#I’m making my own custom embroidered jacket for it

[witch-bitch-coven]

6 months until I see the best concert of my life. 😭

[vir-tanadahl]

As the Moon Rises

Chapter 7: The Games We Play

I’m eagerly rewriting As the Moon Rises, which was originally written back in 2017, in anticipation of Dragon Age: Veilguard, channeling my excitement into refining the story. Summary: Isera Lavellan, at her mother’s behest, is sent to assist her twin brother, Banreas—the Inquisitor—in his mission to stop a force determined to bring about the world’s end. Together, they uncover long-buried secrets of their shared family history while Isera finds herself drawn to a mysterious non-Dalish elven mage whose knowledge of her heritage runs far deeper than she could have imagined. As the stakes rise, Isera must navigate this dangerous journey of discovery, where the past holds as much peril as the looming threats of the present. Solas x F!Lavellan.

[Ch1][Ch2][Ch3][Ch4][Ch5][Ch6] [Ch7]

Finally, the day had come. The Inquisition was staying in a small château a mile outside of the Winter Palace in Halamshiral. One by one, the members of the inner circle began to congregate in the foyer. Josie, Leliana, Cullen, Sera, Banreas, the Iron Bull, and Solas were the first to finish dressing, each of them bringing their own unique flair to the occasion. Josephine quickly began checking everything, ensuring that those representing the Inquisition were up to par. The air buzzed with a mix of excitement and tension, each member aware of the importance of their appearance as they prepared to step into the heart of Orlesian nobility

Vivienne followed, dressed in her signature style but with a twist. Instead of her usual pants, she wore a sheer skirt with a high slit, shimmering in silver and white, paired with high-knee boots that added an air of boldness. The high collar of her outfit was larger than normal, framing her face with an elegant authority, and atop her head rested the Hat of Majesty. Tonight, she embodied Madame de Fer—the Lady of Iron, exuding power and sophistication as she prepared to make her mark at the ball.

Cassandra steadfastly refused to wear a dress, opting instead for an ensemble reminiscent of a tailored pantsuit. Her top was a shimmering black, long-sleeved blouse that hugged her figure at the waist before flowing out and turning sheer at the hem, adorned with delicate red flowers embroidered along the edges. The pants were tight yet flexible, allowing her the freedom of movement she valued, paired with sleek black riding boots. Despite her elegant appearance, she unmistakably wore a look of displeasure at being there. Her mask, representing House Pentaghast, was a striking dark purple, adding an air of nobility to her otherwise rebellious stance.

Blackwall chose to have his formal wear crafted in the Grey Warden colors, opting to forgo a mask entirely. He believed in the Warden’s pledge to abstain from political entanglements, making a quiet statement with his appearance. In contrast, Varric donned a striking red leather jacket adorned with golden embroidery at the edges, exuding his signature flair. His mask was simple yet fitting—a red and gold Volto that added a touch of mystery without overshadowing his well-known charisma.

Dorian, as expected, donned an outfit that was distinctly fashionable in Tevinter. His robe was a rich dark green, featuring a high collar interwoven with golden threads that caught the light. His fingers sparkled with golden jewels, a nod to Tevinter custom. On the back of his coattail, a striking golden serpent was intricately embroidered, a symbol of his heritage. However, he refused to wear a mask representing House Pavus, opting instead for one connected to a rod. This choice allowed him the freedom to remove the mask easily, ensuring he could showcase his handsome features without concealment.

Isera was the last to finish, having argued frequently with the tailor throughout the process. Her dress sparkled with the enchanted fabric, featuring a sweetheart neckline adorned with embroidered roses that emitted the scent of real flowers. The deep red color was exactly what Leliana had envisioned, fading gracefully into a shimmering white. Despite the tailor's insistence on a pair of golden heels, Isera had adamantly refused, opting instead for simple golden flats that allowed her comfort and ease. As she stood in front of the mirror, she felt a mix of pride and apprehension, ready to step into the evening ahead.

Josephine began addressing everyone as they gathered in anticipation of the carriages' arrival. Meanwhile, Isera paid little mind to her words, her attention drifting as she nervously fidgeted with the fabric of her dress. She felt out of place, the weight of the evening’s expectations settling heavily on her shoulders. The vibrant colors and the elegance of her attire felt foreign, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider in a world that was both exciting and intimidating.

Solas stepped closer to her, his presence calm and reassuring. “Nervous?” he asked, appearing more relaxed and less guarded than usual. Isera turned to look at him, her expression a mix of anxiety and honesty. “Uncomfortable, mostly,” she admitted, her voice tinged with vulnerability. The opulence of the setting and the gathering crowd intensified her feelings, making it hard to shake off the sense of being an outsider.

Solas glanced over toward Josephine as she continued her speech, then turned back to Isera. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice quiet yet sincere. Isera met his gaze for a brief moment before looking away, her cheeks warming at the compliment. “I—thank you,” she replied, her tone a mix of surprise and bashfulness. She turned her attention to Josie as well, focusing on the familiar energy of the gathering to help ground herself in the moment.

���The advisors will arrive first, followed by the Inquisitor, and finally everyone else if you haven't made arrangements already,” Josephine said, taking a deep breath to steady herself. “All right, everyone, let's be off!” Her voice carried a blend of excitement and authority, energizing the group as they prepared to embark on the evening’s festivities. Isera felt a rush of adrenaline as the moment approached, her earlier nerves mingling with a spark of anticipation.

Banreas, Isera, and Solas were squished together on one side of the carriage, their shoulders brushing against one another. Iron Bull, massive and imposing, took up most of the opposite seat, leaving little room to spare. Sera sat comfortably beside him, her legs draped casually over his lap, a cheeky grin on her face as she leaned back. The cramped space felt lively with their banter, and despite the discomfort, Isera couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie surrounding her.

“All right, be on the watch for Venatori activity,” Banreas began, his tone serious as he turned to address the group. “Leliana informed me that she believes there is a magical elven artifact in Empress Celene’s possession. We should be looking for that as well.” The mood shifted slightly, the lighthearted banter giving way to a more focused atmosphere as they processed the information. Isera felt the weight of their mission settle in, the stakes of the evening becoming clear as they prepared to navigate the intricate dance of nobility and danger.

"What’s with the magic elf-y things? Strange, innit" Sera grumbled, her arms crossed as she leaned back against Iron Bull. Her expression was one of skepticism, and Isera could sense her unease with the idea of pursuing an elven artifact amidst the political intrigue. The contrast between Sera's casual demeanor and the seriousness of their mission added a layer of tension.

“Boss, we don’t need another magical object in play. We have the Venatori to worry about,” Iron Bull stated, nodding in agreement. His tone was serious, underscoring the potential dangers of adding yet another variable to their already complicated situation. The weight of his words hung in the air, a reminder of the formidable challenges they faced, and Isera could sense the tension building among the group as they considered the implications.

“Perhaps the Venatori are looking for it,” Solas added thoughtfully, his expression contemplative. The implication hung in the air, drawing the attention of everyone in the carriage. The stakes were becoming clearer, and the atmosphere shifted as they contemplated the dangers that lay ahead.

Isera turned her head to look at her brother, her expression earnest. “If it is magical, I could locate it easier and get it out discreetly,” she suggested, her voice steady with determination. The idea of using her unique abilities to help in their mission sparked a flicker of hope within her. She met Banreas's gaze, silently urging him to consider her proposal as a viable option in their quest.

“If we know about it, it’s safe to assume the Venatori do as well. Our agents didn’t gather enough information to specify what it is, but they confirmed it’s elven,” Banreas explained, his tone serious. Iron Bull shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a frown etched on his face. “Then how do we find something that we don’t even know what it is?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. The challenge of their situation loomed large, and Isera could feel the weight of their uncertainty settling over the group.

“I can,” Isera spoke up again, her voice firm. “I’ve done it before.” The conviction in her words drew the attention of her companions, and she felt a surge of determination. The memory of her past successes in locating magical artifacts fueled her confidence, and she hoped to inspire faith in her abilities as they navigated this complex situation.

Banreas raised an eyebrow at her, a teasing smirk on his lips. “You’ve smuggled elven artifacts out of a palace?” he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Isera frowned, undeterred. “I have smuggled ancient elven artifacts out of heavily guarded Circle towers before,” she argued, her voice steady and defensive.

Isera could feel the surprise radiating off everyone in the carriage. “You’ve… smuggled?” Iron Bull exclaimed, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. The unexpected revelation seemed to shift the atmosphere, transforming her from an uncertain participant to someone with valuable experience. She met their astonished gazes, feeling a swell of pride at having garnered their respect, even if only momentarily.

“She’s a thief!” Sera cackled, her grin wide as she playfully punched Iron Bull in the arm. The laughter that followed filled the carriage, lightening the mood and bringing a sense of camaraderie to the group.

Isera shrugged, her expression casual. “It was easy. I was twelve, and Mother heard a rumor that the Ostwick Circle had something she wanted. I just pretended to be a new mage, and the Templars took me in. I was there for a few months, found it, and left.” She shrugged again, as if the whole experience was just a minor adventure rather than a bold feat. The confidence in her tone intrigued her companions, revealing a glimpse of her resourcefulness.

"Banreas stared at her in disbelief, his eyebrows raised. "Mother had you… stealing?" The incredulity in his voice was palpable, as if he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around the idea of their mother orchestrating such a scheme.

“Yes?” she paused, her brow furrowing slightly. “Is that not normal?” Isera questioned, her tone earnest. “It isn’t like it belonged to them.” The conviction in her words hung in the air, challenging the group’s perceptions. “It wasn’t exactly stealing. More like... retrieving something that belonged to the elven.” The playful twist in her reasoning added to the intrigue, sparking curiosity among her companions. Isera could sense their hesitation, a mix of surprise and contemplation, as they processed her logic. To her, reclaiming what was lost felt justified, but she wondered how others viewed her past actions.

The carriages came to a halt, and a loud announcement echoed that the Inquisition had arrived. Isera quickly placed her mask on, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. Iron Bull and Sera stepped out first, their presence commanding attention. Banreas leaned closer to Isera, his tone harsh as he whispered, “No, by the way, that is not normal!” He gestured for Solas to step out first, as he was closest to the door, the urgency of their situation clear in his demeanor. The anticipation hung thick in the air as they prepared to face the Orlesian nobility.

Isera shrugged and followed Solas, who graciously offered his hand to assist her as she stepped out of the carriage. “They didn’t need it,” she muttered to no one in particular, a hint of defiance in her voice. Despite her earlier nerves, she felt a spark of confidence, bolstered by Solas's steady presence beside her. She was ready to face whatever awaited them at the grand event, even if it meant navigating the expectations of the nobility.

The Grand Duke was quick to engage with Banreas, steering the Inquisitor away from the group as the rest of them followed behind. Isera could hear the whispers among the nobility, their hushed voices filled with disbelief at the audacity of the Inquisition’s company being made up of elves and a qunari. A wry smile tugged at her lips as she imagined Banreas squirming with delight at the stir they were causing; it was practically blasphemy in their eyes. The tension in the air was palpable, and she felt a mix of pride and amusement at the chaos they had brought to the evening.

Josephine and Leliana had trained Banreas for weeks on how to navigate the treacherous waters of the political game. If he felt uncomfortable, he certainly didn't show it; instead, he carried himself with confidence, engaging the Grand Duke with a charming smile. Isera watched with admiration, noting how well he had absorbed their lessons. Despite the tension in the air, he exuded an air of ease, expertly maneuvering through the complexities of Orlesian society.

As Isera and the others entered the vestibule to convene with the advisors before continuing on to be announced in the ballroom, Josephine took the opportunity to emphasize the importance of behaving appropriately. Her gaze was direct, landing squarely on Sera, who was grinning like the cat that ate the canary. The tension in the air mixed with amusement as Isera watched Sera's mischievous expression, knowing that her friend was hardly one to conform to expectations.

“Isera, you will be announced following the Inquisitor. After you, the advisors, and then Solas, Iron Bull, and Sera. Once the introductions are complete, you’ll be free to roam around,” Josie informed them, her tone brisk yet encouraging. The weight of the evening’s expectations hung heavy in the air, and Isera felt a mix of anticipation and anxiety at the thought of being introduced to the nobility. She glanced at her companions, each one preparing for the role they were to play in this intricate dance of politics.

Isera nodded as the procession began, her heart racing with anticipation. Banreas was introduced right after the Grand Duke, and he looked remarkably relaxed, unfazed by the treacherous waters surrounding him. With a confident bow to the Empress, he followed the Grand Duke up the steps, embodying the poise and charm that had been cultivated through his training. Isera couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as she watched her brother navigate the moment with such grace.

“Mistress Lavellan, sister of Inquisitor Lavellan and a Seer of Rivain.”

Isera felt her body tense at the announcement, taking a deep breath as she began her descent down the stairs. With determination, she turned, bowed gracefully, and followed after her brother. As she moved, she heard the murmurs of approval ripple through the court, their eyes enraptured by her outfit despite her being an elf. The unexpected admiration filled her with a mix of pride and anxiety, reminding her of the precarious balance she was walking between acceptance and scrutiny.

Isera stood next to the advisors, with Iron Bull, Sera, and Solas positioned behind them. Banreas engaged the Empress in a cryptic manner that delighted the court, and Isera suppressed the urge to scoff at the theatrics. The Empress, with a wave of her hand, dismissed them to mingle, and Isera followed her brother as he began greeting those affiliated with the court. Each interaction was a dance of charm and wit, and Isera felt a mix of admiration and apprehension as she navigated the sea of unfamiliar masked faces.

Isera broke away from the group, heading toward Cullen, who looked far more uncomfortable than she felt. He was surrounded by admirers, and it was clear that the Commander was exceedingly uneasy with the attention. His back was pressed against the wall, arms crossed defensively as the crowd edged closer, their flirtations relentless. Isera couldn’t help but smirk at the sight; it was a stark contrast to the confident leader she knew him to be on the battlefield.

“Ah, Commander, if I may have a word,” Isera said as she stepped between the horde of nobles, her presence a welcome interruption. Cullen's expression shifted to one of relief as he spotted a familiar face beckoning his attention. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and Isera could sense his gratitude for the distraction as she offered him an escape from the relentless advances of the court.

“Oh! She’s the Inquisition’s sister!” a high-pitched, thick Orlesian voice chimed in, cutting through the conversation. “Are you two lovers?” The question hung in the air, drawing curious glances from the surrounding nobles. Isera felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and she shot Cullen an incredulous look, silently questioning how he would respond to such an unexpected insinuation.

“Well, that would certainly not concern you,” Isera replied sharply, her words more direct and biting than typical for Orlesian culture, especially coming from an elf. The noblewoman glared at her, visibly taken aback, and huffed as she fanned herself. “How rude!” she whispered, the offense clear in her tone. Isera felt a mix of defiance and irritation at the woman's reaction, standing her ground despite the stifling expectations of the court.

Isera walked away, glancing back to ensure the Commander followed her. He did, a look of relief washing over his features as they stepped outside onto the balcony. The air was fresh and crisp, a welcome contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside the Winter Palace. Cullen let out a deep sigh, his tension easing as he inhaled the cool air, grateful for the reprieve from the prying eyes and chatter of the court.

“They are like hounds,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to shake off the lingering discomfort. He coughed lightly, clearing his throat before turning to Isera. “What did you need?” he asked, his tone shifting from frustration to curiosity as he focused on her, grateful for the momentary escape from the pressures of the ballroom.

Isera shrugged, leaning against the banister as she gazed at the partygoers inside. “Nothing. You looked uncomfortable and needed a break,” she replied, her tone softening slightly. She took in the lively scene, the laughter and chatter echoing through the open doors, but it felt distant and surreal from her vantage point. The contrast of the vibrant celebration with the quiet balcony allowed her a moment to breathe, away from the pressure of expectations.

“Oh!” Cullen exclaimed, clearly shocked. “You didn’t have to do that. I will manage.” His tone was earnest, though Isera could sense the underlying tension in his voice. He straightened up, attempting to regain his composure, but the flicker of gratitude in his eyes spoke volumes. Isera couldn’t help but smile at his resolve, knowing that even the strongest leaders needed a moment of respite.

“Cullen, I have no doubt you can handle a swarm of women,” Isera replied with a teasing smile. “But you looked like you wanted to flee. As far as everyone else is concerned, I’ve taken you away to discuss an important Inquisition meeting…” She paused, a playful glint in her eye. “Or I’m your secret lover. I’m sensing the Orlesians love a bit of dramatic flair.” The lighthearted joke hung in the air, and Isera couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie building between them as they navigated the absurdity of the evening.

Cullen chuckled, a hint of amusement breaking through his earlier tension. “That they do,” he admitted, shaking his head slightly. He sighed and began stretching his neck, attempting to ease the stiffness that had settled in from the pressure of the crowd. The light moment with Isera offered a welcome distraction, allowing him to briefly forget the expectations weighing down on him inside.

“If you walk around more, they can’t pin you down,” Isera suggested, her tone light and encouraging. She watched him with a knowing smile, hoping to alleviate some of his discomfort. “It’s a crowded room, but that means there are plenty of opportunities to slip away and find some peace, don’t you think?” Her playful demeanor was meant to remind him that he could still navigate the evening on his own terms.

He lightly scoffed, shaking his head. “They are everywhere,” he muttered, pressing his fingers into the side of his temple as if trying to relieve the mounting pressure. Isera could see the strain in his posture, the way he tried to maintain his composure despite the overwhelming attention. It was clear that the evening's festivities were becoming more than just a social gathering for him.

“A headache?” Isera whispered, glancing toward him with genuine concern. The tension in Cullen's shoulders and the way he pressed his fingers against his temple told her all she needed to know. She shifted slightly closer, ready to offer support if he needed it, her own unease momentarily forgotten in the face of his discomfort.

“They have been coming more often,” he continued, his voice low and serious. After a brief pause, he added, “Do you know?” Cullen’s reference to his decision to stop talking lyrium hung in the air between them, a weighty subject that had clearly been troubling him. Isera met his gaze, her expression shifting from concern to understanding, recognizing the struggle he faced in navigating both his duties and his personal demons.

Isera nodded slowly. “He told me,” she replied, moving to stand directly in front of him. Her gaze was steady as she considered her next words. “May I try something?” she asked, her voice soft but firm. There was a quiet determination in her demeanor, a desire to help Cullen in whatever way she could. She sensed the weight of his struggles and felt compelled to offer him some relief.

Cullen looked skeptical, his brow furrowing as he regarded her with uncertainty. Isera took a breath, lowering her voice to a whisper. “I want to see if my magic will be of assistance,” she explained, her tone earnest and reassuring. The air between them felt charged with possibility, and she hoped to convey that her intentions were genuine. She could sense his hesitance, but she was determined to help him find some relief from his discomfort.

Cullen stared down at her, weighing her offer before finally agreeing. Isera, standing at least a foot shorter than him, rose onto the balls of her feet, her determination evident. She pressed her fingers gently onto the nape of his neck, feeling the tension coiled there. Whispering a familiar ritual, she let her fingers glide around his ears and onto his temple, channeling her magic with focused intent. After a moment, she released her touch, stepping back to observe any change in his expression.

Cullen blinked a few times, processing the sensation. “Is... it supposed to feel cold?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he reached up to touch the back of his neck. The coolness of her magic was a surprising contrast to the warmth of the evening, and he furrowed his brow, trying to determine if it was a good sign or not. Isera watched him closely, gauging his response and hoping that her magic was indeed providing some relief.

“Yes, it will fade to being warm and then back to normal by the end of the night. Is it helping?” Isera asked, her tone filled with genuine concern as she searched his face for any signs of relief. She wanted to know if her magic was making a difference, hoping to ease some of the tension that had been weighing on him. The moment felt crucial, a bridge between their struggles and the comfort they sought.

He nodded, a hint of relief in his expression. “I believe so. Thank you,” he said, his voice warm with gratitude. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease slightly, and Isera felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that her magic had provided him with some comfort. Their shared moment felt like a small victory amidst the chaos of the evening.

Isera smiled, her spirits lifted. “Well, come on, Commander,” she said, turning to head back inside. Leaving him to gather his thoughts, she stepped into the vestibule. The lively chatter of the gathering enveloped her, and she could hear Iron Bull's booming laughter as he flirted with a group of nobles nearby. Blackwall and Sera were tucked away in a corner, hiding out behind the Wall of Champions, their playful banter echoing softly. The scene was both chaotic and vibrant, a stark contrast to the quiet moment she had just shared with Cullen.

The elven servants stared at her longer than they would have with a human, their eyes lingering with a mix of curiosity and caution. Isera felt the weight of their gaze, acutely aware that she was an elf wearing a mask, thrust into the complexities of the Game whether she wanted to be or not. It was a strange position to occupy—both a part of the nobility’s world and yet still on the outside, grappling with the expectations that came with her lineage and the evening’s festivities.

“Drink, my lady?” an elven man approached her, bowing his head respectfully. His demeanor was polite, yet there was a subtle undertone of wariness in his eyes as he regarded her. Isera appreciated the gesture, though she could sense the unspoken complexities behind it. She offered him a warm smile, grateful for the courtesy in the midst of the swirling chaos of the gathering.

He continued to stand, a hint of admiration in his eyes. “Hallas are most beautiful, no?” he said, gesturing toward her mask with a smile. Isera could sense the weight of his words, the compliment both genuine and laced with the cultural significance of the halla in elven lore. He balanced a tray of drinks in his hands, the shimmering glasses catching the light. She felt a flutter of appreciation for the compliment, a small reminder of her heritage amidst the grandeur of the evening.

Isera stared at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Quite majestic,” she agreed, her voice steady as she took a cup from him. “Wild and enduring, much like the elves.” The man nodded in approval, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as if she were answering his unspoken questions correctly. “The Empress is quite fond of elves,” he continued, his tone slightly conspiratorial. “Many pieces of elven art are scattered throughout the palace, particularly in the eastern wing. Perhaps you should look.” His suggestion lingered in the air, a tantalizing invitation to explore the history and culture she held dear.

“Perhaps I will,” Isera answered with a thoughtful smile as the elven servant excused himself and walked away. She continued into another vestibule, her eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Solas. To her surprise, he was leaning against the wall, appearing relaxed and at ease amidst the bustling atmosphere. His posture was casual, but there was a subtle intensity in his gaze as he observed the scene around him. Isera felt a warmth in her chest at the sight, grateful for the moment of familiarity in the midst of the evening's chaos.

“You look comfortable,” she remarked as she approached him. Solas turned his gaze to her, and Isera noticed a subtle brightness on his cheeks, a hint of warmth that caught her by surprise. It was a rare glimpse of vulnerability that softened his usually enigmatic demeanor. She smiled, feeling a sense of connection as they stood together amidst the vibrant energy of the gathering.

“I do adore the heavy blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events,” he replied almost cheerfully, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I have seen countless such displays during my journeys in the Fade. Only the customs have changed,” he recalled, a faint smile gracing his lips. The contrast between his relaxed demeanor and the chaotic energy of the gathering around them made Isera feel as if they were sharing a secret amidst the masquerade, a moment of understanding that transcended the superficiality of the court.

Suddenly, two Orlesian nobles approached, their presence commanding attention as they introduced themselves to Isera. Their titles and positions became a blur, the formalities lost in the rush of their eagerness. They attempted to step between her and Solas, an unwelcome intrusion that made the air feel tense. Isera noticed Solas frown at the interruption, his expression darkening slightly as he regarded the nobles with barely concealed annoyance.

“Your accent is quite beautiful, my lady. Are you from Antiva?” one of the nobles asked, his voice smooth as he grabbed her hand. He was tall, wearing a yellow mask with a pointed nose that added an air of theatricality to his demeanor. Isera felt a flicker of annoyance as she tried to pull her hand away, but he held on tighter, his grip firm and intrusive. “Rivain,” she replied, forcing a polite smile despite her growing discomfort. The playful atmosphere began to shift, and she sensed Solas's irritation brewing beside her.

“You smell absolutely delicious. Roses? Who knew a heathen country could produce such a beauty?” he remarked, his comment dripping with insincerity—a thinly veiled insult disguised as a compliment. Isera felt her scowl deepen, irritation rising within her as she recognized the condescension in his words. The encounter was quickly souring, and she was determined not to let him get under her skin.

“Why don’t you come with us? We could… show you around,” one of the nobles suggested, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Isera scrunched her nose in disgust, her expression turning caustic. “And just where would you take me?” she retorted, the sharpness in her tone unmistakable. The implication behind his words set her on edge, and she wasn’t about to entertain their condescending offer.

“I have a key to the East wing,” the other man, shorter and dressed in blue, announced with a sly grin. “I could… show you around. The Empress has quite a collection.” Isera paused, a thought dawning on her. This might be her opportunity to explore the Winter Palace without drawing too much attention. The prospect of discovering hidden treasures within the palace intrigued her, despite the dubious intentions of her current companions. She considered her options, weighing the potential for adventure against the underlying motives of these nobles.

Isera hummed thoughtfully, a playful smile spreading across her face. “Well, do lead the way,” she flirted, her tone light and teasing. The shorter noble beamed at her response, eager to take the lead. Meanwhile, Solas looked alarmed by the interaction, his expression tightening with disapproval. He stayed silent, watching with a mix of concern and disappointment as Isera moved away from him, drawn into the orbit of the nobles.

[xltribe]

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[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: i

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

chapter 2   ||   chapter 3 ||  chapter 4

ao3

word count: ~3k

You serve Hawks a lavender, oat milk latte. Not only is he hooked on your drinks, but he's also hooked on you as well.

a fluffy multi-chaptered piece i’ll release when i’m feeling it :’^) enjoy y’all. coffee shop au hell

||||||||||||||||||

You and Keigo met each other on the coldest, snowiest day of the year.

The temperature was near glacial. The air stung and bit like hell, wind kicking and spitting powdery snow as it fell in sheets from the grey sky.

The weather, horribly, prevented two of your coworkers from working the morning shift at the tea shop. Half of the trains were shut down across the city in addition to power outages. But, your cheap ass owner forced you to open. Alone. In a blizzard.

You were fairly certain that you wouldn’t be getting many customers.

Opening at the tea shop on a normal day was a hellish amount of work. As you unlocked the door and walked into your humble establishment of employment, you grimaced at the thought of all of the work you were to do.

After disrobing from your thick winter jacket, scarf, and mittens and throwing on your apron, it was time to begin. You made yourself a simple, oat milk latte and then started to get to work setting up for the day. 

It was hardly dawn. 

  Keigo was on early morning patrol. It wasn’t his favorite shift, oh, hardly, but he did enjoy watching the sunrise. And, while his wings were powerful, the snowstorm did force him to fly much lower in the grey haze of the day than he normally would. Stepping out of his apartment around just before 5:30 AM, Keigo almost moaned in anguish at the cold. He was infinitely glad he had worn a thermal bodysuit under his uniform.

His quirk afforded him much in terms of battle prowess, in addition to a few avian mutations. Most notably at that moment was his difficulty conserving heat. As Keigo stood on his balcony, frowning at the can of coffee in his hand, he made the prompt decision to fly to his area of patrol and grab a hot drink. The thought of downing something cold made his stomach turn.

Gracefully, Keigo turned and flew, letting himself be carried across town. The area he was patrolling was relatively quiet, mostly small businesses and lower-middle-class apartments. As he touched down, shivering and sleepy, he padded through the empty streets with his wings folded to his back.

  The wind was wild, wiping between buildings, making snowdrifts that blocked some of the doors of shops nearby. Part of you cursed, shaking your head. You desperately wanted to be warm, curled in bed with your cats, and watching cartoons.

You set up the shop, moving chairs and turning on machines. Though you were a tea shop, you sold more coffee than any sort. On a normal, fully-staffed day, you’d be in the back, crafting tea blends. But, that day was, in fact, a very abnormal day and it was about to get weirder.

  Keigo meandered around the streets, strangely at genuine ease. There were no civilians and very few stores open allowing him to walk freely, albeit coldly. Part of him wondered if he would even find a coffee shop.

But lo and behold, he did. 

Keigo opened the door, a cute bell ringing. The shop was themed warmly with yellow-toned wood counters and furnishings. There was a smattering of local art on the walls and jewel-toned accents. All in all, it was a cozy reprieve from the icy nature of outside. Keigo relished the heat.

It seemed only one person was working, you. 

  When you heard the bell sounding at the entrance of a customer, you piped up from behind the counter, “Just one sec!”

A kind laugh, “Take your time.”

You were struggling to reach a tea blend. It was high on the many shelves behind the counter. You clamored on top of the counter, rising on your knees to try and reach it. Your hands stretched to grip it with an arch of your back. You grinned in victory as you managed to grab it. You pulled back, miscalculating in your pride—

And then you were losing balance.

And then you were falling.

(How fucking cliche).

You would’ve hit the floor if it wasn’t for some unknown force, pushing you back onto the counter, steadying you. The sensation, new, perked you up, causing you to let out a high noise of surprise. You turned, your eyes going wide.

Several beautiful, scarlet feathers caught your fall.

Your eyes flickered up to your patron savior.

  Number two hero, Hawks, smiling at you and giving you a bit of cheshire grin, stifling a laugh.

You slowly descended from the counter, turning to face him at the register, “Well, I really have to say thank you. I nearly ate shit there.”

“All in a day's work,” Hawks winked at you. You beamed easily. Local heroes came and drank at the shop fairly regularly, but never anyone particularly famous, let alone the top ten. Never the incredibly stunning, wind-whipped bachelor hero that was Hawks.

“What can I get for you today?” You asked, going for a notepad.

Hawks eyes scanned the menu behind you. He hummed, pretty, amber eyes settling back on you, “Surprise me.”

Your eyes widened, but you nodded. You couldn’t stop smiling.

“Alright, let me ask a few questions, just to make your drink the best it can.” You told him. “First off, hot or iced?”

“Oh, definitely hot,” Hawks almost wiggled a feathered eyebrow at you and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

“Okay, how much caffeine? Any allergies?” You asked, scribbling an idea down on the notepad. “Milk preference?”

“As much as you can legally supply me with, no preferred milk, and no allergies. Though, I do like things sweet,” Hawks was removing his gloves as he spoke. “Go crazy, give me the best thing you got, angel. Something that gives me the warm and fuzzies.”

Oh, that was a move. 

Hawks was notoriously (in the media) shamelessly flirtatious with fans and other heroes. It was always painted as something that was in good fun, never sexual, and just part of his brand. This was just common knowledge, but god you never expected it to be directed at you with a cute pet name.

  “On it,” You smiled back at him, face hot. You smoothed yourself down before beginning to craft his drink. 

It wasn’t often that you worked the front counter, and there was a good reason for it. Most of the time, you got too into making drinks, customizing them frivolously (often due to your quirk). Though you were skilled, it took a lot of time that people didn’t have for a coffee run.

But, on the day of a momentous snowstorm, you and Hawks had all the time in the world.

  Keigo was a bit stunned by you.  

You were cute, one. 

You were wearing a soft-looking turtleneck sweater, and high-waisted, wide-leg pants. They were fashionable but obviously aged. But it worked. A cute, embroidered apron was tied over you snuggly around your waist. It was adorned with buttons and pins, brightly colored.

 You spoke so frankly to him. You didn’t gawk at him for even a second, even when his feathers propped you up from falling. You blushed at his pet name but didn’t seem any more fazed than a bit of embarrassment. He liked it. It felt normal.

Keigo rested his hands on the counter, watching you flit about behind the counter. 

“I gotta ask, why are you open in this blizzard??” Keigo tilted his head as your gaze flickered to him. You were still smiling, just a bit, even hard at work. 

  You snorted, “Cheap boss who won’t close, and my coworkers are stranded without the trains running. I live close by and work hourly, so I might as well come in, ya’ know?”

Hawks laughed, something warm and full, so juxtaposed to the storm of flurries outside. 

It was odd, talking to the number two fucking hero so casually, but it felt good. There was a sense of awe and idleness, but it dimmed. There were no flashy heroics, just one person wanting a drink and the other making it.

Your quirk activated on its own as you stared at the syrups. Your quirk’s tell was so small and normal, no one ever caught it. A heavy dilation of the eyes was not something most people were tuned into. Yet there you were, submerged in sensation. Touch, sight, smell, taste, even sound, all blending together. They elicited something deeper in you, creating something abstract you could make tangible.

To make a feeling into a physical reality was a gift, but it came with drawbacks of course.

You poured a few syrups into the bottom of the cup, carefully selecting them.

“I can’t imagine how cold it is up in the sky,” You mused to yourself just before steaming some oat milk. 

“Oh, you have no idea, ” Hawks lamented to you with a groan. “I feel like I’m gonna lose a few toes whenever I work in this weather.”

“Just toes? I’d be worried about a whole foot,” You grinned back at him as you poured more things into the cup, stirring every few moments. 

The feeling in your mind was so tangible to you, and you could perfectly translate it to reality. Something warm, to beat away the frost of the world beyond the tea shop. 

You sprinkled the top with a few dashes of cinnamon, setting it on the counter in front of him. 

  Keigo looked down at the drink you made him, raising an eyebrow. He went to take a sip, but you stopped him, “I’d give that a few minutes if you don’t want to burn your tongue, tailfeathers.”

  Hawks nearly fucking squawked as he set down the drink, giving you a look of false anger, “ Tailfeathers? That’s not a kind name to call me. I don’t even have those.”

Keigo huffed, pouting at you. 

  “You call me, a stranger barista, angel, I call you tailfeathers. Easy trade.” You shrugged at him, tapping into the register system. “I’m not charging you until you try it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to upcharge if I don’t like it?” Hawks continued to pout, jokingly so, pulling out a wad of bills that was undoubtedly much more than any drink would cost. 

Your eyes widened, leaving you sputtering, “Oh, never— it’s on the house if it bangs as much as I think it will.”

Hawks laughed, out loud, bending back a bit. You watched his pretty red wings shudder and reflect the warm light of the coffee house. Keigo collected himself, over-dramatically straightening himself. 

You watched with anticipation as he took his sip.

  Keigo was a man of poor taste. Sure, dropping an unholy amount of money on frivolities was one of his small pleasures, after so much of the ascetic bullshit that the Commission put him through, it only seemed fair. But, caffeine was a necessity with his fucked up schedule and he’d be damned waiting in a line or making it at home. Canned coffee was saccharine and speedy and that’s all he fucking wanted. 

But, when the first drops of that stupid oat milk latte hit his tongue, Keigo was beyond enamored. 

Yeah, he wanted coffee to feel warm in this storm, but he didn’t expect to feel warm. With just one gulp, he could feel the heat, like the flames of a steady hearth, drift around his body. 

He brought the cup down from his lips, looking at you with awe. 

You had the smuggest grin spread across your face, arms crossed over your chest.

“Thoughts?” God, you were so cheeky. He loved it. You were so subtly bold.

“This,” Keigo took another greedy swig, wiping his mouth on the back of his ungloved hand, “is the best coffee I’ve ever had in my damn life.”

Your smile just got wider. 

“Glad I could meet your tastes, tailfeathers. No charge,” You gave him a cheeky little wink. You swore you saw his face get redder, but you dismissed it a moment later.

“Oh no, nu-uh,” Keigo pushed the bills towards you. “Take it as a tip then. Seriously. How did you make this?”

You stared down at the bills and Hawks’s hand. His hands weren’t particularly large, but they were scarred plenty. Veins and bone were accented by the dryness of his skin. 

You looked back up at him, still not taking the money, “Can you keep a secret? It’s a big one, especially considering you’re a hero.”

Hawks tilted his head, “If you say you used your quirk to mess with this drink, I don’t know if I’m legally able to keep it a secret.”

“Nah, nah. I didn’t ‘mess with your drink’,” You shook your head, nodding down to it. “Do you know what synesthesia is?”

(He did, surely. But he just wanted to listen to you talk more.)

“Enlighten me?” Hawks ask, stooping to rest his elbows on the counter, chin cradled in his hands.

  For being a man who could kill you in a split second, Hawks was remarkably cute. You understood his sex appeal long before he entered the shop. His hair looked unnaturally fluffy, wind-ruffled, and honey blonde. His eyes had a few cute bird-like markings ringing the sweet, amber irises. He had a delicate but defined jaw. 

He raised a sculpted, feathered eyebrow at you. 

(He’d caught you staring).

You cleared your throat, laughing it off easily (though you were mentally kicking yourself), “Synesthesia, broadly, is like senses overlapping in your brain. Like... The common example is seeing colors when you hear a month of the year.”

“Now, what does this have to do with my lovely drink?” Hawks batted his eyelashes at you. You could tell he was definitely flirting with you, but you brushed it off the best you could. 

He’s a hot guy you made coffee for. Happens all the time. 

“Well, you had me a little bit, I did use my quirk, but it doesn’t mess with your drink physically at all. Not even close,” You laugh. “My quirk allows me to conceptualize abstract ideas into tangible ideas.”

“That really makes it sound like you used your quirk to make my drink,” Keigo watched your eyes dilate as he spoke.

You blinked, and they went back to normal.

“No, no. It’s like for your drink,” Both of your eyes looked towards the steaming cup. “I took your request for ‘warm and fuzzies’ to heart.”

Keigo blinked at you. 

Your pupils expanded again, “I figured ‘ you know, this guy has to fly around in the cold all day, right? Probably is freezing and far away from home ’— and there was my inspiration.

“I used my quirk to conceptualize... the idea of being warm and safe into a tangible concept. A nice, easy coffee drink. Four shots of espresso, oat milk, homemade lavender honey syrup, two of my own, specially made tea extracts, and a bit of cinnamon for good measure.”

Hawks blinked at you, “Your quirk gives you the... blueprints, to turn ideas, literal feelings, into reality and these blueprints just work?” 

You nodded and shrugged, “Most of the time. The less I’m focused on it, the more likely it is that the feeling won’t be able to manifest. I just get more exact with my construction with the fewer stimuli.”

“Drawback?” Hawks quirked an eyebrow, already having a good idea as to it.

You gestured lazily to the empty coffee shop, “I get overstimulated easily, quirk activated or not. Makes a lot of shit hard, but I like my quirk. I mean, it’s nothing like having a crazy strong pair of wings, but it services me well.”

“Did you really ‘manifest’ ‘warm and fuzzies’ into a drink, or did you make it a bit deeper than that?” Keigo sipped again, relishing how it warmed him all over once more. The taste that was dancing over his palette seemed a little more complex than what they were saying. 

“To be frank and to have a bit of an ego, yeah, I went for my go-to feeling when making drinks for myself,” You averted your eyes from him. “A good drink should feel like you’re getting hugged from the inside out, you know? Comforted. It’s hard enough to get that tangibly without a quirk. I just try to help where I can.”

  Keigo blinked at you.

You had turned suddenly, shy, eyes anxiously darting and a hand tugging at the sleeve of your sweater. A cute flush was spreading over your cheekbones when you finally looked at him again, “Kinda corny, right?”

Despite the fact that Keigo’s heart was fucking pounding, he shook his head, voice steady and sure, “Nah, I think it’s cool. You’re doing a lot more than just making coffee for folks.”

Your face got even redder as you rubbed the back of your head,

“I usually work in the back, so I don’t tend to make a lot of coffee for people. I make the tea blends that we sell. I don’t always use my quirk, but sometimes I do.”

Keigo watched you nervously pull at your apron, giving him an oddly desperate deadpan, “Please don’t turn me in.”

That made Keigo bust out laughing again. 

You couldn’t help but stare at him in shock, and then join him. You covered your mouth at first, but finally, just let yourself laugh with him. All it seemed like that there was in the world was you, Keigo, the lavender latte, and the snowdrifts outside.

