#i aspire to be like her. she always backs up her staff no matter what. always does her best to make all the staff comfortable and happy

[chqnified]

I ADORE my colleague, she's a deputy manager too. But training me in a new shop. And when i say i love her. She's my favourite person. It's really not that hard to be there for someone and just properly support them. We're forever talking about our crazy stories. Hers are more insane than mine (like how she's had her foot sewn back on) but regardless. Her wisdom is insane too, she has all these metaphors and ways of looking at things. And for once, someone's advice actually helps. Maybe because she genuinely wants to give advice, not just regurgitated old rubbish everyone knows. Not re-labelled re-used re-cycled obvious 'advice'. I love her to pieces already. Honestly if they split me from her after training, i will cry. We've already agreed if it happens, we will have to meet up outside work.

[vickyvicarious]

I have a lot to talk about in this scene, boy oh boy. First of all, I love the character implications of Enoch's reaction here. He isn't happy at all at the reveal that Courtney was the one who actually killed Asman. The fact that he gets outright angry at her is so interesting. It reveals just how deeply he desires his revenge, and how emotionally driven his actions are despite his logical thinking. He's able to keep himself from outright confessing for a long time even when it's fairly clear what he's done, because he knows there's no actual proof and he doesn't want to implicate himself. He suppresses his pride again and again, hinging his defense on the pretense that he doesn't understand stuff or made dumb mistakes (his clients' designs, the scene in the graveyard, his claim to be a merely average student). But here, he can't hold himself back. He gets so mad, because in his eyes she has stolen his revenge out from under him, in much the same way she was one of those who helped to steal his future back then. It infuriates him.

And his word choice is super revealing too. He asks if she's been taking him for a fool first. Because that matters hugely to him. He is just fine playing the role of someone who is less intelligent (meaning only average rather than above, he never really tries to act outright dumb) because he knows that he is playing a role. Every time someone believes him about that, it's in the context of him successfully fooling them to get his way, it's him outsmarting them. He still has his Young Scientist award. He never got the formal qualifications or the career he aspired to, but he's always seen that as the fault of others. His own capabilities are something he has faith in. So the fact that not only did his murder plan fail to actually kill his target, but that Sithe has successfully lied to and fooled him makes him utterly furious. He's supposed to be the one who tricks others. He's not supposed to get tricked himself. It spits on his pride in his intellect, the one thing that has never been compromised.

So that's Drebber in isolation.

But I also want to talk about Sithe here. She also snaps, shouting and collapsing on to the podium. For someone usually so cool and collected, this is a big deal. And it confirms that she has a completely different set of priorities. She feels so weighed down, and has for years now. Exactly what went down back then is still unclear, but it's obvious that she has a deep sense of duty that she places even above her own wellbeing. Whether that is the Yard's reputation, her staff, or the secret from so long ago... she tries to keep it covered up and safe as much as she can. She's willing to break the law and even commit murder, and then eventually to admit to varying degrees of doing so, before she is willing to tell the truth. It's clear in this moment that she doesn't enjoy any of this. But she feels like she has to do it. I don't know if her motives are truly big-picture all the way down or if there is some element of coercion much deeper than what Drebber tried on her (something with her daughter, maybe?) but either way it is her duty to someone/something outside herself that dictates all her behavior.

I especially love noticing both of those things about each of them here, because on a more surface level they have a lot in common. They both have a really cool 'cold scientist' aesthetic, they both are very logical and mostly calm, very intellectual about what they say. They both have a scary smile. They share a very similar color pallete, with pale hair and skin, gold accents, black and white as the overwhelming colors in their clothes (just in reverse, with Drebber wearing black with a white tie, and Sithe wearing a white coat with darker clothes underneath). The way they both collapse forward onto their arms when overwhelmed is really similar. And they both do that here! But for very different reasons. Enoch is driven by emotion, by revenge and pride. Sithe is driven by duty, by protectiveness and burdens.

Drebber has a bad reputation but pride in himself, going in to this. Sithe had a good reputation but guilt weighing on her. And in this scene, that reverses at least a little. Drebber's proved correct about the events in the graveyard, and innocent of any actual murder... but he learns that he has been fooled. Sithe's proven to be corrupt and a murderer... but as a result, she no longer has to be responsible for the way things turn out anymore. It's not total in either case - Drebber still tried to kill Asman, and Sithe is still keeping secrets - but it's still super cool.

[cakeinthevoid]

OC Interview Tag!

Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck ! prev

I'll do it for Deyana <33 she's been on my miiiiiiind as you might know hahaha. We will set this a few weeks into Cellchan (:

Are you named after anyone?

"Yes, a dear friend of my mother's. She was a very talented mechanic and pilot—very unusual career path for those in our community, but my mother loved her dearly."

When was the last time you cried?

"Hours ago, maybe. It's hard enough to find time to grieve, and now I waste my energy on physical pain and what is essentially t-torture—and I can't even cry in peace. It's messy, and I'm always alone and I just... I just... Hours ago. I last cried hours ago."

Do you have kids?

"No, and I likely never will. Unfortunate... I quite like children, and have always wanted some of my own.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

"And where would I get the energy for that?"

What’s the first thing you notice about people?

"Most recently, how they can harm me, what type of threat they are. I try to read their intentions. Before all of this, it was always the energy they carried with them. Not everyone was a mage in my village, and if they were, it was important to know their skill level so as to not accidentally harm them with overexposure. "

What’s your eye color?

"Dark brown. A deep, rich colour like the earth below ancient trees. That's how the elders would describe it, in fewer words of course."

Scary movies or happy endings?

"Happy endings. I know what my reality is. Is it so bad to wish for a distraction? ...it is, isn't it..."

Any special talents?

"To many, all associated skills that come with magehood seem like talents. I maintain that most everything can be learned. Although, I am not humble enough to deny I have no skill in illusions and light manipulation. I am one of the best in my area. Maybe there was a bit of talent involved. Not that it matters anymore... At the very least I hope I can still make pottery. I was quite good at that. Enjoyed it, too."

Where were you born?

"I was born in my mother's hometown Istr on Luar, not very far from the big city Silstrir. I was lucky to grow up in one of the close knit neighbourhoods before starting to move around. "

Do you have any pets?

"No. Pets are not quite common where I'm from. You would struggle to even find a familiar. "

What sports do you play?

"None, not truly. I was learning Luarian martial art as part of mage training though. Elder Kieya always encouraged me to refine my physical combat skills in tandem with my spellwork. If only I could go back... Knock myself upside the head for not truly understanding. However, I suppose I am skilled enough with a staff."

How tall are you?

"I believe I am perfectly average for once. Marciel, Torg, and Amsok are all taller than me, although Amsok is hardly taller. while Linra, Zinc, and Zeyver are shorter. Zeyver is closest to my height but is far more imposing than I. I believe I am still considered tall by local standards."

What was your favorite subject in school?

"Perhaps a tie between thaumaturgy and art. The science of spellwork paired with the creative process of design was a splendid combination I could enjoy studying. They are quite interconnected—it is hard to imagine one without the other. "

What is your dream job?

"I was aspiring to become an elder in my community, with a focus on the arcane. Before, I wanted to follow my parents footsteps towards academia and preserve art. I had only ever wanted a quiet life..."

[grasshopperdoingdogpaddle]

If the Bird of Paradise met these characters, what do you think the Bird of Paradise would call their best qualities?

Grandmaster Dashi

Master Monk Guan

Chase

Wuya

Jack

Well, the qualities the Bird of Paradise were their deepest values and most apparent traits that were so strong, they could be a double-edged sword.

Like how Omi's loyalty leads him to keeping his word even in situations where that's disadvantageous. His loyalty is what allowed him to be trapped by the plan in X-ing Omi, and it’s also what gives him his strength and shows how much he cares for his loved ones. His greatest strength and his fatal flaw, all in one. At his best and at his worst, Omi is and strives to be, loyal and honorable.

Similarly, Kimiko's courage often leads to recklessness and she gets especially reckless and defensive if she feels like her bravery is being called into question, like when she lets her temper get the best of her or accidentally let Sibini loose because she was trying to handle the broken Wu on her own. Clay's strength has been "stolen" by others multiple times (such as when Sibini took his body or when Hannibal turned into him), and that strength has weighed so heavily on him that it puts him in tight spots about how best to define and show strength which led to his clashes with his dad and his sister. They always are and always want to be courageous and strong, respectively, even when it’s to their detriment.

It’s also the trait easiest to lead them by. Chase, Hannibal, Jack, Vlad, and others have successfully manipulated Omi using his sense of loyalty. Dyris and Sibini manipulated Kimiko using her sense of courage, and in a way, so did the boys in the episodes where she wanted to prove herself, like with the monkey staff. Daddy Bailey manipulated Clay using his sense of strength.

(Although the “kindness” trait for Raimundo is just... iffy? It sorta breaks the pattern.)

So, with that framework in mind, I think if asked, the Bird of Paradise would say... 

Chase’s is definitely ambition. 

Both good or evil, that’s Chase’s defining trait. He wants to be stronger, wants to be better than he is, always strives to improve and rise above, which was always his greatest strength and brought him a lot of happiness and cockiness. He loves training and takes pride in his skills. He loves to stand above and always seek greater things.

It’s what led him down his dark path though, both because he wanted the power that Hannibal offered and the recognition that Hannibal said Chase would only find on the Heylin side, and because he feared Guan overtaking him and leaving him behind, forgotten to history. Chase threw away every other thing he believed in and everyone he’d grown close to for the deal that Hannibal was offering him, and even now, 1500 years later, he still aspires to greater and greater heights. He clips the wings of his competitors and trusts almost no one.

But it’s also what saved him from staying stuck as Hannibal’s puppet forever. It’s what’s led him to acquire this huge array of skills over the year. It’s a big part of what started him on the path of building a bond with Omi and how they grow so close. So maybe one day, it’ll be the trait that saves him?

Dashi was freedom.

A creative free-spirit, nothing could tie Dashi down. He’s bright, independent, untethered.

He doesn’t get trapped in rigid, pre-existing patterns or tripped up by less obvious solutions. A perpetual outside-the-box thinker who’s able to take a step back and look at a problem from an outside perspective, no matter how involved in it he may be. He’s airy, and has his own goals, marches to his own beat. It’s very difficult for others to understand him or follow his line of logic a lot of the time. Adaptable to the point of seeming unstructured. (Kind of like Clay.)

That free-spirited creativity can often be mistaken for stupidity, or laziness, or even for being uncaring. But that’s not the main problem. Dashi doesn’t really care how he’s seen or perceived by others, he doesn’t let outside opinions tie him down either. He doesn’t even get attached to his reputation as a big hero. He’ll go bum around pigs and hide in town to try not to get recognized.

The problem is that it makes it a little difficult to maintain long-term relationships.

It comes most naturally to him to just... let others go. Chase and Guan both left him, and as wise as Dashi is, he didn’t know how to stop it. And if you lean into DashiWuya headcanons, Dashi had to learn to let her go and choose to protect the world from her instead of being with her. There’s a limit to how deeply he can connect to others and how well they’ll ever really be able to understand him, and no matter how much love is there, neither side can really ever tie the other down.

Even the fact that he’s the only member of the original trio who didn’t seem to be immortal or become immortal in some way. Dashi’s not so attached to his mortal life that he’d cling to it. In fact, he possibly couldn’t really cling to anything that strongly, even if he tried. And in the end, he’s the greatest, most legendary warrior in Xiaolin history, he’s left behind this legacy and all these different Shen Gong Wu, but also, in the end, he was all alone.

Guan is diligence, or maybe focus.

He works hard and is stable as a rock, and when he wants something, he makes a plan to get it. It’s just, that focus and that diligence is for the goals Guan sets himself. And he’s very narrow in what he plans to do. Plus, anyone to the wayside, he’s fine with using a collateral. Guan is single-minded and devoted in pursuit of a goal or a lifestyle, and he gets results 100% of the time, even if it mean playing the long game.

He wanted his Spear of Guan. He has hundreds just like it, but it’s his, he wants it, so he’ll sacrifice Dojo and even these four random kids to get it done. He wanted to clear his good name after Omi insulted him, so he challenged Chase for the first time in a long time, and he won. He was tasked with retrieving the treasure of the blind swordsman, and if he had to traumatize and put in harm’s way 3/4 of the dragons-in-training in his care to do so, he’ll do it with no remorse. He can be dominating, punishing, demanding, and he won’t hesitate to lie to people’s faces.

He’s very selective about what goals he’s willing to devote any time or focus to, but once he decides, he’s on it. It’s how he’s made his name as a hero and how he’s managed to get this strong and get this far. It’s why he’s easily the greyest morality the Xiaolin side has and why he usually isn’t doing anything to help them.

It also makes it hard to tell where you stand with Guan. He’ll tell people what they want to hear with so much charisma and so little sincerity that even people he does care about end up feeling unable to read him, which is part of what made Chase wary enough to buy Hannibal’s manipulation, and consequently, part of what drove his original trio apart. It’s hard to say if he’s genuinely cared about anyone sense then; he’s only gotten more diligent and single-minded over the years. 

That diligence and focus also comes into play in the alternate timeline, where Guan remains a devout follower of Hannibal, unlike Chase, who sealed Hannibal away to be number one himself.

Wuya’s is power, in a similar way to how Clay’s is strength.

We never truly get to see Wuya at full strength for any length of time. Her powers are always put under a limiter, or stolen from her, or sealed away. But it’s fair to theorize that Wuya was the most powerful entity on Earth in her heyday, and gravitates towards everything she can do to get that power back.

And no matter how much power people take away from her, she’s never quite left helpless or hopeless or even truly powerless. She commands a really interesting soft power, and is opportunistic enough to bounce between how to use it. She uses Jack, then tries to use Katnappe, finds Cyclops to use him, uses Raimundo, etc.

She’s also the most knowledgeable in arcane magic. She knows where to find monsters like Cyclops and how to summon beings like Mala Mala Jong, she can sense all the Shen Gong Wu, she knows all the ancient baddies. She has access to the sort of knowledge that is easy to transform into actual threats.

And even if you take away all her magic, she’s still an excellent fighter. She messes with her opponent’s heads, can take down people twice her weight, can meet most other characters blow-for-blow.

No matter what state she finds herself in, Wuya will always find some sort of power to command. Power’s almost as drawn to her as she is to it, in a way. If the bad end of the timeline is anything to go by, Wuya does eventually manage to get at least some of her rock golems back, somehow.

Jack is tenacity. 

The boy may be cowardly, whiny, and duplicitous, but he sure never gives up, no matter how many times others knock him down or how many times he runs straight into trouble and trips himself up right off a cliff. In fact, he doesn’t know when to give up. He’ll run headfirst into a bad decision and stick to it, and keep doing it. His refusal to quit during the rare moments he’s ahead usually results in it being his own fault that he ends up losing the lead or throwing the match. He never assesses his actual chances and gets in over his head a lot of the time, too.

He is probably the most determined character in the show, considering how many failures he has blow up in his face without faltering to get back up and rebuild.

It’s a good skill in tech and computing, which he works with. Lots of unexpected dead ends and little things that can fall apart there, so Jack’s tenacity is what’s allowed him to manage all this technology and develop so many different things in the first place. A less hard-headed person would never have gotten that far. It’s also probably why in that bad end, Jack eventually managed to take over the world (that, and Omi being gone).

But it’s also what leads Jack to annoying everyone and to sabotaging every bond he could possibly have. He betrays literally every temporary alliance he gets, or tries to at least, whether it’s on the Heylin or the Xiaolin side, so everyone has a really good reason to never trust Jack as far as they can throw him. He’ll never stop trying to get one over on them, even if they’re actively helping him at the moment.

It’s so consistent that even good!Jack is just as tenacious, just like evil!Omi is just as bound by loyalty to whoever he follows. Good!Jack pulls off some pretty ballsy gambits because giving up just isn’t possible for him.

[vannahfanfics]

Heavenly Bodies

Category: Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Mina Ashido, Eijirou Kirishima

Additional Tags: Quirkless AU

Howdy, everyone! Today I have my story for the @ashidobigbang! I had the privilege of working with the wonderful @mallowfac​, so be sure to go give her beautiful art some love!

The picturesque campus of U.A. High School was always abuzz with activity, even after the final bells rang to mark the end of the school day. As expected of the number-one high school in the district, the institution hosted a vast number of after-school sports and clubs, so much that it was almost unheard of for a student to be uninvolved in anything. Thus, even as the sun had sunk low across the sky, the halls were still packed with many students fervently discussing events and fundraising and planning, walking to and from their classrooms. 

The exterior of the school was no exception; one would be hard pressed to find an empty sidewalk or field—except for today, when the American football team would be taking on the baseball team in an impromptu flag football game to determine once and for all the title of best sport. The halls and sidewalks and fields were abandoned, for the entire student body had crammed themselves within the confines of the spacious practice field nestled in the back corner of the campus. The baseball team had asserted that football was so easy that even they could do it, and the school had become divided on whether or not that was true. 

“Kick their asses, Eijirou!” a particularly loud fan crowed from the top of the bleachers. He was standing tall, hands cupped around his mouth and stamping his feet as he cheered for the school’s idol and star quarterback. The bleachers sang with chants and stomps, trying desperately to smother the boos drifting from the opposite end of the field, where the baseball team’s supporters sat. Eijirou Kirishima, his grin blinding and his red hair gleaming in the spring sun, laughed nervously as praise was rained down upon him. 

As Mina zeroed in on him in the lens of her binoculars, she knew she’d found her latest victim— er, recruit. 

Mina Ashido was the president—and only member—of U.A.’s astronomy club. Well, it wasn’t technically a club yet since they needed two members for the administration to approve the application. An avid admirer of all things cosmological and an aspiring astronomer, Mina refused to allow her pride and joy to collapse before it had even begun. Thus, for the last few months, she’d been concocting hare-brained scheme after hare-brained scheme to recruit at least one more member and officially christen the U.A. Guild of Astronomers and Astrophysicists. All of her efforts, unfortunately, had crashed and burned brighter than a supernova. 

At first, she’d just camped out in the hallways and leisure areas pitching her case and attempting to garner interest in the subject, but she’d been met with polite refusals or awkward avoidance. With so many extracurriculars available, sometimes drastic measures had to be taken to garner interest in a club— the Shakespearean drama club, for example, had performed Macbeth completely backwards in the courtyard, and their numbers had swelled immediately. Mina had cooked up a dramatic scheme of her own, which involved her running around the school screaming about a falling star and the end times. After inciting a mass school panic that led to a lockdown and police involvement, all Mina had managed to acquire was a fierce scolding, detention, and the label as a kook—not even one person expressed interest in joining her club even for the shits and giggles! No, it was clear that the inner workings of her mind were too sophisticated for humble high school students and staff, so she would have to try a more nuanced approach—manipulating the most vital high school variable: popularity. 

Her first target had been gorgeous cheerleader and school sweetheart, Momo Yaoyorozu. Despite the stereotype that popular girls were great big bitches, Momo had been nothing but polite when refusing Mina, since her rigorous practice schedule would unfortunately not allow her to devote the time to the club it deserved (but they did regularly meet up for Sunday tea now!). The next one to fall into her crosshairs was the school heartthrob Shoto Todoroki. He’d entertained her for an afternoon, but he destroyed one of her very expensive telescopes while attempting a night viewing and she’d politely informed him that perhaps he wasn’t cut out for it. He didn’t seem too sad about it, though he did occasionally ask her how the recruiting was going when they met in the halls. Very sweet guy, but bless him, he was an airhead. 

Thus, Mina had moved on to her next opportunity—the pride and joy of U.A.’s sports program, star American football player Eijirou Kirishima. Incredibly handsome, charismatic, and kind-hearted, Eijirou was beloved by everyone at U.A. If Mina managed to recruit him to her humble club, half the student body would be clamoring to join before it was printed in the school news the next day. 

She snickered to herself as she watched him through her binoculars, hiding in the thick, leafy bushes lining the backside of the sports complex. Her cotton candy-colored hair blended well with the hydrangeas blooming amidst the emerald leaves, camouflaging her as she conducted her vital research. The redhead strode across the field with confidence, yet his sunny smile made him seem anything but arrogant. Though she couldn’t hear him, she could see his lips moving as he relayed orders to his team while they set up the play. The players seamlessly fell into an offensive stance, a testament to the faith they held in their captain—and how seriously he took their practice and performance. 

A deep and bassy “huuuuup!” resounded through the field, and then the player hiked the ball. With a speed much at odds with his muscular frame, Eijirou took off down the field. Mina admittedly salivated a little as she watched his muscles ripple, his gray muscle tank displaying his biceps and triceps in mouthwatering detail. She could see the sweat shining on his skin and flicking from his hair as he whipped his head around to eye the ball that was sailing through the air toward him. The baseball team’s defense could only watch in awe as Eijirou leaped into the air over the endzone. The ball landed in his arms like it belonged there, his grip smug and sure as he landed in the touchdown zone. The supporting crowd erupted into deafening cheers, while Eijirou just smiled bashfully and gave a little wave. 

Mina lowered her binoculars to compose herself, a blush dusting her cheeks. So effortless… And the crowd loves it! she thought in awe. No matter what, I have to get him to join the Astronomy Club! She snapped the binoculars back to her eyes, watching intensely. She really didn’t need to watch the entire game, but… damn, that was a mouthwatering piece of man. She had to find some way to entertain herself while she waited for the game to end and her chance to corner him to finally present itself. 

Needless to say, the football team absolutely demolished the baseball team. The rival players marched back to their diamond in defeat along with their gaggle of supporters, while the crowd flooded the practice field to heft a very bemused but giddy Eijirou on their shoulders with chants of his name. They dunked the container of water over his head as soon as his feet touched the grass again, making him laugh jovially. Mina’s heart fluttered at the sound; his laugh was as sunny as the rest of him, so bright she almost felt the need to close her eyes. He was just blinding, like the most intense star. 

And just like with a star, Mina gravitated toward him. 

Eventually, the raucous crowd dispersed and the football team started heading to the locker rooms to change out of their sweaty gym gear. They came tromping onto the sidewalk, with Eijirou trailing in the rear dripping wet and trying to wring water out of his tank. Mina almost forgot to spring out of the bushes, too occupied with the planes of his abs being revealed each time he wrung the fabric. She remembered her mission just as he passed the hydrangea bush, and leaped out in front of him with a delighted trill. 

“That was a wonderful game, Eijirou!” she squealed, throwing her arms up and hiking up one leg behind her in a cute little flourish. The redhead jumped back with a small gasp, startled by her sudden appearance and the leaves and hydrangea petals clinging to her clothes and the soft fibers of her pink hair. Once he recovered, however, he gave her a charming smile that nearly had her melting into a pile of space slush. 

“Oh! Thanks. Hey, you’re, uh—” he snapped his fingers quickly as he struggled to recall her, then pointed his fingers at her in a gun-like shape once it clicked, “Mina Ashido! You have homeroom with Tsuyu from the Amphibian Care club. She talks about you when she helps run the concession stand sometimes!” 

“That’s right! The one and only!” she chirped, trying to suppress the surge of anger at the fact that Tsuyu could recruit for her club about pet frogs and turtles but Mina couldn’t get one single underling. Not to worry; that will all change soon! 

“This might be an odd question, but, uh… is there a reason you were hiding in the bushes?” he laughed awkwardly. Mina blushed when he leaned forward to gently brush the leaves and petals from her shoulders and hair, which made her short-circuit for a second. It was only when he looked at her inquisitively that her brain jump-started again. 

