#i was going to do something very very important to me but some unexpected bills ate up all the money for it

[godgavemenoname]

really in a low place today...

[kurogane2512]

Evening, so about coquelic uhh I'd thought of a scenario when she doesn't like to believe that chief(fem) was actually treating her sinners with care including garofano and sumire as she thought that the chief of bureau only captured sinners to use as tools though that change when she witness it herself and got the same treatment as well when she got captured by chief which days went by she begun to feel comfortable and always tease chief whenever she likes which her liking for the chief deepen more resulting her desire for the chief only grew wider. So I guess this might be nsfw when her desire grew because she's having wild thoughts about chief whenever she focuses her gaze on chief working on her office desk and coquelic was scanning every part like her hands, face and stuffs. So yeah that's the scenario I had in mind I hope it's not confusing and I tried my best to explain it🥲

A very cute scenario anon, I actually wanted to write something like this for Coquelic ever since her event <3

18+ CONTENT

Game: Path to Nowhere

Characters: Coquelic x fem!reader (Chief)

Type: Smut and fluff (kissing, fingering, bath sex)

A/n: Let me see how many of you recognize this scene ;)

The Garden may not exist anymore, but its flowers were alive and blooming. Coquelic knew her lovely flowers had found their new home, but could she really rest easy that they had been left in the right hands? She remained suspicious and uncertain ever since Sumire left, but when she saw Sumire go to the ends of the world for you, she knew you were special. And then there was Garofano, almost transforming into a monster and sacrificing herself for you. Both of them did everything to find you, to protect you and to care for you.

The Mentor wasn't easily convinced you deserved such importance from her flowers, just what was so special about you that they couldn't stay away? Coquelic had to find the answer; fortunately, it did not take long for her to find it and she was still alive to experience some of it herself. A considerable amount of time had passed ever since her arrest, her days in the MBCC were boring for the most part, but she was glad to see her flowers were living well here. She was proved wrong about you, now the Mentor wanted what you gave to her students.....

You just finished dealing with the exhausting chores today and were planning to catch up on the pending paperwork left behind since you went to the Rust, but it seems a certain someone had other plans for you. A knock was heard on your office door but before you could reply, the door already swung open and an unexpected guest walked in.

"Oh, you are still working so late at night?~" it was Coquelic, the infamous Mentor of the Garden.

"Well, anyways. The bath bombs you bought last time were good so I bought some more myself. I'm about to take a bath, come and help me prepare it."

"Uh.... help you prepare your bath? Are you sure you want me to do that?"

"Why not? In this place, you are the only one who understands my preferences. Now, make haste."

"W-Wait, I have work to do. There's all these bills from the logistics department, field mission reports, analysis from the hypnotherapists, test results from the researchers an—"

Coquelic sighed in exasperation, "You can't do all of that in one night anyway. Come now, don't waste my time."

You knew it was pointless to argue further, you nodded with a sigh and followed Coquelic towards her personal bathroom and started preparing.

"You know what I want, right? I'm looking forward to see how you perform so don't disappoint me~"

Coquelic smirked and stood at the door quietly, adamant to see you do it all by yourself. You looked around and thought for a moment before starting, "Chilled milk with ice cubes.... water temperature at 45 degrees.... sprinkled with white rose petals..... Then, bath towerls, shower cap and robe.... oh, and the scented shampoo with conditioner...."

Coquelic watched you meticulously prepare the bath, each and every step was done perfectly as she wanted despite her telling you her preferences only once. She was taken aback but had come to realize this was your nature, she couldn't help but feel warmth in her chest as her heart started beating loudly.

"....There are many members of my Garden here in the bureau, right?" Coquelic spoke softly.

"Hm? Yes, there are." you replied without looking at her, still preparing the bath.

"Is everything here arranged by you? The schedules, treatment etc?"

"Uh, for the most part, yeah. I personally approve every document and requirement pertaining to each Sinner, that includes their diagnosis, treatment methods, diet, among other things."

Coquelic nodded then silently walked closer to your figure, her footsteps as silent as the moon, she stopped when she was inches away from you then slowly wrapped her arms around your torso and embraced you from behind. You were caught by surprise feeling her arms sling around you and her body press into you, "C-Coquelic? Is everything okay?"

"....You, perhaps you can really make a difference and change this wretched world."

Your eyes widened at her words then she continued, her voice as soft as silk, "Thank you for taking care of my flowers."

Silence engulfed you both for a while until you spoke, "I.... I just treat every Sinner equally, I want everyone to be well. Your Garden is beautiful.... and so are you."

Coquelic's heart skipped a beat at your words then she chuckled, "Heh~ Never expected to hear such words at my age but I understand, I know my beauty is eternal~"

You chuckled as well then she let go of you and you turned around to face her, but before you could say anything she pulled you down by your chest harness and connected her lips with yours for a quick kiss.

"Let's relax together, Chief. You are tired from working all day, aren't you?~"

Coquelic stepped back with a gentle smile, then her hands moved to the string on her gown to untie it. The pure white satern fabric slid down her body, revealing her perky breasts with light pink nipples. She tied her flowing silver hair in a messy bun then walked towards you and kept her palms on your chest, flirtasiously rubbing them up and down.

"You are staring so much, Chief. Hehe~ I know I'm pretty, that's why you can't keep your eyes off of me. But are you really satisfied with just looking?~"

Coquelic walked towards the bathtub and climbed inside then beckoned her finger at you. You were still quite shocked by the turn of events but more than that, you were definitely turned on from her body. You quickly discarded your own clothes then climbed in the bathtub as well and sat on the opposite edge, directly in front of Coquelic.

"Hmm, you are quite shy, Chief. I thought you were more assertive or.... dominating from the way Sumire and Garofano described you~"

"W-What?! What did they say about me?!"

Coquelic laughed lightly, "Oh, nothing much. Both of them are too infatuated with you to care, they'd accept any form of pleasure you give them~"

Your face flushed at her words and you shyly looked down when you suddenly felt the water move and looked up to see Coquelic crawling towards you.

"But I'm not them...." she straddled your lap with her arms wrapped around your neck, "....I want to see what's special about you, and I'm not easy to satisfy~"

Coquelic's smaller frame looked delicate, you were almost afraid to be rough with her. You gently kept your hands on her hips and pulled her close to initiate a soft yet passionate kiss, her tongue licked your lips and entered your mouth, and you were quick to return the action by swirling your tongue with hers in a heated manner. Soft moans and whines left her lips, sounding too sweet and addicting to you.

Your hands roamed down her thighs and rubbed her skin, making her release the kiss with a soft gasp. You then leaned forward and snuggled into her neck to lick, softly biting and sucking on her fresh. She squirmed, her fingers intertwining in your hair and grasping the strands as she threw her head back, letting you kiss further up to her jaw.

"O-Oh.... Eager to mark me, are you? Mhm.... give me more then, let us stain each other~"

Coquelic hugged you and bit your shoulder, a muffled hiss leaving your mouth and she grinned against your skin then licked the mark. She felt your hands caress her inner thighs followed by your fingers rubbing her outer folds.

"Ngh.... is that all you got? I don't believe Sumire and Garofano were satisfied with just this~"

You licked her ear lobe then began pushing your finger inside her, gently parting her folds with 2 fingers and sliding deep inside. She moaned out as your finger prodded her sensitive spot, her head shooting back in ecstasy and her grip tightening around you. She moaned out near your ear as you thrusted your fingers in and out of her, scissoring and curling to scrape her insides.

"Aaaahn~ Yes.... more.... more.... r-right there!~"

Coquelic's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she approached her release, her nails clawing down your back making marks. She finally came with a soft scream, her juices drenching your fingers as she laid panting in your embrace.

"Hmm.... n-not bad.... mhmm~"

She kissed your cheek in satisfaction and the two of you bathed together afterwards. You were seated in the bath in each other's embrace when she suddenly spoke out

"Both of you, are you done spying?"

You were confused but soon realized there were 2 presences around you, sensed by your shackles. The door of the bathroom opened and Sumire and Garofano walked in, their faces flushed red.

"A-Apologies, Mentor. We weren't spying, we were just—" Sumire tried to interject but was stopped by Coquelic.

"Yes yes, save your excuses. Come inside already, Chief is ready for you both~"

You looked at Coquelic wide-eyed then at Sumire and Garofano who were already in the process of removing their clothes..... Well, you wouldn't complain relaxing with such lovely beautiful flowers, would you?~

[fort-cozy-mcblanket]

Happy Shamy Anniversary! It's been fourteen years since Sheldon and Amy first met. Can you believe it?

Here's my little fic to honor the event this year. This topic was actually requested by an anonymous ask a number of months ago (and so it has nothing to do with the Young Sheldon finale). I hope whoever sent it is still around to see it finally happen. Sorry it took so long!

Thank you to my beta reader Stark and also to all you lovely readers out there. I hope you enjoy!

This is also available on AO3 and FF.Net if you prefer.

“I hereby call this emergency State of the Relationship meeting to order.”

Amy rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as she settled in on the couch beside her boyfriend, but it was mostly for show. She couldn't stop the smile from spreading across her face. Normally she never liked these meetings, but this time she knew there was a good reason for it.

She and Sheldon had finally, officially moved in together.

It had been a long road to get to this point, with a lot of bumps along the way, but now finally they were there. Where she had wanted to be for years. And she could safely say it was worth the journey. If Sheldon needed this meeting to settle all the details, Amy was happy to give him that.

Once they had made the decision to make this a permanent arrangement, it wasn't long before the settled on staying in Penny's old apartment. It was a reasonable compromise, one that allowed both of them to move into a new place together without it being an overwhelming change for Sheldon. Amy supposed in some ways it could be considered a downgrade for her—4B was slightly smaller than her old apartment and there was the issue with the elevator—but she hardly thought about that. She was much more focused on being able to come home to the man she loved every night, and having him come home to her too. When she was lying in bed with her boyfriend at the end of the day, happy and secure, she knew that this feeling more than made up for the missing square footage and inconvenient extra steps.

“I trust that you've spoken to the landlord about the lease?” Sheldon asked, introducing the first issue to be addressed at their meeting.

“Penny and I visited his office yesterday. We'll be subletting from her for the rest of this month and I signed paperwork to take over the lease next month.”

Sheldon nodded his approval. “And your old apartment?”

“They're letting me break my lease with no penalties because of the burst pipe. I gave notice that I'll be out by the end of the month.”

“Very good.”

Sheldon proceeded to go over some of the other intricacies with their utilities and other bills, all of which he had carefully organized. She assured him that she registered her car at the landlord office as well and received her tenant parking pass. They discussed which of their belongings would need to go to storage. Everything seemed to be in order and nothing that came up was unexpected, until the very end.

“There's one final order of business,” Sheldon said while reaching out for a small pack of sticky notes on the coffee table. He began writing on the top note.

“What's that?”

“This,” he answered, pulling off the note and passing it over to her, “is my Netflix password.”

“Really?” Amy looked at him in surprise. She knew how serious he took his TV shows and movies, and it never even occurred to her that he might want to share his account. Something about it seemed almost too intimate for him.

“Well, we're members of the same household now. It doesn't make sense for us each to pay for a separate account, so if you have your own please cancel it. The money we save can go towards the Comic-Con fund.”

“No.”

“A life-size Batman statue for the apartment?”

“Try again.”

“Fine, the extra money can towards date nights or some such nonsense.”

“I'd like that,” Amy said, purposely ignoring his jab. She knew he didn't really mean it.

“I'm sure I don't have to tell you how important this is,” Sheldon said, bringing the topic back to the password in her hand. “Once you have it memorized, please swallow it to ensure no one else will gain access.”

Amy looked down at the note, which read 2halF0Forearm1Awry0! in Sheldon's neat script. Then she looked back up at her boyfriend and grinned.

“Well, I'm not going to swallow it, but I can take it to the confidential shredders at work tomorrow morning,” she told him.

“Really? You've memorized it already?”

“Sheldon, it's an anagram of my name, the year we met, and an exclamation point. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?”

Sheldon looked down at the floor, and she saw the tips of his ears turning red, which just made her smile more.

“You weren't supposed to,” he mumbled.

“You've lived with Leonard too long, you're not used to having another genius for a roommate,” she teased him. “Do try to keep up.”

Sheldon stared at her, mouth slightly agape, and she watched his pupils dilate. It sent a small thrill through her body, and she took that as her cue to stand up. If she didn't leave now, she might not be able to stop herself from jumping him.

“I trust that our meeting is over?” she asked as she began retreating towards the bedroom. Their bedroom.

“Yes,” he answered. She could feel his eyes on her as she walked away. “And Amy, while I don't mind you knowing about the password, I do mind if you mess up my recommendations, so I'm going to ask that you either create a separate profile or keep your viewing to only science fiction and documentaries. If you find yourself in need of something to watch on Girls' Night, I trust you'll use Penny, Bernadette, or Raj's account for that.”

Amy laughed to herself, not bothering to turn around or answer him as he continued to call after her. She had already pulled out her phone and was signing into his account on the app, already looking forward to browsing the available movies with no regard for what he just said.

This cohabitation thing just kept getting better and better.

[kidmachinate]

Fast Or Slow?

I swear at one point, I was Alakazam. Or would feel like I imagine one would be. On top of the world, making decisions, on point with what people did and why, good judge of character, etc. The more life passes me by, the more I relate more to Slowpoke. Life, thoughts, relationships, everything gets slower and slower.

A slow thought process isn't so bad. Gives you more time to think things over. I wish that's all it was. Your brain literally gets slower. You forget more things. You slip on things that are usually routine. You forget an important date. You don't show up at a set time for something. Your gaming reflexes aren't what they used to be. It's not just getting older however. It's the weight of life's trials and tribulations and heavens forbid you've had a scenario or two where you can be like “it's the trauma” because then you really get messed up.

Blamed for too many things that aren't your fault. Yelled at because things aren't going a certain way. Yelled at because things are going a certain way but not quite as expected. Mental health not taken seriously in favor of academics. You just lose the desire to speak out, or hesitate to say anything anymore.

Even with all of the above being true and/or somewhat depressing, I embrace it. I prefer more times than not, to not live life in the fast lane. There are times where I've learned to value that and even embrace it. Life is for living, not for just paying bills, right? Any time I try and live a little it feels like a hard lesson or unexpected emergency is around the corner. I found myself making the same joke a friend or mine did at a gathering…”it's been a good life” upon finding out some news that will have an impact on my finances…which is like…my life. So…let's think about the same financial choices twenty times over like usual, eh? It's a crazy world we live in.

Things can get so bad that slow is good. Embrace the food times for what they are worth…and yeah…people fuck up. We're human. Most people short of some unjust crime or physical/mental abuse deserve a second chance. Slow thinking will do that. Slow can be deadly too, if you piss them off enough. One gets the horns after too many transgressions. Slow also works with being more introverted. It just makes sense. I love Charizard but years later went with Blastoise and objectively think it is the better choice. It was Blastoise that went in my Gen IV Battle Tower team that went the full 100 rounds. Not Charizard. Sorry Charizard. I'll never forget my first but I can't argue with results. A defensive Blastoise with a somewhat suicide Gengar and Dragonite claimed the W.

Today's post/rant is a bit all over the place but so is my current mind. Questioning everyone and everything. It's very much a what am I doing in life kinda day…I know realistically I'm doing what I can and things beyond my control and all that but holy hell…I rather be helping someone out while listening and using “slow thinking” vs my mind racing currently…to an extreme. It's a good time to remember the title of this blog. Truly. I'm sure I'll get through things. It's not like I know it any other way in life…but the in between experiences are the worst…so if my thinking becomes a bit slower, I embrace it. Even if sometimes it takes a bit of help to embrace slow thinking as opposed to the monkey mind that tends to win in times like these.

I have other aspirations this year and I'm not gonna let what feels like an endless cycle of nonsense get in the way of those things. Easy to say now and I may very well be lying to myself, but this is the path I just go on. If there's a “reason” this happened, it's fucked. If you have all your bases covered, one shouldn't have to go through life's torment periods. Such is life however. Peaks and valleys. Slow thinking it is…because “rushing things in the face” right now doesn't appeal to me outside of liquid courage…but I have no audience or small crowd to use my voice for, so it's just me and said liquid courage.

We've been here before. We got this. I'm saying we. Do I have a symbiote bonding with me? Be kind to yourself. Some of the best things in life are slow. Embrace it.

[halfwaythereroyalwrites]

Long Enough (Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x Reader) Kilig One-Shot

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x Reader (tried to make this as gender neutral as possible)

Warnings: Fluffy not smutty like the title suggests 😅. Secondhand embarrassment from flirting. Mention of buying snacks. Play fighting. No other warnings I can think of unless your secondhand embarrassment is really bad. 

Word count: 2k+

Kilig is a Tagalog word to describe the feeling of excitement and exhilaration and possibly embarrassment from anything remotely romantic.

Masterlist

______________________________________

“Don’t you have some ‘important Santos business’ to do,” you teased, crossing your arms over your chest to reserve some warmth. 

“Nah, I thought we could go somewhere tonight,” Oscar replied, looking up at you from the driver’s seat of his red ‘63 Chevy Impala. Even from where you stood, you could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne wafting through the air. The very cologne he knew drove you wild and therefore refused to name, no matter how many times you asked. A slight breeze blew between you, sending a chill through your body. These cold LA nights were rare, and it caught you by surprise to be caught in one when walking home from Monse’s place. 

The younger girl had asked you to have a night in with her to help take her mind off the latest drama with Cesar, and you happily obliged. Well...it was supposed to only be you and Monse. Five minutes into the night, Ruby and Jamal had shown up, eager to get in on a night of face masks, movies, and snacks. You didn’t realize how late it had been until you checked your phone and realized it was close to their curfew. After bidding Monse goodbye, you ushered Ruby and Jamal out and walked them back to their respective homes. This is how you got here now, in the middle of the street, talking to the big, bad leader of the Santos, Oscar Diaz. 

Better known as Spooky. 

“Where exactly are we going?” you asked, “There’s not much open right now.” 

“Just get in the car. I thought you liked mystery and shit,” Oscar quipped, his signature smirk on his full lips. Your eyes narrowed at his answer, wondering what Oscar had in mind. Your time with Oscar consisted of movie nights at his place with tension so thick, you can cut through it with a knife. This was new and unexpected, and you weren’t sure if the fluttering feeling in your chest was a good thing or a bad thing yet. “Come on. I know your ass is freezing out here.” 

You let out a dramatic sigh and walked over to the passenger’s side, mumbling loud enough for him to hear, “you’re lucky I’m fucking freezing out here...with your mysterious ass.” The passenger’s door was pushed open from the inside by Oscar, and you quickly ducked in and shut the door. Oscar shut the windows on his side, and you quickly did the same with your window, shutting out the air from further freezing you. He thankfully blasted the heater, and you wasted no time in adjusting the heaters to point directly at you, thawing the LA cold out of your body. “Why do you always drive with all your windows down? It’s so cold! See, feel!” Without warning, you grasped Oscar’s forearm with your cold, clammy hands. 

Oscar sucked air in through his teeth at your sudden intrusion but did not make a move to pry your hands away, “Fuck, you’re cold!” 

“See?! Ugh this is Southern California. We should never be this cold.” You retracted your hands away from him, realizing you were still holding on to his arm.

He smirked at the sight of you placing your face inches away from the nearest heater, the heater blowing your hair back, before shrugging, “I don’t know. I can warm you up if you want.” His voice became lower with every word he said, and you took notice of his raised eyebrow directed at you. 

You cleared your throat, which has suddenly become dry, before saying, “Can we please get something hot to drink before we go?” 

Oscar kissed his teeth before breaking out into a wide smile, making you forget the need to breathe for the briefest moment “Sure, buckle in.” 

“Ugh thank you!” You reached around and buckled yourself into your seat and proceeded to lean closer to the heaters. The car was silent as he steered one-handed through the dimly lit streets of Freeridge. There weren’t many people out, and the only sounds to be heard were the blasting heaters and the low rumble of the engine. You took a deep breath in and leaned back into the seat before asking, “So where are we going?” 

“I told you it was a surprise.” Another silence ensued as you turned your head to look at the Santos leader, who was looking straight ahead at the road, his face void of any expression.

“...but can I get a hint of where we’re going?” 

“No.” 

“...if we’re having a movie night, you could have just texted.” 

“It’s not a movie night.” 

“You haven’t texted me in the past few days,” you whispered. “That’s not like you.” 

“I had to figure some shit out. I’m here now, aren’t I?” His response made you press your lips together and look out your window, crossing your arms once more. You could feel the heat of Oscar’s gaze intermittently focusing on you, burning the side of your head. The rush of heat going to your ears was accompanied by the audible thumping in your chest. You leaned your body against the passenger’s side door as much as you could and started contemplating words to say when Oscar’s hand gripped your left thigh. “Hey. Hey look at me.” You continued to stare out the window. “Hey, I’m sorry alright? Things got real tense with the Prophet$, and I had to sort shit out. I forgot to text you. I’m sorry.” You turned to meet his gaze, and it seemed all your anger had melted away with just a look into his dark eyes. 

“Thank you. I was worried about you, and no one knew where you went, so I thought...something had happened to you,” you begrudgingly admitted, hyper-aware of the fact that Oscar’s hand on your thigh set a warm fire throughout your body. You wanted to throw up. Or hold his hand. Maybe. This...this...pounding in your chest. The sudden rush of warmth in your ears. The hairs on your arm standing up. Cold and hot at the same time with heat slowly crawling from your neck to your cheeks. What is this?! 

“You don’t gotta worry about me,” Oscar’s voice broke through your storming internal monologue. Did his voice get deeper somehow? “I’ll always come back for you, babe,” he chuckled. 

“Ok that’s...not necessary,” you made a weak attempt to push Oscar’s hand away as your cheeks burned in embarrassment over his new nickname for you. Oscar only squeezed your thigh in return and kept his hand exactly where it was. You watched him skillfully steer one-handed into the parking lot of the nearest corner store and turn the engine off. The still silence prompted you to turn your head to the handsome man seated next to you, only to find him already turned to you. 

“What are you looking at?” You saw Oscar’s devastatingly dark eyes flit back and forth, holding your gaze as if reading your eyes could give a hint of the storm currently occurring in your mind. Oscar let out a chuckle before squeezing your thigh and giving it a light slap. 

“Let’s grab snacks too. I’m hungry.” He let go of your thigh and exited the Impala, leaving you in a daze. Your hand instinctively covered the area on your thigh that his hand previously occupied, lightly feeling the remnants of his warm touch. Shaking your head at your actions, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the car door, only for the handle to be pulled away from your reach by Oscar, who had pulled the door open for you. You muttered a low thanks, eyebrows furrowed at the Santos leader. He locked the car before walking ahead of you and opening the front door of the corner store, holding it open for you to walk in, You glanced at him suspiciously before thanking him again and walking into the store, taking note of the slight brush of his hand against your hip. You made a beeline for the hot drink station at the back of the store, clasping your hands together and slightly shivering as you shuffled over. Oscar was not far behind you, acting as your taller shadow, his breath slightly fanning over your neck as he looked over your shoulder. You swallowed the knot forming in your throat and kept it suppressed by making small talk. When it came time to pay for your snacks, Oscar had pulled out a wad of bills faster than you could grab the card out of your wallet. He grabbed the snacks as you told him a halfhearted promise to pay him back. 

“Don’t worry about it. I gotchu,” he smiled, placing his hand on your waist and ushering you out the door. His cologne has taken over all your senses now, and the wires of your brain were beginning to short circuit. You found it hard to even think outside of this time with him. You found yourself taking notice of all the small ways he was currently driving you insane. 

Like the way he still kept a hold on your thigh as he drove. 

And how he told you about how he had watched the food show you had recommended on Netflix. 

And how he asked you to feed him a gummy worm and you felt the faint touch of his lips as you placed one in his mouth. 

He also told you to reply to a text from Sad Eyes on his behalf, telling him that he can’t hang out right now. 

And with every laugh and every smile, he would squeeze your thigh which would send a jolt of endorphins through your body.

Before long, the winding road Oscar was driving up on ended on a flat lookout. There were only two other cars there, considerably distanced from the two of you. Oscar had parked the car to where the trunk was facing the twinkling lights of Freeridge down below. Without saying a word, he got out of the car and popped the trunk open, where he pulled out a large blanket, big enough to fit the two of you. You got out of the car, clutching your drink, snacks in the other hand, and let a cheesing smile make its way onto your face. 

“What is this?” you asked Oscar who was now looking at you expectedly. 

“I thought we could just chill for tonight. See the stars and shit,” he gestured upwards to the dark sky. You giggled at the lack of stars in the sky. Typical for Los Angeles. You handed your drink to Oscar who took it without question. 

“May I?” you asked, looking between him and the trunk of his car. Oscar nodded, and you jumped up on the top of his trunk, and he followed suit, wrapping both you and him in the blanket. You rested your weight against him, placing your head on his shoulder. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you looked at the yellow lights of the city below. “Why did you actually bring me here?” 

“...I wanted to ask you something.” You slowly raised your head off his shoulder, and looked at him, his face laced with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint. 

“What is it?” you whispered. 

Oscar cleared his throat before focusing his dark gaze on you. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, and I thought...that maybe...we could give this a real shot.” 

You grinned. “Oscar Diaz. Are you asking me to go steady with you?” 

Oscar kissed his teeth at your teasing grin. “Come on, I’m being serious!” 

“So am I! Are you asking me to be in a relationship or to be exclusive? They’re sort of different nowadays.”

“The first part.” 

“...I need to hear you say it.” 

Oscar gazed at you before cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. He whispered your name before asking, “will you be in a relationship with me?” You blinked at him a couple times before your hand came to meet his hand that was still caressing your face. You held his wrist and kissed the inside of his palm. 

“...what’s the magic word?” 

Oscar rolled his eyes at you before whispering, “please?”

You smiled before nodding, a little too enthusiastically. Oscar shook his head at you before returning your smile with a bright one of his own. “Ok now hold me,” you demanded, flinging his hand away from your cheek to go around your shoulder. You snuggled into the warmth of his body as he drew you closer and placed a kiss to your temple. “Took you long enough to ask me,” you whispered.  

“What?” 

“Nothing.”

______________________________________

A/N: I have finally broken my writer’s block. There’s quite a few life changes and obstacles I’m going through, and finally being able to finish a fic was so satisfying. Let me know what you think and if you want to be added to my taglist! 

General: @peppermintvanillaa @fantasticcopeaglepasta @panda-angela

Kilig taglist: @multifandomlife22 @thottiewinemom @princeabomination @svetlana-beilschmidt

[softlystarstruck]

✩ softly reading, aug 30 - sep 5 ✩

happy september everybody ☺️ im looking forward to cooler fall weather and in the meantime reading some lovely drarry (and non-drarry) fics! let me know if you love any of these fics, or have some recs of your own!!

✩ - a fave | 🔥 - hot | blue- self-rec

spotlight rec

✩ The Foxing Ring by @vukovich [E, 22k]

Harry's got no magic, one good ear, no great dating prospects, and a nice little wand workshop. Draco's got too much magic, a history of biting off ears, no great dating prospects, and a growing fondness for wandmakers. And a very fetching tail.

why i rec this: this is exactly the kind of fluff i love, and with the absolutely unique details vuk always brings to the table! draco is such a compelling character, and harry is just doing his best and the way they fall into each other is lovely. since i personally can’t read a lot of the subjects vuk writes i am SO glad to have this lovely story full of her incredible talent to sink back into again and again and again :’)

longer reads

✩ The Lesson of You by thecouchsofa [E, 65k]

Harry likes kids. That doesn't mean he's ready for a small boy to turn up on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place insisting that Harry is his father. That was weird enough, but the child identifying Draco Malfoy as his other parent was something Harry had no bloody idea how to handle.

short & sweet (< 10k)

✩ i kinda wanna be more than friends by @bonesliketambourines [E, 6.9k] 🔥

Draco's managed to keep his feelings for his Auror partner tamped down neatly in a box at the back of his mind for years now. He's got everything under control, and he's able to handle out-of-town missions and Harry's overly-familiar brand of friendship with aplomb. That is, until a trip to the Lake District in pursuit of a wealthy smuggler and an ill-timed early wakeup call shatters the walls he's so carefully built for himself.

✩ Soot and Mirrors by @jalesidor [E, 6.4k] 🔥

Late at night in the DMLE locker rooms, Draco finds an injured Harry Potter requiring medical assistance.