  Hawks’s pager beeped, almost instantly pulling him from his laughing fit. He glanced at it, giving a dull grimace, “Duty calls, it seems.”

“You’d think villains would take snow days?” You told him as he re-gloved his hands. 

“It would really make my job easier,” He chuckled. Hawks pushed the forgotten money on the counter. “That’s all for you, ya hear me? Keep it or I will actually turn you in.”

Oh, you were feeling bold. 

Before Hawks could pull his hand away, you placed your own on his, stopping his movement.

“Only,” You somehow, one-handed, managed to pull a bit of receipt paper from its machine. Still one-handed you grabbed a pen and scribbled onto the paper. You pushed it towards Keigo. “If you take this very conveniently small piece of paper that totally doesn’t have my name and number on it. Just in case you’d like another lavender latte like that.”

  Oh, Keigo was floored.

He had rapid fucking fans. They were feral. He’d had fans drop their entire life stories on him, gush to him, stalk him— one time, a fan dropped to their knees and licked his boots. And he’d certainly received many phone numbers in his day, so many, but never like this. 

This felt a little different.

“Well, I was gonna say, I might need some contact to know when you work next. Just so I can grab one of your lovely drinks,” Hawks winked at you, all smitten.  He walked backwards towards the door, still meeting your eyes

“Feel free to.” You were just as starry-eyed as he was. “I have a lot to show you!”

And with that, Hawks whisked himself out of the door, fast as ever.

And you both simmered, full of intangible feelings. 

[thiefoflight68]

18+ (down in there somewhere) proceed if 18 only

Just posted my last chapter of Let’s Give Them Something To Talk About, A Small Town Romance. 🥹 I will miss writing this story, so sweet.

Chapter 30 - the future 

Staring out the window Izuku waited for Kacchan, it was late and the night was cold, snow still clung to the ground from the last storm. It ended up being a clear night and Kacchan had announced he wanted to go stargazing. The blonde appeared in the kitchen as if on cue.

“Ready?”

“Are you sure Kacchan? It's going to be so cold.” Izuku shivered thinking of the frigid night air.

“I turned on the heat earlier for you, it should be toasty warm by now,” Bakugou ruffled his green curls. “We still have to walk down though,” grabbing the nerd’s hat off of the peg, he pulled it over his head. “It’s freezing outside, there’s supposed to be another storm tomorrow.”

“Christmas snow?” Izuku grinned, he put on his gloves.

“Yep, at least that’s the forecast, they usually fuck it up though,” Katsuki brushed the nerd’s lips in a light kiss, zipping up his puffy green coat. “This looks nice on you.”

“It does, thank you for the present,” Izuku kissed him back. They had exchanged their presents, nothing extravagant, Kacchan had bought him a new jacket, Izuku had bought him thick winter work gloves. He’d also managed to find a place that customized beanies. Looking up at the black beanie on the blonde’s head, he giggled, The Great Explosion was embroidered across the front with sticks of dynamite on the sides, it matched his favorite shirt. “The hat looks good on you.”

Red eyes glinted, “it fucking does, I love it.” Grabbing Deku’s gloved hand they headed outside, Katsuki flipped on the larger lights now installed through the orchard.

Walking down the stairs, Izuku looked around at the property. Everything looked so different, the trees were bare twigs, the grass now brown, frozen to the hard ground, it crunched under their boots. Izuku pulled up his scarf, it was freezing.

Watching Deku retreat into his clothing Bakugou laughed, wrapping his arm around him, he pulled him into his warmth. “You’ll get used to our winters soon enough.”

“No, I never will,” Izuku shook his head. The city enjoyed mild winters but here, under the shadow of the mountains, the snow and wind whipped continuously. “I’m glad I didn’t look up winter temperatures,” Izuku grumbled, “I would’ve never moved here.”

“Deku, you do realize it’s only the fourth day of winter?”

“Yes, Kacchan! And I’m scared! There is so much snow here, they’ll be digging my body out by February!”

“They?” Katsuki snickered.

“The people, Kacchan,” Izuku waved his hands wildly, “the people that dig out the dead bodies.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?” Izuku tried to turn, his body was encased in too many layers to make it easy.

“Will I be with you, buried in the snow?”

“SEE!” Izuku yelled, pointing at him, “It does happen! How many bodies do they dig out a year?”

“Deku,” Katsuki furrowed his brow, shaking his head, “they don’t dig out dead people, where the hell do you think you are? The fucking Antarctic? We got a fucking few feet of snow and you’re acting like an avalanche is about to crash into the house.”

“It could happen Kacchan, a freak blizzard and we’re eating each other for dinner.”

Lifting the nerd’s hat, Katsuki leaned into his ear, “That’s fine since I already ate you for breakfast, Deku, I could survive a long time with just you.” The nerd smacked at him laughing.

Rubbing his ear, Izuku shivered from the wave of chills on his neck. “Kacchan, I’m trying to be serious.”

“Serious about us eating each other?” He could see the small cabin ahead, he had left the porchlight on earlier that day. Grabbing his shoulders, he turned Deku to look at him, “if you’re really that worried nerd, I’ll build a trap door on the side of the house up in the attic, with a rope swing, you can slide down the snow bank to freedom.”

“You will?”

“Sure, the jobs are almost shut down except for interior stuff. I could get it put in pretty quick.”

“Could you make it a rope ladder? I’m bad at swings.” Izuku stepped onto the porch.

“A rope ladder, I can do that,” Katsuki opened the door to the cabin, he flipped on the lights. The small room was bare, still in the stages of being built, the interior was a skeleton structure.

“But you’re busy in here too,” Izuku looked around, “don’t worry about the trap door, if it starts to snow, I’ll think about it,” he unwrapped his scarf and pulled off his hat.

“Are you sure?” Katsuki pulled off his own beanie and stuffed it into his backpack.

“You brought a backpack?” Izuku hadn’t noticed it before.

“Someone gets hungry when we’re stargazing, I brought some snacks.” Katsuki fixed the greenette’s flattened hair. The nerd laughed and pulled on his blonde spikes. Red eyes flicked up, “did they get smashed?” He helped the nerd straighten them out. “Let’s go.”

Walking out to the enclosed porch, they climbed a steel winding staircase to the second floor. Unlocking the door, Katsuki flipped on the lights to the small room. The nerd stepped in behind him, shutting the door quickly.

“Oh, you did put the heater on,” Izuku unzipped his jacket relishing in the warmth.

“Don’t get undressed too much, I have to open the top and it’ll get cold quickly. I have blankets and a space heater by the telescope, so we’ll stay warm. Katsuki climbed up the ladder to the platform, setting down his backpack, he began unlatching the skylights.

Gazing around the room, Izuku breathed in the fresh wood scent. Kacchan had decided to build the small cabin as their observatory since Momo had commented on coming back at the party. A small guest cabin as far from the house as possible was ideal to him. Izuku hadn’t agreed, but since then Momo had already come back to stay with them several times since August, he had decided Kacchan was right, this was a perfect guest house. The observatory was built as a second story, which could be accessed from the porch, so as not to disturb anyone staying in the cabin. The room was all wood, a comfortable couch and a desk were the only furnishings tucked in the small space. Kacchan had built a large raised platform in the middle of the floor, it had an electronic panel that allowed you to rotate the whole piece for different viewing angles or even raise it higher towards the roof. On the platform, sitting on another elevated stand, stood his Vixen

“Okay,” Katsuki looked at the nerd, “it’s going to get cold, zip up.” He pulled the panels and folded them back one under the other, creating a large opening in the slanted roof directly above the telescope. “Jump on if you want to catch a ride,” he grinned, grabbing the large metal controller. The nerd hustled across the floor and climbed up the small ladder to the platform, he sat in a chair. Bakugou hit the button, the platform started rising.

As the platform slowly rose, Izuku giggled, “I always want to make a speech about ascending into the heavens and mocking science and nature when you do this.”

“That’s the movie you told me about?” The nerd nodded, laughing.

“It’s a comedy about Frankenstein, really funny, kind of old now, so probably not easy to find anymore.” Izuku looked up at the sky. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his notebook, “you didn’t give me a lot of warning, so I couldn’t prepare much tonight,” Izuku opened the notebook looking at his notes, “you need to give me more time Kacchan, otherwise I can’t research what we should be looking for in the sky.”

“Sorry nerd,” Katsuki clicked his tongue, “sometimes I like to just fucking look, you know? No plans,” Bakugou glanced at the nerd already thumbing through the pages of his book, “It’s fun to take a chance, see what’s out there, maybe get lucky, maybe not.” Katsuki waited until the telescope was out of the opening, he stopped the platform.

Looking up, Izuku watched Kacchan staring up into the night sky, he peered back at the notebook, “I guess so,” Izuku murmured, tapping the small book on his leg, he closed it, slipping it back into his pocket. “But that’s why you need to warn me, Kacchan,” his voice playfully stern, “I couldn’t prepare anything at all,” he smiled wistfully at the blonde.

“Next time nerd, I fucking promise,” red eyes gleamed, “thanks, I appreciate you going along for the ride.” Walking around he sat down in the chair next to him, the frigid night air poured through the ceiling. “Where’s your hat?” Deku pulled it out of his pocket with his scarf. Bakugou took them both, pulling the hat on his head, he kissed him softly. Straightening the scarf, he wrapped it around his neck, pushing it down so he could kiss him again. He looked at his watch, it was midnight. “Merry Christmas Deku.”

“Merry Christmas Kacchan,” Izuku smiled wide and kissed him back, his lips warm against the cold night air.

Putting his hands on Deku’s face, Katsuki squeezed his cheeks. “I’d kiss you more but I’m afraid you’ll freeze,” grabbing a thick blanket, he put it over the nerd’s lap. Pulling another one from the pile he laid it over himself.

“You need a blanket?” Izuku teased, “you never get cold.”

“It’s fucking freezing tonight, no clouds to hold in the heat.” Leaning down he flicked on the small space heater. Scooting up to the telescope, he adjusted the eye piece so he could sit and look comfortably. “Looks good tonight,” he smiled at the nerd, “where first? Pick a number between one and four.”

“Oh, I like that!” Izuku rubbed his chin thinking, “how about three?”

“Okay,” Katsuki hit a button on the controller with his foot, the platform rotated slightly. Bakugou took several minutes moving slowly, adjusting the telescope. “Cool stuff tonight,” continuing to move, he suddenly stopped, “oh shit!” He laughed, “fuck, right out of the gate,” he waved to the nerd, “come sit on my lap.” Making some adjustments he waited for Deku.

Scuttling with his blanket, Izuku sat on his thigh, Katsuki gave him a cocky grin, “like I said, no plans, that or you’re just fucking lucky.”

“What is it?” Izuku looked into the scope, “KACCHAN!” he lifted his head, “you found the Ursid meteor shower,” he looked back into the scope. “It only runs two more days, OH, it’s beautiful. You must have landed on Ursa Minor.” He moved, “look at it,” the blonde hugged him as he leaned back to the eyepiece. “Did you know they discovered this in the late 1700’s, the comet is, oh, um, Tuttle, I think.”

“See,” Katsuki peeked up, he winked at the nerd, “you don’t need a fucking notebook, you’re the fucking notebook.” The nerd blushed, “alright let’s see what else is out there.”

“We can stop Kacchan, it won’t get better than that,” Izuku laughed, he pulled off his gloves to play with the blonde’s spikes poking out from his beanie.

“Nope, we’ll see something else, I can fucking feel it,” Katsuki looked up, “kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me, I need some luck here.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku rolled his eyes, giggling, he licked his lips slowly, staring at the blonde’s mouth. Taking his ungloved hand, he ran his finger over his now wet lips. Kissing it, he reached out and ran his finger over Kacchan’s soft lips very slowly and pushed into his mouth slightly. Kacchan sucked on his finger, biting and kissing it at the same time. “How’s that?” Izuku asked coyly, the blonde grunted. “Enough luck for you?”

“Fuck, not sure about luck, but now I’m fucking hard,” Katsuki looked at the couch and back at the nerd. “We may have to take a short break soon.”

“Keep looking Kacchan,” Izuku pushed his head towards the eyepiece, he glanced over at the overstuffed couch, it did look comfortable.

“Let’s see,” Bakugou continued maneuvering slowly, “if I’m at the Little Dipper, I can find, yep, there’s the Big Dipper and that means,” Katsuki spun the small wheel and landed on his target. “Cancer,” he smiled, “now to get in a little bit tighter, there it is,” he looked at the telescope panel, checking coordinates. “Okay, our next big find.” He pulled Deku over, “see it?”

Looking through the eyepiece, it was a bright star, “it’s pretty, that’s in Cancer?”

“Yep.”

“It's a good-sized star, is it named?”

“It’s Deku,” Katsuki’s lips twitched.

“What?” Izuku looked up.

“The star, it’s Deku,” The nerd laughed and looked back in the eyepiece.

“Okay Kacchan, I’ll bite, why are you calling the star Deku?” Izuku studied the twinkling ball of gas, the blonde was teasing him, he wasn’t sure over what, but Izuku had learned to go along with him and find out, it was usually good for him in the end.

“Actually, his name is Izuku Midoriya, Deku for short.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku dragged out his name impatiently. “Stop,” he shook his head, “what else can we see tonight?”

“You don’t believe me, do you?” opening his backpack, he pulled out an envelope, “read this.”

Twisting his lips, Izuku snatched the envelope out of his hands, opening it he read the contents. Green eyes widened, “it really is Izuku? Kacchan, you bought me a star in Cancer?”

“I named a star, it was a fucking tricky tracking down the official place that does it, but it’s registered as Izuku Midoriya aka Deku.” Katsuki pointed to the registration line on the certificate. “Either way, I figured, it would be kind of cool,” he shrugged, watching Izuku read over the paperwork.

“Kacchan, this is amazing! It's really registered!!” He grinned broadly, “if someone looks up the stars, it’ll come up as my name, thank you!” The blonde looked relieved, Izuku hugged him, “ugh my jacket, it’s too thick, I can’t hug you.”

“Then kiss me, nerd,” Deku brushed his soft lips across his. A slow kiss, tongues touching lightly, Katsuki sucked on his sweet mouth, digging under the blanket, he found his legs, moving up further he squeezed his butt. “That is one delicious ass.”

“Tasty enough to eat?”

“I already had it once today, can I have seconds?” Katsuki swept his tongue into the nerd’s mouth. He pulled back suddenly.

“What?” Izuku cocked his head, “are you okay?”

“Something is wrong with this kiss,” Katsuki squinted his eyes, he reached down and unzipped the backpack.

“Does my breath smell bad, Kacchan?”

“Nope, it doesn’t taste right.”

“Kacchan! I ate fried chicken, so did you, we taste the same.” Izuku huffed.

Pulling a small thermos from the backpack and two cups, Katsuki poured steaming hot chocolate into the mugs.

“Chocolate?” Izuku was mesmerized, “from The Lunch Rush? Thank you Kacchan!” He clapped.

“You can have the bigger one,” he handed him the mug. The nerd started to sip the warm drink, “wait!” Katsuki held the mug, he reached in and pulled out a container of whip cream.

“Oh good,” Izuku held out the cup, “I was worried there for a moment,” his green eyes twinkled. Filling the remainder of the mug with whip cream, Kacchan handed him a spoon. Izuku laughed, taking the spoon, he dipped it into the chocolate and cream and scooped it into his mouth, deliberately licking everything off, “are you sure I can use this? Usually I’m banned.”

“Not tonight, for Christmas you can lick and slurp all you want,” hungry eyes watched as the nerd continued to slurp, “the couch is still an option.”

Nodding Izuku, looked at the couch, pointing to the roof, “you have to close this up though, it’s too cold.”

“Are we done?”

“No! Kacchan, I want to see the Mare Imbrium mountains on the moon,” Izuku slurped more chocolate.

“Then back to the kiss,” pulling Deku closer, he ran his tongue over his lip, “that tastes right,” Katsuki laughed, running his tongue inside his chocolaty cream mouth. “Much better.”

“It is good chocolate Kacchan,” Izuku nibbled on his lips, “are you going to drink yours?” he eyed the forgotten mug sitting on the small table.

“You can have it,” Bakugou poured his chocolate into the nerd’s mug. Deku grinned, slurping up more chocolate. Katsuki peered back into the telescope, “so, you want to see the moon?”

“I do, Kacchan, it should be over in the far west horizon tonight,” Izuku slurped more chocolate, he was enjoying teasing the blonde. “Oh, Mina mentioned that Kiri and Sero are having the dinner at their house, um, I guess your house, tomorrow, I mean today.”

“Yeah,” Katsuki was rotating the Vixen, “they wanted to celebrate their wedding, so they’re hosting a Christmas dinner reception.”

“A Christmas wedding,” Izuku nodded, bumping up and down on the blonde’s leg. “I put that in my new book, I thought it was really romantic.”

“I thought so too,” sitting up, Bakugou pointed, “there, the moon, not sure where to find your mountains.”

Setting down his mug, Izuku scanned the milky white surface. “Momo said she’s coming too.” he thinned his lips, “do you think Momo will ever come out and tell us?” The blonde’s brows shot up, he shrugged, Izuku shook his head “it’s really obvious but they keep hiding.”

“Maybe it was like us in the beginning, not wanting to make that decision in front of everyone.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Izuku backed up and pointed at the telescope, “the mountains, they’re really clear tonight.” He slurped his chocolate again, thinking about Momo.

Eyeing the nerd slurping, Katsuki shook his head, “if you get hungry let me know,” he looked into the telescope, “oh shit, there really is a mountain range.”

“What did you bring?”

“What?”

“To eat, what did you bring?”

“Are you fucking hungry?”

“Not really, I was just curious,” Izuku put his finger into the backpack pulling it open, he tried to see inside. “Maybe I’m a little hungry.”

“I brought some dried fruit and chocolate.”

“What chocolate?”

“What chocolate would I bring my nerd?” Katsuki winked, he reached inside and pulled out a bag of Mina’s chocolates.

“Oh, Kacchan,” Izuku beamed, “only one though, well, maybe two,” he pulled two from the bag. Setting down his mug, he unwrapped the candy looking at the blonde thoughtfully, “I feel really spoiled tonight.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Katsuki’s mouth as he settled back into the eyepiece, he zoomed in on the surface of the moon studying the craters, “good, you should, that was the point.”

Smiling, Izuku munched on his candy. The whole night had been special, Kacchan had been so sweet, he wanted to curl up and touch every inch of the blonde’s body. Tugging at his jacket he worked his hands underneath.

The nerd pushed his hands up under his jacket, icy hands touched Bakugou’s warm skin. “Oi, fuck, your hands are cold!” He gasped, jerking away from the telescope.

“Oh, sorry,” Izuku yelped, pulling his hands out quickly, he shoved them between his legs, “I’ll warm them up first, I didn’t realize they were so cold,” he blushed, “I - I wanted to touch you.” He held up his hands and huffed warm air on them, “did I hurt you?”

“Just scared the shit out of me,” Bakugou chuckled, hitting the controller, the platform started to go down. He swatted the nerd’s butt, “stand up hon.”

“Are we done?” Izuku held his blanket and mug, scooting off of the blonde’s lap, he sat in the other chair.

“With stargazing, yes, for the moment.”

“Just for a moment?” Grinning, Izuku hid behind his mug, green eyes dancing, “I was hoping we could go longer than that,” he giggled as he watched Kacchan over the rim, he glanced at the couch.

“Sassing me on Christmas Eve Deku?” Katsuki clicked his tongue. He saw his green eyes dart across the room to the couch. Red eyes softened, he sighed, “Deku, with you, a moment feels like an eternity,” he ran a finger over his cheek. “You’re too much for me sometimes.” His hand lingered, feeling the soft skin of his face. The nerd bit his lip, blushing red, he tilted his head to his touch.

“Me too.” Izuku trembled under the intense gaze of those piercing red eyes, “I like it when you spoil me,” his voice was small, his throat tight, his stomach a whirling storm of butterflies.

“Good,” Standing up, Katsuki slid the panels closed and latched them. “I have more plans to spoil you tonight,” he winked at the nerd, hitting a button on the controller, the platform descended slowly. Grabbing his backpack, Bakugou jumped down to the main floor and turned up the heat, taking off his jacket.

Standing up slowly, Izuku set down his mug, anticipation was building through his body with every heartbeat, he unzipped his jacket and pulled it off. “What are we doing?” Green eyes glinted teasingly.

Bakugou walked to the platform, he held his arms up. “Come down and I’ll show you, let me help you.” The nerd eyed the floor below, “I won’t drop you,” the nerd raised his brows, Katsuki rolled his eyes, “this time.”

“It only takes once Kacchan.”

“It was an accident, besides you kicked me in the groin, it was a reflex.” Katsuki shook his head laughing, “and, if I recall, I fell and you landed on me.”

“Can I just use the ladder?” Izuku tossed the blanket on the blonde and turned backwards to climb down the steps. Strong arms grabbed him off the ladder lifting him into the air.

“Kacchan!” Izuku clutched at his arms, “don’t drop me.”

“Only on purpose,” Katsuki growled, throwing him into the couch. Giggling, the nerd flew into the soft cushions, Bakugou was on top of him, arms on either side of his body, cradling Deku’s hips just above his own, thrusting against him. “I think it’s time to keep spoiling you nerd,” Katsuki kissed him, tugging off his large knit sweater. There was another long sleeve shirt underneath, tugging at the hem, he saw another shirt underneath that one, “how many fucking shirts do you have on?”

“I layered Kacchan, see, three more shirts, the sweater and then the jacket.”

“I’d be sweating to death,” Katsuki pulled the last three shirts off of him.

Izuku shivered, “it’s not warm yet.” Ripping off his own shirt, the blonde covered him with his body heat. “Mmmm, that feels good.” Izuku snuggled under his chest. Kacchan’s hot mouth kissed his neck, moving down along his collarbone, he licked and sucked, leaving a warm trail down his skin. “I like being spoiled,” Izuku tipped his head so the blonde could reach his entire neck, he wrapped his legs around his waist. He drifted his fingertips over the blonde’s back lightly, “am I still cold?”

“I don’t care.”

Laying his hands on the blonde’s back, his skin was hot, warming Izuku’s icy fingers. “Sorry,” he whispered, moving his hands over Kacchan’s firm skin, he traced his shoulder blades to his spine. Thumbing each bump, he pressed his fingers into his muscles up to his neck, running his fingers into his blonde spikes, he pulled off his beanie, tossing it to the floor. “Come back and kiss me,” Izuku’s voice was tight, Kacchan’s mouth was pulling at the ache in his body. The blonde looked up, a cocky grin on his face, he kissed him, tongues entwined, Izuku couldn’t get enough of the blonde’s mouth. “I want you now,” Izuku panted, he reached down tugging at the buttons on Kacchan’s jeans, popping them one by one. His hard cock pushed through the opening, Izuku’s hand pressing, fingers finding the outline in his underwear.

“Fuck, I’m so hard,” Katsuki choked out, he lifted himself, bracing on one elbow he hooked his pants and briefs pushing them down over his hips. The nerd’s hand repositioning around the now bare skin of his dick. Bakugou roughly pulled at the nerd’s pants, a button ripped, flying off the couch, he tugged the zipper down. “How the fuck do you get these off?” Sitting up he yanked the half-opened pants off the nerd’s hips.

“Wait!” Izuku sat up.

“Fuck, no,” Katsuki pushed him back onto the cushions.

“The blanket, please, Kacchan, the couch is new.” The blonde looked at the soft brown material.

“Fuck,” Katsuki got up, pulling the nerd with him. Flipping the blanket out over the couch, he tossed the nerd back on the couch, covering him quickly again. “Now I can make a mess of you and nothing gets ruined.” Full lips covered the nerd’s mouth, sucking hard, Katsuki’s kiss was demanding and urgent. Fishing with one hand at the same time, Bakugou’s fingers found the backpack on the floor, he rummaged in the bag and pulled out the bottle of lube.

“You were planning this all along,” Izuku panted, eyeing the bottle, his lips swollen from the blonde’s kiss.

“I told you I wanted to spoil you tonight, I think fucking you senseless counts as spoiling.”

Swallowing hard, Izuku nodded, “I agree,” his voice breathless. The blonde squeezed the lube on his hand generously, “put your legs around my waist again, Deku.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Izuku blushed a deep red.

“Do what?” Bakugou ran his hand along his ass, finding his soft hole. “Oh,” he laughed, “someone else was planning too,” Katsuki’s heart skipped a beat, “did you prepare yourself tonight?” The nerd nodded shyly. Bakugou felt his blood surge at the thought of Deku fingering himself for him, his cock bulged. “Fuck nerd, you know how to make me crazy.” Sitting up, he pushed the nerd’s legs open wide, “that hole looks so fucking good right now, you’re so fucking ready for me.” He slid the tip of his cock into the nerd, his heart hammering in his chest so hard, his eardrums ached. Katsuki wanted to thrust his cock in him deep and fast, but watching the greenette’s face as he moved slowly into his warm depths was worth the struggle for restraint. “Deku,” he rasped, watching his green eyes blaze with lust.

The blonde was excruciatingly slow, moving inch by inch into his ass, Izuku clutched his wide shoulders, lifting his hips, opening his body up to him. As the blonde’s cock slid against his prostate, Deku cried out, a sudden flush of heat stung his skin.

“My firecracker,” Katsuki admired the beautiful blush, laying his palm on Deku’s crimson flesh, “you’re like my own fucking stick of dynamite.” Bakugou pushed his cock all the way into the nerd, leaning over him, one hand braced on the couch, he moved his hips, grinding against him in slow circles, keeping his eyes on Deku’s face

A soft whimper escaped Izuku’s lips, thrusting upwards, clenching his muscles, he squeezed the blonde’s cock, heavy against the unrelenting ache. “Kacchan,” he bucked again. Looking up, blazing red eyes watched him, “Kacchan,” the blonde smiled wickedly, he continued to swing his pelvis, rocking back and forth. “Kacchan, please,” Izuku’s voice crumpled with need, “too slow,” moving his hips he was desperate to feel the heat of his cock moving against his prostate.

“I need to know how to spoil you tonight, Deku,” a cocky grin on his full lips, “tell me Deku, what do you want?” Bakugou teased.

“Kacchan, move, I want you to move” Izuku’s eyes flashed with impatience, his fingers dug into his shoulders.

“I’m moving nerd, feel that?” Katsuki swung wider, the pull on his cock edging him closer.

“P-Please, you know what I want,” Izuku stammered, a tremor rippled through his muscles, “ahh!” Clenching his ass, he tried to move his hips, the blonde had him pinned with his body.

“You feel so good, fuck you’re tight,” Katsuki pulled back slightly and pushed into him, still swinging his hips, “yes!” Izuku gasped, he grabbed the blonde’s shoulders tighter, trying to thrust with him. The blonde was so close to reaching the throbbing ache, “a little bit closer,” Izuku hiccupped, tears welling in his big green eyes, slipping out along his temples dripping into his curls.

“You’re so fucking beautiful nerd, look at those big eyes, looking at me like that.” Gritting his teeth, Katsuki slid out from the nerd’s warm walls, he hovered with the tip just inside, he bumped back and forth, “This fucking sweet ass, I love that it’s mine.” His hand dug into the nerd's waist, balancing himself to play with his hole.

Hips no longer pinned, Izuku used the blonde’s shoulders to push himself against the length of his huge cock, managing to slam into his prostate, “ngh,” Izuku’s mouth fell open, his eyes fluttered, a jolt rocked through his body, chills pulled painfully along his skin, “K-Kacchan, stop, please fuck me,” he sobbed harder.

“I will Deku,” Katsuki kissed him, rutting into his nerd, Bakugou’s cock slammed home. Pulling back, he thrust again up into the nerd’s prostate, Deku screamed, his head jerking back, his ass clamped down, Katsuki felt a strong rippling grip his cock. Bakugou braced himself with both hands, leaning down he licked the nerd’s lips, playing, he drew out his tongue, he sucked it into his mouth. Katsuki thrust hard at the same time, sliding across the nerd’s prostate, angling again, he pounded relentlessly on his g-spot, the nerd moaned in the kiss, eyes rolled back, fingers digging deep into his shoulders.

The blonde was finally fucking him, clawing his shoulders, he clung to his body, meeting every thrust with his own. A spasm ran through Izuku’s muscles, everything stretched tight, the pressure was too much, it overwhelmed his senses. The wave smashed into Izuku’s groin, a pulsing vibration that pushed more waves over the rest of his body. Every cell of Izuku’s skin on fire, he could feel each hair on his scalp as a tingling raced from his head to his toes. His blood surged, rushing to his ass, he groaned louder as the blonde slammed into his prostate again, the pressure burst, Izuku lifted off the couch. “KACCHAN!” he yelled, volleys of cum spurt through the air, one after another. The blonde grunted as he slammed one last time deep inside his ass.

The nerd’s scream pushed Katsuki off the edge, hanging for a moment, the orgasm ripped up through his balls, the heat of his cum seared his cock, as he unloaded, thrusting again and again, cum pulsing from his body, deep into the nerd. Grabbing the edge of the couch, Bakugou held on, trying not to fall on Deku’s body.

Falling back, Izuku covered his face, tears sliding down his cheeks, he sobbed, gasping for air, his body quivering.

“Nerd?”

Kacchan’s voice sounded far away, in a tunnel. Izuku tried to focus on his face. The blonde’s large hand touched his chest, Izuku’s back arched, his body convulsing, “NO!” Izuku grabbed his hand, his skin hypersensitive to the touch. “D-don’t touch,” he gulped in air as his skin on his chest jerked.

“Fuck,” Katsuki lifted his hand, he sat up, trying not to touch him. The nerd was pale, his body twitching and jerking, his eyes glazed, tears still rolling down his cheeks.

“Deku?” He wanted to touch him, “Fuck, Deku, are you okay?” Had he hurt him? He looked down at his cock, still buried in his ass, he started to pull out slowly, was he bleeding? The nerd’s ass clenched tight around him.

“No, no, no,” Izuku wailed, “Don’t move,” his voice was laced with desperation. “Kacchan, you can’t move, don’t even breathe.” Izuku grabbed his hands.

Katsuki tried to stay still, the rumble in his chest was deep at first but the laughter bubbled up, he tried to hold back, but the laughter slipped out.

“Kacchan, you’re wiggling,” Izuku sucked in his breath, he opened his eyes. “Please don’t move.”

“At least you’re making sense now,” he held up his hands, “please let me touch you.”

“Too much, too much, I feel everything right now.” Izuku’s body felt like it was inside out, he could feel every little movement or touch, which caused more jolts and tremors to flare through his body, smashing into his groin.

Laying down quickly, Bakugou rested on the nerd’s chest.

“Wait, no,” green eyes tensed, waiting for the tremors, they softened, the vibrations tingled gently. “Oh,” he looked at the blonde. “Okay, that - that helped.”

Tracing the nerd’s lips with his finger, he kissed him, “like a fucking band-aid, you just have to get it over with, then it’s better.”

Letting out a soft laugh, he grabbed the blonde’s head, Izuku kissed him, “you were teasing me, I was so crazy.”

“Nerd, it was fucking fantastic” Katsuki licked his mouth, “you were wild, we might have to make this a Christmas tradition.”

“Presents, dinner, stargazing and a crazy fuck session on the couch?” Izuku giggled, he pushed back the blonde’s spikes. “I wonder if I can get that in a special font for our Christmas invitations.”

“Anyone smart enough would come to that party.” Katsuki chuckled, laying his head down on the nerd’s chest. “Should we head up to the house?”

“No, I’m stuck here for a little bit.” The blonde looked up at him questioningly, Izuku pushed at him, “my legs don’t remember they’re attached to me, I can’t move them very well. He tried lifting his legs, I’m not sure I can walk Kacchan, let alone get down the staircase.”

“I’m pulling out now,” the nerd closed his eyes and nodded. Pulling completely out of his ass, Deku gasped, Katsuki stood up and grabbed a blanket from the platform. The air in the room was still fairly cool. Pulling out a cloth and water from the backpack, he patted the nerd. “Turn over hon, I’ll clean you up a little.” The nerd leaned sideways, his legs trembling, he wiggled but could only manage to turn halfway over. Katsuki burst out laughing, “you look like a fucking turtle.”

“Kacchan it’s not funny, my legs don’t work,” he slapped his thigh, “you broke them.”

“Sorry nerd, I break a lot of stuff on you.” He tipped him the rest of the way over. Spreading his cheeks, he wiped him down.

“You do,” Izuku laughed softly, “that’s cold water,” he shivered, looking over his shoulder. “Are you coming back?” He managed to lay back on the couch.

“Yeah, hang on, I’m a mess too.” Cleaning up, Bakugou threw the rag back in his bag. Grabbing the blanket, he laid sideways against the nerd and covered them both, he draped one arm over Deku. “We can stay here for a while,” he kissed his shoulder.

“Thanks, Kacchan.”

“Are you tired?”

“No, today was amazing, I’m not sure if I could even sleep right now.”

“Me either,” Katsuki put his hand on his waist, “can I touch you now?” The nerd nodded, “good,” he ran his hand slowly over his body. “Thank you for an amazing day.”

“It was,” Izuku stretched, they grew quiet, each lost in their own thoughts.

“By the way, I had an idea about all this snow,” Katsuki ran his hand up the nerd’s body, fingers on his chin, he turned his face towards him.

“You did? Are we moving somewhere warmer?” Izuku smiled, he put his hand on the blonde’s cheek.

“I’m finally in my house Deku, I told you I’m not fucking leaving.” Katsuki kissed his hand. “I was thinking of a trip somewhere warm.”

“Oh Kacchan,” green eyes glowed, “that sounds nice!” Izuku turned his body, “where?”

“There’s these little islands down in the Caribbean, you can rent a house, only accessed by water, so you use a boat the whole time.”

“That sounds nice, most of all it sounds warm.”

“What if we went in February? It gets pretty cold here, we could spend a couple of weeks lounging in the sun.”

Staring at his beautiful body, Izuku was already imagining laying on the beach with the blonde, he eyed his chest. “I’m not sure I could handle you half-naked for two weeks and survive.”

“Half-naked?”

“On the beach,” Izuku touched his muscular chest, “I can barely resist you walking around the house in the morning getting ready.”

“Who says I’ll be half-naked?” A grin spread on Katsuki’s face, he pulled the nerd’s fingers into his mouth, sucking. “I did say that we would have our own island, why the fuck would I ever be dressed?”

Green eyes rounded, Izuku blinked, “I can’t, I wouldn’t…” his voice trailed off, he couldn’t get the image of his Kacchan, walking around naked everywhere. His muscular back, tight ass and thick thighs. “Promise me you won’t do that, I'll die.”

“We’ll see if you really die.”

“We’re going?”

“Yep, I booked the tickets, we leave right before valentine’s day, our first one together.” Katsuki lifted the blanket, his gaze on the nerd’s body, “what better way to spend a day for lover’s than exploring this body on our own private island?” He kissed the nerd’s chest, licking his cooling skin.

“Oh,” Izuku laid his hands on the blonde’s head, he closed his eyes, the heat of his tongue tickling his over sensitive flesh. He clenched his teeth, gripping the blonde’s spikes. His cock swelled, “Kacchan,” his voice trailed off as the blonde’s tongue found his nipple.

Running his hand down the nerd’s stomach, he laughed, “you’re hard again.”

“I am.”

“I guess I’m not done spoiling you.”

“You’re not Kacchan,” Izuku pulled up his head, green eyes blazing, “I don’t think you’ll ever be done spoiling me.”

Red eyes sparked, Bakugou cocked a grin, “promise me that nerd.”

[undeadgirlboy]

battle jacket guide for baby punks

battle jackets or vests are really big in the punk scene. they also look cool as fuck. one of my favorite things about them is that each person's is different and represents their own style and interests. there are a few different steps u can follow to make one

step one. acquire the jacket

when making a battle jacket it's best to get one without any stretch to the denim bc the elastic threads in stretchy denkm break down faster than regular denim and when you're sewing things on it you might get a weird puckering effect. thrift stores like goodwill or salvation army are good places to look if you have time, but in my experience they don't have a lot of jean jackets. you can probably find one at walmart in the mens section, or target. if you'd like something with a more modern edge or higher quality denim you can check outlet stores like ross and marshalls. that's where i found mine for around 20 dollars. of course if you have the money you can get a Levi's trucker jacket or somewhere else more expensive. the color of the jacket is up to you. now that you have a base layer you can move on to customization

step two. washing the jacket

one important thing to remember about battle jackets is that they're handwash/no wash so it's best to wash your jacket before you begin. you have no idea who has worn or touched it before now. just throw it in the washing machine on cold and go blast laura jane grace for a little bit. personally i run mine through the dryer but if you'd prefer to air dry make sure you lay it flat because if not it will get stretched out shoulders.

step three. dyeing or painting

this is the part where you can possibly dye or paint your jacket. i have never dyed my jacket, but you can find fabric dye at Walmart and just follow the instructions on the bottle. i decided to spray paint mine because i had some cheap black spray paint and i wanted to know what would happen. if you're going to spray paint your jacket, make sure you do it outside and let it dry thoroughly before bringing it in. i left mine for about 18 hours so that the smell was completely gone. after that you want to turn it inside out and run it through the dryer with a couple bath towels for about 30 minutes to heat set it. spray painting your jacket will make it a bit more stiff. walmart and some craft stores sell spray paint that is made for fabric, but i didn't feel like paying for those so i used what i had on hand. i know those are pretty expensive and the bottles don't have a lot in them. if you only plan to handwash your jacket or don't plan to wash it at all, regular spray paint should work fine for you.

step four. back patch

most battle jackets that i have seen have a larger central patch in the back, with smaller ones on the front and around it. it's not essential to have a back patch but i think it helps to tie the whole jacket together. you can either make a back patch yourself or buy one. the site angryyoungandpoor.com has some back patches for popular bands. some bands also have back patches on their merch stores, or you can make one yourself. i made mine out of an old against me t-shirt. i measured around the design, cut it out, and then sewed it on the back of my jacket. if you want to make your own back patch you can do so in one of several ways that i will cover in just a second

step five. embroidering patches

there are a lot of patches out there that you can buy, but most of the time it's cheaper just to make them yourself. embroidery thread is pretty cheap at walmart, and all you need is sturdy scrap fabric to make something really cool. when you're embroidery a patch it's a good idea to get an embroidery hoop to keep your fabric taut. if you don't like the color of your scrap denim you can layer a different fabric over it. i had some stretchy cotton left over from cropping a t shirt that i layered over denim to help keep it in shape. this also makes it easier when you're sewing your patch onto your jacket. i don't recommend embroidering directly onto your jacket because it's harder to manage and if you decide you don't like how it looks and you rip it out you're left with weird holes that don't look good. it's all up to you but i wouldn't recommend it.

step six. painting patches

if you'd rather just paint your patches, you can always use fabric paint or fabric pens. it's best to avoid using acrylic paint because it wears off and cracks, but i have heard you can prevent that by mixing fabric medium into it. i have painted a few patches with acrylic paint but i used a layer of mod podge over the top to protect it. acrylic painted patches CANNOT go through the washing machine.

if you'd like to copy a particular logo or image with paint and you're not good with freehand you can make a stencil for it. the way i make stencils is by printing out my design and then covering the paper front and back with masking tape. once I've done that, i use an exacto knife to cut out the lines of my design and then i'm ready to go. you can use spray paint with a stencil or you can sponge fabric paint onto the design. if you choose to use spray paint make sure you have fabric paint in that color so you can fix up any problems with the design when you're done.

step seven. attaching your patches.

sewing is one of the most tedious parts of making a battle jacket. if you don't know how to sew you can google it. a lot of people use white embroidery floss or dental floss and whip stitch around their patch. if you're attaching an iron on patch that you bought, you should stitch around it too to secure it. make sure you're using a thimble if you're going over seams of the jacket, or sewing on an iron-on patch. at first it might seem fine, if a little time consuming, but days of finger pain isn't worth it. i prefer to pin my patches before sewing them, but you do you. for larger patches i first attach it with a thread that matches the fabric before using a contrasting whip stitch. that just makes things easier for me but it's not mandatory.

step eight. adding metal

spikes, studs and safety pins are a staple of punk clothing. safety pins are easy because you can get them anywhere and just put them anywhere. i got a bunch of varying sizes from walmart and i put them on everything. just play around and see what you like. you can find studs at your local craft store, probably in the leather working section. you just have to poke two holes in the fabric, push the prongs on your stud through, and then bend them back to secure it. you can also get studs online if you need to. i bought a couple packs of screw back spikes a little while ago, and i have since been adding those to a lot of my clothing. spikes are simple to add too. you poke a hole in the fabric, push the screw through, and then screw on the spike. some people recommend adding a dot of super glue in between the spike and screw to secure it, but personally I haven't needed to do that.

another way to add metal to your jacket is with chains. you can sew them on all the day down, or leave them hanging. it just depends on what you want to do. you can get short chains from walmart, or big rolls of chain from craft stores.

step nine. finish up

that's honestly about it. any of the information here can be applied to vests too. if your jacket is really crusty and you don't want it on your skin you can always wear a hoodie underneath, especially when it's cold. battle jackets can be worn with basically anything. mine has always been my go-to jacket for any occasion. make sure it actually represents your political beliefs and bands you listen to. get ready for people to look at you weird in the grocery store. if anyone has anything to add feel free to reblog, and if you have questions my ask box is open. you can always submit a photo of your jacket to my blog because i love seeing other people's diy stuff. wear a mask, stay safe, and fuck the pigs <3

[ashbrea381writings]

Red-Eye to Destiny: Chapter 2, The Gala

Mari and Luka texted Damian as soon as they made it back to the house just outside of town. Upon receiving the return message, they promptly fell into bed and slept soundly until late into the morning. Lazily getting dressed for the day, the pair started unpacking their clothes, setting up for laundry and airing out coats that didn’t need washing but definitely needed some care. Going into her design studio, Mari checked on her dress that she’d completed before they left for the last few concerts before their holiday break. “Luka, why does your dad want us to go to this thing again?” Mari sighed, hanging the dress up to check for any last-second alterations she might want to make.

