#pub fics

[inevitably-johnlocked]

JL Fic Req: Meet in a nightclub

Hello Steph, first of all I want to thank you for everything you do for our beloved fandom, you can’t imagine how much we appreciate your effort <3

I thought I bookmarked this fic but can’t find it. For what I recall it’s short, probably 1 chapter. Our boys meet in a nightclub, John is in the bar and watches Sherlock in the dance floor, I think he’s dancing shirtless or with the shirt open. As John watches, a guy approaches Sherlock takes his hand to dance with him, Sherlock refuses but the guy is disgustingly insistent and keeps touching Sherlock. John  (ever the gentleman) goes to them and speaks to Sherlock as if they were boyfriends and he has been in the bathroom, Sherlock plays along. The awful guy leaves not before insulting Sherlock (calls him a cocktease or sth like that). I don’t remember if John punches the guy or tries to but is stopped by Sherlock. Then John is about to leave Sherlock because he didn’t want to impose himself just like the other guy did but Sherlock asks him to stay, they dance and I don’t remember more. Anyone knows which fic could it be? Thanks in advance.

(submitted by johnlock-and-tea)

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HI LOVELY!!

Oh GOSH I have no idea which fic this is, though I feel like I’ve read it before. Seems vaguely familiar. Gonna call on the community for this one: Anyone able to find this fic for us?

[sitp-recs]

Hey liv! Do you know any fics that have Draco (or Harry) as a bartender or that are set mostly in a bar? Thanks in advance! :)

Hi anon! Sure thing, here are some recs:

Thanks for all the Fish by dracogotgame (T, 2k)

Harry's latest break up with Ginny gives him food for thought.

The Mispronunciations of Draco Malfoy by daisymondays (T, 4.6k)

'Muggle AU where Harry is a barista and bartender and keeps running into his most stuck-up customer’ aka ‘All the times Harry managed to mispronounce Draco and the one time he got it right.’

Pub Night by sdk (E, 7k)

In a cramped loo at The Bitter End, what Harry and Draco do is only about one thing: getting off. ...Isn't it?

An Aching Soul by writcraft (M, 14k)

Draco Malfoy escapes to the Muggle world to avoid his parents, memories of the war and Harry Potter. However, some things prove harder to escape than others as Draco realises when his favourite Muggle haunt is rudely invaded by a post-war Harry who is struggling to cope with grief, growing up and the battle with his inner demons.

It's Friday (I'm in Love) by punk_rock_yuppie (E, 16k)

At first, Draco only hangs out with them on Fridays after work; then he starts shagging Potter after pub nights. Then all the rest of the gang tries to befriend Draco and even worse, Potter tries to date him. It’s an absolute disaster, if you ask Draco.

Take These Lies by pennygalleon (E, 20k)

There’s a portrait of his godfather in Draco Malfoy’s potions shop and Harry needs to know why. But that’s not why he keeps coming back.

Midnight in the City of a Hundred Spires by shiftylinguini (E, 25k)

Harry Potter is a missing person. Draco Malfoy is a vampire. They are the last two people one would expect to bump into each other in a Creature Bar in Prague, yet to Draco’s absolute shock that is definitely Harry fucking Potter sitting across from him. Even more surprising is that Potter may have a case for him.

Saviour of the Seas by Booktopus (E, 45k)

For the 10th Anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry of Magic has chosen to celebrate with a cruise to Norway to view the Northern Lights aboard the Savior of the Seas. Did they actually think Harry would want a bloody cruise ship named after him?

The Pure and Simple Truth by lettered (G, 65k)

Harry, Draco, and Hermione go to a pub. Harry, Draco, and Pansy go to a pub. Harry, Draco, Pansy, and Hermione go to a pub. Harry, Draco, Hermione and Ron go to a pub. Harry, Draco, Hermione, Ron, and Pansy―you guessed it―go to a pub. I could go on. In fact, I did. Harry, Draco, Hermione, Pansy, Ron, Blaise, Luna, Goyle, Neville, and Theodore Nott go to a pub. In various combinations.

Chasing Shadows by manixzen (E, 93k)

The murder of Lucius Malfoy seems impossible—no cause of death, no traces of spell-work, no potions in his system. The only leads Harry and his partner have are the trail of missing wizards the deeper they go. That and the help of the victim’s estranged son who now spends his time bartending at a queer-friendly Muggle pub.

