#*middle of the street in full public view so i can see the outfit you had on when you were 20 something

[blvckquill]

Why is it always the characters (or alternate versions of characters: i.e. when they were younger, one-off outfit, etc) that have very little official (or even clear since sometimes it's sometimes a character from 2004 so everything is kinda grainy) art that can be used as references for a commission that I get attached to 😔

[nationalharryleague]

Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that. 

Genre: Famous Fake Dating! 

Word Count: 17.1k!

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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries​) and Lu (@meetmymouth​) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.�� She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N  looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.  

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.  

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.  

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.  

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!! 

An extra for our babies can be found here!

[alltherestofthefandoms]

Roadtrip

Roman squirmed in his chair as he continued to work. He whined as he leaked, wiggling more frantically until his body betrayed him. He whimpered, freezing until he felt himself finish.

He stood up and walked into his bathroom, stripping out of the used diaper and changing into a new one with a grimace.

"Why do I have to be so gross?" Roman mumbled in pure self hate.

He pulled his pants over the diaper and walked back to his desk, taking a swig of his black coffee. Roman focused back on the word document he had shared with Logan so they could figure out what the next video would be. He worked unitl he heard his door open abruptly.

Roman jumped violently, turning to see who had entered his room unannouced. Patton was bouncing in place, obviously excited. He gives Roman a wide smile, "Roadtrip."

Roman smiles softly to Patton. "I'm afraid I'll have to pass on your wonderful idea Padre! I have to much to do." He turns back to the computer screen, fully intending to begin typing again until he feels himself being picked up. Roman yelps, blushing deeply as Patton carried him out of his room bridal style. "Pa-Patton! Put me down."

He started to wiggle, until he heard a soft crinkle. Roman froze, going stiff in Patton's arms, hoping he didn't hear.

Patton kicked open Logan's door, "LoLo! We need you outside!"

Roman stiffled a giggle as he watched Logan almost jump out of his skin, trying to hide the fact that he was wearing his unicorn onesie. Patton turns and walks down the stairs (saying goodbye to the dark sides as they cuddled and watched The Jungle Book), into the street, and gentle placed Roman in the passenger seat. Logan runs outside, a bit of a mess but in his everyday outfit.

Patton closes the door to the car, turning to Logan before crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. He snapped his fingers and Logan was back in the onesie, his tie still around his neck. Logan's face is a deep red as he tried to stutter out why he couldn't wear something so chidish, let all out in public but Patton wasn't listening. Patton opened the back door, pointing for Logan to get inside.

Logan shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. "P-Pat. I-I un-under-understand tha-that yo-you, uh, you-." Patton pulled Logan into a tight hug, running his hands through Logan's hair as he cooed to him.

Patton kissed Logan's forehead, pulling back and holding their cheeks gently, "It's just Ro and me. Nothing to be ashamed of kiddo."

Logan looked down at his feet, still fidgetting as he nodded. He got into the back seat of the car as Patton summoned up his unicorn plush. He handed it to Logan who shyly took it.

Patton closed the back car door before walking around the car and getting in, sitting in the driver's seat. "Okay kiddos. the whole reason we are having this road trip is because you two need to take a break. I'm not mad, I promise. We just need a small break."

Roman looked to his lap, fiddling with his hands and his leg bounced. Patton took quick notice, summoning up his blanket for him to cuddle with. "If you two need anything, just let me know. Okay?"

Logan nods as Roman hums, playing with the softness of his blanket. Patton smiles. "Okay! On we go!"

The trip was slow. Patton had turned on some Disney songs that Roman had gladly joined in singing with it. Logan eventually spoke up about wanting something to do with his hands and Patton gave him a rubix cube. Logan smiled and filled the car with rhythmic clicks.

Roman stared out the window, watching the imagination go by. He sighed softly, feeling more relaxed then he had in a long time. He felt something lightly tap his shoulder. Turning he say that Patton was holding a water bottle out to him. "I know that you two are more coffee then human at this point. Please drink something?"

He took the water bottle without much fuss, drinking half of it before he put it back down. Roman pulled open his phone, scrolling through Instagram and drinking his water for an hour before he started to feel uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat slightly, feeling full. Groaning he looked to the floor to see three empty water bottles.

Patton chuckled softly, "You were thirsty RoRo. I wasn't going to tell you to stop. Drinking water is healthy."

"Not that amount all at once though." Logan was quick to interject. "Drinking as much as you did as quickly as you did could cause stomach aches and a multited of other problems."

Roman rolled his eyes, shifting in his chair again. He pulled his phone back out, this time scrolling through TikTok. After a few though, he couldn't stop moving. He crossed his legs hoping he was being sneaky in some way.

He wasn't.

"You okay kiddo?"

"F-fine." Roman smiled shakily.

Logan rolled his eyes. "Roman has to use the bathroom."

Roman flushed, turning back to the car window as he tried not to shift.

Patton cooed in sympathy. "Well, an exit is coming up in a couple of miles! Unless traffic happens, I think we'll be fine."

Traffic. That word got caught in Roman's head like a catching pop song. That word doomed him. Only a few seconds after Patton spoke, they pulled up to what seemed like a never ending wave of traffic.

Patton sent Roman a pitting look. He started to talk again, speaking with false hope. "I'm sure this will be quick. Don't worry."

It wasn't quick. Another hour had passed and they had barely moved an foot. Roman whimepered as he held himself. He rubbed his legs together, his whole body tense. He gasped, feeling himself leak a little bit.

Patton rubbed his back comfortingly. "Roman, you need to let go. You're hurting yourself."

Logan nodded in agreement but Roman couldn't see. He felt himself leak again. He clawed despretely at his crouch but with the diaper on, her couldn't do much. Roman wished the others didn't know. He wished that he was back in his room working. He wished he didn't drink so much water and coffee. He wished!

Patton sighed, "Roman."

"N-no! I-I'm fi-fine!"

"You are commiting falsehoods Roman. You need to let go." Logan's voice was firm but that doesn't mean that Roman was going to listen to him. He shook his head again, beyond desperate.

"Kiddo. Please. You can't keep holding." Roman was turned towards the window.

He whimpered as a spurt escaped him, freezing when he felt another. Roman whined, tensing up more as he felt more escape. Patton put the car in park, leaning across the car to hug Roman. The hug surprised Roman, causing him to loose control with a sharp gasp. "No no no no!"

His head hung and his hands didn't move from where they held. Roman whimpered, sniffing softly as he finally let go. Patton ran his hand through Roman's hair, speaking softly. "It's okay Princey. You're okay. It was an accident. We can clean it up when we get home. Okay?"

"Patton?" Logan spoke up, "There isn't a mess to clean up."

Roman turned redder then his sash, hiding his face in his hands as Patton pulled back to look at the nonexistent damage. "Ro? Did you do something to make it go away?"

He whimpered, "I-I." Roman curled in on himself, arms now crossed against his middle as he refused to look at Logan and Patton.

"It's impossible for Roman to make something like bodily waste to 'go away'. You must have had a tool to help you..." Logan trailed off, connecting the dots. He tugged Pattons sleeve, whispering into his ear. "I believe that Roman is wearing some kind of diaper."

Patton looked at Roman, practically to see the self hate flow through their head. He didn't hesitate in hugging Roman again. "Oh kiddo."

Roman sniffed pathetically in his hold. "I-I ge-get cau-caught uhup in, uh, in muh-my wor-work an-and I-I fo-forget, mm. Ple-please don' hahte mehe!" He started sobbing, feeling so stiff, a could crack.

He heard Patton coo, begin rocking them. "Roman, I could never hate you. You have some difficulty remembering sometimes. That doesn't make me hate you. I promise. It was only an accident."

"Neither does it for I. It is okay to need help Roman." Logan ran his hands up and down against Roman's back.

He sniffed, weakly holding his blanket which laid crumpled on his lap. Patton's coos and his crying made him feel exhausted. "Go to sleep Ro. We'll wake you when we get back."

Roman felt himself get layed on a pillow against the window. Patton pulled his blanket up, tucking it around his little prince. He sat correctly again, looking in the rear view mirror at Logan. "You should go to sleep to kiddo. It will be a while."

Logan nodded, flushing a little at the nickname. He layed down on the seat but before his head could his the rough fabric, he felt a squish. Logan sat up a little to see a star shaped pillow laying there. He smiled, laying back down and closed his eyes. Patton smiled, summoning up a blanket for Logan and laying it over him as well. "Sleep well kiddos."

[animeniacss]

6 Years - Hoseok x Reader - Prologue - A Day in the Life

Synopsis: 6 years. That’s all it can take to take another look at someone and see that they have completely changed. You were once an eager 20-year-old, with your dreams all in view, and Jung Hoseok at your side to view them with you. However, after a break up the end of your junior year of college, everything seemed different. Now, you’re a recently divorced single mother of two, and your life is nowhere near what you thought it would be. However, after reuniting with Jung Hoseok, you may just be able to capture a little bit of that exciting youth you once knew so long ago.

Feat. BTS Members, Nayeon (TWICE), and Yuna (itzy)

Genre: Romance, SingleMother!AU, Past Relationship, Drama, Some Depictions of Violence/Domestic Abuse

Length: approx. 5.1k words

Prologue - A Day in the Life

Time has the power to change someone, especially when that someone is young. We do dumb things like cut our hair, sneak out of the house when we’re grounded, and lie to our parents that we did it in the first place. We betrayed, we delayed, and we gave lip when we shouldn’t have…

….we date people who we think we’ll spend our lives with, but who end up as nothing more than a distant memory... That might just be the dumbest thing we do when we’re young, and we hope and pray that one time will be the last because that one time was bad enough, and any more would shatter all hope in terms of love. That’s how it was for you, at least.

Now, your dumb things changed from sneaking out of the house to sneaking out of your daughter’s room a bit too loudly and waking her up--from cutting your hair to trying to save money on hers, botching it and giving her a bowl cut, and lying--or trying to at least--to pretend you’re sleeping when your daughter crawls into bed with you, hoping you can get a few more moments in. But she was smart, and she saw right through you.

You were trying to do that right now. However, just like every other time, you were in bed, your four-year-old shifting the mattress in her desperate attempt to get onto the bed and towards you.

“Mommyyy…” she whined. You groaned, closing your eyes as you covered your face with the pillow. “Mommy…”

“Yes, Min?” you hummed, rolling over. Forget those few more minutes, it seemed your day had started. You opened your eyes and saw a little black-haired girl before you, with bangs straight across her forehead, and a tired expression that exposed her gap tooth.

“Hyo Bin…..” she murmured. Adjusting your hearing, you heard something else now. Something high pitched.

Something like a toddler crying and whining. You heard a few whines of “Mamaaaaaa~.”

“Oh jeez…” you grumbled, getting out of bed. You looked at your daughter as you headed out the door with a sprint in your step. “Get dressed, Min Ja!”

This was how most mornings started for you, and it sure as hell didn’t slow down from here. After getting your youngest up and ready, you scrambled to encourage Min Ja to get herself ready. She always delayed, so you’d end up putting your youngest in her carrier, where you were able to see her, before racing to tug a tee shirt and shorts on your eldest daughter.

“I don’t wanna wear this!” she shouted.

“Well, instead of playing with your toys while I got your sister ready, you should have picked out your clothes.” You pulled her shirt over her head and patted her sides. “You can pick an outfit for tonight after we come home for dance.” Though she continued to pout. Your grip on her hand was tight as she followed you out.

“Ooookaaaay…” Scooping up the toddler--who began whining because she dropped her favorite toy on the floor as she was whisked in the air--you raced out the door and down the street. As you did, you began running your day through your head. It was never any different, but you had to do it every time or you were sure to forget something. “Daycare, then work, I gotta grab groceries on the way back, pick up the girls at 4:30, get Min to dance by 5, go home and get dinner all set up so we can be home by 6:30 to eat... baths, bedtime at 8…” you mumbled to yourself, holding your daughter’s hand tightly as you shuffled down the ever-crowded streets of Seoul. “Jesus, I hope the trains don’t delay again.”

The daycare was close by, a fifteen-minute walk with two kids in tow. It was the forty-five-minute train ride that bothered you so much. Every moment you sat in that packed train felt like another moment closer to death. As you headed down the street, mentally reciting your daily chores in your head, you heard Min shout:

“Mommy! There!” You looked towards where he was pointing and saw you were walking right past it. Kids were seen being dropped off by their parents--some crying, others eager to go--with a kiss goodbye before fleeing into the brightly painted building. Slowing your steps, you headed to the front gate.

“Good catch, Min Ja.”

“You almost did it again…” Min giggled. Smiling, you headed over and greeted the owner, a middle-aged woman with graying hair, a full smile, and warm, welcoming air of a grandmother. “Hello~.” She beamed. “Good morning, Min Ja. Hi Hyo Bin.”

“Hi Miss Yun Yun!” Min Ja gasped. You passed Hyo Bin to Yun Yun, and she smiled.

“I’ll try not to be late today. We have dance practice…” you murmured.

“Oh, Min Ja will remind me.” The woman smiled. “We’ll see you later.”

“Okay.” Your eyes fell to your daughter, who was already playing with two other little girls. “Min Ja!” you called. You watched her trot up to you and you knelt down. “4:30. I’ll be here.”

“Okay, Mommy…” she said. You kissed her forehead, and Hyo Bin’s, before heading down the block towards the station.

The good thing about your schedule was that the locations were relatively convenient, aside from the long train ride. There was even a nice cafe right by the station that was basically your second home. The place was owned by a young couple, the wife, named Min Sun, heavily pregnant yet still going strong in her work. The interior was very minimal, probably because it was a self-owned business and most of the money went towards ingredients instead of decor, but that didn’t matter. What they did have, like a wall of pictures displaying all the cafe’s major events from opening to now, or the homemade chandelier that didn’t always work right, but damn if you knew they didn’t work their hardest when making it. The overall warm color scheme of fall colors like reds, oranges, and yellows helped bring the place together, and it made all who entered it feel as if they were entering a warm hug. You stepped into the cafe, the bell ringing to indicate your arrival. You walked to the counter and greeted the owners.

“Hello~.” Min Sun smiled. “The usual? Small coffee with two sugars and a chocolate chip muffin?”

“Make it a large coffee.” You groaned. “I’m so out of it.” Min Sun smiled and got to work on making your order. You stood there, checking the time on your watch as you scratched your head. You were not looking forward to these next few hours. As you waited, you heard the door to the cafe open and the bell rang again. You didn’t glance over, instead of grabbing your coffee and muffin as it was handed to you.

You quickly paid for your food as she read you the total. “Thanks.” As you turned, you locked eyes with the individual that had walked in behind you. He was a few inches taller than you, with short, fluffy black hair. He had a long face, with bright brown eyes that scanned the menu hung up on the wall behind the counter. You must have been staring for too long, because the guy seemed to notice, and turned to you. Jung Hoseok, a blast from your past...and the reason you were where you were in terms of love. When you locked eyes, his widened, and a grin formed on his face. He spoke your name, forming it into a question, as he wasn’t sure what the answer would bring. You smiled.

“Hoseok?” You set your coffee and muffin before two of you quickly embraced in a hug. “Oh my goodness! What a surprise.”

“Tell me about it.” He smiled. “How are you?”

“I’m…okay.” You chuckled. “What about you?”

“Doing great, of course!” He said happily, his high-pitched voice bringing you to a place of nostalgia. You thought back to the last time you heard him speak to you. “I’m surprised we ran into each other like this.” He said.

“Tell me about it…” you looked at him, tucking some hair behind your ear. You weren’t too sure what to say next, it's been about 6 years since you saw each other last. “....What’s it been, six years?” You asked, a bit of shakiness in your voice. Excellent. Hoseok smiled a bit, his lips drawing into the shape of a heart. It made you smile a bit as well. “Yeah.” He said. An awkward silence falls over you, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Mi Sun standing by the counter, a smile on her face as she looked at you. Her eyes read: Oh my, what’s going on here? You felt your cheeks heat up and you looked back at Hoseok, whose eyes had returned to the menu. He quickly placed his order, a coffee with creamer and sugar, then turned back to you.

“We should get together. Catch up.”

 “Oh totally.” you nodded. “Uhm...I don’t really know the next time I’m free, though. Pretty hectic schedule…”

 “I see.” Hoseok looked towards the counter and grabbed a napkin. “Uh, do you have a pen?” He asked Min Sun. She pulled one out of her apron pocket and handed it to him. “Thank you.” He leaned down, scribbling something onto the napkin. You watched, taking a sip of your coffee. As he scribbled, he was humming little random noises, as if he wasn’t in public with people around him sharing curious glances towards him. “Here.” He handed you the napkin. “Call me when you’re free.”

You took the paper in your hands, then glanced back up at him. His smile was back, and you chuckled a bit.

“Okay…” you said. Glancing down at your watch again, your eyes widened. “Crap!” You grabbed your muffin, stuffing the napkin in your pocket.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I’m so going to miss the train!” You shouted. “I uh- I’ll call you.”

“Okay…” he said. You were standing for a minute, looking around to make sure you had all your belongings. Hoseok leaned forward, picking up your little coin purse and handing it to you. With no hands to take it, you opened your mouth. Hoseok raised an eyebrow, but you leaned forward, clutching your purse in your mouth. Hoseok couldn’t help but laugh as he watched you race out the door, not looking back as you headed to the station at the end of the street. When you were out of sight, Hoseok turned to Min Sun and pulled out his wallet. “Wow. She really hasn’t changed…”

You just barely arrived at your train, scrambling to get out your train pass and sliding past the closing doors. Once you were safely on, you felt your body melt into a seat. Setting the muffin in between your legs, you used your free hand to put away your coin purse. As you sip your coffee, you pulled out the napkin in your pocket. You stared at the numbers scribbled on it and saw there was a little smiley face drawn on there as well, with the word Hobi written underneath it.

“Hobi…” you breathed out, nostalgic bliss dripping from your lips. Pulling out your phone, you entered his contact into it. Over the past six years, you went through a lot of phones, and along the way, Hoseok’s number didn’t make it into the current one. But it was there now, Hoseok. You questioned putting an emoji, but had no idea what to put. The last emoji that sad beside his name was a heart and that...that wouldn’t work anymore. Sighing, you opened a new message, his name up on top. Staring at the blank message box, you tried to think of what you could say. Should you even say anything at all? Maybe this short reunion was just that...short. As in, not meant to happen again.

You thought back to his smile, his eyes, how happy he looked to see you, and it made you smile too. You closed your phone. “I’ll text him later.” You mumbled softly. Resting against the back of the seat, you tried to eat your breakfast as the train dragged you to work.

You were 24 when you got this job, working as a secretary for a local pediatrician’s office. It wasn’t much, but it works with your schedule and the train ride wasn’t god awful, mostly. The doctor’s office was pretty big, and you weren’t the only secretary that worked, so you were never lonely. Jin, who was a few years older than you, had worked there long before you and taught you everything you knew. However, six months ago, he left to pursue his dream of cooking in a restaurant.

That was when they hired Jungkook, who had been at the job for about a year, so you’ve been teaching him the ropes based on what Jin had taught you. He was a good kid, a bit bratty, but good at his job and good at helping keep things organized. That was good because you were always busy. As the minutes ticked away, you raced into the back staff entrance of the office, saying hello to the doctor and nurses as you hurried to get yourself together.

“You we're so close to being late again.” Jungkook said, smiling at you as you staggered into the room.

“My daughters woke me up late, so I forgot to grab my running shoes when I left. So I ran here in my heels.”

“Ooh. That’s rough.” Jungkook watched you sit and turn on your computer, resting against the back of your chair.

“Any calls yet?”

“I made a few appointments. Flu season is starting so everyone wants their shots.”

“Oh goody…That reminds me I need to get the girl's flu shots soon ...that's a whole process…” you murmured, trying to make a mental note in your already cluttered mind. “Can you make me an appointment before they’re all booked?”

“Can I do that?” He asked curiously.

“Yeah.” You said. “As long as I don’t do it myself. Dr. Park is their doctor.” Jungkook nodded as he pulled up the appointment books. The two of you managed to get Min Ja and Hyo Bin in later in the week for her flu shot.

The next 7.5 hours at work went by like they usually did. Slow. You and Jungkook would take the idle time between checking in customers and answering phone calls to chat with one another about different things. Jungkook, being only 22, was able to get this job part-time while he finished school. He was studying...something. Honestly, you couldn’t remember. But he was smart, so you always encouraged him.

“Thank you for calling, see you then.” You hummed, setting the phone down. The waiting room was full of parents with their kids, who were crying or screaming or misbehaving. You sighed, listening to the parent’s attempts to soothe or reprimand them. Some would do a good job, but others either tried to correct the behavior with a bored or unbothered tone in their voice or would flat out ignore the child or children until they were called inside. Those parents weren’t frequent, but god they got annoying. You glanced at Jungkook, who was smiling at a baby girl in her mother’s arms as he checked their appointment in.

“The nurse will call you in shortly.” He said. The girl stuck her hand out to him, and he lifted a finger, allowing her to grasp it in her hand. “Woah, what a grip.” He cooed, grinning as the girl squealed in delight. After a thank you from the mom, they went to find a seat. Jungkook hummed, leaning back in his chair. “Augh. Kids are so cute. I can’t wait to be a dad.”

“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, pushing your chair back slightly as you opened up a filing cabinet and rummaged through it for a file.

“Of course! But not now, I don’t even have a girlfriend. Besides, I’m really young and I have tons I want to do after I finish university.” Jungkook clarified, leaning back in his chair. Hearing him say that made a soft smile form on your lips.

“Yeah, good mindset. Wait until you’re older.” You said. “Mm, here it is.” You pulled out the file and leaned down the hall, calling a nurse and handing it to her. “You’ll be a good dad, but don’t rush it.”

“I just hope they’re not better at me in video games.” Jungkook murmured, both of you laughing.

Yeah, your time at work always flew by when you and Jungkook got to talking. He was a good kid and had you been the same age, you imagine the two of you would have been good friends growing up. The day dragged on, and you ate lunch at your desk like always. The deal was you worked until 4 instead of 5 without a break, which you didn’t mind. It worked. When 4 hits, you grabbed your stuff. Jungkook was already long gone, leaving at 1, but there was another young part-timer who filled in for him the rest of the day.

“See you tomorrow.” You said, waving goodbye as you headed out the door. You made a phone call to Yun Yun at the daycare, saying you were on your way as you raced down to the station and hopped on the next train. The way back was a shorter ride, only 30 minutes. Lucky you…

——-

“Mommy!” Min Ja yelled, passing the toy in her hand to a friend as she hurried towards you. You smiled, squatting down as she quickly hugged you. “Are we going to dance?!” “Yes. Lemme just get your sister. Go to the bathroom now, we’re in a rush.” You said, heading to the play area for babies and toddlers. A few girls were sitting around, holding kids in their arms and playing with different toys. When the girl holding Hyo Bin saw you approach, she held her up.

“Hyo Bin, who’s here?” She asked, pointing in your direction. When Hyo Bin saw you, her eyes lit up, just like they always did, and she eagerly began to reach towards you. “Mama! Mama!” She shouted in glee. You grinned, eagerly scooping her up into your arms.

“Oh, hello my princess. How are you?” You hummed, kissing her cheeks as she latched onto you. “Let’s go.” You saw Min Ja at the door, trying to pull open the heavy door of the daycare, her tiny backpack on her back, and the eagerness in her eyes ever prevalent in her attempt to leave faster. “Min Ja, stop.” You said, walking over and pointing her towards Yun Yun. “Okay. What do we say to Miss. Yun Yun?”

“Thank you, Miss. Yun Yun.” Min Ja said, waving as you led your daughter out of the daycare and towards the apartment. “Mommy, can I pick out my outfit for dance? You promised!”

“Did Mr. Park say you need to wear something specific?”

“No.” Min Ja said. “And he lets us call him Mr. Jimin, Mommy…” you sighed.

“I know. But you still need to be polite.” You said. As you got into the house, you unlocked the door. “Hurry up.” You called your daughter as she raced into her room. You took Hyo Bin out of her seat and held her as you followed behind Min Ja. “Aaaa, Hyo Bin. I hope you’re not this full of energy when you get big.” You mumbled to yourself. Min Ja grabbed her favorite leotard and skirt to allow for a pink and black combination. You sat her down to pull her hair into a tight bun and help slide on her sneakers. She held her ballet shoes, she was always adamant to do so.

With the girls ready to go, you headed down the street to the ballet studio. You grabbed a small snack for your daughter to eat before starting her dance practice. The three of you arrived with some time to spare, about ten minutes. Other mothers were sitting with their daughters, getting them ready and having them stretch. So, you sat Min Ja down, setting Hyo Bin beside her in a chair as you helped her put on her ballet shoes. “Now, Min Ja,” you began. “Remember to pay attention to Mr. Jimin, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.” She said, crunching into a chip.

“I’ll be back in a little bit after I get some groceries for dinner. I’ll see the end of your practice.” Min Ja nodded, pulling a chip from her bag and putting it into her mouth. “Can Mommy have one?” you asked, eyeing the bag. Without question, Min Ja held up a chip to your lips, and you smiled as you ate it. “Thank you.”

Just then, Jimin walked into the room, a grin on his face. He was only 24 and had recently been able to redo the dance studio after buying it from a friend. He had a wonderful studio, ranging in different dance styles, from ballet, hip hop, and freestyle, as well as welcoming many different ages of students. You had sent Min Ja here for about a year and a half, right when Jimin reopened the place, and Min Ja fell in love with it. You were glad too, it gave her something to do.

“Alright. Good afternoon girls.” Jimin said, smiling as the swarm of about 12 girls aged 4 to 6 raced up to him, greeting him. Min Ja passed you her half-eaten bag of potato chips as she did the same, disappearing into the crowd of little girls. “Are we ready for another fun day?”

“I am, Mr. Jimin!” Min Ja shouted, flinging her hand in the air. You smiled as you watched them set up, picking up Hyo Bin. Min Ja got into position on the floor, before turning to look at you. You smiled at her, waving and encouraging Hyo Bin to wave too. She waved back before Jimin called her attention and they began to stretch. Grabbing her purse, you saw a few of the other mother’s looking in your direction. You gave a polite nod, before heading out the door and to the supermarket.

Trips to the supermarket were a trip, especially with a toddler. Hyo Bin was a good little girl, but she was still just barely two. So, she would try to reach out and grab things, pull them off the shelves, and begin to sob when she was reprimanded. Luckily, you didn’t need too much stuff for tonight’s dinner, so hopefully, you could make it back to see Min Ja’s practice. Most of the time, sitting through the practices were hard, either because Hyo Bin was fussy or you had to take a phone call outside, or it was the only time you could really go out and do a few errands that you wouldn’t get done otherwise. It was convenient for you, but upsetting for Min Ja. As you checked out, your eyes fell to the clock behind the counters. You had about 20 minutes to get back to the dance studio since Hyo Bin held you up by crying in the snack aisle. Since you didn’t have anything that needed to be refrigerated right away, you could skip the step of rushing home and putting everything away and just rush straight to the dance studio again.

