#like it’s FINE this is a bachelor of arts it’s okay to be a weird little humanities kid it’s FINE
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on my way to academic advising appointment and i’m so scared. cause like i am NOT good at being a history major, like it’s the most applicable major to my goals i THINK but i’m not like a lyndon b. johnson nerd if that makes sense?? like i’m interested in history on a lot more of a local and personal level, or at the same time a holistic and universal level?? i would do anthropology if it weren’t for not actually fitting anthropology either and hating their classes worse too. i’m looking at minoring in folklore which is kind of getting there, and i’m interested in the history classes my school has to offer but i just kind of know that i’m doing it wrong. like public history classes in curation and presentation aren’t really the point. history of librarianship is supposed to be supplemental to NORMAL history. i want to major in historical identity. i want to major in how history is preserved and engaged with and identified with or rejected. and that’s what a fucking history major is but it’s just not quite right. and i don’t want to talk to some weird old white man about why i’m looking at latin + folklore + queer visual culture + geographic information systems as potentially being my four classes next semester which are NONE OF THEM HISTORY. if i take history next semester it will be history of technology or history of education. WHICH IS FUCKING HISTORY. i guess i just feel so guilty for not actually being that interested in political economy. and like come ON i’m actually so fucking engaged in the real kind of history too, i’ve been studying immigration history and being so fucking invested. i HAVE OPINIONS about lyndon b johnson (i fucking hate that man like thanks for passing civil rights but that’s a bare minimum and he used it as a way to sneak in the permanent existence of an undocumented labor class of latin americans to uphold capitalism through exploitation and fear. so FUCK YOU LBJ) but anyway the point is the intersection of everything i want to do with my life all branches off of history. but it’s just not really that simple. i’m glad i’m at the school i chose and not in colorado but it sure would be handy to be getting a fucking BACHELOR OF INNOVATION in museum studies and heritage management. instead of just hanging around the in-between, taking the most incredible classes but living in the unfortunate reality where they all count for different, tangentially related fields of study. anyway the stupid advisor man is probably a really good guy. i just feel so embarrassed showing up to his office like “yeah i’m studying history. i don’t know what years were the french revolution” you know???? anyway next semester i’ll be taking a class about public folklore (coolest thing in the world) and third level latin, and then maybe something for science breadth, maybe a history class about education or technology or MAYBE the history of the american west, which just might not be very relevant to me if i stay in the midwest shdhdf like i’m so interested in mexican-american history but i’m centralizing pretty heavily in midwestern migrant experiences which are less studied and more personally relevant, and “the west” is mostly like the gold rush and stuff anyway. which i’m supposed to be INTERESTED IN as a history major but i’m not really!!!! and i might take a class about making websites and databases because i want to, and maybe a class about the history of textiles because that’s so fucking cool. but this isn’t what they WANT from me so i’m really anxious. somebody just looked at me weird for walking out of the women’s restroom and it made me think about how the problem is that my academic interests are nonbinary i’m fucking careerqueer or something AKA indecisive and weird and unemployable. but also the coolest in the world. ANYWAY wish me luck and i got this. but spooky scary!!!!
#vent cw#college talk#THIS IS SO STUPID but i just feel like the academic advisor is gonna hate me….#like it’s FINE this is a bachelor of arts it’s okay to be a weird little humanities kid it’s FINE#i just feel a bit strange. ok appointment in twelve minutes gonna head upstairs wish me luck!!#me. my post. mine.#delete later#long post#PS sorry for being a little strange past few days it’s cause i haven’t been sleeping. will be normal tomorrow if all goes well
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no one asked for this and I’m sure none of my followers care but here’s my opinions on the AWL remake character designs that that been revealed so far
First of all. I’m so fucking pumped for it.
I’ve never played AWL but I played the shit out of HMDS and HMDS cute so I love the Forget-Me-Not Valley folks. HMDS was actually my first harvest moon game so I have a lot of nostalgia for the setting and characters. It’s been too long since we’ve seen them and I’m so happy they’re back.
Okay. Here we go.
Nina
She looks the same! She’s so cute as always. I love Nina, her design is literally perfect I would not change a thing, peak character design right here. 10/10
Vesta
Her apron is gone! And she’s wearing a vest! Maybe I’m biased because I LOVE vesta, but I think she looks great. I do think it’s interesting they yass-ified cody, but Vesta didn’t get the same treatment. Not that it’s a bad thing, in fact I’d prefer it if Cody kept his old design. But it goes to show that strong, masculine characters do fit with the new Story of Seasons art style, so I’m not sure why Cody’s a twink now. More on him later though. 10/10
Chris
PANTS! While I do miss her pencil skirt, the pantsuit is cute. I love her tie. Chris reminds me a lot of my mom (they even have the same name) and she dresses just like her. Which is weird because they have totally different jobs. iirc, chris is a sports reporter/commentator which I think she conveys a lot more in the new design than the old one. She looks more athletic while still looking very professional. Her old design was more like a secretary or office worker or teacher. 10/10
Wally
HE’S WEARING SOME TIGHT ASS PANTS. And for what? I mean, they’re probably more practical to run in, but geez it’s funny to me. He’s rocking them though, can’t complain. 9/10
Hugh
Okay, this is the first design choice so far I take issue with. He’s wearing the same clothes as his old design, but something is off. Hugh was a lot chubbier in his older design. I miss his baby fat :( it was cute! And it also gave him a little bit more character, almost like he’s working out all the time to get slim like his dad. I miss his clumsy, dopey look. 6/10
Galen
This is another one I have a problem with. He looks exactly the same, which is fine. But they toned down cartoonish aspects of all the other characters (Marlin’s hunch, Gustafa’a nose) and didn’t do this with Galen. He looks extremely out of place. I think the best choice with him would be to give him a more realistic head shape and nose, just so he could fit in standing next to everyone else. He seriously looks like he walked out of a completely different video game. This wasn’t a problem in the original since everyone else looked super stylized then, too, but now he sticks out like a sore thumb. 4/10
Mukumuku
They gave him a bow :) I love it, literally perfect. He is an angel, I’m obsessed. I love his cute little bow. 11/10
Marlin
I like Marlin’s redesign! I always thought the Elvis look was charming, and Marlin was my bachelor of choice in HMDS cute because I thought he was so handsome. I like that they kept his grumpy resting face and his weirdly shaped eyebrows. I also like that he’s still got a hunch, but it’s less stylized and more realistic now. He looks more put together now, which I like, while still looking like he could be a farmer. My only complaint (and it’s a pretty big one) is… WHAT HAPPENED TO HIS CURLY HAIR. Why did they do him like that? I loved his curls!!! And now it’s brown instead of black?? That’s so weird to me. Mainly though it’s the curls. I miss his curls. Give him his curls back. Please, god. 7/10
Muffy
Muffy looks the same, except for some minor detailing on her dress. I always thought her original design kinda looked like she was wearing lingerie, LMFAO. I mean look at it, that’s a slip from Victoria’s Secret.
The new dress is a welcome change, and the cardigan she’s wearing looks more comfortable. I really REALLY like her new design. Muffy was my bachelorette of choice in HMDS, so again, maybe I’m biased. 10/10
Lumina
Well, she definitely looks older and more age appropriate. I do think it’s interesting they went with her child design as her initial look rather than her dress. If it was my choice, I would have started her in her dress and completely gotten rid of the school-uniform-looking outfit she starts the game in. It’s just a weird decision to me, but like I said, she still looks older now. 9/10
Nami
I’m gay. I love women. That’s all.
Okay but for real I’m so glad they got rid of her vest. It was SO UGLY, I hated it so much. She is so cute in the redesign. I think she looks so much better now. 11/10
Rock
I really like Rock’s redesign! The new art style really suits him. He didn’t change much clothing-wise (though I do like that his pants come in at the legs now) but I think he looks so much better with more realistic body proportions. I love it! Wouldn’t change a thing. 10/10
Gustafa
I… REALLY LIKE IT. I know I’m in the minority here but I LOVE his redesign. He is so cute. I think a lot of people dislike it because he looks so different in this art style, but really, his key features are the same. He’s wearing the same clothes, has the same hair, same face, etc. The only thing that’s really MISSING is his beard, witch hat, and his giant nose. He still has a pretty big nose, but now it’s, like, actually human sized. I can understand getting upset that he’s missing his beard, but I think he looks charming with stubble. Also, I like his bucket hat a lot. Honestly I love this redesign so much, I think it’s my favorite. If you ask me, this is how you redesign a character. 14/10
Cody
CODY NO, WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU? CODY PLEASE.
-148839294858929284/10
Then there’s the name changes. To put it bluntly, I don’t give a fuck. Molly or Muffy, Matthew or Marlin, they’re still the same characters. Like who cares, man? I only mention this because I’ve been seeing so many people complaining about it.
I wanna write more about my thoughts on the game but I gotta go to bed LMFAO ok goodnight
#text#story of seasons#a wonderful life#awl#sosawl#harvest moon#harvest moon a wonderful life#story of seasons a wonderful life#HMDS#HMDS cute
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Dumdass (Jimin X Reader)
I promise I'm going to try to post regularly. Maybe every Thursday.
Warnings: None. A little fluff and angst if anything.
The bass flowed through the wood floors of the home. On each down beat, the people in the home could feel the pulse in their feet as they danced to the rhythm. This was only your second house party as a college junior, and just like the first time you could tell right off the bat that this was not your element. The same could not be said of your two best friends.
Jimin and Taehyung both attended the same performing arts high school as you—all for different disciplines, of course. Where Jimin exceled in dance, Taehyung was an expert singer, and you were a great composer with your primary instrument being the piano. During freshman year your high school had believed that it would be good to mesh people from different departments together for the year-end final.
Three months later, after creating an original song with lyrics and a dance routine that encompassed all of your strengths, the three of you had become close friends, and every year after you worked together on the year-end project. Several years later you were inseparable, all attending S University working towards Bachelor degrees in the fine arts.
Now, standing in the darkest corner of the room, you sipped not too slowly on a fruity drink that you were 95% sure someone spiked. This was only after you started to notice that you could barely make out the separate bodies on the dance floor. Correction, you could make out one body, actually. What that person was doing (pressing his body tighter against a smaller girl as she grinded back to the beat) was enough to make you down your drink faster.
“If you’re so upset, why don’t you tell him how you feel?” a voice asked in your ear, deep, soothing, and so obviously Taehyung’s. You jumped slightly at the sudden voice even though you did recognize who it was (damn liquor made you do weird things once it finally caught up with you), and he chuckled lightly, pulling you closer by the shoulder.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Taehyungie.” You leaned your head back on his shoulder, shaking your empty cup in hopes that more woud appear. Damn Taehyung and his perceptive abilities. You could never really keep a lie from him, but you didn’t plan on telling him anytime soon about the small, maybe-crush on your other best friend. “Besides.”
“’Sides, what? Why can’t you talk to him; he’s your friend.”
“But I don’t just want to be friends,” well there goes your secret. (Damn alcoholic beverage. Damn fucking party.) You might as well finish now. “I want to be out there dancing with him. I want to go home with him at the end of the night. Taehyungie, I want to love him. Is that too much to ask for?”
“’Course not,” Your best friend kissed your temple, hugging you closer to his chest. You turned your face to nuzzle into his chest. You were just ready to go home before a flood of tears overtook your face, so you tell him. “Okay, just stay right here.”
You nod and lean back against the wall, no longer having the strength to keep yourself up on your own and hold back tears.
“___?” a voice called you back to your (terribly, horribly, drunk) senses. Another voice that, even drunk off your feet, you could make out in the darkness after three years of constantly talking to each other. “___, are you okay? Taehyung said you weren’t feeling well.”
“Jiminie, I’m drunk,” you whined, reaching a hand out in front of yourself to try to catch a hold of the muscle shirt he had on, your hand sliding down his chest and failing to grip the material and landing lower. Your fingers grip hold of his low-riding jeans, the very edge of your wrist bumping against his crotch.
It might not have been much of a touch, but it was enough to make Jimin to gasp at the feeling, startling you and sending you falling back into the wall. You slumped down the wall, hoping for the wall to swallow you up. No such luck, of course, though you continued to slide down the wall slowly causing Jimin to swoop in and lift you back into a semi-standing position, most of your weight leaning into his right side.
Somehow, the two of you made it out of the house without too much trouble. You did try to move away from Jimin to show him that you could walk on your own, but that did nothing but cause you to tumble into a group of boys. (You’re positive one of them tried to feel you up, and had you been a little less drunk you might have turned around and smacked him one good time.) After that, Jimin didn’t let either of his hands off of you until the two of you made it to a bench back on campus.
“Are you feeling a little better? Do you need to throw up,” Jimin said standing over you, worrying his bottom lip. It would have been cute had your head not been spinning and you could properly see the short boy. “Why would you even get this drunk? I knew we shouldn’t have brought you here, but ‘no’, Taehyung said. ‘It’ll be good for you.’ If he wasn’t going to watch out for you why would he even drag you along?”
You wanted to laugh at the boy. Giggle at his pacing back and forth, but that would probably just make him more frustrated, so you tried to defuse the situation before Taehyung ended up on the missing persons list.
“I had a lot of things on my mind,” you shrugged. “I wasn’t watching how much I was drinking. Don’t kill Taehyungie for that.”
“What could you possibly be thinking about that would make you drink so much?” Jimin asked, taking a seat next to you. Biting your lip, you tried to think of a way out of the situation you just put yourself in. If Taehyung could tell when you’re lying, Jimin wouldn’t rest until he found out some kind of truth.
“How do you,” you paused, putting your words together. “When you like someone, what do you do, Jimin? Like do you tell them or wait until they tell you? I’m confused about what I should do.”
Jimin sat quietly for a while looking at his hands and you just wanted to reach out for them. To hold them in your hands, kiss the palms, and slip your fingers in between them for as long as you can. Just as you were trying to figure out if doing all of those things could be considered platonic, Jimin let out a loud sigh.
“Personally, when I like someone I don’t say anything until I’m sure they like me back. It’s really hard ‘cause sometimes they’re really confusing. Flirting with me and stuff, you know, but other times I can see that they are the same way with other people. Sometimes even nicer and touchy with them, and, believe it or not, I get jealous. Like, I know the person is great, and would make a good partner for the person I like, but I just-"
Jimin paused looking confused about what to say next, until he turns towards you, face set in a form of determination you had never seen before. “___, take it from me. Do it. Just tell Tae how you feel. He’s a great guy, you know that, and you shouldn’t let your fears hold you back. If not for yourself, then for me. I rather you be with someone like Tae if I can’t be with you.”
Your head tilted to the left trying to understand the words that came out of your friend’s mouth but you were stuck on the first few sentences. “Tae?”
“Yes, Tae. You don’t have to hide it anymore. I know you like Taehyung.”
“Jimin are you stupid,” you said in a monotone voice. “I like you, dumbass.”
#writblr#Rated E for everyone#taehyung#jimin#bts fluff#bts senarios#fluff#bts x reader#bangtan#bts angst#bts fanfction#kpop fanfiction#fanfic#gender neutral y/n
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Digging Up Bones (whiskey x f!reader) - chapter 3
[Banner by the lovely @yespolkadotkitty ]
Summary: You work for the Statesmen as the head of their medical department. It’s your job to patch up anyone who gets back wounded and to work on ways to prevent them from getting badly wounded in the first place.
Agent Whiskey, in particular, seems to be more accident-prone than the rest and he never passes up a reason to come see you, whether for real injuries or imaginary ones. The two of you form a close friendship, which slowly turns into something more.
Then a British man with a headshot wound and a fascination with butterflies shows up in your emergency room and in the events that follow you’re forced to reevaluate just about everything you thought you knew about your partner.
Warnings: canon typical violence
Masterlist
Chapter 3
The following three days passed in a slow fashion. Not just because Whiskey was gone but the rest of the agents seemed to be staying out of harm's way as well. It was a bit boring, but that was something Tonic had taught you not to complain about out loud since it apparently made it sound like you longed for injuries and carnage.
On the bright side, the slow days gave you, Ginger, and Tonic time to begin interviewing the agents on base for their emergency folders for the Alpha-gel.
The three of you had realized that while the gel and the nanites healed the brain perfectly fine they still needed something to counter the retrograde amnesia, which seemed to be a standard side effect. The sample of agents that had needed to use the gel was still small and so you couldn't draw too many sure conclusions from it, but every single one of them so far had suffered memory loss. It had been Tonic's idea that reminders of a past trauma might jump-start the memory again. The results had been good but guessing and digging up past traumas had been painstakingly difficult and had taken up more time than ideal. So you had collectively decided that each agent should have a file or a folder containing their very worst memory and ways it could be triggered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On Wednesday evening, you curled up in your armchair and called Whiskey. He picked up after three rings.
“Moonshine, “ he drawled, voice sounding a little tired.
“Sorry, did I wake you?�� you asked, suddenly feeling a little bad. It wasn't that late in the evening but maybe Whiskey had needed to tuck in early.
“No no, I was awake,” Whiskey assured you, “Just got home from a looong day at an art auction. I'm not sure if you've ever been but it is possibly the most boring thing I have ever done.”
“Yeah? What was so bad about it?” you asked, smiling to yourself. You would be caught dead before admitting it out loud but you had actually missed him these past few days.
Whiskey began describing his day. A soon as he began talking, his voice relaxed you. You pictured him walking around in a swanky hotel room, with a view of the big city, probably still wearing his hat. You were half convinced he even slept in that thing.
Whiskey told you about the auction and the few stuck-up people who had pretended not to understand his southern accent just to make him feel less than. Then he told you about the way he'd later wiped the smug smiles off their faces by actually bidding home the small painting they had been ogling.
“Champ might kill me for it, 'cause it cost a small fortune, but it was worth it!”
“What will you do with the painting?” you asked.
“Hm,” Whiskey said and you didn't need to see him to know that he was shrugging, “Dunno. Might hang it in my apartment. It's a beautiful painting, reminded me of someone special... Speaking of my apartment, have you finished the cake yet?”
You nodded, before remembering that he couldn't see you.
“Yes, Ginger and Tonic helped me eat the rest of it.”
You had been over to Whiskey's apartment the day after he'd left. When you'd gotten to work, his key had been in a white envelope on your desk and you hadn't been able to keep your curiosity at bay for longer than a workday.
The apartment hadn't been quite what you thought Whiskey's home would look like. It had been much neater and cleaner than you had expected, for starters. You had expected more of a bachelor pad but Whiskey's apartment was quite nice. It looked lived in but not messy. Each thing seemed to have its own designated spot. As you had walked around the living room towards the kitchen you had taken in the big, comfortable-looking couch and multi-colored knitted blanket that looked like it was homemade.
There had been a couple of books on art history resting on the wooden coffee table. You had stopped, slightly in awe, in front of the big bookshelves that covered a whole wall of the room. You'd never pictured Whiskey to be the reading type, but here was clear proof otherwise. You had scanned the titles of the books and the exceptionally wide array of subjects made you suspect that a lot of these had been read for previous missions. But there had been a whole shelf of fiction too and you smiled a little as you noted that a lot of them seemed to be old western classics.
You had found the cake in the fridge in the equally clean kitchen. The cake had been in a plastic container and Whiskey had stuck a post-it note with a smiley on the lid.
“I liked your bookshelf. And I borrowed a book from you,“ you confessed over the phone and Whiskey chuckled in response.
“Is that so? Which one, if I may ask, was it that caught your fancy?”
“Lonesome Dove.”
“Ah, a classic! Didn't have you pegged as a western girl, Moonshine.”
“I'm not sure if I am, I've never read any. But you had a lot of them and I thought...” You cut yourself off, glancing over at the book on your bed, “You had a book on human anatomy as well that looked interesting and one on make-shift medical treatment when you don't have access to a hospital. I didn't take those, though. It felt wrong to take so many books without asking...”
Whiskey chuckled again and the sound did weird things to your insides, or maybe it was the nerves of having just admitted to raiding his bookshelf.
“Darlin', if it makes you happy, you are more than welcome to help yourself to any book in that apartment”
“Really? But what if it's a book that you suddenly need?”
“Then I'll know perfectly well where to find it.”
You couldn't really argue with that logic, didn't really want to either because the prospect of getting to read all those books almost made you giddy.
“So besides ogling my books, what else have you been up to while I've been gone?” Whiskey asked and you proceeded to tell him about the work with the Trauma Folders, which Tonic so affectionately called them.
“You still haven't submitted yours either, by the way,” you told him. Whiskey didn't immediately answer. The line was dead silent for a few seconds and just when you were about to ask if he was still there, he cleared his throat.
“Yeah, I know. I promise to get right on that as soon as I'm back, okay?” He sounded a little odd and your brow furrowed slightly. Whiskey cleared his throat again.
“Look, darlin', I'm pretty dead on my feet right now and as lovely as your voice is to listen to, I think unfortunately we gotta hang up before I start snoring on you.”
“Oh, of course! Sorry, I've talked too much.”
“Hardly,” Whiskey replied and his voice was warm and soft again, which eased the nervous knots that had begun forming in your stomach at his abrupt attempt to end the call. Usually, that was your role to try and say goodnight and his to try and linger. “I cherish every word, which is why I prefer to be awake for them. Call me tomorrow again?”
