#i also had to bribe one of my coworkers to cover my shift

[nat-20s]

I really lost an entire fucking WEEK to being sick huh like hrrrGGGG i had STUFF to DO. also i felt slightly better today so i tried to like gung ho do stuff and honestly im exhausted from doing like two things :(((( AND i have to be at stupid fucking work at 8 am tomorrow DDDDDD:

[strigital]

today i was invited to my first proper formal very adult party. rn i am tipsy af on two full glasses of wine cuz the restaurant we went to had the kind of waiter who'd notice your half-empty glass of wine and be like "absolutely fucking not" and fill it up again... so here are some fun things that happened during these 8 or 9 past hours that i still remember:

they christened a boy and the parents renewed their vows and for the whole time i had an anxiety attack because i'm THAT childless friend who never attends church and has no idea when to do what and stuff during all these ceremonies. also, while i was worried about being five minutes late... the family and the holy father himself were late by half an hour so lucky me i guess. EDIT: totally forgot to mention we also released white doves. held a real living breathing pigeon in my hands for the first time. he was giving me the side eye the whole time, making sure i knew damn well he did NOT like me. also almost smacked me in the face with the wing upon release. snuck one of the feathers left behind into my pocket as a lil souvenir. i hope that feathered asshole didn't get snatched by a hawk on his way home.

we ate rustic food like pastries with chicken out in the open field and it was kinda nice having an-almost-picnic in the church's backyard two feet away from the cemetery.

we rode a limo. a very long ass limo. my first limo ever. it had LED floors that cycled through various colors and the bass from the blasting music made it feel like you were sitting on a giant ass vibrator. it was fun... until that one baby decided to scream their head off...

we rode a steamboat up and down the river while a handsome fellow in a suit played saxophone covers of various popular (and memey) songs. it was my first ever steamboat or sax experience ever. was fun, until the same baby had another tantrum...

we went to dine in the restaurant of a hotel in the old town. let's just say the air itself inside the building was more expensive than i could ever dream. there were guest names on a small board by the entrance, listing who sat by which table. i saw my friggin name on a fancy lil card on said table. i was offered a glass of champagne the moment i stepped into that posh ass victorian style-ish place. there were three sets of forks and knives and i had no clue which was used for what. they had classy ass menus placed on top of a silk napkin. said menus had shit that sounded like a harry potter potion or something: smoked salmon with quail eggs, red caviar, melon and sunflower sprouts, foie gras with fruit caramelized in Pinot wine... you get the idea. also same sax guy from the boat kept on tooting his horn, while we ate food that cost more than my own fucken liver. i witnessed some absolute first-class magic done by the waitresses, god bless them and the wine refills they did unasked, my god do i love free wine, especially if it costs so much i can't even begin to guess the number. we also received some cute af gifts which were lil paper houses with raffaello candies in them and stuff. oh and also i feel like I'm about to explode because good god that was a LOT of food (free food, might i add) and a LOT of wine and lemon water...

and long story short

i realized that i am too poor to even stand in places like that but i am still grateful as all hell for being invited to such a gathering. i may not be religious at all, but... there was free wine. that alone completely covers me being forced to stand in a church full of proper god-fearing soccer moms for about an hour.

anyways

am very tired and drunk as all hell and with a belly full of godawfully expensive munchies so I'm just gonna launch myself at my bed and fall out of reality until tomorrow, when i have to get up for work (possibly - with a hangover) and be that poor lonely millennial again.

and even if i never get to experience such levels of poshness ever again... it was nice to feel like an important person, even if for just one day.

[angst-fairygodmother]

I loved your latest SVU Carisi fic! I would love something with Barba, please! Maybe something where he asks a coworker (either a detective or someone from the ME's office) to an event, either because he's lonely or embarrassed to go alone again.

A/N: Can I just say, I appreciate how general these prompts are for SVU because they really give me the room to go where the whim takes me? Because I do (not that I don’t love prompt lists, but this style just works for me with this fandom). I hope you enjoy the direction that this one ended up. Also, I watched several Barba episodes and a bunch of clips for “research” and that was a hole I was not planning to end up back in, but I still love him, apparently. Not quite as much as the first time around, but enough. Word Count: 2804 Tagging: @writefasttalkevenfaster

“Mr. Barba! What brings you to my dark little dungeon corner of the world?” you asked, smiling brightly as the ADA strolled into the morgue like it was Central Park at noon.

“Y/N, please. How many times do I have to tell you to call me Rafael, or at least drop the ‘Mr.’ We’ve seen each other’s worst, there’s no need to be so formal,” he said, returning your smile with a small one of his own and a rueful shake of his head.

It was true that you and Rafael had known each other for years, since your school days when your stubborn and shameless self had wormed your way into the DA’s office, allegedly as part of a research project for school (a story that didn’t hold up when you never left). And he, still a young, brash ADA (not that the brash part had changed or ever would), had largely been stuck dealing with you as you poked through records and cases and pointed out all the places that they could have done better with handling the forensics of things. They never chased you out, because it came in handy over time and you had a charm that made your Nancy Drew nosiness, as he had nicknamed it, more amusing than annoying. By the time you had graduated, you were practically a part of the inner circle at that office, and it was easy to leverage that (along with your shining grades of course) into a prime position as a medical examiner.

Of course, the most valuable thing you had gotten out of all of it was still the friendship of Rafael Barba. He’d encouraged you through exams and romantic breakups and personal stresses without blinking and you’d done as much of the same for him as you could. He’d poured your inebriated ass into more taxies than you could count and sent you just as many hangover-cure breakfast deliveries. You’d laughed together, cried together, held each other up when the world seemed to be trying to crush you.

And still, at work at least, you insisted on calling him “Mr. Barba.”

“We have, but you’re also the one who talks about the need to keep professional lives separate.” You shrugged with a smirk. “Besides, it amuses you how much me calling you ‘Mr. Barba’ makes you squirm.”

He rolled his eyes. “I brought lunch.” He held up a familiar paper bag, no doubt containing sandwiches and raspberry turnovers from your favorite diner.

“Not dignifying me with a proper response I see,” you teased. “And bringing me food. Either I’m in trouble or you’re trying to bribe me for a favor. I hope it’s the first one, it’s always more fun.”

Your smirk widened and you waggled your eyebrows at him, waving him over into the little lounge area outside your office and pouring two paper cups of tepid coffee. He silently passed you your sandwich, hoping that you didn’t notice the light blush creeping up around his ears, or his quick intake of breath as you bit into it and moaned involuntarily. You both chewed in silence for a while, and you tried to just enjoy his company, as you usually did. But there was a strange tension in the air, unsettling the comfort of the silence and putting you on edge as you waited for whatever he came to talk to you about.

“Alex and Yelina’s tenth anniversary is coming up,” he said finally, trying to hide the strain in his voice, even though he knew you knew him well enough to notice it anyway.

You nodded silently, a sympathetic grimace on your face. You knew how much it had stung to him to attend the wedding and watch his childhood best friend marry his first love.

“They’re having a charity gala to celebrate. And personally invited me to go.”

You sucked in a hiss through your teeth. “Ouch.”

He nodded dejectedly. “I can’t say no to them. But I don’t know if I can get through the evening.”

“I could write you a doctor’s note. Fake some sort of illness preventing you from…I don’t know being in that large of a crowd or something?”

He laughed, and you smiled at the sound, knowing that it meant things weren’t quite as bad as they could be, and you didn’t need to break into your secret bourbon stash to fix them.

“Actually,” he said, buttoning his jacket and then immediately unbuttoning it again, as you often saw him do before a particularly difficult argument in court. “I was hoping you’d come with me, as my plus one. It’d really help to have a friendly face that I know can hold their own against the vultures.”

You sat in stunned silence for several minutes, staring at him. Your mind raced. Had he just asked you on a date? And if so, did you want to say yes?

When you didn’t answer, he shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat to get your attention. You jumped, startled out of your thoughts by the noise.

“I don’t want to impose; you were the first person I thought of. I know it’s not really your scene. I shouldn’t have asked,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, as if to tell you to forget the whole thing.

“Oh. Sorry, it took me a minute. I guess I just didn’t expect it. I thought you’d ask Olivia or someone, you know. I’d be happy to go with you though. I’d love to, really,” you started at the same time, leading the two of you to be talking over each other like fools.

You both stopped, you trailing off more than his abrupt end, and then you locked eyes and you giggled. After a few seconds of delay, he joined your laughter and soon, there were tears in your eyes and he seemed to be struggling for breath as you took absolute joy in the ridiculousness of it.

“Honestly Raf, I don’t know why you even questioned it,” you said when you had gotten yourself under control again. “Of course I’ll go with you. What else are best friends for?”

“Oh thank god,” he breathed, relief evident on his face.

“So how fancy are we talking? Am I going to need formal wear, or will a nice cocktail dress that covers all the bits be enough?” your eyebrows wiggled again and he chuckled.

~

The night of the event, you were just putting the finishing touches on your appearance – making sure everything was perfect down to every hair in the right place, but not like you tried too hard, wanting to seem like this was not as big of a deal as you had slowly worked yourself up into thinking it might be – when a knock on your door alerted you to Rafael’s arrival. When you answered, you were momentarily stunned, a tux shouldn’t seem all that different than his usual three-piece suits, and yet…

Luckily, he seemed just as thrown off by your appearance, and the pair of you just stared at each other.

Finally, you broke the spell, gesturing lamely behind you. “I just have to uh, grab my bag, and then I’ll be good to go.” You tried to smile at him, but you were pretty sure it came off as more of a discomforted grimace.

And why shouldn’t you be discomforted? All this time, there had never been anything between you (though you would be the first to admit that you had found him attractive when the two of you met). And now, suddenly, you couldn’t look at him without feeling that fizzy, almost nauseous twist in your gut, the flutter of your pulse at the sight of his smile, the overwhelming desire to absolutely wreck his perfectly styled hair and pressed lapel as you pulled him close and ran your hands over every inch of him in a sensuous war for dominance. You tried to tell yourself it was just the occasion, the fact that he had asked you to be his guest to an event that clearly meant a lot to him, and that it really meant nothing. If you could maintain the lie for long enough, you pretended to believe, everything would go back to normal.

The car ride over to the event hall was short, the time filled with a primer on the various important people (both politically and to him) that would be at the party. Most of it was information you already knew, but still, you let him talk, knowing that it made him feel calmer. And then you were linking arms with him, hand delicately wrapped around the fold of his elbow and walking through the grand arching doorway.

“Thus, into hell,” you muttered too low for even him to hear, forcing a smile.

