?”

“And why would I do dat?”

“B-because there's literally nothing for you to do! I mean you can go home!”

Daffy gestures to the exit, frantically looking at Bugs, but despite it, the rabbit didn’t budge. In fact, he only seemed more enthused with his co-star.

“Daffy.”

He said softly, before the Duck calmed down and looked at him confused

“What??”

He took another bite from his carrot before shoving it in Daffy’s mouth and kissing him on the forehead, the Duck going the deepest shade of red as he pulled the carrot out of his mouth and looking at the bunny glaring.

“That sir is absolutely disgusthing! Thisth was just in your mouth!!”

He said waving the vegetable in front of Bugs, before the bunny took another bite of it and nodded to himself

“Eh..I didn’t know you were minty..”

He said casually, eyeing the shorter toon, watching as his face went even darker red, as he made the cutest and most flustered expression ever as he stammered. Daffy absolutely ruined as he shut his bill and looked to Bugs half glaring half bewildered.

“Y-You-yOu-YOU—“

He raised a finger and pointed it accusingly at the rabbit shaking ever so slightly, standing on his tippy flippers, as he tried to grasp his words, face still burning.

“Y-YOU’RE A-ABSOLUTELY, A HUNDRED PERCENT D-DESPICABLE!!!”

Bugs grinned watching him, knowing fully well that Daffy was the reason he loved coming to the studio everyday. As the rabbit felt his own heart fluttering slightly, taking another bite from his carrot as he shrugged.

“And you’re adorable.”

He replied cheekily. His co-worker covered his face with his hands, grumbling.

“Eh, ain’t I a stinker?”

He jested staying beside Daffy, the poor duck just feeling even more confused than before. A small smile escaped him as he glanced away, hiding his goofy grin.

“Yeah, you really are..”

He turned to face Bugs smiling at him softly, with the same look Daffy gave him back when they were filming back in action in Paris. The same soft smile and half lidded gaze with a small blush spread across his bill.

Bugs blinked, obviously surprised, because it was one of those genuine looks Daffy rarely gave, one of those looks that made the rabbit feel his own surprised smile tug at his mouth, as his ears lowered down and he felt his face heat up too.

The pair staring at each other happily, unaware of the other’s feelings, but still happy all the same.

#daffyduck bugsbunny looneytunes #bugs bunny #daffy duck #bugs and daffy #bugs x daffy #looney tunes #spoilers space jam 2 #spoilers #space jam 2 #space jam new legacy #baffy #they’re gay your honor

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arrogvnces · 4 years

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it happens in one day. she’s there on his birthday, then it ends, and she leaves his life for good. he tries to get used to it. he tries to pretend like it’s not tearing him apart inside, like he’s not secretly looking for her in every girl that stops by his bed. little by little, day by day --- he begins to succeed. classes start back up and his mind is filled with new, exciting things and suddenly there’s not enough hours in the day for him to think of her. it’s not that he’s completely forgotten. it’s not that it doesn’t hurt. but he’s tired of wallowing in his own misery. tired of waiting for the magical solution to their dilemma, as if he’ll grow up in a day and stand up to his father tomorrow. if his coping mechanisms are meaningless hook-ups and drowning under homework, who’s going to call him out for it?

the beginning of his semester takes a turn for the weird in the middle of human anatomy class, when a face from the past takes a seat next to him. her hair having also been dyed black, he almost doesn’t recognize mina. they exchange an awkward nod, before the class begins and suddenly they’re too focused taking notes to care about the other’s presence. it’s only when they’re paired for a project that he’s forced to acknowledge her again, a small friendly smile on her lips while his remain in a straight line. they make plans to meet up after class is over, neither willing to leave it until the last minute.

at the coffee shop, it’s almost a journey to the past. their table is swallowed by papers and books, coffee mugs and napkins, sinclair sitting on the floor while she crouches over to the her shiny new laptop, typing furiously fast on the keyboard. they only speak to each other when necessary, exchanging ideas in the quiet of the corner they’re holed in. after three hours, his neck begins to hurt, as the words stop making sense and the moon is already settling into the night sky. he takes one look at her, as she continues to write and plan with just as much fervor as several hours ago and jealousy bubbles up in his chest. he’s always hated how she’s several steps ahead of him, always able to do more and learn more. he doesn’t notice he’s staring, until she catches him in the act, frowning then sighing. he looks away, but sees from her fall back into her sofa chair, staring at him.

“you still hate me, don’t you?” she asks, words carrying in the silence. it’s his turn to frown, though he doesn’t answer her right away.

“i’ve never hated you,” he answers, looking down at his fingers. “maybe i should have. it would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

“i already said i’m sorry for what i did, last year,” she reminds him, and he huffs. “i meant it, sinclair. even if you didn’t believe me, i meant what i said at that party. i never should’ve tried to win you back, i was just desperate. nothing was going right in my life and i thought if i could have you back, then maybe things would start making sense again. i was wrong.”

he shakes his head, tired of all these stories. they seem so far away, yet they remain in his life, no matter how hard he tries to get rid of them. “how do i know you’re telling the truth? you also swore to me you only wanted to be friends, back then. what if this is another one of your ploys?”

“you just have to find it in you to trust me,” mina says, simply. “trust that i don’t love you anymore. you’re not impossible to get over, you know. eventually, love ends. mine did.” will hers? is the first thought into his head. he banishes it as soon as it arrives, hating himself for even thinking it. of course it will. he is just one man.

“it doesn’t matter, and i’m over it. let’s just get this project done as soon as possible and we can both walk our own ways.” he begins stacking his books, mentally tired and in need of a good shower. he hears her sighing, without making a move to pack her things. she’s still looking at him, when he glances up.

“it’s just. . . i think it’s a shame,” she comments, fingers interlacing together. “i was glad to hear you were coming back. i never believed in you following your father’s footsteps. and i guess. . . i was kind of hoping you and i could be friends. actual friends, this time around, not friends with the hope of something more.”

“why would you want to be friends?”

“because you’re a good friend to have. you care, you’re always there in times of need, you’re funny and when you let loose, you know how to have a good time. plus you’re rich.” she offers him a grin that he doesn’t return. she sighs again, though the smile doesn’t completely let off. “honestly, i think you need someone like me in your life.”

“really?” he questions, not entirely sure of her affirmation.

“i bet none of your friends care about the same stuff we do,” she nods to herself, sitting a little straighter. “they probably encourage you but then switch topics when you start rambling, or tell you to stop being such a nerd. i bet you’re dying to have someone to tell about this cool hemispherectomy you saw the other day, someone who will understand the words you use and actually contribute to the conversation. you’re the type to share the things you like, and i’m the only who’s willing to hear it.”

he doesn’t reply, only continues to put his things back into his backpack, absorbing her words. he remembers simon not so gently refusing to go the science exhibition with him, claiming he can’t be seen hanging around boring places like that. he can’t deny some of the truth in her words, but he doesn’t have it in him to trust her. even if there’s nothing left to lose this time around. if she truly still had feelings for him, there would be nothing keeping her from going ahead and saying so. maybe. he stands up.

“i get it, you still resent me,” she continues, holding one hand up in the air when he opens his mouth to contradict her. “you do, and that’s fine. i did a shitty thing, i’ll take it. but sinclair, people change. you did. why can’t i?”

---

the following months took a turn for the unexpected. he ends up invinting mina to go with him to the exhibition, making good use of his second ticket, trying not to dwell too much on what it means that henri gave them to him and he chose to go with the one person most responsible for their fate last year. he doesn’t want to admit but he ends up having more fun than he would’ve going alone. there’s something new about mina, a lightness that wasn’t there a few months back. he doesn’t know what or who could’ve unlocked it, but he’s glad to be experience. they come out of it pleased and a little less tense, and despite his better judgements, as something a bit closer to friends.

his routine builds itself slowly but surely, september and october coming and going at the speed of light. by the end of it, his days are dictated by a tight schedule mixing studies, friends and late night pleasure. his reputation around campus reaches his ear and though it makes him cringe it doesn’t stop him from continuing his journey through yale’s cheerleaders, debate team, alpha phi sorority and the women in science club. simon calls it his ‘manwhore’ phase. he laughs along, wondering in the back of his mind what she thinks of it. they have a strict rule, never once mentioned out loud, to not speak of her. it makes it easier to ignore the hole in his chest, but sometimes he misses it. no matter how busy he is, or how many people he’s surrounded by, his eyes remain glued to the door, wondering if maybe by some luck she’ll walk through it.

he doesn’t have to wonder where she’ll be on the night of the thirty-first, simon dragging him out despite much complaints to a halloween party across campus. he didn’t feel like going out of the house, the day tasting bitter in his mouth and the thought of putting on a costume seeming even less fascinating. but his friend had shown up at his place with ‘the perfect costumes’, promising to take his mind off of his memories with booze and girls dressed up in skimpy outfits and suddenly the thought of staying home alone was too depressing to bear. so they adorned their costume, laughing all the way to the party, trying to make this one better than the previous ones.

the house is already packed by the time they get there, though it’s a lot less suffocating than the previous ones he’s been too. mingling with the crowd, sinclair sneaks in his third drink of the night, looking left and right to find a familiar face in the crowd. he finds one in the shape of mina, dark square sunglasses hanging on her face, a black fitted suit hugging her slender frame. behind her, calvin stands half a head taller, the same outfit hanging off his broad shoulders.

“men in black,” sinclair says, matter-of-factly. “you look nicer than he does.” it earns him a chuckle from her, and a roll of eyes from him. he still doesn’t quite understand why they hang out together as often as they do, but maybe it’s not for him to understand. only to survive through.

“and you are. . .” she trails off, scanning him up and down. he snaps his fingers for simon, standing a few feet away. standing side by side, mina giggles. “oh, jack and rose. i like your hair, simon. you should wear it like that more often.” she reaches out to touch his wig, and simon grins.

“thank you, thank you,” he has to speak louder over the music, his voice already used to these conditions. “you look very chic, yourself. i can’t believe you got calvin to match, though. the last girl who did that was hen--- i mean, you look hot. let’s do some shots!” he turns away in a hurry, avoiding sinclair’s gaze but it’s too late. his eyes are back on the front door, waiting for it to open.

“don’t look so desperate,” calvin addresses him, a drink appearing in his hand. “it’s unbecoming.”

“don’t use big words,” he retorts, stepping out of their corner to go further into the living room. “it’s unbecoming.”

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kitten1618x · 5 years

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GoT Afterthoughts ep. 08x01 ‘Winterfell’(Part 2)

Okay, well now that I’ve gotten some sleep, let us continue, shall we?

So we left off with the Great Hall sass-fest between Dany and Sansa, who clearly have gotten off on the wrong foot. Not gonna lie, I’m enjoying this jealous, very snappy side of Sansa. Remember when I told you all last season that it would take the threat of Dany encroaching upon what Sansa perceived as hers — her home, her closeness with Jon and her place by his side — for us to start seeing her feelings begin to emerge? Well my friends, I believe its begun, and it’s only going to get worse as the season progresses. Sophie did say that Sansa’s fight this season was a more passionate one...

As for Dany’s reply? I’m sure that I don’t have to tell y’all how highly inappropriate it was. Not that i begrudge homegirl a saucy clapback, but that’s probably not the best thing to tell an entire room full of people who don’t particularly trust you yet, and know how dangerous and unpredictable your dragons are. And let’s not forget that the dragons actually have eaten people before, so it’s really nothing to joke and/or scoff about. For me, it harkens on Jorah’s comments in the season 7 finale regarding why the Dragon Pit was constructed...

“Dragons don’t understand the difference between what’s there’s and what isn’t. Land, livestock, children...”

So for Dany to make such a flippant statement just to get a one-up on Sansa isn’t a very bright move, imo.

We move out into the courtyard where Gendry has taken charge of the task of unloading the stock of Dragonglass. Tyrion watches him from the battlements, and spies Sansa and Lord Royce. Their reunion was always going to be awkward due to the circumstances they parted on, but I suppose Tyrion feels like there’s no time like the present to get it out of the way, and approaches them. Bless Lord Royce for watching out for Lady Stark. ❤️ He leaves only when she indicates that it’s alright.

They exchange some terse pleasantries, and Tyrion learns rather quickly that Sansa is no longer the meek young girl he once knew. While she remains polite, she doesn’t watch her tone nor shy away from saying exactly what’s on her mind. This is her home and he’s on her turf now.

They share a few barbs about the purple wedding and Sansa apologizes for leaving so abruptly. It’s really just a formality, and Tyrion knows it, judging by his reply. Is he resentful that she left him holding the bag? I’m not rightly sure, to be honest, and she doesn’t clarify on the circumstances she left under, either. He wasn’t back in season 4, but people do change, along with their perspectives.

“Many have underestimated you, most of them are dead now.”

Well if that isn’t some kind of ominous foreshadowing shit, I don’t know what is? It’s also the truth, so Team Dracarys beware!

Tyrion attempts to quell the fear he’s certain she must have about the Lannister army coming to Winterfell, and Sansa calls him out for trusting Cersei. He tries to explain that he believes this time is different because Cersei has something to live for now. I know everyone thinks this is a nod to the possibility of Cersei being pregnant — but what if it’s something else? What if it’s her revenge that’s keeping Cersei going? It has in the past... I mean, this is Cersei we’re talking about, and at this point I’m just throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks. lol

In any event, Sansa gives a subtle shake of her head and leaves him with some striking words that are sure to cut Tyrion deep in his pride (beings that he ‘drinks and he knows things’ and puts a lot of stock in his own perceived cleverness): “I used to think you were the most cleverest man alive.” Ouch.

My girl is really out here snatching these wigs left and right!

Sansa walks off leaving Tyrion to ice that sick burn... perhaps he can cool it with that frigid stare Bran is giving him from the courtyard below? Methinks something is amiss, and methinks Bran is gonna be pulling the receipts soon. Either way, it’s hard not to be a little freaked out by Bran, and Tyrion certainly looks the part here.

We move to the Godswood where Jon stands alone before the heart tree. He looks upset. I mean, he is Broody McBroodster and all, but what’s got my precious snowflake son so pensive? He did manage to secure ‘the greatest army the world has ever seen and two large dragons’ after all, and (supposedly) spent the last month ‘balls deep’ in his auntie D, so what could be troubling him? How long do you guys have? lol AND WHERE THE FUCK IS GHOST?

Arya sneaks up on him, telling him he used to be taller, and my heart just grew three times its size. 💗 They lunge into a hug reminiscent of the first season when they parted ways as young, naive Starklings, and dear lord, either I’m the grinch who stole Christmas, or I better call a cardiologist!! Jon even squeezes his eyes shut and looks like he’s fighting back tears! Gahhhhhhhh!!!!!

Of course Jon sees that Arya still has Needle. He asks if she’s used it yet, and she... omits the truth. For whatever reason, Arya isn’t ready to share this part of herself with Jon yet, and it makes my heart hurt so much for her loss of innocence. AND THESE MOTHERFUCKERS BETTER LEAVE MY REMAINING STARKLINGS ALONE IS2G!!

Jon shows off Longclaw, and jfc, these two dorks look so cute with their matching Ned Stark hairdos and their dramatic-ass eyebrows, here beneath the heart tree in Winterfell, and ahhhhhhhh! Okay, okay, I’m done gushing... for now.

Anyway, shits about to get a little weird here... Jon gestures with his hand then bends down, placing that hand on Arya’s shoulder and pulls her in as if he’s about to share a secret and asks where she was before, ‘cos he coulda used her help earlier with Sansa. I say weird because that’s the vibe I got, especially when Arya physically turns her head to look at his hand when he places it there, like she’s onto him or something. She even knows exactly what he’s referring to when she states very matter-of-factly, “she doesn’t like your Queen, does she?”

It’s all very condescending (and cut me some slack, because I’m not even sure that’s the right word here) — but his mannerisms, the way he sort of mocks Sansa about thinking she’s smarter than everyone, then seems taken aback when Arya defends her—when Jon, himself, knows damn well that Sansa is quite smart, and has even said so.

I was ready to climb into my tv and box Jonathan’s ears until it dawned on me just how isolated he must feel right now. The man has literally given up everything for what he holds most dear: his family and the North, only to be met with disappointment from those he cares the most about. And yes, especially Sansa, whom he constantly seeks validation from. His brooding in the Godswood makes a bit more sense now, as does his need to get his old confidant ‘sibling’ on his ‘side’—however immature it may be.

I could be wrong, of course, but my opinion only solidifies when Arya tells him that Sansa is only defending her family, and Jon suddenly drops the act and replies softly, “I’m her family, too.”

With a small smile, she pulls her needy validation-seeking big bro back in for another hug and tells him, “Don’t forget that,” as the camera pans back on Jon’s face and we see the emotional impact her words have on him as he squeezes his eyes shut.

We cut to Kings Landing where Cersei watches the arrival of Euron’s Fleet. Qyburn brings her the news that the AotD have broken through the wall, as to which she replies with an emotionless, “Good,” before we cut to Euron sharing words with the commander of the Golden Company.

He goes below deck to taunt Yara a bit — ‘blah blah blah, and balls and first I’m gonna fuck the queen.’ And I do love Euron, and I don’t know why, but he talks way too fucken much and doesn’t really say much of anything.

Cersei receives them in the throne room and is very disappointed that the Golden Company didn’t bring the elephants she was expecting. She dismisses them, but Euron has other ideas (as he expressed to his niece earlier on the ship). Cersei basically tells him to piss off with an excellent quote if I may say:

“If you want a whore, buy one. If you want a queen, earn her.”

But she’s not the only one prone to manipulating situations, and I get the feeling she knows that Euron’s loyalties are sketchy at best — and so we are given the impression that she relents, when she turns back, and Euron makes it past the Mountain unscathed.

Now we’re in Bronn’s room—whom I guess has taken up residence within the Red Keep? He’s about to get his 4-way on, but the girls keep chatting on about the Lannister soldiers that were maimed by Drogon in the field of fire 2.0 — specifically Eddie, a ginger boy who’s eyelids were burned right off. I assume this was one of the young boys Arya met on her way to kill the queen before she changed her mind? Probably Ed Sheeren.

Arya is not going to be happy about this.

Qyburn interrupts this tepid display of GoT sex (still hotter than floppy chicken sex) with a special request from the queen. He’s got the crossbow Tyrion used to kill Tywin, and a mission for Bronn. Will he carry it out? Change sides? Is this possibly how the kidnap!plot unfolds (for those of you who have considered it)? Only time will tell.

And speaking of such — I’m only 30 minutes into the episode and this has gotten looooooong again. Have I always been this long-winded in my recaps?

I’m gonna go ahead and publish this since it’s already a day late. Maybe I’ll have the whole recap finished before the new episode airs?! KIDDING! But seriously, I’m sorry guys... battling illness myself with sick kids and I’m trying here, I swear!!

#got afterthoughts #part 2 #got s8 #jonsa #political!jon #anti jonerys #anti targaryen restoration #anti daenerys #(not really but just being safe)#melissa rants #long post

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edream93 · 5 years

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I’m Hooked On All These Feelings (Harry of Auradon AU) Part 10

Hey everyone! Sorry that I haven’t updated since October. It was a combination of being stuck and just having a lot of different stuff going on in my life. I’m honestly not 100% satisfied with this chapter but let me know what you all think. This is also posted on on AO3 or FF.net. Here’s the link for Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7, Part 8, and Part 9 of the story so far.

EARLIER

Uma crossed, then uncrossed, her legs. Her foot began tapping a staccato beat as she watched Evie step back from Gil and admire her work in the moon’s light.

Though Evie had assured her that Carlos had taken care of the cell’s security system and that the apple turnovers laced with sleeping potion would keep the guards knocked out until well into the next day, that still didn’t ease Uma’s need to constantly look over her shoulder. When one was used to things going wrong, one couldn’t help but fear glowing green eyes hiding around each corner ready to cause trouble.