Flutter by @shiftylinguini [E, 4.9k] 🔥

Being back at Hogwarts is not what Harry expected, and neither is what’s going on between himself and Malfoy, but it feels good, and that? Well, that’s what Harry’s chasing this year.

✩ Darling, You’re Wiggling by me and @lou-isfake [T, 4.7k]

Draco has a secret. Harry doesn’t have a secret, until he does. Then he goes to Claire’s.

✩ Flying on Faith by @isamijoo [G, 3.3k]

The science spaceship Scorpius has an important weapon that can help the Federation win The War. Harry and his crew are tasked to protect this ship. But first, Harry wants to see the cargo.

Options by @mintamintathings [E, 2.6k] 🔥

Harry's looking for company; Draco fits the bill.

The Stars on the Calendar by @anaxandria-writes + @mystickitten42 [T, 2k]

Harry accepted there were many things he and Draco would always argue about. He just didn’t think sex would ever be one of them.

right here, all along by me [T, 1.4k]

Harry knows that none of Draco's boyfriends are good enough for him, because Harry knows Draco deserves the best. Surely one day Draco will find the perfect person, but until then, Harry just does his best.

emotional affair by me [M, 1.1k]

“I’ll pick you up from the Portkey office,” Harry says quietly, “when you come back.” Draco, still flushed pink, pointedly rolls away from Harry and off the bed. “It’s just three days, for work. It’s not a big deal.”

Broken by @celilasart [G, 1k]

The one where Harry returns to Hogwarts to get his NEWTs after the war and despite his best efforts to hide his mental and emotional state, someone unexpected realizes what's going on and sets out to help Harry.

pocket-sized (< 1k)

✩ witching hour by @primavera-cerezos [E, 917 words] 🔥

Harry and Draco are awake at the witching hour.

non-drarry

✩ An Essay on the History of Unprincipled Desire by @onbeinganangel [E, 5.5k, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood] 🔥

On My Knees: How a Career-Ending Injury Led to The Best Shag of My Life (First Draft, Final Title TBD), Oliver Wood, January 2009

✩ Boyfriend Dick by @fw00shy [E, 3.8k, Percy Weasley/Pansy Parkinson] 🔥

Percy was the Parkinson accountant. He had no business babysitting Pansy on her birthday yacht. Pansy was turning twenty-one. She was a bloody adult, and she was going to prove it to everyone by fucking the Weasley nerd.

[displacedentities]

Night Out

My quickfic for @doodledrawsthings​ Coffee Shop AU! In truth I had this in the books for months and just never got around to finish it ;u; Unfortunately only the muse can decide when it’s time to slap me with enough serotonin to work on this, so I rode the high from recent art and wrapped it up! It’s not as clean as I wanted, but you know what, have it anyway.

-Myst -----

Finally. Another shift in the books.

With a heavy sigh, Luka stretches his back as the clock chimes up on the wall over the glass doors. Deft fingers untie the back before he slips the fabric apron over his head. A light snap of magnets punctuates the white noise of steaming coffee machines, and Luka stuffs his nametag into his pants pocket.

Luka was embarrassed to think about how much of a struggle it was to steady on for the entirety of the workday. Stress ate at him all the time, over so many things. Harriet was priority number one - did he remember to prep her meals for the day? Was she still ok, back in the apartment? Was Professor Popcorn in need of more repairs? Luka would happily handle such a task, of course, but...

He wasn't guaranteed to have thumbs when the evening finally came. There was his time limit to think about.

"Hey Luka?"

Damn, but being cursed was such a pain. Chopping vegetables was a particular bane of his existence. How could he trust himself with a knife like that? Ugh. He hated to make Harriet do it - no child should be wielding a knife before the age of 13, for any reason. He'd just have to MacGyver a solution or something.

"Luka..."

And on top of that, he had the upcoming bills to fret over. Rent was due in a few days, and he'd made a decent amount in tips, but they could not afford to have their upstairs neighbor burst a pipe again. He and Harriet had spent the entire afternoon toweling up their poor carpets to avoid getting mildew. Or worse, bugs. Luka was a fan of bugs, but not in his carpets, or sneaking into the mattress where they could bite his daughter.

"HEY!"

This time, the voice manages to pierce the haze of worry writhing in Luka's brain. Jolting to attention, the auburn-haired adult turns around, blinking owlishly at his colleague, Clover.

The braided redhead is giving him a wan smile, her brows furrowed in worry as she sets down a large bag of coffee beans under the counter.

"You spaced out again, buddy. Did you hear a word I said?" the barista asks, folding her arms over her stained apron.

"Uhh... you said my name," Luka replied, feeling a bit awkward as he chuckles once. "Sorry, I probably missed anything you might have asked me."

"I was asking if you ever go out."

"Ah- what?"

That was unexpected. Go out?

"You know-" Clover holds up her hands to gesture to the world in general, and beyond the coffee shop doors "-out! Like, with friends or anybody?"

Ah.

Luka laughs once, rubbing a hand on one side of his face.

"You mean since I moved into town? Nah, not really. Me and my daughter have only been here a few months - can't say we made many friends just yet."

Nor was that a risk they could take. Who knows how long they could stay here, before he was inevitably found out? One could argue it was a risk just- doing what he was doing now. Trying to hold a job, staying in an apartment; a semi-permanent living situation. They'd been on the road so long, old habits were quite hard to break. And if he was entirely honest with himself, Luka didn't know yet if he felt safe, even six months past the first day he arrived in the rural town of Subcon.

Clover's frown deepens, her arms dropping back to her sides. Her dropped guard betrays her worry, before she tries to play it off with another lighthearted smile and upbeat words.

"Oh come on, it can't have been that long since you've just done something fun for the sake of it. When was the last time you went out with friends and enjoyed yourself?" she asks.

"Why is this important?" Luka asks, his own guard slowly rising. He didn't quite see where she was going with this, but he wasn't sure he'd like it.

Oops- maybe not the most polite way to phrase that, as he sees an awkward flinch on Clover's face. Quick, recover! Luka chuckles once, also trying to lighten the mood.

"You and MJ never really asked me that kind of stuff before. I thought I was hired to serve coffee, not tea."

"We serve both, ya doofus," Clover smirks, rubbing one of her well-muscled arms with the other in a self-conscious gesture. "You should know that, since you've been working here almost four months now. And uh- well, MJ just kind of noticed you always seem very tired whenever you leave work."

Luka smiles back, but it's forced. Careful. Don't give any hints that it's anything serious. Don't be suspicious.

"Oh, that? I uh- I'm not used to the retail scene. I'll probably adapt to it soon."

Clover doesn't seem convinced. Still, her expression is sympathetic, rather than judgmental or suspicious. She leans her back on the counter, looking over Luka's exhausted demeanor and baggy eyes with a skeptical smile.

"I'm sure you will." She rests her hands on the counter. "In the meantime, you should go out for bowling with me and MJ! We were planning this outing for about a week, and maybe you'd wanna come with?"

Luka stops mid-folding of his apron. He turns toward Clover with surprise.

"Bowling? As in- knocking over pins in an alley, bowling?"

Clover rolls her eyes, amused. "No, as in rolling cereal bowls. Yes, that kind of bowling, Luka. It'll be fun! Eat some cheap pizza, knock over pins, watch the uncanny valley animations on the TV screen, the whole shebang. You up for joining us?"

"I uh- I didn't know there was a bowling alley here?" Luka says, his voice pitching up as he gives a sheepish laugh. "I- I don't know..."

Shit.

He could already feel the first touches of his curse starting to well up. A quick glance to his hands- okay, no purple yet. But it was coming.

Luka tucks his hands behind his back just in case.

"I'm not sure, I have Harriet to worry about..." he fumbles, rushing to think of excuses. It hurts his heart a little when he sees the disappointed expression Clover wears.

"Are you sure?" she asks, her tone gentle. "It'll only be a for a couple of hours - I could ask Cookie next door if she'd be willing to handle your daughter for the night. She's a fantastic sitter, and your daughter would have Mu to play with."

Luka opened his mouth, preparing to turn it down- then closed it again, brows furrowed as he chews over the thought.

Only a few hours... hm. His curse's current time limit was somewhere a little short of eight hours, he was sure. As long as he didn't have to pick up a shift at work, he would have most of his day free to spend out of the motel. An outing to a bowling alley couldn't possibly last eight hours, though he'd... never actually gone bowling before.

"I.... don't know... I've never been bowling, I'll just hold you back-"

"Nonsense," Clover says, waving off his excuse immediately. "MJ and I aren't professionals or anything, Luka - it's just for fun! You've never been?? That means you've gotta try it, at least once. Please?"

...mmh. Luka would be lying if he said he wasn't very tempted. But he had so much to worry about! His daughter, his curse... keeping his job, being able to support the two of them. Not to mention, getting used to his slow camaraderie with Clover and MJ. That sort of outing would throw their friendship into first gear.

"It's ok," Clover interrupts his thoughts, standing back up straight as she grabs a rag and finishes wiping down the counter. "You don't have to come, we just thought... you know, it might be fun. You look like you need some serious time to unwind, dude. All we ever see of you is showing up to work, dealing with customers, then you leave. And hey, if you change your mind, the offer's still open."

Luka curls his fingers, foot tapping the floor in small fidget.

"Well, I'm gonna start closing up the back," Clover says, tossing the rag into a laundry bin next to the employee break room. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

"Wait!"

Clover stops, turning around with the laundry basket.

"What day were you planning to do it?"

What am I thinking?? I can't go on an outing with them!

Unaware of Luka's silent stresses, Clover beams, her smile lighting up once again.

"Saturday! Would that work for you?"

"Mnhg- maybe?" Luka concedes, forcing his own sheepish smile despite his brain screaming No nO this is a bad idea! His mouth continues to run away from him. "Saturday is my errand day - me and Harriet go out for groceries in the morning, and eat out at whatever lunch restaurant she picks. I wouldn't be open until the evening, and Sunday's game day for me and my daughter."

Bad idea, what are you doing?!

"That's perfect!" Clover says, delighted and still not privy to Luka's inner struggle. "If we close the shop at five, we can drive to the bowling alley around 5:30, play a game or two and eat. Should go until about... eight-ish? How's that sound?"

Say no, say NO!

"Sure, sounds fun."

AGH!

"Great!" Clover says, a skip in her step as she lopes off to the back room with the laundry basket. "I'll text MJ to let him know - he's already gone back to his apartment."

"Yeah, I'll uh- I'll text him too," Luka chuckles, scratching behind his head with one hand- and immediately putting a stop to that action, as he feels the points of sharp claws dig at his scalp. Both arms are dropped and tucked behind his back, a big smile on his face. "Gotta give him the full details and everything, haha..."

"No problem- see you!" Clover bids Luka goodbye, waving one hand as she cheerily hauls the laundry bin off into the back.

"Bye!" Luka says, his voice cracking from nerves.

Oh thank god she's gone.

Luka pulls his hands back out into view, and sees the telltale purple staining begin to creep up his flesh. Peck. It was already starting- Clover left just in time. He could already feel the sharp ends of his canines starting to poke into his bottom lip. He didn't have much left of the day in human form- he had to get home right now.

Snatching up his belongings from his locker, stuffing his work apron inside, Luka loops his bag over his shoulder and leaps over the service counter. He missed the rack of sugar packets this time, thankfully, his sneakers squeaking on the tile floor as he bolts out the door. The bell rings as the glass entryway opens and shuts, signaling his departure. Car keys are whipped out of his bag, a slowly deforming finger just managing to push the button to unlock the vehicle as he clambers inside. Just five minutes- he could make five minutes.

The engine of the car roars to life, and Luka zips off out of the employee parking space, trying his best to ignore it as his fingers swell and fuse together, and his eyes reflect golden light in the rear view mirror.

------

MJ's car putters up to outside the bowling alley, fixing his blue-dyed hair with a sigh. Clover, in the passenger seat, drums her hand on the door handle with excitement.

"This is gonna be so much fun," she says, turning to look over her shoulder at the stiff and uncomfortable Luka in the backseat. "I'm so glad you decided to come, Luka- we'll show you the ropes of bowling!"

"Great," the young man says, putting up another shaky smile as his fingers tense around his kneecaps. "Can't wait!"

"That's the spirit," MJ speaks up, giving Luka a quick smile of his own before twisting the key in the ignition. The car's engine dies down, the doors unlocking as MJ shifts the gear into park. "Clover told me you were nervous about hanging out, and that's completely fine by me - if you feel uncomfortable and don't want to stay, just let us know, ok? We'll drive you back to the apartment building, no hesitation."

Luka inhaled deeply, letting out a heavy sigh from the back seat of the car. It felt like his nerves were trying to shake him apart. A glance at his watch-

Was he really going forward with this?

...Yes. He was. As much as Luka worried, Clover had been right. It'd been far too long since he'd taken 'me' time.

Luka puts a hand on the door and pulls the handle, stepping out of the car before he has a chance to psyche himself out.

It's just a couple hours. He still had plenty of time, after his midday outings with Harriet.

Stay calm. You can do this.

The sign above the brick building shines with neon lights, saying 'Pins & Cushions' in bright blue and red. The backdrop is a painting that Luka can swear was painted in the 80s, displaying a bowling ball as it barrels into pins and knocking them askew with a cartoony impact mark.

"Pins & Cushions?" he says aloud, smirking a little bit.

"Kind of silly, right?" MJ speaks up, locking the car behind him with a click. "Sounds more like a sewing parlor than a bowling alley."

"It's because they boasted having cushioned chairs," Clover says, snickering. "You've never been, but most bowling alleys have these awful plastic chairs that hurt to sit on for too long."

"You mean like the chairs in high school?"

Luka's joke earns a quick bark of a laugh from Clover.

"Couched seating areas in a bowling alley was, sadly, a craze that never caught on," MJ says, ascending the concrete steps up to the building. "But this one did, and the place is like forty years old and too stubborn to change, so your butt will thank you later."

When the doors open, Luka is immediately washed with a cocktail of smells he didn't think could- nor should- ever go together. First and foremost is the thick smell of plastic and rubber, followed by the chemical odor of cleaning sprays, and the sizzling smell of burning cheese. Air conditioning blasts them from above as the three young adults enter the bowling alley, the doors sliding shut behind their backs. The sounds hit next - a cacophonous mix of rubber soles squeaking on polished floors, heavy objects falling and rolling, and the clatter of pins falling into the trap at the far end of the establishment.

It was loud, smelled strange, and the carpet looked lifted straight out of an arcade.

Luka was torn between anxiety, and a strange sort of excitement he hadn't felt in a long, long time. This was something new, something unfamiliar- he had hours to enjoy himself, and spend time not worrying about stresses of life. Harriet had a sitter, paid in advance with an alarm for when he would return, and he was out with- friends? Had him accepting this invitation solidified their friendship at this point? ...the thought made a happy butterfly flutter in his stomach.

This would be a great evening, he could feel it.

"Earth to Luka." MJ's amused tone causes Luka to jump. "Something on your mind? You're smiling."

"Oh- uh- nothing," Luka says, scratching behind his head sheepishly. "Just- thanks. For inviting me. I think I really did need this a lot."

"YEAH you do!" Clover thumps him on the back with one hand. "Come on! You have to give your shoes to the clerk so they can give you your bowling shoes."

"Ah, what? I have to take off my shoes on this carpet?" Luka complains, lifting a foot with distaste. "I feel like I'm stepping on twenty-year-old candy."

"It's part of the charm!" Clover sings, already removing one of her sneakers. "It's either this, or slip all over the place on the actual alley floor. You're getting the full bowling experience whether you like it or not, coffee boy."

"Ex-CUSE me!" Luka says with a dramatic gasp, hopping on one foot as he works to remove his own shoes. "I think you will find I'm a coffee man, thank you."

"Coffee twink," Clover counters.

"No, that's MJ."

"HEY! I will call lion's share of the tips for that one," MJ shakes a sneaker at them both in a mock scolding gesture.

"YOU'RE BOTH COFFEE TWINKS," Clover declares to the entire establishment as she fights off her last sneaker, racing for the counter before the others can catch up. "HURRY UP, COFFEE TWINKS, WE NEED TO PICK OUT BOWLING BALLS."

"I have dibs on the galaxy patterned one!" MJ yells after Clover.

Clover gives MJ an evil grin as she takes her bowling shoes and pays the rental fee, tying them before sauntering over to the racks of bowling balls. Her hand hovers over the selection, giving a teasing pause over the bowling ball made with swirled star plastic.

"Don't you dare," MJ hisses from the counter, pointing an accusing finger at Clover as he hands over the money for both his and Luka's rental shoes.

"It's either the tips share, or the bowling ball! You decide!" Clover yells back, drumming her fingers on the coveted starry bowling ball.

"Fiiiiine," MJ says with a dramatic tone, though his smile gives away his mirth. "You know I wasn't going to take the tips anyway, Clo."

"I know~" she says, giggling while she moves on to a different rack of bowling balls. "And you know I wouldn't do that to your poor weak arms, either, Moonie."

Luka finishes tying his rental shoes, thanking MJ before he makes his way down the small stairway to the alleys. It's very bright in this section of the building, with cushioned couches surrounding tables and standing consoles. Metal railings and a chute of some kind were positioned at each alleyway, some with bowling balls sitting idle atop the metal racks.

"So, what now?" Luka asks, the excitement of wading into unknown waters welling in his chest again.

"Pick a bowling ball!" Clover says, gesturing to the racks of heavy plastic spheres. "You'll want a heavy one, but not too heavy for you to lift and throw."

"Go easy on us, Clover." MJ shakes his head as he picks up his favorite starry ball. "Ms. Gun Show and her fourteen-pound bowling ball."

The redhead leans over and scoops up a swirled green bowling ball, hefting it on one arm and pumping it like a weight.

"You might get some guns yourself if you helped me landscape and move sod around my garden, Coffee Twink #1," she says, flexing a bicep.

"I refuse to acknowledge that nickname."

"Sorry, it's our team name now," Clover laughs, "the Coffee Twinks!"

"Hey, I thought our team name was the Comets?!"

"That was before Luka joined the team - now it's a 2-to-1 twink majority, I don't make the rules."

Luka just has his face in his hands, laughing through the whole exchange as he leans on the metal racks.

"You're just as bad as Harriet!" Luka laughs, pushing his hair back out of his eyes with one hand. "I don't even know where she learned that word - Cookie's daughter, probably?"

"Definitely," MJ says with a thousand yard stare, earning more laughter from Luka. "Go pick a bowling ball, I'll get the console up and running for our game."

Wiping tears from his eyes, chuckling under his breath, Luka turns to the racks and peruses the selection. The bowling balls come in all colors - most are black or dark brown, but there's a rather delightful mix of brighter hues like pink, blue and yellow. Some are marbled, some have glitter in the plastic, and a few very beat-up bowling balls have graphics of cartoon characters that were popular in the 90s. Well-loved by the children who patronize this establishment, he was sure. Harriet would love the Scooby-Doo ball - oh no wait. The one themed after a Pokeball, for sure was her poison of choice. And clearly the pick of the litter for many other children, as it was covered in scratches and dents from decades of use.

Ah- there was one themed after a jack-o-lantern! How fitting. He loops his fingers into the grip holes of the bowling ball, and heaves it off of the rack- only to almost crush his toes as the weight yanks his arms to the floor.

That was- heavier than expected!

"Oooooh, nice pick," Clover says, spinning her own bowling ball in her hands. "You sure you can carry it, though? That's a 10-pounder."

"I'll be fine-" Luka says, grunting as he lifts it back up with both hands this time. "Just- caught me off guard, is all."

"Alright, game's all set," MJ announces from the console.

Above their heads, a large tube television flashes blue before displaying a score board.

A loud k-chunk k-chunk k-chunk of machinery draws Luka's eye toward the other end of the alley. Metal rigging and machinery descend from the covered roof of the pin trap. Resembling a large soda crate, the rig drops an array of ten white bowling pins, before unclamping and ascending back into the darkness of whatever creation of god resided in that ceiling.

"You're up first, Clo," MJ says, waving a hand to indicate she should move forward.

"Watch and learn," Clover throws Luka a smile, the competitive taunt dampened by her genuinely helpful tone. "You want to throw the ball so it rolls like this-"

Stepping forward onto the squeaky, smooth polished wooden platform, Clover lifts her bowling ball to her chest. With a quick inhale, she lopes forward two steps, swinging her arm back with the bowling ball, before reeling it forward on the last stride and underhand throwing it into the aisle. The heavy green bowling ball lands with a tHDD before skidding its way down the oiled track, rolling in a long, smooth line. The swirled green sphere smacks into the bowling pins with a loud tHWAKK!!, sending all but one of the pins flying into the darkness beyond. The ball disappears into the hole, and Clover puts her hands on her hips with a huff.

"Damn, almost got a strike." Clover snaps her fingers, shrugging. The green bowling ball clatters back up the chute. She grips her fingers into the trio of holes again, and goes for another throw.

The bowling ball rolls down the course, straight as an arrow for the last pin. The pin spins off the wooden platform into the darkness, earning a whoop from Clover.

"Nice, got a spare!" Clover declares, throwing her arms up in triumph. She sashays her way back to the couches. "Who's up next?"

"I'm up," MJ says, standing from the console. Looping his fingers into his own starry bowling ball, MJ rolls his shoulders and steps up onto the oiled wooden planks. "I'm going to get the first strike of the day, just wait."

"Sure you will," Clover snickers as MJ winds up.

When he releases the ball, it rolls at very high speed- before curving halfway down the track, the topspin he put on the ball causing it veer off course and land in the gutter.

Face flushed, MJ coughs into his hand, suddenly very invested in fixing his shirt as Clover grins. The galaxy ball returns to the trough, and MJ pointedly picks it up again, winding up for his second throw. The bowling ball rocks down the course, and knocks over about six pins, leaving a corner of the triangle still standing.

"Woo!" Clover cheers, clapping as MJ returns to the seating. She reaches over and nudges Luka on the shoulder. "You're up, Luke! Show us whatchu got!"

Heart in his throat, Luka stands from his seat and steps up.

The bowling ball grins up at him, daring him to chicken out. It was heavy in his hand. Still, he walked up onto the polished floor, feeling the rubber on the bottom of his shoes as it grips the oiled surface.

Fighting the weight of the heavy bowling ball, Luka takes a step forward, swinging his arm back before bringing it back around like a pendulum. The ball hits the track with a heavy thDD as it’s released, sent rolling off down the track. Around the halfway point, it spins off course and lands in the gutter with a clunk.

“Aww,” Clover says, leaning over the chair cushion. “And you had such good posture, too.”

“It’s ok,” MJ speaks up, seeing Luka’s visible embarrassment. “It’s your first time bowling! Nothing to be ashamed of. You have another shot before we rotate players.”

Disappointed, Luka rubs at his arm. Well, that was a less than encouraging performance. But he noticed the angle of the spin on the ball. Maybe he could fix that.

The ball clatters up the chute back into the return trough. Luka picks it up with a huff of breath, holding it to his chest as he does mental calculations. If he turned his wrist at just the right point...

Stepping forward, Luka swings back and releases the ball, putting a top spin on the ball at the last possible moment-

The jack-o-lantern face rockets down the alley, the path straight until the very last second. It curves to hit the front pin from the side, knocking every single pin into the abyss beyond.

"OHHHHH!" Clover and MJ exclaim, clapping with enthusiasm as Luka looks stunned.

"You got a strike!" Clover says, applauding with a big grin. "You were totally pulling our legs about being a newbie to this, huh??"

"I think I just got lucky," Luka tries to play it off, feeling an uncommon shyness as he smiles.

Clover shakes her head, not having it.

"Luck nothing! That was pure talent, and you got a strike, dude!"

"Technically that was a spare, but still a strike in my book," MJ says as he rotates the turn order on the console, giving Luka a smile and a thumbs up.

"Oh let him have it, Moon Moon," Clover laughs as MJ throws her a pout. "Our new boy's got game!"

Luka hunches his shoulders, an awkward smile curling across his cheeks as he walks back over to the couches. Clover jumps to attention and makes her way to the track, picking up her green bowling ball for another round as he sits down.

This was... much more fun than he had expected it to be. The background noise of the bowling alley was surprisingly pleasant. He found he could get used to the dull odor of plastic and cleaner- and honestly, that hot cheese smell from what must be the pizzeria was tempting his stomach. But best of all was the camaraderie he could feel sparking between him, Clover, and MJ. Were they officially friends now? Or had they been already, and he was just- in denial? If Luka was entirely honest with himself, probably the latter. MJ and Clover had been nothing but kind and understanding, to him. His sporadic hours and excuses had done nothing to faze them with regards to their treatment of him at work. They still offered him drinks and invited him on this outing, offering even to pay for his expenses, didn't they?

"Hey Luka!" A call from MJ breaks him out of the small reverie. "You're up, again."

"And after this round, we can hit the arcade! I bet I can out-dance you on DDR, Coffee Twinks," Clover smirks.

"No betting. I know you can."

Maybe- maybe he had nothing to worry about.

---

The evening is going fantastic.

The first bowling game had been a pretty close match between Luka and Clover. Clover had the arm strength to pull off some mean and fast throws, but Luka had developed a system. Figuring out how to spin the bowling ball just the right amount had made up for his noodle arms and less weighty bowling ball. It wasn't long before he figured out how to roll a pretty straight record of spares and strikes, with the occasional 7-10 split. After bowling around, they went into the arcade section, with an entire paper roll of quarters to blow on games. A vicious Ms. Pacman multiplayer match had led to MJ smoking all three of them, and as predicted, Clover out-danced both of the boys on the DDR and Stepmania machines. Luka had to collapse over a nearby chair with exhaustion after his matches. He'd finished off the arcade run with a very lucky pull from a claw machine, winning a black cat plush with big yellow eyes that he was definitely going to enjoy giving to Harriet.

The three of them sat around their table at the bowling console again, laughing over a hot cheese and pepperoni pizza.

"No way, you didn't!" Luka gasps, wheezing for air.

"I did! I punched his goddamn lights out!" Clover laughs, slapping one knee. "The guy was being a huge creep, so I introduced him to my fist."

"I hope you didn't get in trouble with the cops or something for that." Luka tilts his head, giving her an impressed and worried look.

"Can't get in trouble if nobody reports it," MJ chimes in, smirking past his soda cup. "He complained to me, but I had the security tapes AND plausible deniability because I wasn't on the floor. Corporate took our side on this."

"Nobody from the city wants to drive all the way out to podunk Subcon for a random dudebro's complaint." Clover sits back on her cushioned seat, chomping into her pizza happily. "Mmmmm- delicious melty cheese."

Luka chomps into his own pizza, exhaling and blowing on it as it nearly burns his mouth.

"Easy, tiger!" MJ smirks around his own mouthful of pizza.

"I know, it's just so good," Luka says, laughing into his hand as he sips some of his cola. "But in like- the way you know it's not that great? Does that make sense?"

"Night in the Woods taught me the Pizza Scale, and I stick by that," Clover says, crunching through her crust to grab up another slice, washing down the bread with some soda. When she reaches for another piece of the pie, she pauses, and lets out a huff. "Oh, that sucks. I guess they didn't clean the bowling balls that well this time. Gross."

"Hm?" Luka says through a mouthful of pizza.

"Your fingers are all oil-stained from the finger holes on the bowling ball, Luka. Big Al needs to wash the bowling balls properly."

Confused, the law student shifts his attention down.

The ends of his fingertips are discolored with ebony purple.

Luka can feel as his brain zeroes in on the first sign of his impending transformation, and begins to shift into emergency mode as it relays the steps he must take in order to avoid further exposure. He'd gone over this information with himself many times over the past five years. It was ingrained in his mind, what he had to do, the information practically screaming at him. But he can't hear it. His ears are filled with buzzing as reality breaks into the facade he'd slowly built up over the course of hours.

No-

No no no-

His pizza slice drops to the paper plate as he fumbles with his bag, pulling out the cell phone from the liner pocket. Shaking fingers tap the screen with frantic speed, trying to turn the damn thing on-

9:17?

They'd been here nearly four hours?!

He'd spent the morning out with Harriet, doing their grocery shopping and walking around the town's outdoor mall as much needed father-daughter time. Eight hours of being in disguise had long since passed.

His time limit was up.

This couldn't be happening. Yet the numbers stare back at him from the glare of his cell phone screen. They even have the nerve to tick over to 9:18 right before his eyes.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening! It wasn't fair!

