#even better than the very pink bedazzled shirt he had a few days ago

[favoritejohn]

he looks like the most beautiful prince 👑🌷💗🌸🍭✨

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 4

Hello everyone,

I submitted this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy.

This chapter is less action heavy, but just as important. Thanks for hanging in there and reading!

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 3812

Part Four: The Aftermath

           The weathered professor seemed very confused but stood her ground and insisted, “Miss King, take the summer off.”

           “I just need a week, that’s all—and then I’ll get the methodology section to you—Dr. Watts I just need another week, please!” Antha pushed back. Dr. Watts set her glasses on her desk and then waved her over to a deep-tufted-leather sofa.

           “Antha,” her voice lowered, “I’ve known you for what—five years? You don’t become a valedictorian because you don’t like to write. You have been moody these past few weeks, you barely passed the final exam, and you’ve pushed back the thesis methodology three times. Last class, you were so distracted I would have rather you skipped. I know you, talk to me, what’s going on?”

           “My sister and I had a Friday night out with some friends and something happened.” Antha murmured, staring down at her feet.

           “Friday nights aren’t what they used be; did you hear about the fight that broke out at that dive bar off of—oh, what’s it called? You know the place—well, it was all over the news,” she paused gravely, “you weren’t there were you?”

           The twin nodded slowly. She felt overwhelmed in front of her advisor. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut before replying. “Tessa’s date got into a fight with an old flame, it was a whole thing. But after…” She couldn’t continue. The advisor took her hand gently.

           “Did someone hurt you?”

           Antha’s eyes welled and all she could do was stare. As if she said the words out loud, it would become more true than it already was. The doctor’s forehead wrinkled as her brows gathered together. Having lived through the revolutions of the sixties and the proceeding struggle for equality, Dr. Watts knew the dangers women faced. She didn’t need an answer; she just wanted to offer shelter to a young woman. She knew just from looking at her student that whatever happened, it was beyond words.

           “You’re taking the summer and fall semester off—or at the very least take the summer off and go to a student counselor; its free, it comes with your tuition, so please use it. If you need anything you know you and your sister can come to me.” She wrote down her personal number and one for the counselors’ office. Antha held the little shred of stationary. She promised she would do just that.

        Shortly after, she left her advisor’s office and floated through the campus green and then waited by the bus stop. Her feet told her she was going home, yet her attention was somewhere far away. What can I say to a counselor? Who would understand what we saw at Hollow House? Without realizing, she had retrieved something from her pocket; she stared dumfounded at the pewter-colored iris that gleamed back.

        Antha couldn’t get rid of it. But in a moment of frustration, she chucked the marble-like eye into a nearby drain. She returned to her spot and tried to focus on scheduling a counselor. Moving forward, that’s what I need, she figured.

        A familiar wheezing crawled up the street. The sluggishness of a muffler that had seen better days filled her ears as she dazed at the phone number-laden scrap paper.  “—Antha!” Someone yelled. To her surprise she peered up to see Doug hanging out of his rusty Buick, looking just as timid as ever. He seemed anxious, for what reason she didn’t know. “I’ve been calling your name. You’ve gone deaf ol’ girl—you want a ride?” He asked with forced humor in his voice. She watched him blankly as his expression fell. “You alright?”

        Antha thought about it and suddenly felt stupid. All of her gusto about moving forward had evaporated; she lamely shook her head like a weary child. She felt like a little girl in a world that was too big for her. It all just seemed too much.

        The July swelter didn’t let up even with the windows down. The two didn’t speak as they made their way to their favorite pizza joint. Thrilled to be out of the unairconditioned Buick’s steel embrace, they collapsed into the far back booth of the pizzeria. All the servers knew it was Doug and Antha’s spot; they habitually kept it clean and empty, knowing they would eventually roll in. They made it to the “golden hour”. The sacred three hours between the lunch and dinner rush. It was their favorite time.

        “Whatchas want?” The straggly blue-haired waitress chewed her bubblegum like a goat.

        “The usual—uh hold on—when did you eat last?” Doug asked. Antha shrugged and realized she didn’t know. She couldn’t even think that far back. “Can we get a double order of the usual? But make two of them to-go?” The waitress didn’t even answer as she went to get drinks. “You want to talk about it?”

           “Nope. I said everything already.” Antha wasn’t mad at him, she was just tired. She was more annoyed that he would ask about the matter and then dispute the realism of what she explained. Doug grumbled when the waitress slopped the pitcher and straws down, vanilla coke-a-cola splashing everywhere.

           “—Hey, don’t we get like a punch-card or something? You know, for every hundred pizzas we buy, we get the next one free?” He politely suggested, his way of being confrontational. He was growing exasperated with the women in his life; he didn’t mind taking it from his close friends, Zoey and the twins, but he was having none of this waitress. She paused, chewed her gum, and left again.

           “Whoa, cool off killer,” Antha snarked, her spirits lifting with each sip of her fountain soda. She looked him over and thought on their friendship for a moment as he griped about that one particular server.

        Doug was a shy, lanky, ginger-bearded young man. He was passionate about things and supportive of the people he loved, but didn’t reserve much attention for the people outside of that parameter. He lived in vintage band t-shirts, had friendly light eyes, and a funny smile. No one could resist his unkempt wolfish hair or his corny sense of humor; he had a way of growing on a person. But he always showed up, his guitar in tow. That’s why Antha didn’t fight him when he asked about that night; she knew he actually cared and was trying his best to understand. He couldn’t help her though. No one could help.

        “How about we hang out this weekend, do a barbeque? Nobody grills a burger like you—and Tessa can make her sangria, huh, what do you think?” He tried to turn the conversation to open her up.

        “Uhh… I don’t know. I can’t plan that far ahead, I’m real busy.” She declined. The sausage pizzas arrived faster than expected and Doug dropped slices on their plates.

        “Busy yeah? Mmm-hmmm,” he bit into his slice, cheese tangling in his five o’clock shadow, “busy not writing your thesis, not eating, and not sleeping? Ant, the last time I saw you eat was a few days ago when I brought pizza over. You gonna talk to me?”

        Antha sighed loudly and glared at him. She was worn-through with the people in her life too. I’m too tired for this shit, she thought. She pushed her plate forward and abandoned her half-eaten slice. He saw her mild protest and his cheeks tinged pink. They silently stared each other down, him chewing as loud as he could manage while she obnoxiously slurped her soda in reply.

        Before they could hash out their issues a patron burst through the front entrance. “Hey—hic—you seen Ant? Where she at? The back?” Tessa was hiccupping and talking all sorts of loud, like she was in a club on a Saturday night. “Oh hey girls!” She pointed at the staff and sashayed herself to the booth; her bedazzled sandals slapping the linoleum like a jackhammer in the quiet place. The front door jingled again and in rushed Zoey.

        “I’m sorry,” she apologized to the front of the house and then chased after Tessa. “I picked her up because she was texting me weird messages—I thought I could calm her down with something to eat.” She explained to the table as she took a seat next to Doug.

        “I already ate today.” Tessa insisted, sliding in next to her sister and almost toppling over a pizza.

        “Oh yeah, what did you have for lunch?” Doug asked, his patience wearing thin.

        “GIN and uh—” she had to think about it but excitedly rebounded, “and uh water ice. Breakfast of champions!” Tessa thought she was quite funny, regardless how everyone else disagreed.

        “How about we have a little slice of pi—” Doug pandered but she wasn’t going to hear any of it.

        “Now who would put sausage on a pizza? Oh, no. I have enough meat in my life—you know what I’m sayin’ Zo—you feel me?” She howled.

        “That’s cute.” Doug’s patience officially went on vacation as of that second. He tore the sausage off some of the pie and then thrust the mangled slice in front of the drunk twin. “There ya’ go, just cheese—And you eat your damn slice too! This has gone on long enough—we’re going to have a barbeque and chill like we always do! It’s Fourth of July this weekend, did you know that?” He directed at the other twin.

        “This white boy’s hollering at you, oh lord…” Tessa cackled; her cheese dripped down the side of the table as she reached for some ice chips from an empty cup. Zoey was mortified and motioned to Antha for help, her friend was out of control.

        “Yeah—well this boy’s about tired of this foolishness! I don’t know all of what’s happened that night, but neither one of you will talk to me about it! Ant you’ve been practically dead, a walking zombie for three weeks—and Tessa, it’s three o’clock in the afternoon, what the hell has gotten into you?”

        “Gin.” She giggled.

        “Hey Katy? Can we get all this to go, with some two liters?” He yelled across the full length of the restaurant.

        Zoey handled the food transport as Doug buckled the twins into his car. He mumbled to himself, “…goddamn vampires my ass…” as he cleared his fogging glasses. Tessa began to mildly complain about the heat when the car stopped at a red light. They all noticed a young man struggling to get into a car at the gas station across the way.

        “Is that José?” She whispered. They witnessed his mother trying to steady him, juggling his crutches and searching for a spot on him that wasn’t bandaged. Adorned in a neck brace, shoulder sling, full posterior elbow splint, and full left leg cast. Poor José appeared like he faced-off with a combine. Doug glared at the girls in his rear-view mirror. The light turned green and not another word was said.

        He parked the Buick under the tree closest to the house and got the girls inside. Zoey did the same and brought the provisions to the shaded porch. It was too hot to do anything other than sit around by the fan or stay in the AC. Tessa went to her room when they got in; she felt awful about what she had seen at the gas station.

        They worked together to set up the tall pedestal fan on the porch, because the porch fan just couldn’t combat Mother Nature alone. They were in the midst of dawdling about when Antha accidentally fell asleep on the porch swing while Doug played the guitar. Zoey elicited his help inside to leave Antha to nap. The two were shocked with the state of things.

        Momma’s house was a frightful mess. They never saw it in its condition before: Dishes with dust, articles of clothing haphazardly dropped, laundry either half started or half done, it was difficult to tell. “Momma would roll over, I swear…” Zoey whispered. They agreed to tidy up while the twins rested, lest Momma rise up and haunt them. That woman was meticulous and was not above coming back from the grave to tell everyone what’s-what.

        As if life had been frozen in time from the month prior. The twin’s incident hit like a meteor and their friends now saw the wreckage. While they hadn’t admitted it out loud, they had stopped living too; obsessed with what happened that night at Hollow House. Grasping for a truth that they couldn’t reach.

        The overloaded dishwasher whined as it cycled and it reminded Doug of seeing José, busted up and struggling. That’s what really happens after a bar-brawl. There’s always a winner and always a loser. He half-heartedly swept the floor and thought to himself: these are the parts they edit from movies. The aftermath. The guns, the glory, the blood all made the cut; but the estranged motions we go through to try and find the thread leading back to our lives doesn’t. These are the quiet moments without answers, like loose ends dangling.

        Zoey crept into the kitchen and signaled for him to follow her to the porch. She had just hung the last load of laundry on the line for the afternoon. They were both beat and sweat through from cleaning. They shimmied the big metal ice bucket to the front, fearing they’d disturb Antha. She was so far gone that an earthquake couldn’t wake her. They popped two well-earned beers and exchanged the bits and pieces of what they learned from the twins over the past few weeks.

        “…that’s crazy, right? Like there’s no way what Tessa told me could be real, right? Did someone roofie their drinks?” Zoey asked him as she tied his wavy hair into a top-knot.

        “I’m just worried that something happened they won’t say, like they’re traumatized—I mean, Zo, I was driving to the bar and I seen them covered in blood on the side of the road. Tessa was screaming in the ER that a vampire attacked her sister—and then Antha all of a sudden, calms her down and explains to the doctors that they were lost in the woods, came upon the bed and breakfast for help, and that a strange man assaulted them there. Said they used a fireplace poker in defense, bloodied him up real good, and they escaped to the main road.” Doug took a swig of beer to recuperate.

        He was getting worked up just relaying the story, “But the cops, they investigated that place and found six bodies—slaughtered—in the basement, two of them the owners. The bodies had been sitting there for days before the twins got to ‘em. I’m scared that maniac’s out there. I mean—I’m scared in my own damn apartment when I think about it. What if they were found in that basement? What if we couldn’t find them?” He shook his head.