Evie and Carlos had helped her this far, but Isle habits still made Uma’s skin crawl with anxiety, waiting for either a setup or for them to finally demand a price for their help. Afterall, it had been only her and Gil for so long that she found it hard to trust anyone else. Nothing was free. Everything came with a price. That was the one thing her mother made sure she remembered.

Afterall, Evie was working her magic on their makeup disguises. Literally. If Uma was in her position, she would be charging by every brush stroke.

Despite applying several different products that Uma could never hope to keep track of, the Evil Queen’s daughter had worked her magic with a makeup brush and fake hair making Gil look like himself...but also, not like himself. She glanced over at Gil once again but after a few seconds of staring she felt her eyes and thoughts begin to slide off Gil if she didn’t force herself to focus on him. Uma knew that if she looked in a mirror the makeup Evie had done just a few minutes ago on her would have had a similar effect.

“Her magic is definitely less flashy than Mal’s. It’s like a notice-me-not spell or something,” Carlos brought her attention to him. He stood awkwardly, fiddling with a loose thread of his jacket’s sleeve. Despite his mother’s obsession with dogs and constantly being referred to as “pup” amongst many of the Isle residents, Carlos reminded Uma more of a skittish and weary cat more than anything else. “T-that would be useful back home,” he murmured so softly Uma almost didn’t hear him.

Her hand reached up to twirl one of her braids thoughtfully around her finger. The motion stopped suddenly when she remembered she had hastily cut and taken her braids out, before twisting her much shorter hair into flat braids against her skull and pulling one of the theatre clubs stolen black wigs over it.

It was itchy and tight against her scalp and she wanted nothing more than to rip it off.

“Back home?” Uma scowled. “You sound like you’re planning to make a trip back there,” she commented before letting out a humorless chuckle. She quirked a brow as she leaned against one of the library’s many tables. “What? Miss the moldy food and the constant risk of catching pneumonia or hypothermia already?”

Carlos ran a hand over the book spines on a nearby shelf, the corner of his lips tugged down thoughtfully. “Guess I’m just not that optimistic about this whole wand thing. That Mal or her mom won’t try to cut out any competition once she’s free. And who knows,” he shrugged absentmindedly pulling out a book, flipping through the pages, “after the Coronation, the Isle may not be the worst place to be in once Auradon goes up in flames.” He paused putting the book back. Then, he glanced over his shoulder at her, observing her silently as if weighing his options before saying, “Unless...”

Uma narrowed her eyes. “Unless what, De Vil?”

Nervous energy radiated off of him in almost palpable waves so Uma was slightly impressed when Carlos looked up at her, gaze steady. “Unless someone gives Mal a run for her money and stands up to her.”

Pausing, Uma let his words sink in before she let out a short laugh of disbelief at his utterly ridiculous insinuation. ‘He couldn’t mean- That would be ridiculous!’ she thought to herself before saying out loud, “Hm, right. You sure that Tourney helmet is actually protecting that big brain of yours when you get tackled? Because you must have some brain damage, De Vil, if you think that-

“I was there you know,” Carlos cut her off, voice seeming loud in the quiet library. His cheeks and the top of his ears reddened but he continued. “When, um. When the shrimp thing happened...”

Uma stilled. It was like she could feel the cold slime of rotten shrimp sliding down the back of her shirt all over again. Her hand reached up once again to grab a braid that wasn’t there, to check and see if there was any trace of the smell. Her shoulders hunched and Mal’s ten year old laugh rang in her head.

It felt like drowning. Drowning when you didn’t even know your head had been above water in the first place.

“Yeah? So? A whole bunch of people were there! Ya want a sticker for that or something?” Uma hissed, all defensive walls and a bruised heart as she stepped toe to toe with the boy. “If you want to satisfy that praise kink of yours find someone else, pup!”

Behind them, Uma sensed Gil taking a closer step towards her. Gil hadn’t been there when Mal poured the bucket but he had been there for everything else - protecting her, patching her up, sitting with her and rambling about unimportant things in her darkest of moments until she could find the strength to cling onto his words with a tired attempt to mock him - and that alone made Uma hold her head up high, rage controlled but ready to crash down like a wave at any moment.

She didn’t owe this pup anything.

Carlos’s frame shook. The one person on the Isle whose life may have been worse than her own. Despite his obvious fear, his eyes never broke from hers.

“I saw you,” Carlos firmly stated. “You laughed at Mal but…”

“BUT?” Uma demanded, her patience on its last string. She could feel the heat coming off of Gil from behind her and she knew her friend was giving his most intimidating glare. Carlos, however, must have taken some actual courage potion because he still didn’t back down.

“But you came back for her!”

Uma baulked, taking an unconscious step back into Gil as if she had been slapped, not prepared for that response.

“When anyone else wouldn’t have cared. You did. You tried to help her because you knew she couldn’t swim. She was your friend and that was what friends do. They care.”

Uma closed her eyes, the tense energy released from her in a breath until all she felt was tired. She pinched her brow. “Yeah,” she sighed softly. “My stupidest mistake. More reason why I’m not- why I’m not...whatever you’re trying to make me be.”

“Why not?” Evie’s voice caused Uma to spin around and face the girl. She had been unusually quiet, much different from her airheaded chatty persona she put on around Mal and the royals.

Honestly, if there was anyone right now that Uma felt weary of it was Evie. Mal she expected to be cruel. Jay she expected to do whatever was in his best interest. Carlos she expected to align himself with whoever would beat him up less. Evie...well, Uma can’t imagine being exiled to stay in a rundown castle with the Evil Queen to have left anyone without some...resentment...

“You’re cunning,” Evie ticked off her fingers. “You’re smart. And you’re powerful.”

Powerful? That was not a word that Uma would ever associate with herself, especially not on the Isle. But Uma prided herself on being able to figure out what others wanted and how to exploit that the best way she could. Evie had no tell though. She was being honest, a rare occurrence with Isle kids but that just meant the girl was delusional because Uma did not have magic.

There had been that slight fluke when they had crossed the bridge from the Isle to Auradon in the limo weeks ago. It was like the ebb and flow of waves caressing her bones briefly in recognition before it sputtered out.

One could argue that she had felt her magic for the first time. Her magic which the Isle’s barrier had muted for all of her life, leaving an inexplicable ache that she had never truly been aware of.

Days passed after crossing over into Auradon and Mal performed spells from her spellbook as easily as breathing. Evie was able to use her mother’s mirror or stitch together the most heinous looking patterns into wearable art. Uma, however, had to resign herself to the fact that she didn’t have any magic.

She couldn’t make the small stream of water from the water fountain splash itself into Char Charming’s face after he had called Gil stupid. The potions she brewed for the gullible royals and nobles were just a mix of herbal concoctions that at their best could help with their users indigestion and heartburn when consumed and at their worst were a slow and long acting laxative. They didn’t give a person courage. They could not make someone fall in love or more beautiful. Uma was the daughter of the world’s most feared sea witch. That lineage, as she quickly learned in her first week in Auradon, did not mean that Uma herself was a sea witch.

Uma was destined not for greatness. It made the idea that anyone could think that she could ever have a chance to go toe-to-toe with Mal laughable...and cruel. It made every time Harry declared her a goddess a painful chip against her heart.

“Uma,” Evie stepped forward slowly. She took measured steps as if approaching a frightened animal ready to flee at any second. Once she was close enough, she took Uma’s only slightly resistant hands in her surprisingly strong grip. “You may not see it but I do. What you’ve hid for years, even from yourself. But we,” she nodded towards Carlos and Gil. “We see it. A storm that has been brewing and brewing for years.”

Uma turned slightly to see both Gil and Carlos nodding affirmingly.

“And your sailor does too,” Evie knowingly added with a prim chuckle.

“He’s not mine,” Uma wanted to reply back hotly but the memory of bright blue eyes filled with something...something that she wanted to hoard for herself caused her to pause.

Smiling gently, Evie leaned forward and kissed Uma on the cheek, squeezing her hands briefly before letting go and taking a step back.

“Whatever you decide to do, I don’t think any of us would judge you after all that you’ve been through,” Evie said as she began packing all of her things into her makeup bag before pulling out an envelope from seemingly out of nowhere.

“They’re identification,” Carlos clarified. “Passports and stuff that I made that’ll help you cross over to the neutral kingdoms. No one should expect that they’re not the real thing.”

Uma stomach turned as she looked up from the envelope, looking back and forth between Evie and Carlos. Good fake IDs weren’t cheap afterall. “What do I owe you then?”

Evie shrugged. “You may not believe this but we really don’t have any ulterior motives. We...” she sighed, for once not looking like the prim and proper princess she was taught to be but just a girl who was just trying her best. “We just couldn’t take how Mal was treating you anymore. No one deserves that.”

Uma’s frown deepened. So this was pity?

“And anything that makes Mal get all red in the face and isn’t directed at me is a win in my book,” Carlos said attempting to sound too disinterested. “Plus I have a better idea of how lame their computer security is here after bursting Gil out. It’s bound to come in handy at some point. So you’re doing us a favor.”

Uma nodded, afraid if she said anything she would mess things up. She put the envelope into one of the hastily packed bags she had made for herself and Gil before they broke him out.

“I’d advise you to keep moving until you hear the outcome of the Coronation,” Evie instructed as she handed one of her bags to Carlos. “Whether or not Mal’s plans for the wand work, someone will probably be after you as soon as they realize you’re both gone. The makeup should last long enough, even if you wash your face, so you’ll be unrecognizable,” she explained confirming Uma’s theory that the other girl had used some sort of magic to disguise them.

With that said, Evie spun on her heel before strutting out of the library, Carlos throwing a hasty wave over his shoulder as he followed her.

And then, it was just Uma and Gil.

Biting her lip, Uma turned towards the window that looked out over the forest surrounding Auradon Prep. Just a little way past the treelines, she could make out the hazy shape of the Isle, surrounded by gray clouds and smog. It had been her prison for crimes that she had never committed. It was that way for everyone born there. Running away had always felt like a dream until it was no longer a dream but reality…

Her hand unconsciously clasped around the shell necklace she had exchanged for her own along with her heart to a blue eyed sailor. She hadn’t even said goodbye to Harry. He was really too good for her. At least he was awake now. He could go back to living his perfect life surrounded by his perfect friends and family. There was no place really for someone like Uma.

“Let’s go,” she murmured softly, quickly wiping away a stray tear that had fallen. They were wasting time. They needed to get as far away as possible.

“But-” Gil began.

“I said we’re going!” Uma’s voice grew hard before shoving one of their packed bags at him. Gil looked from the bag in his hands to his friends quickly retreating back before quickly catching up with her.

A day later, Uma pulled Gil’s old jacket tighter around her for warmth. They were still too close to Auradon City to light a proper fire without being noticed.

Judging by the map that Carlos had printed off for them, they were about half a day ways from the Hundred Acre Woods that bordered Camelot and Sherwood Forest. Though Auadon as a whole had taken a step forward towards modern, non-magic advancement, that stretch of land was known for its prime camping scenery with its thick and lush greenery, totally untouched by electronic distractions. It wouldn’t be strange for someone to build a small contained campfire without being questioned. Plus, they probably had better chances of surviving in general in the woods where Gil could be in his hunting element than they would be in a busy city where they could easily be recognized, despite the wigs they both wore and the fake beard that Evie had expertly applied to Gil’s chin.

“Don’t.” Uma distractedly slapped Gil’s hand away from his face where his fingers were itching to scratch at the fake patch of hair on his chin. He pouted momentarily, fiddling with his hands as he glanced around to distract himself from the itchiness.

They were in a small abandoned lighthouse on the coast, north-west of Auradon City. The soft crashing of waves filled the silence between them as Uma systematically took everything out of their packs to take inventory.

Anything to get her mind away from distracting thoughts.

“Evie and Carlos are super nice for helping us,” Gil broke the silence just as Uma tossed him two granola bars. They had more than enough to last them for a few weeks if they rationed well.

“They aren’t nice,” Uma denied. “Probably just wanted to use us as a distraction for Mal so they can have her try at stabbing her in the back.”

Gil scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “If you say so…” he said not sounding totally convinced before taking a bite out of his granola bar.

“I do!” Uma would have stumped her foot if she had been standing up. She pulled her knees to her chest, choosing to avoid his gaze. Instead, her eyes fell on something that was peeking out of the teal jacket that Evie had somehow managed to sneak into Uma’s bag when she hadn’t been looking.

Rolling onto her knees, Uma reached out for the jacket. She leaned back on her haunches as she pulled out the small square of paper that had caught her eye.

A photo.

It showed a dashing young man with perfectly messy dark hair standing close but not touching the young woman next to him. Though she instantly knew who the young man was, It took Uma longer than she would like to admit to recognize that the young woman, with her hand captured midair on its way to push aside an errant curl away from bright blue eyes, as herself even with the telltale teal braids. Harry’s face wore a soft smirk as the fingers of one hand gently reached out for the hand at her side.

“You look different.”

She looked over her shoulder to see that Gil had moved silently closer to see what she was holding.

“He was different,” Uma answered truthfully. She took one last glance at the photo, memorizing the way she looked so...unlike herself. She paused, searching for the right word before she landed on it: happy. She looked completely and utterly happy in the fic.

“Uma?” Gil questioned after she hadn’t moved or said anything for a few moments.

Blinking as if jolted from deep within her thoughts, Uma turned to Gil, her hand clutching the Never-shell necklace, a faint but steady warmth emitting from it.

“Why have you stayed with me this long, Gil?” she asked before she could even really think about the question or what answer would be easier to hear.

Tilting his head to the side as if she had just asked why he loved eggs, Gil responded slowly, unsure if he was answering right. Best friend or not, Uma had a temper when she got impatient with him sometimes.

“Because you’re Uma,” he finally settled on. He reached out and gently squeezed her fingers, giving an unsure but warm smile. “Because you’re my best friend.”

Uma choked back a sob at the simple admission. Her mind went back to an alley where this same boy offered easily his own pain to her just to make her feel better. The large calloused hands that held hers now had been the ones that had fumbled but worked diligently to patch her up every time Mal or anyone else on the Isle thought she needed a reminder of where she fell on the Isle’s food chain.

Gil had kept her sane. Motivating her with bumbling but endearing words and acts of encouragement and loyalty that made every taunt, every encounter with Mal, every hazy dream tinged with jealousy and relief of a blue eyed boy surrounded by love just a bit more bearable.

If Harry was her anchor, grounding in a way that made her realize her life had always felt off kilter up until they had met, then Gil was her compass, pointing her back to herself. And when she really focused on herself, truly focused on her desires and not on the shackles of fear and humiliation that Mal had bound her with - that Uma had allowed herself to be bound with - she felt something powerful stir inside her.

It was like a tsunami; how the tides pulled away from the shore, gathering and gathering into a wave that once it fell would be in escapable. Her blood hummed with electricity, lightning imbued. Uma felt like she was at the edge of something that she equally both couldn’t name but welcomed, like wakefulness after a restful nap. Like a lost key that had finally been turned in a lock.

Magic thrummed lazily in the air and Uma could feel every branch and curl of it. She felt her own unconscious magic that tasted like sea salt, scuffed knees, and trust born out of loyalty and admiration that hung thick with age over Gil protectively like a blanket. She felt Evie’s magic, surprisingly subtle, woven into each stitch of the teal jacket she still held in her hands, strength, courage, and cunning breathed into it.

And the necklace…

Tears welled up in her eyes as she held tightly onto the warm and softly humming Never-shell. The magic that wafted from it smelled like a sea breeze, mutual respect, gentle touches, and unhindered smiles with bright blue eyes.

Faith. Trust. And pixie dust.

The word “love” floated to mind and the necklace pulsed in acknowledgement, feelings reflected but not hers pouring through like a gate finally opened.

“Did I-did I not answer that right?” Gil frowned disappointedly, shoulders hunched when he saw her tears.

Uma closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. A smile filled simultaneously with lingering fear, uncertainty, and fondness played on her lips as she made up her mind, plans culminating into a long overdue storm, just as Evie had said..

Opening her eyes, Uma was going to respond when she noticed something else in the pocket of the teal jacket.

She laughed, the only response she could think of when she pulled out what she could only assume was a burner phone. When she opened the scream, she wasn’t as surprised as she should have been when she saw the name of the only contact programmed into the phone.

Not even giving herself a moment to second guess herself, Uma pressed the contact number, bringing the phone up to her ear. It rang three times before it was finally answered.

“Uma,” a certain voice said her name like a prayer. Like her name itself was worth more than gold or life itself.

It made Uma’s heart flutter. “This is love,” Uma thought, squeezing Gil’s hand.

“Hey,” she responded into the phone. “How do you feel about breaking some rules? For the greater good, of course,” she tacked on winking at Gil who grinned back.

If Mal was going to eventually take her out, might as well give that purple lizard something to sweat about, right?

---

THE MORNING OF THE CORONATION

Ben always seemed to know when Harry’s thoughts ran heavy even before Harry could hide them behind dashing smiles and his playful flirty nature.

Ben supposed that’s why they had always been so close. The Prince had always been able to notice the chaotic storm that built within his friend when no one else noticed. When no one else understood. It was probably also because Ben had his own raging beast that bellowed, chained, within him that no one else noticed. That no one else understood…

Except Harry.

The prince and sailor noticed each other. Understood each other. They allowed each other to just...be without the shoulder breaking expectations of a soon to be king and his soon to be royal advisor. They saw each other and all their messy complexities and doubts and fears, a deep sense of trust and respect born out of years of being little boys thrown together with expectations and responsibilities that they could have never had comprehended at such a young age.

But now as young men, voices still deepening and uncertainty a familiar staple of their identity, they looked out the window of their once shared playroom within the gilded halls of Auradon Castle at the kingdom before them.

The roads leading up to the castle were quiet this early, just barely kissed by the sun’s light. An hour or two more and they would hear Cogsworth shouting out orders to the maids and butlers and Lumiere singing in the halls doing a fantastic job of both helping his old friend and driving him one foot closer to the grave (or retirement as he always threatened). Mrs. Potts would undoubtedly walk into each of their old rooms, pushing the curtains aside to let in the morning light, moving across the room as wonderfully dizzying as a spinning teacup. She would mother-hen them into getting ready like they were still the rambunctious eight year olds, too tired to do anything other than let her fuss and cluck over them.

So many fond memories were embedded into the walls of this castle for these two young men, when their world seemed just as big as the two of them. A selfish part of Ben wanted to stop time, to extend the carefreeness of his childhood just a bit longer.

Finally, Ben broke the silence, his words seemingly all the more loud and weighty in the dawn. “In a few hours, everything will be different. Everything will change.”

Harry glanced over at the prince, his soon-to-be king, and friend. His brother not in blood but in all the ways that mattered the most.

“You’ll be High King,” Harry nodded thoughtfully, a small smirk on his lips though his eyes held something much deeper. “Beasty King Junior,” he ruffled Ben’s hair teasingly.

Ben chuckled, shoving Harry slightly, letting his hair stay the messy nest Harry had created.

Putting a firm hand on the prince’s shoulder, Harry’s voice was firm and serious as he said, “You’ll be High King Benjamin Maurice DeFlorian, Auradon’s Just and Benevolent King.”

Ben shrugged off Harry’s hand only to almost knock them both over with a sudden and tight embrace. Harry didn’t hesitate to return the hug just as tight once his balance was stable.

“I guess this is where I’m supposed to say how you’ll be Royal Captain Harry Jones, Hand to the King and Lieutenant of the Royal Navy. My loyal advisor and friend,” Ben murmured before pushing away slightly so they could see each other, brown eyes staring knowingly into blue. “But that won’t be happening tomorrow...will it?”

Harry didn’t even try to lie. But he didn’t share the truth either. And he loved Ben for not making him tell. Instead, he merely said, “I know you’ll be a king I’ll be proud of.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, the stinging in his eyes. “And I’ll always consider you a friend.”

They pulled apart, both of them committing this moment to memory, their companionable silence hanging over them like an unsaid good-bye.