If you hurry, you could make it.

-------

“Have a good night,” Jimin said, waving off the last girl that was walking out the door with her mother. As he closed the door, he turned to Min Ja, who stood by the mirror wall, practicing some of her forms. Jimin smiled, walking over to her and kneeling down, gently guiding her into the right position. “There you go. Perfect.”

“When will Mommy get here?” she asked curiously. “She said she would be here to see me.” Jimin sighed, lowering himself fully to sit with his legs crossed beside Min Ja.

“I’m sure she’ll be here soon. Where did she say she was going?”

“The grocery store.” Min Ja said softly. Jimin nodded.

"Then it’ll be any minute,” He said gently. “Want to dance while we wait?” Min Ja nodded, grinning as Jimin got up to turn on the speakers. Discarding her backpack onto the floor, pop music began to play and she began to dance like crazy. As Jimin watched, he heard a door within the studio open, and he saw someone come in. He smiled, greeting them.

-----

You flung the door open about five minutes later, stepping into the dance studio. “I’m here! I’m so sorry…” As the door closed behind you, you leaned against the door and took a shaky breath, clutching your daughter in your grip as your other handheld the bag of groceries. You looked over to see Min Ja, dancing in front of the mirror with someone, Jimin watching happily as he saw you come in. He turned the music off, and you headed over.

“Mommy!” Min Ja grinned, hurrying over to you. You set the bags down, as well as Hyo Bin, before hugging Min Ja tightly. “You were late, Mommy…”

"Min Ja, I’m so sorry…” you said softly. “The line at the store was so long and Hyo Bin got sad and….” You kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay, Mommy…”

“Will you show me at home what you learned today?” You asked, running a hand through her hair. She nodded, smiling as he headed to grab her bag. When you saw Jimin approach, you stood up. “Jimin, I’m sorry, I-” Jimin raised a hand to stop you.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said. “I told you already, I don’t mind.” You chuckled a bit. “Min Ja’s tons of fun to have around.”

“Mommy. Look! I made a new friend!” Min Ja called, and you glanced over. Min Ja was dragging over-

“Hoseok.” You said, a smile forming on your face. He looked up at you, blinking in surprise.

“Oh wow…” he said, watching Min Ja run to your side. “Hey again…” He motioned to the little girls in your embrace. “I had no idea you were uh-.”

"Saddled with kids?” you teased. “Yeah. These two are mine.” Hoseok chuckled. Min Ja glanced up at you, a curious expression on her face.

“Mommy, do you know Mr. Hobi?” She asked softly. You glanced back up at Hoseok at the mention of his nickname. Squatting down, you nodded.

“Mr. Hobi is Mommy’s….” you paused for a brief second. “…Friend from when Mommy was younger. Did you properly introduce yourself?” Min Ja shook her head, and you motioned towards him. Hoseok smiled as Min Ja walked over. She looked in your direction again, and you smiled before she looked back at Hoseok.

“I’m Cho Min-Ja. It’s nice to meet you.” She said happily. “You already know, but Mommy said I have to say that to everyone I meet because it’s polite.” Hoseok couldn’t help but smile, kneeling down to offer his hand for her to shake.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Min Ja.” He said. “And who’s that behind you?” he pointed to Min Ja’s sister, who was trying to grab the bags on the other side of you.

“That’s Cho Hyo-Bin. She’s almost two.”

"Almost two. Wow…”

“I’m four.”

“Four?!” Hoseok gasped, eyes widening. You smiled a bit as you stood up. “I can’t believe that.” Min Ja giggled a bit.

“It’s true!” She said.

“Alright, Min Ja.” You said. “It’s time to go home now so we can get dinner done. What do you say?” She turned back to Jimin and Hoseok.

“Thank you Mr. Jimin and Mr. Hobi.” She said, before hurrying to you. When she realized there was no hand to hold, since one hand the groceries and the other was holding Hyo-Bin’s hand, she walked to Hyo-Bin and took her hand instead. You glanced at Hoseok, who was smiling at you.

“I uh…I’ll call you.” You said, nodding as you thought back to the napkin that was still in your pocket.

"I look forward to it.” He said happily. “Get home safe~!” You nodded as you led your children out the door. Hoseok watched you do, hearing the door close behind you before Jimin called him to help clean up.

When you returned home, you managed to whip up a simple dish for you and the girls. Min Ja was exhausted after dinner. That made it easy to wash the girls up and get them to bed with little to no fuss, which normally occurred at bedtime. Min Ja was tiredly begging to show off her new ballet moves as you tucked her into bed. You smiled, lifting her stuffed elephant off the floor and set it beside her, watching as she lazily pulled it to her chest.

“Tomorrow, Min.” you said softly, giving her a kiss goodnight. “I promise.” Min Ja nodded, rolling onto her side as she passed out. You sighed, watching her chest rise and fall. “Man. I owe Jimin my kidneys for letting her dance out all of her energy.” You went towards the toddler’s cot, seeing that she was asleep too, clutching one of her favorite dolls, a stuffed princess doll. You kissed her forehead as well, before quietly making your way out of their room and closing the door. With the girls in bed, and it just barely 8:30, you sank onto the couch and groaned. This was a typical day for you, from morning until you crashed in your bed. But it was your life, and it could, in all honesty, be worse.

As you sat in silence for a few moments, you thought about the one thing that changed today. Running into Jung Hoseok again, after six years. You grabbed your phone, sitting idly on the coffee table, with the phone number holding a napkin beside it. You grabbed them both, sitting upright as you scrolled into the contacts. For less than 12 hours, Hobi’s number was back in your phone, and you weren’t sure how to feel about this sudden break in your mundane routine.

However, you did feel butterflies in your chest when you dialed his number and press the phone against your ear, listening to the ringing noise before a familiar, high-pitched voice was heard on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hey…Hoseok.” You said, leaning back against the couch. “I finally called you.”

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[dc-fics-and-pics]

Jason Todd x Harper reader pt 2

Warning: Cursing

Word count: 2768

The flight to Gotham was long and loud. You sat in front of a kid probably only six years old. He was determined to drive you crazy the entire flight while Jason sat next to you reading a book peacefully while the annoying mother behind him did nothing to stop her kid from kicking the back of your seat. To be fair you were used to first-class, anytime you did go on a public plain it was with Oliver's money and Oli paid for the best. No squirly brats in first class. When flight 401 finally landed you hauled ass out of there, grabbing your suitcase, you dragged Jason out and away from that little devil.

You had never actually been to Gotham City, and it surely lived up to its reputation. It was the middle of summer and dark clouds covered the sky making your bare arms collect goosebumps. Jason signaled a cab and you both got in. You gave the taxi man the address to one of Oliver's apartments before Jason could say his. Maybe you agreed to see Roy but you didn't agree to stay with him. Jason just huffed and looked out the window till you arrived.

When you finally did the hotel staff were weary to let you stay in Oliver Queens penthouse apartment but after you practically shoved evidence of him being your legal parent down their throat you where let in. It definitely had nothing to do with Jason name dropping his father none whatsoever.

After the debacle downstairs you unlocked the door with a crisp swipe and pushed the door open revealing a beautiful view of what you thought was an ugly city.

"Its a lot better looking from up here." You had almost forgotten Jason was with you till he spoke.

You nodded still entranced by the large buildings going on for miles, "Yeah definitely."

You both shuffled fully into the apartment, heading straight for the bedroom and flopping on the bed. Jason didn't follow you in, however. That gave you alone time to unpack your suitcase. When you went to the living room to join him he was still looking out the window that made up the living room wall. You stood by his side looking out with him.

He pointed off to a corner, "That is where the knights are going to kick your Spartans ass tomorrow."

"Ugh, you wish!"

"The Spartans haven't beat the Knights all season."

"Just wait, Jason, I have confidence in my boys."

"How much?" he asks with a sly smirk.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you willing to bet on it."

You laugh, "I'm not betting you, Jason."

"I thought you had confidence," he mimics.

"Fine!" you agree.

"Looser has to wear the other team's jersey for a day."

"What! Hell no I will never put your ugly black and grey colors on."

"If you are so sure they will win then you won't have to." he counters.

"Deal."

Shaking hands you seal it. The Spartans better win you can't even fathom the thought of anyone from Star hearing about you wearing a Knights jersey. You shiver just thinking about it.

~~~~

Jason leaves you to get settled in saying He and Roy will pick you up for the game at noon tomorrow. It will be weird hanging out with Roy all day after you blew up on him but at least you will have another Spartans fan with you. You decide to order pizza for dinner and just chill on the couch. You sent some quick texts to Oliver and Connor letting them know you arrived safe and sound in Gotham. You even gave Connor a full rundown of the child from hell on your flight.

When you told him you're about your wager with Jason he made you promise to not "Waist your hard-earned money" on "cursed" merchandise from "that hell hole they call a city." you laughed at him but his dead silence over the phone made you think he was being serious.

You ended the call when the pizza arrived. You took the whole box to the couch and turned on the TV to watch the office. It was 11 o'clock when you saw Gotham's famed heroes on the rooftop ahead of you. All the lights were on in the room since you changed it from your lighthearted comedy to the Conjuring. You weren't an idiot about to watch scary movies in the dark in a place you never been before. No, you were smart. You turned the lights on. Because that was so much better.

You figured they could see into your apartment and since you saw Red hood their you decided to waive. He waved back along with a shorter man in black and blue next to him. They departed soon after and you decided to hit the hay so you could get a good nights sleep before tomorrow.

~~~~

When you woke up you were somewhat startled when you noticed you weren't in your room back at home. You crawled out of bed taking a quick shower before trudging into the kitchen to order some breakfast. Scanning over the room service menu you spotted y/f/f and called it in as quick as possible. You decided that you were going to wear all your Spartans gear for the game today just to piss of Jason. Thankfully your team is red and black unlike Gothams ugly black and grey wich you now see fits them.

Throwing off your towel you pull on some black leggings, for Gotham's cold weather you throw a black hoodie on and button your red jersey over it. You decide to even wear your red baseball socks and pull them over the bottom of your leggings and throw on some black PF flyers. You laugh at your over the top outfit in the mirror and send a quick pick of it to Conner who salutes you in return.

Roomservice arrives just in time and you open the door to collect your food. The busser scrunched his nose at the sight of your outfit and pushes it into your room. "I don't think you want to wear that around here you might get shot."

You laugh for a second and he looks at you seriously, "You are joking right."

"Well," He thinks to himself, "I think that's more likely to happen to a meteors fan," he shrugs.

You nod your head before sending him out. You quickly scarf up your food before Jason and Roy arrive.

It is exactly 11:59 when Jason texts you that he is outside. The thing is you can't recall ever getting his phone number. You shrug it off and make your way downstairs. You try to ignore the looks Gothamites give you as you prance down the hall. Its all a ton of glares until on short kid with a camera draped around his next shouts "Is that y/n Queen!"

You roll your eyes glaring at him "Harper! h-a-r-p-e-r I'm not a queen."

He just shrugs and puts a camera up to his eye and follows you out of the lobby onto the sidewalk. You see Roys fiery red hair in the car across the street. He looks at you giving an awkward smile.

You strut over to who what you assume is Jason's car considering he's behind the wheel. The kid you now know is paparazzi flashes pictures the whole way. You decide to have fun and pose for some making him smile and say thanks before walking off. At least he wasn't rude.

You sit in the backseat of the car and buckle up. You were thankful that you did considering the way Jason peels out of the parking spot making you hold on for dear life.

"Sorry y/n, Jason's a crazy driver," Roy sighs.

Jason huffs, "I am not a crazy driver Harper. I'm a carefree driver."

That statement makes you hold on the rest of the ride.

It's not long until Jason veers into a reserved parking spot. Climbing out of the death machine you thank the gods you made it out of their alive. When you do you are able to get a look at your brother and his friend's outfits. Roy is dressed identically to you. Wich doesn't surprise you. THankfully he is wearing black jeans instead of leggings but all he needs is the socks and it would be a perfect match. Jason, however, is wearing his grey Gotham knights jersey with black jeans. You take note of his last name written on the back along with his number of choice '05'.

The three of you walk to the gate getting your tickets scanned and your bags checked. When you finally got inside you could smell all the classic game food. You didn't talk much to Roy deciding to talk to Jason most of the time instead. It was already a big step for you to even be there with Roy so you decided to take it slow and it seems he did too. You find your seats and sit wich is right behind home plate. When the game starts you admire all the hunky baseball players that come up to bat getting the perfect view. You sit in the middle of Roy and Jason so you can talk to them both. You tried to just sit by Jason but he trapped you in the middle. You text Conner letting him no you made it not so safely but are okay now. He responds about how jealous he is that you are there and you promise to take him to the next home game. There was one player on the Spartans that you found so hot. He was tall and muscular he was a great player and you ogled him the whole game. Jason and Roy found it excruciating. Every time he would come up to bat you would grab their arms shaking them as you squealed in delight. Every. Single. Time. He was also the catcher so you got to see him even more. It would have been better without the ump in the way though.

Throughout the game, you would send updates to Connor who was stuck at work and couldn't watch the game. You would also tell him every time you favorite was up describing his glory in full detail. You are almost positive he ignored those texts.

Jasons favorite player was the pitcher and every time your boy came up to bat Jason would go on and on about how he would get struck out but thankfully he never did and you got to rub it in each time. Although it was the bottom of 9th inning now and the Spartans were down by one run. You sent Connor updates practically every second making Jason confiscate your phone to stop the clicking noise. Of course, there were two outs with one runner on second an third and your favorite was up to bat. If he just hit a double the Spartans would win and you could laugh in Jasons face as he put on a Spartans jersey.

You started to clam up when there where two stikes. The three of you were on the edge of your seats. When the pitcher threw his pitch the batter swang and missed.

Your heart was crushed. Jason jumped up out of his chair and turned back at you laughing directly in your face as you covered it with your hands. You were so close goddamnit.

You and Roy sulked the whole way back to the car while Jason practically pranced with a newfound pep in his step. When you got in the car you slumped down in the backseat as Jason laughed going on and on about how he told us the Knights would win.

He finally stopped when he pulled into a Batburger saying something about how the winner gets to pick the restaurant.

The three of you walk in and up to the counter where you order your food. looking at the menu you see how it is themed, half of it was labeled heroes and the other labeled Rogues. You snickered when you saw all the burgers were named after Gotham vigilantes and villains. You could hardly contain your laugh when you saw that Jason didn't have a burger like the rest of his family. Batman was a normal burger Robin was a cheeseburger. Red Robin was a burger with peanut butter on it wich you found strange. Nightwing even had one even though he was based in Bludhaven, his was a double cheeseburger. After scanning batgirl, spoiler, black bat, signal, and even one labeled ' that onetime Nightwing was batman' you looked over at the Rogue side.  You finally couldn't contain your laughter. Underneath The Joker, Penguin, Scarecrow, Ridler, Catwoman, Clayface, and Mr. freeze you saw one named 'The Red Hood' and you burst out laughing. Jason saw this and scowled huffing and puffing about how he isn't a villain and he should have a special spot in the middle.

When you got up to order you chose a Nightwing along with Roy and Jason ordered himself saying, "I want the Red Hood burger but by the way! He is not a villain he has saved countless lives so you should really change that before he decides to come in here and take care of it himself."

The man behind the cash register just blinks and asks, 'Will that be all?"

Jason just growls and hands him the money.

When you all sit down you send Connor a quick text about the result of the game and attempt to start a conversation. "Even though the Spartans lost I still had fun." I smile at the two boys sitting across from you.

"Would have been more fun if you weren't texting Connor the whole time," Roy says rolling his eyes.

You scowl at him before saying, "I wasn't texting him the whole time I was just giving him updates Roy."

As soon as his name leaves my mouth my phone lights up beside me dinging. "Who is that?" Roy asks gesturing to my phone.

I look at the message 'Conner' lights up the screen along with a picture of him right after he woke up from a nap looking like a hot mess. "Oliver," I respond snatching my phone up.

"You liar." Roy scowls.

"So what if it is I don't see the issue."

"Becuase you were supposed to come here to hang out with me not text your stupid boyfriend the whole time."

Jason just sits there looking back and forth between the both of us, "For the last time Roy he's not my boyfriend!"

Faster than the flash he snatches my phone out of my hand and scoffs, "Then why does he have hearts around his name?"

Your fists curl up in your lap, "All of my contacts have hearts around them, Roy, its how I know which number it is."

"Does mine?"

"No. I deleted your contact months ago."

We sit there scowling at each other till Jason chimes in, "Look guys I think we should just calm down."

You look at him with the same glare you had been giving Roy, "Don't tell me to calm down Todd! He has been gone for a year and when he comes back all he does it lecture me about Conner I'm sick of it he has no right to tell me who I can and can't date."

"Yes I can," Roy speaks up, " Whether you like it or not I am your big brother. As your big brother, I am telling you that you can absolutely not date any hero ever!"

You stare at him completely flabbergasted, "Why?"

"Because they are all my friends and that's like against the law!"

"But-"

He interrupts you, "Please y/n," he is quieter now more sincere, "Please promise me you won't date any superheroes."

You look at him still scowling, "Fine." Your food finally arrives and you refuse to look at Jason or Roy. Jason decides its best to just take it to go and everyone can eat on their own. You agree.

You go to sit in the car and wait for the boys while Jason and Roy talk. Jason says he is going to drop Roy off at their shared apartment then take you to yours and you just shrug and look out the window.

You sit staring out the car at all the others racing by in the dark grim streets of Gotham.

[chain-unchained]

October 12 - Part 1

The thing about fall, especially in the valley, was that the weather tended to be unpredictable. In the span of an hour, it could go from being pleasantly sunny, to an icy downpour, to overcast, then back to dazzling sun. It wasn’t so bad if you happened to be inside where it was warm and dry; if you were unlucky enough to be out and about when the weather began to change, though…

“Wow, it’s really coming down out there.” Emily commented from the couch in the living room of the house she shared with Haley, pulling back the curtains on the window to watch the rain come down in heavy sheets. “That’s just fall in the valley for you. It’s too bad it’s so cold out, I wouldn’t mind a thunderstorm.”

“I would.” Haley shot her sister a scathing look from the crafting nook they’d set up in a corner of the kitchen. “Humidity makes my hair frizz, so that’s a hard pass from me.”

“Aw, come on.” Emily shifted to rest her arms on the back of the couch, content to watch the raindrops race one another down the window. “You don’t enjoy them even a little? The sound of the rain on the roof is so peaceful…”

“Would you can it? I’m trying to do something here.” There was a good deal of pent up exasperation behind Haley’s voice; giving Emily another reproachful look, she turned her attention back to the infernal sewing machine sitting before her. “This outfit’s gotta turn out perfect, or else I can kiss that full ride scholarship good-bye.”

Emily hid the smile that came onto her face; she was used to dealing with Haley’s standoffish behavior, so it was nothing new for her to be told off like that. She knew the reason why her sister was so on edge as well, so she didn’t mind acquiescing and just quietly enjoying the storm. “…. Hm?”

She sat up a little and pulled the curtains back more as movement outside caught her eye; there, running down the street towards the Cindersap forest, was the farmer boy, holding his bag up over his head to try and fend off the icy rain.

“What?” Haley glanced up briefly as Emily got up from the couch. “Oh Yoba, don’t tell me you spotted another bird. We’re not keeping it.”

Without giving an answer, Emily hastily traipsed over to the door and threw it open. “Ashe!” She called as the petite farmer jogged past. “Here, come inside before you catch a chill!”

Ashe practically skidded to a stop on the slick pavement. “A-Are you sure?” He asked, looking a bit hesitant as he hugged himself to try and keep warm.

Nodding her head, Emily stepped aside while holding the door open; after a moment, Ashe jogged over, trying not to brush against her with his sopping wet clothes as he crossed the threshold into the house. “Th-thank you so much, Emily.”

“Hey, what are neighbors for?” Emily gave him a friendly smile as she shut the door behind them. “I’ll grab some towels and get some hot tea going, that should help warm you back up.”

It took a few minutes to brew the tea, but before long Ashe was bundled up on the couch, his nearly numb hands clutching at a cup of strong peppermint tea. “Sorry for getting your couch all wet.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll dry, won’t it? Anyway, you stay right here until the rain lets up, and then you march yourself right back home and take a hot bath so you don’t catch a cold.”

As Emily passed the crafting nook to go back into the kitchen, Haley snorted quietly. “That’s not even a real thing.” She grumbled, trying to focus on her work again. Every few seconds she’d glance around the sewing machine into the living room to sneak a look at Ashe, who was quietly sipping away at his tea. He was awful small for a farmer, and for a boy for that matter. Pretty sure he was about the same size as someone like Abigail, even…

Shifting to be able to look out the window, Ashe idly drummed his fingertips against the cup. ‘I hope the rain’s not too cold for the crops…’ He thought anxiously, his brow furrowed in concern at the idea of it. The pumpkins weren’t long from ripe, which was good since Spirits’ Eve was fast approaching. With any luck, he’d be able to let Jas pick out her pumpkin before opening the fields to the public..

“Hey.”

Jumping a little, Ashe turned to look at Haley, who had come to stand before him. “H-Hello, Haley.” He greeted slowly. He and Haley hadn’t really had any interaction since he moved to Pelican Town; she was always either absorbed into something like photography, or content to just ignore his dirt-covered self any time they passed.

Haley folded her arms over her chest as she gave him a hard look. “… Take off your clothes.”

The sudden demand made Ashe’s face turn a deep shade of crimson, and nearly made him spill the tea all over himself. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, I’m not saying to get naked.” Haley scoffed with a shake of her head. “Look, you don’t want to catch a cold or whatever by staying in those wet clothes of yours, right?”

“N-No, but…” Ashe was more confused than uncomfortable at this point. “I don’t… have anything else to change into…?”

“Oh, my Yoba—” Frustrated, Haley practically shoved some dry clothes into his face. “Are you really that dense? The bathroom’s through that door there,” she pointed, “so quit asking stupid questions and go put these on!”

“Y-Yes ma’am!” Not wanting to be scolded again, Ashe hastily set the tea on the coffee table and disappeared into the bathroom. It felt incredibly awkward to him, first being invited into their home when he didn’t know either of them very well and now changing in their bathroom into…. “Um, Haley?”

“Whaaaat?” Haley’s impatient voice snapped from the other side of the door.

“Are you sure these are the clothes you meant to give me--?”

“YES! Just put them on already!”  

Hearing her sister’s exasperation, Emily stepped out from the kitchen to see her waiting impatiently by the bathroom. “What are you up to?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“… Yes, actually, that’s why I asked.”

“Well, if Farmer Dork here would hurry it up, you could see.” Haley drummed her fingertips against her arm; she was never a patient girl, and it was really grinding her gears that Ashe was taking his sweet time to change.

After almost a minute, the door unlocked and began to open—“Finally,” Haley huffed—and a very meek Ashe stepped into view; no longer was he wearing the overalls and bright orange turtleneck. Emily’s jaw dropped a little at the sight of him, clad in a lilac-colored t-shirt type top hanging baggily over a long sleeved white dress shirt. Instead of pants, a pair of charcoal shorts—also baggy and oversized for his small frame—covered the upper parts of his legs, while clean white leggings pulled halfway up his thighs covered most of the rest. He looked like… a totally different person, and quite an uncomfortable, embarrassed one at that.

“Hrm….” Haley grabbed his arm and pulled him to stand in the middle of the living room, taking her time to walk circles around him and examine him from every angle; more than once she would stop, tug on a piece of the fabric, make a noise of discontent, and then resume her circular march. Out of nowhere, she let out a frustrated yell. “Yoba, this won’t win the scholarship!”

“Scholarship?” Confused, Ashe looked to her, then to Emily, who gave him a sympathetic smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

“Haley’s trying to get into a fashion design academy in Zuzu City.” She explained simply. “But it’s a pretty expensive school to get into, so she’s trying to win a full ride scholarship.”

“Yeah, and I can kiss those hopes good-bye if this is the best that I can come up with!” Haley yanked on Ashe’s sleeve, obsessing over every flaw in the fabric. “Ugh, I worked so hard on this too!”

“Is it really that bad?” Ashe looked down at himself; sure, these weren’t clothes that he would ever pick out for himself or wear while working on the farm, but they weren’t awful. “If you made these yourself, then that’s really impressive.”

Haley gave him a hard look. “… Of course you would say that. You wear denim overalls every day.” She grumbled, roughly letting go of his arm and looking away with a frustrated pout. “…. Thanks, though. I guess they don’t look so bad when you’re wearing them.”

Another idea struck her, and she whipped around to face Ashe again with her eyes glinting. “I know. I’m sure to design something amazing if I’ve got someone to model outfits on! C’mon, you’ll do that for me, right?”

“Haley, don’t be selfish.” Emily stepped in between the two and shook her head. “Ashe doesn’t have time to be a dress up doll for you.”

“Actually…. I don’t mind.”

Surprised, Emily looked over her shoulder to Ashe. “Are you sure? You don’t have to play along with her, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” Ashe nodded his head slowly. “But I want to. I think it’s wonderful that Haley wants to go to a school like that. And I want to help her. If that means that I have to dress up every so often, that’s okay.”

Rather than being elated, Haley couldn’t help but feel a little muted. She had kind of expected Ashe to just play along begrudgingly, and she’d been okay with that, but hearing him so willing to help her like that made her feel just the littlest bit of guilt. She hadn’t expected him to be so… nice.

“You’re really kind of a pushover, aren’t you?” She asked a few minutes later, as she was busy taking Ashe’s measurements; now that she had a willing participant, she needed them so that the next outfit prototype wouldn’t hang like a burlap sack on him. “I bet you don’t even know what the word ‘no’ is.”

“I do!” Ashe insisted meekly. “I just… don’t say it very often. Besides, I really do want to help you. I didn’t know that you had such a wonderful dream. But… why ask me, specifically? Why not ask someone like Emily, or Abigail, or Penny?”

“Are you kidding?” Haley crouched down to take Ashe’s leg measurements. “Like they’d ever agree to help me. I know nobody in town likes me very much. You’re pretty much the only person that would put up with me besides Emily. And there’s no way that Emily would wear anything I made, even just to model it.”

“I-I see….”

“Geez, you’re such a twig!” Making a note of his measurement, she jotted it down on the notebook by her feet. “How does someone who works on a farm have such skinny arms and legs? I’m actually kind of jealous…”

Ashe’s cheeks tinted a bit pink at the comment; to be honest, he was embarrassed about how small he was. It wasn’t like he didn’t try to put on weight, because he did. “If you don’t mind me asking… what made you want to study fashion design?”