        “What can we do for them? Are there groups for people like this, who think they’ve seen something supernatural?” Zoey mused aloud as she pinned her jet-black pixie cut hair out of her face. The two pulled fresh beers out of the ice bucket and vowed to do some research after the weekend. They agreed their first goal was to get the twins fed and cared for.

        They watched the sun set into folds of purple, pink, and orange over the high grass. The heat of the day receded with the light, but the humidity persisted only to remind them that it was an intermission; the threat remained that the summer’s full force would return at tomorrow’s dawn.

        The grasshoppers were summoned as Doug strummed his guitar, not truly playing anything particular. Zoey brought out cards to shuffle, waiting on Tessa to play. The evening began to set in peacefully until a rumble cut through the twilight.

        A huge pickup truck barreled down the long drive and parked in front of the house. Out jumped the infamous Flake. His blond hair contrasted against the lavender sky, budding starlight glinting off his aviator sunglasses, and a tooth pick in the corner of his mouth completed his redneck-chic visage. He swaggered up to the porch and was met with a startled Antha; she had jumped up like a viper at the sound of his wheels. He donned a large patch like bandage over half an eye and his hands were wrapped too.

        “Tessa around?” Franco didn’t even offer small talk which had Antha go straight from just waking up to furious.

        “Not for you.”

“Well, I wanted to check in on her—haven’t been able to call on account of that scuffle at the bar. Them boys got my tires and my phone.”

        “Looks like they got your eye too.” She scoffed.

        “Yep,” he laughed and pulled his sunglasses down to reveal those piercing big blues, “you should see the other guy.”

        “We did.” Her disdain seemed to suck the air out of the whole yard. Franco leaned on the porch banister and pulled a smoke from behind his ear. Her eyes burned so hot on him she could have lit his cigarette.

        “I can see you’re not much for visitors, so I’ll just leave this. If you could give it to Tessa, I’d be mighty grateful.” He handed her a number, but she walked away not even considering it. Zoey jumped up and took the note. “Night ya’ll.” Franco flicked his butt into the yard and made his way back to his truck.

        Long after he left and the noise of his truck faded Antha sat, her arms crossed, on the porch swing. Her friends idled by, every so often glancing in her direction waiting for her to speak her mind. The disgruntled twin couldn’t connect the pieces of her dislike for Franco. It wasn’t as simple as his jeans were too torn, his truck too loud, or his gaze too heavy; it was the fact that she knew nothing about him. No one did. Where did he come from—and where was he going? It didn’t add up to Antha that he was the first hillbilly she ever met without a tan. What working man doesn’t have a farmer’s tan? Finally, after a good twenty-five minutes of contemplation Antha announced, “I need a drink.” With a flutter of Zoey’s sundress, she presented a liter of honey whiskey, lemon wedges, and shot glasses.

        A few shots and some pizza in her stomach, Antha started to feel somewhat whole. The four-hour nap revived her a bit, or least lessened the haze she had been wading through. She could finally take in her surroundings: she was lucky to have her friends. When the mosquitos really started to bite they brought their party inside and relished the cool—and now clean—house. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two, I’m sorry I can’t,” she paused, “I just can’t right now.” Before Antha could work out her sentiment the queen bee descended from her room.

        “That’s it! I have decided!” Tessa announced, thumping down the stairs like a sentinel charge. “I’m going to visit José tomorrow—even though it’s not my fault he got his ass beat, I still think it’s only fair to show love.” She waited, her hands on her hips, for their unyielding approval or preferably a round of applause.

        “Look at you growing a conscious,” was the general consensus of the other three. Tessa saucily tossed her braids as she dusted her shoulders. They all scooted into the kitchen table and fed her dinner. Just like a heart, she had a way of pulsing life into a room. Before they knew it, they were swapping stories like always.

        Tessa was laughing and teasing Doug when she took a shot. She threw her empty glass down on the table as was customary, but when the glass met the table it then clinked as if something had been dropped into it. They all sat forward to see a silvery-gray eye in the bottom.

        “Did you just spit that in there?” Doug’s eyes were wide.

        The twins beheld each other knowingly.

        In the beginning, they initially freaked out over the eyes returning. Now it became a sickening fascination of what they could do to them. The eyes always returned. They burned them, they drowned them, and they threw them away; every time the eyes returned to the twins.

        “I tried to tell you, but you’re not listening,” Antha began, “these eyes are following us. Ever since we killed that thing at Hollow House, we’ve had them.” Doug and Zoey’s faces were pained in disbelief.

        “Here.” Tessa got up roughly and held the eye over the sink. She turned on the garbage disposal and dropped it in; it made a grotesque metal sound and then after a few rotations, crunched like glass. Antha showed the eye that was always in her back pocket and explained she threw it away in a drain across town earlier that day. She threw hers in too, directly into the disposal.

        “Well, how long does it take for them to come back?” Zoey asked.

        “They’re not coming back—this is a trick!” Doug looked like an angry leprechaun with his reddened face and stubble. The twins’ faces didn’t even shift with the accusation.

        “Sometimes its seconds, sometimes hours, or a day. It doesn’t matter, they’ll be back.” Antha confirmed and the twins took their seats at the table. The room became solemn as Tessa popped another round of beers and poured a flight of shots for them all, knowing the liquid courage was needed. Doug jumped up from his seat and began checking under cushions, searching cupboards, and drawers. The girls sat back and waited as he processed.

        He huffed, “…you got back-ups, or hiding ‘em somewhere—I don’t know why you’re playing with me right now…it’s not funny…” But then a loud plop sounded on the kitchen table, like a golf ball dropped from the ceiling. He turned to watch a second oversized marble drop seemingly out of thin air. He returned to the table and gawked at the two eyes sitting in front of the twins. “You got to tell us what happened at Hollow House.” Doug’s voice was hushed as he shakily accepted the whiskey shot from Tessa. In unison they saluted and threw back the shots with beer chasers.

        While the four friends went over the sordid events, in gruesome detail, a mysterious figure watched from the unlit porch window. The uninvited guest crept off through the yard, down the dirt-path driveway, and made a phone call:

        “They got them eyes,” it reported, “I reckon there’ll be a war.”

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken​ @just-the-hiddles​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @nildespirandum​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @latent-thoughts​ @emeraldrosequartz​ @villainousshakespeare​ @hopelessromanticspoonie​ @caffiend-queen​ @poetic-fiasco​ @lokimostly​ @dianamolloy​ @marvelgirlonamarvelworld​ @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0​ @cateyes315​ @mooncat163​ @nuggsmum​ @myraiswack​​​ @wolfpawn​​ @plastic-heart​​ @confusednerd09​

[clvmtines]

welcome aboard, clementine martinez, student #2. we are excited to set sail with you !  has anyone told you that you look like alexa demie? according to our records, you hail from florida, usa, prefer she / her pronouns, are a cis woman, and are here to study creative writing. we also see you received a spot on the ss university because of your online lottery win — we won’t tell anyone. during your first few weeks here, other students said you were + charming, + free-spirited, but also - restive. it sounds like you spend most of your time at the billiards room. upon checking your luggage, we noticed you packed a casino chip carried around for luck from home. hopefully your roommates don’t steal it!

hi friends! i’m very excited to be here. i’m jay (est, she/her) n i used to play astrid nyland a few months ago if anyone remembers bt i had to leave for personal reasons. i’m so glad to be back now that i hve life sorted and some free time for summer break <3 read on for some details abt this new muse of mine, clementine. 

01. biography !

so ! clementine was born in florida. & yes, her real name is clementine. her mom thot it was the cutest name idea ever. clementine mostly goes by clem. she comes from the town [redacted] in florida bcoz i am too lazy to look up a specific town <3 but alas ! it was swampy and humid and she lived in a trailer park. 

her parents got knocked up at nineteen. clem was born nine months after a particularly wild 1999 fourth of july. her birthday is march 26th and she’s an aries. 

(TW: addiction, child injury) clem’s dad was a gambling addict and petty criminal—he wld steal credit cards n whatnot. he wld gamble away diaper money n it would cause constant fighting until her dad finally left. her mom took this very hard n began drinking a bit too often, leaving clem to to make cereal for dinner n fend for herself. once clem tried to make hot dogs on the stove and spilled boiling water on herself. got a p bad burn on her arm/shoulder and still has a big scar.

the soundtrack of her childhood was cicadas buzzing and stray dogs barking. the sizzle and pop of natty light cans. turning up her ipod to max volume to drown out the sounds of her mother fighting with her new boyfriend.

throughout her upbringing, clem’s dad was always in and out of the picture. he’d blow into town when he hit it big. he’d take her on these little “adventures” like staying in a motel 6 n renting movies at block buster n ordering good pizza nt the dominos shit she ate with her mom lol. ofc he was charging it all to someone’s stolen credit card. he’d always promise to, like, take clem away. n clem was a daddy’s girl so she believed him. the last time it happened was her h.s. graduation. her mom didn’t show ( "overslept” after a bender ) but her dad did and surprised her n said everything wld be different. bt then he bailed on their plans for the next day n when she called his cell, the number was disconnected. tht was the defining “i’m done” moment. clem promised to never be disappointed by her father again.

(TW: racism) her mother has mexican ancestry and clem’s always been called her twin. but clem was raised in a predominately white area and honestly ?? it was really hard without her even realizing it. she’s still unpacking a lot of things today abt her youth that jst weren’t okay bt she thought were normal. like microaggressions, stereotypes, being fetishized by boys in high school. gross shit.

as a kid, clem was rumored to be really poor bc she wore tattered clothes n got free lunch at school. once she invited a friend to her house & the next day they told everyone it’s in a trailer park. that reputation—the “trailer park girl”—was really hard to shake. and clem got almost desperate to shake it. she was endlessly trying to set her old self on fire and emerge from the ashes like a phoenix.

eventually clem became more “popular”. in school she was, like, a straight b student. very average although super creative and quick-thinking. she always had street smarts. problem solving skills. independence. more of, like, practical intelligence as opposed to book smarts because academia bores her tbh. she was like why am i reading these overrated boring books by dead white men or learning abt polynomials when i know nothing abt how to pay a mortage or do taxes. like...she saw the american education system as bullshit and put in modest effort because she didn’t believe it deserved her sweat and tears. 

however, she entered the online lottery for the seas program on a whim and got in. so she’s studying creative writing now.

02. personality !

first thing you shld know abt clem is that she’s a compulsive liar essentially—she tells various stories to make her life seem better than what it was. to one person, she’s an heiress to a real estate company and grew up wealthy. to the next she was raised by nomadic hippies. some of her lies are small fibs while others are grandiose tales. she rarely talks about her actual upbringing. she hates talking abt her family or the v real trauma of growing up in a household where both parents struggled w/ addiction; the uncertainty, the broken promises, the fact that she had to grow up so soon and deal w/ so much. it wasn’t fair, and if she thinks about it too much, she feels this anger. anger at the universe. anger at her circumstances. she doesn’t know where to put this anger. she doesn’t know how to shrink it. so she avoids it.

despite her rough upbringing, though, clem is actually really sweet and kind. she’s adventurous, fun-loving, free-spirited, and bold. 

bt ! she can also be closed-off, competitive and restive. 

she’s seemingly tight with everyone? like she’s jst that girl who can get along with anyone tbh. 

in her spare time you can catch her tanning by the pool, hanging at the bar, playing pool ( which she learned from her dad ), and socializing. she’ll never say no to hanging out with people. 

she learned a lot from her little “adventures” with her dad, who was very good at conning others and often involved her in his dumb little scams. clem is suuuper good at pulling the ‘im baby 🥺’ card to get what she wants.

she can be a little selfish, because she grew up looking out for herself. 

stubborn and dogmatic as hell !!!

she doesn’t do too many relationships but when she does fall, i imagine she falls hard and fast. she refuses to be made a fool of, tho. when she gets vulnerable she flashes back to being a kid, waiting all day for her dad to show up only to have him bail on her. again. she hates that feeling. so if she, like, senses a shift in someone’s energy she’ll b like, “i’ll break up with u before u can do it to me” and the person wasn’t even tryna dump her lmao.

has a lot of sex. too much ?? sex?? mayb. but she’s v sex positive.

her personal style is v late 90s. hair clips, big scrunchies, neon, fur trim, crop and tube tops, hoop earrings, chokers, patterns, platform shoes, biodegradable glitter cuz it’s good fr the earth *winks*. clothes from o-mighty.......actually jst google o mighty, pull up the images and That is clem. she dresses like a bratz doll. she’s dedicated to the aesthetic.