"Luka, you ok? You're turning pale..."

Clover's question just barely manages to pierce the haze, causing Luka to jolt in his seat. Posture stiff and breath shallow, he lifts his head to meet Clover's questioning eyes. She's staring at him with building concern, her smile becoming a frown of worry.

The tension is palpable in the air as Luka struggles to find words. Finally, he manages to say something.

"It's- it's a quarter past nine-"

"Oh shoot-" Clover says, sitting up abruptly as she grabs her own phone.

MJ checks his watch, wincing. "Oof. Sorry, Luka. I guess we lost track of time passing. I'll apologize to Cookie for the overtime, we can finish this round and go-"

"Don't feel good- going to the bathroom-" Luka wheezes, scrambling to his feet as he scoops all of his belongings into his bag and races past MJ's seat.

"Luka!" Clover yells after him, her heightened concern audible in her voice. "Ok, we'll- we'll start cleaning up! Let us know if you need-!"

Her words are cut off by the slam of the bathroom door. Luka's bowling shoes slip over the slick tile floor, his hands gripping onto the cold porcelain of the bathroom sink to steady himself. He brings his shaking hands up to view in the mirror. The blackening purple skin was spreading up his finger joints, reaching his palms.

No- not now! Why now?

Luka clenches his fists and his jaw, focusing every ounce of his will on making the purple go away. He can almost feel a vein pop on his forehead- if he still had veins, anymore- as he strains to make his unwilling body follow his desires. The purple starts to recede at a caterpillar crawl... but it slows. And the harder he tries, the more he can feel his arms struggle to hold their shape - becoming less solid.

"No- no!" he whimpers, clenching his hands into the sink again. The action splatters small droplets of purple sludge against the porcelain, which vanish moments later as the purple staining once more consumes his fingers - and now his palms. "Stop it! Just- let me be human! Please!"

He lifts his head to the mirror. Despair fills his gut as he sees amber eyes staring back at him in the reflection, and the beginnings of an inner glow fighting to come out from the back of his throat.

Luka lets out a wordless sound of sorrow, lifting an arm to pound one fist against the mirror in vain. The reflection is unfazed in its destitution, tears beginning to gather at the edges of its eyes and mouth set into a sob of clenched teeth. The reflection's canine's lengthen several inches as the eyes stare back, accusingly. The purple was starting to spread up its neck, just poking out the collar of the shirt.

"No..."

This wasn't him. But it had been, years ago. This was SUPPOSED to be him.

He curls his fist, watching as the fingers start losing their shape. Fusing together, becoming single digits and his thumbs vanish back into the purple sludge of the limb.

"I was finally-..." Luka whimpers, "...I finally felt human again."

-bang bang bang-

The sound of a fist knocking on the bathroom door causes Luka to yelp and jump back from the mirror.

"Luka? You ok in there?"

It was MJ.

Peck!

Grabbing his bag, Luka books it into the furthest stall of the bathroom. He slams the metal door behind him, fumbling to lock it with his swelling mitten fingers. Alarm shot through his gut as his shirt felt tight around his torso. Already?? This was faster than usual! Had he really pushed it that much?

"Hey man, are you sick? Clover and I are really concerned. Do you need any help in there?"

"NO! NO I'M GOOD!" Luka yells from the bathroom stall, clapping a two-fingered hand over his mouth as he hears the slight reverb echo to his own voice. Dammit! "I'M JUST- I'LL BE FINE!"

He was not fine, he would most certainly not be fine!

"Luka, you sound croaky." It was Clover this time, probably a short distance behind MJ. "Dude, are you sure? MJ, maybe you should go in and check on him-"

"NO!"

No, the reverb was stronger!

"Luka, I'm coming in."

"MJ it's fine!"

Luka could hear the seams of his shirt starting to stretch and strain. The seconds were ticking by as strings started to pop at the neck.

Shit, shit!

Luka turned left and right, the stall cramped and uncomfortable as the ruff of fur around his neck thickens and threatens to burst his shirt open. He needed a way out!

Aha! A small window, to the outside! Wow, that was probably the worst location for a window. And it was so small-

The door creaked as MJ started to turn the handle.

NO TIME!

Luka makes a dive for the window. His fingers catch on the sill, and he hauls his body up onto the tiny ledge, his head pushing up the glass and emerging out into the open air. Squeezing through the narrow space, he struggles to pull his feet through, kicking off the bowling shoes and hearing them clatter to the tiles below.

The door comes unlatched, and MJ enters the bathroom, looking around with a frown.

Luka was gone. And for some reason, his bowling shoes were abandoned on the questionably cleaned bathroom floor.

Just outside the window, tucked next to the wall of the alleyway outside the bowling alley, Luka is panting with adrenaline. He can feel his chest expand further with each breath, the fur mane around his neck already splitting apart his shirt. His fingers had fully lost their human shape by now, coalescing back into the familiar mitts he hated so much. A reminder that, no, he wasn't human. No matter what those people in the bowling alley thought of him, and what he thought of them in return... no matter how much he wanted to be human, again.

"Luka?"

His entire torso now fully drenched in purple, Luka hangs his head, listening as he fights to strip off the shirt suffocating him.

Footsteps, in the bathroom.

"...Luka? What the-... Clover, he's not here?"

"What?? But he- went into the bathroom! He was just-!"

"His shoes are here..."

"His shoes??"

Luka forces himself to stand, wobbling a bit further away from the window as he focuses all of his efforts on keeping his legs. He can't lose his ability to walk, not in the middle of town!

God dammit... god dammit! Why couldn't he just enjoy his night? Now he was wandering alleyways, half transformed, and MJ and Clover were no doubt worried to hell and back. What could he even say? 'Sorry, had to take a break to wolf out in the bathroom'?

-brrring brrring-

The buzz of the phone in his pants pocket- which was getting tight against his waist, he noticed. Luka quickly extracts the phone before it can be damaged by the fabric.

MJ's caller ID stares back at him from the screen.

The decision to trust these two with his information was biting him in his rapidly purpling behind. He'd been so careful not to slip up, and the ONE TIME he makes a mistake... He had another decision to make. He could not respond, and just be a complete asshole, but he could protect his secret a little safer, for just a little bit longer. Or he could pick up, and... he didn't know. Bullshit something? Would they even believe whatever malarkey he could cook up in seven seconds for bailing out of a bowling alley restroom? God, he was terrible at improvised excuses! He was a lawyer, not an actor! But if he answered the phone call, maybe- maybe he could hold on to that feeling again. The warmth of companionship of peers his age, that he hadn't felt since law school. Since... Vanessa. But he couldn't think about her right now. What mattered was his safety- his daughter's safety.

Peck. He didn't even think about that part. Could he really rip Harriet out of a somewhat stable home life, again? She was just starting to get along with Cookie's daughter, and he didn't want to take that precious first friendship from her.

Luka was only pulled out of the downward spiral by the vibration of the phone, which he only now realized had registered a missed call, and was now on the second call. It was still MJ, the picture of him in his Horizon employee cap still smiling from the bright phone screen.

He had to do something. He could feel his legs protest the form they was struggling to hold.

Survival instinct set in. First, he had to get away from the scene.

Stumbling to his malforming feet, Luka jogs away from the alley, ducking away from the Pins & Cushions and avoiding the bright neon sign on the side of the building.

As he walks, a headache hits, and Luka just knows his face was losing more of his familiar features. Didn't need a mirror to know that he was definitely the shade of a bruised plum, and that his eyes were glowing like gold beacons. The sharp teeth at the edges of his mouth were digging into his bottom lip as he dodges and weaves to avoid line of sight from storefront apartment windows.

The woods were so close by, just a few more blocks.

Faster. He had to run faster. But his legs- were fighting him! Already he could feel his steps become lighter, movement more fluid. It was a struggle to keep a walking stride, rather than just- leap into the air. No way was he going to fly a block from pecking main street.

His phone continues to vibrate, threatening the call to drop.

Right when he reaches the sidewalk, Luka pants for breath, collapsing beside the pole for a street lamp while avoiding the amber spotlight. Taking one last rueful look at his phone, he sighs, and presses the answer button with a doughy purple finger.

"Luka?" MJ's voice patches through. The reception isn't great, but it's sufficient. Maybe that was a lucky break, considering what his voice was going to sound like in a second.

"Hey," Luka answers. Yep. He sounded like a toad that swallowed a brass tube. "Sorry- about that."

"Dude, are you ok?? Where did you go?" MJ spoke so quickly it almost interrupted Luka, concern clear and evident in his voice. "You ran or something and- you left your shoes at the counter, and the cat plush for your daughter. Clover got them for you-"

"It's ok," Luka says, wincing. "I can pick them up tomorrow. I- don't feel well, and I have to go get Harriet."

"Luka, we could have driven you home for that," MJ responds, a hint of hurt and confusion. "You know you can tell us if you're uncomfortable, and want to leave, right?"

"No- this- I was having fun," Luka responds, cupping a hand over his mouth to try to muffle the echo. He had to wrap this up. His voice was getting less natural by the second. He really hoped the poor reception would mask it. "Look- I'm sorry MJ. But I really had to go."

"You're not getting kidnapped or something are you?" Clover's distant voice suddenly patches through in the phone. MJ must have his phone on speaker. "Because if you are, I'll hunt them down! Just yell where the car is taking you!"

"I'm not- look, I'm sorry, but I just had to go, ok?" Luka says. "Harriet needs me."

"I thought you were feeling sick?" Clover says, her worried tone now tinted with... suspicion. "You ran to the bathroom, and we were all worried about you, dude." Her voice becomes just a bit distant, as she turns to speak to MJ, but the phone picks it up. “Actually, did we ever hear anything from Cookie...?”

"No- I am-" Luka can feel his lies crumbling, nearly becoming true as he experiences a sensation similar to his stomach heaving from the anxiety. "Thanks for the wonderful evening, I'll pick up my stuff later- bye!"

"Wait-!!"

-click-

MJ's protest is cut off, and Luka set the phone down on the grass, putting his head in the other hand. That was terrible. But he couldn't back out on it now. He would just have to deal with the consequences of that phone call tomorrow.

Not like having shoes or not bothered him, anyway.

Exhausted and resigned, Luka slides away from the lamp post into the chaparral, and begins rapidly pulling his shirt over his head. No way was he going to lose another shirt, not after the last one. This was his last nice shirt, and he intended to keep it as long as possible!

A quiet gasp jolts him out of his frantic folding.

Luka whips around, shirtless, half de-pantsed, and his body a full shade of deep shadow purple. His golden eyes glow in the reflected street light as he freezes on the spot, making eye contact with another human being across the road. It was the stocky mustachioed man from the coffee shop- the regular who came by and sketched quietly in a corner. Pinstriped suit- which seemed to be the only outfit anyone ever saw him wore- an apron, and grey khaki pants. The thick glasses would make it difficult to tell where he was looking, if the man wasn't standing with his square jaw hanging down at his chest, head angled directly toward Luka. Everyone dismissed him as a paranoiac, a hermit who stopped by for his morning caffeine fix and quiet atmosphere to indulge in his imagination. Rumors flew that he used to work for some sort of tabloid magazine, and was fired- or promoted?- for how crazy his stories were.

Whatever the reason, this man was now standing, groceries dropped to the pavement, and staring at Luka. A very half-naked, absolutely not human-looking Luka.

Face suddenly burning hot with embarrassment and fear, Luka grabs his belt loops and bolts into the trees.

The movement causes the man to only gape more, making a wordless noise of astonishment before the forest breaks their line of sight and Luka retreats into the safety of the woods. Luka just barely remembers to grab his shirt and belt from the bushes. Vanishing entirely from sight, stumbling over debris as his transformation takes full hold of his body, Luka wheezes as his heart beats in his chest. After all that, he was seen! Peck! Did he just ruin everything because he wasn’t paying attention? But- but it was just the local hermit, the resident conspiracy nut. That wouldn’t be so bad, right? This wasn’t as catastrophic as being spotted by a teen with a cell phone open. Surely, this was the safest possible person in town to accidentally spot him mid-transformation. Repercussions would be minimal.

Thank god the man didn't have a camera.

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home — Chapter One: Flightless Bird, American Mouth

a/n: I've been working on this story for mooonths now and I'm so excited to finally share it with the world! It's heavily inspired by Harry's Behind the Album mini doc, except I changed the setting to Hawai'i because I've personally spent some time there and as they say, write what you know! YBMH takes place in the period between One Direction's hiatus and Harry's first album/tour, but with that being said, this is entirely a work of fiction and some events don't follow the true timeline. Thank you so much for taking the time to read my little story, I hope you love it as much as I do! It will be updated every Friday at 5 PM PST. My inbox is open, so feel free to talk to me once you've finished reading! I'd love to hear from you :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 5.5k

May, 2016

Harry watches LAX get smaller through the airplane window and visualizes all of his worries stuck at the terminal gate, their magnitude also diminishing as he takes flight. He sinks lower in his seat and skims through playlists on his phone when a nagging feeling at the back of his mind pulls his attention away from the screen. Looking up from the song choices, he spots a cell phone quickly lowered from his line of vision and a girl with flushed cheeks who quickly averts her gaze. Harry shoots a tight-lipped smile in her direction and goes back to his phone with a sigh. The days when he could roam the streets freely without fear of recognition—or worse, harassment—feel like an entirely different lifetime. He sometimes imagines that he’ll wake up back in his childhood bed as if the past five years had all been a dream, but he never does. In fact, his privacy and anonymity seem to dwindle with each minute of radio play that One Direction receives. It’s a bittersweet pill to swallow, but one he hopes will go down easier with some time in the Hawaiian sun.

His close friend and new manager, Jeff Azoff, had suggested the vacation as soon as the band privately agreed to take a hiatus.

“You’ll go home for a few weeks,” his voice had crackled through the speakers of Harry’s phone. “Visit your mom and Gem, lay low for a while until the smoke blows over,”

Harry mulled it over in his mind, eyes flickering over the rolling landscape outside of the tour bus window.

“Then what?”

“Then you go for a little vacation. The label offered to cover a house in Hawaii so you can start working on the album,”

“Alone?”

Jeff chuckled lightly on the other end before responding. “I mean, if that’s what you want,”

“No,” Harry corrected. “You and Tom should come. Mitch and Bhasker, too,”

“The dream team,”

“And there’ll be a studio there?”

“Yes,” Jeff started, almost hesitant. “But I don’t want you to think about that too much,”

“But you said the label—"

“I also said vacation. Look, Rob said ‘it will all happen in due time,' did he not?”

Harry twisted the rose ring around his finger, tracing over the silver petals and thinking back to his conversation with the CEO of Sony Music, Rob Stringer. Upon the proposal of his debut solo album, Rob had told him that the most important ingredient for a successful debut would be patience. The singer had agreed in the moment, but every day not spent in the studio felt like a test he hadn’t studied hard enough for.

“Yeah.”

“So you take the free vacation,” Jeff suggested. “You go out, live, get some writing material. Maybe mess around with some tunes. And then we come back to L.A. and get to work. But until then, I just want you to focus on taking it easy.”

So take it easy he had. Or at least he had tried to when he was back home in England. Harry quickly grew restless after what felt like the millionth awkward conversation with past friends and acquaintances, all of which eventually led to the topic of One Direction and it’s unexpected hiatus. After one month at home, his mind and journal were full of ideas for songs, things that he wanted to say before he lost his nerve. One night as he tossed and turned in bed, he shot Jeff a text, just two words that would kick off a three month getaway to the Big Island of Hawai'i:

I’m ready.

********

“Sounds great, I'll go put in your order.” Alani offers sweetly, trying not to overdo it with the customer service voice. After waiting on the family at her designated table, she heads back to the kitchen and finds her younger sister, Pua, crouched in the corner taking what appears to be a serious phone call.

“I don’t know, I just saw it!” Her sister cries in a hushed tone. “Where do you think he’s going?”

“Is everything okay?” Alani cuts in with concern.

Pua whispers into the speaker before bringing the phone to her shoulder.

“Harry Styles was just spotted on a plane this morning,”

“Who?”

“The guy from One Direction,” her sister explains with a hint of irritation in her voice. “The band who sings that song you secretly like, ‘Fireproof,'”

Alani vaguely recalls the melody, but she waits expectantly for Pua to elaborate. “And this is news because…”

“Because the band just broke up, so where could he possibly be going?”

"The unemployment office?”

Pua rolls her eyes and returns to her phone call while Alani envelops her in a tight hug.

“I’m just kidding!” Alani apologizes, squeezing tighter despite her sister’s attempts to break free. “I’m sure he’ll be living off of royalty checks until he’s, like, eighty,”

“Get off me, freak!” Pua cries out, finally breaking the embrace.

Alani clutches her chest and pulls out an invisible knife. “Ouch. I’m telling Harry you said that,”

“This is exactly why I don’t tell you things.” the younger sister huffs, storming out of the kitchen through the employee entrance where Alani’s best friend, Maleah, has just arrived.

“Looks like someone forgot to eat their Cheerios today,” she remarks, tying her curls into a high ponytail.

Alani shrugs and leans against the counter. “She’s going through something. Just discovered that boys in pop bands are, in fact, just regular boys.”

“Poor thing,” Maleah frowns. “We all have to learn eventually.”

********

The sky is a blend of cotton candy pink and burnt orange when Alani returns home from the café with a strawberry smoothie in tow. She empties the mailbox and sorts through the various bills and advertisements, but her stomach drops when she sees a familiar return address label. After a quick greeting to her excited dog who waits at the door, Alani bolts up the stairs and quietly shuts the bedroom door behind her. Breathe, she reminds herself before tearing into the envelope and discarding it onto the wooden floor.

Dear Ms. Hale,

We are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine. However, we regret to inform you—

She doesn’t read the rest, slumping to the floor in defeat. The sixth rejection letter from Rolling Stone lies crumpled at Alani’s feet and she kicks it across the room with a frustrated grunt. She had worked for over two months perfecting her analysis of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi and its allusions to the environmental impact of urban development in Hawaii. As part of her initial research, Alani had even traveled to both the Royal Hawaiian hotel in Honolulu, which is the famous Pink Hotel mentioned in the song, and Foster Botanical Garden that Mitchell referred to as “the tree museum.” She was certain that her effort and persistence would result in at least a consideration. The second third time's the charm! Maleah had joked watching Alani submit the piece. Six articles in the span of two years, each one facing the same rejection despite the increased effort Alani had put in over time. The fact that the rejection letter hadn’t changed over the course of the two years brings an incredulous smile to her face, and her stomach turns when she considers that the editors probably hadn’t even read her work, anyway. All that effort, she thinks to herself, all that time, for nothing.

“It will take time,” her favorite professor, Dr. Hudson, had reassured her three months after the Joni Mitchell article was submitted. “Every great writer faced countless rejection until that one piece. Yours will come. Keep your eyes open and your pen ready.”

Alani sighs and lifts herself off the floor, choosing to crawl into her unmade bed instead of slumping onto the hardwood. She hears a soft scratching at the door before her King Charles Spaniel, Freddie, pads into the room.

“Come here, bubs,” Alani whispers. He obeys and burrows into the duvet, giving her temple a gentle lick before nuzzling into the nape of her neck.

“You still love me, right?” she asks, voice cracking. “Even if I’m a failure?”

Freddie sniffs her ear in response.

********

“Right,” Harry says, his tongue peeking from the corner of his mouth as he reads the map. “No, left, sorry,”

“Do you actually know how to read a map?” Jeff teases, correcting the turn.

Harry pouts in response, his brows furrowing. “In my defense, we’re literally in the middle of fucking nowhere,”

“There are worse places to be,” Mitch pipes up from the back seat. “England, for example, where they say things like ‘litchrally’,”

“Very well said, Mitchell,” Jeff Bhasker adds with a fake British accent of his own.

Harry turns to his friends in the back seat with a finger pointed like an agitated mother. “If you lot don’t shut up, I’m gonna lead us to a volcano and push you in,”

“Where are we even going? I forgot,” Tom complains.

“To get food,” his manager responds from the driver’s seat. “I think,”

“Why can’t we just stop there?” Mitch asks pointing to a café pulling up on their right.

Jeff merges into the turning lane quickly without a second thought. “Good enough for me, I’m starving.”

“Sorry, H.” Mitch pats his friend on the shoulder.

Harry scoffs. “You’re the one who wanted poke.”

The Aloha Nui Loa Café is much more spacious than the exterior suggests, yet it still feels cozy. The walls are painted sage green and adorned with various local art pieces, as described by the plaques that accompany them. A skylight fills the center of the room with plenty of warm lighting, leaving the space along the walls in a bit more shade for an intimate feel. In one corner, a hanging disco ball leaves freckles of sparkling light along the walls where the sunlight hits, making the whole image very idyllic in Harry’s mind. As if he couldn’t enjoy the setting more, he hears the beginning of an Otis Redding song that he’s had stuck in his head drift through the restaurant speakers.

“Welcome in!” a voice calls, which pulls him from his survey of the room. His head whips to the source—a girl around his age with wavy, dark hair and honey skin. “For here or to go?”

Harry takes a hesitant step up to the counter. “For here,”

She smiles warmly and pulls some menus from under the counter. “How many in your party?”

“Five.”

“Great, follow me.”

Harry and his friends follow the waitress to the corner of the room under the disco ball and take their seats at the round table.

“My name is Alani,” she introduces herself, setting the menus down. “I’ll be serving you today. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Harry continues scanning the restaurant while his group orders. His eyes land on the shirt that Alani is wearing, a white tee with the words “Enjoy Health, Eat Your Honey” in blue lettering that surrounds a picture of a cartoon bee.

“Harry,” Jeff says gently, catching his drifting attention.

The singer turns to his manager, who nods to Alani waiting with a pen pressed to her notepad. Harry feels a rush of embarrassment creep across his cheeks and he clears his throat to cover it.

“Just water,” he says, eyes glued to the menu. “Thanks.”

“You got it.” Alani nods, flashing a toothy grin at the rest of the group before turning back to the kitchen. Harry. Her mind repeats, finding a hint of familiarity, though she doesn’t know why.

When Alani arrives at the drink station, she finds her sister staring at her, mouth agape, while Maleah unsuccessfully conceals her laughter.

“What?” she questions, checking herself for any embarrassing stains or smells.

“You were—and he—” Pua stammers. “He was—and then he—”

“That’s Harry Styles,” Maleah translates, her voice hushed as she peers over her friend's shoulder.

Alani turns to steal a glance at the table she just seated, but Pua and Maleah latch onto her and shake their heads frantically.

“Don’t look!” her sister hisses.

Alani smirks, amused at their reactions. “No shit. That’s One Direction?”

Maleah snorts, clasping a hand over her mouth as Pua huffs. “No, dumbass! It’s just Harry. I don’t know who the other guys are,”

“But the blonde guy? That’s not—?”

“No!” Pua and Maleah giggle in unison.

“Okay, geez,” Alani relents. She manages to steal a quick glance at the table over her shoulder, immediately searching for Harry. Her eyes scan over the long, curly hair kept out of his face by a pair of white sunglasses that she had seen on Kurt Cobain once. All of his features are sharp and striking, from his pointed nose and defined jawline to the bright blue eyes. Or maybe they were grey? Alani wonders, trying to remember the exact shade. He doesn’t look anything like the fresh-faced teeny bopper she’d had in mind, the one from a music video her sister had shown her a long time ago. She would have never guessed that the What Makes You Beautiful singer had so much dark ink trailing down his bicep and forearm, though her knowledge of One Direction was very limited.

“What did he order?” Pua questions, her eyes wide.

Alani quickly snaps back to reality and resumes filling the drinks. “A water,”

“Oh my god,” Maleah swoons. “I’m never drinking anything else ever again,”

“I didn’t even know you liked him,” Alani teases with an eyebrow raised.

Maleah sneaks another peek at the table and catches her lower lip between her teeth. “I mean, I didn’t really think so either but look at him. What a fucking dream,”

Harry was objectively handsome, this Alani could admit, but she personally didn’t see the appeal and had a strong feeling that he was just like every other male celebrity. The fact that he hadn’t even bothered to make eye contact with her only served as further proof of what she knew to be true.

“Okay, well, your dreamboat is waiting for his water. So excuse me,” Alani winks, making her way back to the table.

The singer spots Alani returning out of the corner of his eye and the sight of her causes a strange flutter in the pit of his stomach that makes him want to duck for cover. Instead, he pulls his phone from his back pocket and pretends to be occupied with something on the screen.

“Okay,” she greets, setting the drink tray down. “I have a Blue Hawaii, a Mango Mama, two Loco Cocos, and a water,”

The group graciously accepts their drinks with a chorus of “thank you," but the only one under Alani’s scrutiny is Harry. He still doesn’t meet her almond eyes, and though she figured he wouldn’t, she can’t help the inkling of disappointment that washes over her. After taking their meal orders, Alani heads back to the kitchen, checking on her other customers along the way. Harry’s eyes follow her and he observes the way customers light up at her presence, indulging her conversation with laughter. He watches as she lingers by the jukebox in one corner of the room, a detail he had missed in his initial scan, and waits anxiously to see what song she chooses. Baby I’m-a Want You begins softly and Harry feels the corner of his lip curl ever so slightly. Good choice, he thinks.

********

“He’s still here,” Pua muses, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen door. It had been nearly two hours and the five men were still seated around their table cracking jokes and doing a lot of talking with their hands.

Alani doesn’t look up from her bowl of sliced kiwis, offering a hum in response. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“Nothing,” Pua shoots back. “Don’t bother him,”

“What kind of girls do you think he’s into?” Maleah asks, attempting to peek through the window.

Alani shrugs, bored of the conversation and of thinking about Harry. “I don’t know, but I’ll bet he’s a real sucker for the ones who stalk him while he’s eating,”

“How does he make eating a salad look hot?”

“Can we talk about something else now?” Alani whines, poking holes in a lone kiwi with her fork.

Pua tosses a wet dish rag in her sister’s direction and cheers when it lands in her face. “Go see if he wants more water, he looks thirsty.”

“I already refilled it,” Alani defends. “Twenty minutes ago. I’ve refilled it a hundred times, I’m surprised he hasn’t peed his pants.”

I’m gonna piss myself. Harry thinks, his right leg bouncing to distract himself. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. He really wasn’t all that thirsty, but he couldn’t stop himself from finishing each glass of water that Alani placed in front of him. Like clockwork, she would return to fill his glass almost as soon as the last drop had been drained, and so what began as a little experiment slowly turned into a bladder hazard. But if the trend was to be trusted, she would be back any minute and he wasn’t going to miss it; afterall, there were only so many ways to casually linger in a small café without making it weird. Unable to bear it any longer, he heads to the restroom and hopes that Alani doesn’t clear their table before he has a chance to see her again.

Harry pads down the back hallway with his eyes cast down at the floor, which proves to be a mistake when he walks directly into another person.

“Sorry!” they both apologize quickly, Harry’s palm taking purchase on the other person’s upper arm.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” he offers, finally meeting the dark, mocha eyes already looking back at him.

Alani presses her lips into a tight smile. “Me either,”

Harry’s heartbeat picks up when he realizes it’s her, and he isn’t aware of how close they’re standing until he detects the faint scent of kiwi on her breath. He takes a step back and rakes a hand through his hair.

“So I guess I’ll just—”

“Yeah, sure.”

Green. Alani notes to herself. His eyes are green.

********

Shortly after Harry returned from the restroom, him and his friends settled their bill and headed out. Alani cleared their table and her eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw the hefty tip left behind. The word mahalo was also left behind on the receipt, underlined twice, and she wondered if it was his handwriting.

Later that night, she settled into bed with her laptop and hesitantly typed his name into Google. As she expected, countless articles about the split of One Direction emerged, most of them speculating what was next for each member. To her surprise, however, Harry’s name seemed to be mentioned more than his fellow bandmates as various sources labeled him “the next Justin Timberlake” and rising star of the group. Upon further investigation, she learned that the demand for information about the elusive Harry Styles was high, especially concerning any possible solo music. No news had yet been confirmed by Styles himself, nor anyone claiming to represent him, but she still wondered if his presence in Hawaii had anything to do with a possible solo project. Almost as soon as she thought it, Alani dismissed the theory in favor of the idea that he was most likely just taking a vacation. And from the buzz that she saw surrounding the news about One Direction, she couldn’t blame him.