“It’s good networking. He’s hung out with the organizers a bunch and wanted us to meet them, plus tons of people are gonna be there. He said that one of the organizers has a bunch of sons who usually cause some scene or another so it’s usually pretty funny.” Luka walked into the room and rested his chin on top of her head. “Besides, it’ll be a chance to show off your skills to some people who might want to commission something.” “I suppose.” Mari leaned back into Luka for a moment before pulling away to pull out his suit. Mari had made Luka a custom Leather Tuxedo jacket with teal trim on the cuffs and lapels, a matching teal lining and a few silver studs on the collar. His pants were simple charcoal grey with teal lining on the pockets, and subtle teal stitchwork around the cuffs and waistband. His shirt was simple black with a teal pocket square and everything. “I’m still so impressed by you, Melody.” Luka sighed, pouring love into every word through their bond. Mari just giggled in response and ran her fingers over the seams in both his suit and her dress. The dress itself was a strapless, deep burgundy dress with black cherry blossoms embroidered and beaded in a sweeping shape from the hem to the bodice of the dress where it spread out to cover most of the bust in beautiful, 3d flowers made from thread and beads. A small bit of lace rose above the bodice and, when worn, would drape itself modestly over the top of the bust making the sweetheart neckline appear more conservative than it was. The skirt itself was more or less simple, full with the aforementioned flowers down the front in a curve before meeting the black velvet hem of the skirt. Secreted around the skirts where only Mari knew the openings, were several Kwami-sized pockets. “What does everyone think?” Mari asked the room, and all of the Kwami’s looked it over, giggling with delight over the pockets and giving their approval. “We won’t be able to take everyone, but other than Tikki and Sass, who wants to come with us?” Surprising Marinette and Luka, Plagg moved forward. “I know he can’t really wield me since we don’t mesh well, but do you think you could take the ring with you? I think I’m supposed to go.” “What do you mean Plagg? You haven’t wanted to be active other than saying hello and eating some camembert since Adrien decided he needed a break away from all this?” Marinette asked, raising an eyebrow at the Kwami. “Something is different. In you two, especially scales over there.” Plaggs eyes narrowed at Luka. “I think my kitten is in this city, and you two have met him.” Luka and Marinette grinned at each other before confusion took over their faces again. “But what does that have to do with the gala?” “I can do some recon if I’m there.” “Alright then, that’s one for me.” Mari laughed and put a little clip with a black cat on the end on the edge of one of the pockets. “There are 5 in total not counting Tikki, and Luka can only carry another two besides Sass.” In the end, it was decided that Mari would have Plagg, Mullo, Trixx, Pollen and Nooroo in addition to Tikki. Luka ended up with Wayzz, Duusu and Sass of course. The others weren’t interested in going to the party and would rather hang out in the box or around the house.

***

Damian sighed and ducked around a column to get a moment to himself cursing the nosy people at the party in various languages. In his brief moment to himself, he began to notice that he wasn’t just feeling his own annoyance. Frowning in concentration, he turned to scan the ballroom, spotting them near the stage, talking to Jagged Stone of all people. He focused on them, and tried to be heard by just them across the ballroom. ‘I didn’t know you would be here.’ Both Parisians jolted, and looked around, spotting him in his little hiding spot. ‘Is there a reason you’re hiding instead of saying hello?’ Damian could hear the amusement in Lukas' voice. Both of his soulmates looked away and just quietly stepped away from Jagged, making it look like they were talking amongst themselves. ‘Yes, people are too nosy for their own good and they will ask more questions than I am prepared to answer.’ ‘Damian, we owe nobody an explanation for saying hello.’ Marinette chided gently. ‘Besides, Luka and I have mastered the art of getting people to leave us alone with just a look.’ ‘If you say so. Give me a moment.’ Damian straightened his jacket and made it seem like he’d been adjusting his wardrobe as he left the pillar. “There you are, I wanted to introduce you to someone.” Damian held back a grimace and turned to his Father. “Those camping trips I take once and a while? This is the man I go with.” Incidentally, the person Bruce was pointing to was Jagged himself. “Hell of a time getting away for both of us, but SO worth the quiet.” Jagged grinned and held out his hand. “By camping, Brucie means we go to my cabin in the mountains and sit around the fire pit complaining about life. Pleasure to meet you at last, I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” “Thank you sir, it’s nice to meet you.” Damian’s smile in return was a bit forced, but thankfully Mari and Luka came to the rescue. “Someone interesting, Jagged?” Marinette asked as they walked over. ‘How much do you want us to say, Damian?’ Marinette added silently, her eyes concerned over how stiff he was and how tightly he was holding his emotions. Damian relaxed slightly, his fake smile relaxing into something a little more neutral but real. ‘I am alright. I will explain to the others later, but perhaps if we can get a quiet moment with my Father?’ Both Luka and Marinette raised an eyebrow at the fact that he’d left out that he was a Wayne before but took it in stride. With little more than a glance between them, Luka put a gentle hand on Jaggeds arm, and pulled the man away, asking him a couple questions about the tour they’d just finished. The man was bewildered, but Luka and Marinette planned things behind his back all the time when they felt it necessary, so he didn’t do more than give Damian and Marinette a questioning look as he was led away. “That was.” Damian commented out loud, shaking his head. “Surprisingly easy for you two.” Marinette laughed, “We’d been working together before we knew, so it took little time to figure it out. Now, Luka pulled Jagged away so the three of us could have a private word.” She turned to Bruce, glancing around for listening ears. “We happened to be seated on the plane next to Damian and, well.” She gestured between them. “I’m afraid you will have to elaborate, Ms. Dupain Cheng.” Bruce narrowed his eyes at the two of them, his face visibly confused. “What she is referring to, Father, is that they are apparently my bonded.” Damian explained. “Both of them.” He added after a moment’s silence. ‘You will explain the work you did together?’ He asked Marinette silently. ‘Soon enough, it’s a rather long story.’ Marinette’s face didn’t even change when she answered, and she started talking to Bruce over the end of her own sentence. “Luka and I had known each other for years before we found out our bond, and we’d always known that there was supposed to be a third for us. However, as we were in Paris, and Damian was apparently here, that obviously made it so that we didn’t meet until on the airplane here.” “And how did you figure it out? Not that I’m not happy for you three, but I know my son, and he tends to be reluctant to even speak to strangers.” Bruce was fishing, and Damian knew it. Marinette seemed to be able to tell too, as she was unphased by his question. “Easy, he was exhausted and fell asleep on the plane leaning on Luka. When Luka needed to move and was panicking because he didn’t want to wake up Damian, he was obviously exhausted and seemed comfortable where he was, Damian responded to his silent monologue about the situation and Damian responded in kind.” Marinette giggled, mentally nudging him when she made an edit to preserve his dignity. ‘Thank you for not going into detail.’ Damian rolled his eyes and smirked. “I had thought I’d talked to him out loud, and promptly fell back to sleep, when they woke me again shortly before the flight was over, and informed me that I had not -in fact- spoken out loud.” He then surprised both his father and himself by reaching over to put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder. “They were kind enough to give me time to process and after I gave them my phone number, texted me only to give me theirs and let me process on my own after that.” “To be fair, we passed out and slept till almost noon after we texted you, so it wasn’t restraint on our parts, just that we were too tired to stay up anymore. Especially since we didn’t sleep on the plane.” Marinette laughed dryly. “That’s an eight hour flight.” Bruce commented in shock. “You two were awake the whole time?” “Well yes, we hadn’t been up all that long anyway, and with Damian sleeping against Luka, he wasn’t sure if Damian would be offended if he woke up to a sleeping man holding him. Luka’s a cuddler and even if Damian started it he didn’t want to do anything that would make him uncomfortable.” Marinette shrugged. “If he was uncomfortable, why did he not simply move me to not be leaning on him anymore?” Damian asked, having realized that the only time he’d been moved was when Luka got up for the bathroom. “One, the only discomfort he had was not something that moving you would have solved, and two, we did.” She sighed, shrugging. “Every time he shifted you to be sitting upright, you just grabbed onto his arm and put your head back on his shoulder. And when he had to get up he tried a little harder and you got grumpy, but when he sat back down you were right there again. You were practically in his lap.” “And how many people saw this?” Damian asked with an internal groan. “If it gets put on the internet, I will never hear the end of it from the heathens.” “I think Luka and I were the only ones to notice, most everyone else was asleep.” Marinette reassured him. ‘I do have a couple photos and plan on one of them being your profile pic on my phone later.’ This was added as a teasing whisper in his mind and he internally groaned again. Luka broke into the conversation, ‘You have two guys inbound, tall, one of them is slender but muscled, the other slightly shorter and stocky.’ He added a look at where they were and what they looked at. “Grayson, Todd, what did you want?” Damian asked dryly as soon as they stepped close enough for him to hear their footsteps. “How did you do that, Demon Spawn?” Todd demanded as all three people turned to face the men who’d walked up. Marinette stiffened at the nickname, obviously offended at the nickname. ‘It’s alright, he says it because he cares.’ Damian reassured her, sending soothing emotions to her and Luka who’d been walking over as this was said. “I don’t feel like answering that question right now, Todd, but why did you come over here, this was a private conversation.” “Why did you and B need a private word with Jagged’s niece?” Grayson asked, frowning and looking between Bruce and Damian like he could figure out their secret. “That’s a conversation for home, Dick.” Bruce sighed. “And that’s when we decide to tell you, but it’s just something we needed to talk about before moving forward.” He glanced at Luka over Marinette’s shoulder, nodding at him to acknowledge that he’d walked back up. “Can you please not call her his niece? It’s rather awkward at this point.” Luka commented, putting his arms around Marinette’s waist. “She’s my soulmate, he’s my dad, it’s weird, you know?” That caught everyone’s attention, including Damian. “Wait, you’re Jagged’s son?” Bruce sputtered, his face astounded. “The way he talked about you, I figured you were like ten. Not an adult that was touring with him. He also didn’t introduce you as his son.” “I know, I didn’t grow up with him. My mom raised me and my sister, I didn’t really have any contact with him until I was a teenager.” Luka shrugged, “Doesn’t make it any less weird when he calls my soulmate his niece.” “Excuse you, I claimed her before you two even met.” Jagged laughed loudly, causing half the ballroom to look to see who was being so loud. “I think that gives me the right to keep calling her that.” “It’s still weird.” Luka shot back, shaking his head and leaning into Marinette’s hair. ‘This is why I pulled him away, he’s so loud about everything that the whole ballroom would know if he’d been part of it. You said you’d get made fun of if certain people found out.’ Damian smirked, looking down slightly, ‘Thank you, Luka.’ “Anyway, Luka, Marinette, these are two of my other sons, Jagged I’m sure you remember Dick and Jason?” Bruce pointed to each one in turn. “Wait, why does Damian call them by other names then?” Marinette wrinkled her nose a bit, trying to figure it out. “Damian… Has his own way of doing things. I’m surprised he doesn’t call you two by your last names.” Bruce admitted. “We never told him them.” Luka shrugged calmly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Okay, I’m confused, how do you all know Damian?” Dick asked, crossing his arms as Tim came to investigate what was going on. “For the love of… Short answer, they met on the plane here, the rest of it we will talk about at a later time and place, when Damian wants to share. That is the end of it, go back to the party.” Bruce grunted at the boys, glaring at them in annoyance while keeping the rest of his face in a neutral expression that he’d practiced for years. “Alright, alright, we’re going.” Jason threw up his hands and grumbled about people being touchy as he walked away. “The one day he’s not in a grumpy mood he has to irritate the rest of us.” Damian clicked his tongue in irritation and shook his head as Dick and Tim also drifted away with shrugs and curious looks thrown at the Parisians. “Well, why don’t you guys enjoy the party, we can talk soon. After I’ve had a chance to wrangle the whole family into not bothering the heck out of Damian over everything.” Bruce gave a small, slightly sarcastic smile and then softened. “Glad things are good though. I’m happy for you.” He patted Damian on the shoulder and walked away to join Jagged who was now talking with a few women by the refreshment table. “So… I take it he approves?” Marinette asked. “Yeah, I think he does.” Damian had the urge to hug his soulmates, but he contented himself with sending as much warmth and happiness to them through the bond as he could.

[rokutouxei]

dessert

ikemen vampire: temptation in the dark theo van gogh/mc | E | 1775 | [ao3 in bio]

(doggy, cowgirl, and fingering. mc is named yna. fic is inspired by todrick hall’s song eleven.)

Theo is not a patient man.

He is persistent, sure, and he is stubborn, but when there is something he wants he wants it as soon as possible, he wants it tangible, and sometimes that means a closed deal or a finished painting or pancakes with syrup at his favorite diner or—

Well, you.

It’s not that Theo isn’t good at the waiting game—he is actually pretty good at it if he hasn’t been riled up for quite a bit.

Too bad he has. He’s been out of town for two full weeks on a business trip; one he tried to haggle to be a little shorter, to little avail. And sure, today his meetings ended early, so he arrived a day earlier than planned, but now it’s just nine in the evening, you’ve just started your overtime shift, set to run for another two hours.

Unless he can talk you out of it.

He twirls some of the diner’s signature spaghetti onto his fork, a little bored, glancing over at you from across the counter, thinking of all he would rather be doing to you right now. Underneath him, pressing you against your shared bed, in the home he’d been longing to return to, the sheets smelling like your usual shampoo, and just the two of you.

Instead, he is competing for your attention with the other seven customers at the diner, three teenagers, and four sloppy half-drunk old men leering at you, slurring your name, in the middle of a dinner hour that seems to never want to end.

“Enjoying your food?”

He snaps out of his reverie to look up at you. In your silly little diner apron with little embroidered flowers, the bright baby blue of the dress below. Your brows damp just a little with sweat, your cheeks flushed. Kitchen duty means the workspace is a little hotter than the rest of the diner. Usually, he doesn’t mind, but he hasn’t had you for weeks and the color of your skin is reminding him of what you look like in the afterglow. Right now, he’d rather no one else see you in this state.

So when he turns to you, there is a fire in his eyes.

“I might want dessert,” he says, tone dripping thick with meaning. It’s a good thing he’s far enough away from the other booths because anyone else who would have heard that would have figured out what it actually meant.

But you are used to his antics, knowing a little bit of teasing will spice up your little game. “You should take it home,” you offer, leaning towards him until you’re a breath too close for having a respectable distance from a customer. His breath faint against your cheek. It’s not like your boss doesn’t know who he is, but there’s a thrill about trying to comply to that despite the building heat.

His voice dips an octave too low for casual when he says, “If it’s ready then,” and you smile at him before hurrying off to the back, taking off your apron as you excuse yourself out of your originally-planned overtime.

Thank god Theo has the self-control of a saint, otherwise, he would have been persuaded by the look in your eye, that temptation to just jump at each other every time you passed a respectably sturdy flat surface. The drive home seems way too long. And the path to your shared room has too many doors. It’s a good thing the two of you can maneuver in the darkness, even if your mouths are against each other, craving to be in each other’s space as close as possible after having been torn apart for what seemed like forever. When the door to your bedroom finally shuts, Theo lifts you into his arms, to rather ungracefully plop you onto the bed.

You laugh at him for fumbling as he’s hurrying to undo the complicated layers of his full office suit.

It makes him growl. “I really should have fucked you in the diner bathroom.”

“Sure, but,” you say, “maybe we can just make the extra wait worth it.”

That’s it . Theo’s had enough of talking. He throws off his jacket and his vest to an unknown side of the room, leaning over you to press a hot kiss into your waiting mouth. He’s tongue and teeth and hungry and it suddenly hits you just how much you’ve missed him. Your hands fly to his chest as you scramble to undo the too-many buttons of his shirt, craving skin, craving heat. His hands are busy, tracing the curves of your stomach and your waist until it dips under the hem of your dress, thumbing along the garter of your underwear which already feels way too constricting.

Theo wants his dessert.

His hands slip underneath the already damp-fabric into the warmth of your folds, sliding easily with the wetness already pooled there. His moves are precise and practiced, each little flick and graze mastered to get the best reactions out of you. He’s got you memorized. With his shirt already hanging open, your hands fly to your mouth in an attempt to hush the noise that rises up your throat when his fingers begin to pump inside.

But his other hand is faster.

Holding your wrists together so you can’t thrash, can’t cover your mouth.

“Let me hear you,” he begs.

And it’s not like you really had much of a choice about it, when the whimpers finally come out as his fingers delve even deeper, grazing against sensitive spots you couldn’t reach on your own in the past two weeks you’ve been craving his touch. You buck against his waiting palm chasing release relentlessly, clit grazing against his calloused skin, “Theo, Theo, Theo—"

When the crash comes you reach out toward him, curling around the warmth of his embrace.

You pout when he laughs at you coming back to the surface, but you burn deep red when his hand comes up from underneath you, slick and sticky. He traces his digits carefully with his tongue, making sure not a bit is wasted.

“Sweet as ever.”

“My stupid best customer—” you begin, the insult with no sharpness, “Come here, let me take care of you.”

You flip him over to his back as you climb over him, hips hovering over his. Your hands graze his hipbones ever so lightly as you’re unbuttoning his slacks, and he jolts upward toward your touch, desperate. You pull his bottoms hurriedly, him kicking the rest of it off without a care as you graze your wetness over his already hard cock, red and ready. He groans.

“ Yna, ” he begs, hands steady on your hips. “Please.”

You slip your hands in between the both of you and gently guide him inside of you, theatrically slow as you take him inch by inch, refusing to break eye contact as you go down. His jaw is set and he’s grinding his teeth until you take him all the way to the hilt.

You grind your hips shallowly against his, enjoying the weight of him. “Missed you,” you tease, hands on his chest. His fingers dig little bruises into your hips.

“Missed you so much,” he mirrors, and you reward his honesty by giving him what he wants. Lifting up and down with your thighs and calves, making sure to keep his view clear as you press your arms down for support. Making sure he can watch his hardness disappear into the heat of you, getting him as dizzy with want as you are. Your name is a prayer on his lips as the both of you find that rhythm, a good speed for him, and the right depth for you; for the most part, you think you’re in control until his fingers sneak circles in between you, sending you shuddering as another orgasm knocks the wind out of you.

You collapse forward toward him, your walls pulsing hot against his cock; you swallow the hiss he makes with a kiss like asking for forgiveness. Theo isn’t having any of it though, biting your lower lip with purpose as he flips the both of you again; and towering over you, his stare simmering with lust, his bangs framing his handsome face—

Never mind that you’re going to be sore tomorrow when he’s looking at you with eyes like that.

“One more,” he snarls, half a plea and half an order, as he helps you up with his hand on the small of your back. You get up carefully and he pushes against your side, urging you turn around ass-up. You pull a pillow on the side of the bed and adjust accordingly; he pushes your legs apart just a little before you feel him enter you, the heat of him throbbing hotly inside.

Theo is patient when it counts, but when he’s gone past his limit, there is no going back. His pace is unforgiving, drilling into you at a speed that makes you so dizzy you don’t know if it’s from the pleasure or just the movement. Maybe both. He’s holding you up, bracing you against him with his arm hooked underneath your torso so you’re flush against his chest as if he can’t stand being even an inch away from you. His breath is tantalizingly hot against your shoulder. You can feel the graze of his fang against the sensitive flesh.

You know he is close when he presses a kiss onto your shoulder, says “I love you” like it’s the same thing as I’m cumming and you’ve barely said I love you back, panting, when the syllables of your name spill out of his mouth, in between a chain of fuck, fuck, fuck, as he finally releases on a deep grumbling moan, warm inside of you.

God, you’ve missed him so much.

The two of you stay still for a moment until he pulls out, and you collapse onto the bed hot and sticky but feeling so, so sweet. You’re tired and you’d rather just go to sleep, but you’ll have to change the sheets, and to save your muscles from a week of pain, a good hot bath too.

…Maybe you can ask Theo if he wants to join you.

For now, you scooch closer to Theo until you’ve tucked yourself under his chin, saying “Welcome home,” as he instinctively presses a kiss against your temple, also wanting to cuddle with you for just a moment longer.

He smiles into your hair. The wait was worth it. With you, it is always worth it.

“Glad to be.”

[allvre]

dining room - harry styles x reader

a/n: i wrote this one night listening to his songs and i don’t think it’s too bad so i thought i’d share. i know it’s different from my original content but i’m multi-fandom for a reason.

request: nope

summary: you work at an old vintage themed diner in a tiny town and one late night that you’re working, a handsome man walks in, his name is harry.

warnings: mentions of alc, other than that nothin that i can think of :) kinda fluffy

(not my gif)

     I woke up to the sound of the loud beeping of my alarm blaring in my ears turning it off immediately, the sound was the most obnoxious thing you could ever hear. It was time for me to get ready to work at a vintage diner in the small exquisite town I live in. I've been working there since I was a teenager, I was never able to afford to get into college to live out my dream of music, singing is my passion.

     I finally decided to hop out of bed and put on my work attire, white polo, black dress pants, and black shoes, quite basic if you ask me. I throw my hair in a messy bun, grab my keys and walk down the street to the diner. It was about 6:58pm, two minutes before I had to clock in for the 3 hour shift I was about to work. Shifts were hard to come by, there are so many other waitresses here making it more difficult for me to earn money on my own.

    I walk to the room behind the counter and through the kitchen to get to what's known as the back room to grab my red apron labeled with the diners name on it, ‘la’rose’ and wrapped it around my neck clocking in shortly after. I made my way to the counter to start helping the two customers who were sitting there when I walked in, one was an older gentleman who was finishing a meal presumably after work since he had his name embroidered on his shirt.

———————————————————————————————————

     It’s now past 11 and there aren't any customers in the diner until one young man walks in almost tripping over his own feet with a smirk on his face, he sits in a booth in the furthest part of the diner planting his face in his hands, seeming stressed and slightly intoxicated. I make my way over, I get a better look at his face and he’s actually quite handsome, slightly curly brown hair, plump lips, and small stubble on his jaw and chin. “Hello sir, may I get you anything?” I ask politely, holding the small notebook and pen ready to jot down what he says “I’ll just take a coffee, thank you-” he says squinting at my name tag, “y/n, that’s a beautiful name” he slightly smiles resting ing his chin on the palms of his hands. “Thank you” I smile “I'll bring that coffee right to you okay?” he nods and I go pour him a cup of coffee and bring it back to the man placing it gently onto the table in front of him, he pours the small cups of creamer and sugar into it instantly.

     “Why don't you join me y/n” he points to the other side of the booth in front of him, I hesitate before sitting down in that very spot. I wouldn’t have done so if I knew that people wouldn't be coming in anymore. “So, what’s your name? You know mine but I don't know yours” I ask the gentleman “the name’s Harry” he sips on his coffee “what brings you in here this late at night?” I ask planting my chin in my palms repeating his actions from before. “Got drunk to forget but I forgot to get a driver so I walked here. What's a pretty lady like you working at a place like this?” he questions furrowing his eyebrows “there’s no other place that’ll hire me” I reply looking down embarrassed he picks my chin up with his index finger “no need to be embarrassed darling, I may be slightly drunk but I can read people like the back of my head” he chuckles to himself taking another sip from his coffee.

    We continued small talk for a while before we started asking more deeper questions about one another and enjoying each other's company. “Ya live by yourself?” he asks “yeah. It sucks being so lonely, I don't really have anyone” my mood slowly starts to drop, the one person I had was a boyfriend who cheated on me and packed all his shit and moved in with her about a year ago, i’m over him but i still dread having the whole experience and memory. “I know the feeling all too well.” he gets the same sad expression on his face that i have smeared across my own.

     “Well, i’m going to assume the diner is closing in a couple minutes so maybe I can give you some company, only if you'd like of course” he smiles cheekily at me “I would like that a lot, let me just clean up and then we can go yeah?” I stand up and give him a reassuring smile. I begin wiping down the counter and other booths as we continue talking. Once I'm done with all that I put my apron in the back and grab my keys and turn the lights off “you coming Harry?” He then gets up and follows me to the front door, we exit and I lock the door and we walk back to my place. Even though he somewhat sobered up we still held hands the whole walk there to make sure he still had balance, you can say it was also an excuse for us to do so. There was definitely chemistry between us already, I could feel it and I knew he could to undoubtedly.

     He plops down on my bed the minute we got inside my small apartment sighing from relief “i’m going to change out of my work clothes, i feel and look quite disgusting in it” I chuckle to myself him not finding it very funny “I still think you look beautiful” he says sliding his jacket and shirt off “do you mind if I sleep in my boxers? I can’t stand wearing jeans to bed” he asks nervously “go for it, i’m the same way” I smile and walk towards the bathroom but before I enter I feel a piece of cloth thrown at me, I pick it up and notice it’s the shirt he had been wearing “i think you'd look even better in that love” he smiles causing me to blush and I change into his shirt and nothing else, besides underwear of course. I walk out and notice he's already curled up under the blanket, I join him and he immediately pulls me into his embrace “I hope this is okay” he says and i notice his voice got deeper and more raspy, he was tired, his eyes were already closed “i’m okay with it harry” I smile “goodnight darling” “goodnight” I shine him a small smile before he shuts his eyes and I shut mine.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it :) but like always if you want a second part i’m more than welcome to write one

[peachyteabuck]

under cover of darkness

summary: a 24-hour convenience store, the night shift, and the man who gets you through day. 

a commission for @lovelycarose​

pairing: eliot spencer x reader

words: 5510

trigger warnings: mentions of a break-in with canon-level violence, fluff, mentions of an unspecified chronic pain disorder

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

There are some good things about the night shift. It’s easier to balance classes and your precarious mental health, plus the pay wasn’t terrible – a few extra bucks per hour were thrown your way after eleven and before five.

So you kept with it, one earbud in so you could listen to music while the hours ticked by at a pace so slow it felt like some supervillain had not only completely frozen time – but was also determined to thaw is at room temperature.

That was another thing about the night shift – the customers. It was mostly regulars, or tourists who forgot something at home but didn’t want to spend airport prices for a travel sized container of deodorant. None of them really stick out, none interesting enough to stick in your brain for long as you mindlessly pack their various items into white plastic bags.

That is, until he starts coming in. Tall and impossible big – it’s hard not to marvel at him as if he was a breathtaking skyscraper, like you had never seen something so magnificent. His flowing dark brown hair, his tight jeans…it’s all nearly too much for eleven-at-night-you. (Also for “I haven’t had sex in so long and I think I’ve eroded the ridges on my vibrator from using it so often and holy shit I would do anything to have that man under/above me” you, a you only made stronger and more desperate by how late it was and tired you were.)

He walks around with the confidence not often seen in newcomers, your eye used to college students too drunk to stand up perfectly straight. You’re used to people stumbling around with eyes-half closed, rubbing their temples as the bright white lights feel like cheese graters shaped like ice picks against their already hurting brains. You’re used to watching them stumble around, using some Neolithic instinct to find the cool fridges where they’ll rest their faces against the glass for an oddly long amount of time before opening it up to grab as many Gatorades as they could hold before attempting to grab one or two (or five) frozen pizzas, never able to access the higher order thinking necessary to understand that maybe grabbing one of the baskets by the entrance is important.

Or, on the other end of the spectrum you’ve come to know as normal: soccer moms searching for alcohol for their husband’s post-game barbecue. Moms with large dark circles under their eyes who probably read (and watched) the Fifty Shades movie unironically but still feels weird when their husbands suggest having sex in any position besides missionary with the lights off. Moms who went to college just to meet some mediocre-looking frat boy who votes Republican just because his father did and thinks thirty seconds of oral is enough foreplay.

They don’t spend as much time in the store as the drunk/high students, but it’s still just as entertaining watching them grab the food and drink – but not before lingering in the makeup aisle, staring at bold shades of red and waterproof mascara and the bright hair dye whose advertisements have terribly applied photoshop.

No matter the type – no matter the customer – they were nothing like the man who stood on the other side of the store, staring intently at your soft drink selection. None of them were beefy men with crumpled grocery lists, permanently furrowed brows, and the most beautiful five o’clock shadow you’ve ever seen. None of them wear thick black work boots that make not a single sound as they walk around the store, none of them wear jeans that are so criminally tight around a perfect ass.

Not even a perfect ass – the perfect ass. It’s symmetrical, looking as if it was drawn by a pin-up artist in the 50’s whose specialty involves drawing super buff men in poses meant for petite, slender women with perfect curves. As he walks you half expect sparks to form on his backside as if you were in some kind of Anime, or for each individual cheek to bounce up and down on their own asynchronous accord. Normally you’d be terrified of being caught staring – of him turning around and catching your eye and mocking someone like you for having the nerve to be attracted to him.

But that doesn’t happen, because for once in your life the universe is kind to you. For once in your life you’re allowed to listen to music and stare dreamily at the hot guy who checks the ingredients on every snack dip option you have available before choosing three different ones with a small, disappointed huff.

You watch him with that same silent intensity as he fills the bright red carrier he grabbed without a sound when he first strutted in, the packaging of the items crinkling being the only way to track his location when he steps out of your eyeline. If your boss wasn’t the one on security cameras you’d be angling all of them to follow him around the store, your eyes hungry for another look at him at whatever angle and whichever quality you could get. You feel like a fangirl obsessed with some boyband, your heart rate determined by the amount of the mountain of a man you can see between displays of holiday-themed candy and cheap make up.

You’re not sure how long it is before he’s approaching your counter (time appears to have lost all meaning the second he stepped into the store), but whether it had been five minutes or five years, he still takes your breath away. As he steps closer you realize he’s fucking massive – something your grandmother (a wonderful woman, but one lacking when social situations called for, among other things, any kind of brain-to-mouth filter) would call a “shit brickhouse.” He doesn’t even need one of the baskets as he prowls the aisles – scanning every item like a lion watches the Sahara through tall grass. It’s hard to look away, to go back to the book you’ve been trying to read the same page from since long before the little automated bell above the door had announced the man’s arrival – but the only distraction before had been the tiny, exhausted voice in the back of your mind that was shaming at you for not sleeping before the night’s shift.

Now, though, the voice has quieted to allow your tired eyes to follow him, pupils tracing along every inch of him.

The man checks out without a word; shaking his head when you ask if he has a rewards card and paying in cash. When you give him $7.26 in change, your hands touch for a brief moment and you nearly stop breathing – lungs suddenly void of their capacity to hold air as sparks fly from his callous fingertips to the bottom of your spine. He pulls away, eventually, because he has to – depositing the totality of the meager amount of money you’d just handed him into the donation box plastered with facts about victims of domestic violence right next to your register.

The box is made of an opaque deep purple plastic, the coins making a loud clink sound as they crash into the near-empty container. The man stares at it for a moment, swallowing an apparent lump in his throat as his eyes go blank for a fraction of a second before he digs into his pockets and fishes out a thick wad of perfectly folded five dollar bills before stuffing them into the hastily cut slot at the top.

Neither of you say anything as he does so, you too stunned by his generosity and him too occupied with making sure he had no more money hidden in his pockets to try and muster some vague capacity for speech. Still, as he turns and leaves, you cough to clear your throat and call out a loud and slightly hoarse “thank you!” to which he just turns and gives you a small smile in return.

The moment between the pair of you is fleeting but still makes your heart beat rapidly in your chest, swelling until your lungs feel tight against your ribs as you struggle to breathe. Fuck, you think. You haven’t felt like this since middle school when Jamie told you that your Katniss braid was adorable and you followed him around for two weeks until he agreed to take you on a “date” during lunch. You don’t even know this man’s name and you’re fawning over him as if you have another girlhood crush.

God, you need to learn his name.

Luckily, you find out the next time that his name is Eliot, even though the name embroidered in red above the right pocket of his dirtied coveralls says “Evan” in a fancy looped script (whatever, you don’t question it. You regularly wore your roommate’s sweatshirt from her alma mater even though you didn’t attend the university – must be the same thing, right?). That time all he buys is hair ties and chapstick – lots of hair ties and chapstick, just another thing you don’t question – but stays to talk with you about the Robert Frost poem you were annotating.

“Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening?” he reads aloud, smiling a little as he does so. “Is that for class, or…”

“It’s for class, but I’m liking it a lot more than the other obligatory readings for my degree,” you tell him a small laugh. “Do you enjoy poetry?”

Eliot shrugs as he grabs the full bags. “Oh, ya know. Just the occasional piece. You have a good day now.”

You smile as he walks toward the exit, butterflies pounding in your stomach once more. “You too!”

God, you think as he disappears from eyeshot. You’ve got it bad, girl.

He comes in again, irregular in each way except for the fact he arrives. Sometimes he’s clean cut, standing straight as he takes his sweet time wandering the store – as if he has nowhere to be, no need to rush around.

On those days, he buys a lot of things. Duct tape, orange soda, hair ties, sour candy in all shapes and colors. He makes conversation, asking about the book you’re reading or what you’re listening to, asking about your classes when you wear a jacket embroidered with your university’s logo on the front. On those days, he waits a little – even when all his items are bagged and there’s no real reason for him to stay – picking up on anything that would give him another thread of conversation to pull at.

“Something new?” he asks when you dogear one of the first few pages of a poetry book your friend had lent you.

“Yup!” you perk up just at the sight of him, cheery now more than you had been the entirety of the day now that he’s arrived. “Told a friend of mine about the assignment I was working on the last time you were here, and she shoved this anthology into my hands.”

You like those days – you look forward to them each time you step through the large door marked “EMPLOYEES ONLY” in large white letters that stand out against the incredibly depressing brown that’s been peeling since the day you interviewed here, spots covered sparsely by the maintenance guy who you’ve never seen. Those days are good, fun – they make you smile hours after he leaves and occupy your thoughts until you go to bed, sometimes even making it into the margins of your notebook when you’re zoning out in class.

Sometimes, though, he comes in nearly limping – at least one eye blackened and dark navy baseball cap pulled as far down his forehead as he can.

It scared you the first time, watching as he grunted with each step, every item he grabs from the shelves seeming like it pained him, his face scrunching into a wince each time he raises an arm above his ribs. You checked his items (bandages, ice packs, gauze, antifungal cream, a few first aid kits) with bated breath, terrified of making his mood worse.

It isn’t until you tell him the total, until you finally look up from your hands – that you finally look him in the eyes. They’re always warm like plate of freshly baked macaroni and cheese (and always make you feel just as gooey), but now appear to be clouded with a type of pain you can’t pin down. He doesn’t say much – or anything – as you bag his items, placing them gingerly into the paper bag as if it was an extension of him.

You try to keep a happy face throughout the entire ordeal, not wanting to push him in case what happened was particularly bad. Eliot gives you a similarly small, but earnest one in return – even if he barely hides the wince in his side as he does so.

But that was the first time things seemed a little off – your first time, specifically – and the others get easier as time passes.

At first, “easier” meant a return to days similar to the good ones – telling him things about your day as you ring up all his first-aid related items. He doesn’t respond with as much enthusiasm, doesn’t have the same witty banter – but gives you a small smile that you recognize nonetheless. But then, as the weeks bleed into months, you learn how to handle both the terrible days, the bad days, and the good days all the same.

It’s on one of the good days that he buys tampons, a piece of every kind of chocolate item you sell, and enough Acetaminophen to knock out a horse.

“Your girlfriend is very lucky,” you tell him, blushing as you bag the items. For a minute you think you’ve embarrassed him, crossed some line as a sickening silence grows between you two like mold on two-week old leftovers in a fridge that was turned off. It’s just as disgusting, too, which is why you’re so happy that he still gives you a small smile when you dare look up from where your scanner’s red line centers on the barcode of one of the tampon boxes.

“Nah, just,” Eliot’s plump lips look so kissable it makes your heart pick up. “A roommate, uh. She needs this. Her boyfriend is doing some game night thing and couldn’t pick it up. So I, uh. I got drafted.”

You give a little snort as you grab the receipt, smiling wide as you place it in the bag. “Well, your roommate is very lucky to have you.”

Eliot laughs as he grabs his stuff, cheeks heating up as he blushes. “Can I kidnap you for a little while so you can come remind her of that?”

In a rare moment of confidence, you lean forward and grin. “Is it kidnapping if I want it?”

The blush rages as he sputters a response, eyes downcast as he turns to leave. You get no witty response back, but the way he turns to wink at you as the automatic doors part is enough of a rebuttal for you to feel satisfied with your quip.

No matter what kind of mood Eliot is in, you look forward to his visits, watching and talking with him. Each evening you get ready for work you wondered if he would come in that night, if you would be able to tell him about the dumb thing this guy in one of your seminars said, or how you won an argument during bar crawl over the weekend using some of the random things he had taught you during the very conversations you now wish to have with him. It’s nice, the nicest thing you have in a long time – and somehow that doesn’t scare you, and somehow that makes you feel even better each time you see him.

But then “The Day” happens, and it changes everything.

The evening of “The Day” you woke up from your pre-work nap with this unexplainable feeling that something was going to go wrong. This feeling deep in the bottom of your stomach that you can’t quite place, one that makes the back of your knees sweat and where your ribs feel just a little tighter. Each and every sound – the cars that drive way too fast down your street, the creaking in your house, the dogs that bark obnoxiously – seem loudly, harsher than usual. When you sit up in bed when your alarm goes off it’s like you can feel the muscles in your back contract, feel the bones in your joints grind against each other. There’s some electricity in the air like when it’s right before a storm – only the sky is clear and your weather app doesn’t predict any rain until next week (and, even then, it’s only a drizzle).