“O-oh! I thought it would be fun to surprise you! Yanno, like in the movies where someone jumps out of a big ol’ birthday cake!” It was a bold-faced lie, but it wasn’t like she could tell him she was spying on him through binoculars while she schemed to reel him into her club. Trying to keep him from thinking too hard about it, she placed her hands on her hips and straightened up. “I watched your practice match with the baseball team and have decided that you’ll be a perfect fit for the Astronomy Club! So please join. <3” 

Eijirou blinked owlishly at her, his bright red eyes swimming with confusion. He smiled bashfully, clearly trying not to let his utter perplexity show on his face. He rubbed the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. 

“Well, um, I’m really not sure how you made that connection watching me play…” 

“The inner workings of a woman’s mind are quite an enigma~” she hummed with a waggle of her finger. Eijirou only scrunched his eyebrows in confusion and jumped when she slapped her hand down on his shoulder. “Seriously! You seem like a great fit! Please consider at least trying it out for a little while?” She batted her eyelashes demurely; if nothing else, her womanly charms could entice the burly football player to at least humor her for a while. 

Sure enough, a pink blush dusted across his cheeks and a bashful smile curled onto his lips. 

“Well, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt checking it out… Stars are cool…” 

“Fabulous!” she squealed, making Eijirou flinch again as she clapped her hands together and jumped up and down in elation. Even if Eijirou didn’t join permanently, just the rumor of his interest in her humble little club was liable to attract attention. “I know that you’re busy with football practice, so we’ll schedule club meetings on Friday afternoons when you don’t have them, okay?” 

“Oh, that’s not necessary. I don’t want to inconvenience any—” 

“Great! So it’s settled then! I’ll see you on Friday afternoon in Room 310!” With that, she jumped back into her bush, leaving Eijirou staring at the quivering leaves in confusion. Through the gaps in the branches, she saw him open and close his mouth like he wanted to say something, look around and then up at the sky with a pensive look, and then smile with a shrug of his shoulders. Mina clutched her binoculars to her chest as a smile bloomed on her own lips, but one of satisfaction. Surely this will work! The Astronomy Club will be booming in no time! She thought with a giddy snicker. 

If nothing else, she could look at Eijirou’s absolutely dreamy body and face for a few club meetings and drive his fangirls nuts. 

At the end of the week, Mina paced impatiently in front of Room 310, chewing her fingernails to nubs as her eyes darted back and forth around the hall. It had only been a few minutes since the final bell had rung and the students had scattered to attend to their Friday afternoon obligations (or lack thereof), but anxiety swirled in Mina’s belly at the complete emptiness of the halls. Has he stood me up? Was I too pushy? Is he secretly a great big jerk who is nice to people’s faces but scathingly berates them behind their back to his football teammates and they all laugh evilly at the unknowing victim’s expense? 

With a dramatic sob, Mina flung herself against the classroom door and hugged it, her fingers just barely curling around the wide frame. Once again, it seemed that her recruitment plan had failed miserably, and she was still the sole member of the Astronomy Club. Was she a doomed stranded astronaut, left to traverse the stars in silence awaiting a bitter end? She sank to her knees, sliding down the door with a long squeeeeeeeeak and crying bitter tears. Stars were hella cool! Why did no one at this stupid high school appreciate them? 

“Mina!” 

Mina’s mood did a complete one-eighty when she heard Eijirou calling her name and his footsteps pounding around the corner. She jumped to her feet, her tears drying up instantly and her pout morphing into a giddy smile. The redhead came trotting up, a thin sheet of sweat on his forehead and an apologetic smile on his face. 

“Sorry!” he panted. “I didn’t get a chance to warn you that my class is all the way on the first floor. I hope you weren’t waiting long!” 

“No, no! I just got here mys— yeowch!” 

She had still been hugging the door, so when she tried to turn to face him, she accidentally pulled it forward and smashed her fingers in the doorjamb. She screamed as her knucklebones crunched and the skin tore; the pain rocketing up her arm sprang tears to her eyes immediately, and she released a petulant whine as she retracted her bruised and bloody fingers from between the wooden door and concrete wall. 

“Oh my gosh, are you okay, Mina?” Eijirou gasped, dropping his school bag and rushing to her side. Mina cradled her throbbing hand to her chest with little sniffles, curling away from the football player when he reached for it. He gave her an encouraging, sweet smile. “I know I look big and tough, but I promise, I can be gentle too. Let me see; you may have broken something.”

Whimpering but enticed by his soothing words and demeanor, Mina obediently allowed him to pull her hand forward to inspect her fingers. They were bruising already, big blotches of purple blooming around the torn and bloody skin. Eijirou leaned over her hand, and goosebumps sprouted on her skin as his warm breath puffed over her electrified skin and aching bones. With featherlight touches, he inspected her knuckles, prodding as gently as he could to feel for any deviations in the bone. 

“I know this may hurt, but can you bend them?” he asked, looking up at her through his red bangs. Mina whimpered again, hesitant to comply for fear of the pain. However, the glitter in his vermilion eyes urged her to comply. She hesitantly bent her fingers, wincing as pain skittered up her nerves— but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as she thought it would. Eijirou smiled satisfactorily. “You crunched ‘em pretty good, but I don’t think anything is broken or fractured,” he said as he straightened up. 

“Thanks… I can’t believe I did that,” she sighed, using her good hand to knock on the side of her head a few times. How embarrassing, injuring herself like that in front of him! “Well, now that all that drama is over, let’s go inside so I can tell you about the club.” 

Eijirou followed her inside. While she rifled through the teacher’s desk for some bandages, he looked around at the desks, which were empty aside from a build-your-own-telescope kit, Mina’s completed telescope, and astronomical charts and textbooks. As Mina wrapped bandages around her fingers, he looked at her with knitted eyebrows. 

“There’s no one else here yet?” 

“There’s no one else to be here,” she replied with a shrug and a wan smile. “I’m the club’s only member.” When Eijirou’s eyebrows shot up to the roots of his hair, she sadly added, “If that information makes you want to leave, go ahead and do so,” she said with a wave at the door. She then looked down at the adhesive wrapped around her knuckles. “You wouldn’t be the first.” 

“No, I don’t want to leave,” Eijirou said quickly. He marched up to the front of the desk, leaning against it. Mina didn’t know what to look at—his flexing muscles or his bright smile. He tilted his head slightly as he smiled charmingly at her, then said, “Tell me about your club, Mina. I want to know everything.” 

Oh God, he’s hot! Mina screamed inside her head, her good hand flying to her rapidly-beating heart. It took everything within her not to absolutely swoon at the complete sweetheart of a man gracing her with his presence this Friday afternoon. Her eyes watered a little in gratitude, or maybe it was the sheer emotion at being witness to such a wonderful human being’s kindness. 

Thus, Mina did as he asked. She first instructed Eijirou how to build the telescope that he would use on nights they did observations; he bungled through it a little, but remained patient and tried his best to follow the instructions. Mina had to giggle at the absolutely triumphant grin that plastered his face when he successfully assembled the telescope; he held it up over his head and pranced around—nearly giving them both a panic attack when he bumped into a desk and nearly dropped the telescope on the ground. Mina didn’t think she could handle a Shoto 2.0. 

After assembling the telescope, she started him off with easy information—constellations. She unrolled her star map which had all the constellations displayed by season, explaining specifically which ones they could see at the moment. Eijirou was very excited to see them in person, so they arranged a meeting for the following week. True to form, he showed up that Friday night with his telescope and all his zeal, his smile brighter than the full moon hanging high in the sky. 

“It’s hard to believe that people stared at the sky thousands of years ago and traced shapes out of ‘em!” he exclaimed as he plonked his telescope down to the ground. “And made up all these stories to go with ‘em. And all the stories and constellations are different based on what civilization was lookin’ at ‘em!” 

“The stars have always been fascinating,” Mina hummed, gently setting up her telescope and adjusting the lens. “Sometimes I like to find my own constellations and make up stories about them.” 

“Really? Tell me one!” 

“Well, my favorite is the Alien Queen!” 

“The Alien Queen?” Eijirou laughed, making Mina flush shyly. “Show me!” Not waiting for an answer, he shouldered in next to her telescope and peered into it. She flushed darker as his sturdy shoulder dug into the meat of her side, warmth blooming across her skin. With slightly trembling hands, she moved the telescope to the right section of the sky. 

“Do you see that big, bright shiny star right there?” she asked, waiting until Eijirou confirmed. “Well, that’s the tip of the back of her head. If you follow them like this—” she gestated in front of the lens, tracing the star pattern— “it looks kinda like the alien from the horror movie!” 

“Leave it to Mina Ashido to find the Xenomorph constellation,” Eijirou snickered, straightening up to smile at her in amusement. “No wonder you’re the club president.” Mina shyly played with the hem of her skirt, unable to control the giddy smile playing over her lips. 

They spent the rest of the early evening finding the constellations and discussing the various mythologies behind each. Eijirou loved the Greek-based patterns and myths the most. Every time they pointed one out, he would flex dramatically and proclaim how much he loved the famous heroes of old—Hercules, Achilles, Odysseus, Perseus. Mina laughed at his sensational flexing and grunting each time, her giggles bouncing around the empty practice field to join the cricket song. 

Monday morning, Mina was surprised to find Eijirou rushing down the hall towards her as she went to enter her classroom. His face was flushed pink and his forehead dotted with sweat, indicating that he’d sprinted all the way to her. He pin-wheeled to a stop, nearly bumping her with his broad chest, and his breath puffed in her hair as he grinned brightly down at her. 

“Mina! Guess what I saw on the news this morning! The Creati comet is gonna be passing by this Wednesday, and it’ll be visible here that night!” 

“Yeah, I know!” Mina cried. She’d been glued to the news program this morning as astrophysicists and space program officials discussed the once-in-a-lifetime event; it was rumored to be an absolute gorgeous comet, with a rare rosy pink-lavender tail due to its high concentrations of lithium and potassium chloride. She then blushed, warmed by the fact that Eijirou had found it so important to inform her that he’d run all the way across campus first thing in the morning. 

“Yeah! We’re gonna watch it together, right?” he asked, clapping his hands on her shoulders. Mina flushed, fidgeting in place and chewing on the inside of her cheek. 

“A-are you sure? I’m sure you’ll be tired after football practice.” 

“Are you kidding? What kind of Astronomy Club member would I be if I didn’t see this comet?” he objected. 

Mina felt her heart thrum at the statement. Does he enjoy being a member that much? She’d only recruited him as a means to an end, but was it really turning out that Eijirou liked being a member of her club? She felt her belly twist with guilt and a cold flush pulse through her body. She curled into herself a little, blood roaring in her ears and nearly drowning out what he said next. 

“I know you’re planning on going to watch it, so let’s see it together, Mina!” 

“Okay,” she found herself saying before she even processed it. The next two days were a similar blur of guilt and anxiety amidst preparations to view the comet Wednesday evening. All traces of excitement she would normally possess was swallowed up by the remorse poisoning her from the hard ball in the pit of her belly. She couldn’t help but obsess over the fact that she’d recruited Eijirou on false pretenses, abusing his kind heart to use his popularity for her own gain. She’d already received a flood of interest in the club once news had spread that Eijirou was seemingly an official member, but she’d evaded them with half-hearted promises that she’d contact them soon to set up a general interest meeting. 

On Wednesday night she stood by the hydrangea bush, chewing on her bottom lip and tempted to hide within its emerald leaves and pink blossoms so she wouldn’t have to face Eijirou. Before she could take shelter in its branchy depths, the redhead came trotting up the sidewalk, his smile gleaming in the starlight as he called her name. His telescope flopped on his back in its canvas sheath. 

“Hey, Mina!” he grinned when he came to a stop in front of her, panting slightly. Always in such a rush, she thought fondly. No wonder he’s the star quarterback. “Are you excited? I sure am!” 

“Yeah,” she lied. There was no room to be excited with all the guilt filling her to the brim. Eijirou’s smile somehow managed to get brighter. Despite everything, her heart still jumped in her chest when he grabbed her hand, his thick and calloused fingers so strangely perfect around her slim ones, and pulled her onto the practice field. 

“This is perfect!” he exclaimed, looking up at the starry night sky with his hands on his hips. Mina only hummed quietly, robotically unfolding a blanket and placing it over the grass. She’d arranged for the school to shut off the nighttime lights for the evening, giving them a clear view of the moon and stars. Thus, they were the only things that provided illumination as Mina and Eijirou sat down on the soft blanket together. “I didn’t know if we would want to get a better look at the comet, so I brought this!” he said excitedly, slipping the telescope off his back and setting it down between them. Mina hummed again, anxiety swirling in the pit of her belly. In the gloom, she could still see Eijirou’s bright red eyebrows scrunch. 

“Mina…? What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. Mina debated lying for a moment; she nervously plucked at the loose fibers of her stockings, unable to meet his pretty vermillion eyes. The lie never got the chance to dance on her tongue. She knew she had to come clean, to tell him the truth before she toted him along even further. 

“Eijirou… I have to confess something,” she admitted quietly. He shifted beside her, eyebrows raised. 

“What is it?” 

“I’m not as good a person as you think I am.” Her voice shook as tears flooded her eyes. She bit down on her lip as a sniffle slipped free. Eijirou looked at her in utter bewilderment, confusion swirling in those gorgeous vermillion eyes that had struck her the moment she had first seen them. He gently reached out to stroke his fingertips ever-so-lightly down her cheek; she turned away, a tear slipping down her cheek that was still tingling with his featherlight touch. “Don’t,” she begged, her voice nothing more than a strained whisper. “I don’t deserve your sympathy.” 

“Mina…” 

“I used you, Eijirou,” she said finally, choking the words out as her throat constricted with guilt. “I used your popularity for my own gain. I just wanted my club to be popular.” 

She didn’t look at him as the silence hung heavy between them, like an anvil suspended on a slowly fraying rope. She waited with bated breath for the rope to snap and for it to plummet, for him to explode on her like he rightfully should, to tell her she was selfish and cruel and for him to storm away and never look back. She cringed when he inhaled sharply, already preparing for his raised voice. 

He didn’t yell or scream or curse. Instead, his voice was heartbreakingly soft when he murmured, “That doesn’t make you a bad person. That just makes you lonely.” 

Mina’s eyes fluttered as her heart swelled with hope. She didn’t resist when he cupped her cheek and gently turned her tear-stained face to look at him. Her watery eyes met his red ones, and she was so relieved to find them brimming with understanding, not hate or anger. He swept his thumb over her cheek to catch the tears still streaming over her ruddy skin. 

“Mina… I knew that already,” he confessed with a small smile. She gasped in shock, while Eijirou smiled bashfully and rubbed at the back of his neck with his other hand. “As soon as you told me that you were the only member of the club, I figured that you wanted to use my popularity to recruit more people. I was a little bitter about it for a second, but… Then I saw how sad you looked.” He used both his hands to cup her cheeks and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. “I didn’t want to see that look on your face. Even if you were using me, I wanted you to be happy.” 

“Why?” she hiccuped, chest drawing tight like a balloon ready to burst. “Th-that was so horrible of me… And you still wanted to do that for me? Why?” 

“Because from the moment you jumped out of that hydrangea bush, I’ve been head-over-heels for you,” he purred, mouth twitching up into a smirk. Her face flushed with a fierce, fiery blush and her mouth dropped open in shock. “And maybe I was a little hopeful that I could get you to be head-over-heels for me, too,” he added with a playful wink. Mina couldn’t help but laugh, mostly from the overwhelming relief bubbling up inside her body. She leaned into him, finding solace in how well her small body fit into his muscular one—like a lock and key, like they belonged together. 

Sniffling happily, she curled her fingers into the leathery fabric of his varsity jacket and smiled joyfully. 

“Well, you didn’t have to try very hard. How could I not be head-over-heels for you?”

Before they could say anything else, the sky was suddenly filled with bright light. They both turned to see that the comet had appeared among the stars. Its powdery tail streamed pinkish-blue behind the large white body, slowly traveling across the expanse of inky blue like a leisurely sailboat. Mina inhaled sharply as the pastel colors reflected in her eyes and the light danced over her skin and hair; it truly was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She was so entranced that she didn’t register Eijirou’s hand sneaking under her chin again until he turned her face back. The comet danced in his red eyes, making it a pink nebula of stars and space and beauty. 

No. Those eyes of his were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 

She almost didn’t want to close her own as he leaned in to kiss her, but as soon as his lips smoothed over her own, she couldn’t help it. They drifted shut as she melted against him, savoring the gentle motions of his mouth against hers. Her heart fluttered when his hand drifted up into her cotton-candy hair, twirling around the strands like he was memorizing the feel of the silky threads. He kissed her with rising passion, like an astronaut adrift in space who’d finally found the oxygen he needed. 

They pulled apart slightly panting and blushing the same color as the comet streaming slowly above their heads. He stroked her face gently, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down on the blanket. She laughed when he hugged her tight, nuzzled into her hair and inhaled deeply. 

“You smell like hydrangeas.” 

“Eijirou, I thought we were here to watch the comet.” 

“It’s pretty,” he remarked with a glance up at the sky. He then looked down at her with that dazzling smile she adored so much. “But I’ve got a heavenly body right here that I’m more interested in.” 

“Oh my gosh! That’s so corny!” she howled, throwing her head back in laughter. Eijirou snickered and snuggled into the side of her face, making her laugh more at the ticklish sensation of his nose brushing her skin. He peppered butterfly kisses over every inch of skin he could find, making her squirm and giggle in his grasp. 

Finally, he rolled on his side, one arm still snug around her shoulders while he watched the comet slowly make its way across the horizon. She pressed against him, warm and fuzzy and happy. 

“You know, despite the circumstances, I’m still glad you asked me to join, Mina,” Eijirou said with a contented sigh. His fingers drifted up to play with the fluffy strands of her hair. Mina rested her head on his chest, smiling while she watched the comet. 

“Me too, Eijirou. I can’t wait to spend the rest of the school year checking out heavenly bodies.” 

Eijirou gave her a wan look as she snorted piggishly in laughter. 

“You’re not going to let me live that down, are you?” 

“Absolutely not. I’m already planning to sell tee shirts!” 

Eijirou laughed, then rolled over to attack her with snuggles and kisses again. Mina welcomed his embrace and affections. Their laughter drifted up into the sky to join the stars and the streaming glittery trail of the comet, finding a home forever in the vastness of space…

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[mandoalorian]

Sugar and Spice [Maxwell Lord x Reader] - Chapter 11

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter - references to verbal abuse and a neglectful mother.

Author’s note: After an accidental one month hiatus, I’m back! I’m nervous about posting this because I haven’t updated December Magic since I saw WW84. As you may have noticed, I have rebranded this fic and the name is now called ‘Sugar and Spice’! There is a slight time jump in this chapter, and it’s just a short one as I ween back into it, but I realised I was struggling so much continuing this fic after seeing WW84 because it just didn’t feel like the Max Lord we ended up with was anything like the Max Lord in this fic. This chapter is my attempt to make amends and draw a link between Sugar and Spice and WW84. 

While I’m here I want to give a shout out to my new on-going Max Lord series ‘I Believe In Love’, which you can read here. I Believe In Love is like my baby and I am so so proud of it thus far.  Anyways, enjoy chapter 11 of December Magic!

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER ELEVEN - NEXT

He hadn’t come home for Christmas. He hadn’t come home for two months. It was fine at first. He called you as soon as he reached London, just like he promised. He expressed to you how busy he was with work commitments and how difficult it was for him to cope with the timezones. The distance between the UK and USA was devastating. Your hour long phone calls gradually became more spread out and only lasted a few minutes, and honestly? It broke your heart. There you were; living in Lord Manor, and Maxwell had kept his word: “you want for nothing”. You had everything. His weighty black AMEX card, a house staff such as a butler and a chef and your own personal driver to take you wherever you wished to go. Any material possessions you wished for… they were yours. You weren’t even working for the privilege or the money. Max was far away and yet, he made sure you still had a home and a life, and he made sure that you were safe.

But there was still an extreme void in your heart. You were missing Maxwell. You’d try calling him but there was always a dead line. Not even Raquel would answer. You felt like you were drifting apart and your whole body ached with dread as you wondered if Max had forgotten about you. You’d kept in contact with Maxwell’s three assistants at Black Gold and they had no information on the work commitments that Max was supposedly seeing too. The romance you had shared during December may have been a whirlwind, but you knew him better than any other person on the planet and you felt like he was deliberately avoiding you.

There was something not right.

***

“Kitty!” Maxwell cried, his cheeks burning red and his eyes flicking with bewilderment as the child was thrust into his arms. A ghost from his past. Kitty was an ex lover of Maxwell’s, and honestly one of many. He hadn’t thought about her in years.

“I’ve brought him up for the past six years, he’s your problem now!” Kitty spat, an evil smirk crossing her lips. “I see you on the television with all your fame and fortune, if you don’t want him then the least you can do is pay a nanny to watch him. I have nothing Max. A shitty little apartment in the east of London. I’m working for a modelling internship but it’s hard to find luck when I’ve got a six year old kid dragging my heels behind.”

“Dragging your heels?” Maxwell repeated, furiosity burning his lungs. “He’s your son for Christ sake! How can you say that? Right in front of him!” 

Maxwell turned back to the child who was standing as still as ever in the centre of the hotel room, nervously looking at his feet. Everytime Kitty raised her voice, the boy winced, and it crushed Max. This situation was all too familiar to him. 

“He’s your son too!” Kitty glared, her face just as cold as her heart. “I want nothing to do with him. Goodbye.” Kitty said, her voice venomous, before leaving the hotel room and slamming the door behind her.

Maxwell’s knees felt weak and wobbly and he stumbled to his bed, sinking down with an exasperated sigh. Max’s hands cradled his own face and he blinked away unshed tears before sitting back up and looking at the six year old boy. The boy was silent, and his dark eyes matched the sadness of his father’s. How could this have happened?

Maxwell Lord had a son.

Max didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly say? He remembered doing work in London back in 1977; it was the start of his big break, and his bachelor persona hadn’t changed much since then. When Kitty found out Maxwell was back in London, she used it as her one final chance to track him down. Turns out, a big name CEO such as Max Lord was hard to get a hold of, especially when he lived on the other side of the world. Kitty never had pure intentions. Of course the pregnancy was unplanned and the sad reality was, Alistair was unwanted by his mother. Kitty was an aspiring model, fueled by ambition and goal, much like Maxwell. She didn’t have a single maternal instinct in her. Only there was a significant difference between Alistair’s parents. Whilst Kitty cared so little about her son, Maxwell knew that from this day forward, Alistair would be his top priority. He would never let his job intervene with his son. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes his own parents did.

Maxwell never thought about children, or considered bringing any into the world. He told himself he’d never want to be a father. He had such a terrible upbringing himself and his mother was wicked, he’d be too afraid. He’d never want to hurt or disappoint a potential child of his the way his own parents had hurt and disappointed him. But when he looked into his son’s eyes he felt nothing but determination. He’d been an absent father and that was not okay. Max just wished he’d known about his son before now. But it’s not like he could turn back time. Max knew he had to make amends and he knew he had to do it now.

Maxwell opened his arms and held Alistair’s hands, bringing him close and holding him tight against his chest. “My son,” he whispered, trying to refrain from crying. “I love you so much. I know you don’t know me, but you will, and I will spend the rest of my life making you proud. You are my everything.”

“You saved me daddy,” Alistair whimpered, tears spilling and dampening his father’s pinstripe shirt. “Thank you.”

***

You waited every day for Maxwell to return, but you never expected him. You were laying on the living room sofa, a blanket wrapped around you, half asleep as the muse from the television drowned out your thoughts. When you heard the lock on the front door click open, you thought you were dreaming. There was no way. No way. Footsteps. Hell, there was more chance of an intruder than it was Max. You rubbed your eyes and cautiously rose to your feet.