[avelera]

Sometimes in genre fiction stories, you’ve got magical characters talking about their magical lives in public or wearing their superhero costumes out in the regular world.

Often times, the magical characters feel they need to hide or whisper about things like magic or immortality or fighting demons or like pretend they’re going to a convention to explain their superhero costume.

These are often lovely and charming scenes but let me be clear:

Nobody in a major city would give a fuck.

Just as one example of many, I was literally in line for a book signing in NYC and a man walked by stark ass naked wearing only body paint and basically after the initial surprise, no one did or said anything about it.

The amount of crazy you encounter on any given day walking around a major city makes you basically immune to surprise or taking any kind of action about weird shit happening around you.

If I heard someone talking about their magical powers next to me at a cafe back when I lived in NYC, I’d assume either 1) they’re rehearsing for a play, 2) playing/discussing D&D, and/or most importantly 3) it’s none of my fucking business.

I’m always curious what exactly people think would actually happen in the real world if a supernatural or magical character was overheard by someone who wasn’t actively hunting them or who wished them harm.

If you overheard a time traveler or an immortal or magical person in general candidly speaking about their life at the table next to you, what would you actually do about it?

Would you call the police?

Tell the whole world you just sat next to a real magical person and your evidence is that you overheard their conversation?

Report them to their nemesis? How would you even find them??

Seriously, besides telling your friends about the weird conversation you overheard at lunch or the strange looking person you saw, what exactly would a normal person do even if they really did overhear someone like a time traveler speaking candidly about their travels for anyone to hear?

I ask because I see so many stories set in a superhero or urban fantasy setting worrying about being NOTICED. Noticed by WHO? With what result?? What do you actually worry is going to happen? What would any average person actually do besides shrug and go back to whatever they were doing?

I’d accept that maybe in a smaller town you could become a topic of conversation and even widespread notice.

But let me assure you, friends, in any major city, no one would fucking notice much less say anything about any level of weird shit they saw. The whole point of a big city is that everyone basically ignores the weird shit happening around them at any given point.

So let the fairies and ghosts and time travelers of your fantasy story relax. If they’re in a big city, they could literally fly around downtown with rainbows shooting out their ass and the only comment they’d probably get is from people wondering what movie is being filmed nearby.

[w2soneshots]

Pub golf -W2S

words: 0.5k+

warnings: alcohol consumption.

summary: you play pub golf with the sidemen, their girlfriends and Freezy. And you and Harry are a fluffy cute couple.

notes: hello my loves!! Here is the request💓. I love the sidemen pub golf’s so I was excited to write this🤭. I hope you enjoy!🫶🏼🍻

"You ready?" Harry popped his head into the spare bedroom that he had turned into my dressing room. "Mhm. Two secs." I grabbed my lipgloss then got up. Harry's eyes widened. "That skirts a bit short." He walked up behind me to slap my ass. "Oi!" I turned around with a cheeky smile. "I'm wearing white shorts underneath, they just don't fully cover everything." I told him. "Well I don't mind, I love your big juicy bum." He joked. I chuckled.

Once we were dropped off (by a taxi) at the pub that we had all agreed to meet at me and Harry went inside. Everyone had dressed up in golf gear. We had to wait a little while for the entire group to arrive but once they did we got started. The rules are: we each have one drink per pub and are scored by the amount of swigs it takes to finish it. Downing it would give you a hole-in-one. At the end of the game, the player with the lowest score is the winner, just like real golf. But because we're playing in teams of two (me and Harry being together) we are alternating between each other, so we don't get too drunk too quickly.

"Ew, can you do this one? I hate sambuca." I asked Harry. "Yeah babe, sure." He didn't seem to be too bothered and easily took the shot. "Lovely jubbly!" Was his reaction. On the other hand Talia and JJ seemed to really struggle. No one got a point though since they all did it in one gulp.

We walked to the next pub. "This one's a pint of cider!" Simon announced to the group. I looked to Harry. "I've got this one." We ordered then went around the table, each person drinking their drink. I was second and somehow managed to do it in just two swigs. "Well in babe!" Harry gave me a massive high five. Ethan drank his in one go and so did Freezy but it took Josh four gulps to get it down. "I'm fucked." Freya said (since she was Josh's partner), making us all laugh.