At first you think it’s just a bad pain day; not bad enough to keep you home, or make you forget even the idea of doing anything besides groaning in pain in your bed and taking as many pain medications as your doctor says you’re able to. Still, it’s quite noticeable, and occupies your thoughts as you go through each part of your pre-work routine. Even as you shower, turn on your coffee pot, do the minimal make up required to make it look like you didn’t just roll out of bed or are some Victorian orphan plagued by tuberculosis and possibly a deep sadness embodied by the terrible weather that crashes outside their overcrowded London orphanage – you can’t seem to get rid of the proverbial dark cloud that settles itself between your brain and skull, clouding your thoughts and making your stomach hurt just a little.

It doesn’t get better when you get into work, either. There’s a tenseness in the air you can practically taste – electricity in the air that settles over your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straighter than the carefully constructed sales display of some B-list celebrity’s nail polish collection, the one you spent hours fussing over during one of your very rare day shifts. It somehow only gets worse when Eliot arrives, whistling some tune that normally would be wistful and happy, but given the context sounds like something straight from a horror movie trailer that invades your otherwise-sweet daydreams for weeks to come; one of those songs that everyone knows but no one knows the name of that sounds really creepy when played slowly over a clip of some old, beat-up doll being held by an adorable little blonde girl with black-out contacts in.

You don’t tell him to stop, but the tune does slow when he notices your tense state when he passes to get to the soft drink aisle. When he gives you a questioning look you just shrug, hoping he forgets (or finds it in himself not to ask) about it by the time he finds what he needs. Judging by the song, lack of list, and spring in his step – it’s a good day, one where he intends to meander around the store and grab whatever it is catches his attention. Today that appears to be anything with sugar, most notably soda in every color but orange.

At some point he finds his way closer to you – more specifically he finds his way to the chocolate aisle, which faces your register – and strikes up a conversation. It’s just small talk, and doesn’t do much to distract you from the twisting in your gut, but you appreciate his efforts nonetheless. The small talk just feels like a dead-end – a polite road to nowhere that feels pointless to engage in. Still, it’s Eliot, so you give half-hearted answers and ask half-hearted questions and hope he doesn’t press you too hard on your slightly-sour mood.

And, because it’s Eliot, he draws a few small laughs and a couple of tiny smiles and it’s…nice. It’s not the usual “Good Day,” but it’s not a bad one, either.

But then it happens. And it happens quick – all of it.

Three men, dressed head to toe in black, enter guns a blazing as if they own the place. They’re wearing masks over everywhere but their eyes, the thick, black material likely silencing their voices if they weren’t screaming at the top of their lungs.

They enter in an oddly-triangular formation – one you’d describe akin to the Charlie’s Angel’s post if you weren’t scared out of your fucking mind. One of them runs to the aisle where you keep cold medicine, the other ransacking the liquor aisle and shoving heavy glass bottles of your most expensive bottles of alcohol into the black duffel bag slung around his shoulder. The last one – the one you think is the leader – keeps his eye on you as he steps closer to where you are at the register.

It’s the scariest fucking thing to ever happen to you, and what occurs next happens too fast for you to describe.

You blink once and find that you’re staring down the barrel of a handgun that’s definitely loaded and definitely has the safety off. The end shakes just a little, as if the robber is nervous, and you wonder why he’s the one scared. Both of your hands are up in the air, elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle while sweat pools at your brow and your bottom lip trembles. It’s the most terrified you’ve ever been in your entire life, and if you had enough in your stomach you throw up, you totally would’ve.

But then – Eliot.

You’re screaming at him to stop, to get away and hide and what are you doing? They’ve got a gun! Get away! You could be hurt! Eliot!

But then you realize that, holy shit, he’s actually taking the guy down. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the face. Holy shit, Eliot just punched that dude in the gut. Holy shit, Eliot just disarmed that dude while punching him.

It’s only when the guy that targeted you is screaming in pain from a dislocated shoulder that the other two realize something’s up and come rushing towards the man that stands just in front of your register. You’d scream if you weren’t stunned – eyes not sure where to look as Eliot disarms them with the grace of a professional ballet dancer at the same fucking time. He’s fierce but controlled – not breaking any bones but definitely leaving some bruises as he knocks them to the ground and kicks their guns across the carpet.  

It’s then – when the inferior robbers are writhing in pain on the ground – that he grabs the leader by the collar of his black hoodie and pulls the teenager’s wincing face close to Eliot’s raging one.

“I will give you one warning,” he hisses, teeth bared like an angered wolf as he spits. “one warning to leave this place and never come back. If this,” his left hand raises to gesture to you in all your petrified glory. “Nice lady tells me that you have returned to so much as buy a single stick of gum, I will track you down and find you and make sure you pay for the damage you’ve done here today. You got that?”

The still-masked teenager immediately nods furiously, eyes wide with terror and legs already kicking at the ground to leave.

Eliot gives a small, faux smile, and shoves the kid back down onto the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of him. “Good, now get the Hell out of here and don’t come back.”

Without hesitation, the would-be robbers scatter as fast as their damaged legs can carry them, clutching their bags to their chests as they rush to their crappy getaway van.

If you weren’t scared shitless you’d admit you’re a little turned on at the feat, especially as Eliot flips his hair from his face as he watches them speed away.

Your boss appears a few seconds later, apparently one more to watch from his safe room in the back than to interfere. Thank Heavens Eliot was here, you think. Facing those three kids on your own – even if they were, indeed, kids – makes your blood pressure spike once more.

“Should I call the cops?” he asks, looking at the wreckage around the store. The only silent alarm is located under the counter where the register is and, given your petrified state, you weren’t one to trip it.

Eliot just sighs and shakes his head, kicking a broken bottle of whiskey that for sure was going to stain the carpet. “No, they can’t do much – those kids probably don’t have a record and I don’t think you’ll get much out of ‘em if they do find the bastards. They’re young, broke, and I don’t know how much priority your case will be given.”

Your boss sighs, rubbing his face. It’s not as if they stole more than a few hundred dollars’ worth of merchandise, but being the victim of a robbery is still both tiring and rage-inducing – especially when someone like him has gone so long without incident.  “But, I, what am I supposed to do? I just-“

Eliot grabs his wallet from his back pocket, reaching into it to fish out a small, professional-looking business card that he hands to your boss. “Call the number there come sun rise and tell them Eliot referred you. They’ll help you out with whatever you need.”

The man who signs your paychecks furrows his brow and reads the block print allowed. “Leverage, Incorporated? They can help me replace what I lost?”

Eliot nods, placing a comforting hand on your boss’ shoulder. “Everything.”

Immediately the man nods and steps away to go out the back exit, leaving you and Eliot in the center of it all.

It’s then – just as you’re alone – where the sun’s just coming up and the large windows in the shop allow its warm light to bath the both of you in a beautiful soft orange. There are no other customers there, and with your boss preoccupied with calming himself down, it really does feel like it’s just you and Eliot – just the two of you with the whole world still asleep around you. It’s nice, perfect.

He’s the one to break the silence, voice gruff as he flashes you a small, shy grin. “So, uh…you want to go for coffee?”

Your heart rams in your chest even louder than when you were staring the possibility of a gunshot wound to the face, the poor organ exhausted as your brain screams at you to accept his generous offer. It takes what feels like an eternity to muster up the courage to do so, but before you can Eliot’s already speaking once more.

“Not that you, uh,” he clears his throat. “Not that you should feel, uh, pressured, or anything. I just mean like, hey, you worked all night and just went through a pretty rough event, and you’re probably tired, and probably pretty hungry as well, and a coffee place just opened up a street away that I’ve heard good things about. I’ve wanted to try it out, for a while actually, and I wanted to, uh, see if I’d have the honor of you joining me…”

“Eliot,” you laugh as you step closer, placing your hand on his face to guide his eyes to yours. “Don’t be stupid. I’d love to go with you,” he smiles and it warms every bit of you. “Just let me grab my bag and clock out, I’ll meet you outside in a moment.”

He sputters through an “okay, sure, yeah,” before you both turn to leave – him out the front doors and you behind the large one your boss had just been hidden behind. Your hands shake just a little as you insert the little card into the dinosaur of a machine, the loud noise and sputtering sound it makes now white noise as you grab your purse and rejoin him outside.

When you arrive at the coffee shop (aptly named “The Bean Spot”) you order a caramel latte with a cheese Danish, Eliot getting a simple black coffee with cream along with a walnut muffin. You wait for your breakfast in relative silence, neither you nor Eliot sure what to say after such an event. When the food and drink are handed over to you, you find a spot tucked in the back with an excellent view of the whole place.

The coffee shop is nearly empty since it’s still so early in the morning – the only patrons coming in, getting their coffee, and zipping off to the next part of their day. It’s nice to be the only inert thing, the movements of the people around you providing a nice cover as they zip past, locking you and Eliot in your own little world as the world stretches its arms and prepares for another day of hustle and bustle.

By contrast, you and Eliot are wide awake, laughing as you swap horrible roommate stories and whatever else comes to mind. He asks about your degree but has enough class not to ask you about your graduation year (a rare feature of conversations these days), talking to you about all the books you’ve read and professors you’ve liked.  

It’s odd – not bad, per say – but odd nonetheless, to be able to talk freely and openly and having him in front of you, within arm’s length as your knees barely touch under the small table. Seeing him in this space, a space more conducive to conversation and watching his hands as they pick at his blueberry scone and watching his mouth as the corners of his lips twist into a smile every so often and watching –

You blush at your own serial-killer-like thoughts, trying to suppress them with another sip of way too expensive but totally worth it coffee.

Eliot notices, because of course he does. “Hey, you alright?”

You nod, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. “Y-yeah, just-“

He smiles warmly, one hand moving to cradle your chin – to guide your downcast eyes to his. “It’s weird, seeing me in a new place, isn’t it?”

Once again, you nod. “It’s not that I don’t-“

“It’s okay,” his smile widens even as he now avoids your gaze, his hands moving to his lap as he fiddles with them. “It’s…I understand. Trust me, I get it.”

You exhale deeply, your shoulders falling a little. “I’ve thought a lot about this moment for, like, since you walked into the store for the first time…to have you here,” you gestured vaguely to the rest of the coffee shop, to the very few customers and baristas chatting about something you can’t hear and don’t care to pay attention to. “It’s…I don’t know. It’s not as if you’ve fallen short of expectations-“

Eliot gives a little chuckle, mumbling an “I sure hope so” with a glimmer in his eye that makes you want to jump on his lap and kiss him right there. Somehow, you find it in you to continue.

“It’s just super, super weird,” you tell him honestly. “And I don’t like it.”

The man in front of you leans forward, placing a hand over yours to calm you down.  

“How about we get out of here,” Eliot murmurs, voice warm and thick like the caramel drizzle over your latte. “I have an espresso machine at my place, and could make you homemade baked goods a million times better than whatever you bought, and we can continue this in a space where the baristas don’t misspell my name on overpriced coffee.”

He gestures to the cup labeled Elliott, wincing as he does so. It makes you laugh, and you nod in agreement. Together you down the coffee and throw the empty cups along with the wrapping for your pastry away. It’s natural – the way the two of you move – as if you’ve known each other for a millennia, as if whatever it is between you two that’s formed is already as strong and sturdy as an oak tree.

Eliot places one of his large hands on the small of your back as you exit the cafe, thumbing at the fabric of your sweater as you wait to cross the street. It’s comforting – just a flash of the fire that he started for you back at the store a mere hours earlier, heat warming your blood from your toes and up your spine. As he guides you to his apartment his hand finds yours, his fingers fitting neatly next to yours as he points out parts of the city you’ve never slowed down enough to see.

You may not have known Eliot for very long, but even within that short amount of time (and even shorter conversations) he had become a safe house for you, one that you could easily make a home.

And, unbeknownst to the other person, the both of you intended on doing just that.

[tricksters-captain]

FP Jones/Andrew’s Family/Riverdale imagines - Oh Dear Part 35 - Final Chapter - A Sore Goodbye

A/N: This is based on the memorial episode for Luke Perry. Watching and writing this was very hard and I miss him as do many fans and everyone who ever knew him. My characters pain here is almost real as it pained me to write about Fred’s death knowing that we didn’t just lose Fred Andrews, we lost Luke Perry. I hope you enjoy this final chapter of ‘Oh Dear’. It’s been a wild ride and I thank every single reader, liker, etc. I love you all.

MASTERLIST LINK (HERE)

Overall Summary: You’re Archie’s older sister and you have a thing for a certain Serpent.

This chapter: Based on Season 4 Episode 1 - (Y/N) has been living away from Riverdale for two years now. Only keeping touch with her family every now and then but (Y/n)’s brother, Archie, and herself never allowed any Riverdale drama to pull her back to the town which held the man she loved but couldn't have. But the sudden death of her father meant she had to finally return...

Pairing: Reader x FP Jones, Sister!Reader x Archie Andrews, Daughter!Reader x Fred Andrews, 

Word count: 8,864

Warnings: Very emotional. Loss of a father. Some strong language. Some smut. 

“(Y/N).” His voice was like velvet as his arms snaked around you. 

You slowly moved in his arms to face him. Your smile widened as you met his eyes. 

“You’ve been gone ages–” Fp’s mouth cut your words short as he kissed you deeply and with a hunger you could feel in the pit of your own stomach. 

Your fingers tangled themselves in the older man’s hair within seconds, your hips pressing against his as he held you tightly. 

You dragged the man backwards to the bed behind you and allowed yourselves to fall down onto it. FP’s hands rushed to rip the clothes from you. 

You let your eyes roll backwards at the feeling of his hot tongue against your neck. 

His hands left your body for a moment which made you pout and whine in desperation. The empty feeling didn’t last long as hands placed themselves back against your soft skin; but the feeling was different... Not completely foreign but not him. 

Your eyes fluttered open to see Malachai’s face. The air flooded your lungs in a sharp gasp but before you could make another sound, Malachai’s hand trapped your lips beneath it. 

You screamed into his hand and tried to fight underneath him but his body felt like a deadweight. 

You watched him with wide eyes as he moved closer to your face; his lips and eyes blood red. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling his fevered breath against your cheeks, trying your best to mentally escape this. 

You finally felt the weight lift from you when you snapped your eyes open and thrashed forward, sending your bedsheets across the floor. 

Sweat drenched you.

It took you a minute to realise you were alone in your apartment, not in Riverdale. 

You shifted your legs off the side of the bed and rested your elbows against your knees with your head low whilst you tried to slow your breathing. 

It'd been months since you dreamt of Riverdale; of FP; of Malachai and that night. 

You lifted your mobile from the bedside table and a glaring 4:43am flashed back at you. 

It was July so the sun was already rising outside. 

You pushed back your curtains and opened your window to let some air into the stifling room. 

It wasn’t likely you’d be able to sleep against after a dream like that so you just headed to the shower and put some coffee on for yourself. 

You kicked some of the dirty clothes from the night before towards your clothes hamper as you entered the bathroom to cool off and clean the nightmare from your body. 

Your apartment was small and you hadn’t been there very long but it was perfect for you. No one had been inside it but you since you moved in so you felt like you truly had a place just for yourself. 

You let the water cascade down your body and through the tangle that is your hair. 

You thought after all this time why would the dreams be coming back?

The dreams plagued you for weeks when you first left Riverdale but after your first short relationship with some barista that you met in your first town, they’d completely disappeared. They’d only ever come back if you had been heavily drinking but you hadn’t gone out drinking for weeks so why would it happen now?

You managed to waste some time in the shower, clearing your head before you slipped into some clothes and went to get your coffee. 

You checked your phone again to see that only 40 minutes had passed so you decided to go through your unopened messages. 

Archie had texted you last night asking how you were but you must've been asleep when he did. 

You had to admit you missed your little brother, you had always been there for each other even when you disagreed with each other. It was hard for you to stay away from Riverdale when he was arrested so soon after you left but Archie had convinced you to stay away. He always convinced you any problem in Riverdale was smaller than it was in order to stop you from leaving your current life to return to one you didn’t really want. 

You contemplated calling him but you knew that he'd be asleep. That boy always tended to sleeping if he wasn’t with Veronica or facing whatever problem Riverdale currently had. 

You put down your phone and walked over to your small portable radio to switch it on. Your footsteps pattered around the apartment whilst the quiet music began to fill the space. 

You had work today but it wasn't until 8, it was a small bookshop a few blocks down so there was no need for your bike. Still you eyed your helmet and keys and wondered where to go. 

You downed your coffee as the idea came to mind then grabbed your keys, heading down to the apartment blocks private garage. 

The wind challenged you as you rode towards the smell of the ocean. You inhaled deeply as you pulled up to the sand, slowing down to eventually switch off your engine. 

You had travelled all over the U.S. and some of Europe too but you always ended up somewhere near the sea. It was calming and even during these hotter months where the beaches became overcrowded and noisy, you somehow always found the most peaceful area or time to just come and sit. 

You fought the urge to go swimming over the couple of hours you sat there due to the fact you knew you'd have to head to work shortly. 

“Morning (Y/n).” The son of the owners of the book store was sat behind the counter with an open book on his lap. He was about Archie’s age and was very polite and nice enough but you knew that he held a small crush on you which made it a little difficult to converse sometimes. 

“Morning Jeffrey.” You smiled as you passed him to walk into the small staff room to place your bag inside. 

“That book for your dad arrived yesterday afternoon while you were off.” Jeffrey hopped off his stool to collect the novel for you. 

“Perfect. I wanted to write a note inside it before I sent it to him.” You explained to the boy about why you didn't just order it to your old home. It was that and the fact it was way more expensive to order the book to the house rather than the bookstore. 

“Well if you need me to run it down to the mail for you, I’m heading there at lunch?” Jeffrey offered as he leant against the counter, close to your side. 

“Thank you, Jeff, but I’ll probably write in it tonight and send it off before work tomorrow.” You passed on the offer which made the boy look a little disheartened but you brushed it off and asked what other orders came in yesterday so that you could start on calling the customers to inform them. 

A couple hours into your shift you kept feeling your phone vibrating in your pocket. You excused yourself to use the bathroom and checked it to see it had 1 missed call from your Dad, 3 from your Mom, 2 from Archie and 3 from Jughead. 

You called Jughead since his was the most recent number and he answered within two rings. 

“Jughead? What the hell is going on? I’m at work and my phone’s been exploding with missed calls from you, my mom and Archie?” You didn’t bother with a hello since the calls seemed so urgent.

“(Y/n)...” Jughead swallowed. “(Y/n), you need to come back to Riverdale. It’s your dad...” 

“My dad? What’s happened? Is he okay?” You felt your chest tighten. 

“(Y/n), he... He died.” 

The words spun around in your head like a marble in a bowl. 

“Jughead... Whatever you’re playing at...” You started, trying, hoping, that this was some stupid game or prank. 

“(Y/n), it’s true. Archie got the call from the hospital. He was in an accident. The details aren't clear at the moment but––” You hung up as Betty took Jughead’s phone and spoke the truth. 

You threw your phone across the bathroom which resulted in your screen cracking but it didn't matter. All that matter was that your dad, Fred Andrews, was dead.

The events that followed were a blur. 

Jeffrey sent his mother into the bathroom, an elderly woman with kind eyes and red hair. She found you collapsed on the floor with tears streaming down your cheeks and tried to help you as you gathered the words together to tell her what happened. 

The next thing you knew was that you were at your apartment, packing a small rucksack full of essentials with your bike keys in your hand. 

The only moment that became clear in your memory of that moment was when you pulled open your closet door to find your old Serpent jacket. 

You held the rough leather material in between your fingers as you reminisced your old life. You ran the tips of your index and middle finger over the embroidered snake but only Fp’s face flashed before your eyes. 

You pushed down the memories of the Serpents and continued to pack.

You didn’t know how long it took you to travel home. You knew you didn’t follow the speed limits but you didn’t care. You needed to be home. You needed to know if it were all true. Really true. 

You passed the old sign at the border of the town and what felt like a hundred different emotions all seemed to hit you like once. 

WELCOME TO RIVERDALE

You hadn’t stepped foot into the town in a couple years now. It felt like a whole new place now. 

That is until you hit the top of your road where your old home resided. 

You pulled up in front of the house and stared up at the front door with tears in your eyes. 

Your dad's truck wasn't here. 

“(Y/n)?” The door opened whilst you were lost in your head. Archie must've seen you from the window after hearing your bike pull up. 

“Arch?” Your eyes met his with the question you didn’t want answered. 

A tear fell from Archie’s eye. You immediately rush up the stairs and took him in your arms. 

“(Y/n)?” Your mothers voice crept up behind Archie. It was almost a disbelief in her voice.

“Hi Mom.” You wiped your nose and faced her. In that moment, all hatred and betrayal washed away and you just wanted to be a family again. 

The three of you held each other in the doorway, sharing the same pain, crying the same tears. 

When you finally parted, Archie was the one to notice his friends had gathered outside. 

“It’s good to see you, (Y/n).” Betty was the first to greet you. “It’s been too long. I’m sorry this is why you had to come home.” 

You could see the pain in Betty’s eyes, the sadness, the sympathy. 

“Me too.” You whispered, returning her hug. 

Veronica then hugged you and so did Jughead but when Reggie made some comment about how good you looked you decided to leave them be.  

You tiptoed up the stairs to your old room. It was just the same as you left it, not that you stayed in it much towards your final few months in Riverdale. 

As you sat down on your bed, you looked towards the door, half expecting to see your dad’s head poke around it to check on you. 

You heard commotion in the garden. Archie and his friends were all putting seats around in a circle and chatting. 

“When things started getting bad with my dad and drinking, my mom would call up Fred... for help.” Jughead’s voice caught your attention as you sat by the window. “And he would drive to the bar, and he would pick up my dad and he'd lay him on the couch. And he'd always stay a little while... just to talk to me... to see how I was doing in school, and... if I'd eaten dinner. He just wanted to know if I was hungry. I always was.” The group chuckled lightly at Jughead’s comment but the story just reminded you of FP. How you looked after FP when Fred could no longer do it...

You wondered what he was doing. How was he handling this? 

You mentally scolded yourself for thinking about him when you were Fred’s daughter. You should be thinking about you and the pain you feel.

You heard a knock at your door. It was your Mom. 

“I thought you’d want to know about the accident.” She sniffled as she entered. 

You nodded your head. You wanted to know if he died in pain, if it was his fault or someone else's, something else’s...

“FP spoke to the Sheriff at Cherry Creek. He knows all the details. I don’t know if I can––” Your mother broke down in tears once again and you found yourself comforting her with a short embrace. 

“FP? Why would FP know the details?” You pulled away, a little confused. 

“FP is Riverdale’s Sheriff.” She managed to string together. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You were almost convinced this was all some crazy nightmare. 

“Okay. I’ll be back soon.” You hurried past your mom and down to your bike. 

You were at the station within minutes. 

It took every ounce of energy you had left to walk through those doors at the station. Your feet felt like rocks being dragged through the mud at Sweetwater River. 

The station was busy, people rushing around and talking to one another. 

You found yourself outside the sheriff’s office, peering through the small glass window at a man you knew you recognised despite the khaki disguise. 

He was on the phone, wrinkles frowned on his face and his eyes were glassy but focused. 

You watched him put the phone down and pinch the bridge of his nose. He slid off the corner of his desk and moved around to his chair where he finally became horizontal to you. 

His eyes finally lifted from his desk and upon seeing you, the colour seemed to drain from his face. It was as if he’d seen a ghost. 

Suddenly, your flight mode kicked in and you turned to leave. 

“(Y/n)!” FP’s voice seemed to freeze every joint in your body even though your mind was screaming at you to walk away. 

“I only came to know what happened. What happened to my dad.” You couldn't stop the tears rising to your eyes but you refused to let them fall. 

“Come... Come inside.” FP held his door open for you and you forced your feet to move in that direction. 

“It’s, uh, good, good to see you.” FP seemed almost as nervous as you felt. 

“It’s been–– Please tell me what happened.” You couldn’t do small talk right now. You were desperate. You wanted to know if it really were an accident. 

“Fred was driving home to Riverdale when he pulled over to help someone's car that was stalled on the side of the road, and, uh... Another vehicle... came upon them way too fast and... He was struck by it.” FP could barely get the words out himself. 

You buried your face into the palm of your hands as you broke down once again. He just wouldn’t ever say no to helping someone. And now he's dead because of it. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” FP placed his hand on your back and the electricity almost made you jump backwards but you managed to stay sat.

“I kept dodging his calls. I hadn’t spoken to him in three weeks. I was sending him this stupid collectable book to apologise for my distance and now, now he’s... he’s...” You couldn’t help but let the words fall from your lips. 

“Hey. Hey, now.” Fp pulled you towards him and you let yourself engulf in the man. His arms felt familiar, safe and warm. His scent flooded your nose which brought you some peace. “It’s alright.” He tried to assure you but seeing you in this much pain only made his pain worse. 

You were even more beautiful than ever. His heart almost stopped when he saw your (y/e/c) eyes shining through the window. Sad but still bright. 

“Sheriff?” The door swung open which made you pull away from the man out of habit. “Sorry to interrupt but there's a call waiting for you, sir.” The young deputy recognised you as Fred’s daughter and sent an apologetic look your way. 

“I should be going. I shouldn’t be bothering the ex-Southside Serpent sheriff anyway.” You laughed a little trying to lighten the mood but nothing could lighten the darkness inside your chest. 

You returned home and found yourself in your fathers closet. 

You pulled out one of his favourite shirts and pressed it against your face. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to hug him since you last left Riverdale. 

You pulled it on and retired for the evening to your bedroom. 

Dreaming of you as a little girl in Pickins park with Betty as you took turns on the father/daughter potato sack race with your dad. 

You woke in the morning to your mothers stern voice downstairs. She was clearly on the phone with someone who’d upset her. 

You pulled yourself from bed and trudged down the stairs. You held on to the banister as you swung around to see your mom at the end of the hall in the kitchen on the house phone. 

Your mother hung up before turning to face you. The irritation she once felt from the call had disappeared when she saw you stood at the bottom of the staircase with your father’s shirt on. You look almost as innocent and sweet as when you were a child, a picture image of you 8 years old in your dad's shirt to go play ball in the garden with your father and Archie came into her mind. 

But today you were different to that little girl; dark circles clung to your eyes and  your skin seemed to dull in colour. You weren’t a little girl anymore, you were a woman, but it seemed that both of you were desperately wishing times were different in this moment. 

“Who was that?” You asked, you didn’t realise how hoarse your voice was until you spoke, it must've been from the crying during the night. 

“Your brother. He went all the way up to Cherry Creek to fetch your fathers body.” Your Mom sounded almost as shocked as you felt by the news. 

With that, you darted back upstairs and grabbed your cell. 

“Archie?” You were fuming as Archie answered your call. 

“(Y/n)?” Archie responded. 

“Why did you go to Cherry Creek? Why didn’t you say anything? Why have I travelled all the way back to Riverdale just to be alone?” The questions seem to leave your mouth like a flood. “He’s my dad too, Archie. You didn’t think I’d come with you to bring him home? I waited so long to see him and now it’s too late.” 

“(Y/n), I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d want––”

“––want to travel hours away to bring dad home? Want to see him as soon as possible?” Your voice broke as tears flowed from your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, okay?! I had this nightmare and I left as soon as I woke up. I just couldn’t leave him here. I didn’t want you or Mom questioning or dictating to me about this journey. I’m sorry, (Y/n).” Archie sounded emotional himself. You wondered if he had seen your dad yet. 

“What if I get on my bike and come up now? I’ll leave within minutes.” You suggested. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, (Y/n). It’ll take you a few hours to get here and by the time you arrive, we’ll be allowed to take dad and leave. You might as well stay there and make sure Mom’s alright. We’ll be back as soon as possible.” Archie discouraged your idea and as much as you hated it you knew it was best if you stayed and waited with your mother. 

You heard the doorbell go off downstairs by the time you hung up the phone and got dressed for the day. You knew you had slept in your dad’s shirt but his scent clung to it so strongly you didn’t want to take it off. 

The sound of high heels downstairs gave you an idea of who might have arrived so you weren’t surprised to see Cheryl and Toni in the hallway, embracing your mother. 

“(Y/n)! Oh my god! Wait ‘till the Serpents hear your back!” Toni almost ran towards you when she saw you. You hugged the girl back and smiled at how grown and beautiful she’d gotten since you left. 

“I’m terribly sorry for your loss, (Y/n), but I must admit seeing your face has made it a happier time for Riverdale.” Cheryl hugged you once Toni finally let you and all you could do was force a smile onto your face as you tucked your hands into your back pockets. 

“The girls say they’ve come to ask us something.” Your mother chimed in. 

“Actually I’m going to head out and look around town. It feels too heavy in this house without dad.” You admit, sending an apologetic look towards Toni. 

“It’s alright. Maybe you can stop by Pop’s later and we can get some food and catch up?” Toni asked,

You just nodded before taking hold of the front door handle and escaping. 

Just as you looked up from the concrete floor, leaning against the house door whilst letting out a deep breath of relief, there stood at the bottom of the steps on the sidewalk was FP.

You watched him remove his hat before stepping towards you. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, his face full of concern. 

“Just feeling a little claustrophobic.” You admitted you felt a little closed in with the visitors this morning. 

“I see you kept your bike.” FP gestured to your motorbike on the side of the road. 

“She took me all around the country. Broke my heart to leave her here for a while when I travelled Europe. I plan to take her to Italy in the future. I rode a bike there but it just wasn’t the same.” You found yourself talking about his gift to you with ease. It was the first conversation you had that wasn’t about your father. 

“Wow, Europe? That’s further than most people from Riverdale get.” FP saw how you gushed over your bike and it made his heart squeeze knowing he was the one who got it for you. 

He still couldn't believe you were stood in front of him. When you rode off and out of Riverdale he figured he wouldn’t be seeing you for a long time. Perhaps ever again. 

You had grown in more ways than one. He could see the travel helped you find yourself or at least figure out yourself a bit better than Riverdale could ever do. 

Even though you looked worn from the news of your father passing, he could see that you were comfortable in your skin, any insecurity you had previously shown was gone or hidden. He admired you from afar. 

“How are you? How did you even become Sheriff? Are you seeing anyone?” You couldn’t help but let the last question be spoken aloud. 

“Uh, it’s complicated.” His response seemed to answer every question. You noticed his eyes flicker to the Coopers household. 

Alice. 

“Do you, uh, do you want to get out of here?” You pointed your thumb down the direction of the street as you looked around. 

“Um, (Y/n), I––” FP started, tugging on his belt loops with his thumbs as he too looked around but his answer only began to panic you. 

“––No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. Things have changed, I get it.” You rambled on, hugging your arms around yourself as you retreated. 

“I’d love to.” FP cut any more rambles from your mouth off. 

“Your ride or mine?” You asked, nodding towards the sheriff wagon across the street. 

FP chuckled and shook his head, 

“Mine.” He made his way to the car, and opened the door for you. 

The gesture was so small yet so large. Who was this man now? Has he changed much? His smile hasn’t changed. It never has. 

He had his radio on quietly, probably so he wouldn't miss any calls on the police satellite. You tend to be busy as the sheriff of the town called Riverdale. This crazy, surreal like town. 

“How’s Red handling it?” Fp asked,

“He, um, he went up to Cherry Creek last night. Arrived this morning to collect my dad. He didn't tell me or our mom. He just went with Jughead, Betty and Veronica and left. Called Mom this morning asking her to sign some paperwork so that dad could be released to Archie.” You stared out of the window as you spoke. The town floated by as if it hadn’t been bothered by Fred’s death. 

“He what?” FP furrowed his brow as he looked over at you for a moment. “That boy...” FP started but you finished it with a light chuckle and a ‘I know’. 

FP pulled off the main streets of Riverdale and toward the river. 

“So, what happened the last time you spoke to your old man? You said you didn’t speak to him for three weeks after that.” FP was careful to poke due to the sensitive topic but for some reason, you felt calm enough with him beside you. 

“Nothing. The usual, asking questions where I'm living, if I’m eating, have I met anyone? Have I got a job? But he kept talking about me coming to visit Riverdale now I was a little closer. He kept on about how much my Mom wants to see me and how happy it’d make Archie but... But I just didn’t know how to say that I didn’t want to come back yet.” You admitted honestly. 

FP’s car wheels came to a squeaky stop as he pulled into Sweetwater River. 

“I know it’s stupid and selfish and I should have come back when he asked. I mean he only wanted me to visit and now it’s too late. Now I can’t... He can’t... He’s not here.” You felt yourself crumble throughout the sentence and FP watched with tears in his own eyes. 

“Hey.” He pulled you towards him, hugging you tightly. “It’s not your fault. You had only just got the hell out of here.” FP tried to comfort you. 

You gripped onto his shirt as you buried your face into him. 

“We all should have spent more time with him. Life likes to play these dirty games with us.” FP could feel the pain radiating from your body. 

You seemed so small and fragile in his arms. You felt like the person you used to be right at the beginning of your relationship, when all you wanted to do was look after him and make sure he was alright. Now, he just wanted to make you feel alright. 

“I remember when Fred found out that he was having a baby girl. He couldn’t have been more excited and terrified at the same time.” FP laughed softly, “Little did he know that little girl would grow up to be one of the kindest, strongest and damn-near smartest women in this town. Fred knew you were beautiful in and out, (Y/n). He believed you could do anything you wanted to.” FP explained, trying his best to bring some happiness to the memory of your father. 

You pulled away slowly to look the man in the face. He took hold of your cheeks and tried to smile but you could see the sadness in his eyes. 

“And I can’t believe that little girl grew up to change my life. She used all of her kindness and strength on a hopeless drunk who couldn’t hold down a job.” There seemed to be a hint of regret in FP’s eyes. Not regret for the relationship but perhaps regret that he had dragged you alongside him for so long.

“That man has turned out to be the sheriff today. Ex-king of the Southside serpents and sober. He helped me find a backbone and gave me something to fight for.” You argued with his negative outlook. “My dad must've been so proud to see you as big dog in Riverdale.” 

FP lowered his eyes and shook his head with a smile. 

“He wouldn’t have been proud much longer if he found out that his best friend had been in love with his only daughter.” FP’s words seemed to fall from his lips in slow motions as you processed what he had said. 

You had no control over your body when you found your mouth meeting his, lifting his head back up. 

FP didn’t expect the gesture but welcomed it as one hand found the back of your neck and the other squeezed your waist. 

Your tongues danced together like two lost lovers had finally found each other again. 

You tried to lean forward to press your chest against his but the position of the car seats wouldn’t allow it. 

It was the police radio that interrupted you both, a deputy calling for ‘Sheriff Jones’ to return as there was new information on the Fred Andrews case. 

You fell apart as quickly as you came together. 

You shot your eyes down to your feet as you tried to catch your breath. 

Fp stayed silent as he panted beside you. 

The car came alive as he cleared his throat, pulling out of the famous riverside and back onto the main road. 

You both remained silent until you pulled into the station. 

Your skin felt like it was on fire from the passionate kiss but the news about the case overtook your thoughts.

You both rushed into the station and to the sheriff’s office where FP picked up the phone, dialling the Cherry Creek police. 

You sat in the rigid uncomfortable chair opposite FP’s desk and bit down on your thumb nail as you waited anxiously. 

You sat up in anticipation as FP hung up the phone. 

“So?” You asked, your voice was soft, almost a whisper. 

“The guy that hit Fred. He turned himself in this morning.” FP informed you, dialling a number on his cellphone. 

“So they’ve got him? He’s off the roads?” 

“He, uh, he made bail. He’s been released. It’s just how these things go sometimes.” FP could see the anger on your face when he said that the guy was released. 

“But he killed my dad.” You felt sick knowing the man who killed your father was out walking around. 

“And he’ll get justice for it.” FP said it in a way that you immediately it was a promise than a statement. 

“I’m gonna call Red. Go ahead and inform your mother.” FP instructs you and you do as you’re told. Telling her only what you know. 

When you returned to the office from taking the call outside, you could see the worry on FP’s face. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, 

“Your brother. I think he’s gonna try and take justice into his own hands. I’m trying to get through to Jughead now.” FP held up his phone. 

When Jughead finally answered, FP told him everything and Jughead said he’d take care of it. 

“Jug will get to him. Archie might be mad but if they get to him first then no one should get hurt.” You tried to be optimistic. You didn’t want Archie starting a fight he might not win. Who knows who this guy is! 

FP leant back in his chair and ran a hand over his face the way he usually does when he’s stressed. 

“For some reason, it doesn’t feel real.” You murmured as you folded your arms across your chest and moved yourself in front of FP. Leaning back against his desk, standing between his legs. 

“I keep thinking that I’ll go home and his truck will be there. He’ll be stood in the kitchen, buried in some paperwork with a beer bottle in his hand. He’ll moan at me for staying out so late and we’ll argue about how I’m an adult. But at the end of the night, he’ll still be leaning in bedroom doorway to say goodnight.” You didn’t realise you were crying against until the salty tears found your lips. 

“This town’s not gonna be the same without him.” FP met your eyes with his own glassy ones. 

“I didn’t tell him I loved him in three weeks.” You broke. 

Fp rose to his feet and his hands squeezed your upper arms as he tried to get you to look at him. 

“You didn’t need to say it. He already knew.” FP embraced you once again and you relaxed once more. 

“Look, while you were on the phone to your mom, I got a call from Cheryl. She has this whole parade planned for when Archie returns with Fred. A special way to honour him and I gotta be the one to stop Archie from going straight into town. We’re gonna give him a police escort and let the town say goodbye.” FP thought the idea would give you something to look forward to. Something to be apart of. 

“This town really loved him, huh?” You wiped at your nose and smiled sadly. 

“Yes, they did. Now, if you’ll have me, I’d like for you to ride in the wagon with me out front.” FP knew it was a risky move but he knew you’d appreciate it. 

You nodded your head, letting another tear slip from your eye. 

FP caught it with his thumb. 

The next thing you knew your lips were gently pressing against his. 

Fp nor you could fight these feelings. Fp knew that if Alice or Jughead’s mom found out.... His thoughts seemed to disappear when your hands caressed his arms, leading up to your neck. 

He deepened the kiss, closing the small space between you by lifting you up onto his desk. He fitted nicely between your legs and you arched your back against him as he kissed down your neck. 

You internally rejoiced when you noticed the blinds on the office door were shut. Hopefully prompting anyone who needed to enter to knock. 

You straightened back up to reclaim his lips as his hands moved up your shirt to your chest. 

“FP.” You whispered, your hands were on his belt buckle but you didn’t make any movements to loosen it yet. 

The pain of the past couple days seemed to melt away at the touch of one another. You were like each others morphine. 

FP took the hint and yanked at your jeans, pulling them down your thighs to your ankles. You clawed at his belt, hissing when he brought you forward and sank his teeth into your shoulder. 

You threw off your top and fixated your arms around the older man. 

He could feel your want on the outside of your panties. 

A moan escaped as his fingers brushed your sex as he moved your panties to one side. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve needed this. You.” FP spoke against your skin as he pressed himself inside you. 

You threw your head back for a moment before resting your forehead on the man’s shirt.

Fp lifted you slightly to get a better angle as he thrusted in and out of you. 

He felt so good that the world around you seemed to become white. 

“Fuck.” FP snarled as you rolled your hips against his. 

His name left your lips as you both picked up the pace. You could feel yourself drawing close to climax already. 