“Sure. Good night, Whiskey.”
“Good night, darlin'”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If the previous days had been slow, the following day was anything but, at least when the afternoon rolled around.
Ginger had called you about some very strange low-frequency readings coming from a church nearby in Kentucky. She told you that she and Tequila were gonna go check it out but that you should be on standby, just in case.
You told her to be careful. Ginger was excellent at her job but she was also one of your closest friends and you couldn't help but worry.
After you'd ended the call, you immediately set about preparing the emergency room and double-checking to make sure everything was there. Seeing as neither of you knew what the strange readings had been about, it was difficult to prepare for every possible scenario, and while you knew that the health effects of exposure to extremely low frequencies were being discussed in the medical community, no one knew exactly what the effects were.
It seemed like a lifetime had passed before Ginder called you again. You heard the sound of the helicopter in the background. She told you that they'd be there in thirty and that they were bringing someone in with a headshot.
“I'll get the chamber ready for him!” you told her
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thirty minutes later, on the dot, you watched as the helicopter landed and Tequila emerged, carrying a man in a suit. The man's face was obscured by the balloon containing the Alpha-gel but his clothes looked expensive.
“Entry point?” you yelled, over the sound of the helicopter as you waved for Tequila and Ginger to hurry inside.
“Straight through the left eye,” Ginger replied and you winced. The left temporal lobe would be damaged, for sure, maybe part of the occipital one too. You were confident that the nanites would be able to rebuild the brain matter but with the temporal lobe damaged you worried that the memory loss might be even more extensive than what you'd seen before and you wondered if it would affect his speech.
“Exit point or is the bullet still in there?” you asked.
“The bullet went all the way through as far as I could tell. Not sure what he was shot with though so we'll have to scan to make sure there's nothing left in there.”
Said and done. When you got down to the medical rooms you first put the man through a thorough scan of his skull. Just like Ginger suspected, the bullet had gone straight through and it luckily hadn't left anything but damaged tissue in its wake. Tequila helped move him over to the nanite chamber. Carefully, you removed the Alpha-gel balloon and quickly closed the chamber around his head.
“What happened?” you asked as you sat down in front of the computer and began tapping away at the keyboard, starting the machine and readying it for the healing and rebuilding process.
“We have no idea,” Ginger said. “We found him like this outside the church, no sign of who had shot him. Inside the church, however...”
“What?” you asked.
“Inside was a total fuckin' bloodbath,” Tequila supplied, “Whole congregation just...slaughtered.”
You looked over at the strange man.
“You think he did it?”
Both Ginger and Tequila shrugged.
“We don't know. But he's got blood on him that isn't his own and there was no gun in his hand so he clearly didn't shoot himself, which means someone got away from that Church alive.” Ginger reasoned, “And there's one more thing..”
She pulled a pair of glasses from the pocket of her jacket. The left glass was shattered.
“He was wearing these. These aren't normal glasses, which means he's not a civilian. And his watch... he's some sort of intelligence. I'll dig around and see if I can find out whom he belongs to.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You called Whiskey again that evening. He sounded more awake today but you could practically hear the frown on his face when you told him about your strange new guest. He was not happy.
“He's an agent?” he asked.
“We think so. Ginger is running some tests on his glasses and his watch to see what we can figure out but so far we have no idea whom he's working for. So we just have to wait for him to wake up and see how much he remembers.”
“I don't like this,” Whiskey stated. “Not one bit. If he's intelligence, he's dangerous, Moonshine. You shouldn't be alone with him, not under any circumstances!”
“I won't,” you reassured him while rolling your eyes. “Agent Tequila also has an over-protective streak and has, therefore, put himself on guard duty until further notice. I've had him looking over my shoulder all evening.”
You had found it somewhat annoying but Whiskey had instantly calmed down upon hearing that bit of information. He told you to promise to listen to Tequila on this, which you reluctantly did. You didn't tell Whiskey that if the arrangement continued, you would have to come to some sort of agreement with Tequila on how close was close enough for protection. You couldn't have him reading over your shoulder all day long or you'd go stir crazy.
Whiskey continued to ask you a bunch of questions about the strange man and you couldn't answer a single one. He asked you about the signal too and you couldn't give him any answers to that either. It was all Ginger's area of expertise and you told him as much.
“Sorry, darlin', just wanna make sure my favorite girl is safe until I get back.”
Whiskey's words made you smile stupidly, despite the slightly patronizing undertone of them. You would like to think you knew how to take care of yourself, especially around your patients. But you did enjoy it when Whiskey called you his favorite. No one else had called you their favorite before.
After a few more minutes of chit-chat, you both said good night.
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The next day, your patient woke up.
It had been decided the day before that Tonic and Tequila would be the first ones to greet him. Tequila because of the whole bodyguard business and Tonic because he was by far the one who had the most experience with calming people in shock and panic. You had only sulked a little when you'd sat down the desk on the other side of the one-way mirror showing you the stranger's cell. You turned on the cameras in the other room to record the interaction before leaning forward over the desk to watch.
As anticipated, the man was more than a little freaked out by waking up in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces around him.
“Where am I? Who are you?” he immediately asked and you raised your eyebrows as you noted his British accent. The stranger tried to scramble off the bed where he'd been lying. Tequila took a step forward but Tonic quickly held up a hand to stop him.
“You are in a hospital,” Tonic told the frightened man and gave him a calm smile, “My name is To...Tom.”
“A hospital? What happened?” the stranger asked.
“We were hoping you would be able to tell us. You were in some sort of accident and when we found you, you were unconscious.”
Unconscious... that was definitely an understatement to describing having had one's brains blown out through the back of their head.
“Do you remember anything of what happened?” Tonic continued.
The British man looked around the room with wild eyes but he was already calming down a bit. While you were a bit jealous that Tonic, or Tom apparently, was the first one to get to talk to your new patient you had to admit that it was a privilege to get to watch him work. Tonic continued talking to the man and answering his questions by saying just enough to calm him but not enough to confuse him.
You found out that his name was Harry, but he couldn't remember his last name. He was from England and he thought he was 23 years old, which he most definitely was not. You caught Tonic and Tequila exchange a look as Harry told them his age. If Harry couldn't remember anything beyond his 23rd year then you estimated that he had forgotten more than half of his life. And since he wasn't one of your agents, you had no idea how to bring those memories back again...
Tonic and Harry spoke for a while longer and Tonic told him about his injuries. He also told harry about the memory loss. Harry didn't believe him until Tonic guided him over to the one-way mirror separating you from them and let Harry have a look at himself. You stood on the other side of the mirror and could watch as realization dawned on Harry. His breathing immediately sped up again and he was beginning to panic.
“Harry,” Tonic said calmly, “Harry, I'm gonna need you to breathe slower with me, okay? We've seen this kind of memory loss before and we will do our very best to help you recover the memories you can't remember right now”
“Think of it as one hell of a hangover,” Tequila supplied and Harry gave him an incredulous look.
“Hangover?” he asked in a weak voice “I look old enough to be a grandfather and I don't remember any of it... I don't think anyone has ever been drunk enough for that kind of hangover.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tonic and Tequila handled the whole ordeal in a way that made you proud to call yourself their colleague and they stayed with Harry for most of the day, talking and explaining. Harry listened patiently and you had to give him credit for taking the situation a whole lot better than some of the Statesmen who had gone through the same thing. He was scared and worried, sure, but he managed to keep his panic in check and asked Tonic a whole bunch of relevant questions.
You wished you could have stayed and watched all afternoon but eventually you had to go back to your own office and begin typing up your report.
You had barely gotten two paragraphs in when your phone started ringing.
“Moonshine?” Whiskey said as soon as you picked up and you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He sounded scared. There were car horns blaring and loud crashes in the background.
“Yes. Whiskey what's...”
Whiskey cut you off before you could finish your question.
“Where are you?” he asked and when it took you a fraction of a second too long to answer, he repeated the question, “Moonshine! Where are you?”
“I'm in the office. Whiskey what's wrong?”
“Good! Whatever you do, stay where you are! There's something in the air! People are killing each other!”
“What?” Before you could say anything further, your door burst open and you screamed from surprise.
“Moonshine!” Whiskey yelled, panicked, as Ginger stormed into the office and pushed you out of her way to get to the computer. She began tapping on the keyboard and you watched as she pulled up live feeds from several cameras around the country. Your mouth fell open as you watched the chaos that filled the screen.
“MOONSHINE!” Whiskey yelled again and you realized you hadn't answered him.
“I'm fine!” you quickly assured him and you heard him exhale loudly. “Ginger just showed up. What the hell is going on?” The last question was aimed at them both. The quality of the feeds wasn't the best but there was no mistaking what was going on. All over the country, people were killing each other.
“The fuck if I know,” Whiskey said at the same time as Ginger supplied the slightly more helpful “It's the same signal! It's the same low frequency as we picked up from the church. But this is all over...well the world”
She turned and looked at the phone in your hand.
“Is that agent Whiskey?”
You nodded but then froze as you heard a banging noise on the other end of the line, which sounded much closer than the previous ones. You heard Whiskey curse.
“Whiskey?”
There was another crash and he cursed again.
“I'm sorry, darlin', I seem to have a visitor. I gotta go.”
“Whiskey,” you begged and you heard your own voice break as you spoke his name.
“Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll deal with this and then I promise I'll come right home to you. You just promise to stay inside and stay safe, okay?”
What about you? you wanted to ask, but Whiskey had already hung up.
“He'll be fine,” said Ginger, who must have seen the expression change on your face. You nodded. She was right. Whiskey was an excellent agent. He would be fine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He would be fine. You managed to convince yourself of that up until about an hour later when the office phone called. You were too busy clutching your own phone, waiting for Whiskey to call back, to pay any attention to the other phone so Ginger picked it up and answered. She exchanged a few cryptic comments with the person on the other line before ending the call by saying:
“We'll be ready for him.”
After she'd hung up the phone she turned towards you.
“Whiskey's on his way back. He's been stabbed but according to the pilot, he's stable. They're flying him back now. “
#whiskey/reader#whiskeyxreader#agent whiskey#kingsman golden circle fanfiction#kingsman golden circle#my fanfiction#female reader
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Chapter Four. See You Soon
the scene is set in 1956, a young man moved to Hollywood to follow his dreams of becoming an actor. But with little money and a struggle to keep his apartment, he is approached by a man who offers him a job at Sweetland
a/n: when I say I cried while writing this........pls just read it for yourself.....my heart is broken, and be prepared for the angst
SERIES MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAGLIST chapter word count: 12.8k
warnings: whole lot of angst, whole lot of smut
LETS CHAT ABOUT CN! let me know your thoughts pls!
pls rb to share! <3
It was early Wednesday morning when Harry had gotten a call on his home phone. The loud ringing startled him from his slumber, making him nearly fall out of his bed. But he quickly got up, and padded over to his phone; bare feet hitting the ground.
“ ‘Lo?” His raspy voice was heard on his end as he didn’t even get a chance to clear it.
“Hi, Harry. It’s Shareen,” he heard on the other end, making his eyes widen.
“Hi, Shareen. Can you give me a second please?” Shareen chuckled and said sure as Harry covered the speakerphone before he cleared his throat numerous times and ran a hand through his hair, which he thought was ridiculous seeing as she’s through a telephone and not in front of him. “Uh, h-hello?”
“You okay, Harry?” Shareen asked.
“Yes, I’m doing good. How are you, Shareen?”
“I’m lovely, thank you, dear. I just wanted to call you and let you know…”
Harry was listening to Shareen with wide eyes and excitement. It felt like he was completely dreaming. He had to pinch himself a few times to bring him back from the cloud and back to reality. He really couldn’t believe the news, but he understood every word she said.
“Thank you so much! I’ll see you Friday,” he said excitedly, bidding Shareen a goodbye before hanging up the phone.
Harry took a minute to process the news before he a wide smile was planted on his face as he screamed out a series of ‘yes’, punching his fist up into the air as he got teary eyed; way to early for seven in the morning, but he was wide awake as soon as he heard the news.
After his little celebration of excitement, he picked up his phone again, rotating the dial to the academy’s number. He immediately asked for you to the person, who he assumed was the front desk, on the other end.
You were teaching your seven a.m to twelve p.m class again as you did on Mondays and Wednesdays as you watched your young class stretch their limbs out until Susan from the front desk entered your classroom.
“Hey, you have a call at the front,” she said from the doorway with a smile and tired morning smile.
“Did they say who they were?” You asked her.
“No, but it seemed urgent. I’ll watch the class for you while you take the call?” She suggested, and you nodded your head, giving her a thanks before walking out of your classroom and to the front desk.
There were about two people you thought of when you walked towards the front. Your father was out of the question as he doesn’t call you for anything nor do you pick up any of his calls. There was Chris, but he rarely even called you when you two were together anyways. And lastly, there was Harry.
It’s been two weeks since you saw Harry for the second time, and within those two weeks, you saw him again for four times more.
When you were dropping him off back home, you had given him your home phone, but told him not to call during certain hours when your parents were home, and you had given him the studio’s number as well. He was proper excited as he received your numbers in your handwriting; practically jumping on the balls of his feet by your car as he told you he was going to call you when you got home. And he did. Luckily, no one was home by the time you arrived and you were fortunate enough to have a two hour conversation with Harry as you sat in the bathtub, talking about everything and anything—likes and dislikes, funny childhood stories, and favorite memories.
“When I was about six, my mum took me to the park with my sister. It was something so simple as a picnic, and we would just eat together and she would bring some board games for all of us to play. Then she would push Gemma and I on the swing, and ride the slide all together. That’s probably my favorite memory,” he said with a smile on his face from the other end. A bright smile was brought to your face as you pictured a small Harry having a great time with his family.
“Do you miss home? Holmes Chapel and NewYork?” You suddenly asked, knowing he moved to New York when he was a teenager.
“Yeah, I do—a bit. I mean, my childhood was in England and my family is New York. But my dream is here, in Hollywood. It was a lot to give up, and it was definitely the hardest thing I had to do—to leave them. I miss them a lot…” he trailed off sadly.
You took in everything he said, giving him some time to recuperate from his feelings. It was the first time he had ever shared something as deep as his family, and you appreciated his openness as you thanked him for sharing his story and how he feels.
And he was opening up to you, which you liked, but you would have to do the same too—because you wanted to tell him things as well.
“Can I ask you something?” He said. The water from your bath had already cooled down and it was starting to become cold, but you had stayed a bit longer to just talk to Harry.
“Yeah, anything,” you replied.
“Why do you only do ballet? You mentioned that you’ve only done ballet ever since you were little. You’ve never tried the others?” He asked slowly, and a bit of hesitancy was in his voice, not knowing if it was too personal or crossing the line for questions. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” he added.
“No, no. It’s okay to ask those things. But it was simply because my parents didn’t allow me—they said the others were too sloppy, so they only put me in ballet,” you sighed sadly over the phone.
“Oh…do you like what you’re doing? Are you happy?” Harry asked, wanting to make sure you were content with life and your job at the moment.
“I mean…yeah. I love dance and teaching and my students, but I just wished I explored more, y’know? It’s good to explore in the dance department, but my parents didn’t understand that. So, they pushed me to do ballet all the way up until college,” you explained.
“What did you study in college?”
You chuckled, more as it came out as a scoff. “I studied dance. I have my Bachelor’s in Fine Arts, and for a short period of time, I was able to take classes for jazz and contemporary, and I absolutely loved it. A year before I graduated, I got the job at the studio where I used to dance when I was younger. I just stumbled in there to say hi to everyone with my friends, and they just so happened to be looking for some new teachers,” you smiled, remembering that day you got offered the job, and you, Frances, and Alice were so excited.
“Do you wish you could be doing something else?” He asked.
“I wanted to be a journalist. Maybe work for the newspaper or in broadcast…I don’t know. That dream is long gone now,” you said softly, telling him your biggest dream. You’ve always had a fascination with writing and reading; it was something you enjoyed. But your parents threw that out the window the second you mentioned it to them. They told you how it’s a lot of work and that you should stick to something you were already good at, hence: ballet.
As you picked up the phone from the front desk, placing it to your ear, you heard movement; footsteps were heard from the other side.
“Hello?” You suddenly said, and fast movements were made on the other line.
“Oh, sweet girl, thank god!”
“Honey, hi,” you said, smiling as you practically heard him smile through the phone from his pet name.
“I have some very exciting news!”
“At seven in the morning? You’re never up this early,” you joked, and you heard him chuckle.
“I know right! But I got a phone call from Shareen—one of the casting directors-”
“Oh my god-”
“They called me back in for another audition! Can you believe that?! I’m going back! But this time, she said I’m doing a screen test, so I’ll be in front of the camera,” he excitedly told you.
“Harry, that’s amazing!” You slightly jumped in joy, truly being so excited for him.
“I know it’s not the official role, but this has to mean something, right? They called me back again,” he said hopefully, wanting some reassurance from specifically you. There was something about talking to you that made him feel safe, and like he wanted to share everything with you. Hence why he called you at the beginning of your class.
“Yes! That is definitely a good sign. You’ll do great, Harry. When and what time is it at?” You reassured him.
“Friday at 8 in the morning. Luckily, I wouldn’t have to call off, so I still have work at 12,” he sighed deeply.
You two hadn’t talked much about Sweetland, only keeping it minimal to ‘how was work?’ Although, he had told you the amount of customers he’s had throughout the month and a little more he’s been there, and it was just under ten—exactly six to which you were surprised because you had thought he had more customers. But he had told you that Daren rarely gave him customers and he had just worked in the back, but he didn’t mind in all honesty because of the simple fact that he wouldn’t nearly be as interested in them as he was in you.
And the only reason Daren did this was because when Harry had told him about his crush on you, he respected that because it may seem weird to pin after someone when they’re sleeping around still.
“Okay, I’ll pick you up at 4?” You asked, hoping you would get to hang out with him again, and you wanted to hear all about his screen test as well.
“Yeah, I’d like that. I’ll see you then.”
There was a bit of a silence that fell through the phone, neither one of you wanted to hang out, but Susan came back to check on you, and that’s when you had to tell him that you had to go.
“I’ll see you Friday, Harry,” you told him.
“See you Friday,” he smiled excitedly.
Before you hung up, you spoke again, “Oh, and goodluck, honey.”
“Thank you, sweet charm,” he said before hanging up.
Sweet charm…that was a new one, you thought. But you loved it either way.
Harry worked anxiously for the next two days, thankfully, he was not given any customers for those two days. He told Daren immediately once he walked into the shop, and he was ecstatic for him.
“Kid, that’s great! How do you feel?” Daren asked, leaning on the counter.
“Good—I think. A little nervous…” Harry chuckled slightly, keeping his nerves intact as he scooped up some gummy bears from the storage bins into the jars.
“That’s understable. But hey, it’ll all be fine. Take that from someone who was in your shoes,” Daren reassured him.
“Really? You wanted to become an actor too?”
“Hell, everyone and their dogs wanted to become a star. I just so happened to not make it very far, but I’m okay with that.”
“Do you mind telling me the story?” Harry asked.
“It’s a short story, but sure. Well, I was born in Hollywood and knew I wanted to become an actor when I was a kid. When I was twenty, I auditioned for some roles, only to be rejected because they said I was too young, but that’s a load of bullshit,” Daren shook his head as if he was remembering those events. “I got some small extra roles, but that was it. About three years later, I auditioned for some movie, and they told me that I didn’t have the face nor the talent. I was completely gutted, so I gave up,” Harry raised his brows.
“You did?”
“Yeah, but only because I knew it wasn’t right for me. But you--you’re amazing at it. You have a second audition for fuck sake! I’m telling you this so you feel less anxious. It’s scary out there, yeah, but you’re gonna do great kid. I can see a potential movie star right in front of me,” Daren said, pointing two L’s with his hands at him, pretending it to be a camera as he smiled at Harry as he placed his cigar in his mouth. Harry chuckled, playfully posing into his ‘camera.’
“Thank you for that. I’ll try not to think about it too much. But whatever happens, happens,” Harry said, somewhat trying to convince himself.
“Exactly. It’s not the end of the world. If you don’t get the role, then you get up and keep auditioning for other roles. Got it?” Harry nodded, feeling appreciative for Daren’s words.
“It’s on Friday morning, so I’ll still be able to work-”
“Ah, kid. Don’t worry about coming to work if you can’t make it. This is a huge step, so if they need you to stay longer, then that’s fine,” Daren gave him a smile. “So, tell me about your girl, yeah? Have the balls to finally ask her out?” Harry chuckled, loving the way ‘your girl’ sounded when he was referring to you.
He hadn’t gotten the chance to tell you how he really feels, but he had a clue that you already knew. There were so many unspoken words between you two that there was also a bit of fear of ruining what you two already have. There were playful glances, innocent touches, and sweet callings of pet names for each other that he didn’t know what your true intentions were when you would do all of the above.
He’d gotten to know you greatly and somewhat deeply; noticing that you always left out the topic of your family when he asked you questions about your life. He obviously didn’t push it as he was okay with waiting for you to open up to him. But there was this feeling in his heart that felt so much for you. He’s only known you for a month and he feels all the crazy feelings with you that he can’t control them anymore because very soon, he’s going to just blurt out and proclaim his feelings towards you. A serious talk with you was in his favor, but he didn’t know when the right time was.