Your heart sank when he entered the room. It was him. He was home. Tears filled your eyes and you couldn’t hide the excited grin that painted your lips. “Oh my god Max!” you squealed, running up to him. He looked tired, but he was smiling too. You were inclined to run into his arms, but your focus on his face left you without realizing the small sleeping child he was carrying in his arms.

You blinked in confusion, your gaze flicking between Maxwell and the boy. “This is Alistair, my son.” Maxwell informed you, his voice hoarse and low. At the mention of his name Alistair stirred in his sleep and Maxwell immediately, on instinct, shushed him. 

“You-what?” You were speechless. You knew something was wrong the second Max had distanced himself. The second the phone calls had stopped and he hadn’t come home. You knew something was wrong when his assistants said his work schedule was clear. But never in a million years did you expect your sugar daddy to come home with a son.

“I didn’t know,” Max whispered in avoidance to wake up Alistair. “It’s a long story but I promise I’ll tell you everything. I’m sorry I didn’t come home for Christmas like I promised. I’m so sorry baby. I’ll make up for it.”

You couldn’t even gather words. You swallowed the hard lump in your throat and contemplated everything. You sighed. You believed Max - how could you not? Of course, you were very interested in learning all about his secret son but you supposed that didn’t matter too much right now. All that mattered is that Max was home, and safe. You smiled and rested your hand on Alistair’s forehead, brushing his straight black hair out of his face. Alistair smiled sleepily under your touch. Max’s cheeks grew warm with admiration as you comforted his son. It meant a lot to him that you took a liking to Alistair and that you accepted the fact Alistair was in his life now, and nothing would change that.

After all, Max Lord was still hopelessly devoted and in love with you.

“Come on,” you whispered, bringing your hand up to cup Maxwell’s face. You brushed your thumb over the height of his cheekbone and Max found himself subconsciously leaning into your touch. “Let’s take him to bed and go to bed ourselves. We clearly have a lot to catch up on.”

Max nodded his head in affirmation and you followed him upstairs. He took Alistair to a guest bedroom and gently tucked him under the blankets, pressing a caring kiss into his son’s forehead before turning back to you. As you watched his gentle actions, it was like you were witnessing a whole new side to Maxwell. And it was beautiful.

Sugar and Spice taglist:  @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @honeymandos @thisisthe-wayson @this-cat-is-dea @blonde2bomshell @maiyaaaa0130 @autumnleaves1991-blog @justanotherblonde23 @softly-sad @laaadygisbooornex3 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @drinkingwhileblogging @kesskirata @honestlystop​

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711  @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat

[vampiresuns]

Interlude 1: Do Not Stand Over My Grave And Weep, Part 2

⟡ PART 2: FRIENDS ARE THE FAMILY YOU CHOOSE ⟡

2.2k words. In which Anatole’s friends start uncovering the mystery of his death and sudden reappearance. 

CW: Death and discussions of it.

What to catch up with Anatole’s Apprentice series? You can do that here.

He had met him at University. He had been his friend since he was 18 years old. Anatole and Medea had been Leonore’s first lasting friends, the first people who outside of his family, had taught him permanence was not entrapment. They had filled his life with growth and laughter; he had suffered their woes, he had celebrated their triumphs, he had followed them into Vesuvia despite his original wish to travel the world. 

He still travelled, but he always came back to them. Medea and Anatole weren’t just friends: they were family now. When Leonore closed his eyes he could see them holding hands and jumping into the water one summer evening in Prakra. He could see Medea using his thigh as a pillow under a tree. He could see Anatole dancing. He could see Medea and Anatole dressed to the nines for their new Court jobs. 

He would know them anywhere. He would know them by the way their steps sounded alone.

It took Leonore some moments to remember where he was, Octavia gently nudging him. Sabine, who he didn’t realise had gone, announced themselves again, saying they had lost Anatole’s doppelgänger in the crowd. 

Only it hadn’t been a doppelgänger. Leonore knew his best friend, he knew Anatole when he saw him. 

“No,” he said at last. “No, that’s him. That’s him, Octavia. That was him, and I need to find him.” 

“Leonore, wait! Anatole’s dead.” 

They began bickering about it, Octavia trying to stop Leonore from head diving into a wild goose chase, not realising Selasi, the Baker, was listening to them. 

“Excuse me, forgive me for overhearing, but are you talking about Anatole Radošević? The magician from Moonstone and Jasmine?” 

“Yes! His aunt owned that shop,” Leonore said, jumping to talk to Selasi, who inspected him with a careful eye. 

“I don’t know what prank you’re playing, but he’s alive as can be. I opened a little after the plague subsided and he and Asra have been getting bread from me for three years, almost. They’re attached at the hip, so if you know Asra—“ 

Leonore leaped to shake his hand. “I do know, Asra! Thank you, thank you so much.” 

Selasi tried to tell him Asra wasn’t around, that he was on a journey, but that he could tell him where to find Anatole if he promised he was a friend, but Leonore sprinted towards the shop without letting him finish. Sabine set off to follow Leonore as Octavia called to both of them, which left her standing alone with Selasi. She made some apologies, and Selasi told her not to worry. 

“Where did you say you knew him?”

“Leonore went to University with him,” she said, thinking the least she could do was to assure the man they were Anatole’s friends, not some random people with weird motivations. “I know him through his cousin.”

The baker hummed. “I didn’t know Anatole had any family besides his late Aunt and Asra.”

Something about the way he said it, the casual certainty of it, gave Octavia a chill. She thanked him, and tried to catch up with Sabine and Leonore, not wanting to say anything Selasi might not know. She risked him stopping them, or worse, telling Anatole, which she didn’t think would be a good idea. Octavia just had a bad feeling about it: she didn’t expect people to just know who Anatole was, or had been, that could be conceited. Anatole himself hated being anticipated by his job, wanting to have the opportunity to present himself and do the best he could do. 

Yet from there to the sureness Selasi had had when he said he didn’t know Anatole had any family besides Paris and Asra? It was weird. The Radošević-Cassano weren’t meant to be separated; if Octavia knew anything about them from Milenko, it was that they were very close knit. The only people in their families that Octavia could think of as not being regarded ever, were Matilda and Krešmir, Vlad’s and Valerius’ late parents, who hadn’t even raised the siblings. All she knew about them was that they were neglectful and Matilda had the idle ennui of someone who was too used to having everything, and was used to using cruelty for fun. 

Milenko had only talked about them a couple of times, and she had never heard the Consul even mention them, let alone Vlad, Anatole’s father. One way or another, the Cassano didn’t detach themselves from their family, nor did the Radošević, and Anatole had only ever been extremely proud of the people who had raised him. That had been their way since the days of Cassano Arianamenzi, the first of them, and she could testify that legacy had not washed away with time. If anything, it had become stronger. So why would Anatole not speak of it?

Unless he didn’t remember them. She had read about such a thing once, doing research for one of her most early plays. A shiver went down her back, making her hug her arms around herself and walk faster.

When Octavia reached the Moonstone Leonore and Sabine were talking to a tall man who seemed to guard the shop. None of them had seen him before, but he seemed to know them; he called them ‘people from before’. 

“You used to give Anatole clementines, which he doesn’t like—” he said. He was tall, covered in a cloak, and had moss green eyes, though they were barely visible.

“He says they taste fake,” Leonore completed.

“So he gave them to me, before— it doesn’t matter. You won’t find him here.”

The only thing stranger than the stranger was that none of them could remember him as they tried to piece their afternoon together. However, Octavia had heard Selasi say Anatole was occupied in the Palace, and perhaps they could try their luck there. 

“Then let’s go,” Leonore said, already standing up. “Maybe Medea knows something we don’t.”

Medea Pryce was the daughter of two archaeologists and the granddaughter of another one. Both her father’s and her mother’s family had settled in Vesuvia some generations ago because its cultural diversity and rich history was good for the archaeological craft. Anatole wasn’t the first Radošević-Cassano she had met — her Grandmother was acquainted with Bastiste Cassano, one of the Cassano elders, and thus with Consul Valerius, whom Batiste called her spoiled grandnephew. Medea’s parents, on the other hand, were acquainted with Atanasie Radošević and Aurora Tesfaye, uncle and mother of Anatole’s cousin Milenko. 

So when she met him at University, which she had begun in Prakra, just as he had done, the surname called to her immediately. Discovering they would course the exact same program, even if they had different aspirations and goals, another pleasant surprise. It would be nice to have someone to know, as Medea liked making friends.

What a friend she had made of him and Leonore, who shared housing with them. Anatole was one of those people who had the energy of a handsome stranger one shared enlightening conversation with, yet then never saw again. Debonair and hopeful, he was passionate and inspiring, a devoted friend and nothing if not extraordinary. He had his shortcomings, like everyone, but that wasn’t the way one measured their friends. 

Seasons came and time passed. They both studied and apprenticed in Balkovia for six months, and then they moved on into Vesuvia, Leonore following them, to their surprise. They laughed and hurt, they fell in love with their own people, they held each other, and Medea and Anatole drafted their plans for the future. It would be a great future, they were sure of it. Anatole’s self-introductory speech for the Vesuvian Court was a gem, Medea believed it so. They liked to fantasise about one day becoming Consul and Head of Staff, with all the things they thought they could help with, working together for the people of their City. 

No matter the crashes and reality checks, the hardships or how many times Medea had seen Anatole stand up to the Count and the new Courtiers, they held hands through it and continued onwards: The World and it’s calling of completion met its perfect match in Anatole’s Ace of Swords coloured Strength.

Then the Plague came and Anatole died, and Medea was left with all their plans, and no one to implement them with. 

After his death, things only got worse. She could tell something was going on with the Consul, but she wasn’t close enough to him to know what. She was somewhat closer to Councilwoman Cassiopeia, but she didn’t seem to know what was going on with her cousin either. The Courtiers hadn’t done anything of value for the City in three years, and all that Valerius ever seemed to do was to keep it afloat. The Court was destroyed, and with the Countess as lost as they all were, Medea didn’t know where they would end.

When she heard the Countess had found a new advisor she was thrilled. Fresh air was what the Court needed, and by the first weeks of this advisor around the Countess, it was clear they were doing her good, even if she had heard the advisor had had a rocky introduction with the Court. It seemed like it, because she knew from first hand experience that the Consul had come in furious to his office, refusing to speak to anyone, except to Cassiopeia, whom Medea was sure forced him to speak rather than him wilfully giving her any information.

He had only said something about something in poor taste, and how had he let the Countess know he would not tolerate it, but he didn’t say anything else. 

Her turn to meet the advisor came the next morning. It happened by accident, when she was delivering some documents to the Council of Vesuvia. Meet was a lax word for it, ‘seeing’ him, was much more appropiate: with his light golden blond hair, and bespoke clothes. The same unmistakable black eyes and the scar across the bridge of his nose. The same stride, the same height, the same face, the same looks. 

Her friend, her own dearest Aelius Anatole had walked into the Consul’s office seeking for an explanation about the way he had been received in Court. From there on, the morning was mayhem, absolute mayhem, and only now that Medea was sitting alone she could finally process it. 

“Anatole” had introduced himself fully, his name the right name, but the Consul wouldn’t hear it, immediately throwing himself at the throat of the “second-rate witch” for daring to use that name. Anatole continued to insist that was his name. The more the argument extended, it was clear to everyone involved that that was Anatole, even to the headstrong Consul — his panicked eyes gave him away.

Medea knew her friend, her friend had always had a presence, even if he wasn’t always aware of it. He still had it, he still stood in the same way the Consul did, he still turned his eyebrows in the same way, and the way he spoke. 

What he spoke of, too. 

The breaking point came when the Consul grabbed him from the shoulders, demanding to know what he wanted from him. Then, Medea saw him do something he hadn’t done in years: she heard the Consul speak Balkovian in public. Medea’s grasp with the language was enough to know he asked two things, two crucial things, that anyone who wasn’t Anatole couldn’t answer. 

Anatole answered the first one, something about a sword’s name, in his perfectly native Balkovian, looking pale and sickly-greenish. Cassiopeia tried to interject, but the Consul wouldn’t listen to anyone. Then the Consul asked his second question, something about ‘what was the tree’, or ‘what was the name of the tree’, and nothing else. Medea wasn’t sure. 

Anatole replied both of the questions: His first reply being ‘grapevine’, followed by a choked up ‘cult of Dionysus’; the second reply was ‘a beech tree’, looking like he was about to vomit after the words left his mouth. 

“Valeriy?” He said, as the Consul looked at him in horror, still holding him by the shoulders. “I think I’m going to pass out.”

Anatole did pass out, and the Consul, blushing cherry red as he realised the whole scene had been in front of half the Court office at his care, yelled at them to know what the hell were they doing, if not call for someone to take this boy to a bed. After it, the Consul stormed off, Cassiopeia power-walking behind him as she demanded an explanation from her cousin, an explanation the Consul refused to give, waving dismissively at her.

“Don’t you wave like that at me, Valeriy, unlike you, I know my own damn nephew when I see him.”

“Don’t call me that here.”

“Valeriy Radošević, I will call you however I damn please! Come back here!”

Medea didn’t stay to watch the rest. The Court was in unrest, it was so much that it had stirred the four other weirdos into watching and making the oddest commentary for anyone to hear. Medea didn’t need an in with them to know they knew something they all didn’t, and simply thought of the Court Staff too inconsequential for them to spare them half a thought.  

As if possessed by a thunderbolt, Medea stood up from where she was sitting as she ruminated. She needed answers, and she needed to talk about this to someone. She had an idea: if anyone she was close enough knew a considerable amount of death and ghosts, it was Amparo Cassano, but first she needed to talk to Leonore. They had supported each other in these 4 years Anatole had been dead, or presumed as much. Anything she did, it would be with Leonore. 

As she turned around after grabbing her coat, Leonore was calling her name. 

“Sabine is waiting for us at our place, they wanted to ask some questions first so I ran here. Octavia is trying to find Amparo, or anyone really. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Good,” she said, as she grabbed his arm and began walking out of the Palace, “so do I, but not here. The Courtiers are around, and they cannot be trusted.”

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 2/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 2: A Woman’s Place

Emma barely spoke through dinner the previous evening, choosing instead to watch her father’s clear discomfort from interacting with King Brennan’s sons. She could tell her father’s distaste of his previous rival was filtering down to his offspring. Perhaps knowing she was now betrothed to one of them was punishment enough for the decision he had made for her. If only that punishment didn’t apply to her as well.

It wasn’t that Liam was not a handsome man, in fact he was very easy on the eyes. Not in the same way as his brother, the one who had caught the eye of every maiden he had made eye contact with since stepping foot in the castle, but he had a commanding way about him. First born males of royalty always seemed to have that trait. That air of knowing they were made special because their sperm came before their siblings.

It was all tiresome and quite boring once you put it in those terms. How does simply being born first somehow make you more special than someone who came from the same womb? It was the same annoyance that Emma had about her own situation. She was destined to a life of servitude as a royal housewife because she was female while her younger brother, Henry was Heir to be King. Who made up these stupid rules anyway? Why should a woman need to marry a man who would be King in order to be Queen? Why is a woman’s worth only tied to that of her husband?

As Emma dressed for the day, her handmaiden, Ruby yanking the laces of her corset as Emma cursed loudly.

“I’m sorry, I know you hate these wretched things.”

“If I wanted to be tied up, there are much better ways to go about it.” Emma said with a smirk in her maid’s direction.

“Naughty girl, you know not even what you speak.”

“Yes, but that is because my only inspiration comes from your stories.” Emma spun around and giggled. “How did your evening go with Sir Humbert?”

“Not quite as eventful as it went with Lady Gale afterwards.”

Emma gasped. “Ruby, you did not.”

“Why should men have all the fun?” She teased, turning her back around and tugging on the cord behind her. Emma held her stomach and took a deep breath as the material tightened around her, restricting her air flow for a moment.

“Why is it so important for the ladies to be on display simply to garner a man’s attention?” She glanced down at her heaving breasts. “Are my words not interesting enough for more than a minute’s worth of conversation?”

“I sit on a blades edge in anticipation of every word that leaves your mouth, Princess.”

Emma sighed in frustration. “I do not wish to dance tonight; everyone will be anticipating my every reaction to Prince Liam. I have naught even spoken to him alone to understand who he is, much less that I have to share a bed chamber with him once we are wed.”

“But you love dancing. Try not to think of the eyes on you, instead use the distraction of the dance to find out more about your betrothed. Perhaps his guard will be down with all the attention as well. If you need me to, I can find out more about him from his brother.” She winked.

“You just want to bed the Prince.” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I do not believe it would be much of a conquest. Men like him tend to trip into a woman’s bed without a single preamble.”

“He would not need to speak a word to have me trembling at his knees.”

“A woman’s place is not on her knees Ruby.” Emma flitted around the room, pulling her dress from the wardrobe, and draping it over her chest as she looked at her image in the mirror. “Men do not make us who we are, you would be wise to remember that Ruby.”

As Emma made her way to the courtyard, she greeted the people who passed her by, stopping to make conversation with the staff who had worked tirelessly to put on a feast with such short notice. It never mattered to her that she was royalty, only that she was gracious that so many served her with such loyalty.

She adjusted the tiara on her head and took a deep breath before entering the courtyard, standing at the top of the staircase looking down at the multitude of impeccably dressed nobles gliding across the stone dance floor. The twinkling of lights hanging from the trees surrounding the courtyard gave the view a feeling as if magical fairies had suddenly lit up the forest around them in celebration.

Taking her time, she walked slowly down each step, her eyes darting around to take in where the major players were placed around the room. Her mother and father were currently arm in arm, spinning around the room to the current Waltz the band was playing. At the edge of the courtyard, she found him standing stoically as he looked around, uninterested in the festivities happening in front of him. Prince Liam appeared to have as much desire to be at the festival as she did to marry him.

Next to him, Prince Killian stood with a ridiculous grin on his face, his gaze directed at one of the Lady’s on the dance floor who was flirting with him despite the Lord currently holding her in his arms. She approached the men who noticed her presence a second later than they could recover and receive her properly.

“Stand down gentlemen, I’m quite certain I know how to enter a room absent a round of fanfare.”

“You look lovely, M’Lady.” Prince Liam complimented and Emma smiled confidently at the Prince before taking in his brother. The man arrogantly smirked in her direction, his eyes slowly grazing down to her chest as his tongue slid across his bottom lip.

She rolled her eyes and turned toward Liam. “Do you dance, or will you be preoccupied with babysitting this one all night?”

She could feel Killian’s eyes drilling into the side of her head as Liam laughed loudly. “I think he can manage on his own for one dance.”

She allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, ignoring the look of indignation on his brother’s face. She may have to marry Prince Liam, but in no way did that mean she was required to put up with his brother’s indecent ogling.

~*~

Killian watched his brother lead the woman onto the dance floor, her golden hair braided and pinned around the crown on her head. She had a body that was worthy of exploring but an attitude that would be unmatched by his brother.

In fact, Emma and Liam were not suited in any possible way that he could imagine. Liam preferred quiet, calm women, a fact he was certain of after watching him sneak away with the cook’s timid daughter for many years. From her demeanor, he determined that this woman was assertive, demanding, and obviously not interested in being guided by a husband.

It was clear from the way the current Waltz was going in front of him, as Liam tried to lead her around the dance floor, the Princess stepping to the right when she should have stepped left, or Liam bowing when he was supposed to twirl. His brother was an amateur, his mother had tried to teach them both to dance when they came of age. Killian of course mastered it quite quickly, while Liam seemed to be born with two left feet. The sight in front of him was almost frightening.

“Bloody Hell.” He whispered under his breath, waiting for the music to stop before he stepped forward, hoping to alleviate the embarrassing glances that the Prince and Princess were surely garnering from observers who has just witnessed the abomination they had delivered on the floor.

He stepped up behind the Princess and bowed to his brother. “Perhaps I shall give you a break, brother. It would be an honor to have a dance with my future sister-in-law.”

Liam seemed almost relieved and left the Princess standing in the middle of the floor with no chance but to accept his offer. “Are you sure you have room left on your dance card?” She said with an abhorrent tone.

“Always room for you, sis.” He remarked candidly, reaching over to grasp a hand on her hip, holding his hook up for her to take. She barely registered his missing appendage as she gripped the silver hook, her eyes rolling when the music began.

“Not your sis.” Her heard her hiss as he began to sway across the dance floor, an ease of which allowed them to float around the room with the other guests. She kept her eyes over his shoulder, staring off into the distance as if she had other places to be.

He spun her around suddenly, catching her as she twirled back into his arms. Her expression registered shock as he bent his knee, spinning her around his body until he stood and pulled her into his arms. “There is one rule to this dance.” His eyes lingered on her lips before rising to meet her eyes. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She glared at him for a moment before spinning away from him, when she returned to his grasp she had a new look of determination. “So, tell me how this works, your brother has the responsibility of the throne while you take dance lessons?”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. I’ve never seen the need to have aspirations beyond my requirements.”

“Of course.” She said with a nod. “I’m sure it is easier to court a woman when your parents are not concerned about how much power runs through her blood.”

“It is easier to court a woman when your parents are not concerned with you at all. But who said I gave a damn about courting?” He pressed closer to her. “I prefer to skip the formality and go straight to the nudity.”

Killian swore she flinched, he felt her body tense and for a moment the expression on her face turned dark before the sullen smirk returned. “Why does that not surprise me in the slightest.” She leaned closer to him, “Were you not blessed with a broadsword? Is that the reason you overcompensate with women?”

He grabbed his chest and feigned attack. “Ouch, you wound a man, love. It is not kind to joke about the size of a man’s ship or his sword.”

The song ended and Killian stood with Emma in his arms, not wanting to let go yet wanting to get as far away from her as he could.

“Thank you for the dance. Feel free to go back to whatever it is that you do now.”

“Hey, dad wants you and lover boy to join him at the table.” Princess Emma groaned at the young man who approached them. “Not you, the other guy.” He stated when Killian turned toward him. “The one who’s actually going to be King.”

“Killian, this very blunt individual is my brother, Henry.” She introduced.

“I guess it runs in the family.” He said with an indignant bow, stepping away from them to return to the sidelines.

~*~

“That was rude.” Emma chided Henry as she watched Killian stride away from her.

“What? I was just being honest.”

“Doesn’t mean it should leave your mouth.” She reminded her little brother.

“What did I say?” He shrugged.

“I don’t like it when people so graciously point out that you will become King of Misthaven, like I’m just the golden drapes over here.”

“Girls can’t be King, duh!” He groaned.

“You really are an ass.” She groaned and walked toward her father who was standing at the head of the table with Prince Liam.

“Emma, darling, please have a seat. I have an announcement to make.” Emma narrowed her eyes at her father.

“What sort of announcement, father?”

Suddenly the sound of trumpets echoed in her ears, and she was pulled toward her seat by her mother.

“Sit dear and remember to smile.” Emma glared at her mother as her father stood up to speak.

“People of Misthaven, I, King Nolan am truly a blessed man this evening.” He paused for dramatic effect and Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Prince Lima from Jonesboro has asked for Princess Emma’s hand in marriage, and she has accepted.” Emma was sure the room was starting to spin.

“Emma will travel to Jonesboro at first light with Prince Liam.” Emma’s eyes jerked toward her father. He expected her to travel in the morning without speaking to her first? Her father seemed to refuse to make eye contact with her as Emma followed him across the room.

“Don’t make a scene.” She heard his voice as his mouth contorted in an uncomfortable smile. “We can discuss it after the party.”

Emma smiled at the passing guests. “Oh, you bet we will.” She laughed loudly, pretending he had said something she found even mildly entertaining. She turned on her heels and found her husband to be, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to the dance floor. “Were you aware of our travel plans?”

He bowed to her; a fake smile plastered to his face. “I found out the same as you.”