03. headcanons !

her item brought from home is a hot pink poker chip from a casino. her dad gave it to her. he said it reminded him of her because of the color; he got it during one of his winning streaks and said it was lucky. she has a complicated relationship w/ her dad n doesn’t even speak to him anymore, bt she will never go anywhere without it.

she’s a smol bean—only 5′4

an astrology girl and she reads palms ! she absolutely makes astrology tik toks that people only watch because she’s hot. her flirting technique is to ask you to read your palm.

she doesn’t typically drink to get drunk. but she does love a good sugary cocktail. to her, a drink is like an accessory. a blue fishbowl by the pool, a jack and coke as she stands around a bar. usually she'll nurse the same beverage for a while. if you see her wasted it usually means she’s going thru it emotionally lol. the one thing she does do is drugs tho 

pretty much listens to exclusively female artists.

a bit of an activist. environmentalism, feminism and the like, she’s v outspoken. vegan for ethical reasons (TW: drugs) bt still does cocaine. she wears shirts with ‘my pussy my choice’ bedazzled on the front.

loves to rollerblade ! back home she didn’t have a car so she’d bike or rollerblade. now she still has her blades and she’ll use them when the ship docks. 

03. wanted connections !

Friends, bffs, ride or dies, friends who are like siblings to her, maybe a friend with an unrequited crush on either side ??

an ex she dumped/cheated on/otherwise self sabotaged their relationship because she was afraid of vulnerability.

an ex friend who realized she lies a lot abt herself n felt betrayed. OH ! ESP if they opened up to her on many occasions abt intimate, personal stuff. imagine the betrayal they felt when they found that everything they thought they knew abt clem is a lie.

someone who she actually opens up to. a confidant. or, maybe, like, a stranger she drunkenly spilled her soul to and now she avoids them like the plague.

a rival. clem can be competitive.

her drug dealer 

someone she knows she shouldn’t hook up with and… does it anyways. like a friend’s ex or smthing. spicy <3

i welcome anything !

[adenei]

Next Steps - Ch. 9

Harry and Ginny’s Elopement!

A Beach Wedding

Hermione was sitting on the bed in Harry and Ginny’s suite in the bridesmaid dress she and Ginny had picked out just days prior. It was a short emerald green chiffon dress with a criss cross bodice and sweetheart neckline, and a halter strap that tied in the back. It was perfect for the beach. 

The resort’s hairstylist and makeup artist had finished just a short time ago, taming Hermione’s unruly hair and setting it into a side chignon. Ginny’s hair was down and styled with soft curls that flowed effortlessly down her back. Both girl’s makeup had been done naturally, but accentuated their features. 

Hermione heard the door to the bathroom open and Ginny stepped out. “How do I look?” she asked Hermione as she grinned widely. 

“Ginny! You look stunning! Wait til Harry sees you!” Hermione gushed. Ginny had chosen a very simple, A-line white tulle gown. It was backless with a deep V neckline, spaghetti straps and an empire waistline. She was wearing bedazzled white flip flops underneath the flowing skirt. 

There was a knock on the door and Hermione went to open it. It was the resort’s wedding planner, Jessica. “Hello, ladies! Are you almost ready? It’s time to head down to the beach now. We’ll get you two set behind the barrier before your men take their places, and then we’ll get this show on the road!”

“Almost,” Hermione said as she walked over to the dresser and picked up the small gold pendant necklace and clasped it around Ginny’s neck. She then picked up the two bouquets and handed one to Ginny. They’d chosen a beautiful arrangement of white lilies for Ginny, and Hermione’s was similar, but included light pink lilies with baby’s breath instead. Hermione grabbed hers and Ginny’s room keys and tucked them inside her dress as they followed Jessica out to the wedding venue. 

As they neared the location, they could see the archway set up, and the aisle that was laden with flower petals. The weather was absolutely beautiful. The sun was shining, and the soft sound of the waves meeting the sand in the background was soothing.

“The photographer will capture the ceremony, and then he will take you for pictures around the property. After that, we’ve got a private dining room set up for you at the Black Angus.” They were now behind the barrier. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the gentleman and then we’ll get you married!” Jessica smiled brightly and took off to get Harry and Ron.

“Last chance,” Hermione said jokingly. “If you want to back out, you better run now!”

“Very funny, and I’ll remember that when it’s your turn,” Ginny teased.

“Thank you for letting us be a part of this, Ginny.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. It just happened to work out perfectly and we only needed a little extra planning.”

“I still can’t believe we pulled it off in a few days. And without the rest of the Weasleys finding out.” 

Hermione was thinking about the whirlwind of shopping they’d done after they’d visited their travel agent the day after Christmas. There’d been a 4:00 slot open for a wedding at the resort, which Ginny gladly claimed, and from there they’d ironed out the rest of the details. It helped that they didn’t have a formal reception that needed planning, so they’d opted for a private dinner in the fanciest restaurant, and then after they’d planned to go to the adult nightclub for some dancing in their attire. 

They’d gone shopping for their dresses in muggle London, and had found what they were looking for fairly quickly. And then, Ginny had insisted on visiting the fancy lingerie stores for the wedding night. Despite it all, everything was turning out perfectly, and you’d never know that they’d thrown everything together in less than a week.

Before they knew it, Jessica was back and they could hear music beginning to play from the surround speakers. “Are you ready?” she asked as the girls nodded. “Alright, you’re up first,” she nodded at Hermione, who squeezed Ginny’s hand before stepping around the barrier. 

She made her way to the aisle and looked up at Harry and Ron when she began walking towards them. She beamed at her best friend and her fiance, who looked rather fine themselves. Both were wearing khaki linen trousers and white button down shirts. Ron’s sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, while Harry’s was covered in a matching linen suit jacket.

When her eyes met Ron’s, he was giving her a look that was both full of love and excitement. It was clear he only had eyes for her while Harry was looking past her now, waiting anxiously for Ginny to make her way around the barrier next.

-----------------

Ginny was shaking out the nervous energy that was billowing in her stomach. She’d been waiting for this moment for as long as she could remember. She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air, allowing the rhythm of the waves to calm her. 

“It’s time,” she heard Jessica say, and Ginny brought herself back to reality. 

She was about to marry Harry Potter, her childhood crush. The boy who’d saved her life in the Chamber of Secrets, had kissed her in front of the entire Gryffindor student body, and had miraculously survived and defeated Voldemort. There were so many obstacles they’d had to overcome and get to this day, and all the odds were always against them, but now they were about to enter their own happily ever after. 

Ginny turned around the corner and was now at the end of the aisle. Before she started walking she looked up at the scene in front of her. Her eyes found Harry’s and that was all she needed to propel her forward. He was staring at her with that same dumbfounded look he’d had after he kissed her for the first time. She felt her face break into a wide smile both at the memory and at the man who was waiting for her. 

It felt like the aisle kept getting longer because it took forever to reach him, but finally she made it. Hermione reached out to take her bouquet, and then Ginny turned to face Harry. “Potter,” she said with a playful smirk.

“Weasley,” he grinned back at her with those bright green eyes she loved so much. 

The officiant began the ceremony, going through the standard monologue. Ron had pretended he couldn’t find the rings when it was time to exchange them, and then it was time for the vows. The officiant had nodded to Ginny to go first.

“Harry,” she started. She’d rehearsed the words a million times, yet they’d still gotten caught in her throat. “If you’d told my ten year old self that this day would come, I would have been equal parts mortified and impatient for the day to come. I’ve liked you more than you maybe knew for the longest time, and honestly I’m really glad I was able to get over the ‘couldn’t speak to you’ thing. I know the past is messy, but looking back, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love your stupidly noble self, and I promise I’ll be there at your side through everything life throws at us from here on out. I’m so glad you and my brother became best friends on the train first year so I could get to know you better. So, that being said, I promise to always make you laugh, to remind you not to take life too seriously, and I’ll always be there for you through everything. I love you, Harry.”

The officiant then looked at Harry, who cleared his throat. “Thanks for never giving up on me, Gin,” he started as a chuckle could be heard from Ron and Hermione. “I love you more than you know, even if I was slower on the uptake. No one can quite make me laugh like you do, and I promise to always equally match your wit as best I can. I’ll make sure I consult you before doing anything too noble, and I can’t wait to see what the rest of this life has planned for us. I love you, too.”

The next thing she knew, the officiant was saying, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride!”

Neither waited another second as Harry took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was the perfect kiss, and everything Ginny had ever hoped for. They were officially married, on a beach in the Bahamas, and nothing could take away that blissful feeling. Not even the wrath of the Weasley family that would no doubt be waiting back in England when they got back from their holiday.

[inkedstarlight]

Living of Love

Summary: Sirius Black owns a punk rock flower shop. When Remus moves in across the street and opens up a bookstore, the two men meet and discover what it feels like to love once more. A Valentine's Day story. Lots of fluff.

Note: Just reposting a Wolfstar fic I published on AO3 a long time ago! For all who don’t know, I used to write a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction about three years ago. All of my HP fanfiction is posted on Archive of Our Own, and I’ve added it to my Masterlist. Nowadays, I’m writing a shit ton of ACOTAR and TOG fics (more to come very soon)! If you ever have prompts/requests, send them in my ask box! I will write: Nessian, Elriel, Feysand, Elorcan, Wolfstar, Jily, and Linny. Thank you to all those who read my fics, I can’t express how much it means to me!

“James!” Sirius cursed as he opened the door.

His best friend poked his head from behind the corner. “Yes, my lover?”

“Cut the crap. What the bloody hell have you done to my shop?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” He exclaimed with a sheepish grin.

Sirius stared wide eyed at his flower shop. Only it wasn’t. It was bedazzled in pink. Paper hearts linked their way across the walls. Red and pink stickers were plastered on the front windows. A jar of heart candies was placed on the counter. Every bouquet had a card with some absurd declaration of love resting in the flowers. Sirius sighed.

“What am I looking at, Prongs?”

“Well, my truly amazing friend, you’re looking at the new and improved Guns ’n Roses!” James raised his arms. “Lily helped me a bit last night. What do you think?”

“I think you’re crazy.”

“It’s a masterpiece.”

“It’s not punk rock at all. I asked you to help prep for the holiday – not to let Cupid come in and throw up on my flowers!”

“Embrace the holiday, Pads. It’s a wonderful thing – love.” James looked off with doe eyes.

Sirius snorted. “Still in your honeymoon phase, I see.”

“You’ll find someone too, you know.”

“Doubtful. The amount of eligible gay men in Hampshire is equivalent to the dignity I have left.” Sirius turned the sign on the front door that stated they were open before shutting it and walking into his shop.

Though it was a minimalist interior, it showcased his best floral arrangements. The black and white framed photographs of old bands rested on the rustic, brick walls. On the left and right walls were white shelves of flowers from peonies, to dahlias, to flower crowns. In the middle sat two maroon loveseats, angled toward each other. There was a round table in between them with Sirius’s favorite flowers in an intricate vase; cosmos atrosanguineus. And towards the back of the store was an L shaped counter with his bouquets of the month placed on it. He walked swiftly behind the counter to the registry, and placed his things on the floor. He surveyed his precious store with another look of disbelief.

“What about that guy you told me about a few weeks ago, the one who recently opened up a bookstore just across the street?” James waggled his eyebrows and followed him around the counter.

Sirius blushed as he remembered the man.

“Are you, Sirius Orion Black, the man who claims to have a ‘heart of steel’, blushing?”

Sirius sacked him in the shoulder in hopes of ending his utter embarrassment. “Sod off, Potter.”

But as James rubbed his shoulder and howled with laughter, Sirius allowed himself to remember the man whom he couldn’t stop thinking about…

Sirius flipped the ‘open’ sign as the first drops of rain began to come down. It was a cloudy day on Belmore Street, but beautiful just the same. The local shops’ lights glowed in the downcast morning. The cobbled road was glistening with the rainfall. The storm was welcoming as it was refreshing.