---

“I can’t believe you still do not understand how to tie a proper knot, Harry!”

Said boy couldn’t help but let out a fond and amused huff of air as he stared down at the top of Audrey’s perfectly styled and crowned head as she none too gently fixed his tie.

They could both hear the crowd cheering excitedly outside, waiting for their soon to be king to arrive at the Grand Hall of King Adam and Queen’s Belle castle.

“Surprised you didn’t take Ben up on his offer,” Harry murmured just before choking as Audrey made his tie too tight.

“Oops,” she said not even sounding remorseful at all when the boy let out a strangled sound when she tugged too tight. “And I’m a princess, Harry. It would look tasteless to ride with Ben in his coronation chariot after he broke up with me, instigated by a love spell or not. A princess takes pity from no one. I mean, can you imagine what people would have said?”

Harry rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts on the matter to himself.

“Anyway, where is Calista Jane?” Audrey glanced around the room as if she half expected the half-pixie to appear out of nowhere and startle her with a prank of some sort like CJ was often prone to do when they were younger.

“Wasn’t feeling well,” Harry smoothly answered, looking at a spot right above Audrey’s head. “Didn’t help that old dad isn’t showing up to this.”

“Poor dear,” Audrey said before her hands stilled, pretty face shifting into genuine concern. “And you? How are you holding up?”

Allowing himself to let out a long sigh, Harry could only shrug. “He takes his duty keeping the waters of Auradon safe very seriously. He’s always been like that so didn’t expect much of a change now.”

Audrey looked like she wanted to say something but she remembered herself and what was expected of her, so she kept her thoughts about how poor of a father the naval leader was to herself. She took another few seconds to finish with his tie before taking a step back.

Harry waited silently, watching as she took in his outfit, from how his freshly pressed white dress shirt tucked into tailored black dress slacks and under a dark gold embroidered double breasted waistcoat. Audrey frowned as she adjusted the collar of his long red leather jacket before her previous downturned lips (“Because princesses don’t scowl, Harry!”) smoothed into a pleased expression.

“There you go,” Audrey turned him towards the mirror. “A dashingly handsome young sailor.”

“Yeah,” Harry found himself swallowing thickly around the words. “Ye did well, lass.”

It was a testament to apparently how well even Audrey knew him that she didn’t pinch his hand for slipping back into the heavy brogue he had a habit of falling into when he was feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“No need to worry,” Audrey placed a light hand on his arm. “You’ll be a great second in command. And besides, everyone will be paying more attention to Ben than you. You just need to stand there and look pretty. Shouldn’t be hard for you.”

Harry looked down at her, taking in Audrey’s pretty smile and soft features and the obvious care and concern she had for those close to her that she for some reason thought was important to hide behind a pretty and vapid mask. Though they had never been as close as he and Ben had been growing up, so many of his childhood memories contained Audrey at their side or somewhere nearby in the background. She was basically like a third sister: annoying, always driving him up the wall, but he would knock out anyone who dared hurt her. (Good thing Harry was under a sleeping curse and Ben had the excuse of being under a love spell when he crushed Audrey’s heart.)

“Audrey…” Harry began.

Audrey didn’t look up from the mirror as she fussed over invisible imperfections with her perfectly done hair. Typical Audrey, he thought fondly.

“What is it Harry?” she murmured applying a fresh coat of lip gloss.

“Nothing,” Harry softly sighed, looking away. “You look beautiful.”

Audrey merely rolled her eyes, giving herself one final once over in the mirror before the warning trumpets began to play, signalling Ben’s arrival. “Of course, Harry. I’m a princess. Now we can’t dilly dally for yours and Ben’s big day. Move it mister! Today will be a day to be remembered!”

Harry nodded, offering Audrey his arm to guide her back to her parents before he took his position next to Ben’s parents. Today would be a day to remember.

---

Mal glared at Evie after the Evil Queen’s daughter smacked her hand away from the delicate fabric of her dress’s high neckline.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Evie tsked, taking a moment to pluck some of Dude’s hair from Carlos’s coat and to tuck a loose strand of hair back into Jay’s bun. “You’ll ruin the lace.”

“How about I ruin your face, princess?” Mal hissed before shoving pass some royals who had the misfortune of getting in her way.

Her patience was practically nonexistent at this point and Mal didn’t care that everyone could see that.

With Auradon on high alert after Uma and Gil’s jailbreak and escape (the exact how still under investigation since there was no sign of physical or magical forced entry), the remaining four VKs were under constant watch despite Mal’s convincing performance with Fairy Godmother earlier that week. That meant that any attempt to try a repeat of the love spell on the Prince to try to get closer to the wand had to be thrown out the window leaving Mal shit out of luck.

Neither Jay, Carlos, or Evie pointed out the way that Mal’s hands shook or how her eyes seemed to constantly be glowing with barely tethered control. It didn’t help that Fairy Godmother had thought it would be “good” idea to set up a video chat with their parents the day before since Maleficent, Evil Queen, Cruella, and Jafar obviously couldn’t make it to the complete and utter clusterfuck that was Family Day.

Yeah...a talk with her mother was exactly the confidence booster that Mal needed when even the Isle knew of Shrimpy’s little jail break was such uber fun. (NOT!) Even Ursulla, who had also been there during the video chat had laughed in the background like some demented soundtrack of Mal’s failure as Maleificent grew more and more angry with her only child.

There was no more time for mistakes. With determination as hot and unyielding as the fires of hell, Mal’s eyes landed quickly on her prey.

“What’s she doing?” she heard Carlos nervously whisper somewhere behind her as she continued to walk further, closer towards the part of the hall reserved specifically for all of the upper tier royals and several ass kissing sidekicks.

Jay must have said something in response to silence the runt but Mal didn’t give it any thought.

Mal could not allow herself to fail again.

She reached her hand into the obnoxiously delicate looking handbag she had made Evie design, pulling out a sewing needle just as she came up behind the once again mousy looking plain Jane.

“That’ll teach the sorry excuse for a fairy to bite the hand that magiced up flawless hair for her, Mal thought remembering the way that Jane and everyone else had looked down upon them after a series of escalating events during Family Day, starting with a wonderful family reunion with Queen Leah literally two minutes after Mal’s and the other’s arrival. Perhaps in another world, Mal would have been moved by Prince Ben’s promise that he would make everyone understand that even Isle kids deserve a chance. But this was not that world and the Prince’s blind faith merely made Mal want to barf all over him.

“Hey Jane!” Mal put on a poor attempt of a smile, the facade growing more twisted as Jane jumped, startled and fear palpable as she turned to see that it was Mal. However, evil was on a time crunch at the moment. “Just wanted to say, that after everything that happened,” Mal said before sticking out her hand, “that there’s no hard feelings.”

Not for the first time, Mal wanted to laugh at the sheer stupidity of Auradon’s citizens and their idiotic “forgiveness is good” policy as poor clueless plain Jane gave a shy smile before reaching out shake Mal’s hand.

“Ouch!” and pulling back her hand to see where a small prick was made was all Jane could do before her eyes dulled and her expression slackened.

Mal smirked, Jane easily under her spell. Perhaps she could actually pull this off.

“So here’s what I need you to do for me, Janey.”

#disney descendants #harry of auradon au #uma descendants #harry hook #evie descendants #carlos de vil #gil descendants #ben descendants #audrey descendants #i'm hooked on all these feelings #descendants fanfic #descendants fanfiction #edream93 fanfic #edream93 fanfiction

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ellanainthetardis · 6 years

Photo

Here we are. On the penultimate chapter! I hope you enjoy it! It’s a long one so let me know your thoughts!

[FF] or [ao3]

Chapter 59 : The End Of An Era

Effie’s first fashion show was an immediate hit.

Haymitch sat in the first row and watched model after model strut down that catwalk, bored out of his mind and barely listening to Harwyn’s approving comments next to him. He had no idea what half the stylist said meant and he wasn’t particularly interested either.

He sat and watched the different designs he had seen several variations of invading the apartment during the last few days – because Effie was nothing if a work-alcoholic and had momentarily moved back to her city apartment for the few weeks before the show and Haymitch had followed after only a few days without her, disturbed by the strange loneliness he wasn’t accustomed to anymore.

By the time the last model walked down the aisle, wearing a wedding dress full of round angles and delicately crafted pink roses, everyone was standing and clapping. He hadn’t known wedding dresses traditionally finished the show and thus he was a second late in joining the applause but he didn’t refrain from letting out a whistle when Effie appeared from between the heavy velvet curtains and walked out from backstage with a compelling flush and a genuinely pleased smile.

She was radiant in her green dress and red wig. She was wearing the sapphire necklace and earrings he had offered her too – for good luck, she had said earlier – and when she took a small bow, applauses only increased. He saw her blue eyes darting to the empty chair next to her sister – a chair that had been reserved for her mother – and disappointment briefly flashed on her face. She soon plastered a bright grin on her lips though because cameras were rolling.

Her gaze settled on him next and he knew she was dying to jump in his arms, to share the moment with him, but he discreetly shook his head, smirking at her. This was supposed to be her moment and if they were photographed together, it would be all about them.

She was so over the moon he didn’t even resist her attempts at dragging him to the after-show party. She drank too much and was completely wasted by the end of the night. He was uncomfortable being the sober one but he figured she had earned a night to cut loose because she had worked herself raw for that fashion show.

She was all over him well before he had carried her back to her apartment, giggling into his neck all about how her life was perfect and she was so happy and how much she loved him… He felt a tinge of resentment but he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because, while he was happy with her, his own life was far from perfect.

It was her night and he humored her though.

He even fetched different newspapers for her the next morning when she was too busy lying on the couch with a headache the size of District Seven.

“Read the columns for me.” she begged, curling up against the back of the couch, her glass of orange juice clutched to her chest like a shield. “I am too scared.”

He wasn’t sure what she was scared about because everyone had been pretty much unanimous the previous night about how well the whole show had gone but he cleared his throat and read all the same. Four out of seven newspapers were calling her the next Faun Harwyn, one was calling her innovative but not exceptional, another was more interested in her relationship with him and the last one had hated it all.

“Five good reviews out of seven are pretty good.” he told her when he saw her pout. “Can’t make everyone love you, sweetheart.”

It was very obvious to him it was a success.

Even if she kept second-guessing.

It was only when her assistant called with a summary of how many orders and requests for exclusive designs they had signed the previous night that she let herself believe she had really made it.

She wasn’t Twelve’s escort anymore, she was a recognized stylist.

He figured it helped made the transition a little smoother.

Still, when the day came to officially pass the title along, she was in a weird mood. Haymitch was all against attending the show but nobody asked his opinion on the matter. He was the Quell’s victor and he was in the city so he would have to attend – besides, Effie remarked, it would have looked odd if he hadn’t come to support her. So he was forced to get through a red carpet and sit in the middle of the audience and watch the ridiculous hypocrisy on stage.

They never had shows for departing or arriving escorts. They were usually announced a little before the next Reaping with fuss and pump but not with an official Games program to boost. That year, it was going to be a complete turnover though. No escort was staying in their position, either they had been promoted or they had declared they would retire – or had been forced to retire but none of them were stupid enough to say that out loud.

There was a short recap for every leaving escort, from their first Reaping to their last, quite a few anecdotes from Caesar and a lot of forced laughter on everyone’s part.

In Haymitch’s opinion, it was depressing.

He wasn’t friends with a lot of escorts, not to say the only one he really liked was Effie, but they were familiar faces. All the young people they called on stage to replace them had one thing in common: they all looked far too naïve. Most of them were current celebrities: singers, models, actresses…

Haymitch had to look away when Effie shook Alys’ hand and officially passed Twelve’s escort title over. Of course, then the camera panned on him and he forced a smirk and a wave but he didn’t think he managed to hide his bitterness very well.

It felt like the end of an era.

It was a relief to sneak backstage once the show was over. The mood was subdued. The former escorts were laughing together, trying to keep their spirits up but it was plain to see most of them were worn out. It had been that way since the Quell.

He found Effie chatting with Two’s former escort, the both of them sporting strained smiles and polite masks of indifference. He placed a hand at the small of her back to alert her to his presence, nodding once at Valeria. He was uncomfortable with her. Knowing that Brutus had been to her what he was to Effie made it awkward. When he looked at her, he saw who Effie could have been if he had died in the Quell and…

Not going there.

There was a party they couldn’t get out of, naturally, which meant another red carpet he could have done without. It was easier to bear when Effie’s hand was squeezing his but he hated the whole theatrics of being seen. He wasn’t in a good mood. He made an effort not to be too curt with fans because offending anyone wasn’t an option for him anymore but he wasn’t in a good mood.

There was no escaping the press. They were like bloodhounds, avid for the smallest gossip and ready to transform the most innocent sentence into something scandalous. He let Effie deal with them. She answered questions with her usual charm, cheerfully expressing her excitement for the next Games…

“And you, Haymitch? Are you excited?” the man asked, jutting his mic so close to Haymitch’s face he almost hit him in the nose.

He nudged it away with a snort. “What do you think?”

“It will be less stressful than last time.” Effie joked, looping her arm around his and very much digging her nails into his forearm. “Won’t it, darling?”

She batted innocent loving eyes at him but he read the warning in her gaze as clearly as if she had uttered it. He wasn’t the grumpy bitter victor anymore and he couldn’t afford that kind of mishap. Not with Effie’s, Peeta’s and Prim’s lives on the line. Not with all he had already done to prevent anything happening to them.

He forced himself to relax, a smirk stretching his lips. “Sure. No one’s coming at me this time around.”

They all laughed as if it was a good joke. Haymitch was already glancing at the doors of the grand hotel the party was taking place in, desperate for an escape, but the journalist clearly wasn’t done with them. “Do you think it will be weird for you to work with another escort? Effie has been with Twelve for a long time…”

“We shall not give numbers.” she teased.

“It’s gonna be an adjustment, yeah.” he nodded. The man seemed to expect something more so Haymitch shrugged. “I’m really proud of her, you know? She’s been the best escort and now she’s moving on to being the best stylist… That’s my girl. The overachiever.”

He nudged her and she shook her head at him, a smile tugging at her lips. “You are ridiculous.”

“You love it.” he accused.

“Perhaps I do.” she grinned.

He could almost hear people awing at them and he lifted an inquisitive eyebrow in the journalist’s direction. The man took the hint and thanked them for their time before hurrying to Three’s new escort.

“Are you really?” Effie hummed as they finally joined the party that was now in full swing. “Proud of me?”

“I’m only charming for the cameras, Princess.” he deadpanned.

She chuckled and dragged him to the dance floor. There were worse fates than dancing with her so he surrendered.

If one good thing had come out of the whole mess, it was being free not to hide anymore, not to calculate every move in fear of being discovered. He liked being able to hold her closer than propriety allowed, to whisper in her ear if he wanted to, to keep his hands on her at all times… Over all, he liked being perfectly entitled to growl possessively at sponsors and leering old men who thought they could take her for a spin.

The fact that his acting all possessive turned her on was a nice bonus.

It was the end of an era though.

On the eve of the following Reaping, he and Alys boarded a train to Twelve. It felt so… odd to leave Effie on the Capitol’s platform… She seemed equally at a loss. She kissed him hard one last time – even if they hadn’t really stopped kissing since that morning – and tugged on the lapels of his coat so they would fall properly before smoothing imaginary creases from the fabric.

“It is only two nights. We are being utterly silly.” she declared with a laugh that sounded painfully fake.

“Try pathetic.” he mocked and kissed her again. He didn’t let himself look back before climbing on the train. It was ridiculous. But they didn’t often spend nights apart anymore and never so far away from each other.

He shared a boring dinner with Alys who kept up the chatter just to keep the silence at bay, it seemed. She reminded him a little too much of Effie when she had first started and he tended to tune her out. He and Effie had already decided she would spend the duration of the Games in the apartment instead of making the half hour trip from and to their house every day. At least until Twelve was out of the Games. Then he would be free to move out of the penthouse. She had talked about inviting Peeta over for a few days but he wasn’t sure about that yet. They had agreed it would depend on how the Games went.

Useless to say, they went badly.

It was good to see the boy again. It had only been a few months but Peeta looked even more grown up than he had before the Tour. Things in Twelve really weren’t great, the kid told him before the whole thing started, and more often than not he was left to play buffer between the Mayor and the Head Peacekeeper. Haymitch felt guilty about not being there but one look at Thread told him it was probably for the best. Effie humiliating him hadn’t made the man any more partial to him than he used to be.

Alys reaped a fourteen year old girl and a sixteen year old boy.

The girl sobbed from the moment her name was called to the moment the train stopped in the Capitol, the boy had no fight in him, Peeta was too invested mainly because he knew the male tribute from school and their new escort was useless. Effie having left her position, there was alcohol on the train again and Haymitch was thoroughly tempted to get wasted.

He chain-smoked his whole cigarette packet instead.

The Parade was a disaster. Their new stylist hadn’t been stupid enough to leave them on a cart half naked – and wasn’t that a fond memory, Haymitch mused – but the miner outfits were too classical and boring. Overdone. The kids didn’t pique anyone’s interest.

“We have a shot.” Peeta kept insisting even though it was as far from the truth as possible.

These were his twenty-sixth Games and Haymitch could see it plain as day: those kids would never make it past the Cornucopia.

He had forgotten how it had been before Effie. Alys showed the kids to their rooms, made sure they knew how everything worked and then disappeared from the penthouse, probably to a post Parade party or another.

“Isn’t she supposed to help?” Peeta frowned once the elevator’s doors had closed on her.

“That was all Effie.” Haymitch muttered.

He tried to prepare the boy for the inevitable loss but Peeta wouldn’t see reason, insisting on bringing the kids to the living-room and listing their skills as if it would help. Haymitch didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to get to know them, didn’t want to hear about their hobbies and what they liked to do in their spare time because, too soon, they would become two more ghosts to add to his nightmares.

At long last, Haymitch reached the end of his tether and stormed out to seek the safe haven that was supposed to be their apartment. Effie was home, getting ready for a party no doubt, and she frowned when she saw the state he was in.

“They’re no victors.” she declared. He didn’t ask her how she knew. She had seen the Reaping and the Parade and she had become just as good as he was at determining who would live and who would die.

“Nope.” he snorted, making the p pop.

“Peeta is having a hard time understanding that.” she surmised.

He sighed and leaned against their bedroom’s doorframe, rubbing his face. “I can’t do this without you. Alys already fucked off to whenever, there’s paperwork I haven’t filled in thirteen years and how the fuck do I coach those kids to act more… proper?”

That was her thing. She did the attitude coaching and he worked with them on the interview content – when he even bothered to do that much. Effie had been the one shouldering most of the mentor responsibilities for more than a decade and without her…

“I will help you with sponsors.” she promised. “And you can probably get Peeta to do the paperwork, he has a better handwriting anyway.” He barely smirked at her teasing, already too tired of the whole thing. “As for the coaching… I will have a talk with Alys.”

She was in front of him suddenly, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck, and the tension slowly left his shoulders.

“What would I do without you?” he asked, more sincerely than he had meant to.

“Let’s never find out, shall we?” she grinned, pressing a kiss against his lips.

Effie wasn’t officially part of the team though and it made her helping difficult. She wasn’t allowed in the penthouse or backstage and thus was limited to areas open to sponsors. She helped him get a couple of pledges but, on other fronts, it was all a total disaster.

There was a real global disorganized feel to that season. With so many new escorts and almost none of the usual mentors, it was chaos. Even Gamemakers seemed at a loss. Plutarch was running everywhere all the time, trailed by his brand new assistant – Haymitch wasn’t sure what had happened to Fulvia Cardew, she had simply… vanished.

The Quell had been very successful, it was always difficult to design Games that would please the audience after a particularly good year. As it was, Haymitch was asked to attend far too many parties and events. They showed him off to appease the public’s lack of interest in the new tributes and to distract them from the numerous blunders committed by the new staff.