“I suppose I should find it comforting to know that we are both in the dark when it comes to our future.”

“I find it best not to question the decisions of a King.”

“I hope you will not expect such qualities of your wife, as I find it difficult to hold my tongue.”

He chuckled as he spun her around him, tripping over his shoes. “That does not surprise me at all.” She paused in his arms.

“I am feeling quite tired. I think I will retire if I am expected to rise for travel tomorrow.”

He bowed. “Of course, M’Lady. The carriage will leave at first light.”

“Then I shall take my leave.”

~*~

Killian groaned when the light hit his eyes, the curtains drawn back in dramatic fashion as the sun streamed in through the window.

“Bastard.” He cursed.

“I told you we leave at first light.” His brother complained loudly. “Yet you remain here, asleep in your bed past dawn.”

“Pardon my confusion but are we suddenly racing another carriage home? Does everything have to happen so early in the bloody morning, brother?” Killian peered through slanted eyes, the sunlight bringing about an immediate migraine.

“It’s only early to those of us who didn’t drown themselves in drink the previous evening.”

He groaned as he felt clothing being tossed on top of him.

“We leave urgently, our carriage awaits. It would pain me to have the need to explain to my future bride that we have been delayed due to your irreputable behavior.”

He felt his eyes roll back in annoyance at his brother’s superior attitude. “I would not wish to tarnish your beloved quality of timeliness. I’m most certain that is the top attribute a woman seeks to obtain in a husband.”

His brother sent him one last stern glance before leaving through the open door, the heavy wood slamming shut behind him.

Killian dressed as quickly as he could, tripping down the stairs toward the carriage twenty minutes later. As he approached the carriage, his brother was pacing in front of it. “It seems timeliness isn’t a quality this woman has either.” He grumbled as he peeked into the empty space inside. Killian chuckled under his breath, hiding his smirk as he turned toward his brother.

“Did you lose your bride? Perhaps you did not communicate the urgency of beating the sun to your betrothed.”

There was a rustling sound behind him, and he turned to see a woman approaching them. He recognized her as one of Princess Emma’s handmaids.

Liam greeted the woman as she approached, and she explained that Emma had been delayed and would be out in a moment. She turned toward him and smiled. “Well, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Miss Lucas. I’ll be traveling with Princess Emma.”

Killian bowed his head and placed her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Lucas.” He said with a smirk. His brother stared at him disapprovingly and he dropped her hand, a flirtatious grin aimed at the woman as she stepped into the carriage.

Their attention was drawn toward the castle as Princess Emma, her golden hair shining in the sunlight, suddenly made her way toward them. From the angry frown on her face, he could assume that she was not looking forward to her trip to Jonesboro. She shoved her bag toward his brother the moment they met. “My apologizes for being late, but only a madman would rise before the sun.”

Killian failed to hold back the laugh that left his mouth, clearing his throat and holding out his hand toward Emma, who regarded him curiously. “M’lady, allow me.”

“Do you think I am unable to enter a carriage without assistance? Do I appear ill to you?”

“I would hate to offend. By all means Princess, heave ho.” He gestured toward the carriage before Liam stepped between them.

“Have you lost your mind?” He growled under his breath, turning back toward Emma to assist her into the carriage, despite her protest.

Emma glared at him as he sat down across from her. “Looks like the gangs all here.” He said with a jolly smile. “To Jonesboro.” Emma’s eyes met his and the fire that burned behind her green orbs intrigued him.

In fact, he found that he could barely keep his eyes from her for most of the journey. Despite his attempts to keep them on the dark-haired woman with the large breasts seated next to him, or the woman’s attempts at brushing her hand against his thigh at every bump in the road, his eyes continued to find Emma’s.

Though she barely held his gaze for longer than it took the ocean’s water to kiss the shore and retreat to safety, he did find her glancing in his direction often.

“Once we get to Jonesboro, my father will want to discuss our courtship.” His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I do hope it will include a plate of cheese, or perhaps a sandwich.” She returned and Killian didn’t miss the incredulous glare his brother sent toward her. “One cannot be expected to discuss such matters on an empty stomach.”

“Father is going to get a kick out of you.” He said quietly before his brother grunted his disapproval.

“I’m sure a meal can be arranged, but Father generally likes to discuss business before pleasure.”

“At least we are being honest about the arrangement being business.”

“Emma.” The woman beside him seemed to speak her name in warning.

“Hush Ruby, we are not currently in the presence of overbearing parents, I think we can afford to speak openly.” She turned toward Liam and shrugged, “I do not wish to marry any man, much less a Jones man.”

“Trust me, marrying a Nolan wasn’t an option I ever thought would present itself either, sweetheart.”

“Let’s not get hasty and say something that will ruin the wedding night.” Killian chuckled, enjoying the argument in front of him.

“Sod off.” His brother scolded as the two in front of him faced out different sides of the carriage. Well, this was going well, he thought.

The carriage came to a sudden halt, and he looked to his brother quickly, both on alert. “We are too early to have arrived.” His brother commented.

They heard a commotion on the other side of the door, the sound a metal colliding with metal, and Liam pulled his sword from beside him. “Stay here and protect the women.” He commanded, pushing the door open and slamming it shut behind him.

Killian grabbed his sword, moving closer to the door. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure it’s just…” They heard someone yell from the other side and Killian glanced at Emma. “Whatever happens, stay in the carriage.”

“Do you really think you are just going to leave us in here, unarmed and unguarded?” She complained.

“Would you prefer I send you out there?” He yelled.

“Don’t yell at me!” She returned angrily.

“Would you two stop yelling.” Ruby tried to interject just as the carriage door swung open and a man tried to push his way inside. Killian grabbed his sword and impaled the man before he could reach Emma’s arm. A man appeared behind him, and Killian sprung from the carriage, his sword slamming against the metal of the man’s blade.

The parade of men continued to come as he struck down each one with his sword, turning back toward the carriage when he heard a shrill. Ruby kicked with her feet at a man who had breached the door, the man fell to his knees when the woman punched him square in the face. Killian’s brow rose before he needed to duck from an incoming attack.

“Killian.” He turned back toward the carriage to see Ruby pointing off toward the woods, golden blonde hair escaping into the forest, a man, weapon drawn, chasing after her.

“Bloody hell.”

[apples-r-rubbish]

Institute (13th doctor x reader) Part 3

Summary:  The Doctor decides to drop in a few times to check up on you Word Count: 2.1k AN:  This is mainly filler, I need to edit part 4 and Because I feel nice (and to make up for this) it’s coming out within the next hour or so :) -L x Warnings: death mention Tags: @startrekkingaroundasgard @penguinwithitsarseonfire

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 4) (PART 5) (PART 6) (PART 7) (PART 8) MASTERLIST

It had been months since The Doctor had seen you. After having a particularly awful encounter with a dalek in late December, she decided she had to visit you, to give you some updated information. When she exited you were sitting in your chair, legs pulled up to your chest, silent tears slipping from your eyes.

“How do you manage to get it in the same spot every time? Is it something you’ve practiced or is it coincidence?” You asked, not giving her time to say hello. You were wearing jeans a crumpled t-shirt, you had clearly been here a while, and it was late, wine was on the desk a half drunk bottle on the desk

“My expert flight skills and mainly luck. What’s up? What’s wrong?” She asked anxiety clear in her face as she rushed to you, cautiously wrapping her arms around you

“My girlfriend and I split up. She’d been cheating on me,” You explained. A small pang of jealousy hit the doctor. 

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend- or well did- sorry timelines again,”

“Future you met her once, I mean it doesn’t really matter now. Where are we now?” You said stopping the conversation abruptly pulling out a notebook from your desk, “you’ve visited me after 40s India, and modern day Norway,” You frowned staring at your notes

“Done all that, got a few more on your end however, but you’ll soon find out. You keep notes?”

“Of course. River basically threw a notebook at me and told me it was best. If we’re out of sync we have to compare.” You replied scribbling down something. 

“What’s the date? I realise I never ask,” 

“New years eve, 2019 at quarter to midnight if you must know,” You frowned checking your watch “and I‘m sat in my office crying, wine drunk about a girl who really doesn’t care about me,”  You laughed bitterly taking another sip from the wine bottle. She frowned and snatched the bottle from your hands 

“That’s quite enough of that,” she remarked “It’s new years eve, you’re not sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. C’mon we’re watching fireworks,” she dragged you out of the chair by your hands to one of the many floor to ceiling windows in your office. Her hand was warm, not overly smooth but not rough either.  Most of London was visible from your windows

“Me liked the view, she liked London and she knew that she’d be handing the position to myself most of the time so, I was allowed to design the office,” you smiled at the memory 

“How long have you worked here?” she asked as if the question had been on her mind for months

“5 years, put straight in this position, Me found me, insisted I was necessary to the plan, important enough to be involved. We’re a skeleton staff, less than 100 people- 1 institute,” you explained 

“You are important. You’re important to me,” she insisted, remembering her hand was in yours “you’re my friend and I care about you and your feelings,” 

You laughed at that, “Why do you put up with us all? I never understand it,”

“I like you all, you’re kind and funny and passionate. You all want to achieve so much, you aspire to be better,” she looked away from you, her eyes lighting up as she spoke. As you opened your mouth to say something the ominous looking counter flashed up on big ben. You whispered the numbers, as the seconds drew nearer.  She pressed a hand against your face, “3...2…” you were cut off by the feeling of lips on yours. You stayed that way quietly for a moment, breathing heavily, as the celebratory fireworks went off behind you.

She pulled away, “Sorry if I crossed a line, I just know it’s a thing humans do,” She gave a small sweet smile, as if she’d known exactly what she’d done. 

“You didn’t cross a line it’s ok,” You said and then hesitated “But I know you, you do this, you’ll get in that blue box and fly away. But it means next time we might sync so can I get in that box with you.”

There was a comforting silence between you both, “we’re running in different directions, and at some point we might get on track,” You said,

She pecked your lips again, “Soon, I’m sorry.”

“I know, I’ll hold you to that,” You said with a wink as she backed into the TARDIS.

It had been a handful of weeks since the doctor had seen you, she was returning on an adventure with the fam “Sorry fam, got to drop that off at the institute,” referring to the alien tech, they’d taken from a recent adventure. 

“You want an excuse to see her don’t you? See if your timelines are aligned yet,” Yaz sighed at the doctor, she tried to deny it  but both Ryan and Graham nodded at the other woman, 

“Fine, i want to see her, especially after new years, just want to check in on her,��� She explained with a slight annoyance to her voice. She flipped a few switches before landing, in your office as she usually did, same spot as always. You were laughing with your girlfriend, or in her timeline, former girlfriend. The other woman was sat on your desk, pressing a kiss to your lips when the doctor strolled out of her TARDIS, “So exciting thing, we found some alien tech that we think- sorry am I interrupting something-” She rambled turning her head, a edge to her voice that was unexpected, the others filled out the ship after her making similar awkward expressions. 

“Christ, can you give us a warning? Have you learnt to do that through our complex timeline?” You laughed, a heavy blush evident on your cheeks “This is my girlfriend. Babe, this is the Doctor,” You smiled, waving your hands between the two of them, she cringed at the nickname. Your girlfriend went to introduce herself, the doctor shot her a sharp glare remembering new years eve, before turning to you, “where are we up to?”

“Uh, you’ve just told me about 17th century witch trials,” You said trying to remember off the top of your head

“Good, that was a fun one,” She smiled at the memory, before, placing the alien tech in your hand, her hand lingering on yours for a bit too long, “Get one of the archive staff to lock that away, you might need it at some point. Maybe, depends, better to have it just incase, it’ll keep you safe, if I can’t be there,” 

“Ok thanks, we’ll get someone on that right now,” You replied, professionalism clear in your voice and face. You felt colder to her, she had forgotten what you were like in the early days. She nodded at you, before turning on her heel, restraining herself from wrapping her arms around you.  She extended a hand to your girlfriend, to which she accepted. The Doctor leant in and whispered “I know what you’re doing, cheaters get what’s coming to them,” She then plastered a fake smile before turning into the TARDIS after giving you a genuine smile. Team TARDIS followed behind her, giving small goodbyes and polite waves to you and your future ex partner. 

“Well that could have gone literally miles and miles better,” Graham frowned, after the ship had taken off

“Yeah, doc, you should have seen your face it was fun- wasn’t funny actually- Ow,” Ryan said between Yaz hitting him on the shoulder trying to help the situation

“Look, she doesn’t even know about new years because it hasn’t happened yet so it’s not like she can help it and saying that to her ex probably wasn’t the best route,” 

“She also kisses me when the institute gets attacked, which is about a month after new years, which is two months after this,” She turned to Yaz anger heavy in her voice “What would you have done in that situation? Hm? What would any of you have done? Exactly. Don’t criticise me when you have not been in situations like that, because it has happened to me far too many times for me to take advice from any of you!” she shouted her final words anger bubbling over the surface finally, as she scraped her hands down the console, in another attempt to knock something nonvital off of it. A pin could have dropped in the TARDIS and everyone would have heard it, “Look, I’m sorry, I keep thinking about her on that planet and I think it’s my fault, and I can’t stop it. I’m just worried, I care about her, and I don’t want to see her with anyone else and I don’t want to see whatever is coming, not on that planet especially,” 

“You never said, what planet it was,” Ryan said unexpectedly 

“It doesn’t matter, it isn’t important.” She frowned quickly “Look, new adventure, got a planet picked out and everything,” 

The familiar wheezes filled your office. You pulled out a handgun you kept in your desk drawer and pointed it at the doors unflinchingly, the doctor stepped out cautiously, “Tell me what I said to you, in this office when the cyberman attacked the institute!” You shouted at the woman

“(Y/N)-”

“Tell me!” You snarled locking the gun, not blinking

“You- You said you should keep wine in your desk, for when we synced again, and you said we should go on a date,” She stammered out. You lowered the gun and out it back on your desk

“Sorry, issues with the Zygons again. Bonnie and Oswald stepped up and helped though, helps to be cautious considering we didn’t have some of their new abilities on file. Gun was fake anyway before you shout at me, just needed to be sure,”  You said kicking your feet onto the desk

“What are we up to on your terms?” She asked avoiding your previous statements 

“The cyber incident was the last time I saw you and that was about 5 months ago. You?”

“Dropping tech off, saw your ex, a month ago for me,” She said taking the seat opposite 

“So we’re even then? Finally, nothing sneaky, just us in my office,” 

“I think so. Unless one of us is lying but we both know better than that,”

“Good,” You replied pulling out a bottle of wine from your desk drawer “5 months, that’s been in there, just incase,” 

“Yeah, well I’d prefer the date,” 

“Are you flirting?” 

“Maybe,” She smirked

“Watch it old man. Don’t want you having a heart attack trying to keep up,” You laughed,as you stood and grabbed your jacket, “I believe we promised each other a date.”

London was warm unsurprisingly, given the time of year. The bar was empty given the fact it was a Tuesday, you ordered a drink for yourself and some juice for the doctor, “I guessed and said apple because I figured you did not want alcohol,” you said taking a seat at the table she had picked. 

“I could love it, you never know,” She replied,  you proceeded to offer her your drink, she took a sip and made an odd face “Ok nevermind then, I take it back,”

“In my defence, your new face might have liked it, not my fault I didn’t know,”

“Definitely not for me,” She stuck her tongue out after her comment. You talked for hours despite the glares of the slightly annoyed bar staff, telling stories of space travel and times long gone, or the times yet to come

“I’ve never visited victorian england, I imagine it would be nice. Those were always assigned to someone else,” You said suddenly 

“We could go if you’d like, another date, sightsee and do a bunch of touristy things, meet the queen, I’m sure she wouldn’t recognise me with this face,”

“I feel like it’s somewhere I'd like to go to before I die, like I’d save it for a bucket list, a sort of time bucket list,” You rambled. That was a sobering reminder for the doctor, the way you looked at her, a bittersweet happiness in your eyes and a knowing smile, a different version of you compared to the one in front of her.

“Travel with me, please.” You gave her a look “I know what you said, but we’re finally synced up again, what’s the worst that could happen. I doubt they’d notice you gone, you essentially just sit in your office and try to avoid boredom all day, you might as well travel.” 

“Fine, you aren’t going to drop it until I agree so yes, I’ll travel with you,” You said finishing what was left of your drink, she had already stood up a giddy smile clear on her face. The Doctor pulled you to your feet, “c’mon, need to do some maintenance on the TARDIS and we’ll meet up with the others and go somewhere.”

[yuzukult]

midnight snacks || junmyeon & reader

title: midnight snacks genre: idol!reader, idol!suho, romance, fluff words: 5.5k notes: as requested!!! sorry it took so long... i just... sleep so much after working earlier in the day and also my weekends just fly by so quickly :( hope i did not disappoint!

Saying that you were anxious is an understatement.

Your hands are clammy, so moist that you lose your grip on the door handle, constantly slipping the metal hardware from your hands that a staff member aids to your side, opening the door as you mutter a quick ‘thank you’ with a head hung low, shuffling into the dressing room.

The place is chaotic—people running around palms full, ranging from iPads, makeup brushes, hair products, hair tools... just name any cosmetic item and you’d find it laying around somewhere in the room or in the hands of a stylist. In the chairs are your band mates, one by one are being attended by at least four people per person. You’d jokingly tell some of them that it takes an entire team to make them look somewhat decent enough to be on television. 

There’s suddenly a knock on the door, gaining your attention but those around you are oblivious with different priorities in mind. The visitor bows at the staff that he captures the attention of, making his way to the couch where the rest of your girl group is seated.

“I got your favorite orders from your manager.” He says, placing bags of beverages and snacks that overwhelms your entire band, gawking and thanking the senior. “I figured since this is your debut stage, I’d come wish you guys luck!”

Kim Junmyeon— or known as Suho of EXO on stage— is the epitome of a perfect man. He’s a senior at the same company, a leader of one of the biggest groups in Korea, and you found yourself becoming one of those girls who had swooned over his beaming smile and generous actions. With his hair slicked back, dressed neatly in a casual white button up in his blue jeans and a black blazer, he always seems to make your heart skip a beat. 

You might have a tiny small crush on Kim Junmyeon.

It probably started during your trainee days where you got to watch him and Jongin teach the newbies Love Shot as a dance exercise. He’d been patient with the group, constantly repeating himself when he needed to but also coming to anyone’s side and helping them perfect their movements in order to improve and advance to debut.

Unable to do a body roll as well as Jongin, Junmyeon laughs at the side of your stiff body, pressing his hand on your lower back, watching you uneasily. “Is this okay?” He asks for permission, knowing there’s a thin line between the two of you. He doesn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. Is there anything wrong with him?

“Thanks, Junmyeon oppa!” One of your bandmates exclaims, cheeks already full of the boba from the milk tea he delivered. There’s smiles all around the room, all because of him, and you want nothing more than to be the cause of his as well. But you know better. Today was your debut stage, someone who is barely making way in the industry, and he was someone who had already claimed a spot, a well-known name.

Trapped in your own thoughts, you’re blurred back into reality at the sound of your name being called repeatedly. Shaking your head, you turn to the caller, eyes meeting with Junmyeon. “Oh, uh, thanks for this, by the way.”

“Of course,” He says, giddy. “Is this what you like? I asked your manager, and he named a couple things but I wasn’t sure which was your favorite.” He has an iced coffee in his hand, and a bun with what you can assume is filled with bbq pork, something you’d always get. His effort was admirable, just another thing to add on your list of things you liked about him.

“Pork bun?” You clarify, taking it from his grasp as he nods in confirmation. “Your favorite?”

“Yes, more than just a favorite, my one true love,” You exaggerate, opening the wrapper before your leader stops you by placing her hand in between, blocking you from eating as you frown. “Why!”

“We’re about to perform! Do you really want a button to pop on stage?”

“No...”

“Aw, come on, let her have one bite. Oppa’s request,” Junmyeon chimes in, an innocent look on his face. “I want to see her appreciate my gift.” Glancing over to see her expression, her face softens as signals you to take a bite. Opening your mouth as wide as you can, you munch on a large portion as her face contorts in disgust and surprise. “What— I said one bite!”

“It was one bite,” You respond, mouth full of inhaling half of the bread before choking on it from taking in a quick breath as Junmyeon chuckles heartily, handing over the coffee to you. Slurping abruptly, you slap your chest before regaining your breathing and your leader rolls her eyes. “Junmyeon, if I get in trouble because of her, I’m blaming you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take the blame!” He chuckles, patting your back. “Seems like she enjoyed it a lot, it’s worth the blame.” His words warm your heart and you mentally kick yourself for being so easily swayed by anything he says. Your leader looks over at you, slightly agitated by your actions and you know you’re going to get a talk later, but in the presence of Junmyeon, she could never confront you. She excuses herself, walking away from the two of you before Junmyeon bursts into a giggle and you scowl at the older male.

“Stop it, she’s going to lecture me when we go back home.” You whine, a pout upon your lips.

“Nobody told you to take such a huge bite!”

“Well, nobody told you to buy me a pork bun! How am I supposed to resist?” He’s gifting you his signature smile again, and you feel like your chest is going to explode. “Is this what I get for trying to be nice? A complaint from you?”

“I mean... I did choke on it.” You argue, closing the plastic of the baked good, placing it on your dressing chair. “But... it was good, Junmyeon, thank you.”

“Anything for my favorite trainee,” He grins, leaning over to pinch your cheek gingerly. “I’m eager to see you perform. You’ve worked so hard all those years, you’ve come a long way.”

You want to tell yourself that maybe Junmyeon was being too caring and attentive toward you compared to your other members and trainees under the company. Realistically, with who he is and his capabilities, you found yourself falling back into your pit, convinced that he treats everyone this way. He was intimidatingly successful, responsible and altruistic. You? You were just his temporary mentee who only caught his attention from your clumsiness.

The name of your group is called by the station, and you’re all adjusting your stage outfits anxiously, taking in deep breaths in tempts of calming the nerves. Glancing over at Junmyeon, he sends you a soft smile, rubbing your cheek with his thumb comfortingly. “Hey, you got this. You guys are going to kill it.”

Was it Kim Junmyeon’s motivational words that made your debut stage an amazing one or was it the pork bun he provided?

Probably the pork bun.

Almost immediately after the cameras turned on, the turmoil of jitters squandered. Your group performed as a team, and for the first time in your life, you felt like you belonged somewhere. The cheers in the crowd were the music to your ears, swelling the hearts of yours and those around you, eager to continue this pathway of aspiration, feeling as though the hurdles you’d jump over through the years of training had all been worth it.

Hoping off the stage, still living in the high, you spot Junmyeon standing behind stage, his signature smile stretching from cheek to cheek. 

“Look at that, you guys did great.” He says, hands in the pocket of his jeans. Skeptical of the confidence that abruptly washes over you, you extend your arms, pulling him into a tight hug, despite your sweat and sticky body. “I finally made it, Junmyeon. I got to perform on stage.”

Junmyeon never misses any of your stage performances since then. 

He found himself enjoying the sight of your face with an elated expression. He relished in the way when you finished your performance, the first person your eyes lay on is him, energy running on a high, rushing toward him with your arms wide open. Your warmth, your scent— it all drives him wild, and he’s not sure what the feeling is, but all he knows is that he loves it.

There’s a tap on your window, and sluggishly, you glance over to see who it is, realizing it’s nobody before pulling the covers over your head again.

Tap! It occurs again.

Frustrated, you groggily drag yourself from the bed, dressed in a baggy T-shirt and shorts, peering out of the window. There you see Junmyeon, standing on the patch of grass outside of your dorm complex, waving eagerly before gesturing to open the window. Complying, you tug on the sill up. “What?” You hiss in a whisper.

“Come out and grab a snack with me.”

