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angelofthenight · 2 years

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Cardigans in August Pt.3

(Bruce Yamada x Reader x Vance Hopper)

Summary: During the summer after a fight, (Y/n) cheats on Bruce with Vance. When school starts again Vance thinks he finally has (Y/n) until she tries to win Bruce back.

Warnings: Angst, Sensitive!Vance, Love triangle, Unreciprocated love, Cheating, Mention of underage drinking, Swearing, (Y/n) isn’t a very good person

Word Count: 2.4k

Parts: 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7

“Chase two boys, lose the one”

“Slept next to him, but I dreamt of you all summer long”

“'Cause you weren't mine to lose”

Vance was so in love with you. In fact, he was so hooked onto you that he felt like he didn’t need anything else. Just one look from you was enough to put him in a good mood for the rest of the week. You made him feel energetic and euphoric.

You never gave him a straight verbal acceptance of his non-verbal love, which begged the question of whether or not you felt the same way. On the other hand, you hadn't outright rejected him either, so he figured this was just an early stride in winning your true love, a necessary step on a long staircase he was willing to climb if you were the end prize.

But he knew that deep down, you did harbor some attraction to him. He realized that when he backed away from the kiss at first and then you leaned in willingly. You were hesitant but certainly did not act by mistake. Because when he finally initiated the kiss after your vague willingness, you kissed back. You always did. And you two kissed a lot after that first kiss.

You let your true feelings slip physically just once, and he helplessly clung to that. Used that as his motivation. He honestly thrived off that adrenaline rush to use everything in him to keep your feelings active. That tiny gesture of moving your head toward him was enough to prove to him that you did feel something for him. He desperately tried to keep that flame burning. You just needed a push, some assistance, some reassurance.

Even though you already had a boyfriend, he didn’t feel like the bad guy in this situation. Vance had feelings and wanted to be seen and loved. And though he’d never admit it aloud or even to himself, all he’s ever wanted was love. And his most desired love, your love, was just within his reach, his fingertips just almost grazing it. He was so close to grabbing it. And he’d helplessly claw at air toward it for however long it would take; whatever it took.

That’s why he went along with you stating to keep your relationship clandestine, it couldn’t be enjoyed publicly because you were already taken. So he kept his headlights turned off when he’d pull up to your house in the night. He’d meet you behind malls and the Grab n Go, out of sight from others.

This summer love was his most significant interest. He organized his day around it; he enjoyed the thrill it gave him, canceling plans with his friends last minute, if needed, to enjoy every possible moment with you.

Vance practically gave up everything for you. Regulars at the Grab n Go wondered if he had died since hadn’t come in for his pinball machine all summer when in reality he was waiting patiently beside his house phone, waiting for your call, well at least wanting you to call. But wanting was enough for him, or maybe he just said that to comfort himself. He was just living for the hope that it would all one day become something… more. For the hope that you would break up with Bruce for him.

All of this spiraled within Vance’s head as he laid beside you on a towel on the beach. You laid on your stomach and he laid on his side as he traced his name on your back, the bright sun shining over your back reminding him he wasn’t actually making his name visible. It was the August afternoon after his birthday that you two had spent together. Although he was excited to turn 17, August meant that summer was concluding and that school was creeping up from around the corner. He felt two conflicting descriptions of his summer romance; how fast the summer passed yet how slow and enjoyable it was at the time.

He feared what would happen to your relationship once school was back in session. The sensitive part of him feared that it would end and you’d stop calling but the other cocky part of him was confident that he finally had you, that you were finally his. You’ve opened up to him and shown him too much of your vulnerability for you to just act like nothing ever happened between the two of you.

As you laid on your stomach with Vance tracing squiggles on your back, you inattentively played with the sand in front of you while your mind was occupied with yearning and pining. Unbeknownst to Vance, you never fully invested your emotions into your summer fling. Because you were always longing for Bruce.

Vance walked through the first day of school halls with a prideful smirk and an authoritative march. He finally had everything he had ever wanted and now felt like he was unstoppable; an apex predator. He felt like he basically owned the school now. He felt his heart leap within his ribcage when his gaze finally honed in on your walking form from down the hall, the direction you were walking facing him.

He felt a confident and excited smile wiggle his lips as he quickened his steps toward you through the crowd of highschoolers. You still wore a blank face even as you neared him. But suddenly a bright smile was birthed upon your lips which sent a warm, fuzzy feeling to Vance’s stomach. You quickened your steps and as you got closer Vance opened his mouth to say something to you. But then you walked straight past him.

Vance practically got whiplash in his head from quickly thrashing his head over to follow your form, him stumbling over his footing from turning so suddenly and his smile faltering and twitching downwards in confusion. Looking over his shoulder as he still walked, he witnessed the reason why you had smiled and quickened your steps, to reach Bruce and leap in his open arms. You embraced each other tightly before Bruce leaned in to peck his lips onto yours sweetly.

Vance felt the oxygen evaporate from his lungs, leaving his chest in painful agony as he turned his head away to face forward again. His lips fell apart from each other as he looked down, feeling as if the world was spinning while his eyes slightly started to burn and sting and a thick tightness built in his throat.

The yearning only increased as the day progressed, your lack of affection and attention leaving Vance desperate and wanting. He’d purposely pass you in the halls for the hope that you’d stop and talk to him. But you never did. You would just walk right past him. Sometimes you wouldn’t even spare him a glance or other times when you would glance at him it would just be a weird look, like you were ashamed or something. He thought he’d be happy if you just merely looked at him, but somehow that look was worse than no look at all. There was no sign of your former affection in that one glance.

Could you really fall out of love so fast? Did he mean nothing to you when you were his everything that summer. That summer where you’d sing ‘Look at Me, I’m Sandra Dee’ to him as it was stuck in your head. That summer where you’d kiss underwater at the pool. That summer where you’d kiss under the docks with sand in each other’s hair. That summer where you’d take a shot when a certain phrase repeated in the movie on T.V.

The summer mornings where he’d wake up to the two of you twisted in his bedsheets. The summer nights where you’d drunkenly chase each other through the aisles of the grocery store just minutes before closing. The summer nights where you’d kiss at the empty park. The summer night when the carnival came to town. Oh my god the carnival, that was definitely a summer highlight for Vance.

And you were willing to throw that all away for Bruce? Who was the reason your smile wasn’t the same after the dance? You wanted to get back with that guy? When you two had something very real and rare? Vance’s sadness and desperation mixed with his anger as he walked through the halls to the lunchroom the next day. He wanted your attention back on him more than anything. He was starving for it. He couldn’t even get through a day of you ignoring him without going to the bathroom to suck his forming tears back in. He wanted to prove to himself that you liked him more than Bruce and preferred him to Bruce.

You were beyond happy to see Bruce again after what felt like forever. He was all you could think about all summer long. And by his reaction when finally seeing you again, he felt the same way. You had to admit, when you walked down that first hallway on the first day back to school and saw both Bruce and Vance in the same eyeline, you felt a sense of panic shake your nerves.

But when you ran to Bruce, the smile on his face calmed your anxious heart somewhat and his friendly tone relaxed you completely. You honestly didn’t know why you were so worried. You were certain not a soul knew of your unfaithful summer fling. You didn’t tell anyone and neither did Vance. Not even your parents knew. But you still lived in fear that Bruce would somehow find out. As if if he stared at you long enough the secret would write itself onto your forehead. The threat of the secret getting out was all up to you and Vance. You were for sure not gonna say anything about it and you prayed that goes the same for Vance…

Vance came onto you at the worst possible time; at your weakest. You knew that if he drove up to you that night while you and Bruce were how you were before the dance, that night would’ve gone completely different. You weren’t emotionally invested with the fling with him, you just wanted to physically let out your pent up emotions in a healthy way. You just needed something to occupy your mind and hands, to relax and blow off some steam. You assumed Vance felt the same way as you.

But your worries were heightened when you caught sight of Vance striding straight towards you in the cafeteria as you and Bruce laughed and chatted at your table. You didn’t have a good feeling about it, Vance never sat with you and Bruce at lunch, really only when Bruce was absent and he found you before your friends did. You gave Vance a suspicious look as he strutted up and sat right next to you, Bruce being across from you.

Bruce gave Vance a naive friendly smile as he sat down, though puzzled as to why he’s sitting with you and him. “Hey Vance.” You said with a face that didn’t match your convivial yet strange tone. You tried your best to create a balance with how you acted when both boys’ eyes were watching you. You tried to act how you’d normally act with Vance as a friend before summer break but maybe a little less touchy to make sure no suspicion rose on Bruce’s end. You also tried to act a little strict and careful with Vance to make sure he knew that he couldn’t act how he acted in the summer.

“What’s goin’ on with you guys?” Vance said after he obnoxiously jumped onto the bench. He then manspread his legs so that his knee touched yours. It was under the table so out of sight from Bruce but you still shot him an annoyed glare. “Nothing much.” You responded dryly. You leaned your leg away from Vance’s touch but that only gave him more access as he now pressed his thigh against yours.

“How were your guys’ summers?” Vance asked again with a growing smirk before Bruce could answer his first question. Your shoulders tensed when you felt Vance’s jeaned thigh rub against yours up and down. You glared at his smug and teasing expression. “Mine was fine.” You roughly said, getting annoyed with his risky antics. “Oh really?” He asked with an amused head tilt and a kittenish smirk.

‘What the hell is he doing?’ Was he trying to fluster you in front of Bruce or something? Was he trying to prove something? “Yeah.” You said with an unimpressed, ill-defined scowl, trying to yell at him with your eyes to not play these games.

“How was your summer?” Bruce asked Vance, his innocent obliviousness contrasting the thick tension. You saw Vance’s mouth open so you quickly cut him off, fearing he’d make a joke too risky or a comment that would give away their secret if Bruce read inbetween the lines. “Don’t you have a detention to get to, Vance?” You deadpanned.

Vance chillingly felt the weight of that one sentence. In a single summer you had gone from little phrases like “Kiss me like you miss me” to that cold dead “Don’t you have a detention to get to, Vance?” His arrogant smile threatened to shake as he felt it grow heavier by the second. “Well, yeah, but-” “Then I think you should get going.” You indignantly said.

It wasn't meant to come across as harsh as it did, but Vance knew better than this. To you, he was acting like an asshole.

Bruce stayed silent, slightly sensing an ominous aura hanging over the table.

Vance wanted to tease a little bit more to try and get a reaction he desired, but based on your grave tone and icy stare, he fell silent and frowned. Embarrassment embraced him as he awkwardly cleared his throat where a lump began to grow. He lifted himself off the bench with both yours and Bruce’s gazes following him. He left the table to begin walking back to the cafeteria doors. Painful tears built up in his blue eyes that looked down to the ground as he gripped his jaw to prevent his mouth from quivering, his hands balled up into fists at his sides.

Was what he thought your relationship was all in his head? Was he just crazy and your summer romance never really happened? Or was he really only just a summer fling to you?

#Spotify #the black phone imagine #the black phone x reader #the black phone #vance hopper imagine #vance hopper x reader #vance hopper #bruce yamada #bruce yamada x reader #Bruce yamada imagine #love triangle #folklore #folklore love triangle #Taylor Swift #august #Betty #cardigan

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machhapuchchhre · 2 years

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I haven't been around here for a while. Lots of things to deal with and tons of emotions to face.

So, I dislocated my ankle by jumping off a low boulder 11 days ago. Luckily I quickly put the joint in its right place and the pain wasn't too bad. All ligaments are badly strained but none of them are completely torn. I should stay still around 4 more weeks, depending on how the physio is going.

Not gonna lie, it was bad. I felt awful and went through all emotions. Anger sadness exhaustion resignation more anger frustration rage and more pain and sadness. It was especially tough to cancel our climbing trip and go home when I felt super strong and enthusiastic on the rock.

I feel okay today. Which doesn't mean I'll be okay tomorrow. But one day at a time.

I'm trying to organize everything for the summer, both my office job and the yoga classes (hopefully I can teach in July). I'm trying to take care of the tons of papers that came with my Mum's passing. My Dad would like to buy a new house together (with two flats, so we could both live there or I could rent mine). Either way it's exciting and intimidating. We're visiting a house that seems really nice on Friday morning.

At the same time I'm trying to get back to a normal sleep schedule, without meds, which is hard. Pain killers and anxiety meds have been really helpful the last weeks but I really feel like I need to find a way to sleep without them. Ankle pain is better, so it's a first step.

N has been working a lot and couldn't be there for me as much as I would have liked to, but on Sunday we had a really slow really cozy and intimate day together and I know that what we have is strong and healthy. I have faith in us and it's a wonderful feeling.

I miss my Mom like crazy. I cry sometimes. The other night I cried and wanted to punch walls and scream. N held me tight until I could breathe again and the storm fade away. Most days I'm okay. Some days I'm not. I know it's not linear. I know I won't stop missing her. I have flashes of her in the hospital bed, crying, or being so confused I didn't know what to do. It's the worse, revisiting those memories. I try not to. But I know I have to face it, if I want to move forward. Holding her hand through her last days was the most difficult, painful, exhausting thing I have ever done in my entire life. I don't wish that to my worst enemy. No one should have to see a loved one in so much pain for such a long time.

I take one day at a time. Deal with papers one by one. I started reading again, which feels nice. I bought a beastmaker and started seriously training on my power and fingers strength. Have dinner with friends. Hold on to the beautiful people in my life.

It will be okay, I know. But things won't ever be the same again. It feels like life has deeply changed, that my relationship to people, the universe itself has deeply changed. I'm learning slowly who I have become. I'm learning all of the first times without her.

It's a long journey.

But when I laugh like crazy with my friends, or when N smiles at me, i remember how lucky I am. I am not alone.

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years

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i will never be satisfied ~ cody fern

word count: 1027

request?: yes!

@kellysimagines “Hey I wanted to eens in a prompt through your asks but i cant so i wanted to ask if you cpuld make number 5 of your list with cody fern 😊”

description: in which they have had a crush on him since they first met, but he’s been in a happy relationship with someone else for years

pairing: cody fern x gender neutral!reader

warnings: swearing, pining (is that a warning? just in case)

based off of this song

if you’d like to check out my song prompt list thing that i’m doing click here!

masterlist (one, two)

I met Cody at a cast party. I was invited by my friend, Billie, to celebrate the end of a long few months filming. From the moment I laid eyes on Cody, I knew I was in love with him.

His laugh was like music to my ears. His smile could brighten even the darkest room. His accent made me weak in the knees. I tried not to be so obvious, but I was basically following him around all night.

And then he introduced me to Eric, his boyfriend, and I felt my heart shatter.

Cody still wanted to be friends, so I tried to keep up the act. I didn’t want him to find out about my feelings. I was so sure they would pass anyways, that I would meet someone else and end up with them instead. But, even after a year and a half of friendship, I still had a huge crush on Cody.

He became my best friend, and I valued our friendship over anything else, but my heart still skipped a beat every time I was with him.

Like the morning he walked into my apartment unannounced and sat at my kitchen table.

I was in the process of making coffee when he showed up. I raised a confused eyebrow at him, waiting for an explanation, and when I didn’t get one I poured him a cup of coffee as well.

“Thank you,” he said.

“So, what brings you to my apartment at 9am unannounced?” I asked, my tone playful.

Cody blew lightly on his coffee, his eyes trained on the table in front of him. I didn’t want to push him, but I could tell there was something going on.

“Eric and I got in a fight,” he finally said.

I knew my first feeling to this shouldn’t have been some excitement, but in the pit of my stomach there was some joy over hearing this.

“At 9am?” I asked, trying to somewhat lighten the situation. “What could you guys be arguing about this early in the morning?”

“Well, that’s the thing...we had these plans to go for an early morning run and then out for breakfast, but I had a late shoot last night and ended up sleeping past all my alarms.”

“And...he was angry about that? Did he not know you had a shoot last night?”

“No, he knew, but I told him we were finishing up early enough that I’d go to bed early and be up for our run. The director just kept us late because he said he wasn’t feeling the scene and felt like it could be better. By the time I got home it was like 2am, and I was still hopped up on adrenaline from work so I didn’t fall asleep until between 3 and 4. When Eric couldn’t get ahold of me, he came over and found me still asleep, he got upset over how much I work. He said he’s getting tired with feeling like I put him second to my work and us not pending time together because I’m always filming.”

I tried not to cringe as I realized that I was agreeing with Eric’s complaints.

“Well...” I said, drawing out the L, “you...do work quite a lot. You’ve had to cancel and postpone plans with me due to filming, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t suck to have that happen so often.”

Cody sighed and took a sip from his mug. “I do work too much.”

“I mean, your career is taking off and I get wanting to keep up that momentum, but you do need to take time for yourself, and for those you love. Especially...especially Eric.”

As much as it pained me to say it, I knew it was what he needed to hear. I needed to be a friend, his best friend, not the person who had a crush on him.

Cody leaned his head on his hand and looked up at me. I felt breathless looking into his eyes and I had to direct my gaze to my own coffee mug. I had to remind myself here was here as a friend in need - a friend who had a boyfriend.

“We haven’t hung out in a while,” he pointed out.

“You’ve been busy,” I responded with a shrug.

“Not all the time. I feel bad that we haven’t actually spent time together in so long.”

Despite my better judgement, I reached across the table to take Cody’s hand in mine. He smiled a soft smile and squeezed my hand slightly.

“I’d love to hang out,” I said, “but you have an angry boyfriend you should probably go talk to. Spend the day with him, with your phone off. I’ll see you soon enough.”

My heart squeezed a bit at my own words. It was hard to turn down spending time with him, but I wasn’t the one he needed to see right now. Eric was, he needed to mend things with Eric.

He squeezed my hand again, that smile still on his face. “What would I do without you?”

I smiled back at him. “Luckily for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

I showed him to the door, telling him to let me know how his talk with Eric goes. He hugged me and kissed my cheek. I felt a tingle on the spot his lips touched even after he had pulled away. I watched him go from the doorway until his car had basically vanished. I sighed to myself and stepped back inside.

I reached for my mug of coffee and realized Cody had left his as well. It was mostly full but had cooled down while we were talking. I poured the contents of the mug down the drain, feeling any hope for Cody to ever return my feelings go with it.

It was torture to have these unrequited feelings for Cody, especially with how close we had become since we first met. I was glad to see him happy, that’s all I wanted. But in the end, I knew I would never be satisfied.

#Cody Fern #cody fern x reader #cody fern imagine #imagine #one shot #request #hamilton #song prompt #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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meltwonu · 4 years

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| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 | [CHAPTER 4]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; masturbation, usage of toys, dirty talkin’, a bit of a filler chapter after last weeks hehe🍒 as always, thank you again for your continued support for cherry bomb 🥺💕 I'm actually not sure if next week’s chapter will go up on time due to my work schedule for next week but I'll be sure to keep y’all updated! if anything it’ll probably go up on saturday instead of friday... 😭😭 But anyway, have a good weekend yall! 💕💕💕 stay hydrated!!

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - ?

The weekend ends quicker than Seungcheol even notices and while he wakes up Monday morning already thinking about you and your show later in the evening; his face falters when he reads the message on your cam homepage.

‘Sorry everyone :( I think I caught a cold so I won’t be doing a show tonight… I promise I’ll make it up to you on Friday! In the meantime, I’ve uploaded some new pics in our members only room~ I hope it’ll tide you all over ‘til then! xx Cherry 🍒 ’

His first reaction is to immediately panic; reaching for his phone and texting you to get as much rest and sleep as possible. He makes a mental note to check in with you again later, finding that he’s already running late to get to work when he gets out of bed.

“Hey! Seungcheol-hyung!”

The said male turns around, placing the set of roller skates on the ground. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jeongguk sits next to him on the wooden bench, legs stretched out as he passes Seungcheol an energy drink. “Nothin’, just wanted to say thanks for coming over on Saturday! We should try to do that again, except maybe we can go out for drinks or something? We can give it the good ‘ol college try, maybe bring home a girl, if you know what I mean~” Jeongguk wiggles his eyebrows at Seungcheol who rolls his eyes.

“Uh, I’m down for the drinking part but I think I’ll have to pass on the hookups.”

“Really? Why? Are you dating someone and you haven’t told me?”

Seungcheol thanks the gods that the roller rink is dimmed; neon lights and disco balls the only things keeping the entire place dimly lit when he blushes a deep crimson, face hot as he avoids the younger male’s gaze. “Nah, it’s just, I--I don’t think that’s really for me. I’m more of a, uh, relationship type of guy, y’know?” Also, I’m devoting my time and energy to someone already who isn’t really my girlfriend.

“Mm, makes sense!”

Jeongguk keeps Seungcheol company even on his break, the two chatting about various topics before he lets Seungcheol know his break is almost over.

“Hey, wait! Before you go…” Seungcheol is nervous for some reason, fingers gripping the suede of the rollerskate’s boot as he avoids eye contact again. “Um, this is gonna sound really weird but… Who’s ‘j__min’? I feel like I’ve seen that username before and it’s, uh, I’m just curious how you know them? Sorry if that’s weird, I just--I’ve been seeing them around pretty often.”

“Oh, that’s Jimin-hyung. He’s a friend of mine that games with me sometimes! I’ve never really met the dude in person before, but he seems nice.” Jeongguk nods, staring off into space. “He seems really busy all the time too. And he’s super active on social media, that’s probably where you’ve seen him.”

Seungcheol nods; the guy didn’t seem like any sort of immediate threat so he logs the information mentally for now. He’d just have to do some internet sleuthing himself when he got home.

“Oh, cool, okay! Thanks ‘Guk!”

Seungcheol groans after the seventh pair of skates he’s cleaned, standing up to stretch and reach for his phone in his pocket. He checks the notifications, noting that you hadn’t texted back or read his messages yet.

A frown paints his features knowing that you were sick, but he makes another mental note to finally buy you that sybian now that his most recent paycheck had come in with it’s overtime bonuses. There were only a few more days until Namjoon came back which meant his extra pays would be over, a sad sigh escaping his lips at the thought.

The day gruels on; Mondays were always the slowest days for the roller rink which meant Seungcheol spent most of the time cleaning skates and bumming snacks from the concession stand usually. He tries to not pry deeper into Jeongguk’s friends but the curiosity eats him alive so he makes an effort to stay away from the younger male for the rest of the day, this time.

Instead, he spends the day hiding in the employee break room any time he gets; only leaving when Yoongi decides to hide in there himself.

Your head feels like it’s going to spin off of your shoulders once you sit up in bed. The sun sits low in the horizon from what you can see through your bedroom window; noting that it must’ve been the late afternoon already.

You’d woken up with chills, head fuzzy when you’d sat up earlier in the morning. Knowing that you were at least somewhat sick, you quickly wrote up a little memo on your homepage letting your viewers know that there wouldn’t be a show later in the evening. Afterwards, you had quickly downed medicine before curling up under your sheets and going back to sleep. You’d vaguely been aware of your phone ringing on the nightstand next to your bed, but you prioritized sleeping instead, knowing that you had to get better before the weekend came.

You groan once you ease yourself off of your bed, dragging your feet as you make your way to the bathroom in hopes of a warm bath to make yourself feel better.

It’s almost 5PM which means it’s almost time for Seungcheol to finally go home. He checks his phone one more time before he pockets the device, putting away the last few pairs of rollerskates before he starts making his way towards the backroom.

“Hey! ‘Cheol-hyung, can you come over here!?” Jeongguk yells over the music, arms waving him down frantically before he clocks out.

Seungcheol walks over, noting an unknown male standing with him. “Yes? Did you need help?”

“This guy, sorry I forgot your name?” The male laughs, eyes forming crescents when he smiles brightly at Jeongguk. “It’s Seokmin.”

“Right, right. Seokmin is asking if we’re hiring?” Jeongguk ends with a head tilt, unsure of the answer himself.

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek. Technically yes, they were understaffed even with Namjoon around. But Namjoon was also technically the one in charge of overseeing hiring positions. And while they technically should’ve hired more staff, that also meant Seungcheol’s overtime bonuses would be cut anytime they actually had the appropriate amount of staff.

“Uhhhh… I--I don’t think so? I’m not the one in charge. Our manager that decides staff and hiring positions is out of town indefinitely so…” Seungcheol trails off, hoping Seokmin gets the hint.

“Ahh… Should I come back another time then?” Seungcheol nods, frowning slightly. “Sorry ‘bout that man. But hey, why don’t you leave your contact info so we can call you? So you don’t have to keep coming back.”

Seokmin nods, beaming at the older male.

“Sure, that’d be great! Thanks!”

Seungcheol only feels slightly bad when he gets home that night, praying karma doesn’t kick his ass later for lying.

On days when you cancel your show are the days Seungcheol realizes he needs more hobbies than watching your cam shows and gaming all night.

Not that it’s a bad thing, he thinks, just that he could supplement his life with more.

He places an order for a few cookbooks alongside the order for the sybian, soft chuckles spilling from his lips when he realizes what an odd array of things he’s ordered.

Seungcheol manages to fill his night with meaningless tasks; finally cleaning his PC and settling in to watch a movie while he polishes off an entire pizza. He checks his phone a few more times, noting no new messages and he wonders if you’re really okay. A lightbulb goes off in his head, power walking back to his PC as he opens a new browser.

He bites his lip, typing in ‘j__min’ in the search bar to see what comes up. By nature, the username is unfortunately a lot more common than he anticipates and he ends up rifling through a lot of dead ends before he comes upon the profile on the same camming website you used and an instagram that seemed to be updated fairly regularly.

“Let’s see…”

Your body feels hot all over. Pin pricks on your fingertips as a bead of sweat trickles down your temple.