The arrangement suited him. At least while he was being busy being herded from one party to the next, often with Effie on his arm, he wasn’t doing the hopeless mentoring Peeta had taken upon himself.

Haymitch told him times and times again not to get attached. He had been there, he had done that.

Effie also tried to warn the boy and it all fell on deaf ears.

The kids didn’t last two minutes. They were amongst the first to die during the bloodbath.

Haymitch barely flinched, barely closed his eyes when it happened.

Peeta downed half a bottle and then declared he was going home with the coffins despite Haymitch’s awkward invitation to come and stay with them at the country house for a few days.

The boy was gone before the Games had even properly started. Haymitch moved out of the penthouse and back to their place. It didn’t save him from having to show up at parties, events and shows but at least, at home, he wasn’t forced to look his failures in the face.

It was hell to remain sober.

Having to face the Games without the comfortable friendship of his fellow mentors, going through the nightmares every night, waking up out of breath and fists flinging around to hit invisible enemies… The ghosts he could see so plainly even when he was awake, the ghosts telling him he should be dead too, the ghosts accusing him of being responsible for their deaths… He had lost count of the number of times he had cried into Effie’s shoulder like the pathetic weak man he had become by the time they had crowned a new victor.

Worst thing was… Nobody really cared about the fifteen year-old girl from One.

Watching their favorite victors battle to the death had been much more entertaining than watching a bunch of kids kill each other. Haymitch was afraid of what the Gamemakers would invent to compensate the following year.

He was right to be concerned because the Seventy-seventh Hunger Games were ruthless. The arena was a deadly trap, the mutts were cruel and the audience loved it all. Twelve’s tributes lasted five and fifteen minutes respectively. Not bad all things considered but there was no explaining that to the rest of his team.

By the end of the first day, Peeta had left for Twelve and Alys told Haymitch she was quitting.

Plutarch promised to find him a good escort, not one of the silly birds that kept coming and going because victors complained they couldn’t do their job properly. His next escort was a former model who liked to trail proprietary hands on him and who figured herself to be the next Effie Trinket – in the Games and in his bed.

No need to say she only lasted one year.

He never really found out what happened between her and his wife but Effie must have made things very clear very fast. One day, he watched her follow the woman in the ladies and when they came out, Twelve was lacking an escort again. Even Peeta cracked a smile at that.

For the Seventy-ninth Hunger Games, Effie surprised them all by becoming their new stylist.

“I am tired of not being allowed backstage.” she snapped at him one night, smearing cream all over her hands, glaring at him in the mirror of her dressing table. “I am part of the team. I never stopped being part of the team. I might as well have an official position.”

He didn’t mention that coming back as a stylist after having been an escort seemed a little desperate and that she was sure to face some mocking comments for it.

Mocking comments were nothing she wasn’t used to nowadays anyway.

They had been officially together for four years at that point and since they were showing no signs of separating soon – although there had been quite a few rumors because of that stupid escort the previous year – what had, at first, been dubbed a delightful forbidden romance was now becoming an eccentricity.

They were still popular but they were old news now. An old couple.

Haymitch liked it better that way truth be told. It meant less people snooping into their private affairs.

“It’s not a good idea.” he insisted from where he was lying on their bed, listening to the faint honking of the geese outside. The gaggle was big now, mostly because she kept gifting him with another goose to cheer him up every time he felt low. It had become habits for him to go down to the pen one morning and find a new bird with a fancy pink bow around its neck, signaling it was new and a present. “You know it’s not.”

“And why not?” she retorted, turning around to glare at him more easily, her lips pursed and her head tilted to the side like always when she was annoyed. “I have never been this popular. I am the stylist en vogue. Why, if they knew I planned to work for the Games, every District team would be after me…”

“Cause you’re out.” he growled. “You’re fucking out. Stay that way. If I could…”

“I have never been out.” she scoffed. “I do not think anyone ever leaves the Games. Do you?”

There was no good answer to that, so he sighed and kept his peace. It was selfish too. He knew she was too bossy for her own good and would never be able to stick to the clothes department.

They never managed to keep an escort more than one year after that. It was well-known that Effie Trinket was impossible to work with when the Games were concerned and that, because she was Haymitch’s lover, she was given free reigns over Twelve’s floor. She might not have officially been their escort but she certainly acted the part. She always publicly denied and was smart enough to never get caught undermining an official escort’s authority but everyone who counted knew better.

It was a relief to have Effie back and Haymitch counted his blessings where he could find them.

Peeta worried him.

He was distant and sullen and the path the boy was walking on was such a familiar one for Haymitch that he tried to talk to him a few times. Effie tried too. There was no reaching him. Phone calls between them became far and few in-between until they more or less stopped. It hurt Effie to be pushed away like that, he knew, but he didn’t force the boy to remain in contact, understanding too well he needed his own space to grieve. Prim – who still called them from time to time – kept him on the straight and narrow at home anyway.

Rumors of another rebellion started arising around the eighty-first Hunger Games. Haymitch was picked up by a car at their house one morning and spent a whole week going over possible rebel cells in different Districts with Plutarch. They found one mostly composed of teenagers. Everything else seemed to be shadows. When he came back home, his face grim, Effie took one look at him and ran him a bath.

She didn’t ask but he told her everything anyway.

He was grateful for her, grateful for the life they had managed to build. He might have not been sure in the beginning but he was now. The house might have been big and it might have been very different from everything he had ever expected but it was their home and it was a safe haven from the rest of his life.

When they were there together, they managed to pretend the rest of the world didn’t exist.

They often argued, sometimes to the point of shouting horrors at each other and slamming doors, but when it came down to it, they also always made-up. They had a routine. They had habits. They were growing old, as Effie often joked, and it was amazing.

Haymitch didn’t fit in with the other victors anymore. The old ones were always a bit wary around him despite their claims that they wouldn’t have acted differently during the Third Quell – with the exception of Alina and Lyme who were always friendly – and the younger ones were simply too… young. He didn’t feel like playing the old mentor anymore, he didn’t feel like taking them under his wing like he had done for Finnick or Johanna and he was uncomfortable with the way most of them looked up at him like he was the ultimate role model. He was simply happy that the spotlight was slowly but surely moving away from him and onto the younger ones, leaving him free not to attend every party and boring event.

The Capitol could keep the parties, he liked growing old with Effie in their little corner of the world better.

The rumors wouldn’t die though.

They were always there, like whispers on the wind. Snow was getting restless, reaching levels of paranoia yet unseen. Personally, Haymitch thought the President was going mad, that all this blood coughing had finally reached the brain.

He lost count of the numbers of times he was ordered to the city between the eighty-second and the eighty-third Hunger Games, to chase rebels they had no hope of catching. If they were there at all, they were well hidden.

“Do you think it’s true?” Effie asked him one night, in a murmur, as they lay staring at the ceiling. “Is there another rebellion in the work somewhere?”

Sleepless nights were nothing new to them. She was worried about her new upcoming collection and he was brooding over Snow threatening to burn his whole house down to the ground with Effie in it if he didn’t produce the rebels he wanted. It had taken all of Plutarch’s diplomatic skills to prevent a disaster.

Mostly, Haymitch wasn’t really worried. Every time he saw the President lately, it became more and more obvious that he was three seconds away from kicking the bucket. The government was good at keeping up the pretence but it was the men shadowing him everywhere that held Haymitch’s attention now. They were the real danger, he had decided months ago, and as long as they were satisfied he was working for the Capitol, his family was safe.

“I don’t know.” he offered honestly.

He wanted to say it would be a good thing but, at the same time, he was too aware of what it would mean for them. They weren’t the good guys. Worse, they were the bad guys and he didn’t have much hope for their chances if rebels took over.

Effie rolled over and snuggled against his side. He buried his hand in her hair and rested his cheek against her forehead.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know that, right?” he mumbled, trapped in one of those gloomy moods he could never really shake off. He had known her almost two decades, there were not many reasons to be self-conscious about his feelings anymore.

“I love you.” she muttered in answer, clearly drifting off.

“Still?” he teased.

“Always.” she chuckled, pressing a sleepy kiss against his shoulder.

The dead thing that was his heart clenched. Sometimes – often – he mused she was the only thing keeping him alive.

President Snow died a little after the Eighty-Third Hunger Games. His barely nineteen year-old granddaughter was appointed as the next President within forty-eight hours.

Haymitch watched the national funerals from the comfort of his living-room, Effie curled up next to him. He tried to feel glad about it but all he felt was a void. There was no sweetness to a revenge served too late. He thought about his mother, his brother and his girlfriend – whose faces had long been erased by time – and about Katniss. He wondered it that made it a bit even. He concluded that it didn’t.

Effie was cheerful. He didn’t have the courage to ask if it was because she was glad the tyrant was finally dead or because his granddaughter was wearing an exclusive dress from her private collection and that meant not only more money but more fame to come.

It was only to be expected but Ilirya Snow wasn’t her grandfather. She was a silly girl, a puppet whose strings were held tight by advisors and secretaries of states. They managed to keep it up for almost two years.

By the time the Eighty-five Hunger Games was about to roll around, everything was ready to collapse.

Rumors of a possible rebellion grew so loud that even Capitol citizens couldn’t ignore them. The city was restless, the talks about unrest in the Districts were on every lips, common things in the city like food or fabrics became difficult to find. Haymitch didn’t have time to let the looming ten years anniversary of the Quell be daunting, he was too worried over what the government was keeping from them, not stupid enough to believe the “everything is alright” line they kept feeding them on TV.

His calls wouldn’t get through to Twelve.

The same went for Eight and every victor he tried to get in touch with.

The Capitol had used him to hunt and capture rebels for ten years and now that he actually wanted to be brought in on what was going on, he was shut out. The government was tearing itself apart, according to Plutarch, they were all stabbing themselves in the back trying to get on top and the whole pyramid was crumbling.

With every passing day, he felt the dread increase, certain the rebels were marching on the Capitol right then and that nobody was telling them. Effie stopped going to work on his request, she dismissed their staff, and mostly trailed after him all around the house while he tried to make sense of what was going on. His guts were screaming at him that it wasn’t good, not good at all. He withdrew as much cash as he could from their bank accounts in case they needed it later on.

He started planning escape routes. They went over them every night until Effie could recite them in her sleep. She was terrified, he could see, but he wanted her prepared.

He had thought they would have more time.

But he wasn’t really surprised when the estate’s gates blew up one morning.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #into that good night

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thearcaneescape · 6 years

Text

Chapter 5

He had never been inside this bar before, but it seemed cozy and calm, unlike the booming bass of the gay bars nearby.

“Good evening, ladies, gentlemen and all those in between or outside the norm. My name is Sugar, and as always, I am thrilled to have you here at my establishment. The cabaret will begin shortly, and I hope you all have a lovely time.” A tall, black-haired drag queen winked at the crowd, the glittering gold and silver flapper dress waving gently against her calves as she walked offstage.

“Welcome to The Arcane Escape. My name is Jeanie and I will guide you to either the bar or a table.” This queen was extraordinarily beautiful, but much taller than Yoongi was, so her beauty was also just a tad intimidating.

“A table is fine.” He rasped out, throat a bit raw from the fight he’d had at work today. That and the pack of fags he’d had as well.

“Alright, follow me.”

The bar looked empty, with just a few people sitting at the tables and watching the show. A petite queen, no taller than Yoongi, wearing a sparkling black mini dress, tight across her curves and short enough to almost ride up and show her perky ass. It was an obvious Betty Boop tribute, and she played it quite well, coquettish and sweet, even with the darker mentions of heartbreak and despair woven into the lyrics, with a lilting high-pitched voice that even through song boasted a strong Irish accent.

“Cute.” He mumbled, watching the show with interest.

“Good evening, my name is Joon and I will be your server this evening.”

A deep, resonant voice made Yoongi look up, eyebrows raising slightly. The server’s nametag had a small addendum in washable marker (they/them), and they had an amiable, dimpled smile on their face.

“Yeah, I’ll just ‘ave a whiskey. Been a long fuckin’ day.” Yoongi cleared his throat, regretting the string of choices that lead to his sore throat.

“Alright. I’ll bring you a glass of water as well.” Joon walked away, and at that moment another queen walked onstage, wearing all-black lace, the flowing robe-like gown becoming see-through in the stage lights, showing the darker undergarments. Her hair was long and black, and her makeup was dark and sensuous, dark fringe hiding her brows. Her jewelry was minimal, but heavy, two big earrings, one saying “hated”, the other “loved”.

“Hello, lovelies. My name is Victoria Nike, and today I am glad to have been graced by our very own Joon. They have given me permission to sing their new song.” She winked at the minimal audience, but clearly most if not all of the people here were regulars except Yoongi. When she started singing, the whole room hushed, awe permeating the room as Victoria’s soulful voice reached everyone’s heart. Yoongi would bet his left lung that not everyone in the room understood what she was singing, as it was all in Korean, but he did. Oh, he did.

“Holy fuck.” He whispered, mouth hanging open as he watched. The beat reverberated in his chest, and it felt like Victoria’s voice was seeping into his skin. He was lost to the music and it seemed like time had stopped for a moment before the song ended and the lights dimmed. With a small lurch forwards he realised that not only had Victoria stopped singing, but his whiskey and water were already in front of him.

“You wrote that?” He blurted out as Joon started leaving, making the taller turn around and smile, wider this time.

“Yeah, I was a music student. I write and compose a lot for the guys here. Sometimes they come to me with their own ideas and I help them flesh it out.” They gestured towards Yoongi. “You work in music?”

“I studied music composition, and I’ve written some things myself, but I’ve never asked people to sing them.” Yoongi chewed on his lower lip, excitement bubbling under his skin. “I work at a cafe and a charity shop. I couldn’t make a career out of it.”

Joon gave him a sympathetic shrug, looking back towards the stage. “Same here, but if I can help the people here, then it’s good enough for me.” A jazzy beat started up again, this time more high-energy, but still sensuous and smooth.

“Please welcome the newest addition to our family. You lovelies might’ve seen her around, but it’s about time that she joined us onstage. Here is our very own Jolie Hopper.”

The lights snapped to brightness again, and a new queen was sitting onstage, her back to the crowd, bright red hair curled against the nape of her tanned neck, black top hat tilted on her head. She was straddling the chair, legs splayed incredibly wide, making the black trench coat/robe slip off of her legs, giving a glimpse at the silky black stockings and garters. The song paused for a moment and she turned her head, giving the audience a glimpse of her profile. Her profile was immaculate, a swooping nose and pouty red lips, high cheekbones and perfectly-arched eyebrows. She opened her mouth, and the song started up again.

“Is it something you can feel?

Or is it something that makes you feel?”

Her voice was rough, but still well-balanced and musical, giving the spoken-word a sense of musicality.

“Love is such a hypocritical thing,

You can fall out of it when you least desire,

But keep in your heart when broken by a liar.

Even then, we are love’s plaything.”

She stood, whipping the chair around and dragging it behind her, grabbing the brim of her hat and pulling it off, shaking the curls on her head. She threw it to someone offstage, and sat back down on the chair, straddling it once more, now facing the audience.

“Love is rife with disappointment,

But even so, lovers should be truly admired,

For fighting through the arguments required,

And escaping with very little resentment.”

She stood up once more, opening the front of the trench coat, showing off a black corset, red and black lace panties and bra, the black stockings and garter that were teased before, muscular legs complimented by the delicate nylon.

“Falling in love is a frightening notion,

Enough to make one wish it away

For fear of being lead astray,

Through pure and unwavering devotion.”

With nimble and delicate-looking fingers, she ran a hand over her chest, slowly and carefully removing the trench coat to walk around unbothered by the heavy garment. She winked at the crowd, making a blush rise on Yoongi’s pale cheeks, her hands picking at the front of the corset.

“But in my eyes, I see this fickle thing’s appeal,

Even through the pain it’s made me feel.”

The corset fell from her hands, revealing a toned stomach, and with the ending chords of the song, an arm raised over her head, she sat back down heavily on the chair, lights cutting out abruptly. The meagre crowd clapped so loudly that you’d think the place was packed, and even Yoongi was clapping, mesmerised. The lights turned on again, and Jolie curtsied, a sunshine-bright, heart-shaped smile on her face, lighting up her previously-serious face. She waved energetically towards the crowd as she walked offstage, a momentary wave of cheers sounding from backstage before the door closed behind her. Yoongi’s whiskey was mostly untouched, and he couldn’t bring himself to drink. He didn’t want to forget about this experience.

“You did so good, Hobi!” Jimin’s squeal was deafening, and Hoseok laughed, blushing red.

“Thank you! I was so fucking nervous.” He giggled when Jimin punched him gently on the arm, doing a small happy dance.

“Mate, you were fucking amazing. I’m so glad the whole mood of the bar tonight was dark and sensuous, because you encompassed it so well!” Taehyung had removed his dress, the black lace beauty delicately placed on his mannequin.

“Me? What about you? Mate, Joon’s song was fucking made for your voice, did you see how amazed people were?” Hoseok sputtered slightly, waving his hands about. “You were definitely the star of the show tonight.”

Taehyung blushed and he smiled shyly, but proudly, tucking his fingers under the edge of his wig to take it off. Both him and Jimin had dyed their hair black, recently, and it looked amazing on them.

“We had a new patron come in tonight. Dressed in all black.” Jin piped up from his corner of the room, having cleaned his face in record time. “He was about your height, Minnie.”

“Aww, cute! I hope he comes back again, it’s nice having new customers for once.” Jimin swiped a makeup removal wipe across his eyes, glitter and black eyeshadow transfering onto the white. “Speaking of new customers, I really wanna go to this 24-hour café that opened near here. It looks kinda cute.”

“Yeah, you told me about it. We can go now if you’re not too tired.” Tae mumbled from his own station, wiping his face helter-skelter, so unlike Jimin and Jin.

“Sounds fun! I’m up for some food and a drink.” Hoseok said, stretching his arms over his head, joints cracking obnoxiously.

“Cool! Are you coming with us Jin?” Jimin turned to look at the eldest, who shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“Ah, Jungkook invited me and Joon to dinner. Says he’s paying an everything, so can’t pass up that opportunity.” Jin chuckled, picking up his bag. “I will see you all tomorrow, then.” He waved goodbye with a dramatic hand kiss, making all three of the remaining laugh, except Hoseok could feel the nerves in his belly.

He hoped everything would go well tonight. God knows what would happen if it didn’t.

#bts fanfiction #YOONGI IS FINALLY INTRODUCED #some sugamon interaction #namjin #vmin #ALSO HOW COULD I NOT REFERENCE SINGULARITY??? LIKE???#I Screamed so loud I lost my voice the next day bitch #SUPRISE SHIP REVEALED!#angst incoming #an attempt at lyrics/poetry

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Into Your Arms ( Sashea AU) - wordsmithmaybe

A/N: Hello hello hello :) This is not a lesbian AU but I hope you like it anyway x

I used she and he depending on whether they are in or out of drag.

Almost 6K words!!!

enjoy my lovelies x

“it’ll be fun, come on!” Aja, a legendary New York queen, and one of Sasha’s close friends, insists.

As she continues her blabbering about the biggest white party in Brooklyn, Sasha wonders how he’s going to get out of this situation.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend time with his friends or go to clubs, but between his nightly drag performances and his day job as a graphic designer, he needs a break this weekend.

Going to a random party at 1AM doesn’t seem as exciting when you’re sleep deprived, and stressed.

But Aja has a way with words that in half an hour Sasha finds himself getting ready, running around his room trying to put a white outfit together.

He huffs and puffs and sighs, because he still doesn’t want to go but now there is no stepping back. The other queen just laughs as she Snapchats her friend’s troubles.

Aja was right.

The party is indeed “lit” as she eloquently described earlier, Sasha can’t deny.

But that doesn’t mean she’s enjoying herself.

After a couple of drinks and many conversations, she begins to feel bored and tired. The small amount of alcohol she consumed is already giving her a minor, but annoying headache.