Introductions were made, hands were shook, the air next to cheeks were kissed. You had not yet met the couple of the hour, but you felt like you had met the entire rest of their world, dragged into mind-numbing small talk about stocks and board meetings, policies and constituents (where they were numbers and dollar signs and goals rather than people). At some point, you were separated from Rafael by some women who were absolutely determined to drag you into their conversation about some community center building charity and the related press benefits of visiting the construction site. They all flinched and tittered uncomfortably when you pointed out that their manicures would get ruined and they’d just be interrupting the professionals actually doing the work and wouldn’t it be better to just do a ribbon-cutting photo op when the project was over?

Finally, you managed to extricate yourself and found Rafael by the bar, sucking down a bourbon like no one’s business. He turned to the bartender as you approached and already had a vodka soda waiting when you reached him.

“My hero,” you said taking a deep drink. “Don’t ever leave me alone with those people again.”

“That bad?” he asked, eyes dancing as he smiled at you over the rim of his glass.

“I think I felt my soul exit my body. Twice. Why are you drinking so heavily already?”

“Alex and Yelina just arrived. I managed to duck them, but not before I got to bear witness to the whole…loving couple photo op.”

“Oh. I’m sorry Raf. Still, if they’re here, we should go say our hellos. The sooner we do the sooner we can blow this popsicle stand, yeah?”

He grimaced and finished his drink. “I suppose you’re right.”

He turned to walk away and you tugged him back to face you.

“Wait, here,” you said, reaching up to fiddle with his bow tie, fingers skimming his throat in the process and you swore you felt him flinch at the contact. “You were crooked,” you explained.

~

“Rafael!” Yelina said, smiling brightly and pulling him in for a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know that,” he said, smiling at her in a way that made a soft twinge in your chest that you tried to pretend wasn’t jealousy.

“Congratulations, both of you,” he said, patting Alex on the shoulder.

“And who is this?” another woman in the crowd, who you thought had been introduced as the wife of some other senator but you hadn’t been paying that much attention, said, gesturing to you. “I mean I know this party is doubling as a charity gala, but you didn’t need to bring an example case.”

“Excuse me?” you snapped, glaring at her.

“Oh you know what I mean darling. It’s not an insult, just stating facts that you obviously don’t belong. It’s little signs, you really do look…fine. But the hair, the clearance rack clothes, and when is the last time you had your nails done?”

“Y/N is one of the most brilliant medical professionals in New York City,” Rafael cut in before you could respond, curling his arm protectively around your waist. “And not that it’s any measure of character, looks fantastic by the way. But it’s an organic, genuine beauty so it’s no surprise that you don’t see it Mrs. Johnsville. After all, you haven’t seen your own genuine appearance in, I’d guess twenty years? Or maybe it’s jealousy causing you to say such spiteful things to the most incredible person in the room. Either way, I’d suggest you stop, before someone brings up your husband’s scandals and causes a scene.”

You turned your head to stare at him, lost for words. There was a not-so-subtle threat in his words, but that didn’t matter to you in light of the things he was saying about you, or the adoring way he said them.

He turned back to his old friends. “Alex, Yelina, I hate to do this, but I’m not going to stand around and let someone insult my date that way. So we’re leaving, but maybe we can get dinner sometime soon and catch up.”

“Of course, Rafi,” Alejandro said, his polite political host smile edging its way toward a smirk. “The four of us will have to do that.”

~

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Rafael said, sighing as you both sat in the car. “She had no right to speak to you that way. I…”

“Stop, Raf. It’s not your fault. And you jumped in like a knight in shining armor, no harm done.”

“Are you sure?”

“I mean, I’m a little disappointed that I got all dressed up for you and I didn’t even get to dance…” you stuck your lower lip out in an exaggerated pout that made him laugh. “But I’m sure you’ll make it up to me somehow.”

“And for having dinner with Alex and Yelina and I. Assuming you’re willing to. Which I totally understand if you’re not.”

“I was wondering if you were going to bring up that invitation,” you laughed. “And of course I’m willing. I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it as many times as I have to to get it through your skull, I’ll do anything for you, Raf.”

Suddenly you had a brilliant idea and you looked over at him with a grin.

“Uh-oh, I know that look…”

“You know what’s better than dancing and wining and dining when you’re dressed to the nines?” you said, eyes aglow the longer you thought about it.

“What?”

“Being dressed to the nines to eat greasy diner burgers! Let’s go to Hank’s!” You grabbed the hand that rested on the center console in both of yours, pulling it close to you and batting your eyelashes pleadingly at him.

He groaned and shook his head. “Alright.”

~

“You know,” Rafael said, shifting nervously as he walked you to the door of your building. “There was a bit of a wreck in the middle, but all in all, this wasn’t such a bad first date.”

“Is that what this was?” you asked, heart skipping a beat as your both stopped on the steps.

“Would you be mad if I said yes?”

“A little. I mean, you could have told me sooner. I would have done way cuter shit all night.”

He laughed, looking at you softly. “I don’t need you to do cuter shit. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“See, shit like that,” you waved your hands around in frustration. “I don’t have a good comeback compliment for you because I wasn’t expecting it. You threw me off my game, charming bastard.”

“Y/N…”

“If this was a date, I believe a goodnight kiss is traditional,” you smiled.

He leaned in, close enough for you to smell the cologne he wore and the alcohol he’d had earlier and the spearmint breath mint he’d picked up from beside the diner’s register when he’d insisted on paying. His lips brushed lightly against yours but he quickly pulled away, just enough to look you in the eyes.

“You’d better not be calling that my kiss,” you teased.

“Are you sure about this, Y/N?”

Sighing in exasperation, you did as you’d imagined earlier and grabbed him by the lapels to tug him closer and press your lips to his. He sighed against your mouth, bringing one hand up to cup the back of your head gently and hold you closer, the other arm wrapping tightly around your waist. Your lips parted, opening up to him and your tongues danced together like it was what they were designed for.

Gasping for air, you both pulled away, and he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispered.

“Night’s not over, yet,” you answered with a shrug.

“What?”

The words felt inevitable, but right, as they worked their way through your throat.

“Do you want to come upstairs, Raf? We can watch a movie or…dance…”

[sunflowerhae]

Fratboy lucas😳👀 yes 🅱️lease oml

AN•I made it a bit angsty, a bit fluffy👼🏻☁️ also this is long ahha, Ik it’s not like, FRATBOY fratboy, but I actually quite like it! lemme know what u think! Also this means I get to make a wayv masterlist eye-

This party was sweltering hot and you were not having a good time. First off, your dorm mate -Elise- left you almost immediately to go talk to a boy from this frat named Johnny, and second, you knew literally nobody else here, as far as you could see.

It wasn’t your fault, though. I mean, sure, you barely left your room unless it was to go to the canteen, your classes, the library, or to the silent films they showed at the theatre every Friday night, along with your two friends Mark and Renjun (who were both from this very frat, yet you couldn’t find either). And yeah, maybe you didn’t talk to people unless you were apologizing for bumping into them, or texting them about a group project. And okay yes, it took Elise two weeks to hear more than three words out of your mouth at a time.

But, honestly, it wasn’t your fault.

You got into this school on a scholarship, and you’d be dammed if you lost it because you stopped focusing on your grades. Elise had to beg -and bribe- you to come to this NCT frat party with her, yet she leaves you five minutes in.

Fuck this, I’m going home. You thought to yourself as you hastily made your way to the door. You had texted your two friends to see where they were, yet neither answered; or even read them, for that matter. As you rounded into the hallway leading to the door, you halted with wide eyes. This seemed like an episode of wipeout to you. The floor was covered in an unknown, slippery substance, and the hallway definitely had way too many people in it for it to NOT be a health code violation. You tried mapping out the cleanest and fastest way to the door, but came up short - besides one.

Okay, you technically lied when you said you didn’t talk to anyone for fun.

Because how could you not talk to Wong Lucas when he was the most beautiful person you’ve ever met?

You remember the day you two met like it was yesterday, and not your freshman year, almost two years ago.

It was almost 12 am, and the library would be closing any second. You boringly walked up and down the aisles, dangling your workers card lanyard to the rhythm of your footsteps. You hated working the night shift at the library, but were just thankful that you had gotten a job right off then bat, anyway, so you barely complained (key word: barely).

The bookshelf hallways were - as usual for this time - empty. As you almost always did (because you were lazy), when you got to the very last shelf, you didn’t even bother to check it, just doing a small turn and continuing the way you came - until you heard the familiar sound of what sounded like a book falling on the floor. Working in a library, you were used to the sound of books being dropped on accident; so much to the point that you didn’t even flinch anymore. But this time, you were quite scared. You considered taking the trek up to the front desk where your much larger coworker, Jaehyun, would have been able to check whatever the sound was. However, you didn’t want to seem helpless, you’re an adult, for Pete’s sake.

So you took the closest weapon you saw - a book on the shelf next to you - and slowly walked where you heard the sound. Rounding the bookshelf, you expected to see a scary, old man with a black trench-coat and a hook hand (in a college library, sure).

What you saw, instead, was a TALL boy with honey colored hair and a purple hoodie standing against the bookshelf with his eyes closed and his head rested against the shelf. A deep sigh suddenly came from him, and when he opened his eyes and moved to reach and grab the book that he undoubtedly dropped, he almost yelled at your sheepish figure and wide eyes staring at him, near the corner.

With his eyes opened, and his head rested normal on his shoulders, you could get a good look at him, and saw that you knew exactly who he was. Wong Lucas; on the football team, if you’re not mistaken. A new member of the NCT frat, along with your new friend Renjun from your physics class, and his best friend, Mark. Extremely popular, especially for a freshman. You were for sure intimidated by him now; not because he was a bigger human than you, but because he was looking at you with a gaze of anger.

Wait what did I do?

“Listen, can you all stop? I just want to study, and I already have to come in at late times to be alone. There’s 100s of boys on this campus, leave me alone, please.” You didn’t really know what to say, but you were definitely annoyed, and also humored.

He really thought you were one of his stalkers.

“Um. I work here. Just coming by to say we’re closing in 5 minutes. If you could get what you needed and come check out, or get it tomorrow. Thank you!” You walked away, but you didn’t miss the rose color that slowly painted his face.

He came up to the register not even three minutes later, a poetry book called “The Worlds Wife” slipped between his fingers, a book you actually had your own copy of. You said nothing while checking him out, just smiled at him while handing the book to him. You expected him to leave right after, but he scratched his neck while staring at his feet, apologizing for what he said and asking if you wanted to stop by the 7-11, or have him walk you home - the rose color on his cheeks still prominent.

Your new roommates words repeated in your ears -“you need to get out”- like a mantra as you uncharacteristically accepted his offer (Jaehyun - who was standing to the side, finishing up closing the computer system - was so shocked he had his mouth open like a fish).