After a few more pubs and many drinks everyone became increasingly more drunk. As we were walking to the next place I did a cartwheel. "Woah! What the fuck." Harry lunged forward, worried I was going to fall straight onto the pavement. I chuckled with a hiccup. He stood right next to me for the rest of the walk, his hand on the back of my skirt, as it kept flying up in the wind.

At the end of the night Tobi went through the scores, since he was the only sober one. Poor guy had been babysitting us all night. Me and Harry won with ten points. Ethan and Faith came second with twelve and Josh and Freya lost with twenty five points. Once we got in our taxis I fell asleep on Harry's shoulder. He carried me upstairs to our apartment, got me ready for bed then tucked me in.

The next morning we both woke up with an awful hangover but since we had so much fun last night and made some great memories with our closest friends we didn't mind.

[loverbobby]

can we start bringing back normal job choices for our MC’s in the love island game

[pfhwrittes]

another part of my silly little werewolf au (that i will work on properly at some point) for you all.

TW: alcohol mention, minor self injury (reader chews on their paws), accidental voyeurism, fantasies of violence. 

author's note: let me know if i've missed any trigger warnings please!

--

they’re still here, the strangers that have made themselves comfortable in your territory. there are traces of them everywhere. the scent of an unfamiliar cologne and metal lingering in the air of the corner shop, an echo of the mohawked man’s laugh from the pub garden reaching your ears as you collect sticky abandoned glasses from what was formerly ed’s booth, the weight of four pairs of eyes on you as you pull pints or pour glasses of wine for the locals. 

you know why they’re here. even if they don’t know that you know. 

it makes your gums itch.

for the first time in a long time you stay home the night of the full moon, curled up tight in a ball on your bed, your nose tucked under your tail. you long to lope through the fields at the edge of the village, to snap at rabbits with their stuttering fearful heartbeats, to howl long and lonesome at the moon - calling for your family, your pack. 

your ears twitch irritably and you move to lick and gnaw at your front paw. the human side of your brain sighs knowing full well that come dawn you’ll be patching up raw knuckles and the tender broken skin of your wrist. it could be worse, you could shred your pillow. again. feathers are a bitch to get out from between your teeth. 

the sound of two voices drift through the thin pane of glass of your bedroom window and your lip curls around a low rumbling growl. interlopers. their voices are low, indistinct as they snoop through the neighbour’s front garden. the growl in your chest kicks up as you catch a snatch of their conversation. 

“for fucks sake, johnny. quit whinin’ and get on wiv it.” around the broad flat vowels of his accent you detect a fond sort of irritation that speaks of years of familiarity and affection.

“you’ve gotta be kiddin’ me on!” the other voice is exasperated but no less fond as its counterpart. “i’m no’ doin’ that here -” 

whatever he’s not doing becomes abundantly clear as you hear the sounds of a wet gasp and a long groan.

you snarl and bury your teeth into the softness of your pillow, letting yourself imagine that you’re sinking your fangs into an exposed abdomen as you ignore the wet slick sounds just beyond your window.

and they have the fucking nerve to call your kind animals.

-- tagging @kaadaaan

[erosology]

y’all expecting us to spoon-feed you content but not bothering to interact with us on a human-level is a big reason why your faves don’t hang out here anymore just sayin

[tennessoui]

chapter 4 of ? (it's probably 6 i just lost confidence in myself)

[19burstraat]

(kaz voice) I didn't know we were getting a cat.

(inej voice) no. YOU'RE getting a cat

[inevitably-johnlocked]

stellacartography said: I think I know this one. Is it the trivia night one? Where Anderson is cheating: For the Honour of the Division by Flawedamethyst

For The Honour Of The Division by flawedamythyst (T, 8,627 w., 1 Ch. || Pub Night, Pub Quiz) – Lestrade wants to win the pub quiz, John wants to socialise Sherlock, and Sherlock just wants to get John drunk. (TRANSLATION: 中文-普通话 國語)

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AMAZING!! Thank you!!

hi!! i am looking for a lost fic, one of my favs but I can't find it 💔 johnlock, they go to a bar with lestrade & the crew, i think there might be drinking games or truth or dare or something similar, in which they realize they're both into each other, and I think they kiss right after leaving the bar? it was short-ish, maybe 5-10k. if you could help me find it I'd be so so grateful!!! ty as always for all that you do ❤️

Hey lovely!