She sits in a corner, and goes on her phone, suddenly double tapping photos of people she barely knows sounds more meaningful than socialising with the ones around her.

She looks up for a bit only to witness Aja’s third (maybe fourth) impromptu lip sync on the tiny stage.

She can tell her friend is drunk, but at least she’s having a good time, unlike Sasha.

Sasha doesn’t want to be a buzz killer, but her anxiety and exhaustion are both getting the best of her. All she wants to do is be in bed; her phone no longer distracting her from the way she’s feeling physically, and emotionally.

She gets up, and looks around for Aja, but she’s nowhere to be seen. She sighs.

Aja is drunk, which means finding her is going to be tricky, and Sasha is not in the mood.

She turns around and spots Aquaria, one of their drag friends, she asks her if she’s seen Aja.

“Your girl just left with someone,” Aquaria smirks, “He’s really hot, you should’ve seen him.”

Sasha just rolls her eyes, “Looks like she bailed on me for dick,”

“I mean, can you blame her?” Aquaria giggles before giving Sasha a quick shoulder squeeze and walking away to talk to some other people.

Sasha decides to order an uber since that seems like the fastest way to get home. She may be short on money, but she’s too tired to worry about her financial state now.

As she’s about to go to the app on her phone, someone falls into her arms.

Literally.

She drops her phone in the process, shocked to see a drunk drag queen just clinging to her.

It’s obvious that she’s extremely intoxicated.

Sasha sighs. Just another thing to ruin her night.

She lifts the person’s head a bit from her shoulder and looks at the half sleepy face.

Sasha has never been one to obsess over good looking people, but even under the club’s dim neon lighting, she can see how gorgeous this stranger is.

And for a moment, she feels nervous.

But when she remembers that the other queen is very out of it, she’s no longer thinking about her plump lips, perfect nose, and glowing dark skin.

Instead she awkwardly sits down on a couch, and make the person attached to her body, lay down next to her.

She grabs her phone, and curses when she notices that the screen is kind of broken.

She hasn’t even officially met this drunk, and she’s already pissed at her.

She gets up, deciding to go home.

Fuck this, she hisses.

It’s not her responsibility, nor her job to take care of this random human.

But she only takes one step forward before guilt takes her right back to that couch.

She realises something bad might happen to this person, and despite her personal feelings of resentment, she knows that she has to take care of her.

But the person doesn’t seem to have her wallet or phone, and she has passed out.

Sasha tries shaking her awake, but it doesn’t work, so she just sits there, biting her bottom lip in anger.

The party seems to be cooling down, but the person isn’t waking up.

Sasha doesn’t know what to do.

There is no way she could drag her anywhere in this state.

Plus, she doesn’t think it’s ethical or right to take her anywhere while she is unconscious, is it?

No one in the party seems to recognise the drunk queen, and Sasha is at the verge of giving up.

After a few minutes, she leans back against the couch, putting one arm protectively around the stranger, and just like that, she drifts away.

Only to be woken up by the bartender when the club is closing.

“I’m sorry, but you two have to leave.” He says, smiling apologetically.

Sasha sighs, “I don’t really know this person, and I don’t want to leave her like this.” She confesses.

“Your best bet at this point is to get a cab, and just take her home with you. Maybe they’ll finally wake up.” The bartender suggests, “or you can just leave her outside if you’re Satan.” Even though he laughs, Sasha doesn’t take it as a joke.

“I’ll need another tequila shot to deal with this,” Sasha says, sighing.

“The bar is closed, but I got you,” the bartender winks.

She takes her shot, and he helps her get an uber and drag the sleeping stranger into it.

All the way back to her place, Sasha keeps hoping she would wake up, but she doesn’t.

To her annoyance, the uber driver is singing along ever so quietly to every song that comes on the radio.

Sasha puts her headphones on, and plays her own music, but then the driver decides it’s time to start a conversation.

“Your boyfriend is going to have a horrible headache tomorrow,” he cackles too loud for her ears, and she just fakes a smile and nods.

It would take too much effort to explain the entire situation.

When they get to her place, the stranger is half conscious.

She is still drunk, but she manages to walk upstairs with Sasha hanging onto her.

“Are you going to fuck me?” She whispers when Sasha puts her to sleep on the sofa in her living room.

Sasha just rolls her eyes.

The stranger reaches over and grabs Sasha’s face.

“I think you’re cute. It’s okay, you can fuck me.” She giggles, her breath reeking with alcohol.

Sasha manages to set herself free, and just simply looks down on her as she just lays there in her bedazzled black leotard, wavy purple her, full makeup face, and the highest platform heels.

She is a pretty drag queen, Sasha has to admit.

But the thought of even attempting to take advantage of her doesn’t cross her mind.

She removes her heels, and throws a blanket on her.

“Don’t kill me in my sleep,” She jokes, mostly under her breath as the other queen has already fallen asleep.

She goes back to her room, and after getting out of drag, he finally falls asleep.

Five hours later, he’s woken up by someone talking.

He opens his eyes, and quickly remembers the event of last night.

He gets up, and leaves his bedroom only to see the stranger from last night all sat up, his wig is off, and he’s on the phone with someone.

“I don’t know girl, he’s asleep,” he says, “I’ll send you my location on whatsapp, just come pick me up please.”

Sasha just watches. For the first time he is seeing this person fully conscious.

“Geez, Pierre. I don’t know if we fucked. I don’t think we did, but I don’t want to think about it now. Bye.” He says before hanging up.

Sasha clears his throat on purpose as he awkwardly stands there waiting for the other guy to look up.

He finally does.

“Shit, you’re up.” He quickly says standing up, “I’m so sorry for whatever happened last night, my friend will be here in ten minutes to pick me up.”

Seeing how frustrated he seems, Sasha just smiles, “It’s fine, relax.” He adds.

Sasha’s words seem to have relaxed him a bit as he just nods, “I’m Shea by the way.”

Shea.

A very unusual name that Sasha has never hears before, but somehow he already likes the sound of it.

“I’m Sasha,” he introduces, “And just so you know, we didn’t sleep with each other. Or kissed. Or did anything.”

Shea just lets out an awkward nervous laughter, “would you mind telling me how I ended up here? I honestly can’t remember anything from last night.”

“Well, you quite literally fell into my arms, and then passed out.” Sasha explains, sitting on the sofa, “It’s okay, you can sit down and wait for your friend. I’m not gonna get mad.” He smiles, trying not to embarrass Shea even more. He can see he seems uneasy.

Shea sits down, and buries his face in his hands, “I’m sorry, that’s so not like me.”

“It looked like you were alone, and I couldn’t find your phone, so I just brought you home, because I didn’t want anything bad happening if I just left you like that,” Sasha explains, “By the way, where was your phone?”

Shea looks at him, and grins, “in my wig cap. Drunk me probably didn’t want to lose her phone.”

Sasha can’t help but giggle, “that’s a smart move.”

There is an awkward silence. Sasha can’t help but admire the sheepish smile on Shea’s face.

He comes to the realisation again that Shea is actually very good looking even with just a wig cap on, and all that messy hangover makeup all over his face.

“Thank you,” Shea finally breaks the silence, “Honestly thank you so much for taking care of me like that. God knows what would’ve happened if it were someone else.”

Sasha just smiles. He is surprised that Shea quickly trusted him. He expected him to at least question his intention. But instead, he believed what he told him right away.

Shea’s phone buzzes, and he gets up after checking the text he received.

“My friend is down stairs,” he announce.

Sasha doesn’t know why, but he feels a tiny bit sad that this random meet up is about to be over. He doesn’t want it to be over.

“Listen, can I please invite you out for lunch or something? Just to make up for whatever trouble I caused you last night.” Shea offers.

Sasha’s immediate body response was to say “yes please” but he remembers his manners, “honestly it’s fine, you don’t have to do anything for me.”

Shea’s face quickly changes “Shit, sorry. That probably sounds like I’m asking you out. I promise it’s nothing like that.”

Sasha feels a sudden wave of disappointment take over. Why did he have to ruin this? Maybe he was hoping Shea would ask him out.

“I have a boyfriend, I swear. I just think maybe we can be friends?“Shea quickly corrects himself.

Of course Shea has a boyfriend. The good ones are always taken. He sighs internally, but he still doesn’t want to waste an opportunity to spend time with him. Even as friends.

“Alright Shea, if you want to be my friend so badly, I guess I’ll have to let it happen.” He teases, jokingly, grinning.

Shea just rolls his eyes, and smiles, “We are definitely getting along.”

After exchanging phone numbers, they agree to meet the next day at one of Shea’s favourite brunch places.

Sasha doesn’t understand why he feels nervous as he gets ready.

He’s already met Shea. He’s seen him drunk. There should be nothing to worry about, and yet his heart still beats faster than usual as he picks his outfit and wonders what they’ll talk about.

Something about Shea really drew him in. He is still trying to figure it out, but it’s like his energy matched perfectly with Shea.

After trying way too many outfits, he ends up wearing his usual black turtleneck shirt and skinny dark jeans, with the only colour on him being his red glasses.

Sasha is so nervous that he ends up arriving half an hour early and just waiting for Shea outside, using his free time to text and check social media.

He doesn’t notice Shea’s presence until Shea’s taps him on the shoulder.

He quickly jumps, dropping his phone. Again.

Thar phone had been through way too much.

He looks up quickly, meeting Shea’s eyes. He is suddenly too embarrassed to say or do anything.

“Sorry about your phone.” Shea says with a smile on his face. He leans down in order to grab Sasha’s phone for him. That’s when Sasha wakes up, and quickly kneels down at the same time as Shea.

They reach for the phone simultaneously, causing their hands to touch.

Sasha swears he feels everything around them stop as he looks up to meet Shea’s eyes, but then it hits him how silly his dramatic emotions are, so he quickly grabs the phone and gets up.

“Don’t worry about my phone, it’ll survive.” He says with an awkward smile, wiping his screen.

Shea seems so relaxed, Sasha notices. He just smirks back at him, and nods.

They go into the restaurant, and Sasha is terrified.

He doesn’t understand why he’s suddenly very antisocial and incapable of just forming normal human sentences.

But when Shea shows him a random, but hilarious meme on his phone, Sasha feels a bit less stressed.

Slowly, as the conversation builds up, Sasha finds the courage to be himself.

“So tell me more about your drag persona!!” Shea asks excitedly taking a bite from his avocado toast.

Sasha grins. They’ve been talking about drag culture and queer history for what seemed like forever, and Sasha is realising he doesn’t mind it at all.

“Well, Sasha Velour is a lesbian feminist who likes art and hates being called pretty,” She explains, “So basically just an artsy white girl that everyone hated in college,”

Shea laughs, “I would’ve liked her in college.”

“What about your persona?” Sasha asks.

“Shea Coulee is equal parts bourgie and banji. She can be nice, but if you try her, you dead.” Shea says.

Sasha raises an eyebrow jokingly, “Better be careful around her then.”

Shea leans forward and beams, “Don’t worry, she likes you already.”

The two end up talking so much that by noon, they both feel like they’ve known each other for years.

After the brunch, they walk endlessly in town, discussing even more random topics.

Sasha can’t help but feel so impressed by Shea’s academic records. Having graduated from Juilliard School on a scholarship, Shea then went on to earn an MFA in fashion design all the way in London before coming back and starting her drag career as well as a fashion line that he marketed alone on social media. And he’s only 28. Two years younger than him.

“I barely survived three years studying graphic design,” Sasha has expressed, “I don’t know how you did all of that.”

Shea just giggles, “I come from a military home. My dad spent most of his life at the army. I was raised to excel at everything. I had no choice.”

Even though he’s smiling, Sasha can sense his tone change when talking about his family.

And not in a good way.

“What does your family think of-” Sasha starts off before quickly cutting himself off, “Fuck, I’m sorry I don’t mean to pry.”

But Shea doesn’t seem to be bothered by his unfinished question, “think of my sexuality? My drag?”

Sasha just nods.

“Well, they’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m gay, but it’s the drag that’s hard for them to accept.” Shea admits, his face suddenly no longer glowing under the sunshine.

Sasha feels horrible, but he doesn’t say anything.

“What about you?” Shea asks, maybe trying to change the topic.

“I’m an only child, and my mom died a long time ago when I was 8 years old. So it’s always just been me and my dad. And he’s, well, he’s actually cool with everything that I do.” Sasha confesses.

Shea smiles the warmest smile that Sasha has ever seen, “I’m glad he is.”

——————–

Weeks pass by, and Sasha makes sure to meet up with Shea every single day. If not every day, then they’ll text and FaceTime or at least tag each other in memes.

Point is, they become so inseparable in such a short amount of time that Sasha can’t even wrap his head around it.

He doesn’t tell anyone. Not his friends. Not his father.

He keeps Shea as his little secret. His favourite secret that he can cherish and enjoy without having the opinions of other people ruin it.

Because they will ruin it if they find out.

How will they not protest when Shea has a boyfriend?

He has a boyfriend of two years, and he doesn’t seem to let him go any time soon.

Sasha is very aware of that, but he’s also aware of how happy he feels when he’s with Shea. How young and powerful and beautiful he feels around him.

This stranger that quickly changed his life, and made him chase the slightest hope, the lowest possibility.

That maybe. Just maybe, they will somehow find a way.

Nothing has happened, and Sasha’s logical side tells him nothing will ever happen.

They are just friends.

Two people who connected.

They picked each other, and decided that they would do things together and talk about stuff.

Nothing wrong with that, Sasha tries to convince himself.

Shea rarely mentions his boyfriend.

Sometimes, Sasha feels like he’s using him as an escape from the relationship, but then Shea says something funny or strange, and Sasha is smitten all over again.

“Is it weird to call you my best friend when I’ve only known you for three months?” Shea has once questioned, as they ate ice cream and watched an episode of the X-Files.

Sasha remembers having no answer, to which Shea just shrugs and says, “Eh, I think it’s not weird at all. Hey, can we watch another episode?”

Shea is so random and spontaneous. Maybe his spontaneity is the reason why they decide to dress in drag and go to a ‘straight bar’.

“Let’s see how many straight guys we get to fool,” Shea smirks as they help each other pick the ‘fishiest outfits’.

Of course no one will be fooled.

When they enter the bar, the atmosphere suddenly changes as every pair of eyes looks then up and down.

Two glamazonian bitches with faces beat to the gods.

The straights are confused, but they mostly just ignore them.

Shea isn’t impressed.

“How come they’re not gushing all over us?” She pouts.

“I told you not to overdo it with this ugly ass blue eyeshadow,” Sasha jokes, chuckling.

Shea glares at her, taking a sip from her drink before shoving her gently and giggling.

“This place is boring anyway. Let’s go somewhere where we can be appreciated.” Shea says as she gets up and grabs her purse.

Sasha remembers having this sudden feeling that life is perfect in that moment as she joins Shea and walks towards the exit.

They stand outside laughing and recounting the dull events of the night as they share a joint.

Everything seems so peaceful.

Sasha leans against the alleyway wall and closes her eyes, smiling when she’s finally hit by euphoria.

She opens her eyes only to witness Shea staring at her with the most dreamy gaze she’s ever seen.

And in the jumble of the moment, she suddenly doesn’t mind grabbing and kissing her.

And that’s what she does.

Kissing Shea doesn’t feel magical, Sasha realises.

Because magic is an overrated word.

Instead.

Kissing her feels home.

It feels warm and fuzzy and soothing.

It feels right.

As Shea wraps her arms around Sasha’s neck, bringing her closer, the blonde queen wants nothing else from the world but for it to stop.

But then, something happens.

The world doesn’t stop.

Instead, the world pushes them to the wall so aggressively that Sasha’s head starts spinning.

The world punches them both till they bleed, and the world kicks the shit out of them as they scream.

Sasha can barely see in the blur of the moment, but the world seems to be a group of people.

Or devils.

What’s the difference anyway?

For a split second, Sasha wonders if this is payback for feeling happy.

Maybe that’s how the world works to balance itself out.

If you’re too happy, you have to suffer, because nothing is free.

One second, they are having the time of their lives.

The next, they are lying on the ground, begging whoever is beating them to stop.

But they won’t stop.

They keep their hits and knocks until Sasha can no longer scream, and words are suddenly a foreign concept in her foggy brain.

Is that how death feels like? She wonders before closing her eyes.

The last thing she does is use the remaining bit of her energy to hold Shea’s bloody hand on the dirty ground.

She doesn’t recall what happens next.

Sirens.

Lights.

Random dreams and nightmares.

Hospital smells.

Sasha hates hospital smells.

But he’s not in a hospital.

He’s in a yellow field.

The sky is purple.

And he can see Shea running away.

He tries to stop him.

But his hands are tied to something.

He looks down, and it’s a hospital bed.

Then, he dazes off again.

And again.

He doesn’t recall how long it takes before he finally regains full consciousness.

The doctor says it’s been 4 days, but Sasha believes it’s more like four weeks.

His dad is there.

All he can think about is how scared his father must have been.

“I’m sorry,” he tries to say but only a whisper escapes his dry lips.

His dad just holds his hand and gently shushes him.

He realises that his entire body is hurting. They tell him he’s lucky, because nothing is severely broken.

Just a twisted angle and a fractured left arm.

His art arm.

His heart hurts even more.

Not in the physical sense.

He is still trying to remember what happened.

He can only recall the sound of shoes hitting his sides, and Shea’s.

Shea.

He just wants to know if he’s okay.

But everyone is ignoring the question. Or just giving him standard answers like ‘don’t worry, everything is going to be fine’.

The police come over to take a statement, but it’s pointless because he doesn’t remember much. There were no witnesses or surveillance cameras. So Sasha makes peace with the fact that they might never catch them. Despite how frustrating that it, he finds himself caring about one person: Shea. And one thing: his safety.

Aja visits. He cries a lot, and curses the crap out of whoever did it.

More friends come to see him, but his mind can only think of Shea.

He finally breaks down, and tries to leave his bed.

That’s when his dad looks him in the eyes, “I swear to you, he is fine. Almost in the same state as you are, but in another room.”

Well, if they’re in the same state, that means he’s not fine. It means he’s in as much pain as Sasha.

And that’s not 'fine’.

“You can see him in a couple days, I’ll make sure of that. But for now, you need to focus on recovery.” The doctor ensures a few hours later.

He asks for a mirror.

He doesn’t know why, but he wants to see his face.

So they bring him a small hand mirror, and he finally cries.

It’s not that his face looks horrible.

In a way, it looks okay for someone who got beat up pretty badly.

So much blue and purple around his eyes, significantly more around his left eye.

Swelling around on his lips, and a small cut on his chin.

He’s wearing a hospital gown, but he can sense that bruises on his body are worse.

But that’s also not why he cries.

He cries, because he trusted the world for once. He let go and enjoined a beautiful moment.

What did he get in return?

This.

This whole damn mess.

————–

They finally let Sasha see Shea.

He is better now. His ankle still hurts but he manages to walk with a cane, the nurse helping him make it all the way down the cold bluish hallway.

Even though it only takes less than five minutes to reach Shea’s room, Sasha feels like it’s taking five hours instead.

His feet can’t carry him fast enough.

His heart is pounding so much that he almost gets insecure thinking that the nurse can probably hear it just as loud as he can.

His throat is tingling with imaginary butterflies.

He doesn’t remember much from the incident but he remembers exactly what happened prior.

Shea’s lips on his.

Lipstick colours mixing together.

Hands floating around, grasping each other for dear life.

The moan that escaped Shea’s lips when their tongues met.

The details are so vivid that he has to touch his lips just to make sure this is real life and that he’s not kissing Shea in this very moment.

When he first goes into the room, his vision gets blurry, and he feels lightheaded as the nurse helps him step further inside.

He can’t recognise anything or anyone-turns out, there are at least 3 people in Shea’s room- inside.

But he doesn’t care.

His eyes quickly scan the place, trying to locate Shea.

And then, it happens.