His hand buried itself in your hair and tugged as you bit down on your lip to stay quiet. Your cheek burned against his with the friction of his beard and the heat from you both.

With your bodies moulded together, the desperation of a release built. 

You bit down on his shoulder as you unravelled, throbbing around him which only brought his release closer. 

You let go of his shoulder and silently cursed at the wet teeth mark you left on his khaki shirt but you quickly forgot as he pulled his length from you and emptied his seed over your thigh. 

He rested his forehead against you as you both caught your breath. You were glad you tore off your shirt as you were coated in a thin layer of sweat. 

FP reached over to the box of tissues in the office and began cleaning up his mess.

He looked up from your thighs to catch something he had forgotten about on your shoulder. 

A very obvious ‘M’ was scarred in your beautiful skin. 

You watched him stare at you with a twisted look of pain. His thumb ran over the mark which made you flinch away slightly. 

It was just a horrid reminder of what nearly happened that night. However, you refused to cover it with a tattoo as it also reminded you that you survived it. 

You slid off the desk to tug up your jeans and scoop up your t-shirt. 

You cringed slightly as you realised what you had done. You had thrown away your dad’s shirt to fuck his life long best friend on the sheriff’s desk. 

FP must've noticed your face pale as he asked if you were okay. 

You could hear his belt being done up and you muttered a swift apology about his shirt before turning the handle on the door. 

“Hey! Wait!” FP called after you but you tried to escape the building as fast as you could. 

As soon as you were out the station doors and the warm summer air hit you, you started sprinting. 

You ran until your legs ached and when you finally stopped. 

You were at the play park. 

It wasn’t too busy considering what the day was. 

You sat down on an empty swing and took a moment to catch your breath. 

“I’m sorry, Dad.” You looked up at the sky as you spoke. You didn’t know whether you were happy he never found out about the affair or sad because all you did was lie to him for years.

The internal conflict you had only worsened the pain you felt. 

“I didn’t expect to see you here.” The voice was enough to almost make you groan audibly. 

“Don’t think anyone did.” You pressed your lips into a thin line as Alice approached you. 

“No. I mean in the park. Of course, you’d come home for your fathers funeral.” Alice looked like she had been crying but her words were stable enough. 

You didn't respond. 

“I’m sorry for your loss, (y/n). Fred Andrews was one of the best men this town ever knew.” Alice stated.

“Yeah, thanks.” You pushed yourself off the swing and started to stride away from the woman when she caught your wrist. 

“Hey, you need anything you let me know? You and Archie are as much family to me as my own.” Alice sent you a sympathetic smile and you couldn’t help but remember all the times you’d play with Polly and Betty at their house. 

“Thank you, Alice.” You softened your words before turning to leave again. 

“(Y/n)! (Y/n)!” Not long after you left the park you heard a man calling your name. 

You faced the direction of the call to see FP shutting his car door to come towards you. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Archie’s almost back.” FP announced. 

“We better head to the edge of town then.” You brushed past his shoulder to enter the car. 

“Hey.” FP took hold of your wrist and made you look at him. “What happened?” 

“I just... I’m wearing my dad’s shirt today. It smells like him. I threw to the side to be close with you and when I picked it up... I couldn’t help but think about how much I’ve lied to him. How many lies I told and how many secrets I kept.”

“Sometimes we have to keep things from others to keep them from getting hurt.” FP’s eyes darkened at the mention of your secret relationship. 

“There’s just so much I never said.” You sighed, closing your eyes to prevent any more tears. 

“Fred knew all of the important stuff you needed to say. We all kept a few secrets and lied to your old man, that’s the way it is in this town. We can forgive ourselves for it or we can let it turn you into a sour old drunk that can’t even feed his kids.” Fp’s eyes flashed with regret and sadness from his past mistakes. 

Your throat was locked shut so you just nodded your head. 

“Let’s go get your old man.” Fp opened the car door and you followed. 

You didn’t have to wait long on the side of the road before Archie emerged in a hearse with your dad’s truck, driven by Betty and Jughead, behind him. 

Fp pushed himself off the front of the car where you both had sat to wait, you lifted your head from his shoulder to watch him stand and raise his hand to slow Archie down. 

“Everything all right, Mr. Jones?”

“Everything's good, Red. I, uh, heard what you, and Jug, and the girls were up to, and I wanted to be a part of it. I'd like to give your dad a police escort the rest of the way home, if you're okay with that. He deserves it.”

“Yes, sir.” Archie looked past Fp to you. You smiled as much as you could manage and quickly wiped away any water escaping your eyes. 

“All right. Follow me then.” Fp leaving Archie’s side gave you the signal to climb into the wagon. 

As you drove towards town, you couldn’t help but hold FP’s hand. He held onto you tightly and gave your hand a tight squeeze here and there when he caught you getting emotional again. 

“He’d be so happy to see you home.” Fp told you. 

“I know.” You agreed. 

That's when the parade became clear ahead. 

You smiled as you cried silently to the cheers and appraisal your father was getting. 

You couldn’t help but laugh as the Serpents all cheered loudly as you passed. You blew them all a kiss as a thank you. 

You didn’t stop crying until you pulled up in front of the house. 

All the signs and familiar faces tore at your heart and made you think about how well known Fred actually was. 

He changed a lot of people’s lives and you were so thankful he was always apart of yours; as your father. 

As Archie exited the hearse, you opened your own door. 

You rushed to his side and wrapped an arm around his waist as he approached your mother. 

“I couldn't leave him there, Mom.” Archie confessed, taking both you and your mom into a tight embrace

“I know.” Your mom said as she snivelled repeatedly. 

“I brought Dad home.” Archie looked between you and your mother. You only smiled and tucked yourself under his arm. 

“You did. You sure did. I'm so proud of you. I know he would be, too.” Your mom gushed, Archie pulled her back into the group hug and you all just stayed there for a minute. 

Fp watched from a distance as you hugged your family and he knew that things would never be the same in Riverdale ever again. He once thought that when he saw you leaving but now, now he knew that he truly meant it.

“Hey, I found something in Dad’s truck.” Archie parted from the hug and dug into his pocket. 

What he pulled out was a photo of you, Archie and your dad. All together. Happy. 

You laughed weakly as you stepped towards your bike, pulling up the seat to get into the under compartment. 

You put your hand into a small bag inside and out came the exact photo but more crinkled and torn. It has travelled with you always. 

“I can’t believe he’s gone, Arch.” 

“I know. Me either.” Your brother buried you in his chest and it wasn't the first time you felt like the younger sibling between the two of you. 

The funeral didn’t take too long to put together and before you knew it, the casket was being walked towards you and your mother at the graveyard. 

You watched your mother press a kiss against the closed casket as she lay her rose on top. 

You were shaking when you found the courage to step forward yourself. 

You wrapped your arms around the casket and pressed your cheek against the cold wood, letting your tears hit it below. 

“I love you, Dad.” You were heartbroken. Here lay Fred Andrews, never to be seen again. Not outside of pictures or videos. 

Archie had to be the one to come forward and move you along as the crowd watched with agony in their hearts. 

“And now... Fred's son, Archie, would like to say a few words.” 

You watched Archie take the podium with more strength than you could even muster that day.

“‘Uh, earlier I was thinking... on the drive over here... how much of Riverdale my dad built... or just fixed up. Houses, office buildings... A bit of everything. He helped build this town. And one day if I'm lucky enough to have a son or a daughter of my own... I'll be able to point to a building or even just a brick in the building, and say, "Your grandpa made that... with his hands."” Archie paused, you smiled at the idea of a little Archie running around Riverdale.

“It's the 4th of July. I remember this one th... it was raining. The fireworks show was canceled, and, uh, I was so bummed, I remember sitting in the backyard just bawling... Until my dad came home with all these fireworks. I mean, enough to burn our house down, you remember that, (Y/n)? Mom?” 

You and your mother nodded with a smile as she took your hand. 

“And, uh... we lit them in the backyard, it was just... it was the best night. My dad was here for every high and every low. He's the greatest man I've ever known. It hurts me that I never got to say goodbye. That I won't get to see him again or talk to him. But his spirit and his memory lives on... in this town, and in everyone he's met. Fred Andrews will always be a part of Riverdale. I love you so much, Dad.” Archie finished his speech and you felt like you couldn't even move. 

You felt horrible that you couldn’t say anything but you could barely get a word out without breaking down completely. 

Once the funeral was over and you had returned to your childhood home, you went upstairs and draped one of your dad’s flannels over your shoulders and your dress.

“I miss you, Daddy.” You curled up on his side of the bed and buried your face into the sleeves of the flannel. 

Archie could see you from the hall and he considered comforting you but the sight of you so broken was too much for him to bare at that moment. 

You knew you couldn’t stay in Riverdale without Fred being there. 

You knew you couldn't even stay a week just to stay with Archie. 

You had spent so much time in the past fighting to stay in the town but now all it held was memories of your pain. 

You returned to your room after what felt like hours, you must’ve fallen asleep at some point as you felt groggy when you finally lifted yourself up to gather your things together. 

“You’re not staying for the fireworks?” Your mom appeared at your door. 

“I can’t.” You tried to keep yourself composed. “I can’t, Mom. I can’t be here without him. He was always there. Always. When you left, when I'd fight against him, when I left. He was always right here.” 

“I understand.” Your mom surprised you with her answer and even more with her hug. She kissed you on the cheek and pressed a smile onto her lips. 

“I love you so much. Please don’t be a stranger in the future.” She begged, 

You kissed her forehead as she lowered her head. 

“I promise I won’t.” 

As you moved away, you noticed she had changed and redone her makeup. 

Archie was downstairs from what you could see from the top of the stairs and he too was dressed up. 

You descended with your mothers hand in yours and your bag in the other. 

“We’re about to start...” Archie’s words trailed off when he saw you were holding your bag. 

“I’ve got to go. I’ll visit you real soon little brother.” You placed your bag down as Archie watched. 

“Already?” Archie pouted, 

“I have too. We all have our ways of coping. I can’t move past this if I stay here. I can’t stay here without him.” You were honest with your little brother. 

You awaited an explosion but Archie followed in your moms footsteps and simply hugged you. 

“Promise me this isn’t the last time I’m going to see you.” Archie whispered against my ear. 

“I promise.” You kissed his cheek and pulled away. “Tell the others it was good t see them.” You didn’t want to deal with any more goodbyes. 

“I will. You ready?” He turned back to his mom and she said she was. 

You didn’t stay to watch them head out to the garden to watch the fireworks.

You put on your helmet and mounted your bike. 

As you drove away, you smiled as you saw the fireworks in your wing mirror. 

At the end of the road you noticed FP’s sheriff car parked and FP dressed in his usual get up of jeans and a flannel. 

“Didn't think you could skip town again without a goodbye.” FP smirked as you stopped your bike. 

“How’d you know I’d leave tonight?” You rose your voice enough to be heard over the fireworks. 

“’Cause...”  He shrugged and swaggered towards you. 

“You think you can just smile at me and everything will be alright?” You removed your helmet as you spoke. 

“I wanted to tell you something. Something I should have said a long time ago.” Fp only grew closer to you. 

“I’m all ears, Sheriff Jones.” 

“I loved you, (Y/n). I always loved you. You were this unexpected gift that came into my life and kicked the crap out of the old me. You taught me what it was like to feel again. You were better than any drink I had ever had.” FP began to confess to you. “I know I didn’t deserve you and I know we can never be together in the way I wanted to but those many months of my life with you by my side. My Serpent Queen. They were some of the best days of––”

You kissed the man after hearing the words you had always wanted to hear. 

You knew he loved you that time ago but he never said. Never told you. 

“I loved you too, FP Jones.” You let your lips part from his slowly as you breathed out the words. 

“Keep on fighting. You’re stronger than you know.” FP pressed his forehead against yours as he looked into your eyes. 

Those eyes. Those hypnotic eyes. 

“Stay out of trouble. Don’t make me come back and kick your ass back into shape.” You half-kidded. 

FP sighed and kissed you once more. 

“I’m forever yours, FP Jones.” You let the man know as you backed away from him back towards your bike. 

He watched you climb back on but before you replaced your helmet he remembered something...

“Wait.” FP pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and as he got closer with a slow jog, you realised it was the polaroid. “It’s your turn to keep it.” 

You took the photo without any fight and tucked it into your jacket. 

“Look after yourself, Jones.”  You brushed your lips against his as you held his cheeks between your fingers. 

“Don’t break too many hearts, (Y/n) Andrews.” FP took a step back. 

“Can't make that promise.” You winked. The only heart that ever mattered to you was his. 

You revved your engine as you finally rode away. 

Watching the man only disappear in your mirror as the fireworks only continued. 

The End. 

AN: That’s a wrap folks. I hope you enjoyed this story and I hope this ending wasn’t too awful for you all. I want to say that I hope all of you are safe and doing well. I hope those who are rioting are staying safe and protecting themselves. This chapter is dedicated to Luke Perry may he rest in peace. Goodnight my lovely readers and thank you once again for reading. 

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[settersloveletters]

— good luck charm; oikawa tooru

⤷ july 20th; y/n feels insecure about her birthday gift for oikawa

➳ pairing: oikawa x shyfemale!reader

➳ additional characters: mentions of iwaizumi

➳ genre: fluff

➳ word count: 1.5k

➳ warnings: none!

➳ written by: kiri ♡

— notes; happy birthday to the pretty gremlin himself oikawa tooru <33 ty to @sunshinesatori for being my beta for this !

You push through the doors of Aoba Johsai, playing with the cuffs of your uniform sweater. The nerves were getting to you as you continued your way through the halls. Around you, you could hear the buzz and chatter amongst the student body. More specifically, the female student body. As you made your way through the halls, your ears caught the various conversations that were being shared.

“Hey hey, what did you end up getting for Oikawa-san?”

“Ah, I could never match the kind of gift his big fan club of his planned on giving. I just got a card for him.”

“Did you guys hear what Oikawa’s fan club got him?”

Rolling your eyes, you thought to yourself, ‘They probably got him some designer jacket again. Or maybe something even more grand.’ Sighing to yourself, you reach into your school bag to make sure that you remembered to pack the small mesh gift bag before you left your house. You felt the fabric and breathed a sigh of relief. However, a heavy thought weighed on your shoulders.

‘Would Tooru even like something like this?’

You and the pretty boy setter of Seijoh had been going out since the two of you met back in first year. At first you were confused as to why someone as good-looking and popular as the Oikawa Tooru was, to take an interest in you. You were the quiet, shy type who didn’t like having the spotlight placed on them. You preferred to stay in the crowd rather up front. Since you were the introvert you grew up to be, you hadn’t expected anyone to take an interest.

But that changed after one small encounter that led you to almost being hit in the face with a volleyball. You had been asked by one of the office attendants to hand some paperwork over to Nobuteru Irihata, the head coach for Seijoh’s volleyball club. Being the good and helpful student you were, you agreed and made your way over to the gym that the volleyball club used to practice. However, the moment you opened the gym doors, a volleyball went flying past you, nearly hitting your face. You stayed frozen in place as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Oi! You dumbass watch where you’re targeting those serves!” Iwaizumi Hajime yelled out.

Blinking a couple of times, your eyes landed on the coach and you quickly rushed over and handed him the paperwork before bowing and making your way out of the gym. Not even two seconds after you exited, a voice called out to you, “Wait one second!” You turned around to see Oikawa.

“Let me make it up to you,” he suggested.

“No please, you don’t have to,” you replied, your eyes widening.

Oikawa placed a hand on his hips, the other pinching the bridge between his nose. “No that’s not right. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t properly make it up to the cute girl I almost hit in the face with a ball?”

Even after insisting that he really didn’t have to do anything for you, you gave up, agreeing that the two of you would grab lunch — his treat. That same lunch, however, became lunches and dinners and all of a sudden Oikawa was asking you out as his girlfriend.

Though his fangirls and fan club wasn’t too keen on learning that their precious setter was now off the markets. You also were not used to the newfound spotlight placed on you, since becoming the girlfriend of a beloved volleyball player. But their jealousy and your shyness didn’t stop you from loving Oikawa.

“(Y/N)-chan!” you looked up to see your boyfriend walking towards you with Iwaizumi next to him. You smiled at the two and was about to take a step forward towards them, when a bunch of girls rushed past you, running up to Oikawa. The hallways started to become louder as the girls tried to talk over each other.

“Oikawa-kun! Happy birthday!”

“Oikawa-san, I hope you like this gift!”

“We got you this Oikawa-san. Happy birthday!”

You start to see the various gifts that the other girls got him, and you start to feel insecure and unsure about your own gift. The gifts that his fans got him consisted of cards, chocolate, flowers and even stuffed animals. You bite the bottom of your lip, thinking too hard about how your gift would stand out from the rest. ‘It’s nothing compared to these gifts.’

You spoke too soon it seemed, as Oikawa’s fan club in the school — that consisted of mainly the richer girls — made their way through the crowd. The girl at the front of the crowd, who you guessed to be the leader, was carrying a large bag in front of her. “Oikawa-kun! Happy birthday!” she cheered, handing the bag to him. Oikawa opened the bag to pull out a jacket with Seijoh’s colours. The back of the jacket had his last name embroidered, along with his jersey number.

“The girls and I had it customized made in Italy,” she boasted. Everyone stared in awe at the jacket.

You however, turned around and started to walk off when the Oikawa’s fan club leader called in a shrill voice, “(Y/N)-san! What did you end up giving Oikawa-kun for his birthday?”

You bit your lip at the sudden call out. Standing still, and not turning around, the same girl said, “Oh no, did you forget to get Oikawa-kun a gift, (Y/N)-san?”

You turned your head around, “A-Ah, I’m sorry Tooru-kun,” you smiled sheepishly. “It turns out I forgot to grab your gift before coming to school.”

The girls around you started to whisper and sneer at you the moment you said those words.

“Ara, ara,” the leader of Oikawa’s fanclub said, stepping out. “How could you, Oikawa-san’s own girlfriend forget her birthday gift for her boyfriend.”

Her words started to cause the other girls to whisper at each other. You started to feel uncomfortable under everyone’s stares and their soft murmurs to one another. You gave a glance to Oikawa, who showed no emotion on his face, before excusing yourself and running off.

“Wait! (Y/N)-chan!” you heard Oikawa call out your name, but you didn’t turn around.

Not realizing that you ran off mindlessly, you looked around and noticed that you went up to the rooftop of the school. Catching your breath, you didn’t hear the rooftop doors opening. Flinching at the sudden pressure on your shoulder, you look over to see your boyfriend standing beside you.

“Tooru?” you give him a questioning look, “What are you doing here?”

‘“I’m here to get the gift that you got for me.” he gave you his award-winning smile.

“Didn’t I tell you downstairs?” you look off to the side, “I forgot your gift at home.”

“You’re a terrible liar (Y/N)-chan,” he winked at you. “Can I please see the gift you got for me?”

Unable to resist Oikawa when he uses his pleading voice, you sighed and reached into your school bag and lifted out the small mesh bag that held his gift you planned for him. Reaching out your hand, you offered the gift to Oikawa, avoiding his gaze. Oikawa opened the small bag and took out the anklet you had put together for him. The anklet was made out of thread rather than a metal material, and consisted of Seijoh’s school colours, as well as your favourite colour.

“I-It’s not much, but I wanted to get you something that came from my heart,” you looked down at your feet, your fingers playing with each other. “I know you’re not allowed to wear any jewelry during games, but I thought that this anklet would’ve been perfect. You can wear it under your socks, and the thread makes it feel as if it’s not there.”

Oikawa stared at the anklet you made, not saying a word.

“I also have a matching one but as a bracelet..” you whispered. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to. I wanted to get you a good luck charm for all the games you played, but none of the ones I saw at the store caught my eye.”

“I love it.” he muttered.

“Eh?” you look up at Oikawa.

“I love it!” Oikawa exclaimed, as he gave you an eyed-smile. “Now I have two good luck charms (Y/N)-chan~”

“Eh? What do you mean by two?”

Oikawa chuckled and said, “Well I have this anklet that you made for me,” he moved over to you and lifted your body up in his arms to spin you, “And you’ve always been my good luck charm my beautiful girlfriend!”

“Tooru! You’re such a dork!”

---

[Oikawa after you ran off]

“I appreciate the gift you all got me,” Oikawa started off, “But I don’t wanna accept anything from those who hurt the ones I love.”

His usual smiling face dropped into a death glare that shuddered the girls around him.

[madame-morte-draws]

Consumed By Flames Chapter 1

Piper sighed softly as she unlocked the back door to her small cafe and went inside, a smile lighting up her face as she turned on the lights to the back room. It wasn't anything extravagant: her cafe was one of those older buildings that were more original to the town's architecture, and because of this the price was slightly reduced for rent as there were exposed bricks and pipelines galore. She found she didn't mind however, even finding it quite charming in fact especially with all of the plants, various décor, and shelves of books around which gave her shop a homey dark academia vibe. Humming a soft tune, the woman moved from the back of the cafe out into the main area, stopping to grab a black apron and put it on as her 'uniform' otherwise she wore whatever she wanted, as it was her shop after all. Smiling softly at the black rib cage embroidered over the torso, Piper ran her hands down it quickly to remove any unseen dust and got to work getting ready for the day. Luckily the floors were mopped and cleaned nightly, so she really just had to take the overturned chairs down from the scant few tables and set them up right, then just light some incense, turn on the lights, and the system for making sales. Piper pulled her cellphone from her pocket and looked at the time. It shouldn't be too early to send a text to Muffet. With that in mind, she began to slowly type out a text message awkwardly with one thumb while getting everything ready.

[Hey Muffet. What time do you think you will be over to drop off the pastries today?]

sent 6:50 AM

Piper finished getting the tables ready and turned to light some incense by the register at a small shrine which was littered with dried flowers, crystals, and a few bones. Taking a moment, Piper whispered a silent prayer under her lips while the smoky scent of lavender filled the small shop. Her phone went off with a little chime just as she finished.

[I'm right around the corner now. Be there in a jiff]

sent 6:57 AM

[Okay I'll unlock the front door for you ]

send 6:57 AM

Moving to unlock the door just as she said, Piper took a moment to look at the near empty streets of town, drifting off for a moment while looking down the street where the Monster District was located. After the Monsters had come down from the mountain, they settled in fairly quickly in the buildings at the base of the mountain, which had caused many humans to move out. But this only made more room for the monsters, as it seemed they preferred to stick close to one another. It seemed like quite the tight knit community from what she had learned talking to Muffet. Her little cafe happened to be located just at the edge of where the Monsters settled, and while she still did get a few humans coming into her cafe like the regulars, and those who weren't racist assholes, it seemed as if Monsters were slowly making up a larger portion of her customer base these days. Humans tended to fear what they didn't understand, and while the government did allow them to move into town and was trying to come up with a way to process all of the Monsters into the citizenship system, there were no laws to protect Monsters currently. Although the barrier had only been broken for a few weeks now, it almost felt like a lifetime at this point. So much happened in so little time. Piper took in a deep breath and ran her fingers over her ever so slightly pointed ears, and ran her long stiletto nails through some of her long hair.

When the barrier broke...something happened to her, and many others from what the news had covered. Those that practiced the Craft...witches. Something dormant awoke within them when the barrier broke, and now every practicer had magic not unlike the magic of Monsters, though more attuned to nature and its elements. The government quickly labeled them as such, Witches, and were still debating on what to do about those who had magic awoken within them. Piper thought back to when she woke up one morning to find that her apartment had grown into a jungle overnight, all the plants within her home overgrowing at an impossible rate. She had been so confused and lost, scared even, until she saw the news. It was quickly addressed that the Monsters and the barrier breaking had something to do with this, but scientists weren't sure what exactly, and until recently magic was only something in fairytales. It was strongly advised for Witches to be considered armed and dangerous until something can be done to 'control' them. She snorted, rolling her eyes before seeing someone waving a lilac coloured hand in her face.

“Oh shit, Muffet!” Piper gasped softly, flinching and placing a hand over her heart before taking a breath.

“You really should pay more attention dear. Here, I brought everything you requested. Where would you like them?”

“O-oh. Thank you Muffet, please come in and just set it on the counter.” Piper let out a small breath and moved to let Muffet inside, helping her with two of the boxes and setting everything on the counter. Muffet had been the first Monster Piper met, and upon hearing the spider Monster knew how to bake, and after trying a few things at a bake sale of hers, had decided to exclusively sell Muffet's pastries in her little cafe. It worked out as this building didn't have a kitchen of its own, and she wasn't patient enough to make pastries anyway.

“You're burning incense again today. Lavender?” Muffet asked while taking a delicate sniff of the air after having set out the boxes. The Monster began placing the pastries into the small display case beside the front counter with ease, and far faster than Piper could either.

“Hey, good sense of smell you got there Muffet, you're right.” Piper smiled at her friend though it was lopsided, given the long scar that ran from the right corner of her lip to at least two inches up her face in a crooked jagged line, and while Muffet put the pastries on display, the Witch went to make a complimentary cup of tea for the spider Monster.

“There, everything is in order Piper.” Muffet stood back from the display case and shut the sliding door before gently collapsing the boxes she had used to transport the pastries. “You changed your hair again, it looks nice. It reminds me of a blue flame.”

“Great. What kind of tea do you want? Rose? Assam? Oolong?” Piper smiled to the Monster expectantly. The Witch grinned at the compliment, running her hand through her long hair which fell in delicate waves to the small of her back in an ombre of bright blue, orange, and finally down to yellow with a small touch of purple at the top of her head mixed with the bright blue. “Thank you. I was tired of the green.”

“Oh, Oolong sounds interesting. Let's have that one.” Muffet tucked the collapsed boxes under one of her arms and waited patiently for Piper to make her cup of tea, watching her intently with her five eyes.

Piper prepared Muffet's cup, pouring some hot water over a strainer of dark leaves which seemed to flare up with a soft emerald essence of magic, and she smiled before adding the cream and sugar as she recalled how the Monster liked her tea. Before handing it over, Piper took a long tea spoon and gently stirred into the tea while staring into it, that same magic from earlier flaring up, and once satisfied, she gently tapped the spoon on the edge of the cup to prevent spilling before placing a lid over the cup and offering it to Muffet.

“You seem to be getting some semblance of control over your magic. It's better than when I first met you and you were having accidental flares all the time.” Muffet smiled softly and accepted the tea, taking a sip of the hot beverage before her smile widened. “An excellent cup as always.”

“Thanks Muffet. I'm still having flare ups of course, but at least now I can sort of keep it under control. My apartment wasn't overgrown when I woke up this morning at least.” Piper chuckled before walking over towards the door. “I infused yours with good fortune and energy today. Oh by the way—I'll send the money later today for the pastries. Time to open shop.”

After seeing Muffet off, Piper turned on the rest of the lights and turned the open sign on, luckily just in time for her first customer to come in. She greeted them warmly and took their order, happily making them tea and infusing it with a bit of her magic. She did this same thing before, though before there was no visible or tangible proof that she was doing anything to the teas, and some customers had even scoffed at her 'powers'. Though they weren't laughing now. Piper hummed softly as she worked and took orders, also occasionally selling books, and becoming excited whenever she saw a new face come in; in truth, she was hopeful that more Monsters may show up as her human customers had quickly dwindled to a small trickle, but who needed racist customers anyway? Certainly not her. Work continued at an easy pace as it was only Monday, giving her enough time to enjoy a simple meal in the back room between filling orders. Piper had thought about hiring an employee, but the shop was small enough she could manage on her own, even at full capacity. The Witch was enjoying said lunch when the bell at the door dinged, signaling a new customer. Taking a moment to gently pat at her mouth with a napkin, Piper stood and went out to the front counter to greet them. She was able to spot two customers in fact, and her eyes widened ever so slightly in interest at the new faces. They were both skeletons from what she could see, but both very different. One was rather tall, probably at least 6 feet and a few inches (thank you tall ceilings) and seemed to be wearing some odd sort of armor? It even had a cape! The other was much shorter in comparison, probably closer to her height of 4'9” but certainly at least 5' as he was taller than her. In contrast to the tall one's outfit, the shorter skeleton wore what appeared to be black gym shorts, a white shirt with a blue fur hood jacket, and...were those pink house slippers? Yeah, they were. The two seemed to look around for a moment, the taller one seeming more excitable and interested than the shorter one, who had a lazy yet easy going smile plastered on his face. He looked at her and his smile became a little tighter.

“Hello, and welcome to The Witch's Brew, what may I do for you?” Piper chuckled internally at the little rhyme she came up with to suite her cafe's name.

“HUMAN! YOUR SHOP LOOKS LOVELY AND WELL ORGANIZED! AND IT SMELLS NICE. ARE HUMAN'S HAIR NORMALLY SO COLOURFUL? SANS WHY DOES FRISK NOT ALSO HAVE HAIR LIKE BLUE FIRE?”

“Nice place ya got here..Muffet told us someone was selling her pastries, we thought we would come check it out as she said you made some pretty good stuff.” The skeleton seemed to be staring at her chest, then at her counter, her shelves, and various other places, before his skull seemed to visibly sweat. How did that even work? “Say you don't have a...bone to pick with us do you?”

“OH MY GOSH SANS! IT'S TOO EARLY FOR ONE OF YOUR AWFUL PUNS!” The tall skeleton nearly yelled again, causing Piper, and a few of her current customers to flinch slightly.

“Uhhh..” Piper chuckled awkwardly, before following the shorter skeleton, she assumed to be 'Sans' 's line of sight. Oh...oh stars. She had various animal skulls and bones strewn about the place as décor, and she remembered then that her apron had a ribcage embroidered into it. Was that like...indecent? Nudity for them? Was it like a shop of HORROR walking in here??? Piper scrambled to fix this mess before it started.

“Oh my stars..I didn't think about all of the bones I have as décor and..oh gosh uhm I'm really sorry, you must find it all terribly offensive. I wasn't aware there were skeleton monsters..” Piper reflexively put her hands over her chest to cover the image of the ribcage, and tried to offer a charming smile while also turning pink.

“Nah, we don't find it offensive, right Paps?” Sans turned towards his brother, who seemed to be inspecting a deer skull that was mounted on the wall by a bookshelf.

“BROTHER!! LOOK AT ALL OF THESE BONES! CLEARLY THE HUMAN WANTED TO MAKE US FEEL WELCOME!!” The tall skeleton turned back towards the counter and approached. “YOU OBVIOUSLY HAVE HEARD OF THE GREAT PAPYRUS AND DECORATED JUST FOR THE OCASSION OF MY ARRIVAL! NYEH HEH HEH!”

“Uhh...” Piper glanced over to Sans, who seemed to grin at her wider and offer a wink. The small woman smiled up at Papyrus warmly and offered her hand for the skeleton to shake. “It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Great Papyrus. I'm Piper.” Feeling still a little flustered but relaxed by their assurance, she gestured to the menu once Papyrus released her hand from his enthusiastic handshake. “Now, may I get you two anything today?”

“I WILL HAVE THE MANGO PASSIONFRUIT TEA! WITH MILK!”

“I guess I'll have a matcha latte.” Sans shrugged softly while still smiling widely at her.

“Wonderful I will have it out momentarily.” Piper collected payment and after it was in the register she moved to make the two skeleton Monsters their respective drinks, humming softly as she did so. Papyrus continued to walk around looking at everything with great enthusiasm which earned chuckles from Sans as well as Piper. She had to admit Papyrus was adorable and very likeable once you got over the near shouting. Sans stayed near the counter, but out of the way in case other customers came into the shop. He watched Piper move about while she made the drinks, the woman seeming to nearly float or dance around the area. It was obvious she loved what she did. Piper was whisking the matcha while the milk frother did its job, bright green sparkles of magic being whisked into the air with her motions when Sans spoke up, his eye lights watching her intently.

“So, you are a Witch then...”His smile seemed to falter ever so slightly, and his eyes flicked to her ears, spotting the point. “Heh, and your shop is even named The Witch's Brew. Should've seen that coming.”

“Y-yeah. My powers align with healing, and I am able to imbue positive traits into the beverages I make...do you...not want me to?” Piper continued to whisk his matcha, though it was a little slower as she waited for his response.

“Nah, you're fine kid. So long as you don't hurt anyone. That and I know Muffet drinks your stuff almost daily; and shes not dust yet.”

“Hmm, thanks for the vote of confidence. Sans was it?” Piper poured the whisked matcha into a cup and then poured foamed milk over top. She topped the drink off with a smooth and generous drizzle of caramel sauce before sliding the cup his way. “Nice to meet you. Already told Papyrus, but I'm Piper.”

“Yeah, nice to matcha too, Piper.” Sans grinned ever so wider as Piper snickered before taking the cup and looking at the contents with some hesitation before taking a sip. “Okay, I'll admit. S'pretty good.”

“Pffft---that was awful. Love it.” Piper beamed happily in a lop-sided way at him and gestured to his cup. “I imbued your drink with extra energy today.”

“Heh. Thanks. So you are pretty close to the Monster District. How did you meet Muffet?”

Turning to pour the tea that had been steeping behind the counter into a cup, that same green magic flared as she stirred in some honey before pouring milk into the hot beverage. “Papyrus, your drink is ready!” Piper winks at Sans and whispered. “I imbued his with a 'sense of calm'.” While waiting for Papyrus to get his cup, she answered Sans' question. “I was actually exploring the Monster District when I came across her bake sale. I tried a few items and I was hooked. They sell out pretty fast, so I think my customers find them pretty good.”

“WOWIE THIS LOOKS GREAT! THANK YOU, HUMAN!” Papyrus came to get his drink and blew on it gently before taking a sip. “THIS IS AMAZING! FAR BETTER THAN THAT SWILL GRILLBY SERVES.”

“Grillby?” Piper tilted her head curiously, looking between the two.

“Yeah he's a Monster like us, he owns a bar called New Grillby's. You should come check it out sometime. Best food in town. And if you're not one for burgers or fries the bartender is pretty...hot.”

“SANS! I AM TRYING TO ENJOY MY TEA! PIPER!!! DO NOT LISTEN TO HIM GRILLBY'S IS NOTHING BUT A GREASE TRAP!!” Papyrus seemed to stick his nose in the air, but it was obvious he was trying to hide a small smile.

Piper chuckled at the two, nodding softly before placing her hands on the counter. “I'd actually love to come. To be honest I've been wanting to try other monster food besides Muffet's pastries.”

“C'mon bro, don't get all...fired up. Paps is just worried that your stuff won't be able to..hold a flame to Grillby's.” Sans grinned wider when Papyrus behind him groaned loudly.

Piper blinked a few times, not sure why he was making so many fire puns, but she still enjoyed them. “Is it very far? I confess I haven't gone very far into the area yet.”

“Tibia honest, its just a few blocks down the street.”

“UGH SANS I AM LEAVING!” Papyrus, while trying to seem un-phased began to move towards the door. “THANK YOU FOR THE LOVELY TEA PIPER!” Papyrus continued to sip his beverage on the way out.

“You're a pretty punny guy, Sans!” Piper couldn't help but joke back and earned a wink and two finger guns from the short skeleton. She chuckled. “Well guess I'll head over and find it one of these days. Might want to go catch up to your brother, he looks miffed.”

“Nah Paps'll be alright. But, guess I should get goin' before he leaves me behind. See ya round, kid.”

“Bye Sans, bye Papyrus! Have a nice day!” Piper exhaled as the two skeleton brothers left the cafe. They were certainly an interesting bunch, and now her cafe seemed all the more quiet without their presence. Smiling to herself she got back to work, as it seemed more customers began to filter in. She hoped she would see the two again, perhaps even make friends! Piper thought about when she could head to New Grillby's as she got back into the rhythm of things, trying to rack her brain on what all those fire puns had meant, as she had a feeling it wasn't about her hair.

Piper sighed softly as she shut off the 'open' sign to her cafe and stretched, her back popping a few times. “Another hard days work..” She set about doing her nightly routine of counting the cash, wiping the tables, mopping the floors, putting back any books people had read and left out, and locking up. After making sure everything was locked up properly and things would be ready for her tomorrow, Piper left through the back door and locked up for the night with a smile on her face. The Witch took a moment to take inventory of her attire. She wore a dark grey crop-tank top, some mid-rise black shorts with garter straps holding up two mismatched thigh high socks:one black and white striped, and one a dark grey like her shirt. She also wore some chunky platform boots and one of those stereotypical 'witchy vibe' black wide brim hats, and the outfit was completed with a black leather metal ringed collar. Was this outfit appropriate for Grillby's? She didn't think to ask what the dress code was, and the place was probably far too new to have a website or any sort of Google reviews to give her any indication. Piper figured it was alright for Grillby's, and if it turned out she was under dressed, she would just show up on an off day when she could wear something more appropriate.  

Piper lived relatively close to the cafe, so often walked or skated to the cafe, and today had been a skate day. Sitting on a wooden pallet by the door, she switched out her chunky platforms for some inline skates she had in her backpack. Once she was ready, she stood and began rolling down the street, further into the Monster District. The sun had set, but it was still fairly early into the evening, so there were some monsters walking about who greeted her with warm smiles, and she cheerfully waved back. One thing was for sure, Monsters were far more polite and welcoming than humans were. It didn't take Piper long to find the place, especially with the large neon sign that said 'New Grillby's' in warm, bright letters. She took a moment to look into the windows, but they were that type of crinkly frosty style of glass that offered privacy while also looking classy.

“Only one way to find out now..”

Piper exclaimed gently to herself and sat on the curb to change out her skates for shoes again before stuffing the skates into her pack and walking in. Upon entering the bar, a warmth enveloped her that reminded her of being huddled under a blanket in front of a warm fire, and she sighed softly, relishing the feeling. It also made the outside feel comparably colder, so she quickly stepped away from the door and further in. Many of the Monsters looked her way, though they, like the ones outside offered nothing but curious and friendly smiles, waving when she did. So far so good, no one was telling her she wasn't dressed right. In the center of the bar sat a large table and she noted several dog Monsters sitting around it, seemingly concentrating on some sort of card game. She had the deep urge to pet all of them on their fuzzy heads and call them all good bois and girls, but she resisted that temptation, somehow and made her way to the bar. Piper was still looking around at everything when she came to stand at the bar, and slowly slid onto a stool before putting her backpack on one of the hooks conveniently attached under the bar for just that purpose. Feeling eyes suddenly upon her, Piper looked up and flinched slightly, finally seeing why Sans had made so many fire puns.

Before her stood a...well they were a Monster. Let's go with that for now and not assume. The Monster before her was entirely made of flame, though when she looked closely she noticed some hints of a jawline, hot-white eyes behind a pair of glasses, but no nose to hold them there, and no discernible mouth. The Monster wore a fitting old-styled bartender's outfit, and she had to admit, it fit him quite well. Was it a male? A him? Something about their being told her...yes. She could tell that this Monster was looking at her still, she could feel it though he lacked pupils or irises from what she could see.

“....” Though the Monster said nothing, they bowed their head gently, flames dimming slightly. Piper had the feeling he was perhaps..apologizing for startling her? Could he not speak?

“Oh, no no. No need to apologize. You didn't frighten me, just surprised me is all.” She smiled lopsidedly, but with much warmth, offering her hand out. “My name is Piper. It's a pleasure to meet you. A customer of mine told me about this place. I am to assume you are...Grillby?”

Possibly-Grillby looked at her hand for a moment, almost as if hesitating, before taking it and shaking her hand and nodding to her question, confirming they were in fact, Grillby. His flames also seemed to return to a normal brightness before he released her hand and stood back to continue cleaning the glass in his hand. He seemed to be waiting for something.