But all he knew was that he wanted you to be his girl, officially.
Friday morning rolled around quickly, and Harry was calm on the outside while on the inside, his brain was scattered with nerves.
He had barely gotten any sleep due to his overthinking of what might happen during the audition, and with the many thoughts making his head hurt, it lulled him to sleep for about two hours until he woke up thirty minutes before his alarm. Instead of driving himself mad, he decided to get up and get ready earlier than he intended. He took a long shower, the water from the showerhead, cooling down his body as he washed his face and brushed his teeth multiple times.
He started to hum as he gathered his belongings; humming all the way to the studio to ease his nerves and keep him sane. It was particularly a beautiful day; the Hollywood morning weather felt nice and cool as the sun started to shine brighter and brighter. And he prayed that the outcome of his audition wouldn’t storm on him on this beautiful and eventful day.
Luckily, making it passed security wasn’t a problem as his name was on the list and if there was a problem, Shareen had told him to ask for her name and they would let him right through. Walking through the studio was different the first time around because he had no idea what he was supposed to do. But the second time walking through the sets and crew felt like he belonged there. He casually walked, humming as he waved at people who passed by as he felt a little more confidence rush through him.
“Harry, I’m so glad you’re here!” Shareen greeted him once she saw him enter through the door. The set was a large area with two cameras on opposite ends, and some props. There were about ten people in the room, setting everything up as they fixed the lighting and adjusted the cameras. Plus, people who worked with wardrobe and makeup as he saw Sky sitting at one of the vanities, getting her makeup done. He was happy to see that Sky got another call as well; and she was wonderful to work with, he thought.
Harry made sure to put on a stylish outfit; nothing too over the top or anything too sloppy. He also wanted to dress accordingly for the role, just in case they don’t tell him to change, so he wore a black and white cardigan with Times Square sketched on the front of it, a white tank under, and some khaki pants. After many outfit changes in the morning, he felt confident enough to wear his outfit, especially for the specific role. Now, if he were auditioning for the main character who’s getting married, that would be a whole other decision that would need at least two weeks to prepare because he has about seven different suits in his closet, not to mention, sparkly and colorful ones.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. Thank you for calling me,” he told Shareen, smiling at her softly.
“Of course, dear. I’m glad the others agreed with me to call you to come back because I’m so excited for what you have to show us. But now, I must give you the rundown on what’s to come,” she said, and Harry nodded, listening to her intently. “Basically how this is going to work is you’re going to do the same scene with Sky as you did when you both first auditioned for us, but this time you’re going to be doing it in front of the camera. We’re doing this because it’s very different acting off camera than it is on camera, so we just want to make sure the camera doesn’t take away the substance of your acting. Is that okay?”
“Yes, sounds great,” he said, nodding.
“Perfect. Now, I have to prepare some things, but sit and run over the script again before we get started--should be about five to ten minutes,” she told him before walking away to talk to the other producers.
Harry sat at one of the vanities, picking up the script and putting all of his focus on his lines, jogging his memory from the very first audition. He remembered it, for the most part as he thought about the day he auditioned over and over again, seeing if he could’ve said a line differently. Those were the instances when he would drive himself insane.
After about five minutes, the producers called Harry and Sky to the set. Harry took a deep breath, looked at himself in the mirror to fix his hair, and gave himself a small pep talk before walking over to the set where the producer and Sky were standing.
The producer was a bit older, and he intimidated the fuck out of Harry. He stood there with an annoyed expression, probably wanting the day to be over with when it had just started. The man gave him no smile to either Harry or Sky; just directions on what to do.
The director, who he found out his name was Rob, was sitting in his chair with his elbow on the arm rest, resting his head in his hand. He was a little less intimidating to Harry; he seemed like he just wanted these screen tests to be over with.
Harry had heard there were about three others they called in for a screen test, which racked up Harry’s nerves a bit, but he remembered Daren’s words and thought about you, his sweet charm, to get him through this screen test.
“Okay,” Rob spoke up, “I assumed Shareen already walked you two through what’s going to happen, yes?” Harry and Sky nodded in reply. “Great. So do just that, but we’re going to film it. Easy,” he said, turning towards the cameramen. “Alright, let’s get the cameras rolling.”
Harry and Sky got into character for the second time, taking deep breaths as they maintained their focus onto their characters.
“And...action!”
The two performed as they did in the first audition, but this time, they made sure to intensify their feelings and emotions. They knew they were in front of the camera and were practically competing against other people, so they worked together to make them both look and act well. It was the same script and same lines, but the whole scene was acted as they were cut off the last time by one of the producers. And Harry and Sky prolonged the scenes, giving it a dramatic feel.
Once the scene ended, there were small claps around the set, and Harry was happy that they were able to do that in one take. It didn’t take long either; about fifteen minutes to film the whole scene without any cuts or takes.
And he was damn proud of them.
“Wonderful job, you two. We’ll keep in touch,” Shareen said to the both of them. Harry and Sky beamed as they gathered their belongings and headed out of the studio.
“Think we’re gonna get the roles?” Sky asked once they were outside of the gates.
“Maybe. Who knows. Just have to be hopeful,” Harry replied, looking around for the railway.
“I’m hoping we do--we make a great team,” she complimented them both. Harry agreed, they did make a good pair in front of the camera. And he was lucky that his partner was one of the good ones and not one of the rude ones that would have made him look bad. “Say, do you want to get some breakfast? I know a diner around here” Sky suggested.
It wasn’t like Harry didn’t like her because he did, but not romantically, anyways. But he did notice the certain flirty eyes she sent his way sometimes, so she made it quite obvious that she had some sort of attraction to him. Sky was a pretty woman, don’t get him wrong; black hair, dresses nice, and whatnot. But he’s too nice sometimes that they get the wrong idea, but he’s just too charming for his own good.
“I actually have to get to work,” he said, technically not lying because he did, but it was almost nine a.m, and he didn’t have work until twelve.
“Oh, where do you work at?”
“Uh, the candy shop,” he said, hesitantly. There might be a great chance she stumbles her way there and asks for him, but he couldn’t lie to her. Plus, it was great business for the shop and the other guys might get lucky with her.
“The one on sunset?” She asked, smirking at him; obviously knowing what kind of candy shop that is and what kind of business they do.
“Yeah, that’s the one,” Harry confirmed.
“Hmm. Interesting. Maybe I’d have to pop by sometime,” she flirted, and Harry simply nodded in response.
“Well, I gotta go. It was nice working with you, and goodluck if I don’t see you again,” Harry brought his hand out for her to shake, and she chuckled, shaking his hand.
“I’m sure it’s not the last time I’ll be seeing you, but goodluck,” she said with a smirk before walking away. Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, not looking forward to Sky coming to the shop, which he’s sure she will be visiting soon.
Instead of pondering over the fact that Sky may be visiting the shop, he decided to just walk over to the railway stop and head on home before he has to leave for work, which is in about three hours. He was proud of his progress and where he’s ended up, even if that means he doesn’t get the role, he was happy he did it with his best effort and made sure to give them his best performance. As he got onto the railway, he thought about how Shareen seemed to take a liking to him, so that had to mean something because if he doesn’t get the role, she could probably help him and recommend him to other people in the industry.
Once he was finally home, he kicked off his shoes, and grabbed a glass of water as he seemed so dehydrated from the heat and from his performance; too overwhelmed that he forgot to grab a water bottle on his way out. He sat on his small sofa for a few minutes, thinking back at how eventful the day has already been and he hasn’t even worked yet or seen you. He debated on calling you, but it was Friday so you weren’t at the studio just yet; probably at home but he didn’t know if anyone was home, so he just decided to wait until you’ll arrive at the shop.
He was very excited to see you later in the day, and he hoped he could ease his way into talking about how he really feels about you. He also feels it’s been a while since he last talked to you on the phone, but come to think of it, the last time was Wednesday. The feeling of missing your voice and face was getting to him and he itched to just call you any time of the day, but he understood that you had your responsibilities. But he also did wonder why he couldn’t call your home phone during certain times; he knew you lived with your family and you live in a wealthy neighborhood, so could you possibly be embarrassed of him?
You’ve made him feel so comfortable in public, but that’s the public where no one knows you, and family is different. They have different sets of values and thoughts that don’t even compare to the general public. And Harry didn’t really make that much; only stocking up some candy and having the occasional sex, which he is never really into. The point is, Harry didn’t want you to be ashamed of him. And although he truly knows that you aren’t, his overthinking mind was thinking for itself, driving him up the wall.
He glanced at the clock and realized an hour went by, meaning he’s been sitting on the couch for an hour as he blanked out, thinking of so many different things that it tired him out, and he was ready for a nap before work. His tired eyes were slowly shutting as the last thought in his mind was you; excited to see you later.
Harry entered work with a big smile. Daren immediately asked him how the screen test went, and Harry gave him every single detail. He also mentioned the fact that Sky tried flirting with him and said she might come into the shop sooner or later.
“And you turned her down? For breakfast?” He asked, a classic cigar in his mouth.
“I mean, yeah. I just wasn’t interested in her,” Harry told Daren honestly, doing his usual work in the shop.
“Man, you must be so whipped for your girl,” Daren teased, smirking at him.
“If you ever meet her, you’ll understand why I am,” Harry chuckled, but remembered you have met Daren briefly before he even met you.
“I had a short conversation with her, and yeah, I understand. It’s the reason why I don’t give you any more customers. I know you really like her--could tell by the way you talk about her,” Daren pointed out, and Harry blushed.
“Thank you, for that, by the way. It feels particularly odd sleeping around while trying to make her mine, y’know?” Harry said, and Daren nodded.
“Yeah, I get it. I was in your shoes too,” he said, and Harry’s not surprised. Daren seemed to have been through a lot throughout his life, and he finds it helpful that Daren tells him these things to somewhat ease his anxiousness. “I gotta go talk to Pete. You okay here?” He asked, and Harry nodded as Daren walked to the other side of the shop and Harry started to wipe down the counters.
Four hours went by a bit slow for Harry's liking. He was mainly in charge of the register and stocking some jars. There were only about three workers, including himself, and it was surprisingly a slow day at the shop, considering it was Friday.
Multiple customers had come in and out; out with his coworkers as Harry chuckled, saluting his friends to have fun. Some customers had said the code to Harry as they were paying for their candy, but Harry kindly told them that he wasn’t doing that particular work at the moment, which he earned a small frown to the customers, and he thought the shop was losing business when he turned them down. But Daren had said it was okay because they get plenty of customers everyday because it’s sex and people are willing to pay for it.
It was 4 p.m exactly and Harry wondered what time you were arriving. You would usually arrive a little before four, but you hadn’t made an appearance, and Harry wondered if you had forgotten that you two were going to hang out. But he chilled out for a bit as he flipped the neon open sign off, indicating Sweetland was closed.
Harry continued to keep himself busy as him and Jack cleaned up the shop a bit for the next morning.
It wasn’t until it striked 4:30 that Harry started to get worried. A bunch of thoughts ran through his head, trying not to think the worst as he swept the floor. You wouldn’t have forgotten about him, right? You were the one who initiated to hang out, so you wouldn’t forget. Unless you were really busy and had forgotten, which he doesn’t blame you because being a teacher is difficult. But he knew he should’ve called you the night prior to confirm your plans so you wouldn’t have forgotten, but-
And as his mind was going into overdrive, the entrance bell rang, revealing you stepping into the shop. You were wearing a white tank with some fitted spandex shorts along with some sneakers as your hair was in a bun. He’s seen you in your work attire or workout clothes a handful of times, but for some reason, this time was different. Harry realized that he loved seeing every version of you, simply because it was you; you made his heart swoon at every given chance, which was all the time.
“Harry…” you said, walking towards the counter where he stood behind it, jaw slightly opened.
“Oh, h-hi,” he said shyly, making you let out a breathy chuckle. After the many times you hung out, he was still somewhat nervous around you, and you knew that he was, but you made sure to warm him up and make him comfortable.
“I’m so sorry I’m late. We got held back in class because the power decided to go out for at least twenty minutes, and we really needed to get the routine down before competition-”
“Hey, it’s fine. I would’ve waited all night,” he said, meaning his words. But that made you feel even more bad.
“I should’ve called--I don’t know why I didn’t think of that earlier,” you slightly frowned, and Harry reached across the counter to hold onto your hands.
“Sweet girl, I mean it when I say it’s fine. I get that you’re busy. You can’t just end class early for me, that’s your career and job,” he reassured you, giving you a small smile. You only nodded, still feeling quite bad you had him wait. “Now, c’mon. I’m ready to get out of here if you are,” he said, putting the dirty rag in the bin in the storage.
“I was actually wondering if I could get some lollies?”
“Yeah, of course. Help yourself. I’m just going to clock out really quick,” he told you, and you walked over to where the candy bags were sitting, grabbing one before walking to the lollipop section.
You helped yourself to seven strawberry lollies, some bubblegum, and some sour candy before walking to the register and tipping the tip jar $5. Harry came out from the back as you were in action of tipping.
“I told you to stop tipping so much, and you know you don’t have to pay for your candy,” he playfully scolded you.
“And if I want to?” You raised your brows, teasing him back. Harry laughed as he shrugged, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop you. But that’s what he also liked about you; you always did as you pleased because you simply wanted to. You had your own way of doing things and you never let anyone walk all over you. He thought it was pretty admirable.
“You’re free to do anything you’d like,” Harry said with a chuckle, looking away to see if the register was locked and didn’t notice you were leaning over the counter. He brought his eyes back to you and gulped as your hands were planted on the counter as you were bending over, looking up at him with your beautiful eyes.
“Anything?” You asked.
“Yeah. Anything--as long as it makes you happy,” he said slowly, curling his lips in his mouth.
“You know what would make me really happy?”
“What’s that?” He asked back, clueless to what you’re about to say.
You sighed deeply, and not one that was out of annoyance but one that was innocent and teasing. “Cloud nine.”
Harry’s eyes widened, surprised you said the phrase that he hadn’t heard in so long. He truly wasn’t expecting you to say that; he was thinking of something along the lines of going to the diner or sitting in your car until the sun goes down, but not the phrase that brought you two together.
“Interesting,” he simply replied back, not knowing what else to reply with since he was so in shock.
“I know you guys already closed and the shop has rules, but do you think you could make an exception? For me?” You innocently batted your eyelashes at him, but he knew they were anything but innocent. Harry’s dick twitched in his pants and he was lucky that he was behind the counter where it was able to cover his growing hard on. Once he regained the courage to say something back, he took a deep breath as he let out a chuckle.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to let it slide for today,” he said, playing along as he smirked. You contained your smile, blushing very hard that it made your cheeks warm; happy he was playing along.
You stood up straight as you said, “Shall we get going?”
“I’m right behind you, sweet girl,” Harry replied. A surge of confidence rushed through him as he followed you out the door, not bothering to lock up as Daren was still in his office, waiting on the other guys.
You two get into your car, starting your car, putting on your sunglasses. Today’s pair were pink and square shaped as the lens was see through, still being able to look at your eyes through the color tinted lens.
Before you put your car into drive, you placed your hand on the space between you two, leaning on it as you leaned forward towards Harry. He leaned in a bit closer, flickering his eyes between your lips and eyes.
“Honey…” you said.
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you, please?” You asked politely, eyes completely trained onto his pink lips.
“Absolutely.”
And for the first time in almost a month and a half, he finally felt your lips on his again. The feeling he’s been waiting for since the first time you dropped him off back at the shop. The softness of your lips had drawn him in for more as he placed his hand on the side of your head.
The kiss had been something you’ve been longing for. It was a feeling you’ve missed dearly and you wanted so much more. You placed your hand on the side of his neck, holding him lightly as you two kissed in your car that was running; engine loud.
Once you two parted, you placed your forehead on his, hands still set on each other’s face and neck as you two breathed out a laugh, both in disbelief that that finally happened again.
“I’ve missed you,” you said as you pulled your head back to look at him. Harry smiled, showing off his pearly white teeth.
“I’ve missed you too. So much.” You smiled back at him, blushing as you sat back into your seat, driving off.
Harry didn’t know where you were taking him as you two passed the Beverly Hills Hotel. But once you parked into a driveway, he was amazed that you took him to your house. The big house was right in front of him, and although he's seen them in plenty of films and occasionally passes by them, he couldn’t believe you lived here.
It was a fairly large home; walls painted all white with flower beds under the many windows shown on the front of the house with large pillars next to the front porch. The driveway itself was big as there was an entrance and exit gate.
He followed you to the large and tall brown front door as you unlocked it, walking in. Harry walked in slowly, looking up and around as he took in the inside of your house. He didn’t know where to look; the shiny tiles, the massive living area, the long dining table or the massive backyard that was just straight of his vision.
But before he could observe more, you grabbed his hand as you led him up the long staircase and up to your room.
It’s been a while since anyone had been in your room, romantically that is. And you were a bit nervous to have Harry here because you wanted to know what he thought of your room personally. You had noticed how he was looking around your house before you snapped him away and brought him up. But that was only because you somehow wanted to tell him that everything about your house was not you whatsoever. The big house, the decor, the antiques—they weren’t you.
But you were able to decorate your room according to your likings and your interests. It was the complete opposite of what Harry saw downstairs, and he was by far more interested in the walls of your room. There were posters hung up, floral curtains, an entire book shelf, a red dresser with a mirror as all of your fragrances sat on top of the dresser along with some knick knacks—it was very you. And he absolutely adored it. He realized he could sit on your floor, on top of your rug, for hours with you as you tell him your favorite song on each vinyl you own, which he thinks is about thirty.
“Your room is very lovely,” he told you honestly, as he followed you; taking off your shoes as did he.
“Really? You like it?”
“Yeah, it’s very you and I like it very much,” he said, hinting at the double meaning to his words. And you understood what he was trying to say, but you smiled and wrapped your arms around his neck as his goes around your waist,
Your chests were pressed together as you two smiled at each other, and you played with the ends of his curls on his neck.
“Tell me about your screen test today,” you excitedly said.
“Right now?”
“Yes! I want to hear all about it,” you unwrapped your arms and went to go sit on the edge of your bed, eagerly waiting for Harry to tell you his experience.
Harry sat next to you, and started to tell you everything, not leaving out a detail as he did when he told Daren. He even told you about Sky, and he was surprised that he didn’t see a hint of snark on your face when he mentioned that she was planning to visit the shop. But your brows just raised as you let out a ‘hmm..’
“I’m really nervous, but if it happens then great. If not, then I’ll keep trying,” he said.
“Well, I am very proud of you. I’m sure you did absolutely wonderful, and I’m so excited for you!” You beamed causing him to giggle.
“Nothing’s happened yet, but we’re staying hopeful.”
You got off the bed and walked straight to your dresser to sit on top of the wooden furniture.
“You’re amazing, honey. They’d be crazy not to pick you. I know I haven’t seen how you act, but just by how determined you are, I know you’re wonderful,” you said honestly. Harry really appreciated your words; getting up from the bed and walking towards you.
He put his hands on your shoulders, running his hands up and down your arms as he was in between your legs. You gulped in response as you took deep breaths, trying not to get worked up from his touch but it was definitely hard not to.
“Thank you, sweet girl. You have no idea how much your words and you mean to me,” he said, putting his forehead against his before kissing the tip of your nose softly,
“Show me?” You suggested, and he pulled his head back and raised his brows. “Show me how much I mean to you,” you said, words coming out differently than the first time. Harry only nodded as you heard him deeply sigh before connecting his lips with yours.
Your hands raked his clothed back as his hands roamed your sides as you two moaned against each other’s mouths. He pulled back to press multiple kisses to your jaw and neck, lightly sucking on your skin, making you let out a ‘mmm’.
“I wanna taste you,” you said as he was attacking your neck with kisses. He pulled back and looked at, smirking.
“You don’t have to.”
“No, please. I want to—well, only if you want me to,” you said with a chuckle.
“Of course I want you to. But you obviously don’t have to,” he said nervously.
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t want to,” you teased him, and he chuckled with a nod.
You reached for the button of his trousers, quickly taking them off before letting them go as they fell briskly to his ankles. He got out of his legs out of his trousers before you slightly pushed him back to get off of the dresser. You then slowly untied his bow of his blouse before unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off, leaving him in just his briefs.
The sight in front of you was something you could get used to, and this time, you really took your time taking in each of his tattoos and skin as the last time, you didn’t really get to. You reached up to kiss him again, one arm around his neck and the other in between you two as you touched him against his underwear, feeling his very hard dick in your hands. He moaned against your lips, and you pulled back, kissing his collarbone and chest, all the way down to his lower abdomen.
“Can I take this off?” You asked, looking up at him as you were on your knees.
Harry was practically in heaven as he looked down and saw such a beautiful woman in front of him.
“Please,” he said, pleading for the removal of his pants. You slid his pants off down his legs as his hard cock shot straight up to his stomach. Your mouth watered from the sight as you rolled your lips into your mouth before licking them.