“Well,” Haley picked up the notebook and straightened up to set it by the table where her sketchpad was, “I don’t know if you’ve realized it, but I’m not exactly the most petite person on the planet. Alex likes to tell me I’m thicc with 2 c’s, whatever that means. And it’s really frustrating sometimes to find clothes that are cute or sexy or just nice for bigger girls—if you’ve got a butt, or a big chest, or a thick waist or thighs, then there’s not much selection for you, and it’s usually fugly as hell on top of being expensive.” She sighed and leaned against the table as she folded her arms across her chest again, a frustrated frown on her face. “So I got to thinking that if no one out there is making stuff for plus sized people, then I would. And not just for the bigger girls, either—I want to make a line of clothing that caters to all shapes and sizes and gender identities. It doesn’t matter who you are, what you identify as or what your body is—” she suddenly struck a determined and triumphant pose, a fire practically burning in her eyes, “you should be able to wear nice clothes like everyone else!”

Her sudden outburst of passion caught Ashe quite off-guard. They were both strangers to one another, so he really had no idea that she had such ambition.

“So yeah.” Haley leaned back against the table again. “Of course, the fact that filling a gap in the market would bring in loads of money is a nice bonus, but more than anything, helping people feel good about themselves is my main goal. And even though I’m mostly aiming towards plus sized women,” she gave Ashe the faintest of smiles, “I appreciate that you’re helping me out here. But I’m blaming you if I don’t get into this academy, you got that?”

“Right…” Ashe half laughed at the idle threat.

“Alright then.” Glancing out the window, Haley saw that the rain had all but stopped. “Oh hey, the rain’s let up. You probably should get out of here before it picks up again.”

“Ah, really?” Ashe looked outside as well, relieved that he would be able to get home. “I’ll go change real quick—”

“Go ahead and keep those clothes, by the way.” She added as he moved towards the bathroom. “They’re nowhere near good enough to get a scholarship with, and I’m never going to wear them. Actually, do me a favor and wear them around for awhile. I want to at least see how they hold up under wear and tear.”

“You… want me to wear this around town?” Ashe looked down at himself again, his face turning red just imagining being seen by other people—let alone Shane.

“Yup. You got a problem with that?”

Catching the ‘look’ that Haley was giving him, Ashe decided it wasn’t worth the battle. “N-No, no problem.”

“Good. Now get going.” Considering their little ‘appointment’ done, Haley sat herself at the design desk and opened up her sketchpad to a blank page. It was back to square one, but she had numbers and points of references this time.

Sighing internally—he really was a giant pushover, wasn’t he?—Ashe got his wet clothes out of the bathroom and began to the front door. “Oh, before you go!” Emily called, catching his attention as she traipsed out of the kitchen with an old umbrella in hand. “I knew we had one sitting in one of our closets, so I dug it out for you. Wouldn’t want you to get caught out in the rain again, now would we?”

“Ah, thank you!” Grateful, Ashe accepted the umbrella. “I’ll make sure to return it.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that. Keep it! It’s not like we ever use it anyway.” Emily gave him a smile and a wave. “Be careful on your way home, alright?”

“I will.” Ashe clutched the umbrella against his chest and bowed his head to her. “Thank you again!”

As Emily shut the front door, Haley leaned over to watch Ashe disappear down the road through the window. “You know…” She began slowly, resting her chin on her hand as she sat back and picked up her pencil. “He’s not anything like I thought he would be.”

“What did you think he’d be like?” Emily picked up the empty tea cup from the coffee table and took it into the kitchen.

“I dunno… like you, probably. Super weird and hippie-dippie. I didn’t expect this… puffball pushover.” Tapping the tip of her pencil against the pad, Haley had a contemplative look on her face. “And what’s with that ‘I want to help you’ stuff he was spouting?”

“That’s just how Ashe is.” Emily rinsed the cup out in the sink and came to stand next to her sister’s desk. “He’s just a genuinely caring person. How else do you think he and Shane ended up together?”

“I guess.” Haley looked down to the blank page before her. “… Hey, go and get my laptop for me. I need to look up some inspo.” It was time to fill that blank page up with a fresh design.

As Ashe moved from the town proper to the boundaries of the Cindersap forest, he sneezed into his elbow; despite having been warmed up in their house, he still felt a chill deep in his bones. ‘Maybe I should have an early night tonight…’

[kagakusenpai]

Another HataMaou FanFic

This one’s an AU where....I’ll let you read and find out :P 

Enjoy!   -Roguecookie                            

--

A lone figure stood on top of Usui pass, basking in the last rays of the evening sun. The soft orange rays slowly dissipated as the setting sun disappeared behind the mountains. Soon, the void of darkness would envelop everything around him.

The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Pure focus.

The whistling of the wind through the trees was soon accompanied by a growling sound. In the distance he could see a trail of small lights snaking their way up the mountain. Moments later, the rumbling of motorcycle engines surrounded the man on all sides.

He opened his eyes. His surroundings were illuminated by dozens of lights. Turning around, he faced the group of bikers that had approached him.

The leader of the group hopped off his bike and approached the man, sneering. “So, you’re the leader of the new Kanto gang? Awfully confident in yourself, showing up alone. Perhaps our crew will have to teach you how we do things here in Chuubu.”

“I’d really appreciate it actually, its my first time here and I could use a local to show me around.” The man, dressed in white, calmly replied.

“Hahahahaha, you’re an odd one. I’ll be sure to remember your pretty face before I turn it into a bloody pulp.” The grinning leader paused for a moment before letting out a bloodthirsty roar. “GET HIM BOYS!”

Dozens of men, dressed in similar black jackets, swarmed towards the outnumbered man in white. The man began smiling, his deep red eyes glowing with excitement.

--

A few minutes later.

On the side of the road a pile of men were groaning in defeat. Some had passed out, while others were too injured to stand up. None of them were expecting this outcome.

Their bloodied leader was currently being held up in the air by his jacket’s collar. Tears forming in his eyes, he struggled to escape from the grasp of the monster before him.

Those eyes full of despair, how wonderful! The white ‘monster’ brought the leader’s face up to his own.

“Now, how about you show me some of that lovely Chuubu hospitality you were talking about?”

Laughing, he threw the whimpering man aside. He turned around to observe the view from the top of the pass once more.

The bright headlights illumined the boldly embroidered characters on the back of the man’s tokko-fuku:

“Kanto Demon Army”

His laughter faded into the dark, moonless night.

--

“Aaaaaaaaaargghh! Not this again! And on my day off of all things.”

Frowning so hard her eyebrows formed a distinct ‘V’ shape, Emi Yusa sat up at her work desk. Crumpled papers in hand, she stared at the report placed in front of her:

Reported brawl between the Kanto Demon Army and Chuubu biker gangs reported last night at around 20:00 hours. Over 30 injured men were found, all claiming that the injuries were inflicted by a single man. Reports currently lead us to believe the suspect to be the leader of the Kanto Demon Army, known as the Demon King of Kanto.  Currently there are no leads to his whereabouts.

“AND I WAS THIS CLOSE!”

Emi threw all the papers in her hands into the air in a sudden fit of rage before sulking back down into her chair.

“Officer Yusa, what is the matter?”

“Ah, Captain Tojima! Apologies for my… unbecoming behaviour. I just let my emotions get to me, that’s all”

The tall man who approached Emi brought a chair and sat down in front of her desk. His neat blue uniform and spotless black cap showed that he was a man who cherished his public image. On the other hand, the bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin showed that he had been spending a little too much time occupied with work.

“I understand Ms. Yusa…if I had been working on a case as long as you have been without getting a single lead, I’d be frustrated too.”

“But that still is no reason for me to start throwing papers.”

Tojima let out a quiet chuckle. He pulled out a small note from his jacket pocket and tossed it over to Emi.

“Or is it now? I’ll let you know I was quite the accomplished paper thrower back in my day.” Clearly overstepping the boundaries of his joke, the man’s face suddenly turned serious as he leaned towards Emi. “Listen Officer Yusa, I reported no leads for a reason. There has to be an explanation as to why every single lead has been a false positive so far…catch my drift?” His voice has lowered substantially.

Emi understood the meaning behind the man’s words. Her opportunity had finally come. Many months after arriving from Ente Isla in search of the Demon King, joining the police force, and investigating his whereabouts she had her first reliable lead.

“I’ll give you permission to take one other officer you can trust with you. Backup will be on standby, but at a more distant location, to avoid any possible hints to the enemy.” Without saying another word, the exhausted captain stood up and headed back towards his office.

Emi grabbed the paper Tojima had tossed onto her desk. Its contents would finally lead her to apprehending the damned Demon King, Satan Jacob. She spun around on her chair, looking towards the person who sat at the desk behind her.

“Oiiii Rika! You got a moment?”

The girl sleeping at the desk jerked her head up. Her brown eyes sparkling, she looked at Emi and gave a huge grin.

“Ehehehehhhhhh…what’s up Emi.” Still a bit groggy, she tilted her head inquisitively.

This girl is basically a human cat, Emi thought to herself before rolling her chair up to Rika’s desk. Rika’s hair was dishevelled due to her constant worktime napping. Emi went ahead and straightened her hat and patted her messy hair down. Truly a cat, all I need her to do now is purr.

“…I got a lead on the Demon Army case.”

“AAAA! Oh my--”

Emi placed her hand on Rika’s mouth.

“SHHHHHH! Not so loud…it’s top secret for now.” Emi nervously looked around to see if anyone had heard their conversation. No one was within earshot.

“Listen, grab your bike tomorrow and come meet me at this address in your undercover clothing.”

“Wait, I can come in my undercover clothing? Kyaa~ I have the perrrrfect getup for this occasion. We should totally get you a new outfit too Emi! Let’s go shopping!” Rika was clearly excited for all the wrong reasons.

“How about some other time Rika?”

Sighing, Emi handed Rika the paper she received from the Captain. Rika read its scribbled contents.

21:00 – Z bridge, Y City, Saitama. X Gang vs Kanto Demon Army.

--

The steady rain poured down on a quiet neighborhood in Tokyo. A man stood in an alley, taking cover from the weather under the metal awning of a nearby ramen store. He pulled out an old grey flip phone that had just begun ringing.

“Yes, my liege?......Understood. We have complete control over Chuubu’s primary gang thanks to your hard work. Quite a few of our men were assaulted by Gang X in Saitama. I suggest we take their bait and take their main force on…...Yes, I’ll handle the escape routes and cover ups.” The man closed his phone and stepped out into the rain. His blonde-silver hair was lit by the streetlights as he walked down the streets. The Demon General Alciel, also known as the ‘Demon General Ashiya’, walked up to his bike, removing its cover. Putting on his black jacket, embroidered in white with the words ‘Demon General’ and ‘Victory’, he started his bike’s engine. Giving the engine a few ceremonial revs, Ashiya sped off into the distance, his red taillights weaving through the midnight traffic.

--

The next day, 21:00 hours Z Bridge, Y City, Saitama.

“Jeez, don’t you think all these biker gang fellas could at least pick nicer outfits? Like my gawd, look at that guy’s hair! It looks like it needs an oil change along with his bike. And he’s wearing orange, yellow and green. Emi that’s a crime against fashion!”

“Rika, shush! We’re undercover! Stay focused and don’t make so much noise.”

Rika and Emi were parked outside an abandoned warehouse near Z bridge. Their motorbikes were neatly hidden behind some old crates they had found earlier. Lying prone in the middle of a pile of abandoned equipment, they had an excellent view of the bridge with their binoculars. Being on surveillance for the past hour, Rika had begun to grow a bit restless.

“It’s not like they can hear us all the way over here! Give me some slack girl!” Rika nudged Emi.

Emi didn’t want to admit that it was this kind of attitude that made Rika so valuable to have on a stakeout like this. Even though she would joke all the time, Emi knew that her attention was still focused on their mission.

“Still, it’s a bit odd that nothing has happened yet. Its almost 15 minutes past nine.” Emi was starting to get worried. She was certain that Satan would show up, not missing a chance to feed on more demonic energy and expand his network of biker thugs throughout the region.

Over the past few months the Kanto Demon Army had slowly begun terrorizing all the local biker gangs and expanding their territory through brute force and subjugation. Not only did this provide ample negative energy for the demons to feed on and grow their reserves stronger, but it allowed them to slowly build an army of followers based on fear. Emi assumed that not even the military could stop a fully powered up Satan in this state. It was up to her to use the Better Half and take Satan down on earth, once and for all.

“Its not like these guys even care for showing up on time. Besides, these kinds of guys are the type to always show up late to a date…augh.” Rika rolled her eyes, clearly remembering an unpleasant experience. “Let me give you some life advice Emi, if a guy ever shows up late to a date, just dump him on the spot. True gentlemen are a dying breed I tell you, a dying breed!”

Emi didn’t bother answering Rika. Her eyes were focused on the sudden movements on the bridge.

“Rika, quick look!”

--

Maou peeked out from his hiding spot a few blocks away from the bridge. He had parked his motorbike here an hour ago and used magic to hide himself from passerbys. He looked at his phone – 21:05 – Ashiya was taking too long.

Normally he would have received a call saying that the escape route was covered, and any surprise attacks had been neutralized. This was key to Maou’s quick ‘in-and-out’ strategy for conquering the different gangs in the Kanto region. Defeat their leader, quell any rebellion and force the enemy to admit absolute defeat in a matter of moments to ensure maximum despair. Once defeated, most groups would stay loyal. All these biker gangs really cared about was being apart of the strongest and most powerful group so they could assert their dominance on others. Maou didn’t care much for politics.

“Shit, its 21:15.” Maou would run out of time soon, and the gang would likely disperse. He needed to defeat them all in one single blow if possible. “Here goes nothing.”

Disabling his illusion magic, Maou pulled out onto the street and raced down towards the bridge. Blocking the entrance was a group of bikers wearing dark purple jackets with yellow emblems that read ‘Light Bringer’.

Tokko-fuku flapping in the wind, Maou headed straight for them without slowing down. Extruding demonic energy from every pore in his body, he made himself as scary as possible. The bikers, clearly terrified to their core, grabbed their motorcycles and fled.

He continued down to the middle of the bridge before drifting his bike at an angle to a complete stop. Casually stepping off his motorcycle, Maou took a few steps forward towards the large group of bikers.

“So, who’s the leader that wants to challenge me, the Demon King of Kanto?”

It was absolutely silent as the thirty odd members of Gang X just stared at Maou.

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite…”

Maou leaned forward and grinned.

“…I’LL DO SOMETHING MUCH WORSE!”

He leaped forward at the bikers, channeling demonic energy to his arms and legs to increase his physical output to the max.

He pulled his arm back to throw the first punch when –

--

Seeing Maou fly through the bridge suddenly threw Emi and Rika into action immediately. Without wasting a second, they were both riding their personal motorcycles towards the bridge at full speed.

“Rika, secure the perimeter, make sure no one gets hurt! I’ll handle Sata- … err the Demon King.”

“Gotcha! Be careful Emi, this guy looks dangerous though…”

“I’ve handled demons like him before.”

“Demons?? Umm ok!”

As they turned the final corner to reach the bridge an immense flash of light blinded them both.

“What the hell!” Emi was in shock.

--

“It’s been a while, Satan Jacob.”

Maou couldn’t believe it.

“What are you doing here…. Lucifer”

Right before his first punch connected he was stopped by an immense amount of magical energy. The collision caused an immense shockwave that knocked down most of the bikers, along with their bikes.

“I couldn’t help myself join in on the fun here on Earth. You see, once the hero defeated me on Ente Isla I thought I was a goner, but it seems heaven had different plans for me.”

“Heaven?! Don’t tell me Lucifer….did you betray us?” Maou was furious. “We thought you….you were defeated.”

“Funny how that works, right?” Lucifer’s gaze pierced through Maou.

Maou tensed up, ready for Lucifer’s next move. He didn’t know how much demonic power he had stored up, but the power he used to stop his punch was more than enough to put him on full alert.

“my liiiiieeeeEEEEEEEEGGGGGEEEEE!!!!!!!”

In the distance, Ashiya’s voice grew increasingly louder. Speeding down the road at an incredible speed, he pulled up from behind Maou and stopped his motorbike in an instant.

“We…we’ve been betrayed…. I’m sorry … I couldn’t get to you faster my Lord.” Short of breath, Ashiya walked up beside Maou. “Lucifer is getting assistance fro-”

Maou barely had time to react to Lucifer’s barrage of magic attacks. All bets were off, Maou and Ashiya realized they had to use their demonic forms to survive this battle. Clothes ripping, they turned into the demons they truly were and sidestepped the magic projectiles.

“Once I defeat you and the hero, I’ll regain my proper position in heaven once again AHAHAHAHA!” Streams of purple light blazed past Lucifer towards Maou and Ashiya. “There’s no sense in running, I’ve acquired so much more power than you two combined.”

--

Seeing Lucifer’s sudden appearance along with Satan and Alciel’s transformation completely shocked Emi. The light and shockwave from earlier had stopped her and Rika in their tracks, both their bikes being tossed aside by the sudden blast.

Emi knew she had to act now but the situation was a complete mess. Beside her Rika was lying on the ground, regaining her senses.

“See… I told you guys who are late to their first date are trouble…” Rika groaned while she stood up.

Emi smiled at her friend’s comment. Still not fazed enough to stop making stupid jokes I see.

“Rika, handle those who’ve collapsed around the bridge. I have no idea how this is going to turn out but evacuate everyone as fast as possible. This bridge is likely going to collapse.”

“Collapse?!?! Ok, whatever I’m on it!” Rika picked up and steadied her bike. In the corner of her eye she saw Emi jump into the sky before disappearing completely.

--

The battle with Lucifer had taken its toll on Maou and Alciel.

“Alciel, we need to make a tactical retreat…this isn’t the right place to be fighting, not with our current state.” Maou knew that Lucifer had the edge with his immense amount of demonic energy. Maou had been expending his reserves carelessly in the past month, leaving him with just enough to stay on the defensive.

“Sir, what about the civilians?” Humans were still valuable pawns for the Kanto Demon Army.

“Get whoever you can out of the way, we can’t waste too much time.” Maou flew towards the river to drag Lucifer’s fire away from the bodies strewn on the bridge.

Ashiya flew down towards the bridge and began grabbing unconscious bodies and dragging them to safety. As he grabbed the last survivor, he saw the bridge crumbling.

Looks like I got them all before the bridge collapsed.

Then he noticed something in the corner of his eye.

A small girl was helping a man get off on the other side of the bridge. She’s not going to make it. Unsure why he did it, Ashiya threw the man he was holding towards the pile of unconscious bodies he had saved and dashed towards the girl.

By the time Rika noticed the bridge was crumbling, it was too late. She had tried dragging an unconscious biker off the bridge but was struggling to pull the heavy body towards safety. Even if she let go of the body and ran, she knew it was too late. Her legs buckled.

“E-E-Emmiii, h-help me!” She barely managed to cry out. Her voice wouldn’t reach Emi, who had been missing since the start of the whole fight. Still, she cried out hoping someone, anyone, would save her.

“Hold on miss!”

Rika extended her hand to the mysterious stranger who appeared in front of her. His body was black like charcoal and the arm she grabbed onto was cold as metal. She felt herself being pulled up into the air. She looked up at her mysterious saviour’s face.

Such emotionless golden eyes…

Rika felt her grip on reality fading … as if some strange energy was forcing her body to shut down all its senses. Her vision was fading to black. Before she lost consciousness, she saw the man’s face look down and managed to put together a faint smile.

“Thank…you….such…a…..gentleman…”

Alciel stared at the limp body of the girl he saved. He managed to hold her in his arms before she completely lost consciousness. 

A human who thanked me, how odd…

--

After giving Rika her instructions, Emi flew towards the battle that was taking place above the bridge. Activating her Better Half, she positioned herself carefully to avoid catching the attention of the two demons flying around in front of her.

Suddenly, she noticed the area around her turning black.

“What’s going on!”

She was trapped, in what seemed like a magical barrier, but one made from a mysterious kind of magic. She readied her sword.

“Who are you? Come out before I make you regret trapping me in this barrier…….!”

The Better Half was slowly fading from her hands, its sacred powers dissipating into the air, leaving Emi defenceless. She couldn’t believe it -

!

“w---w---who…are………..”

A crimson-stained scythe blade was sticking out of Emi’s chest. Vision beginning to blur, she knelt on the barrier’s floor, gasping for air as she watched blood spill out from her chest.

“….y….ou!”

A single white feather dropped down into Emi’s arms.

  To be continued…

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 6

"Loving you has taken time, taken time But I always knew you could be mine I recognize the butterflies, inside me Since it's gonna be made tonight, tonight All you gotta do is say yes…"

Floetry – "Say Yes"

N'Jobu waited for Califia outside of his apartment complex.

The fifteen-story off-white building was full of working-class families, but it also had some sketchy characters who hung around the basketball court adjacent to the property. There was only off-street parking available. N'Jobu wanted to escort Califia inside so that folks hanging around outside could see who she was with. Residents gave him a lot of space and were happy to have him living in the building. When the block got hot or some young knuckleheads popped off, N'Jobu tended to be the peacekeeper and the ass kicker. He had a scuffle with a few ruffians his first week in the building, and once he reached for his waistband most folks thought he was packing and let him be. Word got around not to fuck with the barber on the fourteenth floor. Especially since he really was strapped now.

He saw Califia pull up in her teal hatchback and he hopped into the passenger seat to guide her to a parking spot. Walking back with her he wanted to hold her hand, but he strolled close to her, making eye contact with a few men loitering near the entrance.

They were quiet on the elevator together, so he gave side-long glances to her outfit. She had changed from teacher gear to hanging-out-for-happy-hour fits: a simple long sleeve black maxi dress with black ankle boots.

She followed him to his two-bedroom bachelor pad. His neighbors across the hall, two attractive women who worked retail, were stepping out of their apartment when N'Jobu was opening his door.

"Hey Joseph," one of them cooed as they let their eyes flit across Califia on their way out.

"'sup," N'Jobu said.

He peeped Califia checking out the women as they sauntered over to the elevator. When she turned back to look at him, he had his door open.

"Heyyyyy, Jo-seph," she teased.

"Stop," he said smiling.

"The ladies in 1402 seem very friendly."

"They are."

"Hmph."

He held the door open and let her walk in first. Califia looked around. His furnishings were simple: a second-hand couch he bought from a thrift store that had a hideous striped pattern that he found charming. Two old bookcases and a brass and glass shelving unit that belonged to the previous tenants that he found useful and sturdy. A small coffee table with matching end tables that he bought from a cheap furniture store. A tv stand and an old tv set rounded out his humble abode. His bedroom and kitchen furniture he ordered online, along with a full cookware set and dishes. The carpet was a forgettable bland beige.

"Kick off your shoes and get comfortable," he said reaching for her purse.

She gave him her handbag and he hung it up on a wall shelf near the front door.

"You want anything to drink?"

"Sure. What do you have?"

"Juice, water…"

"No wine?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Water then."

She sat down on his couch and he went into his kitchen to retrieve a glass for her. The batch of jasmine rice he made was ready. All he needed to do was fry up the vegetables and shrimp he had prepped. An old favorite he knew she liked when he made it in the past. Spicy plantains with onions, peppers, and mango relish. Easy to make quickly.

He brought her a cold glass of water and returned to the kitchen to cook. She wandered in to watch him.

"Should I at least set the table?" she asked observing him cook.

"No. You just let me cook. I'll do everything. Relax."

She sat at his dinette table and watched him fix their late dinner. He prepared the table for them and plated their food. She still had a healthy appetite and when she was smacking her lips and humming as she ate, he knew he'd made a good choice for their meal.

"Damn, I missed eating this," she said. She gulped down some water and dipped her finger in the mango relish still on her plate and nibbled it down, cooling her tongue from the peppers.

He cleared up their dishes and stuck the leftovers in his fridge. She followed him back into his living room and sat next to him on his couch.

"Thanks for dinner," she said.

They stared at one another for a moment, and then her eyes fell away from his. A quiet shyness came over them both. She turned her body to face him.

"We're married?" she asked.

As always, she was straight to the point.

"In a manner of speaking—"

"No, you said I was your wife. You were quite adamant about that."

"In my culture, the acceptance of the ring signifies a bond, a marriage bond. There would have to be a ceremony to formalize it, but getting the ring and seed…pretty much a wrap."

"You should've told me that."

"Would you have gotten the piercing if you knew? In this country, it doesn't mean anything, but back home…it's a sign of commitment."

"Yeah, I probably would've still done it. I was committed to you."

"Zinzi broke off the engagement."

Califia's face grew softer in her expression.

"It became a really big deal."

"Why did she break up with you?"

"She eloped with her lover and my family wanted to do damage control by keeping me hidden away in the military. We uh, we had a bit of a reckoning between us when we returned from D.C. that last time I saw you. She was with her lover, and I was with you…when we returned home…"

He wrestled to find words to explain the turmoil. It was an emotionally draining experience. On the flight home, Zinzi cried and there was no comforting her. Back in the palace, they both struggled to come to terms with not being with who they loved. In essence, they couldn't fake the funk anymore. N'Jobi approached his brother privately and tried to break down what was happening between them. T'Chaka was upset, but he held Zinzi in high esteem. She was already a part of his inner circle on national projects. She was even being considered as a future replacement for Kholiwe on the Council of Elders.

The look on T'Chaka's face when N'Jobu told him that Zinzi was in love with Gcuma was an accusatory one.

"Did you force her into his arms?" T'Chaka asked.

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"I know about your indiscretions, Baby Brother. I also know you have never wanted to get married so soon. I would have thought that you of all people could be a little more careful with her heart."

"She has been in love with that man a long time. Even before she was approached for marriage by me. We have been friends maintaining a lie that can no longer be kept hidden. Her desire is to marry him. I want her to."

T'Chaka wanted to contain Zinzi, convince her to disregard the general and honor her duty to the Udaku family, but she ran off with Gcuma and married him in another city and the family was in an uproar. Their father was outraged that Gcuma could betray the family, and of course, tongues were wagging about the trip to D.C. and Gcuma being around Zinzi. N'Jobu didn't have to worry about Yejide or Ometeko revealing his liaison with Califia. They were loyal to him.

Their mother was concerned with rumors and the truth getting out. T'Chaka was more concerned with N'Jobu being able to save face and being viewed as a weak cuckold. N'Jobu decided to play into that scenario by acting the part of a hurt but understanding ex-fiance who didn't want Zinzi or her family punished. The War Dog expansion came right on time, and N'Jobu campaigned to get an assignment out of the country. Lagos. Marrakesh. Joburg. His parents wanted him closer to the family and tried to compromise by suggesting he take an assignment in Niganda as Special Ops, but N'Jobu played up the fact that he needed distance to get over his loss of Zinzi.

Leaving far away from Wakanda was his only option, and it would help cover the marriage of Zinzi when it did come out. They could spin the story that his sterling military career put a strain on their engagement and they broke it off mutually. And Zinzi could still be a part of the council with no stain on her name in the public. Marrying a high-ranking general in charge of training and stationed in Birnin Zana would be seen as an acceptable consolation. Zinzi's family would have to get over Gcuma's age and previous divorce.