“A snack? Junmyeon sunbae, hate to break it to you but it’s 1am.” 

He shrugs at your response, before shaking the key fob to his car in his hand. “Doesn’t matter what time it is. My stomach says, ‘time to eat’ and I don’t argue with it. Come down and grab a bite with me, kid.”

Sometimes just watching Junmyeon eat makes you full. But knowing Junmyeon, he doesn’t let you observe him consume the food, no, that’s not why he invites you out during the late hours of the night. 

He thinks you’re funny and yet so brutally honest, two of the best qualities you have, and there’s only so many minutes in a day that he can spend with you, so utilizing that he’s ���hungry for a midnight snack” or “needing company for fresh air” was always the excuses he used to bring you out and enjoy some time with you. There wasn’t a moment within the day that you weren’t with your band members, so sneaking you out once the moon makes an appearance became common when he realized how pleasing it is being around you. 

“Junmyeon, I hate those, why do you keep buying them? They’re atrocious,” You cringe, throwing one of those white sausage packs in his direction. “If you want me to come out with you, at least get me something I like.”

“I did, check the bag.” Junmyeon’s peeling one of the sausages out of it’s plastic casings, taking a huge chunk into his mouth. “Mm. I know if my manager saw me eating this he’d be super disappointed.”

“I’m pretty sure that both of our managers would be kicking out asses if they saw us out here right now, in the middle of the night, in public while eating these fatty snacks.” Peeking into the bag, you notice a familiar logo. “Oh—what’s this? Where did you find this? Did they sell this at the convenience store?”

The recognizable blue box from Kellogg’s is hard to miss with it’s simple bold lettering that reads ‘pop.tarts’ and your mouth waters at the sight. “And it’s strawberry. Where the hell did you get this, sunbae? They don’t sell these in Korea.”

He loved watching your face lit up the moment you tear open the box to pull out one of the foiled packaging, tearing it up to grab a piece of the pastry. “I know they don’t. Remember when you asked me why I enjoy eating maxbons so much? Because it reminds me of my childhood and growing up. Then you mentioned that you loved poptarts when you were living in the US, so I did some digging and found it.”

“Wow, sunbae, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you have a crush on me. You must have went through lengths for this!” You say jokingly, stuffing your mouth with the poptart. It’s hard and crunchy— the texture wasn’t ideal for a pastry and you knew that this was not some high end snack, but the memories of sitting in your elementary school’s playground with one of these in your hands and a box of apple juice with a bendy straw brought you back. 

You moved from the States to Korea at a young age, with your parents deciding it was time to return back to their hometown when your grandfather’s health began to decline. Transferring to a school that was unfamiliar and having to adjust to a different language that you’d only been barely a beginner in was difficult. Making friends in an entirely new country was arduous, especially when you’re trying to adapt to a new culture and their language.

Reminiscing back to the time you’d leave your middle school exit, attempting to follow the route back home yourself, a recruiter of some sort persistently solicited for your attention. She kept saying that she could make you famous— or ‘well-known,’ was the closest term you could understand, and you were almost weeping on your way home before she decided to leave you with her card, suggesting that you should give her card to your parents to contact her. 

Turns out she was a recruiter for SM Entertainment.

Your parents figured it was something you could occupy your mind with and training under an entertainment company would be helpful in improving your Korean and meeting new friends.

And boy, they were right. The company had invested in so much money on trying to expand your knowledge on how to speak the language, including the other trainees, especially these guys that were also from different parts of the world, so studying never felt lonely.

“I want you to feel like home here, or at least with me. I know how much you’ve missed it there and it’ll be awhile before you get to visit again.”

Something about Junmyeon is disparaging in this light— is it the way the moonlight bounces off his cheekbones? Or the way his eyes twinkle in your direction? His hair blowing in the route of the wind gives you a glimpse of his forehead— is it possible that a forehead could be so... beautiful? ... All this because of a poptart?

You want to slap yourself back into reality, but if you did it right now in front of him, he’d probably think you’re insane.

“Are you planning on going to the States again?” You ask, attempting to shake your mind from drifting into any more thoughts. The artificial flavor of the strawberry hits your tongue and you can’t help but feel so giddy inside with the feeling associated with the taste.

Junmyeon smiles in your direction, one that warms your heart. “Possibly. But I’d like you to tag along if I go. Maybe you could take me to places I’ve never been before.”

Peculiarly, that isn’t the only time Junmyeon takes you out in the middle of the night.

It becomes consistent, an every other day kind of thing, and although your endurance on running on lack of sleep is infamous, Junmyeon is not that great in comparison.

“Oppa, are you dozing off?”

“Huh?” He flinches in his seat, shifting awake. He’d been sitting in the waiting room in the SM building, possibly expecting someone, but he was falling asleep every five seconds in the midst of a conversation with one of your bandmates. 

“Is my story that boring?”

“No, no!” He says abruptly, eyes now wide while waving his hands in front of him in disagreement. “I’m just... very tired lately.”

Furrowing your brows while seated beside your bandmate, you watch Junmyeon as he rubs his tired lids before yawning. “Maybe you should sleep a bit earlier, sunbae.”

He heaves out a deep breath at your suggestion, running his fingers through his locks. Junmyeon didn’t style his hair today, different from his other days but familiar to your nights out with him. However seeing him in his most comfortable form in the daylight is divergent— he’s even more handsome, if possible. “I should. Sleep doesn’t really come easy during the nights, though.”

“Mm,” You hum, unconvinced. “Sure.”

Your bandmate nudges you in the stomach, earning a wince from you as you shot her a glare. “What?”

“Stop being so mean to oppa. He’s always taking care of us, why are you always so straightforward with him?”

“I’m not—“ But before you could defend yourself, Junmyeon does it for you. “No, no, I like when she’s like that. It means she’s comfortable enough to be that way with me. It’s fine, trust me.”

“We’re trying to teach her better manners,” She says while you roll your eyes at the girl. “Our entire group is even making it into a challenge.”

“Why so? I like her like this, it’s endearing.” 

Groaning, you throw yourself back into the couch, head lulling back. They were talking about you as if you weren’t sitting right there! You were starting to feel like you were a kid, and the adults were having a discussion about your behavior.

“Endearing? Oppa, it isn’t lady-like for her to gnaw on a corn on the cob on TV. Wouldn’t it hurt the reputation of our group?”

“Honestly,” He begins, and it was like all the tiredness had been swept away from his eyes. “It makes you guys more relatable. Like— idols, they’re not these gods, but rather they’re people like us. Fans will worship the ground you stand on, but in reality, you don’t want that. You want them to see you as a person, a person capable of mistakes, and you wouldn’t want to change someone from who they really are. Have you seen how crazy Baekhyun and Chanyeol are? What about how intimidating Kyungsoo could be? And yet, I wouldn’t want to change any of them. It makes them more appealing, even.”

“Why do you do that?”

Looking up from your phone with a repulsive piece of the sausage that Junmyeon favors in your mouth, you raise a brow questioningly. “Do what?”

“You never call me oppa. All of your other members do, except you. You keep addressing me as ‘sunbae’ and it feels very... detached.”

“Is there something wrong with me calling you sunbae? I respect your position in our company and the industry, and I want to make it known.” 

He sighs, leaning back in his seat. The two of you are yet again sitting outside in front of another convenience store, seemingly going to a new one almost every outing. “We hang out so much and you’re acting like we’re not friends.” His expression drops in comparison to how elated he usually is, indicating how deeply he must’ve felt about this topic. You think, maybe you should try a bit harder.

“... Oppa.”

“Nevermind, forget I even said it.”

“What—“ Confused, you wrinkle your forehead. “Junmyeon, you asked me to call you oppa and I did, now you’re not happy with it?”

“Honestly, it sounds totally weird when you say it. Like... it’s not natural.”

“What—“ You heave a deep breath in disbelief, shaking your head. “It’s not natural? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Usually the sound ‘oppa’ coming from a girl sounds cute. But you make it sound... uncomfortable, like someone is holding you hostage.”

“You’re basically holding me hostage to say it.”

“I am not!” Junmyeon contends, snatching your phone from your hand. “And stop playing on your phone when you’re out with me, it’s so disrespectful to your senior.”

Pouting, you aggressively munch on another piece of the sausage, and a smile tugs on the edges of Junmyeon’s mouth. He thinks you’re cute like this— the way that puffing your cheeks full of air that blows the strands of hair away from your face. Your personality didn’t quite match your baby-face, yet he still found everything about you just... cute. 

Huh, he thinks to himself, observing your annoyed expression as you finish up the sausage. Maybe... in some shape or form, I kind of like her more than other girls.

“You’re not sneaking out to meet with a secretive boyfriend, are you?”

Nearly choking on the serving of kimchi on your spoon, you drop the utensil into the bowl in front of you, quickly wiping the drips down your chin. “What?”

Your leader apologizes for being so blunt, but nonetheless, needed an answer from you. “If you have a boyfriend, you should tell me about it.” She says, leaning back against her seat at the dining room table of your dormitory. “We’re a team here, and management really doesn’t want us to date but... if you really can’t help it, at least let me know. Maybe we can work something out and not have them noticing. I really don’t want any of us to hide from each other...”

“What— no, no. There’s no boyfriend. Sometimes I need fresh air.”

“There’s a male’s voice though.” She responds abruptly, as though she has all her pointers written in notes. Knowing how uptight and well-planned she was, you shouldn’t be surprised if she did have notes. “I hear a man’s voice calling for you during the late hours of the night.”

You hum in thought for a moment, playing with the grains of rice in your bowl with your spoon. “Honestly... I’ve been just going out and taking walks or sneaking snacks with Junmyeon.”

She raises a brow questioningly. “Junmyeon.” The girl reiterates the name in incredulity. 

“Suho,” You echo with his stage name instead, mimicking her seating position. “Kim Junmyeon. I guess he’s lonely sometimes and wants me to keep him company. Can’t really say no—“

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?”

Hesitatingly, you chew the inside of your cheek in thought. Were you caught? Was your crush on Junmyeon that obvious? It was like your leader could read your mind— or you just sucked at feigning your expression because she sits up, arms resting on the wooden table before speaking again. “Because regardless of what the answer may be, it’s okay.

“It’s okay?” You repeat, this time, you’re the one in disbelief. “It’s okay,” She says again, gathering up her empty bowls and stacking them atop of each other. “He has that aura about him. Generous, a gentleman, and always there when you need him. He’s a sunbae, that’s what you call him, don’t you? Sometimes in the industries we all work in, signs can be hard to tell.”

“So you’re saying I’ve mistaken his actions for him being a kind senior.”

“Honestly, I think so.” Opening the door of the dishwasher, she begins to load it with the plates. “He’s literally Kim Junmyeon, this is EXO we’re talking about here. Why would he want to date a rookie? Baekhyun freaking dated Taeyeon. Like, Taeyeon from SNSD. SNSD! What are we in comparison to them?”

“Nothing,” You mutter quietly, pushing away your bowl since your appetite is long gone now. “We are pretty much nothing.”

“Exactly. Please don’t hurt yourself by dreaming about dating someone like that. It’s going to be painful to just yourself, and a waste of time. Now hurry, we need to clean up and head to practice later.”

You’re bummed for the rest of the day. It was implied that Junmyeon was out of reach, even you could decipher that yourself, but hearing someone else say it made it feel too real. He had the reputation of someone who was a great leader, a talented performer, and a kind-hearted person, as for you, your bandmates had labeled you as someone without manners, and unladylike. You knew that they were only looking out for you, going through the training process had been brutal, and finally getting to debut meant that this was your opportunity to shine in the best way possible. But you want to be better— someone who was worthy of Junmyeon’s love... yet that seemed impossible.

“I thought you said you didn’t like him,” one of your bandmates approaches you, your favorite member and one you’ve developed a close relationship with through the hardships of being a trainee. “You’re acting awfully like someone who got their heart broken.” 

“I don’t know,” You sigh, dropping your body onto the hardwood floor of the studio, taking a break from practicing the dance routine. “I thought I didn’t. I mean, I knew I could never stand a chance with a guy like him, but hearing our own leader say it makes me feel so... discouraged.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t have said it like that.” She comforts, leaning over to ruffle your hair into your face playfully. “You’re deserving of a man like him. She’s probably just afraid that if you two dated, there’d be a whole scandal and it’d be her fault.”

“She makes a point though,” You interject with a frown. “He’s the epitome of a perfect man. Sure, he makes dad jokes that aren’t funny, and he’s into the most boring and lamest things, but isn’t that what makes him... him? Makes him more attractive, it’s tempting.”

Your bandmate scoffs, watching you with a raised brow. “And so what? What are you going to do? Confess to the guy?”

“No,” Responding firmly, you sit up on the floor. “But maybe I should stop going on those night trips with him. It’s making me delusional, and I’m manifesting as if I could have a relationship with him.”

“You... could try, but wouldn’t it be obvious that something is up?”

“I’ll just pretend I’m sleeping.”

junmyeon sunbaenim [11:32pm]: get up, it’s time for our weekly snack trip

Nibbling on your bottom lip in between your teeth, you make sure that the lights in your room are off, and the curtains are closed, but just enough for you to peek through. Guilt rushes over your body at the idea of ignoring Junmyeon but you knew that this is the best for you— spending too much time with him was starting to be impractical for your imagination.

junmyeon sunbaenim [11:33pm]: did you fall asleep? junmyeon sunbaenim [11:33pm]: tsk, there’s no way. knowing you, you run on 2 hours of sleep and still manage to dance during practice as if you’ve slept for a perfect solid 8 hours.

Throwing yourself onto your bed, the only light in the room being from your phone. It was hard to avoid Junmyeon, he had a way of luring you into his trap, and you desperately wanted to see him. Hitting yourself on the head, you shake yourself off of the feeling. 

junmyeon sunbaenim [11:34pm]: talk to me. i know you’re awake. your phone brightness is probably at 120% because I can see it through your curtains.

Fuck. You groan, pushing the curtains aside to see Junmyeon sitting in his car, eyes locking onto yours with a wave.

junmyeon sunbaenim [11:35pm]: you’ve been caught, kiddo. the best trainee [11:35pm]: i am very tired today, sunbae. junmyeon sunbaenim [11:35pm]: bullshit. what’s wrong? did i say something that made you feel uncomfortable? junmyeon sunbaenim [11:35pm]: i thought we had that kind of relationship, but i could be totally misreading the signals here the best trainee [11:36pm]: ok, honestly, boss says i shouldn’t be cheating on my diet anymore and i need to stop going out late! i might get caught and tabloids will be all over it. junmyeon sunbaenim [11:36pm]: i could always talk to her for you junmyeon sunbaenim [11:36pm]: but let’s be honest here. it’s not that, is it? 

You swallow. Something in your head would like to believe that you’re not that obvious when trying to hide something, but Junmyeon had spent enough time with you to determine what runs through your mind.

Junmyeon Sunbaenim is calling...

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. What do you even say? You were stupid enough to have your phone brightness on max and look through the window to see him— what’s your excuse now? You’re obviously not asleep, and if you don’t pick up, you’re not even sure of what the outcome will be.

So you slide the green phone image on your phone to receive his call.

“Uh, hello?”

“Why are you ignoring my texts?”

“I’m... responding.”

“Bullshit.” Junmyeon doesn’t curse quite often, but you’re starting to realize that this is a side that you haven’t seen from him yet. He’s mad, possibly, if not annoyed with you at this point for being so stubborn and not telling him why you’re not communicating as fluidly as you used to. “You need to talk to me and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Junmyeon, I’m just very tired today, is all.”

“You are most definitely not tired.”

“Don’t tell me how I’m feeling and what I’m doing!” You snap, finally hitting the final chord. It was quick, you admit, how fast it escalated, but at this point, Junmyeon was probing you with these assumptions, and although he was right, it was becoming overbearing. “I’m—I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you.”

He’s silent on the other line, so quiet that you had to double check that he was still in the call. “Junmyeon?”

“I just want to know what I did wrong,” He says, this time, voice low. He knows you mean well, and that the outburst was just out of frustration, but the feeling was reciprocated. “I really enjoyed our outings.”

“I did too,” You respond honestly, twiddling with the fabric of your bedsheets between your fingers. “But...” Inhaling in a deep breath, you knew that with Junmyeon, it just felt so wrong to hide and lie. Gathering enough courage, you continue. “It’s getting kind of hard spending so much time with you.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I can’t tell between your generosity and your feelings for me.” You blurt, turning to drop your face into the pillow. It was embarrassing, admitting  these things to him, but he was going to prod you until you spoke up.

“Come down, will you?”

It required a lot of gallantry to shuffle your feet down the stairs, making your way out of your dormitory and toward Junmyeon’s car that’s parked out front. He’s sitting where he was moments before, position never moved and eyes still glued to the screen of his phone. Taking in a deep breath, you were brave enough to knock on the window.

The doors unlock with a click.

You feel like your heart is in the midst of falling, replaying the phone call just from minutes before, and how quick he reacted without showing a hint of any emotion. It was difficult to decipher what was going through his mind, but nonetheless, you slip into the passenger seat, still in your PJ shorts and loose fitted T-shirt, while he’s in an unbuttoned dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows paired with his slacks.

“Can you tell me what you were trying to say on the phone? I’d like to hear it in person.” He’s not facing you, but rather his arm is rested on the steering wheel, gaze diverted ahead.

“Junmyeon, I think I like you. I know, it’s crazy, I’m just a rookie and it’s insane for me to even be glancing in the direction of a higher up in the company, but we’ve spent a lot of time together, and I think I’ve developed some feelings for you.” Rubbing your face with a hand for a moment, you release a breath you’ve been holding without realizing. “But I can’t see you anymore. It feels wrong, to myself especially, to keep lying about how I’ll be okay if you didn’t return feelings. I’ve already talked to my leader, she says it’s unrealistic—“

He sharply turns his head to meet your stare. “She said it’s unrealistic?”

“Well, she said that someone like you, from EXO, wouldn’t want to date—“

Before you could even finish your sentence, his hand is laced through your hair, pulling you into his embrace of a kiss, lips pressing against one another. The way his lips felt against yours was... heavenly— almost like you were floating on cloud 9, pillowy and smooth. For a moment, you swore time stopped until Junmyeon drew away, clearing his throat.

“It’s... not impossible. Remember what I said the other day? Idols are people, like every other person, who live normal lives. We’re flawed too, we’re not perfect, and don’t put us on a pedestal because again, we’re human. We’re regular people,” Junmyeon says, thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “Why do you guys always assume that because I’m from some big group that it means I’m out of reach?”

“Because you are,” You retort hastily, yet still recovering from the kiss. Did Junmyeon really kiss you?

“I’m holding you right now, in my car. Am I really out of reach?”

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Making cookies at the Nova Aeria Clock Tower

When it comes to being creative with cookies, Addie and Ginger are always up for the challenge! Since rebranding and opening shop at the Nova Aeria, things have been going super well for them. They went from a small cookie stand in their neighborhood to a traveling cart and now they have a full fledged bakery in the city.

Today the bakery was busy because of the monthly cookie contest, which has been a huge hit since it started earlier this year. Like I said, Addie and Ginger like to think outside the box when it comes to unique cookie recipes!

A lot has changed since I last saw them at the camp. At the time they were rebranding, taking time off to reevaluate things after realizing that the direction they were going in wasn't working out. By reinventing themselves and starting over from scratch, they were able to make something that aligned more with their dreams. It wasn't easy, but they took the plunge, knowing when to bail out when they realized that they deserved better.

The Nova Aeria Clock Tower feels like it exists in a space of its own. I don't know, it just gives off this starry, otherworldly vibe. I can also see why Addie felt that this was the perfect place to settle down in. She always has a knack for being intuitive like that. The moment she stepped inside, she knew that it was meant to be. And that's not something Addie says lightly so if she's somewhat certain about anything, we gotta keep that in mind.

For now, it's just Addie and Ginger running the bakery, though now they're in the process of building a team. Bree and Lyn were gonna start training soon but they're needed at the funeral parlor where Lyn's brother Ry works as undertaker turned temporary director.

Bree and Lyn have always been Addie and Ginger's biggest supporters so it was a matter of time before they joined the team. They're creative bakers too - Bree's baking videos are always relaxing to watch and Lyn likes experimenting will all kinds of complicated recipes. Problem is that their families aren't as supportive of their baking aspirations so it's a case of them waiting for the right opportunity to take a plunge and pursue their dreams.

So now they're one step closer! Except they can't quite take the step yet as poor Ry's overwhelmed since the funeral parlor director and consultant are out of commission. Lyn says it's not as bad as it sounds - basically, the director and consultant occasionally work with an adventurer's guild so they sometimes tag along on a mission with their investigator friend. Rarely they both go together and for that particular mission, things went horribly wrong, as Lyn puts it. The director, who Lyn describes as a bit of an eccentric prankster who seems too cheerful despite her family's business, should be out of the hospital tomorrow so she'll probably be back in a week or so. As for the consultant and investigator - an old fashioned gentleman and a headstrong young adventurer - it'll be a while before they're back up on their feet again, but at least they're recovering from their injuries.

Lyn always has stories relating to the funeral parlor - mainly about the director being weird and causing trouble. She seems like an interesting person, someone full of dark humor and can be a bit much, but a nice person overall. Lyn's family and hers go way back, and she has been supportive of Lyn and Bree while Ry seems to be on the fence. The consultant and investigator sound like cool people too - Lyn doesn't know them too well but they've always been nice to him. Bree says the consultant's super knowledgable about a lot of things so he always has a lot of interesting things to say.

The funeral parlor business was never for him so Lyn only really works there if they're short handed. Bree is basically the on call undertaker - probably the only one in the world as far as I know - though she mostly does cleaning and sometimes clerical stuff. To keep things lively, she bakes treats for the staff, which they appreciate, especially the director. She also learned a bunch of new recipes from the consultant, who also taught her a bunch of obscure and valuable baking techniques that most professionals have never heard of.

Since it's the monthly cookie contest, Ry gave Lyn and Bree the day off. So Ginger felt that this was the perfect opportunity to start their training - by being contestants! Normally Bree bakes something at least once a week but since the funeral parlor situation, she hasn't baked in almost a month, which is almost sacrilege to her. Of course, she was totally up for the challenge of coming up with a brand new recipe on the spot.

I was surprised at the turnout of the contest - thirty contestants! The bakery was packed so Addie had to break everyone up in groups. I didn't participate in the contest myself while Fauna and Mira did. Daisy Jane and I were behind the scenes, helping out contestants and cleaning equipment. It was cool seeing the kitchen as well as get some sneak peeks behind upcoming recipes.

It was fun watching everyone come up with all kinds of cookies. Everyone had such a unique spin on their creations so trying over thirty kinds of cookies didn't feel like a hassle. There were sweet cookies, savory cookies, and a lot of in between. Even things that you wouldn't think would go in a cookie came out well. Addie and Ginger sure know how to get everyone creative!

Fauna made a passionfruit matcha mochi cookie that screams tropical vibes. It was a recipe she came up with on the spot so it took a couple trial batches to get things going. The matcha cookie dough texture is like a mix between shortbread and chocolate chip, resulting in a flaky, buttery, and rich flavor. Then she bakes the cookies for a bit while making the passionfruit mochi. Before the cookies finish baking, she tops them off with the mochi, like putting chocolate chips on top, and put it back in the oven for a minute or two. That way, the cookies are crisp on the outside and soft on the inside while the mochi is chewy and flavorful.

Mira came up with colorful chocolate cookies with a black sesame custard filling. They taste as good as they look, especially with the rainbow sprinkles. The cookie is made from a mix of coconut and almond flour, resulting in a nutty flavor that goes really well with the custard and chocolate. The flavor's not overly sweet thanks to the black sesame and a touch of flaky rock salt, which really elevates a dessert. I can totally see this cookie being served at a rainbow themed party for its looks alone.