He looked out his window to see the no longer vacant store directly across the street from his. The sign above the door said, Secondhand Prose. He gave a small smile. There hadn’t been a bookstore here in a long time.

Just as he was about to walk away from the front window, a lean figure in the rain caught his eye. It looked as though the man was trying to carry tons of boxes from a truck into his store. In the rain. With only a t-shirt on. He shook his head incredulously. But he looked upward again at the now downpour. He shifted his gaze back to the struggling man carrying what seemed to be a heavy box. Sirius muttered hateful words to himself as he put up his hood and stepped out into the storm.

He walked quickly across the uneven street. As the man walked out of the store, Sirius approached the truck. The man looked up at him, and Sirius’s steps faltered.

With hair dark with dripping water, a soaked through shirt, and glasses that weren’t helping him at this point, the man was a handsome mess. His warm gaze penetrated Sirius’s.

With the realization that he was staring at the stranger, Sirius cleared his throat, a flush creeping up his neck.

“I couldn’t help but watch your helpless attempt at moving all this shit,” he pointed over his shoulder at the numerous boxes sitting in the back of the truck. “Do you need any help?”

Surprise overcame his face, but looked at his feet and smiled shyly. “That would be great.”

Sirius tore his gaze from him and moved to the truck. It was piled to the brim with cardboard boxes. As leaned over to pick one up, he looked inside to see worn books. He noticed one of his favorites and picked it up.

“The Fountainhead. A brilliant book.” Sirius turned around to see the man standing just a few feet away. His gaze quickly snapped up and his cheeks flushed. Sirius couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that the man had been checking him out.

He gulped. “It’s groundbreaking.”

Sirius was about to agree when another box caught his eye, this one filled to the brim with CD’s. A familiar album cover was at the top of the pile, and he picked it up.

“Emotionalism? This album is incredible. Do you listen to them?”

Remus’s eyes brightened with passion and he grinned. “Track 10.”

They launched into a discussion about the album and the other music they listen to, somehow ending up discussing where they came from and where they longed to go. At some point, Sirius sat on the edge of the truck, Remus joining him, legs swinging back and forth, all the while the rain continuing to beat down on them as they continued to talk for what felt like hours, never once hitting an uncomfortable silence or an awkward topic. A tether seemed to form between the two men as they connected through words.

“We should probably finish up with these boxes,” Sirius nodded to the books behind him, reluctant to end their conversation.

After that, the two men danced around each other as they efficiently moved all the books into the new store. The rain conveniently stopped just as Sirius brought in the last box. He walked back outside where the man was sitting on the rear of the truck, reading a book. Sirius used this moment to look at him. His hair was nearly dry, and had a glorious golden hue in the curls. He was beautiful.

He looked up as Sirius approached and stood up.

“Thank you so much… I really appreciate your help. It would have taken me twice the amount of time to do all of that,” he waved his hand toward his store and chuckled.

“A handsome man in need of a white knight? My pleasure,” he shamelessly flirted.

The stranger blushed all the way down to his toes. “Er…thanks. Have – have a good day.” He abruptly turned his heel and practically ran into his shop.

Sirius swore at himself. He was so damn forward. He groaned and began walking back to Guns ’n Roses, sans a cute guy’s number.

It wasn’t until Sirius was inside his shop that he realized he never got his name.

He came back to the present to find James shaking his head at him.

“What happened to the Sirius Black I knew, the one who went after anything he wanted?”

“You know what happened to him.”

James tsked at him. “You can’t let one man ruin any chance for others. He was a complete asshole who treated you like scum. You’re better than him, mate. You’re better than what your family believes you to be; better than what you see yourself as.”

Sirius spared a glance at James, who was looking down at him with love.

“Is this the part where we hug?”

James scrunched up his nose and shoved Sirius back on the shoulder. They laughed together and Sirius retreated back to the counter. He picked out a peony from the vase and let out a deep breath. James grinned at his unusually nervous friend.

“Now go get some, my man!” James spanked his butt on the way out.

Needless to say, Sirius bruised his shoulder. Again.

*                      *                      *

A bell jingled as Sirius opened the door to the bookstore. Before he opened the door, however, he noticed a few Valentine’s themed books in the front window. Laughter bubbled up at the sight of erotic romances, and he continued into the shop.

Peering inside, a vintage looking shop with what looked like hundreds upon hundreds of bound words resting on wooden shelves stretching across the majority of the room met his eyes. Toward the back, he could make out a few overstuffed armchairs. He stepped inside and inhaled the scent of old paperbacks and freshly brewed coffee. Not having noticed before, he realized the small bar to the right. It was a bookstore café.

He walked in further, finding no one in sight. He bit his lip in anxiousness.

Was he even here?

Sirius strolled past the bookshelves, glancing into each aisle, but the man from a few weeks ago was nowhere to be found.

Finally, he got to the last shelf of classic novels. He looked down the narrow aisle between the books.

There he was.

Standing on a stool librarians often use, he was leafing through a gently used book. His untidy curls stuck up every which way, and his thickly framed glasses were on the verge of falling off his nose. And they weren’t covered with raindrops this time. Angled toward him, Sirius noticed his sweater. It was pink with a few sewn hearts on it for the holiday, he presumed. He was even more adorable than Sirius remembered.

The man shelved the book with satisfaction. He then stepped down to the box beside the stepping stool to pick up another book. As he grabbed the book and straightened, his gaze caught Sirius standing in the middle of the aisle. His eyes widened with surprise.

“Oh, hullo,” he said, self consciously running his hand through his golden hair, making it stick up even more.

“Hi, I don’t know if you remember, but I helped you move in a few days ago. I’m –”

“Sirius.” As soon as the man said it, he blushed furiously. “Er, your friend came in the other day and mentioned you owned the floral shop across the street.” The only coherent thought in Sirius’s head was, James went into a bookstore? Remus continued. “I figured it was you, seeing as you came in and out of the shop when you helped me that day, so I asked for your name. Did I thank you, by the way? It was really kind…” Sirius watched him with intrigue as he stumbled over his words.

When he finished his rambling, he simply stood there with bright eyes and tousled hair.

“I’m Remus Lupin, by the way. A bit of a late introduction, but …er –”

“Better late than never, Remus,” Sirius finished for him, grinning. Remus loved the way his velvet voice wrapped along the two syllables of his name.

They stood there for a few moments, looking at each other with anticipation.

“This is for you,” Sirius blurted out, reaching out and handing him the flower. Remus’s eyes softened and gladly took the peony.

“It’s beautiful, thank you. I, erm… I was actually just going to bring you something once I finished shelving,” he waved his arm at the pile of books behind him.

“You’re in luck. I’m quite a fan of surprises.”

Remus led him down the aisle, past the dozens of bookshelves, and to the café. Sirius followed him like a lost puppy.

Once they reached the café, Remus picked up a lone mug on the countertop. He turned around and held it out to Sirius. He looked at the cappuccino to see a dog paw designed with milk on the top.

“I saw you walking your dog past my store on Saturday, and well, I thought you’d like it.”

Sirius’s heart squeezed.

“I love it, it’s amazing … I actually came over here to ask you out.”

Not believing his ears, Remus tripped over his own feet as he took a clumsy step forward to hand the coffee to Sirius. Although he steadied himself from falling forward, the contents flew out of the mug and onto Sirius. And as if it were happening in slow motion, the hot liquid splattered Sirius’s white shirt, staining it a muddy brown color.

Remus’s eyes widened in horror.

Sirius looked down at his wet shirt, and back up at Remus’s horrified expression.

“Shit on a fucking stick! Bloody hell, I’m such a fucking wanker.” A long list of expletives shot out of Remus’s mouth.

And Sirius began laughing.

To his chagrin, Remus decided it was a good idea to grab a towel and begin dabbing at Sirius’s shirt with it. He began wiping at his stomach, not-so-subtly feeling his impressively hard muscles, then got to his knees and cleaned the coffee off of Sirius’s shoes and the floor.

“As much as I like the sight of you kneeling before me, I don’t think it’s doing much.”

Remus tilted his head up. Sirius was looking down at him with amusement and heat in his eyes.

Sirius bent down and got eye level with Remus. He grabbed his chin gently with two fingers.

“You’re the clumsiest, most adorable man I’ve ever met,” he whispered, leaning in until their lips almost met.

Before Sirius could move an inch further, Remus shot up on his feet.

“Er, we should… I-I have customers.”

Sirius stood up and looked around at the vacant bookstore and to the lone worker at the coffee bar who was on her phone.

“I think you could manage a five minute break.”

And with that, Sirius grabbed Remus’s pale hand in his warm one and led him out the door to the floral shop across the street.

Sirius held open the front door, extending his hand out to let Remus walk in first. “Gentlemen first.”

Remus walked into the store with Sirius behind him, and before Sirius could open his mouth to welcome and give him a tour, a flash of light blinded their eyes.

“What the fuck?”

Sirius blinked a few times to regain his vision, only to find James standing in front of them, camera poised in front his grinning face. Remus was looking at him, confusion written all over his face as he too readjusted his eyes.

“Aw, look at your faces.” He bought down the camera to look at the picture he just shot. He keenly resembled a proud parent on the night of prom. “You guys are such a cute couple.”

Sirius’s mouth hung wide open, disbelief and embarrassment written over his face. He crossed an arm around himself and hid his head in his heads, face palming his forehead very audibly, shaking his head in defeat.

Remus, on the other hand was smiling, amusement in his eyes. He gave James a small wave. “Nice to see you again, James. But, er, we aren’t exactly dating. We’ve really just been properly introduced.”

James waved him off. “Not yet you aren’t,” he winked suggestively.

Sirius lifted his head abruptly. “James,” he seethed, trying to remain pleasant. “Don’t you have to go do that thing?”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully and frowned. “I don’t think so, mate –”

But one look from Sirius had him running to the back.

Sirius was furious. James was a wonderful friend, no doubt. But he knew what Sirius had gone through with his previous relationship – the pain he had experienced after the man he loved cheated on him. Coming home from the jewelers, a newly bought engagement ring in his pocket. Calling out his name, his heart pounding in anticipation. Hearing sounds from their bedroom, and opening the door to see him fucking another man. Screaming and screaming and screaming until his voice was hoarse and his tears were nearly drowning him. Throwing the ring in his face. The betrayal. The heartbreak.

James knew. He witnessed it all – the breaking, the burning, the healing. He knew that Sirius thought he would never let someone in like that again; that he would never know what intimacy and love would feel like.

Three years gone. He had never been in a relationship since – never found a person that he could open himself up to. And now, with Remus, he felt like he could have that chance of happiness and love.

If James didn’t fuck it all up.

He turned around to face Remus, a long winded apology already on the tip of his tongue, but before he could get out a word, Remus took a long stride forward, wrapped Sirius in his arms, and kissed him, his lips soft and plush and fumbling.

Sirius, completely taken aback, had only one thought running through his mind. Remus is gay. I owe James ten bucks.

But that instantly vanished when he realized, Remus is kissing me.

Once his brain properly functioned, his lips curled into a warm smile and he began to properly kiss Remus back. His slightly shaky hand tentatively slid up to wrap around Remus’s neck, deepening the kiss. The other went around the man’s narrow waist, fingers tightening around his soft and oversized jumper, curling around the material to pull Remus closer to him.

They continued to kiss for what felt like hours. With their bodies pressed tight against one another, they were in their own cocoon of blissful heat. When Sirius pulled back slightly, his stormy eyes met Remus’s, whose were bright and warm like melted chocolate. He brought his hand up to cup Remus’s cheek tenderly, drinking in the flushed face, shy smile, and tousled hair.

“Can I just say something?” Sirius asked, breathless. A nod. “I am a fucked up man. I haven’t had a relationship in three years.” He shook his head, laughing a little. “You make me feel, Remus. I don’t know what it is about you. And I know we’ve only just met, and fucking hell this is cliché, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. Maybe it’s your taste in literature or your adorably crooked glasses, or maybe it’s the fact we connect in this way that I’ve never experienced. But I want to take this chance with you and risk being completely destroyed instead of wondering what could have been. So please take that chance with me because you are like no one I have ever met.” He exhaled a breath and quickly added, “It’s also a bonus that you’re incredibly handsome and witty.”