OMG I think I've read this?????? It might be one of the many on my Drinking Games / Hanging Out (Oct 2023) list, but if it's not, I can't immediately recall which on this is....

Anyone able to give us a clue?

[cabeswaterdrowned]

There’s more I could add but some of those things aren’t set in stone / could change and these I’m 100% committed to (I’m unsure of Who the lavender marriage drama happens between but there is definitely lavender marriage drama in the fic)

[fullmetalscullyy]

never thought we'd ever have to go without (iv)

summary: 

Their breakup was amicable. They were both going in two different directions with their lives and where Roy was going - the military and the numerous off the grid sites for weeks or sometimes months on end – he wouldn’t ask her to wait for him. She deserved to live her own life, not wait around for him and his ambitions.

When a tragedy befalls their child, Roy and Riza are left devastated. They come together to work through it while waiting for her to wake from her injuries

rated: t | words: 2948 | tags: royai, angst, au, modern au, kid au, parental royai, tragedy, injury, angst with a happy ending, separated parents

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

snippet:

But he’d always been there. Always been reliable and always stepped in and stepped up when he was back. As steadfast as a rock in a storm. He was her rock. Always had been. “Sleep well, Roy.” “Wake me if anything happens?” His look was pleading, a clear show of vulnerability. “Of course I will.” It seemed that was what he needed to hear to allow himself to finally rest. Within minutes, he was asleep.

read on ao3 | read on ffnet

[boglady]

I don't typically share my fic on here, but I've been working on some version of this Ted/Beard/Rebecca story since July and it's nearly 20K so I feel like I owe it to myself to hype it now that it's finally out in the world.

Summary “No, no, it was threefold.” The memory’s so clear to Ted that it’s almost odd that Beard can’t see it too—a recursive layering of images, both ternary and infinite, somehow more vivid now than it was when he first experienced it. “All of it was threefold.” Aka the one in which I bring the triangle metaphor to its natural conclusion.

[whatevertheweather]

It is somehow Sunday! Not a huge fan of how that keeps coming around, so I'm numbing the pain of the passage of time with fanfiction.

Specifically Musical Chairs. (And for those who've been reading along, it might help to know that Baz is not at the table here.)

And Simon couldn’t—wouldn’t—shouldn’t look up again, but his eyes drifted just high enough to see that perfect fucking mouth fixed in another smirk. Simon stared at it, and then he made a desperate sound at the back of his throat and turned to Agatha.  “My mouth is literally watering right now, are you kidding me?” “Sounds like a you problem.” “I don’t think you understand.” “How it is you haven’t changed your tune to wanting to punch him in his punchable face?” Agatha said breezily, swirling her drink. “No, I do not understand.” “I’m salivating, Agatha,” Simon explained. “There’s extra saliva in my mouth because I’m looking at him.” “It’s quiet time now.”

We're nearly there y'all, nearly there. Just a few sections to connect and a couple more to fill out. Also my silly little timecode headers to solidify, which are currently looking like this:

Tags! Hellos! I love yous! Beneath the cut!

@fatalfangirl @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @moodandmist @cutestkilla @artsyunderstudy @ionlydrinkhotwater @martsonmars @facewithoutheart @bookish-bogwitch @ivelovedhimthroughworse @aristocratic-otter @youarenevertooold @run-for-chamo-miles @nightimedreamersworld @forabeatofadrum @ileadacharmedlife @iamamythologicalcreature @rimeswithpurple @alexalexinii

[ofmermaidstories]

this tweet encapsulates my frustration with trope-based pitching of published books.

[dilf-rights-activist]

Another Life: part 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gender neutral reader, Platonic Hobie Brown & reader

Summary: A sad Miguel O’Hara returns to run his company with slumped shoulders and a cloud over his head. In a somewhat lame attempt to lift his spirits, his assistant, Lyla, runs to a local cafe to get the office some drinks, where she meets a kind barista with a stained apron and tired eyes. Or, the one where you drag your exhausted corpse to your second job to meet Lyla, only to find out her boss had recently been dumped. After work, you settle into the floor of your cozy apartment with your eccentric roommate: one Hobie Brown.