Lyn went experimental with a super duper chocolate cookie. Basically a super rich brownie in the form of a cookie that's made from three different types of chocolate. To balance out all that chocolate, he topped them off with roasted pecans flavored with lime and chilis. He got the inspiration from hot chocolate with chilis and the flavors go surprisingly well together. I mean, along with the rich chocolate ganache drizzled on top, without the spicy pecans, the chocolate would've been way too much. Only Lyn can pull off something as indulgent as that!

Bree's creation is like a fusion of a focaccia and quiche in the form of a cookie. The dough is similar to focaccia, except with some tweaks here and there to make it more cookie like. The topping is a cream cheese custard with a blend of herbs, an unusual mix of sweet and savory flavors that balance each other super well. How she came up with this idea, I don't know. To add a bit of a personal touch, she decorated the cookies as various constellations. Creativity never ceases to amaze me!

There were so many cookies, more than enough to take home and give to friends. Bree and Lyn plan to stop by the hospital and funeral parlor on the way home to give away some of the sweet treats. I did a little baking myself with Addie and Ginger before they closed up and that was pretty chill. It's so good to see them thriving and I can't wait to come back, especially now that Bree and Lyn will be joining them soon.

While waiting for the cookies to cool, Ginger took us on a tour around the Nova Aeria. At first glance, the clock tower looks like a fancy shopping center. It kinda is but also isn't, if that makes sense. There are shops and cafes but there's also places like an archive building, an observation deck, the clock tower itself, a couple of HQs - it's basically the center of a lot of things. Even those who spend their days at the Nova Aeria for years - generations even - still don't know the full extent of the clock tower and what exactly its purpose is.

Being the curious cat she is, Ginger wants to learn more about the Nova Aeria. Lyn wants to know more about the place as well. Both say the consultant seems to have some knowledge about it so he seems like a good starting point. The director might know something too as her family has connections to the clock tower so that's another thing to look into. Hearing them talk about the clock tower's mysteries has made me curious too.

What stories does the Nova Aeria hold? That's another thing to look forward to on future visits.

[theydontknowaboutusimagines]

Sunflower - Harry Styles AU (Volume 6)

The year is 1977 and it’s officially summertime. Y/N is spending it with her family at the Malibu Breeze Hotel, where she meets, aspiring musician, Harry Styles. The two clash in the beginning, but soon realize they may just need each other in the end. Find out just how life changing one summer can be in Sunflower, a Harry Styles AU.

   Here is part 6 of Sunflower. Hope you enjoy it!

Vol. 1 Vol. 2   Vol. 3  Vol. 4 Vol. 5 

Word Count: 1.9K

“Oh, this is so wonderful, honey,” My mother exclaimed as she twirled by hair around the curler. “William is such a gentleman and this could bring on great things for you.”

“It’s only dinner, mother,” I sighed.

“Yes, yes, I know, but I really think he might have an eye on you,” she smiled.

I rolled my eyes. It didn’t take long before both of my parents found out about me having dinner with William later. The dinner I never said yes to, might I add. Of course, they didn’t know that and I probably should have told them, told William that I wasn’t interested, but the words wouldn’t leave my mouth. I could tell my parents, especially my father, were ecstatic about me hanging out with William and his friends.

My father because he thought it would help me make up my mind regarding Boston and because it would put in a good word for him with his boss. My mother because she could already picture a wedding with grandchildren running amuck down the line. I wanted neither of those things, at least not right now and not with William.

As my mother continued doing my hair and makeup that she insisted on doing once finding out the news, my thoughts wandered to Harry. He had looked so miserable, so annoyed and angry today. It really felt as if we were making progress and he was being less like how he was before, but today proved that it’s still the same.

Maybe he was just embarrassed with me being there. Seeing him having to wait on William and his friends… on me. Jasper never said anything to me, mostly because he was too busy sailing the boat. Rehearsals would be after the dinner, I wondered if either of them would say anything to me or bring up the events of the day.

Part of me hoped for a yes while the other was perfectly okay with them not uttering a word.

“There we are,” she smiled. “You look absolutely beautiful, Y/N, just gorgeous. William is going to be floored when he sees you.”

Mother moved out of the way, letting me be in full view of the mirror. My eyes widened as I looked at the reflection in the mirror. A reflection I didn’t recognize as me, not in a bad way though. I had never really been one to worry about makeup, mostly out of laziness and feeling like it was just something society made women feel like they needed in order to get a man and for cosmetic companies to make money.

But seeing myself in just a bit of blush, lipstick, eye shadow, and mascara, it was like my confidence level rose about four levels. And my hair was pulled back with a few strands of curled hair framing my face.

“Wow,” I uttered.

“See, I told you just adding a little bit to your face can make the most amazing changes,” she smiled. “Now, for your dress. I have the perfect one for you.”

My mother rummaged around through her closet for a few moments before pulling out this beautiful sunflower yellow dress. It was a halter top with a sweetheart neckline that flowed out just above the knee.

“Try it on,” she smiled.

I took the dress from her going into the bathroom to change into the dress. Once it was on, I tied the long ribbon around my neck and looked at myself in the mirror. The dress fit me perfectly and the color matched perfectly with my skin. I found myself smiling as I looked at myself in the mirror trying different angles to make sure everything did look alright.

Being all dressed up for once in my life made me feel special, beautiful even, but my heart sank knowing that all of this was happening for the wrong person.

**

Arriving at the Dining Hall for dinner with William was weird, awkward, and stressful. I wanted it to be over before I had even started. However, if having dinner with William wasn’t already bad enough, Harry and his band… the hotel house band was scheduled to perform. I nearly dropped my glass when I saw Harry and Mitch making their way towards the stage.

“Interesting, hopefully that one is a better singer than a waiter,” William joked.

I looked at him.

“Oh, um, the one there, I think he’s name is Barry… he was on the wait staff on the boat today,” William answered.

“I know and he’s name is Harry,” I told him.

“Eh, doesn’t matter,” he shrugged.

My hand gripped onto the menu a little too tight causing a small crease to start forming.

“Good evening and welcome back to another evening here at The Malibu Breeze Hotel. We hope you’ve had a lovely day and we thank you for spending the rest of your night here with us,” Harry said into the microphone.

The opening notes of the first song started playing as I looked over at the stage. Harry’s eyes were closed while he took a deep breath, something I noticed him doing every time before he opened his mouth to sing. Most people probably wouldn’t even notice because he does it so discreetly, but I did. I always do.

“Speaking of our day out at sea,” William started. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Um… I mean… I guess. I’m not really a boat person,” I told him.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” he said. “Perhaps we could stay on land next time,” he laughed.

Mentally, I rolled my eyes, physically I gave a small nod and a smile.

The rest of the dinner went exactly how I thought it would. William talking about Boston, himself, his dad, shoving food in his mouth, etc. And just when I thought our little date was over and I could finally get out of there, William stood up from the table walking over to my side.

“Join me for a dance?” He asked, holding his hand out towards me.

“Um, actually, it’s getting pretty late, I should probably get going,” I told him. “I have plans, remember?”

“Oh come on, just one dance. Besides what’s wrong if you’re a little late anyway, you’re with me,” he smirked.

I had the urge to smack him right then and there, but I saw my parents at their table out of the corner of my eye. Even though they weren’t looking in that exact moment, I knew they had been staring throughout the night. I sighed going against my better judgement and what I wanted by saying yes.

I placed my hand in his and he practically pulled me to the dance floor. I gulped feeling Harry’s gaze on us when we got there. I didn’t dare look at him, afraid of what I might see. William wrapped his arm around my waist and held my hand with his other one. William’s face sat near my ear and I could feel his warm breath against my skin. A shiver ran down my spine, but not in a good way.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into my ear.

His hands were slowly inching their way down from my waist. He knew what he was doing, placing his hands ever so subtly on me. I stood there frozen, my body willing to push him away, but nothing would move.

“How about you forget about those plans of yours and we head back to my room?” He asked. “So we could have a little more privacy to get to know one another. I could show you some more information about Boston, too.”

“Um, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I told him. “In fact, I should uh… be going now anyway. Excuse me.”

Not sure how, but I finally was able to maneuver myself out of his arms and out of the dining hall. I needed to get out of there, but I wasn’t sure where I would go. It was too early to head to the cabin for rehearsals and if I went back to my room, Marianne might be there and ask me about tonight. So, I took off my shoes and went out to the beach instead.

I found an empty beach chair that was still left out in the sand. I sighed sitting down, letting my head fall into my hands. I wanted the night to be over with and I knew first thing in the morning I would have to tell my parents that whatever they wanted me to have with William was never going to happen.

My hands rubbed at the side of my neck almost as if I was trying to wipe away his words and the remnants of his breath. I heard someone walking up behind me. I could stand up, ready to run, thinking it was William. But it wasn’t, it was Harry standing there, still wearing his suit with his hands in his pockets.

“W-What are you doing here?” I asked him.

“Are you okay?” He asked. “Did he-”

“I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “So um… you saw-”

“The two of you dancing? Yeah, it’s kinda hard not to when you were on my dance floor,” he said, kicking at the sand.

I sighed, “Look, I don’t get you or what’s up with you. Why do you always do this? You act like an ass to me, and then you’re fine and it’s like we’re finally moving past that and then today, you treated me like you didn’t even know me.”

“Me?” He asked. “Y/N, you’re the one staying at the big fancy ass hotel with your Daddy and his money. You’re the one who gets to be Daddy’s little girl by day and sneaks around playing in some band at night. You’re the one playing two sides here, not me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” I told him. “I told you this isn’t a fucking game for me! I’m serious about being in this band because it means something to me and because you mean something to me.”

“Oh really? Cause you could’ve fooled me when his hands were all over you and he was whispering in your ear,” he snapped.

“I pushed him away and left when he did that! I don’t want him,” I snapped back. “I never wanted him and I sure as hell didn’t want to go to dinner with him.”

“Then what do you want Y/N?” Harry asked. “What do you want, right here and right now, what do you want?”

I closed the remaining distance between the two of us. Sand covered my feet and my shoes felt heavy in my hands. My heart raced a mile a minute and my stomach felt like it was in knots, but I didn’t care. For the first time in my life someone asked me what I wanted for myself and because of that, I had to be completely honest.

“You,” I whispered. “I want you. I want the band… I want the music… I want all of it, but mostly… I just want you.”

I stared up at him, his eyes glistening as the moonlight lit up his face. His previously slicked back hair was now blowing freely in the breeze. I waited what seemed like forever for him to say something, but he never did.

He simply took my face in his hands and pressed his warm lips against mine while the waves crashed along the shore behind us.

**

Soo... word count wise this update was a little shorter. I thought about making it a bit longer, but I kinda like where it ended. But this does make me want to ask, do y’all prefer the longer updates 2k-3k word counts or shorter ones like 1k-1.5k? 

Let me know! :) 

[the-magnus-backlogs]

Statement of Suzanna Harkness regarding a manuscript she reviewed for publishing.

Statement taken direct from subject, 27th December 1993.

You wind up stumbling down a lot of weird rabbit holes when you work for a small press long enough. Niche genres you’d really rather remain oblivious to, arts majors trying to break the mould by submitting something they swear up and down you’ll have ‘never seen before’. Never mind if it’s actually legible, but that’s…that’s another matter, I guess. I’m not here to talk about the subpar sci-fi erotica or whatever, I’m here because I found something weird.

I’d like to say right off the bat that I’ve got a strong stomach. Wouldn’t have lasted this long in the company if I didn’t. We only publish a couple hundred books a year, but we take in all sorts around here. Sometimes it feels like our only real submission requirements are ‘unmarketable to the general public’, and it seems like anybody with a half-baked idea is willing to try their luck at tossing their unedited manuscript into the ring.

That’s where I come in. Wading through the mountains of unusable garbage, hunting for hidden gems. I’ve even found a couple, but mostly it’s just about finding something readable. Or something we can pass off as being readable for those rare readers capable of ‘comprehending the author’s artistic vision’. Yeah, the marketing team winds up throwing phrases like that around a lot.

Maybe I’m being unfair. I was a lot more patient about that sort of thing when I started. So preoccupied with not coming across as judgemental, but I’ve worked in publishing over ten years now.

It used to be more common for us to get manuscripts sent in through the post, back then. Nowadays it’s pretty much all done online. A couple we get from literary agents, but most are just emailed in by aspiring writers who stumbled across our site, usually after receiving their rejection letters from the two dozen publishing houses that show up above us on pretty much any search engine.

Every once in a blue moon, though, a manilla envelope will find its way onto my desk. Some bright spark who thinks they’re above using a laptop decides to send their manuscript in the old fashioned way. Sometimes it’s just a precaution in case we somehow miss the half dozen emails they’ve already sent out to every listed staff member on the site. Hell, sometimes it’s written by typewriter.

You know typewriters require special paper to print? Special ink, too. They probably spend more writing the damn thing than they’ll ever see in royalties, but to each their own, I guess. I even got one handwritten, once. The idiot sent a follow-up a month later anxiously asking if he could have it back if we weren’t going to consider it because it was his only copy. Can you imagine? Mailing off the only copy of your handwritten manuscript to some backroom small press without any insurance.

By comparison, this manuscript was relatively normal. It had been typed, I think. The paper was…I guess it was sort of crumpled, but I didn’t think much of it at the time. The postal service isn’t always the most careful about this sort of thing, and it wasn’t really packaged properly. Just shoved loose in a box and shipped out.

It was pre-bound. Just a bundle of papers held together with a few strands of red string. A little unusual, but not exactly throwing up any red flags. Even when I started reading it, I didn’t know. How the hell could I have?

It was good, though. Maybe that should have been my first clue. The prose dragged on a bit, but hey. There are plenty of successful writers out there who probably could have benefited from a harsher editor. They made up for it, in my opinion. Even just skimming those first few pages, I was hooked. Didn’t even really realise it when I was due my lunch break. I was so focused on that damn book.

The visuals were the thing. Plenty of writers can pour out half decent prose, but something about this writer…they had a way of making it feel real, you know? All the little touches, the scenes they crafted from the ground up. It felt…it felt like I couldn’t stop reading. Even if I’d wanted to, and trust me, back then I didn’t.

I didn’t leave my office that day. Barely noticed it when the phone rang, ignored all my emails. I really, really thought we’d accidentally stumbled on a gold mind. Not just a passable debut novel, but an honest to god genuine talent.

The funny thing is, I can’t even really remember what it was that drew me in. Couldn’t tell you what genre it fell under. The plot itself was practically non-existent. A girl who dreamed of being a dancer and crept out of her house to practice under the moonlight in a clearing in the forest behind her house.

Then, one blissful night, illuminated by the full moon, the forest provided her with a partner. The partner.

Nothing too out there, right? Your basic fantasy-romance type stuff. Pretty tame compared to a lot of what we publish, but I was enthralled from the first description of their first dance. Barefoot and so light on her feet her toes barely skimmed the dew-slick grass. They loved each other, and in that moment, I think I understood that. Really knew what it was to love someone so much you’d offer them your still beating heart if it would mean holding onto them for just a second longer.

Except it wasn’t love. Not really. It was an obsession.

I couldn’t stop devouring page after page as their budding romance grew and spiralled, twisting into something unrecognisable. Those whispered words of I can’t live without you became their mantra as they clung to one another so tightly they left bruises on one another’s skin. Soft kisses turned sharp as they came to understand what it was to need to consume and be consumed. They needed one another in a way neither could truly provide. Not really.

In their despair, they begged the forest to offer them a solution, and it gave them one. A way to lie in the sweet summer meadow forever, and in their glee they didn’t think to ask what it would cost.

Not until they began to rot, anyway.

My memories around here get a little hazy, or maybe the words were just less clear. The writing seemed…hurried towards the end, but the couple didn’t seem to mind much when the insects began to burrow through their skin and make their homes inside. They had so much love to give, literally brimming with it. As sickening as it was, it sounded almost…fond. Like the writer truly wanted to give them the happy ending they deserved, but somehow couldn’t think of anything more befitting than allowing their decaying corpses to be infested with creepy crawlies.

It was sick. The concept was sick. Everything about it was sick, but even now I can’t truly convey how vividly they described it. The picture they painted was so clear. Even the affection the insects lavished upon them as they crawled and burrowed through their decaying flesh. It was…God, it used to make me sick just thinking about it, you know that?

Because it wasn’t enough that I had to read it. That I physically couldn’t tear my eyes away. I had to see it. The idea of it…It got its hooks in deep.

By the time I got to the end, I was at a loss for what to do with the manuscript. On the one hand it was probably one of the best written pieces we’d ever received, and there are plenty of twisted readers out there looking for something to churn their stomach.

Somehow it didn’t feel right to publish it, though. I’ve read body horror before, but this…It wasn’t right. I couldn’t…I couldn’t just inflict that on people. How do you make someone understand, truly understand, when they’re signing up to read something that won’t ever let them go? How do you make them understand that the words they’re paying you to read will imprint themselves against the backs of their eyelids? That they’ll grow and spread and fester.

I dream about that dancer in the moonlit meadow. The descriptions of her actual appearance were relatively scarce, but I can still see her face when I close my eyes. I see her intertwined with her dance partner, caked in a mossy fungus that failed to disguise the living hive crawling beneath their skin. I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins, anymore. Not even sure if I could tell them apart looking at them, what with their withered skin being so covered in filth and grime.

That damned book made it sound like something beautiful, but their beauty decayed with their childish notions of romance. They chose to become hollow husks of themselves to make room for the love they could no longer contain, but that’s…that’s not love. It can’t be…right?

So why can’t I stop thinking about the way their fingers intertwined before rigor mortis set in and cemented their bond forever?

I can’t concentrate on anything else anymore. At first it was just a niggling seed of doubt at the back of my mind, but it’s grown so much since then. That image burrowed so deep inside my mind turned its hungry mouth towards the parts of me which were most vulnerable, eating and eating and eating and eating until I could think of nothing else.

I don’t know why I never thought to burn it. Maybe I was worried it would make it worse. Maybe it felt too much like sacrilege. I never read it again after that first time, though I considered it often. It sat on my desk while my other assignments lay scattered around it, disregarded without a second thought. After all, there was no room left in my mind for anything else anymore. Every other passage I tried to read just seemed so…dry. So false. I used to get so invested in the lives of paper people, but now I know what true love is, how could the half-baked notions of romance ever compare?  I tried at first, but by the end I just…stared at it. Waiting.

Maybe if I’d tried to destroy it…Too late now, I suppose. I never let it see the printing presses, but I did let it go in the end. Some old man came in asking for it specifically. Something about it being a collectable.

I don’t know how an unpublished manuscript could be considered a collector’s item, and frankly I didn’t ask. I’m not sure if I even really cared about what he’d do with it by that point. Did it bother me that I might be condemning him to share my fate? It doesn’t now, I know that much.

It’s…I was hoping this might help me clear things up, but I just couldn’t see any of it straight. I can’t see anything, anymore. Not really. It may have started in my dreams, but once I let her in…They’re everywhere, now. I saw him in the faces of my colleagues before the press finally let me go… I don’t remember how long ago now. I think the power company cut the power at some point. It doesn’t matter now.

The funny thing is, I really thought they cared about me. They did, at first. I think. It all sort of blurs together, but I remember how they used to talk about me when they thought I couldn’t hear. The nervous looks they’d send me when I zoned out at my desks. Then they staged their first intervention, and I saw it. I saw her. It was the man I saw painted across the features of everyone I knew, in the arches of eyebrows and slants of cheekbones, but it was her I saw reflected in their eyes.

It was her I saw in the mirror, before they ran out of space inside my skull, and the maggots took my eyes…or maybe I imagined that part too.

I’m pretty sure it’s too late for me now, but when I heard about you guys I figured it was worth a shot. I’m full of it. Whatever that feverish contagion that claimed the couple was. That sickly, rotting thing they mistook for love. I can feel it now. I can understand it now and it’s so much. Already I’m on the brink of bursting with it, I think.

I just can’t wait to share.

[raphaelshusband]

i found you | saphael one shot

triggers: mention of kidnapping

The boy ran to the door of the house and knocked on it cheerfully. He waited a long moment, and finally a distraught, crying woman opened the door.

"Good morning! Can Simon play?" The woman shook her head.

"Simon is gone, Raphael. He's gone."

  ***

  Raphael leaned back in his chair in his office, staring at one of the photos on his desk. There were two little boys on it. Both smiling from ear to ear, they hugged each other with their arms. Santiago held back his tears and picked up the photo. He ran his fingertips over the glass.

I will find him! I promise I'll find him! You have my word, Aunt Elaine!

Later he picked up the file, which showed a picture of a little boy. Eighteen years have passed and he still hasn't found him. He put everything down on the desk and rested his head on his hands. However, he made a promise to himself that he would find him and continued his search.

 ***

 Por favor Dios. Ayudame a encontrar a Simon.

 ***

 Raphael Santiago was a three-year-old policeman and, thanks to his determination and faith, rose to the position of sergeant. Ever since he was a child, when he found out that his friend was missing, he persuaded himself and others around him that he would find him. At first, everyone saw it as a fantasy of a child who does not understand the whole situation. But day by day everything grew harder, Raphael pursued his goal with more and more determination. And he got it.

At that point, he was sitting in his office doing paperwork. Suddenly the door banged open and a black-haired man with blue eyes and a tattoo on his neck entered.

"Sergeant Santiago," he began. The Mexican looked up.

"Aspirant Lightwood. I'm listening."

"We have a summons. We received a message about a boy being held by a man. An elderly woman living next door reported the matter," the dark-eyed man moved away from the desk and stood up.

"No procrastinate. We're going," he said firmly as they both left his office. They were also joined by policewomen Lily Chen and sister of aspirant Alexander Lightwood - Isabelle Lightwood.

All four got into the police car. Raphael was tense with nerves. Despite having had many cases, he always felt stress, no matter how serious it was.

They were there fifteen minutes later. The woman who reported the matter came out against them.

"Ah, how good it is that the gentlemen and ladies are here," she wrung her hands. "The boy is here." She pointed a finger at the scratched door of the old house. "Please save the young man. I can't stand him screaming," she shook her head.

"We'll get it sorted" Raphael put his hand on the pistol and pulled it out. "Thank you for reporting. Please come back to yourself. God bless you," he said, waving his hand to make the rest of them follow him into the building.

Santiago took a few deep breaths, then pressed the door handle. They went inside. At first there was silence, then they could hear muffled screams and a male voice.

"I still don't understand you. When you were younger, you were more obedient."

"Stop!" he screamed, pointing his gun at the man. The bound boy looked at him with terrified, teary eyes. "Leave the boy alone!" He screamed again.

"Let him go!" Lily shouted.

"Get down, now!" The man took the pistol out of his pocket, placing it against the teenager's head.

"Try to shoot. The boy will die."

"Put your gun down!" He shouted out. Raphael's hands began to sweat, the matter was serious. "I said put your gun down!" And he fired. The bullet hit the attacker in the wrist, causing him to scream and the weapon flew out of his hand. The boy screamed at the moment of the shot.

Alec rushed to him with the handcuffs, quickly overpowering him along with Isabelle. Santiago walked over to the boy, untied him, and took the rag out of his mouth.

"It's okay, you're in good hands," he said, embracing him. "Get the job done. I'm going out with the boy," he said, and they both went outside, which turned out to be a real challenge.

The brunet's legs were numb, he could barely hold on to them. They refused to obey, he could not raise them. He was emaciated, bruised. Pale, unkempt and dirty. One arm was broken and it was clearly visible. As soon as they left, the boy vomited behind the stone steps.

He started to cry.