But you decided to jerk him off a bit, not for too long because you wanted him in your mouth, but you also wanted to tease him a bit.
From his dick being dry, you licked him from base to tip, coating him in your saliva before hand started off slowly, pumping and twisting your wrist. Harry groaned out, wishing the feeling of your tongue against him lasted longer.
After a few more pumps, Harry said, “Please, sweet girl. Need your mouth.”
You smiled up at him, kissing his thigh before taking in his tip into your mouth, sucking on him lightly. You then started to take more of him, slowly pushing forward as he filled your mouth up.
You started to bob your head, taking him from his tip and only halfway because that’s how far your throat could take him, but your hand pumped whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth as your left hand fondled with his balls.
“Oh, god. Takin’ me so well,” he groaned out, throwing his head back as the feeling of your mouth on him was pure ecstasy.
You moaned around him; the vibrations of your moans sent straight to his dick, intensifying the feeling. He grabbed the edge of the dresser behind you, keeping himself steady as your mouth and tongue worked wonders on him.
You popped his cock out of your mouth, leaving a kiss to his tip before kissing down to his balls; taking one in and sucking on him before doing the same to the other while your hand stroked him.
“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum,” he groaned, looking down at you as you looked up at him, balls in your mouth.
“Cum for me, yeah? Wanna taste you so bad,” you said as he let out a series of ‘fuck.’
“Mouth is made for me, huh?” He asked, and you nodded innocently, even if your act was anything but innocent. “So close.”
Your mouth went right back to his cock, bobbing your head faster, but not pushing yourself all the way down on him, just sucking on what you could take. Your movements don’t stop nor do you stop to take a break. The slickness of his cock and the fact that Harry was close was enough for you to keep going to get him off.
Harry started whimpering above you as his breathing was staggered while he shot his warm spurts of cum inside of your mouth and ‘sweet girl’ fell out of his mouth. His hips jolted a bit as he was nearing the end of his high as his cock was still in your mouth, taking every drop of what he had to give you.
You pulled away from him, swallowing every bit of his orgasm as you slowly stood up; between Harry and your dresser. He immediately captures your lips, tasting himself on your tongue as he swirls his tongue with yours, holding you close to him.
“You’re fucking amazing,” he whispered against your lips, and you giggled, giving him another kiss.
“Taste so good,” you smirk at him, and your demeanor is what makes him hard again.
“Not as good as you, sweet girl. How do you want me?” Harry asked, knowing you have complete control over him.
You think for a moment, pursing your lips as he watches you, thinking you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen. You placed your hand on his chest, urging him to step back a little before you turned around, bending over your dresser. The look you’re giving him through the mirror was a seductively and sultry look piercing through him that he thinks the mirror might break from how intense and hot you’re looking at him.
“Like this,” you said, swiftly taking your little shorts off and stepping out of them,
Harry smirked, roaming his hands on your hips. You were wearing some plain beige panties, wanting to be comfortable while you were at work, and he thinks you look absolutely sexy in them—anything you wear is sexy on you, and he loves how you own it.
“What are you waiting for?” You teased, smirking at him. He lets out a breathy chuckle before taking your panties off so you’re bottom half is bare for him.
He bent down, kissing your hips and your ass before moving up and kissing your back while lifting your shirt up. Once he got to your shoulder, he took off your shirt, kissing up your neck as you loved the way his lips felt on your skin.
“Honey…” you slightly whimpered.
“What is it, sweet girl?” His hands squeezed your tits, playing with your nipples before one hand trailed down to your clit causing you to lose your thought and your words.
He started rubbing your button as he kissed and sucked your shoulder, the feeling caused you to let out a whine. He felt the wetness between your legs and you felt the hardness against your back, both feeling so needy for one another.
“Harry, can you please fuck me already?” You said seriously, looking at him through the mirror.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” he smirked. His hand left your clit before he reached in between you to stroke his cock.
You bent down to open a drawer, pulling out a condom from underneath your clothes, ripping it open and giving it to him. He rolled it on, slipping his tip inside of you as you both let out a groan before he pushed all the way in.
“Oh, fuck. So fucking big,” you let out. It was only the second time Harry has been inside of you, so you were still adjusting to his size, and he gave you a minute before you told him that he could move. He gripped your hips, slowly starting to fuck you.
“You feel so good,” he groaned out. His pace was still slow, but he was amazingly deep.
“Fuck me harder?” You suggested, looking at him. He smirked and nodded, going faster and harder.
“Want me harder?” He said just as his ring hands held onto you was tight, knowing you’d have marks in the morning, but you loved it. Your ass was slapping against his pelvis; the sound made you wetter and more turned on.
“Want it rough,” you said, grimacing at him. And it was like a switch flipped through him, grabbing your hair and twisting it in his hand as he pulled on it, causing your body to lift up so your back was arched against his chest and your head was pulled back to rest on his shoulder. And you’re thankful for all those years of ballet for your flexibility.
“Tell me when to stop and I’ll stop, okay?” He said against your ear as he continued pounding into you.
“Mhm. Don’t stop, daddy. Keep going,” you managed to get out through all the pleasure. Harry’s brows lifted, surprised by the slip up. He looked at you and you didn’t seem to notice, so he lifted his hand to go around your neck, squeezing lightly, which caused you to squeeze around him.
“Fuck, squeezing the fuck out of me, aren’t ya?” He said in your ear, and you nodded the best you could.
“So, so good. Shit.”
The room was fucking filthy; the only sounds that were heard was moans and groans from yours and Harry’s mouth and the fucking you both were doing was only adding to the pleasure.
Harry let go of the hold around your neck and your hair, and you leaned onto the dresser, fully putting your arms on it, holding yourself up.
One minute Harry was fucking the life out of you, trying to bring you to your high, but the next minute he was going slow and steady, prolonging your orgasm.
“Harry…what are you doing? Don’t stop,” you whined out as you were so close to coming. Harry leaned forward, chest completely pressed against your back as he kisses your shoulder.
“Wanna have you watch us,” he said, looking at you through the mirror. “You’ve been watching me fuck you, yeah?” You only nodded, completely captivated by his tone of voice causing you to swivel your hips against his. “Then watch us come, okay? Keep your eyes open for me. M’gonna look at you while you come. You’re close, yeah?” You nodded again, and he smiled before standing up and fucking you again.
And with a few more pounds, you’re coming on his cock, moaning out as your hands roam the dresser, trying to find something to hold onto, and the mirror digging up slightly from your hot breath. Your eyes were trained on Harry as his eyes were on yours through the mirror, watching each other hit your highs.
He collapsed on top of your back, and you brought your hand around to his head, scratching his hair softly as he pressed multiple kisses to your neck and shoulder. After a minute, he lifted his head as you turned your head towards him, and he gave you a big kiss to your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth.
“You’re so fucking good for me,” he said.
“Me? You’re good to me,” you giggled, completely fucked out.
“So pretty when you cum,” Harry said, smiling as if he’s remembering your face when you do come.
“Please. You’re the pretty one,” you flirt back. He gives you one more kiss and proceeds to get up off your back, already missing his weight on you, and he pulls out of you, noticing how wet your pussy was from your orgasm. And it takes everything in him to not take you again, but he needed a moment.
He used the bathroom in your room, taking off the condom, and washing his hands before walking to find you laying on your bed on top of your comforter, completely naked still. You saw him watch you from the bathroom door and you turned to him, giving him a smile before patting the space on your bed beside you, telling him to lay down next to you.
You two were cuddled up, completely bare against one another as you were the first time, and just enjoying each other’s presence.
“Can I tell you something?” Harry suddenly asked. You lifted your head up and nodded it as your hands roamed against his toned abdomen. You felt goosebumps raise on his skin and you soothed them away. “Okay, so uh, what I’m about to say has nothing to do with what we did and how completely fucked out I am, but don’t get me wrong, I really do enjoy being with you like that, it’s just that…” he rambled on, ending it as he trailed off because of the nerves he felt.
“Honey, take your time, yeah?” You obviously gave him a small smile. He nodded, appreciating how patient you are with him.
“What I’m trying to say is...that I like you. A lot. And I’m not just saying this because we had sex twice, but because I’ve gotten to know who this past month and a half and realized how sweet and kind of a person you are. And all I want to do is spend time with you and call you up every time I hear good and bad news, or something that makes me laugh. I want that with you.”
Your eyes softened, taking in every word Harry said. With every word he said, your eyes glossed from how sweet and adorable he is. But you didn’t realize Harry was done talking when you saw his face softly frown; it was then when you realized that you were so into his confession that you didn’t say a word, just repeating what he said in your head making your heart flutter.
Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, and you lifted his chin up.
“Oh, Harry…”
“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I just needed to get that out because I’ve been wanting to tell you for-”
Harry was interrupted by your lips as you kissed him quiet, hopefully telling him that you definitely felt the same way.
“You’re crazy if you think I didn’t feel the same way,” you said as you pulled away from the kiss.
“Y-You feel the same?” He asked softly.
“Hell yeah I do! Practically since the day I met you. You’re too charming and handsome and sweet,” you reassured him, giving him a peck to his forehead.
“I-I didn’t know that,” he chuckled.
“Yeah. Reason why I kept asking you to hang out—just wanted to be around you too,” you said, laying your head on his hand that was sprawled out onto your pillow.
“Well damn, should’ve told you earlier then!” He joked, and you giggled, happy that you two cleared up your feelings for each other.
“It’s okay, all in good timing, honey,” you smiled at him, running a hand through his luscious locks.
“So…daddy, huh?” He smirked, and you rolled your eyes playfully.
“Better not use that against me. I’m calling you daddy whenever I want to-”
There was a loud bang downstairs that interrupted you, which startled you both as you two sat up slightly.
“Fuck,” you said to yourself, and Harry heard the panic in your voice, meaning that he’s going to panic as well.
“Who’s downstairs?” He asked, following your lead as you started to put on your clothes, so he quickly did the same. “Who’s downstairs, sweet girl?”
“I-I don’t know,” you were telling the truth. You really didn’t know who was downstairs, but you hoped it was your mother.
“Darling!” Someone called from downstairs.
Definitely not your mother.
The opposite that is, because your father was calling you downstairs as you were half naked with Harry upstairs.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you rushed to cover yourself, thinking of how horrible the timing is.
Once you two were both dressed, you quickly strategize a plan on how to sneak Harry out. You figured that you could just go downstairs to greet your father and have Harry stay in your room until Richard locks himself up in his office, and Harry could successfully sneak out. But those plans went out the window as there was a knock on your door along with some words from Richard.
“Darling, I’ve brought some dinner and I have some news. Do you mind coming out here?” He asked through the door. You immediately noticed his mood and how much of a good mood he was in, and you still had no idea how to get Harry out.
Harry was completely lost on what to do. Should he hide? Should he wait? He didn’t know. But you looked at him, smiling guilty.
“Go to the restroom and just wait till he leaves, okay?” You instructed him, and all he did was nod, walking over to the restroom and closer the door.
You took a deep breath and fixed your hair before you opened your door, revealing your father with a smile.
“Hi, dad,” you greeted, covering up the fact that you have someone in your room at the moment.
“Oh, darling, great. I’ve brought some food—come eat with me?” He suggested. Richard had beamed at you; it was a smile that you had loved since you were a little girl when times weren’t so rough and when you didn’t have thick skin. You always went to him when things were tough, and he would shine his smile at you and tell you everything was going to be okay. And you really did believe him.
“Yeah, sure. Let me just go to the restroom and I’ll be down there,” you smiled back at him. Usually you wouldn’t be acting like this towards him, but the fact that he seemed like he was in a good mood and that you had a guest, you didn’t want to seem suspicious.
“Perfect. I’ll get the food ready,” he walked off, and you closed the door, letting out the breath you were holding in. You were walking towards the bathroom door before you heard another knock.
Confusingly, you walked back to your bedroom door, opening it and it was Richard again, but this time he had a scowl on his face.
“Yes?”
“Who’s shoes are those?” He looked down beside your feet, and you followed his vision and saw Harry’s boots right next to your sneakers. “Huh? Who’s shoes are those?”
“I, uh-” you stuttered, but he interrupted you, stepping inside of your room slowly.
“Because they sure aren’t mine nor do I think they’re yours because they’re at least five sizes bigger than yours, so I’m gonna ask again. Who’s. Shoes. Are. Those,” he said slowly and sternly, looking at you angrily.
“Dad…”
“Where is he?” He barged into your room, looking around before heading to the closet, opening it as he was disappointed to find no one hiding in the closet. Your nerves were up to your neck because the only obvious place a person would be hiding is inside of your bathroom, and he was headed there next.
“Is it Chris’? If you say it’s Chris’ I won’t get mad,” he said in a more softer tone. It scared you very much how much Chris has an affect on him, and you absolutely hated it.
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out, which confirmed that it was not in fact Chris’ boots. He stormed to the bathroom door, barging it open, and saw Harry sitting on top of the counter, a worried look on his face.
“What the fuck!” Richard screamed out. You immediately ran towards Harry, putting your body in front of him so Richard doesn’t do anything to hurt him.
“Wait…” Harry said as if he had a realization.
“You!” Richard reaches forward, and despite you being in front of Harry, your father grabbed his shoulders, dragging him outside of the bathroom by his blouse.
“Dad, stop!” You grabbed Richard’s arm, yanking on it for him to let go of Harry. Harry didn’t fight back or anything, and you figured that was because he was your father.
“Do you know who this kid is?!” He said once he let go of Harry and placed yourself between them again.
“Well, obviously!” You said sarcastically, realizing that it was not the time for that kind of tone.
“H-He’s your dad?” Harry asked from behind you.
“Of course I’m her dad, you idiot!” Richard screamed out.
“Don’t call him that,” you said, pointing at him like you’re scolding him.
“Why didn’t you tell him he was your dad?” Harry asked. You turned around to face him, giving him a confusing look.
“Why does that matter if I told you or not?” You asked curiously but confusingly. “Besides, so many people only date me to get to him because he’s a producer. I knew you weren’t like that, but I still didn’t want to find out if you were only after that.”
“No, I wouldn’t only keep seeing you for him. But also he’s one of the producers of the movie I auditioned for. He was there when I did my screen test,” Harry explained, and your mouth slightly dropped.
You hadn’t known what kind of movie Richard was producing because he never talked about it nor had you been home often anymore. But Harry told you the entire storyline including his character and everyone on set. And you’re not blaming anyone in this situation, but if Richard had told you the slightest
bit of information about his work, then you would’ve connected the dots.
A scoff from Richard was heard behind you, and you turned around to find him smiling evilly like he had a plan.
“That’s right. You’re the kid that auditioned that one time some weeks ago. Think you got some real talent, kid?” Richard said, looking Harry dead in the eye. “Well you don’t. The only reason you got another call back was because it was a 4-2 vote. But if I were any of them, you wouldn’t stand a chance to step in another set,” he grimaced, and your expression turned angry, while Harry took in every word your father said, wondering if what he said was true or not.
Richard had really deflated Harry’s self esteem and confidence—he barely had a lot to begin with, but he really thought he did well during those auditions. And he didn’t know if Richard was just trying to get a rise out of him to get Harry to knock his teeth in so he could tell the other studios and agents that he’s violent, or because he caught Harry hiding in his daughter’s restroom, or if he really meant it.
Neither of those options helped him from thinking that he wasn’t a bad actor because Richard was obviously superior in this argument and he had the potential to control Harry’s career.
“It’s a shame though,” he continued. “I know people like you. Think I don’t recognize that fucking shirt? I see you dicks all around the city, thinking people don’t know who you are. Really--such a shame. If you wouldn’t have been sleeping around with my daughter, then the role would be yours.” Yours and Harry’s eyes perked up. “Oh, yeah. We’ve made the decision on casting and Shareen was supposed to call you tomorrow and tell you the role is yours.”
Harry was now conflicted on what to feel. Should he be happy or a bit frustrated from what he said prior? He felt a bit dizzy from thinking too much, and Richard scolding him did not help whatsoever.
“But I don’t think the role is going to be yours. After what I witnessed here, think I’m gonna tell them tomorrow that they’re making a big mistake-”
“You can’t do that!” You yelled. It was completely unfair of Richard to do that because what he saw has nothing to do with Harry’s acting. “They’re practically going to give him the role already! Why would you rip that out of his hands?!” You were on the borderline of crying, feeling so frustrated with your father and ultimately feeling bad for Harry.
“Darling, I’m part of the movie and part of casting. I can do whatever I think is right,” he snickered.
“How could you?! You’re punishing someone who could potentially be a movie star! How could you be so cruel?” Tears had fallen down onto your cheeks as you yelled at Richard. You really didn’t think he would be capable of doing something so vile. You knew he had dreams too when he was younger, and to just rip someone's dream right in front of him made you think that you didn’t know him anymore.
“Now, Harry. I’m gonna give you five seconds to get out of my house and out of my daughter’s life,” he warned, crossing his arms.
“What?! No!” You screamed, immediately turning around to face Harry. He had his head down as he sadly nodded. You were practically sobbing, placing your hands on both sides of his face for him to look at you. “Honey, please. Don’t go,” you pleaded. If it were any other time you were begging him to stay, he would’ve. But it’s the fact that your father was right behind you, telling you to leave his home that he couldn’t do anything about it.
Richard had Harry’s career in the palm of his hands, ready to crush them once he stepped foot out of his house, and Harry doesn’t know if he could physically take that. It was already hard enough that he had to leave you, but to have his career being ruined only added to the pain.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said softly, walking towards the exit of your bedroom. He entered your room excited and eager for two, and now he’s exiting your room in sadness and hurt because he’s not leaving with a smile on his face because he finally confessed that he liked you, and he couldn’t even jump up and down happily because you told him that you liked him too.
“No, no, no,” you chanted as Harry grabbed his boots, and walked out of your room with you hot on his tail, following him as you were trying to convince him that everything was going to be okay.
Richard was right behind you two, obviously enjoying what he’s seeing, which is absolutely insensitive as his daughter is practically crying out to the boy that she likes while watching him walk away from her.
The three made their way down the stairs, and the large house with high ceilings echoed with your sobs and wails. The sound hurt Harry’s ears, not because he thought it was annoying or loud, but because he’s never seen you cry and he didn’t want the first time to be like this. He’s only ever wanted to see you cry when he’s possibly fucking you so good that you become sensitive, begging him to stop; or when he told you that he likes you, or if he even gets a chance to tell you that you love him. But not like that, and he can’t do anything to comfort you at the moment because Richard was pushing him out of the house as you held onto Harry’s arm, causing you to be pushed out as well.
“Harry, honey, please…” you’ve never begged anyone to stay as you were right now. Not even when you found out Chris was cheating on you, you never begged. This was completely different.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said again. He had his boots in his hands as he didn’t get the chance to even put on his shoes before he was being pushed through the door.
Richard stayed back with an evil smile on his face with no sign of guilt or remorse when he looked at you sobbing your heart out. Harry walked out to the driveway, passing by Rosie as tears well up in his eyes. He heard bare footsteps running towards him, and he turned around causing you to bump into his chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he loosely wrapped his arms around your shoulders, both not imagining the night to end like this.
“Sweet girl, look at me,” he said, looking down at you as he placed his hands on the side of your face. Your face was buried in his chest, not wanting to let go of him whatsoever. “C’mon, look at me, yeah?” You eventually looked up, looking into his eyes as tears were filled with it and rolling down his face. It was the first time you both had seen each other cry, and you wanted this pain to end already. “It’s for the best-”
“No! He doesn’t know shit on what’s for the best!” Your hands grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer to you as if he wasn’t close enough already. Harry looked at you sadly, wiping the tears streaming down your face with his thumbs. “It doesn’t have to be over,” you said, hopefully as Harry said nothing. “Right?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to tell right now, but maybe in the future we’ll be able to be together.”
The thought of nothing being with you right now was what hurt him as he had just confessed his liking towards you just seven minutes ago.
“This is so unfair…” you said, putting your head down.
“I know, it is,” he said, and you suddenly lifted your head up as if you had a realization.
“How about we run away? Together? I want to get out of here anyways, and then we’ll be able to-”
“Hey, sweet girl. Slow down, yeah? What we need to do is figure it out as we go. You need to figure out what’s happening with your father, and I know you haven’t told me much about him, other than the fact that he never lets you do anything, but you need to talk to him. I could tell there’s unspoken words between you that you need to let out because it’s not good keeping them in. And I need to figure out my career. Reckon I won’t have a role by the end of today, so I need to keep auditioning, yeah?” He said ever so wisely. You shyly agreed with him, thinking you were insane for even bringing up the thought of running away when you both had so many problems still. “But listen, when the time is right, we’ll run away together, okay?” That made your smile softly at him.
Despite everything happening with the tears and emotions, he still found a way to put a smile on your face.
“Just stop your crying. Don’t wanna see my sweet girl shed a tear anymore,” he leaned down, placing his forehead against yours as he kissed the tip of your nose. You did the same as well, and pulled back to kiss his forehead. “I’ll see you soon, okay? But I gotta go for now—lay low and shit,” his voice slightly cracked from the pain he was feeling from separating with you.
He pulled back completely, disconnecting your bodies from each other’s hold, but having to do it with a bit of force as you weren’t ready to let go of him.