You agreed to get slushies from your local 7-11, and you both sat on the curb, laughing about anything and everything for what seemed like hours - and it was. You were pleasantly surprised to see that he was actually such a good person, with kind values and hilarious jokes. He walked you to your dorm, and kissed your cheek as a goodnight, after getting your number, and watched you walk into your dorm before leaving himself.

After that moment, it was midnight date adventures and movie nights (that usually turned into more), for the next year. He had asked you to be his girlfriend two dates after that first night, and kissed you two after that one. You loved him, and wanted to show everyone; wanted to hold his hand while walking across campus, go on coffee dates between classes, and tell everyone that Wong Lucas was yours.

Lucas did not.

He loved you, and did want to do those things with you, but he said it was because of who he was. He had girls asking him out 24/7, and they were easily jealous. If they caught wind that you two were dating, he feared that they would rip you to shreds. You loved that he cared for you, that he wanted to protect you, but it hurt that he kept you hidden from the people in his life. I mean, not even Renjun or Mark - who were in his frat - knew you two had been dating for a year.

When you had told him you were going to his frats party, he was immediately turned off to the idea. He didn’t want to worry about you, because he wouldn’t be able to be around you. You were so mad, so fed up, that it resulted in probably the worst fight of your relationship.

“Why?” You didn’t want to yell. You didn’t want your RA to come knocking and see Lucas, because god forbid anyone know you two even knew each other.

“You know why, y/n! No one knows we’re together!” You can tell he didn’t want to yell, either - most likely for the same reason. That assumption from you just made your blood boil even more.

“Yeah, why! Why can’t we tell anyone, xuxi? We’re almost juniors in college! We’re not kids anymore, this secret dating thing is bullshit!”

“Because I don’t want you getting hurt, y/n!”

“No, just admit what it’s really about. Admit that you don’t want to be seen with me, a nerd, a loser-“

“Yeah! Is that what you want to hear, y/n? Yes, it’s because you’re a loser, you’re lame, you only have two friends and don’t talk to anyone else. Why must I always be the social one? Why can’t you just go socialize with people, huh? Why couldn’t I have a girlfriend cooler than you, better, more like me?! Yes, I’m embarrassed by you! you satisfied, y/n?” He just about yelled, and you were waiting for the pounding from your RA, or a grouchy neighbor, that never came.

Lucas didn’t say anything, just stared at the ground. When you let out a mumbled, “you should go,” he didn’t hesitate to push past you and slam your door in his way out, making you flinch.

You feared you two might break up from this one, and it seemed he felt the same as he pulled the girl leaning on him - from his spot on the wall - closer, and whispered something in her ear that made her laugh.

He had a beer in his one hand, so you knew he was most likely drunk.

And you were right, he was drunk. By the time he got back to his frat house, he had finally calmed down enough from your fight to rationally think about it, and he immediately wanted to run to his car and drive straight back to you. He felt terrible for saying the things he did amidst his anger. Yet, when he was about to leave, he was roped into the party prep committee, and couldn’t leave. I mean, what could he say?

My girlfriend needs me? No, they wouldn’t believe he has a girlfriend - he didn’t come off as the type, and they would assume he just didn’t want to help. He should have told them, like you wanted so long ago.

So when he hadn’t been given an opportunity to text or call you, he figured that it might be for the best, and you needed time to cool off. And he definitely needed a drink after the lecture he got by his fellow brothers about how he never gets laid at parties, and nows’ the moment. When he was drunkenly shoved into the arms of Soojin - a member of a sorority on campus, and the girl who goes around constantly claiming that she will one day have Lucas (you hated her, she did not know you existed) - he just accepted it, because maybe it would get his brothers off his back, maybe it would get soojin off his back, and it’s not like you’d know. You weren’t there, right? You wouldn’t have come after that fight, right?

Wrong.

Wrong, definitely wrong. Wrong when he looked up from his gaze on Soojin, because he had smelt your delicious and amazing perfume that he loved so much. Wrong when he locked eyes with your own teary ones, trying to scoot past their bodies morphed together, while mumbling an almost incoherent “excuse me” that no one but someone looking would have seen. Wrong when you broke free from the tight space, and speed out of the house, and he didn’t even move, just stood there staring at your retreating figure while Soojin laughed about something that happened, not even knowing what just went down. Wrong when he never went after you, and never called or texted you for a week. Wrong, all wrong.

That week was hell for both you and Lucas.

No one new you too were even dating, so when Renjun and Mark came over because you hadn’t been answering their texts, only to find you burrito wrapped in a blanket with an absurd amount of mac-n-cheese, they assumed you failed a test or something and gave you WRONG words of encouragement (they tried). When Lucas was doing terribly at practice, and was acting completely out of it, nobody asked if he was having relationship troubles. They did ask if he was having girl problems, and when he was about to say yes, his teammates went into a ramble about how taxing a bad one night stand can be on a person. Lucas chose to stay quiet.

He felt like a wimp.

Was he really that much of a loser that he didn’t even try to get you back? Did he even deserve you at all?

However, one night - exactly a week later - Lucas grew a pair (fallopian tubes, of course. Men are whimps and women are TOUGH so from here on out when I say grow a pair, I mean grow a pair of Fallopian tubes) and mapped out the perfect plan to get you back.

Two days later, you were walking through the quad with your head down, on your way to the library, when you smelt a heavy aroma of flowers. When you looked up, you couldn’t believe what you saw.

The whole quad, almost every square inch, was filled with yellow and white daisies.

Yellow and white, your favorite colors. Daisies, your favorite flower.

When you looked around for some source, you locked eyes with a boy who was already looking right at you.

He was wearing a blue tux, and was standing in the center of the daisies with one single rose in his hand. When you slowly approached him and got close enough, he took your hand in his, gave you the rose to hold in your other.

“I know I’m just some lame frat boy. I know I’m a complete loser that thinks a good time is listening to trash music while getting drunk and high, and I don’t deserve someone as amazing as you. I mean, Look at you, and this is you on a regular day.” He was referring to what you were wearing. You had your hair softly curled, and was sporting a yellow, mid-thigh length dress with flowers on it and pure white vans with with yellow, banana socks. You thought you looked basic, but you had to agree that you fit in to the scenery. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said the things I did, and I shouldn’t have made you keep our relationship a secret. You’re a grown woman, and can handle yourself. I love you so much, and I don’t want to lose you. Please, forgive me.” After a few seconds of your silence, a familiar voice came from your left, and when you turned around, you saw a crowd of people had gathered, and Renjun and Mark stood at the front, with mark filming, and renjun shouting,

“KISS HIM!” You chuckled at your best friends words, and when you turned back to a hopeful looking Lucas, you wrapped your arms around his neck, and pulled him into a fairy tale kiss, standing in that daisy field.

~

The ending is out of character and weird, I know, but I was thinking of Bigfish when I wrote it 😳👉👈 anyway I hope you enjoyed it!👼🏻☁️

[vivianswers]

[Blind Date]

JW: Anyong GyeoUl-ah~ I heard from IkJun that you're getting off early today. Let's get dinner?

As GyeoUl finishes up the patients' chart for today, she sees his text and smiles. She immediately replies "Yes, Gyuso-nim~" and excitingly looks forward to dinner time.

Since there is still an hour left of her shift yet all the charts today are finished, GyeoUl starts to go over the ones for outpatient rounds tomorrow. Suddenly, there is a reminder alert popping up on her phone that reads: Blind Date Dinner with MinHa's doctor friend at Restaurant XYZ, 6:30PM.

GyeoUl starts to panic that she had completely forgotten about this blind date today. She reaches for a chocopie from the snack tray while unnervingly walking back and forth. Sweet is her favorite stress-eating snack after all.

__________________

After seeing how upset GyeoUl was when JeongWon lied to turn down her dinner request, MinHa tasked herself on a quest to find a better suited blind date for her fellow ARMY. However, GyeoUl kept using her night shifts as an excuse to refuse these blind dates. MinHa, of course, would not give up easily. She then begged GyeoUl to say yes to one dinner date with one of her friends, whom she believed would be a perfect match. Minha had also generously bribed her friend with a BTS concert's VIP ticket and 1 month of Egg Drop sandwiches to push GyeoUl to reluctantly agree.

_____________

GyeoUl then texts MinHa asking if it is still ok to somehow cancel today's arranged dinner. Within 5 minutes, big stomping steps can be heard approaching, and then violently pushed open the door is Dr. Chu MinHa, currently looking like a hot mess with unkempt messy hair-bun and dark eye circles, glaring straight at GyeoUl.

"I have had 3 night-shifts in a row and about to cover another one as an emergency because that fox of a coworker pulls the disappearance card again so I need to punch something right now. Please don't let it be you. I had already given up one VIP BTS ticket for you that I extorted for myself from the ungrateful bastard ex-boyfriend to make tonight's dinner happen. And 1 month of Egg Drop Sandwiches. I even made an RSVP at your favorite restaurant. Dr. Jang, you better give me a very good reason to cancel this. Unless you magically have a boyfriend right now, or I will NOT accept anything else."

"Actually I—" GyeoUl pauses as she remembers that they are supposed to keep the relationship a secret for now. "Um… yeah I still don't have a boyfriend yet." She dejectedly answers while looking away.

"Then you better show up to the date tonight." MinHa slammed the door behind her.

Feeling like she had pushed the wrong button on MinHa today, GyeoUl lets out a big sigh and stress-eats another chocopie instead. Ah! Perhaps, Professor Lee IkJun can give me some advice.

GU: Lee Gyuso-nim… GU: MinHa arranged a dinner date for me tonight with her friend. But I want to turn down this date. How do I text him to let him down nicely? IJ:  Hello to my favorite Dr. Long Winter IJ:  Ah~ MinHa told me about it when she asked me about your surgery schedule this month. IJ:  Oh yeah, it is tonight huh? IJ:  It's a good thing though. Why would you want to turn him down? You get off early today anyways. IJ:  Just go and have fun. IJ:  Forget that jerk JeongWon for now~

Of course, I cannot tell Professor Lee the truth either—GyeoUl thought to herself—Maybe I'll just go to dinner and turn him down nicely after. Dr. Chu had put in a lot of effort for this anyways. Sorry Professor Ahn. But should I tell him the truth? Would he be mad? Maybe I should just tell him everything afterwards.

After contemplating back and forth with another chocopie devoured, GyeoUl then texts JeongWon.

GU: Gyuso-nim… GU: Actually, I'm so sorry but I cannot have dinner with you tonight. I forgot that I have something very important to take care of for Dr. Chu. I'm very sorry Gyuso-nim. Can I make it up to you another time?