Remus laughed incredulously and merely nodded, whispering, “Yes.”

Sirius held up a finger, and ran over to the display case, picking up a single rose, and rushed back to Remus, holding it out to him.

He smiled, accepting the flower and pulled Sirius into him, kissing the life out of him.

From a passerby’s view in the cobbled streets, they would simply see two men in a tight embrace, their gazes never wavering.

Two lovers on Valentine’s Day.

[jawnjendes]

shawn meets... | bella(2)

SUMMARY: in the life of a rockstar, shawn mendes comes across some unique people. sometimes, things stray from the norm. (AU, shawn x every one of my oc’s)(continuation/spin off of goth gf)

AN: imma jus be straight up bc no one cares otherwise,,,,,,, the goth gf makes a return in this chapter

****let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

previous chapter

bella’s origin story | bella’s playlist | masterlist

Shawn was really pushing his 30s, or it felt like that the moment he hit 28. He felt it in his soul… and his knees. And his back. Thank god his face was still intact, though. It was really shitty that part of your success in this industry depended on your looks. Brian used to give Shawn so much shit about using face masks when they were younger and honestly… Shawn wished he was here to do it again.

While he wasn’t exactly nervous about presenting at an awards show for the millionth time, he still liked to have someone around who knew him before all of this fame. Someone normal. Shawn couldn’t find it in his heart to find someone new to keep him humble. If he wasn’t still grieving the loss, his ego would be colossal. He thought about bringing Aaliyah along, but she was neck deep in her third year of graduate school. He considered Connor, but he got a new job photographing some other famous singer. There was no one like Brian, as it turns out.

The reflection in the mirror practically matched Shawn’s feelings in the moment: indifferent about the awards show, mildly sad about the lingering absence. Tiffany was running a lint roller over the deep burgundy blazer. Tonight’s look was, for lack of a better word, edgy. Shawn had on eyeliner for once, and the square frames he actually needed for reasons other than vanity. He also on a sheer black button up underneath the blazer, showing the upside down torch tattoo on his chest. While he was indifferent about tonight, he was still confident about his appearance and the presentation he was going to make.

Tonight, Shawn was going to present the Person of the Year Award to none other than Bella Santiago. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t have agreed to this, much less written the speech himself. Bella had become a friend to him over the last few years; She wrote a track with him for his first album, and more recently, she invited him to her wedding. Shawn adored Bella, and she was the only reason he was here tonight. At least, that’s what he was told.

Once he was deemed presentable enough, Shawn was moved out of the shared dressing room and put in the green room. His team dispersed, finally having a moment to breathe before the show started. Shawn grabbed a bottle of water and mingled with a few acquaintances and friends he hadn’t spoken to in a long while. His year was busy, even though he was just making plans to create and release new music. There were enough meetings and writing sessions to keep him from talking to any of his friends. At least the friends in this industry understood that.

People were coming and going from the room. Managers were discussing manager things. Celebrities that were actually friends with each other stuck together. Some were watching the live feed of the red carpet on the monitor that was hanging on the wall. A group of new age YouTubers were getting their photos taken, and Shawn didn’t recognize any of them. The only person he watched on YouTube apart from Bella was his other friend, Aria Mercer, who was here as well. She and her husband, Joe Sugg, were getting their photos taken after the previous group. They were in matching navy blue suits, the epitome of couple goals.

The only other YouTuber that Shawn knew about had just made her entrance to the green room. Although Bella Santiago had permanently gotten rid of the hot pink hair years ago, she still sported the color in a bedazzled gown. At her side were three people: Sonji the manager, in a purple business suit; Ethan Nestor the husband, in a pink dress shirt and black bowtie to match his wife; An unrecognizable woman with short hair, in a grey pantsuit and massive prescription glasses. Maybe a handler.

Shawn didn’t pay any mind to her as he went over to the group. He approached Bella with open arms, and she was more than happy to see him.

“Hola, hermoso!” she greeted as she took his hands.

They both looked at each other’s outfits in admiration, marveling at how pretty the other looked. Then, it was Sonji’s turn to schmooze.

“Shawn, you get better and better with age!” she gushed as she pulled him in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Love the eyeliner, boo.”

“Thank you.” He smiled wider. “You look gorgeous as always.”

“And you remember, Ethan,” Bella said, placing her hand on her husband’s shoulder.

Ethan was much more casual and went for the handshake. Shawn had only met him once at the wedding a few years ago. All he knew about Ethan was that he also had a YouTube channel. Shawn never got into it, though.

“And this is-” Bella looked to where the last person in her group was standing, but held her tongue.

The woman in glasses had disappeared, and none of them realized until now.

Sonji sighed. “Where did that girl go?”

“Who was she?” Shawn asked, noticing the rapidly growing concern between the three people.

“My therapist,” Bella explained, looking around the room almost frantically. “I’ve always had a therapist accompany me to big events like these. And now she’s abandoned me, I guess!”

“Hey, I bet she’s close by,” Ethan told her as he took her hand in both of his. “We’ll find her, okay?”

“I’ll go find her,” Sonji said as she cracked her knuckles, diving further into the green room.

Shawn was about ready to back away slowly and let them figure that out. He didn’t like the situation any more than they did, but if he stuck around any longer it would get very awkward.

But Bella spoke up. “Ethan, can you help her? I’ll have Shawn stay with me.”

“You sure?” Ethan asked, glancing at the other man. It was easy to tell he was protective of his wife and very cautious of her anxiety.

“I got her, it’s fine,” Shawn replied, moving to stand next to Bella.

With that, Ethan followed Sonji’s trail. Bella moved closer to Shawn, picking at her fingernails.

“You excited about tonight?” Shawn asked her.

“Nervous,” she corrected. “Really nervous. I brought my shrink to help me with that, and she was supposed to walk with me onstage. Now she’s gone. Fuck me, I guess.”

“Doesn’t sound like a good shrink. Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Just stick with me until one of my people come back.”

“I can do that. Would you wanna step out of the room or stay in here?”

“Here’s fine.” Bella sighed and dropped her hands to her sides. “I just hate dealing with this after years of therapy, y’know?”

Shawn had been looking around the room until that sentiment, which made his heart ache. He saw the worry in Bella’s brown eyes, and he properly turn to face her. “You’ve come a long way, you can’t forget that. A couple years ago, you told me you’d never be able to attend something like this. Give yourself some credit.”

Her shoulders relaxed a little bit. “I’m just glad it’s you presenting the award. Wouldn’t have done this if it was some stranger making a speech about me.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t have written a speech about someone I didn’t know or believe in.”

Bella cracked a small smile and squeezed his arm. “You better not make me cry onstange!”

He chuckled. He knew his speech like the back of his hand. He could only hope that she would like it. “No spoilers.”

That made Bella giggle, something that relieved the nerves a little bit. Then, she scanned the room once more. “Where’s my husband? And my shrink?”

“Yeah, what kind of therapist walks out on their patient?”

“She’s kinda new at this… just started her practice and-” Bella cut herself off, and then looked at Shawn like she just remembered something. “Oh.”

“Oh?” he repeated, waiting for her to elaborate. “Oh, what?”

Before anything more could be said, Andrew was at Shawn’s side, and Sonji, Ethan, and the shrink was at Bella’s. The show was about to start, and it was time to take their seats. Shawn managed to throw a not so nice look at Bella’s therapist before being whisked away.

He was followed by his team that appeared from nowhere. He quickly forgot about Bella’s sudden change in behavior as he was let in on the night’s events. He was mostly going to be sitting tonight, he wasn’t even performing, or nominated for anything. This was actually his first public appearance since Brian’s death last year. Shawn requested he didn’t do anything major, aside from presenting. He didn’t want the spotlight on him.

The awards show went as any other would. Shitty banter from the hosts, obvious reading from a teleprompter, and scripted speeches that weren’t written by the person accepting the award. It was still fun to watch; Shawn loved watching his friends get recognized for their success.

Finally, came his turn to present. Person of the Year was a prestigious award, accompanied by a speech from the presenter, a little video, and then a speech by the awardee. Shawn stood in front of the microphone, a polite smile on his face, and he began to speak.

“Fourteen years ago, a girl picked up a camera and decided to film herself doing her makeup, not having any idea where it was going to go. Bella Santiago is a person who has seen the worst of the world, and still has the courage to rise up and be the change she’s always wanted to see. She has changed the lives of many, even my own. When I first met Bella, I was twenty one. I was nervous about being in a video with her because I had outed myself as bisexual so quickly, almost effortlessly, in front of her. She looked at me and said, ‘it shows that it’s okay to be open about who you are, and you deserve to be exactly who you are.’ That is something I have carried with me to this day. You meet Bella Santiago, and she will find even the smallest way to make you feel better about yourself, and she took it even further by creating her own charity, Butterflies for the Better to help LGBTQ+ youth struggling with their mental health. Fourteen years ago, a girl picked up a camera and changed the world.”

A round of applause ripped through the crowd as the lights went down. The big screen behind Shawn lit up, showing a video of Bella’s finest moments on YouTube. Clips from her videos were compiled with some inspiring music in the background. When that was over, Shawn spoke into the microphone once again.

“It is the greatest privilege to present the Person of the Year award to my dear friend, Bella Santiago.”

The applause was much louder this time, and people got to their feet as the woman herself stepped onto the stage.  Shawn looked back, catching her eye and grinning. He also noticed the spectacled shrink at her side, holding her hand. Shawn did the whole awkward side hug thing to both women, and then stood some ways back, noticing that Bella’s shrink didn’t follow suit. Apparently she wanted her close.

“Wow…” Bella’s voice shook slightly, and she was not looking directly at the audience. Her shrink was still holding onto her hand. “Uh… I mean, Shawn was right. Little nineteen year old Bella picked up a camera with no clue of what was about to happen. If you had told her that over the next sixteen years that her channel would blow up and that she would have the opportunity to give back…” She paused and took a deep breath. “Nineteen year old Bella would have said, ‘that’s impossible, I don’t plan to live that long.’ That being said, I want to take this time to say, no matter how bad it is right now, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. And there’s always help available. I could thank so many people right now, but I’ll keep it short. Jack: my best friend and biggest motivator. Ethan: my number one and my biggest supporter. I love both of you forever. And to the therapists I’ve had: Helena Carlisle, en paz descanse. And my current therapist, Annalise Flores. You guys are fighting the good fight. Thank you for believing in me.”

Oh.

Shawn felt everything slow down and turn grey. The polite grin on his face faded immediately, and his insides started to short circuit. The name circled his head over and over, trying to make sense of it. He fought the urge to walk up to the two women and get a closer look at the spectacled one. His legs were numb as he followed them off the stage, staring at the back of their heads.

He wasn’t even fazed by the sound of Bella bursting into sobs. Something just went over Shawn’s mind, and his only goal was to just look at her therapist. There was no way… they had to have the exact same name.

Sonji and Ethan were waiting in the wings, and were quick to crowd Bella from the backstage camera, into an empty hallway. Shawn followed them, ignoring Andrew’s calls. He just kept his eyes on the back of the therapist’s head.

The therapist must have sensed this because she suddenly stopped in her tracks. Ethan, Sonji, and Bella kept walking, turning into a room. Shawn nearly ran into the therapist, obviously not expecting her to stop so quickly.

She turned around. “My patient does not wish to speak to anyone at this time.”

Her voice hadn’t changed at all. Still firm and serious, with the ability to throw Shawn back about six years.

“Ann…?” he said, eyes wide with wonder.

She didn’t say anything for a minute, but then she sighed and took off her large glasses. The prescription really skewed her eyes, because now - apart from the hair - Ann’s face was easily the same.

“I’m working,” she snapped. “I already left my patient once because of you, I’m not about to do it again.”

“But-” Shawn said, but Ann was turning on her heel and going down the hall.

He stood there, that wide-eyed, dumbfounded look still on his face. The first time he’s seen Ann in six years, and that’s how it going. How is it that the stars aligned to make this happen?