Word count: 3.7k

Content: eventual sugar daddy AU, coffee shop au, no use of (y/n), the slowest of burns (we’re not even gathering fire wood yet), sfw, Hobie being cool, descriptions of financial hardship, swearing, aged up Hobie

AO3 part 1 part 3 part 4

Miguel’s office chair creaked dangerously when he leaned back and breathed out a large sigh. The conference call had been done for ten minutes now, and he was still feeling a little drowsy from his early morning. He looked out his office window just in time to see Jessica scrub a hand over her face, eyes droopy and tired looking. He watched as she stood up and stretched her lower back to release the tension that’s been building there. She sighed and rested a delicate hand on her round belly, rubbing soothing circles before sitting back down again. Miguel has been urging her to take her maternity leave early, but she refuses him every time, stating that he could never survive without her. This wasn’t entirely true but still. Miguel frowned to himself before straightening up at the knock at his door.

“Miguel?” came a high-pitched voice on the other side of the wood.

“Yes?”

The door opened slowly to reveal a young, freckled face smiling brightly at him. “Hey, Miguel! I have the reports you wanted.”

Miguel smiled at his assistant and held out his hand to receive them. “Thanks, Lyla.”

“You got it.” Lyla was a student at Columbia that works part time as Miguel’s assistant. Her cheerful demeanor easily lifted those around her. If he was being honest, he thinks Lyla goofed off a little too much, but she was the best assistant he’s had in a decade. She was quick as a whip, and helped him with everything from managing his allergies to figuring out the best energy source for his nano tech. Plus, Lyla was the only one who could handle him when he was sleep deprived and hangry (which was all the time).

The brunette fell silent as he looked down at the reports in his hands, not really paying enough attention to process any of the words he read.

“Hey, Miguel?”

He startled and looked up at Lyla, she was still here? He must have really been out of it.

“Yeah?”

Lyla’s big brown eyes peered at him pensively before sighing through her nose “You doing okay, boss?” Her glossy pink lips were pulled into a small frown. “You look…tired. Like, way more than usual.”

Miguel huffed softly and blew a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Alright, One: I am tired. And Two:” He looked at her sternly, pointing a strong finger to emphasize his point. “I am fine.” He said a little too quickly. Lyla rolled her eyes and groaned dramatically.

“C’mon, Miguel! You can tell me!” She walked up to his heavy desk and placed both hands atop its smooth surface. “What? Did the Mets lose a game?”

“The season is over-“

“A pigeon poop on your Porsche?”

“No-“

“Did Tony call you ‘Dark Garfield’ again?”

“No!”

“You get dumped?”

Miguel’s jaw shut promptly and he pursed his lips into a tight sneer. He looked at his grinning assistant, who had clearly said that as a joke. She blinked a couple times at his silence, slowly picking up her hands from his desk as she straightened a little.

“Oh shit. Really?” She said softly, almost feeling bad for bringing it up so casually. “I’m…sorry to hear that.”

The large man let out a soft laugh and waved his hand in the air. “It’s fine, Lyla. Really, it is.” he sighed, was he trying to convince Lyla or himself?

The girl looked at her sneakers and shuffled awkwardly for a second, “Is there anything I can do for you? Cancel your appointments? Get you coffee?”

Miguel visibly perked up at that. “Yeah, that would be great, actually. There’s actually a specific place I’d like you to go to…”

---

A heavy sigh left your lips as you bent forward and leaned onto the counter in front of you, limbs going unpleasantly numb from overuse. You stayed there for a couple moments, contemplating just how you let your life get to this particularly pathetic point. Peter was right, the morning rush had been bad. Exhausted students and working class New Yorkers alike came in by the truck load, shooting order after order at you and your boss with little sympathy.

You glanced down at Peter, who was currently squatting behind the counter and wolfing down a croissant like his life depended on it.

“Slow down or you’re gonna choke, stupid.”

The brunette looked at you like a man possessed. “Shut up! I haven’t eaten anything today!”

You laughed softly and flexed your fingers, wincing as they cracked and popped. “Christ, I’m tired. And it’s only,” you glanced at your watch and held back a groan. “8 am.”

Peter looked at you and wiped the crumbs off of his frowning face. “You sleep any last night?”

“Only the usual four hours.” you grimaced and put your head down again. “Some dude came in last minute to drink last night.”