JeongWon's happy mood from earlier quickly sinks when he sees the texts because he's looking forward to this dinner as well. He even made the RSVP in advance at her favorite restaurant right away. But if she's busy then there's nothing else he can do about it. So he texts back to assure her to not fret over today's dinner.

As he's about to call the restaurant to cancel the RSVP, his office door is suddenly sprung open without a knock.

"JeongWon-ah~ What are you doing tonight? Let's go karaoke! Everyone else is down. I didn't get to sing much last time." – IkJun barges in, uninvited as usual.

JeongWon lets out a sigh, as he presses the restaurant's phone number on his phone. Before he could say anything else, IkJun continues.

"Oh yeah… Did you also know that our Dr. Long Winter has a dinner date tonight with some guy? MinHa seems to have arranged back then when you lied about going to YangPyeong that one time to reject her."

JeongWon pauses, then solemnly stares back at IkJun.

Seeing how he has poked his friend at the right tickled spot, IkJun deliberately spices it up some more. "She even texted me about how excited she is about this date. It is even at her favorite restaurant too."

Jeongwon keeps his silence. His thumb swipes across the phone to cancel the call, while keeping the stern deep-in-thoughts look.

"Anyways… so are you gonna join us or not?" IkJun changes the subject.

"No you guys go ahead. I have something else I need to attend to." JeongWon shoves IkJun out of the way to leave his room. As he walks to the parking structure, he can still hear his friend's irritating words "Ahn JeongWon is no fun!!" echoing through the hall.

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

The time is now 6:40PM. JeongWon approaches the receptionist of the Restaurant XYZ.

"Good evening. My apologies. I'm supposed to have a dinner RSVP at 7PM. Unfortunately, I would have to cancel it. I will take care of any cancellation fee. Also, I would still like to order some entrees for takeout. Would that be alright?"

The receptionist politely reassures him. "No worry, dear customer. Thank you for letting us know. Our cancellation policy is 15 minutes before the RSVP time for any incurred fee, so you’re still good. Here is the takeout menu. Please take your time."

After ordering the takeout, JeongWon scans through the dining area and able to spot his GyeoUl right away. He then chuckles at the fact that her outfit still looks plain and simple, her hair still loosely tied up, but still exudes that raw and innocent beauty that he fell for.

After receiving his takeout food from the receptionist, JeongWon stands still for a while, deep in thought, glances at GyeoUl again, and leaves the restaurant.

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

After dinner, the gentleman offers to drive GyeoUl home since it is dark outside, but she respectfully declines as she prefers to ride the subway instead. They both then greet each other goodbye. As the gentleman leaves, GyeoUl takes out her phone, about to call JeongWon regarding today's, then she hears a familiar voice.

"GyeoUl-ah~"

She turns around and sees her beloved Professor Ahn leaning against his car, waiting for her all this time. Both surprised and happy, she dashes towards him.

"Gyuso-nim~ How do you know that I'm here? Ah wait, does that mean you know about today's dinner? But—Ah—I mean… I'm so sorry. I was about to call you and tell—" She tries to push all the words out in a hurry.

"GyeoUl-ah~ it's alright." JeongWon smiles as he pats her head. "I also RSVP-ed this restaurant for us tonight too, so I happened to see you as I went in to cancel the RSVP."

GyeoUl somehow cannot bring herself to say another word. All the practice speeches she had in her head earlier have entirely disappeared. She lowers her head and pouts in deep regret that she should not have gone to this date tonight as she realizes how much it must have pained JeongWon to see it. Noticing her dejected face with tears puddling up, he pulls her into his embrace, with his hand continue to pat her head.

"You couldn't turn Dr. Chu's request down because you had to keep our relationship a secret, right? I'm sorry to have made you lie like this." He sighs. "This whole thing was because of me anyways. If I had not lied about YangPyeong back then, this arranged date would not have happened. So, I guess I am facing the retribution for my lies that had hurt you."

GyeoUl slowly pulls her upper body out of JeongWon's embrace. "Gyuso-nim… I.. really planned to tell you everything right after. Also, nothing happens at dinner either. We each paid for own dinner too. It turns out, he was also coerced by MinHa for tonight's date as well. He also has a girlfriend but coincidentally have to keep their relationship a secret as well, just like us. Ah, he is also a GS surgeon like us, working for Doldam hospital in Gangwon. The interesting thing is he kinda looks like you."

She then tugs herself into his embrace again, this time taking the initiative to hug him tight. "I'm sorry Gyuso-nim. I promise I will firmly turn down all MinHa's arranged dates for me from now on." She lifts her head upwards "I'm... only going to go on dates with you."

JeongWon lovingly locks his gaze on her face, then pretends to sulk. "But in the end, I'm still hurt that my girlfriend had a dinner date with another man."

"What can I do to make it up to you, Gyuso-nim?" – GyeoUl asked with a puzzled look.

"You can… kiss me?"

GyeoUl quickly looks down to hide her blushing cheeks at JeongWon's teasing.

Witnessing the satisfying adorable reaction of his girlfriend, he then chuckles.

"Just kidding. I was only teas—"

Those words are suddenly blocked by a surprise attack of his girlfriend's lips, boldly pressing against his, for about a few seconds, then she looks down again to hide her even redder cheeks. Before allowing her heart rate to slow down, he lifts her head up with both hands and kisses her, this time definitely longer than just a few seconds. Since it's no longer their first time, the kissing sessions have turned more and more playful. GyeoUl slowly matches up to JeongWon's kissing pace as well. Turns out, kissing can be so fun and…addicting too.

After a while, their kissing session is once again interrupted by a stomach's rumbling sound, this time from JeongWon's.

"You haven't eaten yet, Gyuso-nim?"

"Not yet. I bought the food here earlier to wait to eat with you because I saw that you only had one plate for dinner. The food has cooled down though. We can heat up the food and eat at my place nearby. JunWan is at the hospital today so we don't have to worry about him knowing our secret." JeongWon said as he opens the car door to the passenger's side for GyeoUl, then walks over to his.

"Gyuso-nim, can we have ramen at your place as well?" – GyeoUl asks, knowing her stomach would not be satisfied with just one entrée dish.

JeongWon completely freezes at her question, awkwardly answers "Of..Of course we..you can", then takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. While understanding that she may not know its hidden meaning, this kind of question after an intense kiss session is definitely dangerous. As he thought, perhaps priesthood is indeed not for him after all.

-----------

Update P.S: If you didn’t know already, her blind date is YYS’s other character in Dr. Romantic :)))))))))) 

P.S.S: Yes I know what ‘eating ramen’ means hehehhhhhh ;)

[urflowersdied]

cold as ice(d coffee)

In which Norah really just wants to make some money to finance her student life and Harry is her super serious, but incredibly soft-looking, café-owning boss.

A/N: Initially this was supposed to be a one shot, because I just wanted to write a story in one go and have you guys read and (hopefully) enjoy it, but turns out that’s something I don’t know how to do. So, here is the first, 4.7k long part of this three-part series.  I have to thank some friends on Twitter who will get their own message, but I’m also immensely thankful for @dadshirtking, who was incredibly supportive and a really helpful creative mind, @bribe-the-door, for being loving and positive and kind and the sweetest person around, and @isitjamiemoriarty, for being the world’s greatest feedback giver and without whom I probably would’ve gone crazy trying to figure this story out. 

Hope you enjoy! 

Norah was absolutely fuming. It seemed like just her luck that on the first day of her job the trains seemed to have decided on making her life all that much harder and arrived with a one-hour-delay. Presenting herself disheveled due to running all the way from Manchester Piccadilly to The Brewing Pot probably would not improve the impression she was bound to make on her new colleagues, but that was a risk she was willing to take in order to get there just a few moments quicker.

She knew that it could be quite difficult for a student employee to get on well with their full-time colleagues, which was why she had devised a seemingly foolproof plan to make the first day go swimmingly. Norah  had spent all of last night looking up some hilarious jokes she would try to sneak into some conversations and additionally baked some of her grandmother’s famous triple chocolate chip cookies. In hindsight, she realises that she had been hired as a help in a café where an actual baker worked in order to prepare all the sweet treats for the customers, but by then it was too late. She just hoped her colleagues would at least pretend to be interested in her amateur baking.

It wasn’t even as though this was her dream job. Far from it, actually. She loved spending time in cafés, but rather nursing a cup of coffee herself than working behind the counter with a constant fake smile plastered upon her face while listening to the ridiculous orders she had to fulfil. Needless to say, this was not her first job of this kind. She had held down her job at one of the coffee bars that were littered around her university campus for the first year and a half of her degree pursuit. After one of her coworkers had refused to stop their incessant flirting at her old job — and her boss had not even batted an eyelash when she mentioned her discomfort about the situation to them — she had felt forced to quit.

The first few weeks without a job seemed extremely relaxing, but when she had to decline her friend’s invitation to a night out because she wouldn’t have been able to afford the night - because, really, how expensive were the drinks at that club? - she decided to get back on her feet. Norah quite enjoyed working. Enjoyed the routine that came with having more than just her pain-in-the-ass philosophy class or some lecture that she would most likely not pay any attention to anyway to get her out of bed in the mornings. The social aspect that came with working was also something she cherished. She had always been a little more shy and dealing with colleagues was a fairly simple way to force herself to interact with humans without making too much of a fool out of herself.

Turns out, finding a new place of work in a town full of students had not been the easiest task. After asking around some of her friends and a few smaller shops around her university and gained nothing but shrugs and rejections, she decided to broaden her scope. She didn’t really mind taking the train to get to work - instead found it rather calming, actually -, so when she finally got the offer to work as a barista at The Brewing Pot in the heart of Manchester she had jumped at the opportunity.

The Brewing Pot was one of the most charming shops she had ever stepped foot in. The café section of the store was made up of wooden tables, tons of plants and some mismatched couches and armchairs. If you were to wander further into the building, though, you were greeted by tons of shelves filled with secondhand books. There was an extremely quaint, homely feel to the whole place. She didn’t even really mind the train ride she had to take in order to get to and from her new place of work.

The only aspect that made her feel a little on edge was her boss, whom she had met only once before during her job interview, which had not been all that fun. When she first laid her eyes on him, she had quite honestly been a little taken aback. He was absolutely gorgeous, with chocolate curls, piercing green eyes covered by a really expensive-looking pair of glasses - she was fairly certain she had spotted an engraved Gucci sign on them - and his very tall frame had been adorned by the most endearing knitted sweater. He had truly looked like the kind of man Norah could only have conjured up in her wildest dreams. That she would one day actually get to breathe the same air as such a specimen seemed laughable to her. But once he had opened his mouth, the fantasy she had created in a few milliseconds was destroyed just as quickly.