“There you are!” called Andrew from behind, at the other end of the hall. He approached his client, exasperated. “The hell are you doing out here?”

Shawn shook it off and faced the other man. “Thought I saw something.”

“Something?” Andrew repeated. “We’re on a schedule here! That something better have been important!”

“I saw my ex-girlfriend, alright?” And Shawn was undeniably shaken to the core by it. This was the last place he expected to see this particular ex.

Andrew was confused. “Camila's dressing room isn't in this wing, you know that.”

Shawn didn’t have anything to say to that. He did know that, because they were texting. He and Camila weren’t supposed to interact with each other in person until after the show.

Neither of them really listened to that rule. Public relations aside, they were still friends. Shawn was back in his dressing room when Camila finally came along.

“It’s that time again,” was the first thing she said.

Shawn immediately knew what that meant. He already knew the drill, and he didn’t want to talk about it until he had to. Right now, he had to talk about something else. “Ann is here.”

“Not Ann from college?” Camila replied, confused. “Crazy goth girl you dated? The hell is she doing here?”

“She’s a therapist! Can you believe that?” Shawn said, finally processing what had happened. “She was accompanying-”

Camila cut him off with a gasp. “Oh, I get it now! That’s why you made that face during the speech! I didn’t realize that was our Annalise! That’s so crazy!”

“Isn’t it?”

“How is it that the universe brought you two to this place at this time?”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Did you get to talk to her?”

If there were cameras or witnesses around, they would have been enthralled by the two of them animatedly talking to each other. Shawn explained the quick interaction, unsure of this feeling in his chest.

“I can’t believe she’s actually here,” Camila said. “Like, just thinking about her brings me back to college. A completely different point in life.”

Shawn agreed. Different things triggered nostalgia, and in this case, it was a person. The longer he sat there, the more he thought about the past relationship. The warm feeling was sparking in his chest, and he wanted to scratch at it.

“Do you think she still talks to Stella?” Camila’s voice softened a little bit, and she averted her eyes.

Over time, she never really spoke of her own break up. She had told Shawn that she wanted to leave Stella and that relationship on the campus grounds. All that Shawn knew was that they ended when Camila got signed. That, and…

“Weren’t you supposed to marry her?” he asked.

“Shouldn’t you be married to Annalise and have like three of her babies by now?” she said back, snark in her tone. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. That’s just… the thought of Ann being here, here in this world…”

“It’s a reminder of what we left behind,” Shawn continued. “Ann is what I left behind, so I get it.”

They both sighed, letting this sink in. Then, a voice came from the doorway.

"Hello!" It was Bella's manager, Sonji. "Don't mean to interrupt you two lovebirds!"

"Oh, we're not-"

"It's okay-"

Shawn and Camila shared a look. How fast was it supposed to happen this time?

Sonji raised an eyebrow. "Anyway… Mr. Mendes, if you could come with me."

"Why?" he asked, standing up and doing what was told. He gave Camila one last glance before leaving the dressing room.

"Like nobody noticed your entire soul leave your body at the sound of my client's therapist's name," Sonji replied with a chuckle. "Did you know you're trending on Twitter?"

Shawn didn't say anything, but a deep pit formed in his stomach. So it was that obvious, eh? He didn't even want to watch back the footage.

After walking past some important looking people, the two were in the room that Bella was confined to after receiving her award. However, Bella and Ethan were gone, and all who was left was none other than-

"Ann-banan!" Sonji called to the other woman, who had been talking on the phone.

"Okay, Ms. Adair, just tell your employer-" She looked up, circular spectacles hanging on her nose. Then, she went back to her call. "Tell Ms. Lilith I will get back to her at my earliest convenience." And she hung up.

If Shawn wasn't so stuck in 2019, he would have been floored at the names he heard.

"The man you requested," Sonji said, gesturing to Shawn. "Y'all got until Bella finishes her interviews."

With that, Shawn Mendes and Annalise Flores were left alone for the first time in six years. Ann took off and played with her glasses, watching Shawn, who was stunned at the fact that she requested him. She wanted to see him, but she didn't look happy about it.

"So, what's up?" he asked.

"Let's see," Ann replied, an annoyed grin on her face. "You lay eyes on me like I'm something stuck under your shoe, and you look away. Then, your ability to internalize your feelings becomes the most important thing about my patient's speech. Finally, you try to follow me when I'm trying to diffuse said patient's anxiety attack!"

Shawn blinked. "Good to see you too."

Ann took a deep breath. "Not that I'm not pleasantly surprised to see you. But I'm working, and so are you."

This was not how was Shawn expecting this to go.

"So why did you want me over here then?"

"I would like to catch up," she said. "Just can't do it now."

And that's how fast Shawn perked up. "Doing anything after the show?"

Ann shook her head. "Not today. It's been a day. I would like to give this the attention it deserves, and I do not have the emotional capacity for that."

It sounded so calculated and scripted, but Shawn was touched anyway. He didn't know what Ann had gone through today, but it wasn't enough for her to put off catching up with him so she could address it better.

"Yeah, okay," Shawn said with a nod. "Do you live here in LA? We can meet for coffee? Or… somewhere less public if you'd like?"

Ann was quiet for a moment, still playing with her glasses. "Less public is good."

"Absolutely. I'll text you, yeah?"

The two of them traded numbers, and then there was a knock on the door. Sonji peered her head inside.

"Okay, put your clothes back on! Ann-banan, you have another visitor!"

"Who?" Ann asked.

Shawn turned to find Camila entering the room. She was much more bubbly and enthusiastic, cutting the tension that had inexplicably risen.

"Hey, girl!" Camila greeted, bouncing over to Ann and pulling her into a hug.

Only Shawn saw the mild discomfort on Ann's face as she was touched. He offered an apologetic smile.

"Look at us, reunited!" Camila exclaimed when she let go of the other woman. "All we need is Stella and the circle is complete!"

Ann hummed, her expression unreadable. "Okay, well it was nice catching up, but I have to get back to my patient."

"Oh, you're a therapist now, huh?" Camila asked. "That's so cool! How much do you charge? What do you specialize in?"

"Um…" Ann pulled her wallet out of her back pocket and opened it up, pulling out two business cards and handing it to them.

Annalise Flores, LMHC, LMFT Mental Health Counselor & Marriage and Family Therapy

Her office and cell numbers were on the card too. The card itself was very true to her nature, despite her professional attire. It was black with a holographic crescent moon on it.

"Look at you living your dream." Shawn grinned.

"Six years and counting," Ann replied. Then, she went for the door. "I really have to go, but if you have any series inquiries about my practice, call the office."

"Will do!" Camila said, watching her leave. As soon as she was gone, she turned to Shawn. "Our little Ann has an office."

"She's a therapist," Shawn added. "We've come a long way from our university days."

next chapter

_______

taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @someoneunimportantxx @shawnsunflower @iloveshawnieboi @chillingbythesea @peruvian-bae

[lauramkaye]

On Research And Fanfiction

When you hear someone talking about research for their fanfic, what do you think of? A historical AU, maybe? Or an AU where the characters are part of a different, very technical profession? It’s true that it’s important to research for those kinds of stories, but I’d like to make a case that making research a part of your normal writing process will lead to better stories.

I’m trying to think if there is any story I’ve written, at least in the last several years, where I didn’t research at least something, and honestly even the very short ones had some element of research to it. For example, for Problem To The Answer, I looked up the original news story that inspired the fic, as well as travel times between New York and DC. In Storage War I looked up information about storage units, not because it was specifically going into the story, but to give me a better mental image of the setting. 

Now, when I say “research,” I’m not always talking about the kind of research you’d do for school; a lot of times it’s as simple as a quick Google to check on something. For example, I’m currently working on a story that is set in May 2009. I wanted to include a throwaway line where a character makes a joke about the show Jersey Shore. So I looked it up, but discovered that Jersey Shore started airing in December 2009. So out the line went.

That’s not to say that everything has to be accurate; I change things for artistic reasons all the time. But I only do it on purpose, when I choose to, for things that are important to the fic.

For a longer example, I will take the story I finished most recently, my C/C Exchange fic, A Guy Like You Should Wear A Warning. On the face of it, you wouldn’t think that story would need that much research, right? It’s a soulmate story set on a cruise ship! It’s full of absurdity!

It’s also full of research. I researched the HELL out of that story. How, you ask? (Note: the following list will spoil some plot elements if you haven’t read the story yet). Behind the cut, a description of the stuff I researched while writing it:

Historical setting: whether I like to admit it or not, 2004 was 13 years ago and things were different then. I looked up things like fashion trends, makeup trends, hit songs, and most notably, the state of cell phones. 2004 was the year that the Motorola RAZR was the hot new phone, and smartphones just weren’t a thing yet. Some of this went into the story (for instance, Tyler’s clothing choices, Melinda’s pink lipgloss, that they all have flip or candy bar phones) and some were just to get the setting clear in my head while I wrote. I also consulted calendars for 1992 and 2004 to make sure I got dates and days of the week correct for the sections of the story set then. 

Story setting: The story action largely happens on the David Hasselhoff fan cruise. While the actual DH fan cruise occurred in November 2017, I relied extensively on the information available online about it when writing the story. Specifically, I moved it from early November 2017 to early November 2004. I also moved the meet and greet event from an afternoon event to a brunch for plot reasons. Everything else about the trip is accurate: the way that they would have traveled to the cruise from New York (I looked up flights), the way they would have gotten to Rome, the cruise schedule and stops. I also looked up maps and photographs of the cruise ship and referred to them extensively; I spent a lot of time on cruise vacationer forums while writing this story.

Phil’s studies: I looked up various colleges with good reputations in Phil’s field, and the sorts of classes he would take; I looked up actual classes at UMW; I looked up actual cryptography and cipher information. This is all current rather than historical, but I figure it’s close enough for these purposes. The point of the research isn’t to be completely 100% accurate in every respect, but more to make sure that nothing is obviously, jarringly wrong for most readers.

Events on shore: In the part of the story where Phil goes ashore in Rome, he goes to shops that really exist on the road that the story says he is on, and he goes to them in more or less geographic order, according to Google Maps. I also looked up actual products from those stores to describe. Now, these items are current (2017) rather than historical (since it wasn’t easy to find 2004 stuff online), but I still think it helps give these parts of the story verisimilitude. I also looked up the kinds of agriculture done in Catalonia for the big showdown at the end, and the actual area of Catalonia (so that when Phil says “this farm is fifty acres, I doubt that’s even one percent of Catalonia,” he is actually verifiably correct.)

Russian stuff: Since Clint’s soulmark is in Russian and Russian language is key to the story, I spent a lot of time working on the Russian parts of this story. For Clint’s soulmark, I posted a question on an online forum for Russian speakers to help me figure out something that would be appropriate. My first thought was to ask the translation for “Are you fucking kidding me?”, but as I engaged with the Russian speakers, I learned that it just wasn’t that simple. Profanity in Russian is very different than it is in English, and so much depends on the context and relationship between the speakers. The phrase we finally settled on, Еще чего не хватало, is literally translated something like “this is just the last thing I need,” but has a negative and somewhat sarcastic connotation, so that a good idiomatic equivalent in English is “I need this like I need a hole in the head.” For the other Russian, I depended on a really cool website that isn’t a dictionary but a translation search engine called Reverso Context. The great thing about this tool is that, unlike dictionaries, you can search entire sentences and phrases, and get an assortment of translated passages that match, so you can see the various ways the phrase might get used. It means you’ll get a better result than just typing something into Google Translate would give you. I use Reverso Context in combination with dictionaries and Google Translate in order to get the best idea possible of what I’m saying. It doesn’t substitute for a native speaker beta, but it’s a good fallback position. I also did a lot of research into Russian nomenclature and diminutive names, and into Russian profanity (which is SO INTERESTING, look up mat sometimes and read about it.)

David Hasselhoff: I looked up his albums released up to and including 2004. I listened to clips of his music (it is so bad you guys) and watched videos of his concert performances (OMG the LED jacket is really a thing). All the songs and medleys and such that I describe him doing are real things he’s really done. I also looked up his online merch (Melinda’s bedazzled Don’t Hassle The Hoff shirt is real) and watched the video he made promoting the cruise, to get an idea of his speech patterns for the few places when he speaks in the story.