“Damn.” Peter sighed from his place on the floor. “I wish I could help somehow. I’d do anything for you, y’know.”

You smiled and peeked at him through your arms. You met Peter during your second year of college. He remembered you frequenting his cafe as a freshman to fuel up on caffeine and use his Wi-Fi. He always welcomed you with ease (and not just because you were a good tipper). Eventually, he offered you a job, and you’ve been working with him ever since. You opened your mouth to say something before the bell at the door chimed through the cafe, signifying that someone walked in.

“Customers!” Peter almost shrieked, tucking more into himself on the floor. “Don’t let them see me! I’m not here!”

So much for doing anything for you!

You shot him a look before straightening up to see a girl with a large white coat and fluffy brown hair peer up at the chalkboard menu above you.

“Hey, welcome in.” you smiled and lightly kicked Peter’s side behind the counter. The quiet “Ow!” wasn’t heard by the girl in front of you as her large eyes darted from her phone to the menu at an alarming rate.

“Hi!”

After exchanging pleasantries you nodded as she relayed her lengthy order, talking at 100 words a minute.

Her hazel eyes blinked behind her heart shaped lenses. “Sorry for the large order! These are for my office.”

“It’s no problem!” You lied through your teeth. “What’s your name?”

“Lyla.”

“Lieee-Luh.” you repeated slowly you wrote her name on the empty cups before you, making sure to draw little hearts on her’s. “Got it! I’ll have these out in a little bit.” Lyla gave you a million watt smile and nodded eagerly, making his way to the end of the bar where her drinks were to be deposited. You went through the motions of drink making with ease, humming lightly to yourself to keep you focused. You looked at Peter, who has yet to move from his position on the floor. You flipped him off quickly and capped Lyla’s drinks, ignoring the over dramatic look of hurt the musician shot you.

“Thank you so much,” Lyla looked at you from across the bar and smiled.

“It’s really no problem, it’s literally my job.”

“Yeah, but still…” she chuckled to herself. “I think this’ll really help.”

That caught your attention and you looked up from the carmel drizzle you were working on. “Yeah? With what?”

A small crease appeared between Lyla’s worried brows as she smiled sadly. “My boss got dumped yesterday.” You pulled a face, Yikes, you thought, not a good season for the lovers. Your mind immediately drifted to the heart broken man that came into the restaurant last night. His entire demeanor was depressed with loneliness, even his hair seemed to droop slightly in sadness. You didn’t know the man very well, but you could tell that he was a person who would go out of his way to help someone, someone that wouldn’t hesitate to do the right thing. You hoped he was okay.

“Oh…” you started lamely, because how the fuck were you supposed to respond? “That sucks.” Lyla’s head snapped up at your abrupt reply. You blinked, realizing that you must have been more tired than you thought because what the fuck? You can’t talk to customers like that! You pressed your lips together and quickly thought of an apology. “I’m-”

“It does suck, right?” She smiled lopsidedly and let out a laugh. You breathed out a sigh, relieved that she wasn’t going to write Aunt May a strongly worded letter or trash the cafe on Yelp. You finished the rest of the drinks with ease, handing Lyla her order in two cup holders.

“Thanks a bunch!” She took his order with a grin and began to turn towards the exit.

“Ah, wait one second!” You said before sidestepping a still squatting Peter (who had somehow gotten another croissant) to quickly shove a few pastries into two paper bags. You stood there in thought for a second before grabbing a sharpie from the cash register, scribbling something on one of them.

“Thank you for being patient with me.” you said, handing Lyla the baked goods. “One of those is for you, good luck at the office!”

If you thought the girl’s smile was blinding before it really had nothing on her expression now. “Really?”

“For sure.”

Lyla’s heart shrouded eyes blinked at you for a moment, as if studying you. Her pink lips spread into a grin before turning to you fully. “What’s your name?”

You smiled back at her and gave her your name as you dusted your hands on your apron. “The other one is for your boss, tell them to take it easy, okay?”

---

Miguel stared at the city’s activity below him from his office window. People milled about on the sidewalk below, interacting with one another throughout their day. The large man took a bite out of his scone thoughtfully, admiring the subtle vanilla flavor. Lyla came in with his coffee order not too long ago, bringing a small pastry bag as a surprise. He said that a nice barista gave it to him, ordering her to tell him to “take it easy”. Miguel accepted the treats gratefully, promising Lyla that he was fine (really, he was).