Now, you didn’t feel sick, you just felt incredibly insatiable. Again.

You weren’t sure if it was because your body had adjusted to a certain schedule, but you can’t help the way you toss and turn in bed; thighs rubbing together in hopes of alleviating the growing wetness between them.

Checking the clock, you note it’s already 10PM, close to when you’d normally be doing your show. You sigh, pushing your sweaty hair out of your face as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. You immediately notice a few text messages from Seungcheol; frowning when you notice the text messages were from the morning.

cheollie ✨: hey, baby :( saw your note, i hope you’re okay.

cheollie ✨: make sure to drink a lot of water and take medicine!

cheollie ✨: don’t push yourself too hard either okay?

The messages end there and you pout, unsure what to even say now that it had been hours since he’d texted.

babygirl 🍒 : cheollie… i only saw ur msgs now 🥺

babygirl 🍒 : im sorryyyyy i was sleeping so long but i feel better now!!

Seungcheol closes all his browser tabs before he realizes it, a smile on his face when he sees you’ve responded.

‘That’s okay, I’m just glad you’re okay and feeling better. Promise me you drank tons of water?’

He feels giddy, palms sweaty as he grips his phone.

babygirl: mmhmm! i did… i don’t even feel sick anymore 🥺 but…

babygirl: dunno… i’m feeling needy again… i think my body is used to my usual schedule...

Seungcheol’s body thrums with newfound energy and arousal at your leading comments. He’s unsure of what to say next, fearing he was going to say too much. But his phone pings again, eyes quickly flitting over your messages.

babygirl 🍒 : if ur busy its okay but

babygirl 🍒 : do u think we could cam? just u and me?

babygirl 🍒 : only if ur free tho!!

His fingers are tingling when he sends his reply, making it short and sweet before he places his phone down and makes sure his PC is running smoothly.

‘Of course, you know I’m always here when you need me. :)’

It takes a few minutes for you and Seungcheol to set up your respective spaces and in the meantime, you grab your laptop, propping it open on the bed next to you as you lay in front of it. You had debated on using your better camera which you used for camming, but you didn’t want it to be set up like a cam show.

Instead, you wanted a more intimate and casual video call with Seungcheol, so you made sure your webcam worked fine as you placed it on the sheets.

‘Video Call Incoming…’

You can’t help the blush that coats your skin nor the lust that fills your body as soon as you accept his call; his somewhat blurry figure coming into view.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Seungcheol beams at you through the grainy camera and you already feel yourself clenching around emptiness, words caught in your throat at how handsome he was and how truly enticing his voice was. “H-hi!” Rubbing your thighs together, you peer at the camera shyly. “I--wow, the pictures really… You’re so much more handsome on v-video.” You giggle slightly, leaning in closer to your laptop to get a better view of the silvery-blue haired male.

Seungcheol’s deep laugh filters through the speakers and your toes curl against the sheets.

“You should see me in person, maybe I’ll look even better then.”

You don’t deny that one bit; your own hands already itching to touch yourself. “Oh? Is that an invitation~?”

Seungcheol’s eyes pierce the camera, licking his own lips as you watch him snake a hand down into his sweats.

“If you want it to be, sweetheart. But tell me about you, how are you feeling? Have you eaten already?”

Gulping, you watch as his hand seems to work slowly and out of view. “I--um, I feel b-better just… Dunno, guess my body’s just used to, um, y’know… A-and I haven’t really had much of an appetite...” You trail off, head still fuzzy from the cold medicines and now, Seungcheol.

In a roundabout way, it almost feels like you’re watching him do a show for you as you watch him slowly get off.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, baby. But you know you should try to eat, okay? I don’t want you to get even sicker.” You nod, fingertips already at the edge of your sleep shorts.

“I--c-can I touch myself too?” Seungcheol laughs lightly, nodding as he tilts his head back. “Of course, you don’t need to ask me for permission, baby.”

You grin at him, sitting up as you reposition the laptop. Your hand slides underneath a pillow, grabbing the small bullet vibrator you kept there. “Do you always keep a toy handy?” His voice is airy, teasing in the way he asks.

“Mmhmm~ You never know when you’ll need it~” You sing-song, shimmying your sleep shorts and panties off before you spread your legs in front of the camera.

The air gets knocked out of Seungcheol the second you spread your legs for him and him alone and he can’t help but imagine all the things he wanted to do with you. He watches as you tease yourself, fingertips only grazing across the areas he knew you wanted to be touched the most.

“I can’t wait for us to finally fuckin’ meet.” He grits out.

A moan floats through the speakers of Seungcheol’s gaming PC, your saccharine voice music to his ears. “M-me too, wanna know what you’d do to me~” You giggle afterwards, pressing the vibrator to your clit as you spread your legs wider for him to see. Seungcheol’s hand around his cock tightens as he watches, an appreciative smirk on his face.

“Oh sweetheart, what wouldn’t I do to you.” You can’t help but slide your fingers through your wet folds listening to Seungcheol’s voice, whimpering when you finally slide a finger in. “Yeah? What would be the first thing? Tell me, ‘Cheollie~”

Even through the webcam quality, you can see the way Seungcheol’s eyes glaze over in complete pleasure. He licks his lips once, leaning in close so that you can hear him clearly.

“I know you probably think I’d get straight to the filthy shit, huh? Pin you to your bed and fuck you until you forget your own name or tie you up to the bedposts and make you beg for me to fuck you. But I wouldn’t. Because I wanna worship your fuckin’ body. I’d take it nice and slow with you, give you as many orgasms as you want.”

“F-fuck, Seungcheol, I–”

“You could use me for your pleasure, y’know? You deserve it. You’re such a good girl. I’d give you anything you fuckin’ want if you’d let me.”

Your choked moans have Seungcheol working his cock faster; nothing on his mind except for you and his impending orgasm. “Oh g-god, Seungcheol, I--fuck, yes, I want that~ I want you to--to make me cum as many times as I w-want!” You mewl, easily working in another finger as you pump the digits inside your pussy.

He smirks when he sees your grip on the vibrator loosening, knowing that you were already too lost in the pleasure to keep the toy on. “And I’d let you. Maybe I’d make you cum on my tongue first. Or would you want my fingers?”

“B-both! Puh--please…” You whine, legs threatening to clamp shut. You curl and scissor your fingers, thrusting them knuckle deep inside yourself as you chase the pleasure that overtakes your senses. “Please, ‘Cheol, tell me more~”

You watch through the camera as Seungcheol pushes his sweats down enough to get his cock into view; mouth watering as you watch it curve up to his lower abdomen.

“I know how much you love being doted on and being taken care of… So after I make you cum all fuckin’ night, you know I’d take care of you. Make sure you’re comfortable and cuddle with you when you’re tired.” His hips cant up into his closed palm, a soft groan on his lips. “And then when we wake up, I’ll eat you out. Nice and slow so you know it’d be worth it.”

Seungcheol smirks, smearing the precum all over his shaft. “But I also know you like it rough and you like being punished like a bad girl. You like the idea of being tied up and teased and being fucked nice and hard too. I could take it nice and slow, build up the pleasure for you. Or I can take it nice and slow and tease you, I’d make you sit on my cock ‘n make you wait for it ‘til you’re begging me. Or maybe you would want an audience? Let them see you fall apart on my cock when you’re desperate to cum.”

You press the vibrator against your clit again, Seungcheol’s name falling out of your mouth in a blubbering mess. “Oh--I--!!”

Your legs clamp shut, fingers halting their movements as you cum hard around your fingers. Seungcheol watches as your legs shake, his own hand running up and down his cock in quick motions as he chases his high too. You vaguely hear him groaning your name; the ringing in your ears overbearing as your orgasm continues to wash over you.

The sound of your quick and shallow breaths mix with Seungcheol’s over the speakers as the two of you catch your breath. You slip your fingers from inside of you, wincing when you turn off the toy and toss it to the side.

“Fuck, baby, I--”

“Y-yeah…” You quietly lick your fingers clean, knowing that Seungcheol’s watching. “I… that was the first time I… did that with s-someone…” You giggle tiredly, wiping the rest of your sticky fingers on your shirt.

“Really? Never?” Seungcheol’s surprised expression makes you giggle; his eyes round and mouth wide open as he leans closer to his webcam.

“Mmhmm! Just, y’know, it’s--it’s hard to get close to people sometimes…”

You had mentioned it off-handedly once while the two of you had been texting, that most of the dates you’d been on hated the fact that you cammed. There was always a possessive aura that was present and while Seungcheol would sometimes get a little jealous himself, he also knew it was your livelihood and how you supported yourself.

“Ah, yeah, I can understand.”

The two of you sit in a content silence, Seungcheol reaching for a few tissues to clean off the drying cum on his abdomen.

“Hey, ‘Cheol?”

“Yeah?” He peers up at the camera through his lashes, blinking rapidly as he watches you lay back down in front of your laptop.

“About what you said… earlier…” You pause, shyness overtaking once again. “I--Would you want to meet up? Like, for real? I mean--not--not like tomorrow or something but... Y’know, we can start planning?”

Any words that come after that turn into radio static in Seungcheol’s head and he can feel his pupils shaking, nervousness already bubbling up inside of him at the prospect of actually finally maybe getting to meet you.

“Seungcheol? ‘Cheollie? You okay?”

Fuck.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah! I’m cool, I’m good, sorry, that--that caught me off guard.”

He watches as you talk animatedly, mind already going a mile a minute as he thinks over everything that needed to be done before then.

“I’m really excited to meet you, ‘Cheollie!”

#cherrybomb!cheol #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagines #scoups scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #scoups #seungcheol

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ilovefandoms102 · 4 years

Text

Love me Harder-Part 4

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Summary: Falling in love with your sisters sworn enemy probably wasn’t the best idea…

Note: Tik Tok challenge requests are still open for whoever wants to submit one! I will be doing them throughout the day! I hope you guys enjoy this! Let me know what you think!

Part 3 Part 5

=========================================

Rafe and I became exclusive after that night on the beach…

It was weird at first being so open despite the odd looks from people. I tried not to think about it too much despite the comments and stares. I was going to enjoy my time with Rafe.

This led to one of my rare days off, my legs perched on the dash of Rafe’s golf cart. My eyes trained on his muscles working as he played on the Figure Eight golf course. I squirmed in my seat a little from the way his muscles flexed, his hat perched on his head backwards adding to the desire pooling in my belly. We hadn’t moved past the heavy make outs with occasional groping, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ready for more.

My experience with men wasn’t bad but it also wasn’t great. I’ve had my few shares of casual hook ups, boyfriends that didn’t last longer than a few months before the feelings died out, but Rafe was different. Maybe it was the fact that we had both wanted each other for so long, the tension bursting between us now that we could freely be seen with the other.

“What are you thinking about so hard over there beautiful?” Rafe asked, startling me from my thoughts.

“How good your ass looks in those shorts.” I smirked, earning a deep blush from my boyfriend.

He sauntered over to me, swinging his club around to hold it behind his neck. Rafe leaned his head down to touch his nose to mine, sweetly pecking my lips before he pulled away. I moved my hands to feel the slight stubble forming on his cheeks, he let go of the golf club, and let it fall to the ground. In the next instance, he had my legs around his waist. Rafe leaned in to crush his lips to mine, leaning me back at an angle. I forgot where we were, and that people were literally all around us. My only focus was how good his soft lips felt against mine. I bit his bottom lip, gently tugging it back. He groaned, his fingers digging into my hips.

“Come on guys, this is a family golf course.” Someone called, my head snapping to see Topper making his way over. Rafe flipped him off as my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

=========================================

I very quickly became uninterested in being at Figure Eight now that Topper decided to interrupt mine and Rafe’s hot make out. He stayed with Rafe to play a round between them which annoyed me even more. I didn’t get a lot of days off, so my mood was pretty much ruined. I saw Pope walking by, carrying some groceries for someone. I was going to jump up and help when Topper decided to make his way to him.

“Well, well look who we have here.” Topper hollered, my feet instantly taking off towards Pope. Rafe had yet to notice either of us were gone.

“Can we please give it a rest today, unless you want to deliver your own groceries.” Pope spat, dodging Topper’s reaches for the beer he was carrying.

“Knock it off Topper, your tea time isn’t up yet.” I growled, stepping in front of Pope.

“Leave this to the men y/n,” Topper hissed, shoving me to the side as he attacked Pope.

I went into flight or fight mode, jumping on Topper’s back as he railed his fists down on Pope. I punched Topper’s nose, giving Pope enough time to wiggle his way out from under Topper. He reached back and pulled my hair, a scream leaving my lips from the burn. I tumbled down, scraping my arms and legs against the gravel. Topper grabbed his club, and swung at Pope. I was horrified as blood spewed from Pope’s lips.

“RAFE!” I screeched, hoping to grab his attention.

I didn’t look to see if he had heard me, jumping to my feet to run towards Pope and Topper. In a split second decision, I jumped in front of Pope, and took Topper’s swing. Agonizing pain tore through my body, a sickening crack heard as the head of the club connected to my ribs. Topper’s eyes widened, dropping his club immediately. I whimpered on the ground, keeping my eyes closed as I sobbed in pain.

“Y/n!” Pope shouted, crouching down to me.

“Go, run.” I whispered, giving him a reassuring nod as he took off.

“What the fuck just happened?!” Rafe boomed, but I couldn’t focus on his words. White noise rang in my ears, my heart still thudding in my chest from the adrenaline. I snapped out of it when I felt a hand, Rafe’s hand, pushing some hair from my face.

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” he asked.

“Hurts,” was all I was able to gurgle out.

“Tell me where baby,” Rafe spoke softly.

“Ribs,” I choked.

“She just jumped in front of me man!” Topper exclaimed.

“Because you were beating a fucking kid Topper!” I snapped, flinching in pain.

“Can I lift you up, get you to the ER?” Rafe asked gently, his hands shaking as they stayed near my face.

“I think I can get up,” I huffed, having help from Rafe to stand. My ribs were aching, the pain feeling like a stabbing sensation.

“I’ll deal with you later.” Rafe hissed as Topper, following behind me as I walked back towards the golf cart.

=========================================

A cracked rib that would take a while to heal, the doctor was surprised that it wasn’t crushed with the severity of the bruise forming on my ribcage. I was told to not go back to work for at least a week, yeah, we’ll see how that goes over with my dad...

“So, you want me to cancel dinner tonight?” Rafe asked, holding my hand tight in his as we exited the ER.

“No, I still want to go.” I insisted, nerves creeping in as I remembered I was having dinner with Rafe and his family tonight.

This would be the first time I would be there as Rafe’s girlfriend, and I was scared shitless. I knew my parents, or I should say my mother and my biological father, grew up with Ward and Rose. The tension was there at the Kook gatherings they made me attend since my mother had me when she was still in High School.

“I don’t want you to go if you feel like you have to...you don’t need to suffer in pain all night.” Rafe sighed, assisting me while I climbed into the passenger seat of his truck.

“Rafe this is important, I want to make a good impression, and how is it going to look if I bail.” I scoffed. He had one arm leaning on the open door while the other was by my head, his blue eyes filled with worry.

“They aren’t going to give a shit if you’re hurt. Baby, please just think about this.” he murmured.

“I have thought about it, I’m going, and that’s final.” I growled, swinging my legs in the door.

=========================================

I spent the next three hours making sure every detail about my outfit, hair, and makeup were perfect. Rafe laid on my bed, scrolling through his phone while he waited for me to get ready. His constant complaints about how long I was taking was really starting to irritate me however…

“Babe, this isn’t a fancy ass dinner. It’s just my dad and Rose, and I think my sisters might be there.” Rafe mumbled, throwing his phone down beside him.

“I swear to god Rafe, if you complain one more fucking time…” I laughed humorlessly.

Rafe got up from his spot, leaning down behind me. His eyes met mine in the mirror, staying connected as he leaned down towards my neck. He placed gentle, wet kisses down the side, my eyes widening when I felt his teeth nick a spot just below my ear.

“Rafe!” I gasped, pulling away from him immediately. His shit eating grin earned a playful shove from me, his laughter booming through my room.

“I’m gonna kill you,” I gritted through my teeth, trying to cover up the bite to the best of my abilities. Once I was fully dressed, Rafe’s eyes surely would have popped out of his head if they had gotten any wider.

“Oh Jesus,” he muttered, taking his eyes away from you.

“What?” I panicked.

“How am I supposed to sit through a family dinner with you lookin’ like that.” he blurted, a giggle slipping through my lips.

“Sorry baby,” I smiled, leaning up on my toes to kiss him.

“You look stunning, and I’m so happy you’re all mine.” Rafe whispered, butterflies racing in my stomach at his compliment.

“Thank you Rafe, I’m happy too.” I spoke softly, giving him another sweet kiss.

=========================================

I wanted to puke from how nervous I was, wishing I had taken Rafe’s idea to cancel. I was about to high tail it back to the truck, but before I knew it, we were entering the Cameron household. Rose smiled wickedly sweet at Rafe and I, Ward didn’t even glance towards us, and Sarah and Wheezie were the only ones to actually greet us. I felt awkward around Sarah with the beef she still had with Kie, and I knew she was also talking to John B. Rafe didn’t seem to notice my discomfort, dragging me to the dining room.

“So Rafe, how long is this one gonna last?” Ward rumbled from his seat.

“Seriously dad?” Rafe questioned, his grip on my hand almost hurting.

“I’m just saying...none of your other, um, exploits, really had staying power. You think this is gonna last more than a week?” Ward chuckled, ice flowing through my veins as my gaze went back and forth between the two men.

“We’ve been together almost three months, I really care about her dad. Can we please have just a normal dinner?” Rafe exasperated, running a hand through his hair.

“I mean Rafe...you know about her parents.” Rose spoke up, my head snapping in her direction.

“What are you talking about?” Rafe asked, irritation clear in his voice.

“Her mother’s track record isn’t exactly...well let’s just say she sure knows how to pick ‘em.” Rose chuckled, my shoulders straightening.

“I’d thank you kindly to keep my mother’s business out of your mouth Mrs. Cameron.” I spoke harshly.

“Honey...your real dad didn’t want your mother, he didn’t want you, so what makes you think our Rafe will have anything to do with you? Your mother was a slut, and you know what they say...like mother like daughter.” she pointed out, my blood boiling at this point.

“That’s enough!” Rafe shouted, standing up so fast his chair raked against the tile.

I shot out of my seat, tears pricking my eyes as I made my way out the front door. I could hear them all arguing, but I didn’t care to listen. My ribs protested as I let out a sob, my hand holding on to them as a rush of pain surged through me. I was prepared to walk home at this point, my feet carrying me on instinct.

“Y/n, wait baby please!” I heard Rafe call.

“Can you please just take me home Rafe, I want to go.” I sniffled, backing away when he tried to reach out for me.

=========================================

“I’m so sorry,” Rafe whispered when he parked his truck in front of my house.

“Not your fault, I just...I definitely was not expecting that.” I mumbled, wringing my hands out anxiously. I looked from my house and back to Rafe, biting down gently on my lip.

“Do you...do you want to stay with me?” I asked quietly, looking down at my hands.

“Only if you want me to,” he smiled, my head nodding immediately.

I did my nightly routine, checking the locks on everything before heading back to my room. I put a scrunchie on the door which signaled the kids that I didn’t want to be bothered. I left my fairy lights on, sliding in next to Rafe who was already cozied up under my covers. I buried my face into his neck, completely entangling myself with him. His hand traveled up my thigh that was laying across him, stopping at my hip to rub the skin that was showing from my shirt riding up. The rings on his fingers left goosebumps behind, the cold metal contrasting with the warmth that had spread from him to me.

“For the record, I plan on keeping you.” Rafe smirked, pinching my skin playfully.

“Lucky me then, I get to put up with your dumbassery for a little while longer.” I teased, the both of us sent into a fit of laughter. Once that died down, Rafe tilted my chin up, kissing me tenderly.

“Sweet dreams beautiful,” he whispered.

“Sleep tight slick,” I yawned, snuggling up closer as I let my eyes close.

=========================================

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imaginesforjohnnydepp · 3 years

Text

Violette Pt. 4

@kittenlittle24 @evelynrosestuff

Johnny was glad that he took up Violette on her offer because he had to get out of Los Angeles; Violette was a gracious host and they fell back in sync with each other. While she was at work, he took the opportunity to explore the area to find souvenirs for his kids and check up on them, other times he’d go through Violette’s books and movies and photo albums, which were his favorite things to do. The albums were completely filled up with pictures. There were pictures of her at weddings, work related parties, vacation pictures (lots of them), newspaper clippings of her accomplishments. It made him happy knowing that Violette became so successful and is well respected, because she deserves it.

When he heard the keys at the door, he quickly closed the book and turned up the volume on an episode of Chopped just as Violette walked in, shaking water off her umbrella and putting it in the stand. “Sorry I’m late! I was held up with paperwork then there was a wreck, but on the plus side I got Italian!” It was nearly eight thirty when they sat down to eat, the both of them digging into their shrimp pasta as they filled each other in on their day. Since it was Friday and Violet didn’t have to be at work the next day, they watched TV together after dinner, the living room dark except for a lamp on a low setting. It was halfway through a second episode of Fraser, the one where Fraser accidentally tells Daphne about Niles’ feelings for her before the wedding when Johnny noticed Violette had fallen asleep.

Her head was tipped back and her chest was gently rising and falling; she looked so comfortable and peaceful he felt bad for waking her. Johnny shook her gently. “Hey Vi? It’s time to wake up, you’re gonna hurt your neck like that.” Slowly, Violette came to, lifting her head from the back of the couch, her eyes slowly opening. “Huh? What time is it?”

Her voice was heavy with sleep and she stretched, arms above her head. “Bout time for you to go to bed. You fell asleep halfway through Fraser.” Violette knew he was right; she had a long day at work and now all she wanted was to apply a serum or two and get into bed. “You’re right, it’s been a long day. Do you want the bathroom first?” He shook his head no, and she smiled before heading to her room.

“Good night Johnny.” They both headed their separate ways, and as he changed into his pajamas, Johnny could hear Violette doing her night time routine, the faucet running every few minutes as she rinsed her face. He checked his phone for messages, emails from his lawyer and Amber’s, two missed phone calls from his family about funeral arrangements, all things that can wait until tomorrow; he hooked it up to the charger and placed it face down. After a few more minutes, the faucet turned up for the last time, and Violette knocked twice before opening the door. “Bathroom’s all yours now.”

He tried not to notice how long her legs looked in her pajama pants or how ample her chest looked, even in an oversized shirt. Frankly, ever since he got here, Johnny’s been trying to ignore how gorgeous Violette is; she looked good in just about everything she wore: her work clothes where the slacks she wore clung to her legs like a second skin, the leggings and tank tops he saw her in, drenched in sweat when she came back after a morning run. It was like acting in front of a green screen and trying to ignore how ridiculous Bill Nighy looks with black dots on his face as he wears a gray leotard. Johnny couldn’t ignore the fact that Violette has an ass and breasts, and he felt guilty checking her out when her back was turned, but what could he do? He certainly wasn’t going to tell a grown woman to cover up in her own home; with a sigh, he shuffled into the bathroom to do his business.

Meanwhile, Violette was in bed, simultaneously reading and going through her text messages; due to the torrential rain that would be coming this weekend, book club was cancelled (which she was grateful for because she’s kind of behind the rest of the group). Violette was just about to call it a night when a new message appeared, from Angela. I know you took my floral dress the other day. Mikayla said she saw you leave with it. Yes, she did take the dress but that’s only because Angela took her favorite Dooney and Bourke handbag (something that happened months ago and Violette has yet to see it back in her closet) but unlike her sister, she plans on actually returning it. And what about it? she typed back. You can pick it up from the dry cleaner on Basin Street tomorrow, and you’re one to talk considering I haven’t seen my Dooney and Bourke purse since New Years.

Once the message was sent, she went back to her book, which had five chapters left; Violette reached for the notebook and pen and started scribbling notes about the chapter when her phone buzzed again. Thank you. And as for your purse, I think Miki has it. It’s hanging on the doorknob of her closet. Probably thought it was mine. But how’s it going with Johnny? Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, and she didn’t know what to say. How is it going with Johnny? Violette wanted to tell her sister that things are great, like nothing’s changed between them, about her growing feelings for her ex husband, but all she texted back was that things are fine.

Really, only fine? Leave it to Angela to be overly observant, might as well come clean now. It feels like nothing’s changed between us even though a LOT has. We’re cracking jokes, eating together, going out. It feels like old times. Violette knew what Angela was going to say next: that they need to slow down, how Johnny probably isn’t ready for another relationship when he already has so much going on. She hastily texted: And I know what you’re going to say next, but I can’t help it. He’s still Johnny. I gotta go, it’s late.

She put her phone on the charger and placed it face down on the nightstand. Violette hoped that all her feelings toward Johnny could just be chalked up to not getting enough sex or boredom or loneliness, because really, what would a relationship with Johnny look like today? Probably a long distance relationship and media interference, and she’d had enough of that from last time to last a lifetime. Besides, Violette never dates men with children, and in her age group, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack to find a single male in their late forties/early fifties who doesn't have children. Shaking her head at the thought, she pulled the covers up over her head and waited for the air conditioner to kick on to lull her to sleep.

So this was how the rest of their week went, both of them pining over the other without the other’s knowledge: Johnny pretended not to notice her figure and his growing attraction and Violette pretended that she didn’t harbor romantic feelings for him, until one day Johnny couldn’t take it any longer. He brought up the question while they sat in Violette’s car at a snowball stand, the a/c blasting and the radio on a low volume. “Why are we doing this, Vi?” The question was so out of left field that she almost choked on a bubblegum flavored hunk of ice. “What do you mean?” she asked, sucking the bubblegum syrup from the ice.