There are a lot of other little miscellaneous things I looked up - how far ahead of getting married in NYC you need to get the license; a real place in South America that had a munitions depot explosion; grain silo explosions and how they happen; the average temperatures on the Mediterranean Sea in November; how much a suit costs at Brioni; the organizational structure of the FBI, etc. Even Barney Barton being in the FBI is rooted in canon - that’s something that Barney really has done in the comics.

This probably all sounds like WAY TOO MUCH WORK, but most of these things didn’t take a huge amount of time - it was more like “oh, wait, they didn’t have smartphones in 04, did they?” and then a quick Google, or scan of a wiki page. I spent my writing time with a lot of open tabs of maps, cruise ship layouts, etc., that I would refer to when I was trying to figure out where the characters were going. Because I have research baked in to my process, it happens mainly when I am outlining, with occasional quick Googles to double-check stuff I throw in when I’m writing.

Would the story be worse if I hadn’t done all this? I think it would. I think the research makes the story feel true, rooted in the real world, and that gives me a lot more latitude to go nuts with things like soulmates and Russian mob bros and throwing David Hasselhoff’s mimosa in someone’s face. Also, hopefully, if I have a reader who happens to know a lot about Russian, or Rome, or majoring in political science, or David Hasselhoff, that reader won’t be thrown out of the story by something obviously wrong. (also, open invitation: if you are reading a fic of mine and see something obviously wrong, I WELCOME THAT KNOWLEDGE and will fix it if I can without having to rewrite major bits of the story.)

I don’t expect everyone to be QUITE as intense about research as I am--I admit I’m pretty darn intense about research. But I would like to encourage other writers to make at least some research part of their process! It leads to better stories all around, and sometimes the things you find out help you make your stories better in cool new directions.

[ragwitch]

Birthday Cakes In Bars

Happy birthday to @idontgettechnology !! I hope your day is full of delicious treats and that this is one of them for you. <3s

Pairing: why it's Darcy/Steve shieldshock of course!!

Words: 1647

Rating: M for language and general shenaniganry

Darcy was working her way through the collection of naughty themed alcoholic drinks - she liked the name of Sex with An Alligator, but so far the Leg Spreader was her favorite - while the rest of her party hollered at the man who was rolling his stomach on the stage, slowly stripping out of his construction vest.

Darcy grinned as he revealed a little belly, furry and undefined, lights bouncing off the reflective tape on his orange vest.

Natasha had picked the venue. Called it ‘authentic’ which Darcy had squinted at until they’d pulled up in Pepper’s SI arranged limousine and the awning had declared it ‘Amateur Night.’ And it was kind of the cutest thing she’d ever seen. These guys were so earnest and nervous with the women cheering for them.

And earnest and nervous really did it for Darcy.

The construction worker - she was pretty sure he was an actual city construction worker who she’d passed on 11th in the past week or so - finished up in a pair of clean tighty whiteys, his tool belt, and work boots. Darcy giggled as she watched Maria Hill slip a twenty into the front of his belt as he thrusted and winked at her.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Darcy spun her chair to face Natasha who had slinked backstage a couple acts ago.

“Oh?” Darcy asked, and tried not to wince.

“I can see your eye twitching,” Natasha said. “Come sit at the front, please.”

She wanted to be a good sport about it, she really did. It wasn’t Natasha’s fault she didn’t know that Darcy had a perfectly good view waiting for her back at the Tower.

“I called in a favor,” Natasha said, as she pushed Darcy down into a chair at the very front of the audience.

The lights were dim on the stage as the announcer came over the loudspeaker.

“We have a very special performance tonight ladies and gentleman. A special group of fellas came all the way out to Brooklyn to make a birthday girl’s night just that much better. Daisy Lawerence-” Natasha winked at her with the name change, “-Here are…The Avengers!!”

The audience screamed behind Darcy, who sat stunned in the chair as the lights rose and a line of scantily clad men in chintzy Avengers masks stood on either side of an enormous sparkling birthday cake prop. Darcy blinked at the largest of the group. She knew that twelve pack. She’d seen it more than she really even wanted to, if that was something that could be said about Thor’s physique.

“How many favors did you call in?” Darcy asked as she realized that the men behind the masks were in fact The Avengers. Well, most of them.

And they were all thrusting their pelvises in a somewhat synchronized pattern in her direction. Sam had moves. Clint was hopeless, all flailing. And Bruce was … subdued but in time. Tony was maybe a little over enthusiastic. But Bucky and Thor were doing pretty well and Darcy was outrageously charmed by the winter soldier imitation sleeve covering Bucky’s real prosthetic.

And Natasha had choreographed something to Strange Times by the Black Keys which may not have been the sexiest song, but it was a favorite of hers and a fairly simple beat. Which Tony was adding a lot of flair to. Dear God. Pepper rushed the stage and Tony met her at the edge, squatting obscenely for her to tuck a hundred dollar bill into the waistband of his red and gold boxer briefs.

“Okay, you win,” Jane said across Darcy to Natasha, voice raising to be heard above the din of women behind them.

“Where’s the Captain?” Someone shouted from the back.

Yes, Darcy wondered. Where was Steve? She had a sneaking suspicion.

“Incoming,” Natasha whispered in her ear and then Bucky and Thor were both reaching down into the crowd to lift her up onto the stage.

Darcy tried to bury the cackling laugh as Bucky started grinding against her side and Thor turned his back to her to flex his ass cheeks in her direction. She couldn’t. It was a lost cause and she ended up snorting and hiding her face behind her hands as they traded places with Clint and Bruce. Bruce patted her sympathetically on the arm as Tony and Sam sandwiched her between both of them. Tony was grunting in concentration as he worked out an elaborate routine against her.

“Oh my god,” Darcy said, mostly to herself, trying to see through the stage lights to find Natasha.

“Up onto the cake, Darce,” Sam said into her ear, lending her a hand as she walked up the layers of the cake - red, white, and blue, with fancy little LED candles that shifted colors.

Sure enough, at the top, Steve’s shield sat, facing up, and wavering slightly with his movements below. She bit her lip as the music kicked up a beat, and the shield tilted up, revealing Steve wincing out of his Captain America cowl, blush spreading out and down his neck.

“You’re supposed to come out,” she said, trying to fight her grin.

He grimaced but started shimmying up out of the interior of the cake. The room exploded beyond them with sound, screams. Dollar bills fluttered through the air to land on the stage, and Clint was quick to crawl around and gather them up.

“Do you want to come in instead?” Steve asked, as his now extremely shiny pectorals peeked up out of the brim of the cake. She couldn’t hear much of the words but she could see them on his lips and the nervous glance he gave the audience.

She held her hand out to him and waggled her eyebrows.

The song was almost over. And the money on the stage was either going to be buying her birthday drinks or - more likely - going to charity.

Steve sighed and rose up, revealing miles of tanned, buffed, oiled skin and the smallest and most patriotic male thong she had ever seen.

“Oh god, yes,” she said, opening her eyes wide and covering her mouth with her hand. Natasha had bedazzled it. She was positive that this was Natasha’s work.

Steve’s hips were swirling, or attempting to, the motions slightly stiff and jerky. Darcy leaned into him, pressing her lips to his ear so he could hear her over the din. “You’re usually a little more into this part.”

Steve leaned back to give her a narrowed eye look before stepping out onto the first cake tier and crowding into her personal space, his thighs bracketing hers on the narrow step. He placed the shield in front of them, boos rising up from the crowd, and proceeded to raise a blush up Darcy’s neck and cheeks for the last few seconds of the song.

“Can I get a Quick Fuck?” Darcy asked, sliding up next to Steve at the bar and pointing up at the billboard above them.

Steve stared at her as the bartender nodded. He’d appeared in the crowd a safe amount of time after his debut on stage and while he was definitely getting attention from almost every woman in the bar in his jeans and stupidly fitted shirt no one seemed to connect him to her cake topper performer.

“It’s a drink,” she said, smiling at him.

He raised one eyebrow. “Natasha thinks you have a crush on me.”

Darcy grinned. “Well, we knew she was observant. That’s why she talked you into doing this?”

Steve turned his smile down to the bar and nodded.

“Well it’s a great gift, thank you,” she said, and she tapped her hip against his where he sat.

“That’s not my gift,” he said, turning on the bar stool and stretching a leg out to the empty seat next to him so she was trapped between him and the bar.

“Oh yeah?” she asked.

He nodded slowly. “My gift was going to be a private strip tease.”

“Well this may have been public but it wasn’t too far off,” she said.

The layered shot slid across the bar to Darcy and Steve signaled for it to go on his tab.

“Oh I wasn’t going to be the one stripping,” he said, his cheeks pinking even as his stare on her face made the room feel about ten degrees hotter than it had a minute ago. “But I promise you would have enjoyed it.”

“Lemme get this straight,” she said, turning and taking a step closer. “I strip. You tease?”

“I’ll do more than tease, Darce,” he said. Then he stole her drink, shooting it back with one quick motion. He set the glass back down on the bar and quirked an eyebrow, “Is that melon?”

“Midori. I’ve been drinking a lot of Leg Spreaders,” she admitted. “Wanted to stick with the flavor.”

He blinked. “Umm…Well, I had an idea but…I mean, should it wait till tomorrow? I don’t want to take advantage.”

She shook her head quickly. “Nope. No. Nope. I drank more water than alcohol and I’ve been looking forward to birthday sex all night. This super hot Captain America impersonator got me all worked up on stage.”

“Can’t have been as good as the real thing,” Steve said, forcing a frown.

“Well no, but I liked his outfit.”

“Right then,” he said, dropping a generous bill on the bar counter and standing, hand pooling heat on her lower her back as he filled up the space around her with the warm coconut smell left on his skin from the oil. “I know where to find a fairly discreet dressing room backstage.”

“Natasha is very observant,” she warned. “We probably won’t be a secret if you give me a birthday fuck in a dressing room.”

Steve shrugged. “But do you wanna?”

Of course she wanted to.

[rauliskafan]

Little Lessons in Expecting: Chapter 6

Authors’ Note: Happy Wednesday, wonderful readers!!! Natalia is in her eighth month, Maggie is throwing a party... and Rafael and Dodds have a surprise up their sleeves! Read on for more, and even though these “Little Lessons” are coming to an end, stay tuned for some sweet surprises very soon! @vintagemichelle91 and I hope that you enjoy!!!

           “Natty! Open this one next!”

           Sitting in the center of her sister’s living room surrounded by pink paper and an assortment of frilly bows, Natalia began to pick away at yet another pastel package.

           “That one is from me,” Lucia said, drinking watermelon punch. When Maggie had promised a shower worthy of ten new Lady Barbas, even as Hazel and Holly were more miracles than Natalia had ever counted on, the ballerina was in earnest. Rosy streamers trailed from every archway spilling towards blush confetti that caught in everyone’s shoes and created tracks wherever the revelers walked. All leading back to strawberry ice cream paired with the kind of cupcakes that Rafael only imagined when he painted an Easter egg so long ago.

           All and all, a perfect palace for the princesses sleeping soundly under Natalia’s heart.

           “What did you do, Lucia?” Liv teased. Natalia, shaken from her reverie, slowly unwrapped the gift.

           “Oh my God!” Natalia cried. “ABBA?”

           “I could not resist,” Lucia said after another sip. “Rafi used to dance up a storm to that. He can show the little ones the way to do it.”

           Liv burst out laughing along with Rollins. But Violetta climbed off Alessia’s lap to inspect the vinyl record still in its jacket.

           “Mami, how that make music?” Violetta asked.

           “We put it on a turntable and then a needle drops---”

           “And then you put up an SOS to stop the dancing feet,” Lucia joked. But Violetta still appeared perplexed.

           “Why now?” she asked. “Why not the big circles make music when I first come home?”

           To that Natalia had no answer, and the room fell quiet save for Frannie Mae’s snores at Rollins’ feet as Natalia tried to come up with the right answer.

           “Relax, Mami,” Violetta said, stopping the silence. “I fine with sharing. But I want to dance with Papi, too.”