The more Alani read, the more she wanted to know, and something deep down told her that his was a story worth telling. Of course, the only problem was that she had hardly talked to him, and there were only so many things she could say about the fifteen glasses of water he downed. There was no way of knowing if she would ever see him again, either, or if he was merely stopping in Hilo on his way to another island or somewhere else entirely. Alani sighed, thinking back to her most recent rejection from Rolling Stone. She knew that there was no possible way she would ever see or talk to Harry ever again, and even if she did, why would he bare his entire soul to a stranger? Still, she let her mind wander through the possibility.

Dear Ms. Hale, the letter would read, we are very grateful to have received your submission to Rolling Stone magazine and are pleased to inform you that your piece on Harry Styles will be featured in next month’s issue. Additionally, we would be honored to have you on staff, effective immediately.

It was far-fetched, Alani knew this, but she dozed off that night with endless ideas swimming in her head.

********

By the third day after his visit, the only trace of Harry is in Alani’s search history. She would have completely forgotten about him if it weren’t for her sister’s constant reminiscing and multiple attempts to rename the house salad to the “Harry Special.” As a result, a part of Alani’s thoughts periodically linger back to that day and the subsequent hours spent on Google that she’d rationalized as research instead of stalking. Somehow the knowledge that she’ll never see him again only adds fuel to the questions still burning in her mind, but a customer clearing their throat while she sorts menus below the hostess podium interrupts her thoughts.

“Welcome in!” She calls, standing. “What can I—”

She stops in her tracks, unable to believe her eyes. Harry blinks and waits for her to continue.

“What can I get started for you?” Alani tries again, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her shock. Luckily for her, Harry had been too focused on choosing his next words to register her mistake.

“What’s in the Honu smoothie?” he asks, mentally kicking himself for asking such a stupid question when the menu just inches above her head clearly spells it out.

Alani hums, thinking back to the times she had made the smoothie herself. “Kiwis, spinach, mango, avocado, and a hint of lime,”

“I’ll take one of those,” Harry says, reaching for his wallet.

Alani punches in the order with trembling fingers and nods. “For here or to go?”

“To go,”

Disappointment fills her chest. Sure, she hadn’t planned on seeing him ever again, but the fact that she did felt like a sign. If she wanted to take the chance, she’d have to do it fast.

“Anything else?” she asks, weighing her options while he skims the menu.

“No thanks.”

Alani makes the smoothie quickly, head spinning. She had spent most of the night after their initial meeting planning out exactly the type of questions she hoped to ask him and what kind of article she would write. She was used to writing about what she knew—artists and music she’d admired for years— but she figured that starting fresh with someone she hardly knew would be a good challenge. Not to mention that it seemed like just the thing Rolling Stone would jump for. Alani finally works up the courage as she finishes his smoothie, but when she returns to hand it to him and hopefully strike up a conversation, his ear is pressed to his cell phone. She holds out the drink and he graciously accepts, giving her a small nod as a “thank you” and rushing out of the restaurant.

Two days later he returns and is seated at the counter, typing away on his phone. Alani feels both a rush of optimism and annoyance at the universe for dangling his presence so unexpectedly. She starts heading over to him, but Maleah cuts in.

“Trade me?” she proposes, eyes wide.

Alani blinks. “Oh, I would but I—”

“Please,” her best friend pouts. “I’m leaving to see my grandparents in stupid California for two months. Who knows when I’ll get the chance to see him again?”

Alani sighs, but gives in, reluctantly exchanging Harry for the family of four seated by the window. A strange feeling settles into the pit of his stomach when he sees that she heads in the opposite direction after a hushed conversation with another waitress. He doesn’t know why she traded him for a different customer, but he takes the hint.

A week goes by without another sighting of Harry and Alani has permanently taken on the role of greeting hostess in hopes of seeing him again. Her heartbeat temporarily speeds up when she sees a long haired customer approach the door, but her spirits quickly fall when the face doesn’t match his.

Another week brings another disappointing realization that Harry might be gone for good. One rainy morning when the restaurant is quiet and only two customers huddle together in a booth near the back, Alani hunches over the hostess podium and doodles on a stray receipt— a sunflower, a crescent moon, and two hearts. The bell above the door jingles but she doesn’t look up, too absorbed in her scribbles.

“Do you serve coffee?”

The familiar accented voice stops Alani’s pen dead in its tracks. She lifts her eyes first to confirm, and then straightens up when she sees that her ears haven’t deceived her.

“Yes,” she swallows.

“Great. I’ll take it to go,”

She slightly deflates, but Harry thinks he’s reading too much into it.

“Actually,” he corrects anyway, just in case he isn’t. “I think I’ll stay for a while,”

Alani flashes a warm smile and nods in the direction of the counter. “Right this way,”

Harry sheds his windbreaker onto the back of the seat, revealing a black and white Rolling Stones t-shirt that makes Alani’s blood pressure rise. A sign, she thinks.

“What do you want in your coffee?” she questions carefully.

“Nothing,” he responds, shaking out his damp hair gently. “Or actually, uh, butter...if you have some,”

Alani blinks, not sure if she’d heard correctly or if there had been some transatlantic miscommunication.

“Butter?”

“Yeah,”

“Like the—”

“Spread, yeah,” Harry confirms. “It’s weird, I know,”

She lets out a light-hearted laugh and nods. “It’s a...unique request,”

“I thought the same thing at first,” Harry confides. “It’s not bad, actually. But maybe I’ve just been in L.A. for too long.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

She offers a polite smile and heads to the kitchen where the cook and two other waiters talk amongst each other. Alani is grateful that the restaurant is slow this morning because she knows that it means minimal interruptions to her time with Harry. To ensure this, though, she asks one of the other waiters to cover the podium and returns to Harry with his coffee.

“One butter coffee, free of judgement,” the waitress announces, setting it down.

Harry grins softly, stirring the drink with the spoon Alani provided. “You can judge, it’s alright,”

“I just wanna know why,”

The coffee had been part of a fad diet while on tour in order to boost Harry’s energy on stage and stay trim for the hundreds of photo-ops he would be a part of. He doesn’t know how to communicate all of this to Alani, however, not sure how much she knows about that part of him, so he shrugs and tells a simplified version of the truth.

“I read about this trend a while back, it's called bulletproof coffee. Supposed to get your energy up and I needed it for my job,”

“Which is…” Alani trails off, downplaying the knowledge that she had acquired from Google.

“I make music,” is all Harry says and he takes a sip of the drink to avoid elaborating.

“Anything I would have heard?”

He swallows hard and listens to the faint rumbling of thunder outside before replying. “Possibly,”

“Try me,” Alani challenges.

He narrows his eyes and takes another sip of coffee. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself first?”

“What do you wanna know?”

Everything, Harry responds internally, though he reigns it in. “How you got into waitressing,”

Alani sighs, resting her elbows on the counter across from him. “There’s not much to tell, it’s a family business. What I really wanna do is write,”

“Music?”

“Articles. I’m studying Journalism at UH,”

Harry hums in response, filing the detail away in the back of his mind. “Sounds interesting. You ever publish anything?”

“Not yet,” Alani shakes her head gently, toying with the sleeves of her green University of Hawaii crewneck. “Hopefully soon, though,”

Harry racks his brain for something else to say, but before he can, Alani speaks up again.

“Is it my turn to ask something now?”

He offers a curt nod and stirs his coffee.

“What kind of music do you write?”

Harry chooses to be vague again. “Different stuff. Pop, usually. Been messing with some classic rock, though,”

“Explains the shirt,”

He peers down at the design on his tee and agrees. “Yeah, I guess so,”

“Do you like it?” Alani asks, her eyes begging to make contact with his again. “Writing music, I mean,”

“Yeah,” Harry confirms, tapping his spoon against the rim of the mug. “I really do,”

Alani’s heart pounds. This is her chance, a moment to finally secure her breakthrough piece. She doesn’t know how to approach it, so she opts to dive right in without looking back. The worst he can say is no.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“That’s cheating,” Harry teases lightly. “It's my turn,”

She pouts playfully, but obliges. “Fire away,”

Harry doesn’t know which question to ask first, but when he glances down at the crescent moon inked on her wrist, he decides to start there.

“What’s with the moon tattoo?”

Alani isn’t sure what she expected him to ask and wonders what purpose such a detail could possibly serve him, but she answers anyway.

“Oh, well,” she begins, tracing her index finger over the outline. “It’s kinda the meaning of my full name. It’s Mahealani, Hawaiian for ‘heavenly moon,'”

Fitting, Harry comments to himself. Every detail he learns about her makes him want to learn that much more, from her favorite foods to the last thing she thinks about before falling asleep. Studying her expectant eyes, he suddenly remembers that it’s his turn to respond.

“That’s cool,” is all he says.

Alani doesn’t know what to make of the faraway look in his eye, but she decides to pose her most burning question while he appears to be in good spirits.

“I know this is gonna sound totally out of the blue,” she starts, working past the lump in her throat. “But when you mentioned how you write music, I was just reminded of this assignment I’m working on in my class,”

Harry waits for her to continue, nursing his now lukewarm coffee.

“I’m supposed to write a piece about someone who I don’t know that well,” she continues. “You know, to practice our interviewing skills. And, well, I was just kind of wondering if you might be interested in helping me out—being the subject, I mean,”

Alani had every intention of telling Harry the truth, about how she really planned to submit the article to Rolling Stone in hopes of securing an internship before her college graduation next Spring. But as she started speaking, she quickly realized how it would come off: a complete stranger asking for personal information to submit to a well-known publication. She knew that there was a chance he would shut down and never return, so she lowered the stakes and hoped that this route would be less risky. Was it ethical? Alani hadn’t decided yet, but she would work out the details later. After six failed articles and two years of rejection, she saw a ray of hope and wasn’t going to let it slip away.

Harry ponders her offer for a moment, which confirms that she had recognized him. Normally he would be off-put by such a request, and to a certain extent he is, but there is something sincere in her voice that he trusts deep down. Before he agrees, however, he decides to fish around a bit to test her reaction.

“You know who I am,” he says gently. “Don’t you?”

Alani’s heart drops into the pit of her stomach, not sure what to say next. She hopes with every fiber of her being that she hasn’t upset him, or worse, ruined her chances, so she decides to offer some truth to throw him off her scent.

“My sister recognized you,” she explains. “That day you came in with your friends. I thought they were your bandmates at first,”

This lets Harry know that she isn’t a total stalker, which is comforting, but he wouldn’t have been minded if she were a fan simply engaging in conversation.

“Oh,” he laughs weakly.

“I totally understand if you say no,” Alani offers quickly, trying to smooth things over. “I just thought it was worth a shot. And that it might be more interesting than interviewing our produce guy,”

Harry decides to give her one last scan for any sign of insincerity. He’d always felt that his gut instinct was strong and it hadn’t led him astray thus far.

“An interview?” he clarifies.

“Just one,” Alani promises. “An hour, tops. And you can proofread all of it once I’ve finished, too.”

Harry waits a beat, already knowing his reply, but he wants to see how she will react to his silence. She doesn’t budge, almond eyes set and determined.

“Okay.”

next chapter

[practicalmagicintuitions]

“The fates lead the willing and drag the unwilling”

I was thinking about that last MT podcast HC had when he mentioned stoicism and a book I have but I haven’t read yet. So I decided to deep dive in a little bit because I studied philosophy at the university at a very basic level but I always wanted to know more, so this seems a good occasion. I am also interested in what HC could see in this philosophy school. I think we all know at this point he is interested in things that interest his people, not necessarily him or he is dropping ideas, new things fast. So one part of this will be a summary of stoicism because I feel many people have misconceptions or don’t know what is this just saying this is sh*t even don’t have the slightest idea about it. The other part will be a little HC armchair analysis by me throughout this topic. And I also decided to read the book he mentioned - Viktor E. Frankl Man's Search for Meaning - and maybe I will walk through it or give you a summary if you interested. 

Bare with me, because this turned out to be long, but I had to get out his from my system.

Not soon after the pandemic and the lockdown started in 2020 Penguin Random House said the print sales of Marcus Antonius’s Meditations are up 28% for the first quarter of 2020 vs 2019, while print sales of Letters from a Stoic are up 42% for the same period. The ebook sales rose by 356% . This boom was because of the pandemic but the popularity of modern stoicism has been an upcoming thing for a while especially since people like Bill Gates or Warren Buffet allegedly used stoicism in their business and Thomas Kaplan is supporting a Stoicism Course at Brown University. But unfortunately, modern stoicism has become kind of a ready-made lifehack, a self-helping method, that’s why books like Ryan Holiday’s one could be published and becomes a success. This is where I see modern stoicism’s faults. 

Stoicism seems a good school to support or to follow in the pandemic because this is about we have to accept the things we have no control over. Probably that’s why the sales went up. This is about don’t letting uncontrollable things or events messing with your judgment and clarity. Fear, screams, panic, rages don’t help. And I think we can agree this is true. Aurelius wrote his Meditations in the middle of a battle when his men were dying not just because of the fights but because of a pox epidemic and top of that he was an Emperor. So to maintain his sanity he had become a stoic. He didn’t have an influence on the epidemic so he just accept it and didn’t spend his energy raging about it. 

Stoicism was founded by Zenon around 300 BC. And it was a thriving and popular school without huge wars or pandemics or anything. Back then it was not a reaction to something but a preparation for something. More directly prepare yourself the thing you cannot be prepared for. And probably this is the OG stoicism most valuable teaching that there are events in this world we simply cannot control. What we can control however how we react to those events. Are we remain calm or think this is a catastrophe. Let see a very basic example. We are mortals, we will die no matter what. This is a sure event we have no control over. What we can control that our view on this. Will we panic? Refuse to even talk about death or refuse to make a will because “OMG I will die then!!” Like spoiler alert, it will happen, will or no will. Or we understand our time is limited and try to enjoy it and not see smaller inconveniences are tragedies. I am sure we all know people who think if they spill themselves over with coffee or the handle of the grocery’s bag comes off it’s a pure tragedy and they are capable of thinking about this all day as something it is happening with them always an exclusively. 

Until this, I think it’s all good we can use this in our daily life. What is dangerous in the OG stoicism is that the stricter wing of it thought emotions as a whole or almost all of it cause confusion so you basically should eliminate emotions to have that clarity on life. That’s why Diogenes wrote that the wise is emotionless. And this is the main and very valid criticism again stoics, that with taking away the emotions they basically ripping of humans from something very unique valuable, important, because our emotions make us humans. And because living totally emotionless is kinda impossible this goal is not realistic, so it causes many frustrations ( oh my... even more emotions!) Because think about it, who are described as emotionless? Psychopaths. 

You have cases, events, when your emotions, even overflowing ones are right and acceptable and suppressing them, could be dangerous. Because realistic or not Marcus Aurelius and Seneca and the other stoics idea was not just watching the world and letting things happen, shrugging a shoulder and say nothing, no! Their philosophy and aim were to eliminate the bothering things which not let you think calmly. And since we are talking about philosophy the reality of this in practice is secondary. Critics also think ( and maybe the modern stoicism is going in this direction) that a hardcore stoics care only about themself and their egos while Seneca says friendships are important and in general most stoics accepted positive feelings (to a certain extent).

Stoicism comes back to life mostly in psychotherapy around 1900 by Paul Dubois ( before him there was another new wave of stoicism in the 16th century) and that’s where Victor E Frankle is connected to this topic. I haven’t read his book yet but I know his method is called logotherapy (logos= meaning) and this was born in the deepest existential crisis when his whole family was killed in a concentration camp and he felt he had remained only one personal freedom, the way how he reacts to the circumstances. Frankle invented his own method so he is not just planted some ancient in the modern world but he in fact thought Socrates and his philosophy is his inspiration. I won’t talk about this more until I read his book. 

* I wanted to listen to the whole podcast again, but I couldn’t so I just went to the part we care about now.

So they are talking about morning routines and he mention that one of his teachers in primary school said to him “Always expect the unexpected” This is pure stoicism and while I am not suggesting he is lying I noticed he likes to blend his current interest with his childhood memories like when he said at the WitcherCon how they had to build a fantasy castle in the school (or something) and this was such good preparation for him because he has a fantasy series now. Convenient right?

So he mentioned the teacher and a little later hinting that he is into stoicism lately. Question is, which comes first? The teacher with the stoic idea or the stoicism as a new interest somehow repainted his childhood memories? 

Then he again is talking about the stoic’s way of control. Or does he? 

“ focusing on the thing you can control and make yourself better to control them” 

This was never part of the OG philosophy because that is not about being a control freak. It is actually the opposite. If you cannot control something let it go, not force things to go on your way and if you failed then you let go. 

The next part it’s not about this topic but I have to mention it because I kinda overlooked it when I listed this at the first time.

He is asked about the fitness industry’s mistakes and he said

“I wouldn’t be the kinda person to point my finger at anyone and say there is a big mistake there…. I wouldn’t ever want to point to finger at anyone saying there is a mistake “

So… should I insert the FO post here? And I know the question and the answer was about fitness but he clearly has no problem pointing fingers at people. 

This leads to us again to the control topic. His FO post is creaming about controlling. “ You don’t like the way I am dating? You don’t like I have a covid romance? Then I will tell you what to do and how to behave because I need to have control over my fandom”

When the host asked him about overcoming obstacles he mention the book - Victor E. Frankl Man's Search for Meaning. (he also said it’s difficult to give advice…)

While he is talking about the book (and for me, it’s clear that the host doesn’t give a damn about this) so HC’s whole tone is changed. Just compare when he is talking about MT and training and so on, he is so irritating and unlistenable but here he is calmer, doesn’t use his voice so expressively, doesn’t emphasise that much in a sentence etc. This to me shows he is actually craving after something more, something deeper, something serious. Not just talking about his ties and blueberry smoothies. I don’t think is dumb (I think he has dumb choices thought) I think he could be more both as an actor both as an individual because when he was talking about the book I felt he has a true, genuine interest and it was a one-second opportunity to talk about something interesting not just fart powder.  

I feel his interest in stoicism is an attempt to validate why he is oppressing his feelings. I am sure he does this because he is uncomfortable with his feelings, past and present. For example, I think instead of the bullying his main trauma is being sent away from home to a boarding school and experiencing cold treatment from his mom (the infamous stop calling story). But he oppressing this because I guess all of his brothers he is looking up to loves their mom and he feels he needs to be a good son but questioning his mom means he is a bad one. So instead of admitting that he is hurt and damaged by it he is saying the bullying was his worst experience. 

This means to me he doesn’t understand stoicism, ancient or modern he just wants and moreover, he needs something he can hold and cling to, something that gave himself meaning. As a book’s title says: Man’s search for meaning. And I feel HC does this maybe a little bit desperately. Searching for the answers and this moment he thinks stoicism is the key to finding what he is looking for while in reality, the main problem is he doesn’t ask the right questions. And without them, he won’t find any answer. Or meaning. 

Title quote from Seneca

[wasabito]

had so much fun writing for my baby boy tendou, so here’s my entry for the hqhq sfw server collab! be sure to check out the rest on the masterlist found here! enjoy ✨

words: 3.0k

prompt: “you woke me up at 3am for this?”

synopsis: your neighbor is ridiculous, kind of annoying and little bit on the weird side, but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

You had to be the biggest idiot on the planet—an obvious exaggeration, yes, but you were still inclined to believe it was true. 

How else could you explain the feeling of being so utterly fed up with one’s actions like this? Were there enough words in the dictionary to describe just how exhausted you were by your own antics, more specifically, your forgetfulness since that’s what had landed you in a world of pain and embarrassment?

The answer was no.

You sat with your back pressed against your front door, head in your hands and chin tucked between your raised knees and chest. At your side was your wallet along with stacks of newspapers, coupons and whatever else had been stuffed in your mailbox, bills probably. Advertisements too. Honestly, it was hard to be happy about a new restaurant opening up down the block when you were currently stuck—locked out of your apartment to be precise.

The landlord of your cheap little complex wasn’t expected to be back for another hour according to the sign posted outside of his office. So until then, you’d remain posted up by your doorstep like some loiterer. 

You shifted in place and blew a puff of air from your lips, feeling little pinpricks in your legs. For the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes you felt like kicking yourself, hard.

The sun hung low, nearly touching the distant horizon signifying the end of another day. Even the sky was painted a warm umber, casting dim shadows.

“Locked out, huh?” came a snide, but accented voice.

It took you way longer than necessary to realize that suddenly you weren’t the only person on this floor. God, where was your head at?

A pair of forest green crocs stood before you, complete with a few odd charms and trinkets. A cartoon volleyball, pinned next to a smiley face, a donut and a gaudy “i heart paris” chain dangling from the ankle strap. A person’s shoes could say a lot about who they were...your mother thought so, at least.

Resisting the urge to projectile vomit all over this stranger’s rather questionable taste in footwear, your wary gaze panned upward, glossing over white tube socks and a pair of the longest legs you’ve ever seen on a person—yet another exaggeration. You came face to face with a crooked smile. Curious ruby eyes returned your stare with almost the same amount of scrutiny.

Who the hell was this guy?

Mystery-man easily towered over you, and not only because you were hunched over and sitting. He was tall as hell, all lanky build, gangly arms and legs disguising lithe muscle and a surprisingly sturdy frame. He looked like the i-run-every-morning type; semi-athletic at the very least. His buzzed hair was the color of cinnamon, no that wasn’t right, paprika maybe? Either way, it contrasted sharply with the paleness of his skin, so much so that you could see the faint blue of the veins in his arms.

“Yoohooo, anybody hooome?” He tilted his head at you.

“Huh? Oh uh, yeah, I’m locked out. I forgot my key inside and Mr. Laurent won’t be back until later.”

“Hmm. That sucks...”

“...Um… do I… do I know you or something? You look a little familiar.”

He pinned you with a funny look, before pulling out a set of keys from the back pocket of his shorts.

“Maybe you do, maybe you don’t~ I mean we are neighbors, after all.” Laughing as if he’d made some sort of joke, he entered his apartment with a twirl and a dramatic wave of his arms.

You stared at his door for a solid minute, only to finally succumb to your urges and facepalm at your own idiocy. Of course he looked familiar, how could he not when he literally lived four feet away.

With a sigh of resignation, you braced yourself for another hour spent sitting outside your front door. It wasn’t like there was any other place you could go or anyone you could call. The battery icon on your phone blinked red, warning that it was soon to run out of juice. Guess that meant no Among Us or Subway Surfer for you.

Five minutes later, the door next to you opened. It was Mystery-man again, but this time, he sat in front of his door, just like you were. And he did so with a bag of pretzels and a jar of nutella in hand.

“Must be bored out here by yourself.” He crunched on a pretzel before offering you the bag to take some. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep ya company.”

You weren’t sure why, but there was something about this guy that intrigued you. You half-wondered if it was the funny little curl of his smile, or the wideness of his eyes that made it seem like he was looking at all of you, all at once. 

"You must be pretty bored...uh,"

"Satori Tendou, but most people call me Tendou. Miracle boy works just fine too."

"Right... Tendou, as I was saying, you must be incredibly bored to come sit out here with me. You sure you don't have anything important to do?"

Tendou's grinned widened. "Positive! And it costs me nothing to be neighborly, so don't even sweat it."

That was...nice of him?

If sitting outside with you was the way he wanted to spend his late Tuesday afternoon who were you to deny him? And truthfully, you didn't mind the company, at least not really. Provided this guy wasn't some creepy-stalker-weirdo, you were sure there wasn't any harm in getting to know the person who lived one door over.

"So, Tendou, how long have you lived in the area? You don't really look like you're from around here...I could be wrong."

Tendou raised a thin brow at you. "Weeeell, if you're asking about how long I've lived next door, it would be about three maybe four months give or take, but if you're asking how long I've lived in Paris, it would be a year next month. Speaking of, I think Semisemi has a birthday coming up..."

You watched as he pulled out his cell phone and tapped away at the illuminated glass screen. You couldn't help but notice the goofy little anime stickers on his phone case. One in particular caught your attention.

“Is that...Kirara? From Inuyasha??”

“Oho! So, you recognize this?”

Backtracking, you mumble out, “Ah, well…only a little.” Though your face was turned away, the tiny smile on your lips was not hidden from Tendou and he thought you were pretty cute.

Funnily enough, what you had expected to be a rather unnerving and possibly creepy exchange turned out to be anything but. Tendou was incredibly fun to talk to—a bit teasing and a little overwhelming with his superfluous hand movements and gestures. But he was funny and a lot kinder that you would’ve given him credit for.

You learned that he was originally from Japan; it explained his accented French. He had come to Paris right out of high school to study culinary arts in one of the most renowned countries for it. Now he worked as a chocolatier, under the tutelage of a master patisserie in the city, an older man who was both a creative genius and a thorn in Tendou’s side. Tendou spoke of his teacher with equal parts awe and annoyance. 

And he got to know you too. How you’d found yourself in Paris, thousands of miles away from home in an effort to rediscover yourself in the city full of rich history and culture. 

You didn’t have many friends here, and it truly was a pleasure to make his acquaintance.

Soon, you both heard the telltale sound of jangling keys as your landlord rounded the corner with his clipboard in hand. Once you were able to get your door open, you waved a goodbye to Tendou.

“Thanks for keeping me company, you really didn’t have to.”

“No biggie, it was fun!” He threw a mischievous little grin and a peace-sign over his shoulder and reentered his apartment. 

You found yourself wanting to cross paths with him again, and hopefully in better circumstances. But you hadn't known your wishful thinking was soon to manifest as you ambled through grocery store aisles a week later, eyeing down any items with pictures on it.

“Why in the hell is this toilet paper so expensive.” You mumbled.

“So, you complain about the price of toilet paper, but wear sneakers that cost two-thirds our rent.” That voice sounded familiar, and after hearing it for about an hour just days ago, you were a bit surprised you could recognize it so quickly. 

Stunned, you looked up to find Satori Tendou, your quirky neighbor with an arm full of pita chips, a milk carton, and baby carrots.

“I never said I made the best choices.” You found yourself smiling despite the previous crease in your brow. “...Dude, get a cart before you drop everything.”

Instead of getting his own, he simply dumped what he had into your cart with a teasing grin. You couldn’t argue with his logic there. Tendou sidled up against you, once again towering over you with a kind of ease that should be criminal. “Need help reading something?”

You wanted to say no. You almost said no. But swallowing your pride, you gave a weak nod. “Yeah, this word right here.” Pointing to the unfamiliar script printed on the label. “What the heck is this?”

“Weeeeell, looks like that brand is scented, ya know, for when ya—”

“Don’t bother finishing that sentence...please.”

You quickly grab what you need and continue on down the aisle with Tendou following closely behind.

Just like when you’d first met him, he made conversation the entire way. By the time you both made it to the cash registers, you’d argued at least three times over french pronunciations and whether cashews were the cousin of peanuts.

And just as last time, he left you with a grin and a peace-sign while you stared after his retreating back, paid groceries in hand.

After an entire day spent baking, you found yourself on Tendou’s doorstep with a tupperware full of baked goodies later the next evening. You had been meaning to thank him for being such a good neighbor to you. It was certainly unexpected, but a welcome gesture nonetheless.

You only had to knock twice before the door was wrenched open and you were greeted with the set of...vanilla? Some pop song played in the background while your neighbor looked at you curiously.

"H-Hey Tendou, I um...I baked you these." You held out the plastic container, hoping he'd simply take it from you without question and you could return to your apartment without somehow embarrassing yourself. "There's a little bit of everything in there, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, macadamia nut—wait you aren't allergic to anything, right?"

"Nooope! Not a thing, thanks neighbor!"

"It was no problem, especially since you've helped me, not once but twice now."

Frowning, you couldn't help but be a little upset with yourself. You'd come to France to prove that you could, in fact, live a normal life outside of your family’s jurisdiction but day by day you were proving to need them more and more. 

It was disappointing, to say the least.

"Hmm, what’s with the constipated look on your face. Did the toilet paper not help?” Tendou tilted his head at you with a teasing grin, lips curled at the edges, taunting. You blinked up at him, surprised, and if you were honest, a little annoyed too. 

"Hah?!"

"Just thought it was worth a mention, nighty-night~!"

Tendou proceeded to shut the door on you; one hand rested on the frame and the other held on to the cookies. You quickly took a step back lest he chop your entire arm off, ready to trudge off in the direction of your own home but not before sticking your tongue out at him.

Stupid Tendou, always saying stupid shit. 