“I mean, why are we ignoring… whatever this is? We’re adults, Violette, we should be able to communicate with each other.” She was sure she was doing a good job at masking her feelings, but apparently she was wrong. “Because Johnny, it wouldn’t matter. Your life is in LA, with your children and work and my life is here. What could we actually do about it? You’re only here for another week.” Violette was actually glad that he brought it up now, because there was no way they would be able to do anything about it, since Johnny would be here for another week before going home. Leaving Violette alone with her unresolved feelings.

“And you already have so much going on. Are you sure this is what you want? If you’re ready for this?” Violette put another spoonful of her snowball in her mouth, sucking off the syrup until the ice was hard packed on her tongue. “Is that what you’re scared of? That I might leave again?” Johnny asked. “Not might, but will. As you can see, I don’t have a normal work schedule and I’m not a fan of long distance relationships.” And because I’m scared you could hurt me again,” she added in her head.

“Johnny, we’re not in the ‘80s anymore. We’re so different now, we always have been.” Johnny sighed before putting his cup in a cup holder. “We’re not that different, you’re still you and I’m still me. We’re older now, have more life experience. Violette, we were so young when we got married. And I moved on from her long before I thought about filing for divorce.” She took his words into consideration, really thinking about it. Was the reason why she never remarried is because that deep in her subconscious, Violette knew she and Johnny would make their way back to each other?

“Just one chance is all I’m asking. Please.” He looked so sincere, and the offer was so tempting. How many times had Violette had this dream of Johnny coming back to her and begging her to take him back? Too many times in the early days of their breakup, and Johnny was right, they’re older now, old enough to know what they want in their partners. “What do you say? Can you give me another chance? We can take it slow, whatever you want.”

Violette put the last spoonful of her snowball in her mouth, savoring the last bite as she thought it over. While she was a little apprehensive about the whole thing, she’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t at least a little curious as to how a relationship with Johnny would be like today. A lot of traveling back and forth, probably meeting his kids at some point. And what about long term? Would they live together?

Get married (or in their case remarried)? “We’ll take it slow?” Violette asked, just to make sure. “As slow as you want,” he answered. Violette smiled and grabbed Johnny’s hand. “Okay.”

#johnny depp imagines #johnny depp imagine

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what-the--curtains · 4 years

Text

In a Week

Part 3/4 - Snowballs and cigarettes

(Frankie Morales x f!reader)

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Summary: The snows finally stopped and its about time you got to work unburying your car. With your friends all prompting you to move on from your toxic ex you find yourself becoming more and more aware of the kind of person you’d want to be with. And how Frankie was ticking all those boxes.

Authors notes: Ugh okay I was over the max block text so the finale is split into two parts!! But you get them both tonight💕🌻💕 .

Warnings: mentions of toxic relationships, allusions to sex (nothing depicted), PTSD, smoking, drinking, swearing

Tagged: @agingerindenial @icanbeyourjedi

Word count: 4.0k

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Day 4

It had only been three days but you had found yourself in a routine that you hoped you never fell out of. Each morning he’d wake up first and you’d be predictably wrapped around him for another 2 hours or so. He found it hard to believe you were able to wake up before 10am, let alone that you were up at 5am most days but he’d love to be around to see it happen. For the first time, he saw something he’d long given up on. A future with someone else ingrained into his and his daughters life. Maybe it was stupid feeling this way after a few days, but he was old enough to know when he felt a real connection, and he’d never felt as good as he did when he was with you. He would make his feelings known to you, one way or another, he’d regret it forever if he let you slip through his fingers. He just had to find the right time to do it. It had been a long time since you’d woken up with someone in the same bed as you and even longer since the person was someone who made you feel safe and secure. There was something calming about knowing that even if you pushed your freezing cold feet between his calves in the middle of the night he wouldn’t get angry, or push you off he’d just grumble and pull you closer.

It sounded pathetic but it was the nicest a guy had been to you in years. You knew how stupid it was to catch feelings this fast, and it definitely wasn’t like you to feel such strong emotions. Since the funeral you had actively decided to forego them although. This benefited your work, helped you in your field, made you a better doctor, but keeping all your emotions bottled up took its toll. Primarily on your love life. You’d had your fair share of flings with other residents, nurses, friends of friends, but between classes and shift work there wasn’t time. Plus what was the point when you had no idea where you’d be moved to. At least that’s what you told yourself. Then Jonathan came along and you’d let him in, let him know you and you fell for him in the process. Then he’d started dating someone else, told you he didn't realize you were exclusive, and it shattered you completely. You’d pieced yourself back together and once you were better, once you were finally over him, he’d cycle back round to you, determined to keep you on retainer. The whole ordeal had left you tired. You’d never had a real relationship and you were already done with them. You never understood how people would want to live with someone for the rest of their lives until now. Catching feelings had always happened in periphery to your life making it easy to push by a crush by simply avoiding them, but you couldn’t avoid Frankie. Each day you spent trapped inside with him he’d continued to grow on you, cementing your feelings for him tenfold. You yawn and stretch your leg out over Frankies torso propping yourself up onto your elbow so you can reach over him and grab the glass of water on the nightstand. He exhales as if your movement across him is an inconvenience to his meticulous strategy for winning whatever game he was playing on his phone. You take a sip and put the cup back down, rolling off the bed and opening the curtains.

“Hey!” you shout, causing Frankies head to shoot over to you, “It stopped snowing!” you exclaim, gazing out over the parking lot where the snow had fallen. The powder undulating overtop the cars buried beneath it. You stretch your arms up catching an unsavoury whiff coming from your armpits causing you to pull a face. Turning around just in time to see Frankie laughing from the bathroom door.

“Seriously man? Do you have to beat me to everything!” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Gotta be faster sweetheart.” he says, closing the door behind him. From anyone else the term would have driven you into a rage induced frenzy, but it was endearing not condescending coming from him. You take the time to call Stella, you’d been texting with her since you got stuck but you felt it was time to officially announce your arrival as permanently cancelled.

“Hey girl”

“Hey babe what's going on? You calling with good or bad news?” she asks, a constant bustle evident in the background.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, but only bad news on my end. I am so fucking sorry, I should have just flown down like you said” you offer, leaning back against the window allowing the chill of the outside to cool you off.

“Well this is why you should always listen to me, but i’ll forgive you just this once.” she laughs.

“God I can’t believe the one wedding I actually care about I’m going to miss!” you exasperated, shifting away from the window and flopping down onto the bed.

“Well I definitely won’t miss you, especially considering you’ve already sent a gift.” she teases.

“How, very dare you” you punctuate.

“Yup long con paid off, 10 years I pretended to like you just to get you to buy me a toaster from ebay” Stella laughs.

“You could have just stolen mine after the first year, then you could have had me gone!” you state.

“Ugh a huge mistake!!” she overemphasizes dramatically, causing you both to burst out laughing.

“So….” you say after your giggles subside leaving a gentle ache in your ribs that always occurred when you talked to Stella.

“What?” she asks, sniffling.

“ Did John make it out there?” you ask, in a painfully transparent way.

“Why?” she spits, her tone suddenly lethal. She hated the guy, she was the one who was always left dealing with you after he’d used you up, helping to piece you back together, just in time for him to get a hold on you again.

“He asked about me?” you query, once again failing to convey your intentions.

“I’m not indulging this anymore, it's bad for you. He’s bad for you, there's only so many times I can watch him emotionally manipulate you” she rants.

“Ya, but it's easy and it's so good with him.” you emphasize.

“It’s not easy, take it from someone in an easy relationship, it's not supposed to hurt that much.” she chides, determined to have you see the light.

“But..”

“Nope, I'm drawing the line for you, find someone else. You’re a gorgeous single doctor,

“Almost doctor” you interrupt, but the statement is ignored.

“Aren’t you currently shacked up with one of my stupid brothers friends?”

“Yes? And?” you say, your heart suddenly beating faster as your head turns to see Frankies hat on the nightstand.

“Frankie right? Statue like, soft curls, kind, deep brown eyes? And don’t pretend like you didn’t notice I know you like the back of my hand!”

“So what if I have, doesn't mean..” you whisper, not wanting him to hear you.

“Nope, don’t sell yourself short, I say get cozy with him and finally move on from dickhead McGee, even if it's just for a night, cleanse the palette. Besides, you know he’ll be doing whoever looks his way at my wedding.” you hear a muffled shout “alright I have to go, something about the bridesmaids fighting.”

“Your sisters? Fighting? Who could have seen that coming” you deadpan.

“I know, god I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was as well i'll call tomorrow in case you get cold feet, I have a five point plan”

“I won't” she chimes.

“ I know because you love her”

“And I also love you” she says

“And I love you” you respond before hanging up. Not even a minute after hanging up you get a call from Santiago

“Hey, I just wanted to verbally apologize for trapping you with ‘Fish, though he's definitely one of the better ones to get stuck with.” he says.

“Well that’s good to know” you laugh, rolling your eyes.

“He hasn’t tried anything has he? If he has I'll kill him, and get away with it, you'll have to help me with the body but...” Santiago starts.

“Santi, it's fine he's cool, really sweet, actually,” you offer heat rushing to your face for some unknown reason.

“Good. He touches you ill..” he warns.

“You’ll kill him ya I got it!” you snap, you understood why Santiago felt like he had to play big brother for you but sometimes he was a touch overbearing. “Is John there?” you try and ask casually, failing to head Stellas advice.

“Don’t...” Santi starts, you can practically hear his jaw clench over the phone “you know if I see him tonight i'm gonna knock him out for how he treats you”

“It wasn’t that bad.” you whisper.

“It was, still is, I heard him bragging about how if worse comes to worse he always has his plan D,” he offers, not to hurt you but to try and free you from the cycle.

“That dick. You know what Stellas right, fuck him!” you exclaim with a newfound determination to rid him from your life.

“Oh my god, are you finally seeing the light?” Santi asks “Praise the lord!” He shouts up into the sky.

“Ya I guess so” you say staring at Frankie as he dries his hair with the towel. “I gotta go, see you soon.”

“Not soon enough” he laughs as you hang up.

“Whose that?” Frankie asks, still curious about who you’d been hoping to see at the wedding and what they’d done to earn your affection.

“Pope!” you say with a smile, pushing your back off the bed and sitting up.

“Threatening to kill me?” Frankie predicts.

“Ya we have a plan” you murmur.

“We?” he asks, a twinkle in his eye and his mouth upturned at the sides.

“Well he'll kill you but, I cant have him go to jail so i'll have to hide your body.” you explain

“Good glad that got sorted” he says, his smile now in full effect.

“I'll go grab some breakfast” you say.

“No ill get it, you’re always getting it, plus gives you time to shower, I can smell you from here.” He prods, grabbing the key.

“Rude!” you yell out after him.

He's back when you exit the shower

“Oh thank you, you say grabbing the plate form him”

“Just what the doctor ordered, hey?” he asks, smiling stupidly big.

“Ouuuf that that was bad truly apologize to me” He laughs at how serious your face gets “You're laughing? I had to listen to that joke and you're laughing?” you say through a mouthful of eggs. “Here's something that'll wipe that stupid smile off your face, snow stops which means we have to clear off my car.”

“Using the royal we are we?” he asks

“Think of it as repayment for the pun,” you say waving your fork in his face

“How will we be clearing it off?” he asks, leaning over the counter.

“Brush” you say, as if it's obvious

“Where's the brush?” he asks, resting his chin on the back of his hands and smiling sweetly at you, waiting for an answer.

“In the….oh” you say, face dropping when you realize that the brush was in the car currently buried under a snow pile.

“Not so smart now” he laughs pushing back off the counter taking your empty plate with him, washing it up for you.

“Well I guess we just have to get to the door with our hands then” you say smiling.

“Once again, about this we,” he says, drying his hands on the dish towel, turning to see a dramatic pout plastered across your face.

“Fine, I'll only help because I think you may disappear in the snow if you go in alone” he responds, the truth was, he couldn't deny you.

You both get dressed into the most winter proof clothes you had, neither of you having packed for a snowy expedition. As you exit the room you see him grab a pack of cigarettes he’d been hiding, not wanting you to see his worst traits.

“Those will kill you, you know,” you say, causing him to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Okay mom” he laughs grabbing the lighter despite your disapproving glare,

“You have a daughter to think about” you say, feeling like you'd be letting your profession down by giving up so easily.

“It's why I smoke, the safest way to calm the nerves while staying clean” he murmurs with a look on his face that is enough to get you to drop it for now. You weren't about to pry into his struggle with addiction and you certainly weren’t one to judge, you’d faced similar issues after your brothers passing.

“I used to smoke,” you confess as the elevator doors close in front of you both.

“Seriously?” he remarks, not able to believe it.

“Pack a week for about a year” you say, slowly nodding your head as the two of you walk through the foyer towards the parking lot.

“You quit?” He asks, impressed.

“Ya I don’t think it was long enough to form a habit. When did you start?” you offer as you move your legs through the snow, it was dense your legs would be sore tomorrow.

“What? Are you gonna assess the state of my lungs?” Frankie laughs, moving easily through the snow you were struggling so hard against.

“Yes, but i'll only tell you the results if you want to know”

“Few years back, after...” he stops himself before confessing the worst thing that ever happened in his life.

“The mission” you finish for him, remembering how Pope had picked up similar habits once he finally returned home. “You were there with Santi?” you question

“He told you about it?” he asks, sterner than you’d seen him before, he was afraid that you knew what a monster he was. You shake your head, no and he thanks the gods. “You think i'm going to?” He queries lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag, making sure not to blow it out anywhere near you.

“I don’t know, maybe. It’s the one thing he wont tell me about, figured it would be easier for you if you were talking to a stranger about it.”

“Not much of a stranger now” he laughs, but there was something behind his eyes, a similar sadness that you saw with Santi when he talked about it. Your thoughts are interrupted when something cold hits you in the face, your mouth drops open, your forehead scrunches in disbelief.

“Shit, I wasn’t aiming for your face I swear!” he looks up panicked

“I guess it's what I get for asking so many questions” you say, hand still over your face playing into it as you formulate your attack.

“No, oh my god! No! It wasn't because of that, let me see” he says, you let your hands drop and you smile wickedly up at him. Before he has time to react, you rub a handful of snow into his face.

“Oh... you're gonna pay for that.” he draws out, wiping the snow from his face.

After 15 minutes of all out war, and a brief truce that was to be officially signed once back inside you managed to get to the door handle and lean into the back seat grabbing out the brush. You offer it to Frankie, but he's already started clearing off the rest of the car with his arms.

“Hey can you grab my spare charger out of the compartment there?” you say cleaning off the trunk, the front doors now accessible.

“Ya, holy shit is this a knife?” he asks, pulling out a knife.

“Maybe.” You say staring into his eyes as his mouth hangs open in amusement. “For safety, I didn't know who I'd be driving up with! You coulda been a murderer” you explain palms up.

“And you were planning on what? shanking me?” he laughs a huge smile on his face, weirdly endeared by your thought process.

“Only if I had to.” You say chuckling between shivers, the cold now seeping through your makeshift snowsuit hitting against the sweat you’d worked up.

“You want it?” He offers.

“No i'm good, thanks”

“Because you don’t think I'm a murderer or because you have another one hidden in the room already?” he laughs, but he stops when you tilt your head slightly and raise your eyebrows, averting your eyes.

“Wait, do I need this knife?” he calls as you trudge back through the snow.

You both change into less sweaty attire and you settle into the couch turning on to watch the latest forensic files rerun. You shiver as you sit down having caught a chill. Noticing you shaking, Frankie goes to the wardrobe and grabs down a spare blanket throwing one at you so it lands directly over your head. He laughs when he sees you slowly turn towards him beneath the blanket, like someone in a makeshift ghost costume.

“Excuse me!” you laugh

“Hey you should be thanking me, can't have you freezing to death.” he says, “Are you asleep under there?” he asks, when you don't respond

“I'm not a cat! I don't fall asleep when someone throws a blanket over me!” He's not paying attention to what he's doing and the bottle in his hand shatters against the counter, a shard slicing his hand open.

“Fucking shit.” you him sigh.

“Are you okay?” You ask maneuvering out from under your blankets to see Frankie in the kitchen, glass on the floor and blood coming down his arm.

“Wow you're out of my sight for 2 seconds and you maim yourself” you say laughing, stopping when you see the panicked look in his eye, the event evidently triggering something deep in his psyche. You quickly stand up and he goes to move towards you.

“No don't move Frankie, stay where you are.” you reassure softly, watching as his eyes lay into your own, his breathing calmer now “You're in socks, can't have you cutting your dancing feet” you say.

“You’ve heard of my dancing feet,” he says, grounding himself again.

“Only bad things” you say, throwing him a pair of shoes that he carefully puts on before moving toward the closet where the broom is “No come here, let me see your hand. The mess can wait, you're more important,” you stress leading him over to the couch and sitting him down.

“Wow, first time I'll be able to afford professional health care “ he jokes as you take his hands in your own.

“Ow” he says when you press down onto the hand to assess the damage.

“It's fine, not deep enough for stitches, should heal up on its own. I still want to clean it though, to stop any infection.” You return with a small bottle of over priced vodka opening it and dabbing some onto a cotton pad. He doesn't flinch when the alcohol cleans the wound and he watches as you bandage his hand up.

“You carry a med pack with you on every trip?” he queries, but you don’t hear him you’re too focused on wrapping his hand.

“There! good as new,” you say standing up and cleaning up the glass on the floor. “Hey did you bring a swimsuit?” you ask, dumping the glass into some newspaper that was left in the room.

“Why?” He asks.

“Answer the question Frankie” you say, folding the paper around the shards before placing it into the trash.

“Yes, you wanna go hang out at the pool with the fifty families stuck here?”

“Ya. You don't? Seriously this room is wildly expensive and has a huge jacuzzi tub, I'm getting in your welcome to join, but bathing suits are mandatory.” you offer.

“I was gonna get in fully clothed,” he offers, not missing a beat.

“Perfect even better”

As per usual he beats you to the punch and settles into the tub that was more akin to a hot tub than a bath, he wanted to get in first partially to annoy you and partially so his body wouldn’t be on full display, he wasn't as jacked as he once was and he’d become insecure about certain areas that he’d let go once his kid came along. He watches as you walk in and his eyes can't help but follow your figure around the room, a beautiful person behind a beautiful personality, he thanks the universe for placing him into your orbit.

“That why they call you catfish?” you ask drawing him from his daydream back into an equally pleasing reality.

“What?” he responds, blushing at having been called out on his gawking.

“Cause your mouth hangs open like a fish out of water when you're zoned out” you smirk, lowering yourself down into the tub.

“Rude” he says splashing after you settle in.

“Alright, Frankie, what is it?” you ask, causing his face to look up to you “what's your deal, apart from smoking? You gotta have flaws”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” he charms

“Sinister” you laugh, but he doesn't, you reach your foot up tapping his cheek with it,

“Disgusting,” he chuckles, grabbing it and rubbing the arch before pushing it back into the water.

“God, I miss the ocean” you confess, “ I hate the city sometimes.”

“You’re not planning on staying in Chicago after you're done?”

“Nope, gonna get myself out to the coast, or at least somewhere without winters.” you say stretching your arms out across the tub. “How about you, are you planning on staying?”

“ Probably, no reason to leave, plus it's close to my mom so she can take care of Arianna when I'm at work, though I wouldn't be opposed to moving if the opportunity presented itself she's young enough that it wouldn’t be too hard.” he says, wanting you to know that if you asked, hed follow you anywhere.

“Arianna, beautiful name. Did you pick it?” you ask looking up when a few minutes of silence pass. As you do you notice that the somber look from early had returned. “You okay?” you ask.

“I don't deserve her, I don’t deserve something so good.” he states, suddenly realizing he didn’t deserve someone like you either. You wouldn’t be sitting in the tub with him if you knew what he’d done.

“Frankie that's not true” you reassure

“You don't know the shit I've done. I'm not... I'm not a good person,” he says, still not looking over to you.

“Well, I…” you begin to refute.

“Seriously, I've done bad things… awful things'' he clears his throat, afraid to look at you, afraid you’d be terrified by him.

“People make bad mistakes, but that doesn't make them irredeemable, not if they are willing to change. You understand what you did was bad, that says something.” you reassure, knowing the guilt was likely left over from the military.

“Well, wise words coming from someone who's never done anything bad”

“You don't know me that well Frankie, I’ve done my fair share of stupid things, crappy things to numb the pain. It's what we do to make up for those shitty actions that count. At every turn, you’ve shown me that you're not an evil person. Everything I’ve seen is good, and funny and incredibly kind.” you finish and you continue to nudge him with your foot until he finally cracks a smile.

“Well now you're smiling again, my missions complete and it's time for bed” you say stepping out of the tub and drying off, unaware that you’d just made Frankie fall even harder for you. His eyes helplessly following you as you leave the bathroom.

“Since I'm an outpatient, does that mean I get the good side of the bed?” he calls out after you. You roll your eyes but let him have it, you preferred the sleeping situation the way it was.

#In a week #part 3 #frankie x y/n #frankie x reader #frankie catfish morales #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #pedro pascal characters

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spookiifi · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red (4)

And here we are! The final chapter of Seeing Red. This fic features @tinalbion’s oc, Adelaide, who I consider a power couple with Savage <3 The force COMPELS YOU to go check out her work!!

This fic feature’s canon x oc content.

The only warnings for this finale are angst and a slight smut mention at the end.

Summary: After receiving advice from Adi’s mistress, Baljai, Sasha and Adi head back home to the Sundari Palace in Mandalore.

Part 3 is here.

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Sasha gazed at the green hills of Naboo for the last time before they shifted into hyperspace.

“So Bal, she’s quite a character isn’t she?” Adi smiled.

“Yeah. She has such a mothering personality, but you never told me she sliced some guy’s head off!” Sasha grinned

“I figured I’d save that as a surprise.” Adi shrugged. “I knew you would like her. She took me in and treated me better than anyone ever had. She likes you, I think you guys will get along great.”

“I’m glad I made a good impression. I shouldn’t have been that nervous in the beginning when meeting her,” she laughed it off.

“It’s not familiar territory, Red, you had every right to be nervous! She’s very comforting though, she’s good at that. Can you believe she has no kids even though she’s so motherly?”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “In a way we’re her kids, if that makes sense.”

“Exactly, she fosters us and teaches us stuff that our biological parents wouldn’t even think of teaching.”

“Is this what it feels like to have a mom?” She asked, resting her head on the dashboard while holding her face.

“Yeah, most definitely. She’ll adopt you, don’t even let her get that idea in her head,” Adi laughed.

“The ride back felt much shorter than the trip to Naboo. Sasha felt at home whenever they dropped out of hyperspace to Mandalore.

She docked the ship. Adi had walked beside Sasha as they spoke, and of course, she couldn’t forget the small satchel of goodies she brought back from the palace.

Upon entering, Savage had greeted them both, so Adi placed a kiss on his cheek and handed him the bag.

“As promised, my love. Now, what kind of mood is your brother in?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, hopefully?” The redhead asked.

“Maul has been...preoccupied since your departure, he may be in a delicate mood. He hasn’t emerged from the office area since,” Savage explained.

“It’s that bad? I’ve never seen him that distressed,” Sasha said.

“I haven’t been around him like this before, but maybe he requires a much gentler touch than mine.” Savage shrugged and looked down at the girls.

“C’mon, big guy, we’ll leave her to it, yeah?” She wrapped her hands around his large arm and smiled up at him. “Remember what Bal said,” Adi reminded.

“Be honest and open with him and be gentle, vulnerable. He will slowly but surely listen.”

As Adi let Sasha and Maul have their peace, she and Savage wandered toward the library where the large stained glass window was, and Adi couldn’t help but recall Bal’s words.

“Take your man away from them so they can have as much time as they need.”

“Savage, I hope you know how lucky I am to have you,” she grinned.

“What is it, Sunflower?” Savage asked softly.

“Nothing,” she smirked. “I’m just happy.”

When Sasha slipped into the room and closed the door behind him, it seemed as if Maul hadn’t moved from before. He faced the massive windows overlooking the city with his hands clasped behind his back.

“You’ve returned.” Maul sounded rather cryptic.

Sasha raised an eyebrow. “Yes? I was merely out for a girl’s trip.” She could tell he was tired by the way his voice sounded.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me after what happened.” He turned around, and she could see the exhaustion on his face.

“Maul, of course not.” She strode toward Maul and he froze on the spot.

“I hurt you though. Why aren’t you running?”

“Because I love you too much to leave. I was afraid of you getting hurt.”

Maul’s eyes widened as she entwined her fingers with his. “What? But I-”

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” she said gently.

Maul looked straight into her eyes. Shame rushed through his mind, and Sasha could sense his unease.

“Maul, I’d never leave you behind.” Sasha reached up and cupped his face. “Can we please just live in the moment?”

Adi had a good feeling about the two and couldn’t help but feel proud and soft over her little found family.

Bal’s words had echoed through her mind when it came to Sasha and Maul, and maybe she herself could take the opportunity to listen.

“Savage, it’s been some time that we’ve been in one another’s lives and I want to continue that. I want to be in yours forever. If you had me.”

Savage looked at her, gauging her words carefully. “Are you saying what I think you are?” He asked aloud.

“Of course I am.” She replied with a smile.

Maul let out a sigh and held Sasha's hand on his face. “I’m sorry for screaming at you. Gods, I didn’t mean it when I asked you to leave.”