           “And so you will,” Lucia assured her. “At Nana and Trevor’s wedding. Right, Alessia?”

           Her mother chuckled, and Natalia heaved a sigh of relief. Setting the record aside, she thanked her mother-in-law with a shy smile, and turned her attention to the next gift.

           “Those things are lifesavers,” Rollins said as Natalia revealed two swaddles meant to keep the twins close. “And since there’s going to be all this dancing…”

           “Plus they match Rafael’s socks!” Natalia remarked as her fingers traced the intricate patterns all pink and purple. A smile graced her strawberry frosted lips at the thought of Rafael balancing one baby on each hip, singing so many songs...

           “Oh!”

           “Natty, what is it?” Alessia asked. “Are you alright?”

           “They kicked!” Natalia said. “They’re dancing already!”

           The room erupted in coos, a series of hands resting on her belly as the twins bounced from within. Even Frannie Mae pushed in on the action, licking what was left of the cupcake from Natalia’s fingertips as Maggie announced that it was time for her present.

           “Maggie, you already gave me the party,” Natalia said.

           “Watch me top it,” Maggie responded, beaming with pride. A pull on one final ribbon, and Natalia laughed at the sight of a diaper cake overflowing with lotions and pairs of pink stuffed monkeys and so many booties bordering on ballet shoes.

           “Maggie!” Natalia screeched. “This is too much.”

           “Not for you,” Maggie said, quickly kissing her sister’s cheek. “And look, Little V! I have something for you, too!”

           Reaching behind the couch, Maggie retrieved a rectangular box also wrapped in pink, and Violetta eagerly tore through the paper to show off a bedazzled shirt reading Big Sister to Twins… and Boss Lady of the World. It took Violetta a few tries to sound out every word, but as soon as the statement rolled off her tongue in its entirety…

           “Very good, Tia Maggie,” Violetta declared. “This be true and nobody better forget it.”

           “You’re about to have your hands full,” Liv whispered, topping off Natalia’s punch and patting her back. “Lots of restless nights.”

           “Not true,” Natalia countered. “My babies sleep soundly. My husband on the other hand…” As her voice trailed off, Natalia smirked, helping herself to another cupcake. Maggie set one of the ABBA records on her turntable and started to show Violetta how to move to the voices singing in harmony as the party carried on into the afternoon.

          “Mami? You really ready to go home?”

          Coming down from the sugar rush and looking forward to kicking off her shoes, Natalia sighed from the backseat of the taxi cab and gently fluffed Violetta’s curls.

        “Aren’t you, sweet pea?” Natalia asked. “It’s been a long day for us.”

        “Kind of,” Violetta confessed. “But I not sure if---”

         A quick hiss passing through Maggie’s teeth caused Violetta to clam up, Natalia’s eyes flickering between them, seeing the knowing glance shared and hardly masked.

        “What was that?” Natalia asked.

        “What was what?” Maggie innocently inquired.

        “That,” Natalia emphasized, pointing a finger in each direction, her eyes narrowing. But neither girl was giving up the ghost.

        “How about I put the presents away and then we take a few laps around the block to work off our cupcake calories?” Maggie suggested.

         “Good idea!” Violetta chimed in. “So we not get too fat. Course Mami right now very big, but Abuelita Lucia say a lot of that belly go down when we get the new babies.”

           “And the rest we will walk off,” Natalia said. “But not today. Let’s take a load off and see what the boys are up to.

            Flashing the driver a tired smile, Natalia climbed the steps to the front door.

           “Mami, wait!” Violetta cried out, scrambling behind her mother.

            “What is it, sweet pea?” Natalia asked.

            “I… uh… I don’t think you give the taxi man his money,” Violetta said. “And he work so hard driving all day long.”

            “Oh, I… I’m sorry.” Reaching into her purse, Natalia searched for something in the way of a proper tip, coming up empty-handed and looking to her sister for aid.

             “Craziest thing, Natty,” Maggie said, setting several presents on the stoop and barely looking in her bag. “Must have left my wallet back at the apartment.”

             “So no tip?” the driver warily asked.

            “But no worries!” Maggie quickly said. “You’ll just drive us back, and I’ll dash in---”

            “Don’t be silly, Maggie,” Natalia reasoned. “I can just run inside right here or… wait!”

            Grinning from ear to ear, she pulled out a twenty and a ten-dollar bill, handing the cash to the cabbie.

           “Keep the change,” Natalia said. “And have a wonderful day.”

           “Just got better ma’am,” the driver said, doffing his cap as he resumed his place behind the wheel. “Thank you much.”

           “Don’t mention it,” Natalia said, opening the door. The sound of Maggie swiftly tapping away at her phone was almost instantly replaced by Dodds’ excited voice.

            “You’re home!”

           “Well I do live here, Mike.” Natalia said as Violetta tugged at her skirt, trying and failing to stop her before crawling through her legs and lifting her little hands.

           “You sure you not want to see the mustache man to get more pineapple pizza?” Violetta asked, making a face as she mentioned the meal.

           “Mami is stuffed, sweet pea,” Natalia said, patting her bulging belly. “Now where is my handsome husband?”

           “He… we thought you’d be a little longer,” Dodds said, glancing at his watch before turning his eyes towards the top floor.

           And the loud thud emanating from upstairs.

           “Atticus?” Natalia called out. Maggie wobbled forward with the presents, Dodds moving fast to help her even as he kept one leg extended at the bottom most step.

           “Everything’s fine,” Dodds said, the many gifts weighing him down when Maggie pulled on her sister’s arm.

           “Who’s up for some tea?” Maggie asked. “Or maybe some milk after all that cake.”

           “I’m really fine,” Natalia said, her eyes trickling up the steps as she heard her husband’s sigh and began her ascent.

           “No!” Dodds cried, jumping forward to bar her way.

           “Mike?” Natalia challenged. “What’s going on? I thought you and Rafael were going to grab some lunch.”

           “I had a piece of your pineapple pizza,” he admitted, making Maggie wretch. “What? It’s not half bad.”

           “Do not even think of bringing that into our home,” Maggie warned as she playfully pinched his cheek.

           “Tio Mike, Mami has an excuse. You don’t,” Violetta agreed.

           “And what about Atticus?” Natalia asked. “What did he eat?” Dodds looked ready to answer when Rafael called out the sergeant’s name, and he went running.

           “What are you two doing?” Natalia demanded.

           “Two minutes!” Dodds exclaimed, his feet flying up the steps. “Maybe less!”

           With that he was gone, and Natalia looked over her shoulder, lifting an eyebrow at her sister.

           “Here I thought you were being less than subtle,” she challenged. “But your husband could learn a thing or two.”

           “Natty,” Maggie said, fluttering her eyelashes and smiling sweetly. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking---”

           “Watch it, watch it, watch it!”

           What sounded like two bumper cars going at it caused the twins to stir. Natalia clutched her stomach and suddenly felt Maggie’s hand on her arm.

           “You should sit down,” Maggie advised.

           “It’s nothing,” Natalia assured her. “I think that my two little girls are just very curious.”

           “Does that mean you have the babies now, Mami?” Violetta asked. “So they can see what happening?”

           “Not just yet, sweet pea. I---”

           “You’re home!”

           Repeating Dodds’ statement, Rafael appeared at the top of the stairs, his hair askew, his light blue shirt and khakis rumpled. Before Natalia could speak, the twins stilled in her stomach.

           “Are you alright?” he asked, taking the steps two at a time until he reached her side to take hold of her hands.

           “Wonderful,” she said with a soft kiss. “Your daughters were kicking up a storm.”

           “And they stopped?” Rafael queried.

           “The second they heard the sound of your voice.”

           Rafael’s grin expanded in the wake of her words, and Maggie suggested they sit for a second on the sofa.

           “Not until someone clues me on what’s going on up there,” Natalia said.

           “But, Mami, we---”

           “It’s alright. I think we’re ready,” Rafael said, cutting his daughter off. “Let’s have Mami close her eyes.”

           “Close my… what did you do?” Natalia asked with the smallest hint of worry in her voice.

           “You ask that like I took the roof off,” Rafael replied.

           “It was loud and… you didn’t… you didn’t do that, did you?” she asked as Rafael clicked his tongue and waved one finger under her wide stare.

           “Nothing like that, hermosa,” he assured her. “But I insist on eyes closed.”

           “I guess I’ll have to trust you,” Natalia said, her lids falling over her brown orbs.

           “Always,” Rafael whispered, kissing in her hair. With Maggie on one side and her husband on the other, Natalia started up the steps, the feel of Violetta racing ahead of them followed by the sound of her giggling with Dodds until they turned the corner and stepped through a door. Only then did Maggie release her, and Natalia leaned into Rafael’s large palms on her shoulders.

           “Atticus?”

           “Now if you don’t like it, we can always rearrange,” he promised.

           “Don’t makes me nervous,” Natalia murmured, her eyes still shut.

           “Never,” he promised. “I think… I hope that---”

           “Papi, let her look and make up mind for herself!” Violetta said, and Natalia felt Rafael take a step back along with a deep breath.

           “Okay. Open your eyes, hermosa.”

           Obeying the gentle order, Natalia’s eyes shifted to the sight of one of the unused bedrooms, a place where they forever tossed odds and ends, transformed into something out of one of Violetta’s picture books. Two cribs sat just shy of each bay window with mobiles of multi-colored fabric flowers hanging overhead. Matching bookcases already overflowed with stories, and a rocking chair with a flowered chandelier rested between the shelves. Blinking back a few tears, Natalia’s eyes drifted towards the freshly papered walls.

           “I had it specially made,” Rafael said. “Hazel and Holly flowers.”

           “Atticus, I…”

           “Like I said, if there’s any part of it you don’t like---”

           “Just head back to our place and we’ll fix it right up,” Dodds promised.

           “I can get the cab back,” Maggie said.

           “Or we could---”

           “Be quiet, you silly man,” Natalia said, cupping Rafael’s face and laughing lightly against his lips. “I couldn’t love it… or you anymore.”

           Relaxing under her fingers, Rafael answered her smile with a kiss, his head falling to her shoulder.

           “Thank you,” Natalia said, gazing into his eyes until she caught sight of Dodds hanging off to the other side of the room. “And Mike, thank you---”

           “The ADA slash carpenter here said he didn’t need my help,” Dodds said with a good-natured smirk.

           “Who do you think put Violetta’s nursery together?” Rafael challenged.

           “And who said that my company was greatly appreciated?” Dodds asked.

           Natalia watched her husband’s cheeks flush crimson as Maggie bolted forward to tousle Rafael’s already unkempt hair.

           “You’re adorable, counselor,” Maggie teased. “Next thing you know Mike will have to help you with your March Madness bracket.”

           “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Rafael asked, tilting his head along with a single eyebrow.

           “Basketball, Papi,” Violetta said rolling her eyes. “No worry. Tio Mike teach you all about jump shots.”

           “Definitely a good thing we’re not having boys,” Rafael said, starting to take Natalia into his arms as Dodds and Maggie offered to sort out the gifts.

           “I show you which pile for Hazel and which one for Holly,” Violetta said, running out of the room and leaving the expectant parents alone, Natalia’s eyes dancing as her fingers trailed along the edges of the fabric flowers and Rafael nipped at her neck.

           “You like our little garden?” he whispered into her ear.

           “More than anything,” Natalia murmured back, bringing his palm to rest on her belly. “I think our daughters approve, too.”

           “Good. Because once they’re here, we’re keeping the twins in this room until they’re seventy-nine.”

           “Is that a fact?” Natalia teased.

           “All my pretty flowers under one roof so I can love them for the rest of my life.”

           Turning in his embrace, Natalia had not the heart or the desire to tell him otherwise. Instead, she simply savored the feel of his lips near hers as she pulled him closer.

           “One more month and the dream comes true,” Natalia said.

           “Music to my ears,” he said, kissing her quickly as Natalia giggled and rested her head against his chest.

           “What?” he asked.

           “You know the girls might want to play basketball,” she said. “What will you do then?”

           “Violetta can take charge,” he said.

           “Always,” Natalia laughed back, kissing him in the garden only two flowers short of paradise.