The policeman wrapped an arm around him, pulled out a walkie-talkie to contact the rest of the staff.

"It's okay. It's okay. You're safe. You're safe," he repeated. He informed the ambulance about the situation and then helped the boy sit on the stairs. “What's your name?” He brushed his hair back from his face and froze.

Oh, Dios.

"I think.. it's Simon.." he choked out. Tears filled Raphael's eyes. It was him. It was that Simon. His Simon.

"Simon!" He grabbed his shoulders and didn't hold back the salt drops. "Simon! It's me! Raphael! Raphael Santiago! Do you remember me?" He swallowed his tears.

"R.. Raphael?" Simon's thoughts were filled with dim, sluggish visions from his childhood. He and the boy running among the grain and grass. Flying kites and playing with toy cars. "Raphael.." he repeated, his voice breaking.

The Mexican hugged him carefully, stroking his back, and placed a kiss against his greasy hair. They were both in their arms, shaking from crying and choking on tears.

"I.. found you.." Santiago choked out. "I found you.. I kept my word.." He broke into tears. "Gracias, Dios! Gracias!" The rest of the policemen left the building, keeping the torturer almost to the ground.

Later, the sirens of an ambulance and other police cars sounded. Simon suddenly went limp.

"I want to.. sleep.." he stuttered.

"No, no, Simon. Don't fall asleep.." he whispered. "Hold on. You will be taken care of soon," he said. The medics approached with the stretcher and gently placed the boy on them. "I'm going with him," he turned to his friends. "I will inform his mother. And you make order with him, "he condemned the man with disgust, then spat and got into the ambulance.

He took the boy's dry, bony and wounded hand.

"You're safe," he said. "You're not in any danger anymore," he repeated. "Gracias, Dios. Gracias.."

"Raphael.." he croaked. "Don't leave me.." He tightened his fingers weakly on Santiago's fingers.

"I won't leave you," he said. "You have my word" at the hospital, Simon was immediately taken for examination and, unable to contain his crying, he sat down on a chair and dialed Elaine.

"Elaine. I found Simon."

 ***

 He cried with the woman. With a mother who regained her child after eighteen years. Your son. The Mexican hugged her.

"I kept... my word..." he sniffed.

"You kept it.. I don't know.. I don't know how to repay you," she sobbed. Raphael closed his eyes and she hid her face in the hollow of his neck.

 ***

 Raphael looked at him through the glass as he tried to take a step. Simon's mouth was tight and he was clinging to the wooden railings.

It was getting better with the boy. Physically. Mentally - worse. He was afraid to be alone, and he often had nightmares. He always had to have an accompanying person with him. Therefore, he was immediately provided with psychological care, but he was not tormented by it. They were serious, but slow.

"Raphael" began Simon when they were sitting in his room after the last rehabilitation. "Thank you," he said, and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. "Thank you very much. Although I don't know if I will be able to get back to myself because of all that has happened.."

"Of course you will come back to yourself," he replied, stroking his hair. "I will help you with this."

"I would like to thank this woman again. The one who reported the matter to you."

"Of course. I'll take you to her whenever you want."

 ***

 Half a year later

Raphael stretched as he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in," he said, putting the papers back in a drawer. He raised his eyebrows in surprise as Simon entered the office. "Simon, hey. What are you doing here?" He asked. The boy bit his lip as he jumped from foot to foot.

"When do you finish?"

"Tonight," Raphael rested his head in his hands.

“Would you like to go out for dinner?” Raphael smiled.

"Of course. Invitation accepted."

[hwallout]

chemistry - haon

request:  you're literally so cute omg 🥺, and yes he really is talented, one of the best rappers in my opinion actually,could it be a fluff, you being an idol and something like you two are dating and go to a variety show together and everyone just adores you two 🥺

words: 4,2k

genre: fluff

early a/n: omg im so nervous about this, my first request!! i kind of got carried away with the idea and just wanted to write a lot of things for it. it’s also my first time writing an idol and variety show au so i hope i did it justice <3

“Today, we have a special, new couple with us, everyone please welcome them!” The short and chubby woman said, a little nametag hanging off the rough material of her shirt, Jiyoon. Her voice rose slightly at the last word, arms extending and hands pointing towards the two youthful souls that stood not so far away. Slowly, the camera zoomed out and focused on the excited and cheerful appearance of a young couple.

Today, after exactly two weeks of going public about your relationship with Haon, you were guesting on your first “couple” variety show. Needless to say, nervousness taking a toll on your mind, although it wasn’t the first time guesting on this exact show. Being a popular solo artist, you’ve been invited a few times, and so has the rapper beside you, but being here as a couple was a completely different story.

Still, you didn’t let the tension win, and decided to film today’s episode as per usual – with a lot of fun and laughs. Now that your boyfriend was there, the atmosphere was only going to be better. Haon had a huge smile on his face, one that was well matching with yours. His cheeks came up high and made his eyes turn into thin slits. Just seeing him so happy was enough to make anyone’s day perfect.  

The two of you walked hand in hand, bodies moving to the slowly increasing volume of a song playing. It took a long second to realize that it was your recent collaboration – a song that earned a lot of praise and became a hit overnight. Letting the beat glide, your idol persona took over and you started bopping and mouthing the words of the song.  

When in the center of the room, Haon turned around and rapped along, hyping up the whole set. His lyrics flowed perfectly, breathing perfectly in control for the speed he delivered the words. Although so close to the boy, you still envied him, there was still so, so much to learn from such an experienced person. Slowly but surely, he built up the atmosphere for the main part of the collaboration – which were your own lyrics. When they finally started, the set went silent.

Still in the chic persona that the fans adored so much, you rapped along, holding an imaginary mic. At some point, you’d lift up your leg and step on Haon’s thigh, the boy now crouching down and enjoying the show. He looked at you with a cheeky smirk, but the eyes held so much indescribable adoration for the female before him.

Distancing away, and deciding to walk around the room, you showed off the powerful aura that was one of the main reasons you were an instant hit right after debut. The producers and cameramen bopped their heads along. In the last few lines, your boyfriend joined in on the vocal parts and you ran towards him to perform together, satisfied with the smooth execution of the beautiful collaboration.

The song ended with a strong growl and an imaginary mic drop from the both of you. Sounds of amazement resonated through the room, and the MCs appeared in the shot once again, also clapping along.

“Exactly what do we say about this duo? Legendary, exceptional, talented couple” Jiyoon chirped, her voice high but slightly raspy. “Haon and _____ everybody!” Hoseok and Lim, two of the other MCs joined in, chanting names and motioning towards you for the main camera to move and switch focus.

A brief filming cut was made, and suddenly there were a lot of people running around. Some staff came close to check up on makeup, hair, clothes, while the rest prepared the set behind. Haon’s disappearance went by unnoticed, until he came back, holding a fluffy blanket in your favorite color. Unable to control the sudden rush of feelings, you hugged him tight, hearing quiet coos from the production crew.  

Everything was finished in a matter of one minute, and the filming resumed. You were seated now, with the blanket covering up your legs, a warm feeling spreading over the chilly skin. There was a wide smile on your face that only widened as the male beside reached out and held your hand, placing it neatly in his lap.

“First off, welcome! It’s a pleasure seeing some familiar faces again” Lim spoke, deep voice contrasting his soft features. He looked at the boy on your left, then you, a friendly smile on his lips. The man’s cheeks were high and full, making it clear as to why the media often compared him to a mochi. Seeing Lim hosting again allowed you to relax more. You were already comfortable enough to joke and fool around with the older.

“Thank you for inviting us!” Haon replied, glancing to his right quickly as if to catch your reaction. Even after so long, there was that soft smile he fell in love with so long ago.

“It’s always refreshing when couples guest on our show, but I must say I was pleasantly surprised with today’s lineup” Lim continued, and was met with approving hums from the others. You looked down at the blanket, feeling a slight flush overtaking your features.  

“We hope you guys will have fun with today’s segments we prepared just for you” The host continued, flipping over a page on his script and taking a quick glance at it. The announcement had your eyes widening and mouth forming an O shape. Haon was in charge of vocal reactions, an amazed (or perhaps thrilled?) sound leaving his parted lips. You looked at him in excitement, resuming to clapping and legs swaying back and forth.

“Ah, just for us? Stop it, I’m gonna blush” Haon suddenly said, putting a hand to his heart, trying to fake fluster. The tone with which he spoke was high in pitch, almost way too cute for his usual demeanor. You laughed at his little remark, seeing just how comfortable the other was with the older man.

“You know you’re my favorite, how can I not?” Lim replied with the same type of undertone, mimicking the actions of your boyfriend. A slight commotion developed between two friends. You, and the two other hosts, sat on the side, watching with attentive eyes the teasing conversation that went back and forth – providing yet another source of entertainment. The room was quickly filled with laughter and claps of excitement.

Once the noise died out, Hoseok was the one to speak. He was the newest MC of the show, yet he always seemed so professional.  

“As you can see, we always have fun with our guests” He said, taking a glance at the script in his lap. The motion was brief and quick, almost unnoticeable. “And I hope you’ll continue to enjoy the show because we are jumping straight onto the first segment!”

The MCs did their usual transition between introductions and first segments, their strong cheers followed by your own. Adding to points for style, the couple made little hand guns that were pointed at the camera. They were later on edited to shoot colorful hearts.

“So, guys, you’ve been dating for some time now” Jiyoon noted, looking at you with adoring eyes. The woman was in her mid 40s and always loved seeing such young but aspiring people happy together. It was something about these pupils that had so much weight on their shoulders, but found time for each other, that made Jiyoon’s chest feel warm. It’s probably exactly why she loved doing shows like these.

“9 months” You interrupted, trying to hide the excitement that threatened to drip off those words. Honestly, it wasn’t possible to remain emotionless while speaking about your relationship. The boy meant so much to you, that whenever talking or thinking about him, you’d smile.

“9 months, yet only decided to go public recently, how did that go? How did you come about making such an important decision?”  

“Well, we talked about it a lot ever since we got together actually” Haon spoke, the dark strands of hair falling over his eyes, failing to hide the raw emotion in his pupils as he spoke. Out of nowhere, the boy’s hand reached for yours and for the nth time that day, you let him hold it.  

“But I think that just after our collab came out, the fans managed to catch onto that little bit of emotion. That’s when we realized it couldn’t be hidden for much longer. So, as we appeared in more videos together, they kept on picking on all these little looks because you know, it’s impossible to hold all of them in-” The boy laughed, cocking his head to the side. “And then maybe I slipped and posted a certain story...”

“Slipped and went through the effort of putting a filter and timestamp on the picture” You noted, remembering just the exact moment when it all unfolded. It was a late Friday. In quest of breathing some fresh air, you walked out on the balcony, leaned against the balustrade and enjoyed the beautiful view. The full moon greeted you happily. Haon joined you on the balcony shortly after, but his steps were quiet, unalarming of his presence. From his point of view, your form was only a dark silhouette, contrasting the city lights and white city behind it. Without much thought, the boy snapped a picture, turning to instagram story and writing ‘late night inspiration’.

The fans weren’t slow to catch up. Fortunately, it appeared to be a good decision.

“We were with supportive comments even before going official, and when that accident happened, we decided to come clean of it. That’s what he’s trying to present an essay about” You answered the question with a sassy tone, rolling your eyes playfully at the other, earning a laugh from the hosts in return. Your boyfriend tried faking offense at being so nonchalantly interrupted, but the smirk that followed on his expression didn't wait to appear.

“And how did all of this happen? How did the relationship develop?” Lim questioned, raising his eyebrows in a teasing manner.

“Haon was actually there when I auditioned for the company. He wasn’t allowed in by the judges-” You began, trying to vividly recall the exact moment of your first encounter. Haon was shorter back then, hair curly and covering most of his forehead, reaching his eyes even. It was a wonder he was even able to see you audition through those strands and blurry glass. Haon wore baggy clothes, and you remember thinking that his outfit of the day was inspired by homeless fashion.

“Mind you, I was called, but I refused”  

“He refused and then stood right outside, watching the audition. When I came out of the room, he greeted me and we talked while I waited for my friend to finish her audition. We became friends in a span of 10 minutes”

“I knew she was going to get accepted, and when that finally happened, I was there to help her with all the burdens of the trainee period. Especially because she was trained to be a solo artist. We’re similar age, so I was there to be a friend as well as some kind of a tutor. Then, it all slowly developed from that friendship” Your boyfriend spoke with so much pride in his voice and you had to physically restrain from cooing out loud. Despite all effort, there was still a faint tint of red on your cheeks.  

“The two of you are people of great qualities, what are some things that you exceptionally like about each other?” Hoseok questioned, quite interested in the whole topic. He wanted the two of you to talk your hearts out, to show just how happy people could be when together. The man was an idol too and completely aware of how cruel the industry could be, especially towards young artists that tried living life outside of work. Seeing a couple like you, openly talking about the relationship, gave him some faith to believe in.

“She’s extremely selfless. She’ll first make sure everyone is doing fine and everyone’s needs are met before hers. Also, she’s very determined. If this girl has her mind on something, she’s not going to stop working until it’s achieved. If some things meet bumps along the way, she tends to talk herself through it-”  

“I do not!” You tried defending pride, but the words held no truth. It was a trait you were aware but definitely not proud of.

“You do. Personally, I find it cute, especially when you’re working on songs, composing or writing. You hum a melody and then explain it to yourself. Or when your tongue pokes out while concentrated, like this” Haon explained, carefully moving his tongue to place it between his soft lips, resembling a puppy. Although called out, you found the situation to be a great source of even more entertainment. Deciding to tease the boy further, you squinted and leaned in.

“No I don’t?”

“Yes, you do, exactly like this” Your boyfriend repeated the action, turning around so you could observe from different angles. Unfortunately for him, there was no affirmative reaction, and you only resumed staring at him. At this point, the MCs caught onto the game and started giggling silently, hands covering their mouth and trying to prevent the sounds from escaping.

“How? Can you please demonstrate again I didn’t see it” Just then, the façade broke and your voice pitched up at the end. A sneaky laugh slipped just in between the last two words. The boy looked at you seriously, taking a second to process the situation before gasping. His head shook in disapproval while everyone around laughed loudly. Your shoulders shook with so much power that they managed to throw you off balance and off the chair – almost. Almost, because just like always, the protective and reassuring side of your boyfriend was there to steady your form. With an appreciative look, you silently thanked him. Just a few more moments passed before you were answering to Hoseok’s question too.

“Haon... he’s very outgoing, to the point where I have to mentally prepare for whatever might happen tomorrow. He’s always doing something, always busy with something. Also, he loves to gift and surprise people, with small pieces of affection or big extravagant plans”

“Haon likes to interrupt me mid writing to listen to his songs and I really can’t complain about that because I get to hear all of the songs in their raw, original format” You tried to do the boy justice, although it is extremely hard to do so using plain, simple words. Your feelings went further than any sentence could ever portray.

“He’s very clingy and loves to show affection at any moment possible” To prove the point, you pointed towards the other hand that was securely in his. The hosts cooed at the sight, and instead of pulling back, Haon only caressed your fingers carefully.

“He likes to switch between English and Korean a lot, thank god that I understand him, for we’d definitely not be able to communicate properly if I didn't”  

Truthfully, it was possible to go on for days about your boyfriend. It was that huge space the boy had in your heart that held so, so many reasons for why it loved him. Deeming that the show wasn’t an appropriate place for your heart to write love letters, you decided to stop there, ending the presentation with a slight nod and look at the ground. The hosts took a few seconds to drink up this beautiful confession, before agreeing on moving on to the next segment.

“For every couple, communication and understanding are very important, right?” Jiyoon started, looking around as if to gauge reaction. Humming and nodding along, you agreed with her statement. She flipped the pages of the script, a little more obvious than Hoseok, and continued the speech. “Those who are close can understand each other without words, even, so that’s exactly what our first game is going to be about”

As if on que, Lim ran towards the production crew to pick up a a stack of papers. All of them had something written on them, but thanks to his broad form, the words were hidden from sight. Hoseok took it upon himself to explain the game, saying you’ll be explaining words to each other using only your body. In the first round, Haon will be the one describing, while you guess, and in the second, vice versa. Six points and above were considered a win, there were two passes and one minute per round.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, we have a collective sum of three braincells” Your boyfriend spoke, realizing that such a game maybe wasn’t one of his strongest fields. Laughing quietly while walking towards your position, you listened to the funny exchange between him and Jiyoon.

“Three work better than none” The woman tried encouraging the boy, patting him softly on the back.

“The problem is all three of them are hers” Haon replied, a teasing tone noticeable in his words. The older giggled, pushing him softly towards his own position, shaking her head while doing so. Lim stood a few steps behind you, holding the papers high above his head so the boy describing could easily see the words. The countdown began and in a matter of three seconds, you were thrown into the game.

A minute passed by way too quick for your liking. It was as if you’ve only had enough time to properly think about two of the terms the other was mimicking, when in fact you’ve managed to do quite well. Succeeding on guessing explosion, roller coaster and cute, with a pass on police officer, you thought you’ve done well enough. For the first round, you were very proud of the both of you. Now the team only needed to get three more right, to win the game.

Unfortunately, this word set appeared to be a lot harder than the last. Still, somehow, with incredulous amounts of effort and teamwork, you’ve managed to succeed on cloud, phoenix and leaf with a pass on machine. Hearing someone yell “PASS” sent both youngsters into overdrive.  

Cheers of celebration echoed throughout the wide space, as you all but yeeted yourself across the room. Succeeding appeared to be a huge accomplishment, even though it was just a simple game. You ran across the studio, occasionally throwing glances at the rest. Haon was wiggling his body like a spaghetti, making weird noises to emphasize his happiness. Once in arms reach, he lifted you off the ground and spun around. As a succession gift, the pair was gifted a Korean beef set, that managed to increase their already huge amount of happiness.

The next segment was calmer than the last. The MCs discussed a little bit more of your life and daily routines, still curious about how you were managing everything. They brought up some funny pictures and videos you’ve posted together in the past two weeks, and listened to the stories behind them – especially the video where you were running away from a flock of angry ducks at a local park, all while Haon was sneakily laughing and recording. Or the one where he was trying to make a certain type of pastry and managed to completely drown himself in flour. Of course, the picture you snapped then was immediately posted on Instagram.

When the hosts introduced the next game, your interest was immediately earned. Although alone, it actually was something you’ve practiced before, therefore doing it with your boyfriend shouldn’t be that challenging.

The explanation was brief and clear. You will be shown a yoga pose for exactly half a second and will then have twenty to recreate it as accurately as possible. Two executed poses are a success.

Apparently, this was supposed to showcase another side of your teamwork and compatibility. Just how the hosts imagined the game to prove your compatibility was beyond the couple, but as long as you had fun, nothing else mattered.

Feeling a rush of confidence from the last game, you stood up and approached the little screen that will be displaying the poses. Haon joined in and you were shown the first picture not long after. A gasp left your lips.

“Tell me I didn’t see that well” You whispered, surprise evident both in your voice but also eyes. Seeing your confused face, the boy was ready to explain, but upon noticing the clock already ticking down your precious twenty seconds, he realized there was no time for it.

“Unfortunately, you did, now hurry!” He said, already moving to mirror the pose of the man on that picture. It was easy for him to hurry, when his part of the pose was way easier. Carefully approaching him, you stood on his foot with yours, then looked back.

“I swear if you drop me-”

“Wouldn’t be the first time now, would it?”

“Just please don’t drop me this time” You pleaded, letting Haon grab the other leg by the ankle and slowly lift it up. Thanks to the idol training, you were quite flexible so the boy easily lifted your leg in the wanted position. Crossing yourself, you dared to push forward, screaming when the force on the ankle pulled you into a secure position and prevented the fall from happening. At that moment, your heart beat faster than ever. Extending arms forward, the pose was finished and you listened to the last few seconds tick away.

The second one seemed to not have put you in a wishful position either, but it was easier than the last one. You took the black shoes off while Haon executed the downwards dog, strengthening his back so you could easily climb up. Shifting all weight on strong arms and stepping backwards (and carefully) on Haon’s back, you stopped only when you reached his hips and were folded into a 90-degree angle. Once again, the clock ticked away, the MCs screaming ‘PASS’ and coming over to assist you coming down.  

It was only easy yoga, yet the both of you gasped hard for air afterwards. A weak fist of celebration was risen into thin air, as you sat down cross legged, still somewhat dizzy and disoriented. The camera made sure to zoom in everyone’s face, from different angles, eager to catch raw reactions. Haon on the other hand, although out of breath, was able to talk and stand up. He decided to go grab water for you, commenting on the experience while walking.

“I don’t know how it showed our compatibility, but it for sure proved how out of shape we are if we managed to get out of breath like this”  

You were given two minutes to calm down and have makeup checked (for the nth time that day), before the shoot continued. For the next, and at the same time last segment, you were seated again, speaking with the MCs about different goals and future plans. They allowed you to be as cliché and cute as possible, listening to the long bucket list of things you wanted to do together. Lim took a teasing approach and asked if you had any plans about the future wedding, to which your face flushed and turned a bright red shade. You were still pretty young, and there were a lot of things both had to experience and achieve before settling down; but it would be a lie to say that such thoughts haven’t crossed your mind. Haon decided to play along and replied with a laugh, saying that once it happens, all three of them will be invited.

The show wrapped up in a beautiful atmosphere. You were asked to perform another one of your collaborations, which was a slower, ballad song. Your hands stayed intertwined throughout the whole performance, only letting go at the last few lines. Then, you raised one arm up, meeting Haon’s just above your head, succeeding at forming a lovely heart.

The director yelled ‘CUT’ and the filming finished. Politely bowing to every one of the show’s staff, you walked away from the set, proudly holding the big set of Korean beef.

The next week, when the episode officially aired, you were nervous checking the reviews, still unsure how such a wide audience would react to it. Thankfully, as the two of you sat comfortably on the bed, in each other’s embrace, scrolling down the comment section, you couldn’t find a single negative remark. There were two million views already, and ten thousand comments, all of them filled with praise, delight and support.

“They’re nations new couple!”

“Look just how cute they are!”

“Their interactions are so precious; their chemistry is so strong!”

“Haonnie, we know you’re going to take good care of our angel!”

“They’re so close... I wish I had someone as precious as she does T.T”

And maybe, just maybe, that was all you had to see to finally experience full happiness with the boy your heart loved more than anything ever.

A/N: Here it is! My first request! Thank you so much for requesting and giving me a chance to write such a scenario <3 Also thank you for introducing me to Haon, i’ll keep up with him from now on  <3 Hope you enjoyed reading this!

[sfiddy]

So Bad

For @academialynx , who made a donation to her local food bank in return for a fic!  This is a college AU, moderately prof/student (though the theme is that they DON’T break the rules) boatloads of yearning, and janky building maintenance that leads to getting locked in a closet.  She asked me to consider the Brandon Colbein song So Bad.  Which I did.  :)

Thank you, Dear!  Here we go!

Rated T

On AO3

On FF

On Tumblr!  (keep reading!)

Another champagne cork popped and a delighted cheer spread through the room.  Glasses, plastic cups, and hastily drained coffee mugs were refreshed and the party carried on.  Theirs was not a large music department, so to have attracted a fresh, exciting, multi-talented composition and collaborative piano specialist with a few international awards, one ‘early career’ grant and another from the National Endowment for the Arts meant their modest program was about to gain a little fresh clout at interdepartmental tenured faculty meetings.

“Congratulations again, Erik!”  Dr. Nadir Khan hauled Erik into a vigorous handshake and pumped for a full three seconds.  

Erik winced.  He’d be hamfisting the keys tomorrow if they kept this up.  “Thank you, Dean Khan.  It’s an honor to join as a full professor.”