Probably.

He popped the last of the scone in his mouth and moved to toss the bag in the trash before something caught his eye. Looking at the pastry bag more carefully, he could see that the barista left him a small note.

Everything’s gonna be okay. If it’s not okay, that’s okay too.

Miguel dusted his crummy mouth as he stared at the piece of paper, chuckling softly to himself. The barista also drew him a cute little bunny giving him a thumbs up in encouragement.

The brunette’s thick brows knitted as he carefully tore his little note away from the rest of the bag. Miguel placed the note in one of his desk drawers after making sure that there were no remaining crumbs sticking to it and threw the rest away (he hated ants).

“Looks like I’ve got someone looking out for me.”

---

You tapped your pencil against the page in front of you in annoyance and took a large sip of your tea. You started doing your homework over an hour ago and barely made any progress due to its difficulty. You huffed, recalling just how little you paid attention in class due to always falling asleep.

You stared at the equations in front of you, and they glared back just as intensely. You looked up from your staring contest to glance at your roommate, Hobie, who was humming quietly to himself as he created the setlist for his next show. You met Hobie when you first moved to the city for school. He was born in Camden Town, London, and was literally the coolest person you have ever met. He came to New York to work on his music and study fashion. His time was split between that, antagonizing fascists, being a part-time runway model, and working at the bar with you. You saw him sneaking shots for both himself and some of his regulars, but never told a soul. You knew Hobie hated working there, hated being a cog in the system, but he had bills to pay (you both did). The two of you shared a cozy space nestled in the center of New York City’s ChinaTown, right below the smog covered stars, and right above Timmy Chan’s Hong Kong Style Dim Sum (a favorite lunch time spot you frequented together).

“Hey, Hobie. Could you help me a little?”

He looked up from his notes, pen cap stuck in between his lips and grinned.

”Yeah, sure. What is it?”

You smiled gratefully, picking up the page and walking over to him. You crossed your legs and sat on the floor at his side as his eyes skimmed the page, nodding as he read along.

“You daft?” Hobie elbowed your side gently. “Integral calculus? This is bright and breezy.”

You looked up at his big brown eyes and pouted. “I’ve been falling asleep in class.” you said with a huff. Hobie’s pierced brows creased with concern at this, shuffling slightly to wrap an arm around you.

“Again?”

“Again.” you sighed. You looked to the ground, idly picking at the fraying carpet you two sat on. You knew Hobie worried about you and how hard you’ve been pushing yourself. He could see how the stress from work and school were affecting your health and it was beginning to concern him.

“Y’right?”

You looked up at him wryly, bringing a hand up to flick his shoulder lightly.

“I’m alright.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Hobie squinted at you before turning back to the page in his hands, deciding to drop the subject for now. “Whatever. You’d tell me otherwise, yeah?”

You leaned on his shoulder and nuzzled his bicep playfully, yawning obnoxiously before saying, “Of course.”

He gazed upon your drooping form, pursing his lips. “You said you only hit the sack for, what? Four hours?”

“Just about, yeah.”

Hobie huffed and straightened out the piece of paper in his hands. “Right, some dick walked in right before closing and demanded to be served.”

“He wasn’t a dick he was just…” you adjusted yourself on his shoulder. “Sad.”

“A sad dick?”

“No!” you smacked him lightly and you could feel yourself shake with the rumble of Hobie’s chest as he chuckled warmly. You thought about the man that came into your life the other night, it amazed you how someone so large managed to look so small.

“He just got dumped.”

“Bliiiiimey.” He pulled a face.

“That’s what I said!”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, not that exactly!” You huffed out a sigh. “He looked like a kicked puppy. Which is hilarious, because the man is like a building with feet.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! His arms are like tree trunks! I think he could kill me with a flick of his wrist.” You shook Hobie’s lean arm lightly to illustrate your point. “He just looked so...hurt. And he just, like, accepted it, y’know? Like he’s been hurt like this before.” you blinked and lowered your eyes, hugging Hobie’s arm a little tighter. “I hope he’s okay.”

Dark eyes shifted from the paper and onto the top of your head, Hobie huffed out a small laugh. “Aw, you fancy him.”