He was sent to Marrakesh first. Then a short stint in Accra before being shipped to Joburg.

For a year he toiled in the muck and mire of military politics and subversion in South Africa. Every War Dog had to come back to Wakanda each year for a month-long psyche evaluation and debriefing before returning to their work. During his annual check-in, N'Jobu learned of the Oakland assignment. He went hard for it. His superiors agreed he was the right person for the job. By that time Zinzi already had her first child. A boy. All he could remember was how much she wanted to make babies with Gcuma. She was doing it.

N'Jobu sat on the Delta plane to America thinking about having a child of his own. He remembered that Califia said she liked the name Erika or Erik if she had a baby. So be it. He would give their child, (the one that only lived in his mind as he flew across the ocean), a middle name. N'Jadaka. A gender-neutral name that would fit any child that came from Califia's womb placed there by him. N'Jadaka- One who brings down thunder. What did Califia say the name Erik/Erika meant? Ruler?

He mulled the name over on the plane. This child who had yet to be created by them. A ruler who brings down thunder. He was going to speak this child into existence with her. They had lost one already. But not this next one. No, this next one would make it all the way into the world. He would see to it.

"Zinzi has the family and person she always wanted. I want the same, Califia. This job I have is covert and I will have to return to Wakanda every year to check in with my people. No one but you and I can know the true details. We have this one chance to be together…"

"But?"

"But what?"

"C'mon now. There's always some caveat. Something that could change at the last minute."

"As long as I toe the line, keep up with my reports, and never interfere overtly with the goings on in my sector, I can be here for…years."

He saw her eyes widen a bit and she scooted a little closer to him.

"How would this work? I mean really work, N'Jobu? You just live like a regular random barber and we get together whenever?"

"We are expanding our global observations-"

"Global observations? Is that code for spying?"

"Yes. We have been expanding our observations in major cities. The only thing I do is live here, watch, and report—"

"What are you trying to find out?"

"The less you know the better—"

"No. That's not how this is going down. You have been secretive with me since the first day you met me. I don't want secrets or omitted facts. You tell me what your people want to know or else I'm walking—"

"My country has natural resources that we have protected—" "Oil?"

He didn't want to give away too much. White lies had to be given.

"Yes. Oil, cobalt, gold, tantalum, diamonds. Many countries want to get their hands on it. Exploit us. Our only protection has been to stay low key. To extract these items would destroy our environment. We are poor in the Western sense but there are forces gathering to use us and our land. Some of those forces are connected here."

His face felt hot. He had to walk a fine line. He had to live with this woman in plain sight but also keep her safe. They were just white lies…no really just an omission. The true resource was vibranium. She would never know about that. Never know how far ahead his people were compared to her own.

"We also want to know about some disappearances happening here—"

"Disappearances?"

Her face appeared anxious.

"In parts of East Africa, there have been people going missing. Not like regular missing persons…and not just East Africa. Europe. Southeast Asia—"

"One of my students was taken away under mysterious circumstances. Him and his whole family."

Her lip curled up a bit.

"I was questioned two weeks ago by men who were not the Feds. I'm sure of that. They were evasive and wanted to know if Terrell….that was my student's name…they wanted to know if there was anything unusual about him."

"Was there?"

"Yeah."

"What could he do?"

"Heal people. He could heal people. Moods. Physical ailments. I told him and his parents that they had to be careful. What is going on, N'Jobu?"

"I don't know. I'm here to find out."

"This won't be dangerous, will it? You won't have to do anything that will get you hurt, right?"

Stress marred her facial expression.

"I just watch, listen, and report."

"Didn't your people think you'd be recognized once you came back?"

"No. When I lived here, I was only in places tied to the university. I've blended in completely."

"But there are people around who may remember you when you were with me. If we go out together—"

"It's why I chose the name, Joseph. People would think I Americanized my name. Most didn't know my last name, and you never gave any real details about me. We'll work out something to tell your family. And Bakari."

"And Rolita, Soliel, and Serah."

"True."

She took a deep breath.

"Is this really happening? I'm not going to wake up and you'll be gone again, right?"

"I'm here. There will have to be layers to how we live. I have to keep this apartment. Stay in it at least two to three times a week. It has to look like I'm the only one who lives here."

"My townhouse…I was only able to get it because of you. The money you left me. I used most of it for a down payment. That makes it your home too."

He smiled.

"You'll stay with me there for most of your time?"

"If you will allow it."

She scooted in and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I will allow it."

She pressed her lips into his. He closed his eyes and swept his tongue inside her mouth. So close. They were so close to realizing their life together. He pulled her onto his lap, one hand supporting her neck and the other draped around her waist. Her kisses were wet like fresh morning dew and he couldn't stop himself from lifting her so that she straddled him. She pulled up her dress so that her warm thighs could spread across him untangled. They were all full lips and open-mouthed exploration. He couldn't get enough of her. Had to hold onto her for dear life. She was his life. His whole life right now.

He broke away from her first and nuzzled his forehead into her cheek and then her forehead.

"My people can never know about you."

"But if we have a baby…don't you want your family to know?"

"They would drag me back."

"You're willing to do that? Live with that?"

"I want to be here. With you. That's all I want."

"God, N'Jobu, baby, that's a huge sacrifice-"

His mouth overpowered hers. He had to make her know that she was worth the sacrifice.

Adjustments.

They were hard at first.

The first thing Califia had to do was bring N'Jobu back into the fold of her family and hope they believed the story of him being disowned from his family after leaving the military. It took her father months to be comfortable with N'Jobu being with her, especially when he learned of her going through her surgery without N'Jobu being by her side.

Nana Jean was easier to win over, especially when she saw them together. Bakari flew out to see them during a weekend break and it was good to see the two men patch up their friendship. It was obvious they missed one another. Soliel, Rolita, and Serah supported the reunion too.

Casual friends and associates just absorbed him as part of her life. At the barbershop, he was JoJo or Joseph. Same at his apartment. Around her family, he was Dayclean or D.C. In their townhouse he was N'Jobu. In bed he was Jobu. It was only in their house where he would drop his American accent and allow the lilt of his Wakandan native tongue to return.

When he went to his apartment without her, she sometimes worried about the women across the hall from him. He was playing a role. What if part of that role-playing involved being involved with people because he needed information from him? The two women, Dionne and Alma, were single and too familiar with N'Jobu for her liking. Califia didn't feel jealous per se, just concerned with their overly flirty behavior. And N'Jobu's insistence that Califia not come to his apartment that often weighed on her mind. He wanted to keep work and home life separate. Her stomach would feel queasy when he was not in bed with her and sleeping in his apartment.

Their work schedules took time to adjust.

N'Jobu worked long hours and Nate was giving him more responsibility, grooming him to be a manager out of fear that N'Jobu would leave to work for another shop or open his own. His reputation had grown and his skills grooming and making men look like new money were in greater demand. It caused some friction among the other barbers with seniority, but Nate didn't want to lose N'Jobu's clients. Some were Pro athletes from the Giants and 49ers. Coins were flowing in.

Because of this, Califia often came home from teaching and wouldn't see N'Jobu until much later in the evening after he was exhausted. Their sex life went into a natural transition. It was still satisfying when they did have it, but it wasn't as often. A lot of it had to do with his having to be in the apartment to keep up appearances. It was beginning to put stress on her. She didn't want to complain. She was happy to have him back and they were building on their relationship, but if they were going to have a baby, it appeared that she would be doing the bulk of the parenting.

They agreed not to start trying for the baby until the following month, and she was already off of her birth control. They found a doctor they liked that understood her medical history and appeared to have a good reputation. If they timed it right, she could hopefully carry her baby and have it during her spring break. She could get maternity leave and have the free summer months to be with the baby before heading back to work again. But there was no guarantee her body would just do what she wanted it to do. The research they both did showed that it could take a year to conceive for some people who were actively trying.

She knew that because she was high-risk she would be tenser trying to conceive. She started looking around for a doula to help her navigate a full-term pregnancy. She had heard and read horror stories of Black women dying recently from childbirth in local hospitals. Maternal deaths of Black women were high. N'Jobu's sister-in-law was still on her mind. Her death still gave Califia chills. She wanted an advocate to walk her through the entire journey in case doctors tried to talk over her or dismiss her fears. She remembered the case of a famous athlete who had the best doctors in the world, and she still almost died because her medical team didn't trust that she knew her own body and that she knew something was wrong after pushing out her child.

Califia was ready. She wanted a baby. She planned the timing for a baby. She wanted to have their baby set up right.

But she needed her man at home with her and between her legs to make that happen.

Walking around their house she found herself bored and checking the phone every twenty minutes. He said he was coming home early tonight. He was nowhere to be found. She sat down on the recliner that she bought him for his birthday. She could smell remnants of his cologne in the headrest. Perturbed, she grabbed her keys and her motorcycle jacket.

It felt good to ride her bike. She was tempted to ride to his apartment, but what would she say to him if he was there? I'm checking up on you? I don't trust people around you? I have some doubts about us?

She rode out to Lake Chalet restaurant for a glass of wine. It was a venue that stayed open late and had a nice water view. She ordered herself a carafe of Sauvignon Blanc and sat outside. She had to enjoy alcoholic beverages as much as she could before she got pregnant. She had tenure now for teaching, and still smoked an occasional joint during holidays and the summer, but now she was slowly eradicating all her vices to prepare her body. This would probably be her last glass of wine for a long time.

She checked her cell, but there were no messages from him, and it was already eleven at night. A fog was rolling in. The restaurant was shutting down, so she gulped down the last good swallow of wine and headed back home.

Pulling closer to her neighborhood she noticed street lights and house lights were out all over. The darkness mixed with the fog was eerie and she had to ride slow to maneuver her way home. She parked her bike and used her cell phone to light her way to the townhouse.

Inside the house, her cell light revealed N'Jobu sound asleep on his recliner with his jacket and shoes still on. Light snoring greeted her. She reached down and gently shook him. His eyes reacted to her cell light.

"Why is it dark in here?" he asked.

"Power outage. It's dark all up and down the street. What time did you get back?'

"Been here for about an hour. Had to do some things at the apartment."

He sat up to kiss her. "You've been drinking?"

"I was waiting for you and got bored. Went to the Chalet."

He stood up and pulled out his cell. She followed him into their kitchen where he pulled out some mini flashlights.

"Where did you stash the candles?" he asked digging around a cupboard near the fridge.

"They broke when the box fell. There are some tea candles upstairs under the bathroom sink."

They went upstairs and he helped her light several tea candles sitting inside of small round candle holders. They spread them onto both of their bedside nightstands and the glow from the orange holders gave the room an ethereal ambiance.

She changed into a short nightgown as he took one of the flashlights into the bathroom so he could see as he showered himself.

She crawled under the covers of their bed and waited for him.

He walked into the room nude and still drying off, placing the flashlight on his side of the bed. She watched him towel himself down, her breath still catching in her throat while looking at him. His nudity was still so beautiful to her. He laid the towel across a small stool.

"What?" he said when he caught her eyeing him.

"I like watching you dry off."

He slipped into their bed next to her and pulled her into his arms.

"I got caught up with some things I needed to take care of—"

"You didn't call me all day."

"I'm sorry. A lot was going on and I had to get reports completed and sent before I leave," his eyes closed and she felt his body settling down the way it did when he was ready to go to sleep.

She didn't like the sound of him saying "leave". He was due for his annual check-in back in Wakanda. His first one since they were back together. He was flying out in a week.

"I wish you would've called me. I thought maybe you had left without saying goodbye…"

He kissed her cheek.

"I'd never do that to you again."

She rubbed her hand on his chest.

"You will come back, right?"

She felt her body clench up, the anxious tension making her feel rigid and cold. He rubbed her shoulders and lifted up her chin.

"Is that what has you so worried these last few days?"

"Yeah."

"It's routine. I've done it before. Thirty days there, and then I'm back on the plane."

"What will they do with you?"

"Evaluations. Debriefings. After that, I'll spend some time with my family and then I'm back here with you."

She hated appearing helpless or weak in front of him. He always stirred up such intense emotions within her. She didn't like acting like a crybaby, but she really felt afraid. Their love had always been topsy-turvy and uncertain, and she couldn't help feeling that same way even though he tried to reassure her that things would be fine. She worked hard not to press out any tears between her eyelids.

"Hey, don't worry. I promise. I'm coming back."

She released a small shudder and he shifted his weight, lowering her head onto her pillow. She could see the flickering glow of the candles licking across the ceiling of their bedroom and tracing the shapes of their shadows.

"I'm coming back. And when I do, we'll make our baby. Okay?"

She nodded her head. His index and ring finger stroked her from her temple to her chin. He lowered his face toward her and kissed her. Just their lips touching. He pulled back and studied her face.

"I love you," he said.

She started cheesing so hard that her face felt tight. "I love you too," she said.

"Show me," he said with a teasing quality in his voice.

She kissed him again, lips only, and then she opened her mouth when his tongue prodded her with insistent licks. Tender and slow, they took their time for a long time until she started nipping at his lips, her signal to him that she was damp between her legs and needed more from him. He pulled back from her face.

"Kissing is never just kissing with you, girl," he said. She could hear the strain in his voice. It had been some time since they had kissed like this. He stared into her eyes and she could tell that he was ready for something more. It had been over a week since they had been intimate.

She unlaced the top of her gown and his eyes watched her hands free her breasts for him. His hands reached for her hardened nipples first and then he was clasping each breast, massaging them.

"I wonder how big these are going to get," he said and she giggled until his mouth latched onto a nipple and he suckled her. Fingers from his other hand stroked and teased her other nipple. He took turns catering to each breast and her clit thumped like a bass drum keeping time with his ministrations. When a nipple popped out of his mouth with his lips wet with saliva, his eyes had changed from soft to determined.

"I can't wait for you to feed my baby with these tits," he said plying her legs wide open. He pushed up her nightie from her hips up to her waist. He propped up on his knees and when her eyes dragged down to his waist, he had his full erection already in his hand stroking himself. He ran his thick fingers around the head of his dick and stared at her tits. She reached up and pushed her breasts together for him.

"Ah, yes…feed my baby, huh, girl. You'll do that, right?"

She nodded and he pressed his tip against her clit and rubbed it. She felt her legs quake and pulled them up.

"I'll put a baby right in this pussy…right in this good pussy…let me put this in you…okay?"

She nodded and he pushed forward, filling up her insides. He watched her play with her nipples for him and his first hard thrust took her breath away.

"Jobu," she whimpered pointing her toes up to the ceiling where the candlelight continued to dance for them.

He took his time with her, his eyes still watching her face and darting down to watch her chest move.

"I need to enjoy these big tits before I have to share them, huh?"

They both started to laugh even in the midst of his long strokes.

"I can't wait baby," he said.

Her breath became uneven as he hit a spot inside her pussy that caught her off guard and caused her toes to curl. His eyes closed when he hit that spot again.

"Oh shit, you feel good. Got my balls tight already, baby."

When he hit another angle that surprised them both with how good it felt, they both groaned.

"Get you some, baby," she encouraged, still tweaking her nipples.

He sank down deeper then pulled all the way out.

"Shit," he gasped. He pushed her legs wider and moved his head down to her folds and lapped up her juices with delicate swipes from his lips and tongue. She was nearly crawling the walls when he sucked on her clit and plied her clit ring with an eager tip of his tongue. He lifted up when she began squirming and sank his thicker erection back down into her walls.

"You'll let me put this baby in you?" he asked.

She was lost in the rhythm of his strokes and murmured yes. A rough hand from him gripped her left breast and squeezed it. His eyes sought out hers.

"Tell me you want to have my baby," he said.

His eyes were glassy from the candlelight and his face looked so vibrant and alive. The passion in his voice was unmistakable. She wound her hips and pushed back on his dick. She felt his balls smashing into her ass as he rotated his hips. He matched her thrust for thrust and her mouth flew open when he slowed down and pressed deeper into her. She arched her back. Their eyes were still locked together.

"Califia, tell me…please…" he gasped.

"I want to have our baby…Jobu…oh…Jobu…"

"I'm not pulling out…"

She rested on her elbows keeping her eyes on his. His dick felt so good. More than good. Perfect. She kept her legs up as he claimed her body over and over, the hunger in his penetration stripping away any preconceived notions that they were going to make a baby when he returned to her. N'Jobu was ravishing her with the intent to put their child inside of her now. He was buried deep within her and he wasn't leaving until his cum was swimming in her womb.

Her fingers sought out her clit and she plucked at her clit ring. She felt like she was going to cum, but he pulled out yet again and feasted on her pussy. She let her legs fall back onto the bed, but his hands pushed her thighs back up as he tasted every part of her down there. When she felt the prick of tears springing forth and cascading down her cheeks, he fell upon her again, the heat from his cock plunging back into her depths. The grip of her arms around his neck anchored her to him. His lips were in her ear and his pants were tormenting her. He was keeping her on the edge of her orgasm.

"I'm going to make you cum so hard on my dick," he choked out. Her eyes were back on the ceiling. Their animated shadows made her smile. God, she loved this man so much. She sought out his lips and kissed him within an inch of her life. When his mouth went to her neck and he sucked on her spot, more hot tears flowed from her eyes. She couldn't take much more. And since he wasn't changing positions, she knew he was on a mission. A tickling sensation spread from her clit to her anus. The time had arrived. Her body was going to spiral out of control. He must've felt it. He smothered her lips with his mouth, and when she clawed at his back, his body jerked.

"I'm about to cum, girl," he gasped and slowed his hips to crawl.

"Cum baby," she coaxed.

"I want you to cum first…please…I'm 'bout to bust…fuck."

He pressed into her all the way.

"Cum for Daddy…Califia…shit…cum for me so I can give you this baby."

Califia ground her hips into him so that the swollen nub that thumped in glorious pleasure pressed down on his cock.

"Bay-bee—"

"Yes!"

She said no more as her walls spasmed around him. He gripped his hands around her ass and pumped into her, his voice growling out expletives.

"Here it comes….here it comes….here it comes….here it comes…fuck…oh fuck…!"

She squeezed her thighs around his waist and let her feet strike his ass as he spilled everything he had into her. His hips pounded into her as his heavy dick drained all his passion deep into her womb. It took him several pumps to finish and when he was through, he collapsed and couldn't move for a long time. Only his haggard breathing let her know he was still alive. She chuckled and stroked his scalp.

When he was able to drag himself off of her, his dick was still hard.

"I can tell you right now, my ancestors felt that nut," he said, and Califia howled.

"That is a terrible thing to say!" She rolled her eyes at him.

"No, it isn't. Shit. I almost passed out. I can tell you right now, your ass is pregnant."

She giggled and he kissed her.

"Look at this shit. My dick is still hard."

They both stared at his length.

"That pussy has my shit bewitched, goddamn, girl."

When he recovered, he made her sit on his face. His tongue fucked her good and she came all over his mouth. Lifting her up, he sat her on his dick again, making her face him.

"Ride me," he demanded.

She clung to his shoulders as he lifted her ass up and down. "Bounce for, Daddy."

He watched her dominate him, her tits jiggling the way she knew he liked. She threw back her shoulders so they could bounce more for him and the groan that came from within his throat made her cum fast and hard on him again.

"Oh fuck…Jobu…oh fuck—"

"Yes, baby. It's all for you-!"

She saw his mouth fly open as his eyes hypnotized her.

"I'm about to make your pussy sloppy," he growled. His hips snapped up into her and his release made her clit throb again.

By the time the candles had burned down and out, N'Jobu had flooded her pussy to the point that her opening looked like Niagara Falls with cum spilling out in a great deluge. They were hot, sweaty, and very content with one another.

With his head on her chest, she felt him stroke her stomach, his fingers warm on her tattoo of his name.

Three weeks after N'Jobu left for Wakanda, Califia stood in their kitchen and made herself a big pot of chicken tortilla soup. As she cut up fresh cilantro, she felt the membranes in her nose sting something awful. She stopped cutting the cilantro and went to a separate cutting board to prepare the chicken. Pulling back the plastic on the pre-cut chicken strips and rinsing the meat, she switched out knives and then stopped. The odors were getting to her.

She stared down at the food she was prepping and put down the knife. Everything smelled pungent and her nose crinkled. She remembered this feeling. She remembered this reaction.

She didn't need to pee on a stick to know.

Taking a step back from the cutting board, she palmed her stomach and took a deep breath.

There was no doubt in her mind.

She was pregnant.

Chapter 7 HERE.

[creamypudding]

Preview chapter

I am getting closer to finishing this AkuRoku fic. I am so excited. Only two - maybe three chapters left, depending on how it all goes.

Because I am so excited I will share the first chapter with you guys here.

Please enjoy, and I hope to have the whole thing finished and begin uploading to AO3 within the next month or two :)

The Two Penguins

Chapter 1 - Magnetism

Axel snapped his suspenders in place, brushed hands down his torso and gave the waistcoat a firm tug to smooth out any wrinkles. He pulled an errant strand of hair off his white dress shirt, and made sure his sleeves were securely rolled up to the elbows.

He winked at himself in the bathroom mirror, clicked his tongue and with that left to start his shift.

“Sup Morrise! Wasn’t expecting to see you behind the stick today,” Axel greeted as he let himself behind the solid oak bar which stood like an island, in the middle of the large room.

A stout man in his late fifties, dressed much the same garb as Axel, gave him an acknowledging nod. “I wasn’t expecting to be called in today either. Nancy's come down with shingles, poor girl. Me n' Drew will be swapping on and off for a while.”

“Poor Nance. She was complaining about being sore the last couple of days.” Axel busied himself with inspecting the back bar, making sure everything he would need was in stock.

“Girl’s had it tough. Too much stress if ya ask me.” Morrise finished polishing glasses and gave the countertop a once over before the bar opened for the afternoon.

“Can't be this job. It's pretty chill,” Axel observed.

Morrise made a sound of disagreement. “Not everyone's as laid back as you.”

Axel shrugged. “I'm gonna open up. Bars stocked and ready.”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Axel left the bar and headed for the large double doors, with 'Organization 13’ fancifully etched into the glass facing out onto the street. The bar looked a lot more posh than it actually was. The owner, Marluxia, had a hair-brained idea that if a place looked top end it would keep the riff-raff out.

Axel had been working at the bar for eight months so far and hadn't witnessed any real trouble, so he supposed there might be some method to Marluxia's madness.

He unbarred the doors, opening them wide to the mid-afternoon spring air.  He did his normal duty of putting out the daily chalkboard sign, listing the night’s events, and any specials they had on, and went back inside to await the steady flow of patrons.

Axel had his regulars. Mostly grizzly old men who had been in the blue-collar workforce for too many years and looked forward to only two things in life; having a cold drink after work, and retiring.

There were also a few retires who enjoyed the quietude the bar had to offer during the waning daylight hours. Organization 13 was pretty quiet during the daylight hours. Clinking of glasses accented the quiet murmurs of the patrons. The odd chuckle might erupt from someone as guards eroded with the consumption of alcohol.

All in all it always felt like a nice slide into Axel's shift, because as the sun slipped below the horizon and the lights came on in the bar - no matter how dim - the day crowd dissipated and the nightlife flocked in to seek fun and excitement.

The place came alive as the hours ticked away. Regulars and passers-by came in. Drinks were ordered by the tray-full. Some over-exuberant patron would order a round on the house to celebrate a special occasion, and Axel always came up with the goods.

On quieter nights he performed special tricks he had picked up and spent hours on refining.  He could toss shakers in front, behind, and make them land perfectly after a flight through the air.

When he wasn't displaying his showmanship he was busy tending to his side of the bar. He kept it meticulously clean, sweeping up all spills and saving his patrons from the horror of landing elbows and hands in sticky liquid. He discarded all rubbish which accumulated over the course of the evening, maintained a steady supply of clean glasses in all their varied forms, and made sure the alcohol was always at the ready.

He watched a Hen’s night come and go, as well as a promotion celebration.

Everything went perfectly. The dance floor was electric, the live band was pulling out crowd pleasers, and everyone seemed to be having a great time.

It wasn't late yet, by anyone's standards, but Axel definitely felt like he had been at it for long enough to warrant himself a little break.

“Morrise, I'm taking five,” he let the other man know, before discarding his apron and ducking out from behind the bar.

He went to the staff washroom to quickly freshen up. As much as he loved his job he did find it exhausting work, especially on nights when parties were booked.

Heading back out into the ocean of noise he took the opportunity of viewing the lively atmosphere around himself. He got so focused on work that he zoned out what was happening beyond his island for the most part.

Axel let the music seep into his bones for a moment and danced his way back to the bar. He could spot some familiar faces on the dancefloor. Organization 13 was renowned in the neighborhood for its great live band selection, which drew a lot of avid fans of whatever band was playing, but also lovers of good dance music to come out and play.

As Axel shimmied his way towards his job, the sea of people on the dancefloor parted enough for Axel's eye to be caught on something white on the corner of the room dancing with wild abandon.

The lights hit and illuminated the dancing figure, reflecting and completely dazzling Axel into a standstill.

Most people Axel witnessed dancing in public had self-restraint due to social expectations and being too shockingly self conscious. But not this guy, judging by the flailing arms and the wide berth fellow dancers were giving him.

It brought a smile to Axel's face to see such uninhibited joy. He was stuck by a sudden urge to dance his way over there and join in, but that impulse was thwarted as he glanced over to the bar and saw Morrise inundated by a large crowd.

Axel sighed and quickly made his way to his post, while keeping one eye on the figure on the dancefloor. But he soon lost sight as the sea of people closed around, swallowing the dancer up completely.

Not that it mattered. As soon as Axel got behind the bar his mind switched off all extraneous noise, and he became fully focused on serving customers.

The influx of drink orders kept him occupied for a solid ten minutes. He stirred, shook, mixed and poured. He refilled, made suggestions, and tidied up. And once the influx had been dealt with he relaxed again.

“How's things on your end?” Axel said as he met his co-worker in the space between their respective sides.

“Good, but looks like I'm running low on garnishes. I'm gonna go grab some from the kitchen. You need anything?”

“Nah.”

Morrise nodded and let himself out of the bar to go fetch the ingredients.

Axel looked over his patrons. Everyone looked content and the bar, on both sides seemed clean, so Axel gave himself permission to switch off for a moment.

Eyes and thought returned to the dancefloor, where he hoped to find the crazy dancer.

The crowd had thinned out, the music had mellowed somewhat, in keeping with the neighborhood’s noise pollution restrictions. Axel couldn't find who he was looking for.

He pouted, slightly disappointed. It didn't really matter. The guy was probably straight as hell, with a super super cute girlfriend whom he'd never leave. Not that Axel was out for a relationship. Work came first, but he did like impressing guys and then taking them home at the end of his shift. Axel figured with moves like what he saw the guy would have been fun in bed too.

Axel sighed and mindlessly wiped down the already clean benchtops. He'd just have to dream about it in the shower when he got home. But then something white caught on his periphery. Head snapped to attention. He gave a fleeting smirk as the guy slowly meandered over to the bar.