“No…” you said softly as he was pushing away your hands that were trying to hold him again. “Honey.” Harry bent down to put on his boots, pushing your hands away.
“I’ve gotta go,” he said sadly, giving you one last kiss to your forehead before running off into the street.
You watched him as he did, breaking down in your driveway as you sunk to your knees. The hard and heated ground made your skin ash as you fell to the ground, hurting your knees from the impact, but that didn’t compare to what your heart felt.
Once he wasn’t in your sight as you saw him turn the corner of your street and proceeded to walk, you got up from your vulnerable position and walked over to your front door to see Richard standing there with no emotion on his face.
Marching over and making sure that he sees what pain and anger he’s caused you, his expression has yet to change as he stood there with a knowing look.
“Fuck you,” you spat out as you squeezed your way inside the house and up to your room.
“I’d watch that tone if I were you,” he warned as he closed the door.
“Don’t care,” you yelled back, stomping your way up to your room.
You quickly reached your room, slamming the door loudly and locking it as a way to tell him not to bother you or even try to. You paced your room, frustrated as you pulled onto your hair with deep breaths until you realized that pacing isn’t going to help you, so you decided to take a shower.
The shower was warm, falling onto your skin as you tried to let it soothe you. You stayed still for a while, just letting the water hit you until you realized, again, that you needed to wash and clean yourself as you were racking up the water bill.
Once you did your normal routine, it was six p.m as you were getting into bed. It was quite early for you to already be in bed while on other days, you still have four hours ahead of you for work, so it was a change. But you desperately needed to lay down as your head was fuzzy from all the crying you did as you watched Harry leave as well as in the shower.
You laid on your side, facing the space next to you as you thought: just about 45 minutes ago, you were lying here with Harry as you both told each other that you liked one another as you two giggled and kissed. The thought made tears form into your eyes one again as you cuddled into the pillow Harry was lying on, trying to smell the faint aroma of him, even if he was only lying on it for a short amount of time.
And you stayed that way for four hours, only getting up to put music on your record player and drink water. But you lied there for hours as Ella Fitzgerald was playing in the background, wishing Harry body was replaced by the pillow.
Through the midst of being in sadness and on the edge of falling asleep as tears rolled onto the pillow he once laid on, that was when you realized that you didn’t know when you were going to see Harry again.
sooo...how are we feeling? come into my inbox and i will 100% cry with you!
chapter 5 will be posted on September 11!
taglist babies: @froggystyles @outofsstyles @whoschantel @4592222 @groovybaybee @bfharry @wellbafineline @tfonty @bfilipa52 @afire-hes @thorsangel @brrilliant-harry @apples2019 @bbymichelleee @harrys-cherrry @ggaayyyong @heslilac @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @sozvuchiy @mellamolayla
#cloud nine#harry styles smut#harry styles angst#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles ff#harry styles fluff#harry styles series#harry styles writing#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#harry styles x mc#boyfriend!harry#bestfriend!harry#bi!reader#fem!reader#harry styles concept#harry styles dirty imagine#harry#harry styles#hs
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To Join The Black Parade
Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader
Genre: Fluff
Summary: Written for Gothtober 2020, Day 11. Prompt: “Death Parade”.
You receive an unexpected phone call, from your old friend Gerard. He asks you if you’d like to play a role, in the upcoming music video, for ‘Welcome To The Black Parade’. But, when he sees you on set, something comes over him, that neither of you ever expected.
You sat in the studio, in front of a blank canvas. You glanced up at the diploma, hanging in on the wall, in the corner. It was proof that you had graduated from SVA, with a Bachelor of Fine Arts. But, despite being certifiably good at art (on paper), you still felt like an impostor, on days like this, when you had no inspiration at all.
Your brush hovered over the empty white space, when, suddenly, you were interrupted, by the sound of the phone ringing. As soon as you saw who was calling, your expression brightened.
“Hi, Y/N,” greeted the familiar voice of Gerard Way. Simply hearing your old friend speak, was enough to make your spirits, instantly lift.
“Hi, Gee,” you smiled, moving the phone closer to your ear. “How have you been?”
Even though you talked on the phone all the time, you hadn’t seen him in person, since last summer. He had briefly returned to New Jersey, to play a Warped Tour gig. You’d hung out with him afterwards, backstage. It had been so fun - and yet, so fleeting.
“I’ve been good,” Gerard replied jovially. “I’m sorry for calling you so early, though.”
“It’s not early,” you chuckled. “It’s like, eleven o’clock.”
“Well, here, it’s only eight,” Gerard reminded you.
The East Coast was no longer his home base. He had moved to Los Angeles, a few years ago, when his band started to take off. This put him in the Pacific time zone, three hours behind you.
“How’s California treating you?” you asked. “Still staying in that weird haunted house?”
“Nah, we’re done recording the album now,” Gerard updated you. “We’re actually getting ready to film the music video, that’s gonna go with the lead single.”
“Oh, cool!” you said, interested. “What’s the single’s title?”
“It’s called ‘Welcome To The Black Parade’,” Gerard revealed cryptically.
“What’s the Black Parade?” you asked curiously.
“I have this concept for the video - well, for the whole album, really,” Gerard explained. “This guy is like, dying of cancer, and Death comes for him, in the form of his favorite childhood memory.”
“The memory is….a parade?” you guessed.
“That’s right!”, Gerard confirmed. “I kind of based it off, like, when my dad would take me and Mikey into the city, at Thanksgiving time, to see the Macy’s parade.”
“Oh, of course,” you nodded. As a fellow New Jersey native, only a ferry-ride away from the Big Apple, you had grown up going to the parade every autumn, too.
“So, this whole, like, procession of marchers, is gonna welcome The Patient into the afterlife,” Gerard went on.
“That sounds amazing,” you said honestly. “I can’t wait to see the video, when it’s finished.”
“That’s actually what I was calling you about,” Gerard confessed slyly. “We’re gonna have a lot of extras in this video shoot. Like I said, a whole parade of people. I was wondering, if you might want to be in it?”
“You want me to be in the music video?”, you repeated, eyes wide.
“Yeah,” Gerard grinned. “I just thought, it would be really nice, to see you again, and have you be a part of this whole art project with me.”
Art project. That was one way to describe it. Gerard was a big Hollywood star now, with fans all over the globe. But, he still talked about the album his band was working on, in the same way, that he used to talk to you about the comics he wanted to write. Deep down, he was still the same storyteller that you used to see in class every day.
“Gerard, I would love to,” you accepted the offer, immediately. “I’ve missed you. It’s going to be so great, to hang out again.”
“I can’t wait,” Gerard said happily. “Don’t even worry about the airfare, I can get the label to fly you out.”
“Thank you,” you said giddily. You couldn’t wait to see your old friend again.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
The flight to Los Angeles was long, but uneventful, and the day of the video shoot, arrived before you knew it. You gasped, when you walked in, and saw the set. There was a huge parade float, surrounded by a desolate, gray landscape. You wondered how long it had taken the set designers to put it together. You felt nervous, as you watched the other extras milling about, most of them already in costume.
They’re real actors, you thought anxiously. I’m just some random person.
Your nerves eased, as soon as you heard a voice behind you.
“Y/N, you made it!” Gerard said delightedly. You turned to face him.
“Whoa!” you gasped. “Your hair!”
“I know, it’s a big change,” Gerard laughed, running his hand through his short-cropped, bleach-blonde locks. Last time you had seen him, his hair had been dark, and down to his shoulders.
“What do you think?” he asked, seemingly a little self-conscious.
“It’s very different,” you said honestly, “But, I like it. A new look, to signify a new era!”
“Exactly,” Gerard nodded. “See, I knew you would get it….I gotta tell the guys you’re here. They’re gonna be psyched, to see you again.”
“I’m psyched to see Mikey, and Frankie, and Toro again, too,” you grinned. They were all old friends of yours.
“Oh, but first, I gotta introduce you to the director,” Gerard remembered. “His name’s Samuel Bayer. He’s amazing - he’s the same guy that directed the music video for ‘Bullet With Butterfly Wings’, back in the day.”
“No way!” you gasped. ‘Bullet’ was your favorite Smashing Pumpkins song.
“I know, right?” Gerard grinned. “And just last year, he did some really cool videos with Green Day, like ‘American Idiot’. I’m so happy that we were able to get him to work with us, on this video. I think it’s going to be amazing.”
“You’re such a flatterer, Gerard,” said a dark-haired man, walking over to you. “Hi, I’m Samuel.”
“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself, shaking the director’s hand.
“I heard you’re an SVA grad, too, right?” Samuel smiled.
“Yeah, Gerard and I both graduated in ‘99,” you nodded. “You went, there, too?”
“Yeah, I was in the class of ‘87,” Samuel explained.
“Wow...small world.”
“For sure,” Samuel laughed. “Anyway, Y/N, are you ready to get changed into your costume?”
“What am I going to wear?” you wondered.
“Oh, you’re going to love it,” Gerard gushed. “We had Colleen Atwood design all the costumes for us. She’s incredible.”
“She’s the same lady, who designed the costumes for Edward Scissorhands,” Samuel added informatively.
“Whoa,” you gaped. This really was an all-star film crew. Did you really belong here?
“Here’s your outfit,” Samuel smiled, handing you in the garment bag. “Go ahead and get changed, we’ll meet you back here in five.”
“O-okay,” you gulped, suddenly unsure, if you could pull the role off - no matter how small it was.
“Don’t worry,” Gerard assured you. “I know you better than anyone, Y/N. I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“Thanks,” you said softly, calmed by his words.
“I have to go fake-sing for the camera,” Gerard chuckled. “I’ll see you soon.”
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
You took the garment bag into the bathroom, unzipping it, to reveal the costume inside.
The jacket, you noticed, was black, with a marching band style collar - pretty similar to what Gerard was wearing, when you walked in. The only difference was that yours was sleeveless. Instead of pants, your jacket was paired with a black skirt.
You hesitantly changed into the outfit. You flushed, when you looked at yourself in the mirror. The skirt was short - almost too short.
You didn’t wear things like this very often. You constantly got paint on your clothes, so you never wanted to wear anything too fancy. It would just get ruined. Most of the time, you could be found in oversized sweaters, and ratty jeans.
I can’t refuse to wear it, though, you told yourself. Even if it feels kind of uncomfortable….Gerard spent a lot of time and money to bring me out here. The least I can do, is play my role, without complaining.
You walked back onto the set, your legs feeling cold and exposed. Gerard and the band had just wrapped a scene on the float, miming playing their instruments.
“Cut!” Samuel called. “Okay, I think that was a good take!”
Done with his part, Gerard strolled back over to you.
“.....Wow,” he gaped when he laid eyes on you, his eyes widening.
“Wow, what?” you blinked, feeling self-conscious.
“Wow, you look amazing,” Gerard said, blushing. “I...I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear something like this before.”
“Oh, you think it suits me?” you asked hesitantly. You hadn’t expected this reaction.
“Absolutely,” Gerard complimented. “Have you been...working out?”
“Oh, you mean, my legs?” you realized, blushing. “Yeah, I’ve been jogging a lot…”
He stared at your uncovered thighs, making your cheeks turn hot.
“Ah, there’s my Fear!” Samuel smiled, walking over to you.
“Fear?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes, you’ll be playing the role of Fear,” Samuel explained, “and this young lady here, will be playing Regret.”
He indicated a petite actress, whose costume was identical to yours. “Regret” gave you a friendly wave.
“As soon as you’re done in the makeup chair, you ladies can do your scene with Lukas,” Samuel directed.
“Who’s Lukas?” you asked.
“Lukas Haas is playing The Patient,” Gerard explained. “He’s a great actor.”
“Oh, our main character,” you nodded. “Ok, I guess I better head over there!”
You were surprised, how Gerard’s eyes seemed to follow you, as you walked away. It was almost as if he didn’t want you to leave his side.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
“Ok, we’re going to start moving the parade float forward!” Samuel announced. “Processioners, I need you to start walking forward, beside it, okay?”
You stood in line, and at his signal, you and the rest of the ‘parade’ began to march forward, towards the camera. You tried not to glance up too obviously at Gerard, who was standing on top of the float, beside you. The guys were up there with him, in matching marching band jackets. You had to admit, it was a striking look.
Lukas stumbled towards the front of the parade, wearing his hospital gown and slippers. He looked confused, and sad - a befitting expression, for a character, who was supposed to be newly deceased.
“Ok, cut!” Samuel called out. “Gerard, you’re going to lean over the side of the float, and put the medal on Lukas, okay?”
“Ok,” Gerard nodded, dangling a military-ish cross on a chain. “Like this?”
“Perfect,” Samuel praised. “Now, I need my Fear and Regret, to come stand on either side of Lukas, okay?”
“R-Right,” you stammered, moving to the spot on Lukas’ right that Samuel was pointing at.
“Now, Fear and Regret are going to kiss The Patient on the cheek,” Samuel explained.
“They’re what?” Gerard frowned, his expression turning suddenly sour.
“It’s in the script,” Samuel reminded him.
“Just on the cheek?” you clarified.
“Yeah,” Regret confirmed. “You do one, and I’ll lean in, and do the other, at the same time.”
“Oh, okay,” you shrugged. “I can do that.”
Sure, it felt a little awkward, since you’d just met Lukas twenty minutes ago. But, at least it wasn’t on the mouth, or anything.
Samuel signaled for the camera man to start filming again, and you leaned over, in sync with Regret, and planted a peck on the actor’s face.
“Cut!” Samuel shouted. “Ladies, I’m sorry, I need you to do that again.”
“Why?!” Gerard demanded. “I thought that take was fine.”
“Because you were making a face in the background,” Samuel groaned.
“N-No I wasn’t!” Gerard denied, blushing.
“You were,” Samuel insisted. “You’re supposed to have a neutral expression, and be looking at the camera. But, you were looking down at them instead.”
“You were pouting, dude,” Frank teased. “Come on, let’s try it again.”
You repeated the take, leaning over, and kissing Lukas’ cheek again.
“Cut!” Samuel called again, looking frustrated. “Gerard, the rest of the band was looking at the camera just fine. You’re still staring downwards, with that surly expression.”
“I’m not surly,” Geraed argued. “I was making a totally normal face.”
“No, he’s right,” Mikey shook his head. “You weren’t looking, where you were supposed to look at all.”
“Let’s give it one more try,” Gerard sighed. “I promise, I’ll get it right this time.”
I hope so, you thought with a frown. How many times, am I going to have to put my lips on this guy’s face today?
“You know what,” Samuel shrugged, “why don’t we just take a break for lunch, and try again in thirty?”
This was fine with you - you were already bored, with the repetition. You wished you knew what was throwing Gerard off.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
You found Gerard by the craft services table, listlessly eating a handful of Cheetos.
“Are you okay?” you asked him softly, as you filled your own plate with snacks.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Gerard insisted. “Don’t worry about me.”
“What is it that you’re having trouble with?” you wondered. “I mean, all you’re doing in that scene, is standing still up there, right?”
“Yeah, it shouldn’t be this hard,” Gerard frowned. “I don’t know….something about watching you plant one on Lukas, is just getting on my nerves.”
“Why’s that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I….I don’t know,” Gerard blushed. “I just don’t want you touching him, for some reason.”
“You’re the one, who called me, and asked me to play this specific role,” you reminded him.
“I know I did,” Gerard acknowledged. “I just….I didn’t think it would bother me this much.”
“Why does it bother you?” you asked. “Like, what is it that goes through your head, when you see me do that?”
“I guess I feel…..jealous,” Gerard admitted shyly, dropping his voice, so only you would hear.
“.....Jealous?” you repeated, heart pounding. What was he saying?
Gerard’s whole face turned red, and he stared downwards, suddenly very interested in his shoes.
“....Gee,” you whispered, touching his arm. “Look at me...are you telling me, that you wish, I was kissing your cheek, instead?”
You two had been friends for almost a decade now, but he had never made a move on you, or given you any indication that he desired anything more, than a platonic relationship. But….the truth was, you’d always found him incredibly handsome.
Gerard’s hazel eyes glanced up, hesitantly meeting yours.
“As soon as I saw you walk out here, in that skirt,” Gerard confessed, his voice soft and husky, “I wanted to kiss you, on far more, than just your cheeks.”
“....You want to kiss me on the mouth?” you realized, your face and body going suddenly so hot.
“God help me, I do,” Gerard breathed.
“.....Do it,” you said breathlessly. Secretly, you’d wanted this, for years.
“But, there’s people all around us!” Gerard said shyly.
You looked up, and saw that he was right. Actors and actresses were starting to form a line around the table, eager to grab food to snack on.
“.....Come with me,” you said impulsively, and dragged him by the arm, into the powder room, where you’d gotten changed earlier.
“Y-Y/N, what are you doing?” Gerard stammered. “This is the girls’ room…..I’m not supposed to be in here….I don’t want to get caught….”
“Then be real quiet, then,” you shushed him, and pulled him in for a searing kiss.
His shyness seemed to melt away, as his lips crashed into yours. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tighter, as the kiss deepened.
“....Gee!” you gasped, coming up for air. You never saw this coming from him.
“Y/N, I want to make you mine,” Gerard panted, eager to taste your lips again. “Mine, and mine alone.”
You kissed him again. Your hands twisted into his newly short hair. You’d wanted this forever, but you never expected it to actually happen. He tasted so sweet, and his touch was so startlingly possessive.
“Honey,” you purred, grabbing him by his jacket collar, “I’m already yours.”
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Hi! First I have to say that your account is AMAZING! Second, I was wondering if there are any Frank/Gerard College/University AU’s?
Thanks, anon!
There absolutely are, here are some of them!
Frank/Gerard College/University AUs
Skin of the Canvas by sinsense, 42k, Mature. The typical nude model is someone like Phil. Phil is forty-nine and paunchy. He's starting to go gray at his temples and in his pubic hair; he likes to pose on a stool, curving his back and curling his fingers together between his knees. Phil is secretly awesome -- he likes the Misfits and builds model trains -- but he's not what Gerard would call prime ogling material. Neither are any of the other models who have posed for the life modeling or anatomy classes Gerard has taken. This semester, Anna was kind of cute, but she whined about the conditions the entire time she was there. In his four years of art school, anyway, Gerard has never once dealt with being attracted to the model. But this guy is hot --- Or: Gerard goes to art school. Frank is a nude model. Somehow their relationship gets off the ground, in spite of everything working against them.
Interview with an Artist by mistresscurvy, 5k, Explicit. Frank stared at the syllabus. He was certain that this final project couldn't have been on there the first time he looked at it. He would have remembered something so completely fucking impossible.
Subjects Aren't the Only Thing You Learn in College by Andromedas_Void, 4k, Explicit. “What?” Gerard asks, bending his right leg and slipping his foot under his left knee. “Your neck is obviously bothering you so I’m giving you one of my patented massages. If your body doesn’t feel completely boneless after this, then you’ll get your money back,” he grins. “If I’m not paying you in the first place, do I still get my money back?” Frank laughs.
Sure of You by shiningartifact, 11k, Explicit. In Gee's senior year of college, waking up with sex hair and a vague memory of the girl who gave it to her is just another Friday morning. She's fine with that. She is. And then she meets Frank.
she (within the measure of a day) by mrsronweasley, 9k, Explicit. Gerard steps out in heels for Halloween. Everybody enjoys it. Some enjoy it more than others.
A Clockwork Killjoy by The_Divine_Fool, 13k [WIP], Not Rated. Alone in the world and miserably twenty-something, Gerard decides to move in with his little brother Mikey, who lives in the middle of nowhere, working and earning his Bachelor's degree at the local community college. But creepy stuff happens in Nowhere, and it's up to Gerard to save his new friends and his own brother from a sinister conspiracy.
sing for ourselves alone (speak into the microphone) by ineffableangel, 4k, Teen And Up Audiences. The college radio DJ has played 22 Mountain Goats songs in a row without comment and I feel like someone should call and make sure they’re okay.
Fragile Bones by action-cat (clytemnestras), 8k, Explicit. I don’t feel like a girl today, Frankie. I feel like a fucking prince
Get up, get out and be social (Frerard) by Rachel_Carter, 5k, Not Rated. Gerard is working on an art assignment in a coffee shop where he meets Frank, a pre-med student. When Frank gives Gerard his phone number, their relationship develops.
Heaven Beside You (Awkwardness Within) by RedSkittleCure, 7k, Explicit. The really hot guy turns to him, and Gerard sees that he’s got a fucking nose piercing and pierced ears and Gerard is just really, really fucked because this guy is so out of his league, it isn’t even funny. “Hi!” the guy smiles, sticking a hand out, “I’m Frank!” Gerard stares dumbfoundedly at the waiting hand, waiting a few seconds too long before taking it, “Gerard,” he manages to spit out, mentally taking extremely detailed notes of the calluses on Frank’s hand. Fuck, he’s such a creep. OR: The one where Frank works very hard and woos Gerard via passing him notes in class
no justice in photographs by poppunklwt, 20k, Mature. Frank, a psychology major, is in his third year of college and is roped into taking an art class by his advisor. Ray and Bob are his roommates (possible bandmates, too?) and Gerard is the cute student employee at the library who Frank likes to sneak glances at while he doodles. Frank doesn't know if he can balance a new band and a new crush simultaneously. Or, the one where Gerard offers Frank a little bit more than just help with his art project.