There he is.

Sitting on the bed, his back leaned against the white headboard.

His face looks just as bruised and swollen as Sasha’s, maybe even more.

He is wearing a full cast around his left leg.

Sasha’s heart sinks, but then Shea lifts his head and smiles the brightest smile.

Suddenly, nothing else really matters.

Sasha moves as quickly as he can, and when he gets to the bed, the first thing he does is reach for Shea’s hand.

“I missed you so much,” he manages to say before his eyes tear up.

“I missed you too,” Shea continues to smile as he squeezes his hand gently, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry for you leg,” Sasha says.

Shea, still smiling, just shrugs, “Don’t apologise for something that’s not your fault,”

He finally manages to look up at the people standing around the bed.

An elderly couple and a young man.

“These are my parents,” Shea introduces, “and This is my boyfriend Samuel,”

“This is Sasha, my lovely friend who was also attacked that night.”

Boyfriend.

The word keeps repeating itself in his head.

Sasha smiles, and says hi.

He gets involved in small talk.

He grins, and laughs, and chats with the parents. With the boyfriend.

The boyfriend seems nice.

He’s tall, handsome, and articulate.

He pays attention to Shea and caters to his smallest needs like bringing water or changing the pillow position under his broken leg.

The parents seem to love him.

The dad keeps his arm wrapped around his shoulders, and the mom doesn’t stop praising him.

Sasha is happy for Shea.

He is glad he has someone he can rely on.

Oh bullshit.

He isn’t happy.

Well, maybe slightly.

But he’s more jealous.

He’s more furious that he trusted Shea, and somehow allowed himself to be baited by him.

But he can’t show it.

He can’t even talk to Shea about the kiss; something he was looking forward to do.

Glancing at Shea, he can see a look of slight remorse in his eyes, like he is apologising for what they have done, for what they haven’t done.

Sasha feels so upset that his bruises and fractures start hurting.

But no one in the room knows the real reason why as the nurse escorts him out, all the way down the same hallway.

His heart is still beating fast, but this time it’s because he’s sad. He’s broken.

And those throat butterflies?

They’ve turned into snakes wrapping around his neck and slowly strangling him.

His tears silently begin to stream down before they even make it back to his room.

The nurse notices and assumes it’s because of the physical pain he’s in.

She proceeds to give him a good dose of pain killers that Sasha doesn’t mind because it put him to sleep.

He forgets about Shea for a few hours.

When he wakes up though, it all comes back and hits him so hard he starts weeping again.

But this time he’s not alone.

This time his friend Aja is by his side.

Aja forces him to speak up.

And Sasha, being in his desperate state, goes on an hour ramble about how he’s in love with someone who’s in love with someone else.

“That’s fucked up, sis,” Aja says, “Do you think he’ll just pretend the kiss never happened?”

“For all I know, he might not have even remembered it. I don’t know, and I just don’t want to care anymore.” Sasha sighs in frustration.

“But you do care sis, and that’s okay. You just need some distractions. I promise you once you get out of here, you’re gonna get so much dick you’ll forget all about this guy.” Aja comforts.

And Sasha just nods even though deep down he knows that it’s not going to be as easy as Aja describes.

Sasha doesn’t go back to Shea’s room after that.

And Shea never comes to his.

They never text or call, and Sasha understands that Shea gets it. He gets that this whole thing needs to end.

Maybe that attack was a sign that they shouldn’t mess around. That Samuel is a good guy. That Shea should stay with him.

Sasha spends the remaining few days in the room either sleeping or catching up on Brooklyn drag gossip with Aja. He even designs a few looks on his sketchbook as a way to keep his brain cells busy enough not to remember Shea.

And it almost works.

Almost.

——————-

The first few weeks after leaving the hospital are weird.

Sasha’s father insists on staying over for a while to take care of him, especially that his ankle is still injured.

Sasha tries his best to forget Shea’s face, but it’s engraved onto the walls of his brain.

He reads books, and binge watches all the films he has avoided for years.

He catches up on his graphic design commissions, and tries to pick some new songs for his drag performances.

One night, he even convinces his dad to let him venture into Brooklyn with Aja and the rest of his friends. His dad is skeptical given that his fractures haven’t fully healed yet, but Sasha goes out anyway.

This time, he doesn’t let any drunk drag queen fall into his arm.

Instead, he goes to some random guy’s place, and they fuck.

It’s not sweet or romantic and it only happens when alcohol is present.

But Sasha doesn’t care.

He loses his mind in the moment, and he doesn’t care.

But when it all finishes, and he goes back home, all he can see between his eyes is Shea.

So he smokes a joint, and goes to bed.

It happens again with a different guy weeks later.

And then another one.

And many more that he can’t recall.

Sasha would lie if he said the hook ups didn’t help him forget about Shea a bit.

They did.

But in the back of his head, Shea’s smile is still there.

He learns to live with it eventually.

His dad leaves, ans he’s fully recovered now.

He goes back to his daily routine.

He’s working on more graphic design projects than ever, and his drag performances are making a buzz in the Brooklyn scene.

Things are just about to be good.

This is supposed to be one of his greatest performances in a famous Brooklyn drag queen.

One summer night.

Sasha Velour performing to Kate Bush’s Love and Anger.

She’s putting her heart and soul on the floor.

And when she’s done, hearing everyone’s applause, she feels at home.

She belongs.

She walks backstage, because she needs to get ready for the second and last performance of the night.

No one is in the dressing room.

She closes the door, and sits down on the worn out couch.

She looks at herself in a handheld mirror, and smiles.

She is finally free from some of the pain.

But it doesn’t last long, because what happens next takes her back to the moment that her heart broke to a million pieces.

Sasha can’t remember the details.

Shea, in drag, is suddenly in the room with her.

Does Shea knock?

Does she just walk in?

Does she sit next to her?

Or does she just stand there when she gives her speech?

It goes something along the lines of apologising and confessing an undying love. Something about no longer having a boyfriend.

“Please give me a chance,” Shea begs.

Sasha doesn’t know what happens next.

Maybe she just gets up and runs outside.

Maybe she takes a cab all the way back to her place.

Maybe that’s why she’s on her bed, crying silently in the dark.

It’s been months since the hospital.

Sasha has wanted this to happen for so long that she eventually had to let it go.

But then Shea came back, and now she’s lost and confused again.

She ignores everyone for a day, but then she gets up, and decides to face reality.

So he texts Shea, and arranges a coffee date.

Not a date.

But rather, a meet up to talk things through.

Shea might have been cruel enough to leave for a long time, but Sasha can’t do it.

After casual hellos and life updates, Sasha admits that he doesn’t know who Shea is anymore.

“I don’t even know who i'am anymore, to be honest.” He adds.

Everything has changed.

“Then let’s get to know each other all over again,” Shea suggests, reaching over to place his hand on top of Sasha’s hand on the table.

Sasha doesn’t move his hand.

“And what if it doesn’t work out?” Sasha asks.

His heart is beginning to play a very familiar beat, but he’s still unsure. Still hesitant.

“Then at least we tried, right?” Shea smiles.

That one smile.

The smile that brightens an entire room in a matter of seconds.

And just like that, Sasha decides to smile back.

He decides to go out with Shea again. And again. And again.

They go on many walks, and share French baguette sandwiches.

They listen to music together, and talk about their childhood.

Some nights, they stay up texting each other until sunrise.

Sasha notices the differences this time.

Shea is more open now.

He’s more loving, and caring.

And Sasha is no longer afraid of losing him.

They kiss, for the first- technically second- time randomly as they try to cook pasta one Sunday noon at Shea’s place.

And this time they’re not interrupted by anything or anyone.

They kiss, and make out, and make love.

As they lay in bed gasping for air, Shea looks at Sasha and whispers, “I’m in love with you.”

Sasha smiles, “i know,”

He grabs him for a soft tired kiss, “And I’m in love with you.”

“I know,” Shea grins.

#shea coulee #sasha velour #sashea #au #fluff #hurt/comfort #tw homophobic attack #tw language #tw substance abuse #wordsmithmaybe #rpdr fanfiction #submission #queen au

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shiroe-is-my-baby · 7 years

Text

My Proposal

Summary: Ashley makes the announcement to everyone, a lot sooner than she had planned. This leads to lots of questions, death glares, and an elaborate story of the big question. Ashley’s not quite sure how much longer she can keep this up.

W: self-insert, eventual fluff, humor, fake marriage, au

Word Count: 3,305

My au based off the movie ‘The Proposal’. I keep a lot of scenes for humor purposes, but all credit goes to the movie itself!

Part One ~ Part Two ~ Part Three ~ Part Four

“Wait, what did you just say?” Marielle asked, along with Akatsuki who was hanging off her shoulder with wide eyes.

“We’re getting married. Where are you, darling?”

That word sounded strange coming from my mouth, especially when I saw Shiroe coming to my direction. He looked a tad bit confused but played the part extremely well. He slowly came to stand beside me, our hands interlocking together to show our ‘bond’. The non-existent bond. He stood a little bit closer than normal, his hand reaching around my lower back. It was a lot more intimate than I was used to, but hell we had to play the part. I pressed a hand to his chest, smiling warmly.

“Um… Well, congratulations, you guys,” Marielle said.

“Thank you… we’re really happy…”

My eyes searched Shiroe’s, my voice fading a bit. He was really close. When did he get that close? I found myself swallowing, taking yet another wig of my wine. Marielle giggled excitedly, turning on the charm as she passed out wine as kind of a celebration. I smiled, watching her at least act happy for me. She winked in my direction, flittering off to scold Naotsugu and continue with her hosting. “That was your idea of the perfect time?” Shiroe asked in my ear, his hand still on my lower back. He seemed to rub it a bit which I squirmed around to tell him I didn’t like that.

“It was as good as it’s gonna get,” I muttered.

One of my friends came up to ask us how Shiroe proposed. I felt my entire body freeze all at once. Now everyone was curious, Marielle was bouncing up and down with hearts in her eyes. “Oh, I wanna hear! All the juicy details,” She said. Akatsuki nodded along with her, although her eyes seemed to tell Shiroe not to do anything funny. I swallowed, examining the man beside me carefully.

“Honestly, babe, why don’t you tell it?” I asked, shifting hair from Shiroe’s face and watching him resist the urge to shift away from em, “You tell it so much better than I do.”

My arms were around his own, squeezing him gently and trying hard to look in love. But my eyes told him to play along, even if he didn’t want to. “Are you sure? You love telling it yourself,” He said back. I laughed softly, eyes flickering to Marielle who was sitting in Naotsugu’s lap all excited. She giggled along, really playing this up. It was like she was really buying it.

“He’s such a little kidder, isn’t he?” I teased in a low growl almost, pinching his cheek.

“But I will tell it. I mean, after all, I do get to see a different side to you than anyone else.”

Shiroe’s eyebrows perked up, knowing just the plans that I had in store. He wanted me to tell the story, fine. I was going to tell the most extravagant story. Something that will make him seen sensitive and deep. He would like that, wouldn’t he? He’s trying to act all tough in the office, but I’m sure he’s not that tough in reality. I mean, look at him.

Pursing my lips in thought, I felt the giddiness in my heart starting to grow. This was definitely going to be fun. More acting. Definitely, more of my speed, making up stories. As Shiroe would say I’m not all that great, so maybe he’ll be a tad bit impressed. He watched me carefully, shifting my wineglass into my other hand.

“It’s kind of adorable actually, the way he asked me. It was our first anniversary, we had plans reserved for dinner, and I really wanted him to ask me. Of course, I’d never drop hints, that’s crazy. He’ll ask me when he wanted to, which I had no idea would be that night. I had no idea he was that nervous either.”

“Mm… I dunno if that’s how I remember it.”

“Oh, really, babe?” I asked.

“Well, you might have dropped a couple of hints here and there. You’re not exactly subtle, sweetheart. Plus, you seemed to be pretty obsessed with the idea of marriage.”

My eyes almost narrowed at that comment. Shiroe was smiling and almost smirking like he was proud of himself for that comment. He was trying to hit me too. He knows that I don’t want to seem that way to my friends, especially after Naotsugu’s outburst. But he was still trying his best to make me resent this, wasn’t he? That was my villain after all.

Ew, that sounded terrible.

Don’t say that ever again, Ash.

“I might have been a little nervous, but that was probably just your expectations. I wanted to meet them, after all. Since they’re so high.”

“She deserves to have high expectations,” Natosugu seemed to growl before Marielle pushed him back a bit.

Shiroe cleared his throat, continuing on with the story. He had many eyes watching him, waiting for the entirety of it. Since he decided to take over, I sat back and listened to his skills of coming up with shit on the spot. I heard he was good at it. I’ve heard stories about it. The bullshit he can come up with. That’s why he seems to be good at blackmailing people. He knows exactly what the soft spot of everyone is. He feeds off of it like some kind of leech.

“Anyway… I had plans to ask her after a nice dinner, but because she’s so stubborn and decided not to show up,” He said, taking my chin in between his thumb and index finger and gently shaking, “I had to change plans.”

“I’m stubborn, but only because you make me crazy, honey.”

It was becoming ridiculous. These people had to see right through us. Or was it just stupid enough to be believable? My friends know that I think this guy is crazy. Maybe they think that our love is just as crazy. Or Marielle I just that blinded by the idea of her sister finally being in love that she’s just accepted it. Either way, it felt oddly strange and surreal. That something like this could actually work. That we would get away with this. I wasn’t sure if I was happy or not.

“I went to her… special apartment, and brought her some nice flowers,” He said.

“And I threw those flowers in his face, yep.”

“You did?”

“Uh huh… I was feeling down that day, and he just… wasn’t reciprocating that. And after an earlier argument, and my obsession with marriage… I didn’t think it would work. Plus, I mean, he’s not very good with letting his feeling out.”

Shiroe chuckled under his breath, holding me closer against him. His fingers squeezed my hips, making me gasp softly.

“You’ve helped me with that a lot, darling. But even though she threw those flowers in my face, I still tried, slipping a note under the door for her to find. Hoping she’d answer the door.”

“Awh, that’s right. He even called me to apologize, begging me to answer the door. His voice was almost like he was crying, it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. I just had to open the door and hear him out,” I said, smiling wider.

There was a few giggles from the females in the room, they were obviously very invested. Shiroe seemed a little irritated by the dip in between his brows and the twitch of his eye. Naotsugu and Akatsuki’s mouths were tight, looking on with even higher eyebrows than before. I laughed nervously, turning back to Shiroe who was trying hard to regain his focus.

“It was just… overwhelming emotion. Not tears,” He mumbled.

“Right, right. Well, I opened the door and he came in. Gave me this big long speech about how much he loved me and couldn’t live without me. I’d never seen the man mean so much in his words. It was so sweet. I could barely take it when he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. All raspy and out of breath, choking back sobs.”

“I don’t think I was crying,” Shiroe mumbled, but it was too late.

People were already giving loud awes and oo’s around the room. His voice was overwhelmed with the happiness that was in the room. And Marielle’s loud voice. She scampered over, squeezing my cheeks against hers. “That’s so cute!” She said, “You know, I was worried, but you two seem like you really care about each other.” She gave me a soft smile, and I felt my heart drop to my feet. Here comes the heart pains. Lying to my sister. Just what I wanted to do.

“You don’t strike me as the sensitive type,” She said, looking at Shiroe.

“Neither did I.”

Shiroe looked at me with a strange glance. Was that frustration I saw? Smirking softly, I poked his nose and watched his cheeks turn a soft pink. I didn’t even know he was capable of blushing. That was a human emotion. While we were caught up in the moment, I heard someone’s voice from the crowd of people. Something about Shiroe and I sharing a kiss. A few people backed it up, although Akatsuki and Naotsugu looked like they were about to vomit from the thought.

Pursing my lips, I shifted to look up at Shiroe. He was stammering and unsure of it, obviously as uncomfortable from the thought as I was. But we had to look like a couple. My friends know how affectionate I am, so I can’t make up a lie. Swallowing hard, I found myself shifting closer, stepping on my tip toes a little bit. Shiroe quickly kissed me on the cheek, hand on my hip as he smiled softly.

“Awh, that’s cute,” Someone said.

“C’mon, you can do better than that!”

Shiroe sighed, pulling me a little closer by my hip. Swallowing harder, I felt his lips press softly against my own and I immediately shuddered. It was strangely okay. It wasn’t as awful as I thought it would be, although I hoped that it would have been. His lips were slightly chapped, but they didn’t feel terrible. It was a quick kiss, and I was thankful for that. But I found myself slightly… not disgusted by it. That thought alone was terrifying for me.

I immediately pulled away from him, licking my lips and feeling my heart racing in my chest. That was weird. Why am I having this reaction? It was probably the wine. Shiroe cleared his throat, looking at me for a quick second before taking a sip of his glass of wine. We both had to have felt that spark. It had to be there. I didn’t want to admit it, knowing that if I did it’d be weird. It’s probably just the wine I chugged. That’s all it is.

“I’m so happy for you, sis,” Marielle said, pulling me into a hug.

“Thank you… Marielle…”

I tried to smile, even though my heart was already starting to break.

Shiroe excused himself, going to get yet another glass. This was going to be a great weekend. The two of us would definitely be drunk half the time if we kept this up. That would probably make these next couple of days more bearable.

After the party, Marielle and Akatsuki went with me to the guest bedroom to help with the bags and such. They were under the assumption and Shiroe and I would be sharing the same room. Which would help keep up the illusion, but I wasn’t sure if this was going to work. I mean, sleeping with this man was way away from my list of things that I wanted to do. He seemed to think the same thing, eyeing me longingly while Marielle cooed over us a few more times. She seemed to forget all about the bad blood between us, unlike her wonderful boyfriend. He was still steaming in the living room, no doubt thinking of some way to get back at Shiroe.

“Make yourself at home, Shiroe,” Marielle said, “If you need anything feel free to ask. You’re gonna be family soon after all.”

She winked, and for a split second, I saw a sliver of a smile from him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem! Anything for my sister’s fiancé, right?”

“Right,” Akatsuki mumbled, hand on her hip and eyes narrowed.

It was her home as well, Marielle was merely a roommate for a couple of years. The two of them moved in together not long after I left for the city to start my publishing job. Naotsugu still hasn’t moved in yet, but I was sure that’d happen once they decided to tie the knot. Which I’m not sure when that’ll happen. I always assumed it’d be soon, but even if it didn’t, it was obvious they loved each other regardless. Maybe I was a little jealous of their relationship. None of mine ever worked, and it wasn’t just because of Shiroe and my job. My family might have some to do with it too.

Being in a relationship is hard when you have a protective family. It’s especially harder when no one is ever good enough. I know Shiroe isn’t the best person, given the extensive knowledge they had of my hatred towards him. But he could be a saint and they’d still find a reason to dislike him. Marielle has gotten better at it, and now that I’m supposedly getting married, she’s backed off a little bit. Although, it could all just be an act. She could be saying things about us behind my back. I can’t be for certain.

“Oh, look who it is!” Marielle giggled, leaning down to pet the cat that trotted inside.

I smiled, kneeling down to scratch the old cat behind her ears.

Molly purred for a few seconds, but it wasn’t long before she noticed Shiroe’s presence. The man wasn’t taunting her, but the cat isn’t very good with strangers. Or men. She hissed, her tail sticking up in the air and making Shiroe’s eyebrows knit. Marielle picked up Molly, letting out a soft sigh as she rubbed her back gently.

“I’m so sorry about her,” She said, “She’s not very fond of men. Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like Naotsugu either.”

Shiroe nodded slowly, reaching forward to pet her.

Molly hissed yet again, and he quickly retracted his hand.

“Don’t worry. She might warm up to you soon.”

“In the meantime, try to keep your hands away from her,” I said.

“Yeah… That sounds like a good idea.”

Marielle and I nodded, laughing softly as we cooed over the cat for a little bit. She’d been Akatsuki’s cat for a while now, and we’ve grown fond of the animal. Seeing her after so long was just as great. It was even better that she had such a reaction to Shiroe. I’d never seen him look that nervous around an animal before, let alone a cat.