“O-Oh right. Apologies, may I please have an old fashioned, Grillby?” She watched as he nodded before setting down the glass he had been cleaning and went to make the drink for her. While she waited, Piper hummed along to the jukebox in the corner, watching Grillby make her drink. She was mesmerized by the elegant way in which he seemed to move, every movement was practiced and deliberate, making crafting a simple old fashioned look like an art form as he elegantly poured the liquors into a glass with practiced ease to not spill a single drop. Grillby added the remaining ingredients with care before finally garnishing the drink with an orange peel curl to complete the drink. He set the drink before her on a napkin and bowed gently like a waiter. Piper instantly knew he loved what he did, just like her and her tea.

“Thank you!” She gave another lopsided smile and took a careful sip of the drink, her eyes lighting up and looking at him. He was looking back at her, perhaps expectantly. “Grillby. This is. The. Best. Old Fashioned I've ever had.” It was slightly smokey and sweet and well-balanced and something in it seemed to tingle her tongue. Was that perhaps Monster magic? Muffet's pastries always seemed to have a little 'zing' to them as well. “You truly do make this an art form.”

Grillby's flames seemed to shoot a little higher, and she took that to mean he was happy to hear that. It was sort of..cute? How his emotions were expressed through his flames, if that indeed was what she was noticing. She could still feel his eyes on her, though he also looked around to make sure he wasn't ignoring any customers that may need him. Grillby's head tilted to the side again, in a silent askance.

Piper wasn't sure what he was asking without words, and had opened her mouth to convey such when the whole bar erupted into a cheer of a familiar name.

“SANS!”

“SANSY!!” Said the drunk bunny monster, off-que.

Turning around to look towards the door, Piper wiggled her fingers at Sans with a smirk across the way before looking back at Grillby who was, still looking at her for some reason.

“Sans was the customer that I mentioned who told me about this place. I run a small tea shop at the edge of the Monster community called 'The Witch's Brew' and he came with his brother this morning after hearing about it from Muffet.” Grillby seemed to perk up, nodding a few times while cleaning a new glass. Maybe he knew Muffet as well?

“Hey Grillbz. The usual. Hey Piper. I see you've already met Grillby. Didn't I tell you he was hot?”

Grillby seemed unphased by his puns and walked into the back room, presumably the kitchen to get his usual. Piper snickered, bringing a hand to lightly cover her mouth.

“Sans thats awful. Love it. I see now why you made all those puns today.” She took a small sip of her drink as the short skeleton sat down beside her. “Not to talk about Grillby behind his back, but is there something wrong with me being here? Am I dressed down too much? He hasn't said a single word to me.”

“Oh yeah, he doesn't talk much, you get used to it.” Sans did give her a once over now that they weren't separated by a counter anymore. “You look good to me, kid.” Sans even punctuated his sentence with a double raise of his brow bones...say, how the hell did that even work? Magic, she surmised.

'Was, was he flirting with me just now?' Piper thought, squinting at him a moment. She liked to consider herself an intelligent woman, but sometimes things did go over her head. Grillby came back out of the kitchen and set a burger down before Sans along with a bottle of ketchup before turning to her, expectantly.

“Oh, hmmm how about some fries? Please.” Piper gave another lop-sided smile as he nodded and returned back into the kitchen to make her order. Looking over towards Sans she noticed he was...practically drowning his burger in the stuff, and even took a swig from the fucking bottle. She couldn't help the small gag that escaped her. “Oh Sans...you must really like ketchup.”

“Yeah it's pretty good stuff. Goes well with this burger while I...ketchup with my friends.”

Piper giggled, covering her mouth again with one hand before taking a sip of her drink. “Okay, that one was truly terrible. A disaster, really.” She snickered slightly. Piper caught onto something, and perked up. “Wait are you saying we are friends?” She gave the skeleton a hopeful look.

“Yeah kid, you seem pretty alright to me. Paps really likes your tea by the way, so I think you've got yourself a new regular.” He smiled lazily at her in between digging into his burger.

“Oh that's so grand to hear!” Piper exclaimed as Grillby came out with her food and set the plate of steaming hot fries before her. “Thank you, Grillby. It looks absolutely wonderful.”

The fire element's flames once again rose higher in a sense of mirth, and he bowed for her just as he did with the drink. Again, he looked at her expectantly, perhaps asking if she wanted anything else.

“Do you have any malt vinegar?”

Grillby tilted his head slightly, appearing confused, before shaking his head.

“Oh. No worries, I'm sure its delicious even without.” As if to prove her point, Piper began to dig into her fries and offered a silent double thumbs up to Grillby as her mouth was full, now doing a strange little wiggling motion as she ate. “Yup. I was right. Its immaculate.”

The fire Monster seemed to suddenly became..shy? He rubbed the back of his neck, his flames growing brighter at the center of his face before he seemingly calmed down and nodded and moved off to tend to some patrons that had called him. Piper's eyes trailed after him for a moment before looking back to Sans, who was looking at her in a contemplative manner.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing kid. So how long have you had your place up?” Sans turned to her in his seat, burger finished, though he still clutched a bottle of ketchup in his phalanges. Piper could feel eyes on her again, and could tell Grillby was nearby, perhaps listening.

“About four years now. When I was little I always wanted to play make-believe tea parties and run a little cafe my dad made out of cardboard boxes for me. I decided to turn make-believe into my reality I suppose you could say.”

“You ever had any trouble from being a Witch?” Sans asked carefully, though he seemed genuinely curious, and his eye lights flicked off to the side, perhaps at Grillby.

“Actually not really. When I first opened up, people thought it was just a themed cafe, and it became popular. Once people found out I practiced legitimately, some did leave, but that's okay with me.” She brushed some of her hair behind a pointed ear. “Though ever since the barrier broke a lot more have left...” Piper took a contemplative sip of her drink, finishing it off. “I just wish to make delicious drinks for others, and offer them a nice environment to come in an relax, read, whatever they wish.”

“Seems like you and Grillby are on the same..page on that front.”

“Sans that's horrible. I love it.” Piper chuckled before turning her eyes towards Grillby. He nodded towards her, gesturing towards her empty drink, asking if she wanted another. “Oh, no thank you. I shouldn't drink too much as I have to skate home.” This got a tilt of the fire Monster's head. “I don't live very far from my cafe, so I either walk or skate to work. Today was a skate day.” He seemed to nod, and then return to cleaning glasses, taking the empty one of hers and cleaning it out.

“It must be..wheel convenient to live so close to work.”

“Sans you're going to make me choke.” Piper laughed lightly, covering her mouth again, which earned double finger guns from Sans.

After that the three fell into a companionable silence, Sans and Piper trading puns here and there, or talking more about her work and Grillby listening silently, nodding or shaking his head when he was included in the conversation. After some time, Piper looked at the time on her phone and winced.

“Yeesh, I should get going home. I didn't realize how late it was.” She was mentally groaning, knowing she was going to be tired tomorrow. Luckily it was only Tuesday, so not a very busy day again. Clapping her hands together in a prayer like gesture, Piper bowed her head slightly towards Grillby. “Thank you so much for the delicious food and drink Grillby. I would love to return the favor sometime and make some tea for you.” She looked up to see his flamed diminished slightly, shaking his head. It didn't take her long to realize why.

“Oh! You cannot have tea because it is water based. I am sooo so so sorry, Grillby. That was highly inconsiderate of me.” Piper frowned slightly as he seemed to shake his head again, offering a placating gesture with his hand that she knew meant 'it's alright, no offense taken'. Piper smiled at this before rummaging around her backpack for her wallet. “And how much do I owe you?” Grillby seemed about to try and answer her when Sans spoke up.

“Just put it on my tab, Grillbz.”

“What? Sans no, you already are my customer. I cannot let you also pay for my meal and my drink.” Piper looked to Grillby who seemed to be siding with Sans on this one. “Ugh. Men!” She giggled however, as she stood up and retrieved her backpack. “Fine then bone-boi, but your next two drinks are on the house. No ifs, ands, nor butts.” Sans widened his grin at her, and she swore she saw an ever so slight dusting of blue on his cheeks but, skeletons couldn't blush could they?

“Need someone to wheel you home, Piper?” Sans asked with a lazy smile, hands now in his jacket pockets in a nonchalant manner.

“Nah I'm alright. Thank you though Sans. And thank you again, Grillby, it was an absolute pleasure meeting you and dining in your fine establishment.” She offered a small semi-formal bow to him and when she looked up...oh he was definitely blushing now. A soft crackling of fire resounding in what she thought might be like a chuckle for him, as his shoulders shook slightly and he rubbed the back of his neck again, the center of his face having the barest hint of a blue flame.

“Oh hey let me see your phone for a sec.” Sans interrupted the moment, holding out his hand.

“Oh? Okay..” Piper retrieved it from her pocket and set it in his hand, back side up. Sans chuckled upon seeing her phone case had skeletons doing yoga on it before turning it over and typing in something. He handed it back to her.

“Added my number for ya, since we are friends.” Sans grinned at her.

“Oh thank you Sans. I'll text you so you have my number too.” Piper sent him a quick text, smiling at the little chime that came from Sans jacket pocket, a square lighting up against the fabric. “Okay. I'm off. Grillby, you should come by sometime, even if you can't enjoy the tea. I'm sure I can figure something out.” The fire Monster in question nodded softly, his flames going a little higher for a moment. “Okay, goodnight guys.” Piper made her way out of the bar and sat on the curb to change into her skates. Once she got home, showered, and finally laid down in bed, she was out like a light, only having just remembered to set out clothes for work tomorrow and make sure her alarm was activated. Piper fell asleep with a wide lopsided smile upon her face and a warmth in her heart she hoped to feel again.

“So Grillby. What did you think of Piper?” Sans asked while sitting at the bar, still drinking from a bottle of ketchup.

Grillby's mouth formed into a smile, and he spoke softly with a crackling voice to relay exactly what he thought about the short Witch.

[wowweeharrystyles]

Part 13 | Nerves & New York City | 9.7k words

‘Sequins & Zippers’ Summary: An internship with Harry Lambert transformed into a job of a lifetime - Aurora Del Gatto finds herself touring the world with the one & only Harry Styles as his ‘Head of Wardrobe.’ Aurora is nothing but nerves & excitement as she packs her bags & almost 100 custom designer suits that belong to an unbelievably kind rockstar. She never thought she’d fall in love on top of it all.

a/n: here it isssss, thanks for being patient with me y’all. hope you enjoy 💕 

Sequins & Zippers Masterlist

General Masterlist

Don’t forget that reblogs help writers out a ton !!! 

love y’all, mean it. 

“Aren’t you warm in those corduroy pants?” Aurora asks Harry as he comes over to take a swig of water from the bottle she has sitting on the seat next to her. 

“Trying to get me to take off my trousers, love?” Harry quips back as he untwists the cap. 

“You’re annoying, you know that right?” She says before she adjusts the leg of her old worn out jean shorts and brings the straw of her iced coffee to her lips. “But seriously, I’m just sitting out here and I’m warm, how can you not be in those pants?” 

“I’m fine Ror, really.” 

“Whatever you say,” she singsongs, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. 

The sun is shining bright in the almost cloudless sky. Harry is playing catch with Mitch and Adam and a few crewmembers jump in and out of the game as the morning turns into afternoon. Harry was excited to be back at Hersheypark Stadium and the seasoned crewmembers were too, with it being the only outdoor stadium in the entire tour. 

Aurora has never loved the heat much, though. Between the inevitable sunburn she always gets no matter how diligent she is with applying sunscreen and the chaffing of her thighs from shorts that always end up riding up while she walks, she finds it hard to focus on how the sun feels on her skin. She finds it even harder whilst just watching Harry run around in those lilac corduroy pants. She doesn't find it hard to watch as his t-shirt pulls from where it’s trying to stay tucked into the waistband, his laurel tattoos peaking out every so often when he reaches up to catch the baseball. She hides her lingering gaze behind her sunglasses and her smirk around the straw of her coffee. 

Aurora’s phone ringing pulls her out of her stupor and she shakes her head as she watches Harry run off to catch the stray ball that’s flying through the air. 

“Hi mom!” Aurora answers her phone. 

“Hi Honey, how are you?” 

“I’m good, we’re in Philly right now, trying to enjoy the sun and beautiful day as much as we can before getting to work.” 

“Good, you shouldn’t be working too hard anyways.” She can tell her mom is smiling through her voice. “I was just calling to confirm our plans and such for NYC.” 

“Oh yeah of course! I’m so excited to see you and dad!” 

“We’re way more excited to see you, trust me,” her mom laughs.

“Yeah so, we should get to NYC on the 19th and we can get into our airbnb around 1pm.” 

“Ror, are you sure you want us to stay with you? We can just travel back and forth or get our own hotel room.” 

“No mom, I asked to get an Airbnb so we could stay together. Haven’t seen ya in since March, I wanna spend time with you!” 

“Well, what about Harry?”

“He'll probably stay with us, if that’s alright. He’s got a handful of stuff to take care of while we’re in the city, a few meetings and friends to see, but he’s coming to dinner with us on the 20th. Wants to do the whole official meet the parents thing,” Aurora explains and her mom can definitely hear by the tone of her voice that she said it with an eyeroll. “Then I thought we could go back to the airbnb and play games or watch a movie, just a normal family night. I think Harry would like to be a part of that.” 

“Why do you say it like that?” 

Aurora pauses before she answers. “Just think he’d like to have a relaxing night, something more normal than ordering room service or a business meeting, some real family time.” Aurora looks up from the chipped polish on her fingers and meets Harry's eyes across the open aisle of seats. They mirror each other's smiles. “2 nights at MSG are a big deal. I-I, I just know how he gets and I don’t want him to stress too much or be alone the night before.”

“We can do dinner a different night,” her mom suggests

“No, no, he’s the one who asked to do it that night in the first place.” 

“Oh okay, dinner and games night it is.” 

“Great, and then the next day is MSG night 1 and I thought I’d show you around the arena and what that's kinda like. They’ll be food at the arena but you can go out for dinner if you want. You’re still planning to leave the next morning, yeah? You can stay for the 2nd night if you want, I have spare tickets.” 

“Okay sounds good. No, go ahead and give those tickets to someone else. Your dad and I have to get back, he has to leave for a conference later that day,” her mother responds before going on about the different places her and Aurora’s dad have planned to go to. Even though they live fairly close to the city, they don’t go as often as they would like and have a list of their favourite places they always have to stop by. Aurora knows she’ll definitely be tagging along to the Fabric District with her mom as some point too. 

Aurora entertains her mother on the phone for a bit longer before she starts to notice crew members getting back to work, Mitch and Adam retreating to the air conditioned trailers and then Harry coming to sit next to her, finishing off his water. 

“Mom, I gotta,” she starts as Harry presses a kiss to her head, “I gotta go. Gotta get to work.” A kiss to the back of her ear. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you later.” A kiss to the vein in her neck causes her shoulder to rise to her ear. “Love you, mom. Bye!” A kiss to the base of her neck, near her collarbone. “You’re annoying,” Aurora barely says before Harry kisses her square on the lips. She giggles when he pulls away and stands up, grabbing her hands and pulling her with him. 

“Come on, I’ve gotta train and you should get out of the sun.” Aurora looks at him with a questioning look. “You’re getting a little pink,” he says sweetly as he presses his finger to her shoulder and they watch as the spot turns white and then to a bright pink. 

“Oh great,” she says. 

Harry laughs lightly and wraps his arm around her shoulders lightly as they walk towards the side of the empty stage and back towards the trailers. 

The sunset surrounds the entire stadium, a baby pink and orange glow creates the most beautiful lighting and only adds to the overall energy of the audience. Aurora can’t help but gaze at Harry and watch him watch the crowds that have come out to see him. He’s left his mint green suit jacket in his dressing room and rolled up the sleeves on his white shirt. The lens of his sunglasses glow golden as he adjusts them on the bridge of his nose. A familiar intro of a song starts and Aurora walks over to stand next to him. 

“Ya know,” Aurora starts, knocking her hip against Harry’s, “if I weren't standing here next to you, I’d definitely be in the audience at one of these shows, singing along to ‘Olivia’ at the top of my lungs with a drink in my hand.” 

Harry tosses an arm over her shoulder as he continues to look into the audience from the makeshift backstage area. He sets his red solo cup down on top of one of the large black crates. “Would you now?” 

“Sure would.” Harry tightens his arm around Aurora’s shoulder and tucks her in closer to him. 

It’s not until they head back into his trailer to get his suit jacket that he teases her more about it and kisses her to make up for it. 

“Why’s it that I’m wearing a pastel suit but the jacket you’re wearing is black?” 

Aurora looks down at her clothes. High waisted jean shorts, a cream silk tank that’s tucked in and a less conspicuous suit jacket. Harry’s black suit jacket to be specific. She had taken the black Gucci jacket with her to take to the dry cleaners after the Ft Lauderdale show and it hadn’t made it back to the wardrobe cases yet. 

“Well you only have one mint green suit and you need it tonight, so I thought I’d borrow this one instead.” Harry hums, a smirk quirking up one side of his mouth. He takes the lapels of his jacket and opens up the right side to take a look at the label sewn in. ‘Gucci’ is embroidered into the patch and underneath is Harry’s name. He hums again, a full smile flashing at Aurora now. 

“You’ve always enjoyed seeing your name on me,” Aurora barely whispers. Harry’s hands move from his grip on the jacket to sneaking around Aurora’s waist underneath said jacket. His lips fall to her neck and the sounds of the crowd wash away for a moment. She giggles from the featherlight touch. 

There’s a knock on the door. Without a doubt it’s the stage manager needing Harry to get his mic hooked up. Harry groans and drops his head to her shoulder. 

“Come on,” Aurora starts, “you’ve got a show to do.” She pulls his head from her shoulder and adjusts his jacket one last time before pushing him out of the trailer. 

Aurora watches the show from near the edge of the floor, leaning against one of the cement barriers. She pulls the jacket around her tighter as the night breeze comes through. Aurora’s heart swells when Harry picks a little girl out of the audience from in front of him at the B Stage. 

“Do you have things in your ears? You’re very small,” Harry asks, accent thick. The crowd echoes in ‘aws’ and Aurora can’t help but smile. “Are you okay?” He asks next, accent still thick but voice pitched up an octave. “Having a good time? Good.” 

He sings ‘Sweet Creature’ and Aurora can’t help but think about how he might react with her little cousins or maybe the kids of his friends. Then she thinks about how she might get to witness that and has to stop herself from letting her mind run totally free and reaching the idea of what a family of their own would look like years down the road. 

| | | | | 

The doorbell rings as a text comes through Aurora’s phone. Her parents are here. She looks at Harry, whose nerves are written on his face and it could be from a number of reasons. Aurora caresses his face for a moment, meeting his eyes and then kisses him softly before the doorbell rings again. 

“Relax, it’ll be okay,” she tries to ease. 

“Easy for you to say.” 

“Now you know exactly how I felt when I met your mom,” she trails off as she reaches for the door. 

“Rory!!” her mother exclaims as she walks through the now open door. Her mother tosses her bag on the bench in the small walkway and hugs Aurora tightly. 

“Hi mom,” Aurora says, voice muffled against her shoulder. 

“Aurora!” her father greets her next, waiting for his wife to let go of their daughter so he can greet her properly. 

Aurora’s mom pulls away and goes straight to introduce herself to Harry. She hears the interaction while she hugs her dad. 

“Harry, dear, so happy to finally meet you!” 

“Pleasure’s all mine, Mrs. Del Gatto.” 

When Aurora pulls away from her dad she introduces him to Harry and they exchange a handshake. Aurora doesn’t miss the tough face her dad tries to put on and Harry’s nervous smile. 

Harry’s phone rings and he reaches in his pocket to turn it off quickly after glancing at the caller ID. Aurora knows it’s Jeff. It’s always Jeff. 

“Harry actually has to head to some meetings,” Aurora says. 

“I’m really sorry and hate to leave but my manager tries to get in as many meetings when I get a day in a major city, especially in New York,” Harry explains. 

“No worries at all, dear,” Aurora’s mom eases. 

“I’m all clear for dinner tomorrow night and hopefully can join you beforehand,” Harry says as he grabs his bag from the couch in the living room only a few feet from where they’re standing. Harry reaches for Aurora’s mother and kisses her on the cheek, “Lovely to meet you. And you, sir,” Harry nods at Aurora’s father. Harry turns to Aurora who is still standing near the door. 

“Have a good afternoon of meetings. Just text me if anything changes, yeah?” 

Harry nods before kissing her lightly, his free hand squeezing her hip. When he pulls away from Aurora he takes a moment to look at her and then tucks a tendril of hair behind her ear. 

“Love ya,” he rushes out when he’s halfway out the door and Aurora blushes before saying it back. 

| | | | | 

- Meeting #3238734823 done. How’s your day so far? - 

- hahaha how many more to go? Mom and I dragged Dad to the fabric district so I’m doing great-

- hm about a million more to go, it feels like. Haha wish I was with you. - 

- Harry, if you were here I would be making you choose fabric to make you a new suit. - 

- wait, can we make that happen even though i’m not there?” - 

- uhm, DONE.- 

- done deal. Okay, heading into meeting #3238734824. I’ll call you when I’m heading your way. -

“Is that Harry?” Aurora’s mom asks as she tries to peak over her shoulder. 

“Yeah, he was just between meetings.” 

“Doesn’t seem like he gets much time off.” 

“Well, not so much right now, I guess. Being in the city makes it a perfect time for them to get some stuff out of the way. He normally actually has days off. Anytime it’s not a show day he gets to do whatever he pleases.” 

“Whatever he pleases?” she asks accusingly. 

“Mom…” Aurora groans. “I know it’s your job as a mom to be skeptical but please have an open mind.” Aurora’s mom purses her lips. “He’s good. Really good. And by ‘Whatever he pleases’ I mean he gets to make his own plan and decision and luckily for me, most of the time it’s something with the 2 of us, or we hang out with his band or the crew.” Aurora sighs, now. “I get that his life is totally different, but you gotta be open minded, Mom, please. He’s trying so hard and you purposefully trying to find things that are wrong won’t help you or us.” 

“You’re really serious about him, aren’t you?” Aurora nods sheepishly. Her mom can read her daughter almost too well and she realises she hasn’t taken the time to do so enough now that they’re together, in person, right now. The thought of her baby, her youngest, traveling the world with a boy, who is a stranger to her (no matter how famous he is), is terrifying to her as a mother, but she sees that she needs to get past that. “I’m sorry, I promise not to jump down his throat. I can see how important this is for you both.” 

“I really don’t want to add anymore stress to him and he so badly wants you to like him but if you’re going to pick him apart, I can’t put him through dinner.”

“Rory, honey, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be this way. I seriously promise not to add to his stress.” 

Aurora sighs, for what feels like the millionth time in the past 5 minutes. “Thank you. I just want so badly for you to like him.” 

“If he makes you happy, really truly happy, then I trust you and will love him.” 

Aurora drops the basket in her hand and wraps her arms around her mother in a hug. A final sigh from Aurora’s mouth and it’s the last bit of worry that leaves her chest. The familiar scent of her mother’s clothes is comforting and she realises in this moment how much she missed her. 

“Mom,” Aurora says as she hugs her mom tighter, “I’m really happy you’re here. I missed you a lot.” 

“Aw honey,” her mother replies, pulling out of the hug. She takes Aurora’s face in her hands, “I missed you, too. Come on now, let's finish up here, shouldn’t make your dad wait too long.”

| | | | |

“Harry, sweetie, family dinner typically means no phones at the table.” Aurora’s mom explains after Harry pulls his phone out of his pocket for a 2nd time. 

“Mom-” 

“No, your mom is right,” Harry cuts Aurora off. “I’m sorry, I’m turning it off now.” 

“If there’s something you need to take care of first, you can,” her mother offers when she sees the rosy colour blush on her daughter’s cheeks. 

“No, there’s nothing important right now.”

“Har, everything okay?” Aurora asks when she sees his finger hover over the ‘slide to power off’ screen. 

“Yeah, yeah, just a lot of texts coming through about tomorrow.” With that one sentence, Aurora knows what’s happening. She reaches her hand to hold onto his wrist closest to her and gives it a squeeze. 

“Moms know what’s best I guess, right?” And Harry laughs at that, the whole table erupts in laughter. 

The laughter dies down as their waiter brings their food to the table. Once everyone is busy with their meal, Aurora turns to Harry. “You okay?” she asks, voice almost at a whisper. 

He nods, “Yeah, I’m alright. Probably should’ve turned my phone off earlier anyways. Everyone is trying to see me or come to the show.” 

“Everyone you want to be there is already on the list and if they want to come that bad they’ll find a ticket. Honestly, they should have already bought a ticket.” 

“Ror, be nice.” 

“I am! Just saying it how it is,” Aurora retorts with a small shrug. 

Harry leans over the short distance between them and presses a kiss to Aurora’s temple. With a blush ghosting onto her cheeks, they go back to their entrees in front of them. 

“So, what’re your plans after the tour is over?” Aurora’s dad asks Harry. 

“Uhm,” Harry stutters, looking towards Aurora briefly before back to her father, “I haven’t given it too much of a concrete thought yet, I suppose.” 

“Nothing work wise planned?” 

“No, I try to take time off between projects. I definitely think I’ll need some time before I get back to the studio and think about recording another album. There’s been whispers of other projects and things, but I’ve been focusing on this tour and I’ll have a look at what might come next after I take a break.” 

“That sounds like a smart idea,” Aurora’s dad agrees. 

“Speaking of plans come the end of the tour, honey,” Aurora’s mom turns her head towards her, “what have you been thinking of doing?” 

“Oh there might be something in the works but nothing is for sure yet,” she says, pushing her fork around on her plate haphazardly. 

“Rory,” Harry chastises, “don’t down play it like that. It’s for sure and you know it. You should tell them the news.” 

Aurora peels her eyes from her plate and looks at Harry then to her parents. Their eyes are eager. She sighs as Harry reaches his hand under the table to squeeze at Aurora's thigh. 

“Uh, so Harry Lambert called the other day when we were in Boston and he offered me a full time, permanent job.” 

“Rory! That’s so exciting!” her dad exclaims. 

“Wow! Yes! So you’ll be Harry’s stylist? Permanently?” Her mom begins with the questions. Aurora was unsure of how to tell her parents this new opportunity, traveling and moving is always a hard topic for her mom and add in the possible judgement and concern, Aurora couldn’t figure out an easy way to share the news. .

“Well that’s part of it, yeah, but it’s so much more than that. Lambert has his own styling business so I’m working with him on that.” 

“So you’ll be moving back to London?” Her mom asks, a frown appearing on her face.

“Actually, no. I’ll be his point of contact, here in New York City. I’ll travel when needed for things, like to London or LA, especially for Harry’s stuff as he gets back to work later on in 2019 but I’ll live here and do a lot of shoots and jobs here to help Lambert as he keeps expanding and so he can stay in London more and take care of business there.” 

“Whew, I thought you had fallen in love, gotten a new job and were about to leave for London permanently,” her mom shares and Aurora’s shoulders tense. 

“Mom…” Aurora groans, almost a little upset that that is what her mom is choosing to focus on rather than the job she’s officially landed. 

“Aurora, we are so excited for you,” her dad adds, knowing exactly how this conversation is going. “Aren't we, dear?” He encourages his wife. 

“Oh of course, yes! But you can’t blame a mom for being worried about you moving so far away.” 

“It’s fine,” Aurora brushes it off, shoulders tense still. Harry squeezes her knee under the table, reminding her he’s right there with her. She knows her mom is happy for her but she can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt every time her mother comments about her moving. A permanent residence in New York City, she thought would have sufficed, but her mom can’t overlook the idea of all her kids leaving home and moving away when it was her who encouraged them to do so in the first place. 

Harry takes it upon himself to change the topic and begins to ask Aurora’s dad about his work. Aurora quietly finishes her food as Harry charms himself into the position of her dad's new best friend. They bond over old records and Harry can’t help but ask him about the few times he saw Fleetwood Mac in concert. Aurora and her mom simultaneously roll their eyes when he begins the family famous story of his first ever concert. Harry is engulfed in the conversation but there are only spare seconds that he’s not engaged with Aurora in some way. A hand on her knee, sometimes a squeeze to her thigh, his arm resting on the back of her seat and then moving to her shoulders when their empty plates are taken away. 

Harry and Aurora’s mom playfully fight over who gets to pay the bill and Harry compromises with the idea of picking up wine (beer for him and Aurora’s dad) and dessert on the way back to the airbnb. Aurora’s mom smiles to herself when she signs the bill and puts her credit card away. Aurora can tell she’s happy and actually enjoying the evening even through some of the rocky bits. 

“Why don’t we meet you back at the apartment?” Aurora suggests to her parents, looking for some way to get some sort of moment alone with Harry. “We’ll grab dessert and drinks while y’all get comfy and pick a game.” 

Aurora’s parents agree to the plan and Aurora knows they’ll talk about Harry all the way back and Aurora’s mom definitely makes some sort of ‘All Knowing’ face, surely catching on to the idea of a moment alone, an evening walk alone with the city lights. 

Harry isn’t one to shy away from a kiss or two but he hasn’t been able to properly kiss Rory in what feels like way too long. Under a street lamp, Aurora’s parents far down the block behind them walking in the opposite direction, he pulls her to a halt. He tucks some stray hair behind her ears as a small smile quirks up on his lips. Aurora mirrors it in a split second. Harry cradles Aurora’s head in his hands and finally kisses her the way he’s wanted to since he saw her rush up to him in front of the restaurant earlier this evening. His hands fall to her waist and the almost silky cotton is soft and he remembers noticing the pearl white trim on the neckline. It’s a dress he hasn’t seen, a dress Aurora had been saving. Aurora melts under him and she releases her weight into him. Harry’s hands don’t seem to stop moving for the few minutes they kiss under the flickering street lamp. When they pull away from each other Harry runs a feather light finger tip over the pearl white trim, starting at Aurora’s shoulder. Even in the New York summer heat, goosebumps follow his path. Aurora’s hands rest on the back of Harry’s neck and her thumbs play with the curls that grow longer and longer day by day. Harry kisses her forehead, sighs and then pulls her into his chest, his arms wrapping all the way around her waist. Harry hides his face into Aurora’s hair as a group walks past them and squeezes Aurora tighter. 

“Everything alright?” she asks him. 

“Yeah, missed you today,” he whispers. “Did I do okay?” 

Aurora pulls away from him so she can get a look at his face. “Okay? Are you talking about dinner?” He nods. “Babe, you were great.” 

“I’m sorry for making you tell them about your new job.” Aurora shakes her head. “I didn’t know you were worried about telling them. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“No, I’m glad you did. Made it easier with you there. My mom’s just always been so tough to share that excitement with. She gets over it eventually, she did with college, with my internship, with tour. The initial reaction is just hard cause she doesn’t go straight to being excited.” 

They start walking down the street again and Harry reaches for Aurora’s hand and she gladly takes his. Harry’s quiet for a moment but Aurora pays no mind to it. 

“I don’t know if it helps at all, but I’m proud of you. Incredibly excited for you,” he says when they turn a corner. Aurora spots the italian bakery lit up at the end of the block. Harry kisses the top of her head and the smile on her face grows. 

“Thank you,” she replies and squeezes his hand. “Know you’re only excited cause this means I’ll still be working with you.” 

“Hmm… definitely part of it,” he laughs, “But even if you had to work in some random city, with something nothing to do with me, I’d still be proud and excited for you. Always will be, no matter what.” 

Aurora stops dead in her tracks and pulls him in for a kiss. “I love you a whole fucking lot, did you know that?” 

“Had a feeling,” he whispers around a smile, his dimples deep. “Come on, I’ve got a craving for chocolate cake.” 

When they let themselves into the apartment, Aurora’s parents have changed into some more comfortable clothes and are sitting in the living room, setting up a game of Monopoly.  Once Harry and Aurora have changed as well and Harry has poured everyone a drink and cut the chocolate cake he was craving, they settle on the floor in the living room. 

2 glasses of wine and a slice of cake later, Aurora is most definitely winning the game of Monopoly and Harry is horribly losing and has had to ‘borrow’ from the bank a handful of times. Aurora’s not sure if it’s the wine and chocolate or if it really is the ease of the evening that is making her so undeniably happy. Harry laughs along with the teasing from Aurora’s dad and happily refills her mother’s wine glass. He seems relaxed and worry free right now and Aurora’s thankful for that. Tomorrow will come and it’ll be a different story, but right now she takes this in. This moment in an unfamiliar apartment, with 3 of the people she loves most in the world. Harry steals a few glances every now and then, his hand lingers on her back or thigh every so often and Aurora plays with his grown out curls when she slides closer to him on the floor. 

“Aurora, I should’ve brought your monopoly game from home!” Aurora’s mom says. 

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion because, here they are, playing monopoly but he can’t ask what’s so special about the one back home because Aurora quickly shoots a look at Harry before she gives her mother a look that could most definitely kill. 

“Mom! Please don’t,” she pleads before she’s laughing. 

“It would’ve been funny!” 

“Oh what? Just like how you thought me bringing my One Direction posters on tour would be funny?” 

“Dare I ask?” Harry adds in. 

“Aurora made-”

“Mom!” 

Harry wraps his arms around Aurora’s waist, “Rory, you shouldn’t interrupt your mother. Quite rude isn’t it?” he jokes. 

“Aurora made a monopoly game for a class project one year and it was One Direction themed,” her mother shares. 

Aurora groans before dropping her head into Harry’s chest, hiding her blush. 

“Oh, did she now?” he teases. 

Aurora knows she won’t hear the end of this for days, but she endures the teasing with a smile on her face and it's most definitely not because of the wine but because she is laughing with Harry and her mom and her dad. She needed tonight, they all did. 

| | | | |

When they get to MSG, Harry shows Helene an old photo that he’s found on instagram. Fans had been tagging and tweeting it to him all morning and he smiles at the memory of it. He wants to recreate the photo, a way to keep a record of his journey. Helene loves the idea and tells Harry to meet her in the empty audience in 15 minutes. 

“Okay, I’m gonna go get the wardrobe ready,” Aurora says about 10 minutes later. 

“Oh, you’re not coming with?” Harry asks, trying to hide his disappointment. 

Aurora tilts her head at him and she recognizes the look on his face. She saw it last when they were at the O2 in London, weeks ago. “I can come with, if you want?” 

“I don’t want to put you behind schedule.” 

“Don’t have much of a schedule and it’s still early. Come on let’s go find Helene!” She reaches for his hand and pulls him down the hall with her. “Everything alright?”

“Mhm, you know you keep me calm,” he says quickly, like it’s something everyone knows. Aurora brings his hand up to her face and presses a kiss to the back of it. 

Aurora recognized the photo when Harry showed it to her this morning and now she laughs along with Harry and Helene as they try to get the perfect photo. Harry has a red bandana tied around his head, controlling his bed head and Aurora looks from the photo from 2012 to the sight in front of her. The cowlick at the crown of his head is exactly the same but the difference in the width of his shoulders is something Aurora can’t get over. Even in the baggy black t-shirt she can see the way his back muscles contract when he moves his arms and the way his waist tapers into his hips. 

It feels like they take forever taking the photo once Aurora is only focusing on Harry’s back and then the difference between his bare arms to his now tanned, tattoo covered muscles. She sighs and pinches her bottom lip between her thumb and pointer finger. 

“Ror!” Harry practically yells, both him and Helene laughing. 

“Sorry what?” she says getting pulled out of her thoughts. 

Harry gives her a look and Helene says something about needing to be somewhere and photos that need editing. “Where’d ya go just then?” Harry asks. 

“No where, just thinking.” 

“I know that look…” Harry drags on. “Come on.” 

Harry pulls her up from the chair and pulls her along.

And that's how they end up giggling on the couch in Harry’s dressing room. Harry’s hovering over Aurora, the kissing has halted for a moment. 

“Ror, how did this even happen?” Harry asks between giggles. 

“They’re YOUR fancy Gucci pillows that caused the problem!” 

Harry’s hands work at the strands of Aurora’s hair that have gotten caught around the beads that cover the pillow. She whines when it pulls slightly but can’t help but continue to laugh at the situation. 

Finally, she’s free from the pillow and Harry tosses it to the floor. His smile is the last thing she sees before he’s kissing her again. His hips drop to hers and she can’t help but give in to the feeling and pull him in closer to her. Her hands sneak under his t-shirt and up his back. 

Harry’s phone rings but they ignore it.

Then Aurora’s does too and they ignore that as well, until it rings non stop. 

Harry groans, “you should probably get that.” Harry pulls away and sits back on his feet, knees still on either side of Aurora’s hips. He reaches towards the table and grabs her phone. He passes it to her below him and she rolls her eyes. 

“It’s my mom, they’re probably here,” she groans. Harry grins, his dimple sinking deep. 

Harry shifts slightly which causes Aurora to groan but for an entirely different reason. Harry laughs lightly and pulls down the tank she’s wearing as he was the one to push it up to get his hands on her skin in the first place. Aurora closes her eyes for a second to collect herself. Harry moves off of her and looks at his phone and rolls his eyes. 

“More people coming out of the woodworks?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, elbows resting on his knees. Aurora rubs his back soothingly and presses her lips to his neck. 

“I was gonna give my parents a tour and show ‘em everything, but I can push it back if you want me to?” Aurora offers.

“No, go spend time with them. I need to workout anyways and sound check is earlier than normal. You can bring them to soundcheck if you want!” Harry sighs, “I’ll be okay.” 

“Yeah I’ll bring ‘em round.”

“You’re coming to the preshow thing Jeff set up right?” 

“Mhm,” Aurora hums, “and I’ll have your suit ready before then so we can just change you into it right before Kacey starts. Sound alright?” 

“Okay, good. Yeah, that works,” he rushes out and his shoulders drop heavily. 

“Hey, promise you’re good right now? You can come with, if you want.” 

“Yes, I’m good, thank you,” he says, a blush rising to his cheeks. “Boxing will help for sure, always does.” 

Aurora takes his head in her hands, tucking some messy curls back in place, surveying his eyes quickly before she leans in to kiss him softly. 

The navy blue bandana tied around his neck makes Aurora smile as he moves around the room with a red solo cup in his hand. Everyone else in the room has booze in their cups but no one pays any attention to the fact that Harry has ice water in his. The room is loud and Aurora doesn’t love the chaos of it all so she focuses on Harry. He smiles at her from across the room when he sees a glimpse of her behind the head of whoever he’s talking to. She gave her parents the full tour of backstage and let them see a glimpse of what her life looks like lately. They left to get dinner before coming back for the show and Aurora’s glad to be able to be there for Harry for the night without distractions. 

Aurora mingles with a few people she’s met before, but always keeping an eye on Harry. She’s star struck a handful of times as she watches Anna Wintour come and go, Zach Braff hang out near the bar, and Rob Sheffield chat with Helene. Even with the starstruck moments, Aurora has fun with what is easily deemed as her tour family. A few times, Harry meanders over to her and drags her along to introduce her to someone new. Repeatedly he refers to her as “his Aurora” and everytime Aurora blushes which earns her a kiss to the cheek or a squeeze to her hand or hip. In turn, she tugs on the bandana around his neck a few times.   

As the crowd in the small room thins out, Harry takes it upon himself to make a spectacle of checking his watch and pulling Aurora out of the room with him, shouting about how it takes time to look good and that he hopes everyone enjoys the show. 

“You know, that first night in Basel, I recognized your nerves the second they hit you,” Aurora begins as she watches Harry button up his black shirt. He turns around to face her, the long fabric hanging from the collar reminiscent of that first night she helped him get ready. “You got really quiet, really fast,” she continues as she starts to loop the fabric into a bow, “and even though in the end I helped, I was panicking inside. It was the first night, I barely knew you, I was just trying to do my job, but then,” she sighs when she’s happy with the look of the bow, “then I realised, in that exact moment, that maybe I had more to offer for you, that calming your nerves, minutes before you got on stage in front of thousands of people, was something I could help with.” Aurora grabs the cream Gucci jacket from the hanger. “Something I knew about, something we could level on.” 