Teenager by dangsu, 7k, Mature. "For someone who hates teenagers, Gerard Way seemed to only hangout with Frank and Mikey." Frank is a scrawny eighteen year old kid and Gerard is a crazed college graduate who hates teenagers and the Midwest.
Dissolve Me by everythingintransit, 80k, General Audiences. Gerard Way sunburns easily and talks too much and has mastered the art of creating paninis in the dining hall and eating them while running to class. He drinks iced coffee when it's below zero outside and carries crystals in his pockets party for comfort and partly because they weigh him down like an anchor that refuses to sink. Gerard Way finds himself in love during his sophomore year of university with a guy that he sometimes goes bowling with. This guy is named Frank Iero and runs a radio show after hours where he talks in a sexy rough voice about things that can get him into trouble if anyone bothers to listen. But Gerard listens. Gerard Way can do magic. Lightbulbs shatter when he gets excited and he can walk through a thunderstorm in dry clothes. Yet he's powerless when it comes to Frank, and the relationship he's seeking ends up looking close to impossible from where he's standing. But he's in love, and love is patient and kind and shattered glass, shit like that. Love is something he deserves.
Majoring In Disaster by hell_highwater, 17k [WIP], General Audiences. Punk bands! Political statements! Lab work! Hating your rich parents! Being oh, so in love with your best (and only) friend! Life ensues many twists for college biochemistry students Gerard and Frank.
Trapped In By All These Mountains by brightlightbaby, 7k, Teen And Up Audiences. “I’ve got to tell you, I don’t usually do this much physical labor for a dude I just met.” “Really? I thought a tough guy like you would be out tarring roofs and mowing lawns for all the guys.” “No, just for the pretty ones. Or the ones who pay me enough.”
In All Our Lives by stoplightglow, 27k, Mature. “Everything’s connected," Gerard says. "It isn’t just art history. Art is history. Art is culture. Without the crucial backbones, it all disappears. So when one timeline gets messed up—” He looks despairingly up at the ceiling. "—it all goes down." For all those times you thought, you know what Bandom is really missing? Time travel, arson, and art history.
Life as a Process by ViciousVenin, 57k, Explicit. Frank's college experience isn't exactly what he was hoping for. He has no idea what he wants to do with his life, his RA scares him, and his roommate Gerard seems pretty weird. Really weird, actually, but not in a bad way. As the two of them get closer, Frank finds that Gerard is one of the most interesting people he's ever met, and cute as fuck to boot. Frank just wishes he could figure out what Gerard is hiding...
Pull by falter, 7k, Not Rated. College is a hell of a lot easier with a steady supply of decent coffee. Too bad that's not what Frank's getting.
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The precursor entry.
Here it is. December 27th, 2020.
I got the bug to start writing again.
As of 2021, my 40th year on this planet, I will start (try) to write every day again. What brought this on you ask? Desire to share my world views, world troubles, and world anxiety with you, the hopefully, loyal reader. If nothing comes of this, then I’ll be okay with that, if something does, I’ll be okay with that too. I just ask you dear reader to have some patience with me as I get back into the swing of being a regular Tumblr writer again.
Here’s a teaser for you as to what I’m thinking as of lately, which should give you a sample of what my writing is going to be like.
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From my Facebook page this morning at 8:19 AM:
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Warning, mildly long and depressing post ahead and for that I am sorry:
2020 was subjectively a good year for me, despite it being a terrible one for the rest of the world. I learned how to drive and I got an A on a college class I took because I quit a job that I got in 2019, and really started to love because I felt like I finally knew what I was doing there and felt accepted, yet left because I was/am scared about Covid-19.
I am openly going to admit something here though: 2021 is going to be a rough year for me because I will have reached an age where I will be older than my older (and only) brother was when he passed away and that is going to weigh heavy upon my heart. It weighs heavy regardless of what year it is since 2017, when he passed, but this coming year is going to be extremely rough because, as I said, I'll be older than he was when he died, but also because of Covid-19, the only people I'll be able to celebrate the actual day of my birthday with, is my parents despite wanting to have a huge 40th birthday party for every single one of my friends to come to and enjoy themselves, and most of all to help me take my mind off of the fact that I will now be older than my brother was.
I, also, have no idea if I'll be able to get my job back when/if Covid-19 ever disappears in the capacity in which I originally had it because of stipulations the employer has set forth on part-timers, which is one reason I eventually decided to go back to school. To improve myself and further my job development career line choices. I still do not know what I want to do.
I've said I have the intention of going to IUSB (a local college) to get a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Integrated New Media Studies with a Group Focus in Design; Music; Video and Motion Media, because that interests me, but the truth is, I don't know what interests me or is my spark... yet at forty years of age.
I simply do not know what my purpose here on this planet is yet, and that worries me and causes much anxiety in my life. I have had at least four people tell me I should go into internet security because I'd be "good" at it, but when probed for more information as to why they think I'd be good at it, they never have a good answer, it's mostly "just because you would be." Not the most reassuring of answers for someone to go into a $19,000 and up degree.
Then, there's the fact I'll be 40 and I'm still single. I've been single for a while and I used to think it was because I was limited in my transportation and that was a logical excuse for it, so it made it easier to stomach, but, now that I've been driving for a year, am actively trying to improve myself, what else could the reason be? Is it because I just haven't met the right person yet? Is it because I don't make a wage that is sufficient enough to attract a potential mate? I don't know.
It's the cause of a lot of heartache and headaches in my life, though.
Sorry for this early (8:19 AM) ramble, it's just the thoughts that have kept me up with anxiety and insomnia last night.
That, and the fact the computer I had built from the money I saved for three years for, is having all sorts of weird issues and I've done everything I can to sort them out on my own to no avail. Perhaps I should get a WordPress journal in 2021 and start writing Barker's Barkings again...
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As you can see, the idea of starting this journal up again was not an idle threat, more so a musing that made it to existence, albeit, not on WordPress, because I can’t afford a website, but on Tumblr.
I am okay with that.
Until next time dear reader,
A.
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Just Another Day at the Office Series - New Experiences
George MacKay x Reader Series
Part Three: Little Things
Masterlist
Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?
a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Since you guys seemed to like the text messages between Y/n and George, I decided to include a chunk of them, since there weren’t any in the last part.
Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here! Digital penetration (fingering lolz)
12:36 am, George: I cannot stop thinking about you.
My stomach churned with butterflies, but I wouldn’t let him know.
12:38 am, Me: Creepy, much?
12:38 am, Me: Kiddingggg :P
12:40 am, George: Haha. Very funny.
12:41 am, Me: Have you gone back to rehab to visit your friend?
12:43 am, George: Yes, Dean and I went yesterday after work. He’s not doing very well, but I know he’ll get better. Addiction is very scary.
12:44 am, Me: I can’t imagine. It must be hard seeing him so sick.
12:45 am, George: It is, but you’ve made all of this a lot easier for me to deal with. You make me forget about every single little flaw in life.
12:47 am, Me: Then I guess I’m doing my job.
12:48 am, George: You distract me too much sometimes, especially after last night.
12:49 am, Me: Really? Huh, I wonder why, that’s weird.
12:51 am, George: *insert eye roll*
12:52 am, Me: It’s time to get emojis, old man.
12:53 am, George: Nah
12:53 am, George: Unless you want to show me how to install them this weekend?
12:55 am, Me: Sounds like a plan, grandpa
12:56 am, George: You must be into older guys then, huh?
12:58 am, Me: Yup, I have a bingo kink
12:59 am, George: Gross.
12:59 am, George: I’m not thaaat old, I’m only 27.
I was twenty-four. Was that weird? Would he think that’s weird?
1:00 am, Me: When’s your birthday?
1:02 am, George: Next week, actually. March 13th.
1:03 am, Me: You doing anything to celebrate?
1:05 am, George: Eh, probably not. Dean and I might go to a bar or something, that’s what we’ve done in the past.
1:05 am, George: You’re welcome to come along if that’s the plan.
1:07 am, Me: I’d like that a lot, actually. I won’t get plastered this time, I promise.
1:08 am, George: Mhhhmmm.
1:08 am, George: It’s getting late, you should go to bed love
There it was, again. Love. I melted in my bed.
1:09 am, Me: You’re the one texting me!
1:10 am, George: You don’t haave to respond.
1:12 am, Me: But I want to.
1:13 am, George: See, there’s the problem.
1:14 am, Me: Is it a problem?
1:16 am, George: Yes, because I’m making you lose sleep.
1:17 am, Me: I don’t mind.
1:18 am, George: You’re making this harder for me, Y/n.
1:20 am, Me: Fine. I’m going to sleep.
1:21 am, George: *insert me sticking my tongue out*
1:22 am, George: Good. Goodnight, love.
I woke up the next morning with dark rings underneath my eyes, but they were well worth it due to our conversation; I’d found out that George was twenty-seven years old and his birthday was on March thirteenth, making him turn twenty-eight the following week. I wondered if our slight age difference would make things weird, I hoped it wouldn’t.
I went to work that morning with extra concealer on my face, and a sleek black pencil skirt with a dainty blouse. I rolled through New York traffic, waved at the receptionist once I’d arrived at the building, and made my way to the second floor with the not-so-speedy elevator. I welcomed my desk, waving at silently at Dean before stretching my hands and typing my results from the experiment.
The CBD oil experiment had gone pretty well; I used it only temples after coming home from work with a headache and I’d definitely noticed a difference. I spent the entire morning rewriting everything over and over again, wanting to perfect my first article and impress the HBIC that Connie was.
When lunch had rolled around, I decided to head to the small cafeteria to see what they had in store for me that afternoon, hoping it’d give me some energy to finish writing the article. I decided to go with my regular salad, picking out the toppings, as I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around noticing the presence of Faith, the small ginger haired girl I’d met on my first day. I smiled at her, before returning back to my salad.
“I meant to tell you before, but your idea for your experiment is really good, I’m kind of shocked at how well your first pitch is, actually,” she admitted with a smile as she opened some cabinets, scavenging for food.
I blushed at her compliment, turning my face to look at her.
“Thanks, Faith, that means a lot coming from you,” I beamed at her. “Your article of your interview with that producer from The Bachelor was amazing!”
I saw her cheeks tint pink as she turned her body to me after finding a small bag of chips.
“Really? You couldn’t tell that I was nervous during the interview?” she asked worriedly, her thin, groomed eyebrows knitting together anxiously.
I shook my head. “Not at all! It was perfect.”
She chewed on her lip before smiling at me.
“Thanks, uhm, maybe we could work on something together sometime? After the article you’re working on right now, of course,” she suggested.
I grinned at the girl.
“Of course!”
“Okay! I’ll see you around, Y/n.” She exited the room with a soft smile, and left me to finish my salad.
I was glad to have finally made a girl friend, especially someone who could potentially help me with my writing. I finished my salad-making, returning to my desk and immediately conversing with Dean.
“So,” I began, shoveling the lettuce into my mouth. “Any new office drama we can talk about while we’re on lunch?”
The people that usually sat beside us had gone off to some restaurant down the block from the office, leaving Dean and I by ourselves at the table.
“George heard two people goin’ at it in one of the conference rooms earlier,” Dean shared with a laugh, his blue eyes softening in humor.
Hearing him mention George made me wonder if George had told Dean about me. I brushed this thought off, knowing it’d result in unnecessary anxiety.
“Do people usually have sex in the office?” I asked, lowering my voice.
He shrugged.
“Sometimes, I guess, but George works on the third floor with the most empty offices, so he hears about it more than me, I’m sure.”
I shoveled more salad into my mouth, as I pondered what it’d be like having sex at the office. Having sex on one of the empty conference tables and risking someone coming in or hearing, or doing it on a desk after everyone’s gone, the building empty and the bright lights of New York lighting up the office through the windows; my legs were quivering at the memory of George’s tongue and imagining how he could fuck me at the office. It’d be so scandalous, so risky, but why did I like thinking about it?
“Y/n?”
I brought my head up to the brunette, observing his confused expression.
“What?”
“I asked how the article’s going,” he repeated.
Shit, did I space out that bad?
“Oh, it’s going well,” I stammered.
“Don’t be nervous about it, I’m sure Connie’s going to love it,” he reassured me, his expressions softening with concern.
I was not just spacing out due to anxiety from the article, but I led him to believe so because I was sure as hell not going to tell what I was really thinking about.
“You’re right,” I agreed.
I shoveled the last of the lettuce into my mouth, the fork lingering in my mouth as I thought of George’s lips; I missed the taste of him.
I wondered where his office was; I wanted needed to see him. I needed to feel his lips against mine, I needed to feel his hands explore my body, I needed something to relieve the aching between my legs.
“I’ll be back, I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I announced, grabbing my phone and quickly exiting the office.
I scurried into the elevator, pressing the third floor button and opening my front camera on my phone to perfect my appearance. I ran my fingers through my hair, teasing my roots to make my locks look tousled and sexy. As the elevator stilled, the doors opened, and I headed down the hallway, hoping for a sign that had George’s name on it for navigation. There was an open room with tables of desks like my floor, but it was much smaller, revealing the small amount of people in the art department.
It led to a hallway with several rooms on each side, as I slowly walked down and turned my head to each door in hopes of seeing his name or his face somewhere. I was finally introduced to a wooden door with “George MacKay” written on it. My cheeks flushed, and I knocked on the door with my knuckles. I heard footsteps as my heart raced, his door swinging open and revealing his face.
His hair was in perfect form, his locks styled effortlessly while he was dressed in a light blue button up and slacks, his blue shirt making his eyes look even lighter. His shirt fit his torso just right and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins that trickled up his arms. I licked my lips at the sight of him, as he fisted my shirt and pulled me inside of his office, kicking his door closed.
“I have to say, this is the best surprise I’ve gotten in a while,” he muttered, his eyes looking me up and down.
His hands wrapped around my waist, going to my lower back as his face inched towards mine. I felt his warm minty breath welcome me, already relieving my craving for him. I moved my nose to gently nudge his, before my lips attacked him. I couldn’t hold back anymore; George took away any self control I'd had in the past.
My hands went to cup his face before snaking around his neck. I felt his hands travel down to my ass, squeezing it, causing me to moan into his lips. I pulled on his hair instinctively, slipping my tongue into his mouth. He began walking, making me walk backwards until my back hit the desk. I pulled away, as I sat myself on it without thinking, scrunching my skirt up to my waist so that my legs could open for him to stand in between them. He stood himself between my legs once I’d given him access, staring at me momentarily. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen as he stared intently at me.
“What do you want to do, Y/n?”
I chewed on my lip. There was no way in hell that George and I’s first time would be at my work. But, I needed a relief; the ache between my legs was too much, almost painful at this point.
“Can you make me feel good?” I whimpered confidently, my fingers threading through his locks as we looked at each other.
His eyebrows furrowed and he nodded, his cheeks turning pink at my request.
“How do you want me to make you feel good, love?” he asked, his hand coming up to cup my face.
He slipped his thumb between my lips, surprising me. Without thinking, I swirled my tongue around his finger and gently sucked on it. His eye lids drooped as he watched me in awe, probably imagining my mouth on his cock. I opened my mouth as he removed his thumb and I looked at him innocently.
“Your fingers, George. Please,” I begged.
Still gazing at me, he lowered his hand, pushing my panties to the side with his index finger.
“Your wish is my command,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb running down straight to my clit.
My hips bucked at the action, and he attached his lips to mine to swallow all of my moans. He rubbed circles on the sensitive bud before running his finger through my folds. My fingers knitted themselves into his hair as he teased my entrance, driving me absolutely insane. His finger slid into me easily due to how wet I was, how wet he had made me. He pulled his lips away from me, using his free hand to insert a finger into my mouth. I sucked on it, as I tried not to let any moans escape my mouth while he attached his lips to my neck. His thumb began picking up its pace, his finger curling into me faster. I gently nibbled on his fingers as my stomach began to twist, my legs sticking straight outward and trembling. The delicious pleasure was building and building, and I wasn’t sure how long I could last.
“You gonna cum, angel?”
Angel.
I cried out against his finger with a closed mouth, hitting my climax as I came undone onto his fingers. My jaw went slack as I rode out my high, fingers threading themselves and pulling on his hair for dear life. My body spasmed against him, overwhelmed with pleasure. Once my legs finally relaxed, he slowly removed his fingers from my heat, and latched his digits into his mouth. He hummed, sucking me off of his fingers as I watched him in awe. He removed his fingers from his mouth, before grabbing some tissues off of his desk.
“I’m gonna clean you up, okay, love?” He informed me, looking at me for permission.
I nodded, watching as he got onto his knees and began gently wiping my pussy with the tissues. My breath hitched at the contact, sensitive after my climax. I watched him as he looked intently at my heat, concentrating, as he strategically cleaned where I’d been dripping.
“I wish I could’ve cleaned you up with my mouth, love, I hope you know that,” he admitted, looking up at me.
I whimpered, looking down at him as he gazed at me with innocent blue eyes.
He pressed his lips against each side of my inner thigh, before standing up and tossing the tissues into his trash can. He returned between my legs, moving his palms to cup each side of my face.
“Y/f/n Y/l/n, you’re going to be the death of me,” he confessed with a chuckle.
“Rest in peace, George MacKay,” I joked. “Cause: Y/f/n Y/l/n being too sexy.”
“That's for damn sure,” he moved to peck my lips, his fingers pulling down the bunched up fabric of my skirt. I held onto his shoulders as I stood up, needing extra support for my weak legs.
I flattened the skirt, adjusting my top as well. “How do I look?” I attempted to brush through my hair with my fingers.
“You look perfect,” he smiled, pecking my lips again. “I wish we could see each other after work this week, but I’m supposed to visit Andrew at the rehabilitation center with Dean until he starts improving.”
My eyebrows furrowed and I brought my hand to his bicep, ignoring how muscular it felt.
“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “You have to be there for your friends.”
He looked down at me, his expression softening as I watched him examine my features.
“Thank you, Y/n,” he said softly, his eyes returning back to mine. “You’re one fucking amazing woman.” He grinned, crinkles appearing next to his eyes.
My cheeks flushed as I fought back the urge to melt straight into the floor; I felt like I could have passed out if I hadn’t forced myself to remain composed and on my two feet.
“I’m not all that special,” I assured him. “I’d say I’m pretty much just an average millennial woman.”
He rolled his eyes. “But you’re not,” he argued. “You’re so fucking intelligent and determined, it truly baffles me. Most adults go into work, because they have to; you come into work everyday, prepared to blow everybody’s fucking minds, no matter what it takes.”
He brought his hand up to his face, the pad of his thumb stroking my bottom lip. “You have these little quirks, like, you chew on your bottom lip whenever you’re nervous or focusing on something.” He poked my cheek with his finger, causing me to smile. “You have these adorable little dimples.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You roll your eyes all the time, too, which could get you in trouble one of these days, love.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes, not wanting to prove him right. I shook my head instead.
“You’re stubborn too,” he added, noticing my expression. “But, I think you’re the most kind and forgiving woman I’ve ever met; I don’t think I know someone who could forgive their roommate for the shit she’s done to you,” he admitted. “But you want to see the good in every person.”
My eyebrows furrowed at the accuracy of his observations.
“How do you know all of this?” I interrogated, my eyes squinting in suspicion.
He smiled softly. “I notice all of the little things about you, love. They’re hard to miss when I’m with you.”
I bit back my giddy smile. “I notice a lot of the little things about you, too, George.”
He stepped closer to me. “Like what?” he chided with a smirk.
I brought my fingers to the sides of his eyes–careful enough not to touch his bruised eye–mimicking his previous actions. “The crinkles by your eyes whenever you smile or laugh.” I moved my finger to his nose, gently running along the bridge of it. “The way your nostrils flare whenever you’re concentrated or confused.” I poked the small freckles that were sprinkled along his nose. “These adorable freckles.” I could see him blush under my touch. My fingers went up to trace his right eyebrow. “Your eyebrows furrow whenever you’re focused on something.” My fingers moved down to his arm, tracing the veins. “The way your veins travel from the backs of your hands to your forearms.”
My palm moved back up to his face, cupping his cheek as I stared into his blue piercing eyes that gazed back at me.
“You’re incredibly loyal, and as much as you may not want to admit it, you’re hardworking and you love your job.” I stroked the small freckles along his cheek with my thumb. “I notice all of the little things about you, too. They’re hard to miss whenever I’m with you,” I rephrased his words sincerely with a whisper.
I watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, as he gulped and stared at me with an intense expression.
“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/n.”
#george mackay#george mackay x reader#x reader#x reader fic#fanfic#1917#1917 cast#dean charles chapman
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Live In Your Heart
requested by @i-dont-even-effing-know-anymore. hope you enjoy! 💕
read it on ao3
"We're not setting up the wifi yet," Patrick says. He's got his Stern Face on, which usually means fun things, but sometimes, unfortunately, means that David will be required to do work. This seems to be one of those times.