Well - he was probably walking at a normal pace but it felt way too slow to Axel. He was dying for a closer look and a chat. Axel tried his best to stare in the most inconspicuous way possible, but it became increasingly difficult. The closer his target got the more Axel liked what he saw -

Wildly spiked hair, which probably would have looked ridiculous on anyone else. But as it stood, it gave the guy a rather cool appearance, accentuated by the wholly unique clothes he was sporting. Axel had never seen anything like it, and he had been privy to some very weird and unique outfits, especially whenever there was a retro night at the bar.

But this look was neither dated nor futuristic. It felt completely on trend, but was something he'd never seen before. Baggy pants, with belts for accent, with matching vest - all white, and just a splash of red at the lapels, and some black trims for contrast.

Matching bracers, wristbands and some superfluous chains were attached.

The closer he got the more certain Axel knew that someone like that couldn't possibly be straight. Smirk turned to a big, friendly smile as the guy got close enough to make Axel sure that he was going to the bar for a drink.

“Good evening. What can I interest you in?” He gestured to the back bar with one hand, and ran the other down the side of his body. Subtle enough with years of practice, so as not to freak out straight people, but obvious enough to clue in those who were looking for that kind of thing.

“Ah -” gorgeous blue eyes scanned the back bar. “Just a water, thanks.”

Damn. That was rather disappointing - on multiple fronts. “Thirsty work - all that dancing.” He grabbed a glass, gave it a twirl and filled it at the filtered tap. He produced a coaster and planted it, plus the glass, down in front of his extremely sexy patron.

“Yeah, it is,” came a chuckle, followed by a light rosing of cheeks.

Axel could feel himself getting hard. That voice, that face. Sexy and cute, all at once. He really wanted him. Maybe he had been too subtle? This guy seemed to radiate innocence, so Axel leaned forward a little as he spoke, “Could I interest you in anything else?”

Between gulps of water he said, “I don't really drink - or have money to spend on drinks. So I'll just finish this and I won't waste any of your time.”

Axel received an angelic smile.

Internal groan reverberated around his head. He was about to break one of his personal rules -. “Would you be interested in letting me introduce you to some drinks and unique flavors?” Axel quirked his eyebrows in a highly suggestible manner. “It's all on me,” he clarified.

“Oh no. I couldn't.”

“You'd be helping me out. I've been working on some new drinks I'd like to trial run on someone who's a bit adventurous. You seem like the kind of guy who'd be up for something interesting.” Axel hoped he wasn't delivering that in an overtly sleazy way. The more he looked at the guy before him the more his brain switched off and his sex drive was taking over. He really needed to keep it in check, but damn those eyes, that smile, and gorgeous innocence. Axel wanted to introduce him to a world of sinful delights. Alcohol being just one of them.

He was proud of himself for not saying that out loud.

“Well - I don't mind, I guess. If it’ll help.”

Axel cheered on the inside. “Yeah, it would. Name’s Axel, by the way,” he extended his hand over the bar.

“Roxas. Nice to meet you,” he said shaking Axel's hand, firmly.

This guy even had a sexy name. Axel tried it out, “Roxas.” It brought a smile to his face. He liked saying it. “That’s a nice name. Is it from anywhere?”

Another chuckle, “No, just my parent’s crazy imagination.” He finished his glass of water.

“Another?”

“Yes please. What about your name?”

Axel refilled and handed the glass back. “My parents are massive heavy metal fans.” “Oh, so you’re named after Axel from -

“Yeah, lame, I know,” Axel cut off and gave a small scoff. He liked his name, but wasn’t the biggest fan of the association.

“No, I think that’s awesome. Way better than being called William.” Roxas went to chug away at his drink.

Axel laughed. “Never thought of it like that.”

It seemed to please Roxas, as his smile grew wider. “Do you like heavy metal?”

“I grew up listening to a lot of it. My parents dragged me along to all kinds of tours. Kind of sick of it, to be honest.”

Yet another chuckle. Axel could get used to that sound.

“A real shame when parents ruin shit for their kids.”

Axel nodded. “Man, tell me about it. I’m just lucky they didn't totally kill it for me. I still like rock - but more punk and glam.”

“Oh yeah? Me too!” Roxas’ face lit up with excitement. “It’s why I’m here. I’ve been dying to see Unsaid Velvet but could never get to any of their gigs.”

“Congrats for making it.”

That big grin. It almost slayed Axel. Eager eyes looked back towards the small stage in awe, before swinging back around.

“I’m shocked they’re even playing in a small bar like this.”

“Ah, well Marly, the owner - he used to go to school with the drummer. So he pulled the ‘I was your friend when no one thought you were cool’ card.”

That really got Roxas laughing with delight. “Epic! Still waiting for any of my old school mates to get famous. So far it’s been pretty disappointing.”

“It ever occur to you that maybe you’re the one who’s supposed to get famous?” Axel winked.

Roxas seemed to seriously consider it for a moment. “Hmm. Maybe you have a point.”

“What’s your get famous plan? Everyone's got one.” Axel leaned on elbows. He was thoroughly enjoying their banter.

“Well -” shifty eyes darted hither and thither before he stretched over and breathed into Axel's ear, “You tell me yours first.” He pulled away again. Axel returned the shifty look and leaned in, closing the distance. The guy smelled good. Axel whispers back, “Why? You wanna steal it?”

They leaned back from one another, but only slightly, remaining almost nose to nose. Roxas squinted, and Axel also narrowed his eyes, looking back dangerously.

Anyone else and Axel would have thought this would quickly devolve into a bar fight. But squint grew more pronounced as a brilliant smile exploded.

“No. I just need to make sure yours is different from mine,” Roxas laughed, throwing himself back and sitting upright.

Axel grinned back, “Well my plan is to own a punk themed bar. It’s gonna be so good and amazing that everyone will have heard of it. All the most famous bands will beg me to come play there. I’ll have VIP rooms and waiting lists to get in, which will be booked out five months in advance. That’s how good it’ll be.”

Roxas was like sunshine personified as he said, “That’s great.”

“Now tell me yours,” he pressed.

Roxas leaned in again, starting the whole shifty eye dance once more. He motioned for Axel to lean closer.

Axel obliged, quite happy to keep smelling him.

Voice was low, vibrating against Axel's ear, “My plan is to own a punk bar.”

They pulled apart. Axel’s eyes and mouth went wide. Roxas began laughing so hard he clutched at his stomach.

“You thief!” Axel played at mock-indignation before he broke into a grin. “But c’mon. Tell me. For real.”

Roxas managed to stop laughing, and wiped a tear from his eye. “Okay, okay. My plan’s to make really cool outfits, and to get so famous that celebrities will be clamouring to wear my stuff.”

“Oh, you - did you make what you’re wearing? ‘Cause it’s real cool.”

Roxas looked a little bit proud, but Axel could also see a blush creeping across cheeks.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Can I help you get famous by getting you to make something for me?”

“Yeah, of course. For a cost, of course.”

“Of course,” Axel nodded solemnly.

“I’ve got a website for custom orders.” Roxas stood up and fished around one of his multitude of pockets. He produced a business card, and handed it over. It didn’t contain much aside from a web address.

“Cool, I’ll check it out.” Axel pocketed it. So far things were going really well. “So what about some drinks, Roxas. I’m gonna help you get famous by sporting your clothes. But you gotta help me out by letting me make you drinks. My bar’s gonna have awesome drinks, and awesome music. And maybe even awesome fashion. You can sell your clothes from my venue. I’ll even be generous with the lease I’ll charge you.”

Roxas laughed. “Thanks for the offer. I don’t really have a favorite drink. I don’t really do alcohol that much. All I’ve had is wine, and I know I don’t like that.”

“The world is so much larger than wine, Roxas. But I bet I could find a wine you might enjoy, if you let me figure out what tastes appeal to you. I can build you your own unique flavor map.”

“Flavor map?” Roxas seemed intrigued.

“Yeah, I’ll make you a bunch of different things and you tell me what you like and don’t like about them. And then I’ll be able to nail the perfect drink for you.”

“All right. Sounds fun. I’m game.”

“Excellent! Let’s find out what excites you.” He winked for good measure and turned to the backbar, grabbing the things he’d need.

Whilst looking after his other patrons, Axel worked through different flavor profiles whenever he came over to Roxas. The bitter drink made Roxas’ face scrunch up. Axel got a gag at the coffee drink, and no response at all to a palate cleanser.

After some time Roxas began looking a bit woozy, swaying on his bar stool.

“How're you holding up there, champ?”

“ 'm good. Was that last one anything? Tasted like nothing. Not even water.” Roxas squinted at his glass of water which Axel had been refilling every time. He grabbed it and downed the glass, which made him hiccup. Slurring, he said, “Now that’s a drink. You're really good at making 'em, Ax.”

Axel found Roxas’ drunken state adorable. “That’s the first praise you’ve given me. And it doesn’t feel right. Even a moron can turn on a tap.”

“Well you’re a very good moron,” he stated, while studying his empty glass.

Axel chuckled, “Right, no more for you, Roxas.” Mouth flapped open, as if to protest, but then Roxas started giggling instead. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” He began laughing harder and swayed precariously.

Axel, being no stranger to what he was about to do, quickly leapt over the bar and caught Roxas as he slid off his seat. “Woah there. Lemmie find you a chair with a backrest.”

“You dun have to. Dun wanna be a bother,” Roxas muttered into Axel’s chest and fingers found perch on suspenders.

“No bother. I got you into this mess. Least I can do is look after you.” Axel pried fingers off his clothes, turned Roxas around and kept a firm grip around his waist. “Let's get you over to the lounge area. You think you can manage stairs?”

“I'm matter of stairs. Lemmie at 'em!” Roxas lurched forward, dragging Axel along with him.

Axel didn’t bother to correct Roxas. He could be a ‘matter of stairs’ if he so wished. He instead focused on getting back in control of his charge, and steering them towards the stairs, which lead up to the loft.

“I know you said you didn't drink, but I didn't expect you to be such a lightweight.”

“Who're you callin’ light, ya - meatloaf.” Roxas craned his neck and gave Axel a pouting glare.

Axel chuckled. “I take full responsibility. I should have filled you up on bar snacks in between the drinks.”

“Ya should have. I haven't eaten in like all day.” Roxas woefully clutched his stomach as they started ascending the staircase.

“What? You haven't? Why not?” Axel felt alarmed. He couldn't live without eating something every few hours.

“Too busy movin’. Dun know where anything good to eat is.”

“You new to town?”

“Mmhmm,” Roxas nodded as he took one shaky step after the other.

“Well you've come to the right place. Organization 13’s famous for its gorgonzola fries. I'll order you some when we get up there.”

“Food?”

“Yeah, food.”

Roxas picked up his pace, much to Axel's amusement and they were at the top landing moments later. It was a fairly spacious area, more well lit than downstairs. There were several lounges, small round coffee tables and a few pool tables as well, where patrons could chill out when they had enough of all the dancing.

Axel guided Roxas down onto one of the lounges. Small body slumped down with a sigh of relief.

Axel waved down Camilla, a wait staff who was currently collecting glasses off the various lounge area tables.

“Hey Axel. You still here? You're normally out by now.”

“I've made a friend who I've gotta look after.” He pointed at Roxas, whose head was lolling about woefully.

“Aww, sweetie. Did the bad man do this to you?” She asked in a pitying voice.

Head snapped up to look at her, and he shook it rapidly, but then moaned in agony and stopped the motion. Hands went to head. “No, I did this to myself,” he said while squishing his cheeks together.

Axel thought he'd die if Roxas got any cuter. He looked away. “Can you get us some fries, a bowl of nachos, and some chicken wings?”

“Sure. Want me to take it outta your wage?”

Axel nodded, picked up some glasses which had been stashed on the floor, and stacked them on Camilla’s tray.

“Thanks,” she smiled, and Axel returned it.

Camilla went down the stairs and Axel eased down beside Roxas. “I'll get some food into you in a bit, and you’ll feel better.”

“Thanks,” Roxas mumbled. He slumped against Axel’s shoulder and seconds later was sound asleep.

Axel laughed quietly to himself. This guy was too much. He looked down at Roxas’ slumbering form and brushed at hair. Roxas didn't so much as flinch.

Axel leaned his head back and let his eyes slide shut. He lightly dozed until Camilla returned with bowls and plates.

“Wake up, you two,” she sang.

Axel roused Roxas from his sleep. Bleary eyes looked at him and Roxas scowled in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Hey. I’m Axel, remember? I got you drunk but I said I'd look after you, and - ta-da!” He waved his hand towards the food.

All mistrust faded from sight. “Awesome!” Roxas sat up and got stuck into the dishes.

Axel followed suite and they ate in relative silence, with the exception of Roxas singing praise of the food, and Axel concurred from time to time.

“Ah man, that’s so much better,” Roxas patted his stomach and leaned back against the cushioned surface when everything had been demolished.

“Everything's better on a full stomach.” Axel wiped his hands clean on some moist towelettes and smiled at Roxas.

“You can say that again. But shit, I need to take a leak.”

Axel pointed towards the washroom doors to their left, and Roxas was off like a shot, leaving Axel to his thoughts. He wasn't sure if tonight would eventuate in him getting laid, but he accepted that even if he wasn't, he still had a very amusing evening.

Roxas returned after a short time. He grabbed Axel's hand, pulling him to his feet and lead the way downstairs.

“What's happening?”

“I feel like dancing,” Roxas shot back with a grand smile.

Axel chuckled, “I re-energized your batteries?”

“Yup. You don't mind right? You'll dance with me, yeah?”

“Yeah. I just gotta get out of my work uniform first, okay?”

Roxas nodded. “I'll be on the dancefloor, warming up. Come find me.”

“Definitely,” Axel grinned. He wouldn't miss the chance to grind up against that sweet stuff. He left for the staff area and quickly undressed. He pulled on his leather pants and red satin button-down shirt, leaving the top three buttons undone. Then he hung up his work uniform with one hand, and with the other wiped his face clean with a wet wipe.

He checked himself out in the mirror briefly, making sure he was looking as irresistible as possible, and headed back out to see if he could score tonight.

Axel found Roxas without any trouble. His clothes and moves were like a beacon and Axel was positively drawn to it. He came up from behind and slid arms around Roxas’ mid section, causing the other man to turn around to look at him. “I'm back. Miss me?”

Big smile fell slightly with surprise. “Your face,” hand went up to cup Axel’s cheek, where he thumbed over one of the tattoos.

Axel couldn't stop the grin. It worked every time. “I cover up for work - but I'm not on the clock anymore.”

Roxas’ smile returned and hands slid over Axel’s torso, a very welcomed gesture. They swayed together, slow at first, finding their rhythm. Pace picked up and then they started dancing together in earnest. Hips ground together, hands moved, slid and held. Sweat beaded. And if they moved apart for a while to do their solo moves they always came back together after, finding now familiar handle holds.

Axel couldn't get enough of Roxas. He drank up the sight of him rocking out, but still felt completely parched. His need for the other man was only satisfied once he could hold him. So Axel made the most of it when they came together again. He ran hands under vest, stroking at sides. He imagined taking off Roxas’ clothes, one layer at a time and slowly exploring all that he found.

One thing was for certain - Roxas was definitely not straight. He didn't shy away from Axel's roaming touches. Not even when Axel pulled the bold move of cupping Roxas’ backside with both hands. Axel loved the feel of him. Something about Roxas’ clothes made his body feel firm, lean and glorious to the touch.

Axel was having a hard time keeping his erection from grinding up against Roxas’ hip. He had to stop himself from doing just that on purpose, especially as their dancing became more fevered. And just as Axel thought things couldn't get any hotter between them, Roxas wound arms around his hips, pushing them both tightly together. Axel was certain he could feel a firm heat rub against him through fabric.

One of Roxas’ hands snaked its way up Axel's back and into his hair, and then face was pushed up against the exposed part of Axel's chest. God, how Axel wanted to fuck Roxas right then and there. He buried his face in Roxas’ hair, smelling the fruity freshness and a hint of sweetness of whatever hair product Roxas used. Axel thought it suited the man perfectly. He let out a rumble of approval in the back of his throat.

It made Roxas look up, which saw them nose to nose. Their pace had reduced markedly at some point, leaving them swaying to a song all their own, staring into each other's eyes.

Axel smiled down at him in a sultry manner. Roxas was far more wide eyed, searching for something undefined. But both their eyes trailed over parting lips. Roxas’ hand twitched in Axel's hair and seconds later exerted gentle downward pressure on him. Axel obliged and leaned down a fraction, whilst Roxas leaned up a little. Eyes slid shut and lips came into contact, grazing as heads tilted into more accommodating positions for what was about to go down.

The song they had been dancing to suddenly ended.

“We’ll be taking a quick break and then we’ll be back to bang out some more tunes for you folks,” the lead singer announced.

It broke the magic spell they had both been caught up in. Roxas pulled away completely, clearing his throat and straightened up his clothes from where Axel's hands had caused materials to bunch up.

The fleeting touch of Roxas’ lips against his own ghosted, and made him crave so much more. Axel's heart hammered away with thrilling excitement. It couldn't end there.

“Roxas, you wanna-”

“I've gotta go home. It's way late. Thanks for everything tonight, Axel. I really appreciate it,” came the whirlwind of words. Roxas gave a grand smile, waved enthusiastically, and pushed past Axel, uttering a, “Bye,” as he went.

Axel was left reeling, and by the time his wits returned enough to think about chasing after Roxas - so he could finish asking him over to his place - the crowd had closed in around him, making pursuit impossible.

Axel was left catching a glimpse of white racing through the doors to the outside world.

Fuck!

He left for his own home, all alone. His dance with Roxas was playing on a continual loop and wouldn't go away. Axel found himself under the spray of his hot shower, tending to his need. He brought himself to his knees as he stimulated his sad backside. How he wishes it was Roxas doing this to him instead.

I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. Please look forward to more in the not so distant future :)

[armeniaitn]

Mothers' Power in US Protests Echoes a Global Tradition

New Post has been published on https://armenia.in-the.news/politics/mothers-power-in-us-protests-echoes-a-global-tradition-39226-25-07-2020/

Mothers' Power in US Protests Echoes a Global Tradition

Wearing matching shades of white or yellow, the women of the “Wall of Moms” in Portland, Ore., have become instant icons of the city’s protests, though the mothers nightly gatherings only began last Saturday and the city’s protests have been going on for more than a month.

They join a long line of mothers’ protests against state violence and what they view as authoritarianism around the world, including in South Africa, Sri Lanka, Argentina and Armenia, which have shown that mothers can be particularly effective advocates for a cause — but also that there is a catch.

History suggests that mothers’ power is most potent when they are able to wield their own respectability, and the protections it brings, as a political cudgel. But that is easiest for women who are already privileged: married, affluent, and members of the dominant racial or ethnic group.

Mothers who are less privileged often struggle to claim that power, even though they are often the ones who most urgently need it.

Image

Members of the Black Sash movement demonstrating against apartheid in Mmabatho, South Africa, in 1991.Credit…Gallo Images, via Shutterstock

Theresa Raiford, a Black mother who is the executive director of Don’t Shoot Portland, a local group that works to end police violence, helped to organize and direct the Wall of Moms’ early actions, but noted that the positive response to the mostly white mothers has been proof of the very racism they are protesting.

Mothers had been participating in the protests for five weeks, but “nobody recognized them until they literally put on white so they could be highlighted as white,” she said.

“What it does show us is that Black lives don’t matter here, white moms do,” she said. “And those moms know that, too. That’s why they’re standing in solidarity with us.”

‘Mothers are symbolic to the nation’

Bev Barnum, who posted the original Facebook message asking moms to come and protest, said she had asked women to color-coordinate their outfits in order to stand out in the crowd, but otherwise told them to dress “like they were going to Target.”

“I wanted us to look like moms,” Ms. Barnum, who serves as the group’s informal leader and organizer, said in an interview. “Because who wants to shoot a mom? No one.”

Mothers’ protests are often powerful precisely because the gender roles that ordinarily silence and sideline women, allowing them to be seen as nonthreatening, turn into armor for political activism, experts say.

During Armenia’s 2018 “velvet revolution,” a largely nonviolent uprising that eventually toppled the country’s leader, Serzh Sargsyan, mothers took to the streets pushing their children in strollers, indelibly tying their maternal identities to their political demands.

A demonstration in Yerevan, Armenia, in 2018.Credit…Vano Shlamov/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

In Armenia, “mothers are symbolic to the nation and, to some extent, have immunity in protests,” Ulrike Ziemer, a sociologist at the University of Winchester in Britain, wrote in a 2019 book chapter about the uprising. “If police would have touched mothers with their children in prams during the protests, that would have brought shame on them individually, but also on the state apparatus they represent.”

In the Armenian protests, mothers from all walks of life were able to claim those protections, Dr. Ziemer said in an interview. But in societies that are divided along racial or ethnic lines, mothers from marginalized groups cannot access that full political power so easily.

In South Africa, the Black Sash, a group of white women who opposed the apartheid regime, were able to use their gender and race as a shield for their political activity that others could not.

“The Government has let Black Sash survive while closing down other anti-apartheid groups in part because white South African society has perched its women on pedestals,” The Times reported in 1988. “The police find it awkward to pack the paddy wagons with well-bred troublemakers who look like their mothers or sisters.”

Members of the Black Sash movement demonstrating against apartheid in Cape Town, South Africa, in the 1970s.Credit…Gallo Images, via Shutterstock

The government had no such compunction about locking up Black women. Albertina Sisulu, a pioneering Black anti-apartheid activist who was also a married mother of five, was arrested and held in solitary confinement multiple times. Countless other Black women suffered even worse fates.

In Sri Lanka, women from the Tamil minority group have been protesting for years to demand information about sons and daughters who were kidnapped by state forces during the country’s civil war and never heard from again. Their activism has drawn international attention and some limited engagement from the country’s government.

But when the women’s demands went beyond their own individual grief and engaged with politics more broadly, national politicians and civil society groups dismissed them as pawns of male activists, said Dharsha Jegatheeswaran, co-director of the Adayaalam Centre for Policy Research, a Sri Lanka-based think tank. As members of a marginalized minority group, she said, motherhood could take them only so far.

Tamil women holding photographs of their missing sons during a protest against the Sri Lankan government in Colombo, Sri Lanka, in 2013.Credit…Reuters

In the United States, there is a long tradition of Black women claiming their identities as mothers when protesting against police shootings, lynchings, and mass incarceration. But, like the Tamil activists in Sri Lanka, they have tended to be viewed through the narrow lens of their own grief and fear for their children. White women have typically been taken far more seriously by white audiences as representing mothers generally — another case of bias on display.

Ann Gregory, a lawyer and mother of two who joined the wall of moms in Portland on Sunday, said they had hoped to serve as a buffer between other demonstrators and law enforcement.

“We realize that we’re a bunch of white women, and we do have privilege,” she said. “We were hoping to use that to protect the protesters.”

“We don’t need silent victims, we need loud witnesses.”

Instead, the women got a crash course in the grievances that had set off the protests in the first place.

Ms. Barnum, new to such activism, said she was surprised when other demonstrators warned her group that they could be in danger.

“The news said that if you give the police officer a reason to fear for their life, a reasonable fear, they could hurt you,” she said. “But if you didn’t give them a reason then they wouldn’t hurt you.”

The moms, she reasoned, would be peaceful and give the officers no cause for alarm, so had no reason to worry.

That may seem an unusual belief for someone attending a protest against police violence, but it illustrates the privilege taken for granted by many people who have not had run-ins with law enforcement.

So on her first night at the protests, when federal officers fired tear gas and flash-bang grenades at the group of moms, “I couldn’t believe what was happening,” she said. “We weren’t being violent. We weren’t screaming expletives at them.”

A Wall of Moms member washing her face after being tear gassed by United States federal agents on Tuesday.Credit…Mason Trinca for The New York Times

The power wielded by police has long been justified with the claim that officers must be able to use force when necessary to protect themselves or the public, and that people who have done nothing wrong have nothing to fear. Black activists and their allies have been contesting that claim for years, but the tide of public opinion has been slow to turn against law enforcement.

However, when officers fire tear gas and projectiles at soccer moms holding sunflowers, as happened in Portland on Sunday night, even more observers — who may not previously have thought they could be at risk — see that as a fate that might befall anyone. And history suggests that could have profound political consequences.

In Argentina in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, women whose children had been “disappeared” by the military government — seized, tortured and murdered in secret — were the most visible opposition to the regime, with their distinctive white kerchiefs.

They “continually pointed out that the majority of the disappeared were not terrorists, as the junta claimed, but loyal members of the opposition, including people who had never engaged in politics and even some members of the establishment,” the political scientist Marguerite Guzman Bouvard wrote in “Revolutionizing Motherhood,” her 2002 book on the group.

“In shattering the lies that served as a rationale for the junta’s terror,” Dr. Bouvard wrote, “the Mothers exposed the glaring weakness of the entire system.”

Hebe de Bonafini, the head of Argentina’s Mothers of Plaza de Mayo group, leading a march in Buenos Aires in 1979.Credit…Eduardo Di Baia/Associated Press

There are obvious differences between the Argentine dictatorship of and the United States today. But Ms. Gregory, the Portland mother who joined Sunday’s demonstration, was deeply disturbed by the federal officers’ violent response to the protest.

“We weren’t any danger to them,” she said. “We were just standing there with flowers. We’re a bunch of middle-aged moms.”

“This isn’t what America is supposed to be like,” she said. “We’re not supposed to be ruled by militarized, jackbooted forces.”

Ms. Raiford, the longtime activist, is cautiously hopeful about the power of that message — and its messengers.

“Sometimes when people hear activists say ‘Black lives matter,’ they say ‘well that has nothing to do with me.’” she said. “But when we talk about the intrinsic value of humanity, and how all of our lives intersect because we have children, we have families, we live in communities, we have loved ones, I think that that creates less of a barrier.”

She hopes the attention on the moms will help to spread that message. “We don’t need silent victims,” she said. “We need loud witnesses.”

Read original article here.

[haramnamjin]

Such A Tease | OT7 Scenarios

Genre: Tease, lot of angst, heavy fluff and smut

Pairing: Jimin + Reader

Word Count: 5.5 K

Summary: Jimin proposes a sex ban till the day of your honeymoon which results in your endless teasing and sexual advances, only to amount to a very steamy honeymoon night.

KSJ | MY | JH | KNJ | PJM | KTH | JJK

  It was getting harder by the minute for Jimin to control himself. Shifting in place on the white chaise lounge in the dress shop, he had immediately noticed the heavy décor of the polished shop called the Wedding Factory, with the glow from the pave chandeliers bouncing off the burgundy carpet trail when he had come through the glass doors with his arm around your waist. Your wedding was coming in 2 weeks and you still hadn’t managed to find the perfect dress for your wedding reception. You giggled to yourself whilst you were in the changing room, putting on the next number which Jimin, sitting outside, was hoping was the last one that would do the trick. It was funny, you had thought, that you managed to find a wedding dress much earlier than your wedding receptions’. Wasn’t it always the other way around? Jimin heard you giggling and sat upright from lying down on the lounge and asked with hope laced in his voice.