He had not been extremely rude to her, rather he had really only given her the bare minimum amount of time of day needed that could be deemed socially acceptable. Harry Styles seemed like quite the serious man though, not cracking one single smile at any of her attempted funny comments during their meeting. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to establish some ground rules on how he interacts with his employees or if he’d just gotten up on the wrong foot that morning, but she had definitely felt infinitely intimidated in his presence. Of course, looking back now, this first encounter with him did not calm her current frazzled state in any type of way.

Completely out of breath - she really should get started on that New Year’s resolution of hers to make actual use of her gym membership -, she pushed open the door and was immediately greeted by a jingle of the bells which notified everyone inside of a new entrance. Taking a quick glance towards the huge clock that adorned one of the brick walls in the café segment of the building, she thanked her lucky stars that she had decided to sprint. She thought that being a mere five minutes too late was the best case scenario in this really bad situation.

After gathering her hair up into some sort of ponytail to seem at least a little put together, she approached the counter. The wary smile on her lips paired with a nervous fumble of her fingers was probably enough to tip off the guy behind the counter as to who exactly she was. “Norah, right? You’re new, yeah? I’m Adam, supposed to show you around today!”

And, really, she could not have asked for a more charming person than Adam to show her the ropes and make her feel at home in her new job. Her other colleagues had also presented themselves as wonderfully kind people, but over the course of the next few weeks Adam had quickly established himself as one of her closest friends. For whichever curious reason, their shifts often overlapped and being of similar age only propelled their mutual understanding and bond into great heights. Dealing with some of the infuriating customers that visited, she was extremely delighted to be able to unload some of the stress into the ears of Adam, who completely understood her pain.

Therefore it’s pretty understandable how disappointed she is when he calls her one Monday morning to tell her he won’t be able to make it to their shared shift. As usual on Mondays the café was closed for business, but there had been an incredible amount of orders to fulfil for a wedding that was taking place the following day.

Ever since she started working there, her coworkers had given her crash courses on how to improve not only her own cookie recipe, which they had actually immensely enjoyed after she had mustered up enough courage to offer them to her colleagues, but also on how to perfectly follow the café’s original recipes. So when the question of who would come in on their day off to get a head start on the orders arose, she had felt pretty secure in offering her time and energy alongside Adam. The same Adam who had now left her to her own devices, because he had inspected the bottom of one too many bottles the night before.

Taking advantage of her solitude in the kitchen of The Brewing Pot, Norah blasted her ultimate mood-lifting album - does she even have to mention that it’s Nilsson Schmilsson? -  through the speakers that were installed to help motivate the staff during their work day. She was already dreading having to pipe about 170 cupcakes once they had cooled from their time in the oven as the entry bells to the store chimed.

Before she was even able to wonder who interrupted her jamming session to Without You (and also, had she just imagined triple-checking the locked entry door after arriving?), a disheveled-looking Harry Styles appeared in front of her eyes. Up until now she had only ever witnessed her boss on fleeting occasions, him often not being present during her shifts or hidden away in his office if he was in the vicinity.

So you cannot possibly hold it against her when she completely freezes up and just blinks her eyes at him a couple of times instead of actually making use of her vocal chords to inquire about why he was stood here, looking as if he had just rolled out of bed but simultaneously giving Adonis a run for his money. Luckily, he decides to address her first. “Good morning. I’ve been trying to find someone to come help you out but it’s too much of a short notice for everyone, so I hope you’ll accept my help.”

And because it really wasn’t her place to dismiss his offer, which could get her back on the train, home and into her warm cozy bed a little quicker, she shot him a timid smile. “A helping hand would be more than welcome to me right now, thanks.” Those words were apparently all he needed in order to kick into gear, as he rolled up the sleeves of yet another adorable knitted sweater. She quickly sprung into actions as well and turned the volume of the speakers down by a vast amount, so that the wonderful melodies by Harry Nilsson only soft drifted through the kitchen.

The space that wasn’t occupied by their bodies trying to move about the kitchen without much interaction was filled by uncomfortable silence. His presence did not calm the movement of her hands, which was already shaky due to her fear regarding finishing up these cupcakes. Additionally to looking so wonderful that she would much rather put the icing on him rather than the baked goods, he was also her boss, which meant that she would have to try her damnedest not to mess up.

“How old are you again, Mister Styles?” She had to break the silence which had quickly settled over them somehow, right? To her, it seemed more awkward to not engage with each other while being confined in the close proximity the kitchen provided.

What she had not taken into account was that Harry Styles did not seem like much of a conversationalist.  After a short confused glance at her - he must have momentarily forgotten that she is also taking up space in the kitchen, why else would he be so surprised for her to be speaking up? - he gives her the shortest reply possible. “I’m 27.”

It’s not as if she is extroverted in any kind of way, it’s just that awkward situations are even more difficult to handle for her than actually conversing. Which is why she definitely understands the hint his short answer was supposed to give her but she chooses to ignore it regardless. “So, Adam told me you’ve owned this place for like 5 years… Why did you open it at such a young age?”

“Didn’t open it myself. The owner needed a replacement and chose me.” His shortage of words stunned her a little bit. She could definitely tell he was starting to get frustrated with her incessant talking, but he seemed too polite to confront her about it. It didn’t seem to her as though she was prying into his life. She was just asking a few standard questions, no harm meant in any way.

Nevertheless, she let silence overtake the space once again and let her eyes drift from the cupcake bases she had been trying to cool by aimlessly wiggling another baking tray over it towards her boss. His head bent down (his glasses didn’t seem to budge at all which intrigued her more than it probably should), cradling a filled piping bag in his now bare hands - usually they were ring-clad, and she had been itching to ask about whether any of them held some sort of special meaning to him just like the quartz ring that she sported on her right pointer finger did to her -, she knew she was fucked.

Unsurprisingly, she had always had the tendency to gush over males who portrayed a certain distance, an unattainability. Harry Styles, though, definitely took the cake. He did not seem interested in maintaining the exchange of vowels and consonants between them in the slightest. Rather he made it seem as though these baked goods were his sole purpose in life, as he gave them his full attention.

She had noticed some thoughts cross her mind a few times before already. That he always seemed too serious, almost stoic, his mood always seeming solemn, and how that did not correlate with the beautiful features of his physique at all. His hands looked delicate, his lips pouty and the area around his stomach and hips incredibly soft - which stood in contrast to his otherwise incredibly lean frame wonderfully. Maybe her self-proclaimed hopeless romanticism had something to do with it, but had this intricate feeling as though he wasn’t born such a low-spirited person. Perhaps that was why she decided to open her mouth again. “Do you know the people who are getting married tomorrow? Like, the couple who -”

“Listen, I think you’re doing a great job working here, but I am not really interested in making friends with my employees. So if we could just… finish this order, I’d really appreciate that.”

Remember when she declared him as being too polite to call her out on awkwardly trying to attempt a conversation? She definitely takes that sentiment back. Surprised, her hands falter in their current swirling motion and lift the piping bag away from the cakes he so badly wants to complete in order to not completely mess up. She isn’t entirely fond of the idea of turning this whole encounter into an even bigger disaster than she has already found herself in.

Even after analysing the exchange in lightning speed, she couldn’t figure out where exactly she went wrong. What had warranted his coarse reply? Being completely honest, he had infuriated her. Not wanting to blur a line between friends and employees made sense to her, if that was what he really wanted. But there were right and wrong ways to make her aware of his penchant. Harry Styles had chosen to go about it in a wrong way.

“I’m sorry for prying, Mister Styles. I was just looking to make conversation. If you aren’t interested in being friendly with me and insisting on being a sourpuss, then that is your right. But please be civil when you inform me of that. It’s just common courtesy, isn’t it?”

For a moment she holds her breath. His eyes shot up to her and she was able to detect the tightening of his jaw. Alright, maybe dubbing him a sourpuss hadn’t been the smartest move, but she couldn’t stop herself. The word described him perfectly. She was convinced that this would be her last shift at The Brewing Pot. Already mourning the loss of yet another job in her head, the man who she (for now) called her boss let his Adam’s apple bop one time and then dropped his head. The conversation had passed.

One hour and an abundance of tense silence later, all 170 cupcakes were iced and placed into the fridge, ready to be delivered first thing Tuesday morning. With one mutter, he dismissed her - opting to clean the kitchen on his own rather than dragging out this miserable encounter.

And with her head held high, but her heart nestled a little bit lower in her chest, she made her exit.

Apparently, the people in charge of the railway system and the trains really did not have any aspirations towards getting on her good side. It was March now, and she had just finished up her first solo closing shift in her three months working there. Spring had yet to peak through the dreary blanket that the Winter had placed upon England. She could not wait to take a hot shower. Would have preferred a bath and a nice cup of tea, but alas, that was a feature her student housing did not provide. Then she’d like to settle down on the couch to watch reruns of sitcoms until it would prove impossible to force her eyes open any longer and then retread to bed.

Much to her dismay, those plans were crossed through by her train home, who had taken it upon himself to leave just about two minutes before schedule. So here she stood, having just missed her last opportunity to get home towards the warmth and comfort her flat could provide her with and with not one place to go. After frantically calling just about every person in her phone book that either lived in a close mile radius or owned a car, she finally decided to seek solace in the confines of The Brewing Pot.

Truth be told, she didn’t really feel all too happy with her decision, but where else was she supposed to go? Catching a cab would’ve cost her an arm and a leg and Adam, who resided outside of Manchester but did own a car, was not even picking up his phone. She believed that her last resort was just settling down on one of the couches of the coffee house and trying to stay conscious throughout the night in order to grab a train home first thing in the morning.

And this plan probably would’ve worked out well enough, had her boss not entered his store after hours and found her lounging around way after she was supposed to actually be present. It seemed to her as though Harry Styles’ baseline state consisted of a mixture of stress and sternness. Norah had once again not caught more than a few mere glimpses of him after their unpleasant icing session. Not that she had minded their lack of interaction this time around.

“What… are you doing here?” She hadn’t expected any other question from him, the confusion apparent on his face this time extremely warranted. And this time, instead of holding it up high Norah lets her head sink a little lower, knowing that she wasn’t really supposed to be here after hours. This time, if he were to get angry and throw her out, she would not be able to hold that decision against him.

She felt stupid. How incapable did it make her seem when she would tell him that on her first closing shift she had managed to miss her way of making it back home? The closing shift itself had actually been kind of enjoyable to her, but would it seem rude for her to mention how she probably would’ve arrived at Piccadilly in time had she not been left to her own devices? The sound of his voice brought her back from the questions piling up inside of her mind while she had stayed silent. “Well?”

“I’m sorry, Mister Styles… I, uhh… My last train back home left a little earlier than expected and Adam isn’t picking up his phone, so… I had nowhere else to go. Was gonna just wait it out until the first one in the morning, but if that’s not alright I completely understand. I should’ve asked for permission.”