"But babe," he says, wheedling, "how will I order pizza if I don't have wifi?" He brandishes his phone. "I ran out of data in New York last week." He went with Alexis to help her settle in — it's been a strain, her moving right before he and Patrick were set to, and he's frankly exhausted, physically and emotionally. "We promised Stevie pizza," he adds, as if he can convince Patrick that his motivation is purely selfless.
Patrick plucks the phone right out of his hand. "I'll call them," he says. "You remember, how we ordered pizza back in the nineties? By calling?"
"Ugh, don't remind me." David leans back against a towering stack of boxes, ignoring Patrick's pained look, and sighs heavily. "Alright, fine. We might as well get this done. Bedroom first, or kitchen?"
"We can put Stevie on kitchen duty when she gets here," Patrick says. "Bedroom now." He pauses for a moment, and then smiles slowly, like he can't help it. "Our bedroom," he says, and David wouldn't generally describe Patrick as a particularly jovial person, but he looks downright giddy.
David honestly can't blame him, feels that a little bit too, at the words. He's spent a lot of time at Patrick's place, and for the last month or so he's lived there fully, barring his four days in New York with Alexis. But it was still Patrick's place, no matter how at-home David made himself there. (Very.)
This is their place. David and Patrick's home. David and Patrick's bedroom.
"Our bedroom," he agrees, and grabs a box, following Patrick down the hall.
Their bedroom is, thus far, more or less a big empty cube. There's a weird alcove with the window in it that Patrick has been insisting he wants a window seat for, and the master bathroom door is on the wall kitty-corner to the bedroom door. David has been pleased (thrilled) to note that the whole thing comes with a lovely little walk-in closet; it's not huge, but it's easily three or four times the size of the closet back in Patrick's studio.
The movers brought in Patrick's bed yesterday and set it up against the far wall, and David and Patrick slept on the mattress on the floor at Patrick's place. "Okay, first things's first," David says, dropping his box in the middle of the floor. Patrick pointedly pushes it against a wall, and David ignores him. "Where are the sheets? Because we can not sleep on dirty sheets our first night in the new house, Patrick."
"Actually," Patrick says, "about that." He's barely trying to hide a shit-eating grin, and it makes David immediately wary.
"What," he says heavily.
"Okay, don't be mad," Patrick says, which tells David that he probably should be, "I should have talked to you probably but I wanted it to be a surprise," and he rushes through the words to keep David from interrupting. "I used all the money my grandparents gave us for our wedding and bought that flax-linen Pottery Barn set you wanted."
David gasps, because he has wanted that bed set so badly — fair trade linens in gorgeous soft sandy beige — but Patrick has insisted every time David has argued that it's frivolous to spend more than a hundred dollars on sheets. Their current sheets are from Target. "Like, the sheets —"
"The whole bed set," Patrick says, looking inordinately pleased with himself. "The sheets, the duvet and shams — I didn't get the dust ruffle because my bed frame —" But David doesn't get to hear about the dust ruffle because he's quite literally launching himself into Patrick's arms and kissing him.
Patrick makes a soft, surprised noise, not quite a laugh, and lifts his hands to hold David by the waist. He pulls back just a little, letting David kiss down his jaw, to say, "So you're not mad?"
"Linen sheets," David mumbles against his Adam's apple. He pulls back to smile down at Patrick, and Patrick is smiling back, radiant in a way that David never saw him before they got engaged, a way that he's seen more and more since they decided to buy the house. "Okay," he says, schooling himself, because if they do what he wants to do — which is tackle Patrick onto the bare mattress in their empty bedroom and thoroughly christen the house — then they'll never get to all the things they have to do. "Well, where are the new sheets, because they have to be washed before we can use them."
Patrick helps David wrestle the new bedding out of its insane packaging, and then builds a little fort in the tiny laundry room out of all the cardboard while David starts a load. He's relieved every second that the previous owners left their washer and dryer — they're both done with public laundry for the foreseeable future.
They grab another box each to haul into the bedroom on the way back down the hall; the bed and dressers are there already, and a single bookcase. David has already been in to clean the closet and repaper the shelves in there, and they've agreed that they don't want to paint the bedroom; it came a creamy off-white that feels warm and soft, somehow.
David puts on music — he's made a playlist just for this, full of high-energy, multigenerational pop, Tina and Britney and Mariah all sharing space. At some point Patrick logged into their shared Spotify — purely an economic choice; David didn't want Patrick's music fucking up his Wrapped, but that's not really worth ten bucks a month — and added Mumford and Sons and Bryan Adams and the Beach Boys, because Patrick has no sense of thematic or genre consistency. It's fine, he supposes; when you love someone, you're willing to compromise for them.
"'Framed wall art and photos - bedroom,'" Patrick says out loud, reading off the Sharpie label on a box. "Maybe we should save this one until we've got the basics together?"
"Okay," David agrees over an infuriatingly long banjo solo. "This one is your books?" Patrick gestures and David slides it over, watches him produce a knife from his pocket and slice open the top.
By the time Stevie strolls through the door, helpfully using her emergency key, they've mostly got the bedroom together. The mattress pad and sheets are on, with the duvet set in the dryer, and Patrick's books and David's books are commingled on the shelf, which David is alarmingly pleased by — they're married, but the sight of his Virginia Woolf next to Patrick's Agatha Christie makes him feel warm from the inside out.
"I picked up the pizza," Stevie shouts. "You owe me forty bucks in reimbursement!"
David skids down the hall, eager for pizza, with Patrick behind him.
"How in the name of god did you spend forty bucks on pizza?" Patrick wants to know.
Stevie shrugs, hugging him as David relieves her of the boxes. "I got garlic knots."
"And cheese bread," David says gleefully, spreading the boxes on the table. "And one of those big cookies."
Patrick sighs after him but dutifully digs three beers out of the fridge. (They set up all the appliances and TVs yesterday.) (All that's in the fridge so far is beer, a single head of lettuce, and a few bottles of green juice.) David accepts his beer with minimal distasteful nose-scrunching.
They make short work of lunch, and Patrick sets Stevie up in the kitchen with a roll of shelf paper and more boxes than he'd ever thought he could fill with kitchen stuff; the dishes from his apartment, of course, and then they'd gotten a lot of the classic appliance wedding gifts: a brand new blender, a four-slice toaster ("but what will you use?" David had asked), an upright mixer, a block of knives with marble handles that Patrick is actually thrilled with.
David finishes making the bed, and then he just stands and stares at it for a second; he can't wait for Patrick to have sex with him in these sheets in this bedroom, but he also can't wait for Patrick to cuddle with him in this bed. Watch movies with him. Hold him close and fall asleep with an arm slung low over his waist.
Patrick comes up behind him and settles warm hands on his hips, and David leans back into the touch. "Stevie and I want to get started on the living room," Patrick says, hooking his chin over David's shoulder. "You just about done in here?"
David crosses his arms across his own waist and takes Patrick's hands, swaying. One of Patrick's songs is playing from David's tiny speaker. I've been so happy loving you, Dennis Wilson croons into the space, less echoey than it was earlier before they got their pictures up. He looks around at their new room; the receipt from their first date is already on the bookshelf, and there's a framed poster for that first open mic night, and one from Alexis' singles week. These are all things from Patrick's apartment; all this time, he's been collecting little souvenirs for them. Stepping stones tracing the path of their relationship. There's a framed wedding invitation, too, and photos: from the store opening, Patrick's birthday, their bachelor party, their wedding.
Even after David landed in Schitt's Creek without a paddle, if he'd been asked to describe his future, he would have crafted a life more or less like the one he'd left: galleries and parties, a drugged-out A-list entourage, globetrotting in the wake of Alexis' endless stream of near misses. He never could have imagined this: a house in a small town, a business heavily patronized by flannel-clad locals, a single friend who loved him enough to help him move. Alexis settled in one place, his parents settled in another, weekly Facetime calls.
Five gold rings on his fingers, the most beautiful man he's ever seen in Costco jeans, holding him and swaying and singing softly in his ear: "Forever, together my love…" A sedan that clicks in the driveway, blueprints for a vegetable garden. All the Ricky-and-Lucy trappings of a good life, things he never would have expected to love.
"You won," Stevie told him a few months ago, when he brought her here to sit in the driveway and pour out his heart. And David can hear her clanking dishes together downstairs, and Patrick is warm against his back, and the song is fading out the way that slow seventies rock does, and David knows, bone-deep, unshakeably, that she was right.
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More Than I Deserve
So here is the long coming second chapter of my self insert fic. @beetlejuicebeadoll this is for you, sorry about the number of times I said I'd post and didn't.
Tw: mentions of death, suicide attempt, depression. Chapter 1 is here.
The first few weeks in his new digs had been...frustrating. She just didn't seem scared of anything. Bugs crawling on her? She laughed and swatted them off, replying that she had lived in roach infested apartments and this was nothing new. Severed head in the cupboard? Nothing more than a gasp, a press of her hand to her chest, and a "very funny!" Shadowy figure standing in her closet, doors opening and closing on their own, disembodied voices and reaching hands clawing out from the walls? Acknowledged and dismissed, as if she were observing the weather. Not a single scream. Beetlejuice tugged at his hair, growling to himself. What the fuck was this weirdo afraid of?
Finally, when she had had the audacity to laugh at a dark figure skittering across her ceiling, he appeared in her room, hands thrown above his head and scowling. "Alright, I give up. What the fuck makes you tick? What are you afraid of?"
Molly had stared at him for a moment, then shrugged, lips pressed together as if to suppress a smile. "When you know the house is haunted, it isn't scary anymore."
He opened his mouth to argue, then sighed, dropping his head in defeat. "You make a good point."
"In any case, why do you have to try and scare me? Do you want me to leave?" Her voice held notes of earnestness, genuine curiosity. "Is it the house you want?"
"No! No, I don't want your house, goddammit." He folded his arms grumpily across his chest; this wasn't how a haunting worked. "This is just how these things go. This is what I'm supposed to do."
"Why?"
Beetlejuice paused, absently tugging some loose threads from the sleeve of his blazer. It was a while before he answered, his voice still carrying that signature rasp, and yet softer somehow. Pensive. "Y'know...I don't really know anymore."
Molly stood from the chair she had been reclining on, and reached for him. Out of instinct, he drew back, looking untrustingly down at her hand, and her heart gave an odd lurch in her chest. Still, she let her fingertips graze over the back of his hand, his skin as cold and smooth as marble. "Maybe you can just, you know, live here. Well, not live." To her relief, a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "Its okay for you to just be here. Honestly, I kind of like having you around."
He snickered. "Babes, you're so full of shit, your eyes are turning brown." His posture relaxed a bit as she laughed, and she took his hand between hers, warm palms pressing around his fingers. God, that felt nice.
"No, really. The house doesn't feel so empty now. It's a welcome change."
Once again, he chuckled, grasping her wrist and tugging her against his side, slinging his arm over her shoulder. "You're fucking weird, kid."
It did take some adjusting; after all, there was a bit of a learning curve when it came to dead/living cohabitation. But once he stopped pushing her out of bed because he was bored and she got used to the smell of damp earth on everything, it was remarkably pleasant. He was an oddly good conversationalist, having been around for longer than she could really comprehend, and would sit cross legged in midair, gesticulating wildly, his expression animated as he told her story after story. She didn't shy away from the fact that he had killed people; but then, by now, he didn't expect her to. "You're not trying to kill me," she explained, "so what does it matter? You're a demon, I expect human lives aren't as sacred to you."
"You know, you probably shouldn't be as chill with this as you are," he joked.
"Mm. Maybe. Death doesn't really faze me anymore."
The smile on his face faded slightly. "Lose someone?"
A pause. "Everyone." She looked up at him, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Why do you think no one ever comes by?"
All was quiet for a long, long moment. “Look, babes, I’m not that great with...y’know, human shit. Emotions.” With a sigh, he settled down beside her, legs kicked up on her coffee table. “But if you wanna talk about it, I’m listening.”
She lifted her head, a soft smile on her face that didn’t touch her eyes. “Careful, or I might think you have a heart in there somewhere.” Her gaze faraway, she spoke, her tone carefully measured and emotionless. “Where I grew up wasn’t exactly a great place. It was a small town, most people were dirt poor. We weren’t well-off, but we were comfortable enough. Grew up just fine. The neighbor kids weren’t as lucky. Their parents made meth and child abuse into an art form.” Absently, she picked at the chipping dark green nail polish on her right thumb, still gazing into the far distance. “When I was fifteen, my older sister had her high school graduation party at the house, and my whole family came. Like, the whole family. Aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins. The whole gang. I was a little shit and didn’t want to socialize, so I snuck out and went for a walk. Didn’t feel like they’d miss me anyway. Turns out the neighbors were cooking up a big batch of fresh methamphetamine that day, and something went wrong. The explosion was so big it took out half the block. My house and everyone inside included.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that. My whole family, vaporized.”
“Jesus, kid,” he said softly.
“It took me five years to really process everything, you know? At first it was pandemonium. The state got involved, since I was a minor, and no one could figure out what to do with me. Too old for foster care, not old enough to live on my own. I was checked out, barely spoke to anyone, and frankly didn’t care if I lived or died, so I literally didn’t give a shit where I ended up. I floated around for a while, until I was sixteen and could legally live on my own. Turns out Mom, Dad, and both sets of grandparents named me in their wills, so I ended up inheriting quite a bit of money. I bought a shitty apartment in a shitty little town and did nothing but marinate in a delicious stew of survivor’s guilt and PTSD for four more years.” There was bitterness in her tone; he could almost taste it in his mouth. She returned to picking at her nail polish, not even attempting to look up at him. “Then I started getting my shit together. Got my GED, took online university courses and got a bachelor’s in library science. Started going to therapy, started talking to people. Got a job. I relearned how to be a person all over again. I even got a girlfriend.” At last, she looked up at him, as if challenging him to say something, or perhaps gauging his reaction to her sexuality. When his expression didn’t change, Molly lowered her head and continued.
“She lived upstate, about a two hour drive away. We met online through a literature forum.”
“Pff. Nerd.”
Molly gave a soft huff of something close to laughter. “We hit it off, I took a leap and asked her out, and we dated long distance for two years. She was the first person I was ever in love with, the only person I’d gotten close to since my family died. Then around Christmas on the third year of our relationship, she was driving down to see me...and she hit black ice and went off the road. Killed instantly. I found out about it two days later because her brother found me on Facebook. Her parents...they didn’t know she was a lesbian. They would have made her life hell if they knew. I couldn’t even attend her funeral.” Once she stopped talking, the house seemed unnaturally silent, as if even small sounds were muffled under the weight of her suffering. “After that, I just kind of...shut off again. I figured I was cursed or something, that I wasn’t meant to be around people. I bought this house, found a job editing online articles, and that is the story of how I ended up being the town recluse at the ripe old age of twenty-eight.”
He was quiet; what could he possibly say? Throughout his long, long existence, he had seen worse things than the life she had described to him...but not many, and not by much. There hadn’t been a single human interaction in the time he’d been here, he hadn’t seen her leave the house except to take the trash to the curb once a week. Yet, she seemed...stable. At peace with it all somehow. There was a current of strength running through her, of fire-tested resilience that he begrudgingly admired. Beetlejuice glanced down at her and saw that she was staring expectantly up at him, as if waiting to see what he was going to say. With an easy smirk, he knocked her shoulder with his. “So...you’re into the ladies, huh?”
Molly was silent for a moment, then burst out laughing, awkwardly swinging her fist to land a glancing blow on his chest. “Really, you dick? I bare my soul, my whole tragic life story, and the only thing you take away is that I’m into girls?!”
Chortling, he dodged her second swing easily, darting forward to perch on the edge of the coffee table. “Can’t help having a one-track mind, babes. That explains why you haven’t fallen for my roguish charms yet.”
Scoffing good-naturedly, she relaxed back into the couch; he was relieved to see her posture ease, her body more relaxed after a break in the tension. “Oh, is that what you call it? Besides, what makes you think I’m only into girls, slick?”
He raised an eyebrow, all but leering at her. “Swinging for both teams, doll? I won’t lie...that’s pretty fucking hot.” He could practically hear her eyes rolling, but she laughed softly. It was quiet for a moment, then he reached for her hand. Ever since she had taken his in her own, he had slowly been testing the boundaries of how much touch she allowed. Hand-holding was fine, a casual arm slung over her shoulder was tolerated, but anything beyond that and she would flinch and ease away. Though, knowing what he knew now of her past, touch must be something she was unused to. Now, as easy as anything, his fingers meshed between hers, squeezing softly and holding back a sigh at the hot press of her living skin against his. “Hey, uh...thanks for telling me. Family shit isn’t easy to deal with.”
A beat, and then she squeezed back. "Thanks for listening." She smiled. "You know, for being a demon...you're pretty nice to me."
"Yeah? Well, don't read into it, babes, I'm just trying to get in your pants."
His eyes followed her as she laughed and stood, lingering with her hand in his for a moment before letting go and padding barefoot into the kitchen, a strange expression creasing his brow when her back was turned. Slowly, at the very roots, the tiniest flush of pink tinged his hair. This wasn't how hauntings were supposed to go. The dead were not supposed to feel, especially for the living. This was unnatural, topsy-turvy, wrong in every way, but even so, he was grateful that she had decided to try that summoning spell; after observing her in his time here and learning about her usual practice (what she called "green magic"), he knew now how outside the norm such a dark spell was. Yet she had called him, said his name with no hesitation. Hell, she had all but put out a welcome mat. For him. The pink in his hair slowly began to spread upwards as the barest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth; not a smirk, a grin, or a disingenuous lopsided curl of the lip, but a genuine smile. Perhaps just being here wouldn’t be so bad after all.
#beetlejuice#beetlejuice the musical#tw mentions of suicide#tw mentions of death#chapter 3 is forthcoming
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Seth Moya for @moonfamiliar Rafe Quill Vikander’s Bachelor Challenge
Hello... um yes... hi... is this recording? Okay yes hi this is Seth... Moya. I’m sending in a video recording with my application because... well because I get a little too in my own head and I usually just need to talk these things out. I grew up on Sulani. Born and Raised. It was just my mom and my older brother for the longest time and then my mother met a man and remarried and I got a step dad. He’s cool I guess. Tries a little hard sometimes. Kinda weird fellow but... yeah. He means well and my mom’s happy so I guess that’s fine...
...
Right I’m getting side tracked again. Well my mother downsized recently... following that tiny living trend yknow? heh. She waited till I was out of high school and so I shacked up with my brother who was staying with roommates and attending university. But I wanted to take a year off from school to pursue my passions and... well yknow... I just got out of school I wanted to prolong it.
But one year turned into two and my art hasn’t really... gone anywhere. I’m about ready to give up honestly. My brother got engaged and that’s why i’m here applying. Maybe i’ll find love. Maybe a best friend. Maybe a roommate... its easier than applying for university... hah... okay no bad joke. I am planning on applying. I figure if I go to school for art I’ll actually get into the career I want. Which is tattoo designing.
Seth is a quiet bean that likes people he feels comfortable just hanging out around in silence. He loves going to concerts and listening to music, especially while he’s working on his next art project. He’s in love with his home and feels a deep connection to it and his ancestors that have always been from Sulani. Swears sometimes the spirits talk to him but he’s stopped mentioning that to people since they kinda look at him weird when he does... He loves designing tattoos and can almost always be caught with earbuds in. He’s never been all that great at school which is why he’s kinda nervous about attending University but feels kinda backed in the corner and now gonna take it because how else will he get better at his favorite thing? Family is really important to him and he believes love comes in all kinds of forms when you need it most in life. Can totally surf, ready to be an uncle (and tells his brother this constantly) and loves coconut flavored things.
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In Portugal we don't even really have minors as you guys do, and majors are obviously called something else
The whole concept is pretty ridiculous, like you guys don’t even know the half of how complicated it got:
I never wanted a minor. I never really thought I needed one but my college (it’s small, old, and weird, so it has a lot of weird rules) requires it even though for an English “major” you “concentrate” in either creative writing or literature (you can guess which one I picked), and I thought that counted as a minor. But my school also requires a separate minor for all Fine Arts degrees (because a Bachelor of Arts degree is useless in the real world in their eyes apparently, so you have to add stuff to it to make it worthwhile).
So I chose Spanish because I was already required to take four semesters of it, and I was told “You’ll only need three more classes after that to get a minor in Spanish.” So I said “Okay, sure, I’ll do that.” (This is coming from a person who, upon graduating high school and being required to take two years of Spanish then, swore up and down I’d never take another Spanish class in my life (no offense to Spanish-speaking people, your language is fine, my high school teachers were just monsters). So believe me, the irony is rich with this one.)
And then I got signed up for more Spanish classes than I thought I needed, and I asked, “Hey, why am I taking this class?” And my Spanish professor (who is the loveliest, most wonderful, patient professor I’ve ever had and is the only reason I’ve survived this long) shrugged because she didn’t know why. And my advisor shrugged and said, “It just makes sense for you to take more Spanish since you need the hours for your state grants.” And yeah, here we are.