“Well, we’ll leave you two to get settled in,” Marielle said with a wink, “Goodnight guys. See you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Ash,” Akatsuki mumbled, the two of them quickly leaving without another word.

I let out a small sigh of relief, spinning on my heels. It felt as if my shoulders finally slumped after so long of tenseness in them. All day I was nervous and on edge. Being alone to my thoughts felt great. Until I remembered that Shiroe was still here. Then, my happiness slowly came crashing down. For the rest of the weekend, I had to be sleeping in the same room with him. There was no way that he and I were sharing a bed. He could take the floor for all I cared.

Shiroe let out a sigh of his own, sliding off the jacket he wore and setting it over the chair. The guest room was a little bigger than expected, with a single chair and table set up. That’s where I used to read when I came to visit, if not on the front porch. There was a big window looking outside, the view a pretty decent one. Since Akatsuki and Marielle lived outside of town, there were only a few other houses nearby. The rest of it was land and the ocean that was not too far of a distance away.

There was also a bathroom connected to the bedroom, one that was fairly small. I remembered taking showers and fitting just perfect for my height. Shiroe was going to have some trouble, and that thought made me shudder a bit. Don’t do that. Don’t think about that. It’s going to make me vomit. I’m already sick enough thinking about having to change in my pajamas in front of this guy.

“So… you don’t get to visit them much?” He asked.

“Nope. Where’d you get that idea from, anyway?”

“Marielle mentioned it. She said she missed you.”

“Yeah, well, the last three years I haven’t gotten much vacation time.”

He rolled his eyes, ignoring my comment. I fumbled through my suitcase, finding my shorts and T-Shirt that I brought to sleep in. His eyes wandered my form, realizing what I was doing before I even said anything. He turned around, cheeks turning a soft pink at the realization that I was going to be undressing nearby him. Now was not the time for him to be considerate and having thoughts. I’d punch him before he even had the chance.

“Keep your eyes closed,” I grumbled.

“They’re closed.”

There was a slight irritation to his voice, but how could I be sure that he wouldn’t try to sneak a peak? I had to be careful. I don’t want him looking at me. Even though I highly doubted that he’d have enough balls to do that. Especially with my family and friends so close by. It was already obvious that he was nervous around Akatsuki, which was to be expected. She could knock all of his teeth out if she wanted to, but she wouldn’t unless I end up getting hurt.

After I was done changing, I climbed into bed to hide most of my body from him. Shiroe turned back around, eyes flickering to my own for a moment. There was still a blush on his cheeks, and for a moment I almost forgot that I was even in my sleepwear. Or that we were alone in a bedroom. I could see his sparkling, dark eyes and I couldn’t say anything for a few seconds. Not until I finally came back to reality and cleared my throat.

“You can sleep on the floor. I’m gonna take the bed,” I said.

“That’s fair.”

I yawned, slipping further underneath the covers. My eyelids felt heavy as I pointed over to the cabinet near the door where they kept the extra pillows and blankets. “There’s some blankets and shit for you. I’m going to bed,” I mumbled, falling onto my side. With my eyes closed, I could hear Shiroe shuffling around and situating his spot on the floor. I could hear the shuffling of clothes as well, and I tried not to focus on it.

Breathing soft sighs, I focused on the sleep that I felt coming. I was extremely tired after today. I couldn’t wait to finally rest. It’s been a long day. Tomorrow would be even worse. I just had a feeling. But I prepared myself for it the best that I could. The one thing that kept me grounded was that Editor’s spot. The one spot that I’ve wanted for as long as I could remember. It meant the world to me, even Shiroe couldn’t understand that.

I wasn’t going to give that up easily.

#self insert #self ship #self insert writing #my writing #Shirey #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff eventual #au #the proposal au #fake marriage #humor

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hiddentreasureswc · 7 years

Text

The End of a Good Thing

Lilly ran as far as she could away from the alley. With each step she took, her heart pounded louder and louder. She had to get to her mother, she thought. She always knew what to do. She ran and ran, nearly for thirty whole minutes, until she could see the green and blue neon letters spelling out “Club Athena”. She tried her best to flatten her auburn hair and straighten out her wrinkled dress, but she knew it was all in vain.

She walked up to the entrance, which was guarded by a bouncer. God, I hope it’s not Bill; he’ll never let me in looking like this. Luckily it wasn’t Bill working that night, but Bruce. He had much more compassion towards Lilly because he knew the hell she had been through in her fifteen years of life.

When he saw her, his heart sunk. Why did she look like that? Less than three hours ago, she was completely fine! Maybe the street lights were playing tricks on him, or maybe he was too tired to process how she actually looked. After all, it was pretty late, almost one in the morning. But as she got closer to him, he realized that there was nothing wrong with the lights or his mind.

Dear God, she’s a mess, he thought. “What the hell happened to you?”

Her eyes were downcast; she didn’t want Bruce to see that she had been crying. He’d keep asking questions if he did.

“Umm…” she started. “I… I need to see my mother.” Bruce chuckled and shook his head. “You know he’s not your real mother, right?” At least he didn’t suspect too much was wrong. “Yeah, well, I still need to see her.” He still thought something was off as he opened the door for her, but he was scared that she would resent him if he pressed too hard.

Lilly always found the smell of Dunhill cigarettes comforting, mostly because those were the only ones her mother ever smoked. The club was full, which was good for Lilly. That meant that it would be easier for her to go and see her mother. Barely anyone noticed her. Blue lights shone on every person she laid eyes on. The people on the dancefloor, the near-drunk men at the bar, and her mother whispering in some man’s ear and laughing in the V.I.P. section. Lilly had a feeling that’s where she would be. She’s usually there on Saturday nights; she did own the club after all. There was a staircase next to the bar, leading up to the V.I.P. section. It was a balcony-like area, overlooking the dance floor, with two loveseats and a square glass coffee table.

She walked up the staircase, which wasn’t protected by security, and saw her mother. She always looked so fabulous, even when she wasn’t in drag. She had a full face of makeup and wore her best outfit, which consisted of an army green halter top, tight blue jeans and black pumps. The man beside her was slightly rugged, with his chiseled jawline and dark eyes. He reminded her of Charlie.

“Lilliana!” Alex jumped up out of her seat and rushed to hug her daughter. Granted, Lilly wasn’t actually hers, but the way her real mother had abandoned her had left a hole in her heart that no one could fill. No one but Alex, of course. She was the best damn mother she’d ever known, even though she wasn’t actually a woman. She just liked acting like one. Wearing heels, dresses, makeup. It was all loads of fun, and it wasn’t like anyone was getting hurt. Everyone knew that Alex was the most prominent drag queen out there.

The more she looked at Lilly, the more worried Alex became. Her hair was all over the place, her eyes were red, and her dress… it was inside out. Alex was near hysteria as she pulled Lilly to the opposite loveseat and asked, “What happened? Why are you like this? And your dress…” Alex was so soft when she spoke; Lilly couldn’t contain herself any longer. She hugged her mother and started sobbing. The man that was with Alex figured that he should give the girls some privacy. As he was leaving, he hoped that the younger one would be okay

Lilly tried to relay everything that happened as best she could.

She and her boyfriend, Charlie, walking down Broadway. Talking, laughing, having the time of their lives. Somehow, ending up in an empty alleyway. Kissing, Charlie’s hands moving from Lilly’s neck to her shoulders, lower, lower. She pulls back slightly, he forces his lips onto hers. His fingers lifting her dress. She tries to move away from him, but he pushes her against the brick wall and continues kissing her. He almost forces himself on her. Almost.

“I had to,” Lilly cried. “Please, please understand.” Alex leaned back into the loveseat and tried to process what she had just heard. She knew there was something off about Charlie, but she never thought he was capable of that. “Don’t worry. I promised I’d take care of you, didn’t I? I’m not gonna back out now.” Lilly wasn’t reassured. She still felt that Alex would leave her because of what she had done, just like her blood mother.

Alex, on the other hand, knew that her daughter needed her then more than ever. They left the club through the back door, as to not raise any suspicions from the staff. Behind the club was their home, a small apartment complex. As soon as they entered their apartment and closed the door, Lilly took off her dress. She didn’t mind taking her clothes in front of Alex; she knew Alex was only attracted to guys. Alex almost fainted when she saw her. Lilly was covered in blood. The splatters on her dress didn’t even dry when she turned it inside out. Then Alex realized.

“Did you have to change in the alley?” Lilly didn’t answer. Why ask questions you already know the answer to? Lilly threw the dress in the garbage and went to the bathroom. Alex went to her room and took off her makeup, wig, and dress. She was back to being a man. He dressed as casually as he could and waited for Lilly in the living room.

Even though she took a shower, Lilly still felt dirty. She dried herself and went to her room. She wore an outfit she was planning to get rid of anyway: an old t-shirt and some sweatpants. She met Alex in the living room. He was dressed in his old high school gym shirt and jeans. Every time Lilly saw him, she would think Alex was younger than he really was, which was almost thirty-seven. He always did his best to take care of himself.

They both sat on the couch in silence. Alex thought about Charlie. He’s still in the alley. “I know you don’t wanna go back there, but we have to get rid of the body.” The body. Lilly shivered. She didn’t want to see what she had done. She didn’t even want to think about it, but Alex was right. They had to get rid of the evidence. “We can roll it up in the old carpet in the closet.” It. That’s right. That should make her feel better, calling the love of her life “it”.

“That’s a pretty good idea. Let’s go.” They carried the old carpet down to Alex’s 2004 Pontiac Grand Am and put it in the trunk. They got in the car and Alex drove as slowly as he could down Broadway. “Tell me when I get to the alley, okay?” Alex asked.

“Okay.” Lilly kept an eye out. She finally recognized the area. “This one.” She pointed to a wide alleyway to the right of them. Alex pulled into it and parked. They got out and Lilly led Alex to the body.

He still had some colour in his face, and his best dress shirt, Lilly’s favourite dress shirt, was covered in stab wounds. His eyes were open, but lifeless. Alex could sense that Lilly wanted to vomit and said, “Don’t throw up here; the police might be able to get your DNA.” Lilly tried her best to push the acid back down into her stomach. “Okay, now, we have to get the carpet.” They opened the trunk and unrolled the carpet so that the end was aligned with Charlie’s body. As Alex flipped it over onto the carpet, he noticed something glistening in the corner. Lilly noticed it too and picked it up. It was a knife. Her knife.

“We gotta get ridda that.” Alex finished rolling the body up and tried to lift it into the trunk. “Uhh, a little help here?” Lilly wiped the blood off the knife on the carpet and tossed it in the backseat. Then she helped Alex put the body in the trunk. They looked around to see if they had left anything behind. Other than a pool of blood, the place was clean.

They got back into the car and continued driving down Broadway. Alex didn’t bother asking why she had had a knife. He knew it was to protect herself. “I think we should bury him in the cemetery,” Alex suggested. “It probably wouldn’t occur to them to look for a dead body there.” Lilly nodded and looked back out the window. She just wanted to go home.

As soon as they reached the cemetery, they started looking around for shovels. Finally, they spotted a pair leaning on a tombstone. They got out, grabbed the shovels and started digging next to the grave. They tried to make the hole as deep as possible before dumping the body. Thankfully, it was deep enough. They filled it back up with soil and placed the shovels back where they found them.

On the drive home, Lilly was thinking about how she couldn’t wait to get home and just forget everything. The journey was long, but they finally made it back. Alex looked at the clock on the dashboard. 4:27 am. I'll Just get Bruce to close the club tonight, he thought. He had to stay with his daughter.

They went up to the apartment and Lilly crawled into her bed. She knew she'd have trouble sleeping tonight. Alex called Bruce and got some Ambien for Lilly. He knew she's need it. He brought the pills and a glass of water into her room and placed them in her hands. She swallowed them and laid back down. Alex laid next to her, not touching her, but making sure that she knew he was there. He would always be there. Lilly drifted in and out of consciousness, but before she finally fell asleep, she saw Charlie. Oh, how she wished he hadn't have done what he did.

#fiction

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ellanainthetardis · 7 years

Note

prompt : peeta plans to loose his virginity to katniss so he goes and asks haymitch for some pointers and advice on if there is anything special hes suppose to do for a girl

One very uncomfortable conversation coming up! (X]

Haymitch, The Poet

Breakfast had become something Haymitch reallylooked forward to since Effie had brought Peeta back to Twelve – and had showedup along with him. It might have been absolutely stupid in its simplicity buthe loved sharing coffee and toasts with her in the morning, eggs if he feltlike cooking. Breakfast had always been a quiet time for them during the Games,a time they either used to strategize before their tributes showed up or tobanter over a blueberry muffin. In Thirteen, they hadn’t had many occasions tosit down and eat together. Their schedules had been different and, when theyhad matched, there had always been people around them to intrude.

So, all in all, the last three weeks of themhaving breakfast together in the mornings had become something he had reallystarted looking forward to. Living together wasn’t something they otherwiseexcelled at for now. She had too many expectations and he sometimes resentedher overwhelming presence in his house. They would get there though. He really wanted them to get there. She hadtalked about sharing her time between Twelve and the city at first – becausePlutarch had offered her a job in the entertainment industry that she wasconsidering taking – but she had yet to pack and leave.

Which suited Haymitch fine because he enjoyedtheir breakfasts.

And their nights.

And their in-betweens, even the fights thatleft him hoarse.

So that morning, as he sipped his cup of coffeeand smirked over the rim of the mug because she was trying not to smile whilebiting on her toast, fluttered as she was with his attention, he was in a verygood mood. It might have had to do also, perhaps, with the foot she had hookedaround his ankle under the table.

“We are ridiculous.” she chuckled, wiping herfingers on her napkin. “I hope you realize that.”

He did. He really,really did. But that wasn’t enough to stop him from behaving like a kid inlove.

He was entertaining the thought of clearing thetable so he could have her on it instead when the back door opened on Peeta.Effie immediately patted her blond hair self-consciously – wigs might not befashionable anymore but she still spent a good thirty minutes styling her hairevery morning regardless – her foot discreetly retreating away from his ankle.

“Good morning, dear!” she greeted with herusual cheer. “Would you care for some coffee?”

Haymitch stood up to pour one for the boy whenhe nodded, gently pulling Effie’s silk dressing gown close with one hand on theway because it was open wide on a lacy red nightgown that had Peeta’s ear growred. She tightened the belt with a flush and a small wince. She still mindedthe kids barging in without warning, Haymitch had long grown used to it. Still,that meant that she wasn’t always presentable and that wasn’t settling rightwith her.

He didn’t mind so much. If Peeta was botheredby his lack of shirt, he didn’t let on.

“Where’s Katniss?” he asked, scratching hischest while he poured him coffee.

“In the woods.” the boy offered, alreadysitting at the table. “She thinks she saw a deer yesterday. She said she wantedto try and track it down.”

“Would be good.” he approved. A few people hadcome back but rebuilding Twelve was a huge endeavor and resources were scarce.The government was sending rations over but an addition of meat wouldn’t hurt.If Katniss caught a deer there would be plenty for everyone.

They chatted a little about the rebuildingwhile Peeta drank his coffee, wondering if more people would choose to comeback and if Paylor would soon send the working crew she had promised. Effiekept toying with her hair and hurried in finishing her mug, clearlyuncomfortable being in such an improper outfit in front of the boy. She excusedherself quickly and disappeared upstairs to get ready, leaving him and Peetaalone.

He didn’t realize immediately that somethingwas odd. It was only after the fifth awkward glance Peeta gave him that hefrowned, not quite understanding while the tips of the boy’s ears were stillred when Effie’s infamous crimson nightgown had disappeared from the room.“Something you want to tell me, kid?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”Peeta hesitated.

“Sounds serious.” he snorted, taking a bite ofthe toast Effie hadn’t finished.

“I was wondering if you could tell me aboutgirls.” the boy spat out in one rushed breath.

Haymitch choked on the piece of toast and Peetaimmediately slapped his back only stopping when he shot him an incredulouslook. “You want me to give you the talk?”

“No!” Peeta protested, red in the face now.

Fair was fair, Haymitch was fairly sure he wasequally flushed. “Then, what?”

“You’ve been with women before…” the boycringed. “More than one, I’m assuming.”

“Geez,kid, you don’t mess around, do you?” he chuckled because it was either laughingabout it or being mortified. “Yeah, I’ve been with more than one. More than two or three dozen probably.”

Peeta made a face at that. “Well, I haven’t. And Katniss and I…”

“Ah, ah, ah.”He stopped him right there, lifting both hands in the air. “You wanna have that sort of talk, we ain’t mentioning Katniss.”

“She will have to sort of be involved at somepoint.” the boy joked and Haymitch shook his head, wishing he could wipe theimages that it conjured out of his mind. “Okay, okay! No mention of Katniss.”

“Good.” he sighed in relief, rubbing his eyes.“So what are you asking, here?”

Peeta wavered, distractedly playing with thebutter knife. “Last night, we…”

“We,as in you and a totally hypothetical girl who isn’t the closest thing I have toa daughter.” he muttered to himself.

“Yeah, thatwe.” the boy snorted but his amusement faded fast into awkwardness again.“Things got a little heated? She had a nightmare and she came to sleep with meand… We kissed and it just kind of got… Out of hands?”

“Please, tell me you’re not trying to tell meyou’ve slept with her without protection and now there might be a Mockingjayfledgling on the way.” he begged. “’Cause that’s the thing you want to go to Effie about. Not gonna lie, she’s gonnascream but she probably has a solution too. Me, it’s just gonna get my bloodpressure higher and then I’m gonna try to strangle you.”

“We didn’t sleep together.” Peeta sighed.

“Oh, good.” he said in relief. Then he shot alook at the kid and amended “Well, maybe not for you.”

Where was booze when you needed some? He hadn’ttouched a drop since Thirteen. Not exactly by choice either. Twelve wasn’texactly well supplied and he couldn’t go through another withdrawal. And,really, with Effie and the kids there, it wasn’t so bad. He wanted to trysobriety for a while. For old times’ sakes. To see if he could actually makesomething of life.

“I just feel we could get there soon, youknow?” the boy said.

“I’d rather notto.” he admitted. But he would make sure the kids were well-stocked in condoms.And he would also make sure Effie had a talk with Katniss about getting her onthe pill. They so weren’t dealingwith a baby right then.

Peeta’s face closed and he slumped a little inhis chair. “Fine. Forget I said anything. I knew it would be weird to ask you anyway.”

“Why did you?” he whined a little, standing upto clear the table. That would please Effie and that would give him somethingto do. Two birds with one shittystone.

“You see a lot of older men in my life rightnow?” the boy scoffed. “I’m sure Doctor Aurelius wouldn’t mind spending ournext session giving me sex pointers.”

Fair was fair.

He hadn’t had much more guidance thefirst time he had been with a girl but he had been listening to Chaff for longenough that he knew more about sex than was needed at that point anyway.

“Okay.” he relented and he was going to regretit, he already knew it. “Shoot. What do you want to know?”

The look of relief on Peeta’s face wasunmistakable. “I want to make it good for her.”

“First times are awkward and it’s worse forwomen.” he countered without thinking.

“Have you ever been with a girl who had neverdone it before?” the kid asked.

That was the kind of things he hadn’t mindtalking about with Chaff, Beetee and Blight so much. With Finnick on occasions.Peeta, though… Peeta was too close to a son and it was really weird. Or maybe it was the lack of liquor that made it soodd.

He kept on putting everything away, thinking hemight just do the dishes because it would keep his back to the room and thatwould be way easier to have thisconversation that way.

“Yeah.” he answered at last. “My first time.”

“Oh, so you were both…” Peeta hesitated.

“Yeah.” he nodded, deciding he was definitely going to do the dishes. Andmake it last. “Wasn’t that bad. It was sweet, even. We didn’t really know whatwe were doing but figuring it out is part of the fun.”