“I am Nadir to you, and don’t forget it.”  Nadir refilled Erik’s plastic cup and tapped his department coffee mug against it, sloshing their champagne into frothy heads.  “It’s hard to believe it’s been five years, Erik!  You cost me a bet, I’ll have you know.  I didn’t think you’d stay after you had to teach that semester of History of Rock and Roll for non-majors.”

The lantern-jawed oboe professor laughed.  “Or the infamous Intro to Music Theory.”

“No, no,” disagreed Umbaldo Piangi, the portly voice teacher.  “When I went on sabbatical to Teatro La Fenice and you gave him The Chamber Music Outreach Project and graduate tutoring.  No warning!”  Even the big man’s clucking tongue was musical.  “But, Piangi is back, no?  I will cut back my performance hours and take back all the lessons and weekends and let Dr. Erik Devereaux return to his writing!”

“Actually,” Erik said, and the room stilled.  “The only part I disliked was the public part.  I never minded the private instruction.  If you would like to split the load, I’m happy to keep the instructional portion while you handle the tours, performances, and...outreach?”  He suppressed the grimace well enough.

Piangi, Italian down to his fine shoes, let out a whoop and grabbed Erik in a hug so tight it pressed his ribcage and nearly dislodged his delicate porcelain mask from it’s fine wire and leather fittings.

“Ah, my partner now!  I will call donors and show off the little tweeting songbirds with my lovely Carlotta while you teach them not to call for worms!  A toast!”  Piangi held up his plastic cup once again.  

Erik accepted a toast that crackled the edge of his plastic cup and hoped for something new and shiny to distract them.  Or for the lights to suddenly flicker and fail as they were prone to do, along with randomly closing doors in the terribly laid out office and work spaces.  The college had access to talent pipelines that the underfunded and neglected department had not been able to tap.  Their aggressive recruitment of him was a last ditch effort for change before the tiny group was relegated to a four piece for the university reagent’s cocktail brunch and a marching band for the far-better funded football team.

“To Dr. Devereaux!”

With a conspiratorial grin, Erik drained his cup and winked at Piangi.  “To the songbirds.”

…

Tenure in hand, Erik started his campaign.  Once he ditched the worst teaching credits to lecturers and adjuncts, he could focus on recruiting.  Specifically, to score a few respected but not-yet-headliner talents.  Emerging performers without a good gig had few options and the status and modest stipend to be a ‘visiting artist’ might be more attractive than the floating gulag of a cruise ship.  

A few excellent but relatively unknown performers could teach and perform, receive some finishing, and get quickly farmed out into the world.  The reputation-building move would be pricey, but no one gets paid dividends before investing.

His development grant would cover three such artists.  He got more than fifty applications.  Erik rubbed his eyes under the mask.  It was a good thing he never had plans-- it would be a long weekend.

…

The old music labs building had settled over the years and gained what the senior faculty referred to as ‘personality’.   Erik took this to mean ‘genially hazardous’.  No amount of facility requests or complaints brought the doors and keys division to do maintenance.

He was a quick learner though, and only got locked in his workroom twice before catching the door with his foot became second nature.   He even set a flaking brick, plucked from a neglected flower bed outside, in the corner by the door and kicked it against the frame as a doorstop.  Every time he came to his workroom, a narrow converted closet with a work bench and packed with shelves of manuscripts, music, errant repair kits and recording equipment, he would hit the outside light switch, unlock the door, step in, catch the door, then kick the brick.  

Switch, step, catch, kick.  His shoes were gaining new wear marks.

After kicking the brick into place, Erik opened his laptop and went over the last files.  He’d asked the department admins to strip out the audio files to just the audition pieces and remove identifying details from the fifty applications.  If he was going to invite talent, their first hurdle would be their musicianship.  Once he’d culled the herd to ten, he’d submitted his picks to the dean to select the three finalists.  Now they needed invitations.  Two vocalists and a classical guitarist made the cut and he spent the next few hours getting more acquainted with their files and ignoring the pings of his filling inbox.

At least it was just his inbox.  No one came to the music labs and his closet if they could help it.

If he was honest, no one came to meet him in person if they could help it.

…

Most performers were beautiful.  Entire websites and product lines were devoted to skincare for singers, makeup tutorials, look books and wardrobe consulting.  Erik’s particular variety of deformity would stand out in any circumstances, but in an entire department stuffed with the striking, stunning, and unconventionally glorious, he bordered on eyesore.  Even Piangi could command a room with his generous, rosy smiles and booming laugh.  

The mask was the best combination of memorable and functional he could muster.  Yes, surgery was an option but who signed up for years of unnecessary pain and the risk of infection?  He had better things to do.  

Like meet with his new visiting artists.  

The classical guitarist had supple wrists and forearms like Popeye.  His rolled cuffs drew the eye to the action while his cleverly knotted scarf kept you looking at his face, framed by artfully mussed hair.  

“We’re looking forward to your first concerts and hope you’ll consider collaborations with local programs.”

The baritone had a one in a million voice.  How he hadn’t been snapped up for opera yet was a mystery but Erik supposed it was his poor presence.  When you had the goods, you still had to sell them, and the young man’s love of neon, bad hair, and questionable repertoire (pin the tail on a Hal Leonard page) needed polish.  His work was shockingly precise and sounded like he had a cathedral in his mouth.

“Our faculty and staff are a rich resource for young performers and are always eager to assist.  We often work in parallel with the communications department and local professionals to prepare our artists for the culture and community as well as the stage.”

The soprano was the risk.  The recording had been largely boilerplate and her prior experience thin.  The reason she got in was a one-point-two second pause in her audition tape.  It was the silence that told Erik she had chops.  

Imagine, a soprano unafraid of silence.  It had been late in the weekend when he selected her and had not yet been able to examine the head shot.

“I… um...”

“Yes, Dr. Devereaux?”

“Welcome, Miss Daaé.”

…

The visiting artists would survey classes, provide demonstrations and guest lectures, and appear at university events, auditions, and generally get the word out that the department was shifting to a growth phase.  That was the official description.  Unofficially, there would be a mountain of effort to make each emerging artist a shot on goal for the department.  Recording deals, major and paid appearances, and successful auditions all counted toward the tally.  

Guitar was not Erik’s forte, and as much as he could contribute to the baritone’s look and polish, Erik had cultivated a far more… refined profile than the young man aspired to.  Erik maintained collars sharp enough to cut bread and a spotless sheen on his porcelain mask.  Right now, Dean Khan aspired to cut the young man’s mullet tail off.  

“Excellent, Miss Daaé, right on time.”  Erik slid the fall board up and they prepared to work.  She understood how to modulate her tone, how to select the emotional pitch to match the song, to contrast with it for effect.  She explored her range and willingly failed to find her borders.  It all made for an excellent student.

It was the quiet that made her breathtaking.  The anticipation of her.  Tenths of seconds that tightened the chest and made a quiver run through the blood.  Not often, only when it mattered, and only when it would matter enough to do so.  

When he could stand it no more, he asked her about it.

“I’m sorry, I can try to stop.”

“I didn’t ask you to stop, I asked when you started doing it.”

She considered him, her ribbons of curling hair twisting as she shifted.  “When my father was sick.  I could feel the need for silences because he couldn’t talk anymore.  It just felt… right.”

Erik nodded.  “Again.”

…

She’d been a late bloomer.  A ghost on the scene and at least five years older than the rest of the sopranos at her stage.  It also meant she hadn’t spent her entire high school and college career belting Broadway in the recital rooms, building nodes on her vocal chords.  

They finished late one night and he walked her to her car.  “So what did you do for practice?”

She pinked under the parking lot lights.  “I, um… waited tables at an Italian restaurant.  You know, where your server might sing opera when they bring you breadsticks?”

Erik nodded.  “Parmesan and Puccini?”

Bless her, she giggled.  “Bellinis and Bellini.  A few really knew when they were hearing but most just wanted to hear Nessun Dorma because they heard it on Youtube.  I managed to get a few singing jobs out of it but I mostly just waited tables.”  They stopped at her car but she hadn’t reached for her keys yet.  “I was a bartender and the second understudy for a Gilbert and Sullivan society when I saw your announcement.”

“Their loss,” Erik said.  He left off the second half.

“Thanks.”  Christine hesitated.  “I didn’t expect to be accepted, so… thanks.”  

Something changed in the breeze.  Something cool and soft in the night air mixed with the gold light pouring down from the lights.  It highlighted the curls that spiralled out of control around her neck as she tilted her head just so.  

It was just a moment, a funny thump that ricocheted in his chest at her upturned face, her soft smile.  Maybe her eyes flicked down, maybe her sharp inhale had a little catch in it.  Maybe it was the way her lip twitched, but a red flag suddenly waved in Erik’s head and he stepped back carefully.  He had a powerful fear of heat and burns.

“Yes, of course.  The, uh, department was very happy to offer the opportunity.”

She blinked.  “Of course.  Well, thanks for the great session and walking me to my car.  Have a nice evening, Erik.”

Christine drove away and Erik stood in the parking lot for some minutes after her taillights had faded.  He imagined it.  Surely, he’d taken a friendly conversation the wrong way.  She wasn’t his student, strictly speaking, but he had influence over her career, which would be just as bad.  

Besides, he had completely misread the whole thing.  Surely.  Women didn’t look up at him like that-- like he would kiss them.  After a walk after dark, telling him about themselves, and looking at him like that.

No one looked at him like... that.

Oh no.

…

She wasn’t strictly his student.  He was her mentor.  Even a brief thought made it obvious and completely inappropriate.  Did she think it would improve her opportunities?

Erik swallowed.  No, if that was the game she wouldn’t have backed off.  Surely he’d misread the situation.

…

They brewed tea together.  She remembered his favorite oolong.

…

He saw a cascade of curling hair on his way to the post office and his heart leapt.

It wasn’t her.  The disappointment was too confusing to examine.

…

His mouth went dry when her sweater slipped from her shoulder.  Then he knocked the music from the stand.

She smiled and helped him pick up the sheets.  

There were freckles on her shoulder.

... 

Five months into the visiting artist tour and Piangi had the concert hall packed for their first performances.  Franco the guitarist, who preferred just the one name, would play a twenty minute set, followed by the baritone Burton Armstrong, as baritoney a name as Erik had ever heard, then Christine, and finally Franco would play again with accompaniment.  

Erik was content to stay in a tiny box seat far to the side as Piangi introduced each performer.  Franco had gained the stage he deserved, and Burton had been convinced to get a proper haircut and suit, and sang a particularly impressive Russian ballad set.  

Christine was introduced and settled onto the stage.  She was radiant in dark blue, and decorated her baroque set with agility.  From his perch, Erik could as easily imagine her distributing bellinis as gracing an opera stage.  It was not an insult.  After her short set, she nodded and was joined by Burton.  A duet?  

She looked up and found him, up in his perch.  She nodded, and the two launched into a series of excerpts from Semele, Handel’s somewhat neglected tale of a torrid affair between a mortal woman and the god, Jupiter.

Their gazes met as she sang.

O Jove! In pity teach me which to choose,

Incline me to comply, or help me to refuse!

The baritone thundered.

Too well I read her meaning,

But must not understand her.

If Erik’s ears heard the rest of the concert, he could not recall it later.

…

Dean Khan adjourned the faculty meeting.  “Oh Erik, if you have a moment?”

They waited until the room was cleared and Nadir closed the door, then casually looked over the remaining pastries.  “Excellent concert last month.  The work with Burton is certainly paying off.”  

Erik leaned against the table.  “His socks were bright green, but we felt it was a workable compromise.”

“Franco is excellent in front of the crowd.  Has he met the flamenco dancers yet?”

“I put in a call.  I think he’s going to their weekly meeting next Thursday.”

“Marvelous.  Let me know how that goes when you hear, won’t you?”

“Of course.”  Erik felt his chest tighten the longer Nadir perused the snacks and chose to tear off the bandage himself.  “Anything else?”

“There is, in fact,” Nadir did not look up from the muffins.  “Christine’s performance was exceptional.  Truly filled with passion.”

Erik tried to take a sip of coffee but his cup was empty.  He faked it.  “She’s a wonderful artist.”

“Yes.  I couldn’t help but notice--” Nadir paused over the croissants, then passed them over to examine the cookies.  “You two seem to have a unique and strong mentor-trainee relationship.”

“Thank you.”  It had not been a question.  There was nothing here… yet.  “We work well together.”  

“I’m glad to hear that.  The program you’ve created is admirable for it’s transparency and integrity.”

“I agree.  Thank you for noticing.”

Nadir looked up with a slight nod, then selected a macadamia cookie.  “I’m sure the remaining six months will fly by, Erik.”

He had no idea how to respond.

...

Six months.  There were six months left in the visiting artist term.  There were more sessions, a mini tour, and a series of small concerts meant to showcase the new talent the department had ‘produced’.  

Six months of lies, pretending he was misunderstanding something.  Pretending he didn’t notice the way she was at his side and on his mind.  Then she would leave him to the dull, overworked life he’d made for himself in the hopes of making a name for himself while simultaneously avoiding attention.  More lies, but easier to swallow.  

Her voice came from the hallway.  “Erik?  I’m heating up some water, would you like tea?”

“Is it the one you brought?”

A light laugh.  Sparkling.  “Of course.”

He dropped his work and grabbed his cup.  “Be right there.”

…

A very successful fundraiser was wrapping up on the top floor of the performing arts center.  It had a view over the campus, the nice side, and the glow of downtown caught the streaking rain on the tall glass walls.  

The donors had been generous, delighted with the new features of the program and the willingness to be accessible.  Erik stayed to the side, avoiding the center of the room where Piangi and his wife Carlotta took up residence.  Nadir circulated the room, nudging him out from time to time for a refill and to participate.  When forced to do so, Erik sloshed some middling red wine into his glass and let himself slip into Christine’s gravity for a few minutes before drifting away again.  

He could feel her gaze.

The cocktail party was to end at eleven-thirty, and by then nearly all the guests had left.  The last ones were rushed  out and Piangi hurried to the bar.  

“Open season!” 

A quick crush to the bar and every open bottle was ‘liberated’ to the long-suffering exhibits.  Christine topped off her glass and passed the bottle to a fellow soprano, hardly twenty years old, and the two laughed and kicked off their heels.  Piangi and Burton laughed over an earlier flub and the cello player, finally able to pack his instrument and relax, demanded and received a full glass.

Erik tipped back a hearty, warm swallow and emerged from the hinterlands.

“Oh, hi Dr. Devereaux!  Did you just get here?” teased Carlotta.  “Your legend only grows the more you hide.”

“All part of my devious plan,” he conceded.  Christine’s giggle mingled with the laughs of her peers.  “If you’ll excuse me.  Piangi, brilliant as always.”

“Same to you, Erik!  We plan many parties now, no?”

Easing his way towards the mirth, Erik relaxed.  There were plenty of others around, and this was just the after party to a long dog and pony show.  Listen to the pretty songbirds and throw money at the program, invitation only.  They all deserved drinks after three hours of that.

Christine was plucking a pin from her hair.  She shook the curls loose.  “Hi Erik!  God, I’m so glad to see you.”

“Oh?”

She held up a bottle.  “Yeah, you need a refill.”  

It had been a long night.  These events could be tricky to navigate.  Sometimes there was politics, other times business rivals.  More often, donors expected special privilege and access in exchange for their checks, as if the last hundred years of progress meant nothing.  The way a few of them had looked at Erik, maybe it didn’t.  

He let her pour some white wine over the dregs of his red.  Improvised rosé.  “Everything go okay?”  

“Good enough.  I think I have some auditions, and some stuff nearby might open up for me.”

“That’s great.  Who with?”

A nice chorus.  A solid baroque group.  Both could springboard to bigger things.  A few bigger things were here.  

“What’s bigger?”  She asked, her eyes dark and soft.  

He had not meant to speak, and now he rushed his words.  “Things!  Choirs, operas.  There’s a few small opera troupes and there’s churches that need choral directors that know how to work with organ and piano.”

She sniggered.  “Organs.”  The other soprano dissolved into giggles.

Erik pulled out his phone.  Clearly neither was driving tonight.  He absently tallied up his glasses and admitted he wasn’t either.

“Do you play the organ, Erik?”

“Yes.”

Christine stepped closer and, on pure instinct, Erik put his arm around her as she turned her head to speak.

“Can I watch?”  

His collar was tight.  He pulled up the app and ordered a car.

They ran through the rain, more than sprinkled, less than soaked.  Plenty wet to shiver from the chill of the driver’s exuberant air conditioning, though.  Between giggles and poorly composed directions, they dropped off the other soprano who wobbled successfully to her door before their driver sped away.  Christine did not shift away to the other seat, but leaned into him, tucking herself against his side.  

The driver glanced in the rear view mirror, then looked away.

She was cool and smooth.  Her loosened curls had tightened from the wet and tickled his neck and brushed against his mask.  

Her hand on his thigh.  Erik said nothing.  If he was silent there was a kind of deniability, or denial at least, of what was happening.  If he could deny that her fingernails caught on the inner seam of his trousers, then she could deny that his hand was firmly planted at her waist, holding her close.

And if she could deny that, then she could also deny that her nose bumped his chin, her ragged breath loud in his ears.  And they could both deny that their lips grazed, a not-kiss somehow more intimate than if their lips moved and pulled at each other.  Like her singing, it was the pause that made your breath catch and your insides tug.

“What number?”

Dashboards lights reflected in her eyes.  “That one,” she said, and cautiously settled.  The driver pulled forward and Christine unbuckled.  

“Good night, Erik.  See you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Christine.”

The driver glanced in the rearview.  Erik looked down.  “Sorry.”

The driver shrugged.  

One more month.

…

He was hiding.  He’d been hiding for weeks; stopped looking for her, stopped even wondering where she was or if she was alone.  There was no way to be near her without the pretense of a piano that wouldn’t leave him shaking.  No way to think about her without wanting.

He was Erik, a composer, a conductor, performer, designer of auditory spaces and translator of music.  He was a collaborative pianist and vocal specialist.  He’d given everything to music and the service of it, the delivery of it.  He didn’t need this. He’d never had this.

No one ever offered.  So he’d found fulfillment elsewhere, until now.

Erik hunched over his work, safely tucked into his corner of the music labs building.  Between grading, senior thesis submissions, revisions to his own publications, and a request for a letter of recommendation, he could be plenty busy late into the night with no need for anyone to--

“Hello?  Erik?”

Erik snatched at his mask and settled it.  He’d been found.  Time to lie, except he can’t lie to her.

“Can I help you with something, Christine?”  He gathered a stack and stood.  She met him by his door.

“Well, yeah,” she paused, blocking his path momentarily before stepping aside.  “I need your signature on my visiting artist release.  And another on my endorsement for my new job.”

Erik hefted his armload to the work closet.  “I’m sure they look forward to meeting you.  Come on.”  He unlocked the door and held it open, then followed behind her, hitting the light switch with his elbow before catching the door on his foot, then he kicked the brick into place.  He had to hold the stack to keep it from spilling across the work table.

She handed him the forms.  Erik moved to a span of clean tabletop and started scanning the release form.  Government agency boilerplate to satisfy the grant was mixed with flowery language so no one would suspect they were anything but artists.  Yesterday Franco had brought Burton’s form-- yep, this was Christine’s.  So on and so forth.

Erik had just finished scratching out his signature when he heard a familiar scrape.

“Why on earth do you keep a-”

Click.

“--brick?”

Erik pressed the heel of his hand into his chin.  

“Are we… locked in?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”  A faint rumble vibrated in the walls.  “I don’t suppose that was just… construction?”

Erik let out a mirthless laugh.  “There were storms brewing earlier.  Besides, does this building look like they work on it?”

“Not really.”

Another rumble, louder, and the light fixture jittered.  

Christine finally took a deep breath.  “Have you been avoiding me?”

“No!  Yes.  I don’t know.”  He touched his hairline, recapped a pen.  “We crossed a line.  I had to get back behind it and I couldn’t if we…”  His hands skated across the table top nervously.  

“Is this about being my mentor?”

Erik barked an ugly, bitter laugh.  “What else?  God, you just, out of nowhere, with your smiles, and the way you look at me, and sing to me, and the Semele…” Erik’s skin grew tight as he recalled the cocktail party.  He turned, face growing hot beneath the porcelain and his throat tightening.  He was a ruin.

“--and the touching and wanting and you’re… you’re just going to leave!  I’m a fucking idiot!”

On cue, an extended, throaty roar of thunder rattled the stone and brick until the bare bulb above could suffer no more.  With a loud pop, the narrow room went dark.  They both scuffled in the dark until they had hold of something sturdy.

“Erik?”

He was embarrassed.  He was frustrated.  “What.”

“You need to sign the other form.”

“Want to get away that bad?  Fine.”  He reached for a desk lamp and tried to turn it on.  He flipped the switch furiously.  The power was out.

“Here,” Christine held up her phone and lit the screen.  Her screensaver was… them? Beside a piano together?

Erik snatched a pen from the table and slashed his name.  “There.  Just search for facilities or call the university police.  They can unlock the door.”

“Erik, did you even look at it?”

“Why bother.”

She snorted at him.  “God, you’re so blind.”

“The lights were out.”

“Fine, you want to be a jerk, be one, but at least look at where I’m taking a job before you decide to walk.”

She lit up her phone once more and he glared at the page like it was staring at his mask.  He tracked the offer and terms until he reached the party names and…

“You took a job at… a middle school?  Here?”  He looked up into the dim light.  “You’re not leaving?”

“Meet the new grade six to eight choir director.  Go Scotties.  And now you have no direct influence over my career.”

Her screensaver dimmed, and before it went dark, Erik could make out a flash of their faces, turned to each other.  He wondered if Nadir had seen this moment, because they looked as passionate as lovers despite being feet apart.

The room went black again, and he could hear her moving.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“That much has been apparent.  What do you know?”

She was close.  Close enough to feel the way she shifted the air.  “I know way too much about motif design, lyric phrasing--”

Closer.  “Go on.”  Her hips were near his. 

“Harmonic theory, vocals”

 “Can attest.”  Her fingertips were at his jawline, tracing his mask.  “I thought it would be cold.”

“It’s been on my face all day.  Early Romantic era competition and,” his voice scraped over gravel, “that I want you. So bad.”

Her kiss was her reply.  Erik’s hands flew around her as she pivoted to the table with him, dragging his mask upwards.  He gasped as cool air brushed his face, followed by light, curious fingertips and her hot mouth.  Erik knocked over the stack of papers and files with a satisfying splatter.

“Is that light over there?” she asked, dragging her lips from his.  “Around that cabinet door?”

“What?” he panted.  “I thought that was a panel.”

She pushed him off gently, peering up at the wall.  “Right there, see?”

Sure enough, there was a thin line of light.  It was a hidden door with a magnetic latch. 

“They can’t keep the regular door from locking you in but they put a trick door at the back?”  Erik complained as he climbed through awkwardly.  Very awkwardly.  Her lips were red and swollen.

“Let me grab my things and we can get out of here.”

Erik checked his watch.  “First, we’re turning in your forms.”

“It’s almost five!”

“We’ll make it if we run.”

Panting, they caught the dean just as he was packing up to leave.

“Erik, Christine?  Are you alright?  That was some storm we--”

Erik shoved the forms at him.  “Yep. Terrible storm.  Here.”

“Indeed, Erik.  Why, your hair is a mess and I’ve never seen your shirt untucked.”

“Big wind.  Yep.  Almost hit by lightning.  Here, time stamp?”

“Miss Daaé, you may want to adjust…”

“For God’s sake just take the stupid form so we can go!” Christine shouted.

Nadir laughed and scanned the forms.  “I don’t want to see you until Monday, Erik.  You better be late.”

He didn’t make it in until Wednesday.

...