“I know.” She closed the gap between them as she embraced him. “I just worry for you sometimes. More than you’d think... Can you promise me that you’ll stay?”

Maul held her tightly. “I swear on it.” He kissed her forehead before carding his fingers through her hair.

She closed her eyes and smiled against his chest. They shared a moment of silence before Maul spoke up. “I have something to show you.”

Sasha’s eyes opened as Maul released his grip.

He glanced toward his desk. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

“Okay?” She smiled, confused as to what Maul was planning.

“I must admit, I am unfamiliar with human customs such as this…” Savage blushed and grabbed the woman’s hand. “But whatever happens, I pledge my life to you, Adelaide.”

Adi smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. She pulled away and nuzzled her nose against the side of his face.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Open your eyes,” Maul said as he placed a small box in Sasha’s hand.

Sasha was met with Maul’s nervous smile, and she proceeded to open the small black box.

“Oh, Maul.”

“It’s not Mandalorian tradition, but it’s close enough.”

Sasha’s eyes lit up at the sight of a perfectly carved ruby with a silver band. “It’s perfect.”

Maul slipped the ring over her finger. “My dear, would you do me the honor of becoming the true lady of Mandalore?”

Tears threatened Sasha’s eyes. “Yes!” And she embraced him one again, kissing him deeply.

“You don’t know how happy that makes me feel.” Maul grinned.

“I’m pretty sure I do.” She kissed him again.

This was the start of a new beginning.

Adi paused and stood there with Savage, blissfully unaware of the overwhelming joy she was feeling from across the palace, knowing that Sasha and Maul possibly made up? She wasn’t sure, all she knew was that Red was happy.

An added part that I didn’t know where to put

Sasha brought him into another passionate kiss, only to be interrupted by his data pad.

“Lord Maul, we need y-” Without even looking, he tapped the power button.

“Why don’t you cancel meetings for the rest of the day?” Sasha smirked. “You won’t regret it.”

Maul chuckled and hoisted her onto his desk. “What a pleasant idea.”

@a-dorin @maulieber @justalittlecloud @lestrange2703 @always-on-tatooine @danipixel @botherbother-blog @danipixel @rogue-wonderful @lovelyzabrak-meadow @lordfriendpatine

#oc x canon #adelaide #sasha catall #savage opress #darth maul #darth maul x oc #savage opress x oc #fluff #angst #slight smut #friends' ocs #my ocs #clone wars oc #clone wars au

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castielchitaqua · 3 years

Text

kaddish, allen ginsberg

I Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village. downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud, listening to Ray Charles blues shout blind on the phonograph the rhythm the rhythm—and your memory in my head three years after—And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas aloud—wept, realizing how we suffer— And how Death is that remedy all singers dream of, sing, remember, prophesy as in the Hebrew Anthem, or the Buddhist Book of Answers—and my own imagination of a withered leaf—at dawn— Dreaming back thru life, Your time—and mine accelerating toward Apocalypse, the final moment—the flower burning in the Day—and what comes after, looking back on the mind itself that saw an American city a flash away, and the great dream of Me or China, or you and a phantom Russia, or a crumpled bed that never existed— like a poem in the dark—escaped back to Oblivion— No more to say, and nothing to weep for but the Beings in the Dream, trapped in its disappearance, sighing, screaming with it, buying and selling pieces of phantom, worshipping each other, worshipping the God included in it all—longing or inevitability?—while it lasts, a Vision—anything more? It leaps about me, as I go out and walk the street, look back over my shoulder, Seventh Avenue, the battlements of window office buildings shouldering each other high, under a cloud, tall as the sky an instant—and the sky above—an old blue place. or down the Avenue to the south, to—as I walk toward the Lower East Side—where you walked 50 years ago, little girl—from Russia, eating the first poisonous tomatoes of America—frightened on the dock— then struggling in the crowds of Orchard Street toward what?—toward Newark— toward candy store, first home-made sodas of the century, hand-churned ice cream in backroom on musty brownfloor boards— Toward education marriage nervous breakdown, operation, teaching school, and learning to be mad, in a dream—what is this life? Toward the Key in the window—and the great Key lays its head of light on top of Manhattan, and over the floor, and lays down on the sidewalk—in a single vast beam, moving, as I walk down First toward the Yiddish Theater—and the place of poverty you knew, and I know, but without caring now—Strange to have moved thru Paterson, and the West, and Europe and here again, with the cries of Spaniards now in the doorstoops doors and dark boys on the street, fire escapes old as you -Tho you’re not old now, that’s left here with me— Myself, anyhow, maybe as old as the universe—and I guess that dies with us—enough to cancel all that comes—What came is gone forever every time— That’s good! That leaves it open for no regret—no fear radiators, lacklove, torture even toothache in the end— Though while it comes it is a lion that eats the soul—and the lamb, the soul, in us, alas, offering itself in sacrifice to change’s fierce hunger—hair and teeth—and the roar of bonepain, skull bare, break rib, rot-skin, braintricked Implacability. Ai! ai! we do worse! We are in a fix! And you’re out, Death let you out, Death had the Mercy, you’re done with your century, done with God, done with the path thru it—Done with yourself at last—Pure—Back to the Babe dark before your Father, before us all—before the world— There, rest. No more suffering for you. I know where you’ve gone, it’s good. No more flowers in the summer fields of New York, no joy now, no more fear of Louis, and no more of his sweetness and glasses, his high school decades, debts, loves, frightened telephone calls, conception beds, relatives, hands— No more of sister Elanor,.—she gone before you—we kept it secret—you killed her—or she killed herself to bear with you—an arthritic heart—But Death’s killed you both—No matter— Nor your memory of your mother, 1915 tears in silent movies weeks and weeks—forgetting, aggrieve watching Marie Dressler address humanity, Chaplin dance in youth, or Boris Godunov, Chaliapin’s at the Met, hailing his voice of a weeping Czar—by standing

room with Elanor & Max—watching also the Capitalists take seats in Orchestra, white furs, diamonds, with the YPSL’s hitch-hiking thru Pennsylvania, in black baggy gym skirts pants, photograph of 4 girls holding each other round the waste, and laughing eye, too coy, virginal solitude of 1920 all girls grown old, or dead, now, and that long hair in the grave—lucky to have husbands later— You made it—I came too—Eugene my brother before (still grieving now and will gream on to his last stiff hand, as he goes thru his cancer—or kill—later perhaps—soon he will think—) And it’s the last moment I remember, which I see them all, thru myself, now—tho not you I didn’t foresee what you felt—what more hideous gape of bad mouth came first—to you—and were you prepared? To go where? In that Dark—that—in that God? a radiance? A Lord in the Void? Like an eye in the black cloud in a dream? Adonoi at last, with you? Beyond my remembrance! Incapable to guess! Not merely the yellow skull in the grave, or a box of worm dust, and a stained ribbon—Deathshead with Halo? can you believe it? Is it only the sun that shines once for the mind, only the flash of existence, than none ever was? Nothing beyond what we have—what you had—that so pitiful—yet Triumph, to have been here, and changed, like a tree, broken, or flower—fed to the ground—but mad, with its petals, colored, thinking Great Universe, shaken, cut in the head, leaf stript, hid in an egg crate hospital, cloth wrapped, sore—freaked in the moon brain, Naughtless. No flower like that flower, which knew itself in the garden, and fought the knife—lost Cut down by an idiot Snowman’s icy—even in the Spring—strange ghost thought—some Death—Sharp icicle in his hand—crowned with old roses—a dog for his eyes—cock of a sweatshop—heart of electric irons. All the accumulations of life, that wear us out—clocks, bodies, consciousness, shoes, breasts—begotten sons—your Communism—‘Paranoia’ into hospitals. You once kicked Elanor in the leg, she died of heart failure later. You of stroke. Asleep? within a year, the two of you, sisters in death. Is Elanor happy? Max grieves alive in an office on Lower Broadway, lone large mustache over midnight Accountings, not sure. l His life passes—as he sees—and what does he doubt now? Still dream of making money, or that might have made money, hired nurse, had children, found even your Immortality, Naomi? I’ll see him soon. Now I’ve got to cut through—to talk to you—as I didn’t when you had a mouth. Forever. And we’re bound for that, Forever—like Emily Dickinson’s horses—headed to the End. They know the way—These Steeds—run faster than we think—it’s our own life they cross—and take with them. Magnificent, mourned no more, marred of heart, mind behind, married dreamed, mortal changed—Ass and face done with murder. In the world, given, flower maddened, made no Utopia, shut under pine, almed in Earth, balmed in Lone, Jehovah, accept. Nameless, One Faced, Forever beyond me, beginningless, endless, Father in death. Tho I am not there for this Prophecy, I am unmarried, I’m hymnless, I’m Heavenless, headless in blisshood I would still adore Thee, Heaven, after Death, only One blessed in Nothingness, not light or darkness, Dayless Eternity— Take this, this Psalm, from me, burst from my hand in a day, some of my Time, now given to Nothing—to praise Thee—But Death This is the end, the redemption from Wilderness, way for the Wonderer, House sought for All, black handkerchief washed clean by weeping—page beyond Psalm—Last change of mine and Naomi—to God’s perfect Darkness—Death, stay thy phantoms! II Over and over—refrain—of the Hospitals—still haven’t written your history—leave it abstract—a few images run thru the mind—like the saxophone chorus of houses and years—remembrance of electrical shocks. By long nites as a child in Paterson apartment, watching over your nervousness—you were fat—your next move— By that afternoon I stayed home from school to take care of you—once and for all—when I vowed forever that once man disagreed with my opinion of the cosmos, I was lost— By my

later burden—vow to illuminate mankind—this is release of particulars—(mad as you)—(sanity a trick of agreement)— But you stared out the window on the Broadway Church corner, and spied a mystical assassin from Newark, So phoned the Doctor—‘OK go way for a rest’—so I put on my coat and walked you downstreet—On the way a grammarschool boy screamed, unaccountably—‘Where you goin Lady to Death’? I shuddered— and you covered your nose with motheaten fur collar, gas mask against poison sneaked into downtown atmosphere, sprayed by Grandma— And was the driver of the cheesebox Public Service bus a member of the gang? You shuddered at his face, I could hardly get you on—to New York, very Times Square, to grab another Greyhound— where we hung around 2 hours fighting invisible bugs and jewish sickness—breeze poisoned by Roosevelt— out to get you—and me tagging along, hoping it would end in a quiet room in a Victorian house by a lake. Ride 3 hours thru tunnels past all American industry, Bayonne preparing for World War II, tanks, gas fields, soda factories, diners, loco-motive roundhouse fortress—into piney woods New Jersey Indians—calm towns—long roads thru sandy tree fields— Bridges by deerless creeks, old wampum loading the streambeddown there a tomahawk or Pocahontas bone—and a million old ladies voting for Roosevelt in brown small houses, roads off the Madness highway— perhaps a hawk in a tree, or a hermit looking for an owl-filled branch— All the time arguing—afraid of strangers in the forward double seat, snoring regardless—what busride they snore on now? ‘Allen, you don’t understand—it’s—ever since those 3 big sticks up my back—they did something to me in Hospital, they poisoned me, they want to see me dead—3 big sticks, 3 big sticks— ‘The Bitch! Old Grandma! Last week I saw her, dressed in pants like an old man, with a sack on her back, climbing up the brick side of the apartment ‘On the fire escape, with poison germs, to throw on me—at night—maybe Louis is helping her—he’s under her power— ‘I’m your mother, take me to Lakewood’ (near where Graf Zeppelin had crashed before, all Hitler in Explosion) ‘where I can hide.’ We got there—Dr. Whatzis rest home—she hid behind a closet—demanded a blood transfusion. We were kicked out—tramping with Valise to unknown shady lawn houses—dusk, pine trees after dark—long dead street filled with crickets and poison ivy— I shut her up by now—big house REST HOME ROOMS—gave the landlady her money for the week—carried up the iron valise—sat on bed waiting to escape— Neat room in attic with friendly bedcover—lace curtains—spinning wheel rug—Stained wallpaper old as Naomi. We were home. I left on the next bus to New York—laid my head back in the last seat, depressed—the worst yet to come?—abandoning her, rode in torpor—I was only 12. Would she hide in her room and come out cheerful for breakfast? Or lock her door and stare thru the window for sidestreet spies? Listen at keyholes for Hitlerian invisible gas? Dream in a chair—or mock me, by—in front of a mirror, alone? 12 riding the bus at nite thru New Jersey, have left Naomi to Parcae in Lakewood’s haunted house—left to my own fate bus—sunk in a seat—all violins broken—my heart sore in my ribs—mind was empty—Would she were safe in her coffin— Or back at Normal School in Newark, studying up on America in a black skirt—winter on the street without lunch—a penny a pickle—home at night to take care of Elanor in the bedroom— First nervous breakdown was 1919—she stayed home from school and lay in a dark room for three weeks—something bad—never said what—every noise hurt—dreams of the creaks of Wall Street— Before the gray Depression—went upstate New York—recovered—Lou took photo of her sitting crossleg on the grass—her long hair wound with flowers—smiling—playing lullabies on mandolin—poison ivy smoke in left-wing summer camps and me in infancy saw trees— or back teaching school, laughing with idiots, the backward classes—her Russian specialty—morons with dreamy lips, great eyes, thin feet & sicky fingers, swaybacked, rachitic— great heads pendulous

over Alice in Wonderland, a blackboard full of C A T. Naomi reading patiently, story out of a Communist fairy book—Tale of the Sudden Sweetness of the Dictator—Forgiveness of Warlocks—Armies Kissing— Deathsheads Around the Green Table—The King & the Workers—Paterson Press printed them up in the ’30s till she went mad, or they folded, both. O Paterson! I got home late that nite. Louis was worried. How could I be so—didn’t I think? I shouldn’t have left her. Mad in Lakewood. Call the Doctor. Phone the home in the pines. Too late. Went to bed exhausted, wanting to leave the world (probably that year newly in love with R my high school mind hero, jewish boy who came a doctor later—then silent neat kid— I later laying down life for him, moved to Manhattan—followed him to college—Prayed on ferry to help mankind if admitted—vowed, the day I journeyed to Entrance Exam— by being honest revolutionary labor lawyer—would train for that—inspired by Sacco Vanzetti, Norman Thomas, Debs, Altgeld, Sand-burg, Poe—Little Blue Books. I wanted to be President, or Senator. ignorant woe—later dreams of kneeling by R’s shocked knees declaring my love of 1941—What sweetness he’d have shown me, tho, that I’d wished him & despaired—first love—a crush— Later a mortal avalanche, whole mountains of homosexuality, Matterhorns of cock, Grand Canyons of asshole—weight on my melancholy head— meanwhile I walked on Broadway imagining Infinity like a rubber ball without space beyond—what’s outside?—coming home to Graham Avenue still melancholy passing the lone green hedges across the street, dreaming after the movies—) The telephone rang at 2 A.M.—Emergency—she’d gone mad—Naomi hiding under the bed screaming bugs of Mussolini—Help! Louis! Buba! Fascists! Death!—the landlady frightened—old fag attendant screaming back at her— Terror, that woke the neighbors—old ladies on the second floor recovering from menopause—all those rags between thighs, clean sheets, sorry over lost babies—husbands ashen—children sneering at Yale, or putting oil in hair at CCNY—or trembling in Montclair State Teachers College like Eugene— Her big leg crouched to her breast, hand outstretched Keep Away, wool dress on her thighs, fur coat dragged under the bed—she barricaded herself under bedspring with suitcases. Louis in pajamas listening to phone, frightened—do now?—Who could know?—my fault, delivering her to solitude?—sitting in the dark room on the sofa, trembling, to figure out— He took the morning train to Lakewood, Naomi still under bed—thought he brought poison Cops—Naomi screaming—Louis what happened to your heart then? Have you been killed by Naomi’s ecstasy? Dragged her out, around the corner, a cab, forced her in with valise, but the driver left them off at drugstore. Bus stop, two hours’ wait. I lay in bed nervous in the 4-room apartment, the big bed in living room, next to Louis’ desk—shaking—he came home that nite, late, told me what happened. Naomi at the prescription counter defending herself from the enemy—racks of children’s books, douche bags, aspirins, pots, blood—‘Don’t come near me—murderers! Keep away! Promise not to kill me!’ Louis in horror at the soda fountain—with Lakewood girlscouts—Coke addicts—nurses—busmen hung on schedule—Police from country precinct, dumbed—and a priest dreaming of pigs on an ancient cliff? Smelling the air—Louis pointing to emptiness?—Customers vomiting their Cokes—or staring—Louis humiliated—Naomi triumphant—The Announcement of the Plot. Bus arrives, the drivers won’t have them on trip to New York. Phonecalls to Dr. Whatzis, ‘She needs a rest,’ The mental hospital—State Greystone Doctors—‘Bring her here, Mr. Ginsberg.’ Naomi, Naomi—sweating, bulge-eyed, fat, the dress unbuttoned at one side—hair over brow, her stocking hanging evilly on her legs—screaming for a blood transfusion—one righteous hand upraised—a shoe in it—barefoot in the Pharmacy— The enemies approach—what poisons? Tape recorders? FBI? Zhdanov hiding behind the counter? Trotsky mixing rat bacteria in the back of the store? Uncle Sam in Newark, plotting deathly

perfumes in the Negro district? Uncle Ephraim, drunk with murder in the politician’s bar, scheming of Hague? Aunt Rose passing water thru the needles of the Spanish Civil War? till the hired $35 ambulance came from Red Bank——Grabbed her arms—strapped her on the stretcher—moaning, poisoned by imaginaries, vomiting chemicals thru Jersey, begging mercy from Essex County to Morristown— And back to Greystone where she lay three years—that was the last breakthrough, delivered her to Madhouse again— On what wards—I walked there later, oft—old catatonic ladies, gray as cloud or ash or walls—sit crooning over floorspace—Chairs—and the wrinkled hags acreep, accusing—begging my 13-year-old mercy— ‘Take me home’—I went alone sometimes looking for the lost Naomi, taking Shock—and I’d say, ‘No, you’re crazy Mama,—Trust the Drs.’— And Eugene, my brother, her elder son, away studying Law in a furnished room in Newark— came Paterson-ward next day—and he sat on the broken-down couch in the living room—‘We had to send her back to Greystone’— —his face perplexed, so young, then eyes with tears—then crept weeping all over his face—‘What for?’ wail vibrating in his cheekbones, eyes closed up, high voice—Eugene’s face of pain. Him faraway, escaped to an Elevator in the Newark Library, his bottle daily milk on windowsill of $5 week furn room downtown at trolley tracks— He worked 8 hrs. a day for $20/wk—thru Law School years—stayed by himself innocent near negro whorehouses. Unlaid, poor virgin—writing poems about Ideals and politics letters to the editor Pat Eve News—(we both wrote, denouncing Senator Borah and Isolationists—and felt mysterious toward Paterson City Hall— I sneaked inside it once—local Moloch tower with phallus spire & cap o’ ornament, strange gothic Poetry that stood on Market Street—replica Lyons’ Hotel de Ville— wings, balcony & scrollwork portals, gateway to the giant city clock, secret map room full of Hawthorne—dark Debs in the Board of Tax—Rembrandt smoking in the gloom— Silent polished desks in the great committee room—Aldermen? Bd of Finance? Mosca the hairdresser aplot—Crapp the gangster issuing orders from the john—The madmen struggling over Zone, Fire, Cops & Backroom Metaphysics—we’re all dead—outside by the bus stop Eugene stared thru childhood— where the Evangelist preached madly for 3 decades, hard-haired, cracked & true to his mean Bible—chalked Prepare to Meet Thy God on civic pave— or God is Love on the railroad overpass concrete—he raved like I would rave, the lone Evangelist—Death on City Hall—) But Gene, young,—been Montclair Teachers College 4 years—taught half year & quit to go ahead in life—afraid of Discipline Problems—dark sex Italian students, raw girls getting laid, no English, sonnets disregarded—and he did not know much—just that he lost— so broke his life in two and paid for Law—read huge blue books and rode the ancient elevator 13 miles away in Newark & studied up hard for the future just found the Scream of Naomi on his failure doorstep, for the final time, Naomi gone, us lonely—home—him sitting there— Then have some chicken soup, Eugene. The Man of Evangel wails in front of City Hall. And this year Lou has poetic loves of suburb middle age—in secret—music from his 1937 book—Sincere—he longs for beauty— No love since Naomi screamed—since 1923?—now lost in Greystone ward—new shock for her—Electricity, following the 40 Insulin. And Metrazol had made her fat. So that a few years later she came home again—we’d much advanced and planned—I waited for that day—my Mother again to cook & —play the piano—sing at mandolin—Lung Stew, & Stenka Razin, & the communist line on the war with Finland—and Louis in debt—,uspected to he poisoned money—mysterious capitalisms —& walked down the long front hall & looked at the furniture. She never remembered it all. Some amnesia. Examined the doilies—and the dining room set was sold— the Mahogany table—20 years love—gone to the junk man—we still had the piano—and the book of Poe—and the Mandolin, tho needed some string, dusty— She went to the backroom to lie down in

bed and ruminate, or nap, hide—I went in with her, not leave her by herself—lay in bed next to her—shades pulled, dusky, late afternoon—Louis in front room at desk, waiting—perhaps boiling chicken for supper— ‘Don’t be afraid of me because I’m just coming back home from the mental hospital—I’m your mother—’ Poor love, lost—a fear—I lay there—Said, ‘I love you Naomi,’—stiff, next to her arm. I would have cried, was this the comfortless lone union?—Nervous, and she got up soon. Was she ever satisfied? And—by herself sat on the new couch by the front windows, uneasy—cheek leaning on her hand—narrowing eye—at what fate that day— Picking her tooth with her nail, lips formed an O, suspicion—thought’s old worn vagina—absent sideglance of eye—some evil debt written in the wall, unpaid—& the aged breasts of Newark come near— May have heard radio gossip thru the wires in her head, controlled by 3 big sticks left in her back by gangsters in amnesia, thru the hospital—caused pain between her shoulders— Into her head—Roosevelt should know her case, she told me—Afraid to kill her, now, that the government knew their names—traced back to Hitler—wanted to leave Louis’ house forever. One night, sudden attack—her noise in the bathroom—like croaking up her soul—convulsions and red vomit coming out of her mouth—diarrhea water exploding from her behind—on all fours in front of the toilet—urine running between her legs—left retching on the tile floor smeared with her black feces—unfainted— At forty, varicosed, nude, fat, doomed, hiding outside the apartment door near the elevator calling Police, yelling for her girlfriend Rose to help— Once locked herself in with razor or iodine—could hear her cough in tears at sink—Lou broke through glass green-painted door, we pulled her out to the bedroom. Then quiet for months that winter—walks, alone, nearby on Broadway, read Daily Worker—Broke her arm, fell on icy street— Began to scheme escape from cosmic financial murder-plots—later she ran away to the Bronx to her sister Elanor. And there’s another saga of late Naomi in New York. Or thru Elanor or the Workmen’s Circle, where she worked, ad-dressing envelopes, she made out—went shopping for Campbell’s tomato soup—saved money Louis mailed her— Later she found a boyfriend, and he was a doctor—Dr. Isaac worked for National Maritime Union—now Italian bald and pudgy old doll—who was himself an orphan—but they kicked him out—Old cruelties— Sloppier, sat around on bed or chair, in corset dreaming to herself—‘I’m hot—I’m getting fat—I used to have such a beautiful figure before I went to the hospital—You should have seen me in Woodbine—’ This in a furnished room around the NMU hall, 1943. Looking at naked baby pictures in the magazine—baby powder advertisements, strained lamb carrots—‘I will think nothing but beautiful thoughts.’ Revolving her head round and round on her neck at window light in summertime, in hypnotize, in doven-dream recall— ‘I touch his cheek, I touch his cheek, he touches my lips with his hand, I think beautiful thoughts, the baby has a beautiful hand.’— Or a No-shake of her body, disgust—some thought of Buchenwald—some insulin passes thru her head—a grimace nerve shudder at Involuntary (as shudder when I piss)—bad chemical in her cortex—‘No don’t think of that. He’s a rat.’ Naomi: ‘And when we die we become an onion, a cabbage, a carrot, or a squash, a vegetable.’ I come downtown from Columbia and agree. She reads the Bible, thinks beautiful thoughts all day. ‘Yesterday I saw God. What did he look like? Well, in the afternoon I climbed up a ladder—he has a cheap cabin in the country, like Monroe, N.Y. the chicken farms in the wood. He was a lonely old man with a white beard. ‘I cooked supper for him. I made him a nice supper—lentil soup, vegetables, bread & butter—miltz—he sat down at the table and ate, he was sad. ‘I told him, Look at all those fightings and killings down there, What’s the matter? Why don’t you put a stop to it? ‘I try, he said—That’s all he could do, he looked tired. He’s a bachelor so long, and he likes lentil