It seemed like this flow of words didn’t please him in the slightest. The shaking of his head was a clear indicator for that. On top of that, he let out a loud sigh. “You… You don’t have to call me Mister Styles. Harry is… just fine.” This was definitely not the kind of reply she had expected. For the first time since she’s been aware of his existence, his facial expression softened a tiny amount. “Listen, Norah. I understand that working a closing shift on your own is hard work, but you really can’t just… stay here afterwards without letting me know. It’s unprofessional.”

“No, yeah, I’m fully aware of that. I just… really couldn’t figure out another place to stay and I’ve got this really important presentation tomorrow. Thought that if I came here instead of sticking around at the station I would at least be in a safe place while waiting and might even be able to close my eyes for a second. But you definitely should have been informed.”

This reply seemed to calm his mood. Harry huffed and nodded his head in her direction. “Alright, well… You’re right, it’s better to hang around where it’s safe. Just make sure everything’s locked and the lights are off when you decide to leave.” With those words he ducked into his small office to retrieve whatever had made his trip back to his business necessary.

Relaxing a little bit, Norah leaned back into the sofa and observed the now illuminated doorway through which he had just disappeared. After their encounter she really had not expected him to let her off with a warning, but she was glad that he did. While sitting around The Brewing Pot for a whole night wasn’t what she had envisioned to be doing after work, the alternatives of either wandering around the streets of Manchester or lingering by the train station for multiple hours seemed even less appealing.

A few moments later Harry emerged from the office and let the door fall shut behind him as he closed the distance between him and Norah. “I -“, was as far as he got before he stopped himself to inhale a deep breath. She didn’t say a word. Just waited - admittedly a little (scratch that, a lot) anxious - for whatever he was about to blurt out.

“You were right, you know. I was extremely rude before, when we were working on that order for the Peterson wedding. You were just trying to make harmless conversation. There was no reason for me to blow up the way I did, I’m sorry.”

And if his hands fiddling with the files they were holding while waiting for her to speak up was a sign of his nervousness, well, colour Norah impressed. It wasn’t really the apology that threw her, it was the sincerity in his tone. She had accepted that she would not be able to establish some sort of friendly relationship with her boss, especially after there had not been any repercussions following her name-calling of him. She was grateful for that, at least.

“That’s… alright. Thank you for apologising, but I guess I was also out of line, so…”, was all she was able to come up with in reply. Frankly, there wasn’t much else left to say between the both of them. He had apologised for handling a situation the wrong way and she had admitted that her form of dealing with it could’ve also been improved upon.

Harry looked around his café helplessly before continuing his utterance of what she soon understood to be an invitation. “You said you have a, uhh… a presentation tomorrow? Are you… Do you think you’ll get enough rest staying here?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s quite close to the station and if I take the earliest train I might even be able to make it back in time to shower and go over my notes again. Gonna power through class tomorrow and then catch up on the sleep I’ve missed.”

With a shrug of his broad shoulders - and yes, she’s aware that she really has to stop lusting after him even though he’s behaving (and looking) extremely nice right now - he fixes his gaze on Norah once more. “I just stopped by to pick up these files that I forgot. Don’t live far from here, actually. You’re uhh… You’re welcome to stay in my guest room if you want.” Had she heard him correctly? Or had she already fallen asleep and was just dreaming up crazy scenarios? “At least you’ll get a few hours of sleep that way.”

Really, who was she to say no to the promise of being able to close her eyes for at least a few hours before what was sure to be a gruelling class tomorrow. Norah was also extremely curious to take a peek into his residence (and maybe his mind), even though she wouldn’t want to admit that out loud.  Harry waited by the door while she collected her belongings and not too soon after, they started their trek towards his house, accompanied by the biting gusts of cold nocturnal wind.

„You can leave your coat here, if you want.“ Harry‘s house was bigger than she had anticipated, but then again he did mention a guest room which could’ve tipped her off on the fact that his abode was bigger than her measly flat.

The seriousness he displayed during all of their encounters was nowhere to be found. His living room - where she now stood with her hands folded in front of her, waiting for him to return from the kitchen, which he had dipped into - was made up of a set of mismatched patterned couches and the walls were clad in artworks from all different styles that weirdly blended together in perfect cohesion. Plants and books adorned nearly every surface and corner in her line of vision - which made a lot of sense to her, because that was strongly reminiscent of the inside of The Brewing Pot.

Truth be told, she didn’t know what she had expected. Maybe lots of monochrome colours, whites and greys paired with a touch of black, and extremely modern furniture. Not wooden floors, which were scratched up and led her to believe in the presence of a pet in her vicinity (maybe the dog bed next to one of the loveseats tipped her off as well), and cozy, seemingly handmade throw pillows.

It was headache-inducing, really. Trying to figure him out. She was stood in the middle of a room that she would’ve definitely seen him inhabiting the first time she had laid eyes upon him. Before he had opened his mouth and heard the cold tone of his otherwise so deep and rich voice. So, had she pegged him right from the beginning? Was the solemnity a front he put on for strangers and employees or was his living space a remnant of a time and character passed, with Harry simply too lazy to redecorate?

Or was she just reading too much into this altogether?

Her way-too-deep considerations were put to a halt by Harry’s return into the room. “There you go.” In his hand was the biggest glass of water she had ever seen. The fact that she found such a small gesture endearing was enough to let alarm bells ring in Norah’s head. These mushy feelings and musings about his interior and its relation to his state of mind had to stop. She really knew next to nothing about the young man stood in front of her and based on the way their previous interaction had turned out, he most definitely wanted it to stay that way.

Gathering her wits, she accepted the glass filled with water from his outreached hand and took a tentative sip. Once again, Norah found herself in an awkward position that made her throat dry up just a little bit. “Thank you”, was all that erupted from her vocal chords.

Raising his hand to touch his glasses - which she knew for a fact had no need to be rearranged, remembering the way they hadn’t really moved an inch when he bowed his head to focus on the icing of the cupcakes - he spoke up again. “Alright, let me show you the spare room so you can get some sleep.”

[winchester-with-wings]

Best $20 Ever Spent (Peter Parker x Reader)

Requested on Tumblr by @book-loving--anime-chick with the prompts:  

Catch me if you can!

Stop texting me weird stuff so late at night

Give it back!

Word Count: 1500ish

Summary: You and Peter work at the local movie theater but sometimes have a little too much fun so you don't get scheduled together very often.

Posted this on my Patreon back on the 15th! If you want teasers and early access to my fanfics, consider becoming a Patron! I have 3 tiers at 3, 5, and 10

The managers were seriously considering no longer scheduling you two together.

Even if you asked to work on a Wednesday night for a completely different reason, they were inclined to reject it.

“Peter works that night.”

“So?”

“You distract him from his work,” they’d say.

Sure, you two were best friends and had fun working at the local movie theater but you didn’t really see it that way. The closing duties always got done properly. What does it matter if you had a few laughs and breaks to talk while doing it?

Maybe they saw something you didn’t? Maybe they were listening to you and your best friend Cali gossip about the crew and the rumors about who had crushes on who. You’d hoped that the managers were smart enough to keep the gossip to themselves too. Hopefully, they wouldn’t tell Peter that you had a crush on him.

No. If anything, they were inclined to keep you apart for efficiency. They had to do that with a lot of people too, schedule those who work best together and those that don’t get along or perhaps get along too well…

But they hadn’t officially said no to you and Peter working together all the time. If they had, they wouldn’t have allowed Peter to swap shifts with Ned on Sunday night.

Peter was a tease. He loved riling you up and messing with you. His proudest accomplishment was hiding in an auditorium, waiting in the dark for a solid 5 minutes until he could jump out and scare you. The boy was actually laying on the carpeted ground hiding behind the reclining chairs!

This is probably the perfect example of how you two didn’t work well together.

He probably should’ve been somewhere else doing his job but instead he’d disappeared and gone radio silent, the managers were literally calling for him over the radio and he wasn’t answering.

You were actually doing your job! Ushering the auditorium and picking up trash.

“Y/N!” He jumps out and shouts your name.

“AHH! Peter!” You shout right back at him, throwing an empty cup at his face before collapsing to the ground and covering your face. Your fight or flight complex was actually fight, flight, or fall. “Peter!” You squeal rolling on the ground and laughing. “You almost scared the pee out of me!” Peter hops over the reclining chairs with ease and tries to help you up.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps between his own laughing.

“No, you’re not.”

“You should’ve seen your face!” His laughing is renewed while you get back to work, finishing the auditorium. He’s kind--or perhaps guilty enough--that he helps you by wiping down the recliners.

Later in your shift, you’re texting Cali and telling her about Peter’s latest shenanigans.

“I think he likes you,” she suggests for the thousandth time.

“Nooo he’s just a pain in the ass. He annoys everyone. He’s like that with everyone. It has nothing to do with me,” you respond.

“Don’t put yourself down like that! I really think Peter likes you! You should tell him how you feel!”

“I can’t tell Peter that I like him like that! Then it really will be impossible to work with him. It’ll make it hard to work here and then I’ll have to quit…”

In his typical, annoying fashion, Peter grabs your phone the moment you’re about to set it down. No one’s phone is safe around him. But you hadn’t locked your phone in time either!

“Pete! No!”

“Give it back Peter,” the manager says from their position at Guest Services. He doesn’t listen to them. It was all part of the routine.

“Whoya textin?” he asks, getting ready to scroll through your messages. “Cali?”

“No! Peter, give it back!”

It’s probably a good thing that the theater is absolutely dead on a Sunday night.

“Who does Cali have a crush on? You guys talking about boys?” He wiggles his shoulders and smirks at you. You lunge at him, trying to get your phone back. He dodges you.

“Catch me if you can!”

You engage in a game of cat and mouse running around the theater lobby. He holds it high above his head. You can’t reach it. You pinch his sides and he giggles. Catching him off balance, you two become tangled on the floor in front of your coworkers and manager. Everyone seems to be getting a laugh out of it, including the two of you. But the fact that he still has your phone unlocked and is still trying to read your text messages has your heart racing for a completely different reason. He can’t see those texts! He can’t find out like this!

A guest walks up to box office. You coworker goes back to their position. The manager leaves guest services to come mediate and separate the two of you before making a scene in front of the customers.

“Peter, give it back,” the manager says in their authoritative tone. The managers are usually fun and happy but they’re willing to lay down the law when things get out of hand. Just in time too. Peter scrolls for .5 seconds and then hands over your phone. You lock it right away but you also have no idea what he’s seen.

Your shift ends at midnight. The rest of the night was nice and uneventful with less hijinks from Peter but still fun conversations about friends, school, and summer plans.