 “You’re giggling. Is this the one?” He asks, combing his fingers through his hair whilst looking into the mirror hanging on the wall.

 “No, but it’s the one for you.” You said a bit louder so he could hear over the locked door between the both of you.

“For me? Please don’t tell me you’ve been trying on suits for fun baby because my ass hurts from sitting here for the past three hours.” Jimin breathed out, trying to not sound the slightest bit frustrated. He knew that despite planning the wedding reception to be attended by only immediate family members and close friends, you still wanted to have a dress you loved and he respected that because well, he loves you.

“Aw, is Jimin tired?” You cooed and behind your changing room door Jimin laid back again. You took one long look at the dress you were wearing and smirked. Definitely for you, you thought to yourself. You had to admit that whilst trying to find the dress for reception, you started trying on other outfits like cocktail dresses or even just lingerie. You’ve never had that much of a lingerie collection to choose from before because you rarely bought any and Jimin never pressured you because he hadn’t cared about what you were wearing during the numerous time you both had gone back home with your hands all over each other, touching places where it wasn’t appropriate for the public eye. But this time you wanted to have your own collection, not to just feel sexy in but also to make Jimin squirm and you knew he would.

  You also wanted to get back at Jimin for what he proposed the week earlier. It came as a surprise to you when he had sat you down one day to tell you that he felt that it was only right for you both to not engage in any sex till the honeymoon, to be focused on the other parts of your relationship and bask in that. You had agreed, much to the disapproval for the ache in your stomach, because you knew he meant well. But you were needy and you felt like it would be fun to tease him and get his reaction.

  You were cladded in a white dress, that could also pass off as lingerie material if you didn’t wear anything underneath. It was of silk and had a plunging neckline, revealing just the right amount of cleavage you wanted. Trimmed to give you a shapely profile, its skirt ended right below your butt so if you were to lean forward, you could give the man you wanted to please a little bit of teasing. There were little pink-red hued flowers sewn into around your waistline, making the overall piece not just look sexy but also young. You pushed your hair back and let your curls come off as a little bit messy, just to entice Jimin more. You had taken your bra off, as the blue would have been obvious beneath the white material but kept the panties on that you had told the salesgirl to bring. You wanted to buy it anyways so the girl didn’t mind you wearing it. You realized that the heat between your legs started to bring your thoughts elsewhere and you could see your nipples poking through the dress. You smiled to yourself as you thought of what you were about to do.

“Jimin, close your eyes!” You said, going to the door to get ready to unlock it. Jimin, thinking that this was the dress you both had been waiting for, placed his slender fingers over his eye sockets and gave you the green light to come out when he said an ‘okay’. You opened the door and crept closer, tip-toeing on your feet and gently helping him stand up.

“Hm? Can I open my eyes now?” Jimin asked, about to take off his hands and you stopped him.

“Not yet! Keep them closed, I’m just bringing you inside the changing room. There’s full length mirrors in there, so it’s better.” You said, trying to sound innocent. Jimin murmured for you to bring him there and to be careful because he’s had enough injuries inflicted by his own clumsy actions before already, which made you laugh. Bringing him in, you sat him down on the beige velvet chair in the middle of the room and took two steps back into the middle of the circular, full length mirrors, wanting to give him the full view.

“Okay Jimin, open them!” You said, shuffling your feet nervously. Jimin had been smiling the whole time with his eyes covered, so when he opened his eyes to find you in that white dress, his eyes grew bigger and he coughed.

“Babe, you’re not wearing that, uh, to the reception, are you?” He asked, one hand rubbing behind his beck nervously as he didn’t know how to tell you that he thought it wasn’t appropriate to wear to the reception.

“I don’t know, I was just trying it on and felt like instead of the reception, it could be for you instead.” You said, coming closer to clasp his hand in yours. Jimin, still confused, had his brows furrowed trying to figure out what you meant but that expression was replaced by a lustful look in his eyes when he saw your erect nipples poking through your dress.

“Don’t you like it?” You asked, head cocked to the side playfully as you straddled one of his thighs, letting the bare skin on his thighs be in direct contact with your pussy as he had only worn khaki shorts when he came with you to the shop. There was always a natural pull to the both of you; when you straddled him, his hands would naturally wrap around your waist like it was now; or when you kissed him before, his hands would find the small of your back and press your hips into him harder; or even when you suck him off in the studio, he would always encourage you and play with your hair as he neared his high. But now was different, as Jimin knew that if he laid his hands on you, he would break his own preposition and devour you. You scooted higher up his thigh and put your hands on his shoulders to take him out of his inner monologue in his head.

“Y/n.. You know what I said before.” Jimin said lowly, trying to not let his moan escape his lips as he felt you shift, letting him feel how you were wet.

“I know, I just wanted to show you what I found instead. Can I get a hug?” You asked and you knew he wouldn’t reject you because you weren’t exactly initiating anything sexual openly but he knew that you had a reason behind it. He grunted and leaned forward to wrap his arms around you, making sure his hands didn’t land so low and kept it at your waistline. You pushed your chest a little bit out, so you were sinfully flushing your breasts against his chest, letting him feel through you. You both stayed like that for a few moments and when you knew his member started to get harder, you slid off him immediately and stepped back. You plan had worked, you could see the outline of how hard Jimin was through his shorts and you smiled.

“Okay, now go out.” You said, as you twirled around and picked up your clothes off the floor to put them on again. You bent over every time, raising your back leg a bit to show off your lace panties underneath and Jimin cleared his throat.

“What?” He said, dumbfounded for a moment. You turned to look back at him and acted oblivious to his current state.

“I need to change babe, you need to head on out and wait for me.” You clarified, sliding off one sleeve already. Jimin stumbled whilst getting up, fixing his pants so it wouldn’t be obvious that he was turned on and murmured that he would wait for you at the counter.

  When Jimin had locked the door behind him, he pressed his back against it and looked up, sighing. He knew where you were getting at, that you were going to keep this up till the honeymoon and mentally prepared him for the next few trial weeks before he could touch you like how he wanted to now. Jimin steeled his feelings again, for he was still serious about the sex ban till your honeymoon. He wanted the both of you to relive the days when you both had first got together again for the sake of remembrance but he also ached for your touch ever since the day he proposed the idea.

  He almost fell back into your changing room when you opened the door whilst he was still leaning it. He recomposed himself and smiled sheepishly, taking your hand into his as you both went to the counter to pay. You let go of his hand and started to the bill at the counter, moving away every time he tried to touch you or put his arms around your waist. He pouted and you rested your head against his arm as you waited for the card to clear. Once it was done, you turned to walk towards the door and Jimin took your shopping bags from you. He presses his body against your back as you both walked down the street to get back to the car and you had already forgotten your daring trait earlier in the changing room.

“I know you can feel me,” Jimin said in a seductive voice, his hoarse voice making you flush even more as you could feel his still hard member poking through his shorts against your ass. “but I’m hungry so let’s go grab something to eat.” He said, immediately cutting off physical contact with you, much to your dismay, and instead positioned himself at your side, taking you by the arm and pecking you on the forehead.

Two can play at that game, you thought, as you both neared your car.

     It was now a week before your wedding and things couldn’t be anymore hectic. With Jimin having his schedule tight at work and going for board meetings and you having to go overseas for every few days regarding to the new book releases under your publishing company, the tension between you both intensified and now you didn’t even have any type of physical contact like hugs or long cuddling sessions. But you had reassured Jimin that it’d be alright, it was just a trial of what you both would face when you both tied the knot. The only highlight of this week was today, the Friday that you had flown back home a day earlier than your scheduled flight for Saturday. Jimin had a press conference that day and a met ball to attend but as far as he knew, he couldn’t bring you as a date because he thought you were halfway across the world. Now, you found it the perfect opportunity to not just see the love of your life again but to also tease him again.

  Your heels had just touched down on the red carpet of the met ball when you received a call from him and you picked it up, closing your other ear to be able to hear him better. You hoped that you could maybe figure out where he was via the phone call so you would be able to surprise him. Running across the marble floors, you hid behind the balustrade and picked up his call.

“Love of my life, fiancé, baby where have you been?” Jimin toyed and for a second you panicked, thinking he knew you were here.

“Just walking on the beach near the hotel here.” You tried to lie.

“Sounds like there’s a lot of people there?” Jimin asked as you peered over the balustrade and you spot him near the finger food table, standing amongst the rest of his colleagues. Jimin was wearing his tuxedo with a red undershirt, having gelled his hair up, he looked so dignified and attractive.

“Mhm, there’s quite a number. Where are you?”

“At the met ball. Everyone’s with someone but I’m here alone,” You could hear the pout in his voice and smiled to yourself. “What are you wearing?” He suddenly asks, low enough so others wouldn’t hear.

“Oh my god, no phone sex Jiminie.” You laughed and he started stuttering, much to your amusement. You started to walk towards him, trying to not let your heels make that much of a statement.

“I wasn’t asking because of that. I just can’t see you, it was an innocent question.” He explains and you could already imagine Jimin just shuffling his feet nervously, feeling slight embarrassment.

“Well, if you want to know what I’m wearing then turn around.” You said into the phone and you could see Jimin react in front of you. You reached him and tapped him on the shoulder and he turns, a grin etching onto his face as he closes the space between the both of you and envelops you in his arms. He holds you like that and kisses you on the lips before leaning back, letting his eyes roam over you.

 You knew that when his expression turned dark, that he figured you were teasing him again. Out of all the outfits you had ever worn, Jimin had admitted before that he loved seeing you all covered up but at the same time revealing so much. That outfit was the one you were wearing now, a bodycon, long plain-stretch black dress that hugged your skin, the colour accentuating your waist as it was form fitting. Despite being all covered up, the outline of your figure gave it away and you knew that when you had decided to buy it a size smaller, just to give yourself that fuller look. Your Louboutin peep heels almost gave away but not because of you weight but because Jimin had suddenly gripped you closer to him so protectively that your heels were only scarcely touching the floor.

“Ah, were you intending to tease me or let everyone know how fucking sexy you look?” Jimin asked, fixing his tie to loosen it a bit. You smirked and pulled at his tie so he could look at you and tied it back to a firm knot.

“It doesn’t matter either way, I’m only yours.” You said and you took his arm and started to walk around the ballroom. Jimin held your hand tighter and closer around his and snaked a hand over to your waist and brushed against your butt, cupping it slightly before making you twirl, as you were now on the dancefloor and he bowed.

“May I have this dance, Mrs. Park?” Jimin asks, hand outstretched, his face trying to hide the heat with his smile.

“That’s still fiancé to you, Mr Park” You raised an eyebrow and let him pull you close before you both danced away.

     Now, that night had left you both wanting more but it was a week left and Jimin decided to power through his desires.  Your antics hadn’t ended that night as the following days leading up to your wedding, you teased him more with walking around the house with just a dress shirt on or wearing his sweatpants with a tiny top. Jimin had ignored all your attempts and only responded with a kiss on the forehead or the top of your head, knowing that he’d only rile you up more.

  But today wasn’t about that anymore, today was him adoring you from afar as you were greeting the guests. You in your sheath dress and laughing so happily. Jimin loved that he was the source of your happiness and he hoped it would continue. He watched as you threw the bouquet of flowers over your head and the girls behind you screaming.

“Okay, I think it’s time I get my wife back, I’ve just only gotten her.” Jimin joked and the guests laughed, standing up to follow the both of you walking out towards the car awaiting. You both kissed and hugged your families’ goodbye before getting into the car. Neither of you had wanted to hire a driver as it’d be awkward so Jimin was in the driver’s seat and you in the passengers’ as you both drove up the highway to get to the airport.

“Wife, can you open the water bottle for me please?” Jimin asks, eyes still focused on the road. His hair was sleeked back, tux opened up and his tie was loosened with the top buttons of his shirt off.

“Are you going to call me wife during the whole trip, husband?” You ask, handing him the opened water bottle. He took a few gulps and gave it back to you, muttering a thank you.

“Yes, I’m keeping that up and I’m never getting bored of it.” He claims proudly and gives you a loving look, to which you respond to by kissing his cheek.

“So where are we going, husband?” You asked. Jimin had planned the honeymoon as you were leading the wedding plans during the past half year. He didn’t allow you into his workroom or even take a peek at the books he had borrowed to research on where to go.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He said, as he drove pass the opening road to the airport. Seeing the confused look you had on your face, he reassures you.

“We’re not camping I swear.” He laughs and you exhale a breath of relief.

“We’re going glamping instead.” Jimin teased, putting his hand on your thigh and you jokingly slapped him.

“Park Jimin Jimin, I’d love to go anywhere with you but if you bring me for a glamp camp for our honeymoon, I’ll personally butcher you.” You joked.

“That’s a different take on roleplay but I like it.” He winks and you rolled your eyes. Jimin squeezes your thigh and you placed your hand on his throughout the whole drive to the place. You didn’t want to fall asleep during the journey as to not mess up your makeup, so you and Jimin proceeded to take turns at driving, with Jimin directing you where to go as you had no clue of your destination.

Whilst you drove for some part, Jimin read aloud Noonday Demon, one of his book choices. You both instantly delved into another world, mixed with both intellectual talks and goofy inside jokes only understood by the both of you. You had drove past farms and woods, till you finally reached a transit bridge and raised your eyes at Jimin.

“Just trust me.” He says, still in the passengers seat, taking one of your hands and holding it, never letting go and constantly pecking it with kisses.

“Always. If not, I wouldn’t have married you.” You snorted, earning a laugh from him.

The road ahead of you lead near the seaside and your heart started to race with excitement. When you had reached Jimin’s destination, you found yourselves in front of a transit. You both got out of the cars and Jimin walked into the small building, before coming back out with another man who proceeded to take your suitcases out of the booth and put it into a boat.

“We’re taking the boat to a nearby island. It’s called i/n.” Jimin says, as he helps you get into the boat and adjusts the bottom of your wedding dress.

You simply nodded your head, tired from the long drive. Jimin took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders, keeping you warm as he pressed you to him. You snuggled in closer as the boat sped off and the cold yet fresh wind blows against your skin. Sooner or later, the boat comes to a stop at the island’s jetty and Jimin helps you up as your hold yourself up against him, gawking at the sight of the island. Dimly lit with the bamboo lights, the pale pink to the yellow tones of the beach reflecting off the sunset reeled you in. You shouted at Jimin to follow you, to be faster as you were excited to explore the island but he grabs your hand and shakes his head, saying that you needed to get checked in first. You merely nodded, letting him guide you as your attention was still on the island’s beauty.

   The hotel lobby was homey but at the same time elegant, with the white marble built of the place and the soothing lobby music. You were tapping your feet away, eager to see the rest of the place. Jimin merely laughs at the sight of your child-like behaviour and gives you a long kiss, nibbling at your bottom lip. You pull away after awhile and dragged him across the room, heading towards the wooden pathway to find your room. Apparently Jimin had booked not just a room, but a whole chalet to yourselves. As you stepped into the chalet to find it’s big open sliding doors and how it connected to the beach directly, you couldn’t help but turn to Jimin and pull him into the room, kissing him tenderly as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, I love you.”

“I love too, for loving me.” Jimin replies.

     Jimin watched as the hazy orange of the sunset turned into darkness akin to obsidian. Jimin looked up to find the silvery face of the crescent moon hanging above and he smiles to himself. Sitting in a rattan chair, he listened to the rhythmic percussions of the ways as the chirrups of the island’s inhabitants stirred down. Random blinks of fireflies soared near and Jimin just took it all in, happy to be somewhere peaceful. Still staring at the grey tranquil clouds, Jimin’s attention diverted to the sound of your voice. He turned and finds you in a silk robe, snaking your arms around his waist and you hugged him.

“Baby, aren’t you hot? It’s still pretty humid out here.” He says, hands at your hips. He became confused when you pulled him in.

 You didn’t answer but instead just tugged at the knot at your robes and pulled at it slowly. Jimin pushes your hand away and does it for himself, letting the robe fall open and revealing your shapely figure underneath. You were wearing the white dress from the day of the changing rooms and Jimin takes a deep breath and as always, looks into your eyes for permission to which you answer by kissing him, your hair in the locks of his hair as he continues to kiss you. You trace the divot of his lips and thought about how you loved how pouty it always was and kissed him slowly, with only the gentle breathing of your breaths filling up the room.

 His hands gently skim against your skin, pushing off the robes completely off from your slender body as you unbuttoned his white shirt. Jimin pushes you against the bed and leans back to take off his pants. Left in only his boxers, he got in bed with you and pulled you closer by grabbing your waist, continuing to kiss you and peppering your neck with his wet kisses. You shiver under his touch with pleasure and move to touch him but he holds your wrists.

 “You first, I want to make this about you first.” He says as he continues to open your palm and kisses it, going on to do the same for your fingers, placing his kisses from your hands till up your shoulder blades, his hands never forgetting to hold your back and at the same time fondling your breasts through the thing material of the dress.

“I love you.” You breathed out, as your chest felt like it was under fire when he directs his attention to it. You nodded, helping him by sliding off your sleeves and letting the top half fall down, revealing your breasts. Jimin blows his minty breath against your supple breasts before taking them in his mouth. Your chest rises dramatically to his actions and you arch your back, naturally opening your legs wider to give him access to be closer to you. Jimin realized and knew better know that without lingerie or a bra, your breasts hung lower, more relaxed, each mould being slightly different from the other and he loved it. He loved it so much he licked your mounds harder and faster as he suckled.

“Jimin, I need you, more of you.” You said and proceeded to help him get his boxers off. Jimin takes off your hair tie and breathes in your scent, feeling the soft locks of your hair bounce as they fall onto your back. Your eyes lock for a moment before he proceeds to kiss you again, kisses getting more fiery and desperate each time.

“I know you’ve been wanting to do it ever since I wore this that day. I don’t mind if you want to.” You say to him. You knew Jimin always had a dominant streak in him and he wouldn’t have wanted to compromise your first night as a married couple by going that far, but seeing how his member was aching and how Jimin was restraining himself for you, you only wanted that side of him more. Jimin still only looked at you, overthinking as always and it wasn’t until you took his cock into your mouth did he snap out of it, hissing at the warm contact. He lets you suck him off as he takes your head into his hands and directs you up and down, going faster. He stops you from going further and pushes you back.

“You sure?” He asks and you nod.

“Pull on the top of your dress back on and lean back against the headboard for me.” He orders and you could feel the rush of excitement as you moved back. He pushes open your legs wide for him and he smirks.

“Not wearing anything huh? You’ve been a bad girl tsk, what shall I do with you?” He says, leaning against the wall with his cock in his hands, rubbing it ever so slowly. You watch his hands move along the girth of his penis and your mouth started to water.

“Anything you want.” You replied and pushed your legs wider, hands slipping down to your folds and you pulled them apart and start to touch yourself. Jimin takes a chair and sits opposite you, watching you with a lustful look. He groans and tells you to go faster. Your fingers play with your clit and as you continue to rub your folds, soaking your fingers in your juices. You continued and picked yourself, going harder and you knew you were about to reach your high. Jimin gets out of his chair and climbs over you, dragging you and bringing your pussy closer to his face. He replaces your fingers with his mouth and drags his tongue slowly, leaving your pussy more sensitive. You moaned louder, moving your hips to his movements as he continue to kiss the lips. He takes you all into his mouth and sucks on your harder, nibbling on your folds whilst rubbing your clit with his fingers. Suddenly, he breaks off contact and leaves you squirming.

“What the fuck?” You said and he slams his lips against yours, tongue poking through the seams of your lips, causing you to cup his face in your hands. He leaned back and you could see the firmness of his torso and the lean muscles of his arms. He took his cock into his hands and put it closer to your face.

“Lick.” He orders and you proceed to do so, nipping at the sensitive skin. Jimin gets used to this until you start to alternate between licking and sucking him. His eyes flutter as he lets out a moan and pushes his dick further into your mouth. He notices you dripping and decides to push himself away. With slightly rougher movements, he pulls your dress off and admires your naked form. Pushing you back against the bed, he pushes your legs up and slides his dick up and down your folds, earning a frustrated groan from you. He continues teasing, putting the tip into you but only the tip and only pumps at that level.

“Do you know how much I wanted to fuck you in the shop? I couldn’t care less about anyone else,” Jimin says and suddenly thrusts into you deeply, you arch your back and he thrusts harder. “You want to tease me with those breasts of yours?” As he cups your breasts, tweaking your nipples and he changes his momentum to thrusting slowly. “Like it when I fuck you like this baby?” Jimin switched to a faster pace, not stopping and your nails dig into his back. You were sure you were going to bruise in the morning by the way he was gripping your hips now.

Jimin changes his position and makes you be on top and you know the drill. You climbed over him and kissed him tenderly whilst swerving your hips against him, letting his cock feel how wet you were. You slowly put him in your pussy and bobbed, testing the pace before going faster and you rode him. Jimin lets out a moan and fondles with your bouncing breasts as you continued to ride him. You let yourself clench around him and he hisses.

“Fuck baby, do that again while moving.” He says, throwing his head back.

 You did as you were told and when you got tired, he pushes his hips up to thrust into you, taking the load of the work. When he finishes, he switches your positions again to keep you under him. He locks you in place with his thighs and kisses your lips again, leading all the way back to your breasts. He slaps them continuously till they’re red and turns the stinging sensation into him licking your breasts, swirling his tongue over your nipples and sucking on them. You pushed your breasts together and let him continue. Jimin then gets up and takes the ribbon from your robe and dress, tying your heads to the bed’s posts. He uses his tie to shield your eyes and your body aches.

 Making sure he didn’t knot the tie too tight, he traces down your body all the way back to your pussy and you arch your back. He spits in your pussy and starts to lick you again, focusing on your clit and intensifies his sucking. You moaned and squirted, covering his torso with your juices. Jimin goes back to thrust into you and goes at a defining place till he reaches his high. He takes himself out, and unties your bounds and the tie, letting you see his cum leaking out. He jerks himself off and squirts onto your breasts, you give him a final lick before you both fall limp against the bed, bodies moulded into each other like you were meant to be together. Your hot breaths coated each other’s skin and you brush his wet hair from his forehead.

Jimin looks at you and stares at you lovingly, tilting your chin so he could kiss you better. He pulls you in closer by the waist and pulls the covers over the both of you. Legs wrapped together, he presses your chest against him and smirks, kissing the top of your shoulders.

“Take a rest baby girl, we’re going for round two later on.”

“Mhm, you sure you can handle more? Or do you need a pill to help?” You teased and squealed when he pinches your nipple.

“I love you, y/n.” Jimin says softly.

“I love you too.” You said, kissing him.

[outputcongo2-blog]

Can a Radical New High School Disrupt Education in Philadelphia?

City

A small group of reformers wants to change the fundamental vision of what a classroom should be. It’s as hard as you might imagine.

Revolution School team members Gina Moore, left, and Henry Fairfax. Photograph by Matt Zugale

Gina Moore draws a sip of grapefruit-tequila cocktail, a small black notebook cradled in her lap. A financial professional and mother of two in her late 40s, Moore is sitting in the lobby of a Manhattan hotel that’s inconspicuous from street level. A copper-clad doorway leads down a set of subterranean steps to where she sits. Her salt-and-pepper bob fashionably matches the flapper-era-inspired decor.

Moore is trying to locate one of her favorite quotes by one of her intellectual heroes, philosopher John Dewey, who passed away five miles from here in 1952, inside a residence overlooking Central Park. Dewey was an on-again, off-again Marxist and the undisputed “chief prophet of progressive education” in America, as the New York Times said in his obituary. Put simply, he’s not exactly required reading for your average MBA.

Moore’s New York visit isn’t for her day job as a high-powered principal at the Center City investment firm AJO, though; it’s for one of her side projects. For the past two years, Moore has been spearheading a bold soup-to-nuts plan to launch a visionary private high school in Center City Philly — called, fittingly, the Revolution School — that will open its doors in the fall of 2019. The school is premised on a progressive model that views grades as secondary to the production of curious, self-advocating minds. To that end, Moore has been busy researching nontraditional schools around the world, reading Dewey’s theories, and speaking with experts, some of whom she’s hired to co-create the Revolution School with her.

Today, Moore is meeting with a Canadian thought guru named Shane Parrish who runs an organization called Farnam Street. It’s an online community (185,000 newsletter subscribers) of global professionals interested in brainy stuff like mental models, theories of decision making, and something called “double-loop learning.” Functionally, Farnam Street is something of a guidebook to lifelong learning for adults. Moore is intent on adapting some of its practices and philosophies for the Revolution School’s curriculum.

“We can be modeling the same kinds of things that he’s trying to get people to think,” Moore tells me later. “We want to expand the intellectual horizon at a younger age, encourage the ability to spot patterns that exist across our natural systems and lives.”

That’s what the Dewey quote she’s been trying to locate also speaks to; it’s a line from the philosopher’s 1938 book Experience and Education. Moore reads it aloud from her notebook, then texts a photo of it to me for good measure:

For I am so confident of the potentialities of education when it is treated as intelligently directed development of the possibilities inherent in ordinary experience.

Shane Parrish arrives, looking decidedly less Jazz Age than Moore in shorts, a polo and Nike Airs. Moore speaks with Parrish regularly. A month earlier, she spent a weekend in Portugal at one of his retreats. He’s since taken an interest in the Revolution School.

Immediately, they begin discussing education. “We don’t teach people how to learn, and yet we put them through school for 15 years,” Parrish says.

“Not all experience needs to be educational,” Moore says, returning serve. “Some experience is miseducation, teaching you how not to do it.”

When it comes to education in America, almost everyone agrees that elements of the system — if not the entire system itself — are broken. Gina Moore, who is the financial mind and self-described “cheerleader in chief” — fund-raiser, booster and business planner — behind the Revolution School, concurs. Except instead of moving to the suburbs or writing a check to her favorite charter du jour, she’s reaching for something more audacious. Moore wants to disrupt the fundamental vision of what a classroom should look like.

•

Revolution School team members Noelle Kellich, left, and Tom McManus. Photograph by Matt Zugale

Two months earlier, in June, a couple dozen parents are gathered in a Society Hill living room full of antique furniture and bright Impressionist paintings. They’ve come to an information session held to hype interest in the Revolution School a full summer before open enrollment begins. Moore, dressed in a loose-fitting gray outfit with a name tag attached, is handing out note cards that ask attendees to “share your aspirations for high school.” When the parents settle in with paper plates of Pure Fare — the gluten-free restaurant catering the info session — Moore, ever in motion, skips introductions and asks everyone to turn toward the television for a bit of inspiration.