soup.’ Serving me meanwhile, a plate of cold fish—chopped raw cabbage dript with tapwater—smelly tomatoes—week-old health food—grated beets & carrots with leaky juice, warm—more and more disconsolate food—I can’t eat it for nausea sometimes—the Charity of her hands stinking with Manhattan, madness, desire to please me, cold undercooked fish—pale red near the bones. Her smells—and oft naked in the room, so that I stare ahead, or turn a book ignoring her. One time I thought she was trying to make me come lay her—flirting to herself at sink—lay back on huge bed that filled most of the room, dress up round her hips, big slash of hair, scars of operations, pancreas, belly wounds, abortions, appendix, stitching of incisions pulling down in the fat like hideous thick zippers—ragged long lips between her legs—What, even, smell of asshole? I was cold—later revolted a little, not much—seemed perhaps a good idea to try—know the Monster of the Beginning Womb—Perhaps—that way. Would she care? She needs a lover. Yisborach, v’yistabach, v’yispoar, v’yisroman, v’yisnaseh, v’yishador, v’yishalleh, v’yishallol, sh’meh d’kudsho, b’rich hu. And Louis reestablishing himself in Paterson grimy apartment in negro district—living in dark rooms—but found himself a girl he later married, falling in love again—tho sere & shy—hurt with 20 years Naomi’s mad idealism. Once I came home, after longtime in N.Y., he’s lonely—sitting in the bedroom, he at desk chair turned round to face me—weeps, tears in red eyes under his glasses— That we’d left him—Gene gone strangely into army—she out on her own in N.Y., almost childish in her furnished room. So Louis walked downtown to postoffice to get mail, taught in highschool—stayed at poetry desk, forlorn—ate grief at Bickford’s all these years—are gone. Eugene got out of the Army, came home changed and lone—cut off his nose in jewish operation—for years stopped girls on Broadway for cups of coffee to get laid—Went to NYU, serious there, to finish Law.— And Gene lived with her, ate naked fishcakes, cheap, while she got crazier—He got thin, or felt helpless, Naomi striking 1920 poses at the moon, half-naked in the next bed. bit his nails and studied—was the weird nurse-son—Next year he moved to a room near Columbia—though she wanted to live with her children— ‘Listen to your mother’s plea, I beg you’—Louis still sending her checks—I was in bughouse that year 8 months—my own visions unmentioned in this here Lament— But then went half mad—Hitler in her room, she saw his mustache in the sink—afraid of Dr. Isaac now, suspecting that he was in on the Newark plot—went up to Bronx to live near Elanor’s Rheumatic Heart— And Uncle Max never got up before noon, tho Naomi at 6 A.M. was listening to the radio for spies—or searching the windowsill, for in the empty lot downstairs, an old man creeps with his bag stuffing packages of garbage in his hanging black overcoat. Max’s sister Edie works—17 years bookkeeper at Gimbels—lived downstairs in apartment house, divorced—so Edie took in Naomi on Rochambeau Ave— Woodlawn Cemetery across the street, vast dale of graves where Poe once—Last stop on Bronx subway—lots of communists in that area. Who enrolled for painting classes at night in Bronx Adult High School—walked alone under Van Cortlandt Elevated line to class—paints Naomiisms— Humans sitting on the grass in some Camp No-Worry summers yore—saints with droopy faces and long-ill-fitting pants, from hospital— Brides in front of Lower East Side with short grooms—lost El trains running over the Babylonian apartment rooftops in the Bronx— Sad paintings—but she expressed herself. Her mandolin gone, all strings broke in her head, she tried. Toward Beauty? or some old life Message? But started kicking Elanor, and Elanor had heart trouble—came upstairs and asked her about Spydom for hours,—Elanor frazzled. Max away at office, accounting for cigar stores till at night. ‘I am a great woman—am truly a beautiful soul—and because of that they (Hitler, Grandma, Hearst, the Capitalists, Franco, Daily News, the ’20s, Mussolini, the living

dead) want to shut me up—Buba’s the head of a spider network—’ Kicking the girls, Edie & Elanor—Woke Edie at midnite to tell her she was a spy and Elanor a rat. Edie worked all day and couldn’t take it—She was organizing the union.—And Elanor began dying, upstairs in bed. The relatives call me up, she’s getting worse—I was the only one left—Went on the subway with Eugene to see her, ate stale fish— ‘My sister whispers in the radio—Louis must be in the apartment—his mother tells him what to say—LIARS!—I cooked for my two children—I played the mandolin—’ Last night the nightingale woke me / Last night when all was still / it sang in the golden moonlight / from on the wintry hill. She did. I pushed her against the door and shouted ‘DON’T KICK ELANOR!’—she stared at me—Contempt—die—disbelief her sons are so naive, so dumb—‘Elanor is the worst spy! She’s taking orders!’ ‘—No wires in the room!’—I’m yelling at her—last ditch, Eugene listening on the bed—what can he do to escape that fatal Mama—‘You’ve been away from Louis years already—Grandma’s too old to walk—’ We’re all alive at once then—even me & Gene & Naomi in one mythological Cousinesque room—screaming at each other in the Forever—I in Columbia jacket, she half undressed. I banging against her head which saw Radios, Sticks, Hitlers—the gamut of Hallucinations—for real—her own universe—no road that goes elsewhere—to my own—No America, not even a world— That you go as all men, as Van Gogh, as mad Hannah, all the same—to the last doom—Thunder, Spirits, lightning! I’ve seen your grave! O strange Naomi! My own—cracked grave! Shema Y’Israel—I am Svul Avrum—you—in death? Your last night in the darkness of the Bronx—I phonecalled—thru hospital to secret police that came, when you and I were alone, shrieking at Elanor in my ear—who breathed hard in her own bed, got thin— Nor will forget, the doorknock, at your fright of spies,—Law advancing, on my honor—Eternity entering the room—you running to the bathroom undressed, hiding in protest from the last heroic fate— staring at my eyes, betrayed—the final cops of madness rescuing me—from your foot against the broken heart of Elanor, your voice at Edie weary of Gimbels coming home to broken radio—and Louis needing a poor divorce, he wants to get married soon—Eugene dreaming, hiding at 125 St., suing negroes for money on crud furniture, defending black girls— Protests from the bathroom—Said you were sane—dressing in a cotton robe, your shoes, then new, your purse and newspaper clippingsno—your honesty— as you vainly made your lips more real with lipstick, looking in the mirror to see if the Insanity was Me or a earful of police. or Grandma spying at 78—Your vision—Her climbing over the walls of the cemetery with political kidnapper’s bag—or what you saw on the walls of the Bronx, in pink nightgown at midnight, staring out the window on the empty lot— Ah Rochambeau Ave.—Playground of Phantoms—last apartment in the Bronx for spies—last home for Elanor or Naomi, here these communist sisters lost their revolution— ‘All right—put on your coat Mrs.—let’s go—We have the wagon downstairs—you want to come with her to the station?’ The ride then—held Naomi’s hand, and held her head to my breast, I’m taller—kissed her and said I did it for the best—Elanor sick—and Max with heart condition—Needs— To me—‘Why did you do this?’—‘Yes Mrs., your son will have to leave you in an hour’—The Ambulance came in a few hours—drove off at 4 A.M. to some Bellevue in the night downtown—gone to the hospital forever. I saw her led away—she waved, tears in her eyes. Two years, after a trip to Mexico—bleak in the flat plain near Brentwood, scrub brush and grass around the unused RR train track to the crazyhouse— new brick 20 story central building—lost on the vast lawns of madtown on Long Island—huge cities of the moon. Asylum spreads out giant wings above the path to a minute black hole—the door—entrance thru crotch— I went in—smelt funny—the halls again—up elevator—to a glass door on a Women’s Ward—to Naomi—Two nurses buxom white—They led her out, Naomi

stared—and I gaspt—She’d had a stroke— Too thin, shrunk on her bones—age come to Naomi—now broken into white hair—loose dress on her skeleton—face sunk, old! withered—cheek of crone— One hand stiff—heaviness of forties & menopause reduced by one heart stroke, lame now—wrinkles—a scar on her head, the lobotomy—ruin, the hand dipping downwards to death— O Russian faced, woman on the grass, your long black hair is crowned with flowers, the mandolin is on your knees— Communist beauty, sit here married in the summer among daisies, promised happiness at hand— holy mother, now you smile on your love, your world is born anew, children run naked in the field spotted with dandelions, they eat in the plum tree grove at the end of the meadow and find a cabin where a white-haired negro teaches the mystery of his rainbarrel— blessed daughter come to America, I long to hear your voice again, remembering your mother’s music, in the Song of the Natural Front— O glorious muse that bore me from the womb, gave suck first mystic life & taught me talk and music, from whose pained head I first took Vision— Tortured and beaten in the skull—What mad hallucinations of the damned that drive me out of my own skull to seek Eternity till I find Peace for Thee, O Poetry—and for all humankind call on the Origin Death which is the mother of the universe!—Now wear your nakedness forever, white flowers in your hair, your marriage sealed behind the sky—no revolution might destroy that maidenhood— O beautiful Garbo of my Karma—all photographs from 1920 in Camp Nicht-Gedeiget here unchanged—with all the teachers from Vewark—Nor Elanor be gone, nor Max await his specter—nor Louis retire from this High School— Back! You! Naomi! Skull on you! Gaunt immortality and revolution come—small broken woman—the ashen indoor eyes of hospitals, ward grayness on skin— ‘Are you a spy?’ I sat at the sour table, eyes filling with tears—‘Who are you? Did Louis send you?—The wires—’ in her hair, as she beat on her head—‘I’m not a bad girl—don’t murder me!—I hear the ceiling—I raised two children—’ Two years since I’d been there—I started to cry—She stared—nurse broke up the meeting a moment—I went into the bathroom to hide, against the toilet white walls ‘The Horror’ I weeping—to see her again—‘The Horror’—as if she were dead thru funeral rot in—‘The Horror!’ I came back she yelled more—they led her away—‘You’re not Allen—’ I watched her face—but she passed by me, not looking— Opened the door to the ward,—she went thru without a glance back, quiet suddenly—I stared out—she looked old—the verge of the grave—‘All the Horror!’ Another year, I left N.Y.—on West Coast in Berkeley cottage dreamed of her soul—that, thru life, in what form it stood in that body, ashen or manic, gone beyond joy— near its death—with eyes—was my own love in its form, the Naomi, my mother on earth still—sent her long letter—& wrote hymns to the mad—Work of the merciful Lord of Poetry. that causes the broken grass to be green, or the rock to break in grass—or the Sun to be constant to earth—Sun of all sunflowers and days on bright iron bridges—what shines on old hospitals—as on my yard— Returning from San Francisco one night, Orlovsky in my room—Whalen in his peaceful chair—a telegram from Gene, Naomi dead— Outside I bent my head to the ground under the bushes near the garage—knew she was better— at last—not left to look on Earth alone—2 years of solitude—no one, at age nearing 60—old woman of skulls—once long-tressed Naomi of Bible— or Ruth who wept in America—Rebecca aged in Newark—David remembering his Harp, now lawyer at Yale or Srul Avrum—Israel Abraham—myself—to sing in the wilderness toward God—O Elohim!—so to the end—2 days after her death I got her letter— Strange Prophecies anew! She wrote—‘The key is in the window, the key is in the sunlight at the window—I have the key—Get married Allen don’t take drugs—the key is in the bars, in the sunlight in the window. Love, your mother’ which is Naomi— Hymmnn In the world which He has created according to his will Blessed Praised Magnified Lauded

Exalted the Name of the Holy One Blessed is He! In the house in Newark Blessed is He! In the madhouse Blessed is He! In the house of Death Blessed is He! Blessed be He in homosexuality! Blessed be He in Paranoia! Blessed be He in the city! Blessed be He in the Book! Blessed be He who dwells in the shadow! Blessed be He! Blessed be He! Blessed be you Naomi in tears! Blessed be you Naomi in fears! Blessed Blessed Blessed in sickness! Blessed be you Naomi in Hospitals! Blessed be you Naomi in solitude! Blest be your triumph! Blest be your bars! Blest be your last years’ loneliness! Blest be your failure! Best be your stroke! Blest be the close of your eye! Blest be the gaunt of your cheek! Blest be your withered thighs! Blessed be Thee Naomi in Death! Blessed be Death! Blessed be Death! Blessed be He Who leads all sorrow to Heaven! Blessed be He in the end! Blessed be He who builds Heaven in Darkness! Blessed Blessed Blessed be He! Blessed be He! Blessed be Death on us All! III Only to have not forgotten the beginning in which she drank cheap sodas in the morgues of Newark, only to have seen her weeping on gray tables in long wards of her universe only to have known the weird ideas of Hitler at the door, the wires in her head, the three big sticks rammed down her back, the voices in the ceiling shrieking out her ugly early lays for 30 years, only to have seen the time-jumps, memory lapse, the crash of wars, the roar and silence of a vast electric shock, only to have seen her painting crude pictures of Elevateds running over the rooftops of the Bronx her brothers dead in Riverside or Russia, her lone in Long Island writing a last letter—and her image in the sunlight at the window ‘The key is in the sunlight at the window in the bars the key is in the sunlight,’ only to have come to that dark night on iron bed by stroke when the sun gone down on Long Island and the vast Atlantic roars outside the great call of Being to its own to come back out of the Nightmare—divided creation—with her head lain on a pillow of the hospital to die —in one last glimpse—all Earth one everlasting Light in the familiar black-out—no tears for this vision— But that the key should be left behind—at the window—the key in the sunlight—to the living—that can take that slice of light in hand—and turn the door—and look back see Creation glistening backwards to the same grave, size of universe, size of the tick of the hospital's clock on the archway over the white door— IV O mother what have I left out O mother what have I forgotten O mother farewell with a long black shoe farewell with Communist Party and a broken stocking farewell with six dark hairs on the wen of your breast farewell with your old dress and a long black beard around the vagina farewell with your sagging belly with your fear of Hitler with your mouth of bad short stories with your fingers of rotten mandolins with your arms of fat Paterson porches with your belly of strikes and smokestacks with your chin of Trotsky and the Spanish War with your voice singing for the decaying overbroken workers with your nose of bad lay with your nose of the smell of the pickles of Newark with your eyes with your eyes of Russia with your eyes of no money with your eyes of false China with your eyes of Aunt Elanor with your eyes of starving India with your eyes pissing in the park with your eyes of America taking a fall with your eyes of your failure at the piano with your eyes of your relatives in California with your eyes of Ma Rainey dying in an aumbulance with your eyes of Czechoslovakia attacked by robots with your eyes going to painting class at night in the Bronx with your eyes of the killer Grandma you see on the horizon from the Fire-Escape with your eyes running naked out of the apartment screaming into the hall with your eyes being led away by policemen to an aumbulance with your eyes strapped down on the operating table with your eyes with the pancreas removed with your eyes of appendix operation with your eyes of abortion with your eyes of ovaries removed with your eyes of shock with your

eyes of lobotomy with your eyes of divorce with your eyes of stroke with your eyes alone with your eyes with your eyes with your Death full of Flowers V Caw caw caw crows shriek in the white sun over grave stones in Long Island Lord Lord Lord Naomi underneath this grass my halflife and my own as hers caw caw my eye be buried in the same Ground where I stand in Angel Lord Lord great Eye that stares on All and moves in a black cloud caw caw strange cry of Beings flung up into sky over the waving trees Lord Lord O Grinder of giant Beyonds my voice in a boundless field in Sheol Caw caw the call of Time rent out of foot and wing an instant in the universe Lord Lord an echo in the sky the wind through ragged leaves the roar of memory caw caw all years my birth a dream caw caw New York the bus the broken shoe the vast highschool caw caw all Visions of the Lord Lord Lord Lord caw caw caw Lord Lord Lord caw caw caw Lord Paris, December 1957—New York, 1959

#im a collector im a maniac #poetry #not mine

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louezem · 4 years

Text

Saying Yes

Summary: Katniss and Peeta had a bitter break up years ago and went their separate ways. Katniss knows nothing of Peeta’s life now, until a stunning blonde walks into the exclusive bridal salon were she works, to buy her a dress for her wedding - to Peeta Mellark.

Part Four - Sisters…..

Part 4 - Sisters

“Prim? Are you here?”

Katniss threw her keys and bag down and toed off her shoes with a sigh of relief. It had been a long and frustrating day at work. All she wanted was to shower, eat and then sleep.

“I’m in the kitchen!” her sister replied. “Dinner’s almost ready!”

Katniss offered up a silent prayer of thanks that she wouldn’t have to face another takeout or frozen pizza for dinner tonight. She knew how to cook but was lazy about it when she only had to cook for herself. Prim, however, loved to cook.

She followed the delicious aroma wafting down the narrow hall to the tiny kitchen. It was barely big enough to hold a small table and 2 chairs, but Prim had set it with the nice plates and cutlery and a small bud vase holding a single, yellow dandelion.

“What’s all this?” Katniss waved at the table. “It’s not my birthday.”

“Does it need to be a special occasion for me to show my appreciation for my favorite sister?” Prim asked, lifting a spoon to her mouth and offering it to her for a taste.

“Mmm, that’s so good.” Katniss licked her lips. “It tastes familiar. What’s in it?”

“It’s lamb stew with dried plums.” Prim smiled as she added an extra dash of red wine to the simmering pot. “I remembered how much you love it and I thought I’d try to recreate the recipe. Besides, lamb was on special at the market today.”

Still thrifty with the budget. Katniss thought. Old habits die hard.

“Go get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. I just need to warm up some crusty bread to go with this.”

“I love you, little duck,” Katniss said, pulling her sister in for a hug.

“I love you more, duck potato,” Prim grinned.

An hour later and Katniss was feeling full and sleepy as she curled on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, sipping on a second glass of red wine.

“Thank you Prim, that was wonderful,” she sighed, patting her full tummy. “I always appreciate a home cooked meal but I thought you had plans to go to the movies with Rory tonight?”

“I did but he caught an extra shift so I decided to come over and bug you instead.” Prim said, joining her on the sofa.

“So, did you happen to catch any news today? Hear any juicy celebrity gossip at work?” she asked, taking a sip from her own wineglass.

Katniss looked sideways at her sister, wondering why she was asking such an odd question. Prim knew Katniss was not big on the news or gossip – celebrity or otherwise.

“No, I was run off my feet all day. I don’t have time for gossip. There’s a trunk show on all week and they can get a little crazy.”

“Huh,” Prim starting tapping on the screen of her obnoxiously large smart phone. “Then you haven’t seen this?” She slowly turned the phone screen to face her sister.

Katniss fought to keep her composure as she watched the images unfold in front of her. The video captured a gorgeous smiling couple standing close together, hands intwined, on a gilded balcony overlooking the park. A fireworks display was lighting up the night sky behind them. Once the fireworks come to an end the couple and their guests start to clap and cheer and someone pops a champagne cork as music begins to play and other couples start to filter onto the dancefloor.

Dressed in the one-of-a-kind flowing white and gold reception gown created by Cinna, paired with custom Jimmy Choo couture heels and her golden hair flowing in loose waves almost to her waist, the bride was every bit as breath-taking as Katniss knew she would be. Holding her close to his side with an affectionate smile on his face was Peeta. He looked equally handsome in a perfectly tailored white suit with gold accents at his throat, breast pocket and cuffs.

Though Cinna never talked to her about it – most likely to spare her feelings - Katniss knew he’d worked closely with Portia, the designer who created Peeta’s outfit, to ensure the bride and groom perfectly complimented each other on their special day.

She couldn’t help looking carefully at Peeta’s left hand now placed on Glimmer’s waist expecting to see the shiny glint of a new gold band on his finger but he didn’t appear to be wearing one.

That’s odd. She thought. No wedding ring?

She always thought Peeta was the type of guy would like to wear a ring when he got married.

When they were dating he was always very open about showing his feelings for her, and would tease her gently when she got embarrassed by his frequent public displays of affection. “I want the whole world to know I’m yours,” he’d told her, more than once, gently tugging on the end of her braid as she’d scowl.

Unable to continue watching him display affection for another woman was more then she could bear and she pushed the phone away.

“They make a very lovely couple,” Katniss said quietly. “I hope they’ll be very happy together”.

Prim snorted out loud. “Katniss did you even read what’s under the video?” she held the phone up again.

“The Show Must Go On!”

An official spokesperson for the Snow family declined to comment following the cancellation of the nuptials between heiress Glimmer Snow, granddaughter of Coriolanus Snow, and her fiancé Peeta Mellark, Culinary Director for the “Arena” chain of restaurants owned by the Snow Corporation. However the brother of the groom, Mr Ryan Mellark, confirmed that the decision by the couple not to proceed with the wedding was both “mutual and loving” and that the couple would remain friends.

“I don’t understand,” Katniss looked to her sister, confused. “Are you telling me they didn’t get married?”

“Yep. No wedding. They called it off at the last minute but went ahead with the dinner and reception anyway, which is kind of cool. One of Rory’s classmates was working the bar for the evening and he says it turned into one hell of a party. But then I guess the Snow family does know how to do things in style.”

“Wow. I wonder what happened to make them call it off.” Katniss stared into space as she tried to process this new information. She’d purposely avoided all news and social media over the weekend, hoping that if she distanced herself the sooner she’d be able to forget the intense look in Peeta’s eyes as she’d driven away from the hotel. “So much time, money and effort went into those dresses, poor Cinna worked for days hand beading the reception dress—"

Prim rolled her eyes.

“Lord almighty Katniss, you can be so dumb sometimes,” she took another sip of her wine. “Isn’t it obvious what happened? Peeta claps eyes on you again for the first time in forever and the next day his wedding is called off. He still loves you.”

“That’s not true.” Katniss jumped off the sofa and quickly gathered her wine glass and the near empty bottle. “Don’t say that. Why would you say something like that?”

“Hey, give that back!” Prim tried to grab the wine bottle from her as she stomped past into the kitchen and began angrily slamming their dirty dishes into the dishwasher. It wasn’t long before she heard her sister’s soft footsteps behind her.

“I’m sorry Katniss, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Prim apologised quietly. “I’m worried about you, that’s all. You haven’t been yourself since you found out Peeta was getting married.”

Katniss sighed. “I’m fine Prim, really. You’ve no need to worry about me. Peeta and I were over a lifetime ago. I’m over it. I know absolutely nothing about his life now.”

Prim tilted her head and regarded her sister with cool blue eyes. “Will you ever tell me what happened between the two of you? You’ve never given me a straight answer.”

“Does it matter now?”

Prim shrugged. “I’d like to understand. I was still a kid when you two broke up and no one bothered to explain what was going on to me. It was confusing. All I knew was one day you were getting ready to leave for college, the next you were staying in District 12 and applying for any low paid job you could get. Why didn’t you go?”

“Because things changed,” Katniss scowled. “Family comes first.”

Prim squinted. “Really, Katniss? You’ve fobbed me off with that line for years. I was hoping you were finally ready to open up with a few more details. I know you loved Peeta, don’t bother denying it. Your feelings for him weren’t the problem. Or his for you, everyone could see how bad the guy had it for you. It wasn’t Mom, or money issues. She was fine then and you had a full scholarship. There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

“All right, if you want to know I’ll tell you.” Katniss reached up into a small cupboard a produced a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses. “Follow me. This conversation is going to require something a bit stronger than wine.”

Settled back on the sofa once again, she tossed back a shot and took a deep breath.

“Peeta accused me of cheating on him,” she began. “When I tried to defend myself, he didn’t believe me. He chose to take his brother’s word over mine.”

“No way.” Prim gasped, her eyes widening.

“It’s true. Rye told Peeta he caught me making out with Gale after a graduation party at Madge’s house. Rye didn’t believe me when I told him that Gale kissed me, that I didn’t invite it and I didn’t kiss him back. After cussing me out and calling me a few choice names he went straight to Peeta and told him.”

“Oh, shit.” Prim’s mouth dropped open. She picked up a full shot glass and threw it back before fixing her sister with a stare. “Okay. In the interest of full disclosure I have to ask – did you make out with Gale?”

“Of course not!” Katniss yelled. “Gale was my friend! I’d known him since we were kids. Besides, Madge liked him and I wouldn’t do that to a friend.”

“But did you like him? Let’s face it, Gale is attractive. In a Hemsworth kind of way.”

“No. I only ever saw him like a cousin, or maybe an older brother. I never felt anything romantic for Gale. It shocked the hell out of me when he kissed me. We didn’t talk for a long time afterwards.”

“Okay, okay, I just needed to clarify that. Continue, please.“

“Peeta and I had a huge fight and he broke up with me. He was horrible to me Prim.” Katniss voice cracked a little as the memories assaulted her. “He wouldn’t give me a chance to defend myself. He was so mean, I’d never seen him like that before. He was like a totally different person.”

Katniss felt the familiar sting starting to build behind her eyes and bit her lip in order to try and gain some control over her emotions. It still hurt, remembering the words that came out of his mouth.

“He asked me had I led Gale on, and told me to crawl back to the slag heap I came from.”

“Oh my god, Katniss,” Prim’s eyes softened and reached towards her sister “I’m so sorry—"

“Wait! It gets worse!” Katniss let out a hard laugh. “As if that wasn’t bad enough, somehow Peeta’s evil bitch of a mother found out about what happened. She called Mom and threatened her. She told her that if her seam slut of a daughter went ahead with her plans to go to the same school as her son, that she’d report her to Child Protective Services for neglect. She’d tell them about Mom leaving us alone at night while she worked, and that you would be left at home by yourself at 14 if I left town for school. She even knew about the bouts of depression after Dad died. All stuff I’d confided in Peeta about.”

“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.” Prim jumped of the sofa and started to pace up and down. “It’s so unfair. And untrue! Mom and I talked about what would happen when you went to school, I was going to stay overnight with Hazelle at the Hawthornes when she was on nights!”

“You know that and I know that, but Mom was terrified. She didn’t know what to do.”

Katniss downed another shot.

“After she threatened Mom, I tried talking to Rye one more time. I begged him again to believe me that what he saw wasn’t real, but he insisted I was lying. That Gale had been seen at the slag heap with a girl from the Seam, and I must have made it worth it when he could have had Madge instead of my skinny ass. His words. I never really understood that part.” She frowned.