“How old were you?” the boy asked.

Haymitch watched the hot water pool in the sinkand added the soap as an afterthought. The memories weren’t bad but likeeverything in his life, they were so tightly entwined with the Games that…“Nineteen.” There was only silence behind him and Haymitch glanced at the boyover his shoulder, an amused smirk on his lips. “Not the answer you expected,kid?”

Peeta gave him a sheepish shrug. “I thoughtyou’d have started younger. With the Quell and everything… I thought girlswould have been all over you.”

“They were.” he confirmed, turning back to thesink. “Might surprise you to hear but I’m a one woman man. And I was in noplace for that after my Games.”

“Sorry.” the boy offered genuinely enough. “Thewoman… Was she your first time?”

“Thought we were gonna talk about you.” he snapped but then he took a deepbreath and tried to calm down. The kid was just curious. “No, she wasn’t. TheCapitol killed my girlfriend along with my family after my Games. Thought thegirl would have told you.”

It wasn’t getting any easier to say the wordsor to talk about them but every time he managed, he felt a weight lift off hischest.

“I’m sorry, Haymitch.” Peeta said. “I didn’twant to bring back bad memories.”

He focused on washing Effie’s pink mugthoroughly, trying to keep his shaking hands under control. “They’re not. Badmemories. Just…”

“Difficult?” the boy suggested.

He gave a grunt in answer and he volunteeredthe rest because he was sure Peeta would ask anyway. “The girl I was with? Shewas a victor from Eight. Alina. I liked her. Didn’t love her but I liked her.” He didn’t clarify what had happened toher, the mere fact that she had been a victor was self-explanatory. The war hadtaken care of their specie. “It wasn’t awesome but it was okay. It gets betterwith experience. Thing is, sex isn’t… It’s supposed to be fun, yeah?”

He finally rinsed Effie’s mug and placed it onthe drying rack, deciding it was more than clean enough. He moved on to thenext one. He had rinsed it and put it with the other one when Peeta spokeagain.

“I don’t want it to be just… fun. I want it to mean something.” the kid argued. “I love her. I don’t want her tothink that I just want… I do wantit but that’s not all I want.”

He sighed and dropped the dishes pretence toturn around and study the boy. “Sex can be fun and still mean something. You don’t want to make a big deal out of it‘cause you’re both gonna be tense and it’s gonna be awful. The more pressureyou put on yourself, the worse it’s gonna be. Just be respectful of what shewants. Make sure she’s okay when you do something new. If she doesn’t like it,just do something else. And make sure she’s ready before you… You know.”

Peeta cleared his throat, deliberately avertinghis eyes. “How do I know when to…”

“For fuck’ssake.” Haymitch cursed, lifting his own eyes to the ceilings because really. Somewhere Chaff was laughing hisass off at him, he could see it. He hadn’t signed up for this when he haddecided to mentor the boy. “Okay.Asking is never a bad idea.”

“Won’t that ruin the mood?” Peeta winced.

“Less than if you accidentally hurt her.” hedeadpanned. “After a while… Well, you get to a point where you know the otherperson’s body, yeah? You don’t need them to tell you anymore but at first…Yeah, asking is definitely the thing to do.”

“Alright.” the boy said. “And… How do I knowif…”

“The wetter the better.” He rushed the wordsout quickly and thought about everything butKatniss. This wasn’t about Katniss.This wasn’t about Katniss. Or aboutthe fact that he would probably neverhave sex again after that really, reallyawkward brand of conversation. “Ask what works for her. Show her what works foryou.” He tossed the kid a distressed look. “Anything else you need to know?”

Peeta shook his head and bolted out of hischair. “Thank you, Haymitch. I’m sorry it was awkward but I really needed totalk about it with someone and…”

“It’s alright.” He made a face. “That’s whatI’m here for, yeah? Well, not just the sex talks but…”

Mentoring.

“Thanks.” Peeta insisted.

Haymitch wasn’t sorry to see him dash back tohis own house truth be told.

He breathed a sigh of relief and left thekitchen, intending to go for a long shower that hopefully would get his mind offthat conversation. He hadn’t been expecting to find Effie leaning against thehallway’s wall, just out of sight, a mocking grin on her red painted lips. Shewas dressed in a tight blue dress and it was a shame he had just sworn off sexbecause…

“The wetter the better.” she repeated, clearlyhaving difficulties keeping her amusement in check. “You are such a poet with words, Haymitch.”

“How much of that did you hear?” he groaned.

She shook her head, her grin turning into areal smile. “I think you handled that very well.”

“Most awkward conversation of my life.” hemumbled, rubbing his face.

He felt himself being pushed against the walland he didn’t resist, smirking when she pressed her body closer to his, herlips brushing his ear. “Shall I show you what works for me and let you tell mewhat works for you, darling? Would that help?”

She strutted away before he could answer.

It only took him two strides to grab her aroundthe waist and bring her back.

#hayffie #effie trinket #haymitch abernathy #prompt #post mj #movie!verse #crack #teapot #fluff #the kids #pep talk #about h past #established

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artificialqueens · 7 years

Text

Mardis Gras Fantasies & Enough Polygamy to Shut Down Bourbon Street {ABC's} -C*NT

A/N: Hey guys! Been a little bit, I know. I’m terrible with titles so apologies. I’ve been blocked lately, but I had some random inspiration to get this finished before the fic challenge is over! I used the words Beads, Blonde, and Hip Bone. It’s a mardis gras fic (spoiler alert) starring the ABC’s. It’s short, 2.5k words, but I was happy with it and wanted to share since there isn’t enough ABC. I will admit, it’s a tad more focused on Biadore, but there is ABC action promise! TW: Smut, drug use, throuple, alcohol. Thanks for reading and hope you enjoy 💕

“Guy’s we’re here!” Adore exclaimed, eyes glued to the window.

Down below, was the beautiful city of New Orleans, lit a lovely pink with the early morning sunrise.

Bianca was finally home.

She audibly sighed with relief as the plane began to descend, but then remembered how much work she had to do once they were back on the ground.

As per usual, Bianca was named the grand marshall of the Mardi Gras parade, arguably the biggest celebration in the country. Since Courtney and Adore hadn’t been back to New Orleans in a long time and needed a break from their incredibly busy schedules, they decided to accompany Bianca and see what all of the fuss was about.

Courtney was familiar with the Australian Mardi Gras, but had never celebrated it elsewhere. She knew that it was a huge deal in the bayou country, and that there would be no end to half naked guys in costume. While on the other end of the spectrum Adore had no clue about Mardi Gras, (it wasn’t really a huge deal in southern California) but she was always open to partying. Especially with her two best friends.

Sometimes Adore felt like she felt something more though. Courtney and her always had amazing chemistry, but Adore had never really done anything more then make out with her in a music video and once at a bar.

Bianca was another story. There had always been this horribly sexual tension between the two of them. Whenever Courtney left the two of them alone, the energy in the room shifted almost immediately. It was always thick with tension, like a spark went off and traveled throughout her entire body. It would take everything in her not to attack Bianca then and there, and if she did get too touchy she would just say she was drunk. She didn’t expect a relationship out of Bianca, especially since she was always working. She never considered the attraction to be mutual.

But little did Adore know, underneath Bianca’s long dirty blonde wig and thick layers of makeup were some deeply buried feelings for the two of them. She tried to push the feelings aside as they exited the plane and quickly rushed from the airport to their shared hotel room to drop off their stuff.

Bianca was secretly elated that she was introducing Adore to a proper celebration of Mardi Gras. As they walked to their float, she watched her green eyes growing wider and wider as they quickly walked past all of the different glittering cars and displays. Everyone was dressed in their best attire for the occasion, there wasn’t one place you could turn where you wouldn’t find a sequin, and the three of them fit right in.

Courtney noticed that Bianca looked the most at peace around this time of year, usually because it was the one time her theatrical makeup blended into the crowd. She always loved how different Bianca was, and appreciated her uniqueness. Sometimes, she’d let herself brush her hands against the older queens arm and she’d feel her shudder. Courtney would pretend not to notice, but she always did.

As Adore squealed at a nearby fan, Courtney couldn’t help but smile. She had such an enthusiasm for life when she wasn’t struggling with depression, and it was so refreshing. When they made out or partied together, Courtney swore Adore would let her lips linger on hers when they made out. Courtney didn’t mind it one bit, it felt good to kiss someone with no strings attached.

The parade went rather quickly, especially with the three of them entertaining each other throughout the whole event. They decided afterwards that they would go back to the hotel and recharge before going out later that night.

———–

Making her way through the hazy bar later on that night was none other than Adore. The atmosphere was thick with smoke and the stench of sweat. They had just gotten back from freshening up at their hotel, the sun was casting a faint orange glow across the bar signaling the end of the crisp February day.

Adore had just left 15 minutes ago to go flirt with a guy at the bar, she usually didn’t reappear so early into the night. Bianca raised an eyebrow as the redhead reappeared, not looking as defeated as she usually did.

“Aw, the new southern belle didn’t get to kiss her frog tonight?” Bianca teased, a bitter tone of resentment hidden underneath.

“Fuck off, I just flirted with him cuz I wanted his beads.” Adore rolled her eyes playfully, dangling the sets of colorful beads in front of them. “That’s not all he gave me.”

“Buy beads, get herpes free!” Bianca mocked, taking a sip of her cocktail. Courtney almost choked on her drink and slapped Bianca playfully.

“Pussyface, you are in rare form tonight.” Courtney chuckled, wiping around her lips with a napkin. She wanted to make sure her lipstick didn’t run, just in case she found a hot guy later on. The night was still young.

“Guys don’t you wanna know what he gave me?” Adore whined, feeling impatient.

“What, pray tell, did the strange beaded man give you?” Bianca asked, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Adore opened her palm and revealed 3 small blue pills, and a tiny bag of cocaine.

“Drugs!” Courtney exclaimed excitedly.

Bianca froze, staring down at the small pills. She had never done ecstasy, cocaine was one thing that she had tampered with when she was younger but most likely wouldn’t do it again.

“How do you know those are what he says they are?” Bianca asked seriously.

“Well I don’t, but it’s fucking Mardis Gras and we’ve been working non stop guys. I say we do it!” Adore exclaimed, punching the air with her fist.

“C’mon pussy willow, let’s let loose for once. When was the last time you did party drugs?” Courtney encouraged.

“At a party.” Bianca deadpanned. “Listen, I’d love to, but I’m not touching the coke since I don’t know where it’s from. For all I know it could be bath salts.”

“Hmm. You’re right.” Adore shrugged and tossed the coke into the garbage.

“We’re really gonna do this then?” Courtney asked, eyeing the pills hesitantly. “I was expecting you to be a party pooper like you always are B.”

“It’s Mardis Gras. I’ll make an exception.” Bianca tucked a curl behind her ear and downed the rest of her drink. She had already drank her fair share of cocktails this evening, she was ready to shake it up a bit. It had been a long time since she had let loose, Bianca was no stranger in keeping an incredibly tight schedule with very little time for fun. Maybe it was because she was home, but for some reason tonight she was feeling adventurous.

“Okay then. Let’s do it man!” Adore exclaimed, jumping up and down. She held out her milky white hands, allowing the two other queens to take the small chalky looking pill out of her hand. Without hesitation, they each popped it into their mouths chasing it respectively with the drink of their choosing.

——————-

It was foggy. The room was spinning, and all Bianca could focus on were the multi colored lights swirling around her in the club. It had been about an hour since they had all taken their pill, and she swears she could feel the music pulsating into her 41 year old heart.

“Do you feel it yet?” Adore exclaimed, as she whipped her long red hair around to the music. It was just a dull early 2000’s mix, but Adore felt like it was the best remix she had ever heard in her life. She was loving everything right now.

Courtney jumped up and down animated next to her, holding an open bottle of champagne and taking a swig every now and then from it.

“Yeah, I definitley do.” Bianca slurred. “Gimme that bottle.” She reached for Courtney’s hand, staggering forward before Court handed it to her.

Bianca didn’t even put the bottle to her lips, instead she tilted her head back and poured the sparkling gold liquid down her throat with ease.

Adore cheered and clapped her hands as she watched Bianca down the bottle. Fuck she was so hot, Adore thought.

As if Bianca had read her mind, her eyes locked with hers. It felt like they were the only two in the room as they openly stared at each other. Bianca let herself really look at Adore for once, scanning the slim queens body. Her eyes kept searching her groin for any sign of a popped tuck, but no luck.

Adore felt butterflies as she watched Bianca openly check her out. She returned the favor by up and downing her, but she couldn’t get away from her hypnotic eyes. The warmth in her brown eyes always got her, she didn’t know what it was but she just couldn’t resist.

Bianca was dressed in a simple gown by her standard, a short black sequin gown that rested off the shoulder. Classic but elegant.

Easy to get under, Adore thought.

Bianca grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. She gasped, enjoying the rare contact. Courtney looked on with wide eyes at the two of them.

“You. Me. Dance.” Bianca ordered half drunk, leaving Courtney to her own devices.All she wanted right now was her cute party animal to dance with.

“Man, I’m always the third wheel!” Courtney whined.

Adore felt electricity pulsing through her at Bianca’s touch. She really loved Bianca so much, and tried her best not to show the excitement from being ordered to the dance floor by her. She couldn’t help herself though, as she smiled and let Bianca’s hands dip under her clothes.

Bianca was blunt with her. Adore liked that. Her rough hands brushed up against her chest, sliding down her torso to her exposed hip bone, idling there for a moment. She was not being modest like she usually was. If her hands dipped any lower Bianca would be very aware of her tuck that was about to bust open.

In fact, Bianca felt like she was about to bust open. She wanted nothing more then Adore to open her up and make love to her. Instead, the sloppy dancing would have to do for now. She could feel herself growing very warm and very eager for her touch, the longer they pulsed to the music together.

It was times like this when Adore hated that Bianca would dress in floor length gowns and dresses. She couldn’t exactly slyly feel her up, every touch she let linger would be jarringly obvious and not unseen.

But at this moment, she didn’t care. She let herself really feel Bianca, pulling her close into her chest as she gripped the older queens lower back. She let her hands run up and down Bianca’s long torso softly, feeling like she was on fire as they danced.

Soon, Adore felt arms around her torso too, and then another pair shortly after.

“I didn’t wanna be left out of all the fun.” Courtney whispered huskily, pushing a strand of red hair away from Adore’s ear.

She realized she was in the middle of a Bitney sandwich now, chuckling at the two of them holding her and the thought of Bianca actually captioning one of his pictures with the ridiculous Bitney hashtag.

But then she felt full. She felt balance.

Why was monogamy a thing?

“What we have is beautiful.” Courtney murmured, as if she had read her mind as the three of them swayed on the dance floor.

“So we shouldn’t fuck it up.” Bianca retorted.

“Being together wouldn’t fuck it up.” Adore smiled lazily as she felt their arms around her. “Monogamy is dead. All I need are you fuckers.”

It was as if they were all on the same level, realizing the same thing all at once as they stared in disbelief.

Bianca, lusting after Adore.

Adore lusting after Bianca.

Courtney lusting after both of them.

All three of them, lusting.

They had taken care of each other before, but never in the way that they were all thinking.

Adore smiled, reaching for Bianca’s hand, who then reached for the australian’s. They nodded in agreement silently as they made their way out of the bar.

—–

Stumbling into their shared hotel room, Adore flicked on the light and shielded her eyes.

“So bright.” Adore whined.

“We don’t need it.” Bianca shrugged, flicking it back off.

The room fell silent as they shut the door, letting their eyes adjust to the very dark moonlit hotel room. They all sat on one edge of the bed together, staring down at the floor as time slowly passed.

Bianca looked up and admired how the pale blue moonlight made Adore’s red hair glow. She brushed a piece of it off of her shoulder softly, watching the younger queen shiver under her touch.

The tension was there again, but this time it was between all three of them.

Adore couldn’t take it anymore, she grabbed Bianca’s hand and pulled her close, letting their lips meet for the first time. Their mouths moved in unison as they let themselves fall all the way down on the bed. Bianca let her tongue swirl inside her mouth, making Adore groan. She felt her tuck become undone as her boner finally revealed itself.

Bianca was so soft, Adore thought as she let her fingers graze slowly across her cheek, settling on one of her dimples. She felt Courtney move behind her, laying down with them. She began stroking her shoulder softly as she she planted a kiss on her back. Courtney then let her hands slide across her back to her torso, where she undid Adore’s shorts.

The need for both of them was overwhelming. Adore could never possibly choose. Monogamy was stupid. Courtney was a celestial being in the night, her masculine features still softened by makeup and the heavy darkness that filled the room. Her blonde wig was glowing as she moved softly behind her.

Then there was Bianca, so smart, funny, and quick she could put her in her place faster than you could say Azusa.

Her cock twitched as the touching became more rough and desperate. Bianca’s kisses became more fierce, and more desperate, while Courtney tugged at her clothes and wig trying to reveal their true personas. First Danny was revealed to the world again, as he felt his wig fly off of his head and to somewhere in the distance. Then Shane emerged, removing his Wigs by Vanity with ease. Roy was the last one, he was so wrapped up in Danny that he couldn’t focus long enough to remove it. Shane had to remove all of the meticulously placed bobbi pins and hair pieces before he could remove it completely.

Once the hair was all thrown off, Shane moved to be behind Roy and caressed his back. He lifted up his dress gently, exposing his smooth brown skin. Danny moaned as he moved from Roy’s lips down to his now exposed chest, while Shane let his lips hover over his neck before he peppered kisses up and down his shoulders.

They were all at a mutual understanding, there was no jealousy. Roy wasn’t more Danny’s then he was Shane’s and vice versa. They all belonged to each other in perfect harmony. Kisses became more frantic, hands became more curious, and soon they were all naked. Bare skin wrapped around each other, pulsating against each other in perfect harmony. Roy was inside of Danny, as Shane was inside of Roy, as if they were all one.

Roy grabbed Danny’s ass and dug his nails into his back as he felt himself become more and more aroused from Shane. He usually didn’t bottom, but those pills had made him make an exception, and at this moment he was feeling very glad that he had. He really loved these bitches, he never realized how much until this moment. They would be bonded for life after this, always sharing this quiet taboo moment of love. He felt Danny quivering around his length as he pushed harder and harder, not being able to hold his orgasm much longer.

“Shane please.” Roy whimpered, feeling his body tremble in warning.

“Ugh Roy.” Danny moaned, pumping his cock in his hand.

“You can’t come until Danny’s ready.” Shane ordered sweetly.

“I’m ready!” Danny groaned exasperated, gripping onto his shaft desperately. He felt Roy sigh in relief as he thrust into him one last time. Danny felt the warm hot stream enter deep into his ass. He shivered with intense pleasure as he released all over the sheets. Shane had came into Roy, shortly after and all three of them collapsed into each other on the bed.

“I love you guys.” Roy murmured, sandwiched between Shane and Danny as they gasped for air.

“I love you too.” Shane and Danny whispered in unison, as they wrapped themselves around Roy. Danny held Shane’s arm and rubbed it soothingly and Roy leaned his head into Danny as they laid there.

They were on the same wavelength, hearts beating rapidly as they held each other closely.

“Things won’t be weird right?” Roy asked, showing rare vulnerability.

“Never.” Danny murmured, gently pressing a kiss onto his cheek.

“Let’s make a pact, that even if we all go our seperate ways after this; we know that we will always be each other’s no matter what.” Shane suggested encouragingly.

“Deal.” Roy and Danny said in unison.

They all laughed, squeezing each other tighter in the process.

“We’re always connected now.” Shane whispered, snuggling closer into Roy. “I couldn’t be happier about it.”

“Me either.” Roy whispered.

#fic challenge #abc #biadore #c*nt #adore delano #bianca del rio #courtney act #rpdr fanfiction #tw alcohol #tw drug use #submission #mardi gras #smut #canon compliant #poly #s6

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