You pulled back from your friend’s arm sharply and gaped up at him. “I do not!” Fancy him? You only just met the guy and knew nothing about him. Fancy him!

Hobie threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. “You do!”

“I don’t, I just-“ you huffed out a breath and paused to collect your thoughts. “I dunno, there was just something…about him, y’know? He seemed like someone who had a lot to offer the world, to offer someone. He looked like he had given up. Seeing him crushed like that just doesn’t sit right with me.”

He side eyed you skeptically and let out a sigh through his nose. You were always pushing yourself so hard, always putting others first (often at a detriment to yourself). Between the two (sometimes three) jobs and school, he had no idea how you were functioning. Hobie grimaced, thinking about the multiple occasions where you were so overwhelmed you sat on the floor eating (his) instant noodles while crying, too stressed to even tell him what was wrong. Other times, he’d go days without seeing you as you’d lock yourself in your apartment to focus on schoolwork, scaring him half to death with your lack of response. He physically kicked in the door of your room only to find you half dead and twitchy in your hyper-focused state. He never wanted to see you like that again.

“Yeah, well” he shrugged and you whined as the movement jostled you on his bicep. “Just don’t bugger off with your fit bev and leave me with your rent.” You laughed softly and pressed your cheek into his arm, smiling against it.

“I could never, Hobie.”

You assumed he accepted your response, as he nodded and turned his attention back to your math homework.”Right, the integral of 2xd is x squared, yeah? You plug that in here at the top and subtract the bottom.”

You breathed deeply and closed your eyes, already feeling yourself start to doze off again. You knew you should be paying attention, but you were too content with snuggling up to Hobie’s arm for some (not so) well deserved sleep.

“Thirteen squared is 169, minus ten squared is…Oi. Oi, you listenin’? Do your homework!” he jostled you gently.

“Yeah...of course…” you mumbled quietly.

Hobie looked down at you with a frown, already knowing that any attempt he made at waking you would be in vain. He sighed as he picked up his pen from its abandoned spot on the floor, deciding to finish your homework for you.

“Hopefully I can mimic your rubbish handwriting.” he sighed.

“Y’can’t do math homework in pen,” you mumbled.

“I don’t believe in conformity.” He sniffed before twirling the pen in his fingers. He tenaciously began to scribble perfect arithmetic on your page, stopping only to smile when you let out a sleepy “thanks” against his arm.

“Anytime, love.”

---

The long days turned into longer weeks as time went by. Miguel went through the motions of his position of CEO with relative ease, meticulously leading his company to further success.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Large shoulders sagged as Miguel sighed into the palms of his hands before peeking through his fingers to blearily peer at the clock in his desktop monitor.

8:43 pm

Jesus Christ, was it already that late? The brunette looked up through his office windows to find that yes, it really was that late, as the building’s lights had shut off and everyone had long gone home. Miguel has since changed into more comfortable clothing to ease him into his work night. The soft material of his oversized gray hoodie combined with the relaxed fit of his favorite pair of loose joggers were the perfect combination for his frequent occasional over night stays in the office. The man let out a yawn as he stretched his arms high above his head before rising from his chair, ready to call it a day. Grabbing his coat and phone, Miguel left the building, letting the automatic doors lock behind him with a soft click.

The brunette inhaled the Autumn air with a light hum before beginning his commute back to his apartment, occasionally picking up litter as he went because why not. He listened to the sounds of the bustling city; the distant sirens, the blaring music from strangers’ headphones as they walked past, the clinking of ceramic in cozy cafes.

Oh. Miguel slowed his stride to a stop in front of a small coffee shop lit warmly within, the same shop he sent Lyla on a coffee run to. Turning fully to face the entrance, the brunette spotted the same nice looking man he saw the first time he laid eyes on the shop. Miguel checked his watch to glance at the time before walking through the wooden door that led to the sweet smelling cafe.

Notes: I deadass spent over an hour learning about the English Cockney accent and have two (2) tabs open with English to Cockney translators. If anyone has any suggestions on how I can make Hobie sound more in character PLEASE let me know. Part of me wants to really lean into the rhyming slang, but I’m afraid no one will be able to understand him (but that’s, like, part of his character right?), he’s in his early twenties here.

The answer to the equation Hobie was solving is 69 lol