“I told him about his mother’s threats and he finally said he’d talk to his Dad about keeping her off our Mom’s back, but only for your sake and only if I agreed to stop trying to contact Peeta. So I did what he wanted. I gave up my college place and started applying for jobs and signed up for a few classes at the Community College.”

“So, it was me.” Prim’s eyes filled with tears and she crawled towards her sister and wrapped her arms around her in a fierce hug. “You did it for me.”

Katniss shrugged like it was no big deal. “You’re my sister. I’d give my life for yours in a heartbeat.”

“You’re such a dumbass but I love you.” Prim began to cry harder. “You sacrificed so much Katniss. Your education. Your future. Peeta. I’ve never seen you as happy as when you two were together, not even when you were with Darius.”

“Hush now, no more of that talk.” Katniss soothed her crying sister, tears forming in her own eyes. “It all worked out for the best in the end. I was here when Mom got sick and I took on a second job to help pay the bills. We got by, and we stayed together. That’s what Dad would have wanted. Family comes first.”

“Peeta was a part of our family. He was like a brother to me when I was a kid.” Prim sniffed. “Why didn’t he believe you? And what the fuck was Rye’s problem?”

“I don’t know. All I know is his mother always hated me, but I never knew Rye did too. Peeta and Rye were always close, and once Rye started filling Peeta’s head with lies I just couldn’t get through to him after that. He never spoke to me again after he broke up with me. A few weeks later he left town for school and I never saw him again until that day on the steps of his hotel.”

“Katniss, I don’t know what to say. I am so sorry. It sounds like his mind was poisoned by his brother and that horrible old witch who gave birth to him. God, I’d love to give her a piece of my mind. As for Rye? I swear, if I ever see that guy again I will dick punch him.”

“I saw Rye the day before the wedding, he has mellowed quite a bit,” Katniss continued to stroke Prim’s blonde hair soothingly, taking comfort from the continuous motion herself. “He was almost pleasant once he realized I had a legitimate reason for being there.”

“I owe you so much Katniss,” Prim sat up, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Because of your support, I got to come here, go to school, do everything you missed out on. Everything I’ve achieved is because you. How can I ever repay a debt like that?”

“Don’t worry, you can pay for my luxury retirement home on the beach in District Four when you find the cure for cancer,” Katniss quipped and laughed as Prim hit her with a cushion.

Later that night, after Prim had left and Katniss was getting ready for bed, she couldn’t help but look for a small box she kept hidden in the furthest corner of her closet.

Inside were a few sentimental items that even after ten years, she never had the heart to throw away.

A pencil drawing of a dandelion he’d put into her locker one day, after she told him they made her think of him.

A movie stub from their first date. She smiled at the memory. Peeta had taken her to see “I Am Legend” and got embarrassed when he cried over the dog, Sam, dying. It was still one of her favorite movies.

A photo of them together at Senior Prom, and another of their High School Graduation, big smiles on their faces just days before he broke up with her and her world came crashing down.

“Oh Peeta,” she mumbled, “why didn’t you believe me?” She sniffed. No, she wasn’t going to cry. She’d already done enough of that for this lifetime.

“… maybe you should crawl back to the slag heap you come from.”

She felt a spark of anger in her own stomach when she recalled the things he’d accused her of. It was an old spark, but one that had helped her keep going and moving forward over the years. She slammed the box shut and shoved it back in the darkest recess of her closet before crawling into her bed. She had run from the bakery that day. Run from his words and the rage and hurt in blue eyes that had only ever looked at her with softer emotions.

She closed her own eyes and pulled the covers over her head, hoping she wouldn’t be hearing them over and over in her nightmares that night.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

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heyyyharry · 4 years

Text

Last Chapter: For The Rest Of My Life

(from the My Girl Series: Stay Mine)

…in which they live happily ever after.

Word count: 5.9k

AU: actor!harry, older!harry, younger!y/n (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (Thea as Y/N)

This is it, guys. This is the last chapter. Thank you for following my beloved characters on this long journey. I never would have written three books without your support! :)

Love, Allie.

P/S: The first preview of TCTM2 - The Winter and the Crown (and first chapter on Patreon) is this Friday! I’ll postpone the new series until after TCTM2 so it’ll be updated weekly instead of biweekly :)

“And they lived happily ever after. The end.”

“No!”

Celine shot her head up. Y/N could see her friend’s shocked expression in the mirror. “Excuse you. That was a great speech!”

Y/N apologised to her makeup artist, spun her chair around and told her maid-of-honour, “I love you, babe, but your speech was an hour-long. While you were reading, Allison has managed to finish yours, Amala’s, Alice’s, and my makeup. So it needs to be shorter.”

Celine stared at her paper as she blew out her cheeks. “But this is the complete story of how you and Harry got together.”

“Well,” Alice, who sat in the corner, finally spoke. “You might want to skip the whole love triangle drama last year.” She paused, gazing upward. “And the year before that. My God, Y/N!” Alice whipped her head to Y/N, her mouth wide open. “You got three men chasing after you in two years, became a best-selling author, and now you’re getting married after having been engaged for only a month to your super hot, super rich, super famous boyfriend! Talk about being ambitious!”

“Three months, actually,” Amala interjected. She was sitting beside Y/N, looking at her phone. “When she broke the news, Cece and I thought they were rushing the wedding because she was pregnant. As it turned out, they were just too in love to wait.”

“What the fuck? Your life is perfect!” Alice exclaimed.

Y/N shook her head. “No, it’s not. When he proposed there wasn’t even a ring!” And turned to Allison. “Can’t you believe my ex-boyfriend forgot the ring when he proposed?”

“You need to stop calling your fiancé ‘ex-boyfriend’,” Celine said.

“I don’t care. I want three hot men to fight for me,” Alice said.

“Don’t envy me. I’ve only dated three men in my life,” Y/N said then turned back to the mirror, “and today is my wedding day, so can we not make this about them?”

“Of course, baby,” Celine chuckled as she rose from her seat and came to give Y/N a kiss on top of her head. “I’ll make my speech shorter, but we'll keep the part where you read the story about Harry in front of the whole class and you and I became friends.”

“Sure.”

“And also any other part that I was in.”

“Fine.” Y/N snorted, rolling her eyes.

Celine gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze then bent over to press her cheek against Y/N’s, their eyes locked in the mirror as they shared a smile. “Now, let’s get you into that dress, baby.”

“Rings? Where’re the rings?! WHERE–Oh, they’re on the desk.”

“Niall!” Harry and Isaac shouted at the same time.

Niall stared at them. “What?!”

Harry gave his tie a hard tug. To Isaac, he said, “I’m seriously considering making you the best man.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Niall objected as he shoved the ring boxes into his pocket. “You,” he jabbed at Isaac with his finger, “are my understudy today. So don’t even think about trying to sabotage me to take my place.”

“The stage’s all yours.” Isaac spread his arms. “To be honest, it’d be really weird if her ex-boyfriend was the best man at her wedding.”

Harry cast him a pointed look. “Can you not make me want to uninvite you right here right now?”

“You can’t. I would be your sister’s plus one anyway.”

“Damn it,” Harry murmured, looking back at the full-length mirror.

This was nerve-racking and kind of strange. Never had he thought one day he’d be standing in his childhood bedroom with Niall and Isaac let alone getting ready for his own wedding here. When imagining his wedding, he’d thought of something in the range of Nick Jonas and Priyanka Chopra’s wedding and the royal wedding for Prince Harry and Meghan Markle. And yet, here he was, in his hometown with a guest list of under fifty people. And he had never been happier in his entire life.

“Can you check if the rings are in the boxes?” he told Niall and sighed in relief when Niall confirmed that the rings were safe. “Can’t be too careful. The day I proposed to her, I left the ring in my hotel room in New York. It was really embarrassing.”

“Y/N doesn’t care about this stuff,” Isaac said.

“I know,” Harry replied, feeling a grin taking over his face.

Suddenly, Niall burst out a laugh. He looked up from his phone, grinning goofily. “Harold, Alice just texted me a photo of your girl, would you want to see it? It’s really funny.”

“Is she in the wedding dress?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.”

“Then no. It’d be bad luck.” Then he cast Niall a look over his shoulder. “Yes, I’m superstitious. Judge me.”

Isaac’s brows knitted as he considered Niall with a tentative look on his face. “What’s going on between you and Alice?”

Niall’s smile suddenly vanished, and Harry realised he couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Niall so nervous. The lad was rubbing the nape of his neck as he cleared his throat and was unable to make eye contact with either of them. “We’re not...ready to make it public yet,” he finally admitted. Harry and Isaac looked at each other, smiling with their mouths wide open. “My fans will tear her down just as they did to my other relationships. And after what happened to you and Y/N, I think we’re gonna lay low for a while.”

“I’m glad Bambi and I went through hell to set an example for you,” Harry said amusedly.

Niall’s mouth curled. “I’ll make sure to thank you in my speech.”

“Hold on!” Isaac interjected. “I thought I’d get to have a speech.”

“I’m the best man, though,” Niall retorted.

“That’s the point. You’re already the best man.”

“Niall’s right.” Harry gave Isaac an apologetic look. “But hey, you dated my wife and you’re dating my sister. Our friendship is on thin ice, so don’t jinx it.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, and a smirk peaked at the corner of his lips.

Without warning, Niall wrapped an arm around each of them and aggressively tugged them into a hug. Both Isaac and Harry scolded him for having wrinkled their best suits, yet neither tried to break out of Niall’s tight embrace.

“I’m so glad we’re back together,” Niall said. “The three of us, without all the weird tension between you two.”

Isaac opened his mouth to say something but was forestalled by Niall’s ringtone.

“I’ll be right back,” Niall said as he released them and pulled out his phone. “Yeah, that’s the firework guy.”

Harry and Isaac yelled at the same time.

“The what guy?”

“What the fuck?!”

“Niall, this is supposed to be a secret wedding,” Harry said in frustration. “I don't want the whole town to know that we're getting married in our backyard!”

“You should have said that before I called my firework guy!” To the person on the phone, Niall said, “Cancel! Cancel! No, do not light it up!” Then he dashed out of the room, almost slamming into the door.

Once his heavy footsteps had faded down the stairs, Harry and Isaac exchanged looks and broke into laughter.

“You know what?” Harry said, catching his breath and wiping a single tear from the corner of his eyes. “Just in case he gets himself blown up before the ceremony, you probably should prepare the best man speech.”

“I’m on it.” Isaac grinned, and to Harry’s surprise, he pulled Harry into a hug. Not just their usual one-arm-and-a-pat-on-the-back kind of hug. A real one, with both arms and a firm grip that said everything Harry needed to know. “I’m really happy for you and proud of you, H.”

Harry found himself beaming as he hugged his best friend in return. “And I’m really happy to have you here.”

They embraced for a second or two before Isaac broke off and straightened Harry’s jacket. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he said. “Now I have to go save Niall from getting blown up in your backyard.”

When Y/N was little, she had wanted her mum to be the one to walk her down the aisle. Between her parents, she had always loved her mum more, simply because her mum had been there for her for most of her childhood. Y/N’s mum had been her first best friend, her advisor, the person who had known all of her secrets. But if Y/N’s mum were still alive, she would be glad to let her husband walk Y/N down the aisle.

Y/N’s dad burst into tears when he stood by the front door and watched her descend the stairs. It was the first time he’d seen her in her wedding dress. She’d had it altered so it’d look more casual than what a wedding dress should look like. The long sleeves had been removed and the skirt shortened. It was quite plain, perfect for a backyard wedding, and yet her dad was looking at her like she was the Queen of England. Perhaps in his eyes, she was. And as he wiped away his tears with the sleeve of his jacket, she felt her tears start flowing too.

Her dad rarely cried. At least not in front of her. She remembered how much she’d loathed him for not shedding a tear at her mother’s funeral. It wasn’t until years later that she’d found out that he had cried, just not in front of everyone. He’d slept with a photo of her mum every day for many months after the accident, and cried himself to sleep every night, for the woman who had fallen out of love with him.

Y/N supposed her dad used to think tears represented vulnerability and if she’d seen him at his most vulnerable, she wouldn’t have trusted him to be her protector. He’d tried to be strong in front of her. But Dad, this is you being strong for me, she thought when she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight. He could have left when he’d found out her mum hadn’t been faithful. He could have given up on Y/N when she’d tried to push him away. But he’d stayed. Because brave people never gave up on the ones they loved. And she believed he loved her most of all.

“I’m sorry. Don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup,” her dad said, holding her face. “You’ll get two black lines on your pretty face like in the movies.”

“My makeup is waterproof,” she told him, laughing and sniffling at the same time.

“Why don’t actresses in movies use that stuff?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.

“You’re such a dork.” Y/N snorted and wiped his cheeks with her thumbs.

Her dad’s forehead creased. As he took in the sight of her, his eyes lingered on her short white dress. Recognition suddenly dawned on his face. “Is this—”

“Yes. It was Mum’s,” she said, fanning out her skirt. “I made some alterations. Do you love it?”

Her dad brought a hand to his mouth and was speechless for a long moment. She wasn’t sure if he was looking for the right words to say, or he was too emotional to speak.

“You look just like her,” he whispered as he held her arms, leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry she wasn’t here to walk you down the aisle.”

“Don’t be,” Y/N said, fixing her dad’s collar. “I’m already the happiest to have you give me away.”

“Give you away,” he echoed, and even though his expression remained unchanged, she could catch a sign of sadness and regret. Then, the corners of his mouth raised in an attempt to lift up the mood. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s not too late to cancel the wedding.”

Eyes wide, Y/N chortled. “Dad!”

“I’m just saying.” Her dad gave a half-shrug. “I want you to know that your old man always supports your decisions, no questions asked.”

“Thank you,” she murmured and kissed him on the cheek. “But I’d still like to marry Harry.”

“Ahhh. You know you’re getting old when your child starts being kind to you.”

Y/N scrunched up her nose at the remark which stung her heart a little. Still, she decided to be light-hearted. “Funny. Harry told me it was me who was getting old when I started being kind to him and you.”

Her dad raised both eyebrows. “You know what? Forget what I said. Do not cancel the wedding. I love that kid.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and gave him a playful nudge.

Suddenly, Celine emerged from the kitchen holding a bouquet and shoved it into Y/N’s arms. “Your flowers, babe. Good luck!” It was hilarious how she looked even more nervous than Y/N was, and Celine had been a bride before.

She kissed Y/N on the cheek, patted Y/N’s dad on the shoulder and then left as fast as she’d arrived.

Y/N’s dad offered his arm to her as the corners of his eyes crinkled with joy. “Shall we?”

She nodded, chin held high, and settled her fingers into the crook of his arm.

The last time Harry had been to a wedding in Holmes Chapel, he’d returned to London with a broken heart. It was the day he’d thought he’d lost his girl forever, that he’d been too late and missed the only chance to make it right. And now here he was, back at the same place, but this time, he was the groom and his childhood best friend was the bride.

He and Y/N had decided to get married right where the old tree used to be. The new one hadn’t grown big enough to cover them in its shade, but Harry liked the symbolism of it – there was never really an ending, just another beginning.

He stood at the end of the aisle as the guests settled down, waiting for the bride to make her big entrance. His palms were sweating so hard he could feel it soaking through his jacket which he’d been clutching the whole time. In his entire acting career, he had never felt self-conscious standing in front of a crowd, and yet, standing here in front of the people he knew and loved, he could barely move a muscle.

The music started, and Harry straightened like a soldier. He met his sister’s eyes in the front row, and she mouthed at him, ‘You look stupid.’ His mum, who was sitting beside Gemma, shot her a pointed look before mouthing at Harry, ‘You look handsome.’

He gave his family a tight smile as he laced his fingers together in front of his crotch, like a nice little boy waiting for the photographer to take the photo. He supposed he did look stupid. He felt stupid. However, the fear didn’t last for too long, because as soon as the gate to Y/N’s backyard opened and she appeared with Bradford, Harry felt as if there were fireworks exploding inside his chest. Time stopped. And the rest of the world disappeared.

She was wearing her mother’s dress. He knew that because she’d told him when he’d offered to find her a famous wedding dress designer. She must have made some alterations to it, and as excited as he’d been to see her wear it for the first time, it didn’t shock him as he’d thought it would.

When he looked at her, in that white chiffon dress with her hair in a high bun and that big smile on her face, he could see the little girl in a tutu, and he was the little boy who waited by the car with her parents after her first ballet class, because she’d insisted that he came with them to pick her up that day. Then Harry saw the little girl with daisies in her pigtails; she’d made him play house with her and they’d had a fake wedding. That little girl, now older, was a princess for a school play; she’d practised in front of him so many times that he remembered all the lines and mumbled along as he watched her from the third row with her parents. Then she was at a school dance; they hadn’t been talking but he’d watched her in silence just to make sure her date didn’t cross the line. Then there was the girl at the Oscars; messy hair, messy makeup, out of breath, still the most beautiful girl in the room. The girl in his bed, the first face he saw in the morning, no makeup on. The girl with tears running down her face as she said yes on that windy roof. The girl who was drunk in the streetlight, red-faced, smeared mascara as he told her he loved her for the first time. The girl at the entrance of his treehouse; older and taller every time she returned. The girl telling him she’d given up on him for good. The girl telling him she’d love him forever.

He loved every single one of those girls. Y/N was a million girls in one; all were his. And he loved every version of her there had ever been, and every version there would ever be.

His eyes prickled with tears as she reached for his hand, and the first thing she said to him as the music stopped was, “Are you crying?”

“No, there’s something in my eyes,” he said, smiling at her. “Are you?”

“Yes, I am.” She nodded, staring heavenward and blinking back the tears as she tried not to laugh and cry at the same time. Harry almost leaned in and kissed her right then but then he remembered he would have to wait for the priest to say, ‘You may kiss the bride’. He’d meant it when he’d said he was superstitious. He didn’t want to bring bad luck to their wedding. Niall was already an exception.

As the backyard fell to silence and the priest said something Harry did not hear, he couldn’t stop beaming down at his bride and mouthed “I love you” as if she hadn’t got tired of those words already. She mouthed them back, as if he hadn’t got tired of them. Well, at this point he didn’t think it was possible to ever get tired of hearing or saying them.

“Psst, Harry!” Niall’s voice pulled him back to reality. He blinked fast. Everyone was staring at him. “Your vows!” Niall said.

“Right, right. Just a sec.” Holding up a finger, Harry frantically searched in his jacket for the speech he’d prepared last week. His cheeks heated as he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and flashed his teeth at Y/N, who was staring patiently at him.

He held up a fist at his mouth and cleared his throat. “Forgive me if my vows are generic and badly-written.”

Laughter crackled from the guests, and Harry decided to focus all of his attention on his Bambi. It’d feel less weird if he was saying this to her instead of trying to impress their families, although the way her father looked at him was really intimidating.

He blew out his cheeks, shook his head and began, “I...wanted...to write something cheesy...something like ‘I always knew we’d end up together’ or ‘I fell in love with you the moment I first laid eyes on you’. But that wasn’t how it happened. Because when we first met, you were only nine, and you cried a lot so I didn’t really like you.”

Someone, probably Y/N’s stepmum, awwwed out loud. Y/N tilted her head, scowling at him, and he shot her an apologetic grin before he continued.

“It wasn’t love at first sight, or second, or third. But I think that’s the best part of our relationship. There wasn’t an exact moment where we fell in love. Our love grew as we did. It was always within ourselves even though I realised it a bit late and I let you down. Despite all that we’ve been through, you’ve always been by my side, and you’re the only person who loves me unconditionally.” His eyes searched his mum and Gemma. “Alongside my mum and sister.”

The guests cracked up as Gemma, with her arms crossed, mouthed, ‘I don’t love you,’ at Harry. Ignoring her, Harry turned back to Y/N. “You make me a better person–” And wiped his eyes. “You can call me a crybaby later.”

“I will,” she said as her fingers found his.

He squeezed her hand. “I cannot promise that–that I’ll be perfect, because everyone who knows us knows that we are far from perfect. But I vow to always try to be the best version of myself and love you for as long as I live. I’ll be your best friend, always listen to you, take care of you, always make you proud, and whatever obstacles are thrown in your way, I’ll face them with you.”

This time when a sob broke from someone’s lips, it was Y/N’s old boss, Eddie.

Y/N placed a hand on her heart as her bottom lip quivered. Tears shone in her eyes but she wasn’t crying like a baby like him. She released a nervous laugh, glancing at their families and friends. “I’m embarrassed. My vows probably suck compared to yours.”

“No way,” he murmured, not sure if she heard him.

She sucked in a breath, held her smile, and began. “Harry, I’ve never told you this, but when I was nine, I told Celine that I wanted to marry you when I grew up. I asked her to keep a secret because my mum had said that if you told too many people about your dreams, they would never come true.

“At nine years old, my biggest dream, beside being a writer, was to marry the boy next door. And I can now tell everyone about that dream, because after today, we’re gonna go home together and the boy I’ve loved since I was nine years old, is gonna be my husband.” She took a step forward, pressing his hand to her heart. “I vow to be by your side through sickness and health, through your bests and your worsts. I vow to never lie to you, never give up on you. Thank you for making me a better person. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

“That was so much better than mine,” Harry whispered, smiling so big his cheeks began to ache.

They exchanged rings, and then Harry’s heart started thundering as the priest looked at him. “Harry, do you take Y/N–”

“I do,” he said without taking his eyes off Y/N, who was beaming like the sun. “Yes, a million times.”

“Y/N–”

“I do.”

Harry believed he’d heard the priest sigh, yet he hadn’t paid attention to know for sure. Then came the words he’d been waiting to hear. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

His arms could not catch her fast enough since hers had wrapped around his neck as she locked her lips to his. He pulled her against him, tipped her head back and kissed her like he had the first time at that same spot. This time, in the cheering of their family and friends.

The wedding reception was also held in Harry’s backyard. By the time Niall and Celine had finished their long speeches, everyone had been starving. After the meal and a few drinks, Harry had forgotten what Niall had said about him in that speech, still, he was grateful for Niall. He hoped the firework guy was having a good time being their uninvited wedding guest.

Their first dance was to the song Hearts Don’t Break Around Here by Ed Sheeran. Harry had picked the song and Y/N had joked about him listening to sappy music, but she’d cried when he sang the words into her ear as they danced with her cheek pressed against his chest and his chin on top of her head.

That every night I'll kiss you you'll say in my ear

Oh we're in love aren't we?

Hands in your hair, fingers and thumbs baby

Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was her, but he was so upset when the song ended and he had to let her go so she could dance with her dad. His disappointment didn’t last for long because his mum was also a fun dance partner. After two dances, Isaac and Harry’s two cousins stole him away to do some shots. As the drink burnt his throat, he heard someone speaking into the microphone. They didn’t have a band or a stage so Harry didn’t even know they had a microphone. From the looks on Isaac’s and his cousins’ faces, he knew they had no idea what was happening, either.

“Hi guys, I’m Niall.”

“Oh my God,” said Harry’s cousin as he clasped Harry’s shoulder. “What is he doing? Is he drunk?”

“I’ll get him.”

“Stay exactly where you are, blondie!” Niall stabbed a finger at Isaac and all eyes shot at the poor lad. Isaac raised his hands and stepped back. It was then that Harry realised the firework guy wasn’t the only uninvited guest. Niall had brought his whole band. “I’m not drunk,” Niall said, nodding at his guitarist. “I have a little present for my two best friends.”

Harry caught his wife’s eyes from a distance, and she mouthed at him, ‘Do you know about this?’

‘No,’ he mouthed back.

“I wrote a song, inspired by their relationship. If you haven’t read Y/N’s book, I’m an important part of their love story.”

Isaac arched an eyebrow as he took a sip from his glass of champagne. Harry saw Y/N smiling with her mouth open, clinging onto Celine’s arm. She hated surprises so Harry was very relieved that she didn’t seem angry at Niall.

“The song is called ‘Black and White’,” Niall said as he put on his guitar. “I just thought black and white would be like the black suit and white dress and it would become a bit of a wedding song. I was getting a bit nostalgic with it and the song is basically about first love, when you're a teenager and you're like, ‘That's it, me and you are getting married.’ It's got a very happy feel to it, like a stomping driving tune. I think it might be my favourite on my next album.”

“He’s really using my wedding to promote his album,” Harry said, sounding more surprised than he actually was.

“Classic Niall,” Isaac chuckled, shaking his head.

Niall signalled for his band, and someone dimmed the lights in the yard as the song began with a guitar intro.

That first night we were standing at your door

Fumbling for your keys, then I kissed you

Ask me if I want to come inside

'Cause we didn't want to end the night

Then you took my hand, and I followed you

Isaac and Gemma were the first couple to step forward, and the others soon followed, gathering in front of the ‘stage’ and rocking to Niall’s song. Harry met his wife halfway in the crowd, and before he could say a word, she took his hand and pulled him into her.

Yeah, I see us in black and white

Crystal clear on a starlit night

In all your gorgeous colours

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

See you standing in your dress

Swear in front of all our friends

There'll never be another

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

“He didn’t have secret cameras installed around here, did he?” Y/N shouted over the music as Harry spun her around and drew her back in.

“Why?” he asked, laughing.

She cupped his face, bringing their foreheads together. “To film a music video. Because I would shave his head. Or Alice’s head. Which one do you think would hurt him more?”

Harry’s jaw dropped as he hugged her waist. “Just as I thought I could not love you any more.”

I want the world to witness

When we finally say I do

It's the way you love

I gotta give it back to you

I can't promise picket fences

Or sunny afternoons

But, at night when I close my eyes

I see us in black and white

Crystal clear on a starlit night...

“Are you happy?” he asked, his eyes closed.

“Yes,” she said. “Never been happier. I love you.”