Also, state grants having a requirement of 15 hours so you can receive financial aid to pay for college should be illegal. That crap is ridiculous, and my state is so poor and stupid that they took away half my money anyway and our politicians would rather stuff their and their buddies’ pockets than spend tax money on, idk, improving the educational status of our state. Out of 50 states, we’ve never gotten above the bottom 5. I’m not exaggerating. But that’s a whole other rant haha
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Destiel Trope Collection 2019
Day 25: Roommates
PB&J | @dmsilvisart
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 1785
Main Tags and Warnings: roommate au, pining
Summary: Have you ever dated someone to make someone else jealous? Dean has a very important question for Cas. Cas is oblivious and apparently Dean is an asshole.
It's All Benny's Fault | @casbeanwrites
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 7904
Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, guinea pig, fluff, dean in denial
Summary: Everything was fine in Dean Winchester's life, until the day his (ridiculously adorable) roommate forced him to adopt a guinea pig, and everything went to Hell.
Me Too | @isolemnlyswear-iamsuperwholocked
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 2736
Main Tags and Warnings: Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Roommates, Based on a Tumblr Post, Inspired By Tumblr, Miscommunication, Misconceptions, Openly Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Bisexual Dean Winchester, Mentions of homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester
Summary: Dean has to get a new roommate, asap. He can't deal with it anymore- the dude has no idea what personal space even is, for one. He stares at Dean all the freaking time and it's starting to make him uncomfortable.
Not to mention the fact he might have a crush on the blue-eyed weirdo.
Cas has to get a new roommate, asap. He can't deal with it anymore- the dude has completely no respect for his sexuality. All his friends made jokes when Cas was with them and Dean just laughs, and Dean acts way too weird around him for it to be normal. Not to mention Cas isn't ready to have another crush on someone who could never like him back.
sunday morning coming down | @reallyelegantsharkfish
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 2395
Main Tags and Warnings: Recreational Drug Use, Marijuana, Demisexual Castiel, Mutual Pining
Summary: Smoke can do all kinds of stuff to you, maybe. Maybe make you want to touch, want to kiss. Maybe make you want to cook dinner and lay together reading and laugh together on long drives through the Hill Country, Baby’s wheels tried and true around the curves and bends.
Holiday Traditions | @suckerfordeansfreckles
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 1356
Main Tags and Warnings: roommates, best friends to lovers, mentioned homophobia, emotional hurt/comfort
Summary: Ever since Dean has known Cas, since they moved in together almost three years ago, Cas has dreaded the Christmas season. Every single time, it had taken him days afterwards to find his smile again. Every single time, he came home and hid in his room for as long as possible. Every single time, Dean’s heart broke a little more for him.
But Cas survived the holidays again this year, and he’s done with family for the next few months.
And Dean, the awesome (and totally smitten) best friend he is, decided to treat Cas today. Make December 29th 2018 the best one Cas has ever had. Starting with breakfast in bed.
Wake Up, Sweetheart | @breathingdestiel
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 2766
Main Tags and Warnings: au, best friends to lovers
Summary: Dean decides to confess his love to Cas. It doesn't go as planned.
La Vie A Plus | @thebloggerbloggerfun
Rating: General
Word Count: 6260
Main Tags and Warnings: Asexual Castiel, Artist!Castiel, Punk!Castiel
Summary: Dean Winchester is hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with his best friend and roommate, Castiel.
Castiel - with his blue hair, and his tattoos, and his artwork, and his perfect everything. Dean never stood a chance, really. It only sucks because, as far as Dean can tell, Castiel is definitely not interested.
But love, much like art, has a way of being unpredictable.
Even if you think you know where you're going with it.
Truth or Dare | @lemonsorbae
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 1190
Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff
Summary: What else is there to do when the power has been out all day?
Perfect | @galaxystiel
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 6712
Main Tags and Warnings: College AU, roommates, fluff, 5+1,
Summary: Five times Dean told Cas they’d figure it out, and one time he didn’t need to.
Roommate Wanted | @supernatural9917fic
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 23088
Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Roommates, Gay Castiel, Dean thinks he's straight, Switching, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2018
Summary: Dean Winchester moved to Pontiac, Illinois six months ago when his girlfriend Carmen got a new job. Unfortunately for Dean, Carmen then left him for her boss, so he needs to find a roommate ASAP. Castiel Novak needs to move out of his brother’s house before his niece is born, and when he finds Dean’s ad on Craigslist, it seems like the perfect solution for both of them. So what if Dean is ridiculously gorgeous? Castiel can keep his crush under control. So what if Castiel is gay? Totally straight Dean isn’t at all affected by seeing him hook up with dudes. They’re just a couple of completely platonic roommates.
Well… that’s what they think, anyway…
Like Home | @nickelkeep
Rating: General
Word Count: 4549
Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Mutual Pining, Cupcakes, Wedding Planning, First Kiss, Living Together, Castiel and Dean Need to Use Their Words
Summary: Castiel's twin sister Hannah is getting married, and as the Man of Honor, he's been along for the Bridal Show and Wedding Planning ride. After talking about the last one with his best friend/roommate Dean, Dean suddenly wants to tag along (mostly for the free food). Can Cas handle pretending to be engaged to his best friend?
First and Only | @almaasi
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 35782
Main Tags and Warnings:Romance, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Non-Chronological, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Cuddling & Snuggling, Virgin Castiel, Voyeur Castiel, Demisexual Castiel, Demiromantic Castiel, Switch Castiel, Autistic Castiel, Openly Bisexual Dean, Switch Dean, Homeless Dean, Thief Dean, Moving In Together, First Time, First Kiss, Ice Skating, Alcoholism, Public Displays of Affection, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Summary: Single bachelor Dean bets he can have sex more times within a calendar year than his happily-married brother. But when Castiel – Dean’s roommate, best friend, and total virgin – asks Dean to be his First, Dean’s plan to bed numerous strangers goes up in smoke. Over the weeks, then the months, Cas becomes his go-to guy. His “fuck buddy”, if you will. But that doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t feel right. Dean was Cas’ First, but now he wants to be Cas’ Only. Now he’s gotta figure out how the heck to court a guy he’s successfully wooed a hundred times already.
The House That Wanted to Be a Garden | @almaasi
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 32982
Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe, Romance, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Bliss, Friends to Lovers, Sharing Clothes, Cuddling & Snuggling, First Kiss, First Time, Naked Cuddling, Accidentally Moving In, Home Improvement, Fairies, Magic, Believer Castiel, Demisexual Castiel, Gardener Castiel, Skeptic Dean, Musician Dean, Famous Dean, Grumpy Dean, Bisexual Dean, Dean vs Gardening, Summer, Autumn, Hygge
Summary: AU where Dean accidentally moves in with his neighbour, Cas, who is surprisingly okay with it.
Or:
Every time Dean fixes anything in this cursed house, a random plant pops up and breaks it again. The woo-woo weirdo named Cas on the other side of the river keeps insisting that Dean must've offended the forest fairies. He offers his own home's amenities for as long as Dean needs them. But with each passing night, and every bent pipe, fritzing electrical system, or shattered window, Dean finds himself returning to his own place only to sleep. And then... one night... he doesn't even do that.
Room for Two (The Mattress AU) | @almaasi
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 14548
Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - College/University, Roommates, Romance, Fluff, Crack, Sharing a Bed, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Literal Sleeping Together, Wet Dream, Sleepy/Unconscious Sex, Accidental Sex, First Time, Insomniac Castiel, Dominant Castiel, Autistic Castiel, Switch Castiel, Comfortably Bisexual Dean, Switch Dean, Horny Dean
Summary: ✔ College roommates
✔ Buying a mattress together
✔ Faking a relationship to get a discount
✔ Sharing a bed
✔ Roleplaying as a couple to "test the bed"
✔ Fake kissing becomes real kissing
✔ Fake sex is Way Too Real
✔ Cuddling
✔ Wet dreams
✔ "Oh no I thought I was dreaming but it was real life"
✔ Matchmakers Sam & Charlie
✔ Cas seems kinda clueless but actually understands everything
✔ Mutual respect, support, and understanding
✔ Friends to lovers
✔ Mutual pining
✔ Go౦ԁ sHit
Sharing the Rain Dog | @almaasi
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 19837
Main Tags and Warnings: Alternate Universe - Human, Historical (1999), Fluff, Romance, No Angst, Accidental Dating, First Dates, Rain, FBI Agent Castiel, Musician Dean, Singer Dean, Flustered Dean, Shared Custody, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Moving In Together, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, Dean in Panties, Cuddling, Uniform Kink, Clothed Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Non-Penetrative Sex
Summary: When some asshole hits a dog with his car and drives off, the first two people on the scene are Dean and Castiel. Castiel's an FBI agent with a plane to catch, and he doesn't have time to take the dog to the vet. Dean's a musician, and he doesn't have the money. An agreement is reached: Dean goes, Castiel pays, and they'll exchange details and meet again to work things out. But who gets the dog? Sooner or later they're going to realise that having shared custody of one pitbull isn't ideal. She needs one home, not two. One stable, loving home...
#destiel#destielfanficnet#writersofdestiel#deancasfanficnet#destiel trope collection#tropes#roommate au#2019
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MONTHLY MEDIA: February 2020
Okay two months into the year! Here’s all the stuff I read/watched/heard/played/and generally experienced in February!
……….FILM……….
The Favourite (2018)
We were in the exact right mood for this and it was as weird and dramatic and well-acted as I’d hoped. It does a great job of shifting tone and the movie probably took an extra half hour to watch as we paused and looked up the accuracy of everything about Queen Anne and Sarah Marlborough. Everything about this movie (and the history it’s based on) was just bonkers.
Birds of Prey and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn (2020)
Super fun! It was silly and heartfelt and shockingly violent (they did a great job of having like...a baseline of violence that was pretty lowkey and then really hitting you with one or two super gruesome moments). I haven’t seen Suicide Squad but this worked for me on its own. Also the fight choreography was incredible! There’s just so much to love here. Oh I would’ve liked to see a little more costuming from the other cast members, but understand why that didn’t quite fit into this. Anyway, good time at the movies.
Down a Dark Hall (2018)
Very very okay. It’s a slow burn and has a gothic vibe. None of the characters get a lot of depth but they’re well-acted. It’s just like...a solid 6.5/7ish out of 10, you know? Like not GREAT, but also good enough that it was fine.
……….TELEVISION……….
What We Do in the Shadows (Episode 1.01 to 1.07)
So so good and I’m surprised I haven’t heard more people talking about this. It has enough of what I loved about the movie (charming characters and cast, fun play with what it means to be vampires, and a lot of comedy pulled from the contrast of the fantastical and the mundane) and there’s lots of new stuff as well (married vampires, american location, etc.) Really worth checking out and it makes so much sense to transition this to tv. The effects are fantastic and they don’t seem to be pulling their punches with the gore either. Very excited for more.
The Bachelor (Episode 24.05 to 24.09)
I think the produces are wringing every drop of drama out of the interpersonal relationship between the women because Peter is such a dud. It’s a shame. If they took a risk and tried someone who broke the mould, then we’d get tv that breaks the mould. The only thing that’ll save this season for me is if Hannah B. comes back at the very end.
The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (Episode 3.04 to 3.08)
A fun season, though I never really love magic plots where a the main hurdle is no magic. This is not why I watch a magic show. The eldritch horrors and spooky carnivals and insane spells are what I love. The writing feels like it’s veering into Riverdale territory, but I can’t decide if it’s always been that way.
The Good Place (Episode 4.10 to 4.13)
Oof. What a great ending. And credit to everyone involved that they created a series that set out to tell a specific story, explore specific themes, and did so with laser focus. Well-planned, excellent writing, and equal parts funny and emotional. Excellent stuff.
……….READING……….
The Time Traveler’s Almanac edited by Ann and Jeff VanderMeer
(Page 357/959)
Such a great collection of short stories. I usually come back to this collection of time-travel stories when I’m in between books and it never disappoints. It’s also a great way to find new sci-fi or fantasy writers and to get a sense of their writing style without commiting to an entire book. Worth checking out if you like science fiction or, even better, time travel.
The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson
(Complete)
Having only a casual understanding of the story, I was surprised by how relevant it felt. The story of a “good” man who indulges in dark deeds, swears it’s not him, asks for pity from the reader, and yet continues to do this stuff feels veeeeeery topical. Maybe Jekyll was sympathetic when the book was written?
Silver Surfer: Black by Donny Cates, Tradd Moore, and Dave Stewart
(Complete)
I really think Silver Surfer is becoming one of my favourite marvel characters because this book is exactly why I love comics. The writing is melodramatic yet sincere, the art is wildly inventive but coherent, and the story itself is a little sci-fi with fantasy elements. Absolutely worth checking out if you like Silver Surfer or crazy good art or bonkers stuff that doesn’t feel bonkers until you explain it out loud. It’s just a lot of fun.
Marvels by Kurt Busiek and Alex Ross
(Complete)
Art was/is/and will forever be stellar. I just can’t imagine how much time and love went into each panel. The writing is also wonderful and the overall story (life from the perspective of a civilians living in a world full of super-heroes) felt fully realized here. It’s fun seeing big comic book events from the point-of-view of a street-level photographer. With that said, I didn’t like the ending. I think it’s a good ending, but I didn’t like it. My gut tells me that it ended on a note that is contrary to the message being presented for 75% of the book. It’s one I have to think on a little more.
……….AUDIO……….
Judy con Disfraz by Los Sirex (1965)
So this is just one song, but I’ve been listening to a lot of foreign language covers of english songs and this one is probably my favourite right now.
……….GAMING……….
Neverland: Fantasy Role-Playing Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing)
I got to play two different games of this over the month! My ongoing campaign is exploring the island a little more and are getting into lots of trouble. The one shot I did with the Mof1 Podcast should be out in March and it was great introducing a few people to both the island AND D&D in general! So great.
Curse of Strahd (Wizards of the Coast)
The party finally escaped Death House! We’re starting to explore more of Barovia and I think the party is starting to realize just how deep in the forest they’ve gone.
And that’s it! As always, I’m keen to hear good things to check out so don’t hesitate to share a recommendation.
Happy Saturday!
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my theory on the ending of snk (spoilers)
wow. I can’t believe I’m so knee-deep into the lore of shingeki no kyojin again. right when I thought I was understanding things, I end up retracing and trying to understand the purpose of events and why characters did what...and the like. needless to say, I became infatuated all over again. during quarantine I got back into the series and caught up, spending the last week doing so. I just wanted to list what I think would happen at the end.
I’m fully convinced that the baby in the last manga panel is the og ymir fritz from the paths dimension being reborn into the mortal world and officially “set free”. I also think that the baby is historia’s. people like to argue about who the father is, if its the farmer, some people say its eren, idk. somehow I feel like it could be eren...that would make the birth of new ymir that much more poignant, but at the same time...I don’t know, I still have my doubts. its a 50/50 for me.
I am also set on the idea that armin will be the one to devise a master plan and make something happen in which he “saves humanity”, where it’s been foreshadowed by eren during that erwin/armin dispute. what he’s going to do exactly, I’m not sure. excited to see it though.
that being said, a part of me also has this theory that whatever happens, the one who will “land the finishing blow” or be the one to actually attempt to stop eren will be mikasa. I think this way because she is the only capable person within the vicinity of the main plot who is unaffected by the founder’s powers, being that she��s ackerman and asian. therefore, if something hypothetically happens where eren uses the founder’s power to facilitate his plan of genocide and therefore render eldians incapacitated, stopping even his fellow eldian friends from his initiation of destruction, mikasa is the only person who would be both unaffected and able to do something about it..also worth mentioning that her bond with eren could make that much more of a difference.
but also, I don’t even think eren’s plan of mass genocide can be stopped. truthfully, I actually think his plan might go through. worst case scenario is that the alliance tries to convince eren, and when that doesn’t work, they resort to killing him. bonus points if it’s mikasa that possibly kills him, like I mentioned, because isayama is the king of Suffer. of course not before eren confesses to armin and mikasa that he’s always loved them and he was distancing himself so that they could bear his death better. watch him about to die, be like, “I knew that this was going to happen in the future, and I don’t regret it. To save humanity, Mikasa, Armin,,,...I love you.” bam death. but then it doesn’t matter since the rumbling just kills everyone because the Will has already been initiated and it was all for naught. sadness ensues
jk I don’t think it’s going to be that sad... though we can never be too cautious because all kinds of deaths and sad dialogues are surely on the table. I think that the ideal conclusion would go like this: the rumbling ends up killing some but not all. eren makes the little girl paths ymir biologically modify the eldian race so that they can no longer transform into titans. this won’t erase any of the hatred that the other nations have for eldia, they will still fear them due to the long history that cannot be erased either. the cycle of bloodshed would most likely still continue, but to me this is the most peaceful way...
...this ending is unsatisfying and inconclusive, and it’s why it’s very unlikely. it’s why I think that the rumbling is inevitable. I also can’t trust isayama. he is not kind to us LOL. he can do whatever he wants. so I still think there’s going to be a lot of death and pandemonium and sadness soon to come.
I also wanted to touch on the subject of shipping because lol why not. I was never really a shipper in snk just cause all of my shipping energy is transformed into love and affection for none other than a r m i n the bane of my existence and also my will to live.
eren’s going to die in one way or another. be it in action or in the few years he has left of life. taking that into account...it’s why I don’t see him ending up with anyone. he’s the main character, but just because he’s the main character doesn’t mean he’s going to have a happy ending with whoever it may be. eren doesn’t have enough time to find a wife and have a kid and live happily, and even if he did he’d only have like 2-3 years left. I’d doubt he’d even want to burden a potential partner by having a family just to leave them behind in the next instant. having a totally tragic, sad, but meaningful death is what I 100% see here, potentially, and that includes the life that he will have cut short due to his story. it’s quite sad to think he dies so early with the curse of ymir...but of course, that’s just how the story goes.
mikasa: IIII’m not totally sure who I see mikasa ending up with. what I do know for sure, though, is that her distance from eren was necessary in order for her character development--to prove that she is indeed not a slave to her ackerman instincts. this totally makes me want to touch on the manga of what I saw regarding her and eren’s relationship, so I’m going to right now. oh god.. straight up, I felt sooo bad for mikasa after reading the scene where...omg....the survey corps went to marley woo fun ice cream and that night, eren talks to mikasa alone near the mid-east refugees, being all like, “wHat dO I mEaN to yOU?” ,,,,like I don’t even consider myself an eremika shipper, but damn I was blushing for her. so cut to that part where she responds “family” when he asks between “because I saved you” or “family”... it was here where it was kinda confirmed that she has those kinds of feelings for eren...which makes this even sadder for me to think about. the way I interpreted that scene was that eren wanted to know if she was only so concerned of him because it was due to her nature of being an ackerman to protect, or if it was because he and her grew up together (in my opinion, it was the culmination of both, but maybe more so the fact that they grew up together). what I understood from his question was that the last thing eren wants is for mikasa to be attached to him due to her bloodline and therefore a slave to him because of her own instincts, which is what he believes. I also understand his motive for being so mean to her was because of this. maybe he even wanted to protect her from the pain of his inevitable death and a guaranteed future without him, and so distancing himself is what he finds is necessary for that. and for that reason, I tend to think that their separation is going to be the endgame for them. undoubtedly, mikasa will have to live the rest of her days without eren. it’s one of those sad aspects of love that’s so vividly shown in SNK that’s like, love is sometimes real but not possible due to circumstances. will mikasa end up with armin? I don’t know. it’s possible but I mean...I feel like mikasa would be too pained knowing how deeply involved eren was in both of their lives. someone “new” like jean? seems hugely weird...also jean constantly disrespected eren so...probably not. I’m totally fine with mikasa being single. she can be an independent bad bitch and have her memory of eren deep within her heart.
armin: okay, so armin has 9 years left to live. will he have partner and a potential family? maybe. a lot of these questions are big maybes. I could totally see it happen. with who? no clue. I see that armin x annie is a thing, but like.............I honestly don’t think annie has the capability to love anyone like that. I think her sole concern in life is her father and that’s that. her life is also limited to who knows how many years, she has an even shorter time than eren. and in addition, like...would armin even like annie....? I just hope this king is happy for as long as possible because he deserves it. I Love You Armin.
as for everyone else, I also could see people like connie and jean finding their partners once everything is over, of course if theyre still alive. levi and hange are probably going to be bachelors for the rest of their lives. focusing primarily on levi, I think his whole life he never really tried to get close to anyone or had thoughts of truly having intimate relationships because he would expect the possibility of them to die. levi is king of “protecting myself from hurt by not engaging in intimacy in the first place”. an art I am also soon to master thanks to his teachings. hange...I hope she lives along with levi and both of them can finally live in peace as the old, tired veterans they truly are. speaking of which, I hope she doesn’t die. but for some reason I have a sense in my gut isayama is going to pull something.
^^the above wasn’t meant to bash any ships or anything. it’s just what I thought regarding the characters’ endings in my point of view, all while keeping the themes of the series in consideration, trying to be as unbiased and factual as possible
as we know, snk characters x happiness is....rare. snk characters x life is even rarer. still looking forward to any ending isayama has tho, might just cry into a pillow when I read it
#snk#my theory#lol#this wasnt meant to hurt anyones feelings#probably hurts me more#this was solely for fun ok#i might be dumb
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