You were on the couch, half asleep when it dawned on you that it had been his own twisted, “Tendou” way of cheering you up. 

The rest of the month passed just like that. Occasionally, you would bump into Tendou at the grocery store, or the leasing office, or even the laundromat. And every single time, he’d either make you laugh until your sides hurt or annoyed enough to want to give him a friendly punch. At one point, you two had even exchanged phone numbers, because according to Tendou “it was ridiculous not to have your friends on speedial” which only led to hours spent on Facetime or playing iMessage games.

You knew exchanging numbers would come back to bite you in the ass, it was only a matter of when.

It was clear you weren’t going to any sleep tonight, that was for sure. The incessant buzzing of your cell phone every five minutes was an enemy to your circadian rhythm. You could name on one hand those in your contacts with enough sense to know that you lived in a completely different time zone from them now.

Somehow your neighbor was the very last person you suspected, but it was his contact photo that stared back at you, goofy looking grin and all. You squinted against the brightness of your screen in your otherwise dark bedroom.

you up?

come quick

gotta show ya somethin

come oooon

you're awake, i know you are

It took you less than a minute to shuffle on a pair of slippers, grab your keys (you weren't going to forget them this time) and slip out of your apartment.

You hadn't even knocked twice before the door was pulled open. Tendou looked a mess, more so than usual. Unidentified stains littered the apron looped around his thin waist, streaks of what you hoped were just flour and granulated sugar were all over his hands. You almost wanted to ask if he was baking or dealing dope.

“You woke me up at three in the morning...for this?”

“Yuuup!”

"When I said you could call me at any time, I really didn’t mean any time.” You scratch your side, a contemplative look on your face at the sight of Tendou in what you would assume to be his pajamas. An old volleyball hoodie with the words "Shirazorizawa" printed across the front, and old sweats the were so obviously cut with scissors at the knee.

Rolling your eyes, you mumbled a curt, “Alright, move aside.”

Tendou ushered you over to his kitchen where several of his cooking supplies laid on the island, along with a tray of some chocolate dessert spread.

“It’s all still in the testing phase, but I think I’m onto something here.”

He was definitely giving off “mad scientist” vibes. You tried not to snort.

Holding a small chocolate cake in his hand, he smiled, a genuine smile this time. "Open wide."

You obeyed, far too tired to argue, and let him pop the treat into your mouth. Tendou watched as you chewed, as if it were the most interesting thing ever. His wide gaze carefully took in every shift in your expression.

"So? Whaddya think?"

"I...," You chewed a bit more. "...It's delicious! Is that—"

"—Pistachio, why yes it is!" 

Tendou was practically bouncing on his feet with excitement. "It takes the entire thing to a whole new level."

You had to agree with him there. This was probably the best chocolate madeleine you'd ever tasted. "Great work, miracle boy. Will you be introducing this new recipe to Claude?"

Mentioning his teacher seemed to sober him up a bit. "Ehh, maybe? The old man's a bit of traditionalist, so I'll just have to figure out a way to get him to approve."

"Maybe try calling him at three in the morning?" 

Tendou stuck his tongue out at you before popping a dessert in his mouth. The pure delight on his face was so contagious, you found yourself smiling just the same. You couldn’t help but admire his passion.

“Hey, Tendou… do you like your job?”

He blinked at you, chewing coming to a slow halt. “Well of course! The pay isn’t the best just yet, but it’s a labor of love. I’m willing to put my all into it at least.”

“Huh… that’s pretty cool.” You wiped your fingers on a nearby rag. “I hope to feel the same one day… if I can figure out what I wanna do.”

“Why not bake? You’re pretty good at it.”

“Oh am I? Last week you said my baking needed some work.”

“Well, duh, but my standards when it comes to confectionaries are impossibly high. Even so, I think you’d be successful as a baker. What’s stopping you from pursuing your labor of love?”

And that was the thing with Tendou. He talked a lot, teased even more, but it was never idle ramblings. Somehow, he always seemed to hit right at the heart of the issue with almost painfully uncomfortable accuracy.

“I don’t really know so…” You looked away, trailing off.

“Either way,” he said and placed a finger under your chin, raising your head until you were looking him in the eye. “I’m rooting for you.”

For a moment, you simply stared, awestruck. It was the first time in a long while someone was actually putting their faith in you, believing in you. He had come blazing into your life unabashed with his easy grins and gaze alight with mischief. His encouraging words, sincerity, sensitivity. Tendou was really incredible.

“Tendou…” You took his hand in yours, squeezing it. “Thanks. For everything.”

“Of course, what are neighbors for.”

BONUS:

Three months later you sat curled up next to Tendou on his sofa, his entire apartment smelled of chocolate cocoa with hints of cinnamon.

Before you was an application. Culinary school.

“You really think I can do this?”

Tendou placed his head on your shoulder with a tiny smirk. “One hundred and twenty percent!”

You pondered for a moment, then decided that if he thought you were up for the challenge then you’d believe him.

“For the record, you probably aren’t supposed to recommend your girlfriend for an interview. You know, conflict of interest and all.”

Tendou laughed and pulled you closer. “Trust me, we’ll be fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head, ‘kay?”

[vs-redemption]

Omg can I get scenarios about how you think Fatgum and Mirio would react if they found out that their crush thought they didn’t like them?? 😭😭 ty!!!!! ❤️

From Cindy: Wowzer! I really liked this request but it took me a couple days to get some ideas worked out in my head. I’m happy with the way they turned out, and I hope you are too anon!!

A Crush?! (Fatgum x Reader) and (Mirio x Reader)

FATGUM

When Taishiro Toyomitsu first opened his hero agency in the lively city of Osaka, his first priority had been to hire a cook to work there. Because his quirk relied heavily on the amount of fat stored up in his body, it was important to have a constant source of food available. Snacks and small meals between and during patrols did little to keep him fully powered, so finding someone who could meet his extreme dietary needs was of the upmost importance.

The first few people he’d brought onto his team hadn’t worked out so well. Even though he had no complaints about their food, they just couldn’t seem to keep up with his immense appetite. They got too caught up in the presentation, plus the portions were just too small. When the BMI hero finally hired you right out of culinary school, he was relieved to find your approach to his food conundrum much more satisfying.

He never had to worry about going hungry when he got into his agency anymore. Not only did you made sure there was plenty of food readily available for him, but you also kept his diet balanced with healthy foods that contained enough calories to fatten him up for his patrols. The food itself kept Taishiro’s stomach happy and full, but the effort and care you put into your work definitely started having an effect on his heart too after a while. Your dedication to keeping him in top shape drew his attention until he found himself starting to look forward more to seeing and talking to you than even eating your delicious food.

Taishiro wasn’t the type to lie to himself about his feelings. He knew perfectly well that he’d developed a little crush on you. He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about confessing though, or if he even should. His schedule didn’t leave much time for dating, and he didn’t want to start something if he wasn’t going to be able to dote on you the way he was starting to desperately want to.

Little did he know, on the other side of things, you were struggling to deal with the feelings you had for him too. You had always thought your boss was a nice guy, but after seeing his jolly and friendly behavior every day, you couldn’t help the crush that had creeped up on you. You tried your best to put it out of your mind, assuming there was no way a great hero like Taishiro could return your feelings. It wasn’t as if he did anything to make you feel otherwise. He was as kind and encouraging to you as anyone else you’d seen him interact with. It was just that you knew the nature of your job made your personality come off a bit too overbearing to really spark a romance. You constantly berated yourself after each and every interaction you had with him, physically cringing as you remembered the nagging comments you’d made.

“I know you need the calories for your quirk, Taishiro, but don’t forget to eat some fruits and vegetables too.”

“Eat another bowl of rice, Taishiro. You never know when you’ll need that little extra push when fighting a villain.”

“Taishiro, don’t forget to take the leftovers with you in case you get hungry out there! It’s better for you than all that street food you’re always picking up on patrol.”

When you thought about it, you really pestered him way too much. Sure, it was your job to feed him, but still, he was a grown man. He didn’t need you bothering or lecturing like he was some kind of kid. The only reason you even acted the way you did was because you cared and worried about him, but how it came across was probably annoying and patronizing. This is why you were confident he’d never like you the way you liked him.

Eventually, the combination of your feelings for him and the concern over his impression of you becomes too much and you decide to confront him. You get to the agency early one day and make him some fresh jelly filled donuts.

“Hey! You hardly ever make stuff like this!” Taishiro chuckles, “What’s the occasion?”

“It’s my way of saying thank you for putting up with me,” you shrug awkwardly. “I know I’m a bit of a nag sometimes.” Your words take the hero by surprise.

“I don’t think you’re a nag at all!” He sounded upset to hear you say that. “I hope I never gave you the idea that I did.”

“No,” you shake your head. “You didn’t… I just figured you were nice to me just to be polite.”

“What?” Taishiro shakes his head, “You couldn’t be further from the truth. If I’m being honest, I’ve actually developed quite the soft spot for you.” You look up into his eyes, a feeling of hope spreading through you.

“Yeah,” Taishiro laughs and scratches the back of his head bashfully. “I guess you could say I have a bit of a crush on you.” The conversation had definitely taken an unexpected turn, and you couldn’t be happier.

“I…” You hesitate for a moment but then give in. “I have a crush on you too! I have for a while. I never dreamed you could feel the same way.” The smile that stretched across the hero’s face warmed your heart.

“How could I not feel the same way?” He chuckles while patting his large belly. “I’ve never met anyone else who could keep both my stomach and my heart so full.” His words were music to your ears. And now that you both were on the same page about your feelings, you could sit down together and start discussing important questions about the future, like where he was going to take you on your first date.

 MIRIO

 Getting a job as a server at the mundane little diner on the outskirts of town had only meant to be a temporary gig to help you save up some extra money for school. Your campus was just a short train ride from the restaurant, and your apartment was even closer. It wasn’t glamorous or anything, but it paid the bills. Besides, it was just a stepping stone in the path to your dream job, so you were more than willing to deal with it until a bigger more fulfilling opportunity came along.

 What you hadn’t expected after starting the job was that you’d be terrible at it. You didn’t realized how bad your short term memory was until you found yourself forgetting people’s orders, or taking meals to the wrong tables. If that wasn’t bad enough, you also had a hard time balancing plates of food and were always dropping glasses and silverware accidentally. Luckily, your boss was a pretty chill and forgiving person and hadn’t felt the need to fire you yet. You really didn’t want to go through the trouble of finding another job, so you continued doing the best you could each and every day.

A few weeks after being hired, you started to feel the tiniest bit more confident about your abilities as a server. At the very least, you were getting better at remembering orders. Thankfully, there were a lot of regulars that got the same things every time which made your job easier. You were just starting to get into a comfortable routine when life decided to throw you a curveball. There was no way you could stop yourself from tripping over your own feet and almost spilling some poor customers breakfast all over the floor when you saw the pro hero, Le Million, walk into the diner with one of his hero friends. Thankfully you managed not to fall on your face or drop any food. Your relief was short lived, however, when Le Million walked right over and took a seat at a table in your section.

You knew it was going to be a disaster as soon as you walked over and forgot what you should even do. Being so close to Le Million was triggering a meltdown in your brain. He was your favorite hero and you honestly had a huge crush on him. Having him looking right at you with those cheerful blue eyes and wide friendly smile was extremely overwhelming.

“Uh…” You stood there blankly with the pen and pad in your hand.

“I think we’re going to start with something to drink!” Le Million speaks up with a light laugh which sparks you back to life.

“Ok, right!” you shake your head and try to focus. “What’ll you have?”

“I’ll have coffee,” he says before gesturing to his companion. “I think you usually take hot green tea right?” The friend nods so you write the order down.

“A hot green tea and a coffee for Le Million,” you mumble without meaning to.

“Oh, I’m on my lunch break!” he corrects you with a grin. “So, you can call me Mirio.”

“Right,” you nod excitedly. “Mirio”

You do your best to function as you continue to serve him. You somehow bring black tea instead of green, but Mirio just waves off the mistake with a wave of his hand. You swear you write down the correct order for him word for word, but humiliation consumes you when his friend points out that there were tomatoes on his hamburger even though he’d asked for none. You offer to bring him a new plate but he tells you it’s unnecessary. He doesn’t even pick off the tomatoes before taking a huge bite.

When Mirio and his friend finally leave, you feel yourself deflate. You were thankful the embarrassing experience was over, but part of you wished you’d made a better impression. The universe must’ve been out for you because the next day, it decided to grace you with a second chance. Mirio walked back into your diner with his friend, taking the same table as the day before. You tried to do a better job at serving him this time but you still fumbled a few things. This continued for a few weeks. For some reason, Mirio kept coming back and sitting in your section. You had no idea why since he must be sick of your horrible service by now. You tried to think of a logical explanation for a while, but always came up empty.

“Um, Mirio,” you tell him one day as he hands you the money to pay for his bill. “I know I’m not the best server in the world, so you don’t have to sit in my section every time.”

“But then I wouldn’t get to talk to you!” Mirio replies instantly, looking taken aback by your words.

“Oh,” you hadn’t expected a response like that. “But I always mess up your order.”

“That’s all right!” Mirio perks back up, “As long as you keep doing your best, that’s what matters! Plus, I’ve been sort of biding my time, looking for the right moment to ask for your number. I think you’re really cute.” He winces a little bit as if preparing for rejection. The confession startles you and you somehow end up missing his hand while giving back his change, causing coins to scatter across the counter. Mirio just smiles and helps you pick it all up.

“I can really give you my number?” you ask in shock once the money is back in his hands.

“Yeah!” He assures you, “As long as I’m allowed to call it!” You felt yourself blush, but managed to stay calm enough to grab a napkin and scribble your number down. Mirio thanked you before heading out with his hero friend to go back on patrol. It was less than a minute later when your phone buzzed in your pocket with a message from your hero crush.

It said, “I can’t wait to see you again tomorrow!”

You’re still in a state of shock as you hug your phone to your chest. You’d initially taken the diner job as a way to save money for school, but maybe fate had brought you here for something else entirely.

[sparklingchan]

The Prince and I || Jeong Yunho(Ateez)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Yunho.

Word count : 9.2k+

Warnings : Cuss words, minor injuries, Yunho BEING A FLUFFBALL!!

Genre : Fluff, angst, Arranged marriage au, Royal au.

Description : Your marriage to Prince Yunho feels like nothing less than a fairytale - but a fairytale is incomplete without a villain, right?

A/N:  This fic took longer than I thought it would lol  

This is a part of the holiday treats event conducted by kafenetwork.          This fic is for the lovely Anna! I hope you like it and I hope it didn’t disappoint. I’m sorry I cannot tag you here because this site always decides to eat up my posts with tags in it :((

Enjoy!

"This wedding dress is a little expensive, granny."

The silky cloth slips away from in between your fingers, as quick as sand. You hadn't ever touched a piece of cloth as beautiful and smooth as this one, really. In fact, you'd never ever seen anything like the dress presented before you at the moment. And well, as much as you want to buy it, you knew you couldn't. Not unless you use up all your life's savings.

"I'm sure Ms. Claire here could find us something less...royal." you mutter again when your Grandmother doesn't respond.

Ms. Claire, the owner of the elegant boutique you find yourself standing in this morning, smiles at you sheepishly. "Oh, what nonsense! You will be married into a royal family, y/n. I cannot have you wear a normal wedding dress."

You sigh, turning away from the mannequin that donnes your dream wedding dress and crouching down to speak to your granny, "Granny, we won't have any money left if we buy this."

Your grandmother has been in the wheel chair for as long as you could remember. But she has more energy and life in her than most young people out there, including you. She's like this ball of sunshine who adores you to death. And now that the most important event of your life is slowly coming close with every passing day, you find her enthusiasm increasing likewise. She would wake up every morning and coax you to work out and do your skin care routine every night before bed. Today too, she forced you to allow her to tag along on your last shopping trip before your big day. Though you never say it out loud, your grandmother is nothing short of an angle. And you'd do anything to make her happy.

"I have saved up enough money to buy three such dresses, y/n." Your grandmother says as you lean down , "Miss Claire, pack this one up please."

Miss Claire nods and smiles at your granny, "Surely, madam."

Her assistant takes away the mannequin to get it packed up and billed.

You sit on the small couch present in the room as your eyes roam around the room full of pretty dresses and veils and shoes. It feels surreal all of a sudden, as if you were in a day dream you'd often think about as a teenager.

"What? Do you want anything else? I have enough money for that too." Your grandmother chimes in, rolling the wheelchair a little towards you, "Should we buy one for your mom too?"

Your mom, though equally excited for your wedding as your grandmother, was more on the realistic side. She'd give you a reality check ever so often - about husbands and in-laws and everything surrounding it. You're also not very sure your mom would appreciate spending so much money on dresses in a single day, especially when your wedding stands only four days away.

"No, granny, mom has enough dresses." You run a soothing hand through her grey and thin hair, "Aren't you tired? We've been out for a long time now."

"Do I look tired to you? " she raises an eyebrow, her eyes wrinkling up as she smiles at you sweetly. She's such an adorable little woman that it makes your heart melt everytime she looks at you.

"No," you roll your eyes, "Guess we can go and pick up Maya's dress while we're at it."

"Maya as in your best friend? The annoyingly loud girl from your college?" You snort at your granny's choice of words to describe your best friend.

You hear Miss Claire call you towards the payment counter and before you could move a finger, your granny races you to it.

"Come on, girl, what are you- eighty?" She teases you with a loud chuckle.

And still, you may not say it out loud , but your granny is your whole world. And when you are married off into the royal family of your father's old hometown, the only person you'll miss badly is probably your sweet old grandmother.

Later that evening, after dropping your grandma back home, you decide to walk to your best friend's apartment which is located just a few blocks away from yours. You carry her dress with you but deep down, you know that's not the only reason as to why you wanted to visit her this late at night.

"I need advice. "

"About what?"

"Marriage and life. "

Your best friend's eyes widen at your words. Her lips part as if she wanted to comment something but then stopped herself. "Maya, dude please. I'm terribly scared and I can't talk to anyone else at home." You admit, playing with the hem of your dress. A sudden sense of embarrassment and shyness washes over you but you push all that away before they get the best of you.

Maya puts down her dress on the bed.

"Y/n, I could give you all the advice in the world but believe me, you won't be able to apply it practically. I married a normal man from a normal family. We live in a cozy apartment in a city. But for you, it's different. You'll not marry a common person- you're marrying a prince for God's sake. A Crown Prince on top of that. You'll be living in a castle far away in the mountains. I don't know how my advice would be of any help here, y/n." Maya says, her hand gently patting yours.

You shift in your place, the bed creaking softly beneath you.

Maya is unarguably right - her advice won't be useful in your case. In fact, no one's advice would be useful to you unless they've had a first hand experience with an arranged marriage and a royal life. Yet these facts do little to comfort your growing fear and anxiousness.

"I haven't even met him in person yet. I only saw him over a few stupid video calls and in his pictures. I don't know what to expect." You say.

His Highness Crown Prince Yunho is a pretty busy man it turns out. So busy that he hasn't even been able to take some time out of his duties and come visit his fiancé for a few hours. He's a beautiful man, you have to say. Elegant and stylish and well mannered and everything about him screams Royal. He often texts you in his free time and calls you once in a blue moon. He seems like a nice man indeed, the kind you'd love to marry even without his royal heritage. But being his wife and a Crown Princess is a challenge you'd have to face completely on your own.

"Your granny thinks he's a good man, y/n. Maybe you should trust her judgement. Old people have that in themselves, you know." Maya says with a small smile, "Plus he's a Prince. You'll live a luxurious life, y/n. Don't be so pessimistic! I'm sure things will turn out great."

You give your best friend a tight hug for trying to cheer you up and helping you forget your fears even if it's just for a few hours . That night, as you toss and turn in your bed, trying to keep your mind free from thoughts about your life after marriage, you realise how big of a change this one thing will make.

And you're not very sure if you're ready for that change yet.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The weather is quite pleasant today, the sun shining softly through the thin curtain of clouds and the humidity deciding to be a little forgiving today but too bad you're stuck inside your room, folding clothes and making sure all your necessities are packed in the luggage.

"Well, this is not how I expected my last day at home to turn out, " you complain to your mother who sits across from you on the bed, helping you pack your things, "But it is what it is, I guess."

Your mom chuckles, placing your folded clothes into huge black suitcase spread open on the floor. "This isn't bad. You're alone with your family and friend, what more do you need?"

A fancy Bachelorette party with your friends and a few male strippers didn't sound like a very appropriate response so you decide to just shake your head.

"Aren't you angry though? Even just a little bit?" She asks. You scowl at the unexpected, out of context question. You are scared and anxious and nervous but angry? Not at all.

"What do you mean? Why would I be angry?" You reply, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "I'm fine."

She sighs, momentarily pausing her actions to face you. Her eyes are a little moist, you notice, and her lips pressed into a sad line. "Your grandmother betrothed you to Prince Yunho when you guys were just nineteen. It is an arranged marriage, to a person you don't know and a family which holds so much power. She didn't give you freedom to choose your own partner. Aren't you angry about that?" She elaborates.

You feel a soft tug in your heart at her words. You've been so preoccupied with worrying about how you'd handle yourself after marriage that you never really thought about this. Even so, when you really think about it, you can't find it in yourself to be angry at your grandmother.

"Granny and Prince Yunho's grandmother were best friends, mom. They made a promise and I respect that. Plus granny never forced me to say yes. I did that on my own account. " you explain yourself, your hand slowly reaching over to squeeze your mom's shoulder, "Don't worry about me. I'll manage. I always do."

Its rather funny how you were the one needing assurance from Maya a few nights ago and here you are, repeating the same words of encouragement to your mother. A part of you is obviously still terrified of the future, but that's not your mom's problem to deal with. It's entirely yours.

Your mom sniffs, but a tear manages to roll down her cheek, "I'll miss having you around. Why couldn't she have arranged your marriage to a normal person who lived in the same city?"

And then it finally dawns on you. It really is your last day at home. Your last day in the city you so dearly loved, your last day in the house which has seen you grow from a little baby to a beautiful, young woman. It's your last day as y/n y/l/n, your parents' only child and your grandmother's favorite grandchild. Tomorrow, you would be a Princess, a wife, a person of political importance. And your heart breaks a little at the thought of never getting this life back again.

"Mom.." you mutter, your eyes tearing up as well. Words fall short when it comes to describing how much you'll miss everyone and everything here. Starting from your friends to your family to the smallest of decorative items in your room that you've managed to collect over the years. It's like a piece of you would just cease to exist. As the night grows darker and the day crosses over to the next one, you hold your mother close as the both of you let out the quietest of sobs and realise that this might be the last time she'd have you all to herself.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡   

The journey from your parents' old house to Prince Yunho's ancestral palace is short - not with respect to time but with respect to the fact that amidst tearful eyes and memory flashbacks, the car ride gives you little to no time to settle your hurricane of thoughts.

As your dad's car slowly pulls over in front of a huge black metal gate, you are welcomed with a view that seems right out of a fairytale. The Royal palace is located in the most beautiful locations you've ever been to, a place you never thought could exist in real life. It almost feels like you are in a dream. With the beautiful backdrop of lush green mountains in the back, the Palace stands tall on the foothills of the mountains. The pastel pink walls and the carefully carved window panes look ethereal with contrast to the tall black gates that securely surround the palace. A group of servants are rowed in front of the man main entrance, with warm smiles and trays full of welcome drinks.

But you're far too mesmerized by the place to bother consuming anything at the moment.

This place - this breathtakingly gorgeous palace with the biggest gardens and tallest fountains- would be your home. For a long time, home meant your crammed little apartment which always smelt like cinnamon and bread. It had no big gardens, no servants, no fountains but it was your home. Your safe place. You wonder if this place could ever feel like home.

"Geez, y/n, I'm so jealous." Maya whisper-squeals in your ear as the servants lead you inside, "Do you want to exchange husbands?"

You nudge her gently with your elbow, "Shut up. Or I'll have you thrown out."

You are made to walk through a quiet hallway that has a huge wooden door at the end. On both sides of the hallway, pictures and paintings and vintage weapons are displayed like in museums and the marble floor beneath you shines like water under the sun. Every nook and corner of this place is a treasure waiting to be discovered, you realise.

The servants open the wooden door and lead you inside into what appears to look like a Throne Room. Now, you'd never really been to one before but movies and books have taught you that this is what a Throne room probably looks like - with a Grand Throne placed at the very center and numerous chairs placed on either side of it. The walls in this room are graced with more pictures and paintings of kings and queens and common people and soldiers. You wonder if your picture would ever be up there somewhere in the future.

"Oh, hello lovely people!" A manly voice booms through the hall, "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

A few quick taps of feet on the floor and there stands in front of you a very familiar face - as if you'd almost seen him in a dream.

Black tuxedo, perfectly styled hair, a walkie-talkie in his hand, the man before you looks right out of a James Bond movie. "I'm Choi San, Prince Yunho's personal secretary and the royal family's representative for the day."

He claps his hands together, "Her Highness the Queen Regent, Her Highness the Queen Mother and His Highness Crown Prince Yunho sadly couldn't be here since they have some important charity event to attend. I deeply apologize for that. In their place, allow me to welcome you to the Jeong family's Grand palace!"

"You'll all be taken to your rooms now because you must be tired from the journey. If you need anything, just tell one of these servants."

The servants nod at San and signal you and your family to follow them.

"Uh, lady Y/n. Mind if I have a word with you?" San interrupts.

Although surprised, you nod as you let your family walk off to their rooms.

"Yes?" You ask San.

San's eyes are focused on your frame - every movement, every expression, every word - he's observing you as if to make sure you're the right person for Prince Yunho. You feel self conscious all of a sudden.

"Yunho did say you're a charming person. I just didn't think I'd agree with him before, but now..I definitely do." San giggles, offering you his hand, "I'm Choi San at your service, madam. Your wish is my command."

You bow gently at him, "I'm y/n y/l/n. It's nice to meet you too, sir."

San chuckles, "Please don't call me that, your Highness. I'm your employee. Besides I have something important to talk to you about. "

The last few words form a tight knot in your stomach, fear finding it's way through your veins.

"Y-yeah?"

"You have a coronation ceremony tonight. I hope you know that. We've already hired a stylist who will take care of all you from now on. She'll meet you immediately after lunch." San explains, "And here's my business card. Contact me if anything comes up, okay?"

You gulp as you accept the shining business card from him, "Thanks. I'll do that."

San smiles sympathetically, as if he understood the fears swimming inside you. He offers you a gentle, encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"I know how you feel. A palace is a scary place, I won't deny. But if I can survive here, so can you. Plus you have Yunho. He's the nicest man a person could ever ask for, I'm sure." San says.

Your whole body relaxes a little as a soft breeze of comfort washes over you with the words leaving San's mouth. This is what you'd been wanting to hear for a long time - a reassurance that you'll be safe and okay as a member of the Royal family and that Prince Yunho might be a person you could love. But for now, you focus on keeping your self calm.

"Now, do you mind walking me to my room? I find myself a bit lost." You giggle.

San finds himself chuckling in response, "Of course, your majesty."

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

When San had told you that you'd have your own personal stylist, you did not expect this . Even in your wildest dreams, this is not something you'd catch yourself wanting.

The beautiful blue gown clutches to your upper body at just the right places and then flows down your waist like a beautiful waterfall under the sunlight. A diamond necklace graces your otherwise empty neck complimented with matching earrings. The stylist - Alisa - puts your hair up in a pretty bun and then places a beautiful diamond tiara on your head. And when your eyes finally land on your reflection in the mirror, your mouth hangs open with no words but just air slipping out of it as response.

"Do you like it, your Highness?" Alisa asks with hopeful eyes. Her shy smile giving away the fact that she wants you to like what she's done, her efforts and ideas.

You have to blink hard for a few more seconds before coming to terms with the fact that you look so beautiful right now. A part you is in denial while a part of you is jumping around, doing a victory dance in happiness. You weren't used to seeing yourself look this good. Your heart leaps at the thought of Prince Yunho seeing you like this - almost like a princess who's lived in castles all her life. And then you realize that you would be one ; in only a few minutes.

"I love it, Alisa. You're brilliant!" You exclaim, wrapping your arms tightly around the stylist in happiness. By Lisa's stiff response, you are sure you'd taken her by surprise. Royals do not go around hugging normal stylists yet this hug was a symbol of your thankfulness towards her for putting so much effort into you, to make you feel special. Alisa's proud smile reaches to her eyes as she quickly works on placing the brooch pin in the right place on your dress.