“I love you, too. So, so much,” he mumbled into her hair. Suddenly, they were swaying on their own, just them two, under a starry sky.

I see us in black and white

Crystal clear on a starlit night

In all your gorgeous colours

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

See you standing in your dress

Swear in front of all our friends

There'll never be another

I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life

(Three years later)

“Daaaaaad!”

Y/N burst into her father’s reading room and found him sitting in his swivel chair with a book in his lap. Outside, the sun was setting. Dust was drifting and dancing in the soft warm light filtering through the stained window. Bradford closed his book as he spun around and narrowed his eyes at her. “What happened?”

“I think I lost her,” she said, still out of breath.

Her dad jumped to his feet. His expression went from confused to shocked to horrified in one second. “How did you lose a child?!”

“I don’t know. I was writing and then she–Hey, Marcy!”

Y/N’s stepmother, who was standing in the doorway between the bedroom and the reading room, cast her husband a tentative look before raising an eyebrow at her stepdaughter. “What are you doing here? Harry and Minnie were looking for you.”

“Oh!” Y/N started though she’d tried her best not to look so relieved. “S-She’s with Harry?”

“Yeah. I saw them down by the lake behind the school.”

“Great. See ya!”

The door swung shut, and Marcy looked to her husband. “She lost Minnie again, didn’t she?”

“Yup,” Bradford sighed. “I’m worried.”

“Don’t be,” Marcy smiled as she rubbed his arm. “I’m sure she’ll be a great mother.”

Bambi dropped her bike as soon as she found Harry by the lake, tossing rocks into the water to impress the two-year-old sitting on the tire swing. He’d hung that swing for Minnie at the beginning of last summer and promised that when the tree in his backyard was big enough, he’d build a treehouse for her.

Dry leaves crunched beneath Y/N’s boots as she made her way toward them. When Harry saw her, his smile glowed as bright as the sun behind him.

“There she is,” he said and picked up Minnie. “Say hello to your irresponsible big sister.”

“Shut up,” Y/N snorted.

“Shut up!” Minnie told her, happily. Minnie was still learning to talk so she would repeat everything.

Harry, with a smug look on his face, tugged slightly at Minnie’s little pigtail. “You’re on my team, aren’t you, Min?”

“You’re setting a bad example for her,” Y/N said, smirking at the inseparable two.

“I didn’t lose her.”

“I was writing. I got distracted.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Harry clicked his tongue, shaking his head. To Minnie, he said, “Now, Minnie, would you be so kind as to tell your sister who’s my favourite girl?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but then her half-sister surprised her by throwing her tiny arms in the air and said, “Bambi!”

Harry chuckled and kissed Minnie’s chubby cheek.

“Did you teach her that to impress me?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah.” As Harry leaned in to kiss Y/N on the mouth, Minnie covered her eyes with both hands and said, “Yuck!”

Y/N’s heart fluttered as she watched the two of them. She had waited for the special moment to break the news, but seeing her husband and Minnie together, she knew she must say it now.

“Don’t get too attached to this one,” she told him while stroking Minnie’s pink cheek. “Our baby might get jealous.”

Harry snorted. Y/N pressed her lips together.

His face dulled. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

Harry’s mouth opened so wide Minnie must have thought he was playing. She burst out laughing, hugging her stomach. Her bright high-pitched laughter made Y/N laugh, too. Then all three of them were just laughing together, not knowing why, and yet they couldn’t stop.

When they finally did (and were on the verge of tears), Harry rubbed a palm over his face, his forehead creased though his grin never faltered.

“Wow. I can’t believe it.” He turned to Minnie. “Min, I’m a dad now, and you’re an aunt. You’re only two years old and you’re an aunt! Such big responsibilities for both of us, don’t you think?”

Minnie didn’t understand what he was talking about, but she could see the elation on his face so she started clapping like a baby seal. Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Now I have to share your love with another girl.”

“How do you know it’s a girl?”

“My maternal instinct said so.” She shrugged. “Or maybe I want it to be a girl so I can teach her the things my mum taught me.”

Harry broke into a smile as he brushed Y/N’s hair out of her face. “Girl or boy. You know you’ll always be my number one.”

She took his hand and kissed it. “And you are mine.”

This time, Harry had to cover Minnie’s eyes as he went in for an open-mouthed kiss. His lips were cold against hers yet her face burnt as they broke apart.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit,” Minnie repeated happily.

Y/N smacked Harry on the arm and the kid once again shook with laughter. “Look what you did!”

“Sorry!” Harry pointed a finger at Minnie’s little nose and said in a baby voice, “Do not copy Harry. That’s a bad bad word.”

“Harry!” Minnie said and pressed her lips to his cheek. Y/N was so confused when Harry told her Jeff was calling then turned off his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

“Work can wait,” he said before she could ask. “Now I belong to you and Minnie.” Then he touched Y/N’s belly. “And also little Harry or little Bambi.”

Smiling, she told him, “You’ve only known that you’re a dad for like two seconds and you’re already acting like one.”

“What can I say? I can take on any role.”

He put Minnie back on the swing and wrapped his arms around Y/N, drawing her close. She hugged his waist and buried her face into his chest, listening to the sound of his heart beating in sync with her own.

THE END.

#my girl series #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction

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thechosenburrito · 3 years

Text

The Heart Gambit (Dennor): 5-Too Clever by Half

Word Count: 1,460

Description:

Lukas and Mathias agreed to go to the park together, but are bogged down thinking about personal issues.

Author’s Note:

Yessss more Dennor. I’m having so much fun writing so I hope you guys like it. I’m so excited to write more this summer so let me know what you want me to write more about! Notes, asks, and comments mean so much!

Previous: 4-Treat me like a Fool

The sun peeked between the curtains in Lukas's room. He stirred a bit, regretting the promise he made to Mathias. He pulled himself out of bed and started heating some water for coffee. It was, unfortunately, instant coffee but it was the best thing he could do considering the circumstances. He threw open the curtains to let the light fill the room and was met with complaints from Emil.

"You know, just because you get up at the ass crack of dawn, doesn't mean the rest of the world does." Emil groaned as he rolled over in bed.

"I'm making coffee."

Emil set up and started pulling on some day clothes.

"I hate you."

Lukas poured two cups of instant coffee and left one on the nightstand next to Emil.

"I hate you less now."

Lukas sat at the edge of his bed and looked out the window. He sipped his coffee and began thumbu=ing through the book at the foot of his bed.

"I take it you're up this early because you're going to the park with Mathias," Emil said, blowing on his coffee?

"You heard that?"

"I had my ear pressed to the door of course I did."

Lukas closed the book.

"Well, I did promise to go. That doesn't mean I wanna go," Lukas replied in a bit of a huff.

Emil stood up and pulled on a shirt.

"Yeah but you can still say no."

"I know that."

Emil sat back on the bed and started trying his shoes.

"Well, then if you don't wanna go, call him and cancel."

"I'm not gonna do that."

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because you wanna go."

"I didn't say that-"

"Admit you wanna go with him!" Emil almost screamed, pulling on a jacket.

"Why are you like this!?...and where are you going?" Lukas said, looking up from his book to see that Emil was fully dressed and heading towards the door.

"You need to admit that you have feelings for 'that asshole' because you keep repressing it and messing with your brain! It's just gonna make your life worse to ignore it." Emil said opening the door.

"And I'm going sightseeing. We're in Italy, and I'm probably never coming back here again so I'm gonna enjoy it."

"Have fun on your little park date or whatever."

Emil stepped out and closed the door behind him.

Lukas stood up from the table and threw himself back on the bed, burying his face in his hands.

"What's wrong with me?" he muttered under his breath.

Was this a date? No, right? Definitely not a date. It was just two people going to a park to hang out. Two people who just so happened to be competing in the biggest Chess competition in the world. Two people who also happened to share an oddly intimate moment yesterday. Wait that sounded wrong. Not like that. He rolled over in the bed. It's fine, they're just friends. What's the worst that could happen? If Mathias didn't have feelings for him then everything would be fine. Lukas would just keep living his life and after the competition, he would never have to see Mathias again. But if Mathias did have feelings...things would be much more complicated. As much as spending his life with Mathias, maybe getting a house somewhere, or traveling the world, it just wouldn't work out. The media would be all over it. Not to mention what would happen to Emil. But most of all, when Lukas really thought about it, he just had too many flaws to be in a relationship. Maybe but Mathias did like him, but not really him, some kind of strange idealized version of him. Maybe that's what happening, Lukas didn't love Mathias, did he? Was it even real? If it wasn't real, would he think about him this much when the literal biggest match of his life was only days away?

Lukas let out a long sigh and rolled out of bed. He pulled on his clothes and made his way to the door. He wasn't getting Mathias out of his head by sitting around in his room.

- - -

Mathias rolled over in bed to snooze his alarm. He'd already done this 3 times and regretted telling Lukas to meet him so early in the morning. But he figured that Lukas was probably more a morning person and would think he's weird for getting up at noon.

Mathias groaned and dragged himself out of bed. He hissed, half-jokingly, as he drew open the curtains to see that the sun had just barely risen completely. He made his way to the bathroom, catching a glance at a notepad he had been writing on the night before. Last night's phone call with Alfred came back all at once.

"So you're telling me you DIDN'T talk to him yesterday."

"I...no I didn't get to. His brother showed up, but Lukas never did."

"*sigh* ...you're killing me here Mathias."

"Hey, I tried! It's not my fault he didn't show!"

Mathias started brushing his teeth.

"I know I know...look you just need something on him!"

"I thought this was about getting in his head and figuring out his strategies. You know, so I can actually win?"

"Look there's been a change of plans."

He started styling his hair.

"What kind of change?"

"Well...I've been thinking about it, and you don't have to win the match on Sunday."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, if you win on Sunday, everything will be great! You'll have the title, maybe you do a few commercials, a couple of brand deals, the whole shebang! ...but if you lose... it doesn't have to be a deal-breaker anymore! If you can dig up something on the other guy we can maybe... um... make it so that... you know..."

"You want to frame him for cheating?"

"Woah Woah Woah! That's your idea, not mine haha... Of course, we wouldn't frame him for cheat... but we could sure take the wind of his win you know... make you look like you were against the odds..."

Mathias started pulling on his clothes and putting on his shoes.

"Look I don't need that, man. I'm a good player."

"No yeah no I know that. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about finances., deals, the money!"

"And I'm talking about me winning the match."

"Since when did you care about winning?"

"I don't!"

"Well, you don't care about winning, and it's sounding like you don't care about money, so what do you care about then!?"

Mathias checked his reflection and headed to the park.

- - -

Lukas was huffing and puffing. He hadn't realized how much walking with going to the park would involve. He looked around and came to the realization that he was so far into the park that he had no idea where he was. He just kept wandering around until he eventually saw a small lake. There was a bench at the edge of the lake with someone sitting on it. Lukas didn't care who it was, at that point, he knew his knees were about to buckle. He made his way over to the bench and sat down on it.

"Sorry... if I bothered you... I just really... needed a break," Lukas said, trying to catch his breath.

Lukas turned to see that it was, in fact, Mathias. He was digging in a paper bag for a slice of bread.

"I mean, you're not bothering me! Considering I asked you to come!" Mathias beamed, passing him a slice of bread. "I was getting a little worried 'cause I realized that I forgot to tell you where to meet me. But hey! You made it!"

Lukas smiled a bit. He looked at the slice of bread Mathias handed to him. It was a bit stale, but he wanted to be polite. He took a bite of the bread.

"Woah what are you doing!"

"...eating..."

Mathias laughed.

"No silly! That's for the ducks!"

Lukas swallowed.

"Oh."

Mathias started tearing pieces of bread and tossing them into the water. Ducks and their ducklings paddled their way over to the edge of the small lake and started picking at the pieces of bread. Lukas did the same, occasionally holding his hand out to Mathias for another piece of bread.

Lukas yawned, remembering that he only had one sip of coffee. Was he really sleeping that badly all the time? He rested his head on Mathias's shoulder and felt himself blush.

"Heh... uh... you know I think I heard somewhere that you're supposed to feed them seeds and not bread. I think bread is bad for them or something..."

Mathias's voice faded out as Lukas drifted off on Mathias's shoulders.

Next Chapter: 6-Someone else’s Parasite (Coming Soon!)

A/N:

This is technically late but I had fun writing it that’s all that matters!

I’m going to take this time to plug my non-hetalia work “ Intro to Love ” (on Wattpad) about a college student who struggles to keep her superpowers a secret and while making new friends. How much of her normal life will she give up to save her friends from a mysterious villain that drains students’ brains and turns them into zombies? The complete Chapter 1 is out NOW AND so is Chapter 2.1-'The last of the Good Days’! Go read them! Right now! They’re waiting for you! Chapter 1.1 is here on my tumblr!

Thanks again for reading! Send some feedback my way! Can’t wait to continue this story!

Quotev link: here

#hetal #hetalia nordics #hetalia denmark #hetalia noway #hetalia dennor #dennor #hws #hws nordics #hws denmark #hws norway #hws dennor #norway x denmark #denmark x norway #hetalia fanfiction

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everydayanth · 5 years

Text

Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years.

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time.

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall.

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite.

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week.

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement).

We were expendable.

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short.

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives.

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.”

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick.

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry.

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not.

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge.

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

#academia #anthropology #sociology #university #culture #h1n1 #coronavirus #poverty #wealth gap #elitism

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 4 years

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Complete Butterfly Outline

Howdy friends. The following is the complete chapter by chapter outline for Butterfly. Now that the fic is finished and some people want to see it, I figured there was no harm in sharing. Maybe this will help some of you better your own outline process. Note that not everything that appears here made it into the fic, and some things that did don’t appear in this outline. Some events are also in different order due to me changing my mind during the actual writing. Feel free to ask me questions about those discrepancies or anything else. Please enjoy!

Butterfly

The first over-night trip off campus since the training camp is supposed to be a break from anxiety. But between concerns of history repeating itself, a major research project, and a bleak introduction to chaos theory, Izuku has too much on his mind to properly enjoy the fresh air. But those worries are a light breeze compared to the thunderstorm that accompanies what he finds on the outskirts of town. Or rather, what finds him.

1. Chaos Theory -thankful -comic book assignments -sound of thunder -butterfly effect -field trip

2. Yakku -bus ride -small town hero work -interject about butterfly -Cheat-A demonstration -talk with all might

3. Small time -community engagement -reports of stolen food -first day tour and fun, photos with fans -heat lightning -second day early morning patrols -groups: Sero, Toruu, Deku with hero -different route than normal -bullies, can’t threaten with quirk, but has his body -investigate diner -dead bodies

4. Let’s Talk About Anything Else -deku falls back on a table -kitchen covered in blood and black feathers -body: slash across stomach and eyes, other exposed shoulder blades -three form a perimeter while hero investigates -backup arrives, kids dismissed -hug -might have gotten there sooner had they taken a different road -statements and debriefs -return to hotel, can’t eat -hang out in room, read to pass time -talk about comic projects -nightfall’s, others return -Momo makes plushies -animal jokes -can’t sleep

5. The First Rung of the Spiral -third day, more patrols -stolen food in the night -seminar “That was... definitely higher than in practice.” “Oh good, it wasn’t just me.” -feels like a warm hug, full body feeling of when all might ruffles his hair -“this is mine. This is me.” -izuku gets through but get sick afterwards from anxiety -secret lake, something in the distance, canceled -watahashi - cross bridge -hibiki - echo -takuya - open also -dead deer -sleep on bus by All might, anxiety subsides

6. Nothing is Okay -week passes -Tsuyu dreams of drowning, talks to Deku -anxiety returns with a vengeance -occasional intense back pain -counseling with hound dog, recommends something from home -pissed that they didn’t receive immediate grief counseling -speak with recovery girl about pain, nothing physically wrong -prescribes a sleep aid, anxiety meds left open -return to dorm to find his leftovers missing

7. Part of the Job -training: escort -dread and erased quirk -deku’s team loses fake civilian -takes it hard -stays later to talk to Aizawa -more complaints about missing food -Mineta brings thank you gift, gourmet popcorn -pain hasn’t stopped -return for movie night: Justice League: Crisis on Two Earths -brief talk with iida -if we were to meet ourselves, we wouldn’t recognize ourselves -“saying the same thing over and over isn’t exactly helping either.” -deku can’t sleep, returns to his own bed

8. Yakku’s Finest -small town investigation inconclusive, murderer remains at large but reports of stolen food have stopped -diner money left untouched but larder picked clean -blood set, attacked in the night -quirk discussion, vague, strained relationship, -teleported in from somewhere, teleported away -DNA testing to be done on feathers “Did you ever go to investigate the houses with stolen food? When was the last instance reported?” “Four days after the murder.” “How far back can your quirk see?” “One day.” “How many days has it been?”

9. Dread -awake from pain -reading news updates -school forum rumors about stolen food

10. The Mind Killer -earthquake rescue training -keep notes on others to make up credit -dread not as bad -still has brace, sleepy and sick from concussion -pretends to be better -argument after almost throwing up -getting late -all might was never able to find his all star Superman trade reading online -picnic table with mirio, suneater, and eri -babysitters -talk about projects, mirio did shadow cat and suneater did animal man -brings up Superman’s suneater -all might approaches, chastises him for staring at a screen while he has a concussion, offers Superman trade instead -discuss the fall -what’s one more scar? -“why didn’t you tell me?” -“I don’t know” -“you could have been killed.” -dread tells him he only cares for one for all -phone call -mom going out of town -izuku lies -banging down the hall -getting closer -deku hides behind door -thing hesitates in his room, goes to door -wing claw and eye reveal -calls for help, thing vanishes -no evidence -“I felt it breathe on me.” -most don’t believe him

11. Ache -hospital -nothing wrong -can’t enjoy getting the brace off -another little scar -recoverygirl argues with nurse -all might arrives with stuff -tells izuku to call his mom -confesses to illness -schedule specialist appointment -nothing on cameras -explain Midoriyas condition -compare notes with Jakku -all might calls Gran Torino about izuku’s symptoms -aoyama thinks about Midoriya during earthquake simulation -others ask about the seizure but he doesn’t have answers -put together a card and nice dinner to welcome him back -try to make food himself -update from Aizawa : Midoriya coming back, tired, don’t bother him -izuku breezes past everyone, uraraka follows -has an attack on the stairs -never happened before -retreats to room, leaving uraraka behind

12. From the Outside -bakugo dreams of the sludge villain -sees deku in the crowd, yelling sorry -wakes up, goes to bathroom -finds a black feather, thinks it’s a prank -realizes he would have done the same thing back in middle school -destroys it (invisibitch) -thinks he’s being merciful -izuku keeps thinking he sees the creature out of the corner of his eyes -pain comes randomly -can’t sleep -anticipation of pain keeps him awake -rubbing against ribs -move up appointment -talk with midnight -fanmail activity -“I am the American father waiting on the porch with a shotgun for whatever pathetic excuse for a date is gonna try and take my little angels to the prom.” -wants to hug him, he hates hugs -“I can only do so much” “so much is better than nothing” -rumors of people suddenly unable to use their quirks -might be an illness or one for all hurting him -gives in to anxiety medication -needs to get in contact with a specialist for nerve damage -takes up hound dogs suggestion of something from home

13. Nostalgia For The Future -deku goes home for a plushie, brings todoroki -mom isn’t home -todoroki likes his house, feels small but full -nothing about his dad -“would being his son make his obsession more or less weird?” -declares intent to become a hoarder -confesses to dream about losing his quirk and father hurting him for it -Despite recent trauma, deku hasn’t dreamt at all -swaps a book from all might for one of mom’s -nerve specialist, dendrite -rash -“as a fan I was impressed, but the doctor in me couldn’t help but cringe”. “See? He gets it.” -neurotoxin as anesthetic (but why) -all might watches procedure -“the scene brings to mind ritual sacrifices from old movies” -maybe attacked during procedure, mess with vitals and life support -chemical evidence that izuku’s brain is firing off pain response -common fixation in young empaths, recreate perceived trauma in themselves -“was there?” “...I could see bones poking out...” -basic testing comes up negative -“When you hear hoofbeats, think of horses not zebras”. Here we have a zebra -someone is using an empathy quirk on him -someone ate his leftovers -old all might plushie pats bunny -he was so done. So done, that as he laid down to make a futile effort at sleep, it crossed his mind that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to never wake up. -izuku did wake up; to see Mini-him standing on the ground with a hole in his chest and a slash across his eyes. -wake up to bunny plushy with tears that mirror original victims

14. The Rolling Thing With Wings -Aoyama saw it this time -“Midoriya’s villain is real”, -something is for sure on campus -Aizawa and other teachers immediately go out and search -cold rain -lights catch black feathered mass that rolls away -Aizawa can’t get a good look -thing tries to flee but keeps getting cut off -uses dread quirk, flattens teachers -finally sees it, it cancels his quirk before he can -vanishes -hound dog smells izuku -back to dorm, all might and students comforting izuku -plushie remains the same but camera footage shows nothing -Aizawa and izuku compare dread effects -realizes it may go after his mom

15. Bittersweet Release -Inko arrives at mustafu train station early in the morning -phone call from Aizawa telling her not to go home -wait to be escorted by heroes -calls izuku, he confesses to what’s been going on -doesn’t want to risk putting her in the line of fire -kids spend the nights in the dorm shelter -“The villain was able to hover right over Midoriya’s bed while he slept. Any one of those nights he could have killed him. And since we didn’t have any evidence, we assumed he was having nightmares like everyone else. Do you understand the gravity of what your inaction could have brought on?” -discussion of feelings with hound dog -apologies for doubt -rejoin students -news, villain warning issued -connections to missing food -anyone paying attention could figure out victim is izuku -harsh criticism of UA -izuku elects to take responsibility -hound dog leaves for meeting

16. Table Scraps -hound dog comes in late, cloth tied around mouth in place of muzzle -villain smelled like Midoriya, that close -teachers check security, limited evidence, suggest a quirk that can reverse/move outside of time -connection to missing food -Noumu theory is proposed due to multiple quirks and black appearance -all for one still in prison, twice? -similar to Yakku, get in contact -pathfinder shows map of trails -only found perimeter -entered town to chase the bus -villain seemed to stop existing -one missing quirk: night vision -meanwhile, pro heroes patrolling near apartment -“oh please. All mights had a kid at UA since my parents were in school.” -spot a figure go up the stairs and enter with a key/silhouette in the window -nobody from the family is supposed to be nearby -go inside and confront the middle school-aged boy, mass under shirt -find him wandering the house, ignoring them -introduce themselves -he goes to sit on the main bed, eating, heroes angry -“waiting” “for who?” “My family” -“my house” -“NO”

17. Voight-Kompff -stitches out -out running for the first time in weeks -one for all makes him feel whole, pictures the previous users welcoming him back into their embrace -breath deeper -“this is mine. This is me.” -“izuku wasn’t a spiteful person. Not at all. He got angry at villains for hurting people, yes, but he couldn’t recall at time where it felt personal. So it came as a bit of a shock when he found himself pondering if the villain’s wings were hollow, like in birds. They would break easier that way.” -“hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. But knowing his luck, he’d treat it like an inevitable.” -full cowl practice interrupted -“once it’s gone I can be with mom.” -medical exam with officers present -increase in students asking for sleep aids -izuku called back again, this time with teachers -karma for complaining about uraraka -gives back minihim -2 heroes murdered in his apartment the previous evening -it isn’t the artificial dread, it’s real -Like before: no security footage, food stolen, wiped search history, this time it seems clothes and personals were also stolen -“quirkless virus” show similar symptoms as victims of all for one -some have different quirks than before, usually minor -most are regular civilians, no hero, cop, or medical staff until murders -murder of diner owners still unclear -pattern, no pain on nights food is stolen -stealth quirks, likely to make another attack -DNA of feathers came back -same as izuku

18. Powder Keg -toga told to investigate league contact -warehouse trashed, dead everywhere -“Oh, yeah, no, they’re dead. And whoever did it was super sloppy.” “Hang on, Dabs, I’m getting another call.” -answers dead guy’s phone -“how did I ever survive without the preserve jars?” -rumors of someone who broke into UA by themselves, after Izuku -elects to investigate -Superman presentation -outside heroes on campus -Outfield, izuku debates talking to him -unsure if they know the dna connection -calls mom, asks about family -we didn’t want you to feel like you were being replaced -class exercise, warned not to push it -izuku does something during exercise that spooks outfield -sleep in shelter past three nights -villain warning issued -other students don’t know about Izuku’s DNA -sleep in shifts -all might stays close -tries to text mom good night, signal can’t get through the concrete -eri is there, tries to cheer him up “Zawa said there’s a bad guy after you.” “She’s your biggest fan.” “She might have to fight Kota for that.” -tells her she should go somewhere else since the bad guy is targeting him -she’s having none of it -later, eri and all might asleep on either side of him -keeps an eye on the door -hears sato’s phone buzz, he waves him off to signal his shift is over -lays back, tries to relax -sudden tightness in chest, opens eyes to see the other one standing on the ceiling directly above him

19. Fish in a Barrel -Aizawa realizes its a set up -the other one tries to stab him with the wing spike, eyes glowing red to erase his quick -rolls to cover eri and calls to the others -hits him in the head, disabling quirk -takes out lights -everyone tries to go for him, easily thrown back -slashed across multiple chests -the other tries to go for the door, todoroki freezes it -the other burns and breaks it down, vanishes -chase with bakugo, find toga -“my dad could breath fire” -teacher question how it could have gotten in with so many standing guard -it must have come in with them -mislead the heroes -comfort eri -wounds tended to -Tooru seriously hurt, crying, outlined by blood -idea floated to move izuku somewhere else -toga found wounded at the edge of campus