Peter has your number. You text quite often too. But never at 2 am when you’re both so obviously tired from working late.

Your phone screen lights up and the vibrations of it on your nightstand wakes you up.

“What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever spent $20 on?”

“Well hello to you too,” you text back.

“...” He actually took the time to send those three dots. “So what is it? Or better yet, what’s the best $20 you ever spent?”

“Uh...my iridescent hombre metal water bottle…” It’s probably not the right answer but it’s all you can think of. You and Cali both bought one on a day off at the mall and kept getting them mixed up so they have stickers on them now to tell them apart. “Now stop texting me weird things so late at night. Lol.”

“Don’t you wanna know my answer?”

“Uh sure.”

“Tonight.”

“??”

“I paid Ned $20 to swap shifts with me so I could work with you.”

That stumps you. What does that mean? Why would he do that? Yeah, you guys had fun working together but you could hang outside of work too. You saw each other at school too. So...why would he do that?

“Lol wtf why?” you send that after realizing you’d left him on “read” for about two minutes when normally you guys respond within seconds.

“Because I wanted to work with you tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to see you…”

“Why?”

Then your phone rings. It scares you. Enough that you drop your phone on your face.

“Hello?” you whisper, rubbing your nose. You fluff up your pillow so you’re sitting up in bed, fully awake now. It’s quiet on the other end. “Peter, I swear to god if you’re outside my window and are going to scare me, please don’t,” you beg. You chuckle when you finally hear Peter on the other end chuckling too. “Why are you calling me? What is this all about?”

“Y/N,” he says you name.

“Peter?” you say his name with the intent to make it sound awkward.

“What if I told you that I liked you?”

“Wh--” he cuts you off.

“That I bribed Ned to switch shifts with me so that I could work with you. So I could see you. So I could spend time with you. Because I…” he sighs, “because I like you, ya’know, like that?”

“Um...Peter…” you’re pretty sure your heart has stopped. You’re praying this isn’t one of his pranks. Peter is an annoying dweeb but he wouldn’t do that, right? That’d just be cruel.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Um...I might’ve read your texts to Cali.”

“Oh.”

“Do you really like me?” he asks. You don’t answer him right away, making him stew in the uncomfortable silence. “Y/N?”

“I mean, yeah, Pete. I like you. We’re friends.”

“But do you like me? Like enough to date me?”

“Oh um...yeah...I guess.” Peter sighs. Relieved? Happy? You’re not sure. Peter chuckles. You can imagine him running his fingers through his curly brown hair, the same way he does it when he finds that he’s passed a spanish test.

“So,” he sounds smug all of the sudden like he’s smirking at the phone. “Do you wanna go out sometime?”

“Pretty sure I just answered that.”

“But I wanna hear you say it,” Peter teases. You roll your eyes.

“Yes, Peter, I would like to go out with you. But first you have to answer one question.”

“Shoot.”

“How long have you liked me?”

“Oh, yeah...um...it’s gonna sound bad. But, uh, I kinda called dibs the first day you ever worked at the theater. And I’ve been bribing Ned for shifts every couple of weeks too.”

“Oh my god,” you giggle.

“Yeah, pretty silly huh?”

“No. It makes sense. But you know...once we’re dating, management is definitely not going to let us work together anymore.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to go on a bunch of dates.”

tagging: @faithtrustandpixiedust95 @thinkwritexpress-official @autoblocked @book-loving--anime-chick @abbessolute @overlyobsethed @bookworm4ever99 @whoopxd @therealcap @geeksareunique @potterwolf16 @frankie2902 @ravenhaviland @starksparker @gracehappyfeet @softdudebro @blckthrns 

[docholligay]

Aino’s 8: Chapter Two--Hate, Love, and Other Cons

I forgot to post this last month because I’m not exactly with it right now, BUT, here is the next chapter of Aino’s 8, as sponsored by @yamadara87 !! I hope you enjoy! All chapters can be found here. 

Ami Mizuno hated Michiru Kaioh.

Michiru was affected, and cold, and manipulative. She had no concept of money, of consequences, of basic niceties. She genuinely seemed to think herself above every human she spoke to, and ordered people around with the grace and ease that only the cradle-rich can muster. Ami would have delighted in nothing more than to see her behind bars, as unlikely as that might be to happen.

Michiru Kaioh hated Ami Mizuno.

Ami thought she was the smartest one in the room and covered it with an oversold bashfulness that bordered on pantomime, had all the social grace one might expect a shut-in to have, and loved to play the victim. She ignored people in deference to her computer or a book, and had the audacity to complain about a lack of social invitations. Michiru would have delighted to see her forced to the bottom of a prison hierarchy.

Luckily, both worked in an occupation where hating the other was perfectly acceptable.

“Ami,” Michiru gave that polite, fanged smile, “lovely to see you again.”

Ami sat down across from her, slipping in quietly against the general din of the coffee shop.

“Surprised to see you here.” Ami offered, as much grace as she was willing to give.

“One must find the level of hell upon which the sullen lie beneath the water.” Michiru took a glance around the coffee shop as if she had decided that this certainly must be it.

“Visiting from the circle of flatterers, I see.” Ami did not take her eyes off of Michiru, as if afraid she might pull a knife from her finely appointed silk skirt and slide it between Ami’s ribs.

But Michiru was disinterested in incurring Ami’s quiet wrath anymore than her presence managed to inspire it, and so she waved a hand dismissively.

“Let’s us not simply spend this time together trading barbs, Ami, we are both well-armed and aware of such.” She took a sip of the tea in front of her, and immediately looked down at the cup disapprovingly. “It seems they have taken the definition of tea as ‘tea water’ rather literally.” She set it to the side. “As it so happens, I have work which may be of interest to you. And I think you will agree, whatever you may think of me personally, our times together have been quite lucrative.”

Ami shifted uncomfortably. Michiru may have been terrible, but she was not, as it happened, incorrect. Together, they had taken some of the greatest and boldest strides in criminal history, just with a simple clack of Ami’s keys and the honey of Michiru’s voice. And while she awaited the day that Michiru would turn on her, the same as Michiru must be waiting to feel Ami’s dagger in her back, the day had not yet come for either, each too valuable to the other.

Ami adjusted her glasses and drew her hoodie more closely around her. “What is it?”

“Las Vegas, Nevada,” She pronounced it long, and Ami quietly rolled her eyes, “There will be a grand gala, to celebrate the Belmont Stakes. We will,” She smoothed her skirt, “liberate the cash that is required to be held at the casino.”

Ami looked around at the people sitting in the coffee shop, wondering if Michiru had some dark power that allowed her to make her voice heard only by whoever was meant to hear. It wouldn’t surprise her to discover that Michiru was some off-brand Antichrist.

She leaned in toward Michiru. “How much?”

“Impossible to say, of course,” Michiru remained sitting full and upright, unafraid of who might hear, “but do know that I will be putting all my efforts toward inspiring….confidence, shall we say, in the possibilities.”

Ami sighed. “It’s funny, don’t you think, how some people are vague to make themselves interesting?”

Michiru snapped to attention. “Millions. Forgive me, I had quite forgotten your difficulty in comprehending much beyond the bullet point.”

Ami considered for a moment. “Have you considered that the two of us can’t make this work, in all your plans?”

“I’m insulted, Ami,” Her voice was sing-song and overly familiar, “You know I do not, myself, believe in chance.”

“You have someone else.”

“Oh,” Michiru chuckled, “Clairvoyance.”

Ami gathered up her bag. “Not all of us have time to guess about whatever you’re doing, no matter how much you like the drama of it all. Find someone else.” She started toward the door, passing my Michiru as she said one last thing.

“Minako Aino.”

Five syllables. Dropped without the slightest hint of what Ami would have called drama, and Michiru would have called presentation. It lashed around Ami Mizuno as surely as if Michiru had grabbed her arm.

But she hadn’t. Michiru simply sat, her back to Ami, waiting, looking off into the crowd of the coffee shop.

Mina. Everyone had heard about the heist she and Michiru had pulled off, although of course only Mina had gone down for it, and only because she had thought to take a greater cut than she and Michiru had agreed upon. Mina was legendary. Ami hadn’t heard she’d gotten out of prison..

Ami sighed heavily and whirled back around, sitting in front of Michiru again, hardly able to believe she was there. She should be walking back to her large apartment, with her multiple monitors and her pajamas, refreshing her social media and casually hacking into others. A sort of Robin Hood hobby, she assured herself.

But Mina. But Michiru. But the money.

“You wanted to purchase a home in Germany, so I heard,” Michiru smiled, “I happen to know that whatever the cut, it will be more than enough to purchase the home, supply the move...bribe the government for European citizenship, some of with which I might be acquainted. The essentials.”

Ami pulled up the hood of her hoodie and and looked up at Michiru.

“The camera setup in these casinos is always basic. It’s the safe that’ll be the trouble. The electronic locks.”

You didn’t have to be friends with your coworkers, Ami thought.

__

In a turn from Mina’s usual compatriots, Hotaru Tomoe was not a criminal at all.

Well, that could not be said to be entirely true. She had met Mina working at a club, where she was too old to so much as be inside, providing entertainment from her pedestal, where she bent herself into pretzel-like shapes. Mina had noticed immediately, with an eye that seemed to occasionally go beyond mere observance and on into the psychic, a way that always seemed to note a human being’s every motivation and force.

But, rather than bust Hotaru, and lose her the work, Mina had befriended her.

This was the first, but not the last, surprise that Minako Aino had to offer.

Mina had gotten her work in better clubs, running through the long list of people she knew and connections she’d made, until, after a few years of work, Hotaru had gotten a job with the Cirque du Soleil. It was good work, steady, with a paycheck to match and mostly without men pawing at her every night, and she was happy for it.

But Mina did nothing out of a mere sense of kindness, though it may also have been true. Mina liked to have an open tab with the world, with enough debts that could be called in at any time, and in a certain sense, Hotaru was not surprised at all to see Mina sitting at a table outside of her rehearsal, sipping a cocktail in the lounge lit by soft blue neon light and smiling.

She did not have to call out to Hotaru. Hotaru came to her, as if pulled. As if knowing that it was inevitable anyhow.

“Hotaru,” She leaned forward, as if she were surprised Hotaru had come to her, “So nice to see you. How’s work going?” Her grin got wider. “Shame I haven’t picked up tickets to see you.”

Hotaru shrugged. “I’m mostly part of an ensemble.”

And it was true, she performed with a handful of other girls, but it was also true that none of them could truly be called standard, or plain. It wasn’t everyone who could put their hips behind their head. She sat down across from Mina, who did not attempt to argue with her, simply waved a hand, and a cocktail waitress materialized.