Photographs flash on the screen: a smartphone followed by an antique phone; a car from today, then a horse and buggy from 150 years ago; a modern classroom, then … well, an early-1900s classroom that’s eerily similar to today, with kids seated at desks facing a teacher standing in front of a board. The video — produced by a corporate-funded education venture called EdCycle — pulls back. The pictures are faux courtroom exhibits being presented by a prosecutor to a judge and a jury. School itself is on trial, it turns out, and the rap sheet doesn’t look good. “Turning millions of people into robots” is one charge. “Killing creativity and individuality” and “intellectually abusive” are two more. The litany of misdeeds gets compiled by the prosecutor, who builds his case for the “educational malpractice” of modern-day schooling.

The brokenness of the education system is a familiar refrain in Philly, and yet, with a handful of exceptions (see “19 Philly-Area Schools Rethinking Education in Big Ways and Small” for some examples of a little progress), it’s remarkable how scant change has been. We live in a supposed golden age of innovation, with digital technology disrupting human existence at unprecedented velocities. Somehow, the futurists can’t crack education, though. Smartboards and iPads haven’t been the game-changers they were supposed to be. Vouchers and charters — whether you believe they’re toxic or a panacea — are reinventing the market but not the classroom. Whether public, private or charter, school is much like it was for our grandparents: Students migrate from room to room, passively absorbing instructors’ commands and, if we’re lucky, becoming inspired enough to finish their homework.

Cognitive dissonance settles in when we imagine something else. “Our biggest issue is communication and narrative,” Moore tells me, drawing a business analogy. “One of the really challenging aspects of selling a school is that it’s a product almost everyone is familiar with. But parents’ opinions of that product are 20 or more years old.”

In other words, the societal image of school remains a force to be reckoned with in spite of the collective wisdom that education needs a hard shake-up. Teachers grading pupils, handing out report cards, and doing it over and over again is a circadian rhythm we’ve all experienced. It’s hard to let that shared history go.

Moore is trying to clear that hurdle with the audience tonight. “Our aspiration for high school is a revolutionary experience,” she says after the video. “An adventure that feeds curiosity and creativity and evokes passion and purpose. A community where we recognize diversity at the heart of our perspective. A structure built to allow teachers to thrive and share in the joy of the journey. We will need to live John Dewey’s insightful and timeless words. … ”

Moore began thinking radically about education a decade ago. She grew up mostly going to public schools outside Harrisburg (the exception was a stint in Germany, where she attended a nontraditional elementary school while her father was working for DuPont) before studying accounting and German at the University of Delaware. But a few things changed in adulthood. Not long after moving to Philadelphia 16 years ago, she began sending her son, Anthony, to the Philadelphia School in Fitler Square. It’s an example (at the K-8 level) of the same type of progressive, project-based education that Moore is advertising at the Revolution School. (A recent TPS middle-school project on pre-colonization and the early Americas offers a window in. During weekly trips to the pine plantation at the Schuylkill Center for Environmental Education, small groups of teenagers made maps, built substantial forts and resolved land disputes — each activity leading into more traditional subjects like geometry, geography and literature. Throughout the three-month-long endeavor, kids journaled on their social and intellectual journey.)

Impressed by her kids’ development at TPS (where she got involved and eventually became board chair) and reflecting on her own career, Moore began to put together the pieces of what kinds of education were meaningful to her. Most valuable were skills she gleaned from interactions with curious minds like Parrish, who inspired her to go further than a textbook assignment ever could.

That, she says, is her “personal motivation” in starting the school. “I feel there’s a whole version of education that would have prepared me much better,” she says. “I’m truly a lover of Philadelphia, and if we can do this, it will be part of a contribution to the city. We have a seed that was planted in the Philadelphia School, an anchor in a way that a lot of places don’t.”

All sorts of schools are promoting the virtues of progressive education as part of their curricula these days, and some schools are even comparable in philosophy to TPS, such as the Jubilee School in West Philly and Project Learn in Mount Airy. But those three options don’t go past eighth grade, and there’s a lack of truly progressive high schools overall. The choices end at eighth grade for just about every progressive school in the city. What makes the Revolution School so groundbreaking is the idea that this style of education can succeed right up until college.

But that’s more controversial than you’d think. Even in this room full of families predisposed to progressive models — almost every parent at the info session has a child who’s gone to TPS — there’s resistance. Noelle Kellich, a longtime teacher at TPS and the “head of teaching and learning” at the Revolution School (essentially the principal), explains why to me later.

“What some families think is that the Philadelphia School” — or a similar progressive program — “has been a lovely, wonderful place and has served their kids in all the ways they’d hoped,” Kellich says. But when it comes to high school, parental attitudes shift about what’s right for their kids. “Maybe they need something less caring, less safe, less in tune with them. Something more dehumanizing, so that they can learn to do it, learn to survive.”

Moore leaves time for questions. The conversation inevitably turns toward college. The Revolution School won’t offer AP classes, which sounds all well and good in theory — until a kid gets a rejection letter from Yale. “We believe colleges will be really excited to accept students from a school that has the courage to do this,” says Moore, who points to the University of Chicago’s 2018 decision to make the SAT and ACT optional for applicants.

Later, in private, Moore is candid about how difficult it is to break the educational model we all know.

“Some of the challenge comes in resisting the temptation to build a school in the fashion that people think of as a school,” she says. But she’s determined. “One, that’s expensive, and two, that’s isolating. It doesn’t take advantage of what the city has to offer.”

•

It’s late July, and after having considered a dozen different rental options in Center City, Moore and Henry Fairfax, the Revolution School’s head of school, are looking at a space for sale at 25 South Van Pelt Street. They make a formidable duo, with Moore dressed in one of her zippy business outfits and Fairfax probing the realtor about air rights. He’s six-foot-four to her five-foot-five, and the building dwarfs them both. It’s a 14,000-square-foot brick fortress hiding in plain sight between 21st and 22nd streets, surrounded by surface parking lots, the Mütter Museum, and the First Unitarian Church.

While they retain a degree of flexibility on the location, the team behind the Revolution School is dead set on being in Center City. “We are a place-based school, which means that kids will be outside the walls of the classroom regularly — not once a month, not a special field trip — partnering with institutions,” Kellich explains later. “We want kids getting out there, mucking it up a bit.”

Inside, the building is a pile of rubble, offering a blank canvas for the Revolution School to make its own. The owner — a smiling, tanned older man with a cigarette in his mouth — won’t give an exact price point, and eventually Moore and her team decide it’s not the right option for them. As with any start-up, the ability to stay nimble could be key, so a rental makes more sense.

“We need to form our character before deciding where the walls are going to go,” she says.

Lack of building notwithstanding, the nuts-and-bolts aspects of the Revolution School are largely in place. It has filed for 501(c)3 status and is a permanent legal entity under the auspices of the Urban Affairs Coalition. Employees like Kellich and Fairfax are receiving salaries and benefits more than a year before opening. Around 90 percent of the start-up money has come from Moore, supplemented by some private individuals. And a financial plan, largely developed by Moore, has been put in motion for the first year. The Revolution School will begin with a class of at least 30 ninth-graders and four instructors. (Teacher pay will be substantially higher than what we’re used to; “Teachers need to be able to afford to send their kids here,” Moore says.) It will then successively add one class each year, along with instructors (at no more than a 10-to-one ratio with students), until it’s a fully formed high school.

Although the tuition will be north of $20,000, Moore has developed a sliding-scale formula that she believes will make the school accessible to students of all income levels. (Most families will pay 10 percent of their pre-tax income, with bottom- and top-end caps.) The Revolution School is broadcasting a commitment not only to racial but also to socioeconomic diversity. Part of the way the school intends to save on costs is the light footprint it will have, using the city — its libraries, green spaces, experts and museums — as its toolbox.

If it all sounds somewhat vague, Moore insists that’s intentional. “If we want to live up to being a school that’s truly progressive, it has to be a living and breathing thing,” she says. “The first class of students is going to play a big role in defining what this could be.”

But even a year before opening, some educators bristle at the Revolution School’s lack of definition and lofty ambitions. “Their website is really uninformative,” says Karel Kilimnik, co-founder of the Alliance for Philadelphia Public Schools and a longtime teacher in the city. That website — a landing page that as of late August was full of inspirational quotes — puts little flesh on the bone. “If you go to the Revolution School, what do you do, spin around all day? Study the Russian Revolution? It’s a name with no substance,” says Kilimnik. “Teachers have been doing ‘project-based learning’ for years. We didn’t market it, but now somebody has made it into a product and is selling it as a curriculum.”

Recruiting families to a school with no name recognition, no building, and little semblance to what we think of when we think of school is a hard sell. But the climate of dissatisfaction around education these days makes it a worthy gambit. Between kindergarten and 12th grade, public-school students in Pennsylvania take, on average, 112 standardized tests with numbingly similar names: PSSA, PASA, NAEP. … There’s no doubt parents and pupils are eager for something different.

“What you learn is that these kids have all been part of a transactional system,” says Fairfax. “We need to take the educational experience from transactional to transformational.”

Fairfax, a youthful 38-year-old, is chock-full of such aphorisms, picked up over his 15 years as an educator at independent schools. He also favors the kind of coachspeak one absorbs playing college basketball at Drexel. Over the course of the past three months, he and Kellich have visited more than a dozen potential feeder schools; they plan to reach 100 living rooms by the end of 2018. “We need to get into homes and recruit, Coach K-style,” Fairfax says.

Without students or a building in place, Gina Moore is betting on the collective reputation of the Revolution School’s leadership to garner buy-in from parents. Prior to joining the school this past summer, Fairfax was a vice president at Girard College; before that, he was director of admissions at the Haverford School on the Main Line. After years on the inside of institutions, nudging reforms ahead slowly, Fairfax decided to make a leap into the unknown. “It’s really hard to move a dinosaur,” he says.

It’s a sentiment shared by each member of the Revolution School team. Jane Shore, the team’s quantitative mind, spent the past decade working at Educational Testing Service — the folks who mastermind the multiple-choice bubbles on the SAT. “My experience at ETS was that we were rarely, if ever, touching the ground, looking locally at our impact,” Shore says. Her role is to monitor the latest research on neurodiversity — the way different students learn — and ensure that the free-form curriculum of the Revolution School remains guided by science, if not the usual statistical outcomes.

Then there’s the head of mission, Tom McManus, who until recently was the high-school principal at the Mid-Pacific Institute in Honolulu, a school that’s earned national acclaim for its progressive approach. Moore recruited McManus, who recently was featured in a book called What School Could Be that’s a sort of reverse Waiting for Superman — a celebration of schools doing nontraditional education right all over the country. McManus is a true believer in the potential for progressive education to take hold here, too.

“In places like Silicon Valley and even in Hawaii, if you’re not in the innovation game within education, the community is telling you to get with it,” he says. “This is happening at a rapid pace. Frankly, it’s not happening as quickly in Philly, but there is a community here that needs these sorts of options as well.”

•

American education wasn’t always so standardized. It wasn’t until the late 19th century’s wave of mass industrialization that the one-room schoolhouse went away and we began to turn education into a Foucault fever dream in which pupils go in and metrics come out: test scores, graduation rates, college attainment.

Slowly, though, that paradigm seems to be unraveling. Penn’s school of education now has a teacher certificate for project- based learning. Meanwhile, there are a growing number of nontraditional elementary schools in the city, all potential feeders to the Revolution School. Progressive education is a lot sexier than it used to be.

“When my kids started going to TPS 15 years ago, the school was selective, but not what it is today,” says Jennifer Rice, former board chair at TPS. (Moore preceded her as chair.) “Now, it’s ‘the’ school.”

Aside from the raised eyebrows its progressive approach will engender in some parents, the Revolution School will also need to counter the narrative — which will inevitably emerge — that it’s nothing more than an oasis for children of the city’s elite. “Do I sometimes worry about our financing and think, oh no, what if I build a school for rich kids? Yes, I lose sleep over that,” says Kellich. There will be rich kids, of course, but as is true for the Philadelphia School, hitting benchmarks for socioeconomic and racial diversity is central to the plan.

The Revolution School is aiming to be more than just a symbol of what high school can be, a shining city upon a hill. It’s also meant to be a think tank for progressive educators all over the city. It could be the start of a broader movement that brings progressive education solidly into the mainstream.

“If we do it right, we’ll impact all the kids in all directions and the city itself,” says Kellich, who taught in public schools for a number of years. “If that story gets told over and over, I hope people will come and say, ‘Hey, I want to see how you’re doing it.’ And we’ll say yes!”

As with any start-up, getting traction is a challenge. The school was turned down for the one grant it’s applied for, and meetings Moore has had with self-styled disrupters who are throwing money into charter schools haven’t yet borne any fruit. Meanwhile, some people have been irked by the raised fist (of a kid clutching a bunch of colored pencils) prominently displayed on the school’s website. As much as people are angry with the education system today, there’s still a conservatism that reigns over attempts to change it — the same old story in Philly.

Frankly, Moore likes that the school is generating visceral reactions. Revolutions don’t happen quietly. If the founders need to change the website down the road, so be it. The one thing she has no plans to lose is the John Dewey quote that figures prominently: “Give students something to do, not something to learn; and the doing is of such a nature as to demand thinking; learning naturally results.”

Published as “New School” in the October 2018 issue of Philadelphia magazine. Read more about Philadelphia-area schools rethinking education here.

Source: https://www.phillymag.com/news/2018/10/06/revolution-school-philadelphia/

[agirlinjapan]

Red Data Girl: My Longest Day of School (Week 1)

Red Data Girl: My Longest Day of School By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation

Check out the RDG Translation twitter!

Wow! We’re starting the second to last book of RDG! I can hardly believe it! Izumiko and the others have finally made it to the school festival and it’s going to be awesome! I hope you enjoy the new book!

Back cover eye catch: “I can no longer return to the academy.”

Dressed as kabuki stagehands, Izumiko and her friends run around the Warring States era school festival and enjoy themselves as best as they can. During the battle game, the highlight of the festival, diviner Ichijo Takayanagi’s trap is set into action. Although a part of his spell might have been destroyed at the time, Izumiko has been thrown into a panic ever since Takayanagi saw Miyuki and her powers. When Izumiko vanishes, Miyuki chases after her into an alternate dimension. But is an unexpected enemy waiting for them?!            

Red Data Girl: My Longest Day of School By Noriko Ogiwara Chapter 1: Groundwork Part 1 (1 of 2)

The fifth annual Houjou Academy Festival, Saturday, October 2nd and Sunday, October 3rd, 9AM to 3:30PM

The entire campus—a picture of the Warring States era! A school festival where all participants are dressed in Warring States era period costumes!

Day 1 High School Projects: Theatrics, refreshment booths, haunted house, stage presentations, and more

Day 2 High School and Middle School Joint Activity: Warring States Era Battle: The Siege of Hachioji Castle

It was Saturday. The homemade poster proclaimed that the first day of Houjou Academy’s Warring States era school festival was finally upon them.

All signs pointed to the possibility that the weather would more or less hold out for the second day. In particular, that morning’s clear skies were a good omen.

The posters were visible on street corners as well as on school bulletin boards. Along with the families of Hojou Academy students, members of the general public who were also interested in seeing the fully costumed Warring States era school festival had come out as well. No one would say that Houjou Academy was an easy school to get to but guests began to show up in twos and threes right from the start of the morning.

Houjou Academy, still a relatively new school, was calling it their fifth annual festival but the celebrations had been limited to the middle school until its third year. The school still wasn’t very well known in the public sphere and the festival was an active attempt to make the name Houjou Academy more recognizable. The administration was clearly expecting the festival to bring in more applications for new students in the next year’s class. They had to invite a lot of spectators.—Without advertising, there would have been no point in spending so much money on the event and opening the campus to the outside.

Every member of the high school was heaving a sigh of relief that the festival was getting off to a good start. However, that didn’t mean they could relax just yet. The student staff in charge of the festival had been beside themselves with chaos since the final preparations had begun the day before. Almost all of them had pulled an all-nighter.

During the festival planning, they had realized how hard it would be to get everyone into costume. With the middle school and high school combined, there were about 600 students participating. As schools tended to go, that wasn’t many. Still, the lecture hall’s lounge had been so crowded with people sorting out costumes that it had been difficult to make it through the space. Anyone who looked up at the mountain of rented costumes and armor would have certainly understood the impressive enterprise that was taking place there.

Unpacking the boxes, checking the quantities, and distributing the ordered costumes to each class had taken so much time that when it was finished, a new day had begun. On top of this, they had also had to install the festival’s homemade entranceway as well as the special monument. The student government members hadn’t even had time to go back to their dorms.

The first year girls, Izumiko and Mayura hadn’t been able to make it back to their room either. They had only taken a short nap in the lecture hall lounge’s chairs.

Passing the night without sleeping in a place with no beds had been a first time experience for Izumiko. She had barely dozed and now her body was stiff all over. Basically, it felt like she hadn’t rested at all. Regardless, perhaps it was because the excitement of the large festival was infectious but she didn’t particularly mind. She had even thought the unusualness of the situation was fun.

In the middle of the previous day’s preparations—

Members of both the middle school and the high school student governments had come to distribute the costumes to all the students. They all worked together in the lecture hall.

Izumiko, who had joined Houjou Academy in high school, knew almost none of the middle schoolers. Two weeks ago during the kimono demonstration, she had met some of them when she had worked as the middle school’s princess model. She had been surrounded by a group of middle school students and now they seemed to know who she was.

Still, it wasn’t particularly unusual for the middle and high schoolers at Houjou Academy to interact with each other. There were a number of classes that both the third year middle schoolers and the first year high schoolers could take together. The sports clubs had combination practices, too. And there were also casual activity groups that students from both sides could participate in. With this in mind, the only reason why Izumiko hadn’t gotten to know any middle schoolers yet was because she had her hands full getting used to living in Tokyo for the first time in her life.

Anyone who walked onto Houjou Academy’s campus would see the high school buildings to their right and the lecture hall to their left. They wouldn’t see the middle school buildings. This was due to the fact that they were directly behind the high school buildings. A thicket of towering pine trees hid them from view. They were out of sight from the road. Still, the middle school was rather close to the high school.

Because of the enrollment numbers in the middle school, it couldn’t be located out of the way in the middle of campus either. Their classroom building faced east and it had its own private gate and sports grounds. Their own dorms, cafeteria, and gym stood alongside the classroom building.

Whenever the high school students went to their own dorms, their gym, or their sports field, they had to walk up and down the hill road. The middle schoolers’ living space had been constructed entirely in the flat land at the bottom of the hill. Considering that both schools had been built on the same property, the spaces they used didn’t overlap much.

At the start of the spring, Izumiko had visited the middle school cafeteria when Miyuki had brought her there. However she hadn’t even gotten close to it again since then. As a result, this was the first time Izumiko found herself working alongside the middle school student president, Shinosuke Takatou and his vice student president, Mitsuba Midorikawa.

It makes sense that they’d be different somehow from the middle schoolers in the Kii Peninsula where I graduated…

There weren’t any exchange students in Houjou Academy’s middle school and Izumiko had heard that a third of previous year’s third year class had transferred to other schools for high school. However, just like in Houjou’s high school, students from all over the country applied to the middle school. The students that had been chosen to work in the student government seemed sociable and smart to Izumiko as well.

Mayura might have been a first year in the high school just like Izumiko but she had come up from the middle school and so she knew the students there. Even Miyuki who had transferred during the second term of his third year seemed to know the middle schoolers in the student government. All the same, Izumiko couldn’t comfortably speak with the middle schoolers. They might have been underclassmen but her shyness still got the best of her.

And so, Izumiko didn’t ask anyone to help her while she sat in the corner of the lounge, quietly struggling to check the amount of costumes that had come in. Because so many students had wanted to work with the showy armor, Izumiko was left with the task of grouping together the simpler costumes.

Excluding the outfits for the theatrical performances, the high school had decided to wear peacetime costumes on the first day. It had been decided that the middle school would use the sets of military commanders’ armor during their Warring States parade and then pass it on the next day during the whole school battle event. Due to the amount of students, there were far more civilian outfits than there were suits of armor.

As Izumiko was leaning forward to write the number of costumes she had checked on her clipboard, she heard her name called in a way she wasn’t used to.

“Miss Suzuhara.”

When she looked up, she saw Takatou and Midorikawa standing in front of her, the two of them with nervous looks on their faces.

“Yes?...”

Takatou was the sort of popular boy that everyone had known would get elected. He had thick, unruly hair and looked much more likely to be in the school band or play soccer than be student president. Midorikawa was a petite girl who made anyone who saw her think of a small animal. She seemed clever and had a calm look to her eyes.

“Um, you were the one who modeled as the middle school’s princess, right?” Takatou confirmed in an awkward voice.

In other words, he can’t tell that it was me, Izumiko immediately thought.

If he was this surprised by how plain she was, she didn’t really want to start a conversation with him.

“It wasn’t my decision…”

“No, um, thank you for doing it.”

Takatou and Midorikawa quietly bobbed their heads to her in appreciation.

“We’re sorry that the middle school girls weren’t well organized and that we caused you so much trouble.”

Izumiko was both surprised and intrigued. She realized she was happy that they were being so polite to her. She had never really experienced something like this before. Her nerves calmed and she found herself nodding.

“It’s nothing to apologize about. I didn’t mind.”

“We’re glad. We’re sorry to do this but we have something we want to ask you.”

“Me?”

President Takatou nodded quickly.

“Yes. Could you be our princess tomorrow during the parade? I know it’s sudden and you must be surprised but…”

Izumiko’s eyes went wide. She didn’t really understanding what was going on.

“Why me? I’m in the high school.”

“We reflected on the mismanagement that happened that day and we had another discussion about what we should do with the beauty pageant,” Midorikawa said. Her voice was high like a piccolo. “The more we talk about it, the more complicated it gets… If we choose a winner, there could be lasting hard feelings.”

A serious look appeared on her face as she petitioned Izumiko. “If no one volunteers to be the princess, we only have you, Izumiko. A bunch of girls are saying that if you’re the princess, they’ll agree to be your attendants. For the sake of continued harmony in the middle school, will you please be our princess again? You’d be keeping the peace in the lower grades.”

“Continued harmony…”

Midorikawa made it sound as if she would be a peace delegate walking into a warzone. Still, this would only cause problems for Izumiko.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. The middle school planned the parade. It would be bad if the main princess was a high school student.”

Takatou nodded.

“We’ve had a hard time thinking this over, too. But everyone remembers you at the kimono demonstration. There are even some students who are carrying around pictures of you as a sort of good luck charm.”

Izumiko shrank into herself.

“That… You’re sort of making it sound like this is all my fault…”

“You could look at it as just being a substitute. But you’re our pick for princess. If you say yes, we’ll convince the others on the committee to agree, too.”

Midorikawa continued off of what Takatou had said.  

“We can’t have any problems with the first day’s parade. Please. Help out your underclassmen.”

“I couldn’t.”

Izumiko had every intention of refusing but the two middle schoolers continued to press her.

“There are other high schoolers participating in the middle school parade. There are people from the riding club coming to be our warriors on horseback. You can’t say no to being our princess.”

“Isn’t there anyway to you could do it? Tell us your conditions. We’ll do anything.”

Luckily, just when Izumiko had no more responses to give, a helping hand appeared. It was Mayura.

“What are you talking about so sneakily? You’re not selling any ridiculous ideas, are you?”

Takatou and Midorikawa flusteredly changed their attitude. Mayura Souda, a senior student they respected greatly, had seen what they were doing from afar.

“Mayura… This is… uh…”

“Aren’t you embarrassed to ask a high schooler to help with the event you’ve planned?” Mayura demanded. “There is zero percent of a possibility that Izumiko will participate in the parade. Take a minute to think about why the high school student government is wearing kuroko on the days of the festival. The members of the government who will be overseeing the all-school event are absolutely vital to its running. They don’t have time to play dress up.”

“…We’re sorry…”

Takatou and Midorikawa left, looking rejected.

Izumiko felt a little bad for them but a greater part of her felt relieved. She let out a sigh and said to Mayura, “You saved me. Thanks for turning them down.”

Mayura shook her head. “What a bad group of student leaders. It looks like someone didn’t do a good job coaching the next generation.”

“No, it was my choice to model that day. I had a responsibility to do it.”

Izumiko’s tone was thoughtful. She recalled all the middle schoolers taking pictures of her with their camera phones. Deep down, being told that they were carrying around pictures of her made Izumiko uncomfortable. Even now, she still didn’t know what reason had caused her to step into a position where everyone could see her.

Keep reading!

[wenminliang-blog]

How to Photograph The Taj Mahal – Best Instagram Locations India, Jaipur

For those of you who have visited Rajasthan in India, you’ll know that literally everywhere you look makes for a beautiful insta photo, it is quite simply the most colourful and photogenic place, I think, in the world.

But if you’re travelling through India on a tight schedule, that isn’t very helpful, so I’ve compiled a list of my favourite including the most iconic sights to visit, particularly if you’re looking for those pretty, picture perfect instagram shots. This is by no means an exhaustive list but just my personal favourites. It’s more of a bucket list or tick list of the most goals insta locations in Rajasthan.

Pictured above: Me at the Taj Mahal and below the Blue room at the City Palace, Jaipur

If you have limited time in India, are on a strict itinerary and want to use those trending hashtags to full effect, here are TheStyleTraveller recommendations for the Top 10 Instagram locations in Rajasthan and on the golden triangle route.

I haven’t even factored in Delhi here because I didn’t have time on my latest trip. But if you want to add your own locations, think I’ve missed some out, or want to share your tips too, then please let me know in the comments below, I’d love to hear from you.

1 The Taj Mahal

Quite simply one of the most spectacular wonders of the world. It is the most famous symbol of love on the planet, a mausoleum of a kings undying love for his queen. It is the most loved and most photographed building in the world. Which in turn means it’s really hard to get a decent photo of it without a huge crowd in your shot.

Tip 1 – Buy a ticket online so you can skip the queues. Check opening days, it’s currently closed every Friday for conservation (article written in April 2019).

Tip 2 – Gates open at sunrise (usually around 6.30am dependent on season) this is when I arrived and crowds were minimal compared to an hour or two later.

Tip 3 – On arrival don’t dawdle in the gardens, head straight to the Taj Mahal itself and to either of the two burnt sienna coloured mosques which stand either side of the main white mausoleum building. From inside the arches of the mosque you get a beautiful arch framed shot of the Taj Mahal like in the opening shot of this blog.

– For the photo above taken from the water gardens we waited in a small queue of people (about 5 mins) let each of them take their shots then we got our time. It’s pretty easy if you’re patient.

– Shot below is taken inside the mosque next to the Taj Mahal.

– I would also recommend going on a week day, not a weekend or a public holiday if you can, it’s much quieter.

Jaipur Old Town – The Pink City

Set aside a good few hours to discover Jaipur old town, aka the pink city. In this area you will find Hawa Mahal (the wind palace pictured below), City Palace and Jantar Mantar (the Royal Obseravtory) all in close proximity, but they are different buildings each with separate (but minimal) entry fee payments.

We loved it here so much we stayed the whole day, I packed a few different outfits to shoot. We went shopping in the gorgeous handicraft stores afterwards, the markets are also a fab backdrop for photos.