After Harry slides both arms into his jacket he turns around to Aurora. “I wasn’t used to having someone there with me, to help me, no one really ever noticed when I got nervous.” 

“I hope you know that I’ll always be there, be here, for you,” she adds as she buttons his jacket closed. “I think, that was the moment, even though I didn’t really figure it out till now, that you were more than just this big rockstar that sauntered around the stage in his custom Gucci wardrobe to me, that there was something more there.” 

Harry huffs as his hands rub up and down Aurora’s arms. There’s a sparkle in his eye that was there a second ago, a sparkle that turns into a welled up tear in his waterline. He blinks it away. He smiles at her and Aurora carefully pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, careful not to mess with his hair or the perfectly steamed suit. 

“You good?” 

“Always good when you’re around,” Harry says, his voice soft as it gets lost in Aurora’s hair. 

The hallways to the stage entrance are loud and the energy hasn’t changed all day. Everyone is excited and their shouting their “good luck’s” and “break a leg’s” at Harry as he passes by. Aurora follows behind him and his band with Helene by her side. Mitch wraps his arm around Sarah’s waist and Helene snaps the moment. Everyone’s buzzing but Aurora keeps an eye on Harry a few feet in front of her. Harry holds open one of the double doors that has a sign that says “Stage Entrance” taped on it. Helene walks through last before Harry takes Aurora’s hand and ushers her in before he walks through too, the door shutting quietly behind them. 

His band finds their place on stage and Helene heads to the audience. Harry squeezes Aurora’s hand one last time and then kisses her temple as the opening track begins. 

“Just be careful in those flares, they’re a tripping hazard,” Aurora yells, with a laugh, up to Harry as he takes the metal steps 2 at a time. 

Aurora doesn’t waste any time getting to the audience and finding her parents in the mix at the back of the pit. She gives them both a quick hug just as Alex’s voice comes over the speakers. 

Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find? 

When the screen rises and Harry begins to come into view, gasps fill the pit along with screams as the giant flares come into view. Aurora doesn’t miss the chest heightening breath Harry takes before letting out a shaky breath through pursed lips, his shoulders dropping back to their relaxed height. The second the crash of Only Angel hits, Harry’s totally and completely carefree. Aurora turns to see her parents' reaction from their spot next to her. The surprise in their eyes in the abrupt change in music makes Aurora laugh. The surprise turns to amazement when the entire audience is singing along. 

When Harry makes his way back to the mainstage after Sweet Creature, Aurora’s mom turns to her. “I understood why you loved him before, but now I really understand.” It makes Aurora giggle and blush a bit. 

| | | | |

Aurora’s sitting in the empty audience, 3 rows behind the pit, her sneaker clad feet resting on the chair in front of her. She’s tired, exhausted. Between her parents being in the city, a handful of random friends trying to see her, Harry’s friends and family everywhere, a secretly nervous Harry, and a job to do, she’s managing a lot right now. But right now, in this moment and for the next few minutes she gets to sit, drink her iced latte and not care that she’s wearing her last clean pair of leggings and one of Harry’s random t-shirts. She’s got nowhere to be, no one to entertain, no job to do. 

A newly familiar intro begins and Aurora can’t help but laugh a little at Harry in his tall white socks, Adidas sneakers, black workout shorts and his rainbow TPWK tshirt. She’s used to seeing Harry dressed like this, but not while he’s on a stage, while he’s singing and playing his guitar, his vocals echoing more than normal through the empty arena. It’s barely 10am and Harry and Kacey’s voices aren’t where they will be when they perform this special duet later tonight, but Aurora enjoys moments like this. They sing through the chorus a handful of times, making a few harmony changes and in between each run, Adam’s kids cheer from the floor right in front of the stage. 

Aurora can see the dark circles under Harry’s eyes from where she’s sitting but doubt anyone else notices them. She helped him manage his nerves leading up to last night’s show and his solo debut on the MSG stage went off without a hitch but a wave of emotions took over once they had both left the arena. Aurora could tell something was off with Harry. Once they closed the door to their bedroom for their time in New York, Harry sunk to the bed, his arm over his face. His chest heaved quickly before a slow, shaky breath was released. 

“Hey,” Aurora said softly, sitting down on the mattress next to him. She reached for the arm covering his face. “You okay?” she asks, confused. He had been totally fine all evening, no sign of anything bothering him, no disappointment from the night, nothing. She’s caught off guard. 

“Not really sure why this is happening,” he says, his voice shaky. Aurora lets her hand rest against his chest, her thumb moving softly back and forth in a soothing manner. She can see his face now, but his eyes stay closed. She watches tears build up on his eyelashes, but gives him a moment and doesn’t say anything. Harry eventually lets out a heavy breath through his nose, his hands take the one that is resting on his chest. He brings her hand to his face and kisses her palm softly. “Just a lot happened today, I guess,” he says in the end. 

“You guess?” Aurora says in disbelief. “A lot did happen today and you can come down and react to it in any way you need.” Harry hums, lets go of her hand and reaches out to her. 

“Will you lay here with me for a second?” He asks in a soft voice. 

“Whatever you need,” Aurora responds as she lays down next to him and fits herself into his side. “I’m proud of you.”

“Please, Ror,” Harry whispers. 

“No, I’m gonna tell you. I’m proud of you. Tonight was incredible. You should be proud of yourself.” 

“I am.” 

“Good.” 

And even though he was happy and proud of himself he still continued to let tears fall from his eyes. Exhaustion from the nerves, the empty place in his heart where Robin lived because he kept dwelling on the idea of him being in the audience to see what he did, the toll touring in general takes on his body, the added stress of Aurora’s parents. Aurora whispered about the amazing moments during the show and repeatedly told him how much she loved him as she ran her fingers through his hair until he eventually fell asleep. 

So the dark circles are there for a reason and nobody else notices or needs to know why. Harry wanted one last rehearsal with Kacey before sound check later and wanted to be able to relax (as best as he could) for the majority of the day. And relaxing and having fun is what he had on the agenda for the afternoon. A few more cups of coffee and he would be ready for the official Harry Styles World Tour Table Tournament. When they walked into MSG the tables were already being set up, official leaderboards being hung on rolling whiteboards and a shiny, engraved trophy on display nearby. 

Aurora is off the leaderboard faster than the competition even started. She doesn’t even make it far enough to play against Harry. He’s a pro at this point. Table Tennis is a weird niche tour sport Aurora thinks. Harry loves it, plays it everyday, almost and Aurora teases him about him being the best because it’s the only thing he’s done as consistently as touring and performing. 8 years of table tennis under his belt has leant him the skills. She thinks he shouldn’t be allowed to compete today. Even 4 months of touring for Aurora and she can’t get the hang of it, so she watches from the side, laughs with the group and watches the dark circles disappear from under Harry’s eyes. 

With no surprise, Harry wins the tourney. Literally no one in all of New York City is surprised but they still cheer for him when he scores his winning point and then everyone is crowding around him, giving him high fives and slaps on the back -- there isn’t a single trace of a dark circle under his eyes now. Aurora knows that for a fact when she gets a good look at him up close when he picks her up off the ground in a hug while still cheering.

A few hours later Aurora is standing in her usual spot in the dressing room with the steamer heating up nearby and the large wardrobe case open in front of her. She smiles when she reaches for tonight's suit. A turquoise version of the golden Calvin Klein suit he wore back in Australia. 

“You coming out with us, tonight?” Harry asks Aurora from where he’s sitting in Ayae’s chair as she messes with his hair. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Aurora questions back, confused. 

“Well, ya used to decline my invites all the time,” Harry says matter of factly. 

“That was before and anyways when was the last time I turned you down?” 

“Harry, leave the poor girl alone,” Ayae pipes in. “She already deals with you enough as it is.” 

Aurora and Ayae laugh together as Harry whines about being teased. Aurora’s thankful for the ease of the evening, the disappearance of Harry’s nerves and exhaustion. Aurora’s parents are gone and though it was an easy few days for the most part, there’s still a wash of relief over the couple. 

Once Ayae is done with Harry she wishes him good luck and then goes to find Mitch and Adam. 

“So you’re coming with tonight?” 

“Harry, of course I am,” Aurora says with a roll of her eyes. “Gotta celebrate, right?” 

Harry just smiles and kisses the top of Aurora’s cheek before he takes his trousers from her hand. Aurora takes the now well known and iconic TPWK tank (just as she predicted) from the hanger and passes it to Harry. And then, just like every night of tour, she holds his jacket by the collar and Harry turns his back to her and slides one arm, then the other, into the sleeves. Aurora pulls as the shoulder seams, making sure they’re sitting just right before he turns around to face her. His eyes don’t leave her face as she makes a few minute adjustments to the collar before she buttons it close. Aurora doesn’t drop her hands right away, she takes a moment, the familiar spot comfortable and Harry takes the opportunity to rest his forehead against hers. A small moment between just the 2 of them calms the recurring nerves in Harry’s chest. Harry pulls away after a moment, a squeeze to Aurora’s hip before he does. No words are needed but miles upon miles of thoughts are shared between them in that moment. Aurora gives him a smile as he disappears into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Aurora slips out of her sneakers and pulls her heels out of her bag. Final night of MSG feels like the perfect occasion to dress up a bit more. She touches up her red lipstick before Harry’s back. He stops in his tracks in the door as if he didn’t notice her fully just minutes ago when she was helping him into his suit. 

“Wow,” he says now “Ror.” He shakes his head and then walks over to her. He plays with the flimsy fabric at the hem of her tank, then his hands grip at her waist. His calloused fingertips find the skin at the top of her black jeans, underneath the tank and he rubs small circles at the plushy skin of her waist. “You look really pretty, Rory,” he almost whispers. 

And just like any moment they have before a show, they’re interrupted by someone calling Harry’s name from the hallway. They groan in unison. 

“Where are you gonna watch from?” 

“You’ll have to find me.” 

Harry finds her in the audience with ease and his signature smirk appears when he does at the beginning of Ever Since New York. It's at this moment Aurora thinks about the importance of New York. 

I’ve been praying, ever since New York

This song had been written before they had met, about something totally unrelated but New York holds this cloud of memories, some strong enough that he had to put into a song, a song he plays every single night. This week will be added to the cloud of memories in New York and with Aurora moving back to the city come the end of tour, she’s sure they’ll create more here too. 

The audience erupts in screams when Harry brings out Kacey to sing with him. “You’re Still The One” begins and Aurora remembers the first time she ever heard this song. Too little to remember it all perfectly but she still remembers her mom singing it in the kitchen while baking cookies and little Aurora being entranced by the music, her mother carefree, hair tied up in a bun while she sang it to Aurora. 

When Harry played the short list of songs he was considering, Aurora put her vote on this track and Kacey loved it just as much. Now, as the song plays and Kacey sings along with Harry, the majority of the audience is singing along too. Harry can’t help but smile from time to time and it sparkles like Kacey’s rainbow dress. 

At another point in the show, Harry makes a scene in front of his band and shows off his Table Tennis tourney trophy. 

There are moments like this sprinkled throughout the show. Harry fully carefree, enjoying his time and the audience equally having the time of their lives. 

During Medicine, his mic cord gets caught but it doesn’t take away from the impeccable performance of the unreleased song, it only adds to it. 

As he walks down the alley between the pits, he collects handfuls of bouquets on his way to the B stage. Harry finds Aurora quickly, a huge smile on his face and then tosses the bouquets at her in the mix. 

Aurora doesn’t miss the shakiness of his voice during Sweet Creature and from her spot in the mix, she can see him perfectly. His head tilts up to the 300 level seats during the instrumental and he takes in a short breath before blowing out a breath through pursed lips, trying to hold back tears. It’s the sight in front of him, the emotion of the song, the reminder that he’s performing for the 2nd night for a sold out MSG that gets to him. 

Harry answers a fan’s question at one point, about what his favourite Britney Spears song is. Toxic, of course. And Aurora laughs as the audience erupts in a chant of “Sing It!” to which Harry responds, without surprise to Aurora, a simple, “no.” 

The energy in the room is something she’ll never be able to describe in a million years. There’s never a lull, never a dip, never once anything Harry does receive less than an ear deafening scream. 

The ground shakes during “Kiwi” and Harry makes the crowd scream the New York line back to him. It’s a moment where the entire audience has one goal and they achieve it, following through with Harry’s request to let go and be whoever they want to be. 

The energy doesn’t stop when he leaves the stage. The ringing is louder than normal in Aurora’s ears but she doesn’t care and the red lipped smile on her face stretches from ear to ear. Harry doesn’t care about the lingering print of red lipstick on his face when Aurora kisses his check the second he pulls her into a hug. He keeps her close while people come up to congratulate him & rave over the show. 

They make it to his dressing room almost an hour later & Harry collapses to the couch right away. Aurora sits down next to him & Harry pulls her in close to him. He doesn’t take long to get his lips on hers, but there isn’t an urgency in the kisses. The kisses are slow & deep & almost pondering like he isn’t sure where he wants this to go right now. 

Aurora takes it upon herself to start pushing his jacket off his shoulders to get her hands on more of his skin. It doesn’t go much further. The kisses slow down to a stop & they just sit there for a moment, both knowing that if they don’t actually stop now they will run into someone interrupting them. 

They go through the post show routine as usual. Harry’s sweaty suit gets hung up to dry & Harry jumps into the shower while Aurora puts everything away. She praises him over & over about different parts of the show as he messes with his wet curls & changes into clean clothes. A blush repeatedly rises to his checks & he resorts to getting her to stop fawning over his show by kissing her against the dressing room door. 

“Come ‘ere, Angel,” Harry says as he offers an open arm to her, “need my girl by my side at all times.” He’s got one hip popped out slightly and a hand on his pool stick. 

“Was getting you another drink, rockstar,” She says as she hands him a fresh Old Fashion, his drink of choice for the evening. Harry presses a kiss to the top of Aurora’s head as he takes the glass from her hand. 

The game of pool has been put on pause as one of Harry’s friends reads Rob Sheffield's Rolling Stones article about MSG night 1 as loud as he can. There’s hoots and hollers every so often from the group they’re with in reaction to some of the comments Rob has written. 

That’s confidence. That’s cheek. That’s arrogance. That’s a rockstar.

Bowie-glam raunchfest Kiwi.

His generous spirit was contagious all night. Shine on, you crazy diamond. 

Harry doesn’t let Rory leave his side most of the night. He even takes the opportunity to show her how to properly use the pool stick in the most cliché romcom way. Aurora doesn’t shy away though, she only encourages it more every time. 

They seem to be sharing every single feeling tonight, warmth, excitement, release of stress, love, & they can’t get enough of each other. 

It’s nearly 3am when Harry’s twirling Aurora around in circles in the almost empty basement of the bar. The group has thinned out but neither of them are paying much attention to what’s happening around them. Aurora’s cheeks hurt from the sheer length of time she’s been smiling at Harry. His tortoise rimmed reading glasses seem to appear out of nowhere & his dimples haven’t gone away in hours. As Aurora adjusts her grip on Harry’s shoulders & the small bit of sweat through the rainbow Kacey Musgraves T-shirt he’s wearing doesn’t bother her. 

One last turn in the middle of the open floor has Aurora dizzy & stumbling over her feet & then Harry’s. Harry grips at Aurora’s waist a bit tighter as he steadies her. He lands a sloppy kiss on her lips before guiding both of them to sit at the nearby booth. Aurora swings her legs onto Harry’s lap with the only goal to get closer to Harry in mind.

In this small basement of a bar in New York, with his Rory all over him, Harry is sure that this is where he’s supposed to be.

comments & feedback ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS welcome & appreciated !!!

[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

Behind the Mask

Hi. This is, a lot. Like five pages of work. I’ve spent days working on it and I’ve rewritten it twice, so I hope this is as good as I think it is. I’ve left the ending open because I’m thinking of writing a part two, let me know what you think. 

Master List

~~

“What on this blue earth do you mean you need another suit, Hyunwoo? The party is tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, Lin, I know its last minute.” The large muscular man bows deeply, and you can just feel in his words that he’s truly sorry. 

“I was supposed to be out of the country, my plans only just got cancelled.” The other man apologizes, also bowing. Your boss glares at them, her steely gaze made worse by the black mask covering her face. 

“I can make it.” The moment the words leave your mouth you regret them. All three of them turn their gazes on you, and for a few moments you want to sink in on yourself. 

“I don’t want to impose on you.” You can’t speak for a few seconds, too busy being absolutely stuck on the man in front of you. He’s tall and so muscular he could probably kill you with a hug. “Y/n,” Lin begins, “You really think you could create an entire suit in a day?” You square your shoulders, this was the moment you had been waiting for, a chance to show your skills. 

“I designed all the other suits, every other costume you had me work on is done. I already had a mock up of his suit finished when he cancelled originally. If I can use fabric from the workshop, and if I work all night, I can get it done.” The group exchanges glances, and you can see just from their eyes that Lin and Hyunwoo have very little faith. 

“I think you can do it.” The other man vouches, eyes twinkling and making your heart skip more than a few beats. “I have faith in you, and I’ll help as much as I can.” You choke on your own words for a second but finally manage to nod. 

“Thanks.” 

“Alright, Y/n, if you think you can do it, go ahead.” Lin nods, “Hoseok is going to be your assistant.” 

“Great.” You breathe, unsure if you’re going to be able to function properly with him around. “Follow me.” You lead him back to the workshop, which is just a huge warehouse connected to the back of the tailors shop filled with fabrics, lace and all the bits and baubles needed to make whatever clothing customers wanted. 

“Woah.” His small gasp has you smiling behind your own mask as you head over to your workstation. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty impressive, but we’re asked to clothe most artists these days. Dragon Tailors is the official tailor for JYP, Big Hit and P Nation, but we get clients from all over.” You explain, dropping your sketchbook on the table and motioning for him to take a seat. “Alright so this is what I designed a few months ago.” 

The suit was, arguably, simple. It was just a black lace vest, and a deep red jacket with matching pants. The jacket had the wings of Eros embroidered on the back in gold, and doves on the lapel, while the pants had rose vines going up the legs. It was simple but elegant and sexy, and a good representation of Eros in your opinion. The other boys in his (former) group were also going as varying gods. While the other boys were going as much more major gods, Hoseok had chosen Eros, maybe to only lowkey match the other boys. 

“Wow, that’s a lot. Are you going to be able to make it in time?” You shrug, your shoulder brushing against his. 

“I have the rose patches for the pants, and I have a dove program on my embroidery machine for the lapels, I can hand stitch the wings, if I get the rest of it done quickly.” You explain, glancing at your watch. “I’ve got roughly 40 hours, luckily you guys came in early.” 

“Is there anything I can help with?” You finally look over at him. He’s handsome, even while wearing his mask, with strong brows and deep brown eyes. For a few seconds you’re stuck, drowning in his eyes, until you finally manage to pull yourself out. 

“You need a mask and some shoes. The mask should be red and gold, and the shoes should be black, and Oxfords.” 

“You guys don’t make shoes?” He wonders and you shake your head, walking over to the rack of half finished designs you were working on. 

“We design them, but typically the people we work with either have a pair already, or we order them, usually from a brand the star is partnered with.” You grab the mock up you had already built. “Before you leave to get those, try this on for me. I need to know it fits.” You toss the material at him, pointing to the changing room behind him. 

Of course it fits, but you still make a point of reminding him not to work out between now and the party, or he might burst out of the jacket, which you would pay to see. Before he leaves to get his missing pieces you give him your number, telling him to text you pictures before he buys anything. And with that, you’re alone in the workshop. 

“So, he’s kinda cute.” Lin greets, sliding your sketchbook towards her while you’re focused on the bolts of red cloth on the wall. 

“He’s an idol, you told me they’re off limits.” You retort, “Satin or silk?” 

“Silk, with satin for the liner.” You nod, grabbing the cloth you want. “And they aren’t off limits, at least, he isn’t. Are you making him body chains?”

“If I have time,” You drop the cloth on the table, grabbing your patterns. “I mean, he’s hot, no cap, but there’s no way he’d go for me. He probably has girls throwing themselves at him all the time, I’m not about to do that.” Lin nods understandingly, walking over to the lace collection and picking one. 

“What about this for the vest?” You glance over at her, nodding approvingly at the selection. “He’s a broad boy, are you sure this is going to look good on him?”

“He could make a garbage back look good, Lin. Hey don’t you have a Hyunwoo up front?”

“He’s getting the two of us lunch, as payment for stressing me out.” 

“Sounds like a date to me.” You tease, earning a chuckle from her. 

“Maybe it is.” She pats your back as she walks by, “Good luck, I believe in you.” 

“That makes one of us.” 

~~

You weren’t sure how much time was passing, there were no windows in the workshop, so you just kept going. The pants were finished, you had decided to forgo the vines, and just add roses in a few different colors. The vest was done too, the lace Lin had chosen was made of small birds and flowers, like it had been made for this project. Hoseok had texted you not even an hour after he had left, showing off the mask and shoes he had gotten, which looked really good. 

All that you needed to do was stitch these wings, attach the liner to the torso of the jacket, and put it all together. Oh and make the body chains and the choker. It was going to be a long night, the wings were going to take hours to finish, and the chains probably an hour, but Hoseok would have to be here for that, so it could wait until after the jacket was finished. Then you just had to steam everything and make sure he picked it up on time. 

Good thing sleep is an illusion. 

“Hey google.” You don’t look away from your work as your phone pauses your music to listen to you. “Place an order at Dalcomm Coffee.” You adjust the glasses on your nose, lining the sketch paper up with the jacket. “One large white mocha, no whip with an extra shot of espresso.” 

“Confirm order, one large white mocha. Subtract whip. Add espresso.” The device asks. 

“Confirm.” 

“Order total is-”

“Confirm.” 

“Order placed. Estimated time of arrival: 7:16 pm, Korean Standard Time.” 

“Thanks google, play my work playlist.” 

“You thank your google?” Hoseok’s voice has you glancing up, finding him standing in the doorway with two bags in his hands. Somehow, he looked even better than earlier, now in a muscle shirt and basketball shorts. His face was still hidden behind the mask, like yours, but you could tell he was smiling from the crinkle in his eyes. 

“Yes I do, you don’t?” He shakes his head, laughing softly. 

“Can’t say I do. Maybe I should. May I come in?”

“Yeah sure. The pants and vest are done, if you’d like to try them on.” He shakes his head, perching on the stool next to you with his bags at his feet. 

“I’ll wait until the jacket is done.” He decides. “How are you doing?”

“Working. The lapels are on the machine, so I just need to finish the wings and I’ll be almost done.” You explain, pointing to the machine on the other end of the table. 

“Have you eaten today?” His question shocks you enough to make you look up from your work. Had you eaten today? 

“Uh, no.” You focus back on the chalk in your hands as you tediously redraw the wings onto the fabric. “But I am getting another cup of coffee.” 

“How many cups have you had?” You chuckle, knowing your smile is hidden. 

“Many.” 

“Well, goodthing I brought you dinner.” 

“I’ll eat when I’m done.” 

“How about when you’re done drawing that?” 

“I’ve really got to get this done.” You insist, waving at the jacket. 

“You really need to eat, you still have plenty of time to finish this.” His voice is soft but insistent. “If you don’t eat you’ll get sick.” You huff, tapping the chalk on the table. 

“Alright fine,” You relent, “But let me finish drawing this first.” 

“I can deal with that.” He begins unloading the food, setting it on a nearby table, seeing as your workstation was covered in fabric. 

“You know you didn’t have to buy me dinner.” You comment, eyes still glued to your work. 

“I wanted to.” The way he says is so matter-of-factly has your heart beating a little faster. 

“A man after my own heart.” You joke, glancing over at him. You can tell he’s smiling behind his mask, even though he isn’t looking at you. 

“Maybe.” He mumbles, and you’re pretty sure you weren’t supposed to hear that. “This is beautiful.” He breathes, fingers trailing over the roses on his pants. “You’re very talented.” 

“Thank you. If I’m being honest, this is my first chance to make a full outfit of my own.” You confess. 

“Really? I would have assumed you’ve been doing this for years.” 

“I generally just design, and then Lin and the others actually make them. I usually just get to make accessories and take measurements.” You shrug, re-aligning the original sketch over the fabric. “This is my chance to prove myself.”

“Well, you’ve proven yourself to me.” 

~~

Time moves both too slowly, and too quickly for you. Wonho leaves later in the night, several hours after you’ve finished dinner, telling you to get some sleep and not worry about the jacket. You lie, of course, telling him you will when the lapels are finished, but even when they are, you only move them to the side to continue working on the embroidery. Your hands hurt, your back hurts, your eyes hurt, but as the hours pass, the golden shimmer of the thread expands, unfurling into stellar wings befitting any god. You’re halfway through the second wing when a coffee is set down in front of you. 

“Hoseok, I told you to go to bed.” You respond instantly. 

“He probably is asleep, its only 5.” Lin’s voice is tinged with laughter. You finally look away from the needle, finding your boss standing next to you, and a few of the other designers setting up their workstations. 

“Am?” She nods at your question. “Good, if I started at 8,” You pause doing mental math, “I should have the wings finished by 8, the choker should only take about 30 minutes, I might have this ready for steaming by 9-9:30.” You inform her, focusing your face back on the project at hand. 

“Y/n, did you work all night?” Max, another designer asks. 

“Yeah, I’ve still got a bit to finish, but it will be ready for tonight.” 

“Wait, this is for tonight?” Sungwoo gasps, examining the vest and pants hanging on your rack. 

“Yeah.” You answer curtly, trying to just get back to work. 

“Why are you just working on it now? You should have had it finished yesterday at the latest, we need your help with-”

“Kami, you should be praising Y/n.” Lin interrupts. “While you all got the day off, Y/n was given this task yesterday, and she’ll have it done today. How many of you can say you’ve made a suit in under 40 hours.” Your face is warm as the room goes silent. “That’s what I thought.” Lin scoffs, “As for the rest of you. Kami, you’ve been contracted by Jung Seojoon for an upcoming award show, he’d like to meet at his house at 7. Sungwoo, I believe you have a dress for Perry’s upcoming tour that needs finishing. Max, Harden and Dojoon, you’re on call for repairs and styling for tonight, Rain already called this morning about a broken cufflink, Harden if you could.”

“Yes ma`am.” 

“Good, and leave Y/n alone until the suit is done. Understood?” The room was filled with confirmation and Lin patted your shoulder. “I’ll be in my workroom.” 

~~

You were right, the embroidery was finished by 8, but the entire suit wasn’t ready until almost 11, thanks to the choker taking forever. Sitting on your stool, you gazed at your masterpiece, marveling at how well it turned out, and praying it fit properly. 

“Looks good. Hoseok will be here for pick up at 5, why don’t you head home for a bit, get some sleep.” Lin greets, coming up behind you. 

“I should stay and help with-”

“No. You’re going to go home, until 4, at least. If you wake up before he’s supposed to come pick it up, you can come back and help. Otherwise, we’ll call you if we need you.” She orders instead. “Do not argue with me.” 

“Yes ma’am.” You finally relent. 

The exhaustion hit the moment you walked in your front door, and you ended up passed out on the couch instead of your bed. When you finally woke up, it was thanks to the incessant ringing of your phone on the table next to you, and the sudden lack of being able to breathe thanks to your cat deciding to pass out on your chest. 

“Hello?” You mumble into the device, absently petting the naked kitty. 

“Y/n, it’s Lin. Get up and shower, I’ll be at your house in thirty minutes.” Her words have you sitting up slightly, confused, and knocking the cat off. 

“Sorry, Berus. And what do you mean you’ll be here in 30 minutes?”

“I’m playing fairy godmother tonight. Go shower, now.” Her voice is stern, and something tells you not to question it. 

“Um, alright.” 

The doorbell rings just as you exit the bathroom, still toweling your hair dry. Lin is standing outside with Max and Sungwoo, with a dress bag slung over her shoulder. 

“Uh, hi.” You manage to mutter as they push past you into your apartment. 

“Oh good, your hair isn’t dry, that’ll make styling it easier.” Sungwoo remarks, “Max and I will set up in the kitchen, the lighting’s probably better.” 

“I’ll put this in the bedroom. He’ll be here at 9:45, so that gives us only about two hours for hair and make up, think you can do it?” Lin asks, hanging the dress bag on the curtain rod over the couch, giving you and Berus the chance to ogle what's inside. 

The suit is while, with pale pink and gold flowers adorning most of it. The buttons are ivory with golden trim, and a mask, the same white and gold, with the same almost pink flowers, hangs from the hanger. 

“What is going on? Why are you here and why do you have a suit? And who is going to be here at 9:45?” Sungwoo and Max turn to Lin. 

“You didn’t tell her?” Lin smirks at Max’s question. 

“I told her some. Like I said, I’m playing Fairy Godmother.” She turns to you as she speaks, excitement glittering in her eyes. “You are going to the ball, Cinderella.” You wanted to respond with something intelligent, but all that came out was a very undignified, 

“Huh?”

“Come on, Psyche,” Max laughs, guiding you towards the kitchen, “Your Eros awaits.”

[vanaera]

Of Cliches and Romcom Tropes

Synopsis | You find yourself literally living a classic Romcom trope by being the nerdy introvert in love with her unexpected friend, Kim Taehyung, your university’s golden theater boy and campus heartthrob. It only turns more disgustingly cliché when you learn he part-times as a prince actor in the same carnival where you work as a ticket booth attendant. Trusting on the clichés you’ve watched in numerous Romcom films, you embark on a plan to get your crush to like you back this Halloween. Pairing | prince actor!taehyung x ticket booth attendant!oc Genre | So much fluff, slight angst, humor that’s close to being crack Wordcount | 10,184 AU | Carnival Prompt | “You’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.” – “I bet you tell everyone that.” Warnings | None A/N | This is for @foreverpark​’s Halloween Writing Challenge! It’s my first time joining a challenge like this so thank you so much Sarah for giving me an opportunity to experience this! For my hons out there, here’s my Halloween fic for you! Please also check out Sarah’s fics and the other fics for this challenge, they’re all great! Happy reading!

               At every start of success story speeches, there is a ninety percent probability you will hear “Fake it ‘til you make it.” How Mark managed to chance upon an idea of an app, How Sarah snagged the director position she dreamed of, how introverted Kim developed progressive networks–it is an imperative that saying will pop out in every single one of these stories. Well, except yours, because it’s the other way around in your life. At times “Fake it ‘til you make it’ does makes a cut, but in most of your major life events where you desperately wished for it to work, it doesn’t really work. You know because you’ve long tried to fake you’re so invested in your part-time job, only for you to cry out at night that you didn’t want to do it anymore.

               Sitting on an uncomfortable stool with a small fan on your right as reprieve from the heat, you spend most of your day with cramped legs inputting number of tickets sold, handing over ticket stubs, becoming an instant customer service attendant, and smiling through clenched teeth at the people that stop by your booth. Working the most boring job in the carnival is not something you can fake to enjoy until you make enough savings for your college tuition. That is, until Kim Taehyung came.

               “Wonder boy” is an extreme understatement to describe that guy. Kim Taehyung is cute and has a model-esque body and his voice sounds so nice when he’s in his prince costume entertaining the kids who enter the Fairytale Land booth. Okay, maybe you’ve been staring at him too long than you’re supposed to when you’re at work. But in your defense, you’ve known Kim Taehyung long before you discovered he also part-times at the Enchanted Carnival–long enough for you to harbor a massive, embarrassing crush on the boy.

               Kim Taehyung studies in the same university as you and you first saw him the day you didn’t attend your history class just so you can prepare for your midterms in the said subject–the irony of college students’ philosophy. That day, you just entered a classroom you frequent for study purposes, knowing it will be empty during your history period. Except for that day because the moment you pushed open the door, a stable vibrato echoing within the rooms’ walls halts in an awkward coughing fit.

               Your anxiety-driven nerves immediately take over you. “Uhh, I’m sorry I just barged in I didn’t mean to interrupt you–”

               “No, it’s o-okay,” the boy coughs, hitting his chest repeatedly. “I was just su-surprised.”

               “I’m really sorry for interrupting you,” you take a step back, your hand grasping for the knob. “Continue on, I’ll just find another room–”

               “No, it’s okay, you can share the room with me.”

               “A-are you sure?” you squint, still rooted at the door. “You don’t have like, a class in here or something? You have a projector set up on the teacher’s desk.”

               “Nah, it’s just my prop when I do my final runs.” He walks to the projector and flips down its lens cover. A picture of a wooden fort set in what looks like cobble-stoned streets of 18th century France flashes on the white board. “See?” The boy turns to you, grinning. “I’m cutting just like you. No pressure, mate. Stay.”

               “B-but you’re practicing, I may distract you.”

               “It’s okay, I don’t mind some audience–unless, you get distracted from studying by music, then I’ll go and find–”

               “No, it’s okay,” you chuckle. “I don’t get distracted by music. I love music. Actually, I like listening to songs while I study so yeah, go on.” You set your papers on the nearest seat and plop down.

               “You do?” The boy asks and you find yourself smiling at his beaming face. You’ve never seen someone who smiles so bright like him on a constant-interaction basis.

               “Yeah, I do. By the way, what are you singing for?”

               “Oh yeah,” the boy scratches his nape, reds forming on the tips of his ears. “uh, this is for my Drama club. I’m still in the application process and we have this task to play and perform as a theater character tomorrow Friday. I wanted to do Jean Valjean from Les Miserables.”

               “Wow, that’s great,” you smile, “actually I’m studying for my History midterms, so yeah, your practice is very timely. You can be my background music,” you chuckle, “to give me the better feel of what I will be crying over later back at my home.”

               Taehyung laughs and you chuckle before going back on your own devices. An hour and a half passes with you flipping furiously through your reviewer in time with the instrumentals behind Taehyung’s velvet voice. When the bell rings and the afternoon class scheduled in the room starts to form a mini clique outside, you scramble out the door with a mess of papers pressed to your chest and a new name to mull over during your breaks: Kim Taehyung.

               Unlike what you predicted, that encounter was not the last you will have with the theater boy. You had a couple of classes with him in the next semester and he sat next to you in each lectures. You also became partners for a pair project in your Communication Theories class. Kim Taehyung became a regular presence in your college life that at the end of your sophomore year, you knew his dream of becoming a theater actor, all his likes, dislikes and insecurities, and even his secrets he said his friends knew none of like “Y/N, do you know I used to dream of becoming a Disney prince? Not used to, actually I still low-key dream of playing Shang from Mulan just so I can sing ‘Make a Man Out of You.’”                You never imagined you would hit up such a friendship with someone who’s the total polar opposite of you. Taehyung’s a social butterfly while you hate going out of your house. He knows almost three-fourth of the total population in the university with him getting to manage nine clubs while still maintaining his academics. In total contrast to you who never got to join any organizations, too afraid of making commitments you neither can fulfill nor prioritize over staying at home and reading your fiction books. Not to say Taehyung’s on the top of the strata with his handsome looks, blessed physique, impressive talent, and wide range of friends. While you’re someone who easily blends with the crowd’s background noise, with nothing too much to offer but a small group of friends and a fascination for critiquing movies–especially those that are really bad.

               You guess that people say, “Opposites attract” for a reason because when you and Taehyung move on to sophomore year, you find yourself crushing hard on the boy. However for you, the attraction is definitely going to be one-sided. You’re sure of it because how can Taehyung ever like you back? You’re the epitome of average-ness that you even became the stepping stone for the girls who want to snag a date with Taehyung. Of course you wouldn’t let Taehyung miss out on cute girls he can probably date when he can have any girl he wish to be with. And, you’re too chicken to act out even a hint of your feelings for him. Clammy hands, jumpy heart, and equipped with an instinct to run to the opposite hall when you so much as glance at Taehyung’s approaching figure, you are sure he will be the death of you. Everything turns worse when you learn he part-times this summer break in the same carnival you work pathetically.

               “Yo, Y/N, you work here, too?” Taehyung nears you, clad in a white polo dangerously unbuttoned down his chest, navy trousers that cinches his narrow hips, and brown combat boots. He is also wearing an unbuttoned red military jacket, its shoulder pads making his shoulders look broader than they’d ever been.  A rich red cape embellished with golden details flows behind him, complementing the gold tassels on his jacket and his golden crown that makes him look impossibly more ethereal. He fucking looks like a brunet Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle.

               You consciously glance down at your outfit: sweat-stained purple polo shirt with Enchanted Carnival’s logo embroidered on its breast pocket, tucked in generic black slacks that doesn’t fit you well. When you  reach up to tuck the stray strand of hair that escapes your ponytail, you’re reminded you’re still wearing the silly mandatory headband with pink bunny ears. Your face feels oily, your hair’s unwashed, and you just remembered you’re not wearing any makeup on. Great, you fucking look like all college students’ worst job nightmare.

               “Hey, you’re still there?”

               “Ye-yeah, uh, hi, Tae,” you smile awkwardly, snatching your headband off and hiding it behind your back. You tried to make yourself look less embarrassing but it backfired when all short strands of your hair messily spill down to your cheeks. You smile wider. Okay, this is the worst day ever.

               “I didn’t know you’re also working here,” Taehyung says.

               “Umm, yeah. I forgot to tell you, I’m sorry–”

               “No, no, no, it’s okay!” Taehyung waves his hands, laughing. “In fact this is great!”

               “Great?” You want to jump off from a cliff right on.

               Taehyung remains oblivious in your self-pity and just grins. “Yeah, it means I get to see you everyday even when we’re outside uni!”

               “We do see each other outside uni. I tutored you for six months straight in the library.”

               “Yeah, but I mean, it’s nice we get to be co-workers. It’s good to have a familiar face around so work wouldn’t be so boring. Say, Y/N, why don’t we have lunch at the cafeteria later? I have so many to tell you and–”

               “Yah, Kim Taehyung! You’re up next, what are you doing outside?” you glance behind your friend and see Jimin, dressed in the same uniform as you minus the silly headband, wildly waving for the boy in front of you. When Jimin notices you, he breaks into a smile, “Oh, hi, Y/N,” and then he returns to his agenda. “Taehyung come here quickly! The batch of kids is nearing the Princess’ Castle, boss is gonna chew us out if you didn’t get back to the booth in three!”

               Taehyung sighs and looks at you with shoulders drooped. “I have to go back now. Guess, I’ll see you later?”

               “Okay, later, then. Have fun, Tae,” you wave at him with a smile.

               When you head back for your booth, you cross your fingers and hope you don’t see him later. How can the universe do you this dirty by placing him so near you right when you are at your worst?

               At the end of the day, you learn the universe just does you dirty for the hell of it. Taehyung bounds your way for lunch break in his prince costume, grinning stupidly just when you’re about to sneak off to the comfort rooms. Nevertheless, you accept the lemons life is giving you and decide to relish in your crush’s presence as you joke over lunch. You just didn’t expect that day will start an unannounced routine with Taehyung eating lunch with you and him walking you home after your shifts for the rest of your summer break.  The seemingly grey area in your friendship with Taehyung turns more mind-boggling when the man keeps up with the routine even after the summer break has ended, with you two continuing your part-time jobs at the carnival every weekend.

               Truth be told, your set-up with Taehyung is a blessing in disguise. He may see you greasy-faced, constantly suffering at work, and daily pissed at your cramped station with poor ventilation but at least you get to see the man you fell in love with everyday. Not just the Taehyung who’s the campus crush and the talented actor every kid in the carnival loves. But the Taehyung who stays up with you until three in the morning talking about what you want for yourselves, who genuinely laughs at your puns and memes everyone else finds corny, and who tells you he’s enjoying himself in his job because finally, he gets to act like a Disney prince.