A knock on your room's door attracts your attention and you are quick to fix yourself in case it was someone from the Royal family.

"I'll get that." Alisa jogs quickly towards the door.

When the door creaks opens, you see a familiar face standing there - familiar enough to know it was your fiancé, the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on, with the kindest smile and brightest eyes. Your heart stops beating for a dangerous second.

"Oh, hello your Highness. " Alisa greets him, bowing slightly, "Miss y/n is ready to go."

And when Yunho looks at you, your soul as if escapes your body. "H-hi, Prince Yunho."

He walks towards you with warm, red cheeks and perfect black hair and a stylish black tuxedo and offers you his hand, "It's nice to finally meet you, my lady."

How does one ever respond to that? How does one ever behave in front of an actual, real life prince, who also happens to be your fiancé? He presses his lips to your fingers ever so gently.

The butterflies in your stomach go wild.

"Shall we go now? Everyone's waiting for you, my lady." He asks.

You nod, wrapping an arm around his, "Yes."

The short walk towards the throne room is mostly filled with a comfortable sense of silence, except for the times when Prince Yunho points at some random picture on the wall and talks about it. Your eyes seem to be following every movement of his, and everytime your eyes meet, you find yourself melting under his gaze. You are smitten by him and there's no denying in that.

On entering the throne room, all heads turn towards you - ministers, relatives, your family, Yunho's friends, San and all servants present there observe you as Yunho walks you down the flowery aisle leading to the Throne. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, scary yet exciting, they follow your every movement and every word and every expression.

And when they bow down slightly as you stand on the right side on the Throne, you realise these people weren't just bowing at Yunho, there were also bowing down at you. Because you'll be his wife tomorrow, a princess, a figure that should be loved by the people. The only thing keeping you grounded is Yunho's gentle hand softly clutching yours. It's as if he could sense your inner turmoil before even you do it yourself. "Are you nervous?" He whispers in your ear.

"Yes, a little. "

"Don't be. I'm here with you."

The main door to the hall opens and two women walk inside, at least ten soldiers walking in front and behind them, guns at ready and eyes critically scanning all the faces.

The older woman, who you assume to be the Queen Mother and Yunho's grandmother, wears a sweet smile and walks as gracefully as ever even in this senile age. She waves gleefully at the crowd bowing down to her. On her left stands a slightly younger woman, Yunho's aunt and the Queen Regent who has been the ruler of this kingdom after Yunho's parents passed away in a tragic accident ten years ago. Rumor has it that the Queen Regent is a strict, emotionless ruler who has no mercy for criminals and is harsh with all the employees of the palace. You notice her serious gaze fixed in your direction and shudder in fear even though you've barely ever talked to her before.

"May the Queen Mother live long! May the Queen Regent live long!" Someone chants and the others follow suit in the blink of an eye.

You suddenly feel as if you are in some period drama.

The Queen Regent takes her place on the throne while the Queen Mother takes a seat on the left side of the Throne. A single wave of the Queen Regent's hand and the crowd goes completely silent.

"Hello to everyone gathered here today. I am very, very glad to welcome a new member of the family - lady y/n y/l/n. She is to be the wife of my beloved nephew Yunho and the future Queen of this kingdom. Please give her a warm welcome!"

The hall erupts into claps and cheers and your name being repeated as if in a chant. Your grip on Yunho's arm tightens.

"I'm there, my lady." He says again, "Don't be afraid."

San brings out a huge sword and places it in the Queen Regent's hands. This sword is what you assume to be the Jeong family's old, sacred sword used by generations and generations of brave kings and queens to protect themselves as well as the citizens of their beloved country. This sword is a symbol of pride and victories. And a lost history.

"As per ancient traditions, I will now be crowning miss y/n as a princess before her wedding with the prince tomorrow. From now on she will be called her Highness Crown princess Y/n. She is an important member of our family from this day forth."

"Y/n, go on and kneel in front of my aunt." Yunho whispers, nodding at you with a proud smile, "You're doing so great already."

You comply by his words and kneel in front of the throne, your head hanging low and eyes squeezed shut with anxiousness of what is to come.

"Welcome to the family, y/n." You hear the Queen Regent's voice before she gently taps your right shoulder with the tip of the sword and then the left one. You feel a few droplets of water being sprinkled on your face.

"Rise, Crown Princess. Face your people and let them welcome you with open arms."

It is done. You are a princess now. This can never be undone, this name, this title will stick with you till the end of time. You're no longer a normal girl with small dreams and basic requirements, you're a future Queen now.

Rise, Crown Princess.

And you do.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Every person has dreamt about their own wedding at least once in their life - whether it is in the peak of their teenage or in the innocent wonders of their childhood or the wildest dreams of their adult years, this thought found itself in everyone's mind.

You had one such dream too.

But your dream had always been very simple. A nice man, your closest friends and family, a cheap and beautiful wedding dress, a small party with limited people - that is all you've ever wanted. You didn't want a gathering of four hundred people who you barely knew, the new reporters shoving their cameras into your face, heavy make up or expensive jewelry, or a husband who you barely knew. But guess that is what the Gods had written in your fate. And you have no option now than to accept things the way they are.

You don't remember much from the wedding ceremony or the huge party that follows, really ; you only remember Yunho's lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead when the priest asks the groom to kiss the bride(probably the best part of the day), your grandmother's tears of happiness and Alisa and San winking at the two of you after the ceremony was over. Everything else felt like a blur, as if your head had been underwater all this while.

An hour or so into the party, Prince Yunho asks you to walk with him. Alone. Though reluctant, how could you ever say no to those innocent eyes? The discomfort from being surrounded by hundreds of unknown people slowly disappears as the two of you walk around the garden, your eyes never meeting but a sense of familiarity settling between the two of you.

"I'm not used to this, you know." He says with a shy smile.

The sky is beautiful, decorated with stars and a full moon but nothing compares the glow on Yunho's face when he turns to glance at you.

"Used to what?" You enquire, "Having so many people here?"

He shakes his head, "No. I'm used to having a lot of people here. That's all I've ever seen. What I'm not used to is this. Having a partner or someone else live in my room with me."

"So...?"

"I'm happy about it. I really am. But I know you're new to this royal lifestyle and we barely even know each other that well but I hope you don't regret this marriage. Because I'm sure that I won't. " Yunho sighs, "And if you ever feel like it's not worth your time anymore, you are more than free to leave. Forget about everyone else, do what your heart says. "

The last phrase catches you off guard. It is very, very rare to find people who give you this sort of freedom in any arrangement. The fact that he opens up his thoughts to you makes your heart leap with happiness. And a little sadness too that he'd think you'd leave him so easily.

"Hey," you pat his arm, "I'm not leaving anytime soon. I promise. We made a vow, didn't we?"

Yunho blushes at your words, but under the bright moonlight it goes unnoticed by you.

"Do you mind if I hold your hand?" He suggests after a few seconds of silence.

The butterflies in your stomach are seemingly having the time of their life these past few days.

"I don't." You slide your hand into his and your fingers intertwine almost instantly. His warm palm presses against your cold one, bring a sense of comfort you never thought you'd ever experience. In the midst of a chaotic royal gathering and the paparazzi trying to sneak in through the gates, you and Yunho find a small world for yourselves that no one else can ever have access to.

And for the first time in months, you realise that this marriage might be worth more than what you thought it would be.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You've always wondered what the people in royal palaces do. Do they spend all their time greeting the citizens and walking in the gardens? Do they keep dancing in the ballroom all the time? Or do they busy themselves with war conspiracies?

Sadly you realise that royal life sounds very exciting and extravagant only when you're not the one actually living a life like that. And this conclusion dawns on you only after ten days of the wedding.

The first week is packed with activities, alright. Visiting the common people and distant relatives and going to various public events. Your curiosity was at its peak till a few days ago, but now here you are, sitting on the edge of your soft bed, phone in lap and eyes drooping with sleepiness, wondering how to keep yourself occupied.

"Y/n?" The door creaks open as Yunho peeks inside shyly, "Can I come in?"

You nod, "It's your room, Yunho. You don't need my permission to enter."

"Oh, I was just making sure you weren't doing anything you didn't want me to see."

Oh. Your cheeks turn into crimson fruits as his words finally hit you.

"Anyway, I actually came to get my file. But I saw you sitting here. Are you bored?"

Are you? Heck, yes!

"Yes." You reply almost guiltily.

Chuckling, he leans down to press a loving kiss on top of your head, "Come on. I'll show you something."

You took pride in the fact that after only a week of staying here, you knew the palace fairly well. The corridors and paintings and artifacts and the workers weren't as foreign to you anymore. Yet the path Yunho takes you to seems weirdly unfamiliar.

Guess new surprises await everyday.

Soon enough, your steps halt in front of a huge wooden door labeled as ' library '.

Rows and rows of books welcome you the moment you step inside, Yunho leading the way into the most beautiful library you'd ever seen in your life. As always, paintings grace the wooden walls and a huge crystal chandelier hangs from the middle most point of the ceiling.

"Yunho...is this..what heaven looks like?"

The smell of old and new books hit your nostrils as you run a gentle hand over the book kept in the shelves, feeling the various materials of book covers brush past your fingertips.

"Maybe." Yunho responds with a grin.

Yunho's heart feels full with adoration and content at the sight of you dancing around the books shelves, gleefully taking notes of the books you plan to read on the days to come. Your eyes curl up into crescent moons as your toothy smile seems to have taken Yunho's breath away. Beautiful is what you look. Simple and elegant and so innocent.

All his life he's spent among royal people, people with political intentions and lots of money. But you make him feel differently. Being with you feels like a breath of fresh air for Yunho. And who wouldn't like that?

"Earth to Yunho." You click your fingers in front of his face after you catch him staring at you. Not that you didn't like it, but you had to do something before you turn into a mush before his eyes, "What are you thinking?"

"Oh, um..nothing." you. He was thinking about you, "How about I ask the workers to bring my office stuff over here? I can work here while you read. I don't want you to be alone."

A shameless grin plasters over your lips.

"I'd like that, Yunho. I'd like that very much. "

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"How's the married life treating you?" Your granny asks you this question every damn time she decides to call you. 

And surprisingly somehow, you always answer positively to her query.

"Well, good. I think so at least. " you smile to yourself, remembering the soft kiss Yunho had placed on your head as he left for an official trip this morning. Even in your half asleep state, your cheeks had turned bright red, "Prince Yunho is a nice man. "

"Oh, of course he is! I wouldn't have asked you to marry him otherwise, you idiot." She yells at you although you know she's smiling through the phone, "Anyway, I can't talk for long today. I have a doctor's appointment so I'll need to dress up for that."

That comes as a surprise, "What? Are you sick ?"

"God, no. I'm not a weakling, okay? It's the regular check up. Don't worry." She says, "Bye now. "

The line goes silent.

Sighing, you put your phone down on the night stand. On times like this, when the room is too quiet and you are too lazy to walk out and talk to other people, you start missing home. A lot more than usual. Your house, though only consisting of four people was way too noisy from sunset till sundown and somehow, you'd gotten used to it. The quietness has yet to grow on you.

A slight knock on the door attracts your attention and you immediately allow whoever it is to come inside.

"Oh, Alisa. It's you!" You exclaim as relief washes over you on seeing a familiar face.

"Yes, your Highness. How have you been?" She bows down to you, "Are you able to adjust to this new life?"

"I've been okay, you could say. Still a little overwhelmed whenever I have to face people but I think I'm getting there." You laugh a little.

Alisa gives you an understanding nod, "I totally understand. But I'm glad you're feeling more comfortable. By the way, I came here to ask you if you wanted to visit my boutique in the town nearby. It's a new one and I wanted you to come see it before the inauguration. "

Your heart jumps at the offer. You remember back in your college days, you would often go shopping with Maya, especially on weekends. The two of you would wait for months for a sale or special offers because online shopping sometimes just doesn't do it for you. You smile, nostalgic, "I'd love to go."

"And then maybe we could go and eat in the pizzeria nearby. It serves the best pizza in the world, I swear."

This is just beyond tempting at this point, a literal trap to have you step out of the role of a royal Princess and embracing the careless city girl inside of you and who are you to keep her hidden for too long?

"What are we waiting for then?"

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Yunho surprises you every now and then.

On the outside, he is a strict man with the sharpest of brains and the most observant eyes. The title of being a crown prince sits heavy on his shoulders and with every passing day, the weight just get heavier.

On the contrary, the Yunho you get to see everyday is very different. Soft and cheerful and smiley, he's the literal embodiment of the sunshine and your heart doesn't seem to rest everytime you see him.

It must have been roughly a month since the wedding when he makes an impromptu plan of visiting your city and your parents' house since it had been a long time you last saw them.

"Heard you were going to your parents house?" You had gotten ready to go before Yunho did, so instead of sitting in your bedroom, you decided take a short walk outside in the gardens. And as you strolled around aimlessly among the flowers and bushes, deep in thoughts, you had come across the Queen Mother sitting by the water fountain.

"Yes, your majesty." You reply, rather intimated by her aura.

It's hard to accept sometimes that this person is best friends with your grandmother, when the both of them are as different from each other as the two poles! Your grandmother is the ever so sweet, smiling, supportive person. You would never see her angry or upset. But on the other hand, the Queen Mother is uptight, very quiet and rarely ever smiles. Just like her daughter, the Queen Regent. Maybe it's a royal thing but you're glad you don't have to see this serious side of Yunho on a daily basis.

"Good. The farther from here, the better." She mumbles.

You are alarmed at her words, "I'm sorry?"

She sighs, her walking sticking tapping the marble wall of the fountain, "Y/n, I adore you. I might not show it but I'm glad my grandson has someone like you to make his life less lonely. But you have to be careful. Not everyone is appreciative of a person of common birth being crowned as a Crown Princess. "

Fear slowly clutches you in its palms. You had gotten very occupied with Yunho and being a crown princess and making new friends, you admit. So occupied that you let your guard down. And the Queen Mother's words sound more like an advice than a threat.

"Should I be worried?" You ask, your skin going cold at the thought of someone actually wanting to hurt you.

"Not yet, no. But be very, very careful. You cannot trust anyone here. Not even me. The only person you can lean on is Yunho. Why? Because he might be as much in danger as you."

Have you ever seen how people start panicking when any sort of alarm goes off? Yeah, thats exactly how you feel at that moment.

"Y/n, let's go!" You hear Yunho call you from the front gate, already taking his seat inside his car.

You bow at the Queen Mother before jogging towards Yunho, your heart no longer into the trip as it were a few minutes ago.

Yet seeing your parents and granny after so long did comfort you.

They had prepared this small barbeque party in your backyard, your dad playing guitar and purposely singing badly to embarrass you while your mother shows Yunho your childhood pictures. And the food, oh, the food! The five star chefs from Yunho's palace could never replace this comfort food you had at your parents house. It might not be well decorated with garnishes or spices or fancy plates but it made you feel like everything will eventually be okay - which is exactly what you needed at the moment.

The entire evening you try hard to talk to Yunho but when your house is full of three excited adults, it is hard to do that. Around one am in the morning, you finally find yourself in your old bedroom, Yunho's fascinated eyes roaming around the room that feels like it were straight out of some teenage romance movie. Where in reality you'd honestly been too lazy to change the room's layout once you outgrew your teenage obsessions and interests.

"You seem to be liking my room a little too much. " you chuckle, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, your face partly squished into your favorite pillow.

The boyband posters, old polaroids from your school functions, romance novels stacked up neatly by the nightstand - all of this is as foreign to him as his palace is to you.

Yunho lies down beside you, still in awe of the room, "Yeah, it literally mirrors your personality. "

"How?"

"I can't explain it, you know," he clicks his tongue, "But everything in this room screams y/n. Like everything here is made only for you."

You raise your eyebrow at his words. He's very observant, that you've noticed, but the fact that he knows you this well in barely a month warms your heart.

"What about our bedroom in the palace? Is it not made for me?"

"Oh, it is. Of course it is. But you're staying there because you have to, right? Because we're married and all that." He replies.

"No, I'm not. I told you Yunho - I'm staying there because I want to." You say, now no longer in a mood to joke around.

Suddenly, the words from The Queen Mother swim back into your mind, as you start seeing her words in a completely different light.

Yunho has somehow always expressed how he is unable to believe your presence around him and how he acts like you're doing a favor by doing that. And you find yourself wondering if Yunho knows what she'd said to you. The danger that looms above both of your heads must not be as much of a secret to him than you thought it would be. So instead of confronting him, you decide to comfort him.

"We'll be fine, Yunho. " you drag your hand towards his, your body relaxing the moment he squeezes it back, "Both of us."

Yunho looks at you with love and desire clear in his eyes, his free hand slowly dragging towards your face. You could see it now- the loneliness from the loss of his parents and the negligence from his aunt and grandmother throughout his childhood still very much exists behind the mask of a happy prince. You do not know the language of royal people or politics but you do know the language of love and more than a stupid gold crown, he needs someone to love him. And thats exactly what you intend to do.

Was it too soon? You didn't care anymore. And you know for a fact that he didn't either.

You lean in close and press your forehead to his, "You're not alone anymore. Okay?"

You see him smile from your hooded gaze, your breath mixing with his in an intoxicating mixture. "Thank you, y/n. You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

And that in itself are a combination of words much more heavier than a simple 'I like you.'

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"The Queen Regent wishes to see you."

San runs up to you the first thing the next morning, right after breakfast.

"Why?" You ask, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You had a plan to accompany your granny and the Queen Mother to their small tea party in a nearby Farmhouse but you couldn't obviously say no to meeting the Queen Regent. Because well, she's the Queen.

"I don't know, your Highness. I try to stay away from her as much as possible but whenever our paths do cross, she always assigns some work to me." He whines, "Go on, I'll tell the Queen Mother that you're occupied. I will be heading out with Yunho right now anyway."

Shaking your head in annoyance, you make your way to the Queen Regent's office.

Her office smells like expensive cigars the moment you step inside, and the full ashtray on her table only feeds into your conclusions.

"You asked for me, your majesty?" You ask in a low voice.

When she looks up from writing in her journal, your heart skips a few beats in fear. Her eyes hold no resemblance to Yunho's angelic ones or even The Queen Mother's serious ones. They look like two deep, bottomless black holes that swallow everything and anything in its vicinity. Her long hair is tied in a braid and her lips quiver passively upon seeing you.

"Ah, yes." She replies, "Please have a seat."

You take the chair in front of her desk, uncomfortable at the close proximity between you and the one person who everyone tries to avoid.

"How are you?" She begins, closing her journal and keeping her pen inside the drawer, "How are things going with Yunho?"

"I'm good, thank you for asking. And yes, things are going well with Yunho."

Her question seems odd, but you let it pass.

"Okay. That's really great to hear. Anyway, I met your husband a little while ago. And he asked me to tell you that he intends to see you on the rooftop alone later tonight." She raises an eyebrow, a gentle smile playing on her lips, "Looks like he has a date planned."

Her words seem too far fetched to be true. Too unrealistic. Not the date part though, but the part where he specifically ask her to pass on the message to you. He could have easily asked San or Lisa or even told you in first person, so why would he choose the Queen Regent out of so many people when he you've barely seen him talk to her?

But you're a Crown Princess, and she's the Queen and you cannot question her. "Okay, I'll be there." You get up from your seat and bowing gently, "Thank you for letting me know, your majesty. By the way, did he mention what time I am to go ?"

"Oh um...Around seven in the evening?" She's fumbling on her words, and you're sure she's lying about something.

Still you suppress your doubts and walk back to your room, hoping to find the truth behind her words this evening at seven.

The entire day goes by in the blink of an eye, but to you it feels like an eternity. The curiosity has you sitting at the edge of your bed, ready to make a run for it if any danger ever comes your way.

Yunho, who was out with San for some official work has surprisingly not texted you today at all. And it only adds to your doubts of the Queen Regent being a liar.

And when night finally falls, you find yourself tense up more than you'd done the entire day.

The night is quiet, calm but beautiful and as you step into the terrace and the soft wind kisses your face, you almost believe the Queen Regent's words. Maybe Yunho did really plan a surprise date for you. Because this is everything that Yunho likes. A beautiful night and a company he loves.

The terrace stands high giving you a beautiful view of the entire palace complex, the gardens and everything beyond. And for a moment, your worries diminish as you step near the railing, inhaling the fresh air and you feel safe.

But, you see, that's where you are wrong. This imaginary cloud of safety that you'd thought was around you was never there in the first place. Since the first time you stepped into the palace, all eyes have been on you - on every action, every activity, every word. You'd always been swimming in a dangerous sea. One wrong move, and you realise the shark is right behind you. And just how the Queen Mother had told you, you were only ever safe with Yunho by your side. But he isn't here anymore.

So it doesn't come as a when a pair of rough hands give you a single, harsh push, sending you falling right down five floors.

"You will never be our queen." Is what you hear before your vision dissolves into a black hole.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

When you were six years old, you fell down your bike once while trying to copy some stupid stunt you'd seen people on television shows do. The excruciating pain that followed the fall was something which you thought you'd never have to experience again. That was the kind of pain which hurts you down to your very bones, sending waves of shock through your body with a single movement of your hands.

And that is exactly how you expect to feel the moment you open your eyes and come face to face with a familiar ceiling. But all you feel is sore, like how you feel the morning after exercising after a long while.

The bandages on your arms and abdomen indicate that your fall wasn't as bad as you thought it'd be but it was, nevertheless, a fall which was very much done on purpose.

"Y/n, honey, are you awake?" You hear Yunho's groggy voice coming from somewhere near the foot of the bed you lie on.

"Y-yeah. What happened?" You manage to sit up even though your body feels heavy with fatigue, "How did I fall?"

Yunho appears by your bed side in the blink of an eye and your heart clenches with relief when he bends down to kiss your head.

It feels like you hadn't seen him in days, years, where as it had only been around two days since you passed out. Yunho had rushed back home the moment he found out about it, leaving all his stupid official work for some other day. Hell, he would happily give up all his responsibilities if it means he could see you and keep you safe. He'd cried for nights and days, never leaving your side even when the nurses would change your clothes or bandage dressing. The mere thought of you never waking up again was too dark for him, especially when he'd found such a happy place in you. You are the owner of his heart and everything else that he could give you. You are, literally, his only family member. His whole world. And if he loses you, he would lose himself with you.

"A-are you okay?" He sits down on the bed, holding your hand so tight as if he was afraid you'd disappear if he let's go, "does it hurt anywhere?"

"Just a little bit, but I'm okay. I feel fine." You say, smiling through your busted lips.

Your smile as if breaks a wall he'd been holding onto for days, and his eyes immediately tear up.

"I'm so so sorry, y/n. I should have been there. I should have been protecting you. I keep forgetting I'm not a stupid guy with a normal life and that people I associate with might get into trouble anytime. I'm so sorry, I should have protected you from my Aunt and Alisa. I'm so fucking sorry."

Aunt? And Alisa? What is he taking about?

"Yunho, what are you -"

"They planned it. The entire thing. They purposely sent me and grandma away so no one would doubt them. Aunt had supposedly promised my hand in marriage to Alisa a long time ago but Grandma got us married instead. They were angry. So angry that they went ahead and tried to k-kill you. " he sobs into his hands, the tip of his nose turning bright red, "Alisa was the one who pushed you. They forgot to remove the CCTV footage."

You freeze for a second, Alisa's betrayal hurting you worse than The Queen Regent's. You almost thought you could find a friend in her, just like Maya. You trusted her. You felt safe around her when in reality, she'd only been a time bomb - waiting to blow up.

"Alisa did?" You mutter, your lips drying with fear, "I-I don't know what to say. Yunho, I- I can't believe Alisa would do this."

"I didn't either. But both of them have admitted to it. The police took them. I'm so sorry, y/n. " Yunho rubs his tears away, "I talked to your granny and parents. They said you could move back in with them. The divorce will take about a year or so to get finalized but you don't have to stay here till then. You can go back home whenever you want."

Your heart crushes in your chest. The fear of abandonment Yunho carries within himself yet he has the guts to let you go is something you would forever admire and hate in him. How could he think this way, especially after you've reassured him countless number of times that you're here to stay.

"I didn't agree to a divorce. What the fuck are you even cooking up in that mind of yours?" You say, stern and angry.

He looks up at you, his guilty eyes making the pain in your chest more painful.

"Y/n, please, you cannot stay with -"

"Shut up. Just shut up. I don't care. I don't care what you think. I am an adult and the crown princess of this kingdom and I will do as I please. " you almost yell, "I am staying here, with you, for better or worse. I told you I wouldn't leave. "

Yunho bursts into tears, wrapping his arms gently around you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as you gently pat his back, reassuring him that you'd always stay. No matter what.

"Y-you might get hurt again, y/n. I don't want you to stay and get hurt again." But his tight hold on your body tells you otherwise.

"We're both in danger for the rest of our lives. Does that mean we stop living?" You whisper, pulling away from the embrace only to grab his chin, "Does that mean we stop loving?"

He shakes his head as his lips curve down and a shaky sob escapes his mouth, "Nothing will ever happen to you again, I swear. I will keep you safe. You will not have a reason to complain again."

You nod, dabbing his tears away with your thumb, "I know. I believe you. "

You stare into his eyes - his beautiful eyes made of the finest stardust that make your brain go hazy every morning that you wake up and find them right beside you. And that's exactly how you choose to wake up every morning till the end of your days.

"Is this the part where we kiss or what, because I've waited a long time -" he cuts your blabbering off by finally placing his plump, peachy lips on yours ever so tenderly.

He steals all the air from lungs, driving you breathless and crazy with every movement of his lips on yours and the gentle touch of his fingers on your face only adds to the unbounded euphoria you feel at the moment. He's beautiful. Even with your eyes closed, you know that he is beautiful. And not just with his face, he is a beautiful man inside out. He is yours and nothing in this world can ever change that. So when he pulls away, panting and out of breath, and gently kisses your forehead, you say, "I love you, my prince."

These words. These damn words that he'd waited for months to hear, nights he spent dreaming about hearing them. And he has to mentally slap himself to make himself believe this all to be true.

Stealing a quick kiss from your lips again, he whispers, "I love you, too, my princess. "

[suituuup]

pieces - chapter one

Five years ago, Chloe dropped off the face of the Earth. Beca sees her again in the most unexpected place.

rating: M (drug abuse, mention of sexual abuse in later chapters) word count: 2,100

ao3 link

*

“Any messages, Gina?”

Beca Mitchell strode out of the elevator, high heels clicking on marble flooring on her way to her office.

Her assistant rushed to walk alongside her, notebook opened as she handed Beca her second coffee of the day, which Beca took with an appreciative smile.

“Mr. Mendes needs to push back his meeting to Thursday, and Mr. Hozier-Byrne is waiting for a call back, preferably before 2 as he’s five hours ahead.”

Beca rounded the corner to her office and dragged her leather desk chair back, shrugging off her woolen trench coat and draping it over the back. “Got it, remind me what I have planned today?”

“You’re having lunch with Mr. Zimmer at the Plaza to discuss Jesse’s project, and apart from the weekly team meeting at five, you’re expected at Edgy Reggie’s party from 10 pm at the Sapphire.”

A groan surfaced from Beca’s throat and her eyes slammed shut as she plopped down on her chair. “I forgot about that. Luke can’t go?”

Gina winced and shook her head. “Family dinner.”

“Family dinner, my ass. His whole family lives back in fucking England,” Beca muttered before she could help it, throwing her assistant an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Thanks, Gina. Hold my calls until ten, please?”

“Of course, Ms. Mitchell.”

As she did every morning while sipping her coffee, Beca listened to demos over the next hour, forwarding them to Luke if any of those yet-unknown artists spiked her interest enough to sign them into their label.

The rest of the day consisted of two meetings, a dozen calls, countless email exchanges, and not enough studio time. A thick blanket of darkness had veiled the city by the time she closed her laptop and called it a day. She stretched her neck and took a moment to gaze at the lit skyscrapers through her floor to ceiling windows, sighing softly.

It was sometimes weird to think about how this was her life. How the asocial, grumpy freshman from thirteen years ago had made it to the top of the music business and now co-owned one of the biggest labels throughout the country.

Scratch that, throughout the  world.  

Snapping out of her daze, Beca stood and slipped on her coat, plucking her phone off the desk to call herself a Lyft home. She had just about time to take a shower and eat dinner before heading to that stupid party.