“Are you still drinking rum and cokes, or have we grown up since then?” It was said with playfulness, not malice, and reminded Hotaru of exactly how long it had been since they’d seen each other.

“No, I drink like a woman now.”

“Fantastic! We’d love a French 75.” She gave a sweet wink to the waitress, who nodded and blushed just a little bit as she walked away.

It had been a long time, but Mina hadn’t changed all that much, whatever she had heard. And she had heard.

“I heard you went to prison.” She said quietly.

“Eh,” Mina waved her hand as if it were the least interesting thing in the world, “disagreement with a partner, is all. Funny you should ask that, actually.” The waitress set the drink in front of Hotaru, and smiled at Mina, “Well, thank you so much.”

“Why funny?”

The moment Hotaru had been waiting for her entire life was coming, and she knew it. She could feel the weight of the favor pressing upon her, and, like an elderly woman who welcomes death as a friend, she was surprised to find herself not fearing it in the slightest.

“I have a job.” Mina looked at her with sparkling eyes, already delighted by the promise of the con.

Hotaru sipped at her drink. “I don’t know how to do anything.”

“How dare you!” Mina said in mock astonishment, “Hotaru, the things that you can do are maybe the most specific of all. There’s no one else I could call, it would have to be you. And,” She stretched her arms out to the walls of the casino, “You don’t even have to leave home. The show is coming here. In three weeks, so we have to get our act together.”

Hotaru had always imagined that this moment would come, but when she saw it in her mind’s eye, she never would have imagined that it would come together so quickly. Three weeks. It was standing on the edge of the high dive, with no time to decide you didn’t want to do this anymore.

“And I know,” Mina grinned, “That you'd like some money for an engagement ring.”

Hotaru nearly asked how she knew, but decided that was a silly question to ask--Mina knew because Mina made it her business to know. Mina had kept tabs on her ever since the day she had helped her out of that ratty club. Mina must know all about how she was dating a young cocktail waitress in a lounge not at all unlike this one, and how they had a small but clean apartment near the so-called Arts District where they’d lived together a year.

How badly she wanted the money to give her the wedding she wanted.

Hotaru nodded. “Who are we...actually, I don’t want to know.”

Hotaru may not have been a criminal, but Mina had often observed that she would be a good one. She didn’t ask many questions she didn’t need to know, which made it easy to say that she didn’t know. She kept to herself and did her work, just like she had every night at the club, and she held dear to her only the things that mattered the most.

And now, she held out her hand to Mina.

“A fair cut?”

Mina reached her hand across the table and gave it a shake. “Come on now, I’m an honest con. I always give people what they’re owed.”

“Yeah, that’s why your partner got you thrown in jail.”

Mina laughed. “A valuable lesson.”

Hotaru nodded again, and picked up the French 75, watching the bubbles dance in it, the way they would as she cheered Chibiusa in her bright white and sparkling dress, and she took a drink, smiling.

[citywatcher]

fairweather.

     “Put your guns down and your cutlasses back in your belts, crew.”

     The first sailor that had accosted Caitlyn, a dark-skinned Shuriman with a blue bandana covering his short hair, growls to himself and steps aside to let her go.

     “Thank you kindly, sir,” Caitlyn remarks, throwing a sidelong glance and a smirk his way before stepping onto the Syren, the ship of the renowned bounty hunter, Sarah Fortune.

     “And don’t be making any passes towards the sheriff during her stay, you hear?” Fortune instructs the crew. “She’s my guest.” Flashing a coy smile at Caitlyn, Fortune beckons her through a passageway leading to the captain’s cabin. The ceilings of the ship’s interior are low, and Caitlyn has to take off her hat, setting it in her lap when she and Fortune sit down at opposite sides of a table.

     “It’s been a while since I’ve sat on the visitor’s end.” Caitlyn looks at the shelves holding various maritime memorabilia behind Fortune. A long emerald scale of what looks to be the remains of a sea serpent catches her eye.

     “That doesn’t surprise me, dear Sheriff.” Fortune rolls up a stray parchment that lay on the desk and stows it into a drawer, following Caitlyn’s gaze. “But being holed up in a stuffy office all day can’t be good for your skin.”

     “Neither is listening to the endless appeals of my coworkers looking for more ‘accommodating’ schedules, but I carry out my job anyway. Besides,” Caitlyn adds, shrugging a few locks of hair over her shoulder, “I haven’t had any complaints.”

     Fortune looks at her with such intent that Caitlyn feels like she’s a contract on the Bounty Boards. “About your reputation? Or your looks?”

     Caitlyn doesn’t bat an eyelash.

     “I never specified.”

     “You do look like a successful multitasker to me...” Fortune sits up, chin cradled in the crook of her thumb and index finger. “So, Miss Fairleigh. What brings you to my humble abode?”

     “A report of stolen property. Valuable hextech, in fact.”

     Fortune seems disappointed that Caitlyn’s dropped the banter. All the more reason to bring up her business quickly.

     “Witnesses say that the perpretrator ran down into the loading docks and came around this side. I’ve been sending the team around all day to ask the other captains questions.”

     “And you chose to come to me in person. I’m flattered, Sheriff.”

     “I wanted to see for myself the product of all the stories that came ashore from Bilgewater.” She adjusts the collar on her shirt. “It’s just a matter of confirming the facts.”

     “And? What have the stories said?”

     “That you have a reputation of embellishment. Now that may impress the folk of the island that learned their tall tales before their letters. but that won’t cut it here in Piltover.”

     Fortune pulls the drawer open, pulling out a golden doubloon. She tosses it in the air, and Caitlyn watches it flip several times before landing in Fortune’s hand. “Straight to the point. I respect that,” she says as her fingers close over it with a faint clicking noise.

     “Well, Sheriff, since you’re also a woman of business, you’ll understand that the truth rarely comes free of charge. You can’t expect me to just present my résumé for all the world to gawk at. It’s bad practice.”

     “Bribery, then? You’ll find our police force isn’t as exploitable as whatever authorities you’ve come across until now.”

     Fortune puts a hand over her sternum, feigning mortification. “Bribes? I’m hurt, Sheriff, that you think so poorly of me.” Her visage then darkens as she leans in. “I prefer to barter. If you want something from me, you’ll offer me something of similar value. You can work around the terms of an exchange, can’t you?”

     Caitlyn narrows her eyes a sliver. An intriguing game you play, Captain.

     “So you wish to exchange information.”

     “Precisely. You’ve asked me a question, so I’ll answer with one of my own.”

     She doesn’t typically entertain the negotiations of suspects. But this Fortune is different. She plays to win, rather than to avoid loss, as the average pleading criminal tends to do.

     Caitlyn nods. “Proceed.”

     “What sort of device are we looking for? A weapon, a cosmetic? A power source, perhaps? Large or small?”

     “A spherical container. Its use is classfiied.” Caitlyn catches Fortune’s gaze, and the redhead winks back.

     “It seems small enough to fit in one of the drawers of your desk, but it’s not something you could easily conceal in a closed fist. Anyone boarding your ship would find it difficult to hide it from the rest of your crew.”

     “You seem to think I don’t already keep tabs on who comes and goes on the Syren.”

     “Does that satisfy your curiosity?” Caitlyn presses on.

     “For the present.” Fortune taps gloved fingers together before she responds. “And if this device were to come onto the ship. Perhaps it’s a dangerous hexplosive? Or some new energy source that would make a hefty profit on the black market?”

     Caitlyn shifts in her chair. Fortune deserves more credit than she’s given her; not since her first run-in with the Steel Shadow did another find a route in the maze to unsteady her demeanor. But she regains her composure quickly. She can make some concessions to Fortune, but not all.

     “The substance is hazardous if it comes into contact with water. I’m sure you can see the problem here.” She isn’t lying; the device operates with electricity, and the scientists operating on it haven’t figured out a way to stabliize its circuits. A poor day for a thief to claim a prototype.

     “I see.” Fortune hums a low note to herself, letting the matter stir a while. “I’m guessing it would do a serious number to a ship that was housing it. We in Bilgewater, ever since the day of Burning Tides, are much more prepared to handle a little accident. Though I’d hate to suffer such a loss...”

     Fortune tilts her head, putting on her best innocent look. Yet her eyes gleam, almost as if she wants Caitlyn to look through it.

     “...and I imagine my enemies would despise it more.”

     “So it’s not on your ship.” Caitlyn can continue this game as long as Fortune wills it, but the precinct doesn’t have the time. “You handed it off to some other ship docked here?” Her impatience is slipping through, but it’s a tax she has to pay to serve the law.

     “I never said that, did I? But it’s clear that it’s a valuable piece on the board if it comes into play for the conflict raging on the high seas.”

     Caitlyn grips the sides of her armchair, Fortune hasn’t called anyone in, or made any indication that she isn’t in control here. That means...

     “It has great potential in your hands, but much greater - and safer - potential in the hands of the hextech labs. So wherever you’re hiding it on this ship...” Caitlyn raises her eyebrows as she comes to a conclusion.

     “Or more precisely, in this room: I’d appreciate it if you handed it over.”

     Fortune stares at her for a few seconds, then puts her hands together and claps. “Really, Sheriff, I was beginning to wonder when you’d get to the bottom of it.”

     Reaching below the drawer she had opened earlier, she digs into another one before pulling out a white orb, its surface obscured by a light fog. Caitlyn can see glowing particles travel across the concave surface.

     It’s the object in question. She leans forward, her attention more on Fortune than the orb, and takes it into her hands.

     “So you had this the whole time, yet you chose to lead me through a bunch of hoops like some kind of circus animal before you entertained me.”

     “Hardly,” Fortune answers, and where Caitlyn expects sass and wit she finds none. Instead, the captain sighs and folds her hands underneath her chin. “You’re not the first officer who’s come through the harbor today.”

    Caitlyn narrows her gaze. “But no one’s been instructed to come this way before the precinct assigned me this task.”

     “Do you really think you and the other wardens are in charge of this entire city? It’s a large world in here, much larger than Bilgewater, and that island can’t decide on a set of colors to back. No, I don’t know who they were, but I knew I couldn’t trust them.”

     “So you put me up to a test,” Caitlyn observes. “What did this other person ask you for?”

     “The same routine you went through.” Fortune frowns, then adds, “With much less finesse. But I could feel their demands getting more and more hostile. I’d know that kind of attitude even if I was deaf in one ear. Whoever they are, you’d best watch your back, Sheriff.”

     Caitlyn pauses, then nods. “I see. Then I thank you for your cooperation. I suppose you’re not all mystery and fraud, then, Fortune.”

     Fortune laughs, a sound that comes from her heart, and not developed in her mind. “Please, call me Sarah.”