               So when you find yourself only falling for Taehyung deeper, getting over him becomes the last resort in your to-do list. You start to let yourself get ahead of you and assume that maybe, just maybe, there is a chance Taehyung likes you back. Or else he wouldn’t do all those things with you with his stare lingering on your face, and his hand brushing against your own on multiple occasions you swear are not conjured up by your lovesick heart. Right?

               With the Halloween season closing in and your part-time contracts at the carnival nearing its end, you are compelled to finally make a move on Taehyung. The carnival is the only place where your social and visual gap matters the least.  You’re going to get an answer from him before this perfect chance expires. All you have to do now is have courage for the things you’re about to do and you pray that this time, the universe lets you successfully fake it ‘til you make it.

***

 Plan 1: The Makeover Montage

               You’ve watched enough Romcom films to know that a good makeover montage creates an obvious statement that a woman is about to claim her man. And so, you started making your wallet cry and your fingers ache by splurging on cosmetic brands and watching YouTube makeup tutorials. You’re proud of yourself when by the time Monday rolls in, you are confident you can pull off the cat wing and coral peach color scheme you learnt in exchange of sleep-deprived nights.

               You wait by your locker and glance at your watch. 7:48 A.M. Great, just in time. You look down on your outfit: a white ruffled blouse tucked in a pink and yellow plaid skirt. Spending three hours planning today’s outfit was totally worth it, you mentally pat yourself.

               Three minutes pass and then the bell chimes. You stand up straight and crane your neck to look for your target. Amy from History, Dave from Economics, Amanda from the College Secretary’s Office, Jimin from Arts and the Enchanted Carnival–There! Kim Taehyung.

               Taehyung catches your eye and waves at you. He whispers something to Jimin before he bounds toward you. “Hi, Y/N. Didn’t know you’re an early bird now. I thought your first class today is later at eleven thirty?”

               “U-um, I have so-something to pass to Ms. Terry at the Department of Arts and Communication,” you laugh awkwardly.

               “Oh is that so? Wait,” Taehyung looks at you, eyes wide. “Is it a homework I may have forgotten to do at home?”

               “N-no! There’s no homework! It’s just uh–a follow-up on a project!”

               “A project? Did Ms. Terry announce any project? I’m sorry, I’m just confused because we take her class together and–”

               “It’s a personal project!” you interject with a grin. “I…uh, I’ve been working on it since last month. I forgot to tell you about it, but it’s not much, just a collection of…news clippings.”

               “News clippings, hmm, that sounds interesting. Tell me about it at lunch, I will go ahead now to my first period,” Taehyung steps back and makes a salute, his alternative of a goodbye wave to you. “Good luck with your project!”

               “Wa-wait, Tae!”

               Taehyung halts in his steps and looks at you. “Why? Is something wrong?”

               “I–uh, did you notice anything new today?”

               “New?” Tehyung tilts his head. “Is it a new promo for the diner we frequent?”

               “Uhh, no.”

               “Umm,” Taehyung bites his lip, “is it a new movie you sent to me in our Discord?”

               “Uh, also no. And, I will gush about a movie first to you in person before I send it to our Discord.”            

               “Oh, right,” Taehyung chuckles. “Is it a new book then?”

               “No.”

               “New supplies in the bookstore you love?”

               “No.”

               “A new flavor of coffee in the vending machine?”

               “No.

               “A new–”

               “Goddamn it, Taehyung, you know what, just go to your class,” you purse your lips and Taehyung gawks at you.

               “W-why? Did I say something wrong, Y/N?”

               “No, it’s just, you’re so obliviou–UGH!”

               “‘Obliviou-ugh?’” Taehyung looks more confused than ever he’s been in his life.

               You take in deep breath and take it as a signal for you to retreat. “Don’t mind me it’s just my mood swing!” you holler as you turn your back and walk fast to the exit. Following-up with a faint “See you later!” to the bewildered boy by the time you step out the hallway.

               After what happened today, you guess Taehyung won’t easily notice your makeover with just one encounter. You decided to keep it consistent for the rest of the week, waking up earlier to curl your hair and apply makeup before going to your classes. And every day you kept trying something new – a change of shade in the lip gloss, a swipe of a bolder eye shadow, a shift from preppy to sophisticated clothing styles–Taehyung still fails to notice anything. Even when you turn up for your shift in the carnival with full-on makeup for the very first time, Taehyung just passes you by with his usual demeanor.

               “Hi, Y/N!”

               “Hi Tae!” You cringe at how chirpy you sound. “Umm, you look exceptionally good today!”

               “Yeah?” Taehyung looks at his clothes, the same Howl costume he always wears in his shift. “Well, I look like this everytime in my shift so thanks?”

               “But, have you noticed anything new today?” you bat your mascara-laden lashes for emphasis.

               “New?” Taehyung leans closer to you and this time you feel your heart pounding in suspense. Of course he’ll notice it now, you never wear this much makeup at work–

               “Oh, your ID lace!” Taehyung snaps his fingers, grinning. “Right, you changed your ID lace, how can I miss out on it? You always complain about the neon orange you used to have and now it’s black just like how you always want.”

               You balk at him. “Uhh, it’s still the ones provided by the staff. They just changed the color.”

               “Yeah, isn’t that great? You’ve always wanted a black ID lace! Remember when you used to tell me you’re gonna file a petition to change the neon orange lace to black? It’s finally black!” Taehyung claps you on the back and then makes his signature salute. “See ya later at lunch Y/N. And congrats to the ID lace!”

               You poke your cheek with your tongue in annoyance. You’ve done such a good job perfecting your makeup and all he notices is just your ID lace?! What the motherfucking–

               Okay, maybe Taehyung doesn’t get makeover montages. You cross Plan 1 out and step up to Plan 2.

Plan 2: The Assertive Approach

               If Taehyung can’t notice physical changes, maybe this time, he can notice behavioral changes.  In the films you have watched, you’ve seen countless protagonists be successful in catching the eye of their love interests by changing their flirting style. You’ve always dreamt of becoming like Julia Roberts in her hit romance films: confident, bold, and unafraid to make the first move. So this time, you get to finally be the woman of your dreams and you hope she can also entice the man inside your heart.

               You started your metamorphosis by sitting closer to Taehyung during lectures, leaning closely to him whenever he’s talking with you, closing the space between your faces with a mere inch of breath. You also let your hands do the speaking for you whenever you walk home from work, masking the frequent brushing of your fingers against his, an obvious open invitation for him to hold your hand, seemingly accidental. But whatever you do, Taehyung still can’t get any hint. He’ll just smile at you and proceed to what he’s doing without even a waver in his tone.

               Fueled with desperation, you decide to cross the boundary from subtle to blatant assertion in your lunch break with Taehyung.

               “Today’s a pretty beat day,” Taehyung remarks, taking off his sweaty cape. “Some teens decided to not go with the usual flow of the booth and visit the stops in reverse. I felt sorry for Jimin. He looked so stressed manhandling each teen out of the booth and giving them a stricter run-over of the booth’s rules.”

               “Yeah?” You slide closer next to his seat and cross your legs. “Then what about you, did the teens made fun of you? I heard from Seokjin that Lisa almost broke down when they poked around her unicorn costume.”

               “I’m glad I’m the last stop. Jimin already entered the booth when the kids made the ruckus at Lisa’s stop.” Taehyung sighs, running his hand through his damp fringes. “I couldn’t imagine myself dealing with such troublesome people. If I were in Lisa’s place, I would have already been screaming at them for being bastards at such a young age. It’s a relief, it didn’t happen. I would have lost this job.”

               “I’m glad, too, you didn’t get hurt.” You lean towards him, resting your head against his shoulder. You felt him stiffen in his seat and you smile. “I would have been so worried, you know. I don’t know what I will do,” you grab his hand, intertwine it with yours, and look up at him, “if I don’t see you around here anymore.”

               “Really?” Taehyung turns to you and you nod. He smiles. “Thanks, Y/N, for your concern. I would feel the same if you were to experience that. Oh, we should probably eat now, our food’s getting cold.” Taehyung immediately detaches his fingers from yours, leaving you gaping in your seat.

               Your lunch proceeds like usual and the awkward hand-holding you pulled off was never brought up again. Like Plan 1, you kept Plan 2 consistent for the week. However, Taehyung still remains painfully oblivious.

               Plan 2 is unsuccessful so you cross it out and decide it’s time to take your game to the full notch.

 Plan 3: The Vixen’s Touch

               If Taehyung can’t recognize physical and behavioral changes, he cannot miss out on a temptation handed over on a silver platter. Plan 3 is the ultimate overkill.  No one can resist the seductive vixen. You already braved through doing a Julia-Roberts-character. Going for the longest mile with Megan Fox shouldn’t be a problem. This is probably just your ego talking but you’re not gonna let the smallest bit of shame creep in to you now. Not now, when you’re putting all your cards on the table for Taehyung’s heart. This is all or nothing.

               You see, the Vixen’s Touch is the epitome of all Romcoms’ super power move. Just one scene is enough to turn the tables around and let the heroine achieve whatever outcome she desires. However, such great power comes numerous setbacks. One can only do a vixen move once and never more because if it’s overdone, it will lose it’s mystery, charm, and power–everything that makes it an effective Romcom move. So, you planned your Vixen Touch meticulously.

                You can’t do a Megan-Fox-move at school because you’ll attract too much attention, especially with Taehyung who’s already at the spotlight of social interactions. Instead, you will pull it off in the carnival, where you can have your crush all to yourself without worrying about ambitious bitches intruding your scenario. You’ll enter the Fairy Tale booth during your break time and sneak to the backstage from the “Authorized Personnel Only” door on the left of the second stop. From there, you will do Lisa’s advice to take a right turn and then a left.  It will lead to a connecting hallway that ends with the red curtains behind the Princess’ Castle. There, you’ll surprise Taehyung, who’s waiting for the princess’ cue, with a tingling touch against his spine and a sexy and breathy, “Hi, Tae.” Taehyung will be shocked and you’ll close the gap between the two of you. With the dark setting and the seemingly scandalous set-up, the thrilling mood will compel you to lean towards him and he will close his eyes and interlock his lips with  yours in a passionate kiss. If you make it fast to the connecting hallway, you will have enough alone time with Taehyung before the batch of people even reaches the third stop from the princess’ castle. You grin to yourself. Your plan has never been this perfect.

                Weekdays pass with you continuing your Assertive Approach. Taehyung’s still clueless, making the transition to Plan 3 much more thrilling. When Saturday finally rolls in, you set your game-est face on.

                It’s a week before Enchanted Carnival’s Halloween Party, which means the management is lenient on the part-timers’ work uniforms. After all, you only have one week left before you end your contracts. And so, you pull out your fanciest casual outfit–a little red dress with off-shoulder sleeves, partnered with fishnet stockings that go well with your black combat boots. You also perfected your makeup: eyebrows on-fleek, cat wings on-point, deep brown smoky eyes, and blood-red lips. To top off your look, you put on a thin, black choker. You smile at yourself. You did a good job making yourself look hot. You know it’s not just your ego talking because when you arrive at the ticket booth, Jimin compliments your look.

                “Yo, Y/N, I never knew you could look this pretty,” Jimin grins at you.

               "You also look good today,“ you return, taking note of how well his striped buttondown fits his frame. “I didn’t know today is leg day,” you add, admiring how his ripped jeans accentuate his legs you never knew were this muscular.

                Jimin smiles, “Say it for yourself, Y/N. You look a solid twelve.” He rocks on the balls of his feet back and forth. “I guess the management did a good job letting us wear our casual clothes. You don’t know how bad I wanted to take off our horrendous uniform whenever we work.”

                “That’s…highly inappropriate but I guess you do you,” you point finger guns at him. Jimin chuckles and waves goodbye to you, heading for the Fairy Tale booth. You seat yourself in your work station. Today’s a good start. You hope your luck continues until break time.

                Lunch passes by and so far everything’s a breeze. You haven’t seen Taehyung today, probably caught up with the kids who frequent his booth in large batches as Halloween approaches close. Nevertheless, it’s good news. Your surprise will totally knock him off his feet.

                The clock chimes two. Seokjin comes over and takes over the ticket booth as you take your break. It’s show time.

                Just like your plan, you head for the Fairy Tale booth in quick strides. Lisa manages the entrance to their booth today and she lets you in without any ado, already used to you and Taehyung crossing to and fro your respective booths. Greeting Val, the Elfen soldier of the first stop and Yeji, the mermaid from the second stop, you head for the “Authorized Personnel Only” door and push it open. It leads to a darkly-lit  hallway with a heavily carpeted flooring. You follow Lisa’s tips, taking a right turn and a left. True to her word, the connecting hallway ends with the thick red curtains. And there in the corner, is your dream man facing the curtains and waiting for his signal. You don’t hear any clamor of people nearing the Princess’ Castle, even the faintest of chatter inaudible. You thank the universe for this luck. You made it in time.

               The seconds seem to slow down into minutes as you stepped closer to Taehyung. Your heart pounds loud and fast against your ears. This is it. You’ll finally make Taehyung realize you have your heart laid out for him.  And if you’re lucky, he will also give his to you today.

                With a mere foot left between you two, you reach out for him.

                “Hey, Taehyung–”

                “What the fuck–”

                 Everything happens too fast.  Instead of Taehyung’s surprised face, a hard punch straight to your nose is what greets you. Intense pain spreads over your senses and you reel over, feeling your entire face on fire.

                 "Oh my fucking, God, I’m sorry!  Oh my God, Y/N, I didn’t see you–are you alright?!“ Taehyung catches your arms as you stagger backwards, pulling you to your feet to prevent you from falling.

                 You nod and waved dismiss-ally to his panicked state.

                 Just right then, you feel something wet trickle down your lips.

                 "Oh my God, Y/N, you’re bleeding!” Taehyung screams and he immediately leads you to a chair propped on the corner. He frantically pulls out tissues on the table nearby and dabs the wetness that seeps on your skin. “Shit, what are you even doing here?! I thought you were a ghost, I’m so sorry I punched you!”

                 You’re too dazed to register everything that has happened and your lack of response causes Taehyung to panic more.

                 "Fuck, Y/N, I’m so, so, sorry! Oh my God, this is all my fault. Just sit right there, I’ll call for help!“ Taehyung rushes to the end of the hallway and you hear him scream for Jimin. Pounding footsteps follow and then it’s not just Taehyung fussing over you, but also Jimin.

                 "Do you think it’s broken?” Taehyung asks Jimin, voice trembling.

                 "I don’t think so. She’s not bleeding that much. Taehyung, relax, I already called for first aid–”

                 "How can I relax when Y/N’s in pain?! Which I inflicted on her! You know what, let’s call the ambulance!–”

                 This is not what you planned for. This is not how you imagined you will spend your last shift at the carnival with Taehyung.

                 Wetness trickles down your cheeks and before Taehyung can rush over and wipe your tears away, the Carnival’s first aid team has already barged in and crowded over you.

                 You were led to the small clinic of the carnival where you were given a tissue to stick in your nose. The physician told you your nose was luckily not broken and your body has just undergone shock. Once the bleeding has stopped, you’re good to go. Seokjin also called you he already informed your boss about what happened, telling you he’ll take over your shift and you’re now free to go home. The next few minutes pass in silence and you sink further onto the foldable bed. However, the universe decides it’s not yet done fucking up your day when the door opens with a loud bang and there stands Taehyung, huffing and drenched in sweat.

                 "I’m sorry I only got here now. Boss scolded me for what I did to you,“ Taehyung sighs deeply as he sits on the chair next to you, leaning his elbows on your bed. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. All of this wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t overreact.”

                 "I-it’s okay, Tae. You didn’t know I was there.“

                 "What are you even doing at our booth? Much more creeping in the dark?”

                 You bit your lip and look away. “It’s my break, it’s just,” you sigh, “I thought of surprising you today and well, it didn’t go as well as I planned it.”

                 "Plan? For what? Is there something we’re supposed to celebrate today?“

                 You turn back to Taehyung and meet his eyes. His eyes are focused on your face, waiting for your answer.

                 Well, maybe not all Romcom cliches work just like how they appear to be in movies. Maybe not all romantic gestures need to be grand in order to convey the sincerity of one’s feelings. Maybe it could be as simple like this– two people staring at each other in a clinic, uncaring of the world happening beyond your little bubble.

                 And as you stare at Taehyung’s face and see the reflection of yourself through his eyes, confused and tired, you decide it’s time for you to finally say it. No more orchestrated pretenses. No more intricate plans.

                 "Today is our last day in our work and I wanted to surprise you by finally being true to my feelings. I no longer look at you as a friend, Taehyung. I’m in love with you.”

                 Taehyung doesn’t reply. He just stares at you. You slowly feel the air getting squeezed out of your lungs, and it’s not just because of your stuffed nostril. Another beat of silence passes and then Taehyung’s face falls as he gapes at you, confused, shocked, and for a moment you see disappointment flash across his face. “W-what? Y/N, when did you-I, I don’t know what to say, I-why now?”

                 You bite your lip, feeling the tears well in your eyes. “Why not now, Taehyung?”

                 "Because–” Taehyung sighs and he purses his lips, dragging a hand over his face. “Y/N, you’re my friend, but I–”

                 "You know what, Taehyung,  I get it,“ you turn your back on him, tasting blood on your lips from biting too hard to keep the tears at bay. You won’t cry because of him and in front of him at the same time. He doesn’t get to see you this weak. “You can leave me now.”

                 "But, Y/N, I–”

                 "Does punching me in the face not enough for you?! Just leave!“

                You hear Taehyung sigh. The mattress of the bed puffs up again as the weight leaves. A faint “I’m sorry” resounds in the stifling silence. When the door closes with a soft click, the tears finally fall.

You stifle your broken sobs on your pillow.

***

You’re back in your old cycle: Eat, sleep, study, and lie low at the background. You steered clear from Taehyung in your classes, seating far away from your usual seat. You neither stopped by his locker in the mornings, nor waited for him in front of your own locker for lunch. You even went as far as avoiding your common friends, the thought of people asking about what happened between you and Taehyung makes you reel back to the embarrassment and disappointment of that day.

As much as you wanted to hate Taehyung, you find it hard to admit that every single thing that has gone wrong points back to you. You assuming anything more than what you already have with him, you doing outrageously unnecessary things for him, you bending yourself backwards in your desperation for him – it has always been yourself.

You tried to stay as identical to the background as you can be, away from Taehyung and anything that is associated with him. Because as much as you feel like an empty vessel for every single day, you cannot find it in yourself to erase Taehyung from your mind. Even when his last words with you kept on re-opening the wounds you’ve been trying hard to stitch back together. And, you can’t have that. You can’t run back to him and let him kick you back to the curb. It’s time for you to learn your lesson.

But no matter how successful you were the past days in running from Taehyung, you know you cannot avoid him forever. Especially when Enchanted Carnival has required the part-timers to attend their annual Halloween Party tomorrow, arranged by their permanent staff. After all, it’s the day you’ll terminate your contract and receive your last salary for your job.

You have never sorely regretted your past decisions like this before. You’re love-fool state of mind back then has induced you to buy an expensive costume. A fancy dress that has a carnation pink rayon bodice and full skirt, layered with delicate purple cotton voilewhich looks like soft rose petals that perfectly cinch the waist. It has long, glittered see-through sleeves that ruffle at the end of your arm, and it is adorned with golden intricate curvilinear details that go around the bust area and matches the golden flower belt on the waist. It even came with a faux golden crown with a short pink veil attached to the back.  Yes, you fucking bought a princess bride costume just to match with Taehyung’s usual work attire because of course, Taehyung will come looking like a Disney prince. And now that everything you planned has gone downhill, the excitement is over and the only thing you feel is bitterness and a desperate wish to get things done and over with.

You reached the carnival at seven and by that time, the party is in full swing. Enchanted Carnival looks like a cirque-esque other-world. Small Jack o’ Lanterns replaced the usual light bulbs to light the carnival in an alluring tangerine glow. Signboards of “Happy Halloweens” range from small cutouts that hung from the poles, to gigantic illustrations pasted right on the walls of the some stalls. Pumpkin and ghost-shaped candies were sold at almost every corner and the people that pass by, carnival staff or not, embody the fantasy and surrealism of the carnival. You’ve seen pirates, sirens, faeries, and even witty realistic horror such as Jung Hoseok, the roller coaster attendant, wearing casual jeans and shirt with electric bills pasted on his chest and back.

“Hey, Y/N! I thought you weren’t coming.” You look to your left and see Lisa in a No Face costume. Seokjin follows close behind, dressed like Sokka from Avatar: The Last Airbender.

“Uh, yeah–I mean,” you clear your throat “how can I not come when I get to be paid at the end of the night?”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit,” Seokjin chuckles. “The salary is my only motivation when I lost a bet to Yeji and agreed to dress like…this.”

“Hey, Sokka’s not bad!” Lisa frowns. “Avatar: The Last Airbender is the best show ever and Sokka’s like a perfect ten.”

“Yeah, but it would have been better if you know,” Seokjin huffs, “I get to be Toph. So I can finally un-see Hoseok’s stupid’s antics, especially his dumb electric-bill costume tonight. It doesn’t get to be low-cost, witty, and funny all at the same time. It’s unfair.”

You laugh, feeling your jaw hurt a little from smiling so wide. It’s been a while since you smiled, with the past days spent crying and moping around in your room. You’re grateful for Lisa and Seokjin who tried to cheer you up throughout the night, distracting you from thoughts that revolve around Taehyung by pulling you into ride after ride, playing games in stall after stall, and stuffing your mouths with delicious treats.

You were having the best night of your life, until you find your group stopping in front of a booth – The 13th House.

You turn to Lisa. “Hey, you didn’t tell me a horror booth is included in our itinerary.”

“Because I don’t need to,” Lisa grins. “Horror booths are a classic! How can Halloween be Halloween without some spook?”

“Right, and relax Y/N,” Seokjin says, “It’s not like we’re gonna leave you. And trust me, it’s not that scary. I already visited this booth to prank Jungkook. Too bad I was unsuccessful that time with Jungkook already immune to jumpscares from manning the effects and all.”

Except it is scary. The 13th House is the only booth you didn’t dare to visit during your entire work period. Your remember how your legs turned to jelly the first time you saw its front: An old gothic mansion with dilapidated walls and broken windows, its wooden main door covered in bloody handprints, and its gray, dry lawn surrounded by amputated body parts. You know all of it were just manmade but it doesn’t lessen the creeps you get when every detail and props are fashioned too realistically.

Nevertheless, you went along with Lisa and Seokjin and get your ticket-bracelets scanned by the booth marshal. Even if you feel like running away the moment you hear the loud, sinister creak of the main door when you start for the first stop, you stood your ground and wear your big girl game face on. It’s your last night in the carnival, might as well do everything you were never able to do before.

The first half of your trip in the booth were somehow a smooth ride. Although you almost jumped at the scream of the bloody Victorian bride from the first stop, almost backed out on the second stop because of the swinging headless knight, and almost cried on the spot because of the wailing man with its guts ripped apart from the third stop, you’re still far from getting scared out of your wits.

That is, until you reach the middle stop.

The fourth stop required you to do an easy escape-room task with a ghost kid guiding you through a fake Ouija board session. You quickly finished the activity and the wooden walls shifted to reveal a small passageway with thick hanging cobwebs. Lisa leads the way and you find yourself gripping her hand and Seokjin’s tighter as you enter a dark hallway lit only by torches fastened to gray, blood-splattered walls.

And then, out of nowhere, foreign hands cover your eyes. You scream and thrash around but your suffering is only momentary when you find yourself back in the hallway with no looming figures behind your back. Okay, maybe it’s just part of the booth experience–Wait. Where’s Lisa and Seokjin?

“Lisa! Seokjin!” You call for your friends’s names.  They were just with you earlier. You were holding their hands for Christ’s sake! “Where are you, guys?! This is NOT funny!” You bite your lip and wring your hands in anxiety. “Guys, I swear to God, this is not fun–”

               The lights of the torches flicker. The background music starts to grow louder, and eerier as it now plays with Latin incantations. And then there’s a loud bang.

               The lights were blown out.  The blood-splattered designs on the walls turn neon. And, the rest of the hallway goes complete dark-out.

               “Holy shit!” You run, straight ahead. Heart pounding loud on your ears, you don’t think anymore and just run. Surely, there will be some end to this hallway, right?

               Except there’s none, because a forked path greets you just right when you thought the hallway is getting too long. The two paths stare at you, the neon designs on their walls starts to get disturbing with child-like drawings of disfigured people and morbid beasts.

               You slump on the ground. This is a complete nightmare. You wish you didn’t go with Lisa and Seokjin. You wish you didn’t let your loneliness get to you and spent the whole week crying about your crush who doesn’t like you. Because now you’re trapped in this hellish booth and you’re gonna die alone and pathetic. You didn’t even get to experience at least the “moving on” happy ending alternative of Romcom films. You didn’t –

               Just right then, there’s a flash of light from the end of the left path. A second later, a voice  echoes loud. You didn’t understand a word from the echo. Hell, you’re not even sure if it’s from a human. But at least it seems to have a light that is nothing part of 13th House’s props. Before thinking twice, you’re already running toward the direction of the light. You run and run and never dared to stop. The light’s getting near, you’re gonna get help soon! You won’t have to die alone because you’re gonna get out of here and–

               Light blinds you.

               "Ahh!“

               "What the fuck-! I’m sorry!”

               You feel the light on your face dim down. And the moment you bring down your raised hands, you can’t seem to speak.

               "YN?“

               Taehyung stands in front of you, flashlight in hand, and looking handsome as always. But, it’s not his presence that makes your heart still. Enchanted Carnival’s purple polo shirt, generic black slacks, and the silly headband with blue rabbit ears atop his head–Taehyung’s wearing the carnival’s ticket booth uniform.

               And Taehyung’s jaw is ajar seemingly for all the same reason. Pink princess gown and glittering princess crown–you were an open book to him now.

               "You…you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

               All of a sudden, everything that has happened in the last weeks comes back to you and you feel your eyes stinging with tears as the dam of bitterness floods your chest. “I bet you tell everyone that,” you scoff, “since you’re such a disgusting flirt.”

               Taehyung’s mouth hangs in shock, “Di-disgusting flirt? You’re the only one I told you that!”

               You stand back to your feet and meet his eyes with a steely glare. “I find it hard to believe that, Kim.  Especially your type of guys.”

               Your eyes seem to do tricks to you when you see Taehyung wince at your tone, but that wasn’t for long because Taehyung now sounds defensive.  "What are my type of guys?“

               You scowled. "The type who leads on girls and cruelly rejects them after they’re done playing with them.”

               "What rejection are you talking about? I did not reject you! How could you-“

               "What else could your reaction mean when I told you I love you?!”

               "I was trying to move on from you, okay!“ Taehyung screams. "And that day, you just–dropped the bomb like that. How do you expect me to react huh? Especially, when I fucking spent one year trying to make you realize I see you more than as a friend and you just ignore me as if my feelings don’t matter to you.  And then, when I finally decide to move on from you, you act weird for a couple of weeks. And out of nowhere you’re telling me you love me. How can I even react properly? You didn’t even wait for me to process things,” Taehyung’s voice breaks, “You just up and go and shut me out!”

               "W-what?“

               "I liked you, Y/N. For so long. And you never turned my way–you wave off my advances as if they mean nothing to you, you keep on setting me up with other girls, and you run away from me whenever I so much glance at you. You don’t even let me see you properly when we’re at school. You hide from me and run away as if you’re gonna die just by being with me. And last week, you’re suddenly telling me you love me? So, how can I be a disgusting flirt when you’re the one who’s sending me mixed signals?!”

               "Mixed signals?“ you frown. "For the past year I’ve been your friend Tae, I tried to love you in my own way. I stayed up late with you as you told me all your problems. I’ve been there with you in whatever shenanigans you thought of. I spent almost every break I fucking have with you talking about whatever we want. They are blatant signals, Taehyung! So I’m sorry if I have to hide or run away sometimes, because if you didn’t fucking know, we don’t belong in the same world.”

               “What do you mean we don’t belong in the same world? Fucking hell, Y/N, you’re not an alien–”

               “In your world, I am! In your world, you are the star, the life of the party. People who belong in your world live their fucking fantastic lives as the star of their own stories. They achieve their dreams, they get whatever they want, people look up at them for being so great. But, people like me? We spend our fucking lives looking into your world from the outside. Pathetic side characters of their own pathetic lives. People just pass us by, some even run over us. No one even remembers our fucking name. So, even if these don’t matter when I look at you, I can only love you from afar because people will look at us and all these shits will come back for me.”

               “Jesus Christ,” Taehyung huffs, carding a hand through his hair in frustration. “There are no worlds separating you from me because people are just different!  And these differences cannot dictate who should belong with who because guess what? We’re the only ones who can let other people in or out of their lives.  So can you just stop for a second and see that there’s nothing that actually separates you from me? I thought you would already know this by now since we’ve been friends for so long.”

               You feel tears blurring your eyes and you look away from him. “But still, that’s not enough to explain all the shits that’s happened this past week. Okay, we may be different and I tried to express my feelings in my own way. But I tried to change it up, Tae. I worked so hard to pattern my advances to every Romcom clichés and of course they all went wrong when it came to you.”

               “W-wrong? Y/N, what Romcom cliches–”

               “The cheesiest Romcom clichés!”  You snap. “You know, the makeover montage, the Julia Roberts’ Assertive Approach, the Megan Fox Vixen Touch. You were telling me how oblivious I were to your advances but you never fucking noticed how  I changed up my advances just for you. You ignored how I dressed up pretty-to-the-tip for you. Even after I came to you and blatantly asked you if you noticed something new. You don’t take the cue when I freaking hand over my feelings for you in a silver platter. Hell, you even punched me in the face when I tried to be sexy!”

               “God, can you let it go? I already said I’m sorry!” Taehyung huffs and you look down on your feet. Taehyung sighs, “I was trying to move on from you during those weeks you’ve acted really, really weird. So obviously, I will be very confused. Secondly, Y/N,” Taehyung sighs, “Romcom clichés are called like that because they only happen and work the way they are portrayed to work, in Romcoms. Romcom is a film genre. Sure, they may reflect some aspects of reality, but Y/N, they are planned out, manipulated in a controlled environment. They’re not your life. Life doesn’t work that way.”

               “I’m sorry, I just–” you bite your lip but it’s not enough to prevent a tear slip from your eyes. “This is my first time feeling like this and I don’t know what to do. I absolutely have no fucking idea what I should do next and I–I’m just so sorry for dragging these shits up and made our lives messier than it should be. I’m sorry for probably making you feel guilty about yourself for this past week I ignored you like the plague. I’m sorry for being so stupid, I just–I’m so sorry, Tae!” your voice breaks at the end and before you know it, your tears have already consumed you to the ground.

               "Oh shit Y/N, don’t cry.” Taehyung panics as he kneels next to you. You shield your face from him with your hands, but Taehyung pries them away and cups your face in his large, warm hands. You feel the pads of his fingers wipe away your tears and when you look up at him, Taehyung’s face is too close to yours. Too close that you can practically see the deep, dark circles under his eyes despite the darkness. The thought that you caused him this made you tear up more.

               Taehyung goes frantic. “Y/N, do-don’t cry. Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Y/N, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry–”

                 “C-can you just h-hug me?”

               “O-okay,” Taehyung hesitantly loops his arms around your shaking frame. “Thi-this is fine with me.”

               You close your eyes and lean on your friend’s chest. You don’t care if Taehyung’s shirt get wet with your tears. He’s partly at fault for making you cry. But still, you squeak out a muffled.  “Thank you, Tae.”

               Taehyung hums. “It’s okay.”

               Amid this night’s horror and breakdown, silence, for the first time in a while, envelops you in comfort. Even with no words, Taehyung easily dries away the tears. He just pats your back and rubs soothing circles on your tensed muscles, leaning closer to you when you hug him tighter.

               “I hate fighting with you, Tae.”

               Taehyung turns his head closer to yours. “Are we already fighting?”

               “W-well yeah,” you hiccup. “Somehow.”

               “Okay…Next time we’ll understand each other better so we don’t need to have unnecessary fights like this, okay?”

               “Okay,” you mutter. You sink deeper into Taehyung’s arms and he holds you tighter in his embrace.

               Even if you can’t see his face, you know Taehyung’s smiling.

               It doesn’t take long for your sobs to die down that you’re now slowly disentangling yourself from him.

               “Are you okay now?”

               “Y-yeah. Thank you.” You lean your back against the wall and Taehyung sits next to you. You look at him and he smiles at you. For a moment you stay like that, staring into his eyes, falling deep in the little world you’re sharing with him. And then, it hits you. Taehyung’s still here. Even after you blurt out every insecurity and self-doubt you have that others may find petty and invaluable, Taehyung’s still here. Even after he voiced out his disappointment of you and things you’ve done him wrong, Taehyung hasn’t walked out. He didn’t run away, he didn’t leave you. Taehyung stayed.

               And so, you take the cue the universe is giving you and put all your cards on the table again. You cross your fingers as you ask the question that has plagued your mind ever since Taehyung confessed he has long liked you. "Tae, Ha-have you already moved on from me?”

               Taehyung sighs and for a second, you don’t breathe. But, you don’t have to hold it for long because when Taehyung looks at you again, a soft smile is on his face. “Unfortunately, no. Because even after all the shits you put me through, you still occupy my heart–and mind.”

               “S-so, can I kiss you?”

               “I’m the one who’s supposed to say that, but, ye-yeah you can kiss me. Anything for you, Y/N.”

               You close your eyes and lean forward. Your lips meet his in a soft peck and everything suddenly stops. You don’t feel the perspiration on your back from all the running in the booth. You don’t think about the dust and dirt soiling your dress. All you could feel was Taehyung’s soft lips. All you could taste is the sweetness from the crumbs of cherry tart left on his lips. All that fills you nose is Taehyung’s smell that’s so naturally his and his ocean mist spray you gifted him on his birthday. All you could hear is the loud pounding of your heart, and even with your eyes closed, Taehyung’s face is all you could see.  And, you can’t think of anything but Taehyung–him and him alone.

               The world suddenly moves again when Taehyung leans deeper and interlocks his lips with yours. You immediately let your heart take over. You mold yourself closer to him, kissing him with every ardor you’ve kept locked in yourself for so long. You fist his shirt and Taehyung caresses your cheeks and puts his hand on the back of your neck as he kisses you deeper. You loop your arms around his neck and return the vigor of his kiss. Teeth bumping, fingers reaching and clutching onto anything, sloppy interlocking of lips–you don’t care. Even if you have your first kiss in a gloomy, creepy horror booth, nothing else mattered but the boy in front of you. Taehyung’s here and he’s finally in your arms. You don’t have to long for him from afar anymore because now he’s here with you and he’s not leaving you. He’s finally yours.

               The same thought probably runs into Taehyung as you feel him grin into your lips before kissing you again. And even when the creepy background music of the booth starts again, you can only focus on the gentle way Taehyung’s thumbs coursed over your cheeks while tenderly pecks your lips as your kiss comes into a close.

                As you draw back a little to look at your friend, your crush, and now your lover, Kim Taehyung, in the hideous purple uniform you used to wear in the ticket booth with silly rabbit ears perched atop his hazel locks, you can’t help but smile. Taehyung may be the center of the world while you watch him from the side, but at the end of the day, he’s right. You’re just two people who are happy being with each other. There’s no boundaries, no walls separating him from you and you from him. You just have to see him for what he is and take the leap. You don’t need to re-enact Romcom clichés just to bring him towards you because he’s never been away from you from the start.

               Taehyung leans his forehead on yours and smiles. “I love you, Y/N. I’ve waited for so long for this.”

               “Me too,” you grin, “And, I love you too, Tae.”

               Taehyung chuckles and presses another peck on your lips.

               Just right then, you can feel a vibrant white light on your face.

               “Yo, lovebirds, are you finally together?”

               You turn to the direction of the voice and it’s Jimin. Behind him are Lisa and Seokjin, walking from the right pathway while making kissy faces at you.

               It all clicks in: Lisa and Seokjin hanging out with you, leading you to the 13th House, and disappearing like smoke the moment you reached the longest hallway of the booth. It’s to get you alone with Taehyung and finally talk everything out before you leave your part-time jobs.

               You frown at your friends. But, before you can voice out how can they just up and leave you like that, Taehyung beats you to it.

               “Jimin, you bastard! You pushed me towards the backstage passageway, shoved a flashlight into my hand, and just left me in the middle of this fucking scary booth. Is this how you treat your best bud?!”

               Jimin laughs. “But at least you got the girl!”

               “Yeah,” Lisa says. “Watching you two stupidly tiptoe around each other for so long started to make me sick.”

               “And we know you two can’t sort out your stupidity alone, so we decided to give you a little push.” Seokjin looks at Taehyung. “Quite literally in your case.”

               Taehyung scowls and opens his mouth but Jimin cuts him to it.

               “Thank me later, lover boy. It’s time we get out of this booth. Jungkook’s gonna piss me out for practically renting the 4th stop without paying.” Jimin heads to the right path where he came from. “So let’s take our exit now so you two can finally ride together into the sunset.” He turns to you and Taehyung and smirks, “Well, literally and figuratively.”

               Taehung attempts to hit him but Jimin scampers away and hollers, “You’re welcome, bro. And you too, Y/N!” Lisa and Seokjin laugh as they follow Jimin, leaving you and Taehyung walking at the back.

               Taehyung turns to you. “So…are you free tomorrow? I realized I haven’t taken you to a date yet. Like, a date date”

               “Yeah, I’m free. But, where will we go?”

               Taehyung rubs his nape. “Well, I don’t know yet…I’m sorry I asked you when I don’t have any plans yet, I just want to be with you tomorrow–”

               “It’s okay,” you smile. “We can meet at the carnival, then.”

               “The carnival?”

               “Yeah. Not as the prince and the ticketbooth attendant or vice versa. Just Taehyung and Y/N.”

               Taehyung smiles. “I would like that. Pick you up at your house on five?”

               “That’s alright with me,” you lean into his arm and look up at him, “boyfriend.”

               Taehyung blushes and you giggle. You let him hold your hand as you make your way out of the horror booth to spend the rest of Enchanted Carnival’s Halloween Party with a salary waiting for you, happy and giddy, and most importantly, in love.

               In every success story, there is a ninety percent probability you will hear “Fake it ‘til you make it.” Sometimes, it worked out for you, but most of the time, it didn’t.  Like how you tried to use this tactic to get your crush to like you, your plans don’t usually go the way you expect them. But it’s okay, because life doesn’t work that way. It took you stressful planning days, frustrating reactions, and tearful nights for you to realize that life is not always a stage where people can just “fake” everything ‘til the script is fulfilled. Roles can be changed and mistakes can happen. What’s important is: You may have not “fake it ‘til you make it,” but at least you worked for it ‘til you made it.

A/N pt. 2 | I wrote this fic after having a massive eureka moment and I haven’t edited this out yet because it’s 2 A.M. and we die like brave men here. Anyway, planning this story was really a challenge! This is the first time I tried this AU so I researched stuff and had to like, fix and re-fix some of my plot points as I write through. Second, I wanted to incorporate the adorable prompt in a completely unexpected way so I hope it did what I intended for it to do. Also, I enjoyed making up the names of the Romcom clichés OC used. They are literal Romcom clichés but I can’t find what they’re officially called (aside from Makeover Montage) so I just made the rest up AHHAHAH. I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

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