20. Walk Without Rhythm -“you’re sending me away?” -talk about moving izuku to protect the others -say goodbye outside, the want to lure it -switch trains last minute -dread fades -Aizawa says goodbye -appearance change -tooru wake up in hospital with parents -They met all might, other kids here and awake -tiger comes in with brace, izuku broke his shoulder -all might went back to help -discuss, don’t think the nomu was intentionally hurting them -tell that to midoriya -what are they doing with him -encounters old bullies who act like fans -Aizawa back with the others, discuss -public place. Hundreds of people. Broad. Fucking. Daylight. -pathfinder there, nomu was inside for hours, quirk that displaces itself -nomu is intelligent, understands aizawa -only superfans and former students know him -izuku mentioned his father was as much of a fan -toga unresponsive -maybe move him to another safe house, evidence that the other is locating quirks through police records, he’s gotten through most defenses -victims have minor records -mom moved around too, discouraged from contacting her -better to hide, all might’s house -end of the day, tired and sweaty -brush appearance change out of his hair, hug -it’s the first time all day he’s felt like a person -“I’m sorry I left you behind”

21. All in All -izuku stays up late to call his dad -argue about timing -“sorry I didn’t call. I wasn’t sure of your schedule in this mess and I didn’t want to bug you. “Sure” -mostly unaware of what’s happening, mom told them to talk -changes the subject to the Jakku seminar, tries to relate to quirk hurting him -thinks his dad only likes him for his quirk -“you can’t keep crying like this every time you’re stressed. Youre sixteen, way to old to be crying like this. You’re a hero. Villains aren’t going to wait for you to get yourself together.” -“look, if you’re not gonna be invested in the conversation, maybe you should hang up, and we can talk later, ‘Kay?” -Skype call with Toga -managed to talk to it briefly, voice changer -the villain didn’t like her, in denial -said he would fix it -crusty and gross, waste of a healing factor -deku-kun is here, isn’t he? -tells jokes to distract from Dad -all might’s in specialty housing for tall quirks, modestly decorated with comic merch and newspapers -device to hide his life signs -fanart from Young Izuku on the fridge, bought the magnets just to put it up -old classmates posting about him online, he’s a cool hero -forum trolls, could probably take them -“I thought you were supposed to be discouraging me from picking fights with villain’s every other month.” “Oh hey look at that, you made a quip” -talk about feelings ⁃ is my rambling annoying, endearing -“it’s okay to still be upset, you know. You don’t have to move on right away.” -year newspaper -butterfly returns to U.A., breaks window, noises, squeezes through naked -students pretend to sleep, half in costume -it passes over them

22. Idle Imprisonment -day 2, report comes in, three critically wounded policemen not far from u.a. -izuku does class work ⁃ all Might pins points on a map, far off -day 3, more reports of missing and mismatched quirks: tracking and radar -day four: 4 civilians and 1 hero murdered, several others injured -feathers through the eyes -mt lady back in action -izuku can’t take it, wants to go out and confront butterfly -massive argument with all might, hides in room again -“cabin fever!?” -all might figures he’ll try to sneak out, overhears him struggle, his windows don’t open

23. It Matters -later that night, all might offers dinner, goes to watch tv -izuku slinks out and eats with him on the couch -“think I don’t know how it feels? To be stuck inside safe while the thing that hurt you is running free to do more harm?” -“I miss it sometimes, but I get to spend more time with you” “I’m not worth it.” -“if it hadn’t hurt me, I might not have met you. Either my time limit didn’t force me to hear you out or I might not have come back to mustafu at all.” -back and forth about izuku’s worth, “are you trying to convince me to be happy or regretful” -“ok, lets try this: what do you hate about me?” -“I hate that you don’t trust me.” “And you constantly treat me like a little kid! Hate that too!” “You are a kid!” -“I want you to tell me one thing you don’t like about me. As a person.” “Why?” “If I have to be honest about how I feel so do you. You only ever say nice things. You act like there’s nothing wrong with me but there is. If you don’t tell me, I’ll have to keep guessing.” “... back in the shelter, after the villain attack... that was the only time I’ve ever heard you truly laugh.” “... that’s it?” -“I, I’m not a fan of how you talk about that video of my debut.” “But, But It was a great rescue-“ “It was awful,” he snapped. Midoriya recoiled. Good. “It was so awful. Hundreds of people died. Most of the people I pulled to safety didn’t pull through. I hear them screaming still in my dreams. I hated every second of that night. And I hate that you love it.” -“That shot one shot, the one people plaster everywhere, of me coming over the ridge carrying a dozen people? Half of them were already dead.” -“How did you even see that anyway?” “Mom said the news was running a special for the twenty-five year anniversary... I watched it with my dad...” “and you would have been what? Two, three?” -talk about debut -tells him about Nana and his childhood -hid from villain’s like this “I loved her like my mother.” “Did she love you as a son.” -“it doesn’t matter.” It does. -talks about how izuku is great -never initiated a hug before, what else could he do besides pull him closer? -“I hate yelling at you. You’ve had too much of that in your life. I just want you to be happy.” -“and I’m going to keep you here until you realize how much you matter” -caught between child and adult, wonder what he’d be like had he never influenced him -will the scars on his arm grow with him? -he wanted to just keep holding him, to make up for all the times he should have but didn’t. -carries him to bed -“I can walk.” “I want to carry you.” -he’s going to be okay. He’ll grow up. Conquer the world with his smile. Be the unshakable pillar the world needs, all Might had no doubt. But not tonight. Someday, but not tonight. Tonight, he is a small terrified child, separated from his family, and on the run from an unknown horror. Tonight, he deserves a moment to be scared and sad, and be comforted. -life sign hider gone -prays he stays just this small forever -he’s like a son to him -he stays for a while after he falls asleep, just to be sure

24. The Other One -all might dreams of his death at the hands of all for one/wolfram -wakes up to alarm, needs to eat -izuku inspired him to keep living, gets up to check on him -remembers the dream theory, goes to check his fridge -closes it, butterfly is right there -smells him before he sees him -running down a list of ways to get a hit in, major blood vessel in the temple -“Hello” silence, “are you all might?” Ask about fighting the ‘same’ villain Beat him with the help of his student Butterfly gets angry, the other one -“he’s almost shocked to here a human voice come out of it... a young voice.” Other what -comes into the light, more scar than skin -talks him down, reaches out to touch him -doesnt believe -same shoes, faded and frayed and falling apart, but the same -never one to talk down hostage/suicide -says his name -butterfly stunned, cries at the kind touch -hug -same eyes -he’s izuku again

Reveal post - https://lckhr.tumblr.com/post/175255988293/okay-villaindeku-is-so-popular-right-now-but

I want to add to this real quick because I just dug up my original notes I wrote at 2 am last summer when I first thought of this fic and it reminded me of some stuff. The world of My Hero Academia is set up in such a way that whatever bullshit power you can think of will probably fit. A lot of superhero universes have that, but something about MHA makes it so much more pronounced. Combine that with the idea of All for One, a quirk that lets the user wield an unknown number of powers, and there is some serious potential to absolutely abuse the setting. The idea was to create a lone villain that could perfectly counter everything thrown at it, to the point where it feels like a supernatural monster. Security? Quirk that prevents cameras and sensors from recording its image. Evidence? Quirk that rewinds time on displaced objects. Witnesses? Quirk that prevents people who are already asleep from waking up.

25. Butterfly: Origin -“as hard as he tried throughout his life, Toshinori knew he could never be Superman.” -“He wants to hurt your boy/ but he is my boy” -all might feeds him, too thin, still heavy -talks him into taking a bath while he makes him a warm meal -Texts his izuku to be silent and contact Naomasa -stolen possessions with his clothes, folding quirk, , flattening, sticker quirk -cries at the red shoes -butterfly comes back out, reveals wings -all might makes him a cutout shirt and sling for vestigial wings -its a cold night,hairdryer, hopefully izuku sees the opportunity -“he’s so gentle. The boys arms are thinner than his. It’s wrong. He feels like any pressure greater than a brush will shatter bones. He could break his fingers with a pinch. But maybe he should. This is a villain. It tried to kill my boy. But he is my boy.” -“did you ever fly?” “Once” -“it’s okay, you didn’t know.” -getting scolded for hurting himself is universal -so is being a chatterbox -considers Christmas present in the closet -tells him to lay down on the couch and watch tv -butterfly asks about one for all, consent -admits to killing Mirio -all might asks about all for one, vague backstory -noticed something was wrong after usj -“he said there was a time where there wasn’t a single child in Japan born without his permission.” “It was a mercy killing at that point.” -more time in a day, imprisoned for seemingly twice as long -drawn to yakku by picture of lodge that looks like apartments -“I heard someone say my name” -lie, offered to trade quirk, got in a drunken fight -has both parents quirks, implied to have killed Dad -wanted to scare his izuku into going home, no one was there, took it out -has mom’s quirk, “someone else lives there now.” -tried to find mom, “once he’s gone, I can be with mom.” -“I’m only hurting me. I’m not worth it -inter-dimensional quirk, -Inching closer to all might -you didn’t say that, the other you did -all might confronts him on his crimes, defense is that they started it -“you’re not right” -puts head in all might’s lap and moves his hand to his head -found izuku, jealous of his life, not sure what to do -realizes that izuku has one for all -“WHY” -describes the sludge villain incident -compare outcomes -butterfly gets upset, prepares to strike -all might says sorry

26. Bizarro -izuku listening in the whole time -attacks butterfly as he’s about to strike -wounds all might in the chest -butterfly screams accusations -brutal fight, bitten ear -izuku stands up to dread -ripped vestigial wings clean off -fight, flees at approach of heroes -wind and rain enter through broken window, mess up all mights hero shrine -izuku still feels like he has grime on his hands from the wing -its me -hospital, all might severely injured but stable -sneaks into room -stabbed where his lung used to be -“Did I ever apologize for saying you couldn’t be a hero?” -apologizes through tears for saying izuku can’t be a hero -sad hugs -tells nurse that he’s his son

27. Same -thinks butterfly is holding him -Aizawa says nurses told him all might was with his son, calls it inappropriate -hesitant to leave all might -please don’t take him from me -all might holds onto him for as long as he can -Aizawa wants to call them over dramatic, but this feels warranted -it’s me, i know -news from kids perspective -Sero -escorted everywhere, never alone -no way to tell what’s going on -wake up, check the news -need to confront butterfly -meeting in a moving vehicle -Pathfinder there, special sunglasses -how many were killed, lie -Butterfly’s notes, crinkled and overfilled, izuku can read them -addresses, quirks? -safe places, food, Trying to find home -plan A, swan dive -he was trying to get me to kill myself -plan b, kidnap to other dimension and kill, pose as the same one having been tortured -what’s plan c? -more missing quirks and murders, offensive capabilities -pathfinder attacked, quirk stolen -team of heroes go over what they know about him -analysis of wing he ripped off -rapid nerve death, theorize that his healing quirk is killing him -why hasn’t it? Quirk preventing organ failure -once the body runs out of fat, it goes for muscle -after muscle, it goes for cardiac muscles -that’s what the dread is, empathy -perpetually on the brink of a heart attack -means they might be able to go all out against him -uses inter dimensional quirk to conceal movement -ask izuku what he could mean by the right quirk -memory alteration, body swap -all might Skyped in “You’ve been trying to clean up the mess the other you made, let me do the same.” -you didn’t fail, the other you did -how to restrict movement, only ever does it outside -shelters never built in his world -set a trap, need a place that doesn’t exist in butterfly’s world

28. The Net -go through the tunnels to the main shelter under the school -can’t discuss the plan Bakugou tries to ignore him and unpack his stuff Izuku flinches from contact -says goodbye to classmates I love you all, thanks for being my friend... you have no idea what it’s meant to me -don’t talk like that, it makes it sound like you’re not coming back! -hugs -midnight cries -talk with Bakugou -shapeshifter butterfly -it’s a forced smile. “Forced” is the only way to describe it yet if feels like it isn’t enough. -new bunker at UA -limited air conditioning -pathfinder walks him through messing with his quirk -i got your letter -did you know them? They were good people -didn’t mean to be so harsh, people get hurt when you aren’t good enough -step outside briefly, the world is so much more vibrant without his quirk in the way -“it’s a tomb” “yeah. Let’s make sure it’s not yours” -obvious trap, he won’t be enough -need bait -all might about to be discharged -agrees to stay as the casualties of the trap will be sent to the same location -inko enters, told to wait for her son there -got stolen stuff back -izukus first all might toy -talk with all might, maybe izuku’s Dad, left around the time he was quirkless -I want to push him forward, but also want to shield him from the world -welcome to parenthood -asked for blood drawn

29. You Shoot It -dream of deer in the woods, all turn to look at him together, one missing a face -toga disguised as izuku’s mom, distract him long enough to ceil the doors -no sign of butterfly -concern -butterfly enters by bending the door, an army of bugs -Izuku watches from another room, he’s a last resort -toga tries to convince him to stop fighting, can’t -something off -tries to stab him, nothing -turn around -cut to Aizawa -Bakugou seizing, that’s not Deku -“suit up” -strangled -fight -Cementoss seals the door -upgraded -pain sharing, metal feathers, ribbon skin, black bone, fero blood, wing spears, teeth bombs, throw feathers, telekinesis, fire breath -attacks do nothing -it’s an illusion -turn around, butterfly strikes while looking at him reveals partially healed form, antlers Flee out the room, fighters overrun by cockroaches Erasure is his most powerful quirk Izuku flanks him and kicks him in the skull, blocked by antlers -antlers become bendy and grab him Butterfly tries to go for izuku’s eyes using mom’s quirk -other heroes quickly tossed aside -chase down izuku through the maze -fold hole in the wall -punch in the jaw, teeth explode -izuku nearly overpowered -held down completely -strangled

-Aizawa and the class rush to the entrance, blocked off -must be a fail safe, butterfly was meant to break in -break down the doors -what if butterfly manages to escape -mina’s acid, strong punching, laser, explosions Aoyama asks for braces or someone to hold him while he blasts the ground -anger he doesn’t have the right quirk -knows his is the only one that can disable butterfly -they have to take the risk

-held down completely, erasure flickers -Pathfinder hits him with a baton and tries to choke him, distracting him -only one eye -izuku breaks free with 100% -smashes Butterfly’s eyesocket with his knuckle -blood splashes in his face as he flees -scream behind him -arm strained, can’t tell if it’s broken -pathfinder’s fate unknown -brief visions, body swap quirk Realize butterfly has been holding back because he wants a healthy body Test how much

-aizawa run through the maze -find pathfinder -hear screaming

-leap though illusion and snap off one of butterfly’s wings -tear membrane with own feather, cut between broken bones -it tries to crawl back to him -illusion breaks, revealing deer skull -flee, openly crying, bleeding tears -lock hands, izuku breaks others fingers, -wings burst from his back, heroes hold back wings -powers through pain and dread Leaps up and smashes the floor to pieces -butterfly screaming at him Jump at each other -Spears izuku in the back Break through the ceiling -Aizawa erases his quirks -restored appearance fades, more decayed than ever -izuku kicks and breaks his neck

30. YU SHOOT ITT -izuku was fading -a round face, a thin face, green eyes both -something shiny bobbing in and out of sight -butterfly stream of conscious -reuse lines from before -senses izuku in the other room -force shared pain and empathy as he’s dying -izuku screams in agony -felt his stomach split again. A candle to a forest fire. Pathetic. “This is mine. This is me.” -shared perspective -why do you deserve to be happy and i don’t -you kill people, tired to get me to kill myself -but before, i didn’t do anything wrong -why did it all go so bad? -gets up, floats with his quirk -barely copies normal movement -Floats to the door -Aizawa stops him -hard to breath -feels his mom and all might comforting him -that’s really mom -force the connection harder -stop screaming i wanna hear what mom’s saying Aizawa cuts him off again, he cries Feels his bones sink -“do you think if I die in this world, I can still be with my mom?” -goes down struggling -“it’s not fair”

31. At Rest, At Last -izuku flatlines but is revived -undo the latches on his costume Taken back for surgery Sit in the hall and cry for hours -a defibrillator is for a different kind of heart attack -so that’s what it was? A heart attack? Doctor rushes by with an ice box Explain to aizawa that izuku flatlined -butterfly is dead, new despair -took his stomach for izuku -inko and all might go to see butterfly -inko wants to see him, takes a moment to recognize him -that’s her baby -screams -hugs and apologies -all might would have gone to stay with him -they both despair but are thankful for their son -“he was barely five years old, and he was ready to accept that his family didn’t want him.” -goes back to izuku -his hand is bigger than hers, when did that happen?

-final casualty count, pathfinder dead (?) along with several police officers -doctor recounts the autopsy -butterfly was dead on his feet, practically killed him -barely enough muscle to hold his own head up, let alone stand -“in my unprofessional opinion, this was a mercy killing.” -Aizawa looks at the body, that’s midoriya -Aizawa wants to try and bring him back with eri, Might not work, Might traumatize her -argue, all Might says he was too far gone, they wouldn’t be able to shield him from criminal charges, record like his would net him the death penalty anyway, stuck in a cage again, all that hate and fear in his heart left to fester in a padded cell for the rest of his life -thinks he would come after izuku again, what do you think that screaming was? He was trying to take him down with him. -not hurting anyone else, not hurting himself -“He said he wanted, more than anything, to rest/stop fighting/for the pain to stop, and now, he has.” -“Aizawa-kun. .. Please let him rest.” -Aizawa leaves before he can break down

-toshi looks over butterfly -“an innocent butterfly, drowned in mud and crushed under the boot of the world.” -not innocent, but he felt someone should be there to see him off -Apologizes -runs hand through his hair, shushes him even though he’ll be silent for quite a while -hesitant to leave him -that’s my boy... That could have been my boy -bodyswap lingers in his mind -kisses his hairline, touch of cold lingers -goes to wash his hands and face before returning to izuku -wakes up later -“he’s dead” “I know.”

32. All Those Moments -

-aizawa drives back to ua with midnight -she tries to joke with aoyama about makeup, he’s not having it -won’t go into details about butterfly -mic greats them at the gate, hug -comes back to dorms to welcome party “Midoriya’s villain is dead.” -they cheer -Bakugou pulls him aside to try and get answers -people who’s job it is to save lives should never celebrate the death of another human being, be relieved, be thankful, but do not celebrate -don’t cheer for death -cries while holding eri -mic and midnight ask him what’s wrong -he was just a Kid

-do you want to be buried or cremated, inko can’t stop thinking about that phrase -3 services in three days -mass wake for officers -izuku makes rounds, “your child/spouse/parent” saved my life -inko almost couldn’t get out of the car -izuku said he had to come -pathfinder funeral, mention the teens and neji -he saved my life, i want to be worthy -crematorium, limited service in his home town -service in jakku -speak briefly to stripes -ask to speak at the wake, doesn’t have the best luck with speeches -mom asks why, he didn’t really know him -Jakku heroes offer him a job, we’ll save you a spot says he never wants to come back here -pass a boarded up diner -I’m his mother, i should be here -never spoke with butterfly, never in the same room when he was alive -cold gripping horror at burying her own son -service ends in slow motion -no words exchanged -silent for the whole long drive home -dotes on izuku at home -not home, couldn’t bare the thought of sleeping where someone died -all might rented a place/or all might’s apartment -he carries around his all might and blankie -makes him food, watches tv -cuddle in her bed like when he was small -her sweet baby boy grew up to face unfathomable horror -wants to promise no one will hurt him again, they both know she can’t

-villain graveyard -“Izuku Midoriya, 16 years old, at rest at last tailored clothes around his wings, buried is his shoes -izuku goes to butterfly, stares His bones wouldn’t burn He suffered 16 years old, seventeen in a few months, he’ll grow. Live. Make sure he keeps living ⁃ Took midoriya to view the body before it was buried. Stared, said nothing -all might dusts of the grave, leaves a few flowers and food -still conflicted, butterfly was worse case scenario, uses it as motivation to protect his boy -he longs for some sign. Waits for some great vision that the boy is well in the end. A butterfly wing broken wings that still flies. One on the tombstone. It’s the dead of winter. Him coming to him in a dream, face full and bright and back bare of those fowl wings that shackled him to the earth, and promising him that he’s not in pain anymore. But it never comes. Butterfly died in agony, after years of torture, alone. -“Toshinori wasn’t a religious man, but he still hoped that, if something did become of young butterfly in the en`d, that he at least got to rest.” -he might be moving into the same new building as the Midoriyas -picks up Izuku from first therapy session, not much to say -you’re my boy aren’t you? -don’t want to say anything that makes him spiral further Do you remember what happened before this all started? -we talked about Superman, you said your name was inspired by all Star Superman -and... -rumors about being his son, “I don’t mind” -cry, hug and a kiss on top of his head -sixteen years old, he’s my son -return home -izuku stares out the window Take him to the tokoyaki stand Sit on the beach wall -cuddle like they did the night before butterfly attacked -izuku crawls up his sleeve and presses his forehead -yeah. Yeah you’re mine.

⁃ When Butterfly was around, he never had nightmares. Now that he’s dead, Izuku has nothing but. -izuku can’t sleep, -home doesn’t feel like home anymore -people died here, in this world, and the other one -has nightmares when he’s awake too, they’re memories -likes All Might’s thin arms, likes to be carried, better than those too big that held him like a pet while the bones in his back pulled away from the rest of his body. -checking himself in the mirror, scars on his chest fading fast, no evidence if he covers it up -asked the doctors to remove his scars when he went back to get his stitches out, just the ones from Butterfly, back to what he was before -regrets it -looked butterfly in the face, up close, in the eyes, and though: that’s not me. It can’t be -looks at himself now, his own face in the mirror, and thinks: that’s not me. It can’t be -too thick, skin to smooth, hand in his hair to search for antlers -I’m me, aren’t I? -text from friends, excited to have him back -compulsion to go outside, he does -it’s cold out without a shirt, starting to snow -I could just go -wants to run, from what? -doesn’t want to face the others How can he just go back to normal? -if i don’t say something now, i never will -wake up mom, I’m ready to talk about it now -sees all might in the kitchen again, mom too -visions of the other ones life

-Bakugou s body, swollen and broken -desperation to find a school that will take him -walk past the gates -sell blood -luxury apartment -All for one, first quirk are the cherub wings, small, but his -not the only one, testing multiple quirks, isn’t sure when he becomes the favorite -wings are painful coming in, all for one holds him -gave in eventually -can’t see all of the wings in the mirror, shine green in the light -lakies make fun of his failure, requests quirk to stop crying -creates copy of all for one -usj, something wrong, gets erasure -flees out the window, can’t get home, returns willingly -tested on with mutation quirks as punishment, cries when he discovers minor telekinesis -isn’t there for Kamino allegory, acts desperate to save Sensei, erases immortality quirk -tries to go home again, authorities mistake him for villain, programmed to attack -he finds Dad. Dad, who hadn’t so much as touched him in a decade, picks him up and holds him like its nothing. He kisses his head and calls him baby and tells him everything is going to be alright because he’s here now. And it was for a while. He fed him and bathed him. He sleeps tucked close to his chest like when he was little, even if the wings took up a lot of space. He has to comfort his father when he cries for mom, since he can’t cry anymore. He and takes him to the doctor. They don’t know how to help him. He says he wants everything but moms quirk to go. Dad doesn’t understand why he has it. He doesn’t listen. He never does. At least you aren’t quirkless anymore Steals dad’s quirk to teach him a lesson about being quirkless Dad only came back for mom. He said so. He was missing for over a year and only came back after mom went missing. He blames him. He burns off the tips of his wings. -they think he’s a villain -Kills mirio -trades quirks for money, later just food -chase anything related to mom -wanders to Jakku, ua goes there around this time of year and he saw an ad for a lodge that looked kind of like home -hears his own name -demands the bridge quirk guy trade him, had enough -kills. Jumps. Sees himself, up on a stage in a hero costume from his dreams, smiling among deafening cheers. And he shares his dread. -sees both of himself, locking eyes in the ambulance, round face, thin face, green eyes both, watching and feeling each other die

-run back inside -wake up mom and all might -i don’t think I’m me anymore -stuck with all this anger and hatred and fear -can’t tell the difference -all might says he feels guiltily instead of angry -but i am angry -writes as he talks -it’s like one glass of water being poured into another glass of water -hard to tell where the first ends and the second begins and you can’t separate them -did he take something from you -don’t know -“after all that, do you still think you made the right choice?” “Never came into question.” -has his whole life ahead of him -going to die eventually -takes out notebook -“Butterfly” crosses it out, rights his own name -lies between the two people who love him most -all might’s hand on his chest, holding him -other arm curling mini him to his chest -mom has his blankie -izuku has his all might plushie -tomorrow, he goes back to all his friends at the best hero school in the country -people like him, he has fans -almost too good to be true -this is all butterfly wanted -all i ever wanted -more than i could have ever asked for No one stalking me, no one chasing me -I’m home -do i deserve it though? -have to make decisions, could spiral -have to go back out into the world and keep living -for now, he let himself feel happy -the two sides agree to feel happy -“this is mine. This is me. And there’s nothing I can do about it.” -and for now, I’ll let it make me happy -this is mine, this is me -deep under guilty happiness, lies dread he knew could only come from himself. -this dread could only be his own. Maybe it was always. -it’s mine. It’s me. -whoever i am, I’m alive -no matter what i do, whoever i am, I’m me. I’m me.

#butterfly #long post #writing #behold the process #and yes #all of my outlines are like this

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