*

Beca could think of a million things she’d rather be doing right now as she strode down the wet sidewalk towards the lit  GIRLS  red neon sign in the distance a couple of hours later.

She told herself one drink, an hour tops, then she could head home, put on her pajamas, and finish that true-crime TV show she started yesterday.

“Name?” A dude bulkier than the freaking Rock asked her as she made it to the club door.

“Um, Beca Mitchell. I’m Edgy Reggie’s producer.”

Her artist had privatized a strip-club for his celebration party over his album hitting Platinum, and Beca couldn’t  not  show up, as... well, he was an important client and brought her label the big bucks.

The guy checked his clipboard and nodded, hitching his thumb over his shoulder. “You’re good to go.”

Casting the bouncer a nod, Beca ducked inside the dimmed, crowded club, wincing at the crappy music heavily pumping through the speakers. Three girls in bikinis and heels stood on platforms, twisting their bodies around dancing poles as dozens of dudes reclined back in leather sofas, shamelessly ogling their forms.

Beca’s nose crinkled as she scanned the room for her artist.

“Yo, Beca!”

Her gaze snapped to the left corner, catching sight of Edgy Reggie (he didn’t want to change his stage name, no matter how much Beca insisted) waving her over.

“Hey,” she cast him a tight-lipped smile, tucking her straight hair behind her ears. She nodded at the other dudes sitting around the low table. “What’s up.”

“Guys, this is the girl behind the magic of my album,” Edgy Reggie explained, throwing an arm over her shoulders before Beca could squirm away. “She is  fire. ”

Beca chuckled awkwardly, then pointed over her shoulder. “I’m gonna go get myself a drink.”

Maybe two come to think of it, so she could get herself through this.

She headed to the bar and ordered an old-fashioned, fishing in the inside of her coat pocket for her credit card.

“Thanks,” she muttered when the barmaid (also clad in a bikini that left very little to the imagination) came back with her drink, handing her her card just as the club’s speaker made an announcement.

“Ladies and Gentleman, please welcome to the stage…  Ariel! ”

The crowd cheered and hooted, Beca glancing over her shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.

There was no amount of alcohol that could have prepared her for the scene unfolding before her.

There, on the main stage, strutted in a redhead, only wearing a silver g-string and high heels. Beca would have recognized that shade of hair anywhere, and while the lighting in the club was low, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that this girl -- Ariel -- was her former best friend.

Her former best friend who had dropped from the face of the Earth almost five years ago, without so much as an explanation. She hadn’t just stopped talking to Beca, but to all of them, even Aubrey. She was nowhere to be found on social media and when Beca had tried calling her after six months without news, she found out Chloe’s phone number had been disconnected. It wasn’t like they talked on a daily basis before that. After three years spent living on opposite sides of the country, the texts started coming further in between, their communication coming down to a few check-ins a year and on birthdays, until they eventually stopped.

Fearing the worst, Aubrey had called Chloe’s parents, who assured her she was fine, working as a vet in NYC and in a committed relationship. While relieved, the news stung Beca, as it was clear Chloe had deliberately ceased contact.

It took some time, but Beca eventually stopped thinking about her so much, especially when she started getting successful as a music producer and pouring her time and energy into her projects. She soon won her first Grammys, Gold, and Platinum records featured in notorious magazines and talk shows. She could stop working tomorrow and money wouldn’t become an issue, but Beca didn’t like to boast about her fortune, or fame, for that matter.

Despite being insanely busy, she still kept in touch with the other Bellas in their group chat, but she hadn’t seen any of them in a couple of years, missing the last reunion because of her job.

Beca’s mind steered back to the present, where the once most important person in her life was currently dancing for money. Men were staring hungrily at her as she sensually moved around the pole or bent over with her ass in the air to collect dollar bills from the floor, and Beca suddenly felt sick.

This couldn’t be her dream job, right? Something  had  to have happened for her to settle for this.

Beca grabbed her drink and knocked it back, flagging the barmaid down for another as her mind reeled as to what to do.

She needed to talk to Chloe. In private. Tonight, as soon as she finished… parading in front of these disgusting fuckboys. Only… she wasn’t sure Chloe wanted to talk to her.

“Hey,” she said when the barmaid came back as an idea struck. “How do I get a private lap dance with one of the girls?”

The girl raised a surprised eyebrow. “Backroom, hun. Who do you want?”

“Ariel.”

The platinum blonde let out a curt laugh. “Ariel doesn’t do lap dances, babe.”

Beca’s eyebrows knitted together in a heavy frown. “Why not?”

“Because she’s the boss’ favorite.”

Beca didn’t know what that meant exactly, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out as another wave of nausea swept over her insides. “Is your boss here tonight?”

The barmaid scanned the room quickly, nodding. “He’s the guy over there in the suit.”

“Thanks.” She took her drink and headed over to where the fifty-something dude was talking to another guy. Stepping up to them, she ignored their glares over her interrupting their conversation. “Hey. Are you the manager?”

The dude who looked like he ran a mafia mob turned a bit more towards her. “What’s this about?”

“How much for a private dance with Ariel?”

His gaze flickered over Beca’s shoulder towards the stage, then sized Beca up, unimpressed. “She’s not available, kid.”

Beca gritted her teeth at the condescending tone of his voice. “Not even for ten grand for twenty minutes?”

He slow-blinked, then burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m being serious. Ten grand, twenty minutes. Alone in a room, just the two of us.”

The man’s expression hardened. “And I said she’s not  available .”

“Twenty grand.” Hell, she’d throw half a million on the table if that’s what was needed to talk to Chloe. After a beat, she added, “And no touching. That’s not what I’m here for.”

The manager seemed to consider her offer for a handful of seconds. “You got the money?”

Dammit.  She couldn’t withdraw that much right now, she needed to call her bank. “Tomorrow night.”

He smirked, snickering. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He turned back to his buddy, leaving Beca grumbling under her breath as she turned around and stalked out of the club. She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t stand the sight of Chloe objectifying her body for money.

As soon as she got home, Beca fired up her computer and typed in Chloe’s name in her browser. Apart from old stuff on the Bellas, she found nothing relevant. Chloe appeared to still be MIA from any social media.

Beca grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts, bringing the device to her ear.

“What’s wrong?”  

“How do you know something’s wrong?”

“We call each other twice a year on our respective birthdays and stick to the Bellas chat for the rest.”  

Beca nibbled on her bottom lip. “I found Chloe.”

A long stretch of silence on the other end of the line followed.  “What?”  

“I saw her tonight, Aubrey.”

“Where??”

“At a strip club. She’s… a stripper.”

“What? Did you talk to her?”  

“No. She was performing on stage. But I will. I’m… buying a lap dance from her tomorrow. I figured… she’ll have to listen to me since she’s being paid for it.” Her eyes slammed shut, scrunching up her nose. “I don’t know. It might be a bad idea, but-- I just wanna make sure she’s okay, you know?”

“Yes, of course. Keep me posted?”  

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

Beca shuffled to bed after that, but sleep never came. Her mind kept reeling about Chloe, about what she might say to her once they were face to face, and the possibility that Chloe might shoot her down and refuse to talk to her.

She spent her Saturday trying and failing to make some progress on an ongoing project, willing time to tick faster so she could head back to the club. Mid-afternoon, she headed to the bank to withdraw twenty grand, tucking the envelope in her purse.

“Why does it feel like you’re doing something illegal, Beca?” She muttered to herself on her way out of the bank, slightly paranoid about carrying so much cash on her.

The club was just as crowded when she got there around 10 pm. A different girl danced on the main stage and the manager was nowhere in sight, so Beca perched herself on a stool at the bar, ordering herself another old-fashioned.

“Is your boss around?” She asked the barmaid, a different girl from last night.

“Who’s asking?”

“Tell him the person who wants Ariel is here.”

The girl’s eyebrows shot up at that but she didn’t say anything, nodding before strutting away. Beca sipped at her drink for the next twenty minutes, keeping her back to the stage.

The manager eventually appeared in her peripheral, and he leaned an elbow over the counter, lacing his fingers. “So what’s so special about Ariel?”

Beca slowly set her drink down and fished for the envelope, pushing it towards him while keeping her gaze straight ahead. “I like redheads.”

He plucked the envelope off the counter and peered inside. Twenty stacks of ten hundred dollar bills in exchange for twenty minutes with Chloe.

He nodded. “Follow me.”

Beca finished the rest of her drink, the alcohol managing to muffle her nerves some as she followed the manager towards the back of the club, and down a set of stairs. Her heart pumped hard in her ears and her palms started to sweat as she was led inside a dimly lit room with a handful of sofa chairs and a small stage with a dancing pole, some kind of music that seemed straight out of a porno carrying through the speakers. A spiral staircase was tucked in the right corner, and she guessed that is where the strippers made their entrance from.

Beca wondered how far things usually went in these kinds of private rooms.

She wondered how far  Chloe  went.

She cast the guy a tight-lipped smile and a nod before he closed the door, and paced the room for a little while, eventually lowering herself on one of the leather chairs and wiping her palms on her designer slacks.

The clicking of heels over metal made Beca’s spine snap straighter. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder as the steps grew nearer, digging her nails into her thighs as a new round of nerves gripped her insides.

“Good evening, sweetheart,” the huskiness of Chloe’s voice made Beca swallow, and she felt a hand run over her shoulders as Chloe approached from behind.

Glancing up, Beca met familiar, ocean blues.

[redpandaramblings]

Sweet Treats  Sero Hanta x F!Reader Birthday fic.

Happy birthday, @reinawritesbnha!!!  Wanted to write you a silly little fic that I hope you enjoy.

Content Warnings:-  Not SFW situations, cake destruction, nudity, crude humor, Mineta mention, awkward situations, mentions of food, mentions of drinking, probably incorrect Spanish, aged up characters.

Spanish translations are provided at the very bottom of the fic.  I suggest waiting to look them up to avoid spoilers.

Y/n protested playfully as her friend dragged her towards the well known restaurant.  “Come on, this place is too fancy.  Pro heroes eat here!  There’s no way we’re getting in without a reservation.”

Her friend laughed, continuing to lead her towards the door.  “One, it’s not too fancy for your birthday.  Two, we do have a reservation!  It’s a weekday, so it actually wasn’t too difficult to get in.  Sucks a little that we can’t party as hard, but we get to celebrate on your actual birthday, so it all works out!  Now come on!  Everyone else is inside already getting everything set up.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but followed along without further protest.  She really had wanted to go here.  They served some of her favorite foods, and had fabulous service by all reports.  The place was really popular with the pro hero set because of their discretion and their private rooms.  Y/n hoped to maybe catch a glimpse of one of her favorites, but honestly, chances were slim.

Without any fuss, a waiter took their names and escorted them to their reserved private room.  A cheer greeted them as they walked in.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!!!!”

“Let’s get this party started!”

And get started they did.  Drinks were served and food orders were placed.  Laughter and conversation bubbled around.  Someone pulled out Cards Against Humanity and everyone was cackling and cracking jokes, trying to find the most inappropriate answers to all the prompts.  The fun is briefly interrupted as someone knocks on the door.  A few waitstaff wheel in a covered table holding a rather large cake.  They place it in a good position before bowing and hurrying out.

One of y/n’s friends stands and walks over to it, brows furrowed in confusion.  “This doesn’t look like what we ordered…  It’s way too big.” They murmured.  “What we wanted shouldn’t need it’s own table…”  They rapped their knuckles on the table a few times to emphasize their point.

Suddenly it was like the cake exploded upward.  Flecks of frosting scattered about the room as first a brunet head, then a muscular torso came into view.  Shapely arms pose into a flexing position.  A masculine voice booms “Congrats on making the top…  fifty….”  His voice trailed off as he took in the shocked expressions of everyone in the room.  “Youuuu are not Denki.”

Y/n shook her head as she tried very hard to keep her gaze above his waist level.  A man had just jumped out of her cake.  A naked man had just jumped out of her cake.  A naked pro hero that she happened to have a massive crush on had just jumped out of her cake.  Y/n discretely pinched herself on the thigh.  Yep, it hurt.  Which means Sero Hanta was currently naked in the same room as her, his very nice looking cock covered in cake and cream.  She snapped her gaze back upward as the blushing hero began muttering to himself, clearly on the verge of a panic attack. 

“That was…  The knocks were the cue…  I mean…”

The hero sank to his knees, the messy remains of the box and cake giving him a little bit of privacy.   

“Mi vida se acabó.  Me acurrucaré en este pastel y moriré ahora.  Puedo ver los titulares.  El héroe profesional Cellophane encontrado desnudo y muerto en un pastel.”

Y/n quickly stood up, hurrying over to where the leftover party supplies were.  Luckily, there was a leftover tablecloth, since the restaurant had supplied their own.  She cautiously walked back over to Sero, holding out the tablecloth.

“Hey, it’s alright.  Promise.  Want to cover up with this?”

Sero blinked a few times, taking several deep breaths before he nodded, reaching out and taking the tablecloth.  He hurriedly wrapped it around himself, recovering some of his modesty.  “Gracias.  Lo siento.  I must have been wheeled into the wrong room.”  

Y/n nodded as one of her friends brought Sero a drink to help calm him down.  “Want us to get some staff or find your friends?  I don’t think you want to wear a tablecloth the rest of the night, though it is a rather bold fashion statement.”

Sero closed his eyes, taking a gulp of his drink as he thought for a moment.  “Flag down some staff, but ask them to bring Kirishima here?  He should have my clothes.”

“No need to get dressed on our account!”  One of y/n’s friends chirped.

“In fact we could strip if you want.  Make it all an equal playing field.”  Another friend said as they headed out the door in search of someone to help them.

Y/n buried her face in her hands and groaned.  “I’m going to murder you all.  No court would convict me.  Murder is legal on your birthday, right?”

“Wait, it’s your birthday?”  For the first time since he popped out of the cake, Hanta took his time to actually look around the room.  Black, white, and yellow balloons hung in the corners.  Crepe paper twisted around the edges of the room.  Some presents were piled in one corner.  “Oh Dios Mio, it’s your birthday.  My naked ass ruined your birthday.”

“Not ruined.”  Y/n chuckled, dropping her hands so she could look Sero in the eyes.  “Unexpected for sure.  You’ve definitely made this the most exciting birthday I’ve had.  Will be telling the story for years.  The time I accidentally got a naked man for my birthday.”

Sero raised his eyebrows.  “Not gonna mention the pro hero part?  Some people would pay good money for that, I’m sure.”

Y/n vigorously shook her head.  “No way!  I wouldn’t want to hurt your career like that!  You’ve got lots more important stuff to do than to do damage control on your public image.  I promise it doesn’t leave this room.”

The others in the room nodded and spoke up in agreement.  “Yeah dude.  Honest mistake.  We’ll laugh about it amongst ourselves, then forget about it.”

About this time, the door burst open.

“Dude!”

A blond rushed into the room.  Denki, took a moment to take in the scene in front of him before he doubled over, howling with laughter.  Kirishima, Bakugou, and Mina followed shortly behind.

“Sorry,” Kirishima rubbed his head, slightly embarrassed.  “Once Denks figured out what was going on, we couldn’t stop him.”

“This is better than if it had gone right!”  Denki wheezed, flopping over onto the floor.  “Happy birthday, nice to meet you!  Here’s my dick, give it a lick, it tastes like vanilla!”  Kaminari dissolved into nearly hysterical laughter as both Sero and y/n flushed scarlet.  Bakugou gave Denki a less than gentle boot to the ribs.  “It’s not that funny you fucking overgrown phone charger.  You really need to quit hanging out with Mineta.”

“I don’t know, guys, I think it’s pretty funny.”  Mina grinned as leaned against the doorframe.  “And I must say, the tablecloth toga is on point.  Should consider it for your next costume redesign.”

“Hardy har.  Didn’t realize this was comedy hour.  Now, did any of you payasos bring me my clothing?”

Kirishima held up a bag and gave it a shake.  “Clothes and wipes to get the gunk off ya.”

“Gracias, Eijiro.  You’re the only good man here.”

“Hey!” Bakugou objected.

“You’ll make the buen amigo list again if you manage to get services comped for these lovely folks.”

“Already did that as soon as we figured out what happened, soy sauce face.”

“Excellent.  Thank you.”  Sero sighed.  “Now can you please help me out of this table so that I can get dressed and quit intruding on the party of this encantadora dama?”

“Nope!”  Mina laughed.  “Or at least not right away.  First, pictures!”

“¿Imágenes? ¿Seriamente?”  Sero groaned.

“Absolutely!  We need to capture this moment forever!”

“Agreed!  I’ll take the pics so everyone else can crowd in and hand me your cameras if you want!” y/n’s friend piped up.

“If any of these pictures get out…” Bakugou growled.

“We’ve already been over that.  Personal mementos only!  Scout’s honour!”  y/n’s friend placed a hand over their heart and tried to tame their grin into something more serious.

And so that’s how y/n found herself perched next to her favorite hero, as flash after flash went off, taking group shots.  And it seemed that also just as quickly, Kirishima was helping to haul his friend out of the cake and cardboard remains.  They took over a corner, Denki and Kirishima holding up the tablecloth like a privacy curtain while Sero got himself cleaned up and dressed.  It was around this time that a very apologetic staff member showed up with a large angel food cake, placing it on the table while assuring everyone that their bills had been taken care of.  They wheeled out the other cake as they left.  After Sero was fully dressed, y/n cleared her throat and said,  “Would you like to stay for cake since yours is gone now?  Or have you had enough cake for the night?”

“Well,” Sero drawled, a mischievous grin on his face.  “I’m not rude enough to refuse a lady her wish on her birthday.”

“You had me at cake!”  Denki exclaimed, already sliding into a chair.

Everyone gathered around the table.  Happy Birthday was sung, candles were blown out, cake was cut and distributed.  Conversation flowed surprisingly easy, talking about jobs, and pets, and birthdays past.  Y/n shared about the birthday they’d almost accidentally set their nan on fire due to an unfortunate silly string incident.  Sero told about the birthday that was the day his quirk fully activated and he had accidentally taped himself to the ceiling.  It had taken his family half an hour to find him.  Bakugou claimed to have never had an embarrassing birthday, and threatened to explode his friends' faces when the rest of the Bakusquad started listing one thing after another.  And so several hours flew by with everyone enjoying themselves.  Bakugou finally looked at the clock and stretched, standing up.

“Hey nerds, place if going to close soon.  We need to go grab our shit.”

The others glanced at the clock before also scrambling up.  “Shit, yeah, completely lost track of time!”  Denki headed to the door.  “Later, gators!  Had an awesome night!  Should do it again sometime.  And happy birthday, Y/n!”

“Thanks, was a great night!  And congrats on cracking the top fifty!”  Y/n called.

Denki waved as he walked out the door.  Mina, Kirishima, and Bakugou also said their goodbyes and headed out.  Sero, however, lingered for a bit.

“It did turn out to be a good night.  But I am still sorry for interrupting your party like that.”

“For the last time, it’s fine”  Y/n laughed.

Sero cast his eyes down, bashfully, mumbling protests. But then, he noticed something attached to your bag. He interrupted his own rambling apology to ask “Is that a Cellophane tape dispenser key chain?”

Really, he didn’t have to ask. He knew all his own merch. That particular key chain was one of his first products. It hadn’t sold very well, and had only lasted one small run. They were really hard to find anymore. 

Before y/n had a chance to reply, her friend clapped her on the shoulder and said “Yep! She has three of them. One on her purse, a spare in case this one breaks, and one to keep in pristine condition.”

“Shut!  Up!” Y/n hissed.

Grinning, her friend continued.  “Pretty sure she has at least one of everything of the official merch.  She’s been a mega fan for years.  Total simp.  That’s why the party colors were black, white, and yellow.  Low key Cellophane themed.”

Y/n closed her eyes, resigned.  “If the floor doesn’t swallow me up right now, I’m burning your Dynamite body pillow next chance I get.”

Sero blushed as he grinned, one long arm raising to scratch the back of his head.  “Well now I don’t feel quite so bad about what happened.  One of a kind birthday show for my partidaria número uno.”

Y/n could feel their blush creeping down their neck.  “Really, it was just an honest mistake!  No big deal!”  She squeaked.

“Regardless, I do want to make it up to you, hermosa.  So, how about we exchange numbers?”

“What?!”  Y/n’s squeak reached an abnormally high pitch.

“Well this way we can get in touch, and I can make it up to you somehow.  Some exclusive merch.  Tickets to an event…  A date perhaps?”  Hanta’s grin spread wider.

Y/n’s brain stalled.  Her friends were quick to jump in.  “Yes!”

“She’d love to.”

“She’s free next Friday and Sunday!”

Y/n’s brain started to kick back in “Guys, what?  No!”

“So you wouldn’t like to go out with me next Sunday?”  Hanta whined with an exaggerated pout.

“No!  I mean…”  Y/n drew a deep shaking breath.  “I’d… I’d like that.  If you actually mean it, that is.”

Hanta pulled out his phone and handed it to y/n.  “Absolutely.  Just put in your number and I’ll text you.  No voy a dejar pasar esta oportunidad.  Tendríamos la mejor historia para contarles a nuestros hijos cómo nos conocimos.”

Y/n furrowed their eyebrows, only managing to catch a few words of the Spanish as they entered their number in.  “I didn’t quite catch all that…”

One of y/n’s friends called from across the room.  “Hey slick!  Es mejor que al menos haya una propuesta antes de planificar los hijos.”

Hanta blushed bright red while laughing.  “Noted.”

Y/n handed Sero his phone back.  “Neither of you are going to tell me what you said, are you?”

“Nope!  I’ll be texting you soon, hermosa.  But for now, hasta luego.”  Sero waved before jogging out the door and down the hallway, heading back to his friends.  Y/n waved, before going to help clean up, ignoring the giggles and teasing of her friends.  Soon enough, everything was taken care of.  Y/n said her goodbyes and headed out.  She hadn’t even made it to the car before her phone buzzed in her pocket.  When she pulled it out, there was a text from an unknown number that read “I can’t wait to see what the future brings.  Happy Birthday,  Princesa.”

My life is over.

I'll curl up in this cake and die now.

I can see the headlines. Professional hero Cellophane found naked and dead in a cake.

Thank you.  I’m sorry.

My God.

Clowns

Thanks

Good friend.

Lovely lady.

Pictures?  Seriously?”

Number one fan.

Beautiful.

I will not miss this opportunity. We would have the best story to tell our children how we met.

There better at least be a proposal before you plan of children.

Princess

Taglist- @kat-unzel

[random-imagines-blog]

Empty Walls {Sirius Back x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2380 Summary: A lot of the order is pretty untrusting of any Slytherins joining their midst - but there is one person who accepts you. Warnings: Mentions of character death.

Molly Weasley shoved a plate of food in front of you, so harshly that little puddles of gravy spilt onto the table, making a small mess. You thanked her regardless of her hostility, and cleaned up the gravy with your own napkin, embroidered with your initials. She was a wonderfully sweet woman most of the time - but you just so happened to be a Malfoy. Despite your loyalty to the Order of the Phoenix, many of its members still didn’t trust you yet, because of your surname. It was more about that than the fact that you had been in Slytherin, while everyone else around here seemed either to be a Gryffindor or even a Hufflepuff. You tied your blonde hair out of your face and started to eat self-consciously, knowing that there were eyes on you no matter what. Sirius Black’s to be specific. He always seemed to be watching.

The room filled with the sound of eating as everyone dug into Molly’s delicious food. You were the first done, vacating your seat quickly and washed the dish - by hand - in the sink. You had grown up completely spoiled, with the house elves doing all of the cooking and cleaning, so earning your place here had been difficult at first. You didn’t mean to be spoiled. You just couldn’t help how you were raised.

Grimmauld Place. It was dark and it was dingy, but there was one place in this house in particular that you were drawn to. The wall with the family portraits - your own included. All of the little faces of your family, and then the burned out one of Mr. Sirius Black. Your eyes went to your brother and you smirked to yourself. He was painted in that little hat. He always hated that picture, which made you love it even more. You then saw your parents, Lucius and Narcissa. They both looked a little snooty, which was how they tended to appear to the world. But they were never like that when it was just the family together. Your fingers graced your mother’s face. You missed her, a lot. She still sent you owls, and your father would always add his own little notes. They loved you, despite the fact that most of their friends saw you as a traitor. That your actions nearly put a bounty on their own heads, like the rest of the order.

But you were going to help take him down before he could try to collect.

“Do you really like staring at your own face that much?” A deep voice came from behind you. You didn’t turn around. It was Mr. Black himself. He always seemed to be following you around. He was probably the most mistrustful of the lot. You just ignored him, and put your fingers over your father. You missed him as well. His opinion was the one that you had been most scared of - but you were doing what he was too cowardly to do. You were making the right choice.

You didn’t even pay attention to your little portrait. You knew what you looked like. You didn’t give into the vanity that the rest of the Malfoys seemed to have. You preferred knowledge over looks.

“It’s not that bad of a picture. Mine was awful. They made me cut my hair for it, so I looked like some dapper gentleman,” Sirius said. He had come and stood right behind you. You didn’t realize how close he was until then. If you took even one step backwards, you would have bumped into him.

“So it’s a good thing that your place is burnt out then?” You asked.

“I like to think of it more as an empty space,” Sirius said. “I’ll probably paint over the whole damn thing one of these days. Most of these people, I don’t feel like I’m that related to anyway. Like you.”

“We’re  hardly related. It’s like ... many branches away,” You said with a shrug. He may be some sort of cousin but it never felt that way to you either. When you looked at him, you saw ... well, a handsome man, even with all of that hair and those tattoos. You had seen photos of him when he was younger and you had some pretty obscene thoughts one should not be having over family members. He’d been, to put it roughly, a hunk. “Why haven’t you painted over it by now?”

“The room needed some sort of decor,” Sirius shrugged. “I don’t know what I’d do with an empty wall.”

“Well, knowing you, I’m sure you’d hang a very flattering portrait of yourself,” You mused, clicking your tongue. “Dorian Gray style.”

“What?” Sirius asked. You laughed then, remembering that someone like him probably hasn’t picked up a book since his time at Hogwarts, let alone one written by a muggle.

“Nothing,” You said, shaking your head. “So what can I help you with? Does Molly need help with something?”

“Why would Molly need help with anything?” Sirius asked, taking a seat in one of his favorite chairs in the bedroom.

“I don’t know - you all seem to think that housework is female only work-” You started but Sirius cut you off.

“Not at all,” He said, shaking his head, those unruly waves flying around him. “I actually wanted to talk to you myself. And it’s really not about housework.”

“Well, talk away,” You said, settling into a chair of your own, facing away from those painted walls.

“I’ve been keeping my eye on you for a while now. I knew your father back in school and-”

“Yes, I’ve heard some of the stories,” You interrupted, crossing your legs. “There’s no need to go into a lot of backstory. I know you don’t trust me and that’s what you want to talk about, isn’t it?”

“Do you always go around making up all of these assumptions?” Sirius asked, curiously. “I don’t distrust you, I actually wanted to tell you that I think you’re doing an amazing job. Especially for someone so young.”

Your mouth went dry at the unexpected praise that he was bestowing on you. “Well, thanks. That actually means a lot to me. It’s been hard, since I had to give up everything but saving the world seems pretty worth it. Wanna tell Molly what you think, because that woman has had it out for me since day one.”

“She’ll come around. She’s just mistrustful of Slytherins, that’s all.”

You were quiet for a couple of minutes there, thinking about all of the times that you had tried to proven yourself to the Order. You had gone out on dangerous missions without hesitation. You had fought people who had once been dear family friends. You were trying to protect the world, which seemed bigger than just one family.

“Guess I just have to give it time - and hope that we have enough of it,” You sighed, realizing there wasn’t much in this situation that you could do. “You’re not so bad yourself, Black. Even if you come from a family of, well, us. Snakes and all.”

“Thanks,” He chuckled. “I’ll take that to heart.”

-

Since you had already graduated from Hogwarts, you spent a lot of time among the rest of the adults. Molly was finally warming up to you just a little, if only because she had no children to keep her busy now that they were all back at school. You were one of the youngest in the Order, having just left school the year before, and so she doted on you. Or, at the very least, she didn’t make a mess of your food anymore.

“Fancy taking me for a walk?” Sirius asked you one day, leash in hand. You laughed, knowing exactly what he had meant. It was the only way that he could leave this house. Being disguised as Snuffles, the big black dog. And the only way not to get Animal Control called on him was to have someone walk him around.