2. Hawa Mahal, Jaipur

Tip 1 –  In order to get the shot with the full front facade of the iconic building, arrive at the main gate, cross the road in the opposite direction and head to the rooftop cafes on the other side of the street.

It’s polite to buy a drink or a snack and if you ask nicely they should let you get on the roof to take a pic. Be careful though, this is india so there’s no rails, you’re basically on private property, if you injure yourself or act stupidly there’s no one to sue or blame here.

3 City Palace – The Blue Room, Jaipur View Rooftop & Peacock Gate

The city palace is filled with treasures. From the spectacular Peacock Gate (below), to the incredible Blue Room (above) and also hundreds of other shoot locations with no name. I highly recommend a guide, it’s big and not so obvious where to go.

To get to the private quarters of the king (where the blue room is and also the rooftop view) you have to pay an extra fee. It’s expensive by Indian standards, around £35 GBP per person. But it is so worth it. If you get a good guide ours was called Vijay (in house guide at the Jai Mahal Palace) he’ll show you all the best insta spots, give you a history lesson and also politely ask other tourists in Hindi to wait till you get your shot! Now that’s priceless!!

Above: Peacock Gate, Below: the rooftop view from the King’s private quarters at The City Palace.

4  Patricka Gate, Jaipur

Around a 15-25 min drive out of town (dependant on traffic), away from the Pink city is the insta heaven of Patrika Gate. It’s free to get in, there’s literally nothing else here apart from the gate itself in the middle of a huge round about. Get a taxi or private car, get your shot, head home. Job done!

5 Amer stepwell, Jaipur

There are several stepwells in Rajasthan, I know this because we drove to so many. But not all of them let you actually stand on the steps to get a photo. At the moment the Amer stepwell, which is a 20 minute drive North of Jaipur, does let you stand on the steps, but it’s worth checking with your hotel if they are allowing photography at the time of your  visit.Amer stepwell: hadynyah/Getty Images

6 Jantar Mantar, Royal Observatory, Jaipur

This place is simply incredible. Filled with ginormous astrological instruments like huge graphic architectural statues it is one of the the most incredible insta locations I’ve seen. Get the tour guide to walk you through the astrological charts and find out more about what your future holds!

7 Jodhpur & Mehrangarh Fort

The immense castle like structure over looking Jodphur and the Blue City is Mehrangarh Fort (pictured below). Not only for the views of the incredible sea of sky blue houses below, but also the structure and intricate architecture inside, it is a must visit location.

Afterwards head down into the city and wander around the beautiful blue buildings. It’s such a calming and visually stunning city. (pictured above)

8 Umaid Bhawan Palace, Jodhpur

Umaid Bhawan Palace is the residence of the King of Jodhpur but also doubles up as one the best hotels in the world. If you’re not lucky enough to get to stay there,  head to the museum on site. It’s totally worth a visit just to take in its awesome facade which was where the film The Viceroy’s House was shot and also the spectacular wedding venue of Priyanka Chopra and Nick Jonas. Here’s a link to my you tube video all about staying there! 

Me posing outside the incredible architecture with my Avis India chauffeur driven rental car.

9 Taj Lake Palace, Udaipur

The film location for James Bonds 1983 film Octopussy, if you’re not staying at the Lake Palace itself fear not, Udaipur is filled with beautiful marble buildings and the views over the lake from City Palace Museum are stunning too.

Hide in the many arches and alcoves that frame the lake and try and capture the peace and tranquility of this beautiful city. See my full blog about the Taj Lake Palace here and my youtube video here.

10 Monkey temple, between Jaipur and Agra

This was Charlie’s favourite site on our Rajasthan tour. I loved the disused, discarded ghostly architecture of the city and Charlie loved the monkeys! Watch them bathe and play in the uninhabited ancient streets. The monkeys colonised the city when the monks moved out, they are free, happy and have enough food and their new home is a fabulous playground!!For more on Bonnie’s India Road trip click here for the ultimate luxury itinerary and here for the Taj Lake Palace.

That’s all from India for now, next stop The Maldives.

Bon voyage xx

Don’t forget to check out out my You Tube video at the Lake Palace.

  The post How to Photograph The Taj Mahal – Best Instagram Locations India, Jaipur appeared first on The Style Traveller.

[superchicalonelyviking]

7

Hello from the Gobi Desert! This post is a bit of an epic so you might want to sit down with a cup of tea if you're planning to read it all! We've been in Mongolia for almost a week now, and have found it to be a fantastic place with very beautiful landscapes, where traditional culture is still very much a part of life as parts of the country are rapidly changing and becoming modernised. The traditional lifestyle in Mongolia is that of nomadic herding, where herders move several times per year with their herd of cattle, goats, sheep, yaks and horses, living in a ger (yurt) which is dismantled and taken with them. The extremes of temperature from minus 40 in the winter to +40 in the summer mean they are very tough ! Mongolia became under Soviet governance in the 20's and was a communist country until the early 90's. As a buffer zone between Russia and China, it received a lot of subsidies from the Kremlin and hence in a lot of ways people felt their quality of life was better during this time - there was free healthcare, universal education and if herders didn't meet quotas set by the government (for wool, meat, etc) they were given enough for a basic standard of living, which it is felt did not encourage productivity. As an independent democratic nation it is in a time of transition to an economically productive country - there is a wealth of natural reserves such as gold, uranium and zinc, and it is hoped that if managed properly, mining will bring a lot of wealth to Mongolia. Nowadays more and more people live in urban areas (around 60%), the main one being the capital Ulaanbaatar, where there is better infrastructure and access to services and employment. Here the landscape is not unlike many other Soviet cities with huge crumbling tower blocks and plenty of concrete, however with one key difference- there has been a strong reluctance of many to leave their ger life behind, and hence the suburbs are full of 'ger districts' where people live in small fenced areas, near to shops, electricity and running water, but in their ger. Everyone in Mongolia over the age of 18 has a right to 0.7 hectares of land, so can take this and put their ger on it, sometimes families will combine their land and have a compound with several gers and different family members . The ger districts have a lot of air pollution in the winter due to coal fires, and apartment blocks have been built for people to relocate to, however this scheme has proved unpopular. It seems the traditional way of living is important to many Mongolians, even if many parts of life are become modernised or westernised to make life easier. Some people will live in the countryside in a ger just for the summer months and spend the harsh winter in the city. There are still many herders (difficult to say how many as some people may live a semi-nomadic life, but around 30-40%) who continue their way of life in a similar way to how it has been for hundreds of years, however many with certain adaptations, for example solar panels, cars and internet access. Tourism has been useful for many people living in the countryside, bringing money for them to be able to buy these things. There is little other source of income here other than selling livestock, and hence it can be disastrous if there is a particularly harsh summer or winter. Buddhism is the main religion of Mongolia, along with Shamanism and certain other minority religions. The buddhist teachings came from Tibet and the church was very powerful until the communist years when it was declared that there was no religion, and monasteries and temples were destroyed. Still, however, Mongolians continued their rituals and all over the countryside you can see coloured scarves representing air, sky, earth, water and fire, shrines and prayer flags and gers all have a family alter, often with Buddhist ornaments. Mongolians tend to be quite spiritual and superstitious people and we're slowly learning some of the things which are bad luck (e.g accidentally touching someone's foot with yours- you have to shake their hand to say you didn't mean it). So combined with the dramatic, diverse and often empty scenery, all in all it makes for a really interesting place to visit! On planning the fortnight in Mongolia we realised two things, firstly that we happened to be arriving on the first day of the Nadaam Festival - a national celebration with a tournament of "manly games" on a similar (if not bigger) scale to our Christmas! And also that planning to explore yourself with public transport is quite hard work and can take a long time with lots of potential pitfalls , so we gave up on that and booked a tour. We found a small company which aims to maximise benefits to local people and minimise environmental impact, and it has been great so far! The first couple of days we spent enjoying the Nadaam festival, an annual festival to celebrate the arrival of summertime, it has taken place for hundreds of years and comprises three "manly games", wrestling, horse racing and archery, and recently ankle bone shooting has also been added to the games. Actually women are able to take part in the horse racing and archery. The evening we arrived there was a big concert in Sukhbatar Square (named after a famous revolutionary) with lots of music and dancing, including some mongolian renditions of Justin Bieber and Ed Sheeran! A huge fireworks display and on the way home there was a jazz band and salsa dancing in the streets. We went to the field by the stadium to watch the archery, you sit in the stands with lots of families and competitors, many wearing the traditional clothes which are a long coat (which doubles as a blanket) boots and a pointy hat, differing in colour and style depending on the person, with the backdrop of the a mountains North of UB behind. the archery we saw was very different to archery elsewhere, the aim is to shoot leather cylinders which are stacked on the floor in a row around 100m away, so the arrows are shot in a long arc - apparently it takes a lot of strength, for a woman it is equivalent to lifting more than 20kg with one arm! By the leather cylinders, judges stand to signal to the shooter whether they were successful or not, and do so by waving their arms in different ways. The following day we went to the horse trainer's Naadam - a smaller festival outside the city for the people who train the horses for the national Naadam in UB and hence miss the celebrations. First we saw the horse racing - interestingly all the riders are kids , as they are lighter - there has recently been a lower age limit of 7 set! They race for around 40km, so it is quite a challenge. It doesn't seem to be a professional/ elite sport as it is in other places- any family who trains horses can enter and win. We also saw the wrestling, where men wearing a nice outfit of a short and decorated jacket with an open front and long sleeves, and matching pants, with a pair of boots, aim to force their opponent to touch the ground with a part of their body other than their feet . Before the fight they salute the referees and perform the eagle dance, where they spread their arms like eagle wings, pretend to swoop around and slap their thighs. The winning wrestlers from the national Naadam were at the event and were awarded a jeep! They then proceeded to drive around the wrestling ring waving out of the sunroof! In between the matches there was a traditional mongolian folk band, a Mongolian pop band and a 'wolf dance' with throat singing and really impressive dancing. It was a scorching hot day and the area around the ring was packed with people. The stands were crammed full with people climbing onto the railings at the back for a better view. A truck drove round to spray water on the grass to keep it moist whilst the music was being performed and also sprayed the crowd, which people were quite happy with! After the Naadam we went into the countryside and drove for miles into what seemed to be dry farmers fields on the side of gentle mountain slopes occasionally asking at gers for directions - it turns out it's quite difficult to find your destination if it moves onto a new pasture in the middle of vast open countryside every few months!-but eventually found the place we were looking for - a family which accepts tourists and has done since the 60's when tourism was strictly and rigidly controlled by the government. When we arrived there were dried curds and home made yogurt inside the ger, where we stayed for the next two nights. The gers are very cosy, comforting dwellings which are surprisingly sturdy, dry and cool. They are made from a lattice of wooden sticks with layers of sheep's wool covered in a white fabric sheet. They tend to have elaborately and colourfully painted wooden chests and cupboards, decorative silk hanging on the walls, and a family altar opposite the door with photographs, pictures and ornaments of deities and other special items for worship or offering. In the centre will be a stove and there is an opening in the centre of the roof to allow air to circulate. There are many symbols used to decorate the ger and it's contents, for example the endless knot, a Buddhist symbol representing infinite life or live, and the interdependence of things. The ger was surrounded by gentle slopes opening up a huge grassy valley, climbing to the top of the slopes you could see over many mountains for miles, and couldn't see anything or anyone else! Only just outside UB, already it felt like the middle of nowhere-but I guess that's understandable in a large country with a population of only 2.9million. And then there were the stars- there were so, so many! It was so quiet at night, all you could hear was the sound of the herd and the occasional breeze. We drank some whiskey in the back of the van for a while -When you drink alcohol you have to put your ring finger into it and flick it toward the sky as a symbol of respect- Bayara is the driver and Mishka the guide, Mishka is a school teacher but has 3month long summer holidays so has started doing tours to make a bit more money. She said she enjoys seeing more of Mongolia too. They are both very lovely kind people and we've been enjoying spending time with them and have been very well looked after! Bayara really cares for his van, spending lots of time attending to it and maintaining it, we feel very safe with him driving (and with the roads here that's saying something!), There is a carpet and cushions, a small library, binoculars and even a TV! We've been watching Mongolian musicians on it and doing a bit of Mongolian karaoke! We drove from UB down to the Gobi desert, moving from grassy rolling hills to dry sandy moonscapes. We camped by collection of huge limestone boulders which were great fun to climb up, and hiked to the interior of one group of rocks where there is an old temple, now destroyed, but people still make pilgrimages here and everywhere hang prayer flags and blue scarves. On top of the rocks are piles of stones- people place a rock on top and walk around the pile three times, praying to the ancestors or deities .some people also leave money and sweets, and even a toy horse,! There was also a natural spring deep in the rock with a long metal spoon you could use to reach it, it is said that it is very good for your eyes which was lucky as Mat was struggling after getting sand in his eyes, now completely fine so clearly the water worked! There is a lot of wildlife here and we've been spending time in the national parks where we've seen wild horses, wild camels, ibex, lammergeiers, golden eagles and gazelles. There is a special type of wild horse (truly wild,the ones in the UK are apparently escaped ferrel horses!) called a Przewalski horse which became extinct in the wild in the 80s, but was successfully reintroduced (there were some in a zoo in Germany;!) And is now doing well. We're currently in the Gobi Ghurvain national park where there are huge rocky mountains rising up out of the desert, created by the same geological events which created the Himalayas. For a few days it was punishingly hot- at least up to 38 degrees - and heading South was a bit nerve racking! But luckily it has begun raining and cooled down massively- it's also very lucky for the herders who have been experiencing a very dry summer and if their animals don't put on enough weight they really struggle to make it through the very harsh winter and spring. If the animals starve they can't make any money and don't have enough to eat. The water source in the countryside is usually a well, which can run out of water. It really demonstrates how climate change and what seems like a small temperature rise can have disastrous effects upon people living in certain areas. Particularly unjust as their relatively very low impact lifestyle means they haven't contributed to the problem. One evening we turned up to a place to stay in the middle of a vast open desert plain where a family lives with their herd of goats, cows and horses, in a semi nomadic lifestyle where they have a barn and several small out buildings for housing animals and producing curds and other dairy products, but can also live elsewhere in different times of year if the herd needs it. None of the family were there as they'd all gone to the local Naadam, all the buildings were locked, and a few minutes later within seconds a huge dust storm had begun where strong winds were blowing harsh clouds of sand like mist across the plain. Soon you couldn't see or hear further a than a few meters in front of you. We all ran and jumped in the van and closed all the windows as it was steadily filling with a layer of dust. The place felt desolate and completely at the mercy of the elements. There was nothing really to do other than some karaoke and Nishka taught us a Mongolian song and wrote out the words so we can now do a feeble rendition of 'Ayani Sliuvud'! Eventually a motorbike with two sisters pulled up out of the dust and they both ran and jumped in the van. It turned out they'd been asked to look after all the local gers while everyone else went to the naadam! After they drove off to find some phone signal to call the host family and locate the keys we eventually were able to get into one of the gers where we stayed the night . This ger was different to others we'd stayed in as it was brand new and had super modern furniture but still with a family alter, Buddhist scarves and elaborate decorations everywhere. We played some ankle bone games - sheep's ankle bones are different on each side and represent a sheep, goat, horse or camel depending on which side they fall on, and the aim of the game is to collect all the bones by flicking matching animals so they hit each other- a bit like a more complicated marbles. It is generally a really fun and satisfying game and we're hoping to get some to bring home (as long as we can get them through customs!) So will be teaching you all how to play (lucky you !:P) We also got a cheap ukulele from China and a chords app which turned out to have the entire Beatles library on it so Nishka and Bayara have been having to put up with lots of Beatles songs in the evenings ! They like 'i wanna be your man's and '8 days a week' The Beatles have even made it to Mongolia and in UB there is a square called 'beatles square' with a statue of Paul in it! One night we stayed in a provincial centre town (with a public shower, woohoo!) with a family of musicians who played some mongolian folk songs for us in full traditional clothing - they had a type of two stringed lute with a goose head for the neck, and a horse fiddle which is played like a 'cello, and they did this incredible throat and overtone singing. Overtone singing is where you somehow sing more than one note at once, it looks like hard work, and produces an intense and beautiful otherworldly sound which hardly resembles a human voice. I would recommend googling it as it was really amazing and very difficult to describe! Travelling up through a wide valley between the mountains of the Gobi Gurvan Saikhan national park you reach the Khongoryn Els sand dunes which are a ginormous bank of golden sand running roughly parallel to the valley, swept up by strong winds and reaching a height of 200m, spanning 180km! It takes up to an hour to hike up to the top, and the view is breathtaking, like an otherworldly coastline without any ocean, like striding edge made of sand! Over the other side are smaller gentler dunes sweeping for miles like a static sea over to the rocky mountains beyond. The dunes change shape with the weather and make humming sounds in the wind, they are nicknamed 'the singing dunes'. A very fun thing to do there is go exploring by camel! The camels in the Gobi are part of the livestock of people living there, and their meat and milk and wool are all used along with their immense capacity for shifting things(including tourists)- they can carry a whole yurt!  Another spectacular sight is the 'Flaming Cliffs' at Bayanzag, a name coined by explorer Ray Chapman Andrews (who the character Indiana Jones was based on) one of the first explorers to take the challenge of visiting the harsh Gobi desert in the 1920's. These are huge cliffs of red sandstone, baked by the sun to produce a glowing orange mars-like scene. Here some of the first dinosaur eggs were discovered, along with a lot of other dinosaur fossils. On the way here we stopped to look at some petroglyphs on top of a big rocky hill overlooking the steppe - they were pictures of deer, horses, camels, people and dogs, carved into the rocks sometime between 3000 and 8000 BC! It is not clear why they were carved here but they are thought to be of spiritual significance. Incredible to see folk art from such a long time ago.  The last couple of days of our trip were spent near a place called Erdendalai on a gentle grassy plain, camping alongside the family of one of the people running the tour. This was a lovely time as the family were very friendly and welcoming and there were lots of them around - many people who work in cities return to the countryside with their children for the summer. The first night was very wet and windy so they let us sleep in the ger. They were very happy to see the rain! The grandfather prayed by the altar every morning, spinning a prayer wheel, lighting oil candles and sniffing snuff. A 10 year old grandson called Biliun befriended us and we played a lot of card games, he loved Splendor! He took us on a walk one day to what we thought looked like a small pond about 200m away and turned out to be a lake about a mile away! It can be difficult to judge distances here when there is so little on the landscape to provide any scale. You often see mirages of water below the horizon on hot days, making it feel like you're on a great peninsula, but somehow you never manage to reach the shore.  Biliun also came to get us when the goats were being milked (in our tent we heard him asking Mishka for help with the English, then a few seconds later "GOAT MILKING GO!!" ) so we got to do our second milking session of this trip, this time of the goat variety! About 7 people were all milking around 80 goats and there was an impressive amount of milk ! More difficult than milking a cow I think but a kick in the face much less scary, so all in all if I had to choose I'd probably prefer the goat milking. The milk is very tasty too, we've had lots of milk tea, a breakfast of home made rice pudding (nana if you're reading this, almost as good as yours!), the 'top of the milk' - a very thick creamy skin of milk made when it's boiled -, dried curds and even got to make some Khushur- a kind of Mongolian Cornish pasty, the pastry made from flour and water and deep fried rather than baked, eaten mostly during Naadam. Speaking of Naadam, we got to go to another one! This time a small rural festival in a little town we passed through, much less busy and grand but still with a fun holiday atmosphere and with archery, wrestling and horse racing.  We are sorry to be finishing our trip round Mongolia as it's so peaceful and beautiful here, and completely off grid (weird to have no idea what's happening in the outside world!) but also looking forward to being back home. We have one more short stop in Yekaterinburg so will try to write about that before we get back to the UK. See you all soon!

[ladystylestores]

Mothers’ Power in U.S. Protests Echoes a Global Tradition

Wearing matching shades of white or yellow, the women of the “Wall of Moms” in Portland, Ore., have become instant icons of the city’s protests, though the mothers nightly gatherings only began last Saturday and the city’s protests have been going on for more than a month.

They join a long line of mothers’ protests against state violence and what they view as authoritarianism around the world, including in South Africa, Sri Lanka, Argentina and Armenia, which have shown that mothers can be particularly effective advocates for a cause — but also that there is a catch.

History suggests that mothers’ power is most potent when they are able to wield their own respectability, and the protections it brings, as a political cudgel. But that is easiest for women who are already privileged: married, affluent, and members of the dominant racial or ethnic group.

Mothers who are less privileged often struggle to claim that power, even though they are often the ones who most urgently need it.

Theresa Raiford, a Black mother who is the executive director of Don’t Shoot Portland, a local group that works to end police violence, helped to organize and direct the Wall of Moms’ early actions, but noted that the positive response to the mostly white mothers has been proof of the very racism they are protesting.

Mothers had been participating in the protests for five weeks, but “nobody recognized them until they literally put on white so they could be highlighted as white,” she said.

“What it does show us is that Black lives don’t matter here, white moms do,” she said. “And those moms know that, too. That’s why they’re standing in solidarity with us.”

‘Mothers are symbolic to the nation’

Bev Barnum, who posted the original Facebook message asking moms to come and protest, said she had asked women to color-coordinate their outfits in order to stand out in the crowd, but otherwise told them to dress “like they were going to Target.”

“I wanted us to look like moms,” Ms. Barnum, who serves as the group’s informal leader and organizer, said in an interview. “Because who wants to shoot a mom? No one.”

Mothers’ protests are often powerful precisely because the gender roles that ordinarily silence and sideline women, allowing them to be seen as nonthreatening, turn into armor for political activism, experts say.

During Armenia’s 2018 “velvet revolution,” a largely nonviolent uprising that eventually toppled the country’s leader, Serzh Sargsyan, mothers took to the streets pushing their children in strollers, indelibly tying their maternal identities to their political demands.

In Armenia, “mothers are symbolic to the nation and, to some extent, have immunity in protests,” Ulrike Ziemer, a sociologist at the University of Winchester in Britain, wrote in a 2019 book chapter about the uprising. “If police would have touched mothers with their children in prams during the protests, that would have brought shame on them individually, but also on the state apparatus they represent.”

In the Armenian protests, mothers from all walks of life were able to claim those protections, Dr. Ziemer said in an interview. But in societies that are divided along racial or ethnic lines, mothers from marginalized groups cannot access that full political power so easily.

In South Africa, the Black Sash, a group of white women who opposed the apartheid regime, were able to use their gender and race as a shield for their political activity that others could not.

“The Government has let Black Sash survive while closing down other anti-apartheid groups in part because white South African society has perched its women on pedestals,” The Times reported in 1988. “The police find it awkward to pack the paddy wagons with well-bred troublemakers who look like their mothers or sisters.”

The government had no such compunction about locking up Black women. Albertina Sisulu, a pioneering Black anti-apartheid activist who was also a married mother of five, was arrested and held in solitary confinement multiple times. Countless other Black women suffered even worse fates.

In Sri Lanka, women from the Tamil minority group have been protesting for years to demand information about sons and daughters who were kidnapped by state forces during the country’s civil war and never heard from again. Their activism has drawn international attention and some limited engagement from the country’s government.

But when the women’s demands went beyond their own individual grief and engaged with politics more broadly, national politicians and civil society groups dismissed them as pawns of male activists, said Dharsha Jegatheeswaran, co-director of the Adayaalam Centre for Policy Research, a Sri Lanka-based think tank. As members of a marginalized minority group, she said, motherhood could take them only so far.

In the United States, there is a long tradition of Black women claiming their identities as mothers when protesting against police shootings, lynchings, and mass incarceration. But, like the Tamil activists in Sri Lanka, they have tended to be viewed through the narrow lens of their own grief and fear for their children. White women have typically been taken far more seriously by white audiences as representing mothers generally — another case of bias on display.

Ann Gregory, a lawyer and mother of two who joined the wall of moms in Portland on Sunday, said they had hoped to serve as a buffer between other demonstrators and law enforcement.

“We realize that we’re a bunch of white women, and we do have privilege,” she said. “We were hoping to use that to protect the protesters.”

“We don’t need silent victims, we need loud witnesses.”

Instead, the women got a crash course in the grievances that had set off the protests in the first place.

Ms. Barnum, new to such activism, said she was surprised when other demonstrators warned her group that they could be in danger.

“The news said that if you give the police officer a reason to fear for their life, a reasonable fear, they could hurt you,” she said. “But if you didn’t give them a reason then they wouldn’t hurt you.”

The moms, she reasoned, would be peaceful and give the officers no cause for alarm, so had no reason to worry.

That may seem an unusual belief for someone attending a protest against police violence, but it illustrates the privilege taken for granted by many people who have not had run-ins with law enforcement.

So on her first night at the protests, when federal officers fired tear gas and flash-bang grenades at the group of moms, “I couldn’t believe what was happening,” she said. “We weren’t being violent. We weren’t screaming expletives at them.”

The power wielded by police has long been justified with the claim that officers must be able to use force when necessary to protect themselves or the public, and that people who have done nothing wrong have nothing to fear. Black activists and their allies have been contesting that claim for years, but the tide of public opinion has been slow to turn against law enforcement.

However, when officers fire tear gas and projectiles at soccer moms holding sunflowers, as happened in Portland on Sunday night, even more observers — who may not previously have thought they could be at risk — see that as a fate that might befall anyone. And history suggests that could have profound political consequences.

In Argentina in the late 1970s and early 1980s, the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo, women whose children had been “disappeared” by the military government — seized, tortured and murdered in secret — were the most visible opposition to the regime, with their distinctive white kerchiefs.

They “continually pointed out that the majority of the disappeared were not terrorists, as the junta claimed, but loyal members of the opposition, including people who had never engaged in politics and even some members of the establishment,” the political scientist Marguerite Guzman Bouvard wrote in “Revolutionizing Motherhood,” her 2002 book on the group.

“In shattering the lies that served as a rationale for the junta’s terror,” Dr. Bouvard wrote, “the Mothers exposed the glaring weakness of the entire system.”

There are obvious differences between the Argentine dictatorship of and the United States today. But Ms. Gregory, the Portland mother who joined Sunday’s demonstration, was deeply disturbed by the federal officers’ violent response to the protest.

“We weren’t any danger to them,” she said. “We were just standing there with flowers. We’re a bunch of middle-aged moms.”

“This isn’t what America is supposed to be like,” she said. “We’re not supposed to be ruled by militarized, jackbooted forces.”

Ms. Raiford, the longtime activist, is cautiously hopeful about the power of that message — and its messengers.

“Sometimes when people hear activists say ‘Black lives matter,’ they say ‘well that has nothing to do with me.’” she said. “But when we talk about the intrinsic value of humanity, and how all of our lives intersect because we have children, we have families, we live in communities, we have loved ones, I think that that creates less of a barrier.”

She hopes the attention on the moms will help to spread that message. “We don’t need silent victims,” she said. “We need loud witnesses.”

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