You nodded, also feeling the need to get out of the stifling nature of the house. Get away from the screams of the portrait and the gloominess that clung around every corer despite you and Molly’s attempt to cheer the place up a bit. Sirius turned into his dog form, and you put the leash and collar on him - which always felt weird, no matter how many times you did it. His tongue lolled out as he grew excited for the fresh air and it was enough to make you laugh.

These walks became more and more frequent - especially because sometimes, when you were in a more isolated part of town, Sirius would turn back into his human self and you would have a coffee and sit in a park, enjoying the early fall nature. You ended up having some really long conversations. About everything. You told him some stories about his godson, Harry, and his friends at school - they were rather infamous and it seemed like you knew a lot about them despite not being in their house. And your brother’s complaints, of course.

It didn’t take long for you to realize that you were falling for this much older man, despite the age gap and the fact that he had been in Azkaban for years, and that this was hardly the time for love, given the fact that there was a war that was growing in importance more and more each day.

-

“To the ones that we have lost,” Arthur Weasley said, raising his glass in toast over his head.

It was  not a happy occasion that you were celebrating here tonight, back at Grimmauld Place. “To the ones that we have lost,” you toasted back in return. And then you drank deeply from your flask - Firewhiskey having become a solace these days.

Sirius was taking things particularly hard - the war may be over, but the cost of that victory was entirely too high. He was tearing himself apart about it, but you couldn’t blame him. He lost his only other best friend. And the Weasleys had lost two sons - one to death, and one to the attack of a werewolf, though Bill was pulling through swimmingly.

You stood up slowly, which garnered the attention of the rest of the people around you. “I can’t be here,” You admitted, finding it too hard to be around loved ones, when they weren’t exactly the ones that you wanted.

You went down the hallway into the room with the family portrait on it, your wand in your hand as you closed the door, but you did not lock it. “What have you done to be remembered for?” You asked the portrait of yourself, and of your parents.

“I think this is a long time coming,” Sirius said, staggering into the room. “Patat Pingere.”

“What are you doing?” You asked, as the paint started to peel off of the walls, and then dissolve into nothing, leaving only the bare baseboards that they must have been before the family tree. You watched as you, your parents and the rest of them just seemed to disappear, like you never existed.

“You deserve to be remembered,” Sirius said, leaning against the doorframe, taking in the sight of all of that white. “So we’ll repaint you now, as you are. And... and Remus. And Tonks. And Fred... the others...”

You nodded, looking at the potential of it now. All of the noble house of Black had disappeared, and most of them were better off being remembered - entirely unlike everyone that you had just lost, and whose death was still pulling at your heart.

“And yours,” You said, looking over at Sirius. You were surprised to see that his head was down, and a sob racked through his entire body, and he was barely keeping himself upright.

You rushed to his side and took his weight upon your shoulder, half-dragging and half-carrying him to his favorite chair and helped to lower him into it. He didn’t let you go, so you had no choice but to sit with him. You curled up in his lap like a kitten, and he held you while sobbing into the shoulder of your robes.

You were through with crying - you’ve made yourself dehydrated with it and nothing ever seemed to get better, but seeing Sirius like this was still draining nonetheless. “You’re not completely alone Sirius - you have me.”

That seemed to help somewhat, for his shoulders stopped shaking as much, but he did continue to hold onto you tightly, making sure that you could not leave, even if you had wanted to. You didn’t want to, you wanted to stay and make sure that he knew - that he knew that you would not leave him.

“I love you.”

You weren’t expecting that from him, especially not at this time, but you began to run your fingers through the dirty, straggly hair.

“I love you too.”

“Don’t just say that if you don’t mean it. I can’t take anything more, I just-”

You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. Even when he was in the middle of a fight, with spells going around him, narrowly missing him, he usually had some excitement showing on his face. But this was a defeated man, who seemed ready to break at the slightest negativity.

“I mean it, with every bit of me. I really, truly do,” You told him, detangling a few knots with your fingers, your wand having dropped on the floor when it seemed like he was falling. “I love you, Sirius Black.”

“Can we fix this - these empty walls?” Sirius’s head rose just a little.

You nodded, looking into his dark eyes, which had the same expression as a dog that had just been kicked. “Yes, I think we can. I know we can. Let’s start tomorrow.”

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 79 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Violet and Sutan showed up for Bob’s drag show. Courtney had a disastrous day at work before Galactica shut down for the holidays.

This Chapter: Violet parties a little too hard, Sutan gets sick, and Miss Fame finds out about her precious sketches.

***

Violet wasn’t surprised that Bob was an amazing and hilarious performer. What had surprised her was how into it Sutan seemed, slapping his thighs at every joke, cheering loudly, tipping all of the queens generously.

It was so unlike how he behaved at the adult parties they normally frequented, so unlike how he normally spent a night out mingling and networking, his charm laid on so thick sometimes that the real him barely even poked through.

At one point, after watching him stuff a couple of bills down one queen’s corset, Violet must have had some kind of strange expression, because Sutan caught her eye and gave her a wink, saying, “Not my first drag show, darling.”

Violet smiled, shaking her head at him, though she gladly accepted the kiss he offered up, Sutan’s lips tasting like whiskey and those horrible green shots. It was great to see him, to watch the grown man she cared so much for light up with boyish delight, Sutan throwing himself wholeheartedly into the show.

By the time Bob came up to their table after the show, she was starting to really feel the effects of all the drinks she’d had throughout the night, her speech sounding much slurrier than she intended when she accepted a sweaty hug from Bob.

“You were so good up there,” she said, trying to get out her words without sounding as crazy drunk as she felt, “Best one by far.”

“Wow,” said a voice nearby, and Bob let out a hearty laugh.

“You heard her, Thorgy, I’m the best. By far,” Bob cackled, turning and sticking his tongue out at a green-haired queen.

“Your friends are so sweet, Bob, you should bring them more often,” she said snidely, and Violet’s eyes widened, realizing her mistake.

“No, I just meant, uh, that...that you-” she stammered out, and Bob laughed even harder.

“No, we heard you,” continued Thorgy, giving an exaggerated eye roll. “As if Bob needs anything else to make his fat head even bigger.”

“Would you chill, bitch? She was just giving me a compliment! Nobody murdered your family.”

“Shut up, Bob!”

Violet tried to shrink as they continued to bicker, Maxwell slipping her another shot and whispering, “Don’t worry, they’re just like that. Bottoms up.”

Violet picked up the shot, toasting Maxwell with a little shrug, just as Sutan returned to the table with a fresh round for everyone.

***

“Sutan,” Violet groaned, and Sutan couldn’t help but smile, his girlfriend under his arm, snuggled against his side, an open bottle of water in her hand.

“Yes darling?” It had been a bit of a struggle to get to the taxi, Violet suddenly a whole lot drunker than he had ever seen her before, but they had had an amazing night.

It had been literal years since he had last been to a drag show, and he had forgotten how much fun they generally were.

It had been good to see Violet’s work friends, and to get to know them a little better, to know for certain that his girlfriend was surrounded by good people when she went to work.

“I don’t feel good…” Violet whined, the tone so new for her Sutan had to bite his cheek not to chuckle.

“I know lovely eyes.” He held her hand, gently lifting it and the bottle to her lips so Violet could drink some more water. He should probably have stopped her about 5 shots ago, but he hadn’t wanted to cut off her fun, which she was now paying the price for.

Violet took a sip, her nose scrunching up like it tasted all wrong, Sutan holding her in place even as he took the bottle.

“We’ll be home soon.”

He had been smart enough to change the sheets before they left, the task one he normally left for his housekeeper but she was on vacation, painkillers and water bottles ready on the nightstands - fresh sheets and a cracked window a guaranteed recipe for a good night’s sleep, something they both truly needed.

“Mmh,” Violet tried to pull away, her hand pushing against his leg so Sutan let her, his girlfriend sitting up straight.

“I really don’t feel good,” Violet dumped her head back against the headrest, “like I think, I might-”

The taxi rounded a corner, and Violet’s hand flew to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with panic, and Sutan knew instantly what was about to happen.

“Stop the car!” Sutan reached over Violet, opening the door and unbuckling her seatbelt in one fluid motion, a hand on her hip pushing her out on the street as he yelled over his shoulder to the driver. “Stay!”

Sutan followed behind Violet with practiced ease, the maneuver one he had done hundreds of times, models often drinking way too much if they didn't snort something worse during the first year of their career.

“Over here,” Sutan hated that he was forcing Violet to stand on her bad leg, but he didn’t have much choice, one hand finding her waist as he turned her in an attempt to support her weight,  “How are you feeling-”

He was cut off as Violet grabbed his arm and bent forward to throw up, the majority of it landing directly on Sutan’s shoes, his fingers only just catching her ponytail.

“Oh god,” Violet choked, “I’m so sorry-” She didn’t finish, as she puked again and Sutan sighed, the second round of vomit soaking his shoes completely, the leather officially beyond salvageable.

“I’m sorry,” Violet’s forehead was leaning against his stomach, Sutan’s hand on her neck, a hiccup leaving her, her voice quivering with tears. “I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry-”

“Hey, hey,” Sutan tightened his grip, using his other hand to gently push on Violet’s shoulder to get her to stand up. Her face was an absolute mess, tears streaming down her cheeks, “Lovely eyes, don’t worry-”

“You’re wearing Prada.” Violet sobbed, her hand coming up in a desperate attempt to wipe her tears, and Sutan knew it was wrong, he just couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Violet hit his chest, but she still allowed him to move her so she was leaning against the taxi, the tip he’d need to give their driver growing by the second. Violet had thankfully not thrown up on herself, which was a true blessing combined with the fact that he had shoved the water bottle into his pocket. He took it out, uncapping it to pour the water over his shoes, washing them to the best of his ability.

It wasn’t perfect, but he had dealt with a lot worse.

Violet was pale, but she didn’t look like she was going to throw up again, so Sutan helped her back in the car, giving the driver a hundred as a thank you for not leaving them stranded.

“Lovely eyes?” Sutan felt a moment of panic when he realized Violet hadn’t said a word since they got back in the car, “Is everything-“

“I’m so embarrassed, I can’t believe I-“ Violet groaned, frustration heavy in her voice, “I threw up all over your Prada shoes.”

“You know,” Sutan grinned, the few times someone had thrown up in his hands so much worse than what he had just experienced. “You’re the only girl I know who’d care about the brand of shoes I’m wearing right now. The vomit would have been plenty for most.”

“Can we please just, not?” Violet sighed heavily, but she did lean her head against his shoulder, which Sutan took as a very good sign. “I’d love to pretend all of this never happened.”

“Violet. They’re just shoes.” Sutan pressed a kiss against her temple, “You’re so much more important.”

***

Raven flipped through the dresses she hadn’t worn in public yet, looking for the one she was going to be wearing for New Year’s. She had gotten several options for her and Raja, but they hadn’t had the chance yet to try anything on and make the decision, glittering suits and the more theatrical pieces Raja preferred on her side of their walk-in closet.

“What do you think of a green theme?” Raven looked over her shoulder and over at Raja, who was sitting sideways in one of the arm chairs, her legs over the armrest, a bouquet of lilies on the side table.

Raven loved their gigantic walk-in closet, the room so big they had to take down a wall when they moved in, but it was one of her favorite rooms in their apartment, so it was well worth it. It was all done in shades of beige and gray, a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the couch and the arm chairs almost making it feel like a miniature store.

“Raj?” Raven waited for a beat, but when she didn’t get a reply, she turned around.

“Hello? Earth to Raja?” Raven crossed her arms, annoyance curling in her belly. She hated being ignored, and right now, she was being ignored by her favorite person. “Urgh!” Raven huffed, stomping over and grabbing the phone from Raja’s hands.

“Hey!” Raja’s eyes widened in surprise and she sat up, her feet hitting the floor. “Give me my phone-”

“You promised-” Raven held her hand up so Raja couldn’t get the phone, her fiancée grabbing her hips and pulling her in between her spread legs, “you wouldn’t work.”

“I’m not,” Raja tightened her grip, and Raven had to bite back a moan as she felt her short nails dig through the fabric of her dress. “I’m texting Tan.”

“Please,” Raven turned the phone, still holding it over her head so she could see the screen without Raja snatching it away. She had expected to see her emails pulled up, Raja often working at the strangest of times, but instead, all she saw was a row of text messages in Indonesian.

“... Okay, so,” Raven hated admitting that she was wrong, but this once, it seemed like Raja wasn’t actually ignoring her for work. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Raja smiled as she was handed her phone, her hand guiding Raven to sip on her lap, which she gladly did. “Tan says he has a cold.”

“What?” Raven raised an eyebrow, her arms around Raja’s neck. Sutan never got sick, like, never ever, so this was an unexpected turn of events. “Really?”

“Mmh,” Raja nodded, “He woke up with a fever, but it seems like Violet is there.”

This time, it was Raven’s turn to smile, her hand gliding under Raja’s open shirt. “So you’re going to go check in on him?”

“Oh definitely.” Raja grinned, “Who do you think I am?”

***

“Keep the change.”

To say that Violet was feeling guilty would be an understatement. She did her best not to spill the soup as she made her way back towards the living room where Sutan was sleeping on the couch, the TV running on the news channel.

It was terribly unfair, but she had woken up without as much as a headache, while Sutan was coughing his lungs out, her boyfriend hot with fever. Raja had done a pharmacy run, buying every medicine under the sun for her brother, which was now spread out on the coffee table. Raja had offered to stay, but Sutan had sent her away, telling her with a smile that Violet was taking care of him.

It was equal parts unexpected and amazing that he trusted her, that he still wanted her around after she had literally thrown up on him, the ruined shoes something Violet knew would be haunting her nightmares.

It was truly a miracle that she hadn’t fled the apartment, but she didn’t want to disappoint Sutan, so she stayed.

Violet put the bag down, returning with utensils and bowls from the kitchen, when Sutan cracked an eye open, her boyfriend looking up at her.

“Hey,” Sutan smiled, his hair adorably messy, the blanket all the way up to his chin, a small mountain of used tissues in the bin Violet had put by his head.

“I got you lunch.”

“What?” Sutan sat up, grabbing his glasses from the table to put them on. He was wearing a gigantic sweater and a pair of sweatpants, thick wool socks on his feet. “Wait, is that? Did you get me chicken soup-” He didn’t finish, a cough cutting him off, and Violet felt her heart clench.

“Bread too.”

“Ha,” Sutan snorted, a grin on his lips. “You’re the best,” he tilted his head for a kiss, but Violet reacted on instinct, putting a hand on his forehead, pushing him back, which made Sutan laugh.

“What?”

“You’re all...snotty…” Violet tried not to wrinkle her nose, but it was hard not to, his skin hot to the touch.

“So you can throw up on my shoes, but I can’t get one little kiss?”

Violet rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but smile over Sutan’s attitude. “Fine.” She leaned forward, pressing a kiss against Sutan’s forehead. “And I really am sorry, I promise that I’ll replace them-”

“Lovely eyes,” Sutan looked up at her, her hands on his shoulder. “I meant what I said last night. I don’t care about the shoes.”

“But-” They hadn’t actually talked about it sober, and while Violet wished that the earth would swallow her up, she pushed on, “You always make excuses for me, and forgive things you shouldn’t, and I-”

“Violet,” Sutan reached up, touching her elbow, “That’s what you do when you love someone, and I happen to love you.”

“...You love me?”

“I do,” Sutan smiled, “I really do.”

“I-” Violet didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do, but as she looked at Sutan’s face, she realized that he meant it. This man, this strange, wonderful, amazing man, loved her, and Violet had no idea what she had done to deserve him. “I love you too.”

***

PEARL: How would you feel about a NYE party at 230 5th?

DAHLIA: Well that sounds fuckin posh. How’d you get on the list for something so chic?

PEARL: I’m chic as fuck

DAHLIA: Lol if you say so

PEARL: Lol, is that a yes?

DAHLIA: Sure, why not.

PEARL: Perf. You wanna come over early and get ready together?

DAHLIA: Don’t want to wait until the end of the night to get lucky, huh?

PEARL: Nope ;)

***

Symone yawned, leaning against a column in the Terminal 5 baggage claim, her sunglasses hiding her face as she was waiting for Gigi to appear on the escalator.

Her flight from Little Rock had arrived less than 2 hours before Gigi’s, and even though she could have easily gone back to the apartment, she had told her that she’d wait for her.

Symone was exhausted, but she was also psyched to see her friend, their time apart feeling much longer than a week, so staying at the airport had felt like the obvious choice.

Finally she spotted her, in what looked like a brand new forest green coat with fur trim, Gigi’s red hair hidden under a green hat, her friend carrying herself like a starlet who had stepped off of an old Hollywood movie set.

“Geeg!” Symone called out, waving, and her face broke out into a huge grin as she waved back.

Once Gigi got to the bottom of the escalator, she raced forward, nearly tripping in her platform boots as she ran towards Symone, flinging herself into her arms for a huge hug, squealing out, “Hiiiii!”

“Hey girl, long time no see,” Symone said, laughing, holding her tight. Gigi smelled like airport but underneath it, she was exactly herself, her skin warm and soft, and Symone had missed her more than she was willing to admit.

Soon, the two girls were standing in front of the baggage carousel, arms linked, giggling like crazy as they caught each other up on the latest family drama and antics from their siblings while waiting for Gigi’s bags to show up.

It felt good to be back together, and Symone basked in Gigi’s attention.

It wasn’t like she had never had friends, wasn’t like she hadn't had best friends, but Gigi was special, and Symone felt her heart skip a beat as she took her hand, intertwining their fingers.

“So,” Gigi looked at her, a smile on her face. “Pizza?”

Symone laughed, but nodded, Gigi a terrible but also amazing influence. “Pizza.”

***

“Sutan told Violet he loves her.”

“What?” Trixie looked up from the onion he was chopping, and over at Katya who was sitting at the kitchen table, one hand on her stomach, her thumb rubbing back and forth, her phone in the other.

“She just texted.” Katya titled her screen, though she didn’t actually show the text.

“Haven’t they been dating for months?” Trixie turned around, pretty sure that he had heard the earliest rumors about them going out together from Pearl all the way back in september.

“Not everyone says love you after the second date sugarbutt,” Katya grinned and Trixie smiled, a delighted flush filling his cheeks.

***

Fame sighed, a sense of restlessness and uneasiness lying heavily over her. They had come back from The Farm that morning, Fame spending the early afternoon in her study rearranging her chicken figurine collection.

Patrick had found the most gorgeous ceramic Plymouth Rock figurine, the black and white chicken absolutely a masterpiece, and Fame knew that she should be happy, tinkering with her collection usually an instant source of joy, but today, she just felt…unwell.

Fame wanted to talk to Bianca, but she also didn’t want to talk to Bianca, annoyance at how she had behaved at the dinner party still dancing under her skin.

Bianca hadn’t said sorry, not beyond the hurried apology she had thrown over her shoulder as she left, in fact, she hadn’t contacted her at all besides a single text on Christmas morning.

Fame closed the glass door to her chicken cabinet, walking over to her desk to pick up her phone. She knew it was torture, but she opened her messages, tapping Bianca’s name.

BIANCA: Merry Christmas, Blondie. Let’s hang out when I’m back in Jan. XO

Fame hadn’t replied, annoyance wheeling up in her at how casually Bianca dared to act, how she attempted to sweep how hurtful she had been under the rug yet again. She had overheard Juju and Detox discussing that Bianca had left the country, but Fame had very intentionally not checked any of Bianca’s social media, though Pearl swore to her that a simple look was untrackable.

She began typing out a message, but then stopped, deleting it again. It was too late to respond now without seeming petty, and Fame hated whenever Bianca accused her of that, but they still needed to talk, needed to actually talk about what was going on.

She needed an excuse, some reason to contact Bianca and lure her into a meeting, so she wouldn’t have to show her how she was feeling in text.

Maybe she could find out if one of their regular brunch spots had added anything new to their menu, and then ask if Bianca wanted to join her.

Fame sighed yet again, the plan seeming impossible as she took a seat in her chair, the latest paper deliveries from Galactica lying in a neat stack.

If nothing else, her bad mood could be useful for tearing through some of the more dull and dry parts of her job. Fame took the top one, the weight of it depressing in itself since Fame knew it wasn’t anything fun, Alyssa amazing at her job though she also insisted on being a pain in Fame’s ass.

She made it two thirds of the way through the report before boredom overwhelmed her. She needed something interesting, something fun, and if she was lucky, she knew just where she could find it.

FAME: Hi love, I know you’re still on vacation, but if you have some time today, I would love to hear your thoughts on my sketches. :)

TRIXIE: Your sketches?

FAME: Yes. The Met ones that my office sent to you before we shut down.

TRIXIE: Let me check my computer

Fame took a bottle of Pellegrino from the little office fridge under her desk, twisting the cap and grabbing a glass as she waited for Trixie’s reply.

TRIXIE: I don’t want to get anyone in trouble

TRIXIE: But the last email I have from Courtney is about the investor meeting.

Fame rolled her eyes, absolutely exasperated at Courtney’s inability to follow through with the simplest of instructions, since she was positive that she’d told her to send the sketches.

It took three calls for her to answer her phone, and by the time she did, Fame was fuming.

“Why doesn’t Trixie have my sketches?”

“Um...well, Miss, I…” Courtney’s voice sounded shaky and tearful, which Fame didn’t understand. If she would just follow simple instructions like any assistant, she wouldn’t get scolded or lectured. Her victim act made Fame even more irritated than she was already.

“Tell me! Because Trixie says he doesn’t have them and I know I told you to take care of them-”

“I-I think they might be gone.”

“Gone?” Fame froze, a few seconds ticking by before she really understood what Courtney had said. She felt her heartbeat speed up, dread collecting in her stomach. “What do you mean gone?!” Fame could hear her tone grow shrill, and knew that there was a good chance that Charles would come running any minute, her dog always showing up when she was upset.

“Well, I was in a cab on the way back to the office and then when you called, I-I was distracted and I must have not seen them on the seat…”

“Oh god…” Fame tried to take a deep breath, tuning out Courtney’s ridiculous explanation, her incompetence so staggering that she hadn’t even been able to do something as simple as not losing Fame’s original work.

She couldn’t believe it.

Her sketches were really gone, her work lost somewhere in the city, defenseless against whoever might happen across it.

“...and I have messages in to every company that operates-”

“Enough!” Fame exploded. “I don’t care for your pitiful excuses. How could you be so absolutely irresponsible?! I have put up with all of your mistakes, your incompetence, but this is beyond anything, those were- You’ve done, this, this is unforgivable Courtney-”

The door opened, Charles annoyingly enough clever enough to work out door handles.

“Miss, I’m so sorry-”

Fame could hear that Courtney was crying, but she didn’t care, her heart hammering away in her ears, words spilling from her lips, the only thing stopping her when she heard Bianca’s voice in her ear.

“Blondie!”

“Put Courtney back on the phone-”

“No.” Bianca’s voice was stern, and Fame couldn’t believe that she was taking that tone with her, especially considering her little sex toy’s latest fuck-up. “We’re trying to enjoy dinner-”

“Bianca-”

“You can finish this rant on Monday, but for now, she’s mine. See ya soon!”

Fame heard the beep of a phone being hung up, and as she lowered it from her ear, she saw that Bianca had done just that, cutting her off, and her blood boiled.

Bianca had betrayed her yet again, and Fame could feel her heart breaking, the whole thing so terribly fucking unfair.

Fame threw her phone down on the carpet, and put her arms around Charles neck, the heavy breath of her dog in her ear as she clung to him.

***

Courtney gaped at Bianca, mouth open in shock.

“What?”

“You just hung up on Miss Fame!” she exclaimed. She wiped the tears still trickling down her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Yeah, so? She deserved it.” Bianca sipped her cocktail, shrugging.

“Bianca! That’s my boss!” The truth, that Courtney wouldn’t admit out loud, was that witnessing it had been a little bit thrilling. No one had ever defended her like that. If she wasn’t so terrified of the repercussions, she’d have been delighted.

“You wanna call her back?” Bianca asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Well...no.” Courtney lifted her hand to her mouth, smothering a nervous laugh. “Oh god, she’s gonna kill me.”

“She won’t.” Bianca reached out and took Courtney’s hand. “At least not until next Monday.”

Courtney gave a rueful smile, shoulders sagging a bit. She’d been having the best time with Bianca, every day filled with joy and excitement and love. Part of her wished that it could last forever.

But of course, it couldn’t. It was just a vacation. And tomorrow they were flying back to New York. Which in and of itself wasn’t a problem. After all, they had a fabulous New Year’s Eve party to go to, which was being hosted by Jinkx Monsoon. (The Jinkx Monsoon, who Courtney was thrilled to finally meet; she hoped she wouldn’t embarrass herself by being too much of a fangirl.)

And then a few days later, the movers would come to help her get all her things from her apartment, and she could say goodbye forever to the apartment that her friends called “The Dungeon.”

So things were looking up--at least better than they had in a long time.

But then there was work.

Courtney knew that she should be grateful for all the wonderful things in her life, but the feeling she’d gotten when she saw Fame’s name pop up on her phone had been sheer, unbridled panic. And it hadn’t gotten any better once she’d answered. The thought of going back to all that, where every move she made was wrong, where she was nothing but a fuck-up and a disappointment, was upsetting and frustrating and beyond anything just exhausting.

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” Bianca asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Nothing,” Courtney said, attempting a smile, which Bianca clearly didn’t buy from the way she tilted her head, eyebrows raised. “No, it’s just...a bit of a bummer to think about work.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I feel like someone just threw a bucket of ice water in my face and screamed at me to wake up from a beautiful dream.”

“Well…” Bianca twirled her glass by the stem, then asked, “What if you didn’t have to wake up?

“What do you mean?”

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you what to do about your job, but...it just seems like it’s making you miserable, with no upside. And worse, it’s leaving you no time to pursue the things you actually care about, like music.”

“I know, but what choice do I have? I have to work.”

“Do you?” Bianca asked, a smirk on her face, and Courtney rolled her eyes.

“Well, yeah. How else will I pay for stuff?”

Bianca shrugged nonchalantly. “You know your rent just decreased dramatically.”

“I know, but it’s not just rent. There’s my phone and student loans and credit cards and legal bills and-”

“Angel…” Bianca pulled Courtney closer, into her lap. “If money is stressing you out, then I can help you with all of that. Actually, I’d be thrilled to help you, if it allows you to follow your dreams.”

“I’m not asking for your money, B,” Courtney said, looking away. Bianca had already given her so much, and now this? What could she possibly offer in return?

“I know.” Bianca took her chin and turned her face back gently, looking into her eyes. “I know you’re not, but I’m offering. There’s a big difference.”

Courtney bit her lip, eyes falling closed as Bianca kissed up her jaw. Was this really happening? Was Bianca really offering her such an easy out to all of her problems? What was the catch? Courtney felt her throat tighten, tears pricking at her eyes.

“Let me take care of you, angel…” she whispered, and Courtney sighed against her.

“You don’t know how badly I want to say yes,” Courtney whispered back. And it was true, she did. She’d always been independent--in fact, she’d prided herself on it, and so had her parents. Even before she left home to study in America, she’d been self-sufficient. In a way, it felt like a cop-out to accept so much help from Bianca. But Courtney was tired, so very tired, of everything being hard all the time.

“Then say yes. Or at least, say you’ll think about it. You don’t have to decide tonight.”

For a few moments, Courtney gazed at her, too overwhelmed to speak.

“What?”

“Um...you just…” Courtney couldn’t say what she wanted to say, which was that Bianca was every single one of her dreams coming true. That she was sheer perfection. So instead, she said, “You just...look really cute tonight.”

A grin broke out on Bianca’s face as she asked, “Oh yeah? You approve?”

Courtney nodded. She very, very much approved. Bianca was wearing a vivid tangerine-colored dress, the color something she herself would have loved to wear (although she had to admit, it looked so good against Bianca’s skin that she’d probably hesitate to ever wear it again), and everything, even her accessories, were bright and fun and joyful. She was so beautiful, thinking about it made Courtney feel choked up once again.

“I...I don’t deserve you,” Courtney finally said, as a tear slipped down her cheek.

“You deserve the world,” Bianca told her earnestly. She leaned forward and pressed a soft, tender kiss to Courtney’s lips before moving to her cheeks, kissing away her tears.